The Fragment of Shadow (The Shattered Soul Book 2)

by Ben Hale

  Throughout the day, Shadow gradually heightened the tensions in the mine, and since Relgor did not arrive, into the next day. By the end of the week the dwarves were on the verge of mutiny, with a stubborn brute insisting their wages had been short.

  Sitting inside his little alcove, Shadow leaned against the stack of gold coins he’d pilfered and listened to the argument about lost wages. Then a new dwarf barreled into the argument and raised his no-longer-fearsome axe.

  “My axe is pink!” a black-haired dwarf growled. “PINK!”

  “Look at what someone did to my tools,” another shouted, shoving the hammer at the mine captain. “The wood was soaked in water overnight.”

  “My seat was set to collapse!” another cried, rubbing his backside.

  “Someone shaved part of my beard!” one bellowed, reaching up to tug on the half beard that remained.

  “At least your beard isn’t pink!” the first roared.

  “Dwarves!” the mine captain called, his voice gaining a dangerous edge that subdued his workers. “I suspect someone has infiltrated our mine and thinks to use us for their amusement.”

  “Aye!” the one with the pink axe shouted. But he eyed his companions with suspicion in his gaze.

  The mine captain organized them into groups and sent them hunting, leading one group into the kitchens. Shadow dropped from his alcove and followed them inside, keeping to the shadows against the wall.

  The door to the kitchens was open and Hort led the way into the food stores. Unfortunately, his search led to a conspicuously large crate, large enough for a person to hide. The captain carefully opened it—releasing a trap Shadow had left. His head disappeared in a plume of purple dye. The liquid splattered the mine captain, turning his grey hair purple and staining most of his armor.

  He whirled to face his companions, several of whom were struggling to suppress their laughter. The one with the pink axe could not, and his roar caused the mine captain to scowl, his face so red that Shadow thought the dye would burn off his skin.

  “I want the intruder found!” he barked.

  The others continued their hunt while the captain made his way to the sink. Unable to resist, Shadow snuck up behind the soldier to where he’d placed his helmet and used a knife to cut several words into the dye on the back.

  For a moment he watched the dwarf furiously attempt to remove the dye, the effort only spreading it. Abruptly giving up, he jammed his helmet on his head and rejoined the others. Shadow followed at a discrete distance, arriving just as one of the patrols shouted that they’d found evidence of the intruder.

  “He’s been eatin’ our food!” the dwarf with the half-shaved beard shouted. “And look what he did to Urink’s memory orb of his wife.”

  The dwarf flushed and pocketed the orb before it could be seen. Fire gathered on his fist as his anger flowed, and he was not alone. The stone rattled underfoot as the dwarves with earth magic struggled to contain their anger. Hort shoved his way to the forefront.

  “He’s still here,” he growled. “I bet my life on it. Find him and drag his empty carcass back to me so I can—why are you smirking?”

  There was a great shifting of feet and then the captain seemed to realize they were avoiding looking at his helmet. Yanking it from his head, he spun it around and read the text about his backside, and the apparent size.

  His nostrils flared like a beast’s, fire curling around his lips. Sitting in the space between the great statue’s axe and his neck, Shadow noticed the dwarf’s insignia on his shoulder, marking him as a member of the guild of fire magic, and a first-class master. He idly wondered if he could get the dwarf to burn his companions.

  “Is that necessary?” Lorica seemed to ask, and Shadow brushed his hand over his shoulder, flicking the words aside like they were flies.

  A distant shout caused all eyes to look upward, and a moment later the distinct clash of steel reverberated from above. Hort barked for silence, and then a small knot of dwarves appeared on the dwarven ascender, the one leaning over the edge sporting a gash on his forehead.

  “We’re under attack!” he shouted.

  The captain barked an order and the group retrieved their weapons. “Humans?”

  The dwarf jerked his head. “They’re the size of rock trolls but don’t look like them.”

  “Dakorians,” Shadow said aloud.

  He’d forgotten all about his mission. Grimacing at the lapse, he stepped from hide and descended. Then he stepped from the shadows next to Hort, his body turning solid. His sudden appearance caused the dwarf to whirl and instinctively raise his axe.

