Shadow Mage (Blacklight Chronicles)

by Forrester, John

  From what Talis sniffed in the air, flesh lurked below. His dragon jaws opened in anticipation and delight, eyes scanning the rocky landscape for movement. His stomach complained. Out of the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse of something moving slowly in a field of rocks. He stared at the place of movement and spotted an enormous rock-beast waddling along, camouflaged in the color and shape of a boulder. When Talis dove from the sky, in pursuit of the creature, the rock-beast froze so that it was nearly indiscernible from the rest of the boulders.

  Talis landed in a great flapping of wings and scraping of claws against the rocky landscape. He could smell the blood pumping through the creature’s body, and that made his own dragon blood pulse in a fury of expectation. But the rock-beast remained perfectly still, so Talis prodded the creature’s hard, scaly side with his snout.

  Still, no movement.

  This time Talis opened his jaws, exposing his glistening, obsidian teeth, and scanned the creature’s body for an opening to its soft flesh. But all the way around the creature was scaled down to the ground like a turtle retreated into its shell. A wild rage possessed him at the inability to find flesh to devour. He flapped his wings, raising himself up and slammed against the rock-beast. When the creature refused to move, he scraped his claws against the creature’s scaly surface, finding purchase between a gap in the scales.

  With a rush of wind and flapping wings he heaved the rock-beast up and over on its side. This time the creature bit the bait. The rock-beast slithered its long, snake-like neck out and around and snapped its jaws at Talis, but his dragon-reflexes were too fast for the creature. Talis kicked the beast and catapulted himself away from the rows of spiny teeth trying to sting him.

  The rock-beast pushed itself up, six scaled and clawed legs digging into the ground, its spiny head swinging around, gazing at its attacker. When Talis shot himself forward, trying to sink his jaws into the beast’s soft neck, the creature sent a black mist spiraling from its snout. The smell was rancid and acrid, like ruined eggs and vats of poison. Talis flapped his wings and hurled himself away from the poison, sneezed ten great explosions, his body trying to eject the toxic fumes.

  But Talis could feel the poison working its way into his body. His blood pumped furiously, speeding the path to his death. He tried to control himself, control his dragon desires to fight and maim and devour the rock-beast now chattering its way towards him, a look of hunger in the creature’s eyes. Prey turned predator.

  He would die out here, even his dragon mind was surrendering to the crippling poison working its way towards his heart. In a mad rush, Talis seized his moment of weakness to gain clarity of thought. He would not die out here in the alien landscape of the Netherworld. The words of Palarian came rushing in, Just picture yourself as a human. Do it now!

  So he did, and the agony of transformation felt worse than death, with the poison magnified in his now human body. He clenched his chest from the pain as the rock-beast mauled the ground in pursuit, the ground shaking, the beast’s yellow eyes puzzled at his transformation. What was a meal was now only a morsel.

  Talis knew he had to get away from here but the pain in his heart was so great he couldn’t lift his hands to cast a spell. Then the lesson he’d recently learned from Palarian flashed in his mind’s eye. He felt the energy fibers circling out wildly from his stomach, and remembered how to feel and find the shadow strands. He grabbed ahold of any he could find, desperate to escape. His eyes landed on distant, dreary mountains, and in a flash, he felt his stomach tugged as he blinked a vast distance away.

  Thunder rumbled around him as the red rain poured down, soaking the ashen ground. Peals of lightning like the thousand fingers of the gods cascaded across the grey and bone horizon. The pain sunk deeper into his heart, so horrible that he clenched up his face, biting down on his jaws until his mouth felt numb.

  He was dying. Alone and in a foreign wasteland. His mother and father and sister were probably captives of the Jiserians, his city fallen to their enemies. Or maybe Viceroy Lei has made a pact with the devil, Talis thought. No matter how he looked at it, he’d failed. Failed to help save his city, failed to help Mara, failed to even help himself.

  A surge of terrific pain pulsated through his heart, and he screamed, the sound echoing across the rocks. He whimpered, sinking down to his knees, and curled up like a sleeping dog. One more attack like that and his heart would stop for good. For all his knowledge of magic, for all his power, when the time he’d needed saving the most, he was helpless to heal himself.

