by Dean Cadman
“Well, that’s going to be a problem,” Hershel said to himself, not daring to believe what he had just seen with his own eyes.
“Ya think?” Alexia replied with a nervous laugh.
“Since when do Netherworld creatures work together like that?” Morgan asked in disbelief.
“Since now, apparently,” Hershel replied, watching as the large creature walked casually back towards The Rift, and vanished inside the blackness again. “Well, I think it’s safe to say we know what Aamon’s new tactics are now.”
“We need to find a way of killing that thing fast. If we don’t, Aamon will have that Rift open long before Lusam and others get here,” Alexia said desperately.
No one disagreed with her.
They all watched helplessly as the heavily armoured creature escorted three more groups safely to the treeline. Out of the eighteen creatures it escorted, Alexia had only been able to kill four of them. The others had all made it safely to the treeline, and were now free to send whatever magic they could collect back to Aamon in the Netherworld.
Pippa also delivered some more bad news of her own. She had taken it upon herself to count the number of seconds between the groups of creatures emerging from the blackness. And what she discovered was disturbing to say the least. It was now only taking two hundred and fifty seconds for each creature to come through The Rift, and not three hundred like it had before. Everyone knew that the introduction of so many Vesdari was doubtless the main cause of that, but no one spoke the words out loud.
Over the next few hours they tried multiple tactics to stem the flow of creatures, with varying degrees of success. Their most effective tactic was when Morgan suggested that they create an arc of earth-bound weapons outside their perimeter. It gave Alexia the opportunity to move along the arc and gain better shooting angles from which to kill the creatures. It worked for a while, and she managed to kill two full groups of them, but then the large creature changed its tactics. When it emerged for the third time, it came out alone and picked up two of the corpses from the ground, before returning to the inky blackness. When it re-emerged with the other creatures, it held the two corpses out by its side as a shield against Alexia’s arrows, and her advantage was immediately nullified.
By the time the sun came up the following morning, over four hundred Netherworld creatures had escaped into the forest around them. Thankfully only a handful of those had been Vesdari. But Hershel was under no illusions as to what the outcome of so many Netherworld creatures would be on the growth of The Rift’s tear. He had been hoping that the flow of creatures would stop when the sun came up, but unfortunately that proved not to be the case, and the large creature continued to escort them to the safety of the treeline unabated.
Morgan had been standing by Alexia’s side watching the movements of the large creature for some time before he spoke to her.
“Last night you sounded pretty confident when you said you could hit that gap between its armour plates,” Morgan said quietly, as he watched the large creature escort yet another group of creatures across the clearing.
Alexia nodded. “Yeah, I was. But unfortunately it hasn’t given me an opportunity since.”
“You know if we don’t stop this thing soon, we’ll have no chance of surviving this. As soon as that Rift is open enough for the creatures to flow out freely, we’re all dead,” Morgan said quietly. Alexia turned to look at him, but his eyes were firmly fixed on the large creature near the treeline.
“I can’t do any more than I’m already doing,” she replied defensively.
“Yes, you can,” he replied softly, shocking her with his words. She turned towards him, but he was already leaning in to whisper something to her.
“Don’t miss,” he whispered, and kissed her cheek softly. Before she could respond, he was already running towards the large creature.
“No!” she screamed out after him, but he was already out in the open. The creature saw him coming and turned to intercept his charge. Morgan sprinted towards the creature in a wide arc, causing it to adjust its angle to intercept him. The creature screamed its fury at him, and swung it massive clawed hand towards him, ripping his shield from his grasp. Morgan tucked himself into a tight forward roll in front of the creature, and it swung its massive clawed hand after him.
Alexia’s focus was primarily on Morgan, but she saw the two plates of armour separate as it reached its massive clawed hand after him on the ground. Her arrow was already flying through the air before she had time to think about it, and it struck cleanly in the gap between the creature’s armour plates with a resounding thud. The arrow flashed brightly, and the creature howled in pain, as Morgan came cleanly to his feet and earth-bound his weapon several feet away. The creature fell to its knees, then slowly tumbled forward onto its face, dead.
