Shadow Realms: Part One of the Redemption Cycle

by J. R. Lawrence

  *****

  The doors to the Vulzdagg citadel opened wide to let in a dozen mages carrying a thrashing Dril’ead into the throne room. Leona’burda was sitting in her throne, head held between her hands, thoughts far off until looking up at the hurried procession.

  She jumped to her feet when they entered, alarmed by what she saw in the arms of the mages. “What has happened?” she demanded.

  A mage bowed before her and explained, saying, “Lady Zurdagg summoned a Faxtogar demon from the Lesser Realm. It has destroyed most of your mages and left Dril’ead wounded by its wicked horn. We believe there is still a fragment of the horn in his back.”

  “Take him into the Circle of Power!” Leona instructed, and the guards at the chamber entrance stepped aside as they opened the doors.

  The soldiers carried the wreathing Dril to a stone table in the Circle of Power and laid him down. Dril’s eyes were shut tight, tears streaming down his cheeks from the pain, his entire face tense as veins began to bulge near his temples. His fists were clenched so tight that the knuckles had turned white, the blood leaving them, and Leona leaned over her wounded son and brushed the white hairs from his face.

  “Can you hear me?” she asked softly. “Are your thoughts clear?”

  Dril’ead suddenly jerked and strained his neck, veins bulging, his jaw clenching tightly as he groaned something no one in the room could understand.

  “He’s been doing that at random,” a soldier said. “We don’t know what causes it.”

  Leona turned to the crowd of soldiers and mages crowding behind her, peering over her shoulder to get a look at their wounded leader. “Leave, all of you,” she commanded them, and then she turned to a mage. “Summon a Priest.”

  The crowd began to disperse, the mage kneeling in the Circle of Power to do as his mistress commanded, and Gefiny forced her way into the room and leaned over the table to look into her pained brother’s face. Leona laid a hand on her shoulder to comfort her fearful daughter.

  “He’s strong,” Leona assured her. “He will fight the demon inside him until he has no more strength. But he is strong, so he must outmatch whatever pain curses him.”

  Gefiny’s head fell as she gave into fear, and let the cold tears slide down her cheeks. She fell on Dril’s armored chest and sobbed, giving up all strength she had.

  “It will be all right,” Leona said, trying to assure her.

  “My dream,” Gefiny said behind sobs, “My dream is almost fulfilled!”

  “Perhaps,” Vaknorbond said as he strode into the chamber, visibly limping on a bloodied leg, the slacks soaked in crimson. “The battle has been forfeited on both sides. If your brother does die, it is not under the merciless feet of Maaha.”

  “It is!” Gefiny retorted in a mixture of anger and sorrow as she turned to her father. “It is by her hand that he is in this state! It is by her hand that vengeance has been done upon Vulzdagg for the destruction of her city! It is by the cursed hand of Maaha Zurdagg – ever her name will be a curse to this people – that we have once again been weakened! What have we achieved from the attempt to get revenge? Only more death! We have been exposed once again, and our Branch hangs only by a twig. One false move, father, and we’ll fall into the rushing river of doom that awaits us.”

  His daughter’s words struck Vak hard, nearly staggering beneath her powerful gaze and the force of her words. He opened his mouth to speak, but no sound could answer. Beside them, though, in the main circle of the Circle of Power, appeared a Priest of the Urden’Dagg as summoned by the mage.

  The Priest looked up at the three Followers standing round the stone table on which Dril’ead lay in his torment and pain. As the Priests gaze fell upon the mortally wounded fighter, Dril began to thrash and struggle. Gefiny and Leona had to hold him down before he hurt himself in his blind agony.

  Vak stepped into one of the smaller circles beside the mage, and knelt, lowering his head as he spoke. “Welcome, holy Priest of the most great and all powerful Urden’Dagg.”

  “You are not worthy to speak the name!” the priest hissed at him. “I’ve been summoned by one of your mages, explain to me why.”

  “My son has been wounded by a Faxtogar demon, wielder if the hammer. If something is not done soon, he’ll perish,” Vak said, and then looked over his shoulder at Leona and Gefiny as they struggled with Dril.

