Realms of Shadow a-8

by Lisa Smedman

  Zossimus wanted Jennah, desperately. If he were to die, he would die with his love.

  "Jennah-"

  A sudden shout-a roar of ecstatic triumph as loud as ten of Kozah's cyclones-carried from the south to drown out his voice. The force of the shout hit Shade like a maul and sent it lurching sideways, a bit of flotsam in the ocean of the sky. Zossimus fell facedown in the grass and cursed through his fear. He knew that voice-Karsus.

  "Mystryl! I'll have your power!" boomed Karsus, his voice reverberating through the heavens.

  Shade steadied itself, though it continued to descend. Zossimus rose to all fours.

  "Karsus, you arrogant ass," he cursed.

  Surely this was the end of the world, and Karsus had somehow brought it about.

  Again the sound of Karsus's voice thundered through the sky, but this time Zossimus heard only sobs. Bottomless despair.

  The crying fell silent, cut off as sharp as a razor. The world seemed to hold its breath, silently waiting. Nothing more.

  Shade continued to slip earthward.

  Zossimus wanted to hold Jennah in his arms. He had maybe a hundred heartbeats. He leaped to his feet and raced for the villa.

  A small winged figure alit from an upper window, frantically flapping-Pleeancis. Zossimus's familiar streaked for him as though shot from a bow, a blur of green scales and membranous wings.

  Unable to stop in time, the terrified little quasit crashed into Zossimus's stomach and got tangled in his voluminous violet robes. Man and demon went down in a heap.

  Pleeancis's high-pitched voice squeaked oath after oath. "Oh, curse this purple hell! I'll shred you thread-by-thread, wretched robe. Dare you to offend Pleeancis the Mighty-уеер!"

  Zossimus grabbed the tiny demon by his left haunch and yanked him free of the robes. "Enough!"

  The quasit fluttered in his hand. His red eyes shot the robes one last evil glare before giving Zossimus his most winning, fanged smile.

  "All right, Boss. Just having a moment there. Easy on the leg, eh?"

  Zossimus released Pleeancis and climbed to his feet. The quasit hovered before his face, a scaly, fanged hummingbird demanding attention.

  "Boss-"

  "Not now, Pleeancis."

  He waved the quasit away and hurried for the villa. The city was still sinking. He could feel it in the pit of his stomach. If only he and Jennah had Pleeancis's wings.

  Unperturbed, Pleeancis buzzed along beside him while he ran, the demon's fanged mouth moving as quickly as his wings.

  "What's happened, Boss? Huh? I can't even teleport. There's something wrong with the ring. Watch this!"

  In mid-air, wings still beating, Pleeancis squatted and made as though to… do something. He squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his tiny fists with the effort.

  "Unh. Unh."

  Zossimus would have laughed but for the end of the world. Magic had ceased to function, and Pleeancis was concerned only that his favorite toy was not working.

  "See, Boss? Nothing. Nothing at all. Couldn't teleport if I wanted to. I-ack!"

  Zossimus stopped, grabbed his familiar out of air, and looked at him with narrowed eyes. "Where's Jennah?"

  "What? Who cares? I'm here, and my ring doesn't work!"

  Zossimus knew the quasit didn't like Jennah, or at least didn't like that Zossimus cared for her, but he had no time for Pleeancis's foolishness. "Where?"

  The quasit must have seen his anger. His wings sagged. He ran a forked tongue over his fangs and said, "She was in the sitting room."

  Zossimus released the quasit and sprinted for the villa. Pleeancis flitted about his head.

  "But, Boss, you don't need her. Didn't you hear me? I can't teleport. There's something wrong with my ring." "I said not now, Pleeancis!" "But, Boss-"

  As he ran, Zossimus lashed out and smacked the tiny demon across the midsection. Pleeancis, off kilter, let fly with a stream of high-pitched epithets, spiraled out of control, and finally crashed to the lawn.

  Zossimus ran on. From behind, he heard Pleeancis squeak indignantly. "From now on, it's Pleeancis the Mighty to you, Boss!"

  Despite himself, Zossimus cracked a grin. Not even this Karsus-made catastrophe could quiet his familiar. They should all be so blissfully ignorant.

