The Shadow Games: The Chronicles of Arianthem VI

by Samantha Sabian

  “We’ve got to get as far away as possible!” Skye exclaimed. “Before I lose the spell!”

  But the Hyr’rok’kin didn’t seem to be following them, rather were deviating off to the west. Torsten realized where they were going.

  “Wait!” Torsten said, and Skye skidded to a halt.

  “What?”

  “There are two dozen of our troops not far from here. Aeric, Flynt, they all came for you.”

  “And Jorden,” Syn said in despair.

  Dallan groaned in frustration. She had forgotten about the others. And there was no question what Skye was going to do.

  “We leave none behind,” she said to Torsten fiercely, and he nodded his agreement.

  “Come on!” she exclaimed, making a hard right turn from their original path and heading west into the forest. They would have been crashing through the trees, but instead, were able to run right through them. Dallan could barely keep up with Skye and Torsten, so swift were the Tavinter, and Syn’s Tavinter heritage seemed to be making an appearance as the runner thief outpaced all but Skye.

  Fortunately or unfortunately, the Tavinter were very close, having heard the battle and crept stealthily towards it to see if they could be of assistance. It was fortunate, for had they not been so close, Torsten was not certain they would have made it to them before the Hyr’rok’kin. Unfortunate, for the Hyr’rok’kin were right behind them, a fact he deduced without turning around by the grim expressions of his comrades as they readied themselves for a slaughter.

  “What are you going to do?” Torsten asked between breaths, panting as he ran.

  Skye seemed very sure and very focused. “I just need to get a little closer,” she said, “I just have to beat the Hyr’rok’kin.”

  It did not look like that was going to happen as the fastest of the monstrosities, the four-legged hell hounds, galloped past Rika and overtook Dallan. They passed Torsten, then drew even with Syn, and almost even with Skye who ran invisibly next to them. But with a burst of speed, Skye outpaced them, getting ahead and close enough to the Tavinter she could see the beads of sweat on their foreheads. She could see the resignation in Jorden’s blue-green eyes as she drew her sword and took an attack stance. She could see Aeric’s handsome features tighten with grim anticipation and Flynt’s grizzled countenance acquiesce to his fate as he raised his bow. She could see all her friends’ and comrades facing certain death while they couldn’t see her at all.

  Then, with an intuition that she had been born with, the power that had flowed through her mother’s veins like fire, the skill and magic that had come from Arianthem’s greatest wizard, she slammed her hands together, creating a shock wave of magic that rippled outward like a disruption in the fabric of the world. And the shockwave passed over the entire band of Tavinter scouts just as the Hyr’rok’kin were upon them, and the band completely disappeared.

  Aeric stood, stunned, looking at the ground through his now transparent hands. Flynt ducked as a hell hound came leaping at him, but where it should have hit him in the chest, it passed right through him. Jorden had braced herself for impact with one of the charging beasts, but instead stumbled forward when no collision occurred.

  “Skye!” Aeric cried in amazement, recognizing his friend and leader even in their strange, transitory condition. “How did you do this?”

  “There’s no time to explain,” Skye said breathlessly, and indeed there was not, for the confused Hyr’rok’kin had skid to a halt, the Marrow Shard could be heard tramping through the forest, and the Reaper Shards hovered in malign frustration, flitting about, and screaming as they had now been twice denied. Even now they were regrouping.

  “They can’t see or hear us, but I cannot maintain this spell for very long. We must run!”

  And the Tavinter, used to obeying their leader without question, began sprinting after her as she made a hard turn to the south away from the horde. But Aeric knew something was wrong, for Skye was beginning to slow and he had never kept pace with her once since they had been children.

  “I’m getting tired,” Skye said ruefully, breathing hard. “This spell is difficult.”

  It wasn’t difficult, Aeric thought, it was impossible. He had never heard of any such a spell on even one person, let alone an entire band of almost thirty people. He put an arm beneath Skye’s and Flynt took the other, and the two supported her while still jogging jerkily along. This was not effective, for all of the Tavinter slowed for their leader.

