The Shadowmage Trilogy (Twilight of Kerberos: The Shadowmage Books)

by Matthew Sprange

  There was a pause. The lights in the door had dimmed slightly when Lucius jumped back, but they held a constant radiance now.

  “I can feel magics in the background, but nothing active,” Adrianna said.

  “Nothing active?” Despite expecting to be blasted apart any second, Lucius could not keep a note of incredulity from his voice. “You seen many glowing doors on your travels?”

  “Glowing...? Lucius, tell me what you can see.”

  It began to dawn on him that, whatever was happening on the door’s face, it was being concealed from Adrianna. He briefly told her of the strange patterns, sketching them out with his hand, though he did not move any closer.

  They seemed to form a linked chain of regular hexagons and pentagons along the edges of both doors, with larger and more complex multi-pointed stars clustered in the centre, at about head height. The shapes caused his eyes to water and blur if he stared too long at them, but he noticed they had started to pulse, ever so faintly, suddenly getting a little brighter before fading, and then pulsing brighter again. He found it disturbingly like a heartbeat.

  “Fascinating,” Adrianna said.

  “You really can’t see that?”

  It took her a while to answer, and Lucius heard her muttering, perhaps casting some spell of detection or one that sharpened her senses.

  “I cannot,” she said finally. She did not sound in the least disappointed, which Lucius found a little suspicious.

  “Well then,” he said. “That begs an obvious question. How can I see it and you can’t?”

  “I always said you were special, Lucius.”

  “I never knew what you meant when you said it.”

  She shook her head, almost absentmindedly. “In truth, neither did I. But I believe we are close to something of an answer, would you not say?”

  “Okay,” he said. “So, what do we do now?”

  “I think it is obvious. You open the door.”

  He glanced down at the dark patches on the floor, each one about the size of a man.

  “You know that this is all that is left of the last guy who tried opening that thing.”

  “True. But I don’t think the door glowed to him and him alone when he made the attempt.”

  That checked Lucius.

  “So...” he started. “So, you are saying the door is, what, inviting me?”

  Again, Adrianna shrugged, a habit that, down here among elven ruins and with his life in the balance, Lucius was beginning to find irritating.

  “Before I do anything, I want some answers,” he said flatly.

  “And I am telling you, Lucius, that the only place you will find any of those answers is beyond those doors. Open them, and go through. Or do not, and go back home.”

  Lucius put a hand to his temple, as if trying to avoid a headache as he thought fast. There was no lock on the door, no handle, no sign of hinging. No features of any kind that his thievish talent could latch on to. As for his magical side, it was completely mystified. If he were stalled as both thief and Shadowmage, what else did he have left?

  “Can you at least create some ward or charm that might protect me if the worst happens?” he asked.

  Adrianna smiled, her scarred face adopting a slightly cruel air to it.

  “I can mumble a few words over you if you like,” she said. “But it didn’t do the Pontaine men at your feet any good.”

  “I thought you didn’t rate their wizard.”

  “I don’t. But I also don’t think there is any spell from our world that will protect you from what is down here, should it choose to make you its enemy. You can see something others cannot. I would take that as a sign.”

  He glanced dubiously at the door and then back at Adrianna.

  “If it were you in my place, you would open the door?”

  “If it were me in your place, I would already have done so, and we would both have been spared a pointless conversation.”

  The words were condescending enough, but Lucius felt no real malice behind them. If anything, he would have said Adrianna was fuelled with curiosity. More than anything right now, she wanted to know what secrets this place held.

  She was right about one thing, though. Without recourse to any great magics, and acknowledging that neither the Pontaine wizard nor Adrianna had any great insight into elven magic, his choices were remarkably limited. Try to open the door, or turn around and go home. Or simply sit here and debate the situation until some Vos soldier discovered them.

  Lucius moved closer to the door, feeling his muscles tense as the patterns on the door grew ever brighter, as if they were trying to reach out to him. Their light was intense as he approached to within just a few inches of the doors’ surface.

  He held a hand up, feeling a warmth flow from it as his palm hovered just an inch from the portal’s surface. Beginning to sweat, he glanced back at Adrianna.

  “Go on,” she whispered. “Do it!”

  Closing his eyes, Lucius leaned forward, feeling his hand touch the stone as he put his weight behind it.

  With no sound or resistance at all, both doors swung slowly away from him as if they were on well-greased runners. Lucius heard a sharp intake of breath behind from Adrianna, but inside his own chest he felt something... stir.

  Before him, another flight of stairs beckoned downwards, descending the height of perhaps another two storeys. At the bottom, they seemed to open up into a new area, from which a soft creamy light glowed.

  “I have no idea how I just did that,” he said.

  “We can debate that later,” Adrianna said, stirring herself. “For now, we must see what lies beyond. If we can – ah!”

  Her sharp cry was joined by a slicing pain in his head that made Lucius wince. Adrianna had been striding confidently towards the open doors but, as she approached, the arcane patterning had flared briefly and Adrianna had been halted in her tracks as though she had walked into an invisible wall.

  She looked shocked, and Lucius rubbed the side of his head to alleviate his own pain. He was grateful it receded quickly.

