Gods of Shadow and Flame

by M. H. Johnson

  Alben nodded solemnly. “Of course. You are part of his pack.”

  Jess frowned. “And Morlekai is not his master. He is his leader. His friend.”

  “Of course,” Alben dipped his head, refusing to argue the point, which made Jess feel all the more awkward.

  “He has accomplished feats in a few short years that most adventurers can only dream of! Deeds of glory and valor committed at dire peril to himself, for you either master the dark tale you find yourself thrust into, or it consumes you! All the forces of dream and nightmare now flow through his veins, the darkest powers of Shadow saturating his soul. And he is a spring Delver still. How could that not drive him a little insane?” Jess blinked, flushing hotly, ashamed of herself for even saying the words. Ashamed that she had betrayed her closest friend.

  Twilight smiled. "No worries, my Jess. Malek has always been a bit of a mad dog. It is not simply akin to his nature, it is his nature. Wild as the sun and stars blazing brightly overhead, destined to explode in dazzling displays of fire and wrath, alighting the heavens in a cacophony of furious brilliance before all fades to quiet blackness once more, endless years from now."

  Jess shivered and looked away, unable to meet her familiar's gaze. "He wasn't this wild before dipping into living nightmare." Jess gave a sad shake of her head, Echobart being the one to gently pat her shoulder.

  "We know, my dear. We know. The things our school put the pair of you through, the noble acts you both performed in service of Highrock; saving our entire school from being butchered in darkest nightmare before beginning your quest for the Wand of Dreams, rescuing our most gifted students from being sucked into a lich's trap and made his undead revenants, enslaved to him forever.

  "Then the vagaries of fate took the pair of you in such different directions. You, given clarity of thought in place of power, our dear young Malek drenched ever deeper in the Shadows of all the winding dreams and darkest nightmares between here and the Abyss."

  Jess shivered at those words. “Malek is as fierce and loyal an ally as you would ever meet. He loves Erovering! We both do. The pride that swells in our hearts whenever we gaze upon the shimmering walls and brilliant bronze domes of Krona, I can't even begin to describe.”

  Echobart nodded solemnly.

  "I do not doubt for an instant that he would be the fiercest, most loyal of soldiers, if our prince chose to have Malek accompany him."

  Joshua smiled. “One day, it will be an honor to have him by my side.”

  Alben blinked at that.

  "I have fought in more than a few skirmishes, been involved in gambits few know of, outside the most privileged councils. I know what it means to fight by troops mad with wrath, forged in the crucible of battle." His gaze turned flinty. "Hardened veterans, and Delvers alike. Both I have found common cause with. Both I have fought beside."

  Alben swallowed. “My prince...”

  Joshua's gaze was almost sad. “Come now, my friend. The dancing between Guild and Crown, that ever off-kilter balance of power. Did you truly not think we would become bedfellows eventually? Find equilibrium as allies, rather than opponents?"

  Jess grinned with sudden insight. "Of course! Delvers are forbidden from ruling in Erovering, but nothing says they can't be granted titles and estates in territories seized during battle!"

  The room falling deathly silent, Twilight giving a bemused shake of his head. “So smart, yet so foolish, all at the same time.”

  Jess felt her cheeks flush.

  “And let us say no more on that,” Joshua sighed, suddenly holding Jess close, as if in that moment of utter candor that could erupt in such confusion or outrage, he would far rather fill it with the sentiments of his heart, giving everyone pause. “One day, it will be an honor to have Malek de Sousel fight by my side. For now? This I must see to with men sworn to me and my family alone. The common man, fellow citizens of Erovering, all uniting in common cause to slay the serpents that would hide in our midst.”

  Jess felt her cheeks flush hot

  Echobart cleared her throat. “Such is not without precedent. The Red Queen herself made extensive use of Delvers, after all, securing herself quite an empire. Strange, how she never took the title of empress, however.”

  Jess gave a sad shake of her head. “A queen has more meanings than the temporal one you give it. Empresses can rule a collection of nations, Echobart, but a queen's rule can be eternal. Can encompass entire worlds.”

