Exile's Redemption: Book One of the Chronicles of Shadow

by Lee Dunning

  W’rath appeared again, spinning through the smoke. Two Riders collapsed before them, hamstrings neatly severed. W’rath quickly slit their throats. “Most certainly,” he said, pointing at the corpses. “Pain or no, they can’t walk if they’re hamstrung. Hit a major vessel and they’ll bleed out. Taking off the head works too. That is how you fight them.”

  More smoke poured over them, wrapping them in a suffocating cocoon. Everyone except Raven and W’rath began to choke and cough. Like the First Born, they had a much higher tolerance of anything involving fire, heat and smoke. “I think the fire may kill us before the demons do,” Raven said.

  “The entire field must be ablaze,” W’rath said. The smoke felt good in his lungs, but he knew the others couldn’t survive for long. “You and I can survive this, but we’ll never get the rest through the fire. Lord Icewind has failed miserably at his job. By now he should have easily divined our location and sent in a mage or two with a portal spell.”

  “Drop to the ground,” Foxfire choked. “Air … a little cleaner.” He followed his own advice, and the others soon followed. The queen and the boy collapsed, utterly overcome. Ungren knelt, eyes shut, lips moving as he prayed, appealing to his god and goddess for aid.

  “He actually thinks he’s calling upon higher beings?” W’rath muttered, amazed. “Foxfire!” He raced to the Wood Elf, as he too, completely succumbed to the smoke.

  Raven searched, desperately, for some escape, and then turned to the praying cleric. “We’d better hope they answer,” she said. “I don’t think help is coming from anywhere else.”

  From his vantage point on the erupted plateau he and three others had raised, K’hul watched the battle unfold. Kiat stood at his side, raising magical shields as necessary. Most of the combat took place below, but occasionally, one of the more observant and ambitious of the demons sent a spell their way.

  “Incoming,” Kiat said. All around them the air sizzled with a kaleidoscope of colors as the caster’s shield absorbed the magical attack.

  The strength of Kiat’s shield, while impressive, did not surprise K’hul. When K’hul had sought a new member for the council, he hadn’t chosen Kiat simply to gain a pliable ally. He’d assured himself of the elf’s competence as well. What was surprising, the Sky Elf, a cringing coward in most social situations, seemed perfectly at home on the battle field, shrugging off demon magic as if enjoying a spring drizzle. Once the magical assault ended, K’hul resumed his scan of the field below.

  The elves’ initial attack had focused on the three chanting enemy mercenaries. The combined might of a hundred spells ripped away the magi’s shielding. The horrified wizards attempted to escape, but with their ritual interrupted, they staggered about dazed and helpless. The elves hadn’t bothered with a second barrage, as the unleashed demons set upon those who had enslaved them, tearing them limb from shrieking limb. Then they did what demons do best—scattered in a hundred directions, destroying and murdering everything in their path. They had no cohesive leadership, but for the humans sharing the camp with them, it mattered little.

  The suddenness of having more than half of one’s allies turn into howling, slavering, horrors sent the camp into chaos. Men died without drawing their weapons. Others panicked and ran from the camp only to come face-to-face with the Elven army. In the dark, the night blind humans didn’t realize what they confronted until the elementals began to rip themselves out of the earth.

  K’hul’s elemental companion, a massive two hundred foot behemoth, glowed with the heat of an active volcano. Lava spilled from its maw, setting the field on fire. Others called upon their elemental companions, and the night turned to day from their fiery might. As the tall, dry grass caught fire, Sky Elves sent a great wind to push the flames toward the human camp.

  K’hul’s satisfaction at the sight soured as he recalled how none of them could bring such power to bear at Second Home. The bloody city itself, raised from magic, cut them off from the earth and sky, limiting their access to their powers. No elementals, no lightning storms, no flaming meteor showers.

  K’hul forced his attention back on the drama unfolding upon the field. Terror gripped the humans, and they scattered, trying to escape demons, fire, and elementals. They bolted, only a few retaining enough sense to gather their fellows in an attempt to fight through the demons to freedom.