  “What happened there?” he asked.

  “It won’t let me through,” Adrianna said, and he could hear the anger beginning to rise in her voice. “Damn it!”

  “You don’t belong here,” Lucius said, with a flash of insight that mystified him as much as it had informed him. “But I do.”

  That last part made him frown, for while he considered it plainly obvious, he had no idea how he knew that. He just knew it was fact. Looking up at Adrianna, he saw she was glaring at him.

  “What does this mean?” he asked, feeling as though he should have been a lot more scared than he felt.

  “It means,” she said with a hint of ice on her tongue, “that you will be proceeding alone.”

  “But why can I go through and you cannot?”

  “I don’t know, Lucius, but you can rest assured we will be having a long conversation after this, during which I will find out.”

  “Okay. Watch for any Vos patrols. If you hear me cry out... well, you won’t be able to do anything. Just... just keep an ear out for me, alright?”

  Adrianna did not respond so, steeling himself, Lucius turned and passed through the doors to stand at the top of the stairs.

  “Lucius,” Adrianna called from the chamber.

  He turned to look back at her.

  “Keep your eyes open. Trust nothing, no matter how inviting it feels.”

  “I’ll be back soon.”

  As Lucius paced down the last of the stairs, he stepped into a vast vaulted hall. Larger than the nave of the Final Faith cathedral in Turnitia, the place was illuminated with a soft light, though he could not see any lantern or fire that could be its source. It just seemed to radiate out from the walls and ceiling.

  Looking up, he saw the hall stretched far overhead into a dome. Smooth pillars were buttressed against the walls and they reached up into the dome, growing thinner until they met at a single point in its centre.
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br />   A dais lay some distance before him, and he saw unmoving figures upon it, scores of them standing rigid as statues. Even from this far away, he could see they were clad in silver and golden armour, breastplates and great helms shining in the light.

  What this place was and what it had been used for, he could not say, but Lucius stood there for a moment trying to take in its immense scale. He could not even begin to imagine the tremendous engineering skill and effort needed to excavate such a hall far beneath the earth, and he was struck by the utter perfection of the work. It was not gaudy or intricate, with finely detailed friezes or mosaics, as the stories of elven buildings would have their credulous listeners believe. Everything was very simple, very smooth, with a softness to the architecture that would never be found in anything built by men. It was just... perfect.

  Nothing moved in the hall, and his beating heart was the loudest thing present. The air was clean, fresh even, and he thought he could smell the soft scent of tulips.

  As he walked into the hall, his boots made no echo upon the paving stones that covered the floor. Looking around, Lucis could see no other entrances but he began to feel this was a central hub of sorts, with pathways radiating out from it, invisible to him though they might be right now.

  How he knew this, he could not say but, once again, the thought just felt right.

  His attention rested on the dais and the armoured statues standing upon it. As he closed the distance to them, he began to pick out details. Each statue seemed to be carved from some sort of marble. Each set of armour decorating the statues was unique, yet each was crafted in a fashion Lucius had not seen before. Contrary to the architecture around him, the armoursmithing of the elves was apparently very intricate, with minute designs and geometric patterns chiselled and hammered into every surface. Each plate was gold, silver or bronze, but most were inlaid with other metals and the occasional gem. Between them, chainmail of the finest mesh he had ever seen provided further protection.

  It was a thief’s delight. A fortune great enough to buy a city stood before him.

  As he reached the foot of the dais, Lucius took note for the first time of the size of the statues. He had thought the dais had given them height but he now saw each stood half as tall again as he. The thought of these titans going into battle, both strong and lightning fast, chilled his blood. They could be unstoppable.

  Looking up, he saw the face of an elf for the first time. At first, he found it distinctly alien, with the sharpened features and hawk-like nose of the legends being very apparent. However, as he continued to stare, he began to see the magnificent perfection inherent within these beings. Perfectly proportioned, they had wide eyes that seemed capable of communicating both deep compassion and great fury at the same time. The broad foreheads were smooth and unsullied by emotion, while the prominent cheekbones lent a fundamental beauty to every figure before him.

  Lucius mounted the dais to look closer at the creatures. He tried to imagine what it must have been like to see the elves walking, talking, trading and fighting. It was no wonder man did not rise to prominence until this race had passed on. They were superior in every way.

  The statue before him had a tall, conical helm of gold sporting silver decoration. Wide shoulder guards the shape of delicate pine leaves extended outwards, their silver filigreed edges catching the surrounding light as Lucius moved for a better look. The breastplate was of a gold so pure it almost hurt to gaze upon it, and the intricate detailing of lines and regular shapes, each so tiny they could be barely seen from more than a few inches away, must have taken some craftsman years to complete. The statue held a tall shield of gold and silver in its left hand, something close to the towered design popular among Pontaine armies, but with elegant curves that provided its user with both visibility and protection when held tight to their body.

  In the statue’s right hand was an elegant rod or sceptre. It had a grey marble shaft, shot through with red veins, leading to a golden cap that splayed out like the wings of a great eagle. Set in-between the two wings was a large red crystal, carved to form the likeness of a heart.

