The Legacy of the Ten: Book 03 - Darkhalla

by Scott D. Muller

  Warvyn was shocked. He had thought that Zedd’aki knew that his brother had created the collars during the battles of Ror. Warvyn had even lent a hand. Of course, those were the early days of Ror, before he and his brother had their falling out and he had been exiled to Darkhalla.

  “If he destroyed them all, how is it that you have one?”

  “Have One? I have hundreds!” Warvyn bragged. “And for your information, I recreated these from memory.”

  “You’re a bastard!” Zedd’aki swore.

  “No, I am a very competent wizard. Even if my brother disagrees!” Warvyn said, as he shook a finger in Zedd’aki’s face.

  Zedd’aki stared him down. “You are no wizard!”

  “You are entitled to your opinion I suppose and by your definition, that may very well be,” Warvyn agreed, chuckling before he turned serious. “But I’m something far worse! I’m the demon lord of Darkhalla!”

  Warvyn stood and backhanded Zedd’aki, spinning him in a complete circle. The veins in his neck throbbed and his mouth contorted with rage. “I have tried to be civil with you and you insult me and try my patience.”

  “I…I..” Zedd’aki mumbled, rubbing his jaw and trying to regain his equilibrium. His vision refused to clear and he was seeing double. He rested on all fours because he was physically unable to stand.

  “I should feed you to my friends; maybe I’ll start with the demon who healed you. Maybe she would like a toy to kill over and over again.”

  Zedd’aki staggered to his feet, took a step back and calmed himself. He recalled the excruciating pain the demon had caused him and he still vividly recalled the gleam in her eye; she had enjoyed her work and his pain.

  “Can we start over?”

  Warvyn glowered, fists at his sides, his leathery wings wide. He slowly opened his hands, folded his wings, and turned away, walking to the balcony. He was infuriated with this insolent mage, a mage he didn’t care for in life. He should have known better than to try to form an alliance. Halla, he didn’t even know if his brother would agree to a truce, let alone and alliance. Ja’tar was just plain pig-headed, but was he arrogant enough to cut off his nose to spite his face. His understudies had warned him against it. Unfortunately, he knew that he needed them, and although they didn’t yet realize it, the wizards needed them too.

  He stood for a while staring over the railing. He took a deep breath and remembered what was at stake. “Let calmer heads prevail. Come…come and see Darkhalla for yourself.”

  Zedd’aki stepped forward and got his first view of Darkhalla from the balcony in the palace. The palace was cut from the rock and was one and the same. Warvyn stood to the side and looked out over the gloom. The palace was at the top of a tall stalagmite, but if the other buildings were any indication, probably had many more floors below that were hidden. Below was nothing but darkness.

  Zedd’aki watched as the water ran uphill and then dripped upward at the ceiling. The magic and rules of this place were curious. Much seemed out of place. Zedd’aki found it curious that smoke sank.

  The sour smell curled Zedd’aki’s nostrils and made his eyes water. He wiped at them with his sleeve. “What is that smell?” he asked, wrinkling his nose and forcing the bile down his throat.

  “Death…” Warvyn answered with a smile on his face. “Death, and pain...” He crossed his arms and stared out across the expanse, watching smoke waft from above and then slink down along the walls into the pit below.

  Zedd’aki bent over, suddenly feeling lightheaded. The sounds of moans and cries rose, echoing out of the deep pit and slid along his spine, making him feel weak in the knees.

  “Try not to breath too much of the vapors. Your lungs are not used to them, they will stricken you as sure as the plague.”

  Zedd’aki covered his nose with his robe and stepped back from the railing. “And what is below?”

  “Nothing… the lower planes…fire…death…a one way trip to see the Master. The farther down you go, the less pleasant it gets. This is the fourth level.”

  Zedd’aki couldn’t contain his surprise.

  “You wonder why I am here and not either above or below.”

  Zedd’aki nodded, “I would have expected the lowest level.”

  “The answer is simple; above there are too many new arrivals—over anxious demons and castaways trying to make a name for themselves, trying to grab power. Not all demons are…civilized or come from deals with the Master, some evil is born.”

