by Jay Swanson
Unlike the light-gray and white granite peaks that surrounded it, this mountain was a dark and gloomy gray, though it hadn't been that way when they first entombed the Relequim. Its craggy slopes were only lightened by snow that tumbled off of its wind-swept heights. Floating at the center of a dozen lesser summits, it was waiting. For him.
Home to the Relequim, the mountain had never had a name before the day the Magi began to carve away its roots. Its individual components had earned many names since that day from those who had come later. The Great Catacomb. The End of the World. The Tomb of the Relequim. But the peak itself remained nameless, as the Magi had originally intended.
The Cathedral was the actual structure that was built around the Gates and housed the tomb itself. The Gates were sealed to the outside world, and they were what he was bid to open. The Relequim seemed confident in his ability to escape the tomb itself should they fall.
The Shadow King had been there on the day they had imprisoned the Relequim, though the memories had turned to nightmares when he had taken Silvers on as a host. Though the Demon had been severely wounded and weakened, he still proved immensely powerful. And vengeful. More than a handful of Shadow had been killed as well as a Mage when they had carried him across that bridge.
They had encapsulated him in a great chest. A casket. They had sealed it with a dozen enchanted locks, and still he reached out with his malice. They carted him over and wheeled him inside the Cathedral. They made it half-way before every member of the team of oxen that pulled the cart was dead. From there, the Magi carried it with their own power.
Only the Elders, the Brethren, the King of the Shades, and two human observers had been permitted inside for his interment. Cid, the man that would become Captain of the Guard, and the historian. The Shade still couldn't remember the man's name, Alexander something, only that he had been with them since the beginning. The Shadow King had been brought along as a symbol of solidarity. He had never taken anything from that day until the power of it had been made tangible by the process of becoming human.
The Cathedral jutted out a hundred yards or so from the slopes of the mountain. It was as if a massive building had been picked up and shoved into the side of the stone.
But the interior was where its true vastness lay, it reached hundreds of feet towards the apex of the mountain. Great granite pillars carved out of the raw stone dotted the expanse of the space. It was lit by a two giant windows halfway up and on either side of the mountain, one facing east and the other west so that darkness only entered come nightfall. The magnitude alone was awe-inspiring. The Shadow King remembered how he had been lost in the space when they first entered. He had even forgotten for a moment why they were there. In an instant uncharacteristic for a Shade, he found he admired the beauty of the place. He had turned in a circle to see all of the ornate carvings in the stone. Much of it was enchanted; the whole place was designed to funnel the enchantments down on the doors that would entomb the Demon and trap him.
In the center of the room stood a great dais. It only rose three feet from the floor, a pentagon with curved indents at each corner. But the vast majority of it was a massive set of doors facing down. Five triangular stone panels swung slowly upwards as the three Elder Magi approached. Caspian, Cervoix, and Charsi. How regal and powerful they had been. Four of the doors stood straight in the air, while the fifth continued rotating until it made a pointed ramp up to the dais.
The Shadow King had been cold to the fear that the other five had written across their hard faces. Even the hidden features of the Brethren were unnecessary to see the hesitation in their stances. But they were ready for what was to come. The massive chest was lifted by the Magi. It shook and quivered as the Relequim bent the last of his strength on escape. They walked it slowly over to the open dais, a gaping hole beneath. Here the root of the mountain was exposed. The Brethren kept their hands on their weapons, moving slowly with the floating chest.
The Shadow King had followed along with the humans, watching and waiting. As they neared the edge of the dais, he could see down inside. The Tomb was a pit that ran to the bottom of the mountain. Inside broiled a writhing mist, purple and glowing with a contained energy. The Magi had moved the massive chest out over open space. It hung there for a moment as the Relequim shook and screamed and fought to be free.
And then they dropped it.
They had moved closer then, pouring themselves into that pit. What they had created, he was uncertain, but it looked like some sort of ethereal cement. They made it out of thin air, and they poured it in over the Relequim. For an hour they stood there, until they had filled the hole with the viscous fluid. It tinged red as they stepped back and bid the doors to close.
