Dark Echoes of Light

by Michael James Ploof

  Azzeal nodded and wrote something down in his little book.

  “What in the world ye be writin’ ‘bout all the time?”

  “Why, our quest, of course,” he said with a feline grin. “Come, I believe that there is an entrance this way. There is a current of heavy air coming from that direction.”

  They crept through the hills, and again Raene took up the rear. She watched the tops of the hills carefully, ready with her blessed abilities to break the neck of the first drekkon she saw. During the draggard wars, Raene had racked up more than a thousand kills, and she didn’t mind adding to that number one bit.

  To her dismay and great annoyance, Ragnar was the first to spot a drekkon. He said nothing when he saw the creature, but reached out his hand and pulled the beast toward him. With the other, he thrust forth his long sword, impaling the creature right through the heart.

  Azzeal jerked when the blood sprayed his face, and he frowned at Ragnar. “You struck first.”

  “Yeah,” said Ragnar, flinging the creature off his blade. “And I will do it again.”

  “Well. I guess there is a bright side to your actions. Now we have a specimen.” Azzeal then touched a hand to the dead drekkon’s forehead and froze the body solid with a string of spell words.

  “I would very much like to speak with the next one we find,” he said, rising from the frozen corpse. “Please don’t kill it.”

  “Good eye,” said Raene, and she brushed past Ragnar, intent on killing the next one first.

  Azzeal led them down into a gully, where water looked to have washed out a path to a cave entrance. “I believe that we have found our way in.” He raised a hand, and Raene assumed that he was checking for spells.

  “Find anything?” Ragnar asked.

  “Yes,” said the elf. “How interesting…”

  “What it be? Wards?”

  “Yes, and good ones.” Azzeal smiled at her, but seeing that she wasn’t impressed, he turned his attention elsewhere.

  They ventured to the mouth of the cave, and Azzeal went to work disassembling the magical wards. It took him all of five minutes, which made Raene wonder about his claim that the drekkon wards had been “good.”

  “Stay alert,” he told them. “We are not here to kill, we are here to gain information that will be beneficial to our kin.”

  Raene and Ragnar both nodded agreement. Seemingly satisfied, Azzeal continued deeper into the cave. Limestone walls slick with slimy algae led them to a larger corridor that went on for what seemed like miles. It finally branched off suddenly, however, and at the fork stood two drekkon guards. No sooner had the guards seen them than Azzeal unleashed a spell from the end of his wooden staff. The two drekkon—one of which Raene was about to crush into the wall—went stiff and fell over like two slabs of stone.

  Raene ground her teeth in frustration.

  “Ah,” said Azzeal happily. “See, it isn’t so hard to not kill, is it?”

  “What we going to do with the bodies?” said Raene.

  “Hmm.” Azzeal tapped his chin. “They will wake up in a few hours with a bad headache, but they should be fine for now. It is no matter if they are found, for the drekkon already know that we are here. Come.”

  Raene rolled up her sleeves and followed, not liking the idea of sneaking into a lair full of drekkon who knew she was coming. But she trusted the elf; as much as he was sometimes a pain in the neck, they had been through a lot together.

  Azzeal flipped a coin at the fork, and when it landed on heads, he took the tunnel to the right.

  “You always so precise about making decisions?” Ragnar asked, clearly amused by the eccentric elf.

  “When in doubt, flip a coin. If you are lucky, the gods will blow on it and guide you in the right direction.”

  “You a religious elf?”

  Azzeal pondered the question for a moment. “I was reciting a saying, but yes, I suppose you could say that. For I have met the gods, and so it is not hard to believe in them. Which is convenient, isn’t it?”

  “What about ye?” Raene asked Ragnar. “Ye got a god?”

  “I have many. I serve both human and dwarven gods.”

  Raene nearly fell over with shock. “Dwarven gods?” she said, red-faced.

  “Quiet,” said Azzeal.

  “Why ye be worshippin’ dwarven gods, eh?” she hissed.

  Ragnar shrugged. “Family tradition.”

  “And why yer family be worshippin’ the gods, eh? Only dwarves be worshippin’ dwarven gods. Ye be a human. Ye got yer own gods.”

