Delver Magic: Book 04 - Nightmare's Shadow

by Jeff Inlo

"Give it time. It does not stay open or closed indefinitely. It fluctuates. We shouldn't have to wait long."

  As if in response, the air shuddered. The afternoon light at first grew brighter and then dimmed, with no passing cloud the cause. The ground itself appeared to sway in and out of focus, like a mirage that would fade and return.

  "What's happening?" Ryson demanded.

  "The portal is reopening. As I said, it won't stay open or closed, not for long."

  "A portal? To where?"

  "To nightmare," Heteera responded with a pained expression. "To a place you have seen before... a realm where dark creatures breed."

  It was as if a hole opened in the very air, a shallow tunnel that turned and twisted in every direction at once, but existed in a controlled space only slightly taller than the delver and perhaps three times as wide.

  Looking upon it produced a sensation of incompleteness, as if it was not possible for such an opening to actually exist. It was a tear in reality.

  Ryson peered into the opening, but only for a moment, and then he looked away. It was a nightmare, and he had seen it before.

  Another such opening was created by Enin in the magical dimension during their conflict with Baannat. It was a gateway to a tormented world, a gateway from which monsters leapt.

  "Why didn't you just tell me this was here? I've seen this kind of thing before. I would have believed you. We need to get Enin here to close this."

  Heteera stared into the anomaly.

  "Would you have believed that if I had not brought you here to see?"

  Ryson did not want to look again, but he had to follow the sorceress' gaze. Looking over his shoulder, his eyes fell upon a figure exiting the rent.

  Immediately, his hand flew over his shoulder to his sword as he crouched low. Any creature crossing over from the dark lands would be a danger to them all, but Ryson never drew the Sword of Decree. The single form who stepped out of a nightmare was a friend to him.

  Despite the fact that the figure was all shadow and no true substance, was of a single gray pallor, Ryson recognized him immediately. He knew the elf, Lief Woodson, very well.

  "Lief?"

  The apparition tilted his head as it looked upon all three. It seemed to glare at the sorceress, but then drew a softer expression as it glanced upon Linda and finally Ryson.

  "You look well, Ryson Acumen."

  "You see?" Heteera managed, while struggling to keep her horse calm. "It's not the portal. It's who's using the portal."

  "But you're dead," the delver exclaimed, disregarding the sorceress but unable to believe what, or rather who, was before him.

  "And you are surprised in what you see now?" the ghostly form asked with an expression of both surprise and amusement.

  Ryson could not answer. He was beyond shock. He had lost this friend only a short time ago, less than a full cycle of the seasons. The loss left him less than whole, slightly hollow. He looked to the sorceress as if to demand confirmation of what could not be true.

  "Is this possible?"

  Heteera simply nodded in assent.

  He then looked to his wife.

  "Do you see him?"

  "Yes," Linda replied with wide-eyed wonder, unable to say anything more.

  "Is it such a surprise to you, Ryson Acumen?" the specter called out. "On Sanctum Mountain you spoke with the spirit of Shayed and you fought the ghost of Ingar on the same ground."

  "But the sphere brought them back, and the sphere is gone."

  "The magic brought them back," Lief corrected him. "And the magic remains."

  "That's not what I mean," Ryson replied, trying desperately to take hold of his emotions.

  "Are you not happy to see me?"

  "Of course I am, but..."

  "But? You have reservations about seeing an old friend? Consider what we have been through together. I would have expected a happier greeting."

  And Ryson did want to be happy. He wanted to rush to the side of his lost friend, take his hand if he could grasp the palm of a spirit. He wanted to believe Lief Woodson had returned, but even with all the joy that would generate, there remained caution... concern.

  "I am happy to see you, but I didn't expect this."

  "The sorceress didn't tell you?"

  "She didn't think I would believe her. She was probably right." Ryson admitted.

  "Is that why you are so hesitant to greet me?"

  "I guess... I don't know. I just can't believe it's you. I didn't think I would see you again. You were..."