  “Captain,” Shadow said, “although you’re not going to like it, you really need to trust me right now.”

  “You’re the one that did all this,” the dwarf growled.

  “True,” Shadow admitted, causing the dwarves to bristle. “But if you don’t listen to me, you’ll all be dead in a few minutes.”

  Chapter 26: The Purple Dwarf

  The captain scowled and his fist filled with fire. “Who are you?”

  “That’s not important,” Shadow replied. “What matters is that a group of outlanders are about to descend upon you and they won’t leave anyone alive.”

  “And you want us to trust you?” one growled and stabbed an axe at Shadow. “Look what you did to my axe!”

  “Maybe your wife will like it,” Shadow said.

  “I am a wife,” she shouted.

  Shadow blinked in surprise and realized he’d mistaken the female dwarf for male the entire time. Her beard didn’t help, and her stocky frame resembled that of her male companions. Shadow managed to suppress the obvious comment with difficulty.

  “You may want to kill me,” Shadow said, “but remember, if you die here, your people will find your bodies. Is this the way you want to be remembered?”

  He swept a hand at them, the one with the half beard, the one with the pink axe, the captain with purple hair. The fury in their eyes would have scorched steel, but Hort leveled a finger at him.

  “If you lie . . .”

  A distant shout came from above and light blossomed in the shaft, momentarily filling the breadth of the mine to illuminate the group of dakorians crowded on the ledge above the pit, with Relgor in their midst. As the ascender approached the ground, the dakorians leapt from the ledge.

  “Weapons,” Hort shouted. “And shields.” As he retreated he growled to Shadow. “What do they want?”

  “That,” Shadow said, pointing to the partially carved statue. “It’s a mineral they need.”

  Two of the dakorians stepped off the ascender and plummeted down the mine shaft, their boots glowing bright, causing them to slow. Shadow wondered if he could steal a pair of their boots. Maybe off their bodies? Others jumped free as they reached the black statue. Like boulders of flesh, they landed on the ground, the scaffolding, the upper walkways along the outer wall, and even on the statue’s head. Then Relgor landed on the uppermost section of scaffolding and surveyed the dwarves.

  Gathered behind machinery, scaffolding, and mine carts, the dwarves were arrayed for battle. To their credit, they’d gathered weapons and shields in seconds, and stood ready to engage the unknown enemy, but they glanced between each other, clearly uncertain of the identity of the new intruders.

  “Exterminate them,” Relgor said. “And prepare the extractor.”

  “With pleasure,” the dakorian at his side exclaimed.

  The dakorians dropped to the ground, their landing sending a shudder through the stones. In all his purple glory, Hort stood and spun his axe, leading the charge into the dakorian soldiers, his axe chipping the bone before he held his shield high for the incoming blow.

  The dwarves wore armor as normal clothing, and their shields overlapped to form an impenetrable wall. The lead dakorian swung his hammer, the weapon crashing into the shields and unleashing the interior power, sending dwarves and broken shields in all directions.

  The dwarves instinctively employed their
tactics against rock trolls, joining into tight knots and using overlapping shields to prevent attack. Closer dwarves lashed out, digging their axes into the legs of the dakorians, succeeding in chipping bone and drawing blood. One managed to drive his axe into the joint between the bone armor, the blade carving into the knee. The dakorian fell, and the dwarves rushed in, only to be brought to a halt by the equally as strategic dakorians.

  Shadow leaned down to Hort. “I don’t think that went very well.”

  “And you were supposed to help,” Hort snarled, shouting an order for the others to retreat.

  “Not much I can do with all the light,” Shadow replied, following him as he retreated behind a trio of overloaded mine carts. “I only have shadow magic.”

  “Which explains your blasted intrigue,” the female dwarf spat from nearby.

  Shadow spotted a trio of dakorians setting up a sort of machine that pointed at the statue. It resembled the drills the dwarves used to bore into stone, but this contained threads of power emanating from the inner workings, the energy brightening as it pointed at the stonework.

  “Can you destroy the lights?” Shadow asked.

