Armies of the Silver Mage

by Christian Freed

  His mind reeled. “Yes,” he found himself answering.

  A low moan escaped her lips. “Here I am. All alone, just the two of us. Wouldn’t it feel good to touch me like that again?”

  “Yes,” he said, his voice even weaker.

  “I promise not to tell,” she teased.

  Scarn reached for her, but she was too fast. Her gown twirled from the motion as she ducked out of reach. She had a deliciously wicked smile. One that he knew more often than not in the houses in every major city.

  “Do you like what you see?” she asked in a throaty voice.

  He stood speechless as she danced in front of the soft glow of the fire. Scarn drank in her beauty. All thoughts of leaving slowly faded as he grew enchanted with her. She wiggled her hips, as if inviting him to come and indulge in his darkest desires. The roundness of her breasts enticed him greatly. The curve of her legs beckoned his touch. Scarn slowly stripped his shirt and went for her again.

  Tarren welcomed him with open arms. His kisses were hard and urgent. His tongue pushed past her teeth and swirled in her mouth as his hands groped and caressed her oiled body. She slowly curled a long leg around his waist. Pressure was building between them. An unquenchable lust added to their passion. Tarren moaned from his touch.

  “I’ve dreamed of this moment,” she whispered through clenched teeth.

  Her necklace glowed as they fell onto the bed. Tarren smiled as she reached for the dagger he carelessly dropped. Not that Scarn was paying any attention to her. His kisses moved to her neck and the tops of her breasts. Tarren traced a line down his spine with a painted fingernail. He moaned once before the dagger came slamming down into him. She drove the dagger into him again and again, holding him tightly with the leg still around his waist. Dark blood rolled across his back and he screamed just once. The final blow pierced his heart and Scarn fell dead atop her.

  Tarren savagely ripped the dagger free and kicked his corpse to the floor. Smiling, Tarren arose and rearranged her gown. Her task complete, she returned to her master. Scarn’s empty eyes stared up at the ceiling in eternal shock.

  FIFTY-NINE

  The sudden torchlight flickering down the slime covered stairs was slightly blinding to the prisoners in the dungeon. The foul speech of Goblins accompanied the light. Dakeb slumped in his iron manacles, contemplating defeat. Unless Sidian made a rather large mistake, the dark powers were going to win. Now, in this darkest hour of need, Dakeb’s foresight abandoned him. His heart ached upon sensing the corrupted presence coming down with the Goblins.

  He’d done everything he could to prevent Sidian from taking control, but in the end he was no match for the Silver Mage. Heightened by the powers of the joining at hand, Sidian quickly unraveled Dakeb’s hard worked plans. His heart cried as he caught the first faint whisper of perfume heading towards them. He cried for Delin and Tarren, for he’d grown especially fond of them over the last few weeks. They’d been forced to endure more than anyone should in a lifetime, and he couldn’t have gotten half as far without them. But now, Dakeb felt all was lost.

  Tarren descended the stairs like a dark angel. Vengeance burned in her once gentle eyes. She saw her once friends chained and dejected along the walls and laughed. It was a cruel and wicked sound. Hatred radiated from her pores.

  “Quickly, chain and gag them. The Master is awaiting,” she ordered the Goblin guards.

  Delin froze, his heart stopping. Confusion gripped him. It couldn’t be Tarren, it just couldn’t.

  “Yes Mistress,” the Goblins snarled in reply and went about their task.

  “Tarren?” Delin asked in pain. “What happened to you? What are you doing?”

  “Silence slave!” she hissed. Hands on her lush hips, the newly created mistress of the dark stalked into the cell. Her eyes were hard, spitting fire through the slits. A cold hand stretched forth to caress Delin’s cheek “Poor Delin. You didn’t think you could actually contend with the Master’s will, did you?”

  Looking down at her scantily clad body Delin was both aroused and disgusted. She wasn’t even a shell of the girl he’d fallen in love with. His stomach felt uneasy being so close to her.

  She laughed at his dejected look. “I feel more alive than I’ve ever been. The Master has opened up my true self.” Her gaze lingered thoughtfully on Dakeb. “He especially looks forward to your reunion, old man.”

