Doors of the Dark

by Gregory Mattix

Arron shielded his eyes against the sudden brightness of torchlight through the open cell door. A shadowy figure entered and loomed over him.

  “How is it that you yet live, half-elf?” Lassiter asked after a long moment of silence. “One does not simply recover from such a grievous wound.”

  Arron shrugged. The manacles binding his arms to the dank stone wall of the dungeon clinked as he shifted on his rank pallet. “I’m made of sterner substance than what you’re used to, I reckon.”

  “That I highly doubt. I’ve felled many a mighty warrior and sorcerer with my blade.” Lassiter put his chin in one hand, studying Arron as if he were a puzzle that had no solution. “A cleaved heart is always fatal. I should know—thousands have fallen to my sword over the centuries, yet not one has had such a seemingly miraculous recovery without the aid of powerful healing magic.”

  “You must’ve missed the heart by a wee bit, I reckon.” Arron held his fingers apart to illustrate. “What can I say? My father must’ve been a tough son of a bitch, and I inherited that prodigious constitution. That would’ve been from the human side. Or maybe he was elven. Perhaps my mother had the toughness, but I never knew my parents, so what in the Abyss does it matter?” He spat on Lassiter’s boot. “Why don’t you piss off? Or have you come to finish the job, O master warrior that has slain countless?”

  Lassiter frowned but ignored the taunt. “No. I think I might have a use for you yet.”

  “And what might that be? Have you come to release me in the hopes that I can lead you to my sister?”

  “No. Although her current location eludes me, I have confidence I can reacquire her when needed. I am interested in knowing what Neratiri is up to, however. Is your group responsible for the attack on the foundry? Was the breach of the mana warehouse a ploy to distract from the true target of attack? I do not believe so yet will investigate regardless. Too many questions have arisen in the past few days. It seems Neratiri has piqued the interest of the lord of the city himself. He has ordered her captured or killed, but I admit to being curious as to why my master fears a simple half-breed, a plane-cursed. I shall like to find out. Your friend the mage, on the other hand, is… gone. The Pale Lord has removed that piece from the board, so to speak. Quite a curious group of conspirators this ‘mere’ thief gathers around her. A corruptor, a mongrel half-elf who is resilient to death, and her nature… that is yet to be determined. I do not believe in coincidence—there is more afoot, and I intend to find out what.”

  “Well, you won’t get shite from me. I’ll not betray her. Begone and leave me be.” He wondered what Nera had gotten herself involved in. I hope she hasn’t done something foolish helping Malek.

  Lassiter chuckled. Arron didn’t care for the sound at all.

  “Still have some mettle yet remaining, do you?” The Magehunter’s cold eyes glinted like blue steel. He reached out and placed his hands on Arron’s temples. The half-elf cried out as a splitting pain ripped through his skull, threatening to split it apart. His thoughts were hacked apart as if by a clumsy broadsword. As his mind was violated, he found it more and more difficult to concentrate. The blade scraped around his mind, scrambling his memories until it was all he could do to hold on to his own identity.

  “What makes you tick, little half-elf? You are like an irregular timepiece, yet the source of the problem cannot be found.” The cold voice seemed to come from across a void, reverberating in his skull. “I see there is much hidden away in this head of yours—perhaps it is beyond my skill to decipher. Unfortunately, the attempt would take time I don’t have. Perhaps on my next visit. The good news is that what remains, I think, shall work just fine.”

  The broadsword retreated, and Arron nearly cried in relief until he saw his own face staring back at him as if from a mirror. He blinked in confusion, but the image remained. He recoiled in shock.

  “What in the Abyss have you done to me?” Arron cried. He tried to scurry away on the thin pallet but was brought up short by his manacles. Oh, gods, he’s driven me mad!

  Arron’s mirror image gave him a crooked smile, the same one many a maid had found so charming, and strode from the cell. The door’s slam reverberated with the finality of a sealed sepulcher, leaving Arron alone in the darkness with his broken thoughts.

