Shifting Planes- The Complete Box Set

by Jeff Sabean

  As the crowd whipped itself into a frenzy, the cage door burst open, and the beast rushed toward the king. It had three heads, each with a reptilian look to them, with long, razor sharp teeth protruding from open mouths. Its body was the size of a full-grown elephant, and the sand flew every direction as its eight clawed feet pulled it quickly across the arena. It screeched in ecstasy as it rushed toward the king, anticipating making a meal of him.

  As it came close to the king, it raised up on its four rear legs, its front legs slashing wildly with two talons per leg.

  The king shifted his body to the left, using his right arm to parry the slashing attacks of the beast. The talons slid off his arm as he dropped his sword, catching it with his left hand and swinging upward, severing one of its feet at the joint as he pushed the other legs aside and rolled past the monster, coming out of the turn behind it.

  The beast roared in agony as its foot dropped from its leg, blue-green blood spurting from the severed appendage. It attempted to turn to chase the king, but before it could he sliced into its side with his sword, spilling more of its blood on the sand.

  The king gripped the sword with both hands, bringing it back across for another slash, but one of the beast’s heads intercepted the attack, its teeth turning the blade aside before it could do any real damage. The tip of the blade cut into its lip, bringing another howl of pain as the beast pushed away and rolled like a dog, cutting into the king’s abdomen with one of its back legs as it made its escape, now facing the king head on as it came out of the roll.

  With a nod of appreciation, the king wiped his blood with his left hand, keeping his blade facing his opponent with his right. He reached down and rubbed the blood into the sand at his feet, eyes never leaving the beast, which was now trying to slowly circle around behind him.

  Without warning, it lunged again, this time attempting to bite him with one of its heads, but the king’s reflexes were faster as he stepped to the right, bringing his blade around in an arc and removing the first head from its long neck. He rolled backward as the beast’s leg lashed out at him, narrowly avoiding being impaled a second time and coming back to his feet in a balanced stance.

  Not waiting for the beast to recover from the shock of losing a head, the king leapt onto its back as it screamed in anguish. Reversing his grip, he stabbed downward with both hands, his blade digging through flesh and bone to reach to the monster’s heart. With a final moan of pain, it dropped, its two remaining heads hitting the sand as the life left them.

  The king casually stepped down from its back, walked around to the front of the beast, and cut its remaining two heads off, kicking them away from its body. He then lifted his blade above his head as the fans cheered wildly for their god-king, the unbeatable King Rattanda.

  As the king made his way back to his seat, he waved to the sycophant vampire to announce the next fight.

  “Next up, we have a treat for you today! A first for our illustrious arena, we have a shadow elf who wishes to fight to prove himself worthy! Hailing from miles underground, a stranger to the light, his heart as black as his skin: give it up for Di’eslo the Destroyer!”

  Chapter 13 – Proving Worthy

  The cage door in front of Di’eslo disappeared, allowing him to walk onto the sand floor of the arena. He still could not see the crowd outside the dome, but the gasps were audible as the shadows wrapped around him, attempting to hide his body from the light. He looked around the arena, ignoring the sounds of the unseen crowd as his crimson eyes searching for any sign of what he might be facing.

  “Keep your eyes open, brother! There’s no telling what they will throw at you now that our little friend here angered the guy who is setting up the fights,” Heishi called to his friend.

  “It seemed like a good idea at the time,” sniffed the indignant bard.

  Di’eslo stalked to the center of the arena, then slid his shield and flail from his back, banging the spikes of the flail against his shield to start building power in the weapon. As the spikes began to glow purple from the power building inside the weapon, the crowd erupted in cheers and jeers, some screaming for his death while others chanting his name.

  Refusing to allow the noise to disorient him, he looked up to the box seats where he could now clearly see the king lounging on a throne, the weaselly vampire standing to his left and a massive guard to his right. The guard had the face of a lion, the same as the others, but this one did not carry the same spear and shield as the others: he leaned easily on a solid black staff, and was whispering something to the king as Di’eslo made eye contact with him. A look passed across the guard’s lips that could have been either a smile or a snarl, it was hard to tell with that mouth full of teeth, and he stood up straight again, eyes locked on the shadow elf in the arena.

  “We have a perfect opponent for the shadow elf to fight, ladies and gentlemen! If this elf thought he would have an advantage with his affinity for shadows, he should think again!”

  As the vampire finished speaking, he pointed toward a suit of armor that stood on the wall beneath the king’s box seats. On cue, shadows began leaking out of the suit of armor, dropping to the ground and snaking their way to the center of the arena, several paces away from Di’eslo. The suit of armor dissolved completely, and as the shadows reached their place they solidified once more, taking the shape of an armored gladiator, with a short spear in one hand and a net in the other.

  “There is only one rule, elf,” announced the vampire in his whiney voice, “only ONE of you will leave the arena alive. Good luck, you will need it!”

  As the vampire finished speaking, his opponent lunged at him, stabbing out straight with his spear. Di’eslo was not caught off guard, his eyes never having left his opponent, and easily deflected the strike with his shield and stepped to his right, allowing the energy of the attack to slide past him.