  “Vulzdagg could deserve less,” the Priest said coldly. Vaknorbond looked back at it, anger in his eyes. “He’ll perish for your faults.”

  Vak leapt to his feet, looking the Priest in its yellow eyes. “How dare you!” he shouted.

  The priest through up a hand, though, and Vaknorbond stumbled backward out of the circle he stood in. “Do not raise your voice at me, foolish Vulzdagg!” the Priest cried. “Only by some means outside the power of the Urden’Dagg can he be saved, otherwise your praised son will die.”

  And with that the Priest vanished with a flash of pale light.

  Vaknorbond climbed to his feet, breathing hard with anger, and shouted to the mage as he was rising to help him. “Summon Neth’tek!” he commanded him, and the mage spun round and departed to obey his orders, the doors slamming closed behind him.

  Dril’ead’s wreathing began to cease until he lay still altogether.

  *****

  Neth’tek was led out of the anteroom and into the hall of which the two thrones stood in empty silence. The mage turned toward the two large doors of the Circle of Power that Neth’tek had only been allowed entry twice, both occasions bringing disturbing news to his ears. This time couldn’t be any different, he thought, the mage having said nothing except to follow him.

  One of the iron doors opened by the hand of a guard posted there, and as they entered into the Circle of Power the first thing Neth’tek took notice of was the emptiness of the chamber. This brought some relief to him, though once he made further examination and saw his mother and sister standing mournfully over the motionless form of a warrior, Neth’tek’s breath caught in his throat.

  Vaknorbond stood apart from them, cursing to himself. But when Neth’tek and the mage entered he came swiftly foreword to stand between Neth’tek and the stone table.

  “You may return to your duties,” Vak instructed the mage.

  The mage bowed and left the chamber, glancing back only once at the motionless body of Dril’ead Vulzdagg. All of Vulzdagg would be wondering over the fate of the warrior.

  Vak turned his solemn gaze on Neth’tek, his brow furrowing. “No good tidings will come to your ears this day. The dark hand of Doomstriker has once again taken hold of our frail forms, and we are at the brink of losing something most dear and needed in these dark times.”

  Neth’tek looked beyond his father at the stone table where Dril’ead lay.

  “Your brother has fallen into a dreadful trance, and we fear he may never awaken from it,” Vak said slowly, following Neth’tek’s quivering eyes. “You must do something for him to save his life. You must listen carefully to what I’m about to tell to you.”

  Vak knelt down to look Neth’tek eye to eye. “Do you know the plant Benjohiem which grows under the mushrooms beyond our walls?”

  “I have never traveled beyond our walls,” Neth’tek pointed out.

  “Then is your answer no?” Vak asked, raising an eyebrow.

  “No,” Neth’tek said, lowering his eyes in embarrassment, “I’ve never heard of Benjohiem.”

  “Well, at least you are truthful,” Vak said. He turned his gaze to the guards at the iron doors to the throne room, and commanded one of them into action; saying, “Summon Razarr, immediately,” and the guard obeyed, disappearing behind the door.

  Vak turned back to Neth’tek as he stood still in confusion. “While your mother and sister watch over Dril’ead, you must go to the mushroom grove with the friend I have sent for. Only one with the blood of Vulzdagg may pick the healing herb from beneath the mushrooms.” He rose, straightening upward before continuing. “I, on the other ha
nd, have business with Swildagg.”

  “What am I to do with the herb?” asked Neth’tek.

  “Bring it back here, and Razarr will use it on Dril’ead,” Vak said, and then turned to the iron doors as they opened.

  The guard returned, followed by a soldier wearing a large sword. The soldier was not a soldier at all, but the chief commander of the Vulzdagg militia, the glyph exposed upon his brow revealing a great complexity of honor and virtue. He was tall and broad, and when he came forward he saluted Vaknorbond with a bow.

  “I have come, my Lord,” Razarr said. “What are your orders?”

  “Lead Neth’tek to the Benjohiem herb beneath the mushrooms outside our walls,” Vak commanded. “Bring it here and use its healing power on Dril’ead.”

  “It will be done, my lord,” said Razarr, and taking Neth’tek by the arm he led the young fighter toward the doors.

