The Darker Lord

by Jack Heckel

She took a deep breath. “To make the gate I need to tear this world apart utterly.”

  “No, that’s monstrous!” I tried to say, but the words would not come. The key twisted in her hands, the teeth gyrated wildly, and the falling snow vanished in midair—erased. I could not let this happen again. I lunged toward her, determined to take the key from her before she could pull in too much power, but my arms would not move. She had frozen me. My mind was awake, but my body was stone.

  Vivian put a hand out, stroking my cheek, though I couldn’t feel it. “I’m sorry, Avery, but I knew you would try to stop me. You have to believe me, this is the only way.” She lifted the key above her head, tearing at the threads of reality that held the world together. “I told you there was a reason the faun called me the White Witch. He knew what my presence here meant. I am death, the destroyer of worlds.”

  I screamed silently as she continued to draw magic from our surroundings. The drifts of snow became indistinct blots of white, and the sharp needles of the pine trees blurred to washes of dark green. I wanted to stop her. I wanted to cry, but all I could do was bear witness to the death of another world. It took less than a minute for the trees to fade until they were little more than vague outlines. What remained was a watercolor world, empty of all detail save for the statues scattered here and there, and the gas lamp, which still gave off its wavering light. Then even the remembrance of the trees was gone, and the lamp became a child’s sketch of lines.

  Vivian’s body was glowing now and her eyes shined like burning stars. She began to form the portal. It was a maw of black, and I hated it. There was one last surge of power; the flame of the lamp flickered one last time and was gone, casting the world into darkness.

  Chapter 25

  Hanging by a Thread

  I found myself standing on solid ground, but had never felt more unsteady. Vivian stood nearby. She was awash with residual power, and there was a wild gleam in her still-glowing eyes. It was glorious and terrible, and she must have seen something of the horror in my face, because a shadow of sadness passed across her as she looked at me. “I’m sorry,” she said, and the key slipped from her hand.

  “How could you?” I asked, my voice hoarse with emotion.

  How she might have answered, and what I would have said or done next, I don’t know, because off to my right Rook gave a groan from where he lay on the ground. Valdara shouted his and knealt down at his side. I didn’t immediately appreciate the significance of Rook and Valdara being able to move, and spun about looking for where the attack on the dwarf might have come from. Then I saw that Valdara was inspecting the blackened area where the Sealers’ blast had hit him two worlds ago. I had completely forgotten about his injury.

  Everyone but Vivian gathered around the fallen dwarf. He gave a series of moans followed by increasingly coherent curses before rasping, “Whatever just happened, let’s agree never to do it again.” He pawed clumsily at the pockets of his vest and pulled out a hip flask. He sat up only long enough to take a large swig, and then fell back to the ground.

  “Agreed,” said Valdara, who snatched the flask from him, and took a deep drink herself. She offered it to Drake, but he waved it off and the flask came to me. I considered it, but already felt sick to the pit of my stomach, and so passed it back to Rook. He took the flask and drank deeply. After a loud sigh of contentment, he waved a hand at Vivian. “What exactly is it she is supposed to have done?”

  I looked at her, not sure what to say, not sure if I should say anything. Already Valdara and Drake didn’t like or trust Vivian. Knowing this might push them to actual violence. As the silence stretched on, Valdara gave a grunt of irritation. “One of you better tell us what the hell is going on. Rook may be used to popping from world to world, but Drake and I aren’t. Where are we, and how did we get here?”

  “And why do you two look as guilty as drunks in a wine cellar?” Drake asked.

  Vivian and I exchanged glances. She readied herself to respond, and I could tell by the tight set of her mouth that she was going to tell them exactly what she had done, consequences be damned.

  “She did what I asked her to do,” I said before she could confess. “I . . . I just didn’t know what I was asking.”

  “Well, that’s about as clear as mud,” Rook growled.

  “The important thing is that she got us away from Moregoth,” I answered, trying to convince myself of the truth of it.

  “For the time being,” she said in a quiet monotone.

  “What does that mean?” Valdara asked before I could.