  One by one they were led up through the winding passage and decaying corridors. The Silver Mage wanted them to witness his crowning achievement of nearly seven hundred years of toil and hardship. At first they struggled against their captors, but Dakeb’s silent urging ended it. It was no use, and if his hunch was correct, the Goblins were taking them directly to Sidian and the end of things.

  Delin walked behind Tarren and fought back the tears. She was evil now. He had no doubts. His cursed the day this adventure first came into his head, and the day he and Fennic found that sword. It was the source of their ruin and had led Tarren down a dark and unforgivable road. Oblivious to his torment, Tarren led the captives up the winding stairs of Aingaard’s tallest tower. The specially prepared ritual chamber awaited.

  A pair of Goblin warriors guarded the warped door at the edge of the landing. Their axes were crossed and the looks on their faces was pure malevolence. Spendak emerged from the shadows of a recess. His eyes lingered on Tarren with mistrust. She was still one of them as far as he was concerned. It didn’t matter what the Silver Mage had done. Her being here was a beacon for potential disaster.

  “Open the door,” Spendak commanded. “They are expected.”

  He waited until they shuffled by before reaching out to grab Tarren by the upper arm.

  “Remember your place, girl. I know who you really are. Don’t presume for a moment that you have replaced me in his graces, whore.”

  She had the dagger strapped to her thigh, the same dagger she’d used to kill Scarn, out and at his throat before he could blink. “I think you’ll find a great many things are about to change. With me at his side, the Master no longer has need of your filth.”

  Glaring, Spendak stood and let her pass. He quickly followed her in and noted the positions of the prisoners. The Elves and Norgen made up the back row. Cruel looking spears pushed them close together. Hallis and the others lined the front, all except for Delin. He had been taken to a massive slab of granite next to the marble pedestal holding the cracked crystal. Tarren herself was the one who tied him down. He didn’t even struggle. There was no point in it.

  With a barely perceivable nod, she bade the Goblins to begin. They released a stone lever and the granite slab slowly began to stand on its end. Delin found himself hanging down, looking at the crystal. He recognized the irony but found no humor in it. Directly below, lay the fourth and final shard of the crystal he’d been carrying for months. A dark flavor emanated from the three shards already together. The pull of magic urged the fourth to rejoin them.

  “Relax, lover,” Tarren cooed in an unforgiving tone. “This will all be over soon.” Even as the words left her lips a sliver of resentment trickled through her. Doubt began to take purchase in the forgotten corners of her soul.

  Dakeb took it all in with great interest. He too had waited lifetimes for this single event. Tonight was as much about his destiny as it was Sidian’s. There was a wall sized mirror hanging opposite of Delin, gripped on both sides by massive hands carved from bone. His eyes were drawn to the fallen majesty of the crystal. What had once been hailed as a triumph for Malweir and the future of all life was now a shallow terror. He felt the evil pulsing through the crystal and knew sadness and regret.

  A stout Goblin entered the chamber and slammed the mighty staff he was carrying into the marble floor three times. All eyes slowly turned to the doorway and the ancient figure moving through. The Silver Mage, sovereign of Gren and usurper of life, strode into the ritual chamber dressed in a splendid white robe gilded with gold. Tarren and the others dropped to their knees and bowed so low the
ir heads touched the ground. Hands clasped in front of him, Sidian took in his guests with a mischievous gleam. A cruel smile formed when his finally laid eyes on Dakeb.

  “My old friend,” he said in a measured breath. “I knew you’d come to me in the end. You never could mind your own business. You should have never tried to stop me.”

  He motioned for the guards to remove Dakeb’s gag.

  Dakeb smiled curtly in reply. “We do as we must, old friend. This scheme of yours isn’t going to work. I promise you that. You’ve been stopped before, and will be stopped again.”

  Sidian raised his eyebrows in a curious arch and leaned closer. “How do you expect to stop me? Your hands and feet are chained. I finally possess the final shard of the crystal and you’ve never let me get this far before. I’ve won Dakeb. You and all of the others could not stop me before. The crystal showed me the true way of the world, where the absolute power lies. Here, at this nexus you will witness the return of the dark gods. Look around you. My new pet is ready to sacrifice the boy on my command and the hours is upon us. Shortly you will bear witness to the true power of the dark gods. Your precious Tarren has already been elevated. She how willingly she gives herself?”

