He saw it.
Or Alster thought he saw the entrance to the tomb. It was still somewhat far away, perhaps half a mile, but he knew it was there.
“In the valley below,” Alster said with confidence that masked his inner uncertainty.
Hademar shouted a sharp command to one of his runners. After a few seconds, the king noticeably increased their pace. While Alster struggled to keep his balance on his horse, Elsey was perfectly at home on Ingvar’s steed. Between them, Hademar charged onward with reckless abandon.
Ingvar cursed, jogging to keep up. Most of his gear was still strapped to the horse Elsey rode, but his sword clanged noisily in its scabbard at his side as he ran.
Before long, Alster knew he had been right. The valley between the mountains was narrow and dark, perhaps only large enough to allow ten men abreast, and it ended at the foot of the next craggy peak where a circular stone sat against the hillside. Even from a distance, Alster could tell the stone was massive. What light filtered into the valley reflected from its grey surface, a stark contrast to the dappled red clay all around it.
Hademar reached the giant stone circle just before Alster and Elsey. The king looked small next to the massive structure, though he screamed and yelled with such passion that Alster thought he might try to knock the barrier down with his bare hands.
“Wait!” Alster called breathlessly. Adrenaline pumped through his veins like fire. He slid from the back of his horse quickly, tumbling across the clay. An angry finger of pain shot through his legs as he moved, but he didn’t care. For a second, he felt like some of the king’s unbridled determination had somehow taken root in his chest.
Elsey slipped an arm under Alster’s and helped him walk to the stone circle. Looking up to the top rim of the stone disc, he figured it reached at least as high as his room on the third story of his family’s estate.
“How does it open?” the king bellowed, wringing his hands at his sides.
Alster tore his attention from the marvelous door and looked at the man. “I thought you would know,” he said. “I only said I could find it.”
Luckily, Ingvar joined them with the rest of the soldiers before the king had the time to scream whatever was boiling just beneath his surface. Next to him, Alster recognized one of the runners who had been relaying information to Hademar.
“We will be caught within two hours,” the man said between breaths. He was doubled over at the waist, and his unkempt hair was soaked with sweat.
“Have you seen their banners?” Ingvar asked. He took a canteen from a pack on his horse and handed it to the runner.
The man took a long drink before he could respond. Behind him, the rest of the army was doing the same. “Blue and white,” the runner answered. “It is as you suspected.” Exhausted, he collapsed to the ground and poured the rest of the canteen’s water over his face.
“Karrheim sends its dogs,” Hademar spat, pacing anxiously in front of the stone disc.
Ingvar grabbed the king by his shoulders and shook the man violently. “Get with it!” he shouted in Hademar’s face. “We need a plan. They outnumber us! We can’t stay here and expect to fight!”
“Cavalry,” the runner said weakly from the ground. He had removed his shirt and balled it into a pillow under his head. “They have cavalry. Fifteen, maybe twenty total. We have no pikes.”
Canteens in hand, some of the soldiers began wandering close enough to hear the exchange. Ingvar lifted his voice to make sure all the men, not just the king, heard him. “Either we find a way to enter the tomb and hide, or we must continue to run!” he shouted angrily.
Hademar snarled. “Scour the area!” he commanded, his deep voice booming. “Find the way inside!”
Alster watched as the soldiers scrambled to investigate the stone disc and the area around it. He winced when two of them began using the hilts of their swords to pound on the rock as though they could simply bash it apart. The ground around the disc sloped upward at a sharp angle, but it was harder than the red clay they had traversed. A handful of soldiers climbed around the top of the structure, their eyes searching for any hint of a clear passageway.
“My lord!” one of the men called down. He had one leg swung over the top of the disc for balance, and he hung down with his face close to the stone. “There are runes!” he continued excitedly.
“Where?” the king yelled.
“Scrape the dirt away,” the man responded. “They’re worn, but you can make them out!”