  "Killed. By a lightning bolt from another sorceress. I could not dodge something so large. Apparently, I lack a delver's skill in that regard."

  The description of Lief's death was accurate, and only a select few were there to see it. Still, Ryson's thoughts swam with confusion. He expected danger. He expected a threat. Not this.

  "What are you doing here? Is it supposed to be this way? I mean this isn't a land of the dead."

  "That is true, but what we are does not die when the body ceases to be. The spirit lives on."

  "But everyone moves on, they don't stay here."

  "And as I said before, others have returned. You saw them yourself. I remember when you first spoke with the spirit of Shayed. At first, you couldn't believe she had returned, but after all you have been through, I am surprised you remain doubtful."

  At that, Ryson recalled his first meeting with Shayed. Yes, he had previously spoken to a spirit, but even Shayed had explained it was a rare occurrence.

  "Shayed came back because of the sphere, as did Ingar," Ryson recalled. "It was a special circumstance, she admitted as much. The sphere summoned Ingar back from the dead, and Shayed returned for the higher purpose of saving the land."

  "And you think it's not possible that I have returned for a higher purpose?"

  "Is that why you're back?"

  At that moment, the spirit form of Lief Woodson gazed back into the center of the dimensional breach. His eyes narrowed on something within the tunnel and then he turned quickly to those still living nearby.

  "We can talk further of this later. We must move quickly away." He pointed up an incline that led to a bluff that overlooked the portal opening. "There! Make your way to that cliff. Quickly now!"

  Ryson heard the threat of danger in the elf spirit's voice and he grabbed the reins of Linda's horse without hesitation. He then called to Heteera.

  "Follow me!"

  The delver raced up the slope, leading Linda's horse to a full gallop. The sorceress struggled to keep up, holding on to the reins of her horse as if her life depended on it.

  Ryson pulled Linda's horse around as he guided them to the edge of the bluff that overlooked the dimensional doorway. He watched in awe as the specter of Lief Woodson simply floated through the air to the elevated position.

  "What's going on?" Ryson asked.

  "Something is coming out."

  Ryson wanted to ask what it might be, but he did not have the time.

  The first creature was another swallit, smaller than the one Ryson had previously encountered. It looked about in confusion, then looked back into the opening, back to the twisted land that spawned it. It clearly did not like what it saw. It dropped down to all fours and began to dash. Unfortunately, it never reached its full running speed.

  A second figure sprang out from the dark break in reality, a large and hairy beast. Ryson recognized it immediately as a shag. Not the largest he had ever seen, but a big one nonetheless. It was already in full pursuit of the swallit and it leapt through the air in a desperate attempt to reach the creature before it could escape.

  The swallit screeched as the shag's now protracted claws ripped through the vine-like mass of its pelt and into its skin. The beast hit the ground and it rolled over, trying to dislodge the larger predator.

  The shag held tight and in the tangled fray, its jaws clamped down on the rear leg of the swallit. Fangs tore through muscle and tendon, rendering the leg useless.

  Th
e swallit shrieked once more, but this time it brought its front legs together. At its hooves, a crackling deep orange energy formed an uneven square. The beast coughed out strange words and flung the energy toward the head of the shag.

  The energy instantly turned to bright orange flame that streaked down upon the shag in long tendrils. The shag ducked its head, but the fire erupted around its shoulder and down its back. The matted hair twisted and shrank back in massive black streaks. The shag released its grip as it tried to beat off the flames with its own thick paws.

  Up above on the higher banks of the bluff, Ryson immediately smelled the burning fur. The scent was strong and sickening, like maggot infested wood burning over a fire fueled by decaying corpses.

  The swallit tried to bolt once more, but as it placed weight on its wounded leg, it collapsed. Knowing it could not escape, it turned about and prepared to cast another spell. Orange energy again appeared at its hooves, but this time the energy grew to a massive ball of fire. The swallit held to the flame as long as it could and then hurled it at its target.

  The ball of fire wavered in the air, flew in an unsteady manner. The flames struck the shag, but only in a glancing fashion. Hair upon the monsters hip was singed, but no further damage had been done.

