Shadow Falls

by A W Tinney

  The Knight had a sinking feeling they were.

  “Darling, what is it? Mummy is busy.” The queen held out a hand and stroked her son’s cheek, making him giggle.

  “Can I choose this time?” he mewed.

  The queen laughed gently and leaned in to kiss her child on his scaled cheek. “Of course, you may.”

  The boy offered a sadistic glare. “I want the dragon to eat them,” he squealed in delight.

  “Dragon?” Kasela earned another slap for the outburst.

  “A most splendid suggestion, young majesty.” The steward gave a curt bow. “I shall make the arrangements, ma’am.” With that he scarpered off, heels clipping on damp wood.

  The boy laughed, as Beivor pulled Eresor and Kasela away. “The dragon is going to cut you in half,” he cackled, biting down on his eel in demonstration. “The dragon is going to eat you.”

  7

  Eresor and Kasela were tied and left to watch the party deepen. More mead and vinegar wine were served to all the crowd, and the marshlanders took great delight in jeering and throwing stray clods of damp earth at the gnome and knight. Eresor took it all with grim stoicism, while Kasela fought back, pulling on the cord that bound her hands. It did little good, only provoking the marshlanders to further irritate her. In the end she resolved to follow the gnome’s example and suffer through the indignity.

  The crannog prince examined them for a time, his bloated cheeks swelling with a smile. “I can’t wait to see you die,” he said almost innocently. “I want you to die first,” he squeaked at Eresor. “Because you are short. I don’t like short people. You come in loud ships and it scares me.”

  “Best mind, little one,” Eresor rasped. “We gnomes are still scary without our ships.”

  The boy squealed and scarpered off.

  “Is it wise to provoke him?”

  The gnome shrugged. “We’re dead anyway. Might as well piss a few people off along the way.”

  Beivor returned, leering at them. Mead dripped from between his lips. “Your time is up, gorrt.”

  He hauled them both down to the pit. Both were unceremoniously kicked into the deep mud. The village gathered, a jeering audience that hissed and wailed at them. Kasela growled back and spat Manzilian curses at the foul marshlanders.

  “Leave them,” Eresor told her.

  “They have taken my armour, my sword, and Selvar. They will pay with blood. Cowards.”

  Two spears, little more than sharpened lengths of reed wood were thrown down, narrowly missing them both. “They want us to fight,” Eresor said. “I intend to oblige them and take as many of the bastards as possible with me.”

  “I gathered, gnome. But a dragon? I don’t know about you, but I have little experience in fighting dragons.”

  “There are no dragons in the north,” he said, “my people blew them all out of the sky entries ago.” He paused, grabbing one of the spears and measuring its worth in his hands. He frowned. “But if they have one of the blasted beasts, there’s not much we can do with these.”

  “Where’s the elf when you need her?”

  Eresor’s eyes darkened. “If she’s not here with us, then it’s safe to assume she’s dead. Along with my crew.” He wrung his fists over the spear, knuckles flaring with anger. The crowd gathered and started taunts of “Halfling” and “Golden Tits”.

  “They will pay,” Kasela swore.

  The Knight scanned her surroundings for a means of escape. There were none. The pit was deep, and its walls were lined with sodden wooden slats that were overgrown with thick clods of moss. Impossible to climb. The marshlanders ringing the edges ceased their taunts and instead took up a tribal tune, rhythmic and sinister.

  “We need to get out of here.”

  “I don’t think that is an option anymore. Look.” The sky-gnome pointed to the wall opposite them, where two marshlanders drew ropes from the ground and pulled. Their effort saw one of the wooden panels rise and in its absence a torrent of marsh water spewed forth.

  “Shit.”

  Kasela scrambled away, but the pool engulfed her in seconds. Sickly sticky mire clung to her and swiftly filled the pit. It finally stopped when it got to her breast line and was just above Eresor’s neck.

  “Perfect,” the sky-gnome hissed as he struggled to hold the weapon in a ready position.

  The queen and her son appeared at the edge of the pit, crowd parting to give them pride of place. The boy was giggling with joy. “I want to see the dragon eat them, mummy.”