The cheer that went up from other paladins was almost deafening, and it startled her so much, that she almost dropped her bow. She couldn’t believe that Morgan had just done what he had. The faith he had put in her and her abilities was truly mind numbing. If she had missed her target, he would almost certainly have died at the hands of the creature. In all of her life, she had never seen anyone do anything so brave or selfless. He obviously knew that if he had asked Hershel’s permission, or even told her what he was about to do, he would have been stopped. Her heart fluttered in her chest as he walked back towards them with his boyish smile firmly in place. The smile which usually meant; I know I’m in trouble, but it was worth it.
“Thanks for not missing,” he said grinning widely at her.
“That was stupid!” Alexia scolded him half-heartedly, then threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. A large number of the paladins gave out loud cheers or whistles, with Pippa being the main voice in the crowd. It took Alexia a moment to remember that she was supposed to be his superior officer, and that she should act accordingly, but the emotional situation had already gotten the better of her. When she finally broke off the kiss, she expected to be berated by Hershel, but instead found him in good humour with the rest of the paladins. She could feel her face flush brightly under their gaze, and was happy when the attention turned to Morgan instead.
Hershel gave her a warm smile, then approached Morgan as the gathered paladins fell silent.
“That was a damn foolish thing to do, Morgan,” he said with a stern look on his face. Then he suddenly smiled broadly and clapped him on the shoulder. “Well done, son.”
“Thank you, sir,” Morgan replied, grinning widely, and the cheers erupted again.
“SIR LOOK!” someone shouted over the ruckus. Hershel spun to look at The Rift, but something else caught his eye in treeline instead. When he turned to look, his spirits soared at what he saw.
The reinforcements had finally arrived.
The cheers grew even louder, as everyone noticed the large group of paladins approaching.
“Captain Garret, it’s good to see you again,” Hershel said.
“Likewise, sir. When we heard the news we came as fast as we could,” Captain Garret replied.
“Where’s Lusam?” Hershel asked, scanning the faces of everyone coming through the treeline.
“I’m sorry sir, but he’s not with us. No one apart from the High Priest has any idea where he’s gone, and even he wouldn’t say where he thought that was. He promised that he would inform him of the situation as soon as he returned,” Captain Garett replied sombrely. Hershel’s heart sank at the dire news. He knew even as things stood right now, it was only a matter of time before the tear in The Rift was large enough to allow unrestricted access for the Netherworld creatures to their world.
“Captain Garret, have your men set up their perimeters all around The Rift. I don’t want anything else getting past us now. Tonight we will be sending out hunting parties to kill as many of the Netherworld creatures as we can find in the forest. I pray to Aysha that it’ll buy us enough time until Lusam gets here,” Hershel said, looking around at all the men and women about to lose
their lives if it wasn’t.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Zedd and Cole stood at the foot of the giant stone staircase outside Coldmont, looking up at the imposing entrance above them. The shard radiated sadness at what had become of the once majestic building. Its ancient memories overlapped Zedd’s own seamlessly, creating ghostlike images of a time long gone in his mind. As he looked up at the giant doors, he could clearly remember their former splendour. The way the light would catch the golden inlays, and the ornate decorative panels depicting dragons which adorned them. Now they were little more than faded relics of what they once were.
It had taken them far less time to reach Coldmont than it had when they’d pursued the boy-mage there several months earlier. This time they had simply levitated up the side of the mountain, and avoided having to follow the long and treacherous path which switched back and forth up the mountainside. That, and the fact they had travelled from Helveel this time, which was far nearer than Stelgad had been.
“When do you think he will detect us here?” Cole asked, breaking the silence between them. Zedd had asked himself the very same question earlier that morning. He had tried to put himself in Lord Zelroth’s position, and wondered where he would have put the trap. Would he have put it at the entrance to detect anyone entering the actual building, or only in the book room to protect the Guardian book? He had soon come to the conclusion that there was no way to know for sure, and that it didn’t really matter. Either he would be proven right, and Lord Zelroth wouldn’t be willing to risk his own life by walking into a possible trap set by the boy-mage. Or he would be proven wrong, and they would both soon be dead.