Hademar drew his sword and began furiously clearing centuries of filth from the outermost section of the circle. “Runes,” he said under his breath.
Several moments later, the army had the stone object mostly cleaned, revealing three concentric circles of carved runes, though no one could interpret what they meant.
Alster remembered his tutor teaching him about the ancient languages of Vecnos, but he had never learned to read or write any of them. “It’s written in Xathnon,” Alster told no one in particular.
“How do you know?” Elsey asked. There was a palpable layer of fear in her voice.
“That symbol,” Alster said, pointing to a rune shaped like a vertical winnowing fork. “It’s called ‘Algiz,’ but I don’t remember what it means.”
“That rune is everywhere,” Elsey said.
Alster ran his fingers gently over the worn etching, and he saw the other Algiz runes, though every other instance of it was inverted. “It repeats in some sort of pattern,” he said. A few of the nearby soldiers stopped their search to watch him.
“Do you know any of the others?” Elsey asked. The pattern repeated enough so there were very few different runes, just the same ones written over and over again.
“This one,” Alster said, pointing to rune shaped somewhat like the gable of a barn. “I think it is called ‘Mannaz.’ It means something about magic or spirits.”
Elsey thought it over for a moment. “I think this is the right place then,” she said.
“But how do we get inside?” Alster asked. He tried to keep the frustration from his voice, but he didn’t hide it well.
“My king!” one of the soldiers called. He pointed up the valley where they had all come. A pair of horsemen were there, blue and white banners fluttering atop poles at their sides.
“We don’t have much time!” Hademar yelled to the rest of the army. He whirled to the soldier holding his horse’s reins. “Bring me the book!”
The man dug through a saddlebag and produced a leather-bound book, hurrying to take it to the king.
Hademar thrust the object toward Alster. “This is The Shadow King’s spellbook,” he said quickly. “Perhaps you can make sense of it.”
Alster took the strange book in his hands, and his forearms flared to life with magical energy. The frantic men stopped at once. The ring of runes illuminated all over the stone disc, bathing them all in a pale, red glow.
“The pages are blank,” Alster said as he quietly leafed through them.
“It can only be read inside the tomb,” Hademar clarified. “According to some old witch in Nevansk.”
Against Alster’s hip, the blade of his dagger began to burn him through his clothes. He drew it forth, and it blazed with life. The runes on the stone disc flared as well, as though stoked by some giant bellows hidden under the mountain. “We have to be missing something,” he said, taking a nervous glance back to the riders at the top of the valley. Several more had joined the first two, and Alster thought he could hear the sounds of an army marching just beyond the curve of the mountain.
“Maybe only a shade can pass through the stone,” Elsey offered weakly.
“What?” Hademar said. He turned back to Alster. “Can you do it?” he demanded.
“We haven’t much time,” Ingvar said nervously. “They’re setting a formation. They’ll be moving upon us any minute.”
At the top of the valley, a mass of dark figures fanned out to fill the trail Hademar’s army had left. One of them blew
a horn, and the group began to march slowly forward.
“Now, boy!” Hademar screamed. “Get us in!”
“I might be able to send your shade through,” Alster said, grasping at the desperate shred of an idea. “I pulled a man’s shadow off once. Maybe I can do it again.”
Hademar puffed out his chest. “Try it,” he commanded.
“Sir-” Ingvar began.
“Do it, boy!” the king shouted.
Alster nodded. He moved behind the king, his dagger held tightly in his hand. The king’s shadow was short, coming out at a sharp angle from his feet. Slowly, Alster moved his knife between the darkness and the king’s flesh. He felt no resistance, but the red blade pulsed.
Hademar screamed in pain, doubling over and clutching his stomach. Then, all at once, he fell to the ground with a lifeless thud.
Ingvar dropped to the king’s side. He rolled the man over and leaned his ear over his mouth, listening for breath. “He’s alive,” Ingvar said with a hint of relief in his voice. At the king’s feet, a small, lightless form squirmed and writhed where the king’s shadow had been.
