The Fourth Age Shadow Wars: Assassins (The Fourth Age: Shadow Wars Book 1)

by David Pauly

  Bran stood a few feet back from the center of the room as Aradia moved around the collection of pipes, which was over ten feet in circumference, hanging down from the simple ceiling above it. Many valves were within her reach, but others required the use of the ladder, and Bran was soon moving the light wooden ladder on wheels as Aradia commanded. Bran looked on in confused wonder at the Acies: some of the crystal cylinders resembled flutes, with a myriad of small holes where air would flow and resonate, while others were larger, nearly ten inches across and ten feet long, responsible for the deepest sounds of the set. Still others were tiny, smaller than even Bran's fingers, and made no noise that Bran could hear.

  'My lady, how does it work?'

  'By opening and closing the valves and stoppers, I can generate an infinite variety of tones, but most of these are useless except to create a sense of mood or create an enticing fragrance in a home. There are small crystal sets, sold by my family, that require no magic; just place them in an open window, and they will generate one affect, perhaps the smell of new-made bread. Please move the ladder two feet to the left, Bran, thank you. But the great, complex sets, such as this Acies or the Beacon crystals, can do much more. As you saw as we arrived, the massive towers strung along the coast project enchantments of the Elves across the water so that none but the Greater Elves can come here. Now please let me concentrate: the exact combination of tones is quite complex; I will need all of my thoughts focused on the task to allow you to see Platonia. Just move the ladder when and where I tell you.'

  'Yes, my lady.'

  Aradia focused on the final subtle combination of tones needed to produce distant visions in the Acies—a combination known to only a few Elves of the royal house of Phaida. Though it had been more than two centuries since Aradia had stood here, in the Chamber of the Acies, she had not forgotten the knowledge that was her birthright.

  With only final small adjustments necessary within her reach on the ground, Aradia had Bran sit in one of the chairs in the room as she twisted knobs to create the silvery-sounding tones that indicated the crystals could and would produce their visions. Suddenly a sphere of light burst forth from the Crystals, forming a globe many feet in diameter, and Aradia heard Bran gasp in wonder. Most of the pertinent information was only visible within the golden circle, and Aradia knew that Bran could only see the odd vision from his vantage point a few feet from her side. The magic had a will of its own, and while it could be directed to a degree by someone as powerful as Aradia, the images it chose to reveal were not always of the present, but instead could be of the past or the future.

  'My lady, may I look now?' asked Bran, screwing up his courage.

  'Please do not interrupt, Bran,' Aradia replied without glancing up. 'I must now engage my will with the crystal set. Otherwise it will generate random images from all over Elvalon, Nostraterra, and even the ocean. Once I have adjusted the Acies, I will first have a look around Nostraterra to satisfy my own curiosity. Then, when I am finished, I will focus the Acies on Platonia and sit in the chair next to you. Then you can step into the circle and see your homeland. But for now, please be still.'

  Aradia stood in the golden circle looking into the light sphere immediately beneath the crystal set. At first she saw little, only the sea and views from the other Acies located in Elvalon. Slowly, she became able to direct her gaze, and ever northward did she press, until she cast her glance toward Phoenicia, where her cousin Celefin, Lord of Phoenicia, dwelt with Emedius, weapons master of the Greater Elves. Seeing him, she was able to use her many gifts to read some of his thoughts and learned much concerning the Greater Elves who yet remained in Nostraterra.

  Then the sphere took her farther afield from Phoenicia. She saw swirling smoke, trees that were in motion, Gracies on short horses, some with weapons, and bedraggled Men standing in weak sunlight. These images were confusing and disturbing, as the Acies was unclear as to the sequence of the events and their specific location. Still, the images seemed to validate some of Bran's concerns.

  Bored of sitting, Bran rose from his chair and slowly walked around the sphere, watching idly as occasional images flashed into focus and then disappeared. The only image that made sense to him was one where Gracies appeared engaged in combat. The rest showed places unknown to him and faces of people that he did not know. Impatiently, he waited for Aradia to finish with her search, reminding himself that he would soon partake of a magic that was not even rumored amongst Gracies, much less accessible to them.

