Dark World (Book I in the Dark World Trilogy)

by Q. Lee, Danielle

  “And he may reward you as he’s promised to reward me,” Vale admitted.

  “Reward? What kind of reward?”

  “A return trip to the Surface, of course,” he stated as eloquently as a game show host.

  Her heart fluttered with hope. Home? He can help me get home?

  “Hmm, well, I suppose I don’t have anywhere else to go, so if you think I’d be welcome, I can’t see why not,” she said, actually feeling better that she had a destination.

  Vale pondered a moment, then replied with a glint of mischief hiding behind his eyes, “I guess we’ll see when we get there. My master does admire rare items and I would have to say that you, my dear, are among the rarest there is.”

  Checkmate

  Petals of faded fuchsia rained from the weeping cherry tree, leaving a velvety path to encircle the base. A bouquet of perfume lingered in the air, the essence of a thousand flowers fused like an aromatic collage. A dozen or more pixies darted amongst the lattice of branches, their giggles and glittering wings enlightening the already luminous ambiance. Soft rays of white cast over the garden, courtesy of the opalescent sphere above.

  With all the beauty surrounding her, Ever wondered how she could possibly feel so sad. If this place couldn’t make her feel better, would anywhere? Or anything?

  She sat in her favorite place in the garden: beside the babbling brook that meandered alongside the blooming perennials. White lilies hugged the pedestals of the trees whilst a gathering of climbing red roses wound themselves about the torsos.

  She’d always retreated to the garden when she was blue. It was her sanctuary. Her Eden. The place where dreams seemed planted within the soil, just waiting to be nurtured. Her dream was always the same: to be free.

  What would it be like to wander the wide open spaces of Dark World? Unrestrained? Without worry of capture by her grandmother and her loyal fiends?

  How could life truly be lived within a gilded cage? What if her father never set her free? What if she was to be a prisoner of protection forever?

  These were the moments when she desperately wished she still had her mother. Her father wouldn’t hear her pleas. Years of attempting to reason with him had only fallen on deaf ears.

  Ever swore to him she would stay hidden if she were to venture outside the palace. Cloaked and shadowed from the prying eyes of Dark World, she insisted she wouldn’t be recognized.

  He disagreed.

  She sighed deeply, her shoulders heavy with the weight of consequence. This wasn’t her war. It wasn’t her fight. Why did she have to suffer the outcome?

  “Why so sad, my princess?” a familiar voice resonated within the frequency of her thoughts.

  She smiled. How could she have forgotten the one friend she’d known her whole life. The one whose identity she’d sworn to keep secret.

  She contemplated her answer carefully. He didn’t need to know of her woes, considering he was partly to blame.

  “I miss my father…and Fate,” she replied in the language of telepathy. Standing, Ever made her way to his enclosure.

  “Where have they gone?” he inquired, concern hedging his usually calm and ancient voice.

  “Fate left because of my father’s behavior, and he’s gone to find her.”

  A silence fell between them. She sensed his worry even before she saw his face.

  “When did he leave?” Arcanum asked.

  Ever paused, then replied. “Only an hour or so ago…why?”

  The mighty dragon’s face twisted with alarm. “I sense that all is not well.”

  She spoke aloud, breaking the extrasensory bond, “For whom? My father? Or Fate?”

  The ridges on his brow furled, copper scales glistening and amber eyes flashing. “Both, I’m afraid, dearest Ever, both.”

  A seismic tremor built beneath his feet, the belly of the earth rumbling like a ravenous beast. Shock waves rolled underground, knocking the sturdy demon to his knees. Uninvited panic raced through him. In an instant, Kane was up and running, adrenaline owning his muscles.

  “Good gods, what was I thinking?”

  Kane’s eyes widened, heart beating with the force of a thousand drums. He didn’t need to see the geysers exploding in the distance to know he’d made a fatal error.

  Cloven hooves pounding against the hardened sands, he barely noticed the pour of sweat meandering over his brow and into his eyes. He panned to his left, then right, acres and acres of flat desert surrounded him. Nothing. Not even a boulder or quartz pile to seek safety upon.