  “It means we don’t have much time here,” Vivian answered, and turned to me. “Can’t you feel it? Can’t you feel the pull?”

  Now that she mentioned it, I could feel something. It was like two elastic bands were tied to somewhere deep within my being, one stretching backward to where we’d been, and one stretching into the unknown ahead. I’m not sure how I knew, but I was certain the line going back was attached to Moregoth.

  “Avery, what is she talking about?” Valdara asked. “What does she mean we don’t have much time, and how much do we have?”

  I looked to Vivian, but she shrugged vaguely and turned to stare up at a bright red moon that was sharing the sky with the sun. Valdara pulled Drake and me away from Vivian over to Rook, and lowered her voice to a whisper. “Where are we and what the hell is up with her? Has she done something to us?”

  I decided on the spot that telling them the truth—that Vivian had turned them to stone and unwoven a world in getting us here—was something I would not share unless I absolutely had to, so I asked, “What’s the last thing you remember?”

  “Falling through that endless shaft,” she said. Drake nodded his agreement.

  “I don’t fully understand, but I believe she has cast a portal that works like Rook’s hypocube. It is taking us somewhere, but along a course only it knows.”

  “Are you saying we are going to be yanked about from world to world at the whim of this spell of hers?” Drake asked. He was eyeing the flask in Rook’s hand like he was rethinking his decision not to drink.

  “Yes,” I said with a nod of my head. “But it’s worse than that, because Moregoth is entangled with us.”

  “So, everywhere we go, he goes?” Rook asked. I nodded again.

  “Gods! Can’t we unchain ourselves from her and go our own way?” Valdara muttered.

  I glowered at her. “I want all of you to consider that without her we’re trapped in that endless pit. Without her, Moregoth has probably already killed us all.”

  Valdara snapped, “Well, where are we, then? I thought we were going to Sam and Ariella.”

  I started to answer, but before I could Rook pointed at Valdara. “Don’t you listen, or have all your brains been sucked into that crown you’re wearin’? The lass didn’t cast a normal portal spell. She opened a gateway to her desire. Like with the hypocube, the gateway will operate until it gets us to her chosen destination, but because she didn’t put any structure into it, the spell will get us there by a means of its choosin’. This is obviously not the final destination, but it is the place the spell thinks we need to be right now.” He finished by taking another sip of whatever was in his flask. “Clear?”

  “No,” Drake and Valdara said in unison.

  Rook waved them away. “My question is, how did she do it?” He peered at me suspiciously. “What exactly is she, Avery? She isn’t Mysterian, but I’ve never seen anyone create a portal like that who wasn’t.”

  “As far as I know, she’s from a subworld somewhere,” I said truthfully, but suspected the real answer to his question lay with Griswald’s key. I went to pick it up. Vivian was still staring up at the moon, her eyes glowing brightly. I wondered if she was okay. What do you say to someone that has just wiped out an entire reality? Not trusting myself, I said nothing.

  When I got back to the group, I held out the key. “I think this may be how she did it. It’s the key I got from Griswald’s box.”


  Rook took one look and spit a mouthful of what smelled like turpentine onto the ground at my feet. “Holy hell! Do you know what this is? It’s a reality skeleton key! Griswald shouldn’t have had this.”

  I knew what a skeleton key was, but had never heard the word used in the context of magic. If it meant the same thing as it did for regular locks . . . hair stood on the back of my neck. “Does that mean what I think it means?”

  “I wouldn’t even want to take a guess at what you’re thinkin’, lad, but this bloody thing is a reality key that fits any world. There weren’t many of them. I thought they were all destroyed or lost. ”

  “Why?” I asked.

  “Why?” Rook spit. “Because there was a worry about what might happen if one of them fell into the hands of the Mysterium or a subworlder.” Valdara gave a warning growl and Rook grunted a quick “No offense,” which only caused her eyes to narrow further.

