"I was drinking."
"You lied to me."
He looked away.
"How did you excuse your earlier words, Arcil? Vallyn was right, wasn't he? You killed him with a spell so that you didn't personally lay hands on him."
"It was ..." his voice trailed off. "I lost control because...because I love you, Elyana. I have always—"
"You know nothing of love, Arcil! You confuse it with ownership!"
"I'm no fool!" he countered. "You owned Stelan's heart, and he yours. But I never understood why. His strength? His looks? Eriah was far better-looking and had that same kind of strength. And he was younger—"
She slapped him hard enough that his head twisted hard to the left. The sound of the blow echoed through the room. His hand rose, but he did not retaliate.
"It's always about you! Edak died that night because you couldn't bear to wake Stelan first. You killed Eriah because you thought he could take me—as if I would want a handsome simpleton!"
"He announced he would win you or—"
"It's my choice, Arcil!"
"Your choices make no sense!" he shouted back. "Why Stelan? He has neither your skill nor your intellect!"
"And you have both?"
"I do. And you know it."
"You are a murderer. You think first of yourself, always."
"No—I think first of you!"
"Of possessing me! That's not love. Do you think I lied to Stelan to protect you? I lied to protect him. It is bad enough you killed someone on his wedding day. But if he were to know that you did it? Gods, you're a selfish bastard!"
"Elyana, please. All I've ever wanted is you."
"Get away from me."
"No, you don't understand. I can—"
Elyana stepped back. He started to follow, but she flung up a hand, her mouth a thin line. "I can and will kill you with my bare hands, Arcil." She spoke slowly and carefully. "Stay away from me. Forever."
Then she backed toward the door, leaving him shaking and breathing in great gasps.
Arcil did not turn up that afternoon at the ceremony, and no servants reported his departure. Elyana would not see him again for more than twenty years.
Chapter Eighteen
From Shadow to Nightmare
Elyana watched the portal to the Plane of Shadow swirl into existence. The immaterial edges of the gateway Arcil summoned with his wand were hazy and blurred, but the dark land beyond was distinct, crisp. Black and white and gray. Depressing.
"I've come to hate shadows," Renar said.
Elyana wondered if he recalled that Vallyn had voiced very similar opinions. And then she scowled at thought of the bard.
Her gelding shifted nervously beneath her. The horse laid back his ears as Elyana guided him through.
The others followed swiftly, and then Arcil closed the portal. The Galtan mounts and the pack animals whinnied back and forth in agitation until Elyana urged them to settle.
Finally she could scan the horizon. The long black grass of the shadow steppes grew in every direction. The mountains rose on the horizon like the teeth in an ebon saw blade, and clouds hung like tattered banners in the gray sky.
Elyana slid from her mount and bent to search for tracks.
Arcil's horse was especially shy, both of the place and of him. The animal danced nervously as the wizard waited. "I wish we could just teleport and wait for him outside the city," he said.
"Can you do that?" Renar asked. The harp symbol on his breastplate glowed like a beacon in the Plane of Shadow.
"I can," Arcil said, "but there's no guarantee Vallyn will make it out of here alive."
"Not if we catch him," Drelm said.
Elyana swung up into her saddle. "Let's ride."
It was difficult to judge time and distance in a place with no sun, where the land shifted subtly and the stars drifted overhead like the clouds. Still, Elyana knew there could be little doubt as to Vallyn's direction; he'd taken the only obvious pass through the brooding crags. Sure enough, after what she guessed was half an hour, they picked up Vallyn's trail proper. He had been pushing Persaily hard, rarely letting her walk. The bard was a practiced enough horseman that he knew better, and Elyana seethed.
Soon they were riding steadily through a wide, twisting canyon, mountain slopes on either side so dark they might have been fashioned from black marble.
"There are those who say that the land really has no geography," Arcil was saying to the others. He sounded completely at ease and unwinded.
Arcil continued his impromptu lecture. "The wizard Corwin once wrote that you shape shadow to your own needs as you ride through it, though I have often thought he likely referred to a different kind of shadow."
"How many different kinds are there?" Renar asked.
The question seemed to please Arcil. "You're more curious than your father, boy. Why, I might spend a dozen lifetimes studying them all."
"There's something following us," Drelm called from the rear.
Elyana wheeled and cantered back to the half-orc, who held both reins in one hand while he pointed back with his right.
She stared into the narrow mountain pass behind them and perceived a cloud of dust raised by riders dimly outlined within. They were all of darkness, but the beasts they rode had manes of white flame and hooves that struck ivory sparks whenever they touched ground. Three rode in front, and there were at least four behind.
"Nightmares," Arcil said. "Ridden by some kind of shadow or fiend."
"Are they after us?" Renar asked.
"They are now," Arcil answered. "They might have sensed Vallyn's passage, or ours."
Drelm grunted. "Did the Galtans send them?"
"I think not," Arcil replied. "There are living beings here, creatures which hate our life force and crave it."
"I'd say we've about a half-hour," Elyana said, "if we ride hard."
"Can we outride them? Drelm asked. "Our horses are fairly fresh."