  The shag backed slightly away, clearly measuring the distance between it and its prey. The threat of fire would keep it at bay, but only for the moment. The shag would not relent. With the swallit badly wounded, time was now in its favor.

  Ryson found the scene more than unsettling.

  "We have to stop this," he stated aloud.

  It was Lief who replied first.

  "You would interfere?"

  And then Linda chimed in.

  "You can't go down there. Either one of them could kill you."

  "So we just let the shag kill the swallit?"

  Lief almost laughed.

  "The swallit would kill you given half a chance."

  Ryson didn't believe that was the case. Swallits were dark creatures, that he could not deny, but he had spoken with a swallit, faced one in Dark Spruce, and while the beast at one time did attempt an assault, it showed respect for the delver as well.

  "I don't think so," Ryson refuted. "They can cast magic. They have intelligence, they deserve respect as much as you or I. I have to do something."

  "Yes, you have to let things sort them out for themselves," Lief responded in an admonishing tone. "This is between a swallit and a shag. It will be decided between the two of them."

  "No, it won't. The swallit's hurt. I can send the shag back where it belongs."

  "And maybe it will just kill a different swallit. It has to eat."

  Ryson didn't like that response. There was truth to it, and maybe by saving this swallit he was, in fact, dooming another, but he could not simply standby and do nothing.

  As if sensing the delver's decision before he made it, the elf ghost spoke the only words that could keep the delver still.

  "Would you leave your woman unprotected? Who knows what might come out next? Perhaps a hook hawk looking for prey. While you are busy engaged with those beasts, will you be able to keep track of other threats?"

  Ryson looked back at Linda and knew he could not leave her side, not so close to a doorway to such danger.

  He was about to give up, but then he thought of the sorceress.

  "You can cast white magic! Send the shag back!"

  Heteera hesitated. She sat motionless in the saddle.

  "Do it!" Ryson demanded.

  The sorceress threw her hands together, closed her eyes in concentration. A distorted shape of white magic rolled about her wrists. There were points and curves in the oblong contour of magic that would not hold a steady form. Heteera opened her eyes and shouted strange words.

  The white magic exploded from her fingertips. It was a blunt force spell that was meant to crash into the feet of the shag and hurl it backwards into the dimensional opening. It missed its mark.

  It hit the rocky ground between the two monsters and the stone exploded in far greater force than the sorceress intended. Sharp broken rock burst apart in a wave of deadly debris. The shrapnel ripped through both monsters, dropping them to the ground in bloody hulks.

  Ryson just stared at the mayhem below.

  "I'm sorry," Heteera responded with a mournful whisper. "The power got away from me."

  "Do not fret, sorceress," Lief replied stoically, as if the bloody display meant nothing to him. "You finished them both off quickly. That's more than they should have hoped for."

  "The swallit didn't have to die," Ryson finally said.

  "And what of the shag?" Lief asked. "Did the shag deserve less? If so, for what reason?"

  "Neither of them deserved it." Ryson then looked upon Heteera with sympathy. "You didn't mean it. I know that. It wasn't your fault."

  "I would agree with that," Lief added. "Fault had nothing to do with any of it." He then fixed a stare upon the delver. "Where are you going?"

  Ryson had turned to move back down the slope.

  "I want to check on them, make sure they're dead."

  "I wouldn't do that if I were you."

  "What? You still think something else might come out of there?"

  "Something definitely will. And I wouldn't get in its way."

  "I can handle a hook hawk now. There's nothing to distract me."

  "You might be able to handle a hook hawk, but not this." And Lief nodded to the gateway.

  Ryson stopped and refocused his gaze upon the distorted opening.

  Indeed, another figure did emerge from the passage, but it was something Ryson could not identify. It did not walk, leap, stagger, or even crawl out into the dying afternoon light. Instead, it dragged itself across the ground on several twisted, distorted limbs.

