Plague of Shadows

by Howard Andrew Jones

  "It's mine, Elyana," Arcil cried, and Renar realized after a moment of confusion that he meant the blackness.

  "Too much!" came Elyana's response. "I can't—oh, to hell with it!" Her words were replaced by the sound of steel being drawn.

  "Nice," Drelm growled. "Stay back, young baron," he said, and then came the sound of his footfalls, warring now with shouts of consternation from their Galtan attackers. Renar swore. Did they always have to keep him from the action?

  The darkness was not absolute to Drelm. To his half-orc eyes, the Galtans stood revealed in their armor, leaning against the crystals with one hand as they hugged their bows in another. Restraining the urge to howl, he sprinted toward them.

  As quickly as it had begun, the darkness ended, but by then Drelm was at close range, splitting the chest of a surprised Galtan with a savage blow that splashed blood to left and right. He yanked the gory weapon free as the man fell screaming, then threw up an armored forearm to catch a blade thrust tentatively his direction. The half-orc scarcely felt the blow, but his Galtan opponent reeled past, clutching at the hole where half his face had been.

  Finally able to see, Renar hurried to his feet, his heart pounding. His sword was already drawn. He charged into the crystal forest and heard a variety of screams, all male. Of Drelm there was no sign, nor of the wizard Arcil, but off to his left he thought he heard the sounds of shouted mystic words, then a thunderclap and more screams.

  He stepped over a Galtan who lay face-up beside a crystal, an arrow through his throat. He stared overlong at the blank eyes and almost missed the two soldiers backing toward him.

  They saw him at the same instant. One muttered something incoherent and pointed. The other charged him with a sword.

  It was then that Renar's training paid off. Days and months and years had made some fighting tactics a routine that removed thought from the equation, so that when the first soldier swung from his left, Renar was able to judge how far to step without even thinking. The blow missed him, and Renar exploited the opening with a quick slash that tore through the rusting hauberk and sent the soldier lurching with a cry of pain and a welter of blood. Renar parried an overhead blow from the second soldier with the flat of his blade, then drove his gauntleted fist up under the man's grubby chin. There was a surprising crack and the fellow dropped, limp. Renar had a moment to consider that his first real battle kill was with his hand rather than his blade, and then the first Galtan was on him again, screaming about liberty.

  The man's swing was mad and desperate. Renar caught the blow, but on the edge, and could almost hear his father's cry of disapproval. He knew his father would not have minded so much the quick step and slash into his opponent's open side. The second strike in the same area was too much for the fellow, who reeled away with a cry of anguish, his sword ringing against a crystal as it dropped from his hand.

  Renar scanned for more foes, flush with adrenaline and a little pleased with himself.

  Then he saw Elyana.

  He'd been pleased to finish off two Galtans. Elyana was advancing against a knot of six that called rude encouragement and brandished their weapons. He knew she was deadly, but that looked like suicide. He bit back a warning.

  As the first two advanced, Elyana leaned almost gently into the one in the lead. He dropped, clutching his throat even as the blade twisted in her hand like a living thing and cut off his companion's sword hand. Blade and digits spun away as he crumpled. Elyana vaulted over him to swipe through the neck of the fellow immediately behind. As the head dropped free, her effortless backhand carved through an arm with raised sword and into the snarling face behind it.

  Renar gaped. In less than a five-count, four opponents were down, and Elyana was still on the move.

  She sidestepped a blow from another soldier, then whirled as he followed. Renar called to look out, for he'd seen a man with an axe rushing her from behind.

  He needn't have worried. Elyana stepped clear at the last moment, and the axeman brained his ally. A cool thrust took the axe-wielder under the arm and through his heart. He fell gurgling.

  It was the most astonishing thing Renar had ever seen. He roused himself from being a mere spectator, raised his sword, and ran after.

  Of the Galtans Renar and Elyana faced together, the elf slew all but three. She flashed Renar a dangerous smile and left him panting to dash toward the sound of further conflict.