  Before he reached the villa, Jennah burst from the doors. Her long red hair flew wildly behind her; her skin had gone white. Zossimus had never seen such a lost look in her green eyes. She too was a mage. She too had sensed the destruction of the Weave, but unlike Zossimus, Jennah had steadfastly refused to tap the Shadow Weave. She had no shadow magic in which to find at least some succor. "Zoss! The Weave!"

  He raced to her and took her in his arms. "I know." She pushed him to arms length, looked him in the face, and said, "And the city…?"

  He shook his head in the negative. She blinked while that registered.

  "Are we doomed then? What's happened?" Zossimus didn't want to answer her first question and couldn't answer the second. Clearly, Karsus had done something…

  Pleeancis flitted over and squirmed between them. "What in the name of Asmodeus's arse is going on around here?" He glared at Jennah. "Why're you so upset? I'm the one who can't teleport." He shoved his ring finger before her face.

  Zossimus did not have the energy to engage in further nonsense with his familiar. He gently plucked him from the air and placed him on his favorite perch-Zossimus's right shoulder. Jennah seemed hardly to see the quasit. Her gaze was far away.

  "What now, Zoss? What now? I want to see the flowers again. Like we used to." She looked at him with her gentle eyes.

  Remembering their many days spent among the purplesnaps on the plains below-the plains where they would die today-his eyes began to well. He took her in his arms.

  "We'll see them again, dearest. We will. I promise."

  She sobbed into his shoulder; he fought to keep down his own tears. Shade fell further.

  "Oh, for crying out-Your hair is in my eyes, human woman," Pleeancis hissed.

  Jennah ignored him or did not hear him. Zossimus shooed the little demon away.

  "Be gone, Pleeancis, we've no time for you now."

  Pleeancis fluttered away, leaving a stream of curses in his wake. "All right, Boss, now it's really Pleeancis the Mighty to you! I was jesting before, but now…"

  Zossimus made no reply, merely held his love as she sobbed.

  He knew they had only moments. He wanted to tell Jennah how much he loved her, whisper to her how her presence had made his life in the twilight bearable, but he could not give voice to his feelings, not even now. Instead, he stroked her long hair, held her tight, and said nothing. Pleeancis, as usual, spoiled the moment.

  "Boss, I think we're falling."

  The quasit spoke with such surprise in his tone that Jennah's sobs turned to laughter. Zossimus too began to laugh. What else could they do?

  "It's not funny," Pleeancis said. "Did you hear what I said?"

  "We heard, little one," said Zossimus.

  Jennah leaned back from Zossimus and looked him in the eyes. Her tear-streaked but smiling face looked luminous. He found his voice and spoke before she did.

  "I love you, dearest. More than anything."

  Jennah opened her mouth to reply, but before she could, a strange silence descended, as though they had filled their ears with wax. The twilight turned darker. The air grew charged.

  "What's that?" she asked, her voice dull and seemingly far away.

  She disengaged herself from him and looked westward. Curious, he too looked to the western sky.

  Above the city, the sky roiled. There, the twilight of Shade gave way to a deeper darkness. Whorls of black and ochre rippled across the sky and expanded toward them. A multitude of miniature cyclones took shape and ran before the ever-expanding curtain of darkness, an honor guard of destructive force. Some of them were large enough to damage buildings. Pieces of roofs flew skyward and swirled in the turbulent air.

  Zossimus knew at once
what was occurring. He whispered it aloud, awestruck. They're taking the city fully into the Plane of Shadow."

  The cyclones were planar vortices, present anywhere that two planes violently collided.

  At the same moment, he realized that Shade was no longer sinking. Moving the city farther into the Plane of Shadow must have strengthened the Twelve Princes' Shadow Magic. The city had stabilized, at least for a time.

  Gleeful, he turned to Jennah to sweep her into an embrace.

  The look of horror on her face stopped him cold.

  "I won't go," she said, and took a step back from him. "I can't live like that-like this."

  She gazed skyward, and made a gesture that took in all of Shade.

  The curtain of darkness-colorlessness-drew nearer. A peculiar sonic effect preceded it: not silence, but a dulling of sound. Even the destruction wrought by the planar cyclones sounded muted.

  "There's nothing else to be done, Jennah. Dearest."

