by Isaac Hooke
Xaxia hesitated, but then moved on.
Malem and the others gave the corridor that harbored the death knight a wide berth as they passed. He kept looking back, expecting to spot streams of dark magic coming from the creature, but none came. Goldenthall remained alert and gave the skeleton a mock salute as he passed.
More corridors opened to the left and right, and without fail, one or more death knights stood in each of them. Sometimes, Malem could see them lined up all the way into the murk.
“I don’t like this…” Abigail said.
And then the passageway opened up. He couldn’t tell the extent of it, because the periphery of the light cone failed to touch the far walls or the ceiling. It was like the party members resided on a stone island set amid a sea of blackness.
Their footfalls echoed from the walls.
“The hell?” Xaxia said, loudly.
Her voice came back, echoing, no longer muted.
“Oh, that’s our own footsteps,” Xaxia said.
“Finally, room to transform!” Sylfi said.
“But should we?” Abigail asked.
“Not yet,” Malem replied.
Above their own footfalls, Malem heard what sounded like a hundred booted feet, marching forward, the sounds emanating from the darkness all around him. He didn’t sense anything in the murk.
“That’s not our footsteps!” Ziatrice said.
“There are hundreds of them!” Sylfi said.
“It’s only the echoes!” Solan told her. “There can only be a few!”
But then Malem saw them. More death knights emerged, stepping into the illumination all around the party. There were indeed hundreds. They all carried jeweled swords in one hand, with kite shields equipped in the other. Those shields had the same red hawk that enameled the chest pieces.
The knights surrounded the party on all sides, standing at the periphery of the light cone.
“Stop!” Malem said.
The party members readily complied. What choice did they have?
He drew Balethorn. The other party members had their own weapons ready.
“Goldenthall, are you ready?” Malem asked.
“As soon as they throw darkness at me, I will eat it up,” Goldenthall said.
“And how much dark magic can you take?” Ziatrice asked. “There are a lot of them…”
“I guess we’ll find out,” Goldenthall said.
“Metals, when I give the word, transform,” Malem said.
The light levels began to increase. Malem glanced up and realized several large stalactites overhead were glowing a dark blue.
As the entire cavern lit up, he could see beyond the ring of illumination produced by Abigail’s flaming globe. More death knights stood behind the others, filling up the cavern, stretching as far as the eye could see: an impenetrable mass of them covering the floor all the way to the distant walls. All of their swords were drawn, and they carried kite shields.
“Uh,” Xaxia said. “Shit. This is definitely worse than a Balor.”
23
Malem swallowed nervously. He shifted his gaze from left to right, wondering which of the knights would attack first. He suspected when the attack did come, they’d all strike at the same time.
“Should we transform?” Solan asked.
“Not yet,” Malem replied.
He still found himself reluctant to make the first move. The death knights hadn’t attacked so far, and sure, while they had their blades and shields equipped, Malem didn’t want to do anything to provoke them. Having the Metals change into dragons could goad these undead into an attack. And somehow, he suspected that even with dragons, defeating these creatures would be difficult.
There was a stir in the undead formations to his right. Turning that way, toward the front of the cavern, he saw that the death knights were separating, clearing the way for a taller figure to approach.
And then the figure stepped into the circle.
It was another death knight. It stood taller than the others, and wore a purple cloak over its armor. With the skeletal fingers of one arm it carried a single one-handed longsword. No shield. On its skeletal brow rested a laurel crown of diamonds and gold.
The ranks closed behind the tall knight, sealing it inside with Malem and the others.
Behind him, he heard the rush of booted feet. Turning around, he watched as the death knights engaged the uraks that entered the room. They flowed smoothly between the urak ranks, blocking blows on their shields, and delivering death with their swords. Some of them launched smears of darkness that caused black veins to grow across the exposed flesh of the monsters. The stricken uraks fell to the ground, screaming as their faces disintegrated.