  “Keep running!” Skye cried in frustration. She could feel the spell slipping, and off in the distance, she could hear the Reaper Shards scream in pleasure as they got the slightest hint of her position. The re-emergence of the thundering of the herd could be heard as the Hyr’rok’kin set chase.

  “Damn it,” Skye said in frustration.

  “Here,” Rika said, having finally caught the swift-footed Tavinter. “This is where I come in.”

  She scooped Skye up with so little effort she might as well have weighed nothing. And although she could hardly keep pace with the fleet Tavinter when they were unencumbered, they could not have dreamed of keeping her pace bearing Skye, for the weight hardly slowed her at all. And Skye was better able to maintain the spell for now she did not expend energy running.

  “Go that way,” Skye said, again changing their direction to throw off the Hyr’rok’kin, but then a strange look passed over her features and she changed her mind. “No, no, over there.”

  Rika obeyed, although it seemed poor strategy to run up a hill when the Hyr’rok’kin were once again on their heels. But she held Skye tightly, her powerful thigh muscles flexed, her calves propelled her upward, and Dallan was right behind her pushing with all her might. Jorden and Syn ran side-by-side, and the Tavinter sprinted as one, all charging up the hill.

  Skye was in agony. The spell had completely drained her. “I can’t hold it any longer,” Skye said, “just get to the top of the hill.”

  Rika wasn’t certain what good that was going to do. Skye went limp in her arms, and as she did, the world became solid once more and the Hyr’rok’kin screamed as their prey reappeared. They began barreling up the hill and Rika glanced over her shoulder.

  “Just keep moving!” Dallan yelled, pushing Rika forward.

  And they did, legs churning in a hopeless task, driving upward for no reason other than Skye had told them to, heading toward a destination that seemed within reach but futile. They could now smell the blood and decay and wet leather that marked the Horde Shards, and hear the heavy tramping of their feet. The earth shook, the sky was rent with screams, the snapping of jaws, and the gnashing of teeth, and Rika thought that all was surely lost.

  Except at the top of the hill stood a tiny, wizened elvish woman. One dressed in green robes embroidered with arcane symbols older than time. And she stood steadfast, her emerald eyes watching the approaching storm with utter calm. And she was joined by another elf, one younger, taller, doe-eyed, who despite her gentle appearance gazed at the mass of monsters without fear, for she had been through the Veil and to the Gates of the Underworld, and she had seen this before. And when the tiny, ancient elven matriarch raised her staff, a thousand wood elves appeared on the crest of the hill, all armed with weapons that glowed with green light, enchanted by the most powerful practitioner of natural magic in all of Arianthem.

  Rika saw the wood elves draw their bows, and as she sprinted past them and collapsed with Skye still in her arms, she wanted to cry. The Tavinter all crossed the line together, unwilling to leave their leader behind, and Torsten and Syn were the very last, pulling Jorden by the hand.

  “Fire,” Y’arren said.

  Idonea appeared right next to Talan and immediately went to her knees.

  “What has happened?” she said, unable to grasp the sight of her powerful mother in such a condition.

  “All went as planned,” Talan said, “unti
l Volva slipped these around my wrists.”

  Idonea lifted her mother’s wrists to examine the glowing restraints. “What are these?”

  “A gift from Hel,” Talan said. “Volva said she thought they were made from resin from the Tree of Life.”

  Idonea ran her fingers over the glowing strands. “No,” she said, “these are not from the Tree of Life. They have something of that in them, but it has been perverted. And something else that is specifically deadly to dragonkind.”

  “Can you break them?”

  “I think that I can,” Idonea said. Although deep in concentration, she smiled a little.

  “What?” Talan asked, her eyes caressing the face of her beautiful daughter.

  “For years I was so angry with you that I was not a dragon like Drakar, that I was born of you and a human male. But if I were a dragon, I would not be able to break these bonds.”

  “You have always been perfect in my sight.”

  Idonea raised an eyebrow.