“Stand together,” Alster shouted to the soldiers. “Face the sun. He needs more shadow!”
The men moved quickly to cast their own shadows down where the king’s shade struggled to survive in the bright sunlight. As they added to the darkness, the shade grew and stabilized, becoming almost as tall as the king’s physical body.
“Move closer to the tomb,” Alster told the soldiers. They inched slowly toward the stone disc, spreading their shadows across the ground and giving the king’s shade room to walk. When the shadowy form reached the disc, it simply passed through as though the stone did not exist. The soldiers let out a collective sigh, though most of them still wore worried expressions.
“He needs the book,” Ingvar said. In all the confusion, Alster had dropped it near the king’s hand.
“How do we get it to him?” Alster asked. He realized he didn’t even know yet why the king had wanted to find the tomb. “What is he doing?”
“He can read it inside the tomb,” Ingvar answered. He picked it up and held it against the stone disc.
Nothing happened.
“Maybe I can do it,” Alster said.
“By all means,” Ingvar replied. “Just make it quick.” He pointed up the valley where the approaching army marched. “They’re moving slowly. But we have nowhere to run.”
“We need to get ready to fight!” one of the men shouted. The others quickly voiced their agreement.
“Prop the king’s body against the stone,” Ingvar said. “Prepare to fight! Protect the king!” The sound of swords ringing against their scabbards filled the air.
“What should we do?” Elsey asked quietly. She stood close to Alster, her hands trembling.
“Do you trust me?” Alster whispered to her.
Elsey nodded. She brushed an errant strand of hair from her face, and the sun reflected off the moisture building in the corners of her eyes.
Alster’s dagger flashed behind her back.
SURVIVORS
Palos didn’t bother trying to hide the smile on his face. “It has come to this,” he said with confidence.
“It has indeed,” Captain Holte agreed. The two of them sat on their horses at the top of a narrow valley. The path before them was well-trodden with a host of fresh footprints. Down below, three score of men scurried across the red clay like ants.
“They have no route of escape, my lord,” Lieutenant Marius said a few paces behind the other two. His horse snorted and pawed at the ground.
“If the cowards try to flee, we will push them against the rocks,” Palos said. “We will break them against the mountain itself.”
“Shall we begin, my lord?” Marius asked. His voice was crisp, showing not even the slightest hint of fear.
Palos turned his horse back to face his officers. Behind the mounted men, his soldiers were tired from the march he had imposed and the steep heights they had climbed to accomplish it. Their banners fluttered in the wind, and Palos imagined his glorious reception in Karrheim as the slayer of The Shadow King. In his mind, women shouted his name from the streets, and King Gottfried bowed before him, offering him the royal crown as a reward.
“Sir?” Marius asked again. “Shall I give the order?”
“Not yet,” Palos said, returning his focus to the mountain range around him. “The men are tired. Hademar has nowhere left to run. Let him sit in his fear a few moments longer.”
“As you command, my lord,” Marius dutifully replied. He relayed Palos’ orders to the officers who turned back amongst the soldiers.
Captain Holte laughed. “How long do you intend to wait?” he asked.
“Oh, just long enough to give the men a little time to prepare,” Palos replied somewhat jovially. “Come with me,” he said, urging his horse forward several paces.
Palos led Holte a few feet farther into the valley. He sat tall in his saddle, relishing the moment. “They see us down there,” he mused. “I want them to see us. I want them to know fear.”
“And survivors?” Holte asked with a heavy layer of sarcasm. “You intend to leave survivors to tell the glorious story of Palos the Conqueror slaying their friends in the dirt a hundred miles from civilization?”
Palos tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword. “Perhaps I will drag Hademar back, bloody and clinging to life, and saw his head from his shoulders at your feet. Would that make you happy, Captain?” he growled.