  “Ensorcelled is more like it. She’s nothing but a harmless child who knows nothing of this war. Let her go, Sidian,” Dakeb warned.

  “I think not. Her role is too important. See the dagger she bears? Tarren, please rise and tell these people what you did to earn it.”

  Tarren slowly drew to her full height and stared back at the captives. Wickedness blazed in the fiber of her being. “This dagger I plunged into Scarn’s back until he was dead. I stood and watched his blood seep out and coat the floor in a beautiful red. And when the hour draws nigh, I will stab this very same dagger into Delin’s heart. His blood will drop onto the completed crystal and open the gates to the netherworlds. Then the dark gods shall be freed at last.”

  Sidian Laughed. “You see? Already she has traveled deeper into darkness than many before her. She gives her soul so willingly. She’ll make a fine bride once my task has been completed, don’t you think?”

  Delin’s eyes flew wide in terror. This was all his fault. If only he’d never left home, none of this would ever have happened to them. His heart broke then, chained and gagged on the foul altar. Dakeb, however, seemed enthralled by all he’d learned. The final mysteries of his long lifetime had been revealed. He knew as much as he needed to know. He was ready to act and take his battle to the Silver Mage.

  “Pure blood,” he said, almost in a whisper.

  Sidian nodded. “Yes. Innocent blood spilled at the hand of the one who loves him the most. You have done all the work for me, Dakeb. After all these years, your insecurities have given me the strength I need to finish my task. Soon legions of unholy warriors will pour through the gateway and consume Malweir in a plague of blood and hatred. Thellios never understood the crystal’s true powers. None of you did. And for that blindness you shall suffer. You’ve failed, Dakeb.”

  Dakeb stayed silent. Nothing more needed saying. Time marched on. Any moment now Sidian would begin the ceremony and begin a reign of terror unparalleled through-out history. The sand in the hourglass trickled down to the last grains. The horn sounded again and Sidian moved to the base of the granite altar. Whispered chants grew louder around him as he began the ancient spells. A strong gust of wind blew out the torches. Tarren’s hair and gown blew wildly in the wind. Dust and debris were kicked up, pelting the exposed skin without mercy. A deep green glow started filling the chamber.

  Outside, Gren was thrown into turmoil. Fires sputtered into infernos sweeping across the plains and into the mountains. Volcanoes spit doom up to the heavens, threatening to burn them down. The earth quaked, threatened to rip itself apart. Nightmares sprang to life. Sidian’s chants continued. Kneeling at the base of the altar, Tarren raised the dagger overhead with both hands, swaying to the rhythm beating in her veins. Her eyes glossed over. The jeweled necklace radiated a sick light. Pieces of the ceiling broke off and crashed down around them. The mirror suddenly went black.

  Sidian reached and grasped the fourth shard of the crystal and stared wildly at it. A pair of glowing eyes opened in the darkness of the mirror. The Dark Master. Soon he would be free and his legions unleashed. The Goblins cringed in terror. One cast down his spear and made to flee. Spendak took his head in one clean blow of his sword. It took all his might and will not to reach out and do the same to Sidian and his pet whore. He knew his lands would be saved if he did, but the power of the crystal commanded obedience. So, the Grelnor stood his station and watched.

  Violent light pulsed from the crystal as Sidian lovingly placed the final shard with the others. Remade whole, the crystal of Tol Shere fed electricity in the air. Centuries had come and gone, bringing the world full circle. Darkness crept back into the land. The hour of doom had at last arrived. Clicking into place, the four shards melted into one. The dark gods smiled from their exile.

  Tarren took her dagger, handling it like a childhood friend, and cut a line across the palm of her hand. Bright red blood escaped her flesh and she laughed when she dripped it down onto the crystal. Green turned to crimson. Aingaard trembled. The Silver Mage stepped forward, prepared to me his master. Delin swore he heard the crystal growl hungrily as the dagger inched close to his heart. She ripped his shirt open, exposing flesh and muscle, then paused for the mage. Sidian clapped.

