A Land in Shadow

by Daniel Whitman

  “What do ye make of that, eh?” the gnome repeated.

  Turning to Nalgene, Andromeda found he was pointing at something to the east. Intrigued, she glanced to the far distance and saw great, orange ball of flame hurling through the sky like a fallen star reaching up to the heavens. Andromeda stared in wonder, the memory of the cloaked figure disappearing from her mind.

  “Wow, Fasto wonders. Fasto thinks go there,” Fasto declared, entranced, with drool leaking from his agape mouth. “Fasto go there now.”

  “You’re right, Fasto,” SmibSmob whispered, his blue eyes wide with amazement. “We need to head east, to reunite with the Flame.”

  “Brilliant,” Margaret remarked, examining the others with a disapproving look. “A ball of fire shooting up into the sky. Sure, let’s head straight for it. What could go wrong? I’m sure it’ll all work out for us.”

  “Yer durned right it will,” Nalgene laughed, skipping after Fasto, who was already heading toward the flame. “C’mon, me brother, let's go find us that bloody Flame.” Nodding eagerly, SmibSmob was more than happy to oblige.

  Margaret shot Nalgene a dirty look, but after a moment, followed him with a disgruntled sigh.

  Andromeda glanced over to Ro, who seemed hesitant to follow the others. Noticing her gaze on him, Ro gave her a weak smile, doubt shadowing his face. Andromeda walked over to him, a gentle glimmer in her toxic eyes. She brushed his back with her tail.

  “Let’s go, shall we?” she purred to him softly, before bounding forward to catch up with the others, leaving him alone behind.

  The companions trekked east along the barren wasteland, following behind Fasto to where the heavenly ball of flame hurled itself into the sky. As they marched along, the dim, distant sun rose steadily into the sky, but it provided little warmth, and less light. Far in the distance, the ruined carcass of a once great city rose up over the horizon. Determined, Fasto pushed them along, eager to reach the city before nightfall.

  As the cold, muted sun passed its zenith, the ragged companions found themselves upon an old, dusty road, as desolate as the rest of the unholy land. Following along the grim trail, they reached the fallen front gate of the devastated city just as the dull sun was sinking to the west. They were not alone. Calmly sitting atop a gray boulder on the edge of the dusty road was a lightly armored man, sharpening a shining greatsword with a worn whetstone.

  The man was fairly built, and of average height. He had short, black hair that was matted with sweat, and a dark, ragged beard like a shadow over his face. His eyes were fierce and showed a wisdom well beyond his age.

  Andromeda watched the strange man warily, her tail slowly flicking back and forth. Cautiously, she approached him, her halberd appearing in her hand.

  Noticing her approach, the man ran the whetstone across his greatsword one, final time, showering the ground in a hail of red sparks. He looked up, his brown eyes piercing her with a scrutinizing stare.

  “Good to see a fellow Spark still burning bright,” he hailed in a deep, weary voice.

  “Eh, what’re ye rabblin' about?” Nalgene said, moving up to stand behind Andromeda. “I ain’t no Spark or whatever ye be callin' me.”

  The man paused, his eyes narrowing. “Oh, is that so?” the man said, a dangerous undertone seeping into his voice. “In that case you must be Shadowfriends …”

  Slowly, he stood up, raising his greatsword out in front of him. With a raging roar the mighty sword burst into flames, billowing into an orange weapon of fury. Looking out from behind his sword, the man glared at the companions, his sharp eyes shooting daggers of ice. However, behind the man’s dangerous facade, Andromeda noticed uncertainty and doubt softly swirling in the man’s eyes.

  “Traitors of the Light don’t deserve to live,” he hissed, matching her scrutinizing stare.

  Andromeda planted her feet, holding her halberd out in a steady guard. Shaking away any distractions, her eyes targeted on the prey.

  Her tail slashed back and forth, and she prepared to fade into the growing darkness, her eyes gleaming with a demonic light. The other companions rushed up to support her, but she ignored them. She was already locked on the target.

  Embrace it.

  Suddenly, before she had time to react, before she even had time to breathe, her challenger was there, holding his fiery greatsword up to her throat.