Once shut, they had run their hands over the seams, sealing them with enchantments the likes of which he had never heard. As they backed out of the Cathedral, Charsi had said one final incantation. One that caused the lines and bevels in the carvings all around the room come to life and glow. All the weight and pressure of the room was focused on those doors, he knew. And they would be nearly impossible to open from the other side.
They had left that place, and as one final gesture of protection, they had breathed life into the statues that guarded the Gates. Three of them stood over the Gates themselves while six stood along the bridge. “Should anyone ever approach these Gates to betray mankind,” Caspian had said. “These guardians shall undo them.”
He hadn't thought much of it at the time, but now he hoped that statement to be untrue.
The Shadow King's long sword dripped blood on the granite bridge; he stood on the brink of the greatest treason he could ever commit. He took a step forward, and then another. The chasm gaped beneath him, disappearing into mist and darkness. The abyss. The white mists of the Magi were ever present here.
No options were left to him, he told himself as his gut twisted at the sight. Could he go back? Even after all he had done to get here? But there was no longer any need for convincing. Not truly. Not if the atrocity he had committed in the halls behind him spoke any air of truth. He was committed to this cause now; there would be no forgiveness in success, and even less in surrender.
The cold determination returned, scourging the last of his hesitation and remorse. He knew what he wanted. What he had to do to get it. He would have them back. The Shadow would rise and fight again. His pulse quickened as he pictured his brothers lined up behind him. The end of his road was near. The Shadow King walked forward boldly then. It was time to get this over with.
THIRTY-ONE
THE SHADOW KING HAD LITTLE TO FEAR, HE TOLD HIMSELF. The Guardians were formidable, yes. But designed for specific purposes. He had been there at their creation, at the very moment they had been given life, and he knew that he could undo them all.
One for mankind, the weakest of mind.
One for the twisted, the Demon's own kind.
One for the Shadow, should ever they fall.
One for the Magi, the purest of all.
The Last Shade may come, for him there is one.
Should man mix with Mage, the sixth shall we stage.
A final three, for Brethren free.
He hoped he remembered the rhyme correctly. But in any case he knew there was no preparation for him. No expectation of man mixed with Mage mixed with Shade. He could do this.
It was a good half mile before the first statue stood on the left of the bridge. It was a massive soldier with a spear and shield, made to resemble the bodyguards of the Kings of Islenda. In place of shimmering steel and oiled chains it stood clad in the white granite of the Dragon's Teeth. As he approached he heard a loud crack. The violence of it caused the rhythm of his heart to skip. For a moment he feared the bridge had broken.
But then more cracks followed as the statue broke its bond with its stand and stepped down to the bridge. Its footfall was heavy, coming down with a resounding thud. The Shadow King disbelieved that it was possible in spite of his foreknowledge, but he cou
ld ignore the dissonance for the moment. He altered his course to the left and made straight for the statue.
“Halt!” Came a voice as through churning gravel. “Turn back. Passage here is forbidden you.”
The Shadow King picked up the pace, sweeping the sword off his back as he took off running. The statue was at least ten feet tall and massively built. It picked up its spear, hefting it lightly and adjusting its grip as it hurled the stone at the Shade.
The Shadow King dodged deftly to the left, the heavy point whistling through the air as he corrected and launched himself in the air. The statue raised its shield, pulling at a sword that was buckled to its belt. But it was designed to fight men, and no man could leap as the Shadow could. The Shadow King came down on its helm, stabbing down as he landed. Caspian's skill in crafting the sword shone as it bit deep, cleaving halfway through the base of the soldier's neck. It spun, attempting to swat him off. He merely dropped to the ground, holding onto the hilt of his sword as he fell. The pressure jerked the blade up hard under the statue's head, popping the majority of it free. Another crack sounded and it crumbled and fell to the ground in pieces.
