The Twilight City

by Gregory Mattix

  Nera took his hand, and he pulled her upright. She stumbled, but the monk took her arm across his shoulders.

  “You’re wounded,” he said. “We should get you to a temple.”

  “Aye, that might be a good idea. How did you happen to be here in this armpit of the slums at just the right time?”

  Cerador smiled. “The Weave whispered to me that a lady of great importance required assistance in preserving the Balance, so here I am.”

  “Lady of importance? There are no ladies here… Surely you can’t mean me?” Nera felt dizzy from blood loss, and her head ached from the smack on the cobblestones. She tried to focus on the strange man’s words, but they made little sense. Weave? Balance? What in the Abyss is he blathering on about? I must’ve taken a harder hit to the head than I thought.

  Cerador bowed his head. “An old debt was incurred, and I, as a simple servant to the Balance, am pleased to assist you as I may, Lady Neratiri. The Weave of Fate whispers to me the ways I am needed.”

  Nera wasn’t going to disagree, no matter how little sense the man made. “Well, your Weave was correct that I needed help but wrong about me being important or some noble lady, for that matter. I’m just a plane-cursed orphan thief. Nobody gives a shite about what happens to one such as me.”

  “The Weave would say differently,” he said simply, as if that explained everything. “I am not very familiar with this city yet. Which direction will take us to a temple?”

  “Should be back the way you came and not more than a few blocks away. I hope.”

  Cerador turned and guided her along until Nera remembered something.

  “Wait! That thieving whoreson stole my stuff.” She let go of the monk’s shoulder and hobbled over beside the fallen mage. She quickly recovered her items, taking care to put everything back in its proper place, and relieved Yvain of a few valuables of his own in the process, for her troubles.

  “Very well, Brother, let us pay a visit to the Temple of Sabyl.”

  By the time they reached the temple, Nera was struggling to remain conscious. One of the priestesses helped the monk lay her on a pallet—for the second time that week, she realized.

  “Here.” Nera fumbled for her coin pouch, but the monk waved her away.

  “Keep it,” he said. “Dark times are upon us, and you’ll need it more than I. The Weave provides as needed.”

  “Thank you again, Brother Cerador.” Nera winced as the priestess prodded the wound in her calf.

  “You are welcome. And now I must attend to other matters.” He turned to leave. “Fear not, we shall meet again. The Order of the Illuminated Path stands with you.” He disappeared through the curtain and was gone.

  “I’ll be damned,” she said aloud, realization dawning. “Did Master Dagun send you?”

  No answer came, for Brother Cerador was gone, but she recalled the time she once aided the Order of the Illuminated Path in breaking a curse in an adventure off plane.

  “Rest easy, now. The Mistress favors you, it would seem,” the priestess said.

  Warmth flowed into Nera’s leg as the priestess applied a healing spell granted by Sabyl. The nasty wound in her calf mended until it was only a faint scar, just one of many. As the priestess turned her attention to the concussion, Nera fell into a deep sleep under the soothing warmth, thinking of an ancient monastery and battling an angry spirit with Arron and their friend Wyat several years earlier.

  Chapter 27

  Nera dreamed. She was in a strange place, set upon a great mountaintop, cloaked beneath night’s dusky wings. The air was fresh but cold, prompting her to pull her cloak tightly around her. Overhead, the sky blazed with brilliant starlight, more than she had ever imagined possible. Although the sight took her breath away, after a few moments of staring into the vastness of the void, she felt a sensation of vertigo, as if she might tumble into the nothingness and fall forever.

  She had to willfully break her attention from the heavens. Once she did, she noticed the ebon onyx columns circling her, blotting out the stars with their blackness, just barely visible due to the lack of stars, although they still reflected some starlight. She realized she was standing in some manner of temple or shrine. To one who plied her trade in the darkness, the shrine felt comforting, almost like returning to a home Nera had never known.