  Aradia concentrated harder on bending the magic of the Acies to her will, and the sphere took her northeastward to the Ice Mountains, where she could see into many of the Dwarven mines, but not into the minds of the Dwarves. She saw enough clear visions of Nerea, the great Dwarf Mine, to concern her gravely. Looking north to the Dwarves of the Bastion and those of the Sandy Hills, she caught her breath in fear as an ancient dark magic took new form, fluttering wingtips crackling with lightning as it embarked on a new reign of terror and destruction, the ancient enemy of the Dwarves stalking them again with terrible new weapons.

  'No, it cannot happen again, not after all these years!' she muttered to herself.

  Looking away from the sphere, she paused and, seeing Bran's hopeful gaze, shook her head, then returned her gaze to its depths. This time she was able to focus her thoughts more clearly and looked into Eldora, the realm of the Westmen. Many images of Men flickered and died, each more foul than the last. Corruption vied with debauchery and treachery as Men took what they wanted from themselves and from others.

  'So, this is the legacy of the Westmen,' she thought with disgust. 'This is what we all fought and died and sacrificed for: the rule of Men at the last.' Though sickened by what she saw, she was surprised by it. The scenes only reinforced her fears that Men would lead Nostraterra into decay and destruction, even those of the north. 'Why?' she asked herself silently. 'Why are they acting like this now?' her mind drawn to a hidden source of great power far to the east in Nostraterra.

  Suddenly, she heard Raghnall’s voice in her mind even though he remained outside the tower, 'Cease looking eastward Aradia, turn now to answering Bran's questions.'

  Ignoring his command, she bid the crystals to help answer her question, and they into the Eastern Waste of far Azhar. Here she saw hundreds of people, Elven in origin, but dressed in skins and rude clothes, the Dark Elves, chaotic allies of Magnar banished after the end of the war. Gathered together, they praised a giant humanoid figure garbed in blue robes. Its features were hidden by a large hooded cowl. She could guess nothing of its race and origins. Shimmers of light and darkness came from its outstretched hands, glowing and fading, serpentine bands of radiance and emptiness vying with one another in their quest for supremacy. The blue hands, with clawlike fingers covered in scales, were like nothing she had ever seen or heard of before. They manipulated the intertwining bands, holding them together somehow, despite their apparent opposition in kind, even as they twisted and turned their way outward from the figure.

  'Perhaps there is a similarity in function,' Aradia thought. 'The mirrored reflection of the same will or purpose that takes different hues and forms, facets of an unknown power of thought and focus.'

  Many of the Dark Elves were touched by these emanations, and some writhed in pain as they died. Still others began to change into forms that had no clear shape or purpose. One thing was certain: none of those who came into contact with the billowing strands of nightmare were able to survive without catastrophic change to their corporeal forms.

  Feeling the evil presence of this figure, but seeing nothing clearly of it besides its clawed blue hands; she pulled her gaze away, directing it to a second nearby figure. This one was also garbed in coarse robes of a dark, nearly midnight blue. Its hands were also blue, though of a darker hue, and its face and form were likewise concealed beneath robe and cowl. But Aradia felt on some unknown level that this being was mightier than the first blue shape she had seen.

  This second f
igure unlike the first stood utterly still, without any overt display of magical energy. Yet it exuded a sense of power that made Aradia shiver. Little could she see of its interactions with its subjects or slaves, but the bodies of the Dark Elves, moving in a rhythmic, sequential dance, testified to its influence over them. Aradia felt sure that those bowing before this second figure were wholly its creatures, devoid of individual will or thought.

  Swaying as though in an ecstatic trance; the worshippers turned their faces to the sun and silently screamed. Raw rage was written there. It seemed to Aradia that their hatred was so great that it must extinguish the sun itself. For it was plain that they needed only one sun: the blue-garbed figure around which they orbited.

  Pulling terrified animals, birds, and wild dogs toward a crude altar, the Dark Elves slew them all, slashing their throats and anointing themselves with the warm blood of their victims, offering the hearts to the darker figure before them. The creature gestured slightly, and those closest to it fell screaming, their bodies melting and blazing in the darkening sky.