“Easy enough,” the Shade said as he moved to clean the blade. But there was no blood. “Of course.” He shook his head. It never ceased to amaze him how strong the sword was.
He kept on down the bridge, sword drawn and ready. The next statue was in the shape of some giant monster, a mimicry of the Relequim's abominations. It stood on two legs like a man, but had massive hunched shoulders and the stubby face of some dark lizard. Short curled horns sprouted from the sides of its square head, and in its hands it clutched a jagged square ax.
Another booming crack resounded in the gorge as the second statue came to life. But this time the Shade was not caught off guard. It too had to work itself free of its stand, and by the time it had stepped onto the bridge he was hacking down at its short neck.
The Guardian managed to dodge to the side, pulling its shoulder up in time to protect itself. The long curved blade of the Shadow King took a chunk out of the bright granite, but did little lasting damage. He spun low to dodge the swinging ax and rolled free through its legs. To his surprise the statue immediately spun and hammered at him with the ax. He rolled again, the granite weapon grinding on the granite bridge as the impact split his ears. He kicked up to his feet as the stone slammed down behind him. He spun low and brought his sword up into the statue's gut.
To the Shade's pleased surprise, the blade punctured the stone and slid into its stomach. The Guardian's roar sounded like a mountain shearing in half. It swatted down, catching the Shade in the shoulder and sending him sprawling. It was all he could do to hang onto the blade as he floundered to catch his feet. He stood but had to duck again as the ax swung where his head had been. His shoulder was dislocated at best, shattered at worst. He rolled away from another blow that left the ax lodged in the surface of the bridge.
He made the jump, needing to heal more than anything. He took the moment to work his way towards the edge of the bridge. When he came back to the physical, the Guardian was looking for him in confusion. Its ax was half shattered from the bridge. The Shadow King picked up a rock and threw it lightly, hitting the monster in the side of the head. He set his feet and smiled. It saw him, growled, and charged.
The Shade took a few steps back until his heels came up against the three-foot-wide curb that ran the length of the bridge. He stopped, and opened his arms. The monster picked up speed at the sight. It dropped its ax as it plunged headlong into him, to tackle and carry him over the edge.
But the Shade just disappeared, letting the statue pass through empty space and into the mists beyond. He could sense it fly through him, and then made the jump back into the physical. So far so easy. His shoulder was still sore; he needed more time to heal. He turned, rubbing his arm, as a stone arrow whistled past his ear and shattered on the bridge behind him.
Startled, he gaped as the next statue took another step forward, notched an arrow on an invisible bow string, and pulled back. Strange choice to fight a Shade, he thought as the arrow was loosed. He smiled knowingly, the arrow lined up perfectly to catch him in his damaged shoulder. He let it come. Once his skin registered the intrusion, all of the years of training would kick in and it would simply pass. But it didn't just pass. It took a piece of him with it.
He was thrown back by the impact of the heavy granite. It had enough momentum to run through him entirely before clattering and breaking on the bridge behind. He slid back a few painful feet as the adrenaline started pumping anew. The Shadow King kicked up to his feet, landing just in time to avoid the arrow that had been aimed at him on the ground. It ricocheted between his legs as he tried to make the jump. And found that he couldn't.
Ok, he thought as it drew another arrow from its oversized quiver. Now it makes more sense.
The archer wasn't much smaller than the first statue, but it's bow was nearly as tall as it was. Its eyes glowed green as it pulled the stone shaft back past its chin.
Let's see if I can remember how this works, the Shade thought as he closed his eyes and put up his empty hand. The arrow flew at him as he imagined catching it. He heard stone shatter and he glanced to see it ricochet over the edge. Better than nothing. Another arrow was already being strung. He put his good hand up as the statue released, and imagined catching it. The arrow kept coming this time, and he ducked just in time for it to pass overhead.