  The queen nodded sinisterly, eyes glinting.

  “Eresor,” Kasela started but the gnome shushed her.

  “I’d get a grip on that spear if I were you, Knight,” he advised. “Look there.”

  The water rippled, and huge scales broke its surface for but a split second.

  “A dragon,” Kasela breathed. The Knight shot into action, splashing across the water, seeking the spear she had foolishly not taken.

  “Stay still,” Eresor growled. “Stop splashing.”

  Instinctively, she obeyed him. In the wake of her thrashing, the water settled. Calm, eerily so.

  “Eresor,” she started again, but he silenced her once more with a glare. Meticulously, the sky-gnome, who was almost submerged entirely in the pond, raised the spear above his head, point facing the water. Carefully, he followed an invisible line, and then, with unmatched speed, lanced the spear into the mire.

  The water exploded with fury as the creature reared upwards. Kasela beheld that it was not in fact a dragon, but a colossal eel, easily the size of a longhouse dwelling. The scaled monster was dripping with slime and swamp residue. Eresor’s spear had punctured one of its gills, and dark ichor spewed from the wound. A maw opened, revealing three consecutive rows of serrated shard like teeth. There came a stench from its gullets, worse than any excrement or raw flesh. From its gaping mouth, Kasela saw a cloud of green billow forth.

  “Poison,” she called. “It’s breathing poison.”

  Eresor did not hesitate and splashed under the water, submerging himself. The Knight did likewise as tendrils of the green fumes crawled closer towards her.

  Underwater was a worse hell than above. In the dank green mire, Kasela found that to open her eyes burned them beyond agony. Cringing, she clawed her way forward, blindly fumbling in quag. Objects of slime slithered between her fingertips, making her shudder. Something large brushed by her, disturbing the gloopy depths. Running out of air, she gave one final push forward, before hauling herself upright to breathe once more.

  She burst into the jeers and howls of the crowd. Pebbles and clods of clay sailed down upon her, and she growled, rubbing her stinging eyes free of the grime that blinded her. The pool had settled once more, and the remaining flickers of the eel’s poison breath were evaporating. Eresor burst from the depths a moment later, clambering furiously at the edge of the pit, finding purchase on one of the beams. Projectiles assailed him also, though he took their beating without care, narrow eyes scanning the water for sign of the mammoth eel.

  “Why aren’t they dead, mummy?” squealed the newt prince. The petulant youth stamped his feet. “Why are they still one whole piece? I want to see them chewed up. Make the dragon chew them up, mummy!”

  “Soon, my prince, soon. We must have a game. The longer it takes, the sweeter it is.” The queen soothed her son with several unnecessary strokes to his weedy head. He purred and nuzzled into her flank.

  “Knight,” Eresor growled. “Stop daydreaming and get your spear.” The sky-captain was currently unarmed and was trying to crawl up the side of the pit to gain height advantage. The marshlanders kicked at his arms and threw more objects at him, causing Eresor to lose his hold and slide back into the water. “Get your weapon,” he spluttered through a mouthful of rancid water.

  Kasela located her spear, bobbing in the still waters no more than seven paces from her current position. Seven unknown paces that could contain the eel. Yet unarmed they stood no chance against the bea
st. She moved.

  Before her first foot even left the ground, the pond burst again, and the eel reared its ugly head. Snarling, it slithered upwards, snapping fierce jaws. Kasela moved, splashing to get the spear. The beast lunged, and by some miracle she managed to dodge to the side, as jaws snapped water. The spear drifted away from her, rolling the wakes generated by the beasts thrashing. Kasela moved, cursing as the thick mire slowed her progress. If she could get the spear, she would have a chance…

  The beast headbutted her, slamming its temple into her back. Kasela was sent sprawling and heard bone snap. Ribs, no doubt, as pain erupted in her chest. She pushed forwards, struggling to find her footing.