  The dwarf did his best to ignore her glares and pressed on. “The point is, this thing should be locked up. It’s way too dangerous to have floatin’ about with an Earther.” He waved his agitated arms at Vivian, who was standing utterly still and pointing toward the red moon. “Case in point!”

  “I’m sure I speak for all ‘subworlders’ when I thank you most sincerely for your concern,” Valdara said with undisguised disdain.

  “You’re welcome,” Rook replied with equal sarcasm. “But I didn’t say I agreed with the reasonin’.”

  I tried to redirect the conversation. “Rook, how can you be so sure this is a skeleton key?”

  “’Cause they’re bloody legendary, lad,” he snorted. “It’s like askin’ someone from your world how they know a bloody great yellow M means that a place sells hamburgers, or why they associate a green mermaid with coffee. Every Mysterian knows what one of those is—without exception. My real questions are: How did Griswald get his hands on one, and why is it workin’ for you two?”

  “What do you mean, why is it working?” I asked irritably. “You may not like it, but Vivian and I are Mysterium mages.”

  “Irrelevant!” Rook said. “As you would know if you did have any real education, those keys have a safety built into them. While anyone can use them as a kind of focus to do magic tricks, to shift reality like the two of you appear to have been doin’ you would need to be a Mysterian.”

  This gave me pause. Putting safeties on powerful magic items was pretty standard. It’s how mages prevented their research assistants from abusing lab magic items, like “one” rings or the copy machine. “How does it know the user isn’t a Mysterian?”

  “The only reliable way—reality weight, of course,” he answered.

  I knew when I asked that must be the answer, but hearing him confirm it sent a cold shiver along my spine. I glanced at Vivian. Could it be that she and I had been altered, like Sam and Ariella, while we were on Trelari? While I thought through the implications, Rook took my silent contemplation as tacit agreement that he should have the key. He extended his hand. “I think we both know it would be better if I kept the key, Avery. Those things are rare and precious.”

  I looked down at his open palm and shook my head. “It may be rare and precious, but it’s mine. Griswald gave it to me.”

  “Griswald!” he spat. “He must have been mad!”

  “Or he knew exactly what he was doing,” I bristled, my voice rising. I was a little surprised at how angry I was.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” asked Rook as his brows came together.

  “Exactly what it sounds like!”

  Drake interrupted what was building up to be an epic shouting match. “I’m sure this is fascinating for the two of you, but I couldn’t care less about this key. I want to return to Valdara’s question. If this isn’t where Sam and Ariella are, then where are we?”

  Rook and I continued to stare at each other, but eventually we broke off and I answered. “No idea.”

  “Could be anywhere,” the dwarf agreed.

  “Maybe we could ask a local?” Valdara suggested.

  It actually wasn’t a bad idea, and we all began to look around for a convenient local. We were standing in a valley planted in rows and rows of vines and crops. A road wound its way out of the fields and up a hill to a stone keep. I could see a steady stream of figures making their way to the gates of the fortress. Somewhere in the distance, a bell sang out over and over again. Everything looked normal, but there was a feeling in the air of urgency that I couldn’t understand. I was still trying to figure out why I felt so anxious when a group of men with sickles and hoes came running out of the fields toward us. Valdara’s sword was in her hand in a flash. When the men saw the weapon, they held up their hands in a sign of peace. An older-looking fellow with more salt than pepper in his beard stepped forward. “We don’t want any trouble. We saw you out here and came to warn you.”

  “Warn us about what?” Valdara asked.

  “The Thread are coming!” he said, and pointed overhead where hazy crimson clouds were gathering.

  Valdara shrugged. “We are not seamstresses. What do these threads have to do with us?”

  The group of men looked at us in confusion. “What are you talking about?” the leader asked.

  “That is what we want to know,” Valdara said, thrusting her sword back into her belt. “You come giving warnings better fit for seamstresses and tailors. Leave us in peace.”

  The men began to back away, wide-eyed. “You’re mad!” the eldest of them shouted. “Stay out here if you want to die. We’re going to the hold.” They ran in the direction of the keep.

