The Shadow Realm (The Age of Dawn Book 4)

by Everet Martins

  “I… I need some time, Ny. I don’t know what’s real anymore.” He rose up and looked to the sky, his head going back and forth as if looking for something.

  “I’m real. This, all of this is real. I’m here for you.” She grabbed his arm, rigid with tension. Why wouldn’t he look at her?

  “The demons are at my door. They want me back. They call to me. They’re here, all around. Sometimes… all I can see is red in the sky.”

  “No.” She squeezed his arm. “Be here, you’re here.” She pushed her hand through her hair, pulling as she did it.

  “Yeah. I’m here, I’m here now.” He looked back at her, his lips parting into a smile. “The way I escaped the Shadow Realm—” he squatted down, brushing his opened palm in a pile of dust, making it whirl into the air. “The Dragon and Phoenix are in me now, stronger, closer than ever. It’s like they are me and I am them. I tried to embrace the Dragon last night at the Devil’s Axe and I could hardly control it. Its power was overwhelming. It felt like it was burning me alive from the inside.”

  “Wow… that’s quite unlike the sensation I get. I feel a surge of strength, like I want to go and build a house. Speaking of which—”

  “Ny, it took everything I had to press the power of the Dragon down back within. I’m afraid of touching it now, likewise for the Phoenix.”

  “Tell me more while we walk.” She rose up and offered her hand. He took it and for the remainder of the day he spilled out with all of his pain and she hers. It didn’t matter what they did, she was just glad he was back.

  Chapter Nine

  Divisions

  “Dragon’s Breath: When the wielder of the Dragon imagines a cone of fire pouring out from one’s finger tips, this is commonly known as Dragon Breath. It’s a spell many learn without knowing its proper name and is second nature to those touched by the Dragon. It has a limited range of about eight feet, but covers a wide area.” -The Lost Spells of Zoria

  “We have to go back.” Walter said, thumping his stump on the enormous table. He had hit it harder than he meant, rattling elixir ales and a jug of water. His stump ached, seeming unable to take the impact as well as a fist might have. The table was long enough to seat twenty, a heavy oak trimmed in a dark walnut with sharp corners.

  His arm, Baylan’s arm. His eye for Juzo’s eye. He couldn’t help but feel by the very nature of his wounds that he had paid some sort of debt. Baylan lost his arm trying to heal the Cerumal armor he had impulsively donned. Had Juzo not found that damn sword, had Walter stopped him when he saw the early sign of him changing, maybe he could’ve prevented the loss of his friend’s eye. He hoped he had cleared most of the debt on that ledger now. There wasn’t much of him left they could take. A grin formed on his lips at that thought. It was the same grin he wore when turning demons into blood.

  “Something funny?” Juzo asked, gently sending an elbow into his side.

  “Just a pleasant memory,” Walter replied.

  Walter, Juzo, Nyset, and Grimbald sat quietly huddled at the center. The rest of the room was empty except for the dining table and a tuft of sawdust piled in a corner. The glass had yet to arrive for a few of the windows. They were draped with heavy canvas sections in an attempt to keep out the whipping sands and waterfalls that sporadically emptied from the clouds. The walls were limestone, selected and placed by Grimbald, all interlocking with the touch of a true craftsman. Around the walls were iron scones, sputtering with tongues of Dragon fire. The roof rose high, sharply pitched, and gave the room the feeling of having far too much empty space.

  The cool evening air flicked the canvas window coverings aside as it entered the room, pushing out some of the day’s oppressive warmth. The clashing of lizard horns ramming together sounded from outside. The blown sand hissed against the new Tower’s walls.

  The adjacent rooms of the new Tower were left undeveloped. They would have to be finished when they had more resources, as the marks Juzo had acquired were quickly exhausted to finish the roof and pay the hired help. Walter did what he could, little as it was, in the last few days to help them close up the roof and lay down the stone shingles before the next heavy rain. It was finished enough for now though and he had been glad to have a little part in it.

  They had spent the last few hours catching up with each other, rejoicing at Walter’s return and trading stories. Claw and Senka remained outside at Nyset’s request. Apparently, Nyset had made all manner of friends lately. She told them about Isa, the assassin who had met her in the graveyard. Isa had told her if she needed him that she was to place a bell he gave her beside the new Tower’s sign. He would come running, a bit like a well-trained dog, Walter supposed.

