Gorroth slid to the side, the hit from the basilisk tail driving it near the edge of the greater fall into the abyss below. It snarled threateningly and angrily at the six legged lizard, lowering onto all fours like that of a wolf as it slowly paced round the basilisk as it stood over the form of Dril’ead.
Dril groaned in pain, feeling a sharp sting in his side where he guessed a rib had broken. He turned onto his stronger side and saw the Gorroth demon pacing round him and his trusted mount.
Dril cursed, recognizing the demon from a book he was shown by his father during his training as a youth. The specter was powerful, very powerful, and could enact great damage without feeling so much as a pinch from a soldiers spear. Someone must have summoned the thing from its sleep in the lesser realm.
“Swildagg!” roared Dril’ead in both pain and anger.
“Yes,” the demon hissed, “it is indeed Swildagg that commands my assault. Hate them, curse them, and do all you that you like to their name. Nonetheless I will destroy you.”
Dril’s basilisk lunged forward, claws extending towards Gorroth’s throat as it roared in for an attack. Its first swing caught the specter off guard, slashing several cuts across its maw and sending it stumbling to the side.
Gorroth recovered too quickly, and leapt into the basilisk with both claw and jaw clamping down onto its neck before either six of its legs could stop it. The basilisk reacted by whipped its tail violently, smacking the demon in several places where it would have killed or broken anything from that world. However, Gorroth was not of the natural world. Gorroth was a greater demon of a lesser world, and gifted with strength and endurance by the dark magic of the Shadow Queen.
The basilisk slumped to the ground, blood from both its deep wounds and Gorroth’s cut face pooling beneath it. The wounds on Gorroth’s face, however, began to heal. The exposed flesh was magically sealed, leaving behind only stained blood across its face. It faced Dril as he lay dumbfounded on the ground, taking a moment to realize that his trusted mount and friend had died.
“No!” roared the enraged Follower, climbing to his feet as he forgot the pain in his side. His eyes flashed, burning with a raging fire that had been waiting to be released. “You have made a grave mistake, whatever you are!”
“Meet the demon of just fulfillment!” Gorroth said, his maw curling into a horrid smile. “I have come to fulfill the justice necessary for your actions.”
Dril rushed forward, barley hearing what the demon said, and was received by a sweeping claw that slashed him across both his arm and breastplate. Gorroth roared triumphantly, thinking that the victory was already won over the reckless warrior.
For perhaps the first time, Gorroth was mistaken.
Dril wrapped both hands around the demons throat, squeezing with all the raging strength that his furry gave him, and could feel the neck bone cracking beneath his grip. Gorroth tried to pull away, only to stumble too near the edge of the cliff, and so plunged his clawed hand into Dril’ead’s broken side.
Dril’ead flinched at the sudden pain, loosening his grasp enough for Gorroth to spit into his eyes. As Dril released the demon to clear his face of the disgusting slime, Gorroth shoved him backwards to trip onto his back.
The air rushed from his lungs as he slammed into the earth, and the demon was atop him before he could recover. He was lifted from the ground and thrown against the cliff beside them, but as Dril felt again his broken rib stab into his side, his furry was returned tenfold and he rushed at the demon with a raised fist.
His knuckles slammed into Gorroth’s snout, and the bone cracked beneath the powerful hit. Gorroth shook it off, though, as it immediately began to heal, and bit down hard into Dril’s shoulder.
Dril found the grip of his scimitar and pulled it free, slamming the hilt of it into Gorroth’s belly. With his other hand he laced his fingers between the demon’s jagged teeth, and pried the jaw away from his torn metal and skin. Blood dripped down his armor and stained the teeth of Gorroth as he pulled the demon away.
The adamant sword of Dril rose between them, keeping Gorroth at bay by its slender edge. The rage that had guided the warrior was slipping away now, and most of his energy faded with it. The pain from his broken rib and torn shoulder stung him, and he could hardly focus his attention on the demon pacing round him.