  The gladiator made not a sound as it pulled the spear back, swinging low with its left hand and attempting to tangle the elf’s feet with its net. Di’eslo proved to be the faster of the two, nimbly jumping over the net and following through with his first attack, a solid swing of his flail to his opponent’s face. To his surprise, the ball of his flail slid through the gladiator’s face as if passing through shadow, doing no damage and coming out the other side.

  Now over-balanced from a strike that hit nothing, Di’eslo landed and stumbled to his left, following through on his swing. He turned a full circle, hoping he would not be stabbed in the back during the split second it took him to complete the turn, and brought his shield in front of him just in time to stop another strike of his opponent’s spear.

  Understanding his opponent better now, the elf slowed down, looking for openings in its defenses. Every time the spear came in, it would be solid and make contact with his shield, but when he attempted to bat the spear to the side with his flail, the head slid through as if it was not there.

  Once again, the net came from his right side, but instead of jumping it this time he stepped back with his left foot and raised his right, allowing the net to skim the ground beneath his foot but allowing him to counter the attack immediately but remain balanced. He swung his flail at the gladiator’s left arm, hoping it would be tangible while making its attack with the net, but once again his weapon swung through its arm as if it was not even there.

  This time the gladiator expected the counterattack, and as Di’eslo swung his flail through its arm, it spun into it and jabbed the butt of its spear into his face. A crunching sound followed as the spear smashed his nose flat, causing his eyes to water and the blood to flow down his face. The gladiator completed the spin, the tip of its spear scraping across his breastplate, then stepped forward, thrusting the point toward his face.

  Disoriented, Di’eslo was almost impaled, but at the last moment he saw the spear tip coming toward his throat and dove to his right, the spear catching him just below the neck as he moved. Before the gladiator could follow up his strike, the shadow elf leapt to the side
again, rolling and coming to his feet out of his opponent’s range. Still blinking away the tears from his nose being smashed, he could feel the blood running freely from his neck and knew he was in trouble.

  Dropping his flail as he fell to his knees, he placed his right hand over the wound, his eyes glowing blue as a soft blue light reached out from the palm of his hand and knitted the muscle and tissue back together, stopping the flow of blood.

  A gasp worked its way around the arena as the onlookers watched the shadow elf heal himself, and some of those who had been screaming for his blood joined with the others who had been chanting his name.

  He was not fast enough with the heal, and his opponent decided to finish what it had started, slipping its spear tip over the elf’s shield and stabbing straight for the spot where his wound was closing. When the tip of the spear reached the blue light that was coming from his palm, it disintegrated. As the gladiator pressed the attack, any part of the spear that encountered the healing light simply disappeared.

  Seeing the effect his healing had on the shadowed spear, Di’eslo turned his palm toward the gladiator and sent a larger stream of healing energy into its chest, blasting a hole through its armor and chest large enough to stick a fist through. It looked down at the hole, shook its head for a moment, and the shadows dissipated, dropping back to the floor and crawling their way across the sand to turn back into the suit of armor against the wall. As Di’eslo watched the shadows being assimilated back into the suit of armor, a hole appeared in the chest where he had blasted the shadow, and the tip of the spear was conspicuously missing.

  Still on his knees, the shadow elf placed his palm back on his neck, the wave of healing energy finishing its job and leaving his skin unmarked from the spear. He then placed his palm over his face, and as the king and his audience watched, his nose straightened, the blood stopped running, and soon he was as good as new. He picked up the flail, slowly stood, and faced the box seats, wondering what would happen next.

  The king stood and made a fist with his right hand, then placed it over his heart in a salute to the victor, and the crowd went wild.

  “It seems Di’eslo the Destroyer has some tricks up his sleeve!” the sycophant vampire announced, standing and waving for the crowd to settle down. “He has proven himself worthy for the audience he has requested with our exalted king. Go, elf, return to your cage, and you will be brought to His Excellency this evening.

  “But wait,” he announced as Di’eslo turned and walked back to the cage he had come from, “there’s more! Not only did the shadow elf request an audience with His Worship, but so did his companions! I, Soran, right hand of the king himself, exercise my right to prove worthy of remaining in the service of my king.”

  As Di’eslo stepped into his cage and the door closed behind him once more, the scrawny vampire was working himself into a frenzy announcing his own fight.

  “The one called ‘Hankish Silentfoot,’ come forth and meet your DOOM!” the vampire screamed, the jeers of the crowd drowning him out as the doors of the bard’s cage opened and the little halfling bounded out onto the sand of the arena.

  “Picked a big ‘un, did ya?”

  “I thought you had to FIGHT something to prove worthy!”

  “Get it over quick so we can see another REAL fight!”

  Soran’s shoulders slumped for a moment when he heard the crowd mocking him, but as he saw the little halfling step into the center of the arena his blood began to boil. The little bard was smiling and waving to the crowd above as he had the audacity to unsling a lute from his back and begin playing a song!

  As the little one began to sing along with the tune, the vampire couldn’t take it any longer. His corporal body burst in a plume of smoke, which then rushed across the arena toward where the halfling was now dancing a jig to entertain the crowd as he sang his song.