  Grimbald seemed to have grown mighty uneasy at that discussion. Walter supposed his having fought against a Tower assassin with Baylan in the Lair might have been why, but it was always hard to tell what he was thinking. He seemed to have grown even larger by Walter’s estimation. Maybe from all the construction work, or maybe he really was part giant. He was still taller and wider than any man Walter had ever known.

  “I can’t go back. I have too much responsibility here.” Nyset scoffed. “I can’t abandon my post now. I’m the Arch Wizard, damn it.” She crossed her arms and leveled her big eyes at him.

  Walter grunted. She was right. There were at least two fronts that needed to be managed. How could they do it and stay together?

  “I need to see if my parents… if my parents survived.” Juzo twirled a string of gray hair around his fingers.

  “What about Shipton? Has anyone heard any news?” Grimbald asked, one corner of his lip twitched up. “I sent a messenger shortly after we arrived, haven’t heard anything….” He frowned down into his wooden mug, took a great glug and swished it around his mouth before swallowing. “Mm. My complements to the ale selector.” He beamed and foam danced on his lips.

  Walter snickered and Nyset rolled her eyes, as Grimbald had selected the brew. Supposedly, it had sat in casks with the husks of living Sand Buckeyes for three months. Walter took another slurp of his, peering down into his mug at the dark green hue of the drink. There was something odd about beer that resembled the colors of the forest. He thought he remembered Nyset enjoying beer.

  Juzo nibbled at his upper lip, one tooth snagging on it and seeming painfully close to breaking skin. “Haven’t heard anything, Grim.”

  “Neither have I.” Walter shrugged.

  “I’d assume the dead don’t hear all that much.” Juzo grinned at him, corner of his scarlet eye wrinkled.

  Walter punched Juzo in the shoulder, who then threw himself off his chair. Juzo writhed on the ground, moaning and laughing. His boot kicked a block of scrap wood across the floor, thumping into an unpainted wall.

  “Glad to see some things haven’t changed.” Nyset snickered.

  Walter leapt from his chair and feigned stomping on Juzo. Juzo grunted with each blow, his whole body vibrating as if he were being struck by lightning. Walter offered his stump first, then switched it to his hand. Not having a hand was going to take a lot of getting used to. He pulled Juzo up and clapped him on the shoulder. “By the Dragon, it’s nice to be back in the land of the living.”

  “Eh?” Juzo raised a brow at him and brushed sawdust from his back.

  “We need to get to the Great Retreat if the Death Spawn truly march there, assuming your man can be trusted, Ny,” Walter said, and plopped into his chair.

  “I trust him, as should you. He helped me haul your limp body out of the graveyard.”

  “I suppose that will do it for me,” Walter nodded. Walter didn’t think there was a form of loyalty with deeper roots than that.

  “Grim, we can stop by Shipton on the way back, make sure everything is alright. I miss your dad’s flour cakes.” Walter remembered how crispy they were on the outside, gooey and soft in the middle. His mouth filled with saliva.

  Grimbald grunted. “Maybe we could leave some men there, in case the village runs into any trouble.”<
br />
  “Not thirsty, Ny?” Walter asked.

  She scoffed. “After almost being eaten by a Sand Buckeye… I’m a bit reluctant about drinking something brewed with them.”

  “Right” Walter said.

  “I’d be happy to drain that for you,” Grimbald said, then let out a mighty, cheek shaking belch.

  She slid her mug over to him, giving it a disgusted frown. She grabbed a towel near Walter and started wiping away a ring of condensation that had formed under her mug.

  “I had always wanted to go there, the Great Retreat.” Juzo mused, stretching his arms over his head. Dust spiraled out from the arms of his coat. “I heard Shamans live there, have some sort of strange magic.”

  “My mother lived there, before she met my father,” Walter said quietly.

  “Dragons, don’t you ever clean that thing?” Nyset said to Juzo, waving the dust away with one hand and covering her mouth with the other.