  Then she screamed, a high shrill scream. A scream of pain. Agony invaded her calf muscles as something foreign pierced flesh. Then it pulled, dragging her out over the water, tearing skin as if it were paper. Kasela was sent flying upward as the eel bit down on her leg and pulled her towards the sky.

  She turned and kicked with her free leg, punched with her fists, struggling to break free of impending demise. Helplessly, she squirmed as the first row of teeth sucked her in, and more pain was born as the next layer of fangs clutched her leg. This time she felt fire wrap about her bleeding muscles. More poison.

  Then there came a shout, a deep growling bellow. With shudder the creature simply let her go. The Knight was sent splashing into the mire, but not before she caught sight of the sky-captain, crawling up the eels back, using the spear to stab and slash his way up. Bleeding fresh wounds, the eel wriggled, but the sky-captain held on, years of managing to stay on a sky deck during the worst of storms proving invaluable in his current predicament. Unable to free itself of the danger in its back, the eels sought to swim away, but Eresor barked defiance, driving the spear in deeper and holding on.

  The last thing Kasela saw before she slipped once more into oblivion, was the creature and the sky-gnome on its back slip underwater.

  8

  Nymida ran. Her lithe limbs carried her through the mist, her elven sight penetrating the worst of the gloom, guiding her for the most part. In her hands she clutched the Umbral Staff, feeling its foul power call to her, urging her to use it.

  Use me, it whispered, words tracing the edges of her mind. Use me and you will be more powerful than you could ever have imagined. You can save them. Use me…

  She did not and would not.

  Eresor had told her to run. “Get the staff and get out of here,” he had bellowed as he unloaded round after round with his pistol into the gloom.

  “I will not leave you,” she protested. “We can fight our way out.”

  “We will all die, and that thing will fall into the hands of gods only know who. Do not test me on this, elf. Run. Now.”

  She had obeyed and fled. Abandoning her comrades. They were outnumbered, blinded, defeated before they even knew what was happening. Eresor had spoken truth. The Umbra Staff and its fell Void power would have fallen into the hands of brigands. Of people who may use it to unleash ruin upon others, as had happened in Faris Manzil. That was something Nymida could not allow to happen.

  You are a coward, the Staff coxed her. Your friends lay dead and dying in the mist, and you have left them.

  “I had to,” she snapped back, her voice piecing the silence.

  You could have used me, my power to save them. Together, we can defeat any foe. You know this. You found me, you brought me to my master, and he roused me from my slumber. You saw my power. But my master was too weak. Too pathetic. He was not like you. You are strong. Majestic. You are so much more than any mortal. Together, we can be greater than even the gods…

  Nymida ignored it, pushing the constant whisper to the edge of her mind. The evil within the Staff would ruin her given the chance. She prayed to Helwyn that her soul would have the strength to resist.

  Yet as always, the prayer went unanswered.

  The Staff changed tactic. The gods have abandoned you, as you have abandoned your friends. You are weak. You are a coward. Let me save you. Let us save each other…

  Nymida continued to run, fleeing thorough the swamplands, letting her fatigue override the words from the Staff. The retreat denied the elf her usual grace. Her feet were sodden, her lungs stinging. Foul odours assailed her nostrils at every corner, and more than once she had been forced to fight her way free of a swamp lizard’s domain, as the log like amphibians snapped at her, barring her way in anticipation of an easy meal. Even then the Staff whispered to her, urging her to use its power and bring the lizards under her command rather than fighting them. Elven will had proven dominant thus far, but even the fey creatures of Pella tired, and Nymida’s strength was waning.

  Waning so much that she did not notice she was being followed until it was too late.

  Her ears picked up the sounds of heavy footfalls, approaching at speed. Her current location was in a wooded area, the trees sinking into the damp earth, their boughs drooping with vines, glistening with swamp-spider webs.

  The Staff in her hand pulsed. Then came whisper once more, ever echoing in her mind.

  Use me. I have power, power you have seen. Power to save you from what approaches. Use me…

  Nymida threw it to the ground, drawing her bow and nocking an arrow. “If I am to survive whatever this is,” she told the staff, “I do it with the skills Helwyn has blessed me with.”