  “Child, you have come home,” a voice spoke as if reading her thoughts. “The time has come for you to learn the truth of your heritage and embrace your destiny.” The voice thrummed with power, filling her head until she was unsure whether it was being spoken verbally or delivered telepathically in the fashion of mind-benders. Regardless, the source was unknown, nor could she determine if the speaker was male or female.

  The vertigo suddenly assailed her anew, momentarily intensifying before it receded, leaving her floating up and away, weightless. She soared around in a tight circle and looked down upon her own body below, still standing in awe in the temple. The darkness shifted behind her body below, revealing a vast shape unfurling ebony wings. A long, serpentine neck stretched gracefully, and luminous eyes shone like silver moons.

  A shadow dragon!

  Nera had no idea how she knew what the magnificent creature was, but she knew instinctively from its comforting aura that it was a protector. She watched herself stride forward until she reached an altar that shimmered with iridescence, like an oily sheen on water. When she touched the shiny surface of the altar, it glowed with the cool blue of starlight, and she was shocked to find the mysterious runes on her horns glowing brightly in response, a matching hue.

  The glow flared brightly until it pained her eyes, forcing her to look away. A moment later, the aura faded. Nera watched her body straighten and step away from the altar, changed. Gone was the plane-cursed thief she had been. Even her despised horns were missing. A tall, stunning woman with flowing black hair and porcelain skin stood there in her place, yet the features were somehow still hers. Her eyes were the same rust color with an ember’s glow within.

  With an ethereal grace, the woman turned and swept her hands wide. The pure night sky instantly swirled away, as if a dye were mixed into the heavens, turning it a sickly reddish hue. The woman who had been Nera walked to the edge of the temple and observed a scene of chaos below.

  Far below the shrine, at the foot of the mountain, smoke curled up from cracks in the blasted, desolate ground. Legions of demons were lining up, the evil creatures formed into a rigid military formation by the cracking whips of overlords. The massive army extended out of sight to the horizon.

  The voice spoke again, but it was changed—an unflinching harbinger of doom. “This is the beginning of the end. Witness what happens when the Nexus of the Planes fails and the portals from the Abyss are opened upon unsuspecting peaceful worlds.” The voice was a guttural growl that promised damnation, each word driving fear into her as with a hammer and nail.

  Nera suddenly wanted to be anywhere but where she was. She fought to awaken yet couldn’t escape the dream’s hold on her. Even worse, her consciousness floated over the edge and down from the temple, leaving the beautiful woman behind. Had she a body, she knew her stomach would have turned from the descent. Slowly at first, but gaining speed, she dropped toward the demonic hordes.

  Portals appeared seemingly at random across the landscape, and the hordes rushed forward with blood-curdling screeches and roars, sensing their freedom as they were unleashed on unsuspecting planes.

  Nera cried out as she dropped faster than a diving hawk toward the fell creatures. She landed in the mass of demons, her body crushed against spine and horn and then trampled into the ground beneath hoof and claw.

  For a long moment, she was frozen in time, mouth wide in a scream while her bones and flesh were pulverized.

  “This is the fate of the planes if Nexus falls.” The voice spoke much more gently. “Your charge is to prevent this fate from occurring. You must discover your true heritage. Awaken now with this knowledge to set your feet on the path of yo
ur destiny.”

  ***

  Nera thrashed awake from the throes of the terrifying dream to find herself in the Temple of Sabyl for the second time in a week.

  “Balor’s balls, what is with these horrible dreams?” She’d never before had such realistic, bizarre dreams other than her two recent experiences in the temple. “I need to quit getting cut up in the first place so I won’t end up here to recover. I sure hope this is the last time,” she grumbled.

  She took a moment to stretch out, then she cast off the sheet and climbed from the narrow bed, healed and well rested. After quickly dressing, she gathered her gear. She saw no sign of Brother Cerador or the clergy staff, so she left a generous donation, procured from Yvain’s coin purse, in the offering plate and headed outside.

  The fate of the planes if Nexus fails… My heritage and destiny… The Balance and Weave. This is madness—I’m but a simple rogue. What does any of that have to do with me?