“Let’s go,” Zedd said, ignoring Cole’s earlier question entirely, and starting to climb the steep slope running up alongside the giant stone staircase. They entered the building through a giant crack next to the main doors, and soon found themselves in the main hall of Coldmont. Zedd felt the shard’s keen sense of loss at what little remained of the once grandiose hall. He could clearly see the memory of a magnificent multicoloured glass dome high above their heads, its remains now shattered and broken on the floor by his feet. Once, incredible paintings and tapestries adorned the walls of the massive room, but now they were nothing more than rags and faded stains on the walls. Zedd would never have described himself as an emotional person, but the utter sense of loss he was feeling from the shard almost brought tears to his eyes.
The footprints in the thick dust were still clearly visible from their previous visit, all leading to and from one particular doorway. A doorway he knew would lead them to the basement where the Guardian book was waiting for them. The shard’s emotions of overwhelming loss suddenly changed to one of excitement and keen anticipation, as Zedd’s thoughts turned to the Guardian book. It urged him onwards, towards the hidden room. Its thirst for knowledge as insatiable as ever, and its promise to ensure his survival when he read the book, filled his mind.
The staircase to the basement disappeared below them into pitch blackness. Zedd spoke the simple incantation for light, and a small light source appeared in his right hand. Holding it high above his head, he watched and listened for any signs of movement below. Slowly, they descended the stone staircase together into the darkness below, careful not to make any sound as they went. When they finally reached the basement, they both paused and listened again for any signs of movement. The last time they were there, Lord Zelroth had insisted that they covered the entrance to the Guardian book room with rubble again before they left—which of course, they did. Now they listened intently for any signs of that rubble being moved, but all remained quiet and still. Thankfully, not even the sound of falling masonry or earth tremors disturbed the silence like it had the last time they had been there.
“After I move the rubble, I want you to stay hidden. If Lord Zelroth decides to send his Darkseed Elite or Inquisitors to see who we are, I want you to take control of their minds and force them to drop their shields. I’ll take care of the rest,” Zedd whispered.
“What good will that do if they kill you with their rings?” Cole whispered.
“Then you best be quick about it, and hope they can’t drain me fully before you’ve taken control of them,” Zedd hissed back at him. Cole nodded, but remained silent. Like it or not, he knew his own fate was now firmly tied to that of Zedd’s. But he also knew that the reverse was just as true. Without him, Zedd wouldn’t stand a chance against Lord Zelroth’s Darkseed Elite or Inquisitors, here, or anywhere else.
They moved swiftly and quietly towards the corridor where they would find the Guardian book room, listening intently as they went. When they reached the rubble pile Zedd paused for a moment to listen again, then checked carefully for any signs of light coming from the other side. When he was confident that there wasn’t any, he raised a strong shield around himself, then signalled for Cole to hide. The incantation to move the rubble was a simple one, and a moment later it began to noisily part in the middle. Zedd took a few steps back from the opening while the dust settled, and prepared to defend himself. But no attack came.
He carefully approached the opening and peered inside. He couldn’t see or hear anything inside the darkened room, not even his light penetrated beyond the pile of rubble. Taking a deep breath, he stepped inside. A bright white light suddenly flooded the room, half-blinding him by its intensity. The first thing he saw when his eyes adjusted to the light, was the Guardian book on its pedestal. A wide grin spread across his face, and the excitement which came flooding from the shard was almost palpable.
He stepped up to the pedestal, and opened the book.
***
The prisoner screamed in terror as the Inquisitor took control of his mind and marched him slowly towards the awaiting Aznavor. The creature strained at its bonds to reach the man, its huge jaws wide open, revealing the utter blackness within. Its six long tentacles reached towards the doomed man, as it sensed the magic it would soon feed upon. The large shimmering disc hung in the air like a floating pool of quicksilver, but no image of Aamon had yet adorned it.
