Shadowborne

by Matthew Callahan

  His words were lost as his brother stepped out from the tower and slammed the door behind him. The ground shook as the Shale swarmed over Madigan out of Will’s sight.

  Will groaned and rolled over. He forced himself to focus through the pounding spins of his mind as he reached for his knives. Fumbling momentarily, he managed to draw the correct one from its sheath and felt the hum of its power. I should name them, he thought drunkenly, unable to keep track of his thoughts. All good weapons in stories have names.

  He shook himself out of the stupor and forced himself to focus. It took every ounce of concentration to guide the powerful flows over his body and work to remake the battered flesh.

  “You’re going to overdo it if you’re not careful,” a thin, tremulous voice said from nearby.

  Weary but whole once more, Will turned to din’Dael and pushed himself onto unsteady feet. “Your concern for my well-being is overwhelming,” he said.

  The Lightborne snickered and sat up. “Keep your temper.”

  Wobbling slightly, Will made his way to the door. Just as he was about to open it, a sudden rumbling from the rear of the room caught his attention. Whirling, he saw a dark crack appear in the stone wall, as though the stone itself was bending. Din’Dael spun on his seat and cocked his head to the side, eyes narrowing as from the strange crack emerged a dark figure wielding a long staff.

  “Cephora!” din’Dael said and barked a laugh. “How are you not dead?”

  Cephora’s eyes momentarily widened but there was nothing else about her that showed any hint of shock. “Jero din’Dael,” she said, “it has been some time.” The warrior leapt to his feet with a laugh as Cephora rushed toward Will. “William, you’re alright? Where is your brother?”

  “The Shale.” Will swallowed. “He’s out—”

  Something slammed against the door so hard that it shook roughly on its ancient hinges. Understanding dawned on Cephora’s face. She grabbed the door handle and yanked it open. Will ducked under her arm and darted out from the tower.

  Madigan was leaning heavily against the wall opposite them with his weight borne by his noctori. Lacerations covered his face and torso and one of his legs didn’t seem to support him. Around him, his Shade hung in the air like a dense, rolling fog. Hanging within the fog were the mangled bodies of dozens of Shale, limbs snapped and twisted. They fell to the ground with a sickening thud as he looked over at the open door.

  “You’re a sight for sore eyes.” He smiled a blood-filled grin at Cephora. “How did you find us?”

  “Morella,” she replied. “Will, can you help him?”

  Will was already on it. There seemed to be a brief lull in the seemingly unending flow of prisoners and Shale and he used the window to tend to Madigan. The power remaining within the bloodstones was enough to heal the majority of the cuts that poured blood, but his leg was truly broken. With the stores tapped and knowing that more energy was needed, Will withdrew his blood fangs and began to work amongst the bodies on the ground to refuel them. He could feel Cephora’s eyes on his back. He glanced up and met them.

  “It appears that much has changed since this morning,” was all she said.

  Having refilled the stones and repaired Madigan’s leg, wearily they made their way back into the tower. Will began to close the door behind them but hesitated. “Mad.” He took one last glance at the bodies on the ground, robbed of life by both his brother’s and his own hands. “Are you alright?”

  “We do what we must to survive.” Mad’s voice was hollow with frustration. No, he isn’t alright at all.

  Another storm of shouts split the air as the battling forces moved back within sight. Will closed the door as quietly as possible and leaned against it.

  “It’s a good thing you showed up when you did, Cephora,” Madigan said. “I don’t know how much longer we could have held out.”

  “Especially without any help from him.” Will jerked his head toward din’Dael.

  “You never asked,” din’Dael said matter-of-factly, giving him the same blank stare.

  “What? Yes he did, you bloody, blundering oaf!” Madigan shouted. Din’Dael glared a moment, then shrugged and turned toward the crack Cephora had made and stepped forward, strolling through it nonchalantly.

  “We need to move.” The urgency in Cephora’s voice was plain. “I don’t like him being out of sight.”

  “Not to mention the madness of this place,” Madigan muttered.

