In unison, Madigan, Will, and Morella attacked. Will propelled himself forward and somersaulted over the ledge, tumbling to the ground and landing solid as he withdrew his unblooded saber. Morella was at his side, her weapons at the ready, as Madigan quickly slid down the rail and came rushing toward the Shale from their flank.
They descended upon the stunned force with a fury, immediately incapacitating three of them in a blink. The fourth, spinning rapidly, let loose a flurry of hidden weapons at his unseen assailants but it was to no avail. With a single strike from the guard of Will’s sword, the final Shale dropped motionless to the ground in a heap.
They paused and listened. Silence. The attack had taken only a matter of seconds and, thankfully, no alarms had been triggered. The protective darkness around them disappeared. Madigan stepped forward to stare at the prisoner below, twitching and writhing.
“Now we end this,” was all he said as he approached the control console. Morella stepped to his side and placed her hands on the railing beyond the console, a hunger in her eyes. Madigan gripped the large lever and with a smile, shoved it forward.
The room flashed in a sudden storm of lightning. An ear-shattering scream echoed through the room as the imprisoned man flickered in and out of existence. Finally, his form became solid and whole. There was no sound.
The man’s brown hair was cut short on the sides and had designs carved into it, reminding Will of pictures of Vikings he had seen growing up. The figure was quite tall and, being stripped to the waist as he was, Will could see that his muscular body was covered with countless scars. His eyes were wild and he ripped at his bonds frantically but uselessly. After a moment, his eyes rolled up and he collapsed, motionless. Morella had been right; he was weak.
“No, Gods, no.” A faint, terrified voice broke the silence.
Will’s eyes were drawn from the unconscious form on the table to Morella. The pale skin of her face was well and truly white. Her eyes were stretched wide and her body was trembling. She was gripping the railing so tight that the color of her knuckles matched that of her face. Her mouth was agape and she seemed unsteady on her feet.
“Morella, what?” Mad asked, his noctori ready to strike.
“Valmont,” she whispered as she shook her head. “That’s…that’s…”
“Morella.” Will placed his hand on her shoulder and spun her to face him. “What? What’s happened?”
“That’s not Dorian Valmont.” Her voice was barely more than a breath. Her eyes were glistening and filled with terror as she kept shaking her head. “That’s Jero din’Dael.”
28
An Awakening
“Jero din’Dael?” Mad stared at the prisoner and shook his head. “No, that has to be Dorian Valmont.”
“Morella, are you certain?” Will was staring into her fluttering eyes, holding her shoulders with both hands. “Morella, I need you to talk to me. What do you mean, that’s Jero din’Dael? I thought he was supposed to be dead.”
“He’s supposed to be.” Her eyes came back into focus and hardened rapidly. “That’s him.”
Mad cursed. “You’re sure?” he said.
“The air, the electricity surrounding the prison, everything suddenly makes sense,” Morella stepped back from the rail. “Oh Gods, his power is permeating this entire prison. That’s what was slowing you down, Madigan! He is too powerful to be contained, even in this state.”
“You’re certain that that’s Jero din’Dael?” Will said, trying to meet her eye.
“How many different ways do I need to tell you?” she snapped. “Yes, that’s him!”
“Dammit,” Madigan groaned. “Dammit, dammit, dammit. Why the hell did the Crow send us here? What the hell was he thinking?”
While Madigan raged, Will quickly scanned his memory for anything and everything Morella and Cephora had ever mentioned about din’Dael. There wasn’t much, but he remembered two key things: He was Valmont’s greatest adversary and he was in control of one of the Relics of Antiquity.
“If we rescue him then perhaps he would be useful,” Will said, the calm in his voice surprising himself. “He could join us in our fight, level the playing field.” Both Morella and Madigan turned to stare at him. “Think about it. The Crow probably knew it was din’Dael here. He wants us to break him out.”
“Or we took a wrong turn and we need to go find Senraks instead,” Madigan said. “This place is huge.”