The buzzing crescendoed in Malem’s head: the Darkness rushed inside, behind the fighting uraks and undead knights, and rose above their heads to advance beneath the stalactites.
The tall knight raised his sword, and drew streams of black mist from the other knights that had gathered in a circle around Malem. The sword became pitch black as the mist ebbed and flowed around it, until the knight pointed its blade at the incoming Darkness, and the mist shot forth to intercept it.
The two competing forces of evil met, and then both dissipated.
Malem no longer heard the buzzing in his head.
“It’s gone,” Malem whispered in awe. “It banished the Darkness.”
“You stole from Artimas,” the tall knight said. “That was unwise.”
“You mean the lich?” Malem asked.
The tall knight cocked its head. “Best that you do not use that word, here.”
“Who are you?” Malem said.
“I am Emeric, king of the Blade Elves,” the tall death knight said.
“The Blade Elves are all dead,” Wendolin said quietly. “Their kingdom fell during the First Balor War.”
“Yes,” Emeric said, apparently hearing her words. “We were once elves of the light. But now we forever live in the dark. Cursed by Balors.”
“Balors did this to you?” Wendolin asked.
“No, we did this to ourselves,” Emeric said. “When the Balors invaded our kingdom, we knew we must lose. Desperate, we made a pact with the undead of the Bogland. Their necromancers promised to give us the power to save our kingdom. In exchange, they asked only that we fight for them, when the time came. We were immortal already—death could only come to us if we were slain in battle. But we accepted this, the curse of the necromancers, in exchange for a final protection: blades, and most magic, could no longer fell us.
“And so we were able to repel the Balors. We lived in peace for some time. Or rather… existed, not lived. For worldly pleasures no longer interested us. We did not need to eat or sleep. We did not tire. We had no urge to mate, nor any means to engage in it. Yes, we existed.
“But then the undead summoned us. As per our agreement, we helped them invade the cities to the north of the Bogland. When at last they were routed by the Eldritch, fleeing back to the Bogland, we retreated here, to these mountains, sickened by what we had become: tools of the Dark. We settled here, in the former domain of the trolden, far away from the Bogland and the call of the other undead.”
“Why are you helping us?” Malem asked.
The king took a step forward and looked down upon Malem. “I have saved you because I have no love of Balors. We will hunt down the other uraks the Balor has sent into this mountain. Those that Artimas does not enlist into his ranks.”
“Thank you,” Malem said. “By the way, you wouldn’t know where I could find another Light Pearl? The one I stole from Artimas is, well, it got cut in half by a servant of Vorgon.”
“We have no other Light Pearls,” Emeric said. “Nor do I know of where you can find more.”
“That’s too bad,” Malem said.
“But there are other ways to summon Paragons…” Emeric said. “You intend to slay the Balor that pursues you?”
“I do,” Malem said.
Emeric nodde
d, and the teeth of that grinning skull rattled. “Seek Grendel, in the Dark Wood. She is one of the last of the Great Witches. She can help you.”
“What about you?” Malem said. “We could use your army in the fight against Vorgon. The Balor has many uraks with him.”
“We cannot leave this mountain,” Emeric said. “It is part of the curse I had Artimas lay upon us, in case the undead of the Bogland ever found us, and attempted to summon us.”
“That’s too bad,” Malem said. He supposed the army he had already would have to be good enough. “I don’t suppose you can show us a faster way out of here? Vorgon’s army is still waiting for us at the eastern entrance, as far as I know.”
“Robert will guide you deeper into the mountain,” the king said, and a knight stepped from the circle. “He will take you to the passage that opens on the western side.”
“Thank you,” Malem said.
“Take this,” the king said, offering an amulet hanging from a necklace.
Malem stepped forward, still holding his sword—though the blade was pointed at the ground. He extended his free hand to accept the necklace. He hesitated before touching it. “What is it?”
“It will protect you from the Darkness,” Emeric said. “The Balor will not be able to find you while you wear it.”