  “That would blind us,” Hort snapped. He cast a soldier of fire and sent it at a dakorian, but the hammer blasted it into useless curls of flame and sparks. Other entities fared as poorly.

  One dakorian spotted Hort. “The purple one is their leader!” he shouted.

  Hort looked daggers at Shadow and he shrugged apologetically. Both sprinted away as a dakorian charged through the mine carts. The heavy metal bent as the hulking soldier slammed into it, and dirt and rocks were scattered across them all.

  Other groups of dwarves were being herded into tight corners, with dakorians closing off the exits. A glance showed that the dakorians had only suffered a single loss, while several dwarves lay dead on the floor. In minutes the trapped dwarves would be eliminated.

  Stone rose up and fire was cast, but the magic shattered on the empowered hammers, leaving dirt and sparks littering the ground. Working in perfect unity, the dakorians forced the dwarves into tight groups, leaving Shadow and Hort close to the dwarven ascender.

  “Captain?” Shadow asked, “If you want my help, now’s the time.”

  Hort cursed and conjured a spear of fire, which he flung at a small tube that extended from the sleeping quarters. The fire tore through the tube and a dark liquid burst out, the stonesap exploding into a fireball that scorched a dakorian. Then every light in the shaft winked out except for the light emanating from the extractor and the dakorian hammers.

  Shadow drew on the darkness and cast a ballistae, handing the controls of the weapon to the dwarven captain. Then he cast a charm on the dwarf’s vision, allowing him to see. The dwarf gasped as the mine shaft lit up as if it was midday, and then he looked down at the giant ballistae in his hands.

  “Now it’s your turn to cause some mayhem,” Shadow said, his voice tinged with amusement as he slipped away.

  Momentarily stunned by the loss of light, the dakorians stood around the dwarves, blinking their eyes as they sought to adapt to the sudden gloom. The soldier nearest to Hort squinted in the gloom and suddenly noticed the giant weapon pointed at his chest. He swung his hammer just as Hort fired.

  The thrum of the weapon was followed by a grunt. The giant bolt slammed into the dakorian and sent him across the shaft and into the wall. His hammer tumbled from his fingers and clattered to the floor, the embedded runes going dark.

  “Strike that weapon!” Relgor shouted.

  The dakorians converged on Hort but they stumbled in the darkness, struggling to find their adversary. In their midst, Shadow darted about, casting the shadow sight onto every dwarf he crossed. Answering the call of their captain, the dwarves raced to join him, striking at the dakorians milling about.

  Another shadow bolt leapt from the weapon, blasting another dakorian into the far wall. Then another. The dwarves used the darkness to fight, digging their axes into the dakorians as they fought to reach the captain.

  Shadow conjured a pair of bears and unleashed them, the animals lumbering about, swiping at the soldiers. Deep lizards added to the din, their shadowy bodies brushing against the dakorians, who shouted in dismay.

  “Something touched my leg!”

  “It’s on my arm!”

  “Kill it!”

  “It’s so slimy!”

  Another shadow bolt crossed the chamber, crushing another dakorian. Three of the dakorians tripped, shocked to find their boots tied to each other. Another lifted his hammer but it was tied to the feet of his companion, causing the second to fall when his legs were yanked from beneath him. Shadow relished the sounds of sweet chaos.

  Dakorians, shadow entities, and dwarves littered the battlefield, striking at each other, confused and disoriented. One dakorian went down, felled by a host of wounds. Another that had been struck by the shadow ballistae would never rise again.

  But the lights from the extractor were still brightening, and it took the edge from Shadow’s creatures, just enough that they did less damage. Hort relinquished the ballistae to one of his soldiers and dived into the fray, leading the charge against the outlanders.

  Shadow paused on the scaffolding and snuck close to Relgor, hoping to overhear his words. His attention on the battle, Relgor hissed orders to his companions, urging them to extract what they needed from the statue. Several dakorians loaded large chunks of the rock onto the dwarven ascender.

  “Take it to the swamp fortress,” he barked. “We’ll follow behind.”

  Relgor turned back and froze, his own shadow turning into a soldier that drew a weapon. He squeaked in surprise and recoiled. He scrambled to retreat but could not escape his shadow, and it plunged the blade into Relgor’s upraised arm. He gasped in disbelief then stared in shock as the shape morphed into Shadow.

