Beyond the Edge of Dawn

by Christian Warren Freed

  “Fire!”

  Dag’s command was all but drowned out over the roar of the enemy. Bloodthirsty werebeasts pushed and clawed their way towards the stone platform for the chance to kill again. Dozens died in the first volley. A second round dropped more. Then the werebeasts were upon the defenders. Man and beast fell. Blood flowed freely across the scarred rock, but the line held. Some men broke and ran, only to be run down almost immediately.

  The fighting was brutal, furious. A hulking monstrosity with the mane of a lion climbed over the backs of others to attack Dag. The big man hefted a long wooden spear and stabbed. The blunt tip pierced through the beast’s wide chest and out the back. Gathering what strength it had left, the beast lunged. Dag clung to the spear, knowing he was dead if he let go.

  The beast was strong, too strong for any mortal being. Impossibly long fingers dug deep into Dag’s shoulders. Pain exploded. The beast squeezed harder, intent on crushing the life from his victim. Dag finally abandoned the spear to wrap his own hands, meaty from decades of labor, around the beast’s throat. Both warriors stood locked in violent contest. Blackness crept into the corners of Dag’s vision. He was no match for the sheer volume of hatred driving him down to his knees. The pain was excruciating. Dag squeezed harder. Desperation sank in.

  Lars appeared from nowhere, driving his sword across the werebeast’s hamstring. Dag dropped. Trapped on the spear, the werebeast could only bellow in frustration as both Dag and Lars stabbed it to death. Lars helped Dag up, careful not to mention the wince of pain in his lord’s face. No man liked to be reminded of weakness.

  “Thank you, lad.”

  Lars nodded and returned to the battle. Dag smiled fondly. He liked the boy, enough that he had misgivings about bringing him here to die. Frustrations pointless, he retrieved his spear and charged the snarling monster crawling over the lip of the platform. He stabbed with all of his remaining strength. The blade sliced neatly through the beast’s shoulders before shattering on the rock. The beast roar in agony, and Dag crushed his boot down through its skull.

  A second bolted over the dead to tackle Dag. Dust roiled up around them from the force of collision. Man and beast grappled for the advantage. They punched and twisted, each trying to kill the other. Dag alternated blows against the exposed ribs until dark blood seeped through the diseased flesh. His knuckles were raw, sore. A bloody mess.

  He’d never been in such a fight. The very limits of his strength were tested beyond measure. Dag’s blows fell with the ferocity of hammers. Hot saliva drooled onto his cheek, stinging flesh. He looked up into the nearing maw. Strips of flesh were stuck between the long fangs. Bone fragments caked the tongue, dropping with each breath.

  The beast targeted Dag’s wounds. Claws dug into the holes already rent and ripped. Dag screamed from pain, hammering the beast harder. There was a sharp crack, and the beast reeled. One of the cheekbones was broken. Ivory shards ripped through the flesh. Dag’s blood boiled. He stepped up the attack. Strain and exertion were taxing him to the end. He was already at his limits. Dag gathered his strength for a final blow and was rewarded with the sickening crunch of the windpipe crushing.

  Dag crawled away. The beast gasped, writhing on the ground in death throes. Dag slammed his dagger down to kill the beast. He nearly paused, finding recognition in the beast’s eyes; it was almost as if it was pleading for the end. The beast died with a satisfied look. Dag sheathed his dagger and retreated before the next beast could succeed where the others failed.

  FIFTY-EIGHT

  Gessun Thune

  The tunnel mouth was the most comfortable part of their journey, if such a thing could be said. The darkness constricting the passageway was almost pure. Though the way was rank from filth and decay, the tiny band proceeded unmolested. The beast Aphere had killed in the opening had been the only sign of enemy activity they’d seen thus far. Kavan knew better than to think it would last.

  Mabane was never more than a step behind — whether to point the way or out of fear, Kavan didn’t know. What mattered was that he didn’t break and run when given the opportunity. Kavan approved. The man was broken and certainly demoralized but managed to regain a measure of inner strength. He led them down into the caverns, edging closer to the ruins buried within.

