Dreaming in the Dark_Chains of the Fallen Volume 1

by James E. Wisher

“Where are we going?” Damien asked.

  “To meet the elders.” Dahlmis glanced back. “It is my duty to make a formal report of my failure. They will also wish to meet you and determine if you are a threat to us.”

  “And if they do?”

  “Then we may become enemies again.”

  Great. That was not at all what he wanted to happen. If he ended up getting into a fight because he wanted to help these people, he was going to be seriously annoyed.

  At the top of the final flight of steps they reached a closed door engraved with an image of a sleeping dragon. It was fine work, but having seen the real thing on the level above, Damien wasn’t impressed. Dorius looked giddy at the prospect of meeting the elders. The thought that they might get into a fight didn’t seem to faze him in the least.

  “Maybe you should let me do the talking,” Dorius said. “I’ve got some training in this sort of thing.”

  “Go for it,” Damien said.

  “They will see us,” Dahlmis said. To punctuate his announcement the door swung inward of its own volition.

  The three of them strode into a round chamber where they faced the five elders. The only minor difference between them and Dahlmis was a dry, cracked look to their skin. In addition to the five occupied chairs, there were a pair of empty ones at either end of the semicircle.

  Dahlmis bowed his head. “Honored Elders, I have failed in my duties as Protector. The enemy has been freed. I will accept any punishment without resistance.”

  “It was Dreamer’s wish to be set free, was it not?” The centermost elder’s voice sounded as dry and rough as his skin.

  “It was,” Dahlmis said.

  “Then what could mere mortals like us do to stop it? You shall retain your title. When the enemy comes we will need you to serve as never before.”

  “I shall do my best not to fail again.”

  Five eyeless faces turned to Damien. “Who is our guest? His mind is beyond our reach.” The central elder seemed to be the spokesman for the group.

  “Damien was summoned by Dreamer to set him free. He has offered us his aid in defeating the enemy.”

  Stone tentacles shot out of the floor and wrapped around Damien’s arms and legs. They squeezed tight, but not so tight that his personal shield was in any danger of breaking. What shocked him was the speed of the shaping. He hadn’t even sensed the elders gathering soul force.

  “He doesn’t seem so strong,” the elder said.

  A burst of raw soul force reduced the tentacles to sand. “I came here to help, not be insulted. If you don’t think you need my aid, just say so. I’m sure I can find something to do on the surface.”

  He endured the creepy eyeless glare for a few seconds, before the spokesman’s face crinkled into a smile. “You have a warrior’s spirit. I fear we will have need of it before the war is over. Forgive us our test, but it was necessary to be certain.”

  Damien nodded his acceptance. It was their people in danger, so he could cut them some slack.

  Dorius stepped in front of him. “I’m Professor Dorius. It’s a great honor to meet all of you. Studying your works has been my life for years. I never dreamed I’d have the opportunity to speak with you in person. I have so many questions.”

  “You may ask them if we survive the coming battles. In the meantime, preparations must be made. We will make the announcement. Protector, you will lead the defenders. The heretics’ abominations must be destroyed, but our deluded brothers must not be harmed. Taking the lives of our own is forbidden.”

  Dahlmis bowed again. “As you command, Elders.”

  Damien had heard enough dismissals to recognize this one. He took Dorius by the arm and tugged the reluctant professor out of the chamber, his pained expression comically pathetic. He’d best enjoy it, somehow he doubted he’d have much to laugh about in the coming days.

  “What’s our first move?” Damien asked. And how are we supposed to win without killing the enemy leaders?

  “Once the heretics’ monsters are dead, they will withdraw. He can capture them later and return them to stasis. First things first. The noncombatants will withdraw to the next level down then we’ll seal the tunnel,” Dahlmis said. “It might be best if you joined them, Professor.”

  “This battle is a historic moment.” Dorius puffed his chest out. “I don’t intend to miss it.”

