Saving The Dark Side Book 2: The Harbingers

by Joseph Paradis

  Chapter 19

  Shadow Tide

  “Where. Have. You. Been.” Kreed’s voice was deadly quiet, as if teetering between restraint and rampage.

  Habbad strolled into Kreed’s office, admiring the paintings on the walls. Half of the artwork depicted scenes of detailed torture, while other works displayed captivating landscapes. It was certainly better than he could do, even with his newly acquired skills with the brush. Habbad recognized the style and stroke patterns, but he wondered where the artist had sourced the acrylics. He took his time inspecting a few others, but a sudden increase in Kreed’s disquiet told him that he’d better humor the man before blood was wasted.

  “Aren’t you happy to see me?” Habbad asked, unable to hide his pleasure. He was now the same height as Kreed. “Notice anything different?”

  “You’re a hair away from having your skin removed from the toes up. Answer my question.” Kreed’s tone went even lower as intent flashed in his eyes. His haggard glare cut into Habbad like a kinked blade dragged over silk.

  “I’ve been keeping busy,” Habbad replied, glancing down at Kreed’s desk. He ran his fingertips over the blanket of letters and maps. “It looks as if you’ve been busy yourself. How’s Talin? Or should I call him Sorronis?”

  Kreed snapped at last. He wheeled around the desk. The snow-white arm of his suit rippled through the air as a letter opener gleamed in his fist. His hand came to a slapping halt as Habbad’s fingers clamped around Kreed’s wrist.

  “Come now, Father Kreed,” Habbad warned. “We mustn’t put action before reason. You ought to hear me out before burying that piece of metal in my ear. Aren’t you the least bit curious to learn what I’ve been doing for Grotton over the last two months?” Habbad gave Kreed’s wrist a satisfying squeeze, marveling at his new strength over his old nightmare.

  Kreed wrenched his hand free, rubbing it as he took a seat in his high-backed chair. His face sagged with a weariness that made him look old for the first time in Habbad’s memory. “There’s more to Grotton’s magic than acquiring a few Domina, but you’ve piqued my interest. What silly animal did you lie to for the height?”

  “A man down in the Wind District found himself wanting for power. I gave it to him, for a price. Florien took offense to our contract, but it’s not like he lost his friend. He just works for me now.” Habbad stretched himself as tall as he could, admiring the view. He’d never looked down at Kreed before.

  Kreed’s mouth fell open. “You took an Aenerian for Domina?”

  “Obviously,” Habbad said, waving his hands over his Aenerian-sized body.

  “Habbad…” Kreed drifted off, his eyes scanning the walls as if a fitting response were scribbled on one of his paintings. “Habbad my sweet, that’s impossible. Such a thing has never been done, yet here you are!” He jumped from his chair, lunging at Habbad once more, only this time with a joyful embrace. His eyes swam with happy tears as he gripped the arms of Habbad’s crimson suit. “You incredible, jewel of a boy! At first I didn’t think you had the makings for Harbinger, but here you are delving into uncharted pools of Grotton’s magic. How, how did you do it?”

  Habbad waited for Kreed to loosen his grip and grant him some personal space. “It wasn’t easy. I had to find a man broken by life and show him that Grotton’s gifts were his only salvation. Now he’s happy, inside me. I helped his revenge bear fruit, and granted him a life of significance.” Habbad placed a solemn hand over his chest, feeling where Dirken resided. “Once I learned how to bend the will of one, the others folded easily enough. Everyone has a price, even you.”

  “Others?” Kreed asked, worry tugging at his smile. “How many?”

  “I know you have a duty to protect your people, but trust me when I say they all gave themselves freely. I didn’t take a single one that didn’t want it.”

  “How many?” Kreed repeated.

  Habbad ran his tongue over the inside of his lip as he skimmed through his catalogue of memories from the last two months. “I don’t know, I lost track after ten. Twenty? Perhaps thirty or forty? What does it matter?”

  “It matters to me. They were my people. You had no right.” Kreed wrung venom into every word. His hands dripped with shimmering black Fear as they gripped the edge of his desk.