  ***

  Nera was trapped in the dream of the Abyss again. Ash rained from the sky, and the dry heat blasted her face. Lightning crackled in the clouds of soot spewed from distant volcanoes. Just over a nearby rise, the spiny back of some massive red-brown scaled beast passed by, likely in search of its next meal.

  “Nexus will fall. It is only a matter of time now.” The voice came from the man chained to the Wall of Lost Souls, Nera knew.

  She studied the figure, who looked worse than he had before. His thin arms were mere bones wrapped in cracked skin, stretched painfully behind him as he hung forward. Boils and open sores covered his body, and a loop of intestine hung from a ragged tear in his gut. Maggots squirmed in his wounds. Nera tried to focus on his haggard face to avoid the revulsion she felt at the man’s condition.

  The only sign of vitality in the man was his eyes. They gleamed a bright orange, like unveiled lanterns, as he gazed at her intently. Something about the man sparked recognition, but she couldn’t quite make the connection.

  “Shaol’s agents have disabled the Machine. They aim to open portals and unleash the legions of the Abyss onto the peaceful worlds of the multiverse. Shaol will become unstoppable with the immense power he will gain. You must free me! It is the only way we can stop this from occurring. I alone can make the Machine whole again.”

  Nera regarded the sorry figure. “Who are you? I’ve seen your likeness before.”

  The man tried to smile, and his chapped lips split open. “You’ve encountered my brother, perhaps.”

  “Your brother?” She tried to think, but those blazing eyes pinned her in their gaze. After a few moments, she saw the resemblance, and the sudden realization made her gasp. “Your brother is the Pale Lord!”

  “That is so. His lust for power wouldn’t allow him to turn Nexus over to another’s tending, so he fabricated the tale of his successor taking the reins. Yet, the Architect rules, only under another name.”

  The Pale Lord is the Architect? She supposed she shouldn’t have been surprised, but thinking she had stood up to the mythical figure from thousands of years ago and had lived to tell the tale was quite impressive in her own mind. That thought was short-lived as realization set in.

  “And you’re the Engineer!”

  He nodded. “I had a name once, but it has been forgotten for millennia. I suppose it matters not. I only remember the heroic task the gods gave me, the great purpose of my life: to build the wondrous Machine which is the Nexus of the Planes… with these very hands.” He held the clawed appendages in front of him and regarded them a moment. “And my brother infused the Machine with the magic that links the planes together—my cursed brother, who betrayed me and left me trapped here for all eternity.” Bitterness and hatred clouded his features.

  “The way I heard the tale is you went to war with your brother. After destroying countless worlds and lives in the Planar War, you were defeated and got cast down here, as befitted your disobedience to the gods.”

  “That is the tale the victors would have you believe, child. Such is the way of history—the victors are left to tell the tale to make themselves righteous. The losers are vilified and then forgotten.”

  “Perhaps. How is it that you know me and can contact me?”

  “We have a bond, Neratiri. Your mother hid you away from me for all these long years. I recently came upon this knowledge for a heavy price, but it was well worth it as I look upon you with such pride now.” His words were warm, and his cracked lips formed a gentle smile.

  “What are you saying? That you’re…” She couldn’t finish the thought. Her mouth dropped open in shock.

  “Yes. You are my daughter, Neratiri, your existence a secret to me for many
ages. Will you free me from this torment? Together, we can restore Nexus and save your friends, save thousands upon thousands who will perish if Shaol has his way.” The weight of his lanternlike gaze rested on Nera like a physical force.

  “How can that be?” She finally was able to break the eerie gaze and turn away, feeling short of breath by the revelation. She struggled to believe the outlandish tale. “You’ve been here for what, hundreds… nay, thousands of years! How can you be my father? What of my mother? Tell me of her, I beg you!” She turned and approached within arms’ reach of the creature claiming to be her father, desperate to know the truth that had been hidden away all her life, a truth she had almost given up on ever knowing… until now. This sorry, wasted creature before her held the answers.

  The Engineer seemed to consider for a moment. “Your mother is a trickster. If you haven’t come to know her yet, you will. Beware, for she plays her own game, embroiled in her schemes like the rest of them, trying to bend Fate to her will. You’ll understand one day, sometime soon, Daughter. Unfortunately, our time is at an end now. Free me, I implore you. Time grows short for Nexus and the multiverse.”

