The Fall of Neverdark

by Philip C. Quaintrell

  Valanis was rising…

  Alijah had seen enough and had allowed the ritual to go on for too long. Ignoring the warning of a far wiser being, the half-elf snapped his bow to life and launched an arrow at The Crow’s head. With a single shot, he could kill the head of The Black Hand, prevent the evilest of elves from returning to life and give Malliath a better chance of breaking free of his new captors.

  At least he would have, had his arrow not impacted an undetectable shield around The Crow. The projectile broke against the magic, sending a ripple of energy across the sphere. It also alerted every member of The Black Hand to their presence.

  The Crow looked up at them, his dark eyes connecting with Alijah. “Kill them.”

  After another day of searching The Undying Mountains, with Edrik Everard and Aldreon for company, Inara was ready to fly north and return home. The Lifeless Isles were a mystery to most, but to the Dragorn it was her home.

  Athis was in agreement, tired of guarding his mind against the golden dragon. The last thing they needed was for Edrik and Aldreon to overhear their thoughts and opinions on the pair.

  As grating as the pair were, Inara couldn’t fault her master’s logic. Together they had covered more ground and found several caves between them, but there had been no evidence of orcs or any bipedal creatures for that matter.

  The sun had once again dropped beneath the horizon and their search had come to an end. The dragons soared through the night’s sky, gliding in and around each other in perfect harmony. Below, the valleys and barren desert were shrouded in darkness.

  “Over there!” Edrik suddenly called, pointing to the ground. “Aldreon has seen something!”

  Without waiting for any reply, the Dragorn and his golden dragon dropped away. Inara looked around, aware that they were now flying over Syla’s Pass, an area of the mountains that she had covered with Athis days earlier.

  Aldreon is correct, Athis said. The valley is littered with bodies.

  Despite Athis’s quick descent, the shadows of the valley concealed any such bodies to the Dragorn. A moment later, Edrik and Aldreon disappeared beneath those same shadows, but Inara heard the golden dragon land and his wings close in. Only after submerging into the shadows did her eyes adjust and make out the shapes strewn across the valley floor.

  Both Dragorn climbed down from their dragons and walked among the dead with their hands resting on the hilts of their Vi’tari blades.

  “Sandstalkers,” Edrik observed.

  “And cave trolls,” Inara added, kicking the tough leg of one of the giant beasts.

  Edrik sounded bored already. “I would imagine this is a common occurrence in The Undying Mountains. It is a land of predators.”

  Inara focused on the ground between the bodies, her eyes doing their best in the dark to find any tracks belonging to orcs. The Dragorn birthed a small orb of white light in the palm of her hand and commanded it to follow her.

  Athis walked over the bodies and bent his head down low. There are footprints in the sand here.

  Inara ran over and waited for the light of the orb to reveal Athis’s discovery. The red dragon was right, of course, having found bloody footprints walking away from the body of a Sandstalker.

  “That’s a wide print,” Edrik commented. “I would say too wide for the average man, certainly too wide for any elf.” The Dragorn crouched beside Inara and touched the edges of the footprint with his fingers. “It’s deep too. You and Master Thorn are the first to see an orc in five thousand years; would you say this fits their build?”

  Inara couldn’t recall seeing any orc who didn’t appear to be built from mountain stone. “They are a large breed,” she replied. “Why were they out here?” she wondered aloud.

  Edrik frowned, gesturing to the dead monsters. “I would say they were killing these beasts. Just hunting most likely.”

  The half-elf disagreed. “Look at their wounds. They weren’t killed by weapons. Look at the position of the bodies. This wasn’t a trap. The Sandstalkers and cave trolls were fighting each other. The orcs just came out afterwards and harvested what they needed.”

  “Harvested?” Edrik questioned. “They don’t appear butchered to me, besides the obvious…”

  “Look at the cave trolls,” Inara pointed out. “Their hide is made of rock. How many do you see with their skin intact?”