  Zedd’aki listened.

  “I tried living on the first level for a while, but got tired of always being challenged and having to watch behind my back. Oh, I enjoyed the twisted wenches that came my way, but although the opponents were of little challenge, given enough time, something or someone was bound to get lucky. In the levels below, the demons are conniving, dangerous, and ruthless. The only way to gain the ability to move between the levels is to challenge and kill those below. By the time demons get below this level they have become adept at killing. This level seems to be…how shall we say…stable? Since I can choose to live on any level as the Lord of Darkhalla, I choose here.”

  Zedd’aki took a breath and held it as he leaned over the balcony and peered into the abyss. He spied cages on long chains that floated out in the middle of the room. Some of the cages held creatures. Zedd’aki swallowed hard.

  “Them?”

  Warvyn stared over the railing. “They are being punished for breaking the rules of the level and the Cave.” Warvyn watched as three legged birds with long beaks and sharp claws dived at the creatures and pecked at their limbs when they weren’t paying attention.

  “The Cave?”

  “That is what we call this place. There are many caves and they go by many names.”

  Zedd’aki turned back and studied the cages, wondering what rules had been broken. He supposed that he would find time later to get all of his answers. Whatever they had done, he was sure that it must have been evil beyond his imagination.

  Zedd’aki leaned out on the balcony and tried to see the nearby walls. “How do you get around? Are there roads or tunnels?”

  Warvyn spread his tattered wings. “They’re not just for show…”

  Zedd’aki nodded and stared across the mammoth cavern, although he had not known that all demons had wings. He saw many other structures, built upon stalagmites and dug into the sides of the cavern. They were lit from within and the through the glow of the windows, he could see others moving about and see passages.

  “What is in those buildings?”

  Warvyn watched where Zedd’aki was pointing. “That one holds the food stores, and the one over there holds the market.”

  “You have a market?”

  “You sound so surprised. This place is not that different from the topside…except it is filled with vile, despicable creatures.” Warvyn roared and laughed until his stomach hurt. Zedd’aki wasn’t quite sure how to take his new found openness.

  Zedd’aki squinted, trying to see through the smoke. “Where do the passages go?”

  “To the other sections. Darkhalla is a vast place, filled with nooks and crannies. There are many places to get lost…or hide. When I first got here, I hid for years, learning. I was poorly prepared for life in this place.”

  “Impressive! I had no idea…” Zedd’aki said, looking back over his shoulder.

  Warvyn shrugged. “Are you hungry? Thirsty?”

  “What do you eat?”

  Warvyn chuckled. “Aren’t you just full of questions…”

  “I…” Zedd’aki shook his head. “Once a wizard…”

  Warvyn understood. “I’m sure you have many questions and we will have time for them later, but we’re in need of having a more serious conversation.”

  Warvyn walked back into the room and talked to one of the women dressed in gold and silver. Her dress didn’t leave much to the imagination, and other than a thick exposed bony-spine, she appeared all but normal. She nodded and left though the set
of double-doors at the end of the room. Of the others, two standing on either side of the door were eye-less Grimlocks. Their teeth clicked and chattered nonstop. They faced him and sniffed at the air, watching him intently—if that were possible. The other who was dressed in gold, a tall one with black waist length hair, grinned at Zedd’aki and licked her lips. She inhaled deeply, her nostrils flaring, and nearly fell over when a rush of ecstasy gripped her.

  “Don’t mind her, she smells your essence. It gives her…pleasure.” Warvyn pulled out a chair from a table. “Sit.”

  Zedd’aki did as he asked, looking back over his shoulder. “So what do you want to talk about and why am I not dead.”

  Warvyn stared into the calculating eyes he remembered from long ago. “Survival. I want to talk about survival.”

  Zedd’aki raised his brow but held his tongue.