  Now more Dark Elves dragged a young female, a child of Man, to the altar. She seemed drugged, or at any rate did not struggle or cry out as her heart was torn from her body by the fingers of the supplicants and held up, still beating, to the blue-garbed figure. This time the creature did not slay its worshipers but instead imbued the closest with an unearthly black-purple hue. As dark light flickered across their limbs and upturned faces, they grew in stature, their faces gleaming with an almost sexual rapture even as their eyes became blackened slits and their fingers elongated and twisted, turning into claws. All the while, they sang silently to the maker of their madness.

  All at once the cloaked head rose; its face still concealed; yet Aradia felt the hidden gaze reach out to her across the vast distance that separated them. The creature removed what appeared to be a large black gem, nearly the size of Aradia's hand, from its cloak and held it in front of its shadowed face as it stared in Aradia's direction. A chilling stab of malice thrust at her mind as the figure tried not merely to contact her through the Acies but to overwhelm her defenses. It knew she was watching, of that she had no doubt. And it meant her no good. The strength of its dark mind, unknown and unheralded, was astonishing. She felt a shadow, an echo, of the madness and hatred that dwelt there, and a dark hunger that yearned to feed on her soul. The creature would possess her if it could.

  But Aradia was not so easily defeated, though it had been long indeed since she had battled mind to mind in this way. Fortifying her thoughts from all of the long, hard years of struggle in Nostraterra, she used her renewed powers to snap the outstretched tendrils of hateful cunning that searched for her without eyes. As soon as the pressure lifted, and before the attack could be renewed, she pulled back, retreating from the most powerful evil mind she had felt since the days of Magnar.

  Wrenching herself from the sphere of light, Aradia withdrew her gaze and collapsed, exhausted, onto a chair.

  Bran rushed over. 'My lady, are you all right? Should I summon the guards?'

  Powerless for several moments, she could say nothing, but waived her hand toward Bran and the sphere, which Bran took as a signal that she was merely tired, that he should enter the circle. He took this opportunity to gaze into the sphere itself, believing that Aradia had left it focused on Platonia for his use.

  Dragging the small ladder into the golden circle, he climbed to its top rung. There, balanced precariously, he gazed into the sphere. But instead of the pastoral fields of Platonia, he beheld a terrible blue-cloaked figure holding a black gemstone in front of its hidden face. Dark blue rays of energy shot from the gem and through the sphere, striking Bran in the face and running up and down his body. Never had he known such pain. He screamed as the crackling sounds of lightning filled his ears and a horrible smell of burning meat rose to his nostrils. Only briefly did Bran realize that his body was the source of these sounds and smells.

  The guards outside the room heard Bran's terrible screams and rushed into the room. One went to Bran's aid as the other, seeing the terrible purple rays of energy slash into the Gracie again, moved to close the valves on the crystal set. As he pulled the last valve shut, a final blast of energy emerged, slaying him where he stood. Still, his falling body completed its action, shutting down the Acies. The other guard, meanwhile, ordered his fellows to carry Bran from the chamber. The Gracie's unconscious body twitched as streamers of dark energy faded, sinking into his flesh.

  Aradia rose from her chair and took a step toward Bran then, intending to aid her friend, but her reserves of strength were gone. Black spots swam before her eyes, merging, spreading over everything, and she knew nothing more.

  #

  Later that day, Aradia lay upon a couch in her chambers. The curtains were drawn to protect her eyes, which were unusually sensitive to light in the aftermath of the attack. She still could scarcely believe what had happened. The blue-clad creature had sent its magic through the Acies. That should not have been possible for anyone. What was the creature, and why had it attacked her? The strength of it, the sheer violent hatred she had sensed, caused her to shake, assailed by fear such as she had never known, not even when she had faced Magnar.

  Just then, a knock came at the door. She heard it open, than sensed more than saw Raghnall and her brother, Dorphin, enter.

  'How do you fare, my sister?' asked Dorphin in a voice at once gentle and sorrowful.