  Edrik turned on the spot, taking in the flayed trolls that surrounded them. “Master Thorn said the orcs already had armour. Obsidian he said.”

  Inara shook her head. “We are far from understanding how the mind of an orc works. For all we know they eat the hide…”

  Aldreon’s voice resounded clearly in all their minds. Over here, there are more tracks leading away from the skirmish.

  Along with Athis, the Dragorn wove their way through the graveyard and made it to the edge, where the golden dragon was sniffing at the ground. The orb floated above and shed light on the new tracks, distinctly different from the prints of a Sandstalker, cave troll or an orc.

  Horses, Athis confirmed.

  Three of them, Aldreon added. They fled the carnage and carried on south.

  “They were more than lucky to have survived this,” Edrik concluded, looking back at the massacre.

  “But who are they?” Inara asked, her curiosity piqued. “Orcs have lived underground for thousands of years. They don’t use horses. So who would be riding south through Syla’s Pass?”

  “Mindless men of no concern to the Dragorn,” Edrik declared. “If they aren’t orcs we shouldn’t busy ourselves with looking for them.”

  Inara had heard enough declarations spout forth from Edrik’s mouth. “Well, I am,” she glowered. “We have found prints most likely belonging to orcs, the only traces we have yet to find in these mountains, and now there are tracks to suggest that citizens of the realm are here too. It is the duty of the Dragorn to keep the people of Illian safe from all harm, so I am going to look for them.”

  Edrik raised his chin in an attempt to rise above the rebuking. “It is also the duty of the Dragorn to obey their master’s commands. Master Thorn has charged us with finding further evidence of orc activity, not going after some fools who are too stupid to know where they aren’t welcome.”

  No one commands a dragon, Athis insisted, and I am going south to find these people.

  Aldreon took a threatening step closer to the red dragon. A command from Master Thorn is a command from Ilargo.

  The four came head to head at their respective heights, locked together at an impasse. Inara had sharp words at the end of her tongue but she swallowed them when an unusual feeling rolled over the surface of her skin. She felt the hairs on her arms trying to stand on end under her leather jacket. The sensation eventually coalesced into a tingling at the base of her neck.

  Edrik and both dragons had felt it too and they all turned to the south, where only an empty valley resided. Still, the feeling continued to roll over them, rippling across their bodies.

  Magic! Athis exclaimed.

  There was no denying it. They had all felt the effects of powerful magic before, but only on The Lifeless Isles where so many dragons were in one place. This was something else though, something that pulsed with great magic from afar.

  Edrik looked at his hands, no doubt feeling everything that Inara was. “What could be using so much magic this far south of the realm? There’s no one here!”

  Inara dashed up Athis’s front leg and left wing until she was sat astride his neck. “I don’t know, but we’re going to find out. Are you with us?” she asked pointedly.

  Edrik glanced at Aldreon before bowing to Inara in agreement. “We are duty-bound, are we not?”

  The two dragons took off into the night with Paldora’s Fall in their sights.

  “Kill them,” The Crow ordered.

  As one, the dark mages raised their staffs and wands and let loose a salvo of colourful spells that banished the shadows with a light brighter than the sun. It was hard to say wh
o reacted first in Alijah’s eyes, as Galanör, the seasoned warrior, was already leaping to the side and ascending the adjacent boulder. Vighon, on the other hand, yanked hard on Alijah’s green cloak, sending them both tumbling backwards over the edge of the vine-wrapped boulder.

  The rock was impacted by a plethora of destructive spells and violently shattered in every direction, drawing out their cries.

  Alijah called upon every ounce of his elven heritage to orientate himself and flip in the air to avoid landing on his back. A quick bend of the knees absorbed the fall and he found himself in a crouch. Vighon, who was lying in a heap, jumped to his feet and barrelled into Alijah, slamming them both into one of the high walls of the crater’s veins.

  The half-elf would have found his friend’s bear-like hug to be a huge hindrance in an escape attempt, but the shield strapped to Vighon’s back saved them both. The dark mages unleashed spell after spell, filling the narrow space with dust and flashes of light.