  Damien shook his head, but once the old man made up his mind, nothing short of tying him up and dragging him out of the town would get him to go. He’d better find somewhere safe to hide because once the fighting started, Damien wouldn’t be able to protect him every second.

  They stepped out of the town hall to find women and children already hurrying out of the streets and into the buildings. There was no panic, just a sense of urgency. If you tried to do something like this in a kingdom city, there’d be chaos.

  When he mentioned that to Dahlmis, the Protector said, “All but the youngest are survivors of the last war. They have all done this before. They hoped to never have to do it again, but knew it was possible.”

  “Do you know where the enemy is apt to gather?” Damien asked. “I’d like to have a look.”

  “It’s too dangerous for you to go alone. I warned you already.”

  “I wasn’t planning to go in person. I thought I’d send a scout bug.”

  Dahlmis’s forehead crinkled. “A what?”

  Damien grinned, enjoying the Builder’s confusion. “It’s a neat trick. Come on, I’ll show you.”

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Damien’s spy bug zipped through the tunnels, images of what it saw appearing on a viewing rectangle connected to it by an invisible strand of soul force. Dahlmis stood beside him and stared in wonder at the flickering view as the last of the noncombatants rushed out of the cavern behind them. Damien had asked the professor to keep an eye on their progress, mostly to get a break from his nonstop questions.

  The number of fighters remaining was depressingly small, about thirty adults, mostly men and a few women without kids, but they had a strong defensive position, which would help. He silently hoped the dragon might wake up and lend them a hand, but that seemed a dim prospect.

  “I never imagined you could do something like this with sorcery,” Dahlmis said.

  Damien maintained his focus on the bug. “Don’t you study anything besides shaping?”

  “No, we never had the need. Our abilities allow us to control our environment. Flying is of little value down here and before the war, we never had much need to fight. Granted we ran into a pack of goblins once in a while, but what we knew was enough to deal with them.”

  “Tell you what. When things settle down, how about you give me shaping lessons and I’ll show you some of the tricks we learn on the surface? If any of your people wished, I bet I could arrange a visit to the Tower. That’s where kingdom sorcerers study. An exchange program might do both of our races good.”

  “We have always been a private people, but there may be something to what you say. Privacy has done little to keep us safe and now that allies would be useful, we have none.”

  “So you’re interested?”

  “For myself, certainly, but more than that would be needed for the elders to decide.”

  “Speaking of the elders,” Damien said. “Shouldn’t they leave with the others?”

  “They are the strongest sorcerers we have. It will fall to them to maintain the barrier blocking the way down to the women and children. They can best accomplish that in the council chamber. It was designed to allow groups to combine their strength.”

  Dahlmis cocked his head as if listening to a voice Damien couldn’t hear, which given his telepathic ability was certainly possible. “The last of the families has left the cavern.”

  “That’s good. One less thing to worry about. Ah, here we go.”

  The image on the screen stabilized, revealing a large cavern filled with figures milling around. There were a couple hundred black-scaled goblins, some blind
wolves with tentacles sticking out of their sides, and four of the biggest ogres he’d ever seen, covered in scales like the goblins.

  Four Builders stood off by themselves. Damien couldn’t make out many details, but their skin looked wrong, slimy rather than dry, and their hands had an extra digit. One of them shifted, revealing a tail.

  “Wow. I wasn’t expecting ogres,” Damien said. “They might be a problem if they’re as resistant to sorcery as the goblins. Do they only have four Builders amongst them?”

  “Yes, as I said the war was brutal. Many died on both sides, though there were not a lot of the heretics to begin with. They may not be a huge army, but do not underestimate them. The monsters all have a tiny portion of Dreamer’s power. As for the ogres, we call them demolishers. During the war they smashed our defensive walls. I had hoped none survived.”

  “The last of the kids are gone,” Dorius said as he hurried up to them. The professor held up a crudely shaped stone lizard. “One of them made this for me. Isn’t it cute?”