  Warvyn paused and tilted his head back, deep in thought. “The dark mage roaming the realms is not to be trusted. She is evil and has bargained with the Master for her powers. She trains five others whom I assume will also swear allegiance with the Master. Soon, we will be unable to contain the situation. I cannot resist her calling, but the cost to her is high, she must sacrifice three slaves now. Others cannot resist at all.”

  Zedd’aki saw the look in his eyes. “You’re worried…”

  “You have no idea…” Warvyn stammered as his eyes narrowed, “I’m terrified.”

  “Terrified?” Zedd’aki said, taking a sharp breath. “You are a demon lord, what can she do to you?”

  Warvyn stared at Zedd’aki with yellow bloodshot eyes. “She can make us do whatever she wishes. She can kill us over and over again. It is most unpleasant. She knows what is in the book…”

  “What do you mean she knows the book?”

  “I think she has recreated the book from fragments of her memory. She doesn’t use it, she knows it.”

  “So, she uses the book.” Zedd’aki shrugged. “Do you know of her plan?”

  Warvyn reasoned. “I do not know—she has never said. I assume it is to bring down the Keep, yet that does not feel right to me. She is working on something in the depths of her keep that I cannot skree. She has a Lich that is a free-roamer and is using captured wizards to cause fear and destruction. She has destroyed castles and then leaves them vacant.”

  “I don’t understand…isn’t that what the dark wizards always wanted?”

  “No, very few in fact. But this one—she is just mad. That is all. Mad about everything. She seems to hold just as much anger against the dark magi for scorning her those many years ago, as she does the Keep. Does any of this sound familiar?”

  Zedd’aki shook his head. “Maybe Ja’tar would know. I was still very young in the days of Ror. He was there for most of the battles.”

  “Ah, my dearest brother; how is he?” Warvyn mocked concern.

  “Ja’tar is the same. Angry. He doesn’t speak your name, unless it is in vain. It is as if you never were.”

  Warvyn closed his eyes, picturing Ja’tar. “He was always angry, even as a child.”

  Zedd’aki snorted. “He’s angrier now. The recent events in the Keep make him even more so.”

  “Is he still reckless?”

  Zedd’aki snorted uncontrollably.

  “I’ll take that for a yes,” Warvyn chuckled.

  There was a knock at the door and the servant girl returned with a silver tray. She placed it in the center of the table, nodding at both Warvyn and Zedd’aki. Zedd’aki smiled at her and swore that she smelled him as she left. Warvyn grabbed the crystal carafe and poured Zedd’aki a glass of wine. He motioned for Zedd’aki to eat.

  Zedd’aki starred at the smoking steak in front of him and his mouth began to water. He lifted the glass to his lips and started to take a sip and paused with it at his lips.

  “It’s quiet safe,” Warvyn assured him. “Not quite as good as back topside, but still passable.”

  Zedd’aki took a sip, and nodded appreciatively. He cut off a big slab of the medium-rare steak and shoved it into his mouth. The flavor was different, but good. He mashed up what seemed to be a potato and soaked up some of the gravy.

  Warvyn watched him eat. “You like the steak?”

  Zedd’aki nodded and took another bite. “I didn’t know you had cows down here.”

  “We don’t…” he said, with a small grin.

  Zedd’aki stopped chewing and was prepared to spit it out. “Whaff ib viss?”

  “I’m not sure I should tell you. It might ruin your appetite.”

  Zedd’aki’s face paled.

  “It’s a slice of a living fungus we have down here. It looks a bit like a big mushroom—I’m talking table-sized. I found them quite by accident years ago and have been raising them. Do you approve?”

  Zedd’aki nodded with relief and continued chewing.

  “Over the years, I have found much here that replaces what I lost. It has been trial and error.” Warvyn chuckled. “Some of the errors were…unsuccessful.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Warvyn cleared his throat. “Fatal.”

  Zedd’aki felt a shudder travel down his spine.

  “It pays to have a large source of slaves and servants. Of course they can’t really be killed—you know that, right—but it pisses them off just the same.”

  Zedd’aki nodded, but Warvyn could see from his expression he wasn’t following what he was saying.