  “Wait, how am I supposed to free you? Tell me more!” Nera fought to hold on to the dream, but it was already fading.

  The Engineer held up a shackled hand. Upon it had appeared a strange series of rings and bands linked by fine chains. Nera recognized the device, and it drove home her solution to escape Nexus: she must recover the Bracer of Fellraven.

  “Azi’ahur i’ars si’ahu.” His words slithered into her mind, and she knew it was a command phrase to activate the bracer.

  Then she awoke.

  She sat up in the bed behind Nihad’s shop, heart drumming rapidly in her chest. She kicked her blanket aside and arose. The tiles were cool beneath her bare feet.

  My father? Can it really be? She took a few moments to relive every detail of the dream. Like the other vivid dreams or visions, this one was burned into her memory, every detail of it. What did he look like before? That poor, wasted thing… and my mother—who is she? He called her a trickster, one who plays a game trying to bend fate to her will. And I shall come to know her.

  Nera quickly dressed. She was anxious to be on the move since her plan to acquire the Bracer of Fellraven was confirmed. The lifelong dream of a plane-cursed orphan to learn of her heritage suddenly didn’t seem like such a hopeless cause after all.

  Perhaps in time… First, I need to find Malek, which requires retrieving that damned bracer. She tried unsuccessfully to repress the fear that gnawed at her with that thought.

  ***

  Idrimel and Athyzon stepped outside of the temple in the early evening, pausing on the upper step to survey the Temple District. A glow of a burning fire in the distance cast a reddish hue, reflected off the gloomy cloud hanging over the city, giving Nexus an ominous look. Despite what could’ve been taken for an ill omen, Idrimel was excited to be back on the right path of their quest.

  She was disappointed to find Athyzon gone when she knocked on his door just before dawn. She later found out he had been unable to sleep the past night and had sought out one of the patrols to cure his restlessness. As a result, she was forced to wait and tend to the petitioners until his return in the late afternoon. After a brief meal and a short time spent in meditation and prayer, they were ready to set off.

  Another sign they were on the right path was that, during her meditation and prayer time, Sol had restored all the healing spells she had used up earlier. Usually, she had to get a good night’s sleep and was bestowed her spells upon morning prayers.

  “The Dark One’s hold over Nexus is tightening,” Athyzon remarked, staring into the distance, toward the fires burning in the slums.

  “Indeed. Let us be on our way, Brother—we have tarried long enough.”

  They had just reached the bottom of the temple’s steps when they were hailed.

  “Greetings, my friends!” A short, stocky figure clad in plate mail, who barely came up to Idrimel’s waist, clanked up to them. The visor was up, revealing the grinning face of a gnome.

  “Yosrick! We’ve wondered where you’d gone to,” she replied with a smile of her own.

  The gnome clasped hands with the siblings, but his face turned grim. “Nexus is not faring well, I’m afraid. I worry we are too late to make a difference.”

  “Fear not, for Sol has granted me a vision! Your arrival has come at a most fortuitous time indeed.” She described the tile from her vision.

  Yosrick’s face brightened. “Aye, I know the place—a tavern not too far from the Funnel. You think that’s where we’ll find this woman who holds the key?”

  “Indeed, I do. Will you show us the way?”

  “Aye, let’s find this mysterious woman, then.”

  They set off with the gnome, and Idrimel’s heart soared. Surely, Yosrick’s arrival is another sign we are on the path once again.

  Chapter 6

  “Do you have to go back so soon?” Malek asked.

  Ilyena sighed. “Aye, else Maisy will come lookin’ for me, and I don’t want to be on the receiving end of the switch again.”

  Her hand was warm and soft in Malek’s, and he didn’t want to let go. The two of them were sitting in the grass beneath a large maple tree about a hundred paces from the back door of the inn. The sun was climbing in the sky and would soon be overhead, which meant the inn would soon be busy for lunchtime. Malek had gotten up early to make the trek into town and had caught up to Ilyena just as she finished washing the breakfast dishes. Maisy grudgingly agreed to let her take a break and see Malek for a time.