  “Go with haste,” Vak added as the iron doors closed behind them. He then turned round to glance at Dril’ead lying motionless on the stone table, and breathed out a prayer before leaving the room.

  Chapter Twenty

  House of the Drake

  The winged Drake took to flight as soon as Vaknorbond leapt upon its back, sensing his urgency, and a single flap of its leathery wings took the Drake and its rider into the air before diving foreword. Their speed increased with every beat of its wings, and below them Vak saw the two small heated forms of Neth’tek and Razarr passing through the stalagmite gates of Vulzdagg and enter into the mushroom grove.

  Vak whispered a silent prayer for Neth’tek’s hands to be careful not to set off the explosive mushrooms, and also that Dril’ead’s strength would outlast that of Doomstriker. His attention was soon drawn to his task at hand, and he commanded his Drake to rise higher into the air and go in the direction of a tower set atop a tall mountain in the distance.

  The Drake obeyed, climbing higher and higher into the air until it came level with the mountain, and then flapped its way foreword until it landed softly at the gate of the tower.

  When the Drake landed there came immediately from the shadows four Followers armed spears pointed in Vak’s direction, and Vak sat upright as he showed no fear toward them. The guards, dressed in the blue and black armor of Swildagg, kept their position with shafts aimed at Vak and his mount; the Drake only lowering its head as it waited for further commands.

  One guard shifted his spear toward Vaknorbond and asked harshly, “Who are you, and what do you want with Swildagg, the House of the Drakes?”

  “I am of the Branch of Vulzdagg, House of the Basilisk, and I wish to speak with your Lord and Lady,” Vak said calmly but boldly.

  “Lord Hestage has not been notified of your presence, neither has the Lady Eldrean,” the guard replied angrily. “I suggest you fly home, Vulzdagg.”

  “I have come to meet with your Lord and Lady,” Vak pressed with his teeth gritted, frustration overcoming him. “Inform your Lord and your Lady that Vaknorbond Vulzdagg has come to meet with them.”

  The guards exchanged glances, doubting the Vulzdagg’s intentions, but then one turned and entered through the large doors into the tower. Vak remained seated upon his Drake, the creature standing like a stone statue, making no movement. However, the guards kept their weapons ready for any attack that Vaknorbond might be planning, though no harm came of anything. When the soldier returned and commanded the others to back away from him, Vak breathed out a sigh of relief.

  “You’ll come with me,” the guard said to Vak.

  Vaknorbond dropped from his Drake and headed for the door at a quick pace, but was halted by the heavy hand of the guard. “No weapons allowed,” the guard growled.

  Vak hesitated, flustered, but unbuckled his sword belt and handed it and his scimitars to the guards. He also retrieved the two knives he kept stashed in his boot and handed them over, hilts first, and reminded himself that of all things he required at the moment it was their trust.

  The door opened and Vak was roughly pushed within, stumbling into the hands of another guardsman who jerked him into an upright position. Looking up, Vak met the eyes of the Lord and the Lady Swildagg, sitting on their stalagmite thrones upon a raised platform at the far end of the large room. Vak lowered his head in respect. He would have bowed if wasn’t for the firm grip of the guardsman holding him.

  The Lord of Swildagg rose and walked foreword, his arms outstretched toward Vaknorbond in greeting, and a smile on his face. “Welcome, Vaknorbond Vulzdagg! What brings you to my home?” Lord Hestage said, and as he spoke the guards removed their hold on Vak.

  “I have come on behalf of my Branch and its safety, especially the safety of my two sons,” Vaknorbond said in a tired voice, his age seeming to be catching him at last.

  Hestage took Vak by his shoulders, his smile fading as he sensed the anxiety in Vaknorbond’s voice. “I am all ears, my friend.”

  Vak glanced round the courtroom at the guards stationed in the four corners of the chamber and at the door. “I request a meeting. I will not have any unbidden ears hearing my words.”

  Hestage motioned for all the guards to leave with a wave of his hand, and they went swiftly out a side passage into an unseen chamber. He turned and walked with Vaknorbond toward the stalagmite thrones, taking his seat as Vak spoke his concerns.