  “Run!” Vighon said through gritted teeth as two more spells pummelled into his round shield and bounced off, cracking the rock on the high walls.

  Alijah had seen Vighon’s shield take a beating from spells before and knew well that the glyphs Hadavad had etched into the strong wood had enough power to safeguard their retreat. Vighon, however, was unable to balance a swift escape with the resistance he needed to stay on his feet. As Alijah rounded the corner, his friend was launched off his feet and pounded into the rocky wall.

  “Get up!” Alijah shouted, dragging Vighon down the next vein.

  Coughing and spluttering, Vighon finally found his feet again and recovered enough to take his shield in hand. The ancient glyphs were sizzling and glowing a brilliant blue in their intricate patterns.

  The half-elf nocked another arrow and let it fly past Vighon, his timing perfect. The projectile came to a sudden stop in the chest of the first mage to round the corner. His dead body quickly became an obstacle to those behind him, eager to give chase.

  “This way!” Alijah beckoned, another arrow already resting in his bow.

  The two ran through the maze dug into the crater’s floor, following the twists and turns as best they could in the gloom. The occasional spell exploded against the rock and saw them take a different turn to avoid their hunters. The farther out they ran, the shallower the network of veins became, but the giant boulders above continued to collide and smash into the floor, raining debris down on top of them.

  “We can’t climb out here!” Vighon exclaimed, raising his shield to protect him from the falling stones.

  Alijah looked back the way they had come. “We can’t go back either…”

  Proving his statement to be true, a group of dark mages rounded the sharp turn behind them and levelled their wands. Vighon raised his enchanted shield just in time to catch the first spells, though the force of them pushed him back into Alijah.

  “My arm’s going dead!” Vighon called back.

  “Duck!” Alijah commanded, his bow aimed.

  Vighon dropped only enough for Alijah to release his arrow and kill the closest of the necromancers. The shield came up again, giving Alijah enough time to reload his bow.

  “They’re here!” came the call from above.

  Alijah held onto his taut line and looked up to see a dark mage staring down at them, his staff glowing with the beginning of a spell. There was nothing to be done to avoid the inevitable assault, nowhere to hide and nowhere to run. As on countless times before, however, luck always had its part to play in Alijah’s life. A jagged boulder sailed past and swept the mage along with it, crushing him into the ground above them. The gruesome sound and dying scream were thankfully overpowered by the continued salvo of spells being hurled their way.

  “I can’t hold them back much longer!” Vighon warned.

  The threat gone from above, Alijah aimed down the narrow vein and fired his next arrow, easily picking off another mage. It was enough to give their pursuers pause and take cover around the corner, forcing them to fire blindly in their direction.

  Alijah dashed farther down the vein and found another turn. “This way!”

  In the second he turned to face Vighon, a mage of The Black Hand emerged from the darkness, his wand aimed high. With no time to nock an arrow, Alijah lashed out with his bow and knocked aside the wand. The spell went off next to his ear to deafening effect.

  Ignoring the ringing in his head, the half-elf clenched his fist and hammered the mage across the jaw. It hurt like hell, dissuading him from punching the man for a second time. A sharp elbow to the face drove the mage’s head into the wall, putting him down for good.

  Vighon came running up behind him, his shield smoking now as yet more spells bombarded the walls. They headed back into the maze of high walls and narrow veins, their sense of direction completely gone. The sound of fighting in the distance halted them both.

  “Galanör?” Alijah whispered, or at least he hoped he was whispering.

  Vighon sighed, slinging his shield over his back to soothe his arm. “I know I wouldn’t want to bump into him down here…”

  Alijah rubbed his ear. “Come on. We need to get back to the centre.”

  Vighon’s hand shot out over his friend’s chest. “You want to go back? Did you hit your head on the way down or what? There was a bloody angry dragon back there. Not to mention whatever’s going on—”

  The air was sucked out of the confined space as a bolt of lightning bounced off both sides of the vein, belabouring them with its incredible pitch. They instinctively dropped to their knees, only Vighon never made it as far as the ground. The northerner was thrown from his feet when the spell struck his shield, blasting him farther down the rocky corridor.

