by Lucas Thorn
It shook with thunder as it teetered on the fragile edge. Lightning crackled down its outer wall.
The elf's breath caught in her chest at sight of it.
And her eyes bulged as the molten lake tore into rock beneath its foundations to send the Keep toppling. As it slid, its stone skin crumbled and fell away, revealing something bright and metallic. A thin shade of blue. Streaked with black. Bolts of lightning exploding from its sides as it fell.
The molten lake fumed as it clawed at the falling Keep.
A hollow scream rolled through crashing noise. Slid through her body like the punch from an ork, sending her racing faster up the stairs.
Then it was gone.
Lost to the molten earth. Consumed and cremated.
Feeling as though all her emotions had been scraped clean from her heart, the elf let out a roar as the stairs seemed determined to fall from directly beneath her feet and bring her screaming into the burning belly of the mountain.
Chukshene disappeared ahead, robes flapping wildly.
She made the top of the stairs, took two blind steps, then dropped into darkness as the corridor fell away from her feet without warning. For a moment, she thought she was falling to her death, but then the ground scooped her up and spat her violently out of the dark.
Bursting from the smell of burning rock and debris and into the clean crisp air.
Then rolling hard and fast across wet ground and pine needles. Her vision blurred by the sudden ejection, she caught glimpses of snow in patches sprayed across the trees. Trees shrouded in shadows like looming trolls, their branches waving frantically as the ground shook. A chaotic whirl of steel grey clouds, grey stone, and the glint of metal from Melganaderna's mailshirt.
A dull red glow, heralding dawn along the wings of the night.
The promise of a new day given freely in the echoes of violence.
The young axewoman's gloved hand was around her wrist, pulling her free as the roof of the tunnel tumbled down behind her. Stone chased her feet, threatening to crush her ankles before Melganaderna had jerked her away.
Massive blocks shuddered to a halt with a gnashing of rock and a snarl of dust.
Then, silence.
Stunned silence.
Hemlock stood staring at the closed entrance, mouth open as he tried to understand what it was he'd seen in the last few moments.
Chukshene was off to one side, retching softly as his fear proved too much for him to take. His glowing yellow orb hovered close, bobbing nervously.
“Are you okay?” Melganaderna asked, helping the elf slowly to her feet. Sweat poured freely down the young axewoman's brow.
Nysta grunted as pain shot small arcs up and down her legs and shoulders. Every joint was aching, and there was a stuffiness to her sinuses which hinted at an oncoming headache. The new lump on the side of her head wasn't helping.
She nodded her thanks. Was amazed to feel suddenly clear in her mind, as though all her fears and heartache had melted with the Keep. Though she couldn't understand what it was she'd seen, or what had happened, she knew it was important.
Knew that what she'd seen mattered. How, she didn't know. But in her heart, she knew this was a moment she would need to remember. Echoes of the Keep's final scream still trembled in her ears. A low buzzing vibrated in the corner of her mind, her confused thoughts trying to figure out why the Keep had been so important to Gul'Se. And why it should matter to her.
Knowing only that it should.
The worms burrowed into her flesh, kneading bruises and testing her bones.
The darkness inside was soft.
Quiet.
Not quite as terrifying as it should be.
She looked up at the young axewoman and smiled.
It was an easy smile. One which acknowledged her recent brush with death and was glad to be alive. “I'll be fine,” she said. Then wobbled slightly as she crouched beside the warlock, watching him vomit the meagre contents of his stomach. The rancid stink made her wrinkle her nose. “But we'll give the 'lock here a few more minutes, I think. Reckon now ain't the time to help Chuk up.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
“It was all for nothing,” Hemlock said mournfully as the mountain's shudders ceased.
Melganaderna took his hand and smiled softly. Their fingers intertwined, revelling in each other's touch. “I'm sorry, Hem. But we'll find another way. There's still the tower, right? Remember Lornx?”
He looked down at the small gelatinous orb cupped in his other hand and nodded. Sighed. “I guess you're right. But there was something powerful there. Something even Rule must have feared. I wish I could have gotten through to her. If only she wasn't so insane.”
The young axewoman batted her fist playfully against his jaw. “There you go again, thinking of another woman. What did I tell you about that?”
His smile made the weariness sink from his expression. “There is no one in my heart but you, Melgana.”
“I know.”
He lifted their hands together and studied the way their fingers interlocked. “I can't help but try to protect you. I'd do anything to keep you safe. Anything.”