  “—Because when they return, they have to start over again at the lowest level and work their way down.”

  “Ah,” Zedd’aki mumbled, finally understanding. He had no idea that demons that returned to Darkhalla had to re-earn their credentials.

  “So, you can’t die?”

  “Die is relative. We die like everything else, it is just that the Master holds contract over Death and demands our return. It is possible to be wiped from the pattern. Even the Master can do little about that. He has granted me the powers to wipe a demon from the pattern, much the way you wizards can up on the surface.”

  “Who was the girl?” Zedd’aki asked, nodding in the direction of the door.

  Warvyn took a sip from his glass. “What girl?”

  “The servant girl?”

  “Ah, her. She is but one of thousands here. They are all brought to me and I chose who stays as my personal servants. I send those who are not fit for my service on to the other minor lords. The rest…well, they will go to the first level to fend for themselves.”

  “Where did they come from?”

  Warvyn shrugged. “Some made deals with the Master. Some are rewards given for services. Some are just people who have dabbled in things they should not have. The worst are the ones that are true evil incarnate.”

  “I thought all demons were evil.”

  Warvyn shook his head side-to-side. “You have no idea! There are demons here so evil, that I will not allow them passage through my gates.”

  “Are you holding them as captives?”

  “Not any of those, but…” Warvyn waved his fork as he talked, “…in a manner of speaking. They are bound by their agreements…or trapped by their transgressions. One cannot just leave.”

  “Do any ever leave?”

  “Most don’t. They grow…accustomed to this place. I have heard of a few who have made it back topside, but it is rare. Occasionally, a couple will break off and start a family. Find a small cave far outside of the main cities and try to ignore all the conflicts.”

  Zedd’aki almost spit out the food in his mouth.

  “Ah, you didn’t know that we could have children…”

  Zedd’aki shook his head and returned his attention to his plate. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was until he started eating. Several minutes of silence passed between the two as they worked on their meal.

  “She trains others,” Warvyn warned, changing the topic.

  Zedd’aki took a large gulp of the wine and wiped his face. “Who?”

  “The dark one. She calls
them her Band of Five.”

  Zedd’aki’s face went blank “It doesn’t mean anything to me.”

  “I thought not. Just the same, you need to know, word spreads and rumors always contain a sliver of truth.”

  Zedd’aki drained the glass and pushed his plate back, placing his elbows on the table and leaning in. “While I enjoy the company and frivolous banter, let’s get to the point. Why am I still alive.”

  “I didn’t seek you out for a battle. Well, in all honesty—I did. But my primary purpose was to retrieve the Book. We were discovered and…how shall I say…battle ensued. Unfortunate. I had hoped to be in and out of the Keep without discovery. None the less, it turned out fortuitous, and because of what Collin said, it turns out I need you. More specifically, I…we…need my brother’s help, and you are my bargaining chip!”

  “Bargaining chip?” Zedd’aki didn’t like the sound of that.

  Warvyn smiled, “Of course. My brother would never trust me and agree to meet me of his own free-will; you know him.”

  Zedd’aki’s expression got thin-lipped. “I don’t trust you either.”

  “That is fair, I suppose, especially due to our recent past history. Yet, you and your wizards are very much alive,” Warvyn reasoned, “and under my protection.”

  Zedd’aki nodded slowly, considering what had been discussed. “We are…for now. You mentioned that you have a plan?”

  Warvyn set his fork down. “I do. I want to propose a trade; you and those survivors from the battles of Ror in exchange for the Book and the Keep’s promise to help us eradicate the dark ones.”

  “Ror?” Zedd’aki’s jaw dropped. “W..w..what survivors of Ror?”

  Warvyn sighed deeply, wondering exactly how much he should volunteer. “When the battles of Ror occurred, we were called by the dark ones to fight for them. Now mind you, we were given no choice, we were compelled. I wanted more. I asked for those we captured as a fee, they acquiesced. I have a trifle more than twenty still alive from those battles, mostly women and children. The dark magic of the mages destroyed most of your wizards beyond what my skills at healing could remedy.”