  A few pockets of organized combat slowly formed up. Grossly outnumbered, though, the grass fire would soon cut off any chance of escape. K’hul’s gaze lingered on the struggling humans. “I suppose we shouldn’t let the poor bastards die,” he said, at last. Like most elves, he had little love for humans, but even he couldn’t see letting them die in so horrendous a manner. Besides, if he didn’t make some effort to save them, a certain lady would be infuriated.

  Kiat gestured to two of his fellow magi standing nearby. “Get a message to Lady Skúshil and Lord Baó. Sectors eight and thirteen have humans in need of assistance.”

  “Yes, Lord Icewind!” they said simultaneously. Via magic, they started relaying the War Leader’s will. Off to the east, the luminous blue of portal magic lit up the area. The beleaguered humans would soon find their numbers bolstered by a combination of heavy fighters and powerful casters.

  “What about Lord W’rath and Lady Raven?” Kiat asked.

  “I haven’t spotted them yet,” K’hul admitted. “You’ll have to try scrying for them again. We need that wizard they went to capture. They may have the human king, as well. I want to meet the wretch who thinks nothing of destroying the lives of thousands of his own people because he can’t stand to be outwitted by our scruffy cousins.”

  Kiat tried briefly to find their Shadow Elf kin through mundane means, but gave up almost immediately. The fires burned bright enough to hinder his normally keen night vision, and worse, the smoke was becoming a real issue on the field below. He paused long enough to reinforce the threads of his shielding magic, then began casting a divination spell intended to pinpoint the location of Lord W’rath and Lady Raven. He used the strand of hair W’rath had given him as a focus for his spell. His earlier attempts to divine the location of the two councilors had failed. This time he felt a tug and knew his spell had succeeded.

  No matter how many times he used the spell, it always startled him when it activated. Even though he didn’t physically move from his perch with K’hul, it felt as if he suddenly rushed toward a spot far to the south. The scenery flashed by as the magic zipped toward its targets. When the magic reached its destination, the sense of flying ended so abruptly, Kiat staggered, his mind fooled by the illusion of movement.

  He gasped as a slavering, demon-possessed human tore by through the smoke. A second later, a massive sword cut the demon down. Kiat recognized the sword as the standard issue weapon young First Born recruits carry. A now familiar black-skinned vision wielded the blade. Lady Raven—he had found them.

  His quarry located, Kiat murmured words to adjust his view. The field of view widened, allowing him a greater sense of what their people faced. The smoke churned like something alive, making it difficult to see even with the spell. K’hul’s voice floated ghostly in his ears. “Have you found them?”

  “Yes,” Kiat said, though his voice wavered as if he doubted himself.

  “Show me,” K’hul said, placing a hand on the slim diviner’s shoulder. Touching Kiat allowed him to take advantage of the caster’s magical vision and see the same area. In an Instant, he gazed upon the burning plain, watching Raven as she hurled herself at enemy after enemy. Her strength and skill stunned K’hul. The sword, intended for someone a good foot taller, didn’t suit her, yet she wielded it as well as any First Born he had ever seen. His brow furrowed in thought.

  “Do you see the way she fights?” K’hul asked of his companion.

  “Yes,” Kiat said, sounding not the least bit interested. “I’m trying to see through this blasted smoke. Lord W’rath should be here somewhere, too. Not to mention, you wanted to know about the wizard
and the king.”

  “Of course,” K’hul replied. “Keep searching. It’s just very strange. She fights exactly like a First Born. It’s as if she trained at First Home.”

  “Yes, very interesting,” Kiat said, absently. “Perhaps her people kept First Born slaves to train their young fighters.”

  Both elves took a startled step back as W’rath burst out of the smoke to assist his tiring companion. In his wake, they saw two men, presumably Riders, collapse, spouting blood from nearly severed heads. Using Raven’s current opponent for leverage, the small elf flipped around in a half circle to come up behind yet another foe, slicing through its tendons, sending the demon crashing to the ground.

  Before the Rider finished falling, W’rath twirled, a deadly dancer, evading the blades of three more Riders, hamstringing them, and leaving them helpless on the ground for Raven to finish off.