  Habbad felt Decreath rising from the depths of Kreed’s essence. Invisible clouds of Fear permeated the office, dimming and freezing his limbs as a sound not of this world howled from the shadows. Habbad may have amassed a measure of power through his host of Aenerian Domina, but he was still no match for one of The Three. Not until he proved himself a worthy Harbinger. Grotton had yet to bless him with Hunger’s true grace.

  His Fear-chilled veins creaking with every step, Habbad rushed over to Kreed, placing a hand flat on the Harbinger’s chest. “They are not gone, Father Kreed. They are within me, willingly and gratefully serving The Three with every pulse of their souls. I am but a tool, a messenger to bring about the second coming of our lords. I have already done much to further their aims. Even as we speak, my webs weave themselves across the dark side. Oberon City will soon feel the ripple of my influence.”

  Habbad’s words seemed to go unheard. Kreed’s eyes filled with infinite blackness as his broken grin released an endless breath, his head rolling back slightly. He wrapped a ginger hand around Habbad’s, pouring the crippling Fear into him.

  Habbad knew he was at Decreath’s mercy. With all his Domina aiding him, he prayed to the god of terror, promising every favor within his power. The Fear pulled him deeper, tearing memories with feral indulgence from every mind within Habbad’s control. Though it was excruciating, he fed the black god, wading his naked mind through fields of razor grass in hopes of appeasing him. Before he knew what was happening, Habbad fell from himself, from the present. He was back in his stone prison, watching Lexy burn at the base of the tower. Not even Kreed had brought him here, as the awesome Fear of that moment had all but killed everything he was. His sanity slipped on the edge of a knife. Decreath gripped him just a little tighter before finally fading away.

  Habbad gasped, sweaty and somehow on the floor. He rose back to his feet, finding Kreed’s eyes watching him with condescending disdain.

  “Cocky little shit, aren’t you?” Kreed said, throwing a handkerchief to Habbad. “Your every breath is a gift from Decreath. Don’t you ever forget that, or I’ll shove you back in that stone tub and you’ll watch sweet Lexy burn ever more. Now clean yourself up and convince me why I shouldn’t reunite you with your sister.”

  Habbad wiped the sweat from his face and flattened out the front of his coat. Shaking the residual Fear from his bones, he took a steadying breath. “Over the last two months I built a network of sorts. With Grotton’s arts I garnered a wealth of knowledge with every Domina in my employ. With this knowledge came an understanding of whole industries, economies, political ties, all given willingly from Hungry minds. Most important of all were the secrets. Old, forgotten secrets, which I then used for our advantage. There were little things too, such as your head of transportation cheating on her husband. But then there were other secrets so juicy that they may as well have been keys to the city.”

  Kreed raised an eyebrow. “And what might one of these juicy secrets be? I find it hard to believe that anything significant could have slipped past my own informants. My priests are most adept with trading Fear for information.”

  “But who is keeping your priests in check?” Habbad asked, a measure of confidence returning to him. “One of Decreath’s own, a priest by the name of Jahdiic has been siphoning your stock of Underkin for the past three cycles. It seems the man had a change of heart after falling in love with a female Underkin. If Jahdiic had not betrayed you, there would have been enough livestock for another two towers in this last Devotion. The Colossi that attacked Morthain would likely have been strong enough to capture the human.”

  A shadow fell over Kreed’s face. For a moment Habbad Feared another lashing from Decreath. “Ja
hdiic will pay with his sanity, and then his life. Perhaps I’ll hold another Devotion, just for him. His own children will contribute to the next Colossus.”

  Habbad slapped a hand down on Kreed’s desk. “Don’t. Fear of your priests wasn’t enough to keep him from betraying you, but his Fear of reprisal is a boon to us now. The Underkin he spirited away have flourished over the cycles. Their numbers are staggering, the vast majority of which lie within the city of Dorada. Recently Jahdiic has been most cooperative in harvesting and moving the stock for us, and thanks to your head of transportation the first shipment will arrive within a week. We can sustainably draw dozens of Underkin every two weeks, and within a cycle the population will be equal to the pre-Devotion levels. Your house could do with a proper cleaning, and you know the gardens have been running wild.”

  As Habbad made his case, Kreed’s scowl lifted to his old, manic grin. “Habbad you wonderful, wonderful boy! No, wonderful man!” Tears welled once more as Kreed seized Habbad and hugged him close. “Do you really mean it? We’ll have all our Underkin back within a mere cycle?”