  “Ah, that’s too bad,” Malek said. “I could maybe see you again tomorrow. I’m sure I can find a reason to come into town again.” He had been surprised when Magellan had agreed to let him spend so much time traveling back and forth to Northbrook to spend a few precious minutes with Ilyena now and then. But Malek had been very focused on his studies of late, and Magellan was pleased, hence he was rewarding him with time off.

  “Won’t your master miss you?” Ilyena’s brown eyes were filled with amusement. “Don’t you have to practice turning people into frogs or something?” The breeze blew a lock of her curly brown hair into her face.

  Malek had to restrain the impulse to reach out and sweep the lock out of her face. He laughed. “Nah, you’re thinking of transmutation. My magic is different from that. Master Magellan tells me I’m special—nobody else uses the same type of magic as I do.” He thought guiltily of the old mage’s warning to not tell anyone his secret, but the words were out there already.

  Ilyena didn’t seem to mind. She squeezed his hand before letting go and hopping to her feet. “I suppose I can ask Maisy again for another break about the same time again tomorrow.” She shot Malek a grin. “See ya tomorrow, young wizard!”

  “Bye, Ilyena.”

  He watched her as she made her way back to the inn. The serving girl was a year older than he, and she had filled out nicely, practically a woman now. Her plain linen dress clung to her curves appealingly.

  She had made it halfway to the inn when a couple of local toughs came around the corner. They immediately saw Ilyena and angled toward her.

  Malek groaned. He recognized Thadeus and Earl, a couple hired hands at one of the farms. They were a few years older than Malek and enjoyed bullying many of the youths in the village. Although out of earshot, he could tell from their swagger they were making catcalls and harassing her. He got to his feet, unsure what he planned to do, but he started toward them. Thadeus reached out and grabbed Ilyena’s arm, pulling her toward him.

  “Leave me! I’ve got work to do.” Ilyena twisted free of Thadeus’s grasp and made for the inn.

  Earl scurried to get in front of her, blocking her path. “Why the hurry? A pretty thing like you shouldn’t be in such a rush.”

  Thadeus positioned himself behind her. “Yeah, why don’t ya come with us out to Old Man Hobbs’s barn. We can have some fun there, e
h?”

  “No. I’m busy. Besides, I’m already seeing someone.” Ilyena tried to get around Earl, but the bully cut her off again.

  “That so? And who might that be?” Thadeus asked. He reached out and pinched Ilyena on the backside. “I’m sure he won’t mind if we spend some time with ya too.”

  “Yes, he will,” Malek called. He was a few paces away from them now. His fists were clenched, and he glared at the toughs. “Leave her be.”

  The two whirled, unaware of his approach until he spoke.

  Earl burst out laughing when he saw Malek. “Ain’t that the crazy old wizard’s boy, Thadeus?”

  Thadeus regarded Malek, his heavy brow wrinkled as he glared at him. “Aye, this be the runt. Begone before I put my boot up your arse.”

  “Malek, I’m fine—let it be,” Ilyena called. “They aren’t worth it.”

  “Wench, shut yer mouth.” Earl grabbed Ilyena and shoved her forward. She stumbled and fell to her hands and knees in the dirt. He laughed and stood next to Thadeus, arms crossed over his broad chest.

  At the sight of Ilyena being shoved down, Malek felt heat rush to his face. “You’re going to pay for that. Begone!”

  “This runt has got some stones, Earl.” Surprise registered on Thadeus’s face. “Too bad for him he’s gonna get his arse beaten.” The bully started toward Malek, fists raised.

  “And she can watch.” Earl reached down and yanked on Ilyena’s hair, making her squeal in protest. She grabbed his hand and scratched at it until he let her go.

  Before he knew it, Malek had seized hold of the magic, instinctively going for the bright vitality of the thugs, drawing it along with the subtle ambient magic from the earth. A small part of him realized what he was doing at the last moment and cut off the flow before it was too much. However, that was a distant voice of caution in the back of his mind. Malek ignored it, focused on stopping the two bullies from hurting Ilyena.