Shadowtrap: A Black Foxes Adventure

by Dennis L McKiernan

  The hair on all their arms began to tingle, and strands of Toni’s reddish-brown-blond mane slowly lifted outward from her head.

  Drew Meyer looked at her and uttered a two word prayer: “Oh, shit . . . ”

  23

  Pon Barius

  (Itheria)

  “Dying?” cried Ky. “Pon Barius is dying?”

  Kane looked up from the ancient syldari. “He is in a deep coma, and fading fast. Quick, fetch my herbs and simples. And water! I’ll need boiling water.”

  “I’ll get the kit,” said Ky, darting from the room.

  As Ky ran out to Kane’s horse, Arik stepped back into the kitchen and stirred the coals in the hearth, adding wood, while Lyssa pumped water into a teakettle. From cupboards and cabinets, Rith and Arton began collecting earthenware vessels in case Kane needed to mix various medicines.

  Ky dashed back through the cottage to the bedroom, a satchel in her hand.

  Lyssa hung the teakettle from a fire iron and swung it out over the growing flames. Arik turned to her and said, “The drakka may still be on our trail. I’m going to stand watch on the sward.”

  “Me, too, Arik,” said Arton. “I’m of little or no use here.”

  “As soon as the water boils,” said Lyssa, “I’ll join you, even though the drakka may never find this clearing; I sensed a great warding as we entered the ring of oaks.”

  “Perhaps you are right, love,” said Arik. “Nevertheless, I need to feel useful while Kane ministers to that old syldari in there.” Arik nodded to Arton, and they stepped out through the door.

  From the bedroom Kane called, “Hurry with that water.”

  As Lyssa watched the pot not boil, Rith carried cups and bowls into the healer.

  Kane poured steaming water into three cups and stirred each until the black powder dissolved in the first, and swirling leaves in both the second and third stained the liquid red in one and tan in the other. The big man turned to Ky. “Remember, now, first this one, then this one, then that one. As soon as his eyelids flutter.”

  The syldari glanced at the elder, his skin like yellowed parchment. She nodded, then looked at Kane, concern in her eyes. “And you?”

  “The same with me, Ky,” he replied, “though I think it may be some time before I start coming ’round. Afflictions of the brain or of the mind are the most difficult to deal with . . . especially those of mental torment—they can take months.”

  “Oh my!” exclaimed Ky. “Will you—?”

  Kane smiled. “Not in this case, mouse. At least, I don’t think so. He is in a coma because he expended too much of his energy. Now be ready, for he will come ’round in moments; as for me, I should come ’round sometime before sunset.”

  Doubt filling her eyes, Ky smiled grimly and nodded.

  Kane turned to the comatose syldari and gently brushed back white locks to place a hand on either side of the ancient one’s head. The healer-warrior took a deep breath and paused a moment, then frowned in concentration, his lips drawn thin and white. A heartbeat later his hands trembled and his face turned pale, then grey, and of a sudden he pitched over sideways, crashing to the floor.

  “Oh!” cried Ky, quickly kneeling at his side. Kane was jammed awkwardly against a wall, his eyes open and staring, his breathing rapid and shallow. Grunting, Ky first tried to drag him and then to roll him away from the wall, with no success.

  “Somebody!” she shouted. “Somebody get in here and help me!”

  Behind her, she heard a faint groan, and turning, she saw the old syldari’s eyelids flutter.

  “It expended more of me than I had imagined,” said Pon Barius. He took a sip from his teacup, and with a satisfied, drawn-out Ahhh . . . ! he set the cup down. “Roads of swiftness are quite, uh, draining, you know, even when you have help.” Pon Barius glanced out through a window at the bole of the great oak tree.

  Across from Pon Barius, Rith looked toward the open doorway. “Just in the nick of time for us, it would seem.”

  Arik, leaning against the door frame, scanned the woods at the edge of the sward. “Are you certain the drakka cannot find us?”

  Pon Barius snorted. “Oh, child, you can stand down from your sentry duty, and call in your other two guards. The drakka are days behind and scattered. Yet even should they come near, unless they have someone of great power with them they will not see this place whatsoever nor accidentally stumble across it.”