  Echobart blinked. “She did dream big, before she disappeared from history entirely.”

  “Treaties, my friends. Treaties,” Alben almost implored, shaking his head.

  Joshua smiled gently at the captain before him. “No treaty has been broken, my friend. I can assure you of that. You can trust that the Truebloods would never betray the well-being of the nation we call our own.”

  Something in Joshua's gaze left Alben pale and shaken. Of his own accord, he fell to one knee.

  “Your plans are safe with me, my prince. What you say in confidence, I shall take to my grave. I am your father's man utterly, and yours as well.”

  Joshua smiled and nodded, clapping Alben's shoulder. "I know this already, or I would have said not a word. Be at ease, my friend. Your trustworthiness has always been beyond question, and for that, you are counted among our family's most trusted men."

  Jess smiled. “As a Delver I can tell you, Alben, the commonly held belief that Delvers cannot involve themselves in matters of conquest or trade is false. They are free to do so. No ruler can compel them, but any ruler can entice them. The only edict that holds under all circumstances is that no Delver may attempt to rob or assault a fellow Delver or their families, save in agreed upon duels, and never to the death. Other than that? They are pretty much free to do as they like, as long as the Guild gets first choice on buying treasures they find in Shadow.”

  Alben paled. “I did not know that. But what about Delvers residing within Velheim?”

  Jess shrugged. “I was never given the particulars on that scenario. I imagine they would challenge each other to a contest of some sort. Whichever side loses would retire from the field of battle, their personal estates and families then given immunity in the conquest to come.”

  Alben nodded slowly even as Twilight grinned. “It is a good system, my queen. One that has worked to our benefit, many times before.”

  Jess shivered at that, turning to Joshua. Hoping, somehow, she could entice him to see reason. “My Joshua. Please. My shieldbrother would be a bodyguard beyond compare. One incorruptible warrior it would take scores of men to put down. If I cannot fight by your side, I would at least see you warded from all evils that would seek to strike you down.”

  Joshua smiled at that, gently kissing her, no longer caring, it seemed, what Alben or Echobart thought, not that they had anything but the gentlest of smiles when Jess caught their gazes. “To such a persuasive argument I would hate to say no, my Jess. But alas, I must. As a prince I must be seen as impartial. Strong. Able to trust in the worth and value of my own men. For it must be seen that Crown and commoner worked together to overthrow evil's serpents, not simply that I had faith only in Delvers to attend to me.”

  Softly, he stroked her cheek. "Do you understand, dearest Jessica? As potent and deadly a force as Delvers are, a prince is nothing without the love and support of his people. Just as they honor me with their willingness to fight, and if needs be, die for our country, my faith in them must also be absolute." His tender smile tore at Jess's heart. "But thanks to your vetting of my men, the troops I bring with me will serve us valiantly and well. My father and brother shall no doubt make excellent use of them as we strengthen our base before burning out the impurities that fester within our capital."

  He smiled, holding her tight, whispering into her ear. “Your friends are our trump card for the conflict to come. Best that no one knows how strong an ally they are, save when it is too late for our enemies to counter.” His whisper caused Jess to shiver with sudden hunger for
him. He smiled teasingly, gentle eyes filled with what she could only hope was love. “Wait for me, my Jessica. I will return for you. I will not make any promises now. I dare not. But with all that you and your clan have done for my family, I can only hope, only pray, that my father will be amenable to that which would make me the happiest of all men.”

  Jess felt her heart pound frantically in her chest. She gazed up Joshua in speechless wonder, impulsively hugging him close. She would hide no secrets from him. She could not. Any more than she would the man she would one day call husband.

  “Come with me. There is someone I would like you to greet.” And leaving a curious looking Alben and Echobart behind, the pair made their way back to Jess's quarters. For all that Agda had valid reservations, Jess knew Joshua's fondness for Apple, and felt it only fair that he knew that the half-ysister they both shared was safe once more.