The man screamed as the red robed Inquisitor pushed him forward into the mental range of the Aznavor. It seized his mind instantly, and forced him to walk towards his own death. The man begged and pleaded for his life, but it was already too late for him. The Aznavor opened its huge jaws wide, reared up above the man, and faster than a striking serpent, swallowed the man to his waist. It bit down hard, puncturing the man’s skin with its long thin razor-sharp teeth, but it didn’t kill him.
The man screamed in agony and fear as the Aznavor began draining him of his power. The large silver disc rippled as the man’s magic was slowly fed back to the Netherworld, but still Aamon’s image didn’t appear. The man continued to scream and plead for his life for several more minutes, but soon his magic was fully consumed, and his body slumped lifelessly in the creature’s jaws. The Aznavor screeched its frustration, biting the man clean in half, and covering the ground with a fresh layer of blood and gore.
Lord Zelroth gritted his teeth in frustration, as he spun to face the remaining three prisoners. They visibly paled under his gaze. He pointed to each one in turn, as if trying to decide which one he would choose next. One man lost control of himself, and a small pool of liquid formed by his feet. Any signs of weakness disgusted Lord Zelroth, and under normal circumstances the man would have just volunteered himself to be next. But he had already used more than twenty of his prisoners that day, and had still been unable to contact Aamon in the Netherworld.
He had been desperately trying to find out if The Great Rift had been successfully reopened for days now, and had used up his current stock of prisoners at an alarming rate. He had already ordered a round up of fresh prisoners from the southern Badlands, but they would take days to arrive yet, and so he couldn’t afford to waste the few he had left right now. He had to assume if Aamon wasn’t communicating with him, it was because he was busy doing something else, such as controlling the hordes of Netherworld
creatures as they devastated Afaraon—or so he hoped.
The three remaining prisoners were all visibly trembling under his gaze now, but none dare meet his eyes. He spoke aloud the incantation to dispel the shimmering disc behind him, and watched the prisoners carefully. The Aznavor hissed loudly as the shimmering disc suddenly vanished. It had long since learned to associate its presence with food, and knew that when it disappeared, so did its chances of being fed again for a while. One of the prisoners chanced a quick glance towards the creature, and was met by a wide grin from Lord Zelroth.
“Don’t worry, you’ll be meeting my pet soon enough… just not today,” he said, sneering at the man. He would try again tomorrow, but for now he had other things to organise.
Just over a week ago he had received word from the Nauroe that a paladin had contacted them regarding passage to Thule. He had known for a very long time that the Nauroe transported Afaraon spies to Thule, but they had never betrayed one to him before. In fact, the only reason he hadn’t destroyed them centuries ago, was because they did exactly the same thing for the Empire. They often delivered spies secretly to Afaraon, and that made them useful to him.
Having an Afaraon spy come to Thule was nothing out of the ordinary, nor was it of much concern to him. Their lack of Necromatic rings made them extremely easy to detect, and they were often caught within the first day of setting foot on Empire soil. What made this particular spy different, however, was that he was a Paladin of Aysha, and he wasn’t alone. The Nauroe reported that he had requested direct passage to Azmarin, with the intentions of attacking him personally. He knew, of course, that the Nauroe had only decided to reveal this information because they feared reprisals from him later.
He already knew that the boy-mage would be coming to try and rescue his mother, and now he knew just how he intended to do it. He had already sent one of his fastest ships to their floating city, but as yet they had not returned with any news. He had also sent enough gold to ensure the boy-mage’s delay in departing the floating city, along with his threats if he was not. His forces were on high alert, and preparations for the boy-mage’s arrival were well underway. He smiled to himself as he imagined what he would do to the boy-mage’s mother in front of him when he finally arrived. A shudder of excitement ran through him, as he opened the Aznavor chamber door and headed for his throne room, leaving behind three spiritually broken prisoners hanging from their chains.