His shoulder suddenly fell numb where the teeth had dug into the skin, and the pain subsided. He could feel nothing in his right arm, not even the blood dripping down to his elbow. He took his eyes off the demon to view the deep wound.
And then it happened, so suddenly it felt like a nightmare to the distracted Dril when Gorroth brushed aside his sword and leapt forward for another strike. They both stumbled backwards, a blinding pain coursing throughout Dril’s body as he instinctively stepped aside to avoid the leaping demon, Gorroth’s teeth entering his left shoulder, penetrating the skin through the armor like before.
After three staggering steps backwards, the wolfish jaw locked onto his shoulder, Dril felt his heel come down onto nothing. It was too late. He was over the edge with the weight of Gorroth pushing him down.
As Gorroth saw their impending doom, he released Dril’ead and turned in an attempt to escape the treacherous fall. Dril wrapped his legs round the demon, holding it tight so that it would fall with him to both of their deaths.
“You fool!” Gorroth laughed over the rushing air despite their predicament. “I cannot die so easily as you! I may fall a thousand years and still will not die from the impact of the bottom!”
“I do not doubt it!” Dril cried in agonizing pain, but wanting to see the demons reaction to what lay in wait. “A million spears may not kill you either, but they most certainly will hurt!”
Gorroth’s smile faded as he looked beyond Dril’s bleeding form and saw the stalagmites standing erect beneath them. He growled, knowing fully well what lay in store.
Dril could not feel either of his arms, and somewhere during the fall he had lost hold of his scimitar. “My soul is prepared!” he roared into the demons bleeding face. “Is yours, Gorroth, demon of just fulfillment?”
Gorroth moved quickly, throwing both his wolfish feet against the stone of the passing cliff side and pushed off with a grunt. Both Follower and demon changed direction moments before their impact into the stalagmites, and spun horizontally through the air long enough to delay a hard strike against the earth, and crashed through several of the rock formations.
Lucky for Dril’ead, Gorroth had received most of the impact through the stalagmites. The Follower released his hold on the demon so he could roll more or less comfortably across the ground without being crushed by Gorroth’s weight. He spun for a second or two before slamming into the side of a stalagmite.
Gorroth crashed into the stalagmite above him, shattering the rock into several shards of stone. The demon raised itself onto its hands and knees, searching to and fro for the warrior who was taking far too long to die.
“I… applaud you,” Dril managed to say beneath gasps. He was surprised that he had lived through such a crashing fall.
Gorroth rose onto his hind legs and moved toward him, smashing stalagmites on either side in frustration. “This time I’ll be sure you’re skewered!”
When Gorroth lifted a shattered piece of rock from the ground, Dril knew he was out of time for banter. He rolled onto his side, his arms completely senseless, and sat forward to stand on his shaky feet. Gorroth hurtled his makeshift spear toward his head, but Dril ducked out of the way and dashed to the side.
For perhaps the first time in a long time, Dril’ead Vulzdagg found himself running. His arms useless at his side, his body broken in several places, and all the fury that would have saved him was gone from his mind. He was alone, running for his life toward what he knew to be a drop straight down into the abyss of the lower level.
The crack came into sight on the edge of the infrared spectrum. Behind him the demon smashed furiously through the stalagmites, throwing shards of rock
at the fleeting Follower.
Dril prepared himself for the leap to the far side, knowing his legs to be too weak to make the distance. But with enough strength to run, Dril thought he might as well try.
“This is the end for your, coward!” Gorroth roared, dropping onto all fours to quicken his pace.
Dril stopped at the edge of the wide crack, a sudden notion entering his mind as he glanced back at the demon. “Not a coward,” he said to Gorroth.
Dril’ead stepped over the edge and was consumed by the darkness, the wet vines acting as little enough support to save him as he crashed downward and was lost.
Gorroth stopped at the lip of the crack, looking down into the darkness. The specter chuckled wryly at the irony of it all. “All that trouble for this?” He shook his head as he turned from the crack and became a cloud of mist.