  29

  The icy winter air had been abated by the warm, crackling fire, both of them touched by the warmth of brandy, the heady exhilaration of death near avoided once more. Auburn hair that shown like flame in the firelight, Apple gazing up at him so vulnerably as she shuddered in his arms, he holding her so protectively close. Steamy green eyes peering, it seemed, into his very soul.

  Heart racing, his cheeks hadn't flushed with such heat since before Jacob, who he had loved so tenderly, so protectively, but had always been in complete control. Apple had opened her sweet rosebud lips, so like her sister's for all their vast difference, and had been about to ask a question.

  Something profound. Something that would send him to his knees, force him to reevaluate himself entirely.

  No!

  He couldn't bear it. Wouldn't bear it.

  Couldn't bear to have another girl fall in love with him. Never again.

  Not after the horror it had caused, the devastation he had wrought, simply for daring to embrace the most forbidden of passions, had he but known.

  And they had both been utterly unaware. Utterly innocent.

  A bittersweet balm at best.

  And the agony of her death, the first girl he had ever loved, burned within him still.

  It would never abate.

  It could never abate.

  It was the howling rage, the burning fury, that compelled him ever onwards.

  That propelled him to hurtle himself with heady abandon into chaos, battle, sweetest dreams and darkest nightmare.

  Wherever his friends needed him, whatever struggles they fought to overcome, he would be there.

  Fighting by their side.

  Courting death.

  Laughing, howling like a madman.

  So filled with darkest Shadow and blackest fury that his very essence, his very soul seethed with it. Not infernal. Never that. But he reeked of darkness and unbridled power, such that even mundanes without the slightest flicker of arcane talents often as not trembled in his presence. A merchant's welcoming smile would subtly twist into a sickening grimace, eyes blinking away fear, for all that they mimed an overly bright sun. Hands trembling with fright, not excitement, for all that it was silver and not copper that Malek would bring to bargain for whatever caught his fancy, rare as that had become.

  Even when he walked the streets of Erovering's cities, lost in his own brooding thoughts, people would flow away from him like the bow wave of a ship. And any guardsman that dared catch his eye, as if to cry order, to censure him for bringing a weapon of war into a town or city, would pale and scurry off to hassle whatever nearby merchant was in his path, pretending he had never caught sight of the half-mad adventurer within their midst at all. Blackened dagger for the Guild, he had heard himself called, for all that he had left that role behind since his days as Eloquin's Squire, his soul stained with enough sins as it was.

  Even Morlekai had told him more than once that Malek crackled with the power and madness of raw chaos. Heedless of his own psyche, his own soul, daring to dance upon the razor's edge of Oblivion itself, where angels and demons alike feared to tread.

  Only his friends and companions in various Guildhalls looked upon him with genuine friendship, warmth and camaraderie; the doxies and bucks courting his coin and companionship gifting him with smiles teasing and genuine, long inured to the Shadow-tainted souls of those who called the Guild their home. For all that the common man seemed terrified of him, his fellow adventurers, no matter how green, welcomed Malek with open arms. All of them united in common cause, determined to revel in the madness and wonder that comprised the Dreamrealms before their own final tales were told, remembered only in the stories of the bards and those who loved them the most, if they were lucky.

  Only his guildmates understood him. Accepted him just as he was.

  And Apple. An angel of grace and innocence, who had touched his soul with her vulnerable eyes, crying out with her soul for a hero, even as her heart sobbed in despair for the degradation she had suffered at the hands of the slavers who had seized her.

  Slavers he had devoured, one and all, body and soul.

  And even as the one boy by Appolonia's side who had seen his true shape, a wolf of shadow and flame, shuddered and cried out, Apple alone had stood without fear.

  And when he had first awoken from his wolf-dream, human once more, to find Apple gazing so gently down upon him, what he had sensed for her had not been fear at all.

  It had been admiration. Affection.

  Perhaps even love.

  He burned with loathing at the thought.

  That such a beautiful, pristine girl could fall for a creature as horrific and foul as himself.

  A creature whose only redemption was the foes he killed for his friends, ever at their back. A loyal hound, forever at their side.