  How could he have been so stupid? So wound up in his own pity and fawning over Fate, he’d forgotten the cardinal rule of Dark World: never go out at night.

  Sure, one could argue that a world buried in darkness twenty-four hours a day could be considered forever nighttime, but no one explained that to the death worms. They had their own schedule. Their own agenda—and right now, it was Kane.

  The ground split behind him, a four foot wide fissure chased him as though he were running on thin ice, cracking with every step. He pushed his body as hard as it would go. Wings flailing uselessly behind him, he pumped his arms and legs, praying he could make it to the shelter of the Crystalline Forest with its floor of solid marble. The death worms couldn’t penetrate that ground, he’d be safe. If he could get there in time. Even though he could see the outline of the trees, it was still so far away.

  Amidst the roar of the fissure nipping at his heels, Kane heard the frenzied howl of the death worm, followed by the sound he’d been dreading: the call for assistance. An announcement to nearby death worms that there was fresh meat to be had.

  A low, eerie wail resonated through the soils beneath him, not unlike the Surface stories he’d read about whales in the ocean sending messages over great distances with echolocation.

  The pack of supplies on his one shoulder, sword on the other, jostled violently on his back. He considered tossing the pack, but couldn’t bear to think how he’d survive even one night without it, especially because it contained his supply of bloodstone for the entire journey.

  “Move, Kane, move!” he ordered himself.

  He grunted, trying to force his body faster, but was greeted with a growing fatigue. This was how the death worms usually got their prey. It was a sport for them, to play with their food until it simply collapsed from exhaustion.

  Kane wondered if anyone had ever really seen a death worm up close—and survived. The colossal beasts wouldn’t break through the surface until the last moment. When they had their victim exactly where they wanted, they’d scooped them up from below. Swallowed whole. The victim never knew what hit them.

  Kane wondered how close that moment was. He’d never known anyone to outrun a death worm. Once the hunt was on, it was certain death.

  Lethargy seeped into his leg muscles. His lips curled into a snarl. If he wanted to live, he was going to have to fight. He reached back, drawing the diamond blade from its bed.

  In the distance, he saw sprays of sand spewing into the air. He counted at least six. Six more death worms.

  Nice.

  There was no way out of this. His pride and selfishness had sealed his fate. He’d disgraced his father. He’d orphaned Ever. And he’d lost the opportunity to see Fate again. To tell her how he really felt.

  It was hopeless. He slowed his pace. He’d still fight, but there was no way he could defeat so many.

  Closing his eyes, he filled his heart with courage. He’d go down fighting. He’d make this one last battle worth dying for.

  His thoughts flickered to the fight with the wraiths. What was that new and mysterious weapon he’d used against them? He’d never known power without the Crystal Pyramid nor bloodstone. Where had it come from? How could he summon it? He could certainly use it right now.

  A low growl built in the back of his throat and with his hand gripped tight around the hilt of his blade, he stopped running.

  Kane spun around, swinging his sword forcefully, anticipating as a mons
trous head broke through the arid sands. His blade narrowly missed the beast’s snout while blocks of encrusted earth flew in all directions.

  After shielding himself from chunks of airborn debris, Kane gawked at the fiend hovering hundreds of feet above him.

  Limbless and eyeless, the ashen death worm had millions of tiny hairs covering its lengthy body, over half of which were still underground. Its mouth was a gaping circular hole with endless bands of shark-like teeth that began at its lips and continued deep into its throat. A single suckered tongue flicked in and out as if tasting the air. Searching for its supper.

  Kane was awestruck. Fear was momentarily thrust aside as he observed the monstrosity. He knew they were fabled to be big and fearsome, but this was inconceivable.

  The towering worm roared, signaling its attack. Bringing its head down like a hammer, it slammed the full weight of its upper body just inches from Kane. Moving out of its way, Kane turned a confused eye at the beast. Why didn’t it just take him?