  W’rath yelled something at Raven, but Kiat’s spell only provided a visual of the scene and no sound. They could only guess at his words, but K’hul suspected he berated Raven for not pacing herself. She breathed like a bellows. Her hair hung in sodden strands, soaked with sweat and the blood of her victims. The magic coursing through an elf’s veins could be relied on for amazing stamina and recovery, but the warrior had managed to push herself beyond what her Elven gifts could provide. K’hul had a sudden vision of a swath of death left by Raven’s oversized sword and battered shield. In spite of himself, he was impressed.

  The smoke finally cleared enough for Kiat and K’hul to get a view of the area behind the Shadow Elves. A cluster of humans and one elf staggered through the poisonous air. Even as they regrouped with the Shadow Elves, they began to collapse. W’rath shouted something and caught the elf as the smoke overcame him. “Foxfire,” Kiat said, recognizing the Wood Elf. “He must have gone back to help them.”

  “Fool,” K’hul muttered. Several humans accompanied the elves. The First Born had seen very few of them in the past, but in his mind the largest must surely be the king. The one with the gold hair and beard fit the part. Even as he succumbed to the smoke, he did his best to protect the smaller males, and the female traveling with him.

  “Shouldn’t we send people to help them?” Kiat asked.

  K’hul made a face. As much as he would love to get rid of W’rath, it would be in poor form to lose three more councilors so soon. Not to mention the fact, they really did need the mage alive in order to interrogate him.

  Before he could answer, though, a third voice enter the conversation. A very angry, female voice. “It’s a simple question, War Leader. How long do you plan to deliberate the pros and cons of saving our people?”

  Kiat dropped the seeking spell so abruptly both males nearly fell over from vertigo. Lady Swiftbrook stood next to them, her silver and blue armor coated in soot and blood. Her pale skin had gone scarlet with rage. “Which sector?” she snarled through clenched teeth.

  “Two,” Kiat squeaked. His battlefield courage evaporated. He tried to disappear behind K’hul’s broad back.

  Lady Swiftbrook gave them both a withering gaze before storming off to the edge of the rocky finger where her two apprentices waited. She stepped onto the wind walk spell they maintained, a nearly invisible disk of air, and the reason for her silent arrival. The three females stepped upon it and glided back toward the soldiers under Lady Swiftbrook’s command.

  “I was just about to send you in,” K’hul called. Even as the words left his tongue, he knew how bloody foolish he sounded.

  Lady Swiftbrook didn’t bother to turn around. The gesture she threw back over her shoulder was clear enough.

  “They’re dying!” Raven cried. For the first time since they’d begun their bloody work, W’rath could hear fear in her voice. “I can cut down an enemy, but this fire, this smoke, I can’t stop it. I can’t save them!”

  W’rath struggled to throw Foxfire’s dead weight over his shoulders. Despite the Wood Elf’s small size, he still stood a good half a foot taller than the Shadow Elf. “Yes, I forgot how difficult it is for most people to breathe smoke,” W’rath grunted, finally settling Foxfire into a position conducive for travel.

  “How will we help all of them?” Raven continued. She shifted from foot to foot, desperate to act, but unable to decide what exactly she should do. W’rath wondered if it was possible for someone holding a shield and sword to wring their hands.

  He made himself pause before answering, reminding himself she was still a child. He would not act like his father and bellow at a youngster for finding themselves out of their depth. He had insisted she accompany him. She was his responsibility. “Lass, we can’t save them all. We save our own and the wretch we need for questioning. If it comes down to it, you drop him as well. We do not abandon Foxfire.”

  Bleak despair fought with denial on her face. “You’re thinking with your heart, lass.” W’rath expected angry words, but they didn’t come. Instead, she swallowed heavily and walked forward to pull the unconscious mage from the pile of humans, tossing him over her shoulder like a doll. Her eyes lingered on the queen, curled protectively around the young boy. She squeezed her eyes shut, turned on her heel, and marched past W’rath.

  Raven paused for a moment. “Have you had to make choices like this before?”

  “Yes,” he replied.

  “How do you live with that?”

  “The same way you’re going to. You put one foot in front of the other, lass.”