  Again, without quite knowing how, Lucius knew what he was about to say was true.

  “You are mine,” he said softly, looking at the rod.

  Reaching forward with an outstretched hand he touched one of the golden wings, hesitantly. Nothing stirred in the hall, and no spell struck him down.

  Controlling his nerves, Lucius grasped the rod by its shaft and pulled it to him. It had not been affixed to the statue in any way, and slide from the stone grasp.

  The rod was heavy, but Lucius could already begin to feel its power, as arcane warmth spread through his hands, up his arms and into his body, his whole being electrified by contact with the artefact.

  “What are you?” he whispered as he gazed at the rod in awe, turning it over in his hands, noting every detail.

  Light flooded the hall, dazzling Lucius. His first instinct was to run, but he found his legs were not functioning properly. They seemed sluggish and, as he moved away from the statues, he lost balance and fell from the dais.

  The light grew ever brighter until it blocked any sight of the hall, and the statues became mere silhouettes against a backdrop of brilliance. Squinting in pain, Lucius held up an arm to try to block the light. He cried out in alarm as he saw something move; something very large and yet very graceful.

  Moving in-between the statues, a tall figure appeared. It towered above Lucius as he cowered on the floor, kicking his feet uselessly as he tried to crawl away from the apparition. He could see no detail in the figure, but it seemed as though the bright light blinding him emanated from it alone.

  Then it spoke, a voice that seemed to come from the entire hall – deep, resonant, a sound that spoke of ages long since turned to dust.

  “Why were we lost?” the voice said, booming around Lucius, forcing him to clasp his hands to his ears as they burned with the strain of the words. “Why was the magic lost?”

  Lucius felt these were not questions but demands, and they seemed to pound into his body with each syllable. He knew an answer was required, but he could not think of how to even begin to respond.

  “Why were we lost?” the figure challenged him once again, much louder this time, and Lucius felt blood begin to trickle from his ears. Unable to rise to his feet and run for safety, Lucius curled up, bringing his knees to his chest as he desperately tried to cover his ears.

  He screamed in pain as the figure spoke once more, demanding an answer to its question whose words now seared into the very core of Lucius’ mind. Then, mercifully, he lost all sense of self and was surrounded by darkness.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  LUCIUS AWOKE TO find himself standing on a balcony. Before him was an utterly alien vista; a city of dreams, breathtaking in scope.

  The buildings were constructed of a smooth, golden stone that, like the corridors of the ruins, betrayed no sign of join or individual brick. Many had balconies like the one he stood upon, or wide archways halfway up their heights large enough to swallow a small ship. Many had domes of filigreed silver while others had tall, thin towers reaching up to the clouds high above.

  Though he towered above the streets far, far below, he was by no means on the tallest structure in the city. At least a dozen buildings before him climbed much higher, as if they had been built to reach the sun itself.

  As Lucius looked up at the furthest reaches of those buildings, he gasped to see, moving majestically around their silver spires, several ships.

  They had curved hulls made of wood, just like the vessels Lucius had seen in Turnitia’s harbour, but they were flying through the air as though it were water. Their decks bore sails, though Lucius saw they also had masts and canvas stretching horizontally from the sides of their hulls.

  He watched one as it flew in front of the great sphere of Kerberos and, again, gasped as it suddenly struck him that the great blue giant of the sky was much smaller. Had it shrunk? Or had
it somehow moved further away?

  Steadying himself on the polished wooden railing of the balcony, Lucius again focused on the buildings before him.

  Some of the towers, he noticed, had great carved crystals the size of his guildhouse, suspended above them with no visible means of support. The crystals were all of different hues, glowing with an inner light he could only ascribe to magic. Every so often, a tiny bolt of energy would shoot out from one crystal to be quickly absorbed by another.

  To his right, the structure of the city changed slightly, as towers became less common and gave way to impossibly large buildings, each perhaps the size of the entire Citadel. Next to these colossal buildings, large chimney stacks, themselves nearly reaching the heights of some of the smaller towers, poured long columns of smoke into the air, constantly changing colour, moving from red to purple to a rich blue, and then back again.

  There was a terrible scream and a shadow passed over him as a massive form whipped past above. He had a sense of gossamer wings and a long wooden hull but it quickly disappeared out of view behind the building he was standing within.

  With a rush of air, the object appeared again, its long hull slicing through the air as cleanly as any blade. Its hull was almost needle-thin, while lace wings fluttered effortlessly to keep the flying boat aloft.

  Ahead of its wings, a man in brilliant silver and gold armour, much like those he had seen in the ruins, sat astride the hull and, as he flew past, raised his long lance in salute to Lucius. Then, he was gone, carried higher into the sky by his strange craft.

  As he watched the boat, entranced by its flight, Lucius began to focus on what lay beyond it, and suddenly felt weak at the knees.

  Beyond the city lay the ocean – but it was calm, with only gentle waves rolling across its surface. However, three immense blocks of stone were being slowly guided through the air, shepherded by flying ships. Though the stone blocks were a brilliant white, Lucius recognised them immediately.

  He realised he was watching the construction of the harbour of Turnitia, with its great monoliths protecting it from a raging ocean.