Ascending Shadows

by Everet Martins

  They walked in single file. They passed under once proud archways, broken in sections, their intact halves incongruously hanging in the air. The alleyway stretched on about thirty more paces and spilled into a square with gaps in the ground.

  The ground was made up of intricately woven pieces of triangular tiles. Most of the sections were cracked, broken tiles raised and resting against each other. A few areas were seemingly untouched, showing a memory of the square’s former majesty. One corner of the square had a mound of tile bits stacked up high as a man, as if someone pushed them into the corner.

  Isa leaned over one of the gaps in the earth to look in, saw it dropped down into an infinite black abyss. He staggered back, breath catching in his throat. “Why are we here again?” Isa felt himself dumbly ask.

  “Because you wanted us to be here,” Senka snapped with a huff.

  Juzo gave him a sideways glance, cautiously stalking around the square. “This is different,” Juzo whispered. Greyson followed him like a lost dog.

  The square was studded with six statues in a haphazard order. Each seemed as if they had been carved from an entirely different material. One looked to be made of sandstone, another obsidian, jade, granite, translucent amber, and another reddish stone Isa didn’t recognize. They were all carved to resemble men, except they had no eyes to speak of. One was missing its arms, broken in sections under its body.

  Isa took careful steps through the blind figures, Senka at his rear. “Wonder what happened here?” she asked.

  “Don’t know,” Isa whispered.

  “Why are you whispering?” Juzo whispered.

  “I don’t know,” Isa hissed. “Seems like it’d be prudent that if there was anything here, we not alert it to our presence.”

  Greyson cleared his throat and dropped his voice. “Scab said he knew what happened here. Said there was a mage who once ruled here, his laws brutal and strict, though his people lived in peace because of it. One day after hundreds of years without crime, there was a murder, and the people wanted justice. So, to satisfy their rage, their quest for vengeance, he’d made a day where there was no law and his people could kill without facing the wrath of his power. The city became a bloodbath, a bordello of rape and robbery.”

  “He was a fool to think they could ever be satisfied,” Isa said.

  “And hence the downfall of the aptly named Dread Temple,” Greyson said with a nod and pushed his pale hands through his hair. “Or maybe it’s how it got the name.”

  “Statues must be of the mage,” Senka said. “Look at the faces. They’re all the same.”

  “I believe so,” Greyson said. “Why all the eyes are chiseled away is a wonder.”

  “Maybe the denizens weren’t too happy with the mage’s new rules—” Isa cut off as he kicked a stone, wincing as it tumbled into one of the holes in the ground. He dropped down low near the hole, inched his head over it and turned it sideways to listen. He remained there for a long minute. No sound returned from the blackness. He waited another minute as a profound sense of wrongness settled into his bones.

  He looked at the others staring at him expectantly and shook his head. “Nothing.”

  Greyson shrank back behind Juzo and started stammering. “By the Dragon. What are we doing here? We should go. I think I’d prefer Scab. We shouldn’t be here… this place isn’t right.”

  “Quiet!” Isa barked.

  Juzo pressed his palm over Greyson’s quivering mouth.

  Isa rose up, noticing for the first time the mammoth building looming over the strange courtyard. It cast a long shadow over the statues on one side. Its steps were made for giants, each stretching up at least four feet. The columns supporting an overhanging roof were each as thick as towers, its pediment was a canvas of nightmares. It depicted armored beasts clamoring in at both sides, fighting, biting, tearing, and warring against men and Tigerians further towards the center of the triangular piece. In the center was a figure that could only be Asebor, his chains draped over the masses. Surrounding Asebor were at least ten robed men and women, lines of fire hemming him in.

  “The start of the Age of Dawn,” Greyson breathed.

  “Huh?” Senka asked, following Greyson’s gaze.

  “There,” Isa pointed. “He’s right. When Asebor was imprisoned for the first time. Though that happened in Zoria. How did they know about it here?”

  “Wonder how it was before then?” Senka asked.

  “Don’t know.” Isa narrowed his eyes at the gargantuan building’s entryway, thought he might have seen movement. He stared, didn’t want to draw his sword until he was sure.