Morella hadn’t heard Madigan; she simply stared, looking aghast at Will. “There is no way I’m helping that monster. You’ve got to be insane.”
“Mad,” Will said quietly. “We’ve gotta make a decision quick. There’s no telling how much time we’ve got. He could help us defeat Senraks.”
“Absolutely not.” Morella grit her teeth as her anger flared. “Jero din’Dael was almost as dangerous as Valmont! Releasing him is the worst thing we could do.”
Madigan shook his head after a moment. “No. Will’s right. Alone, without Cephora, stopping Senraks was going to be next to impossible. With Jero din’Dael fighting alongside us we’ve got a chance.”
“Right.” Will nodded. “We share a common enemy of the worst kind. He’ll help us.”
Morella glared back and forth between the two brothers. “You foolish outlanders.” Her lips curled into a snarl and her words were filled with venom. “Unleashing the force of Radiance again to battle Shadow is to invite destruction upon everything you have seen. You know nothing of the horrors that man has wrought, the insanity that grips his brain. I will have no part of this.”
She spun and moved to the ladder despite Will’s protestations and attempts to calm her fears. Her body trembled, gripped by fury. Will’s key was screaming on his skin as she passed him.
He turned to Madigan, imploring, as she climbed the stairs, but his eyes were hard and he shook his head. “No, Will, we’re committed.” Will’s chest tightened and he fought the urge to run after her as her footsteps quickly faded away. And just like that, Morella Darklore left them.
Will shook his head in frustration. “What if she’s right?”
“She may be. But at this point?” Madigan snorted and ran his free hand through his messy hair. “At this point I’m just going by instinct and I can’t help but feel we’re going to need him.”
No sooner had he spoken than a loud horn sounded somewhere far off in the distance. The brothers froze, holding each other’s eyes, waiting. After a moment, the slow pounding of a drum echoed through the prison. Will’s heart dropped. He looked at Madigan in terror as his brother’s face paled in the stagnant air. Sweat appeared on his brow. The pounding drums picked up speed. Will felt faint.
“They know we’re here.” Madigan’s voice sounded as far away as the drums. “We’ve got to move.”
He flung himself over the railing and down to the lower level that housed din’Dael’s cell. He rushed forward and scanned the clear box for a seam, any kind of opening they could use to break out the unconscious man within.
Will turned in the direction that Morella had gone—had they found her? Was her capture what had raised the alarm? No, there was no way she had made it so far in such a short time. Like her, their only way out was the tunnel through which the drums were echoing. Then, as if in imitation of the drums, he heard a distant rumble—the stomping of footsteps racing down the corridor. For a brief moment he hoped it was Morella returning, but there were far too many for it to be so. Madigan was right: they were discovered.
“Mad, they’re coming!”
Madigan cursed as he set to work attacking din’Dael’s enclosure with the noctori. Will ran to the stone ladder and raced upward toward the room’s entrance. If the Shale got in, they would surround them easily, overpower them, but if he could trap them in the passage their numbers would be meaningless. The choke point would be his and Madigan’s only hope.
The rushing footsteps were growing louder. As Will stepped through the passage he saw the shadows of the soldiers approaching
. He drew his saber and gripped his key with his left hand. He closed his eyes and looked inward.
Time to play the ace.
The hallway was enveloped in blue-purple darkness as Will’s Shade poured from him into the corridor. He could see soldiers approaching, not more than twenty yards away. He braced himself, whispered a silent prayer to whatever gods were listening, and ran forward to meet them head on.
The force of their collision sent him flying backward. Their formation, however, was broken as well, the middle Shale flung aside and crashing into its allies. Recovering quickly, Will set about them, pressing with his Shade, refusing to allow them to close the gap. Within the cramped space the soldiers could not turn to fight him properly and wield their weapons; they were only able to press forward with their shields. Will managed to disable another Shale with his saber and sent two more flying backward with his Shade. Still, their numbers were too great and he was beginning to lose ground.
