Curse of the Shadowmage h-11

by Marc Anthony

  Morhion gasped. The ring he wore on his left hand-the ring given him in Talis by the witch Isela-flashed brilliantly. The magical circle of radiance changed from blue to dark purple and expanded rapidly, striking the wall. There was a sizzling sound, and countless tendrils of purple magic crackled, coiling around the weathered stones and plunging into the cracks between them. In moments the entire wall glowed with a deep purple radiance.

  "What was that?" Ferret asked. "Er, and that one wasn't a rhetorical question."

  "I don't know," Morhion said in wonderment. "Some how the ring altered my spell."

  Howls of bloodlust filled the air. At the bottom of the hill, a score of dark forms appeared out of the night. Swiftly, they began loping up the rocky slope.

  "Well, we'd better hope the ring knew what it was doing," Mari said somberly as she drew the short sword at her hip.

  Ferret followed suit, pulling a long dagger from a leather sheath at his belt. "I suppose it's too late to tell you that I've changed my mind and decided to stay behind in Soubar," he said forlornly.

  No one even bothered to reply.

  With impossible swiftness, the shadowhounds streamed up the side of the hill. They looked like normal dogs, only they were blacker than midnight and bigger than the largest of mastiffs. Their sharp teeth glowed in the moonlight, their eyes burned with crimson light.

  "Stay behind me, Kellen," Morhion ordered, and boy did as he was told.

  For a moment the baying ended, and there was only eerie silence as the shadowhounds closed the last few yards to the ruined tower. Then, as one, they struck. Snarling ravenously, the onyx hounds leapt easily over the ragged wall, long tongues hanging out of gaping muzzles.

  Purple radiance crackled brilliantly as snarls of hunger turned to yelps of pain. Like tiny bolts of violet lightning, tendrils of purple magic arced upward from the wall to engulf each of the shadowhounds in midair. The onyx beasts were thrown violently backward. They struck the ground howling and writhing until the purple sparks flickered and dimmed. The hounds regained their feet and padded warily toward the tower, lips curled back from sharp fangs. This time, however, they did not jump the wall.

  "The magic of the ring-it's holding them back!" Mari said in amazement.

  "Don't get your hopes up yet," Ferret countered. "We have a little problem." With his dagger, he pointed to the gap in the wall through which they had entered the ruined tower. Even now the hounds were prowling around the wall. "Hold out your weapons," Morhion commanded. Startled, the other two did as they were told. Morhion muttered the words of another spell of protection, conjuring a second sphere of blue light. As before, the ring on his left hand flashed. Blue radiance became purple. The sizzling violet magic coiled around Mari's sword and Ferret's dagger until the two blades glowed with an enchanted light.

  A shadow appeared in the gap, along with a pair of burning eyes. Mari and Ferret whirled just in time to face the shadowhound's leap. Maw snapping violently, the monster fell upon Mari as she thrust her sword out before her. She fell to the ground, the beast on top of her. Suddenly it threw back its head, letting out a howl of agony. Searing purple magic radiated from Mari's sword, engulfing the beast; the enchanted blade had pierced its body. The bound stumbled backward, howled again, then collapsed. In seconds its body had dissolved into a puddle of dark sludge. The purple magic faded. Pale-faced and bruised, Mari pulled herself to her feet. Another shadowhound tried to jump through the breach. Ferret slashed with his blazing dagger, and the beast leapt backward. More of the dark hounds gathered outside the gap, but they had seen the effects of Mari's sword on one of their ilk. They growled menacingly, but none dared try to force its way in. Then, as if in answer to some inaudible signal, the hounds all turned and loped away down the hill. The companions stared at each other in amazement.

  Mari lowered her short sword. "They're gone," she said hoarsely. "They've given up."

  Kellen moved to the wall. He pulled himself up rough stones and peered over the edge. "No, they haven't given up," he said quietly. "They're just… changing."

  Drawn by his strange words, the others approached the wall.

  "By all the gods of darkness!" Ferret swore.