7
The Weight of Glory
Tyla burst into Alastra’s chamber, a confused expression on her face. “Alastra, something is happening with the demon!”
“What is happening,” Alastra demanded, rising from her bed.
“It has requested the presence of the Swildagg nobles,” Tyla replied, an edge of uneasiness in her voice. Ever since summoning Gorroth, Tyla had been acting edgy and fearful.
“That would be us then,” said Alastra as she pushed by her sister to enter the passage outside. “Tell mother and Nel’ead, and Jastrum and Elemni too. The Swildagg nobles will answer.”
Tyla left down the passage without another word. Alastra watched her go, eyebrows raised with curiosity. What could Gorroth want that it would require the presence of all the nobles? It was possible that he was merely wasting their time out of boredom. Gorroth was given a job, and if he wasn’t doing it he would be punished.
Alastra strode out of the passage and into the Circle of Power, and stood in one of the circles connected along the edge of the main sphere. There she waited for the rest of her family, apprehensive curiosity filling her every thought.
At last the children of Swildagg arrived, led by Tyla into the Circle of Power. They each took their place in the connecting circles, expressions of confusion covering each of their faces. Nel’ead stood the farthest away from Alastra, obviously still upset with her showing of Vaknorbond’s dagger without his knowing first.
Alastra smiled mischievously. Her upsetting her brother by making such a plan behind his back was somewhat amusing, knowing that everything was working perfectly for the downfall of Vulzdagg either way. By now Dril’ead would be dead, slain by Gorroth, the justice demon. That thought brought her back to the wondering of why the demon would want to meet with all of them.
Tyla, with her spell book in hand, began to recite the incantation with which she had first summoned the demon. As she spoke, a mist swirled about in different colors for a few moments before Gorroth arrived, standing in the center of the large circle as he did when first summoned.
“What is it, Gorroth?” Tyla asked the demon.
“My queen would like to make a proposition,” Gorroth began, getting right to the point.
The Swildagg nobles looked at one another, Nel’ead and Alastra holding their gaze at one another for a longer moment before looking back to Gorroth.
“Do you speak of the Shadow Queen?” Tyla asked, purposely bringing up the title for her family to here. “That is who you serve, is it not?”
“Yes, I serve only the Shadow Queen,” Gorroth replied. “She has offered the branch of Swildagg a chance for greater power, greater wisdom, and greater blessings.”
“We serve only the all great and all powerful Urden’Dagg,” Elemni stated proudly. “We will serve no other deity.”
“Wait,” Alastra said suddenly. “What exactly does the Shadow Queen have to offer?”
“Alastra, we will hear naught of it!” said Nel’ead. “This demon speaks of ill things, and ill things are of an evil being. This Shadow Queen has nothing to offer us but slavery under its name. We will serve until we are dead, and no honor or respect will come of it.”
“I fear that Nel’ead speaks the truth,” Eldrean said, staring at Gorroth contemplatively. “We are subject to no other but the Urden’Dagg.”
“The Urden’Dagg has sided with my queen,” Gorroth put in, his tone relaxed. “The decision is already made by your all great and powerful overlord. My queen grants only a personal invitation to those who have cause to hear. You should feel honored and respected to receive such blessings from her.”
Nel’ead watched as Alastra smiled while the rest of his family just looked confused. Alastra was already accepting the invitation, already grabbing at the power the Shadow Queen offered, and was dragging the rest of them with her. Had she no respect? Nel’ead found the question angering, and he ground his teeth in frustration.
In the beginning it was him, he was the lord of Swildagg. The decision was his, and so was the power and authority to keep his people safe. Such power seemed to be taken from his hands right before his eyes, and handed over to Alastra to do with whatever she pleased.
His anger got the better of him that day. He clenched his fists at his side, releasing his breath into a low hiss at what trickery she played on him. She used him and had been using him since he proclaimed Vulzdagg’s treachery against them all. Nel’ead did not respect the notion of being used by any.