  None of them, not even Mabane, knew what to expect within the forgotten city. Myths and legends were few. The agents of the dark gods looked to secrecy to keep curious adventurers from getting too close. Those foolish enough to come anyway disappeared. Kavan and the others figured Corso had manipulated the peoples of Aradain and, to an extent, all of Malweir to believe that the dark gods were gone, locked away in their ethereal prison.

  That didn’t matter to Kavan. His thoughts swirled around combating Pirneon and ending this nightmare. The prophecy must be fulfilled. He marched with squared shoulders and head high into the darkness. Some moments were shaped by an entire lifetime of struggle. Kavan was destined for this moment.

  “Wait,” Mabane whispered in his ear.

  Kavan dropped into a fighting stance. He’d been embarrassed at being caught off guard once and was determined not to let it happen again. He felt Mabane shuffle closer.

  “This is the entrance to the dead city.”

  Kavan narrowed his eyes. “Dead city?”

  “Yes. Just ahead are dozens of ruined buildings. This was once a great city, long before Aradain became a kingdom.”

  “I don’t like this. We are at too much of a disadvantage here,” Kavan said. “Which way now?”

  “The ruins are directly ahead, but from there, I know not. I can’t help without knowing what we’re looking for,” Mabane replied.

  “I can’t help with that. We’ll find out together,” Kavan admitted. “Come on.”

  They slipped into the ruins, dangerous people intent on removing an ancient evil. Kavan displayed methodical precision. He led with flawless ability despite lacking a clear destination. The ground was smooth from the constant trample of boots and moccasins. Vision adapting, Kavan made out the edges of buildings. Ruined temples and homes filled the massive cavern. An entire civilization lay destroyed. Bones littered the ground at random intervals. Some were old, others not so much. Kavan had just stepped over a skeleton when Aphere hissed warning.

  “Wait.”

  He froze. “Where?”

  Aphere crept closer. “Pirneon. I can feel him.”

  Kavan’s heart slowed. His mouth went dry. “Are you certain?”

  She nodded vigorously. “Yes, but it…feels different. I can’t explain it, but it’s almost as if it is no longer the Pirneon we knew.”

  Fearful of her predictions, Kavan tensed. “How is that possible? He was our strongest.”

  The rational part of his mind refused to accept such a travesty could occur. Admittedly, Gaimosians were far from perfect, having their share of villains and fallen heroes, but Pirneon had been the pillar of their order for a very long time. The future of their bloodlines depended on men like Pirneon. For him to have fallen signified foul times approaching.

  Aphere gripped his arm. “I don’t know, but beware. I can feel the evil in this place. Gessun Thune thirsts. I can hear it calling. The dark gods are close. Kavan, the eclipse is nearly upon us.”

  “I thought the eclipse was late tomorrow?”

  Her revelations changed everything. Precious little time remained for them to accomplish their task. Kavan felt new weight crushing him down.

  “Look!” Mabane squeaked.

  A haunting glow flamed to life in the cavern center. Pale green waves swept over the ruins like a thunderhead on a cool summer evening. The natural humidity of the subterranean chamber evaporated, leaving all with an eerie chill. Wails from a thousand broken souls rose from the ground. All had been murdered in this foul place and forever trapped by the eldritch powers desperately clinging to life. Centuries of pain suddenly erupted in undisguised glory. Promises of devastation entered the knights’ minds.

  Kavan sickened
at the thought of wasting damnation as the green glow washed over them. The force was staggering. Pressure built in their heart and heads. Arteries swelled, threatening to burst. Blood trickled from ear and nose. Mabane fell to the ground, an unconscious waste. Tym screamed. His mind was no match for the influence being exerted over them. They watched the desiccation of their flesh, the brutal flaying of their souls. There was no hope. No future. Only misery awaited.

  Then it was over. Aphere knelt in their midst. Her eyes screwed tightly while she combated the enemy influences. Ever so slowly, the horrors of the underworld receded until, at last, the beleaguered group was able to breathe. The intense pressure vanished. Whispers and screams faded to moans. Aphere opened her eyes to find the others staring at her. Only Kavan knew the truth.