  Out of the wind and storm and rain a whorl appeared in the sky, a whorl of silver and black. Where the silver light was tinged with hope, the black was stained with death. Light and darkness, the living and the dead. Talis feebly lifted his head, staring into the whorl as lightning condensed around the form; he expected tortured faces, expected death—here before him—to summon and guide him down the journey to the Underworld.

  To his death.

  But only one face appeared through the whorl, a face wrinkled and hideous from years of tampering with the dark arts, a face that stared with curiosity and cruelty at Talis’s broken form.

  “Despite all I’ve seen over the many thousand years of my miserable existence, nothing exceeds this pathetic sight.” Aurellia stepped onto the swamped soil, twisting the long, curly hair sprouting from the mole on his nose.

  Talis tightened his jaw as he pushed himself up to sitting position, determined not to give Aurellia a reason to mock him any further. He would face his enemy and stare death down, riding a wave of shadows to oblivion.

  “How is it that I find you here, amidst the Hills of Carrion?” Aurellia bent closer and sniffed Talis. “And you’re wounded, poisoned even! How very strange… How did you manage to escape from Palarian?”

  A small cough escaped Talis’s mouth, and he leaned over to suppress the pain that raged through his chest. He could only allow himself shallow breaths, otherwise the agony would be too much.

  “Unable to talk? Well, I suppose I have no choice but to care for you…can’t have you dying on me like this…would be foolish of me.” Aurellia sighed morosely. “Although, why should I help you? You don’t offer anything in return, do you?”

  Once again the pain seethed through Talis’s heart, this time worse than before, like long needles piercing his chest. He closed his eyes and scrunched up his face, thinking of Mara, thinking of his family, thinking of the Goddess Nacrea.

  “Absolute loyalty is generally expected at moments like this…an oath binding one’s soul to mine, a blood pact, eternal consecration to my will and my power. Or do you prefer dying? You do remember the Underworld, don’t you?”

  Talis grimaced as he stared at Aurellia, images of Zagros and his vast horde flashed before him, the Grim March, the endless dance of war and death.

  “What do you want from me?” Talis muttered, refusing to lock eyes with the dark lord.

  “Everything. I want freedom.” Aurellia managed a small smile, an expression of hope flickering on his face for a second. “I want to return home. I’ve waited long enough. And you, young royal, can help me get what I want. I’d hoped you’d come sooner, but your loyalty to your city was stronger than your curiosity and love of adventure. So I commanded Rikar to lure you. When that didn’t work, I summoned an old friend, Palarian, to join me on my return trip home.”

  “And he kidnapped Mara, forcing me here….”

  “After the one you love.” A coy expression crossed Aurellia’s face. “I set everything up for you, I even supplied your friend with the Tandria Scroll. I had faith that you of all wizards could master the portal spell. And here you are!” Aurellia spread his crooked arms wide.

  The pain in Talis’s heart flared white-hot, and he clenched his eyes close, thinking, Just let me die! He didn’t want to give in to Aurellia, he refused to think what life would be like swearing a blood-oath to this hideous sorcerer. And yet he knew Mara and Nikulo were still here, trapped on this world, they
’d be prisoners of the dark lord for life. Naru would permanently fall to the Jiserians, and his family…enslaved or killed?

  When he opened his eyes to stare at Aurellia, the world had changed. Instead of the grim, wet scene of the Netherworld, he was inside a massive subterranean cavern, kneeling in front of the guards of the Underworld. Izria and Ishtia. The hooded wight-like figures stood guard at the entrance to the world of the dead, golden glyphs blazing atop the square stone entrance. Talis’s mouth hung open as the guardians’ eyes stared in his direction.

  The pain in his heart was gone. A sick feeling twisted his stomach. He was dead.

  Talis felt a leathery hand on his shoulder. He spun around and glimpsed the pale eyes of Aurellia staring sadly at him.

  “Your heart has stopped. You stand at the threshold of the Underworld. As a royal, upon your death, your parents have the sacred right to offer a blood sacrifice to Zagros, Lord of the Dead, and secure your place amidst the Fair Seas, free from torture, a life of eternal bliss.” A wry smile wrinkled Aurellia’s lips. “But alas, your parents have no idea you’re dead. And I doubt Zagros would hear your plea in here, not after your last journey into the Underworld.”