  The immense heat from the flaming weapon washed over her, blasting her out of her shadowy stealth. Andromeda tried to flee, tried to retreat and embrace the darkness, but she could not move. The man’s dark eyes held her like an iron vice, their accusing stare locking her in place. Her companions were shouting and raising their weapons in a panic against the man. But in her shock, Andromeda did not hear them. She did not even hear the faint hesitation in the man’s voice. All she heard was a deep growling sealing her fate in a soft promise of vengeance.

  “Prepare to die.”

  Chapter 3

  “Wait!” SmibSmob cried at Andromeda. She did not hear him. SmibSmob’s dark power began to prod at the back of his mind like a persistent itch, begging to burst free. Time seemed to move in slow motion, each moment passing by like a trickling river, every heartbeat seeming to last an eternity. He saw Nalgene come up behind Andromeda and speak to the man. He saw the ragged man stand up ever so calmly. Then he saw the man’s fierce greatsword ignite like the flames of a thousand suns.

  I thought we were supposed to be reunited with the Flame, not destroyed by it!

  He saw Andromeda plant her clawed feet, her deceivingly delicate frame fading away into the black of night. Her halberd was raised out in front of her, and her sharp, feline eyes shone like two shimmering beacons. Then, suddenly, the man was there, his fiery greatsword raging against Andromeda’s neck.

  The darkness within SmibSmob crashed against the walls in his mind in a frenzy. He hated his distasteful power: its constant shadow present at the edges of his mind, its vile taint that left him with a dreadful feeling of disgust, and most of all its corrupting influence that twisted his very being into one of darkness and despair. But without it, he felt so … empty, devoid of any meaning. And Andromeda needed help, needed his help.

  So be it.

  Pushing past his doubts, SmibSmob tore down the barriers set strong within his mind and allowed the darkness to overcome him like a raging torrent.

  The dark power rumbled through SmibSmob’s body, filling him with a new and twisted energy. Life coursed through him, and he felt as if he could conquer all of Ansalon. His senses were heightened, expanding his mind into the neighboring lands. He could see the smallest detail in the world around him. He could hear even the faint sound of his companions’ beating hearts. He could feel the weakest breeze blowing across the forsaken ground. The shadow within flowed through his blood, sending black, crackling power arcing across his fingertips. His mellow, blue eyes now glowed with an unearthly, purple light. A thin smile slowly spread across his lips.

  So be it.

  Glancing back at Andromeda, SmibSmob saw her lying on the ground, a look of shock and surprise upon her face. The man with the incendiary greatsword had turned to Nalgene, an icy glare shooting from his eyes. Behind him, the other companions were rushing to Andromeda’s aid, but he ignored them. He had more important matters at hand. Raising his hand, SmibSmob conjured a great ball of darkness that swirled around like a vortex of shadow.

  With an evil chuckle, he hurled the magical globe at the man and braced himself to receive the influx of revitalizing energy. Alarmed, the enraged man’s eyes shot up. The man’s face twisted into an annoyed frown, and his greatsword lowered to the ground. And then he vanished. SmibSmob felt the faint disturbance in the air and heard the faint scuffing on the ground as the man darted about. Suddenly, he appeared at SmibSmob’s side, his greatsword descending upon the gnome with staggering precision. A searing pain exploded into SmibSmob’s side as the sword struck, and a wave of heat rolled over him. Before he could even hope to dodge, he was sent stumbling
back by the immense weight of the blow. Coughing up blood, SmibSmob glared up at his attacker, his dark rage boiling deep within.

  How dare he strike me …

  Crawling back to his feet, SmibSmob raised his hands once more, preparing to unleash a devastating wave of shadow down upon the miserable offender. But the transgressor had already disappeared.

  Before SmibSmob could react, Nalgene rushed over to him, a look of concern twisting his gnarled face with worry. “Are ye alright, me brother?” Nalgene said, his voice shaking. “Fer some reason he only hit ye with the flat o’ his sword …”

  Nodding curtly, and not really caring what Nalgene had to say, SmibSmob glanced around, trying to find where his pathetic sinner had scurried off to.

  He’s always worrying. Spare me.

  Finding the offender clashing with Ro, SmibSmob raised his hands, ready to deliver justice. Beside him, Nalgene was doing the same, but SmibSmob ignored him. He had more important matters at hand. Writhing tendrils of shadow rose from his hands, and billowing darkness oozed out of him in a sickening aura.