You’re not going to trust this knight, are you? Ziatrice said. What if that necklace is cursed?
Malem glanced at Brita, and she stepped forward to accept the necklace from the death knight. The king relinquished his hold on the object, and Brita stepped back.
The half dragon’s eyes defocused, and then she glanced at Malem.
I’m not quite sure what it does, she sent. But I don’t think it will harm you. If that helps.
Malem nodded, then took the amulet from her. He slid the necklace portion over his head until the amulet rested around his neck. He felt no different, but he supposed that was a good thing.
“I hope we do not meet again,” Emeric said.
“Truthfully, I hope the same,” Malem said.
“I know.” With that, Emeric turned to depart. The other death knights retreated, too; overhead, the stalactites stopped glowing so that soon only Abigail’s flaming globe remained, and the receding soldiers were lost in shadow.
Only the undead knight the king had named Robert remained.
“This way,” Robert said, turning around.
The death knight led them across the cavern, to a small tunnel on the far side. The party entered and found themselves back in the familiar labyrinth of brick walls and flagstone floors.
They passed a group of gazers, and the creatures respectfully turned their backs when they saw the death knight, allowing Malem and the others to pass unharmed.
The death knight reached a staircase that led up into the mountain, and took it. Malem and his companions followed close behind.
Those stairs seemed never ending.
“I think we’re bypassing a few levels here,” Wendolin said.
“We’re passing all of them!” Xaxia exclaimed. “This is great. Why couldn’t we have met these death knights in the first place? Hey, Robert? Why didn’t you come up and get us?”
Robert glanced over his shoulder. “We weren’t sure of your intentions, not at first. We wanted to see how you behaved around the other undead who occupy the upper floors. When you chopped down those lesser skeletons, that wasn’t a good sign.”
“Yeah, like we had a choice,” Xaxia said. “Those bastards rushed us.”
“It also wasn’t good when you robbed Artimas,” Robert said.
“The lich?” Ziatrice interjected.
“He was once our greatest mage,” Robert said.
“This Artimas of yours had something we wanted,” Ziatrice said. “Needed. We can’t defeat the Balor that hunts us without the help of the Paragons.”
“Yes, well,” Robert continued. “In any case, as soon as the uraks arrived, and the Darkness pursued you, we knew whose side you were on. And it was at that point our king chose to intervene.”
They continued up those steps for some time.
“What’s it like, being an undead knight?” Gwen asked at one point. She was panting, despite her monster strength. Dragonscale armor wasn’t the lightest in the world. “Given the life you once knew?”
“It sucks,” Robert said simply.
“Well, I guess it doesn’t need any further explanation,” Gwen said. “No sex, or food. You can’t die, no matter what you do. That definitely sucks.”
“If I could do it over again, I’d choose not to do this,” Robert said. “I’d choose to remain an elf, even if it meant I might die at the hands of a Balor. The necromancers cheated us. They promised we would keep our bodies. And we did, at first. But they rotted away, ever so slowly, over the years. Only Artimas has managed to maintain his body, and this only because of the powerful magic that flows through his veins. But even he will lose the last of his flesh, eventually. Just like the rest of us.”
“Remind me never to become an undead,” Xaxia said.
Soon, they reached the top of the steps, and entered a small, jagged tunnel. It was big enough for the party members to fit in single file only. Mauritania, the tallest among them, had to crouch as she proceeded.
In a short while, Malem saw a glow coming from ahead, and he realized the passageway opened—hopefully onto the surface.
Robert led them to the opening, and paused next to it. “I can go no further. Good luck to you all. I hope you find that which you seek.”
“I hope you do as well,” Malem said.
“I will never find what I seek,” Robert said. With that, the death knight turned around and left.
“What do you think he seeks?” Sylfi asked.
“Freedom,” Malem replied. He stepped through the opening, following Mauritania and Xaxia.