  At a gesture from Cephora, Madigan and Will both rushed into the blackness. Again came the sense of falling, the roar of deafening gales. Cold wind and the scent of earth overwhelmed him as Will’s body was caught in the throes of Cephora’s magic.

  The spinning sensation lasted only a moment before he emerged outside the prison walls. Lightning no longer crackled along their surface and they seemed somehow diminished. Something terrible had broken within the Shale prison.

  Madigan had set off running in the direction of din’Dael who was racing toward a distant hill. Faintly, Will saw a human form atop it, waving. He followed on unsteady legs after his brother while Cephora closed the rift behind them. The roar of battle from the prison trailed after him as he pushed himself to a sprint—he needed to be away from the horror of so much death.

  When he grew closer, he made out the figure on the hill and his heart leapt into his throat—Morella. When din’Dael reached the summit of the hill, Will saw her falter and step back, retreating from him. The man dropped to his knees and shoved his hands into the earth while raising his face to the sky. As Will climbed, he heard him speaking unknown words in a long-forgotten tongue.

  Storm clouds gathered above as lightning streaked across the sky, bathing the hilltop in its brilliant light. Will reached the top and threw himself into Morella’s waiting arms. They held each other and stared at din’Dael. His skin glowed like burning embers as electricity danced across its surface. Madigan was shouting to him, his words unintelligible over the roar of the thunder that cascaded across the darkened sky. Cephora stood silent and solemn, clutching her staff.

  The burning scent of electricity entered Will’s nostrils and the key around his neck sprang to life in response. He pulled away from Morella and stepped toward din’Dael. The Lightborne ripped his hands from the earth, clutching sand and stone in both. He raised one hand to the sky as the other stretched toward the prison. A bird shrieked in the distance. For the briefest moment, din’Dael’s eyes flicked away from the sky above and met Will’s. His mouth spread wide into a grin.

  “First, freedom,” he said. “Now, justice.”

  A hundred massive bolts of lightning shot down from the clouds in a monstrous clap of thunder and collided into din’Dael. The whole party was thrown backward, somehow unharmed by the strikes but sent tumbling down the hillside. Will struggled to his feet and watched as Jero din’Dael, alternating between screams and laughter, channeled the lightning toward the Shale prison.

  It was like staring at the sun. Power surged from the Lightborne and smashed into the walls. The earth shook as the ancient fortress crumbled. Fires erupted as far as the eye could see and everywhere, the prison seemed to implode upon itself. The energy surging from din’Dael was incessant. He stood, both arms spread wide and the stones and sand in his hands suddenly glowed hot and burst into dust.

  Will watched in horror as the prison did the same. He fell to his knees from the force of the shaking, then the entire facility caved and exploded. Lightning and fire overran the land like floodwaters and surged deep into the chasm that opened and sucked the structure into the ground.

  A wave of ashen dust raced out from the fallen prison toward the hill. Covering his face in the tattered remnants of his torn cloak, Will hid from the stinging, scorching, shattered stones. The dust storm began to cover them as they fought against the shaking earth and pummeling debris to climb back to the hilltop. Again and again, Will felt the emptiness inside as he longed for the protective embrace of his Shade but felt only the dest
ructive fire that had replaced it. Hands bloody and torn and burnt, he clawed at the ground and struggled to reach the summit.

  The wind died. The clouds faded. The night air grew still. Will shook himself and turned to search for Mad, for his friends. Madigan clapped him on the shoulder, coughing, looking stricken and disheveled. Morella, too, was coughing and glaring hard at din’Dael. The man himself sat on scorched earth, humming tunelessly once more. Cephora stood not far from them, staring.

  Will turned and followed her gaze. Nothing remained of the Shale Prison. Where it once stood, a canyon now ripped through the ground. The black chasm shot straight down, empty but for the cloud of dust that rose into the sky like a fading mushroom cloud. Behind the cloud, a crack like frozen lightning was ripped across the night sky, pulsing with white light. Not a soul was in sight other than the five of them.

  30

  The Winds Change

  “What have you done?” Morella’s eyes were fixed on the fractured sky. It was the first that any of them had spoken in the moments since the tide of destruction waned. Her whispered voice sounded as terrified as Madigan felt—he too could not take his eyes off the strange, terrible mar in the night, somehow more horrific than the destruction of the prison.