  “My family is from the hills west of the Elgar Mountains. We have always had many dealings with the dwarves. We have always been…close.”

  “Dealin’s be dealin’s,” said Raene. “Business dealin’s ain’t enough to make ye start worshippin’ people’s gods.”

  “I’m sorry if I have upset you, my lady.”

  “I ain’t yer lady, ye hear?” She stormed off past Azzeal, ignoring his whispered pleas to be quieter.

  “A human worshippin’ the dwarven gods,” she mumbled as she trudged on down the tunnel. “Who ever hear o’ such a thing?”

  Raene was becoming suspicious of the big man. Roakore shared the suspicion, she knew, but they hadn’t spoken of it. To say it out loud would…

  If he be tryin’ to insinuate that he be part…part…

  Raene couldn’t even say it in her mind. It was impossible. Unless…

  If it be true, if somehow it be true, then it must have been forced. Must o’ been a filthy human drugged a dwarf lass and done had his way with her…

  That had to be it, because the alternative meant love, and never in known history had a human and dwarf ever—

  Raene was so consumed with her own thoughts that she didn’t see the drekkon until it was too late. The beast looked to have been pondering as well, for it stopped and looked up at her with alarm. They faced each other, speechless and unmoving. Raene stared at the drekkon, who, to her disbelief, was wearing a long red robe with strange markings embroidered in black along the hemlines. The drekkon also had a circlet of braided gold on its bald brown-and-dark-green head. A single red gem sat at the center of the circlet, and as the drekkon’s brow raised in curiosity, so too did the lone gem begin to glow.

  “Ye be one ugly son o’ a bitch,” said Raene.

  The drekkon cocked its head to the side, studying her. Azzeal came rushing into the tunnel suddenly, and the drekkon took his attention off Raene. She thrust out with both arms, intent on slamming the drekkon into the wall, but when she tried to grab him with her mind, she felt a heavy resistance. She focused hard, dug deeper, and PUSHED.

  Still nothing.

  When the drekkon retaliated, Raene was completely unprepared for the power that the beast wielded. Its magic picked her up off her feet and shot her down the tunnel like a cannonball. She was heading for the curved wall at breakneck speed, and she turned in her flight to focus energy on the wall so that she might push upon it and slow herself down. But suddenly Ragnar was there, leaping to intercept her. She slammed into him hard, but he took the blow and curled his big arms and legs around her. He landed and rolled, bringing Raene on a stomach-turning ride before coming to a stop against the tunnel wall.

  “Let me go, ye brute!” said Raene, pushing against his big arms. To her surprise and frustration, she couldn’t make him budge. It was well known that dwarves, even the females, were many times stronger than humans. Raene knew that she should have been able to overpower the man easily, even given his size.

  “I said let me go!” she demanded.

  He did so, putting her down on her feet and dusting his hands. “Sorry, my lady, but I thought you needed my help.”

  Raene pushed him aside roughly and, seeing that Azzeal had subdued the drekkon, she pushed Ragnar again. “If I be needin’ yer help, then I be askin’ for it.”

  He was surprised by her anger toward him, but he nodded respectfully. “As you wish, my—”

  “And what
did I tell ye ‘bout that? I told ye I ain’t yer lady.”

  “If you two are quite done squabbling,” said Azzeal as he strode over to them, lugging the unconscious drekkon. “I would like your help getting this poor fellow out of here.”

  “What for?” said Raene. “Why not just kill him and move on deeper into the tunnels?”

  “Because killing him while he is unconscious would be murder, my dear. Besides, we have surely raised the alarm. Soon these tunnels will be swarming with drekkon. Ragnar, you’re a big strong lad. Grab the drekkon sorcerer and let us be gone.”

  The big man took up the prisoner without argument and together with Azzeal headed back out the way they had come. Raene shook her head, still furious that Ragnar had manhandled her like that. It had surprised her more than anything, for he had been so strong, his muscles so firm beneath her…

  She shook her head and spit on the ground. “What ye be thinkin’ ‘bout, Raene?” she asked herself before trudging down the tunnel after the pair.