  The shadowhounds had gathered at the base of the hill, milling around in a growling throng. Two hounds brushed against each other, and, as if made of dark clay their separate forms merged into one. More shadowhounds pressed themselves against their brethren merging their bodies into shapeless blobs that oozed fluidly across the ground. Finally, the formless blobs coalesced with the remaining shadowhounds into one gigantic mass, which began to take on a new shape. Wings spread outward like midnight sails, a sinuous neck unfurled like a great serpent. Crimson eyes blinked to life in a huge, wedge-shaped head, and obsidian talons sprang from outstretched claws. The thing tilted its horned head back, its vast roar sundering the night.

  "Milil save us," Mari whispered in awe.

  It was a dragon. A dragon of shadows.

  Seventeen

  The shadowdragon spread its vast wings and rose into the sky, blotting out the stars.

  Kellen had never seen anything so magnificent-or so terrifying. The shadowdragon soared higher, the surging sound of its pumping wings like that of white-capped waves breaking on a rocky shore. In moments, the gigantic beast circled far above hill and ruined tower, tilting its triangular head back to let out another trumpeting roar. "All right, now what?" Ferret rasped, his pointed nose twitching furiously. The little thief looked at the mage expectantly.

  "I'm open to suggestions," Morhion snapped.

  "What about Isela's ring?" Mari shouted over the dragon's roar. "It helped protect us against the shadowhounds."

  "It is worth a try," the mage agreed. "Well, you might want to try soon," Ferret gulped, pointing upward.

  Silhouetted against the starry sky, the shadowdragon folded its wings against its body and dove, stretching out scythelike talons. Morhion crossed his wrists and shouted the guttural words of an incantation. Crackling bolts of blue lightning sprang from his out-turned palms and shot upward. As the bolts sped toward the shadow dragon, the jeweled ring on his left hand blazed brilliantly.

  The lightning changed from blue to deep violet. The diving dragon spread its sail-like wings, halting impossibly in midair. The beast cocked its neck, then thrust its head forward, jaws gaping open. Some dragons breathed fire, others emitted clouds of poisonous gas or flesh-searing acid. This was a dragon of shadow. Its breath was darkness.

  A bolt of onyx streamed from the dragon's mouth and collided with the crackling purple lightning halfway between mage and beast. Tendrils of darkness coiled around the blazing pillar of lightning and spiraled rapidly downward, like black serpents slithering down a glowing column.

  "Morhion, let go of the spell!" Kellen cried out.

  His face twisting with effort, the mage uncrossed his wrists at the last possible second. The onyx dragonbreath engulfed the magical lightning, and the spell shattered violently, filling the night with hurtling shards of slick darkness and sizzling purple radiance. The force of the explosion threw Morhion backward against the stone wall. He slumped to the ground and Mari ran to him.

  "I'm all right," he gasped hoarsely. "But if the ring has the power to help us now, I do not know the key…"

  "Well, we'd better think of an alternate plan, and on the double," Ferret suggested nervously.

  The shadowdragon swooped low over the hilltop, then soared into the sky to ready itself for another dive. As it passed overhead. Ferret hurled his dagger in a precise arc. The knife struck the creature's eye-and passed right through the shadowy substance of its body. The thief swore vehemently. "How can we fight something that's made of shadows?" he shouted. Ferret helped Mari pull Morhion to his feet. The three gazed upward, faces pale with fear, as the shadowdragon folded its wings against its sinuous body and once more began to dive. Kellen did not join them. Instead, he scrambled nimbly to the top of the wall and drew out his bone flute. He took a deep
breath and began to play. It was a song like no other he had made before. It was wilder, bolder, and far more powerful. It had to be, if there was to be any hope at all. The first notes to rise from the instrument were daring, questioning-almost a challenge. Then Kellen launched into a surging, rhythmic counter-melody. In moments, he felt shadow magic racing through his veins. His left hand itched furiously. It was time. He reached his mind out, calling to the shadows. They came.

  Tendrils of dark mist rose from nearby pools of shadow and drifted toward Kellen. More shadows reached out from an inky patch at the base of the hill, and from the dark depths of a chasm a half mile away. Kellen had never summoned shadows from so far a distance. His song grew fiercer yet as more shadows heeded his call. They rose from distant valleys, floated out of deep caves, and drifted down from the vast reaches of the night sky itself. In moments the entire world was alive with shadows.