  Now he must die.

  A wicked smile wide on his face, SmibSmob launched two devastating beams of shadow from his hands, crackling black energy swirling about the beams in a twisting web of destruction. With a burst of darkness, the twin beams rammed into the side of the pitiful transgressor, sending him sliding back across the barren ground.

  Rejuvenating energy surged through SmibSmob in a tingling wave of euphoria. The pain in his side lessened, and the blistering burn marks from the fiery greatsword faded away, leaving not even the faintest hint of their existence.

  Staggering back, the wretched sinner glared up at SmibSmob, his eyes filled with a burning rage. Cackling maliciously, SmibSmob raised his hands, ready to rain down more vile beams of darkness on his offender. But the sinner was not there. SmibSmob felt the faint murmur in the air, heard the quiet rustle of the dead grass. Prepared this time, SmibSmob whirled about, his purple cloak fanning around him like a dark orchid of death. Black energy arced forth from his hands, ready to obliterate his pathetic transgressor in a swirling void of shadow. But he was not fast enough. With a sickening crack the man slammed the pommel of his fearsome greatsword into SmibSmob’s face, shattering his nose and sending him stumbling to the earth in anguish. The man glared at SmibSmob, before disappearing once more.

  SmibSmob landed hard on the ground, his breath blasted from his frail body. His eyes blurred, and tears started streaming down his face. He did not notice. All he felt was his foul, twisted power retreating from his mind, leaving him panting on the cold ground. He was nothing more than an exhausted husk. His senses dulled, and the void of emptiness clawed itself back open inside him. He was empty and broken without his power’s tantalizing touch, yet still purer than when he indulged in its corrupting grasp.

  Nalgene bolted over to SmibSmob, and crouched protectively above him, his face a mixture of rage and despair. “Me brother! Are ye alright?” Nalgene cried while placing his hands atop SmibSmob’s chest.

  A trickling ripple of water surged from Nalgene’s hand to spread over SmibSmob’s body, basking him a cool, silky embrace. Immediately, energy returned to SmibSmob like an explosion of life. The searing pain from his face began to ebb away, and his fractured nose reformed itself under the cooling water.

  Coughing, SmibSmob slowly sat up, his whole body aching with the effort. “Yes, I’m alright, just a little sore, that’s all.”

  Oh, what would I do without Nalgene …? He’s always there for me, worrying about my well-being. Even through our arguments, he’s always there.

  Smiling with joy, Nalgene stood up with a lone tear trickling down his face. “Atta boy! What a mighty fine beatin’ ye took just then,” he snorted, a faint chuckle hidden under his breath. “Ain’t no man ever gonna beat up us gnomes, eh?”

  Wiping the solitary tear from his face, Nalgene turned to face the rest of the companions, who were still locked in combat against the fearsome man. With a grunt, he charged over to aid them in the clash, swirling orbs of water rising from his gnarled hands.

  With a weak smile, SmibSmob stood up, turning to see how the rest of his companions were faring. He knew he would not be able to call upon his power for some time, as he had over-exerted himself. Even so, thanks to Mariah, he could still help them.

  Reaching up, he pulled the large, pointed hat from atop his head.

  Reaching in and praying for something helpful, he felt around the inside of the hat, his stubby fingers exploring around the expansive folds of the cloth. The hat, one of his gifts from Mariah, was still an enigma to him. It seemed to be much larger on the inside, as if the hat reached down into an endless void. He did not understand how he knew the hat would produce an item from its endless midst. He just knew, as if some long-lost memory had awoken within his mind. Earlier, he was able to pull out an exquisitely crafted mace of the finest black steel and used it to bash any undead that had wandered too close in the dreadful forest. But he did not choose to summon a mace then, it just … happened. Suddenly, his fingers brushed against something, and with a burst of excitement, he hastily pulled it out to examine his find. As he studied the object, a disappointed frown spread across SmibSmob’s face. Clutched in his frail hand was a fresh, steaming loaf of bread.

  What am I supposed to do with this, throw it at him?

  Sighing, SmibSmob tossed the bread behind him.