  Chapter 25

  Unbridled Power

  Orrian stood above the world, looking down on Drindellia to the east and Agora to the west. He knew that this must be an illusion, for he and Eldarian did not float in the sky; there was no sky, just the world and the eternal darkness that surrounded it. And the stars, so distant, so bright.

  “This world is but a spark in the passing of eternity, as are the stars, as are we all,” said Eldarian as he floated beside him. “The void surrounds us; it separates the worlds like a vast, unpassable ocean. Soon the darkness will swallow up this world, and another shall take its place…

  “Are you prepared for what you must do?”

  Orrian felt a tear squeeze from his eyelid and trickle down his cheek. With it went his fear, with it went his bond to this world, his sense of duty. A part of him hated this world of pain and violence; a world that had teased him with happiness, only to rip it from him and leave him bleeding in the mud. A part of him hated this world, and that part took over. He saw in his mind’s eye the glorious new world, a world where, Eldarian had promised Orrian, his family would be waiting for him.

  “I am ready.”

  Darkness consumed them, and in the next heartbeat they stood upon a high ledge overlooking the human city of Del’Oradon. From here Orrian could see Warcrown Castle, and he knew that Whill was somewhere inside.

  A ringing of purest metal jerked Orrian out of his trance, and he turned wide eyes on the pulsing, glowing sword in Eldarian’s hand. The blade hummed with steady power. It was not made of metal, Orrian knew, for it was pure starlight; the embodiment of a sun.

  “This is Godsbane,” said Eldarian. “It was forged in the belly of a star by an angry god bent on revenge. With this blade, I defeated the Lord of Darkness and Death, and with this blade I robbed the world of its glorious rebirth. It is said that with this blade, the god of light, Sol, killed his twin brother, Tenebris, the true god of darkness. That is when the power of darkness and death was let loose unto the world. But the spirit of the dark one is eternal, and though Tenebris’s celestial body had been destroyed, his spirit endured. The gods captured the spirit of their fallen brother, and they created the mantle of darkness.

  “Then it was given to a mortal who was happy for such a gift from the gods. But when the poor fool put it on, he became possessed by the spirit and the power of Tenebris. The gods then cast an enchantment upon the sword, for they could not destroy Godsbane. But to make sure that no one ever committed Sol’s crime, they altered the blade so that no god could ever wield it.

  “So, you see, I cannot wield the blade, for I once held the power of the mantle in my hands. I was once a god. I dealt out death in my dreams. I became the shadow, the darkness, and through it I saw the world.

  “When the time is right, I will bestow this blade unto you, and with it, you will destroy the prison created by the gods. With this blade, you will destroy the mantle, and set free the spirit of Tenebris.”

  “When will that time come?” Orrian asked, wanting nothing more than to wield the blade made of starlight.

  “Whillhelm Warcrown has powerful wards around Lunara’s prison, wards that not even I can destroy. For he has focused nearly all his energy on the wards. When the time comes, the drekkon will march on Rhuniston and New Cerushia. Whillhelm will no doubt obliterate the army, but to do so, he will have to expend his precious energy. Once the wards are weakened, I will be able to break them.”

  “Why not kill him now?” said Orrian, pointing at Godsbane. “I will kill him, for surely with such a powerful weapon, I could do it.”

  “Don’t be a fool, my eager young friend. Not even I dare to do battle with him. For I have felt his power…”

  Orrian awoke in bed and looked around frantically—he was in the castle in his quarters.

  Had it all just been a dream?

  He shot out of bed and paced the lavish room. His hands tingled, and his ears rang. His heart raced, and his thoughts churned. The memory of the glorious blade of light was clear in his mind, shining like a star in winter, brilliant against the darkness. With it, he would have the power to kill a god. With it, he would be the most powerful being in existence. Why then would he need Eldarian? Why would he need to usher in a new world when he could just shape this one to his liking? Orrian had the human power of old, and with it he could absorb the power of any god. With such power and Godsbane in his possession, he would become unstoppable. Eldarian was trying to keep him weak. That is why he came to Orrian only in dreams, for if Orrian was near Eldarian, he would absorb all of his power, not just the scraps that the elf fed him beneath the table.