“Ah, Hem,” she moved close, wrapping her arms around him. Enjoying the warmth of his chest against her own. Nestled her head in the crook of his neck and breathed him in. “You can't protect me, you fool. But, you know what? Maybe if we work together, we can keep each other safe. At least for a while. That's good enough.”
The elf drifted away, feeling a pang of jealousy sting her heart.
She looked up at the sky, allowing herself to feel contentment at the sight of a smattering of stars drifting through the clouds.
Also felt the worms sliding through her flesh and decided she couldn't think of them as a gift. But nor could she think of them as a curse.
For now, she'd consider them as just another scar left from Talek's death.
She still held a debt to the man who'd loved her. Who'd shared so much of himself despite her struggle to openly return his feelings.
She would, she decided, accept whatever the burden of his Cage would bring.
“Call it a price which has to be paid,” she murmured, loud enough for only herself to hear.
Chukshene staggered to his feet, wiping his mouth and moving away from the small puddle of vomit. Coughed and spat the taste from his mouth.
Then stopped. Turned on his heel and stared hard at the rock which had buried the Keep deep within the mountain's guts. “Chagek? She said, Chagek, right? I heard right, didn't I?”
Melganaderna called to him, still squeezing Hemlock's hand tight. “Are you okay, Chukshene?”
“Hmm? Oh. I'm fine.” He grinned at her. Hugged his grimoire tight and let out a sigh as he noticed a new rip in his precious robe. “Have I ever told you about the time I went to the ruins of Lightforge? I went through two pairs of pants that day. Nearly had the skin stripped off me by a wraith. Then an ogre tried to have me for lunch. I met a travelling whore who turned out to be the sorceress who'd summoned the wraith on me and then wanted to use my guts in some kind of witchcraft ritual to appease her god. A god who turned out to be a troll possessed by the spirit of an insane warlock. I killed him, only to be chased by a mob of goblins who wanted to hack me to bits and steal my grimoire. All that in one day. And you want to know something? That was a better day than today, I tell you. A much better fucking day.”
He shuddered, turning away and mumbling to himself.
Something about witches.
The elf didn't care.
She didn't care about anything he had to say, because she'd moved to the edge of the clearing and was looking out at the Wolfpaw Plains. She had an uninterrupted view from this high in the mountains. And from her new vantage point between two shivering trees, she could see the slash of red which she'd figured for the first signs of dawn. She held her breath. Felt the stirring of fear.
Lit by the deft fingers of moonlight sliding between the clouds, she could see the undula
ting fields bereft of trees.
The wide expanse only partially touched by snow.
It was easy to make out the shape of the land. Too easy. Made so easy by the campfires.
Hundreds. Maybe thousands. A patchwork of light stretching far into the distance.
Shadowy figures weaving among them. Flashes of light as the fire glanced off their armour. Their weapons.
Her heart froze in her chest and she had no doubt what she was seeing.
Caspiellans.
How they'd crossed the Bloods, she couldn't say. But there was no denying they were there.
And they were nothing like the relatively small force brought to the Deadlands by General Storr.
This was something else.
Something so much more. This was nothing short of an invasion.
An invasion defiantly aimed north. Aimed mercilessly toward the Wall which was all that protected the Fnordic lands from Rule's hatred.
“Shit,” Chukshene breathed as he stepped up beside. “That's it. We are so fucked.”
She could make out the tents. The banners streaming in the pre-dawn breeze.
“It's him,” Melganaderna said, laying the battleaxe Torment across her shoulders. “Scarrow. My cousin has come for me. And he's brought the Black Blades with him.”
“We need to get to the Wall,” Chukshene croaked. “We've got to warn them.”
The elf spat in disgust. “If they ain't seen these fellers from their watchtowers, Chukshene, then they really do have nothing but jokers and thieves in the Fnordic Lands.”
“Something,” he said. “There must be something we can do.”
“That must be all of them,” Hemlock said. “Every soldier Scarrow had at his command. How did he convince Rule to let him do this?”
The warlock blanched. “What if he's there with them, too? Right now. In some piece of shit tent, pissing in a bucket? What if Rule is here?”
The two Caspiellans glanced at each other, unsettled by the thought. Unable to pick their fears apart enough to trust themselves to speak.
It was only when the elf began to move toward the thin path leading down the mountain toward the gathered army that Chukshene found his voice. “Nysta? Where are you going?”
“North.”