An arrow whizzed through the air above the heads of the Shale. Instinctively, Will batted it away with his Shade. In doing so, however, he had withdrawn it enough to allow the center of the shield wall to recover. This time there was no breaking it. These warriors were from a different age, an age where they had been trained in battling Shadowborne. Every attempt of Will’s to press them back failed. Another arrow screamed through the air and Will dove to the ground to avoid it. The battle cries of the Shale pierced his ears. He somersaulted backward and rolled to his feet as they charged.
There was nothing for it. Will turned and ran, shouting to his brother as he burst through the doorway into the cell. Madigan had managed to crack din’Dael’s prison, attacking it with both his noctori and his Shade. Realizing that Mad needed more time, Will spun back to the doorway and braced himself to meet the Shale.
The entrance, curved as it was, exposed the warriors’ flank as they tried to enter the room and forced them to come two abreast. Their shields were useless to them as Will set about them with his saber and his Shade, trying to hold them in position. He knew that if any managed to pass by there was little chance of holding the rest back.
His Shade smashed into helms and shields, his saber slashed their limbs, piercing the soft places of their armor and biting into the flesh beneath, but still they came. One of the Shale broke through the rest and into the room. Will sent it careening into the stone wall with his Shade and it collapsed in a heap. Two more burst through and he struck at their legs and forced them backward briefly. A sword came down and Will brought up his saber to block it as he shoved them back with his Shade. Another blow rained down and he caught it on his hand guard. Then, as he kept the blade locked, a strike came from the side. Will ducked and a huge axe struck the flat of his stuck saber and snapped the blade clean.
Dropping the broken weapon from his hand, Will staggered backward and drew his dragon fangs as the forces of the Shale raced into the room. Fully able to use their weapons, they set upon him from all sides. His back to the railing, Will defended himself with every ounce of his being. His fangs parried blow after blow and ripped through armor and flesh, sending the Shale screaming. His Shade was obscuring visibility and knocking soldiers backward—but it was not enough. On the warriors of Shale came.
Will’s right arm suddenly screamed in fire and he saw one of the Shale withdrawing its pike. It had slashed clean through his tricep and blood cascaded from the grievous wound. His arm fell limp at his side. Will slashed wildly with his left as another weapon bit into his hip. He collapsed to the ground, Shale warriors swarming over him.
Time crawled. Somewhere far away, Madigan was shouting. The Shale were plunging their weapons downward impossibly slowly. The world seemed to be frozen in death, only Will’s key was alive and vibrant in the haze of muddled time.
Fire erupted within his chest. The dark fog of the Shade around Will vanished. Electricity crackled in the room and a shiver went down his spine. Will saw the Shale around him and felt the power of rage build within his bones—a rage that he unleashed upon them.
Lightning ripped through the room in a thousand bolts as the Shale screamed in agony. With his good arm, he lashed out and drove his dragon fang into the chest of the nearest warrior. A sweet scent, like roasting pork over an open flame, overtook the air before it was overshadowed by that of burnt hair. Lightning tore through the Shale leaving cracked and blackened corpses in its wake. More than a score of Shale lay dead.
Will gasped and coughed up blood. His right arm hung useless. He felt faint. The hilt of the dragon fang was slick in his hand, but he felt the freshly accumulated flows of energy course through it. He blinked and tried to focus on the flows, to staunch the blood flowing from him and bind what had been broken. Like falling into a freezing pool, shock swept over his body. Feeling returned to his dead arm and the sensation of his lifeblood pouring from his side ceased. He reached out and gripped the fang’s twin from where it had fallen and pushed himself to his feet, gazing in horror at the scene surrounding him.
“Mad?” Will’s voice was a hoarse croak as he called out to his brother.
“Jesus, Will,” Madigan responded. He raised his head above the ledge and pulled himself up from the stone ladder. He rushed over and threw his arms around his brother. “I couldn’t get here in time.” His voice cracked as he spoke and there were tears in his eyes. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I thought I’d lost you. I couldn’t get through and then the lightning came and, Will, I’m so, so sorry.”
