The Dark Levy: Stories of the Nine Worlds (Ten Tears Chronicles - a dark fantasy action adventure Book 1)

by Alaric Longward

  ‘Is that …’ Ulrich held me back. A featureless shadow was hanging from the door’s lock. I gasped. Dana was crumpled in front of the door, her wrists chained to a rung.

  ‘Dana,’ I breathed and rushed forward. ‘Dana!’

  ‘Shh!’ Ulrich hissed as he struggled to follow me. ‘Is she alive?’ I reached her and pulled her up, trying for her pulse and cursed, for I wore a gauntlet, and I could not. Yet, I noticed mist forming on the gauntlet’s silvery surface.

  ‘She seems alive, yes,’ I told him finally as I raised her head. She was pallid, her face screwed in a smirk of pain as she mumbled something incoherent. ‘Though what happened to her, I know not.’

  Then, something found us.

  Our hearts were suddenly beating harder, much harder. Some strange form of panic seized us. I fell on my knees, whimpering, and Ulrich raised a hand as if to ward off a blow. ‘What the hell is that?’ he blurted, trying to breathe.

  ‘The dragon,’ I uttered with fearful reverence amidst the horror. ‘It is seeking us. It knows we are here. It did this to Dana. Hurry. Get her free.’

  ‘Good, for I’m beyond tired of fearing for my life,’ Ulrich said with trepidation. ‘Let me see the chains.’

  ‘Magical as usual,’ I spat as I fingered a small, round lock with a bluish surface. ‘The key?’

  ‘Sure,’ he said drily. ‘But I don’t like this. None of it.’ He took out his skeleton key and inserted it into the lock. It changed color from blue to white, and then angry red, and again, the meltingly magical metal skittered apart, breaking into a shower of half-sentient pieces. ‘Quickly, before it comes back together.’ I pulled at the chains and dragged Dana free.

  The dragon spoke.

  A voice slithered around us, dangerous and curious while somehow careless as the wind. ‘The young folk at large? Touching the Cauldron? You found your kin, no? Come in, sweet ones, and I’ll make her hale again. Be quick! For your hostess is becoming organized and is gathering her minions. She is not daft, no.’

  We stared at each other. ‘No,’ Ulrich mouthed. ‘I know you said we should, but …’

  ‘It might be our only chance,’ I argued. ‘I have to revive Dana. And find out if it can break the Fetters.’

  ‘It can break us with its voice, Shannon,’ Ulrich answered. ‘It is as unpredictable as …’

  ‘An army of gorgons?’

  ‘Lex is good with the ladies, ask him to charm the lot?’ he retorted. ‘This is madness.’

  ‘Children,’ the voice uttered, and our hearts nearly burst with fear, leaving us breathless. ‘Come in here or she shall never wake.’

  ‘Let us, then,’ I agreed with a pained voice.

  ‘You know how?’ Ulrich pushed the gate. It would not budge.

  ‘Nox?’ I said.

  The tomte arrived, grinning hugely. It shuffled from the shadows, and it bowed at us gracefully, its ruddy, wrinkled face full of mirth.

  ‘The master of frights must I feed, its gentler side, I have never seen,’ he chortled.

  ‘It is your former master. Perhaps still is?’ I asked him.

  ‘I serve both, that is my oath,’ he told me with a sad smile. ‘But my master I have not forgotten, for my service is rotten.’

  ‘I shall see, Nox. Will you suffer for this?’ I asked him.

  ‘I shall suffer, perhaps get killed by that elf stuffer,’ he said with rumbling spite. ‘I care not for her anger, and if I catch it hot,’ he added as he walked to the door. He smirked and then pushed at it. It was open and swung into the darkness silently, an enormous thing like a cathedral. A cold, musty wind blew across from us, and the door swung back in.

  ‘Take Dana, Ulrich,’ I said.

  ‘I shall hold the door, but do hurry and we shall avoid the whore,’ Nox chortled, eyeing the dark. ‘Also, avoid making a mess and do not push him to excess ...’

  I leaned over him. ‘You told me I would call you one day. How did you guess I would one day be here?’

  ‘Nox is not stupid, and his thoughts are fluid,’ he grinned. ‘Go on.’ He jerked his head to the darkness.

  I took a deep breath and stepped in. Ulrich followed me tentatively.

  It was not as dark as we had thought, for there was a strange luminance around the columned space, and we realized there were torches burning far, far away. The vast hall was set with dim fires, and shadows sputtered across the room as we entered. Some of the shadows looked alive.