  Again the creature brought its head down full force, narrowly missing the demon. Perplexed, Kane soon realized the worm’s disadvantage: it couldn’t detect him unless he moved. That’s what all the little hairs were for. Sensing vibration.

  Kane nearly chuckled with his discovery, but the laugh caught in his throat when he witnessed two more fissures arrive. The twin death worms emerged from beneath the surface, raising their heads high above Kane, slurping scents in the air with their long tongues.

  Strangely, he didn’t feel as frightened as he thought he might be. Or should. Now that he knew they couldn’t find him unless he moved, he was determined he could outsmart them by remaining still.

  A stalemate hung in the air. The death worms wavered like undulating cobras. Waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Waiting for a microscopic movement from Kane.

  The other four arrived, creating havoc with the dry sands as the ground split apart, ushering them into the open air.

  All seven now surrounded Kane. He didn’t dare breathe. Didn’t dare move a muscle. He had no idea how receptive their senses were. It even worried him to blink.

  “Maybe if I stay still long enough, they’ll give up.”

  It was the only plan he had and it seemed to be working—until a single bead of sweat fell from his brow.

  The Destroyer

  One tiny spot of perspiration. A single teardrop fallen from his forehead speckled the parched desert floor. It may as well have been a clap of thunder for the reaction it induced.

  The seven beasts encircling him responded like a shiver of sharks: quick, instinctive—blood-thirsty. As if spring-loaded, their great necks snapped forward, plunging onto his location. Great craters formed with each impact, dirt and debris sprayed chaotically. Kane leapt out of the way, each time narrowly escaping becoming demon purée.

  He swung his sword with wild vehemence, striking the death worms as they attacked, but their thick outer skin was too tough for his sword to penetrate. He was running out of time. Sooner or later, one of them was bound to crush him with its massive head, or worse, he’d wind up inside a tunnel of teeth.

  I have to get out of here! But how?

  He studied the landscape, but there was nothing. No mountains nearby. No boulders. Nothing.

  He again cursed his flightless wings, then his mother for impairing the use of them.

  Kane ground his teeth hard enough to crack them. This was no time for self-sympathy. He was a warrior, and he had to get out of this. Now.

  His thoughts flashed to the fight in Cryptica. A power like he’d never known had run through his blood. A dark and unmatched source of black magic. Where had it come from? And more importantly, how could he tap into it now?

  He searched his soul. Where would it hide? Where in his subconscious did it rest, waiting to be discovered?

  He knew the answer.

  Fate.

  She’s what inspired the power that day. The thought of her being hurt, or worse, killed, had given him some otherworldly power.

  Kane would have to summon the energy he’d used to save her—to save himself.

  A growing pain swelled in her chest with every step they took from the Crystalline Forest. It seemed that Ick was gone for good. Vale had waited patiently while Fate searched, scouring the length of every tree and behind every boulder. He was just—gone.

  Vale swore he hadn’t harmed her little gargoyle. He’d even admitted he was surprised at Ick’s proficiency at eluding him.

  Deep down, Fate knew he was still out there. Somewhere.

  “So, tell me about Necrosia,” Fate asked, trying to keep her mind off her missing gargoyle.

  “It’s the biggest city in the realm,” Vale boasted. “We have over six thousand citizens.”

  She nodded, feigning excitement when, in reality, her stomach was winding into knots. “What race are they?” She hoped none of them were wraiths.

  “Mostly necromancers, oh, and a few shades. They’re against Malus. Part of the rebellion, so my master welcomes them,” he responded casually.

  She shuddered at the word shades. Ironically, she was more frightened of meeting her own kind than an unknown species. Mostly because everyone in the realm was so fearful of shades. There had to be good reason for their fears and Fate wasn’t sure she wanted to find out why.

  “Necromancers?” she queried, mostly in attempts to steer the conversation away from shades.

  “Yes,” he answered, “a very powerful…very secretive…race.”

  “Oh,” she said, feeling less than certain about this journey.

  “And that’s what your master is?”

  He nodded, his posture confident as they walked over an open stretch of the desert. Fate examined him through scrutinizing eyes for a moment, comparing him to Kane.