  “Adorable,” Damien said. “We’re trying to focus.”

  “Sorry.”

  Damien turned his attention back to the screen just in time to watch a goblin claw swipe through it, severing the link. “So much for that.”

  “I suspect we saw everything worth seeing,” Dahlmis said. “The heretics know we are aware of them; it will not be long before they strike. I must lead the others in raising a barrier at the village entrances.”

  Dahlmis set out and Damien followed with the professor at his heels. He’d hoped the old man might’ve changed his mind about staying for the battle, but no such luck.

  Two tunnels led to the village, the one Damien’s group arrived by and another, smaller path. They went to the smaller one first. A group of ten Builders waited near the entrance. No words were spoken as Dahlmis and the others raised their hands. Seconds later a wall sprang up, blocking the tunnel. Damien watched as the Builders drew stone from the floor and formed it into a thick rampart. As they worked, the group compressed the stone, making it denser and more durable. Their combined shaping was flawless.

  Dahlmis guides them telepathically, linking their minds and allowing the group to act as one.

  “Can you hear what he’s saying?”

  He’s not saying anything. Dahlmis has literally forged their thoughts into one. It’s amazing how open they are with each other. No demon would ever allow another such unfettered access to her mind.

  “Not even me?”

  He felt her smile. You’re a special case.

  When the Builders had finished, as nice a stone fortification as you might want formed a semicircle denying all access to the town. Damien considered himself fair at shaping, but the Builders made him look like a rank amateur.

  They left the ten Builders on guard duty and marched back across town to the second tunnel. Another ten Builders waited and Dahlmis repeated the process of guiding them. This wall was a little longer and taller since the main entrance tunnel was bigger than the side tunnel.

  As they worked Damien caught the scent of something roasting. His mouth watered. How long had it been since he ate a hot meal not made from preserved food? Too long.

  When the Builders finished the second wall Damien asked, “What’s cooking?”

  Dahlmis smiled. “Giant cave cricket. It’s a delicacy often eaten before an important event.”

  Damien’s stomach churned. Giant roasted bug, yum. Hopefully it tasted better than it sounded.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Between recovery and travel time Sig and Ilda spent an entire day returning to the Ice Queen’s lair. Outside the linnorm cavern, they found the slaughtered remains of the final war-band.

  Ilda kicked one of the corpses aside. “Quarrel’s group. At least he took a pair of Gorn’s band with him.”

  Looked like it really would come down to Sig and Gorn in the final challenge. That suited Sig fine. Whatever the dragon required, he intended to defeat the ogre and claim his place as the dragon’s champion, for both himself and Ilda.

  She stood beside him in the conjured box, her hand on his back. It was a small gesture yet filled with meaning.

  How had he ever believed a frail, pitiful girl like Princess Karrie would be an acceptable match for a warrior like him?

  He refused to lie to himself. Karrie had never been anything but a means to the throne, though that didn’t keep her rejection from hurting his pride.

  “What do you think the final challenge will be?” Sig asked.

  “With the queen, who can say? I never would have considered hunting linnorms as a possibility, so my guess won’t be worth much.”

  The near-death experience had shaken her confidence. Sig hoped she regained it soon. Ilda knew more about the ogres’ society than he did and her advice would be invaluable, especially after he became champion.

  He guided the construct into one of the many entrances and followed Ilda’s directions to the dragon’s chamber in the heart of the complex. A pair of masked berserkers crossed their spears in his path. Sig lowered his box to the ground and dismissed it.

  Sig showed them the talon. “I’ve completed the task, as the queen commanded.”

  They turned their cold gaze on Ilda. “And you?”

  She shook her head and didn’t speak.

  “Only victors may enter,” the berserker said. “Failures will remain out here to receive the queen’s punishment.”

  They uncrossed their spears, but Sig hesitated to leave Ilda behind. What might the other ogres do to her now that she’d lost her status?

  “Go,” Ilda said. “You mustn’t leave the queen waiting.”