  Juzo shrugged and glanced at Walter, flashing him a bladed smile. Walter had forgotten about Juzo’s teeth until then, that murderous grin sending a chill down his legs.

  Nyset shook her head, tugged a silk fold down from around her neck and leaned across the table towards Juzo. “You’re not going anywhere.”

  “Huh?” Juzo leaned forward to meet her.

  Walter felt a heaviness in the air between them.

  “Please don’t tell me you’ve already forgotten about your blood drinking surrogates?” She tilted her head, eyes glowering.

  “What?” Walter asked. Too much had happened while he was gone. It felt like only days had passed in the Shadow Realm, but it had apparently been over a month.

  “Oh.” Juzo said, his voice dropping. “Of course not, I keep them fed.” He rapidly blinked as if he did it enough times the question would go away.

  “Walt, Juzo didn’t tell you about his new army?”

  “No…” Walter answered.

  “May I?” Juzo planted his hands on the table, rising to his feet. Walter noted the sickles of red under his fingernails. No mistake, that was dried blood.

  “You may.” Nyset said, crossing her arms and sighing.

  Juzo rolled his eye at her. “Thank you very much, my gracious Arch Wizard, high savior of all the realms.” He wildly gesticulated.

  Grimbald chuckled and filled his mug.

  “Get on with it,” she said flatly.

  Juzo cleared his throat and coughed into his hands, likely giving himself time to word this.

  Walter felt a tightness cinching around his chest the seconds before Juzo spoke. One thing Walter could say for sure about his life, he got the adventure that he’d always craved and then some.

  “I thought it’d be best for us to have some type of support while we rebuilt.” Juzo puffed out his chest, back rigid.

  “Sure, that’s a good idea. But not Blood Eaters,” Nyset said and rubbed her eyes.

  “Shit. How many Juzo?” Walter tried to drum the table, muscles on his stump only flexing. “Damn it,” he hissed, switching hands and drumming with the other.

  “Just a few,” he muttered.

  “How many?” Walter demanded.

  “Six,” Nyset answered.

  Juzo’s cheeks burned in shades of red. “They’ll be useful, you’ll see. Can you please try to trust me for once?”

  “We trust you, Juzo.” Walter nodded at him. Walter knew how it felt to have your friends look at you like you were someone, something else, and wouldn’t do that to him. Six Blood Eaters. That was a lot to absorb though.

  “You can’t leave them and you’re certainly not leaving them with me.” Nyset’s eyes were trained on him and hard.

  Juzo smiled wryly. “Fine. I’ll take them with me.”

  “You will?” Grimbald’s face went pale.

  Nyset’s mouth opened and closed like a fish.

  “Sure, they’re easier to control in closer proximity anyway,” he shrugged.

  Walter exhaled. “Alright, that’s settled then.”

  A brooding silence fell on the table for a few minutes.

  “By the Phoenix,” Nyset whispered. “There’s something Isa told me that I’ve been meaning to tell you. News from the west.” Walter leaned closer as did the others. She drew out a long exhale, face twisted with difficulty. “Isa…”

  “Out with it already, c’mon,” Juzo beckoned. Walter had an inkling of what she was about to say. It felt like standing at the edge of a cliff, peering down into the abyss.

  “Isa tells me that Breden has been raided again, burned—” She swallowed, eyes tightening like there was glass in her throat. “Burned to nothing.”

  “No,” Juzo breathed. “No, no. My parents might have been there. Why? Why did you wait so long to tell me? To tell us?”

  Nyset dropped her head to her chest. “I don’t know.” She looked up at him, yellowy starbursts around her pupils gleaming in tears. “Mine were there too, and the rest of my family.” She was oddly beautiful when she cried, Walter thought.

  Grimbald puffed out his cheeks, his furry eyebrows drawing down. “We’ll go to them on our way, give them a proper burial.”

  He had stated the proper truth of it. The only thing left for them to do in Breden was dig, Walter knew. Death Spawn showed no quarter, no mercy. He would do the same, by the Dragon he would. “They’ll all burn,” Walter breathed.

  Nyset’s eyes flinched at him for an instant.

  “Proper burial,” Juzo said through quivering lips, his eye a blooded slit.