  The hourglass was almost empty. Tension filled the room. Spendak suddenly realized how foolish his plots and plans were. The Goblins forgot the threat of being killed and edged closer to the door. The power of the netherworld was too great. Spendak himself was already waiting by the door just in case.

  Sidian turned to Dakeb and said, “see how hopeless your situation is? Evil has matured, Dakeb. I will finally take what is mine. Tarren, spill his blood and open the way. Quickly.”

  Delin jerked at the touch of the cold steel, wincing as pain lanced through him when the point broke through the first layers of flesh. The last grain of sand trickled out of the hourglass. A single drop of blood splashed down, kissing the crystal. The mirror trembled. The gates to the netherworld began to grow and pulse with energy. Tarren slowly pushed the dagger deeper until a steady flow of blood escaped. Her eyes were ablaze with violence.

  Dakeb went into action. This was the moment he’d awaited and feared for so long.

  SIXTY

  Dakeb mumbled a spell and their gags softly fell away. Their bonds disappeared into thin air, all except for Delin. Hallis was the first to act. He ducked right to avoid being skewered by a wildly thrust spear. Grabbing the shaft with both hands, he kicked the Goblin in the throat. The spear was in his hands and aimed at the next before anyone else could move. Norgen and the Elves erupted into action, quickly disarming and killing the nearest guards. All but one that is. The Goblin ran screaming from the chamber and the alarm was raised throughout all of Aingaard. Hallis knew they’d be trapped and destroyed if the house guard reacted in time. There was little time.

  “Celegon! Take the stairs,” Hallis yelled as he dropped to a knee and thrust the spear to the belly of Spendak.

  The Elf prince ripped a spear from a nearby corpse and rushed out the door with his fellow Elves. If the three of them could keep the way open long enough they might have a chance. Norgen moved to follow but was tripped by a fallen guard. The Elves ran off without him. Lithe and fleet of foot, the trio made it to the bottom of the stairwell and quickly established a defensive position. The house guards would soon be coming. Armed with two spears and a short sword, they didn’t wait long.

  The familiar clamor of armor and booted feet rushed towards them. Celegon watched the mass of Goblins approach warily. He could tell by the looks in their eyes they were bloodthirsty and ready for revenge. Sensing the danger, Celegon resisted the urge to strike first. He knew that in doing so they’d be exposed and torn apart. Llem wasn’t as patient. He brandished the stolen spear and ch
arged.

  The first Goblin was taken by surprise and skewered through the heart. Llem struck a second across the face with the haft of the spear before the others reacted. Daggers and swords flashed. The Elf held his own for a brief time, but the Goblins were too many and he was cut off from help. Blood leaked from a dozen wounds, driving him to his knees. Celegon and Derlith attacked from the rear, hoping to rescue their friend before it was too late. The Elf prince met the enemy blade to blade as Derlith dragged Llem away. Two Goblins fell immediately to the Elf’s skill. Their bodies blocked the hall enough for the trio to retreat back to the stairwell where it was more easily defended. A strangled sound came from behind him and Celegon dropped his head. Llem was dead.

  Norgen gasped as one of his ribs snapped from the force of the Goblin kick. The sturdy Dwarf stumbled back, losing the grip on his weapon in the process. The Goblin pressed his advantage. Spittle and blood drooled from his hungry mouth in anticipation of killing the Dwarf. Norgen lashed out and kicked his attacker in the side of the knee. The Goblin fell with a cry but was still able to bring his sword down. The blade pierced Norgen’s side. Snarling, the Dwarf reached out and wrenched the sword from the Goblin and struck off his head in one hard swing. Losing blood fast, Norgen slumped down unconscious as the battle raged around him. His last sights before passing out were of the Grelnor man advancing on Hallis

  Grinning from ear to ear, Spendak raised his sword. He welcomed the chance to fight a real man again, not the disgusting Goblins or any of the other folk. The temptation had been gnawing at him since Greeth and it took greater control to hold himself as the time of the ceremony neared. Now he could unbridle his blood lust and let his sword do the work. He hadn’t killed an Averonian in a long time. He was going to enjoy this.

  “That’s it, come to me,” he goaded.