  From all directions they moved swiftly toward Kellen, drawn inexorably by his song.

  "By all the gods-" Mari started to swear, but Morhion held up a hand, silencing her. They watched Kellen in wonder.

  Kellen concentrated on his music. The shadows above coalesced into a gigantic shape. The dark mist formed stamping hooves and flowing mane, black armor and pointed lance. In seconds the form was complete. What better foe to face a shadowdragon than a shadowknight?

  Half man, half horse, the onyx knight of shadows loomed as tall as five men. The dark champion raised tree-length lance in salute, two starlike sparks glowing in the slit of his visor. He let out a trumpeting battle cry and launched into a gallop, angling upward into the sky, his hooves beating against the air as if it were hard ground. The shadowdragon let out a shriek of fury and changed the direction of its descent, diving toward its new foe.

  Knight and dragon hurtled on a collision course. For a few chilling heartbeats there was eerie silence as the two titanic forms sped toward each other. Then, with a clap of thunder, they met. The knight's lance plunged through the dragon's body at the same moment as the beast's claws punched through the knight's armor. Dragon roared and knight screamed, the vast sounds shaking the very ground. For a second they spun together in midair, as if whirling in an eerily graceful dance. Then, caught in a mortal embrace, dragon and knight plummeted toward the ground.

  As they fell, shreds of shadow ripped away from their writhing forms. Then more tatters of darkness peeled away. Before the two creatures could strike the ground, there was nothing left of them except for a few drifting wisps of dark mist. These settled softly to the moor and in moments melded with the night shadows beneath rocks and in dim hollows. Shadowdragon and shadowknight were no more.

  Hands trembling, Kellen lowered his flute. The night was silent once more. Mari, Morhion, and Ferret stared at him in amazement. He smiled wanly at them, then collapsed.

  They spent all the following day inside the ruins of the old tower, huddling against the cold wind. To Morhion, the delay was maddening. With each passing second, Caledan drew closer to Ebenfar. Yet they had little choice. After defeating the dragon with his shadow magic, Kellen had fallen into deep unconsciousness, and had not waked since.

  Ferret stood atop the ruined wall, keeping watch over the moor. A dreary mist had settled over the landscape once again. Mari knelt beside Kellen, bathing his fore-head with a damp cloth dipped in water steeped with willow bark. Despite the chilly air, sweat slicked Kellen's pallid skin. A fever raged inside him, so fiercely that Morhion could feel waves of heat radiating outward from several paces away. The source of the fever seemed to lie in Kellen's left hand, the one marked with the rune of magic.

  Morhion had known Kellen's shadow magic was different than Caledan's, and last night's display had demonstrated it was more potent as well. Yet it was not so much the boy's raw power that intrigued the mage. It was Kellen's great control. More than ever, Morhion was convinced that Kellen's special qualities came from being both mageborn and a descendant of Talek Talembar. Even now, it appeared that the two powers-sorcery and Shadow magic-were waging a battle within the boy's body.

  "Is there any sign of the fever lessening?" Morhion asked quietly.

  Mari shook her head grimly. "I'm afraid not. In fact, I think it's getting worse."

  He nodded in reply. Rummaging around in his saddle-bag, the mage pulled out a book. There was no telling when Kellen would be well enough to travel; he might as well put the time to good use.

  Morhion sat on the ground and rested the ancient tome on his knees. It was the book the witch Isela had given him in Talis. Before opening the tome, he paused to examine Isela's ring. Last night, the silver ring's magic had helped protect them against the shadowhounds but not the shadowdragon. Why? Despite the dreary day-light, the ring's purple gem shimmered with light. Yet when Morhion peered deeper into the stone, he saw the center of the gem was dark, just as Jewel had pointed out earlier. He shut his eyes and heard Isela's words once more.

  You seek to destroy a great shadow. Yet shadows can exist only when there is light to cast them. To destroy the shadow, you must destroy the light as well…

  In his mind, Morhion ran over last night's events. The ring had altered his spell of protection so that it harmed the shadowhounds. A protection spell had components that were both light-a visible aura-as well as dark-an invisible barrier. However, he had attempted to attack the dragon with a lightning spell-magic forged solely of light. That time, the ring's magic had failed to have an effect. It seemed that the ring's enchantment required both light and dark to function properly. Just like the creatures that had attacked the Zhentarim in Iriaebor Morhion realized-creatures conjured by Caledan's shadow magic. He put the ring away and turned his attention to the book.