  'Bran,' she croaked, with no thought for herself. 'How is he?'

  'In great pain,' responded Raghnall coldly. 'The dark magic that attacked him lives in his flesh still. He will last only a matter of hours maybe a day or so. He is paying for your incredible arrogance in ignoring my command, with his very life. I hope that you are satisfied with yourself.'

  Weeping bitter tears, Aradia begged Raghnall to aid Bran, asking him to use the power of the Air Spirits.

  'Do you not think I haven't tried?' Raghnall replied angrily. 'Unfortunately for Bran, the magic that invests his body will not respond to any magic available to the Elves, and the Air Spirits have denied my request for aid and temporarily have taken away my powers for my role in allowing this catastrophe to happen. I cannot save him. No one can. Bran will die, as the world intended before we ever brought him here.'

  'I must see him,' she said. 'I must try to—'

  'You have done enough,' Raghnall broke in. 'Bran is beyond your help now. You should be more concerned about the Council.'

  Aradia felt a thrill of fear at that. 'What do you mean?'

  'They have decreed that you are to be placed under close watch for a year and a day. During this time, you will not have access to the Acies. Nor shall you be permitted to use any of your Elven magical skills.'

  'I broke no Elven law!' croaked Aradia angrily. 'How dare they punish me? Shall I be relegated to cleaning kitchens again, or do I have some dignity and respect left from my family and the Council?'

  'Silence!' thundered Raghnall, and Aradia heard in his voice that she had gone too far. 'Even now, you repent nothing. You have learned nothing. I told you that while you were allowed to use the Acies yourself and allow Bran to see his homeland, you were not to allow Bran to communicate with anyone in Nostraterra. Once we Air Spirits felt the tremendous dark powers close to where you were looking, I commanded you to stop, but you refused and look what happened? You broke the law of the Air Spirits, and my plea on your behalf condemns me as well. Any hope that I might receive more if not all of my powers back has been summarily rejected. Selfish, sentimental woman, you have allowed an unknown creature with terrible powers access to Elvalon. Who knows what this creature might be capable of now? All Elves are forbidden the Acies until we Air Spirits can create safeguards against this most terrible magic.'

  At that, Dorphin spoke up. 'You will always have my love, sister, but your action was incredibly foolish and, yes, selfish. Now there is fear in the Council that, as Raghnall says, thanks to you, whatever you saw has learned a way to
breach the magical barriers that protect Elvalon. Now this creature may attack other Elves who live here, as it did you and Bran, or, worse, may suborn them into doing its bidding. That is why your punishment is so harsh. Don't you see? They are afraid you might be under the influence of Dark Magic.'

  'The only influence I am under at the moment is anger,' she said. 'And that mostly at me for allowing Bran access to the Acies. It is my fault that he is dying. Take me to him in the morning if you will, Dorphin. I should be strong enough to see him then.'

  #

  By the next morning, Aradia's eyes were able to tolerate dim light. Wearing a hood, she was escorted by Raghnall to Bran's chamber, where the Gracie lay in his bed. As soon as she entered, she saw the horrible pulsing of purple energy below his skin, like a crawling bruise. The sheets of his bed were filled with putrescent ooze whose foul odor assailed her with almost physical force.

  Ignoring it, she pulled free of Raghnall's supporting arm and knelt at the bedside, taking Bran's hand in her own. 'I am so sorry, Bran, that you were attacked,' she said softly. 'If I had thought you would be in any danger, I would have kept you from the chamber and looked at Platonia for you.'

  'It is not your fault, my lady,' hissed Bran through clenched teeth. 'I begged you for this chance, and I took it. But unlike the other times I escaped death, this time I fear there is no other path.'

  'Think of it as a gift,' said Raghnall. 'You will soon be beyond the point of pain and heartbreak. You will be at peace.'

  'A gift,' Bran repeated, and laughed weakly. 'A gift would have been to remain here in Elvalon forever, my pain slowly fading through time, or until I was weary of life. Instead, I have had but a taste of immortality, a taste that is now unjustly taken from me for no greater crime than concern for my people.'