“You can't be serious. You can't sneak past them. There's too many. You can't go through them, either. I mean, let's face it, you stick out like the long-eared nutjob you are. We need to think about this. We need to make a plan. Nysta!” He threw his hands in the air and shook his head.
“I just saw two kids and some feller pinned to a wall by Rule, 'lock. Saw what was left of that feller's wife before I killed her, and I didn't feel too comfortable about it. Sure, I don't think I had much choice but to kill her. For a lot of reasons, I had to make sure she was dead. Might make myself feel better about it by saying I did her a favour. But I figure maybe she was a lot like me, and that means if her mind hadn't been broken by her torture, she'd have gone looking for revenge rather than sit there in the dark dreaming about it. Told her I knew all about vengeance. Reckon I'd like to prove her right. So I ain't going down there looking to do anything but follow Rule's example. Only seems right, him being a god and all.” And before the stunned warlock could ask what she meant, she said in words so cold they almost froze the air; “Gonna nail that bastard.”
“You're mad, you lunatic! He'll kill you. And maybe do worse than that if you piss him off.” He rolled his eyes. “Which, knowing you, is exactly what you're planning on doing.”
“You might be right, 'lock,” she said. She showed the cruel smile which angled crookedly toward the scar on her cheek. Felt the bubble of worms as they slid around her shoulders, revelling in the places between her muscle. “But that sure ain't going to stop me from crossing him.”
EPILOGUE
Urak breathed hard as he rose to his feet. The battle had taken more from him than he was willing to admit, even to himself.
His Dhampirs had brought some of the bound being's blood, but he'd found it to be foul and infested with parasites.
He wiped the disgusting slime on his pants and hobbled weakly toward his conquest. Hoped to find something useful in its dying body.
“Where did it come from?” Gul'Se asked, gliding beside him. Her eyes were transfixed by the being.
Smiling, the Vampire King reached for her hand which she gave with a shy twist of her lips. “The Shadowed Halls themselves have opened,” he told her. “Right above us. They spat it out.”
“I don't like the sound of that, Urak. Maybe you should have let it burn.”
“There is no reason to be afraid,” he said, squeezing her hand tighter. Her fears always amused him. They made him want to hold her. To protect her from them. “I couldn't let such a gift turn to ashes. Imagine all it has seen. All it could teach us. If it could survive the Shadowed Halls, then maybe we can. Think of the power it will give us, Gul'Se.”
She shook her head stubbornly. “I don't like it. Just look at it. There's something wrong. Even a demon would run from it.”
He raised his other hand, balling it into a fist. “It is power. And it will serve me.”
“You are already King of this world, my love,” she said. “How much more power do you need?”
“Look to the heavens, Gul'Se. See the stars? Each one is said to be another world. How many worlds, then, are out there? Hidden in the shadow of night?” He ran his tongue across the back of his teeth, feeling the sharp points of his fangs. “What succulent delights await us, if only we could reach for them? I don't know how, but I know this thing which has managed to escape the Shadowed Halls is the key. It will bend to me. It will share its most intimate secrets. And then all the worlds will belong to us. I promise you, my Queen. We will rule the stars together and our children will be gods.”
He led the way, still hunched in exhaustion.
Further to the west, close to where the mountains met the sea, the ice was melting. Small creeks were already carving into the torn rock. Creeks which would become rivers.
Steam, loosened from deep beneath the ground, coughed vapour into the wind.
A few small trees lay on their sides and shivered as the vapour swept across their leaves. Their roots, pulled free during the heavy quakes, dripped water into the snow.
The water pooled, soaking deep beneath the surface.
The snow twitched.
Then exploded outward as an arm reached frantically for the moon.
An arm with skin as black as obsidian.
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Nysta will return in
Nysta #5: The Wall of Darkest Shadow
In the shadow of the Doomgate, one of the biggest armies in the world has massed. Their weapons crave Fnordic blood. Their voices cry for the freedom of their abducted Queen.
Along the Wall, its defenders shiver in fear while their leaders squabble amongst themselves.
Many will die. Others will run. And, for a few, betrayal will beckon.
But just when everything looks lost, the defenders will be united by a woman. A woman whose fury cannot be contained. Whose spirit refuses to yield. She will lead the final battle against the infamous Black Blades of Cornelia. And she'll kill them all.
Or die trying...
Also Coming Soon:
Hemlock and Melganaderna #1:
Trail of the Necromancer
for further updates and pretty maps, visit http://www.lucasthorn.com
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