  The Staff giggled. The goddess of the earth has abandoned you. All will become Shadow. All things change.

  Nymida drew back the string and waited. She steadied her breath, focusing her preternatural senses on the world around her. This was Helwyn’s gift. Every elf was in tune with the world, not matter how corrupted it was. They could sense the rustle of trees from a mile away, understand the flight patterns of birds by a mere glance. Even through the dense fog, Nymida could detects the vague outline of a huge figure approaching. By its speed and direction, she knew it was not an ally.

  She took a breath, feeling the wind, what little there was. The elf adjusted her bow accordingly, knowing that to shoot blindly would give away her position. This needed to be accurate. Needed to be a kill shot. The figure was mortal in shape, so she aimed for the neck, picking it out as reliably as she could in the gloom. The shadow grew clearer. She released her breath and the arrow flew.

  It was met by a terrifying display of light. Nymida saw the shaft shatter into a thousand wooden splinters in the majestic rays before the overwhelming beam blinded her. She fled back, dropping the bow and drawing her daggers, ready to close with whatever foul entity approached.

  A shimmering figure in steel emerged from the celestial light, a staff in its hand burning, a sword drawn and pointed at the elf.

  “You will tell me who you are, and what it is you are carrying,” thundered a heavenly voice.

  Nymida dropped her weapons and let a gasp slip from her lips. “Vigilant,” she said in greeting. “By the gods, you are a Vigilant.”

  The Vigilant stepped closer, Sceptre still burning, sword still pointed at the elf’s form. “You will answer, elf. And you will tell me what foul artefact you carry.”

  “The Staff?” She cocked her head back at the abandoned weapon. “You know of it?”

  “I have tasted its foul scent for many days now. You sought to shield it from my Vigil, but there is little a Vigilant does not know.” The huge god-warrior took a step forward. “From where was it spawned?”

  “I know not.”

  “You lie.”

  “I do not, Vigilant, I swear. Please, understand; the Staff is not mine. I do not wield it. I simply carry it.”

  You are a fool, she could hear it whisper. A fool. Use me…

  “Do not lie to me.” The Vigilant took another threatening pace closer. “I will ask again; what is it you carry and from where does it draw its power?”

  Nymida held up her hands. “I speak true. It is the Staff. We do not know what it is. As for its power, I know it to be evil. We brought it here to destroy it.”

&nbs
p; “We?”

  “My comrades and I. Eresor, Captain of the Fire Dawn, and Kasela, Knight of the Iron Thorn.”

  The Vigilant cocked her armoured head. “I do not see these comrades of yours.”

  Nymida hung her head. “I…they…we were attacked.”

  The Vigilant growled. “You lie, elf. I can taste the treachery.”

  “I do not,” Nymida pleaded. “Please, you must believe me.”

  The light of the Spectre intensified. The Vigilant paused, as if considering something for a moment, then simply pressed the Sceptre close to Nymida. “If you are lying, the power of Balar will know.”

  “The power of…”

  “Silence, and behold the wisdom of the Ancient One…”

  Then Nymida fell into the light as it invaded every fibre of her existence, past, present and future. She saw her wrong doings. Her mother and father. Her brother…

  “No, no please, not this…”

  But the light continued, and Nymida was judged.

  9

  Hurbar Windpeak scratched his moustache for the umpteenth time. He contemplated shaving it off on occasion, but shortly concluded that to do so would leave him bereft of any activity when he was idle. And he had been idle for many days now. I did not sit well with him.

  “Wan a mead, cox-an, eck?” the youth Dalinor slurred. The sky-gnome offered a horn in one hand, while the other steadied her staggering form against the deck. Had she a beard to groom as he had, Hurbar was certain the young gnome would have drunk less. As it was, she was smooth skinned and becoming overly fond of the northern nectar.

  “No, and no more for the crew either.” The remainder of the Fire Dawn were in their cups more than was healthy in recent days. Hurbar would soon have to order rationing or start drills. That would not go down well either, but it was preferable than having a drunken crew ill prepared for their Captains return.