  “Something most disturbing has come about my family,” Vak began. “Vulzdagg is in danger. We have been in this same danger for a very long time and have been trying desperately to strengthen ourselves, but our attempts have all been useless.” He paused for a moment, contemplating his next words. “My two sons, Dril’ead and Neth’tek, are coming into the grips of danger. I’ve tried to protect them, but every time I do I only make matters worse.

  “Dril’ead has passed into a coma caused by an attack from a lesser being of the Lesser Realms, and my family fears for his life. I have sent Neth’tek, Dril’ead’s younger brother, to bring back the Benjohiem herb that grows beneath the mushrooms. It is the only thing that can save my son. But now even Neth’tek’s life is in danger.”

  Hestage and Eldrean were silent. Eldrean lifted her eyes to Vak and spoke softly with hardly any feeling in her voice, as if reading Vak’s pattern of thought. “Dril’ead’s life is forfeit. Without the Urden’Dagg’s blessing your son will fall.”

  “How do you know the Urden’Dagg does not bless us?” Vak said, raising his voice in growing tension.

  “We know it was you who brought down Zurdagg,” Eldrean replied quickly with that same monotone voice. “Who else would enact such a thing but you? Vulzdagg is the only Branch struggling for power, especially since Lord Vishtax’s death; and you said it yourself that you have tried desperately to bring your respect and power back into order with no outcome that benefits you.” She relaxed into her seat, pleased with herself.

  Vak growled to himself unnecessary words, and then turned about to leave the tower.

  “Vaknorbond,” Hestage called after him. “Am I not your ally? Am I not trustworthy? If you walk away from here, you walk away from your respect, your power, and even the life of your two sons.”

  Vaknorbond stopped, his fingers just touching the iron lever to the door. “Those are the questions I should be asking you.”

  “I am your friend, Vaknorbond. I am your ally. Never shall I leave your side,” said Hestage, reassuringly.

  Vak turned to them as they sat like statues in the infrared spectrum upon their thrones. He examined their eyes and the way they held them solid and unblinking, waiting for Vaknorbond’s response. Vak didn’t speak, only waited and watched their unmoving eyes; solid and stern, like the liars they were.

  But what did that matter? Vak didn’t care. He didn’t trust anyone and would never. The words he spoke were words he wouldn’t care anyone to hear. Perhaps that was for the better. His following words might just bring more safety to his family than he realized.

  “A priest of the Urden’Dagg came to me and Maaha Zurdagg,” Vak began loud and clea
r and full of pride. “It said that Neth’tek, the child born the day Zurdagg fell, is to be taken to it when he has learned all there is to be learned about living among us – The Fallen… Once he has learned how to kill, that is.”

  Hestage and Eldrean both exchanged glances, the name of The Fallen obviously disturbing them. Hestage looked as if he wanted to say something against the use of such a title for The Followers of the Urden’Dagg, but held back.

  Eldrean spoke again in her monotone voice, saying, “My three sons and two daughters are strong creatures that have withstood many hardships throughout their lives here in Swildagg. But neither of us has experienced such a thing as this. If your son and family overcome this obstacle, you will no doubt receive the respect and power you have been fighting for.”

  Vak bowed low to them both. “I thank you kindly for your council, he said. But Despite his words, Vaknorbond knew enough about the minds of these people to know that their true thoughts were against him. If any harm were to fall upon any member of the Vulzdagg Branch, they would become an open target for any Branch searching for more power.

  Swildagg’s council was only to weaken Vulzdagg so that they could take its place.

  Vaknorbond flew away from that place, knowing that he and his family were utterly alone in their battle against fate.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Eyes of a Demon

  Neth’tek followed close behind Razarr as he led the way to the gates of Vulzdagg, his mind overwhelmed with the excitement of his errand. He had never gone beyond the city walls of his home before. This was his first time seeing the world outside, and the anxiety was surging within him. But he had control over himself and remained calm as he followed Razarr to the Benjohiem herb.

  The gates into the unknown land beyond opened on approach, revealing the large mushrooms that grew tall and wide, their trunks breaking outward from within the stone ground to wind into their umbrella tops. Razarr stopped as they approached the first mushroom, and caught Neth’tek by the arm as he came near one.