  His disappointment was only heightened as he gazed at his companions, who were still clashing with the mighty man. Fasto and Margaret lay on the ground, covered in various painful — yet surprisingly not fatal — injuries. Nalgene crouched over Margaret, who had severe burn marks across her chest. Water flowed from the gnome’s hands, washing over Margaret in its healing embrace. Fasto lay next to her, similar burn marks marring the side of his face. Ro and Andromeda fought side-by-side against the man, their animal figures twirling around each other in a devastating dance of death. Ro donned his longsword and shield, and Andromeda her halberd, and together they were driving the man back. But there was hesitation in Andromeda’s swings, and confusion and intrigue shadowed her face.

  Suddenly, the man vanished once more, but immediately reappeared behind Andromeda, his raging greatsword homing in on her delicate back. This time SmibSmob felt no disturbance in the air, and heard no scuffling on the barren, dead ground. With a fiery slash, the man cut across Andromeda’s back, sending her lifeless body crashing forward into the dusty earth.

  With a furious, thundering roar, Ro whirled around to face the man, his longsword already slicing across, ready to deliver the final blow. The man was not ready. He did not see it coming and there was no way he would be able to dodge. The longsword arced in; its aim true upon the man’s exposed neck. With a thud the sword crashed into the man’s neck but stopped as if striking against an impenetrable shield. Only a shallow cut could be seen upon the man’s neck, and only the faintest trickle of blood oozed out. The man glanced down at the shining longsword at his neck, and then up to a bewildered Ro.

  Swinging his fearsome greatsword, the man parried away Ro’s longsword, launching it from the draconian’s clawed grasp. Shooting forward, his eyes gleaming with a murderous light, the man slammed the octagonal pommel into Ro’s chest. With a grunt of pain, Ro staggered back under the blow. Twirling around, the man swept out Ro’s legs, sending him crashing down to the cold, desolate ground like a fallen giant. The man’s eyes shot up, their accusing glare fixating on SmibSmob. Letting out a weak cry, SmibSmob tried to retreat, tried to get away from the penetrating gaze. He reached into his hat again, his fingers frantically searching for something, anything that might help him against the terrifying monster before him. He found nothing. The man took a step forward, his flaming greatsword rising like a beacon of doom.

  “Ho, Captain Osann, is it? Hold yourself for a moment,” a charming, sing-song voice said from the ruined city. “Now, what seems to be the problem?”

  SmibSmob froze, his
mind writhing in thought.

  Captain? Explains a lot, I suppose. This man is no amateur.

  Captain Osann paused, and his mighty greatsword extinguished its billowing flames. Turning, his eyes locked on the newcomer, he gave a respectful nod of his head. “Good to see a fellow Spark still —”

  “Oh, spare me the formalities Osann,” the newcomer interrupted, striding out to stand in front of the Captain. The man was a short, frail man with a thin, pale face showing out from under a draping hood. A flowing, crimson cloak flowed about him in a scarlet wave. Various pouches and trinkets hung loosely at his waist, and a deck of shimmering, metal cards riffled through his nimble hands. Stopping in front of the Captain, he gave a mischievous, crooked smile, and with a flourishing gesture, the shining cards vanished. Captain Osann stiffened and opened his mouth as if to protest.

  “Yes, yes,” the cloaked man snickered, giving an exaggerated bow. “May your light pierce the Shadow.”

  As the man was rising from his bow, SmibSmob heard a feral growl, and he whipped his head around, only to see Nalgene glaring at the newcomer, a swirling orb of water raised high above his head. Behind him stood Margaret, her vicious, demon arm swirling with a vortex of ice, and Fasto, with a piercing arrow drawn and nocked in his marvelous bow, ready to release at a moment's notice.

  “And who do ye be? Name yerself,” Nalgene commanded in a gruff voice, the swirling water twirling above his head in a tantalizing threat of doom.

  Chuckling to himself, the cloaked figure turned to the companions, and scrutinized them with his shallow, green eyes. His eyebrow raised, and he mumbled something quietly to himself. Looking about deliberately, he let his hard gaze fall upon each of the companions, studying them with a knowing eye. SmibSmob swore that the strange man had rested his gaze upon him a heartbeat more than the others, but he shook away the thought. With a soft chuckle, the man turned back to face Nalgene.