  “Everything here is infused with powerful magic.” Juzo whirled about, his eye shimmering in shades of blue.

  Greyson nervously shuffled from side to side. “That’s great, just great.”

  “Let’s keep moving.” Isa let out a long breath, not seeing any further signs of movement. Either something was stalking them and doing it well, or he was letting the strangeness of this place get to him. He nervously scratched his neck, eyes scanning every corner. His eyes darted at a building where the wind whistled.

  “The Arch Wizard’s most fearsome killer afraid of shadows? I never would’ve guessed.” Juzo chuckled, his eye shifted back to a glowing red, a grin pasted on his lips.

  “Something has to be there to cast a shadow in the first place,” Isa growled at Juzo, whose grin only widened. Shit. Get yourself together, he thought. Couldn’t be anything worse in the world than Death Spawn or the Shadow Realm, right? “Right,” he breathed.

  Senka arched an eyebrow at him. “Might be interesting to see.” She looked up at the stairs. “Want to check it out?”

  Isa groaned then muttered curses under his breath. “Alright then. Let’s have a look. At least if Scab does decide to come, we won’t be in the open.” He really did hope that whatever he thought he saw moving was just a trick of the light.

  “I have to admit that my curiosity is high.” Juzo planted his hands on his hips, regarding the building.

  “I-I think I’d rather stay here,” Greyson said with an audible swallow.

  “Stay by yourself then,” Isa shrugged. “Let’s get on with it,” he said, gathering his resolve.

  They made their way up the tall steps, scrambling over each one, Isa wincing at his pains. Greyson predictably followed like a child after a minute of being alone. They finally reached the top of the stairs, everyone panting at the effort. Cool air pushed out of the entrance to the building, as big as a house. Isa gazed back at the broken statues down below, half expecting them to have moved, but they stood motionless in the same place they’d left them. They were ancient sentinels, blinded and standing watch over the square.

  Isa blew out a long breath and started for the dim hallway. It opened into an expansive cavern that reminded him of the Swiftshades’ fortress sparring area, except only inconceivably bigger. Everyone stepped quietly, but their footsteps echoed like thunderclaps. The walls were carved to resemble mortared blocks, but it was clear that they were one contiguous stone. There were a few shattered sections that let broad beams of light shine through, showing dust dancing on the air. The ground was littered with rubble, likely from where the roof had collapsed.

  “Some kind of dome,” Isa said. “Maybe one of the ones we saw on our way here.”

  “Yes,” Greyson said with a nod. “Are you sure you weren’t a scholar in the Tower? Your astute observations never cease to amaze me.”

  “Are you sure you like being alive?” Isa snapped.

  “Sorry. Forgetting myself.” Greyson furrowed his brow and tapped his chin, then muttered something incoherently. He peered up through the jagged roof and into the blue sky beyond, a reminder of what the outside world was like.

  Isa frowned up at the tenuous ceiling. The amount of stone making it up was vast. What would it do to the lot of them if it were to fall? He doubted any of them would survive, likely would turn into human paste. There was a certain intrigue about
the place. He limped on towards the center, finding one of his knees struck with a sudden soreness, maybe the run catching up with him now. He did his best to hide it, but there was no missing it. With every sliding step and kicked stone, the sound carried about the dome. If there were anything living here, it surely would’ve heard them by now.

  “Your leg, Isa,” Senka said.

  “It’s nothing.” He waved her off. “Don’t get old.”

  “Wonder what this was?” Juzo wondered. “Perhaps some sort of audience hall? A meeting place of sorts?” His voice bounced off the walls.

  “Shh,” Isa hissed. “Try to keep your voice down. Worse than Greyson.”

  “Perhaps this was where they held palaver, political hearings, debates,” Greyson ponderously said. “Sound carries exceptionally well despite the destruction. It must have been designed to function this way.”

  “Not unlike any other dome,” Isa said under his breath.

  Greyson climbed up a set of broken steps onto a platform. “Maybe the speaker would stand here. His words must have had so much power from this vantage point.”