  “Sorry,” he said. “Couldn’t resist.”

  “The fragment of Shadow,” he hissed in pain. “You are more clever than I gave you credit.”

  “Where’s Gendor?” Shadow asked.

  “Why do you ask?” Relgor retreated, trying to put distance between them.

  “Asking for another,” Shadow said, wondering why he was still trying to help Lorica after the rift.

  “In Herosian,” Relgor said. “Do pay him a visit.”

  “I will,” Shadow said.

  Shadow raised his dagger, but Relgor’s gaze looked behind him. Shadow whirled—and found himself facing a dakorian. The large figure caught him about the throat and lifted him up. Shadow struggled to release himself as the dakorian brutally struck in him the chest with his armored fist. Shadow cried out as ribs snapped.

  “You think your magic is so powerful,” the dakorian snarled. “But you are like mewling children, incapable of knowing when your death is near.”

  Shadow phased to his shadow form and slipped through the dakorian’s fingers, causing the dakorian to stumble forward. Holding his side, Shadow hooked the dakorian’s horn to spin around and alight on his shoulder.

  “That’s the thing,” Shadow hissed into his ear.

  The soldier whirled but Shadow leapt into the darkness and rebounded off the statue, again landing on the dakorian’s shoulder.

  “Magic is so much more than you realize,” he said.

  “Are you too afraid to fight?” the dakorian growled, spinning and shredding the darkness with his illuminated hammer.

  Shadow retreated onto the higher scaffolding and warped the darkness so he was visible, so he looked like a demon. The dakorian blinked, surprise abruptly washing across his features before he charged, chasing Shadow deeper into the darkness of the upper scaffolding.

  “Why would I fight you?” Shadow asked, his tone light despite the pain in his chest. “You’re like a mewling babe that doesn’t know its death is near.”

  The dakorian snarled and spun, striking at the scaffolding supports, knocking several down in a clatter of steel. The extractor had brightened enough that the bo
ttom of the shaft was illuminated, but up here there was a wealth of shadows, and Shadow slipped into his domain.

  “I’ll kill you,” the dakorian snarled.

  “I’ll kill you,” Shadow repeated.

  “You are nothing to me.”

  “You are nothing to me.”

  “Stop that.”

  “Stop that.”

  The dakorian snarled and fell silent. He spotted Shadow darting away and lunged, chasing after. The dakorian swung his hammer, tearing through the supports as he chased his quarry to the extreme summit of the statue, and then leapt, releasing a cry of triumph when his hammer came down—on thin air.

  His shout changed to dismay when his hammer landed on nothing, the shadows that had shown the end of the platform dissipating to reveal the edge. The dakorian teetered above the statue’s enormous axe. He reached for the scaffolding bar but it too was just a figment of darkness, and his hands passed through it.

  “Sleep well, little babe,” Shadow said from his back, and poked him in the knee.

  Already off balance, he spun and desperately sought for a grip, but there was nothing, and he toppled over. His bellow of dismay pierced the din until he landed on the statue’s axe, the sharpened stone piercing his back and claiming his life. His hammer tumbled from his lifeless fingers . . . and fell into the extractor, shattering a portion of the machine.

  Instantly light began to brighten, filling the mine as the machine began to tremble. Relgor looked on in horror before turning and sprinting to reach the ascender. The dakorians abandoned the extractor and leapt to join Relgor.

  Catching the hint, Shadow dropped from the scaffolding and cast wings, but the light robbed them of substance. He landed hard and hurled himself into the tunnel, rushing to escape the blast he guessed was coming. Hort and the dwarves raced with him, all seeking to escape the rising wail that came from behind . . .

  The detonation shook the earth and cast them all to the floor, the blinding light so bright that Shadow grimaced in pain as the light seared his flesh, leaving dozens of burns. He dived through the open door of the kitchen, smoke rising from his body. The black statue was erased in the blast, tearing the grooves from the lower part of the ascender and the bodies of the slain, and devouring thirty feet of the tunnel leading to the sleeping quarters.