by Jay Swanson
The Shadow King had put this line of reasoning to rest long before. “He will never raise the Shadow. He counts it as the folly of the past.”
“For different reasons than I, to be sure. But on that one thing we agree. So what would you have me do, restore your precious army to you? Only to have you use them against me in the end?”
The Shade sat silent.
“To restore the crown jewel of my enemy's army, as well neglected as it may now be, would be something of a folly of the present. I should crush you right now to ensure that no Shade stands in my way.”
The Shadow King swallowed. This was merely a specter, why was he so afraid? “I only want them back. It's my duty. I can't leave them as they are.” The Shade looked to his left for a moment, sighing before returning his gaze. “Once I have them I'll take them to Trauncia and never return.”
“The price must surely be higher than that.” They stared at each other for an age. The pause was pregnant and going into labor. “I want you to use them... for me.”
The Shade couldn't stomach the thought. “No,” he said. “Instead–”
“Instead what? You have nothing else to give.”
“I'll free you.”
“You think I need freeing?” The Demon in the bowl laughed at the idea. “I can free myself.”
“Then why haven't you?” The Shade waited as the Demon took his turn at silence. “The Titans said it was what you would have of me.”
“Why would I need help, Lithuin?” His quiet anger burned through the air in the room. “Why would I need your help?”
“The Gates. You may be able to break the seals on your tomb but the Gates are a different matter.”
“And how do you plan on getting to them? How can you?”
The Shade sighed. He couldn't believe he was about to say it, to betray the Magi and their traps. To do so was practically to commit himself. Whatever the Relequim knew about the about the Gates, he wouldn't know this.
“The guardians on the bridge were designed to keep out all creatures. All creatures natural and twisted, including the Last of the Shadow, the mixing of Shade and Man. But they never foresaw the Last Shade taking on the powers of a Mage.”
The Demon grinned as he sighed in satisfaction. “In noting that hole in their foresight openly, you cross a line from which there is no return.” He laughed at the thought. A deep, sickening laugh that lasted all too long for the Shadow King.
“You're wrong about me though, Lithuin. I can find the Gates and break them. I can escape. But it will take me far longer than I wish. Free me and I will give you what you want. I will bring the Shadow back and restore to you your army.”
“How can I be sure you will?”
“You can't. Just as I can't know you won't betray me. But if you betray me, I will kill you. I will kill you and erase the Shadow from existence.” The Shade's skin crawled. “I will raise your filthy Shadow from their miserable sub-existence, once you've broken the seal on the Gates. And as a sign of good faith, I give you this.”
With that the Demon vanished. In his place grew a jagged rune, one the Shadow King had never seen before. It glowed a deep red and grew in intensity until it seemed like it might burst from the surface of the water.
The medium knew what it meant, however. She gasped and stumbled backwards into the darkness. The rune glowed hot and soon ethereal tendrils of red began to snake out of the bowl. They moved slowly at first, giving both the Shade and the woman a fright. But hers turned to terror. She knew what they were. What they were after.
She rolled on her side to try and stand. The tendrils were faster. They sped towards her, spiraling as they twisted and wrapped her in their grasp. She screamed.
It did her no good as they picked her up off the ground. She hung there for a moment before they started to constrict. Her scream turned inhuman as the tendrils dragged themselves across her body. They sliced her like razors as they twisted and curled around her. The Shade stared on in horror, frozen in place as demonic heat emanated from the bowl. How can he do this? How can he touch her from the Tomb?
Her blood flowed as the Demon's voice filled the room, mingling with the dying screams of the medium. “Blood is a power in itself, Lithuin. But this day I give you the ability to control your own power. And I give you that of my servant; may it serve you as well as she served me.”
A last gurgling breath made its way through the mangled corpse of what was once the medium. She was dropped with disdain. The tendrils coiled in on themselves, making a tangled mass of glowing, quivering strands; like a cluster of feeding eels. They stopped, turned, and erupted towards the Shade.