  “A blade in your throat can easily end your words though, a knife in your ear worse than words, I reckon,” Senka said, grinning at Greyson then at Isa. He stifled spluttering laughter. It wasn’t even particularly funny. He felt then that he needed something to laugh about, something to let some of the tension out of his body.

  Greyson didn’t seem to care. He thrust his arms open as if about to address an audience. “I urge you all to kill one another, lay siege to your neighbors’ wives! Conquer her loins! Slay any man who has slighted you! Even once!” He raised his fist. “I wish you to—” He cut off with a yelp as Isa snatched him by the ankle, sweeping him onto his ass with a thump.

  “Shut it,” Isa hissed.

  Greyson frowned at him. “Ow! Why—?”

  “Quiet,” Isa snapped.

  “The rudeness.” Greyson glared and grunted at him. He rose up and started brushing stone dust from his back.

  Isa turned away from him, inspecting a carving in the wall no bigger than his hand. It depicted the Dragon and Phoenix in flight, their forms intertwined. He tilted his head at it, leaning in close. It was incredibly detailed and seemed to be moving at this angle. He rubbed his fingers over it, tracing the form of the Dragon. “Surprised to find this here,” he mumbled. “Thought Tigerians had no care for the Zorian gods.”

  “Times change, histories shift,” Greyson said from behind, staring at the motifs.

  He sniffed at a sudden moldy, yet oddly familiar smell wafting on the air. It made him think of the combination of rotting wood and urine. His heart lurched in his chest, and he whipped around, ripping his sword free from the scabbard with a ring. The foul odor triggered a long buried memory. “Death Spawn!” he hissed. A layer of sweat formed under his palms as he gripped the sword and dagger tighter.

  “Where?” Senka spun, her eyes wide with horror. “How?”

  “Wh-what?” Greyson stuttered, dropping his spear with an endless series of echoing clangs.

  Isa shook his head at him, jaw flexing, and stepped towards the shadows at the back of the dome. Something was there. Something shifted. An area of light flickered. Fear pressed on his back like a crushing weight that tried to immobilize him. They were all supposed to be dead after the Shadow god’s fall. How could this be? His mind raced. Sweat trickled down his legs.

  His night vision adjusted, and he saw it. There was a beggar in rags crouched down low at the back of the dome, squatting on its hands and knees. “The fuck…” he whispered. He caught sight of its hands; ashen gray with shining obsidian claws. Its head slowly turned up, eyes burning like smoldering coals. Its cheek was missing a patch of skin, dried out strips hanging off and showing an infected brownish-green hue around the bones. Its broad jaw parted to show a mouthful of wet fangs.

  It was clear then that there still were Death Spawn in the realms.

  “Kill it!” Isa screamed, charging after it. Senka came up behind him. He knew it by her gait.

  The creature’s rags were thrown aside, floating on the air and falling slow as a snowflake. It rose up to its full height, flesh taut around its poking bones. There were two of them. The other shrieked and scampered for a crack in the back of the dome, slithering through the hole and dislodging bits of stone.

  “Stop it!” Isa yelled. The creature was as deft as a fox, wriggling its legs out of the hole before he could reach it.

  The posturing Death Spawn was a cross between man and animal, not quite either, screaming like both. It had a pig like nose, skin a nightmare of ragged scars. It was nude, had no cock, no tits, or pussy to speak of.

  Isa’s vision narrowed down, and his mouth clamped around Senka’s dagger hilt, freeing his hands to take on a two-handed sword grip. He saw nothing but the beast and the blur of light around it. His bare feet pounded against the stones, sword raised. It ran at him, and he fell to his knees, slid and chopped at its leg, gritted his teeth as the sword jerked on his wrists, warmth spattering his neck.

  He sprang up and whirled around, blood hanging on the air, half of its severed leg spinning across the floor. He opened his mouth, and Senka’s dagger dropped into his welcoming hand. He was filled with a sense of inner warmth that only violence brought. This was his craft.

  He had managed that before Senka or even Juzo had reached the creature, finishing it off with a head stomp and a stab. He was faster than even Juzo, he realized with satisfaction. Juzo raised his heel and stomped on its head again, splitting it with a pop and spurting out brains.

  “The other one. It’s left!” Juzo ran over to the crack and looked out.