  ‘Charming,’ said the pale Ulrich. ‘Let us go, then?’

  ‘Perhaps you should stay here with Dana,’ I told him hesitantly. ‘Thank you for coming down here with me.’

  ‘Nah,’ he said and walked in before me. ‘The dinner is served, and there has to be an appetizer, a main course, and a dessert. I doubt it will be happy without the full deal. Seems like a pushy bastard. And I don’t wish to go up if her vileness has returned to inquire about the fools sitting around the foyer, wondering why they are not in their cells feeling miserable.’ I grinned at him nervously, and he struggled a bit as he hefted Dana over his shoulder. He walked on and then I followed him, cursing as my steel-shot boots made hollow, echoing sounds on the dusty floor.

  Dana was breathing harshly and was incoherent, rubbing her head occasionally, uncertainly as if having suffered a severe concussion. She would not wake unless the dragon willed it. I tried to keep calm, but could not, and rushed forward past Ulrich, my mail clinking and my boots clopping on the floor. I skidded to a stop in the middle of a sea of massive pillars, feeling hopeless. Ulrich stopped and lay Dana down and took a step back. She was pale, shivering and coughing, her robe sodden. ‘Dragon Masked One!’

  Silence.

  I screamed in frustration, the scream echoing around the dark pillars. ‘It's playing with us. Can you make fires around us?’ I asked Ulrich, who took a tentative step forward, weaving a spell of Fury for the firewall spell, but then he hesitated and stopped. He took a step back. ‘Ulrich?’

  He shook his head and pointed beyond me.

  I turned.

  A short man with powerful shoulders was standing at the edge of the light. He was dressed in a simple, unadorned tunic and pants of dark velvet. His boots were high and black, with silvery edges glimmering softly. He seemed to shift as he stood there, seemingly ethereal, then solid again. Most disconcerting was the dark mask of hanging velvet, the eyeholes empty.

  He looked like a man. Nothing like I had anticipated.

  Yet, there was something else there.

  Evil emanated from him. It was strangely evident. Evil, or perhaps a casual attitude for cruelty, as flippant as a tornado leveling a town. While Euryale occasionally felt almost human, with a past that might not be all evil, this one had no such past. The air felt stuffy, thick, and when you tried to look at the man, you could do so only for a short time. Ulrich shook his head and croaked something, and I dragged Dana back, keeping an eye on the odd creature.

  It laughed softly. Where the gorgons had a weird, sing-song voice, the dragon had a hollow, faraway one. ‘You need not worry, little sister. She will be fine,’ the man thing said, his voice much like an echo. ‘She is upset and stunned, for I forced myself deep inside her mind, Shannon. I still hold her. She put up a brief fight, the fool, and so she is more hurt than she should be. It was delicious, girl, your sister’s fight. But in I went, like a devious peddler sneaking his way past a guard in a noble’s house, and in the end her spirit was kneeling before me, open and helpless.’ I saw Dana was shaking her head half-consciously at his words, and I was also sure he was staring at her, shaking his head back subtly. They were struggling still.

  ‘You shall do no such thing to me,’ I grimaced and squared my shoulders.

  ‘Yes, I shall,’ he said casually. ‘She is released, and you are next, for I have to know what you are, don’t I?’ Dana jerked, her face blushed, astonished, her eyes opened wide. A dark shadow whisked away from her, traveling the floor and columns into me. Then I felt him knocking on the door to m
y mind, his empty eyeholes probing me.

  I was standing there in the dungeon.

  Then I was walking along a dry road, wind buffeting me.

  It was so cold, freezing and I was lost, not knowing which way to go. Suddenly Lex was walking next to me, his lips blue from rime. I grasped his arm instinctively, and he smiled at me inanely, thankfully, full of love. He put his arm around me, giving me support and love, and I leaned on him, seeking shelter from the dread and the cold, the hunger, and the hopelessness, and he pulled me to him. He leaned over and kissed me, his lips like fire, and then I shuddered, for his face was not Lex’s any longer but the masked face of the square-shouldered man, and I tried to pull my eyes away, but it was impossible to refuse him his kiss until he let me. He quit the kiss and spoke to me like he would to a child. ‘Don’t fight it, girl. It is a gift to be visited by a dragon. Stand still, and let me see into that silly mind of yours or fight like she did. It nearly broke her.’ The wind around me rose to a whirling firestorm, and the dragon held me in a fight for my mind. He held me in his paws, his grip incredibly strong, and I whimpered as he lifted me, my head pained like a giant was standing on it. I realized I had half let him enter already by trusting the lie of Lex, letting my guard down, and I breathed and wept and fought and then his face shifted to that of Grandma’s, her face pained and lost.