  While Rook, Drake, and Valdara debated whether “Thread” might refer to the name of a monster or a warrior of some kind, I wracked my brain to remember where I’d heard the term before. Something about it rang a bell. Something I’d studied in Mysterium, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. I was still trying to pry something useful out of my memory when Vivian sang out, “I hope the dragons come in time.”

  I followed her eyes into the sky, and saw that the crimson clouds were descending now. That’s when it struck me: thread, dragons, red star . . . “Oh gods,” I murmured to myself. “We’re in McCaffrey’s world!

  I screamed, “Run for cover!” But it was far too late.

  The cloud had descended in an adjacent field, and was now hovering about twenty feet off the ground and approaching rapidly. I could see the shape of the individual threads, but as they got closer they weren’t threads at all, they were men—crimson-cloaked men. The gateway had transported Moregoth and the Sealers. Out of reflex I raised the key, but at the memory of the faun and his beautiful brass knocker I thrust it into my pocket determined that it should remain there. Instead, I took the time to tap into my own magical reserves and spun a hasty umbrella of magical fire over our group.

  The first wave of Sealers had no chance to avoid the shield. Most of them were repulsed, and skipped off of it to crash into the fields around us. But the rest, including Moregoth, broke away. A shower of spells bombarded us from above. The shield cracked and then shattered. I fell to my knees, battered by the backlash from the broken spell. Valdara, Drake, and Rook formed a defensive circle around Vivian and me, while above us Moregoth’s men circled about for another pass.

  “If anyone has any bright ideas,” Rook growled, “now would be the time to field-test them.”

  “Do you think killing them all is a bright idea?” Valdara asked.

  “Worth a try,” he replied with a very dwarfish laugh.

  Moregoth’s men made their second pass from two directions at once, hoping to catch me off guard. They didn’t count on the others fighting back. Valdara sent her chakram flying into the lead group of Sealers. Two of the crimson-cloaked men fell shrieking into the fields, and the carefully choreographed attack descended into chaos. In the confusion that followed, we were able to pick off a number of the Sealers. Drake clotheslined a passing man and swept him into a second flying in the opposite direction—a sickening but satisfying c
runch followed. Rook meanwhile was turning his height, which should have been a decided disadvantage against aerial opponents, into a secret weapon. He had positioned himself among the rows of crops where the Sealers couldn’t see him and would jump up with his ax when they flew too low.

  It was turning into a bloodbath, and with a shouted command from Moregoth, the second wave of attacks broke off. I looked to see if everyone was okay, and to my relief they were. I had also recovered enough strength that I thought I might be able to do a bit of magic. Unfortunately, Vivian was growing more and more distant with every passing moment. Her eyes were glowing brightly now, and she was standing utterly motionless, staring at something I could not see. I wove a small ward and placed it around her.

  Moregoth learned from his first two failures. This time, he arranged his men in a circle, and soon they began to loop about us, firing spells from all directions. We tried to rotate, to keep them from finding a gap in our defense, but everyone was exhausted. Soon bolts of energy began to find their marks. Drake caught one in the side of his chest and collapsed onto one knee. He struggled back to his feet, but his movements were labored. Then there was an explosion on the ground in front of Rook. The dwarf was blown backward. He landed hard on his back, and groaned in pain.

  “Move closer together!” I shouted.

  With an enormous effort, I expanded the shield around Vivian to cover the entire group. While the shield served to protect us, it also confined us to a very small area. Moregoth gave a signal, and his men moved in, tightening their fighting circle into an ever-narrowing ring. A constant volley of spell blasts impacted against the shield. I pressed harder and harder, but the strain was beginning to tell. I could see the skin in my fingers growing translucent. The ward began to flicker and fail.

  Just as I thought I would have to drop my shield, the blasts from the Sealers faltered. I looked for the reason and saw long gray filaments raining down from the sky. They burned up on my shield, but Moregoth’s men had no protection. Several of them were already on the ground, pierced and devoured by the horrible things. Once again, Moregoth called out to break off the attack and his men scattered. The smart ones shielded themselves, but many did not.