  “Alright. I’ll rejoin you as soon as I can.”

  Sig strode into the massive chamber and toward the dragon. The Ice Queen opened a single, gigantic eye and stared at him.

  “Gorn made me doubt that you would be returning. I see you have the talon.”

  Sig pulled the length of bone from his belt and tossed it on the floor. “I’m ready for the next challenge.”

  “So I see. That will happen tomorrow. For now, there’s the matter of our single surviving failure. It’s a shame. I held high hopes for Ilda. In the end, she simply wasn’t up to the challenge. Pity, but that is the nature of life. The strong thrive and the weak fall to the side.”

  “True, but she still has much to offer. Ilda is far too intelligent and skilled a warrior to cast aside.”

  “You speak highly of a rival.”

  “Former rival. Whatever happens from now on, she’s no threat to me becoming champion. And I do speak highly of her. I witnessed her skill and cleverness firsthand.”

  “Did you?” The yellow eye seemed to peer into his soul. “But that’s not all. You care for her. In all my eternal existence I never imagined seeing love between an ogre and a human. It was worth allowing you to live simply for that. I will consider Ilda’s fate. You will join Gorn in the contenders’ chamber. Tomorrow, both of you will come before me and I will announce the final challenge. Leave now.”

  Sig bowed and marched back the way he’d come.

  Ilda was waiting right where he left her. “What did she say?”

  “Not much.” They started down the tunnel. “I’m supposed to go to that little room and sit with Gorn until morning when she’ll announce the final challenge. I didn’t get so much as a hint about it.”

  “What about me?”

  Sig shook his head. “Nothing other than a promise to think it over. I argued for you. Hopefully it’ll work out.”

  “I’m grateful. I should return to my room. This might be my last day as war-leader, may as well enjoy the privilege.”

  “Want some company?”

  Ilda smiled. It really was a pretty expression. “I thought you had to join Gorn.”

  “I do, but she didn’t say immediately. A little detour shouldn’t make any difference. It’s not like I’m in any rush to see Gorn.”

  She laughed, took his hand, and guide
d him through the halls. He was eager to pick up where they’d left off.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Marie-Bell groaned when Imogen shook her awake. It seemed like she’d barely closed her eyes and it was time to get going. A sweet smell made her sit up. Imogen handed her a honey-covered piece of fry bread which she eagerly devoured. Halfway through she cocked her head.

  “The storm passed two hours ago,” Imogen said. “The silence was eerie at first, but you get used to it soon enough.”

  Marie-Bell finished her breakfast and washed it down with a swallow of tepid water. Tea would have been nice, but she wasn’t about to complain. She stood and brushed the sand off. Her sleep hadn’t been especially restful – too much corruption in the air – but she felt better than when they arrived.

  “Ready?”

  At Imogen’s nod she pulled her hammer from the door brackets. Four feet of sand spilled into the tower, burying them up to their knees. Muttering under her breath, Marie-Bell pushed her way out onto solid ground.

  The day was as bright as it ever got in the Haunted Lands, the perpetual cloud cover having thinned enough to reveal the sun’s location. But the stink, good heavens.

  A low moan from her right drew Marie-Bell’s attention. A shambling figure made its way toward them. Probably a zombie uncovered by the storm. A chorus of moans filled the air as more undead appeared out of the murk. They were so weak she couldn’t separate them from the background corruption. She counted over a hundred and they were still coming.

  Imogen gaped at the approaching horde. “Where did they come from?”

  “I don’t know. The winds should have torn them to pieces.”

  “Let’s get out of here.” Imogen summoned her golden aura and took to the air.

  Marie-Bell frowned. Should she just leave the zombies wandering around? Destroying such things was her duty. The armor grew warmer, as if to encourage her. Whether it was the heat or her own stubborn nature, Marie-Bell refused to give in.

  “Come on,” Imogen said. “They’re getting closer by the second.”