  “We see that, Juzo. We can all see that very clearly,” Isa growled. He slashed the air at his side, the majority of the blood whipping from the blade’s edges.

  Senka started for the dome’s entrance, spun her dagger into an overhand grip, and Isa followed. “Get your spear,” she barked at Greyson as she passed him, standing there quivering like a dried leaf. He made no move to pick it up, trapped in the iron clutches of terror. It would take many more exposures to these creatures before he could ever hope to react the way they could. Isa almost pitied him.

  Isa put his bloody sword under his armpit, and with his free hand, slapped Greyson across the cheek hard, leaving a dark streak. He yelped. “Don’t do that!” he screamed, bent down and snatched up his weapon with a whimper. “What was that thing?”

  Isa licked his teeth and turned his head, neck cracking with a pop. “Death Spawn,” he spat. “There’ll be more. Lots more. Got to get out of here! C’mon!” He grabbed him by the crook of the elbow, dragging him into motion.

  “Death Spawn? More?” Greyson said with a note of panic. “But they’re dead!”

  “More,” Juzo said with a grim snicker, then cracked his knuckles. “There’s always more.”

  Isa scampered down the steps, trying to keep up with Senka, his knee screaming at him with every pounding drop between rises.

  Somehow, Juzo was already at the bottom of the stairs, his red eye glowing bright as a torch. “Think he went to get his friends,” Juzo called up the stairs.

  “Dread Temple might be interesting to see. Scab’s afraid of it, what could possibly go wrong?” Greyson muttered behind them.

  “Ill luck,” Isa said with a groan.

  “Ill luck! That’s what you call this? Ill luck?” Greyson blubbered, fumbling at his over-sized spear as he clambered down a step.

  “How are they still here? How do they live?” Isa asked, turning his questions at Senka and Juzo.

  “Don’t know,” Senka said through gritted teeth. A quiver passed through her.

  Juzo shook his head. “Something about this place. Maybe something about all the magic protected them, kept them alive.”

  Shapes shifted along rooflines. “Shit,” Isa breathed. “They’re coming. There’s more, up there.”

  They reached the bottom of the stairs and into the courtya
rd, shadows taking on terrible layers of depth. Somewhere a high-pitched bell started to ring.

  “What is that? Is that a fucking dinner bell?” Greyson stammered, tears streaming down his cheeks. “This can’t be real. Can’t be.”

  Senka screamed something at Greyson, but it was just noise in his ears as his attention was elsewhere.

  A shape lumbered out of the shadows. It had gray skin covered with a pelt of dark hair, slabs of muscle flexing under skin that looked to have been painted on. It had the snout of a wolf, eyes glowing with a faint light.

  Isa stepped forward when Juzo dashed at it, air whipping around Isa. Isa’s eyes widened as Juzo materialized behind it. His arm reached under its neck, fingers plunging into its throat as if it were made of paper. He tore his hand free, a ragged length of trachea coming out with it. Blood sprayed from its ruined neck, showing vertebrate at the back, a giant pink tongue lolling out between its teeth. Juzo became a mad butcher, coated in a sheet of its blood, laughing in his glory.

  Maybe not so fast, after all, Isa thought soberly. Growls sounded all around, shapes filling in where the four streets led to the square. These were no ordinary Cerumal, something he couldn’t put his finger on, a type he’d never seen before. There was something wrong about them.

  “Told you idiots there had to be reason Scab was ‘fraid o’ the place!” Senka growled, backing into Isa. “Here’s the proof. I warned you, warned you all!”

  Greyson scuffed up beside Isa, hefting his spear, lips curled up from his perfect teeth. “Alright, alright, alright,” he repeated.

  A beast squatted on the edge of a roof, growling and staring down at him. It had the long muscular arms of an ape, legs twisted backwards like a dog. It leaped down in front of him, and his dulled sword raised up to meet its chest. He braced himself as it spitted itself upon his blade, claws wildly whipping at the air trying to connect with flesh, its broad jaw gnashing.

  “Bastard.” Isa rolled his shoulder to let it slide free from his blade with a squelch. He drove his heel into its throat for good measure, crushing it flat.