  Morose laughter escaped Talis’s mouth as he hung his head in disbelief. Not only would his friends and family suffer all their lives, but Aurellia made it clear that he’d suffer for eternity. The Grim March, everlasting war and pain. He had no choice but to swear an oath to Aurellia. But wasn’t that what he wanted anyways? Ever since the Order of the Dawn had disintegrated after Master Viridian’s death, he lacked a true master, one who could teach him both the ways of light and darkness. Aurellia was that master.

  “Choose now,” Palarian said, his voice somber. “The guardians of the Underworld are coming to steal your soul.”

  “I choose life.” I choose to make my own fate. “I swear fealty to you.” Until I find a way to let death eat your soul and free me from my oath.

  A wide grin spread across Aurellia’s face. “A wise decision. We must act quickly, else Izria and Ishtia devour your soul.” He retrieved a curved, ornate dagger, rubies embedded on the hilt, and aimed it at Talis’s hand. “A drop of royal blood and your life will be restored…forever. I am the immortal-maker, the time keeper, the assassin of the gods.”

  The tiny prick roared pain across Talis’s body. The blood burst out, splashing his face, and he looked up, seeing the red rain of the Netherworld spilling from the lightning-etched clouds. He heard the whoosh of the churning shadow portal behind him, and glimpsed Aurellia’s triumphant face as he dragged Talis back through the portal.

  25. UNEXPECTED ALLY

  Talis inhaled a huge gulp of air, relishing in the expulsion of pain from his chest. What had he done, swearing fealty to a monster? Waves of strange, hot currents coursed through his body. He felt completely changed…invincible even, and his body pulsed with power. He glanced around the dark cathedral cavern, silver and gold torches sending living shadows crawling across earthen walls. A long table draped in black silk held jars, clay tablets, scrolls, and leather-bound books.

  Palarian stood at the head of the table, staring grimly at Talis. Aurellia flanked around at the opposite side, his long black robe dragging along an embroidered rug with illustrations of demons, heroes, and gods slaying lesser foes. He stopped at the head of the table, peering into a glass jar filled with luminous heads floating in a clear liquid.

  “Our enemies fear what we’ll do to them,” Aurellia said, rotating the jar to inspect the various heads bobbing inside. “Now that you are one of us, they’ll fear you as well.”

  He lifted his cold eyes to gaze at Talis. “Welcome to immortality.” He raised the curved dagger he’d used to prick Talis’s finger. “The Zacrane Dagger, bringer of immortality, usable only once each hundred thousand days. I’ve not used it in over a thousand years. As you can now understand, I don’t grant this gift lightly.”

  Talis scowled, suspicious of why Aurellia would do this…what did he want from him?

  “Why did I grant the gift to you? An arrogant young royal that despises me…don’t deny it, I can see it in your eyes. You merely misunderstand me.”

  Palarian cleared his throat, and Talis swung his gaze to the other side of the table, where the old sorcerer had decided to sit on an ornately carved chair, sumptuous red silk padding the seat.

  “He’s just a boy, Aurellia. We knew he’d be like this, suspicious and angry. Rightfully so, I did kidnap his girl, he should feel malice.”

  “Yes, indeed, and perhaps that will only prove to make him stronger. I can mold him.”

  “You’re getting old,” Palarian said, aiming a scowl at Aurellia. “I believe it’s time for youth and foolishness to reign, not to be molded by an old immortal’s outdated notion of how things should work.”

  “Do you dare challenge me?” Aurellia raised an eyebrow at the old sorcerer. “He’s sworn to me now, mine to command, mine to mold…he will be shaped in the old ways….”

  “The old ways.” Palarian scoffed. “Balance and focus, first the light then the darkness, steer the mind into emptiness. Hah! I’ve had it up to my throat in the old ways. What good has it done?”

  Aurellia sneered at him. “Lecherous viper…you sting me with your words. The ancient plan I put forth with my elders—you included—thousands of years ago is finally playing itself out. We will return to Vellia, to our home, and claim what is rightfully ours.”