Arcil shook his head. "Those are nightmares. We must either exit the plane or even the numbers if we are to have any chance at all."
"Then we'd best ride until we find a place to make a stand." Elyana kicked the gelding into gallop, and the others followed.
Neither the mountains nor the pass were directly analogous to the landscape in the real world. Before very long at all they had passed through them both and returned to the steppe.
Drelm rode at the rear, and soon called up that perhaps eight of the animals were following. "They're gaining on us," he added.
"They've been galloping this whole time," Renar noticed after a backward glance. "How do they keep galloping?"
"They're nightmares," Arcil answered. "They don't really tire."
"We could just leave," Drelm said. "And come back."
"There are several problems with that," Arcil said. "We have Vallyn's trail, now. If we leave, we may not be able to get back to the same place, even if we remain at the same point in the real world."
Drelm grunted.
"And if these fellows catch Vallyn," Arcil added, "then they'll have the crown."
"So do something," Renar said. "You have other spells, don't you? Didn't you send a shadow hound and other monsters against Elyana and Drelm and poor Kellius?"
"Let's keep riding," Elyana said. She was still holding out for better fighting ground.
Drelm seemed to have guessed her thoughts. "There's nothing but grassland here," he objected.
"That's all we can see now," Elyana replied. "The Plane of Shadow shifts."
She would have preferred to have her point demonstrated to the half-orc in some dramatic fashion—a sudden upthrust of rock, say, or a wooded hilltop. But the steppe stretched on, and the horsemen followed relentlessly like a tide.
They could be no more than ten minutes away. Elyana dared not push the horses faster, for fear of losing Vallyn's trail.
And then they arrived at the river.
She slid off her horse and advanced to look into the inky, featureless darkness. It looked barely wider than a stream, but there was no seeing through to its bed. Within she could discern no sense of motion or flow, either—the liquid might as well have been glass.
Elyana searched the ground for Persaily's tracks and discovered that they'd stopped abruptly about ten feet from the edge. Probably the bard had used another of his teleport spells. He'd claimed to have only one left. It hadn't been his first lie.
"Is this the river we crossed in the real world?" Renar asked. "Near Woodsedge?"
"Maybe. Or it might not have a true analogue. Arcil, how safe is this to cross?"
"It's not." Rather than explaining, Arcil produced his wand with a dramatic flourish and pointed it toward the river. Its tip glowed as a thin line of darkness stretched over the river, then widened to five paces as though it were an ebon plank.
"Clever," Elyana said, though she doubted the horses would find it especially comforting. She urged her own mount out, but the gelding was doubtful. He reached the river's edge, whinnying in complaint. She was too distracted calming him to pay heed to the pack animal she led. It was so frightened that it jerked away with great violence, parting the worn leather lead line Elyana had tied to the saddle ring. The animal tore away at a hard gallop along the stream's edge, trailing the severed rope.
There was no time to follow. Elyana urged her horse the rest of the way across, then called for the others. Drelm managed it with both his spare animal and his own, but Renar's pack horse was frightened out of its wits. It bucked so wildly that Renar had to draw his sword and slash free the lead line before he or his own mount was injured. Freed, the crazed horse galloped after Elyana's.
Arcil rode last. His animal's ears were flattened and its eyes showed whites, but it seemed calm until an arching, segmented body surfaced beside the bridge. At sight of the monster the horse reared, and Arcil was cast off the saddle. His arms flailed uselessly for purchase, but there was nothing for him to grab, and he plunged sideways into the ebony liquid.
Elyana was off her mount and running forward as Arcil's horse and the spare tied by lead line to his saddle galloped madly over the shadow bridge to their side. She dodged their hooves and stood at the river bank.
"Arcil!" She screamed out his name, sword in hand. At some level she was surprised to learn how worried she sounded—an instinctive reaction for an old friend? It was not, she realized, merely her worry that they needed him to get out.
Drelm swore colorfully, and Elyana heard all the horses shuffling, snorting, and whinnying to each other.
"Keep them calm!" Elyana called. She was astonished by the Galtan horses. She would never have pronounced such poorly trained animals ready for service.
Arcil pulled himself up to the riverbank. She reached out a hand to aid, then saw what the river had wrought and stifled a cry of terror. The clothes hung on an emaciated frame, and browned, dried skin clung to Arcil's skeletal fingers.
His head swung up, and Elyana saw that where his eyes should be there were only two flaming points of light. He had no nose, only a gaping black hole. What hair had not fallen away to expose his mummified head was stiff and unkempt.
The lipless mouth moved, and Arcil's voice rose from the creature. "Aren't you going to help?" he asked indignantly.
It was then she understood that this had not been done by the river. "Arcil—what did you do to yourself?"
From somewhere close by, Renar cried out to Abadar and urged her to kill it. But she could not tear her eyes from the wreck of her old friend.
Arcil looked down at his withered hand as he pushed himself up to the bank. He climbed to his feet and resolutely met her eyes, as if daring her to say more.
"Kill him, quickly!" Drelm urged.
Elyana heard the captain thump up beside her. "Hold!" she snapped without turning to look at him.