No matter if the Urden’Dagg had joined the Shadow Queen, or if his family fell in line with her as well, Nel’ead would not let such things drag him down beneath his sister any longer. He was done, through with the ordering suggestions that Alastra gave him. From that day forward, lord Nel’ead Swildagg would be a creature of his own fate.
His foolhardy stubbornness got the better of him that day, and so did the hate and anger festering within his heart. Alastra had already won, and there was nothing Nel’ead could do about it. Whether or not he would feed that helpless rage was all the choice he had, and thus far he was feeding himself the poison.
Greedy lust after greedy lust leads such people onward unto no avail. The weight of their once glory seemed too heavy for them, so they cast it aside instead of asking for the help of their neighboring branches.
Gorroth only smiled when they accepted his queen’s invitation.
Book Two
The Sound of Glory
Skandil and Shela stood at the edge of the chasm, looking down into the vast and enveloping blackness that extended beyond the sight of their infrared vision, and wondered how anyone would wish to travel such distances into the lower level of the Shadow Realms. It had been said, and also recorded in some of their records and ancient tomes, that the all great and power Urden’Dagg dwelled in those lower places. But if there was such an all great and powerful being as that of the Urden’Dagg, Skandil thought privately as he studied the darkness beneath him, why hasn’t it done something about the growing tension, and chaos of these days?
“Perhaps we should go back,” he said to Shela beside him.
“No,” she replied quickly, “At least, not yet. There is still something I need to see. I need to know what happened, and how it came to be.” She began walking along the edge of the chasm, staring down into its depths as if something were waiting for her to see it or show itself, and Skandil, with a shake of his head, followed after her.
“Lord Dril’ead Vulzdagg was taken by Swildagg,” Skandil pointed out, glancing nervously across the crack toward the distant cliffs rising to form the platform from which the tower rose. “We all know it. There’s no denying what they’ve done to us. So if you want to know something about his death, I’d say go to them. But you’d probably get the same answer as him, when he went to them for answers.”
Shela moved on a little further, looking up only once at the cliffs before turning to Skandil, a skeptical expression on her face. “How do you know all that?”
Skandil shrugged. “If you listen, you learn. The guards talk about what Nel’ead Swildagg had to say to our nobility and their reaction to it, so it only makes sense w
hy he went and hasn’t come back.”
“Still,” she said, looking down into the chasm again, “I want more than just rumors and ideas that make sense to you.” With that being said, she turned and was back on her way.
Skandil sighed as he jogged to match pace with her determined stride, his shorter legs struggling to show any real care or determination. He couldn’t help feeling a little disdainful toward her attitude of late; it seemed to Skandil that Shela’s determination had grown to overrule any common sense, as she seemed to accept only what she learned and discovered on her own. Why didn’t she accept his wisdom? Before she had always listened to what he had to say, break his words apart as she picked what she agreed with and didn’t, and then accepting it all. Now it seemed she reject everything he had to say, if she even listened to it, and went out of her way to find it all out on her own.
She won’t even acknowledge that I’m trying to help her! Skandil blew out his cheeks as he came to a walk, Shela’s pace slowing exceptionally, and he looked up to see that the chasm extended outward into a very large gulf.
Shela muttered something to herself as she examined the width of the expanding rift, eyes widening at the extreme size of it, and then pushed forward with long and heavy steps. This time Skandil didn’t bother keeping up with her as he stopped to see the emptiness open before him, his hand reaching instinctively for the smooth edge of his wand. Such a huge space without any stalagmite standing to fill it in made his stomach clench uncomfortably. The emptiness, the openness, the exposure – none of it was right.
“This isn’t natural,” he whispered as a realization came over him. “Shela, this isn’t natural!”
“I know that,” she said offhandedly over her shoulder, making her way to stand at the edge of a wider expanse of emptiness, eyes still searching the darkness below. She muttered to herself as she went, as if reciting ancient texts from memory. Skandil couldn’t tell what words she was saying, though the feeling the words invoked seemed familiar.
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