  Morhion had no idea what knowledge the tome contained.

  It was penned in the dead language Talfir, and so far the mage had not had time to translate anything but the intriguing title: On the Nature of Shadows. However, as he bent over the time-darkened pages and began to painstakingly translate the ancient words, he had a hunch be would find something of interest between the cracked leather covers.

  When he finally lifted his gaze from the book, he was surprised to see that it was growing dark.

  "Hey, you're back," Ferret said with a crooked-toothed grin. "I was beginning to think it was actually possible to drown inside a book. Mari and I were about to draw straws to see who would dive in and pull you out." The thief squatted beside a small fire built in an alcove in the stone wall, stirring something in an iron pot. Mari had taken on Ferret's place atop the wall and was keeping watch. They had moved Kellen's motionless form near the fire; he was still unconscious. The mage blinked his bleary eyes. "I think you'll both want to hear what I've read in Isela's book."

  "Can't it wait until after dinner?" Ferret asked. "I'm famished."

  A spicy aroma arose from the pot. Morhion realized he was fiercely hungry. He nodded his assent, and the three gathered around the fire to eat. Miraculously, the thief had turned jerked meat, a handful of dried tomatoes, and a few wild-growing herbs into a delicious stew. When they set aside their wooden bowls, Morhion began explaining what he had read in the book the witch of Talis had given him. "The book is entitled On the Nature of Shadows," Morhion said in his rich voice. "It is penned in the dead language Talfir. At first I had a difficult time translating it,until I made a rather intriguing realization. In this particular dialect of Talfir, the word for 'shadow' is the same as the word for 'shadevar.'" Morhion paused. A chill wind moaned softly over the crumbling stone walls of the tower. "This book is a history of the shadevari." Mari and Ferret exchanged startled glances but did not interrupt.

  "I have long known that the thirteen shadevari were ancient beings. But according to this"-Morhion ran a finger over a faded page of runes-"the shadevari are older than the world itself. They are creatures of the dim chaos that existed before the gods forged Toril, in the time before time, before light and dark were separate entities. Instead of a world, as there is now, there existed o
nly a misty realm of shadows, and the shadevari were lords of that realm. Then came the gods-though from where, no one knows-and they separated the shadows into light and dark, and set the world Toril spinning between the two."

  Carefully, Morhion turned a brittle page. "For eons, the shadevari prowled the face of Toril, wreaking havoc and seeking ways to shatter the creation of the gods. Their only desire was to find a way to break the world and meld light and dark into shadowy chaos once more. Finally, the god Azuth, the High One, found a way to banish the shadevari. Beyond the edges of the world, he created the illusion of a realm of shadows, and the shade vari were drawn to the image. Once within, the shade vari realized that the illusion in truth masked a prison. Too late they discovered the trick, and Azuth locked the prison with a key forged of shadows by the god Gond, Wonderbringer. Then, with all his might, Azuth hurled the key into the cosmos, sending it spinning among stars so that it would be lost forever."

  "Something tells me that this cheerful little bedtime story isn't over yet," Ferret said, scratching his chin.

  "Something tells you rightly," Morhion replied. "For a long age, the shadevari remained sealed in their prison. In time they were forgotten. However, as fate would have it, one day the key that Azuth threw into the void entered the world once more."

  "The Shadowstar," Mari breathed in amazement.

  Morhion nodded. "Indeed. What seemed a shooting star to the wandering minstrel Verraketh was in truth the key Azuth had used to imprison the shadevari. The Shadowstar gave the shadevari a small window on the world. Though still imprisoned, through it they were able to exert some influence. As the medallion transformed Verraketh into the Shadowking, the shadevari spoke to him, making him their slave, until at last he vowed that, when he was powerful enough, he would use the Shadowstar to free the shadevari from their prison. Then the thirteen would seek to destroy Toril once and for all. Fortunately, Talek Talembar defeated his father, Verraketh, before this could come to pass, so the shadevari remained sealed in their prison beyond the edges of the world."