A ropy black tentacle lashed out of the liquid, fastened about the wizard's ankle, and tugged. Arcil fell hard on that bony face and was hauled back toward the inky river with lightning speed.
Elyana grabbed his arm, pulling, half afraid the dried skin and bones would rip off in her hand. It was no good, though, for she was being pulled off balance.
The tentacle and the foot it clasped hung just over the liquid. She threw herself flat against the riverbank next to Arcil, grasped his bony upper thigh through his pants as the creature drew him further, then stabbed down. The blade lit the river incandescently, though she could not see the thing it stabbed. The moment she made contact, though, the tentacle relinquished its hold and snaked away.
Elyana scrambled back, cast down her sword, grasped Arcil's hands, and pulled him to safety. They both backed away from the river, watching the surface. It was smooth and tranquil again.
The riders, though, were close enough now that Elyana could pick out details on their armor.
And Arcil was a lich.
Drelm and Renar still waited to the side. The young man's face was twisted in revulsion. Drelm was deadly serious, and had his greataxe poised for use.
"Gods, Arcil," she said. "Look at you."
"Now do you see why the matter is private?" Arcil hissed. He grasped the links of a chain hidden by his collar, then pulled the links up until he'd lifted a pendant.
Elyana waved and the half-orc backed off, though he watched cautiously.
The thing that was Arcil cradled the pendant in the palm of his skeletal hand. Through his fingers she could glimpse a small golden oval set with an amethyst that almost perfectly matched the shade of her eyes. There appeared to be writing upon it, and a clasp, but it was small enough that the details were hidden in Arcil's palm. "The river must dampen or cancel some sorts of magic," he muttered, and opened the lid of the pendant. He twisted something inside the necklace between thumb and forefinger—and his appearance was restored.
He closed the jewelry with a snap and slipped it back under his shirt, then stood to consider them all.
"He needs killing," the half-orc said.
"You would die trying, orc," Arcil told him. "Only my affection for Elyana leaves you whole, after what you have seen. Do not test me. Do you understand now, Elyana? Why I couldn't come to you, or Stelan?"
"Holy Abadar," Renar whispered softly.
"Arcil ..." Elyana managed softly. "What happened to you?"
He met her eyes as if to communicate something significant, then looked down and away. "Immortality did not turn out as well as I expected," he said bitterly.
"I thought the crown couldn't help if you were already dead," Renar said.
"I'm not dead ...not entirely. My soul still lives. If I reabsorb my soul while wearing the crown, I shall be restored."
"You should just have asked," Elyana said softly.
"You told me you never wished to see me again."
"This is ...this would have changed things." Her eyes swept out to their oncoming foes. As fascinating as all of this was, there were more important things to worry about. "I don't like these odds, Arcil. Do you think the nightmares can get through the water?"
"They can fly if it pleases them," Arcil answered.
"Great. Maybe we should just teleport to Woodsedge and wait for Vallyn there."
"You know as well as I that he might already be dead somewhere on the Plane of Shadow."
So might we, soon, she thought.
"I will summon aid," Arcil told her. "Stay clear." The wizard stepped apart from them.
She turned to the others. "Renar, string your bow. We'll aim to take down the mounts. Unless those warriors can fly." She glanced at Arcil for confirmation, but he was in the midst
of complicated hand gestures, his lips moving as he studied the distance. "We'll assume they can't." She stepped to Renar's horse and unlashed the star tower's lance from where they'd secured it to the side of the saddle.
"But he's ...he's dead," Renar said.
"Mostly. It doesn't change the fact we promised him aid, does it?"
"No," Renar answered, adding after a moment's hesitation, "you're right."
Renar cast off his gauntlets and grabbed his bow. Across the river, Elyana could now pick out individual flames upon the nightmare steeds. Their heads were little more than ebon horse skulls wrapped in fire. Smoke rose from their nostrils, carried backward by their speed.
"Put on your helm," she told the young knight.
"I can't see as well with it," he objected. "How will I fire?"
"You'll have more trouble seeing without your head," Drelm instructed. "Put it on."
"Plant a row of arrows," Elyana told him. "Like we used to practice. And stand ready. We only have a few minutes at most."
Elyana heard Arcil in conversation and turned to find him talking with an armored woman bearing a long, heavy sword. The stranger looked up after a moment and walked toward Elyana. Arcil swept his hands into the air once more.
"The master said you are to lead me," the woman told Elyana doubtfully.
The stranger's dark leather cuirass was overlaid with ring mail that stretched down to her thighs, and her gloved hands were wrapped in lighter chain. Metal greaves were strapped over her calves. For all that, and her size, she carried herself with feminine grace.
"Who are you?" Elyana asked.
"I am the master's most trusted servant, Sareel." Her voice was light and smooth, in direct contrast to her threatening appearance.
Elyana had never seen anyone quite like her. Small, segmented horns curled from Sareel's dark bangs. The woman was broad-shouldered, and taller even than Elyana by a few inches. Elyana wondered what color her eyes were in the real world, for here they were a brilliant white.
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