He stood on a rocky terrace of sorts, a wide platform set midway up the mountain. Above and below his present location were sheer cliff faces. It was late evening, with the sun hanging low in the sky, almost touching the horizon.
He went to the closest edge and peered down. Below, the shoulder abutted against the rolling hills that led away to the west. Looking south, he saw the thick, jagged range, winding away from him.
“There’s no path leading down to the shoulder of the mountain,” Gwen said from behind him. “I guess the undead don’t use this exit much, huh?”
“We’ll make our own path,” Xaxia said.
“Yeah, that’d be great, if we all had your climbing skills!” Gwen said.
“We don’t need climbing skills,” Abigail said. “We can fly, remember?” She dismissed her flaming globe, since there was no need for it.
“On that note, do you know the way to Dark Wood?” Malem asked her.
“Of course,” she told him. “It’s marked on all maps. As a place to avoid.”
“Great,” Gwen said.
He glanced at Abigail once more. “By the way, have you heard of this Grendel?”
“No, never,” she said. “I’ve only heard of Dark Wood.”
He glanced at his remaining companions. “Anyone else?”
No one had heard of her. Not even Mauritania, Wendolin and Ziatrice, the older women of the group.
“Over here,” Xaxia told the others.
She was standing on the northern side of the terrace, where the cliff face folded off to one side, allowing a view of the land to the north. She was gazing in that direction.
Malem went to her and followed her gaze. This mountain was at the northern tip of the range; beyond it, the few remaining mountains were smaller, and quickly ceded to the plain beyond.
There, treading across the savanna, he spotted a huge Balor marching north. Its demonic body was outlined in green flames, and at the tip of its tail, iron spikes protruded, reminding him of a mace. It carried a fiery halberd, whose flames also burned bright green.
The Balor was accompanied by a black host travelling on both land and
air. He thought there were oraks down there, along with herds of four-legged reptiles with heads covered in writhing appendages. They were joined by five towering creatures that each stood upon four tall, stilt-like legs, with suction-shaped mouths that were all teeth. Stilt Walkers, he named them.
In the air, winged creatures, about the size of oraks, accompanied the Balor. They seemed to have humanoid bodies, with arms and legs. There were also eight huge dragons. Of the Black variety. Some of the biggest Malem had ever seen.
The Balor, and the dark host with the demon, was too far away to spot Malem and his companions.
At least, he hoped so.
But if they were spotted, he figured they could simply retreat back into the mountain. None of those Black dragons would fit the cramped tunnel.
“Is that Vorgon?” Ziatrice asked.
She had not come with them to the Black Realm. She could not know who this demon was.
“No,” Malem said. “It’s Denfidal.”
“That’s the biggest Balor I’ve ever seen…” Wendolin said.
She had not accompanied them, either.
“What are those smaller flying things surrounding the demon?” Gwen asked.
“Gargoyles,” Wendolin replied. “They are Denfidal’s equivalent of uraks. He bred oraks with avian creatures, and this was the result.”
“Why is Denfidal marching away from the mountains?” Gwen asked. “What’s to the north?”
“There’s only one more major city north of here,” Abigail replied. “But it’s also far to the east. There are no settlements where Denfidal is headed.”
“Then what’s it doing?” Gwen pressed.
It was Goldenthall who answered, in the voice of Banvil. “He travels north, no doubt to create a portal back to the Black Realm. I understand his strategy now.”
“Do tell,” Malem said.
Goldenthall looked at him. The man’s eyes had turned completely black, and dark mist flowed from them. “He is using this realm as a staging ground. For you see, in the Black Realm, north of here is the territory of the Balor Quartenan. Denfidal obviously intends to take his army inside Quartenan’s territory. Once he has crossed over all of Quartenan’s defenses, and his army stands directly inside his enemy’s main stronghold, he will return to the Black Realm. Needless to say, the battle that follows will be quick and one-sided. When this day is done, Quartenan will be no more, and there will be eleven Balors ruling the Black Realm.”