  Her first instinct was to dismiss the dreams and her odd encounter with her mysterious savior the night before as the result of her concussion-addled brain. However, she had a lurking suspicion that two visits to the temple and frightening dreams on both occasions were too coincidental. Perhaps Sabyl herself was sending her a message, one that she had best heed.

  She shuddered at the implications. Try as she might, she couldn’t convince herself that everything happening was a wagonload of dung.

  First this elf wench and her master apparently filled Malek’s head with foolishness about the fall of Nexus, then this mysterious Brother Cerador appears with his cryptic talk of this Weave, and now me and my dreams. If I hadn’t gotten involved with that green mageling, none of this would have ever happened!

  “Is there no end to the trouble I keep getting caught up in? It’s like a heap of shite that I sink deeper into the harder I try to dig myself out.” She sighed, wanting nothing more than for things to return to how they had been when Arron was still alive and she was simply Nera the Rogue.

  The memory of Arron turned her thoughts in a direction she didn’t want them to go, so she forced them to the background and left the somber quiet of the temple.

  The late-morning bustle of activity outside the temple provided no answers. Her head cleared a bit, and her rumbling stomach convinced her to hit up a street vendor for one of her favorite treats—Orlian scarabs, which she had a sudden craving for. She bought a dozen for a few coppers and popped one of the large sugared beetles into her mouth as she walked. The shell exploded as she bit down, and the sweet and tangy innards lit up her taste buds.

  Another morning above the ground—that’s a good first step to the day. Hopefully, it will improve from here.

  She decided she should get back to Malek with news about his mana factory. She didn’t know what she would do once the current maelstrom of madness swirling around her was over, but the end couldn’t come soon enough.

  ***

  Nera burst in the door of the Seer’s parlor.

  “Nera! Where’ve you been? We’ve been worried!” Malek leaped to his feet. His eyes were wide, and a relieved smile spread on his face. Endira looked equally as surprised by her sudden arrival. The remains of a breakfast lay on the table before them.

  “We’ve been worried, huh?” Nera raised an eyebrow.

  Malek and Endira looked just as cozy together as they had the prior evening, yet despite that, Nera couldn’t stay angry at the mage. After the awful, emotionally draining day she’d just had, nothing remained in her for petty jealousy.

  “Uh, well, yeah.” Malek cast a quick glance at Endira, and she agreed. He shrugged. “I’ve been worried. What happened?”

  “A lot. To cap off the tragedy of my brother’s death, I got robbed of my life’s savings, wounded, and chased across the rooftops of the whole damned city by that mad dwarf; assaulted in the street and nearly turned over to the Magehunters; rescued by an odd, possibly mad monk; and finally laid up for another night in the Temple of Sabyl.” She smirked as Malek’s jaw dropped, his eyes wide with surprise. “Oh, and I found your mana factory, luv. Here.” She tossed Malek the small sack with the last couple Orlian scarabs. “They’re good for ya.”

  Malek looked at the sack, puzzled. When he opened it, he blanched at the sight of the cinnamon-and-sugar-frosted beetles. “Oh, um… we just ate, actually,” he said diplomatically.

  “I see that.” Nera grinned, unsurprised yet amused nonetheless at his typical green reaction. She speared a slice of hard cheese from the table on the tip of her dagger and took a bite of it.

  Malek gingerly set the scarab sack down on the table. “Could I speak to you for a moment? Alone?”

  “Course.”

  She walked out into the hall nonchalantly, and Malek followed and opened the door to his room. She stepped inside, noting the bed didn’t appear to have been slept in.

  “So… what’s on your mind, mageling?” she asked.

  He took a deep breath. “I wanted to apologize—I’ve treated you poorly. And about Arron… I’m really sorry. If I could take that moment back, I would’ve just surrendered to them.”

  “What good would that have done? Then you’d be the one dead, and Arron and I’d be back to being collared again. I know he’d rather have died free than lived as a slave, as would I.”

  “Well, I don’t know. If I’d never gotten you mixed up in this business, it probably would’ve been better off for everyone.” Malek sighed. “I’m releasing you from your obligation so you can take time to mourn your brother. Maybe your guild will take you back, find some lucrative jobs for you. I’ll pay you what’s still owed, of course,” he said hurriedly at seeing her eyes widen.