  Jero din’Dael rolled his head from side to side and his neck cracked. He looked awake, alert, and did not speak as he followed Morella’s gaze toward the crack.

  “Everyone is dead,” Will said to din’Dael. It wasn’t a question. “Why?”

  “Justice,” the Lightborne replied. “The Shale army was corrupt, evil. They needed to be purged.”

  “And the rest?” Madigan said. He glared at din’Dael. This man is an abomination. What have we done? “The prisoners? Everyone else?”

  Din’Dael turned and stared at Madigan as if he had asked the most absurd question he had ever heard. “The prisoners?” he said with a laugh. “Each of them was in there for horrible offenses, guilty of unspeakable things. They died exactly as they deserved.”

  “If they deserved to be killed, then why were they kept alive and imprisoned?” Morella said, turning her glare from the sky to the seated man.

  He waved a hand dismissively and Cephora spoke up for the first time. “The majority of them were cultists of Valmont or worse. Their sentences bound them to the Shale until their death. With the destruction of the prison”—Cephora faltered slightly as she spoke, something Madigan had rarely seen from her—“well, justice wouldn’t have been met if they spread back into the lands.”

  “Exactly!” din’Dael said with a clap. “It is good to see that one of you, at least, understands the way the world works.”

  “No,” Cephora said. “I only remember the way you think. Too well.” She frowned and turned, shaking her head as din’Dael scoffed in response and rose to his feet.

  “Justice.” Madigan’s voice sounded hollow, broken. He shook his head and faced Will. “Justice we said.”

  “What?” Will asked, drawing his eyes from din’Dael.

  “With the Crow,” Madigan said. “You told him we wanted justice. He agreed to justice. We assumed he meant he would help us deliver Grandda’s killer to justice.”

  Will paled. “You mean you think…you think the Crow knew this would happen? That he planned for us to be his, what, his agents in this?”

  Madigan nodded, his body trembling with fury. “Morella.” He turned to face her. “Perhaps we should have listened to your advice. I apologize for not listening.”

  “There’s nothing for it now.” Her voice was flat, but he could hear the scorn hidden beneath it. “We must move forward with the plan.”

  “The plan?” Din’Dael raised an eyebrow. “And what, pray tell, is your delightful little quartet planning?”

  “The remainder of the cult of Dorian Valmont,” Will said. The Lightborne’s eyes flared as he directed his gaze at Mad’s brother. Careful, Will, careful now. “We’re here to destroy them.” Will stood a little taller and stared at din’Dael square on, his eyes defiant. “More than that, we are here to destroy Valmont, if he yet lives. And you, Jero din’Dael, are going to help us.”

  Jero din’Dael stared at Will for a moment as if he had uttered words of complete nonsense. Then, as the smoke from the crater of the prison wafted through the air, he lifted his head to the sky in peals of uncontrolled laughter. Morella muttered under her breath as din’Dael doubled over. Madigan felt himself glare again and turned away from the man before he let his emotions control him. I don’t know how much of this I’m going to be able to take.

  “He’s serious,” Cephora said.

  Din’Dael stopped laughing suddenly and stared back, glancing between Will, Madigan, and Morella. “These ragtag whelps are hunting Valmont? A useless Shadowborne, a fledgling Burner, and”—he gestured carelessly toward Morella—“whatever that is?”

  “Says the madman to his rescuers.” Morella’s temper flared. “Says the inept warrior who stumbled and failed at every opportunity to stop Valmont. Your own vanity caused the deaths of countless innocents in your self-righteous quest to stop him. You’re no better than he is.”

  Static crackled in the air as din’Dael turned his cruel gaze to Morella. Madigan inhaled deeply and breathed out his Shade in the way Cephora had taught him. Yet, in the face of din’Dael’s power, he felt his own wane. Nevertheless, in an instant, he and Will were poised to strike should the man lash out at their companion. Still, he noticed, Morella did not falter under din’Dael’s glare.