  When the pacing did nothing to calm him, he dropped to the floor and began pumping out pushups as fast as he could. After one hundred, he rose and began pacing again. He needed a release. He needed…

  The energy crystal.

  Orrian tore off his shirt and threw it aside. He moved to the mirror, where his muscled reflection stared back at him. He looked to his breastbone, the place where Krentz had inserted his first energy crystal. Focusing on it, he willed his mounting energy into it. In his reflection, he saw his chest begin to glow the deep blue of the crystal within it. He poured more of his energy into it, until he was left feeling ill. He fell to his knees, panting and exhausted, but then he felt the flame within him being rekindled. His mind became clear and his muscles pulsed with power. In three heartbeats, his energy had returned to him—the power of Eldarian, the power of darkness.

  Orrian wanted to scream, he wanted to explode.

  But then the words of Krentz came back to him. They had spent one sunny afternoon practicing meditation. Orrian didn’t understand the practice, and he hadn’t wanted to learn when she showed him. But now he wanted to understand, he wanted to know.

  Krentz. He called out with his mind. The power inside him was threatening to tear him apart. His mind buzzed maddeningly, and his hands had begun to glow. He poured a steady stream of the dark power into the energy crystal, but it could not store it quickly enough.

  Krentz!

  The door burst open, and Krentz came to a skidding stop when she laid eyes upon him. He saw fear in her eyes, and wonderment as well. Glancing in the mirror, Orrian saw that his entire body was glowing.

  “Come, we’ve got to get you out of here!”

  She took his hand and dragged him quickly down the hall, down a flight of stairs, and out into the courtyard. There she held out the spirit wolf figurine and summoned Fyrfrost.

  Orrian couldn’t speak, he couldn’t scream. He held the energy at bay using all his willpower, but it was quickly failing.

  “Come on!” Krentz helped him up into the saddle and spurred Fyrfrost into the air.

  The flight was a blur of motion and light, and in the next lucid moment, Krentz was holding his face, telling him to let it go, to let it out into the ground, to do it NOW!

  Orrian slammed his fists into the earth and let out a powerful cry as the power building inside him
came rushing out. Dirt and fire and molten stone shot out in every direction, but it did not touch Orrian. It could not, for the energy was exploding from his body as well and repelling everything near. The release was ecstasy, and he poured more of the dark power into the earth, which began to rumble angrily, as if there had been a colossal beast of the old world sleeping far beneath the surface that Orrian had awakened.

  How long it continued, he did not know, but when he awoke, he was inside a large crater.

  Krentz sat on the lip twenty feet up. She was staring at him, her face unreadable. Orrian got to his feet shakily. Krentz remained silent. He hiked up the side of the crater and gasped when he saw the destruction that he had wrought to the area: trees had been felled in a wide circle around the crater, and it looked like many of the boulders littering the rocky forest had melted.

  “What happened?” he asked her as he reached the top.

  She arched a brow. “I thought maybe you could tell me.”

  “I…it’s my abilities…sometimes…” He grabbed his head and winced.

  “You got close to Whill, didn’t you? Somehow, you absorbed his great power.”

  “No, it’s not that, it’s just…It is the power of the elves and the dwarves combined. Sometimes it is too much to handle, too much to control.”

  “This has happened before?” she asked with concern.

  He nodded.

  “How often?”

  “Last time was a few weeks back,” he lied.

  She touched his forehead, but then pulled back her hand as though she had touched something scalding hot. “People will be coming to see what the disturbance was. You started an earthquake; did you know that?”

  He nodded. “It’s happened before.”

  Krentz shook her head, looking deathly concerned. “Come on, before Whill comes snooping around.”

  ***

  Whill flew over the forest, searching for the spot that he had seen from afar with mind sight, a place that had glowed bright with power. He soon found it; a thirty-foot-wide circle of destruction in the middle of the forest. He floated above it, still feeling its magical heat, and scoured the horizon—north, south, east, and west. Whatever had caused it appeared to have vanished, for he could find no sign, not even the sparkling remnants of magical energy floating in the air. Whoever had caused it was good at covering their tracks.