  His hearing was shot, but Alijah’s eyes caught sight of the mages through the debris. They were advancing from both ends of the vein, stepping over Vighon’s still form.

  Alijah coughed amid all the smoke. “Vighon!” he croaked.

  Vighon didn’t move.

  “Vighon…” he mumbled, tears welling in his eyes.

  The northman disappeared behind the massing mages, their black cloaks filling the narrow vein. Alijah did the only thing left to him in the name of survival; he went up.

  “Kill him!” came the shouts from below.

  Alijah leapt from one wall to the other until he gained enough height to reach the top. Rolling over the lip and onto the crater’s surface saved him from the bombarding spells that exploded behind him. Again, his thoughts rushed back to Vighon just lying there, his body already forgotten by The Black Hand.

  Two boulders converged on him, threatening death and robbing the opportunity to glance over the edge and see if his friend was moving. Alijah dashed out of the way but quickly found himself in the thick of a colliding rock storm.

  “Find him!” The command came up from the web of veins dug into the surface around him.

  Alijah dropped and rolled under another boulder, but he jumped up too soon and caught his shoulder on a smaller slab that ricocheted off another. Seeing the immediate need for two hands, Alijah collapsed his bow and tucked it away on his back, ready to climb.

  Up he went, using every nook and cranny to get a hold on the floating boulders. He jumped from one to another, often clinging flat to the surface as he waited for the perfect moment to make the next leap. It was only a glimpse, but Alijah caught sight of Galanör below, his scimitars shredding the walls and mages alike.

  Events had escalated somewhat. The feeling of guilt nibbled at his mind, but Alijah refused to feed it as his father’s words echoed through time from a memory he could barely recall.

  Acting against evil is the only thing a good man can do…

  If they survived this, Alijah knew he would be repeating those words in his struggle to find sleep.

  Round and round the boulders went. With each rotation, Alijah made his way back into the heart of Paldora’s Fall. The last boulder he scrambled over brought him directly over the top of the dar
k tunnel. Malliath writhed beneath him, his chains pulled this way and that to keep him under control. Still, his handlers remained cloaked in the shadows.

  Three more jumps and a partial fall saw the half-elf land safely on another boulder tethered by vines. The angle was awkward, preventing him from seeing past The Crow’s black robes. The resurrection spell was yet to be completed it seemed. There was still time.

  Looking around, The Crow was the only wizard present. Alijah concluded that those guarding the dragon could pose little threat since their task was mammoth by comparison to dealing with him. Just thinking about Malliath split his attention, clouding his determination. Alijah didn’t doubt that the dragon was to be slain as part of this despicable ritual, and he knew then that he would never let it come to that.

  The half-elf shook his head, focusing his thoughts. The Crow was protected behind a shield, but if the magic of Malliath was needed to complete Valanis’s resurrection, perhaps he only had to free the dragon…

  Alijah crept across the boulder and, using the vines, cautiously made his way down to the edge of the very centre of the crater. Being careful to stay behind and out of sight of The Crow, the rogue pulled free his silvyr short-sword and slowly made his way around to the tunnel entrance.

  From his vantage, Alijah could only see the hot breath of Malliath in the cold desert air. A quick glance to his side told him that The Crow was occupied and unaware of his presence. Hearing the chains rattle again, the rogue moved with the noise and peeked around the tunnel wall.

  Malliath occupied most of the available space, but Alijah couldn’t miss the large creatures standing beside the dragon, each pulling hard on the thick chains. Their eyes shone in the dark, caught by the firelight from the torches around the dais. Their skin was pale, tight against a solid form of muscle that was crowned by a head of horns.

  What were these beasts? He had never seen anything like them, but there were dozens of them surrounding Malliath. The dragon tugged against his restraints, forcing the pale creatures to dig their heels into the ground as they pulled harder on the chains.