  It was all over in a few more minutes. Renar was standing on the border of the crystal forest, watching tiredly as four Galtans hot-footed it toward the slope out of the vale, when Arcil stepped up beside him.

  "You might want to cover your eyes," he said, and before Renar could ask why, the wizard raised one hand toward the fleeing Galtans. Arcil spoke a set of words in a twisted language Renar did not recognize, then lightning flashed from the wizard's fingertips. Renar turned his head too late and discovered that an imprint of the lightning's pattern seemed seared over everything he looked at. He blinked, and saw that where the running men had been were now twisted and smoking bodies.

  "It will fade after a time," Arcil told him dispassionately, then stepped back into the crystal forest.

  The four of them rendezvoused there. Elyana and Drelm were splashed with gore from head to foot. The half-orc grinned with savage joy. The bloodletting had clearly gone only a little way toward alleviating Elyana's anger, and she simmered still as she scanned for more foes.

  Arcil looked pleased with himself. He showed no outward sign of damage, other than dark stains against his knees, presumably from grass. Renar was about to ask him about the shoulder wound—shouldn't there have been blood there?—when Elyana addressed the wizard.

  "I thought I saw you with a live one."

  Arcil pointed down at a gray-robed figure. "We can question this one."

  "He's dead!"

  Arcil smiled. "Oh, he's dead, but this Gray Gardener will tell us what we want to know."

  Elyana frowned at this, and then her expression softened. She looked thoughtful.

  "How'd Vallyn get past them?" Renar asked.

  "A better question is how they got to us," Elyana asked. She then added, "We'd best check our friends."

  For a moment Renar wasn't sure what she meant, and then his stomach lurched. How many Galtans had they faced? Twenty? Against three elves left with their horses? Aliel. He turned and meant to run.

  "Renar!" Elyana stepped quickly over and seized his arm. She stared hard at him. "They're either alive and hiding, or they're dead. Don't rush. There may be Galtans out there still."

  "If they've hurt Aliel," he declared, "I'll kill them all."

  Chapter Seventeen

  Among the Dead

  Elyana and Drelm did most of the killing for him. A dozen Galtan soldiers had been left behind to guard the horses and the camp. There were a number of unfamiliar mounts, and all but one of theirs, along with the pack animals. But Persaily was gone.

  Elyana found Aliel's body under one of the collapsed tents, apparently dead by her own hand. She had to show the young woman to the disconsolate Renar, who sank to his knees and wept.

  The elven soldiers were slain, their bodies looted and naked save for undergarments. They'd been tossed away from the horses, and flies now gathered on their bruised and bloodied skin.

  And Persaily was gone.

  All the Galtans were dead, but that was no salve to Elyana's rage and sorrow. Numbed by it all, she joined Arcil.

  The wizard had dragged the corpse of the Gray Gardener up from the crystals and into the clean air. Elyana would have thought she'd be happy to see colors again, to walk on green grass under a blue sky, but there seemed no joy left within her.

  She watched as Arcil methodically, almost tenderly, straightened the dead man's limbs and removed his mask. The Gray Gardener's pock-marked face was fixed in a look of s
urprise. Elyana hadn't seen Arcil take down the spellcaster, but had heard the battle, and cause of death was clearly the blackened patch of clothing and flesh over the man's heart.

  Arcil produced a squat black candle from a pouch at his waist and bent to the body.

  Elyana looked up as Drelm approached, a shovel over one large shoulder.

  "I thought I would get started digging," he said. "What's he doing?"

  "Talking to the dead."

  "Huh. Elves do get buried, right?"

  "I don't actually know," she admitted slowly. "I never saw a funeral ceremony conducted by elves."

  Drelm grunted and started to step away, but he stopped short as Arcil finished lighting the candle in the dead man's hand. Smoke rose from the little flame, thickening quickly.

  "What do you mean ‘talking to the dead'?" Drelm asked, and Elyana saw his hand tightening on the shovel.