  Habbad raised his chin. “Judge me by my results, not my words.”

  “I’m so sorry my boy. It seems I mistook your confidence for arrogance.” Kreed released Habbad, appraising him with newfound respect. “So what does this make you now, a secret-slinger? A bribery-broker?”

  Habbad shrugged. “I prefer Underking. Or at least that’s what citizens have taken to calling me. I have yet to reveal my identity in a transaction, so I’ve retained my anonymity while weaving my networks.”

  “I wonder, how far does that web reach? Did I lose my mind for a moment or did you say that you had influence in Oberon City?” Kreed’s voice resonated with genuine Hunger. Habbad held back Grotton’s temptations to capitalize on the opportunity.

  “I have hands in every city on the Light Side, and the majority of the Dark. By your grace I won’t reveal how, but I have tugged a few strings within the walls of Oberon Temple itself.” Habbad finished, savoring the effect his words had over the Aenerian.

  Kreed hung off every word. It became increasingly more difficult for Habbad to refrain from drawing out his Hunger.

  “Trust must be earned, my sweet,” Kreed admonished as he waggled a finger. “But, I’d say you’ve earned a sliver of mine. You’ve accomplished so much off the leash, it would be a shame if I tied you up now. I want to see you fly. There’s no limit to the value of a well-guarded secret, so you may keep yours for now.”

  “Thank you, Father Kreed. Though you may not be privy to the minutia of my operations, know that the information market is nestled safely under the wings of The Three. That being said, I have no intention of leaving you entirely starved.”

  “Oh?” Kreed’s eyes flashed with the Hunger again.

  Habbad picked up a heavy pen from the desk, twirling it in the light. “As I said before, everyone has their price. No one, not even the Celestial Council is immune to that fact.”

  Air rushed through Kreed’s teeth, visibly filling him with questions. However, he shut his eyes and released them with a long hiss. “You sure know how to wet a whistle, Habbad. I yearn for every little detail, but heavens do I love surprises. The Celestial Council fell first to Grotton you know. It’s most fitting they taste his honeyed-words once more. Words crafted from the lips of the Underking no less.” Kreed shut his eyes and moaned, “Momentous things are on the horizon. I can feel it in my marrow.”

  “I’ve heard tell of a few of these momentous tidings.” Habbad laid a heavy gaze upon Kreed. “You plan to move on Oberon City. When?”

  Kreed shook his head, smiling. “Now now Habbad, secrets lose their value if bandied about like candy. I have my own little information economy to maintain.”

  Habbad waited for Kreed to finish giggling. “That’s well and good, Father Kreed, but I can do more with the information than you can. I could find out on my own, though I’d rather not taint certain knowledge pools. So please, indulge me.”

  Kreed sighed, “Oh you’re probably right. Depending on reports from Morthain, we could be ready to move within a week.”

  “Morthain has fallen. The Colossi razed the city yesterday,” Habbad said.

  “But of course you would find out before me!” Kreed whipped his arm out, sending the letter opener whirring through the air. It buried itself in the wall with a twang. “I’m only the fucking chief of every department-head in Costas. How on Oberon’s backside am I supposed to bring about a revolution if I’m not kept up-to-date? Is there anything else I should know about?”

  “As a matter of fact, yes. The reason for my visit was to bring you a gift. You’ll have to follow me outside to meet them, however. Your guards wouldn’t let them in the house.” Habbad motioned for the door, beckoning Kreed. “Come, take a break from your labors and see the fruits of mine.”

  Kreed massaged his forehead in little circles. With a groan, he stood to his feet, clapping his hands together. “Show me what you’ve wrought. I could use the fresh air and sunlight.”

  “After me then,” Habbad gave a curt nod before popping out of the office.

  Kreed’s shoes clacked along with Habbad’s as the Underking led the Harbinger to the stairs leading to the roof.

  “The cabana huh?” Kreed asked, keeping close behind. “There’s a trick at every turn with you, my friend. What manner of gift might this be?”

  “One that will change how this game is played,” Habbad replied, quickening his pace. “I’ll let them introduce themselves. They are eager to meet you and I doubt my description would do them justice.”