  “Incorrigible,” Talan admitted, “but perfect nonetheless.”

  “I wonder where I got that from,” Idonea murmured. “Now hush so I can get these abominations off of you.”

  Idonea put both her hands on the slender manacles, she closed her eyes, running her fingers over the fetters, feeling for a weakness, a break in the grain, an imperfection in the fibers of the dark magic that had been woven together to create the restraints. And she found it, the slightest of flaws, the tiny crevice where she could insert a sliver of light magic, disrupt the resonance with minor vibration, create just enough dissonance to...

  The manacles shattered and Talan felt power surge through her as her dark magic returned.

  “Thank you, Isleif,” Idonea said with quiet gratitude. “I never would have studied light magic if it were not for him.”

  Idonea helped Talan to her feet, and the dragon breathed deeply. Her weakness fled so quickly it seemed hard to believe she had been near death moments before. Idonea commented on the phenomenon.

  “I wonder if those restraints were truly meant to kill you,” she said, “or rather place you in some sort of stasis.”

  Talan rubbed her wrists. “Volva said they were meant to kill me, and I felt near death. But Raine sustained me, I could feel it.”

  This brought another smile to the raven-haired mage’s lips. “Raine told me she was bound to you. She felt like you had gotten the short end of that deal, but I told her I didn’t believe it was as one-sided a bargain as she thought.” Idonea paused. “I shall have to lord this over her when I see her.”

  Talan kissed Idonea on the forehead. “You go right ahead.”

  “Mother! You’re free!”

  Drakar rushed into the room, gloriously happy to see Talan healthy and unrestrained. He rushed her, kissed her fully on the lips, then kissed Idonea in the same manner.

  “Idonea was able to break the bonds.”

  Drakar was proud of his sister, but a little glum that she was stealing some of his thunder.

  “Well, I killed that fat fuck, Jörmung.”

  “You killed Jörmung?” Talan said, her pleasure and pride evident.

  “He did,” Kylan said, strolling into the room.

  “Kylan helped,” Drakar admitted, “we pinned him in, right at Algar’s Bluff, and that fat fool couldn’t gain altitude or maneuver at all.”

  “But Drakar went in for the kill,” Kylan said, “and finished him off proper.”

  “I marked his body well,” Drakar said, “so we can retrieve his bones and you can make another sword.”

  “Probably even an axe or two,” Kylan sniffed, “with Jörmung’s thick thighs.”

  “And Volva?” Talan asked.

  “She escaped,” Kylan said darkly. “She claimed she was going to help Jörmung, but she was nowhere near that fight. I imagine she fled the minute she left the ledge here.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me,” Talan said, “she will still be dangerous, but she has few allies now.”

  “Very few, because the counterattack at the Frost Straits was very successful. The elder dragons destroyed many of the lesser and a few of their own equal.”

  Talan absorbed this good news, but Drakar was still thinking of Volva.

  “Can you imagine that bitch, thinking that I was going to rape my own sister?” He glanced over at Idonea. “Now if you were to come to me willingly, that would be another thing…”

  Talan cleared her throat while Idonea merely tossed her head and sent him that sultry look that drove him insane.

  “God,” he muttered to himself, “why is my dream threesome my mother, her lover, and my sister?”

  “He is a very confused boy,” Kylan murmured to Talan.

  “Yes,” Talan said, “yes he is.” She patted Drakar on the cheek, then kissed him lightly on the forehead. “But one I am very proud of right now.”

  “Are you all right?” Aesa asked.

  Raine had stood motionless, silent, a study in concentration, for an interminable length of time. Her forehead grew damp with perspiration, her eyes remained violet, every muscle in her body was tense as if she were bearing an enormous weight. Aesa had no idea how long they stood there on that ledge, the Scinterian locked in her unseen battle, but she was thankful that Raine had already killed everything in the caverns, because otherwise they would have been vulnerable, so absorbed was she.

  And then the weight was gone, the tension drained from her body, her eyes reverted to a pale blue, and she went to one knee, breathing heavily.