FIFTEEN
“THANKS,” ARDIN COULDN'T THINK OF ANYTHING ELSE TO SAY. He was still a bit in shock, but also found his tongue tied.
“Who are you? Where did you come from?” The girl didn't move to help him as he tried to sit up.
“I'm... you're...” his mind was swimming. The ache in his back had shot to his head and he was finding it hard to even want to talk.
“You don't look well,” she said as she finally reached out a hand. “Maybe you should get up and take a walk.”
He nodded his agreement as he let her pull him up, the pain in his ribs in response was not short-lived. She was strong. And beautiful. Seeing her face for the first time only caused his tongue to knot itself up further.
“I, uh... we're–”
“You a'right lad?” the Fisherman barged in, to Ardin's momentary displeasure. “Had me worried there. Beast almost got ya.”
“I'm f-fine,” Ardin brushed off his concern. The motion he made with his hand almost caused him to tip over.
“Yeah, you don't look so good.”
“He took a pretty strong knock on the head.” Her voice was smooth to the ear like velvet to the touch. It seemed to echo as if they were in a cave. “Maybe he should sit after all.”
“I'm fi–” and the world went black. Why did the world always go black when a beautiful girl was around? It made all the wrong first impressions.
He woke up a few minutes later on the ground with the Fisherman kneeling over him. Once again a disappointment. He was retroactively hoping what's-her-face would be there.
“Lad, can you hear me?”
“Yeah.” It seemed to slur a bit as he said it. That was annoying.
“Can you heal yourself?”
“Wha?”
“Heal yourself lad.” The Fisherman was whispering. That was annoying too. “You're hurt real bad.”
“You hea yoself.”
“No, heal yoursel– God this is daft. You need to heal yourself.” Why did his voice echo now too?
“Let me try.” That velvety voice was back. It sounded strangely familiar.
“Go right ahead.” The Fisherman seemed as irritated as he was worried.
As her face came into view Ardin almost jumped out of his skin. She wasn't blond at all, she was brunette. And the voice was so familiar.
“Hey Ardin.”
“Alisauh?”
“Can you hear me alright?”
“Alisuh?” He couldn't be sure if he wasn't just mashing her name, his face seemed numb. He didn't care. She was here; he wanted to cry.
“You need to come back to us, ok?”
“Ok...ay.”
“Come back.”
He didn't need any more encouragement than that. He could feel his blood flowing. The warmth ran along his veins, branching into his muscles, seeking any and all injuries. He imagined himself whole, healed, with her. He was insanely happy in that moment as the tissue mended and the pressure in his skull went down.
He closed his eyes, smiling as the scrapes and cuts on his face and arms sealed and vanished. He heard her gasp in response. It made him smile even more; he had gotten pretty good at this. The warmth intensified in his chest and head before dissipating completely. It left him feeling euphoric. Alive.
He opened his eyes with a grin.
“Alisia, I can't believ
e it's y–”
But it wasn't Alisia. Her deep hair had been replaced with light. Her dark eyes blue. Her fair skin browned by the sun. It wasn't Alisia.
“Hi.” She smiled at him curiously. “I'm Rain.”
“Hey...” He failed miserably at covering up his disappointment. “I'm Ardin.”
“Yes, so I've heard. Cid over there was pretty worried about you.”
Ardin sat up. He could see the Fisherman just a stone's throw away kneeling in the grass with his eyes closed.
“That was pretty impressive.”
“What?” Ardin sighed as he tried to push the sadness out. How consistently foolish could his hopes be? “Getting my ass handed to me by that thing?”
“No. Anyone can do that.” She smiled. “How you healed when I was talking to you.”
“Oh, that. Yeah, I guess it's a bit more impressive than almost getting killed.”
“How did you do it?”
“Oi lad! You ok?” The Fisherman got up and started walking over.
Ardin stood, still a bit off balance but whole again. “Yeah, I'm good.”