  Forget it. Forget it all. Meditation in motion. Run. Run. Just like Eloquin showed him so many years ago. Run so fast, so far, so furiously, that it burns away all rage, all hate, all pain, all loathing. Revel in the moment. The single pristine moment of feeling one's body flow forward in perfect synchronicity, in perfect rhythm. One with his beating heart, the howling wind, the vast landscape, snow-swept fields and ancient groves far off in the distance. Carriages making their way along the road, hoping for Barlton or a traveler's inn before nightfall.

  And so infused his flesh had become with Shadow that he ripped through drifts of snow with the force and fury of a charger, howling at the sky overhead, feeling not a lick of fatigue.

  Only exhilaration.

  Grim thoughts of death and bitterest regret fading at last, filled with a heady joy akin to flying, racing as fast as his legs could take him, churning a powdery storm of snow in his wake, a living dream of motion and wonder.

  Never would he bother riding horses again.

  Not that they could stand his presence in any case.

  His exhilarating run had eaten the miles as his feet effortlessly led him toward Barlton and the local Guildhall, and not for the first time he found himself grinning with fierce delight as he exulted in all his gifts and prowess as a Delver. Monster that he was. Escaping for a few moments, at least, the bitter regrets of his life. And soon he would have even more reason to be at peace, he consoled himself, even as he ignored the wide-eyed stares he received from merchant traveler and guard alike as his rapid pace ate up the miles faster than their carriage horses' sedate trot. He knew he looked quite the odd sight, as well protected as any knight of legend could be, wearing armaments of boiled rawhide covered with the scales of unfathomable beasts from the deepest reaches of Shadow. But he knew all too well that was not the true source of the wild gazes of naked fear sent his way, guardsmen clenching sword hilts tightly as he passed them.

  He could blame it on the blade he wore. Originally it had been forged in the darkest bowels of nightmare, comprised of twisted screaming souls and ore torn from the very craters of damnation. His shieldsister, somehow a queen in that dark realm of Shadow, had danced upon the lip of Oblivion itself, howling with mad euphoria as she had reforged his weapon anew in a single flash of
hideous insight. Now an instrument of darkest fury, the massive Zweihander was his alone to command even as it silently howled its deadly dirge, causing any with even the slightest trace of arcane gifts to tremble in its presence, as if their very souls were in danger of being instantly snuffed out.

  And they were.

  Perhaps it was that dread artifact that caused the guards to shudder.

  But Malek knew it was the blackness of his own soul. So infused with Shadow and death. The madness of living nightmare that caused so many mortals to shudder and look away.

  A thing of darkest Shadow and bitterest regret.

  He shook his head, wondering what he might have done when his painfully acute hearing caught mutters of hellions and fallen fools needing to be put in their place from the finely lacquered carriage just past, had he not sensed such trembling fear within when he had looked back, his gaze cold as death. A female's terror, and one who smelled of motherhood as well, her children's scents strong upon the carriage.

  No. No reason to think another moment upon it. Their insult had warranted a glare and a glare he had given. And no more. Done was done, and no reason to trouble himself over it ever again.

  Malek smiled when he caught sight of the multistory buildings of Barlton outlined against the perfect wintry blue sky. Gone for the moment were all worries and regrets for past follies, replaced by the curious, heady excitement of knowing he would be joining his companions once more. Fierce and jovial Alacabar, one of the few Delvers mundanes seemed to fear as greatly as they did Malek himself, and the graceful Lucienda, whose siren voice and serene smile could soothe even the most obstinate merchant or guardsman, such that their collective group could somehow be accepted and walk smoothly amongst the fragile souls they traversed among, Lucienda's graceful beauty soothing all feathers ruffled by the storms of power swirling about their Shadow-infused souls. And of course, Morlekai. He of the dark grin, brilliant white hair, and captivating golden green eyes. Timeless, ageless, beautiful as any woman's fantasies of a fallen angel could hope for, his jaded smile hinting at hungers wild and wicked. Yet for all that, he adhered to his own fierce code, as honorable as any bloodthirsty knight could ever be.