  "Grave candle," Arcil announced without looking up. "Extremely useful. But we only have five questions, so we need to make them count."

  "Only five?" Elyana bristled.

  "It will be fine," Arcil soothed. "I have experience with this sort of thing."

  "I bet you do."

  Arcil frowned a little, as though she were being uncharitable.

  The candle smoke did not drift, but hung thickly, growing more and more substantial. Soon a smoky mirror image of the dead man had taken shape, complete to the face frozen in blank astonishment.

  "Where is Vallyn going with the Crown of Twilight?" Arcil asked.

  Elyana thought it dangerous to assume that the bard's theft had anything to do with the Galtans, especially since they had only five questions, but said nothing.

  The ghost's mouth moved and his voice rose in answer, passionless and bland. "He has entered the shadow realm on his way to Woodsedge, where he shall take the crown to our mistress."

  "He was a spy?" Drelm asked Elyana quietly.

  Elyana's voice was tight. "He must have planned on betraying us from the start."

  Arcil raised a quizzical eyebrow to Elyana. "Since when has Vallyn had shadow magic?"

  Elyana winced. "He must have taken my ring."

  Arcil, still cool and collected, held up a hand and spoke once more to the spirit. "And how did you come here, past the elves?"

  "I am a master of travel magics. Our agent left us a sign."

  "They must have meant us to run the risk, then take the crown," Elyana said to Arcil. "A strategy that probably sounds familiar."

  A pained expression crossed Arcil's face, but he did not reply.

  "That's why our escape from Woodsedge was easy," she said to Drelm. "Vallyn didn't kill any Gray Gardeners. Easy enough to get the clothing and our weapons. And my ring. But why did they capture us in the city?"

  Arcil must have decided that a worthwhile question, for he turned to address the hanging spirit. Tendrils of smoke continued to climb from the candle to weave into his form. "Why did you apprehend Elyana in the city if you meant to follow her?"

  "There are many factions of liberty," it answered with disinterest. "Sometimes the right hand is unaware of the left. Elyana is wanted, thus one group apprehended her when she was recognized in the temple. Then the other managed her release."

  Arcil turned to Elyana. "We have but two questions left, and one of them must be to ask for the Gray Gardener sign and countersign. Is there anything in particular you have to know?"

  "I wish you'd kept one alive," Elyana said. "There's an awful lot I'd like to know. How long Vallyn's been their spy. What they're planning to do with the crown. Who their mistress is ..." Elyana stopped short. "I bet it's Nadara."

  "Lathroft's niece?" Arcil asked her, incredulous.

  "I thought you'd been scrying us. Yes. She was there to help us escape."

  "I can't watch you constantly," Arcil said. "Are you sure it was Nadara?"

  "I'm certain."

  Arcil turned to consider the ghost, then looked back to Elyana. "Gray Gardeners may not know the true identity of their leaders. That's part of the reason they wear their masks. It would probably be a wasted question. I'd like to know what they want with the crown."

  "Ask, then," Elyana told him.

  He did. "Why are you looking for the Crown of Twilight?"

  "The mistress tasked us with its recovery."

  Arcil grimaced. "I should have phrased the question more carefully."

  "You should have left him alive," Elyana pointed out again.

  "Easier said than done. There is one thing more I wish to know, Gardener. What is your sign and countersign?"

  "When challenged, this week I am to say ‘beautiful and blue.'"

  With that final word, the image within the smoke faded away, and the vapors themselves were carried off by the wind at the same moment the tiny flame burning along the wick extinguished itself.

  Arcil bent down to retrieve the spent and melted candle, then the dead man's mask and hat.

  "Gods!" Elyana dearly wanted to kick in the dead man's head, but she satisfied herself with another long curse. "He stole my ring, and my horse. He stole my horse! And we've no way to catch him."

  "I was always suspicious of Nadara," Arcil said thickly. "I've often wondered whether that girl had meant to lead us into her uncle's trap, and didn't know what to do when we survived."