  Breaking his gaze from Morella and eying Will and Madigan, din’Dael spoke. “You know nothing, girl. You do not know the man Valmont nor my reason for hunting him. From what I can discern, you, better than anyone, should know that the ends justify the means.”

  Madigan glanced quickly at Morella. “What does that mean?”

  “You hunt him to satisfy your own goals.” Morella glared at din’Dael, ignoring Mad.

  “No,” din’Dael replied as his eyes grew dark. “I hunt him because he brought about the end to thousands of years of peace. I hunt him because his own selfish ambition led to the destruction of ancient temples and brought devastation to the lives of millions across the realms. I hunt him because he is evil and speaks poison. And I will kill him because I am the only one who can.”

  As he spoke, the air around him started to crackle. Small wisps of pure white lightning, darting with each venomously articulate and enunciated syllable, swirled through the air. His eyes, brightening as he spoke, became white-hot fire, flames that seemed to penetrate Madigan’s mind as din’Dael’s gaze moved across each of them before falling to rest on Will. His very skin seemed to radiate white light and the air became dry and hot. Madigan coughed, feeling his own throat parching and eyes drying and scratching.

  “I will destroy him utterly.” His whispered voice reverberated harshly. “And when his body lies cold I will burn it in the radiant fires of Light while I laugh at his damned soul. He will die for his crimes and he will die by my hand alone, for I alone hold the power to end him.”

  Madigan could not help but notice that Morella perked up at this. She quickly looked at Will and Madigan caught her mouth the word ‘relic.’ Will nodded in understanding. So, they’re still at their foolish game, are they? Madigan shook his head.

  The crackling air stopped and Jero’s eyes returned to their normal green. With a maniacal grin he threw his head to the sky and howled with laughter again, sending shivers down Madigan’s spine. What is up with him and the constant laughter?

  “With your eyes watching of course, my friends.” Din’Dael chuckled, wiping tears from his eyes. “I will bathe in his blood and laugh with you all at my side!” He slipped back into uncontrollable laughter. All else was silent as each of them eyed him warily.

  “Friends, is it?” Madigan asked. Not bloody likely.

  “Of course!” din’Dael replied casually. “I am not ignorant of the service you have done me this day. And as the first followers of my camp, you will do well in
joining my quest.”

  Madigan and Will glanced at one another. “Your quest?” Will said.

  “This day I set out to bring an end to the plague of this land, Dorian Valmont, and the lingering cancer of his cultists. Together we shall raise an army and purge the land of every trace of Dorian Bloodbane!”

  Madigan’s focus on his words waned as din’Dael’s rhetoric became more elaborate, speaking of how he would cull Valmont from memory. On the surface it was in line with everything that Grandda had set he and Will out to accomplish and he knew that he should feel some sense of relief, but he didn’t. As the man spoke, Madigan could only see the madness in his mind and the fervor that burned in his breast.

  He feared for the future as he looked at where his brother sat, holding Morella’s hand and watching din’Dael warily. Their grandfather had said that those touched by Radiance ended up consumed by insanity. The fear grew in his heart when he realized that Will was now counted among that select group. Whatever din’Dael had done to him had erased the touch of Shadow and replaced it with fire and ash. He could lose Will forever, his last and only family. When he listened to din’Dael again, he realized that there was nothing he could do to stop his brother following the madman down a destructive path.

  “…and with the combination of our forces, and the strength of the Relics of Antiquity to empower us, we shall strike Valmont down!”

  There was no roar of applause. None stepped forward to proclaim him the future savior of Aeril. But he had Will, Madigan could see it. Until he learned how to undo what had been done to him and found the treasures he sought, Will would follow Jero din’Dael. And judging from the way her eyes had sparkled as he mentioned the Relics, so would Morella. She’ll follow din’Dael whether Will does or not, regardless of what she said about din’Dael before. She’s up to something.

  “You assume much,” Cephora said, breaking the silence. “And offer little.”

  Jero din’Dael turned and met the Earth Warder’s gaze. “War is coming. Undermyre will fall, Cephora. Do not pretend like you do not recognize your need for me.”