  I broke for just a moment, giving a shuddering breath at the sight of her, and I felt his mind slither into mine.

  The eyeless man disappeared, and I fell to the ground, clawing at my temples. I knew this was what possessions felt like. I felt him staring at my memories, my wishes, and my deepest fears, rolling his hands across things most precious to me. I grasped at the air, screamed, trying to push him out and for a moment, I saw the pillared hall, the dark masked man standing there.

  ‘No!’ I cried and wove a spell of Fury, growing the ice spears around the man, but it was no man, and the spell broke as it touched him. I felt his presence inside my head tighten its grip, and I fell on my knees, clawing once again at my temples, the helmet hampering the effort. I fell forward over Dana, trying to breathe, holding my helmeted head. His voice whispered into my mind. ‘That dark-hearted traitor. She has mighty plans for you, does she not? Moreover, you are to dance with the twisted ghoul to recover the Eye? Hand of Life? Yes, yes, the armor would not have accepted you otherwise, no. Yet, a human Hand of Life?’ he said with a note of amusement thrumming in his voice. ‘Yes, I do see you are special. Nox is right. Very special. Unique indeed for Frigg only bestowed one such blessing on Aldheimers. Not the elves, apparently, but the maa’dark, those who can stir the Cauldron. And you are this esteemed thing. Until you die, of course.’ He laughed softly. ‘She is smart. She truly is. And my freedom is a dream of dust if she succeeds. Hopeless, as impossible as finding a cold drink in the Batha desert.’ His voice was dripping with anger and desperation, and I felt my head cracking. ‘Nox was right indeed.’

  I pleaded. ‘You won. Please.’

  ‘Killing you, girl, would thwart her plans. They would crumble for the time. Then, perhaps not. Perhaps they would only be postponed,’ he was saying to himself. His mind sought every last corner of my mind, and I heard him wonder. ‘Such a boring, scared life you have led. Sad, sad. However, perhaps you can help me, no matter your past. You are here for your sister, no?’ he said mirthfully and likely grinned under the mask. ‘She is a strong one, she is indeed. But is she what you think she is?’

  ‘She has her faults, oh …’ I began and then went silent, cursing the man. ‘Thing. Dragon.’

  ‘Oh mighty one, that is an appropriate way to address me, my friend,’ he said with a robust laugh, dry and humorless as old bones, hollow as if coming from a pit. ‘But I saw in your lovely head something interesting. You meant to visit me in any case, no? This is how you lot got into a trouble that likely will get most of your followers killed? Stop quaking, boy.’

  He had released me and spoken to Ulrich.

  I thrust myself up, swaying onto my feet. I saw Ulrich cowering in the shadows, his face listless. Dana was clawing at her temples, trying to recover. I spat at the thing’s feet only to discover the helmet stopped me from doing the gesture justice. I reddened in shame, but the helmet covered that as well. ‘Dragon horror? Terror?’ I said with as much strength I could. ‘You instill fear in your foes, and they fall helpless victims. I’ll not let you do that again.’

  He nodded slowly and snorted. ‘I did already and can again. You have too many holes in your mind’s fragile armor and are unused to such games. You have no choice but to fear, girl, when you endure my mind inside yours. Terror is in our nature. Like you see the dead and the Fury’s and Gift’s many wondrous weaves and applications, my kin are your bane, and well do you know it. Few things creeping forth from the mists of the Nine will leave you unimpressed and a dragon is the most impressive of these things. Yet, I see you are bound to fight many such creatures in the future.’

  ‘I wish for no fights,’ I said forcefully. ‘I would like to be free of this!’ I thrust forth my shackled hand, then cursed as the armor covered it. ‘The Bone Fetter. It is what binds us to the bitch.’

  He stared at my hand with little interest. ‘Hel’s toy that. Once made to hold in check the unruly dead, it is not something one removes easily. Euryale has ever used it to control her slaves. She stole them and the rings when she took the Eye.’

  ‘Is there a spell?’ I asked him. ‘It was made in Helheim, I know. It is controlled by the First Born Euryale. And you are one, no? Mightier than she is?’