  “How?” Tym asked in awe. “I’ve never seen the like.”

  Kavan deflected him. “Do not question what we cannot understand. I think we figured out which way to go.”

  “The nexus is in the light,” she confirmed. “They are so powerful, Kavan. It’s almost seductive. I can feel their strength.”

  He tightened the grip on his sword, making the internal promise that none would fall under the dark gods’ sway.

  The slight glaze that had slipped into her eyes faded. “They know we are here. We must hurry. Corso will be quick to try and stop us.”

  “Right,” Kavan agreed and turned to the others. “Kill everything that gets in our way. Leave the sorcerer to Aphere. The rest of us provide cover. We move now.”

  He took a step before remembering Mabane. Kavan knelt down to shake his shoulder. The one-armed man didn’t stir. Fearing the worst, Kavan rolled the body over to check for a pulse. There was none. Mabane’s eyes were opaque. The irises had disappeared. Spittle trickled from his slack mouth. Blood dried around his nose and ears. Kavan whispered a prayer for the man.

  He’d never understood Mabane. His very nature had perplexed Kavan greatly. One moment a craven coward, the next impossibly brave, his worth to their quest had been immeasurable. Mabane had offered hope where none existed. Now he was dead.

  “Be at peace, my friend,” Kavan whispered. He rose, his resolve that much stronger. “The power of the dark gods was too much for him. His heart and mind gave out.”

  “We’ll bury him on the way out. He deserves that much.” She reached down to close his eyes. “Kavan, time is gone. I fear Corso is already beginning the ritual.”

  He asked, “The green glow?”

  She nodded. “We must hurry.”

  “At least there is no doubt which way we must go. Let us put an end to this nightmare.”

  Kavan sheathed his sword, favoring the close-quarters style of the crossbow. Loading a round, Kavan took point, darting through the ruins. The specialized crossbow Phirial’s father had forged felt odd in his hands. He’d never excelled as a bowman. Aphere and Barum were far better, though he could hold his own when it came down to it. Still, his confidence was bolstered having Aphere a quick step behind.

  Heavy footsteps made him duck against a sloping wall. The glow continued to strengthen. Aphere’s dire look told him they had reached the nexus. Kavan drew a deep breath that exited his nostrils in icy plumes. Shivering, he readied to meet his fate. The cold edged down into his core. An ethereal hum vibrated the ground. Brackish mist pulsed out from the core of the nexus.

  Kavan edged closer. His grip tightened around the crossbow’s stock. Fingers danced lightly over the trigger. The tiniest inkling of fear awoke. Latent images of what the dark gods might actually be mocked him each time he blinked. He braved a look around the corner and froze. Both beautiful and bewitching, Kavan found himself gazing into the gateway to another dimension.

  Grey light pulsed from a giant hole in the ground. Enormous blocks of marble ringed the pit, lending an air of majesty to the scene. Sparks danced from the light like so many butterflies. For a moment, Kavan was tempted to forget the nightmares visited upon the world so that he might bear witness with greater appreciation. The moment passed when he spied shackled hands protruding from the tops of the marble.

  There were ten in all. Ten victims sacrificed so that the dark gods might return to the world. Kavan was sickened at the sight. Each had been flayed alive, ragged bits of flesh still dangled from bone and muscle. Each was gutted. An enormous altar upon which the organs had been laid out like a ghoulish feast dominated the center of the marble. Kavan finally realized just how wrong they’d been in assuming Corso was a man. No man could have committed such filth.

  Rage filled his heart, forcing him to grab the wall to stop himself from charging in. Kavan tried clearing his thoughts, tried looking past the desiccated bodies. Four werebeasts protected the shrine. Spaced far enough apart to give any attackers time for one quick strike, they appeared enthralled. Kavan snarled. They’d be easy targets for the speed and brutality of the Gaimosian assault. Of Corso, there was no sign. Kavan took the information for what it was and slipped back around the corner.

  “There are four guards, all posted on cardinal points. I didn’t see Corso or anyone else,” he reported.

  “Sounds like a trap,” Aphere said. “Corso wouldn’t just let us walk in. He wants us to make a mistake.”