  "It looks like she took up the craft for the Galtans. I knew Vallyn was interested in her, but—" Elyana sighed. Vallyn had been interested in about any girl with a pretty face. What had led to continued contact with the niece of a shadow wizard? What had led him to do any of this? She'd thought him a friend, and Elyana did not use that word lightly.

  "I can get us to the Plane of Shadow," Arcil said. "And I'm sure you can track him there, can't you?"

  "Possibly," Elyana said. "But he's got a head start."

  "Then we waste time."

  "We have to bury the dead," Drelm said.

  Elyana had almost forgotten he stood there.

  Arcil chuckled then glanced at Elyana. "What a solicitous orc you ride with. Is this your doing?"

  Drelm snarled. "I am half-man, wizard, and better acquainted with honor than you!"

  Arcil arched an eyebrow threateningly.

  "We bury the elves," Elyana said to Drelm. "I don't give a damn about the Galtans."

  "They can feed ravens," Drelm agreed.

  "Must we really dig?" Arcil said. "I thought you wanted—"

  "What I want and what is the right thing to do are sometimes different things. We bury these dead. They'd have done the same for us."

  "You think so?" Arcil said, skeptically. "I thought you didn't know any elven rites."

  "We shall give them the respect they're due," she said tightly. "I'd treat any ally the same. Even you." She faced Drelm. "Let's get to it."

  They had brought only one shovel of their own, but found three others among the Galtan supplies. That was enough for each of them, although Arcil abstained.

  There was no time for deep graves, and after only a little while she and Drelm were casting dirt over the pale faces of their two elven chaperones.

  A red-eyed Renar bore the corpse of his love from the tent they had shared only the night before, then lay her beside the grave he himself had dug.

  "Is there nothing that can be done?" he asked Elyana quietly.

  Her heart sank. "I'm sorry, Renar. That kind of magic is far beyond me."

  Renar licked his lips and slowly, ever so slowly, looked over at Arcil. "What of you? What about this Crown of Twilight? If we bear her with us, will it ...can it bring her back? Might it bring all of them back?"

  Arcil's reply sounded almost kindly. "No. The subject must still be alive, or ...preserved in some way."

  The boy seized on
this faint hope "We can preserve her. Can you help me do it?

  "That's not what I meant." Arcil was still patient. "Her soul is fled."

  Renar stared at him for a long moment, then bowed his own head. He put one hand to the bridge of his nose and Elyana saw him crying, quietly. She motioned to Drelm, then helped the half-orc lower the girl gently into the rectangular hole. They stepped back, and Drelm unceremoniously tossed in the first shovelful of dirt.

  After a moment, Renar joined in, tears tracking down his face all the while, and bit by bit the beautiful elven girl disappeared beneath the soil. When the mound was high enough, the three of them set down their shovels and leaned against them.

  "We should say a few words," Renar managed in a choked voice.

  Arcil's sigh was not terribly loud. Elyana shot him a warning look anyway.

  Renar lay the shovel down, spread his open hands and looked into the heavens. "Holy Abadar, I know that you were not the lord of these folk, but they died on a mission to aid one of your most faithful adherents. I ask only ..." here he faltered before quickly regaining his composure, "only that you help to guide them on their way and shield them until they find the light of their own god or goddess."

  "We also ask that you guide the soul of our friend Kellius," Drelm said.

  Renar nodded. "Yes. Glorious Abadar, the wizard bravely gave his life trying to save the life of my father, who has dedicated his life to you. We pray that you welcome Kellius into your heavenly vault."

  "Amen," Arcil said, just a hair too quickly. Elyana pretended not to have noticed.

  "Now a moment of silence," Drelm commanded gruffly.

  And so Elyana bowed her head, thinking that Stelan had taught Renar well, if he could speak so easily over the burials. She thought again of the stern and competent elven warriors. Their lives had been lost because they'd come to safeguard Elyana's band. And then she thought of poor Aliel, so young by elven standards, scarcely grown. The slow-birthing elven race would mourn her long after there was nothing left of Renar but dry bones.