  Nera was speechless. “You what? You’re sacking me? After all this?”

  “No, it’s not like that!” He looked shocked at her angry reaction.

  She took a step forward and got right in Malek’s face, which she knew would make him uncomfortable. “Then what’s it like? What life do I have to go back to? My brother is dead, I’m a fugitive, and someone from my own guild sold me out to the Magehunters. How in the Abyss do I just walk away?”

  Malek opened his mouth, but she put her hand over his lips. “No, just listen a moment. I am a woman grown, and I make my own decisions. Aye, maybe I should’ve stayed out of your affairs, but what’s done is done, and I intend to stick with it till the end. I don’t abandon my companions midstream, understand?” She removed her hand, trying not to notice how warm his lips were.

  “All right, if that’s the way you feel.” He looked relieved and undeterred by her close proximity, for once. “I’ll pay what you’re owed, of course… I doubt it will make up for your savings being stolen, but it should give you enough for a start.” He fumbled for his coin purse.

  Nera grasped his hand and pried his fingers away, shocking herself. “Nay. First we see this through, then we get settled. Sabyl will grant us her luck, and all shall work out. Deal?”

  Her own words were unable to inspire her with any real confidence, but Malek’s worried eyes were focused on her, and she had to say something. Realizing her fingers were still loosely holding his, she quickly let go.

  He looked as amazed as she felt for not taking the coin. “You never cease to surprise me, Nera. I consider myself fortunate to have you by my side.” He grinned.

  “Aye, you better for as much as I stick my neck out for you, mageling.” She smiled in return and slammed him in the chest playfully with the heel of her hand. “I won’t even add last night’s traumatic experience to the tally, either. I just want you to help me get off plane once all this is over.”

  She was too slow removing her hand from his chest, and he caught it in his own before she could pull away.

  “I don’t want you taking such risks if you don’t have to,” he said. “I feel bad enough about Arron. I couldn’t forgive myself if something happened to you as well.” His deep blue eyes were earnest.

  Their eyes locked, and Nera was aware of his warm hand c
lasping her own. For a moment, she wished he would lean forward and…

  But then the moment passed. Malek coughed, embarrassed, and released her hand. Nera instinctively took a step back, feeling a flush creep up her neck.

  “Well, don’t worry about me. I can watch out for myself. That’s what I do.” She nervously smoothed her hair back past her horns. Damned horns!

  Malek looked away as if gathering his thoughts, clearly uncomfortable.

  Nera cleared her throat, taking the opportunity to change the subject. “Why don’t we go talk about your mana factory? The elf should hear this too.”

  Chapter 28

  Idrimel thrashed awake from a nightmare, heart racing and a scream poised upon her lips. The sheets were twisted up on her bed, her nightgown soaked in sweat. A throbbing pressure between her temples made her wince as she massaged her head.

  “Even here in Sol’s house, vile dreams plague my sleep,” she whispered, taking deep breaths to calm her breathing and her racing heart. She clutched her holy symbol and uttered a quick prayer. The headache and anxiety faded, and she was able to focus on examining the dream. After meditating on it for a few minutes, excitement filled her. She was sure that it must be a sending from Sol himself.

  She had been walking through the beautiful, peaceful forest near her home in Ellorya, wearing a simple dress, her hair cascading loosely down her back. The sun filtered through the leaves, caressing her skin with its warm radiance. She stepped into a meadow covered in a multitude of wildflowers, inhaling deeply and enjoying the rich scents that tickled her nose.

  A distant thundering quickly approached, followed by the snapping of branches. Looking around wide-eyed, Idrimel was nearly bowled over by a large buck that surged out of the woods a mere arm’s-length away. It was followed by several does and fawns. Rabbits, squirrels, birds, and even a black bear were all fleeing from something, a panicked rush of feather and fur surging around her. In an instant, she became a stone in a swiftly flowing river of animals.