“Gave us a right fright there, lad. I was real worried, what when you started mumblin' like a loon.” He gave Ardin a big bear hug, the studs in his armor pressing in against his chest and shoulders. “Was worried you might make it to judgment 'fore me there.”
“I can't beat you at everything. At least I'm still ahead on looks.” They laughed more out of relief than anything. “Why couldn't I hurt that thing?”
“Skin on those things is tough, lad. They burn themselves to build it up into more of an armor than hide.”
“You mean they're fire-proof?”
“Aye... well, no. We can talk about it later.”
“Who are you?” Rain's soft voice finally broke through.
“My name is Cid. Captain o' the Old Guard o' the Twelve Cities. And this here is Ardin Vitalis, my charge.”
Curiosity and suspicion danced briefly across her eyes as she looked between them.
“You're not from here then, that much is clear.”
“No, lass.”
“You're from the forbidden continent. I can hear it in your accents.”
“The forbi–”
“That's correct,” the Fisherman cut Ardin off. “We've come to offer our aid.”
Her eyes grew wide as she took a step closer. “It was said a man would come. One who would sail from the forbidden continent to save us from the Relequim. To free us and vanquish him once and for all.”
“Well lass, I can assure you that neither of us are that man.”
“But that's why you've come, isn't it?” She was growing excited in spite of her hesitant suspicion. Ardin could sense a long life lived on the border of despair. She was grasping at hope like a drowning man the air. “To free us?”
“We've come to do that, yes.” The Fisherman was growing cautious with his choice of words. “But not to fight the Relequim. He's still imprisoned, is he not?”
“His monsters aren't.” Her disappointment seemed as poignant as Ardin's had been a minute before. She looked down to stare at the ground as she spoke. “They roam freely again. Even just a few years ago they began to assail the free peoples of our lands. Their slave camps now overflow.
“Those creatures that don't organize themselves still thrive. Woads and Parnithons raid our homes at will. Packs of them hunt our people along the roads and have even started attacking villages at night.”
Her sigh was heavy; it weighed Ardin's stomach down like an empathetic stone.
“Soon there won't be any villages left. The whole Eastern Kingdom is gone, and what is left of the Western Kingdom can't stand for long.”
“Do the Gates still hold?”
“Yes... but he's escaping. Somehow he can reach out beyond the Tomb. He has influence. At least to some degree he is organizing the destruction of my people.” She squinted as she looked at him more intently. “Are you the Cid from the old songs? My father had much good to say of you.”
“I could only hope a father of this land had kind words for me.” Cid tipped an invisible hat.
“What Gates?” Ardin was lost in the conversation.
“The Gates of Ilthuln,” the Fisherman filled the silence. Rain didn't seem to want to discuss it any further. “Ilthuln is the city charged with guarding the Tomb of the Relequim, the Demon. It was founded in the Dragon's Teeth for just that purpose.”
“The Dragon's Teeth?”
Ardin never got his questions answered, however, as a group of Rain's companions jogged up. They were all wrapped in the strange dark strips of cloth; they seemed to have thick leather armor on underneath. There were five of them, all of which were filthy and three of which looked pretty beat up.
“We couldn't round up very many of the survivors, Highness. They scattered pretty quickly.”
“If we set up a fire tonight, do you think many will return?” another asked.
“No,” said the man leading the group. One of the strips of cloth on his shoulder was a deep green, marking some office. He looked weathered, but strong. “I think they're taking their chances in the wilderness. Besides, staying for long is a risk we shouldn't be taking.”
“Did we collect any?” Rain asked.
“Oh yes, Highness. About a hundred. But considering there were near five times that to begin with doesn't bode well. Probably as many died today as we saved, and the rest have scattered.”
“It didn't go well,” she conceded as she fell back into thought. “Today's venture was exceptionally poor.”
“Have these two told you who they are yet?” The man with the green cloth gestured towards the Fisherman. “The big one fights like a beast.”
