by Jay Swanson
The First Mage ran through his house, grabbing his sword and buckling it over his robes as he strode through the front doors and faced the gates of his home. Hands up, palms out, he closed his eyes and began weaving new traps while strengthening those that remained. Slowly he lost ground, only able to create one trap for every four that were used, and soon he realized it was no good.
He put his hands out to the sides, imagining a shield around himself. Willing it to be so, the First Mage drew fire up from the roots of the earth and encapsulating himself in white heat. The walls crumbled near the cliffs. He could feel it before he heard them tumble down. He drew his sword and opened his eyes as the enemy soldiers began hammering on the door. It bulged once, twice, and again before the hinges began to crack.
The Mage began to recite an old war hymn quietly, slowly, under his breath; the words were all but lost to the cacophony of the battlefield.
Come foul stench and rotten soul
Leave your carnage in your throe
Writhe in torment, bleed and die
Righteousness shall bear death neigh
His stomach was electrified by an earsplitting crack; the stone of the walls shuddered as they began to shear. Hellish screams rose from his left and his right as the monsters gained sight of their prey. Like a mutated wave, they rolled on undaunted by the blazing shell around their enemy. Cruel weapons rose over stumped reptilian heads as they roared and pressed on. The gates burst open, splintering into a cloud of shards. The creatures beyond pushed forward, uttering guttural cries as the three black fronts converged on the fire.
Come ye demons, come ye here
On this eve shall light draw near
Waves of demonic flesh were instantly incinerated as they approached, never making it within yards of the shield itself. More pressed on, steadily gaining ground as the Mage's power was absorbed and spent.
COME TO ME AND TASTE GOD'S WRATH
TASTE MY BLADE AND END YOUR PATH
WITH YOUR FATHER SHALL YOU LIE
COME AND SUFFER! COME AND DIE!
THE EXPLOSIONS WERE decreasing in frequency and Ardin could see the wall start to crumble in places. Soon they could see dark figures pouring through holes in the walls around the castle, rushing to find the magic user and silence him once and for all. Bright white lights began to flare from the other side of the castle where the Mage put his hand to the final defense. Alisia joined him as they watched the battle unfold in the increasing distance.
There was a moment of silence as the castle itself seemed to inhale sharply. Then with a sudden burst of released energy, the whole place erupted in a vortex of light and swirling mists as the castle was leveled and the hill cratered.
Alisia wept on Ardin's shoulder as he stood there stunned. For Caspian, the White Mage, the first and last of the Three, was no more.
THE SHADOW KING watched the assault on the castle with a growing sense of frustration. They weren't going to make any attempt to capture the Mage or his guest. They were going to level the whole place. Rank after rank steadily marched up the hill, only to be incinerated or ripped apart by the various enchantments surrounding the hill. Soon they were flooding towards it, hundreds of repulsive creatures throwing their lives away so as to weaken the magic that protected their enemy.
It wasn't the loss of life that bothered the Shade, nor the destruction wrought on the structure once they began to make their way through. He considered both parties in the battle his enemies and he didn't mind if they spent their energies fighting each other. What bothered him was the obvious intent of the assault. There was no leadership going to the front, no commands being made to show quarter. Simple destruction was on their mind.
He wasn't going to have his way after all. The Demon had seen through his treachery and wasn't about to allow him to get the power he sought without making a deal for it.
Finally the Mage appeared through the broken gates. He hurled balls of white fire at the onslaught of monstrous creatures that lumbered or hopped up the hill towards his home. He grabbed debris and flung it by the ton at them after they breached the flanks of the castle and died upon his shield. But still they came.
Many died discovering new enchantments in wait, but more poured in by the hundreds.
Where all these creatures had come from was beyond the Shade, but it was impressive. Terrifying in its own right. He hadn't believed the Demon's forces to be replenishing like this. And before long the Mage was overwhelmed. Crude MARD was brought close enough to have its effect, and jagged rusty blades shoved deep within his body until its life could no longer be contained.
He shielded his eyes as the hilltop was engulfed in the resulting concussion. How such an eruption occurred with the MARD present was beyond the Shade, but he had always assumed the passing of a Mage's soul somehow breached the gap. Nothing was left on the hill outside the crater save burned rubble and smoldering corpses.
He struck the ground and cursed in frustration. How could he have been so stupid? Where would he find the power he needed to restore his people? Turning to the Demon was not an option in his mind. That was one boundary he would never cross.
And then he saw it, a single, small white sail as it crested the horizon. It was brief, but through the haze he could tell exactly what it was. Being sure to avoid the remaining creatures in the bloodied remnants of the army below, he ran south. There he would join the ship he hoped still waited for him.
For the Shadow King yet had prey to hunt.
“WELL,” SAID THE witch doctor. “I've done what I can for you.”
Bill, Tom, and Clive sat on a low, broken bench in the healer's hut. They had been there a couple of days and were mending well enough to move about, but Bill didn't suppose they truly looked all that healthy.
“The Titans will be back for you soon,” he said. “They've been off monitoring a little bit of the Master's business and should be ready to escort you to him soon enough.”