  The thing seemed to have several heads, but none appeared complete or easily distinguishable, just as it had several limbs that could not be identified as truly arms or legs. It was as large as a full grown man, but had no discernable form. In some areas, it was pale white, like the bleached skin of a corpse left in the sun. At other points it was dark brown and purple, oozing as if in decay. The mass pulsated in a labored manner as it edged forward.

  "Dear Godson!" Linda cried, and she looked away.

  She would be thankful she did when she learned the aim of this mutated mass. The thing fell upon the swallit and began tearing away at the vines that served as the beast's coat. When it reached the skin of the swallit, it peeled a portion back in one long sheet. In a most disturbing fashion, it then tore at its own repulsive hide. It pulled away at the newly broken edges of its misshapen body, making a huge gap. It quickly placed the swallit hide over its own open wound, and the new skin fused into place.

  Once this macabre operation was complete, the strange mass of disproportionate flesh spun backward into the gateway, its limbs twisting and turning, quivering in disorganized imbalance. With all the grace of misshapen rock rolling down an uneven hill, the horrible mutation disappeared out of sight back into a darker land where it clearly belonged.

  "The danger is gone for now," Lief announced. "I doubt anything will be coming out for quite a while. Creatures on the other side tend to steer away from my creation."

  Ryson could not stifle his surprise.

  "You created that?"

  "With the help of your sorceress friend," Lief admitted without hesitation.

  Ryson's gaze shot over to the spell caster sagging forlorn in the saddle.

  "That's what you were talking about, wasn't it?"

  "It's not what I intended," she pleaded, but could not look upon the delver.

  Where Ryson was more than willing to forgive the errant spell that killed both the swallit and shag, he found this difficult to conceive, let alone excuse, and so he pressed for those intentions.

  "What did you intend?"

  She would not speak, or rather could not speak.

  "She intended to remove the dark creatures from the land,
" Lief offered in response. "Is that so surprising to you?"

  Ryson spun around to face the elf ghost.

  "And how is that... that... thing! how is that going to accomplish that?"

  "By collecting the magic from the dark creatures."

  "Just like Ingar's sphere!" Ryson added, and to some extent the sorceress' earlier plea for help was becoming clear.

  "In one way yes, but we made some alterations," Lief acknowledged.

  "You made the alterations," Heteera suddenly accused the apparition. "I didn't want this. You knew what I wanted."

  "Yes, and you did not want to go far enough." Lief then shook his head as if admonishing a small child. "That is why you lack control of the magic. White energy and yet you are weak where it matters. You don't see the whole picture."

  "And what's the whole picture, Lief?" Ryson asked.

  "You have to ask me? The dark creatures are a bane to this existence. They must be removed. The sorceress and I agreed on that point, but she did not want to go far enough. She wished to simply close off the dimension, to stop portals from opening, to keep the dark creatures from entering our land. It's not enough. They'd find a way around it, they'd find another way. And there is of course the matter of the creatures already here in the land. There is but one solution to the problem. Destroy them all, everywhere!"

  "But what you created is going beyond that!" Heteera managed. "It's collecting the magic, just like Ingar's sphere. It's going to lead to greater misfortune. You have to know that."

  "You concern yourself with the wrong problems," Lief said, almost with a snarl. "You look ahead to troubles that do not exist, while you ignore those that do."

  "What exactly is that thing?" Ryson interrupted.

  "It is a vessel," Lief explained. "And yes, it is like Ingar's sphere in that it was created to collect magic, magic that allows the dark creatures to exist. Ingar's sphere was made of the skins of the five races; elf, delver, human, algor, and dwarf. This vessel is made of the hides of dark creatures, and so, it focuses upon them. It feeds on their magic."

  "Magic is magic," Ryson noted, but then did not appear so sure. "Isn't it?"

  "Magical energy has more properties than you can imagine. Still, you should understand some of this. It is not so difficult to grasp that the vessel can be tuned to magic that has been utilized for a specific purpose. You have seen those who cast spells with different hues. The color of the magic matches the intention of the spell and the natural ability of the caster. There is magic of the air, of water or fire, of death."