“I’m alive, Mad,” Will said, trying to sound reassuring. “It’s okay. I’m okay.”
Tears streaked Madigan’s dirt-stained cheeks as he looked his brother over, refusing to let him go. “I saw you go down. I saw them swarm you. I heard your screams.”
Will tried to stand up and felt the strain of the movement. “I know. I’m okay.” He held up the fangs and nodded to them in explanation. Madigan looked at them and then pulled his brother close again.
“And the lightning again?” he asked.
Will nodded again and risked another glance around the room at the charred bodies of the Shale. His stomach lurched and he turned, hurling the remnants of his last meal over the railing before he collapsed to the ground, shaking. His head spun and he struggled to take a deep breath, but with every attempt to inhale he could smell the smoky death in the air, he could taste the charred ash on his tongue. Looks like we’re both killers.
Will began to sob.
For a moment, they both sat there, Madigan’s hand on his shoulder as Will buried his face in his hands at the horror he had wrought.
Drums.
Will glanced up at Madigan. “Mad…”
“We don’t have much time,” his brother said. He took a deep breath, wiped a tear from his eye, and raised them both to their feet. He approached the doorway with his noctori drawn and Will stared at the bodies around him, realizing what he needed to do and dreading it. He gripped the dragon fangs tightly as Cephora’s words echoed in his mind. Life is energy, she had said. And energy, in all things, is conserved. There is no true give or take, only a transference. Will’s eyes lolled as he momentarily swooned.
He set to work filling the bloodstones.
“Not quite the in and out we thought this would be,” Madigan said quietly. “Maybe Morella had the right idea.”
Will’s focus was elsewhere as his blades slid into the bodies of the Shale he had killed, sapping the final vestiges of life from them.
“Maybe she had the right idea,” Mad continued as he shook his head. “I managed to get a small breach in the casing to din’Dael but nothing else. He’s alive but he’s completely unresponsive. The whole venture is for naught.”
Will nodded absently and moved to another of the Shale. He struggled to justify his actions, that perhaps whatever they had done to din’Dael made this fate of theirs deserved. Years or decades or centuries, even, of torture, who knew what that could do to a man? Enough, apparently, to break his mind completely. Even if they somehow managed
to survive and get extracted by Cephora, there was nothing for the broken body of the once Champion of Radiance. Nothing to restore him to being the worthy adversary of Valmont that could even the score against Senraks.
Realization poured over him. “Mad!” Will shouted. “A breach? You say you made a breach?”
He nodded. “Not much of one, but yes.”
Will threw himself over the railing and plummeted to the lowest level of the room. He braced himself in his Shade as he landed, rolling and running toward the casing.
Madigan’s work was evident from the cracks that spidered along the casing from a central impact point. Will stared at the cracks, searching for the breach Madigan had mentioned as the drums grew louder and more incessant. Finally, after a moment’s searching, he found it, small as a grain of rice.
“I couldn’t get beyond there,” Mad shouted down. “What are you planning?”
“To get us an extra set of hands,” Will said under his breath. He drew forth his left dragon fang, its bloodstone filled from the deaths of so many Shale, and guided the power it contained through the tiny opening. Focusing on din’Dael, praying for Morella’s fears of him to be wrong, Will swept the energy to the inert man strapped to the rack.
For a moment there was no change. Then din’Dael’s eyes shot open. He roared. From above, Madigan whipped around and stared as the muscular man tried to rise, struggling against his bonds once more. Anger clouded his face and he grit his teeth. Then, with a deafening crack of thunder, the entire cell burst into white lightning, so vast and terrible that Will was forced to recoil from the wall. The chamber exploded and he barely managed to take cover as flying shrapnel shot outward, twisted metal and shattered wood and whatever glass-like substance had made up the cage.
Shadowborne Page 32