  W’rath watched her back, silently willing her to start moving. They’d been given a reprieve from the demons. That wouldn’t last. It couldn’t.

  A sudden realization came to him. The smoke should have the same affect on the demons, housed as they were in human bodies. Most of what they’d run into were obviously the dregs of the Abyss, demons too stupid to do more than hurl themselves at the enemy and tear them apart.

  It made sense that the magi would want to work with such easily dominated demons, creatures they could control and summon without putting out much effort. A handful of magi would go for quantity over quality in a case like this—the creation of a disposable army. But that meant the demons lacked the intellect to cast spells, and so they couldn’t protect themselves from the deadly smoke.

  But in fact, none of the Riders they’d run into had seemed the least bit affected by the smoke. So, sprinkled about the battlefield, at least a few more powerful, intelligent specimens lurked, assisting their lesser brethren, if not out of the goodness of their hearts, then because they needed them to serve as shock troops to help whittle down the humans and elves. They wouldn’t enter the fray until their foes tired and their numbers dwindled. They would wait for just the right moment to attack.

  W’rath’s eyes went wide. “Raven!”

  Startled, Raven paused in mid step. It saved her life, but the wall of emerald flame that erupted still engulfed her right leg up to the hip. She screamed in agony, and fell heavily, the unnatural flames already eating away at her leg. She rolled, and beat at the flames with her hands, trying to put them out. The fire rushed up her leg to her hands and arms, nearly reaching her shoulders. The flames licked at the mage’s feet, as he lay sprawled and forgotten.

  W’rath dropped the unconscious Foxfire and rushed to Raven’s aid, pulling her further from the roaring fire wall. The flames clung tenaciously, attempting to spread as she continued to struggle to put them out. W’rath rattled out a counterspell, and the flames winked out. He kept dragging Raven back, her panic inhibiting him more than anything else. He dropped her next to Foxfire and started for the mage, but a deep-throated chuckle brought him up short.

  “I thought I recognized you, Umbral,” a voice rasped in Abyssal.

  W’rath hissed and backed away from the flame wall as a figure stepped through it. “I wasn’t sure at first. It’s been so long since you murdered our glorious leader, and then fled like a craven worm.”

  W’rath watched the Rider warily. He had no way to recognize the demon, clothed as he was in human sk
in. His knowledge and skill marked him as what passed for nobility in the Abyss, though. The regular riff-raff couldn’t cast the way this fellow could, and even fewer would have known Umbral, or served under the same demon lord.

  “Presumably, you speak of Ruaz’Daem,” he replied in Abyssal, stopping so he could keep himself between the Rider and his fallen comrades.

  A vicious snarl ravaged the demon's face, tearing both sides of its host’s mouth. The bottom lip flopped down like a grotesque tongue, just a long, useless piece of flesh now. “You are not worthy to speak his name!” Blood and spittle flew from the ruined mouth.

  “You don’t find it the least bit ironic you’re outraged by murder?”

  “Lord Ruaz’Daem was the finest leader we ever had. Because of him no one could stand against us. We had riches, power, and endless victory. He took you in and you repaid him with betrayal!” He flexed his hands as if used to wielding scythe-like claws. The flames around him danced in agitation.

  “By ‘take me in’ I assume you refer to the fact he sent a pack of his minions to forcibly drag me before him so he could offer me the choice of either serving him or enduring a slow, torturous death for all eternity. Yes, absolutely charming fellow.”

  The demon spat out a spell and W’rath countered it. With Foxfire and Raven unconscious he felt safe displaying his magical ability. Not that he had much choice at the moment. Either he cast spells or he died. Keeping secret his mixed ancestry paled when faced with extinction.

  “He taught you that!” the demon bellowed. “When you came to us you were little better than a slavering cur. A savage.”

  W’rath studied the Rider as if he could pierce the disguise the human’s body afforded the demon. For the fellow to know so much about Umbral’s stay with the demon lord, he had to have held a position within the upper echelon of Ruaz’Daem’s command. Or perhaps, and W’rath kicked himself for not considering it earlier, the demon hadn’t served in the army at all, but instead worked as a member of Ruaz’Daem’s household. Oh ho!