  “Yes,” Raine said, taking another deep breath. “Everything is fine.”

  And it was fine, for Weynild was safe, she could feel it, and for the first time in a very long time she could feel Skye as well.

  “Are you going to be able to continue? Aesa asked, concerned, for Raine looked exhausted.

  “I am going to rest for a while. I think we’ll be safe here.”

  Aesa sat down next to the Scinterian, full of questions but unwilling to task Raine further. They sat in a silence broken only by the occasional drip of water from the craggy rock formations. Finally, Raine got back to her feet. She stretched her neck, shook her arms as if to loosen the muscles, rolled her shoulders, then cracked her knuckles.

  “I should be fine,” she said. “But to be honest, as much as I love to fight, I’m really hoping that Pernilla will be willing to bargain.”

  They entered the throne room at the peak of Mithril Caverns without knowing how many times the sun had crossed the sky since the beginning of their trek through the mountainside. It could have been a week of suns; it could have been only one.

  And “throne room” was an apt description for the room at the end of their journey, for this cavern was the largest of all before, possessing a nocturnal splendor befitting its sole occupant. It was narrow at first, but gradually widened as they approached their destination. The walls were carved with terrifying yet beautiful depictions of violent deaths, and as the two women walked down the black tiled pathway leading to the cave-like opening at the end, skulls stared down at them from every angle. The cavernous room they approached was well-lit, but the light was not fire, rather something that burned with a green glow. The glow cast deep shadows in the corners and brought out the horror of the violent depictions on the walls in bold relief.

  There was a raised dais in the cave-like room, and on the dais sat a throne. Altars bordered the throne on each side, altars about the length of a human body. As the two women moved into the cavern, the dark details of the throne came into focus. Skulls lined the top of it and bordered the bottom. The arms were stylized versions of skeletal arms rendered in meticulous detail, down to each bone of the fingers. The details of the woman sitting on this throne also slowly came into view, although her face was still in shadow. She was clothed in splendid dark robes that did nothing to hide
voluptuous curves, accentuating lovely hips, a narrow waist, and full breasts that pushed proudly upward. She had one leg crossed over the other and leaned back in her throne, a casual pose that indicated she was fully at ease, even dismissive of her visitors. The only indication of anticipation was the steady drumming of her fingertips on the skeletal arm of her throne that accompanied their slow march forward. And as the Scinterian and the Empress stopped at the bottom of the few steps leading to the dais, she at last leaned forward. For the first time, Raine could see her face and looked into pale blue-green eyes that gazed at her with preternatural amusement.

  It was Malron’a.

  Raine stared at her wordlessly, turned to look at Aesa, then turned back to Malron’a. She paused for a moment, processing this most unlikely scenario, thinking through months of exchanges, then rethinking an entire series of events. She then sighed deeply.

  “You,” Raine said, “are Pernilla.”

  “Yes,” Malron’a, or rather Pernilla, said, “I am.” The paleness of her eyes faded and was replaced with the darkness of night.

  Raine looked at the Empress to gauge her reaction, but Aesa was completely confused by their exchange, signifying she was not in on the deception.

  “I’ve been dealing with her all along,” Raine explained, “as Malron’a.”

  “A convenient fiction I use at times to get my way,” Pernilla said in her silky voice.

  “So you manipulated me this entire time,” Raine said, more tired than angry, “to what end?”

  Pernilla’s eyes caressed Aesa in a manner that promised both awful and wonderful things. “You have returned my treasure to me,” she said, “and rid the Shadow Guild of a number of undesirables, most of whom lie strewn along the path you took to get up here. A little winnowing of the chaff, if you will.” She turned her malign gaze upon Aesa, and her tone hardened.

  “You will go to our room,” she said. It was not a suggestion.

  “Aesa,” Raine said quietly, “you don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”

  “It’s all right, Raine, I will go.”

  Raine and Pernilla watched as the Empress left through the doorway just off the dais, disappearing into the blackness. Raine felt more than a little frustration and turned back to the vampyr queen.