  “You made the mistake of leaving me on that miserable planet…after four thousand years you summon a World’s Portal and fail to bring me along?”

  “Foolish man, you left Darkov, you swore independence from the Dominion, you claimed the Tarasen Isles as your own.”

  “And when you needed me, when you realized you were stuck here, halfway to Vellia, only then did you summon me? Oh! Palarian, old friend, go to Naru in the Nalgoran Desert, and bring the boy to me. Well I did my part, I brought him here, and his friends, now you plan to mold him in the old ways… Look at me!”—Palarian thumped a hand on his chest—“I’m molded in the old ways. Isn’t it pathetic? Look at what a miserable wretch I’ve become.” Why was the old sorcerer defending him? Talis wondered.

  Aurellia grinned devilishly. “At least you’re still alive after all these years. But all that can quickly change.” He pointed a finger at Palarian.

  “I know all about your form of magic, and it doesn’t frighten me. You fail to realize what a thousand years of independent study can bring to a sorcerer.”

  “Those years have been kind to me also.” Aurellia sidled along the head of the table until he faced Palarian, with only the hideous rug between them.

  Palarian shook his head, an amused expression on his face. “You live an indolent life, letting others fight your wars, searching for apprentices that might be the one. But your complacency will prove your downfall.”

  “Why are you so interested in protecting the boy? What did you see inside the Netherworld?”

  “That was another mistake you made, sending me in there to train him.” A devious look flashed across Palarian’s eyes. “Wouldn’t you like to know….”

  “Oh, I’ll find out, all right. I always do.” An explosion of shadows and lightning burst out from Aurellia’s fingertip, engulfing Palarian in a raging storm cloud. Talis felt the muscles around his skull clench because of all the electricity in the air. He stumbled, shrinking back to the earthen walls.

  Talis stared at the storm, trying to see what had happened to the old sorcerer.

  “That’s ineffective against me now,” Palarian said, his voice coming from a dark mass behind where Aurellia stood.

  The dark lord whirled around to face Palarian, snapped out his hands, and cords of golden light curled out from the ground beneath Palarian, swirling and searching, trying to ensnare. The cords sucked in the black mass, draining the protection around Palarian. Aurellia commanded the golden cords to wrap around the old sorcerer’s legs, burning flesh and sending off a cloud of s
moke.

  Palarian shrieked in pain, jetting out cords of his own from his fingertips, allowing them to wrap around Aurellia’s neck. The cords strangled the dark lord, causing his face to bulge, red and angry, his hands trying to tear them away. Talis was surprised to see Aurellia struggling against the force of Palarian’s power.

  Aurellia shot out a burst of black light, causing all the cords in the vicinity to melt into ash. The two sorcerers glowered at each other, puzzled and flushed, as if wondering what to do next.

  “I told you, I’ve had a thousand years of study to beat you.” Palarian’s eyes flashed with haughtiness.

  Aurellia wiped beads of sweat from his brow. “I am surprised by how you’ve grown in power and skill…perhaps the distance and ruggedness of Tarasen has made you stronger. But your mind is still weak…the pain of the memory of your father’s death still plagues you.” He raised a hand to his temple.

  Palarian howled like an old wolf, fleeing to his knees, writhing with his hands clenched over his skull. “You think you can beat me using mind tricks? I’ve hardened myself through years of solitude and torture. You cannot hope to break through…the pain of loss has left me.”

  “Then I’ll have to kill you outright.” Aurellia aimed his fingers at the old man, and everything in the room seemed to blink and shake quickly left and right. Palarian’s face was frozen in an angry scowl, body rigid and locked in an attempt to raise his hands. Talis found that he himself was unable to move, but somehow his eyes could see everything in the room, including his curled up figure and the wall behind. He had the eerie sensation of being jetted outside of his body, forced to play witness to the hideous scene.

  A quavering wall of electric shadow mesh ejected out of Aurellia’s hands and wrapped around Palarian like an octopus choking prey. The mesh flashed silver light, and hundreds of twisted lines of black currents pulsed with a sickening slowness. The color and life was slowly being drained from Palarian’s face and his upraised hands.