“Yes, forgive me.” She turned to the two newcomers. “This is Shill, the master of my family bodyguard. He served my father before me. And these are Ardin Vitalis and Cid, who claims to be Captain of the Old Guard.”
“Cid?” Shill seemed to disbelieve his ears. “Captain Cid, who carries the Cleaver?”
“Aye–”
The five men lowered themselves to a knee before the Fisherman could say anything more. Heads bowed, the soldiers each put one hand on the ground. Their foreheads touched their upright knees in respect.
“Shill?” Rain seemed as confused as anyone. “What are you doing?”
He didn't move or raise his head, but responded dutifully. “Cid the Cleaver, Highness. It was he who saved your father in the battle of the Valley of Albentine. You're in the presence of a man to whom many of us owe our lives. I should have recognized his armor and blade.”
Ardin turned to look at the Fisherman with a renewed sense of awe. Who was he? And who were these people that seemed so like his own? They were nothing like what he expected. “Albentine?” he asked. “I thought that place was a fantasy...”
“Aye lad,” the Fisherman said quietly. “That it has become, merely a tale. Few remember half what passed here.”
“And Krakador? That can't be real too.”
The Fisherman just nodded before he turned to Rain. This time it was he who knelt.
“Then you must be of the Renault Clan. Forgive me for assuming your father was any ordinary man. We are in your service.”
This was all quickly becoming too much for Ardin. Kneeling and being in someone's service... what was he stepping into? Who were these people? He felt like he was on the outside of some grand history looking in.
“You may stand, Cid.” She said calmly. She seemed unfazed by the gesture. “As may the rest of you. Forgive me as well for thinking you to be anyone other than who you claimed. I appreciate your service, but I'm afraid I don't even know you.”
“Highness,” Shill interjected. “This man served under the Magi during the Liberation. He has taken oaths to protect the Magi and mankind.”
“I've heard the stories, Shill.” She turned apologetically to Cid. “But I can't accept your service in any case, Captain. You are already in the service of your oat
hs. I can assume that you've been sent by someone else, and I won't stand in the way of your duties.”
Cid bowed once more. “I thank you for your wisdom and understanding.”
Ardin still couldn't get his head around the formalities or all of the new names. It was pushing him beyond uncomfortable. Even Cid's even tone was strange in comparison to his usual jovial gruffness. Ardin suddenly felt insignificant in the face of a much larger world.
“We'd like to come with you if'n we may,” Cid continued. “There's little we know of yer situation and much we should like to learn.”
“Of course.” She smiled, letting the formality drop by the wayside. It made Ardin feel a bit more comfortable. “We will help you in any way that we can.”
She looked at Ardin sideways for a moment. Her gaze unsettled him, and he looked at the ground before she turned to walk through her bodyguard. Beyond them, through the trees, Ardin could make out a large group of men and women being shepherded together. The remaining men from the ambush party were handing out clothing to the mostly naked mass. They received shabby shirts and trousers at best. Something was better than nothing. Clothing provided dignity if nothing else, and dignity was something Ardin could see these people hadn't been permitted for a long time.
“I wouldn't expect much in the way of support,” she continued as they got closer. “We're stretched thin as it is and our efforts to free the captives have left us even fewer fighting men.”
Each person knelt or touched their forehead as she passed, whether or not she paid them any heed. Ardin was starting to wonder more about her too. He seemed to have wandered into a world he knew nothing about twice over, but having all of these new faces made him the most uncomfortable. His nerves began to set themselves on edge, though he wasn't sure why.
After inspecting the group and ordering some of the released captives to help carry stretchers, she turned back to the Fisherman. “We can house and feed you and provide a base of operations. Though I don't know how long we'll stay in one place. You'll be free to come and go in our territory, and we'll give you whatever information we have to share.”
“How about translators?” the Fisherman asked. “We could use one if we're to stay in the east.”