  Kreed giggled, clapping his hands together rapidly. He urged Habbad faster, nudging them into a run. They skipped up the final flight and popped through the door. The light from Jindaere’s golden sun splashed across their faces.

  A vine-covered pergola shaded half the rooftop cabana, while a marble patio and winding pool took the full strength of the seasonal sunlight. They each cast their own spells to deaden the harsh light, rubbing the magic into their eyes. Kreed walked up to the bar, leaning his elbows on the dark oak surface.

  “Kevan! Where the hell are you?” Kreed leaned over the bar, screaming down the hall to the staff room. “Kevan! I need a drink!” Hissing, he turned back to Habbad. “That shipment of Underkin can’t come soon enough. Not once did any of those little bastards abandon their post, or show up less than half an hour early for their shift. For what I’m paying Kevan he should live up here for Decreath’s sake. I’m too damn soft on the Aenerians. Perhaps I should start placing the derelicts on probation…”

  “I sent Kevan and your other staff away for the hour,” Habbad said, hopping over the bar with the agility of a mirak. He rummaged through shelves high and low, collecting various ingredients required for Kreed’s favorite drink. In seconds he whipped up a pair of fizzing cocktails in copper mugs. “It wouldn’t be appropriate for them to witness this. Here.” He slid Kreed the mug.

  Kreed took a noisy sip. “This cocktail is superb. Did you take a bartender for Domina? No, never mind, I don’t want to know. So where is this gift then?”

  Habbad inclined his head towards a shaded corner of the patio, which looked entirely too dark in the bright sunlight. The shadow bent into three looming figures, their outlines hazy and intangible. As they stepped into the light the shadows melted from them, revealing three skinny figures that looked like walking skeletons. Their dark robes were wispy and frayed, as though made from storm clouds. The material seemed to consume the surrounding light with each flowing strand, shrouding their forms as if coated with liquid shadow.

  The tallest approached Kreed and peeled back a hooded shawl, revealing a face that appeared to have been semi-digested in the belly of a nightmare. Its nose, lips, and ears looked as if they had been chewed off by something with dull teeth. The features it did have were sexless and pale, like a skull bleached by starlight. If not for a slight bust and feminine gait, there would have been little differentiating the
thing from an emaciated corpse. It pulled its lipless smile into a wild, demon’s grin, showing off a cluster of thin, crowded teeth that looked more like a bundle of dirty fingers.

  The thing inclined its head, staring down at Kreed through a translucent ash-grey bandana. A sultry female voice somehow glided out of her misshapen mouth: “Greetings, Harbinger.”

  Habbad cleared his throat. “Father Kreed, may I introduce-”

  “The Cold Crows require no introduction in my house,” Kreed interrupted. His eyes were wide and apprehensive, though his mouth curled in disdain. “What brings you here, shadow-witch?”

  The Crow’s neck twitched as she clicked her cluster of teeth. Her half-lips wormed together in a scowl. “We come to serve the Unholy Trinity.”

  Kreed leaned back as her breath hit him. “I’m aware of that. I’m also aware of how easily your loyalty sways with your vagaries. Decreath has no use for mercenaries who play turncoat when tempted with a few sweet promises.”

  The Crow pulled her cheeks back into a grin. She slid around Kreed, her twitching fingers flowing like water over his shoulders. Kreed’s eyes closed as she worked her hands gingerly over his shoulders and chest. The Crow brought her mouth to his ear: “We serve all of The Trinity, Harbinger. Even you. We may be hired blades, but we only take contract with the blessing of the gods. We may further the lusts of a god other than your own, but you mustn’t be greedy, Harbinger, that is Grotton’s treat. Keep in mind when Grotton and Sorronis gain, Decreath swells.” Her hands wandered down Kreed’s stomach and grasped at his crotch.

  Kreed’s face snapped to stone as he clapped his hands over the Crow’s, whipping her around and throwing her from him. “Your arts hold no power over Decreath, witch. Make your case to the Dread Father or begone.”

  Black smoke leaked from the corners of Kreed’s mouth. Habbad took a step back before the Fear could touch him.

  The Crow twisted around, clutching her wrist with a wicked grin as she fell into her siblings. The other Crows stiffened as the shadows swirled around them like coiling snakes. She assuaged her sisters with a tender stroke before addressing Kreed again.