“Who exactly is your master, then?” Bill ventured to ask.
He had thought about running on occasion, but the thought of trying to steal past all of those people in cages revolted him into staying put. He had no idea where he was, let alone where he would run to, and he didn't want to end up joining those poor bastards. Escape seemed impossible to him.
The witch doctor's hunched figure writhed grotesquely as he laughed at the question. The various trinkets and amulets he wore clinked and rattled as he did so. He seemed almost as mad as he was ugly.
“That is an incredible question. One that I don't feel truly deserves an answer.”
He continued to laugh quietly to himself as he packed his instruments away into an old, ruined leather sack. It looked like it was made from the same leather that he had wrapped around his forearms, each prickling with small spikes and hooks. They continually caught his ragged cape, which was secured to a rusty collar around his wraith-like neck. The spikes and arrows coming out of it looked as though they might create some symbol when seen from above.
“They will come for you here, so wait here. I won't be around to stop you from leaving, but I would imagine you can... well...” he stumbled over his choice of words. “Imagine what would happen to you if you attempted to leave.”
Dissatisfied with the way that sentence had come out, he simply grabbed his bag and sulked on his way out, shaking his head and mumbling corrections under his breath.
And just like that, the three of them were alone. The vacuum of the mad healer's lost presence pressed on them.
“I think we ought to try and make a go for it,” Clive said finally, breaking the silence.
“I think you ought to shut the hell up, Clive,” Bill snapped. “That's what I think. You ain't seen the cages filled with naked wretches out there! I did, and I don' wanna end up like 'em.”
“Then what do we do?” Tom asked weakly. He almost looked like he would topple over.
“I ain't sittin' here waitin' to die,” Clive said as he stood, still a bit wobbly hi
mself. “No, mate, I'll take my chances with yer damned cages.”
“Clive, don' you do it!”
Clive turned around to scoff as he reached the door. “Have fun with yer mighty Titans, like the things really exist.”
He turned back to walk out the door but found his path obstructed by a tall, gray, muscular creature whose immense wings were folded neatly behind it.
“I assure you,” it said. “We exist.”
Clive cursed as he stumbled back into the room and landed on his rear. The two giants bowed into the hut and stood stooping under the low ceiling. Tom looked aghast at the monsters. He had never seen the likes of them, he muttered. Bill's heart began to race, though he shook less this time.
“You three ready for your introduction?” asked the one.
“It's time to go,” said the other. “You're conscious; that's all he really wanted of you.”
The men obeyed, compelled by the simple fact that they were being beckoned by such immense creatures. The first ducked back outside while the other waited for them to follow. It took up the rear as they started down the path.
Clive muttered in amazement as he dusted himself off. He didn't seem scared at all to Bill, despite his wide eyes. It almost looked as though he were lost in a sense of admiration..
They began passing the rows of cages on either side again, the road less muddy this time, Bill noted. The prisoners cowered at the sight of the Titans, writhing back into their cages, pressing against one another. Animals, Bill thought. Filthy things. His revulsion, he decided, was for their pathetic whimpering and cowardice.
Then he saw a face he recognized. And another. His heart caught in his throat.
“We found a few more of your friends floating about off shore,” the Titan behind him spoke up. “None so fortunate as you, it would seem.”
They were led to the large, sagging, black building. Bill was taken aback by the spikes jutting out of its roof and higher walls. They looked as though they had been carved from raw bone. The big black creatures were still standing guard, as if they'd never moved. They simply swayed on their small legs in the breeze. They looked like they had been armored by a blacksmith who never thought the lower half necessary to protect. He briefly wondered how easily they tipped over before being brought back to his situation by the appearance of the smaller creature.
It seemed in charge, or at least its tall, bone-laced hat gave that impression. It scuttled outside, a single shock of silver hair shooting up from the front of its scalp and twisted spectacles on its broken nose. It looked like the beat up runt of a litter of weasels to Bill, though he thought it might have been a man once. Its bony knuckles wrapped around a small book that it flipped through neurotically as it tried to find something.
“Here we are,” it said, its shrill nasal sounding voice cracking as if he hadn't spoken in some time. “Take this,” it said to the Titan as it dug in its tattered cloak and pulled out a small pouch. “This should work. He's waiting.”
And with that, the scrawny little once-man disappeared back within the gaping doors that towered over them. Bill's eyes were drawn once again to the runes twisted out of scraps of metal and hammered to the tar-stained wood. His mouth went dry as he examined them. This was not a good place to be. As if to confirm the fact, a scream sounded from within and was cut off in the same breath.
They walked down the long dark hallway. High torches burned dimly as they walked past sets of looming double doors. The place reeked of tar and blood. A fresh pool had formed under one set of closed doors and Bill, try as he may to avoid it, was forced to step in the dark red liquid. He had seen blood before, plenty of it, but something about this made him want to throw up.
“Good God,” Clive muttered under his breath as he too failed to walk around the pool.
Thin wisps of smoke carried the scent of burnt flesh to their noses; the sharp smell drawing a guttural revulsion from the haze. The wailing of hopeless souls echoed down the long hall; dulled only by the dark tar that seemed to coat everything.