  Vale was rough around the edges. He had an air of danger and mischief. His disheveled silver hair gave him the preverbal bad-boy image. Black jacket and leather pants, he was like an otherworld biker. He left her with a sense of spontaneity, excitement.

  Kane on the other hand was regal, though sad and radiating with internal scars. His pain was palpable. Tangible. Yet his kindness and quiet intellect had tattooed an unnamed emotion on her. She was drawn to him like gravity. Tethered.

  She lowered her eyes, replaying the moment he’d hurt her to the core. The distrust in his eyes. He had every right, really, what with her insatiable need for souls. There was always this lingering lust watching from the dark corners of her core. Frankly, she didn’t even trust herself most of the time.

  She recalled the meeting with the shaman, wondering if he’d found a way to keep her hunger at bay.

  If I hadn’t left so abruptly, she thought, then stopped herself. She had no choice. She had to leave. The demons didn’t want her there. Kane didn’t want her there.

  Vale nudged her arm playfully, shaking her from her quiet contemplations. “You’ll be blown away when you see it. It’s really quite impressive.” He grinned at her, though the twinkle of playfulness didn’t quite reach his eyes. Shadows of trepidation loitered behind those glowing, silver spheres.

  What is he hiding? Fate wondered as anxiety nestled inside. She then asked, “How far is the city from here?”

  “Three day’s walk,” he replied distractedly, suddenly very interested in something overhead.

  She turned her face upward, dark mists swirled in the distance, overshadowing the dangling rock icicles that lidded them from the Surface. As though it had a conscience all its own, it devoured any light in its midst.

  The storm cloud rolled, its purple and black billows bruised and growling as though announcing vengeance for a lost battle. Claws of blood red lightning veined throughout the rapidly growing nimbus whilst furious winds churned and twisted within the center. A metallic odor overwhelmed the air, smothering the atmosphere.

  Her sense of smell triggered a memory from the Surface. The scent of humidity hanging in the air, clouds clinging to the darkened skies, pregnant with
precipitation, just waiting to release their tears upon the earth. That odor. She’d know it anywhere. The calm before the storm. The aroma of rain.

  Only this was suffocating. Her undead lungs contracted defensively, rebelling against the repressive air.

  “What is this?” she forced her voice around the atmospheric vice.

  “We must hurry,” Vale said suddenly, his brows lowered in concern as he eyed the angry skies. “A…tempest is blowing in.”

  “A tempest?” Fate repeated as a fierce wind raked her silver hair.

  He nodded though didn’t offer further explanation. Taking her hand, he pulled her to a family of giant mushrooms ahead.

  “We should be safe under here.”

  Spark peeped nervously, tightening his tiny grip on her shoulder.

  “It’s okay,” she whispered to the little bird, but from the look on Vale’s face, she wasn’t so sure.

  “What is it?” Fate demanded.

  Ignoring her, he yanked her to the center of the fungal forest, kneeling behind one of the largest. She reluctantly followed suit, annoyed that he wasn’t explaining. Why were they hiding from this storm? It couldn’t see them—could it?

  “What is it?!” she yelled from both anger and the rising noise of howling winds.

  Vale stared at the dark mass forming overhead, stating with a tone engraved with fright, “Ba’al…has been summoned.”

  “Ba’al?” she repeated, “Who—or what—is that?”

  His ashen face paled further, an expression of sheer bewilderment crossing his face.

  “He is the storm elemental of the underworld,” he uttered. “He can only be summoned by one being in all of Dark World.”

  Fate held her breath, frightened by the fear lurking in Vale’s eyes.

  “Who?” she inquired shakily.

  Vale shook his in disbelief, then whispered.

  “The Devil.”

  Clandestine

  “Oh, there you are, my dear,” an elderly voice chirped from behind her. Ever turned from the old dragon to come face to face with Shaman Goretus. How the old, blind demon managed to sneak up on her, let alone traverse the labyrinthine castle by himself, was mindboggling. She would have sworn he could see plain as day if it weren’t for the fact that his eyes were completely absent from their sockets.