  “What choice do we have?” he asked. “For too long, we’ve been hounded by his foul craft. This must end, Aphere. We kill the guards before he returns and then figure out how to stop the ritual.”

  She let out a cool breath. Her feminine features appeared haunting in the pale glow. She prayed it was not a sign of things to come. Reluctantly, she agreed. The four survivors readied themselves. One way or another, their long quest was about to end.

  FIFTY-NINE

  Confrontation

  They stealthily entered the chamber. Kavan being the closest, he dropped and fired. His bolt took the nearest werebeast clean through the throat. The beast died without a sound, warped body dropping lifelessly into the pit. Grey light enveloped the body, devouring flesh and bone with ravenous appetite. A haunting laugh danced across the walls. Kavan reloaded.

  Aphere’s arrow flew true as well. The beast died and was pitched into oblivion. Again the laugh resounded, for the dark gods were hungry. The Gaimosians moved swiftly, finishing off the remaining beasts before they could escape back into the cavern and sound the alarm. Tym and his Fist counterpart proved their worth by felling the other two.

  “Keep watch,” Aphere cautioned. Her senses told her that Corso was close, as well as Pirneon. The oracle’s predictions were coming to pass. She had feared the worst since leaving the Uelg; those fears were now being realized. She had no doubt that Pirneon was converted to the will of the dark gods. Her heart wept not only for Pirneon but for Kavan, too. It was no easy task to kill a mentor.

  Satisfied for the moment, Kavan moved into the open. Curiosity took hold, making him want to see what the face of true evil looked like. He slung his crossbow in favor of his sword and moved closer to the nexus. He was amazed at how such a seemingly small thing like a hole in the ground could hold the fate of the entire world in the balance. The grey light was alluring, almost hypnotizing. He felt the raw power, the luring promises of glory.

  “Tempting, isn’t it?”

  Kavan shook his head, slowly regaining his senses. His hand was almost touching the nearest blood-stained marble.

  “Kavan, behind you!”

  He turned and finally came face to face with the obsession of his recent past. Hidden beneath robes the color of blackest night, Corso emerged from the shadows at a measured pace. Kavan figured his frame was small, neither muscular nor fat. He judged the man insignificant save for the power at his command.

  “You may touch the light, though I suspect you already know how the power will embrace you,” Corso taunted.

  Aphere and the Fist ducked down on either side.

  “Show yourself,” Kavan ordered.

  Corso laughed at him. “What purpose would that serve? You already know who I am, leastwise you suspect so.�
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  Tym fired off a quick shot aimed at Corso’s heart. Corso didn’t flinch as the bolt splintered a foot in front of him and fell to the ground.

  “Did you truly expect that to work?” Corso asked. “I’ve lived more than a thousand years, and you seek to slay me with one arrow? The oracle should have prepared you better, Gaimosians. I cannot be killed by mortal weapons.”

  Kavan stepped forward. “Lower your hood so we can see your face. I want to look into your eyes before I kill you.”

  “Ah yes, the fabled aggression of the Gaimosians. Save it. I’ve heard it all before, and from greater men. You are all that’s left of a once noble bloodline. I should have you kneel for that arrogance.”

  Kavan raised his sword. “How is it you know so much about us? Who are you?”

  Fragile hands reached up to slowly lower the thick, wool hood. His face, already sallow, appeared wraith-like in the glow. Centuries of corruption bled through his skin. Aphere saw the malice under his flesh. Her senses recoiled. The stain surrounding Corso pushed outward, attempting to ensnare her. She fought back, taxing her strength just to keep his power at bay.

  Corso’s eyes flashed hungrily. “Ah, you have such power. If only you understood your worth to the world. I’ve been watching your blood for centuries.”

  “Enough riddles,” Kavan barked.

  Lightning crackled between his fingers. Corso’s face darkened. “Very well, the truth then. We have time yet, and my masters want you to learn the truth of your demise. This is a tale millennia in the making. When the world was still young, there was a race of beings. Our primitive minds termed them gods. How they scoff at such words. Imagine a race of immortal beings who controlled every facet of life.