They came to a set of doors near the end of the hallway, nothing differentiating it from the others, but the Titans stopped.
Wordlessly one of them pushed the doors in, revealing nothing but a deeper darkness. The other Titan shoved the three men into the room and closed the doors behind them, the dull torchlight glinting off of something in his hand as he did so. Something wicked, something sharp.
None of them spoke. The empty darkness weighed on them like a lead blanket. Bill wasn't so sure he hadn't gone blind, his own breath rasping in his ears. Unable to breathe any quieter he was tempted to simply hold it.
Something sparked in the middle of the room, and again, as the Titan struck flint with his knife. Soon a small fire started to glow, casting flickering shadows around the room that worked to deceive the eye. It was a tall chamber, though narrow. As the fire grew Bill became certain that there were chains, cages, and harnesses on the walls. Everything looked like it had been spattered and splashed with blood.
But his attention was brought back to the fire as the Titan stepped closer, hand extended over the flames. Soon a thin, sparkling dust drifted from his hand and mingled with the orange tongues that lapped it up greedily. The fire grew, twisting around the dust like ivy growing around a pillar. And then with a snap and a small burst of light, they saw him.
Floating between the flames was an image. More than that, it was an apparition of some sort. He was suspended, arms spread out at awkward angles, legs hanging straight down except his left, the knee of which seemed to jut out slightly. The details were blurred, as if he was made of smoke, but he was dark, muscular, demonic. Spikes jutted out from all the places one would already expect to be pointed. Scars seemed to cover his body, but it was difficult to tell in the haze. Even in that floating image, as small as it was among the flames, he seemed massive.
Indeed, his presence filled the room and pressed upon them as if to force them out. But they were compelled to stand still, rigid, waiting.
“These are the ones we found,” one Titan said finally. There was an edge to his voice, his certainty questioned in the moment. “The ones you requested we keep separate from the others.”
The figure seemed to look up slightly. Whether or not he really did so was beyond Bill, but there was a simple sense that his gaze had shifted. A dreadful sense, as it settled on them.
“Come here,” a voice emanated from the fire: deep, calm, commanding.
It sounded guttural and yet refined all at once.
They stepped forward in unison and stopped just feet from the flames. Puppets on invisible strings in the midst of the smoke and haze.
“I care little for you or your lives,” it started. “As you have well seen by now, I hold human life in little regard. Unless it suits my purposes, I would sooner torture it and stomp it out anywhere I find it.”
It paused, seeming to regard them more closely. Bill broke out into a sweat. He could feel bony, ethereal fingers running up his body, feeling him out, sensing his very core and judging his fate. His throat constricted as his mouth went totally dry.
“Fortunately for you, I need men of your... caliber.”
“I don' work for no demons,” Clive managed to mutter under his breath.
Bill was doubly shocked. Not only was Clive able to speak, he was still to stupid to refrain from doing so.
“Don' matter how fancy the tricks.”
“I see,” the Demon's gaze shifted to Clive.
Bill felt as if a weight was lifted as the creature's focus rested on his comrade. He sighed outwardly with the passing of its pressure. But then the gaze moved back over to Tom. It was as if a physical presence was in the room moving among them, occupying space like the blaze of a lighthouse, swinging from one side to the other.
“Your friend is weak.”
And with that the focus narrowed, gripping Tom in the smoky haze and lifting him a foot off the ground. He yelped, but couldn't get any more out as he was sque
ezed and pressed. Bones began to crack audibly as he was crushed in front of them. There was no looking away, no matter how hard Bill tried, his focus was locked onto his best friend in his last moments.
The thing wasn't even in the room. It was just some image in the fire and yet it was powerful enough to reach out through the flames and do with them as it pleased.
There was a gurgling whimper as blood poured out of Tom's eyes and ears. Bones began to jut out and open their own wounds. There was one final series of cracks as his body was crushed, and then dropped to the floor in crumpled carnage. The gaze returned to both Bill and Clive, chills running up their spines as their hearts seemed to halt in their chests.
Bill couldn't breathe under the pressure of its attention, it felt like a physical force.
“I have a very particular task for you to complete,” the voice said as if nothing had happened, the ghostly figure in the fire never moving. “Because you do work with demons now.”
TWENTY-NINE
ARDIN AND ALISIA sat on the bow of the ship, watching the waves and the occasional, strangely intentional swings of the mast behind them. The ship was steered as if some invisible helmsman stood at the wheel. Ardin marveled as it turned them sharply on occasion, striving to miss barriers he could not see. Thankfully they never saw another of the long, blue dragons. They passed on into the ocean at an incredible speed and with no incident to slow them.
Alisia didn't share Ardin's sense of awe. Perhaps she would have had there been a greater sense of mystery to it for her. But even then, the events of the morning had so badly shaken her that she hardly noticed anything in the midst of swirling doubts. The empty sea had become a gray reminder of her loneliness. White Shores and Caspian, she could have sworn, would have been her best hope of finding safety.