  “Okay,” Nyset fanned her fingers on her thighs. “We don’t know anything for sure, maybe there are survivors. We’re from Breden. We’re fighters. They are too.” Fighters to the death, the unsaid words.

  They sat there for a long time, listening to the wind whistling through the cracks, worming its tendrils into all the building’s flaws.

  Nyset cleared her throat, shattering the grim quiet. “You’re all going to leave me here? Alone.” Nyset sucked in air and jutted her chin out. “I guess this is the burden I have chosen to bear.”

  Grimbald peered into his empty mug.

  Walter felt his insides being torn apart. He wanted to stay with her, but if one of the great cities was to be assaulted, it left him no choice at all. Had to look at the greater picture, didn’t he? The fate of the world and all. It wasn’t just about him, he knew. He felt he had no choice but to go off and try to be the fucking hero. “You know I have to go. I… we could make a difference.” He said quietly, wishing this conversation was only between the two of them now. Duty was the heaviest of burdens.

  “I know.” She put her hand over his and squeezed it. “Would you find my parents in Breden? Tell them everything or…” She left the other possibility unsaid. He would bury them if he had too, it didn’t have to be said. Nyset nodded and rubbed her wetting eyes. “You’ll need an army,” she sniffed, the muscles in her throat flexing.

  It was time for him to dish out his share of reprehensible news. “Well, I sort of found one.” All heads turned to him, hanging on his words.

  “Found?” Nyset raised her eyebrows and pursed her lips.

  “Hired.” Walter itched at the prickling on the back of his neck. He was glad to be speaking of anything but the dead and about to be dead.

  “You hired the mercenaries?” Nyset’s eyes grew wide.

  “You know about them?”

  “Everyone in the city knows about Scab, Walter. He’s a ruthless, unscrupulous bastard, at least that’s the common sentiment.”

  “Says the woman with an assassin at her command,” Juzo added.

  Nyset shot Juzo a look that dared him to continue.

  Juzo raised his palms, shook his head and rose from the table, starting to circle it.

  “Aren’t we out of marks?” Grimbald asked. “How are you paying them?” He threw a massive arm over the back of his chair. The chair groaned at the weight of it.

  “Empty promises, I’d guess.” Nyset tilted her head at him.

  W
alter rubbed his stump. “Sort of. I used your name and the fate of the realm as collateral. I was able to convince Scab to agree to the idea.”

  “You’re as bad as Juzo. We can’t trust him, Walter. He’ll turn on you,” Nyset said.

  “Don’t have much of a choice. You’ll need the Earl’s men to defend here. How many does the city have? How are the defenses?”

  “Better.” She rose out of her chair and put her arms behind her back, pressing them down to stretch her chest. “When I got here the walls were in shambles, the men apathetic. The people squabbling, fighting in the streets over which of the gods was best. It was the stuff of nightmares.”

  “All resolved now? Is there anything I can do before we go?”

  “Mostly. Vesla, Claw and Senka have been invaluable to the whole effort. I owe them a lot.” Nyset planted her hands on the table, and licked her lips. “When do you plan to leave?”

  It was incredible how much she’d changed. She’s gone from a quiet girl, enjoying reading and studying to a fearsome leader in a span of months. Walter felt small under the weight of her questioning eyes. He sniffed. “Tomorrow, I suppose.”

  “Think there is much you can do before you sleep, do you?” Nyset scoffed.

  “Suppose not,” Walter said sheepishly. He had the distinct feeling he was being scolded by his mother.

  “Walt, what was it like?” Grimbald winced as he asked the question.

  He knew the question would come eventually. They deserved to know the truth of it. “Horrible.” A shiver coursed through his bones. “Everything we thought about death is nothing but an illusion. It’s like we’re Shiv Fangs in a cave, unaware of the surface above. We’re not alone. There’s a greater force, tricking us into believing death is peaceful. It’s not.” He stared into the table, his eye tracing the waving grain.

  The silence after that seemed to last an eternity, the only sounds the sighing wind and Juzo’s steps. He didn’t know what else to say. Maybe they felt the same. He didn’t want to visit the heart of those memories again.

  “Oh,” Grimbald finally said.