  “But they do have someone of great power aiding them,” said Ky, the Shadowmaster sitting in the doorway to the bedroom, where she could keep an eye on unconscious Kane, the big man now lying on the floor on the ancient syldari’s short mattress, his feet and most of his legs beyond its reach.

  Pon Barius cocked an eyebrow at Ky.

  “We think DemonQueen Atraxia is aiding them,” she explained.

  Pon Barius smiled wanly and shook his head. “Child, that is obvious. After all, who else could set demonkind loose in Itheria when the Arda’s sun is on high, eh? The real question is why? Why would she do such a thing? And what is there about you six that would cause such pursuit? Have you done something to invoke her wrath?”

  Ky glanced at Arik and the warrior said, “Sir, I will call in Lyssa and Arton and unfold our tale when Kane is awake and aware, for each of us has something to contribute and all need to know what passes here.”

  Nettled, Pon Barius frowned and drank the last of his tea. Then he stood and stumped into the bedroom and peered down at Kane. Turning, he said, “Fair enough. Fair enough we should wait for him to recover, for I owe him my very life.”

  “No, no!” hissed Pon Barius, capturing Arton’s hand to keep the master thief from opening the silver pommel. “Do not unshield the gem until I have set further wards, and then only briefly and but to extract the note and not the jewel. If it is what I think it is, that is how she tracks it—when it is not surrounded by silver it calls out to her.”

  “But she found it at the Blue Lady’s, and we didn’t expose it there,” protested Arton. “That is, I didn’t expose it until the demon asked for it. Hence, the DemonQueen already knew where it was.”

  Pon Barius shook his head. “I deem it was due to the Blue Lady’s oracular scrying which brought the demon to you. And now Atraxia knows the gem is hidden in a silver blade.” The wizard looked at Arton. “She sent one of her most cunning demons—a succubus—to fetch it.”

  “She almost got it, too,” rumbled Kane, the big man sipping a honey-sweetened herbal concoction. “What with savage animals set free from the walls.”

  “But afterward,” said Lyssa, “we moved away from the Blue Lady’s grotto. Yet they found us still. Pursued us, as you know, into the Wythwood. If silver shields it, how can that be? Surely the storm wiped out any tracks we left behind.”

  “Well, young lady, I think she knew where you went because of that very same storm you speak of. The arcane power released when you crossed over the old high pass from Horax’s tower to mine was enormous. ‘Here am I!’ it shouted to any with the ability to see. After that, it was a simple matter to set drakka on your track.”

  “Simple matter?” asked Ky.

  “Yes, child,” replied Pon Barius. “By using utterdark, Atraxia can move several demons across the in-between, though not a vast army . . . which means that she must have forged a new scepter to do so.”

  “Utterdark!” exclaimed Ky. “Of course! They say it does not need to be tuned to an aura . . . perhaps it is tuned to all. The drakka used it in the Gapton notch. But wait! To cast utterdark takes a great deal of power—it would press me to my limit.” Puzzlement flashed across Ky’s face. “You say she used a new scepter? To conjure utterdark?”

  “Yes, yes,” snapped Pon Barius impatiently. “Look, all of this is speculation. Until I see what is written in that message, I cannot say for certain. Now, hold your questions while I set the wards so we can safely open the dagger.” He glanced up at Arton. “When I tell you, swiftly extract the message. Then shut it up as quick as you
can. No use taking chances, you know.”

  “Ha!” barked Pon Barius. “No wonder you couldn’t read it. It is written in the gnoman tongue.”

  “What does it say?” asked Rith, peering over the old mage’s shoulder at the parchment.

  “Give me a moment,” said the wizard, picking up his quill and dipping it into the tiny inkpot.

  Silence fell as Pon Barius examined the words one by one, using the index finger of his left hand to follow the trace of each. Slowly he recorded his translation on a sheet of vellum, the scratching of his pen the only sound in the deep twilight, but for a grunt and a murmur or two at what he discovered. At last he looked up at the others. “Oh my, it is as I thought.”

  “What?” blurted Ky.

  Rith, still peering over the ancient’s shoulder, exclaimed, “Well, we were right about one thing—it is indeed written from bottom to top and backwards.”

  “Would you care to read it aloud, my dear?” asked Pon Barius.