The Guardian was too far off to make a direct approach. It wasn't running out of ammunition any time soon either, and he was bleeding all over the place. The next shaft flew at him now. He put up his hand again, heart pumping in his ears. This time the shaft slowed, and before it got to him it had stopped. He felt the warmth pulse in his arm for a second before he turned the arrow in the air with a thought. The statue was loosing another shaft. He released his own, flinging it back the way it had come before he threw himself down to avoid the incoming missile. He heard a loud crack as fire lanced up his shoulder in response to the impact with the ground. When he opened his eyes, the archer was missing a chunk out of its side.
Not bad for my first shot.
It lined up another arrow. He put his hand up again as he stood, catching the arrow and directing it to the statue's face. He opened his fingers and was rewarded with another burst of dust before the statue crumbled and fell to the ground in a pile of rubble.
Another booming crack sounded down the way. He was only a quarter of a mile from the gates now. A ten foot Mage stepped down onto the bridge. Its long sloped hat made it even taller. It hefted the staff in its hand threateningly. It was plain faced, but it reminded him of Caspian. That made his gut twist. He made the jump to heal. It would take him too long to mend entirely, and if he took too much time he was afraid more of the statues would awake to support their kindred. When he jumped back, he took off in a dead sprint.
He hadn't taken three more steps before the stone gem at the end of the staff flared to life. It pulsed blue, and he felt sick to his stomach. MARD? How is that possible? It slowed him a little but he fought against the sickness as the stone Mage reached towards him with its free hand. Oh shit.
Fire bloomed between its fingers and exploded down the bridge towards him. He made the jump just in time to avoid being seared to death. When he made the jump back a second blast was already on its way. He jumped again, staying in the metaphysical for a minute, floating amongst the Atmosphere. That was when he noticed it, the mists were gone. At least in the area in front of the statue, they were gone. That would certainly undo any Mage unwary enough to get caught by the MARD.
The staff it held shone clearly, it was actually easy for him to see. He was standing in vacuous space, but behind the statue the mists were churning. They were being drawn in at the statue's bidding and being thrust into the physical as fire. The whole presence of the statue read exactly the same to him as that of a Mage. He had never seen it so clearly. If he had had a face in that moment, he would have smi
led. He moved steadily forward until he was behind the statue, and jumped back in.
In a flash he leaped up its side. He hacked at the end of the staff, cutting it clean off, and jumped back into the Atmosphere as a blast of fire burst through the space he had occupied. He found the head of the staff. It rocked on the ground as it settled, forcing the Atmosphere above it away in broad sweeps. He jumped back in on top of it, lifting it and pointing it at the statue as best he could. It turned to fight but crumbled into dust as the Atmosphere evacuated the space around it.
He grinned, the elation of battle giving its high, and dropped the head of the staff. Just like a Mage.
He sprinted again as the next Guardian cracked to life. This one was made especially for him, the Last Shade. It gave him a little extra pleasure to know there was one meant just for him. Its face was hidden, dressed in a simple hooded cloak much like his own. As it stepped off its dais he thrust his hands forward, closing his eyes as he imagined the thing being blasted into open air. A shockwave went forth, and as he opened his eyes he was pleased to find the thing fighting to keep its footing.
It lowered its arms from its face and planted its feet. Its eyes glowed green, then its hands began to move in a flurry, and before he knew it knives had filled the air around him. He dodged as best he could, but couldn't make the jump and soon had been hit by three of the missiles. He spun to dodge another wave of stone blades, then leaped in the air as high as he could, hoping to circumvent the statue's defenses.
It was ready for him, leaping in unison so that he never left eye level. The knives stopped flying as the two came together mid-air. The Shadow King swung his blade around to gain momentum, bringing it down in a long arc to smash the statue in the face. But the statue was faster, punching him in the chest and using its superior reach to connect before he could land his blow.
The statue's arms moved with insane speed, spinning around and hammering down on his back before he had fully realized he had been hit in the chest. The impact sent him rocketing to the ground where he hit with a sickening thud.