  ‘You are grasping at very rotten straws, girl. It is an artifact,’ he agreed, staring at it. ‘A powerful one. And dear girl, you have to die to be rid of it. You saw the bracelet, when you came here, did you not? Before it changed thus? You chose then. For your sister, I know. For something more, perhaps for yourself as well. There is a speck of selfishness in you. I saw parts of it, just now.’

  ‘For Dana,’ I insisted.

  ‘For freedom,’ he laughed mockingly.

  ‘I took it, accepted it,’ I agreed, deciding to abandon my attempts of trying to reason with the madly terrifying thing. I remembered the bracelet I had taken willingly. I felt tears and tried to wipe them off my face, fighting desperation. The helmet once again hampered me.

  The thing seemed to get some perverted amusement from that, for it chuckled. ‘There are deeds that are impossible to undo, girl. Everyone knows this, even the gods. Yet, you humans are so half-baked, strangely brutal and soft at the same time, logical in one matter and then so foolish in another, as in love. It is no wonder your kin are slaves, unable to join forces for the simplest of purposes, enjoying slavery over freedom. No wonder it is, considering you were meant to provide, not to rule. Immature things, men. Here you weep for something you chose.’

  ‘I’m a woman,’ I spat.

  ‘Even worse,’ he said sourly. ‘Half-baked and raw, just like men. Only more emotional and subservient and prone to unkindness and quarrels.’

  ‘Half-baked?’ I cursed. ‘I am fighting the bitch, refusing ill choices she thrust on me. If that is immature and subservient, dragon-thing, then I’d rather be a senseless child than an ancient, cowardly prisoner, happy to linger here in a lightless, dung-filled dungeon, sharing air with rats, an amusement for a gorgon. You are a helpless, toothless coward.’

  And at that, he showed his immature side.

  He shifted, moving so fast one could barely take note, from shadow to shadow, growling, and I whimpered in fear at an oppressive hand that seemed to be pressing on my chest. ‘Impudent, foolish toad! You think to mock me? The gorgon found me hurt, tricked me, lied to me, gave herself to me, and never shall I forgive her trickery. She has shackles on me as much as she has them on you, and that is disconsolate, for such as me to be compared to the rats.’

  ‘You done raging, wyrm?’ I asked. ‘Wyrm. I always thought you would look different. Scaly, elongated lizard or a flying worm, but no, you look like a man
with severe skin issues.’

  He stopped and hissed, crouching in the darkness and then laughed. ‘I’m the Masked One. Not an ugly specimen compared to any race, girl and bound to this form for now. As for Euryale, we were no friends. When mad Cerunnos Timmerion drove off the invading armies, she made a pact with me. One to save my life, perhaps, and I did drink her blood from her cursed cup to keep mine. Life is precious, even to a dragon. She made it so I had to agree to her terms. She made me a cursed thing as I swore a Dragon Pact. One favorable to her. I got a life, she got everything.’

  ‘What’s the difference between a Pact and a spell?’ I asked.

  ‘Ah, curious you are. A spell is woven by dipping into the Cauldron, one that comes out as Fury or the Gift, but the Pact is a treaty with the Cauldron, one only a dragon can make. We give our word and the Cauldron, Shades, Glory, whatever you want to call it, gives the dragon power to seal the deal. Break it and the Cauldron punishes you. There is more to this power of ours than maa’dark see. There is sense, evil, and good in the Cauldron. Perhaps there are beings in it. We call one such Tiamox. Our god she is.’

  ‘I see,’ I told him, not actually seeing at all.

  He waved a hand in dismissal. ‘It is our mystery, our skill. Make no pacts with a dragon unless you are in mortal danger. But I had to make one, and it doomed me. She made it so, human; that I cannot ever leave this cell so long as she is alive. It is not possible to do so, for the Cauldron would slay me if I tried. It would deprive her of my powers, but no dragon dies willingly. I am chained and helpless and cannot dip into the Cauldron for spells to amuse me, not even that, no. She took my powers, the Cauldron granted them to her, and she took my voice. Here I wither while she is made powerful by my strength and that, Shannon, makes her the most powerful creature in Aldheim. Maa’dark she is, one of the First Born, but with my strength, she is more than any mortal, just shy of a god. I’m starving, not unlike your fire giant out there, but starving of life, of pillage and gold. I am counting rubble on tiles, cracks in the pillars, and mold growing on stones until I know each imperfection by name. In addition, I do resent the rats, Shannon, oh Hand of Life. I hate her. She plans for many things. She hates the elves. Many do, but she does especially.’