  Again Rith looked at the translation neatly printed in the ancient syldari’s hand:

  —Badru ~ Barius Pon

  —results safe destruction hoping you to it brings trustworthy messengeR .not know key I should dire forces be would unleashed for cannot but could I that would it destroY .comes Atraxia of sceptre from gem this I have discovereD

  “All right,” replied Rith. “Here is what it says: Um, Pon Barius . . . er, I have discovered this gem comes from the scepter of Atraxia. Would that I could destroy it, but I cannot, for dire forces would be unleashed . . . and, um, I do not know the key—to its destruction?” Rith looked at Pon Barius and received a nod in return. “It goes on to say, ah, a trusty messenger brings it to you in the hope that you can safely destroy it. It is signed, Badru. “

  Rith looked at Pon Barius. “How was that?”

  “Quite fine, my dear. Quite fine.” Pon Barius turned to Arton. “Now, once more, quick as you can, open the dagger and reinsert the note and seal it again.”

  “But don’t you need to see the gem?” asked Arton.

  “No, boy. I’ve seen enough to know what it is.”

  As Arton swiftly palmed open the pommel and slid in the note and closed the handle, Arik cleared his throat. “Perhaps, sir, you ought to tell us what we need to know.”

  “That I will do, my lad. But first, let us have more tea, eh? And some supper. I am quite famished as it is.”

  They sat outside ’neath the great oak limbs, wheeling stars barely glimpsed through the stirring leaves above. Down near glade’s edge the horses—curried, watered, fed with grain—munched contentedly on sweet red clover, while Orbis slowly rose in the east and Phemis raced ahead. Pon Barius filled the small clay bowl of his long, curve-stemmed pipe and with a word lighted it. After a puff or two he looked about at the Black Foxes. “Now just where was I?”

  “You were going to tell us of the gem,” said Arik.

  Pon Barius sucked on the stem. “Mmm,”—he blew out smoke—”Ah, yes. Well, you see, it’s the gem that let her start the demonwars. Where she got it, certainly I don’t know, though some say that it was the Nameless One Himself who gave it to her.”

  “Nameless One?” Rith asked.

  Pon Barius blew a smoke ring. “The Dark God, my dear.”

  “Oh my!” exclaimed Ky, then added, “But why would he give such a thing to Atraxia?”

  Pon Barius shrugged. “Who can say? Not I. Though I would guess that havoc alone was his motive, albeit he may have had other reasons for doing so.”“

  “What makes this gem so . . . valuable?” asked Arton. “I mean, the Jewels of Haloor didn’t cause such a ruckus, and they looked to be of much greater worth.”

  “Ha!” barked the old mage. “The Jewels of Haloor, indeed! They are as nothing, nothing!” Pon Barius pointed to the dagger now held by Rith. “That gemstone in there is said to allow the owner to tap into the Nameless One’s power directly . . . if you know how to invoke it. And contrary to what Badru thought, nothing can destroy that gem. Nothing! —Oh, perhaps Arda or the Nameless One could, but nothing else short of godpower will do.”

  Arton’s mouth formed a silent O of wonderment.

  Pon Barius’s gaze swept over them all. “How do you think Atraxia moved whole armies across the in-between? By using the gemstone, that’s how.

  “Some thought she employed the utterdark archway in Kalagar Forest. Not so! ’twas the power of the bloody jewel instead that let her minions cross over and back—any place she wished. Damnation! Couldn’t they see that the archway would only put her forces in the Kalagar? And only a few at a time? I told them, but the fools didn’t listen.” Pon Barius puffed fiercely on his pipe, the ancient wizard reliving arguments dead long past.

  After a moment, Ky asked, “But the demons were defeated. How?”

  Pon Barius looked up from the ground at her. More moments passed. At last he said, “Jaytar did it—”

  “The thief?” blurted Rith. “But I thought—”

  “You thought it was just a fable, eh?” snapped Pon Barius. Rith nodded.

  The old syldari waggled a finger at Rith. “You, bard, of all people should know better than anyone else that fables are rooted in truth.”

  “What happened?” asked Arton, his eyes wide. “How did a thief defeat the DemonQueen?”