Holte let out a single, sharp laugh. “Bring his head back in a box,” he said casually. “But perhaps you should show mercy to his men. You’ll gain nothing by putting them to the sword.”
“I did not travel all the way to this wasteland to become a slaver or the warden of some travelling military prison camp,” Palos spat back. He looked over his shoulder to ensure at least one of his officers could hear him. “Save Hademar for last,” he commanded. “Kill them to a man.”
Elsey gasped as Alster’s dagger slid down the indiscernible space between her flesh and her shadow.
“A shadowlith,” she gasped, her eyes wide with terror. When Alster finished, Elsey’s body fell to the ground much like Hademar.
“What are you doing?” Ingvar yelled when he saw the girl hit the dirt.
Elsey’s shade turned to offer one last look before it disappeared into the tomb.
“I can take the book to him!” Alster said quickly. “I’m going inside!” He snatched the strange tome from the ground and held it close to his chest with his left hand. Again, his wrists flared so violently he had to look away. Wasting no time, Alster turned to face his shadow, loosed a primal scream, and cut it from his body with one quick motion.
Nothing happened.
Thinking he missed, he swung the dagger down again a few inches farther from his body. Still, nothing happened.
“Why doesn’t it work?” he demanded, yelling at the blade clutched in his glowing hand. Out of frustration, he slammed his knuckles into the stone disc in front of him—where they passed through with nothing more than a gentle sizzle.
“Wha-”
Strong hands pushed Alster from behind, and he tumbled forward through the stone portal entirely. He fell clumsily to his knees inside the tomb. Pain shot through his leg when he stood, but the sensation was quickly overcome by wonder. The inside of the tomb was unlike anything Alster had ever seen before. The crypt was built directly into a large, natural cavern filled with red light pulsing through strange veins of ore in the rock.
The chamber he was in slanted downward, toward the heart of the mountain, and looked wide enough to let Hademar’s entire army inside without them being too cramped.
“The book!” a voice said from somewhere to Alster’s left. He turned and saw a massive shade towering over him.
“King Hademar,” Alster said awkwardly. “You can speak.”
“The book!” the shade hissed again, stretching out an inky black tendril.
“You can’t hold it,” Alster told him, though it was painfully apparent. “Where is Elsey?” he asked, realizing he had not seen her yet.
“I’m here,” she said, drawing his attention farther into the cave.
Her shade, much smaller than the king’s, stood twenty or so feet to the side and faced away from Alster. She was looking deeper down a narrow tunnel that branched off of the main cavern. More veins of glowing red ore wound their way through the walls, illuminating the area just enough to cast a strong shadow.
“It’s beautiful,” Elsey said. Her voice was strained and distant, as though the act of speaking through her disembodied shadow demanded a great deal of effort to accomplish.
“What do I do with the book?” Alster asked the king’s shade. The dark creature only twisted and turned in response. Alster imagined the king’s corporeal body doing the same, his rage and lunacy contorting him with every passing second.
Curiously, Alster opened the book to a random place in the middle, but the pages were still entirely blank. “We need to go deeper,” he concluded. “We aren’t in the actual tomb yet. We need to find the graves.” Outside, Alster thought he heard the beginning of a battle commencing. He thought of Elsey’s physical body lying helplessly on the ground.
Alster held the king’s book close to his chest as he went. He hobbled, moving slowly across the uneven ground. “Let’s go,” he said to the two shades. “We don’t have much time.”
The tunnel Elsey led them through spiraled downward at a sharp angle, reminding Alster of the hidden passageway beneath his family’s estate. For a moment, he wondered if one had been modeled on the other.
At the end of the spiraling tunnel, the three came to a section that had been worked with tools. Stairs were cut into the floor, and the red veins of ore in the walls had been channeled into stone troughs at regular intervals. At the side of each stair, they saw more of the runes from the stone disc etched into the walls.
Shadowlith (Umbral Blade Book 1) Page 20