  He moved toward her, one hand outstretched. When she recoiled, he struggled to keep the pain from his face and voice.

  "Well die otherwise. The shadow magic won't keep the city afloat. Jennah-"

  Something within her seemed to break. Her eyes grew pained, and when she spoke, her voice was thick with the attempt to control her tears.

  "I don't care, Zoss. Don't you understand? I can't live like this anymore. I'd rather die. I stayed for you. Only for you. We've lived in the dark too long. I-"

  He felt it at the same moment she did. Pleeancis must have too. From high in the air, the quasit let forth a squeal of joy.

  "I can teleport, Boss! I can teleport!"

  As though to make his point, the little demon began repeatedly to do just that-disappearing from one location only to instantaneously reappear in a different location a stone's throw away. His high-pitched, delighted laughter filled the sky from ten different directions.

  The Weave had returned!

  Zossimus's soul refilled. The flow of magic that had ebbed moments before, now re-entered his being like a riptide. He smiled fiercely.

  Jennah laughed for joy. She spoke an arcane phrase and alit from the earth to frolic in the air. "We're saved, Zoss! Oh, thank Tyche!" She spiraled about in the air, as gleeful as a child at play.

  Pleeancis teleported onto Zossimus's shoulder. "I'm back, Boss," he said with a fanged smile, "and better than ever."

  Zossimus reached over to scratch the little demon's scaled head. "Indeed, little one. Me too."

  Beneath his feet, Shade lurched. The sky grew nearly pitch. Pleeancis yelped and teleported under Zossimus's robes. Zossimus looked skyward. The black, colorless curtain of the Shadow Plane continued to rush toward them. Despite the return of the Weave, the Twelve Princes were still taking Shade to the Plane of Shadow. Perhaps the unexpected return of the Weave had caused the spell causing the move to go awry. The latter seemed more probable to Zossimus, because in only a heartbeat the seething darkness that represented the border between the planes had picked up speed and the planar cyclones had grown larger. Whole buildings flew skyward under the force of the roaring winds.

  "Jennah! Pleeancis! Get into the villa, down to the wine cellar, both of you. Now!"

  Pleeancis poked his head out of the robes, looked at the seething sky, and teleported out of sight without a word. Jennah still flew high above Zossimus.

  "Look, Jennah! Look!" Zossimus pointed to the onrushing planar border. "Come down! It's our only chance!"

  "I can't, Zoss," she shouted above the rising wind.

  She looked at the onrushing darkness and her face went pale. A gust of wind caught her and sent her spinning toward it. Zossimus's throat grew tight. He mouthed the words to a spell that would grant him flight.

  Jennah recovered quickly, however, and steadied herself.

  "I love you, Zoss, and I always will, but I can't here anymore."

  Zoss, unwilling to let her go so easily, took flight toward her. "Wait, Jennah. Please, dearest. Don't leave!"

  She backed away from him, as though afraid to let him come too close. Another gust caught her, stronger this time, and sent her careening helplessly through the air.

  "Jennah!"

  Zoss streaked after her as fast as the spell allowed as she cartwheeled helplessly toward the onrushing darkness. She screamed in terror, a sound audible even above the roar of planar collision.

  Before she reached the darkness, a planar cyclone, filled with whirling stone debris from destroyed buildings, caught her up. She vanished into the cylinder of roaring wind. Zossimus screamed her name in vain, circled about the cyclone as near as he dared, trying himself to stay airborne in the whipping winds. The darkness engulfed him, but he did not care. His senses went dull. Sound became less clear, sight less crisp. They had entered the Plane of Shadow. The world was muted, but his pain at losing Jennah was as acute as ever.

  With the transition to the Plane of Shadow complete, the planar cyclones dissipated as quickly as they had materialized. Stone and wood crashed to the ground. So too did Jennah. Zossimus flew to her side.

  He started to speak her name but couldn't bring himself to utter a sound. Her body, twisted by the terrible force of the cyclone, battered by the swirling debris, lay on the ground like a broken thing. He cradled her in his arms and cried.

  Pleeancis teleported beside him. "Belial's balls, Boss! What happ-" He stopped and cocked his head. "Hey, where are we? What happened to her?"