  Blinded by rage, the vampire appeared behind the halfling, solidifying and immediately biting into his neck from behind. He gripped the bard’s head in both hands, feeding on his lifeblood.

  With a yelp that turned into a smile, Hankish calmly turned the neck of his lute over his shoulder and pressed the trigger for the built-in crossbow. The vampire released him immediately, a howl of pain emitting from his lips as the silver crossbow quarrel lodged in his jaw made his flesh smoke.

  Hankish stepped back, winked at the vampire, then swung his lute around, the axe blade cleverly hidden in the neck cleaving Soran’s head from his shoulders. The silver crossbow bolt continued to cause the vampire’s skin to smoke until Hankish jerked it free from the severed head and reloaded his weapon. He then turned back to the box seats, smiled at the king and his bodyguard, and resumed the song he had been playing as he danced his way back to his cage.

  “Well, that’s definitely one way to do it with a bit of flair,” Aki called to his little friend, and the companions all cheered in agreement.

  The crowd remained silent, and it soon became apparent that all eyes were on the king. His right hand had just been killed with ease in his arena, and the killer was singing a song about it as he returned himself to his cage.

  Standing, the king motioned to the guard beside him as he spoke: “Master Kaine will announce the remainder of the fights for this day. A new herald will be appointed before tomorrow’s fights.”

  He had not raised his voice at all, but it rumbled through the arena, commanding respect of all who heard it. He returned to his seat, and his bodyguard stepped forward to announce the next fight.

  Chapter 14 – Answers

  The rest of the day continued in the same way: each member of the party was called out to fight, and each one dispatched their opponent with ease. After they each fought, their cages remained visible as other gladiators were released from cells all around them to also prove their worth. Some were excited to kill for their king, while others were clearly slaves being forced to fight for their lives.

  After several hours of watching the senseless violence and bloodshed, with new cages opening to their view before each fight and the winner remaining visible after, Master Kaine, the king’s bodyguard, announced the end of the day’s “entertainment.”

  “Those who requested an audience with His Excellency the King will be brought to him when he chooses to do so,” Kaine stated, looking at Di’eslo and his companions.

  Immediately the darkness engulfed Di’eslo again. He attempted to call out to his companions, but he was surrounded by the same oppressive darkness that had drowned out the sound and kept him submissive before the start of the day’s fights. Exhausted, he sat once more, placing his back against the bars, but this time the light did not come, allowing him to rest.

  He could not tell how long he had been resting, having fallen asleep almost immediately after sitting down, when a small light on his left side woke him and the cage door opened. He realized as he stood that the door was in front of him, the direction in which he had exited to enter the arena, although this time it led to a narrow tunnel that angled deeper underground. He was alone in the tunnel, and without instructions decided he was simply supposed to follow it.

  He walked for several minutes, admiring the craftsmanship of the flat black walls and polished obsidian floor. There were no cracks visible anywhere, with the entire structure seeming to have been carved from a single block of stone. Every ten paces a small torch was mounted on the wall, giving just enough light that he didn’t need to shift his vision into another wavelength but just dark enough to give the tunnel an eerie feeling.

  As he walked around a curve in the tunnel, he found himself in front of a polished obsidian door, which reflected the light of the torches mounted on either side of it. He reached out and pushed on the door, the stone feeling cold to his touch, and it slid to the side silently revealing a banquet table in front of him.

  King Rattanda sat at the head of the table with Master Kaine on his left and the human woman Aldith sitting on his right. Kaine motioned to the chair beside him, and with a shrug Di�
��eslo entered the room and took his seat.

  “Why have--” he began when no one spoke, but was silenced immediately by Kaine, who put up a hand in front of him.

  “You will wait for your companions,” the lion-man said, his voice a low growl.

  The elf didn’t have to wait long, as a moment later the door he had entered through slid open and Hankish entered, whistling a tune. He was motioned to the chair beside Di’eslo and silenced. This continued with each member of the team, who would arrive at the door the exact moment Master Kaine informed them that they will wait for their companions.

  When all were seated, King Rattanda stood up to address the group.

  “I was told you wished to speak with me. You have all proved your worth in combat, so I have allowed this request. I have also been informed that the reason for your request has to do with Madam Aldith, and she has been ordered to make herself available to you, answering your questions honestly. You have earned this small token of my esteem for living through a day in my arena. Now, you may speak as you eat. You each fought well today, and need to regain your strength.”

  “Your highness,” Di’eslo began without touching any of the food, “I was told that my brother, Fion Raenvree, is alive and being held by that human woman as a prisoner. Our informant told us to inquire with you, your majesty, as to the validity of that statement.”

  “Yes. There is a shadow elf named Fion being held here, your informant is correct.”

  “Why is he being held against his will, your excellency? What has he done to you?”

  “Every being in my kingdom lives and dies by my command. He is being held because he is of use to me, and that is all you need to know. I will not answer questions from mere mortals, regardless of how politely they are worded. If that is all you wish to know from me, I shall leave you to speak to the human, as this line of questioning bores me.”