  Pon Barius’s eyes swung toward Arton. “Stole the gem right off the scepter, she did. Flew away across the Plains of Chaos on that silvery horse of hers, foul pursuit at her heels. Made it to Kalagar and beyond, though just where, we don’t know. Demonkind caught her, you see. And though she slew a pack of them, at last they killed her dead, or so we think. And nobody, neither demonkind nor us, could find that gemstone. It defied our scrying ’cause it was hidden in silver, you see—probably hidden in that very dagger you hold . . . Jaytar’s, I would say—and it wasn’t to be found. She concealed it somewhere before they caught her, and the secret of its hiding place died with her. —Badru or one of his people found it, it would seem. I will ask him when next we meet.”

  “This Badru,” asked Arik, “just who is he?”

  “Master mentor of the gnomen in the Rawlons to the far north,” answered Pon Barius.

  “Ah, so that’s why a gentle gnoman was carrying a bladed weapon,” murmured Rith.

  Pon Barius smiled at her. “Go on, my dear.”

  “Well,” said Rith, gathering her thoughts, “from what you tell us, someone found a silver dagger, perhaps a gnoman. In any event, it somehow came into Badru’s possession. He or someone discovered the hollow handle and its contents, just as did we.” Rith fell silent a moment, then continued: “Perhaps when Badru opened the handle, Atraxia sensed the gem’s power and began searching for it. But by this time it was again sealed in silver. Even so, she continued to, um, watch for its potency. Badru scribed a note and concealed it in the dagger as well, and by trusted aide he sent it to you for disposal. The aide perhaps opened the pommel at the wrong time, and Atraxia set her drakka upon him, though in the end they couldn’t find the jewel, hidden in silver as it was. Before she could send someone who could locate the gem, we came along and took it away.” Rith looked up at Pon Barius. “How am I doing so far?”

  “Splendid!” replied the wizard. “Just what I would have guessed.”

  Arton cleared his throat. “So, the deeds of a thief ended the war.”

  “Not quite,” replied Pon Barius. “Although Jaytar’s theft of the gemstone did stop the invasions, she didn’t manage to get away with Atraxia’s scepter.”

  A puzzled look came over Arton’s face. “And . . . ?”

  “And so the DemonQueen still held sway over the demonrealm,” answered Pon Barius. “Ranvir was furious and blamed Atraxia for everything—especially, we thought, for the loss of his wife Kitter and for the loss of his champion Galamor, though we didn’t know which enraged him the most. So, Ranvir decided to invade the demonplane and give back a little of what we had got from them.

  “He moved his host into the d
emonplane through the Kalagar Gate, though it took hellishly long, and across the Plains of Chaos to Atraxia’s Tower. There he and Valdor threw her down, for Valdor seized her scepter and destroyed it. And with it went her power and she vanished into the netherrealm.

  “Long it has taken her to regain her form, but now she is returned, I think, and has forged a new scepter.”

  “And she desires the jewel to augment her scepter’s power again, eh?” asked Arik.

  “Precisely so,” said Pon Barius.

  Ky looked up through the leaves and glimpsed Phemis overhead. “Well, if you can’t destroy the gem, what do you plan to do with it?”

  Pon Barius stroked his chin, his syldari gaze sweeping over them all. “When we sent Jaytar after the gem—”

  “You sent Jaytar?” blurted Arton.

  “Yes,” answered Pon Barius. “We had a scheme in mind, did the council. All favored it but Slytongue Horax.”

  “That’s the second time today I’ve heard that name,” said Rith. “Instead of calling it Kitter’s Tower, you named those ruins Horax’s tower.”

  “That’s right!” exclaimed Ky. “And you said that the path across the old high pass ran from Horax’s tower to yours.”

  “Horax was a traitor!” snapped Pon Barius, puffing angrily on his pipe, the smoke diminishing rapidly as the last of the weed burned. “Or so I guessed. Someone was telling Atraxia where the High King’s forces were mustered, allowing her to strike undefended towns. I thought it was Horax, though the others never accepted my word, citing the old feud as my way of placing blame.”

  “Old feud?” rumbled Kane.

  “Why do you think I put that archway there, eh?” snapped Pon Barius, dragging furiously on his now extinguished pipe. “To stop his trespassers and spies, that’s why!”

  “We didn’t know it was your archway,” gritted Kane. “And it damn near killed us.”