  He stuck out a foot to nudge Jennah. Zossimus did not have the energy to rebuke him.

  "She looks done for, Boss." Pleeancis smiled broadly, his fangs glistening. "I guess that means it's just you and me now, huh?"

  The familiar's satisfied smile pushed Zossimus over the edge. His grief gave way to rage. He clutched for Pleeancis, meaning to strangle the little bastard where he stood.

  The quasit backed off, eyes wide. "What'd I say?"

  Zossimus's rage left him as quickly as it had flared up. "Leave us, Pleeancis. Now."

  The little demon must have heard the steel in his voice, for he backed off still farther, then teleported away.

  He teleported back an instant later. "It's Pleeancis the Mighty," he said, and teleported away again before Zossimus could kill him where he stood.

  Lying atop the tall ebony bookcase, Pleeancis woke with a yawn, stretched his wings, and glanced around the Boss's bedchamber to see… the usual. Still drab, still utilitarian. There was a disheveled bed with faded blue sheets and worn pillows, a dark dressing table with a tarnished silver mirror, a sturdy but unremarkable work desk, several old oil lamps, the feeble glow from which barely lifted the colorless gloom of the plane, but no Boss. Pleeancis blew out a sigh.

  "Not again."

  He knew where he would find the Boss. The same place he always found the Boss when the Boss wasn't eating or sleeping. With her. Pleeancis rolled his eyes and flicked his tongue angrily. That human woman was more bothersome dead than alive.

  He leaped off the bookcase, beating his wings once to ensure a soft landing, and alit on the carpeted floor. He glanced around furtively to ensure that the Boss was not around. Satisfied that he was alone, Pleeancis rolled around on the carpet. The feel of the luxuriant fibers against his scales made him hiss happily. The Boss would not allow him such pleasures were he present.

  Succubus teats! thought Pleeancis. The Boss didn't even allow himself any pleasures since she'd died-and that had been years ago!

  "Succubus teats," he said to himself, still rolling on the carpet. "That's pretty good."

  He hissed with laughter. He prided himself on his creative oaths, an invaluable skill in a familiar that the Boss didn't appreciate. Of course, the Boss didn't appreciate much of anything.

  Pleeancis climbed to his feet. He would find the Boss in the workroom, pining over the dead human woman. Pleeancis refused to refer to her by name, even in the privacy of his own mind. She was gone, and Pleeancis was glad of it. She had always gotten in the way of he and the Boss anyway.
But the Boss would not let her go. Instead, he had dedicated his life to bringing her back.

  Pleeancis considered using his magical ring to teleport to the shop, just to startle the Boss, but decided against it. Since her death, the Boss was easily angered. Best just to walk.

  Trooping through the once grand villa, Pleeancis wished-just for a moment-that he was no longer bound to the Boss. The villa had fallen virtually into ruin since the move to this plane, and the Boss did not seem to care. Once it had been meticulously kept, with imported rugs and furniture, and all the finest food and drink for Pleeancis to partake of whenever he wished. Now the divans and chairs were old and ill kept, the rugs frayed, and the cupboards bare. If not for the invisible servant valets, the place would no doubt be knee deep in dust. To Pleeancis, who loved the finer things, the villa was empty of everything important. It looked worn, dull, like the plane itself, like the Boss's spirit since her death.

  Heavy with self-pity, Pleeancis dragged his clawed feet along the floor as he walked. He made his way through the maze of bare hallways and down the spiral staircase, until he reached the ornate, slightly ajar double doors of the Boss's workroom. His ears perked up. Within, he could hear the Boss mumbling to himself. Pleeancis could imagine well enough what the Boss was doing-the same thing he had been doing for the past two years: poring over esoteric tomes, Grafting this or that obscure magic item, scribing one or another theretofore unknown spell, all in an effort to bring her back. That was all the Boss cared about anymore. Pleeancis didn't get it. Who needed her? They had each other.

  Of course, the Boss didn't feel that way. He had put her body in stasis immediately after her death and had tried all the ordinary spells-even called in priests-to bring her back from the dead. Much to Pleeancis's delight, something had interfered, and the spells had failed. The Boss thought the difficulty had to do with the fact that she had died while the city had been in the midst of a planar crossover. Interaction of magic and planar mechanics or something like that.