The Dark Path

by James M. Bowers

  The circle of white powder began to glow a dim red, then the triangle began to glow a dim yellow. The triangle grew brighter till it almost burned Gen's eyes to look upon it. Suddenly, the inside of the triangle turned from stone to fire. The fire burned in a pillar that reached the ceiling. A pair of giant clawed hands came out of the fire and grasped the edge of the triangle. Slowly, the demon pulled himself up and out of the hole. The stone returned and the fire went out. Standing before them was a beast the likes of which Gen had never seen nor read about. It stood twenty feet tall and was covered in black and green scales. Its eyes glowed red with evil. It looked about the room then quickly let out a roar and began to bash against the invisible barrier of the triangle. With each hit of its huge fists upon the barrier, the shimmer of the triangle grew dimmer until finally it went out and a loud shattering sound was heard. Gen was frozen with terror. He felt Meeka tense beside him and heard a few of the other members suck in their breath. Aaron almost fainted and just barely managed to keep himself from defecating. The demon raged inside the circle now and reached up a claw to touch the barrier there. Lightning arced from the circle and the demon growled in pain. The demon scanned the people in the room again and stopped to stare in Gen's direction. Suddenly, it smiled a great evil grin. Acid dripped from its sharp fangs and sizzled upon the stone floor. Then it turned to face Lyn.

  "Why have you summoned me?" the beast growled.

  "Great Demon Lord. We have summoned you because we need information. We ask that you help us and we will let you go free."

  "What if I don't help you?" the demon asked with a large grin.

  "Then you will be destroyed," Lyn said calmly, a frown upon her face.

  The demon laughed. The laugh made Gen shiver. How can such a thing be so full of evil?

  "I like you little girl. Too bad I will not be the one to feast on your bones. What is it that you would like to know?" The demon sat down on the floor and stared with his glowing eyes at Lyn. "Hurry up. I may live forever, but I have things to do." Again the demon laughed.

  "We want to know who the power is behind the Eremian army. Why have they grown so bold and strong of late, and do they plan to take over this island?" Lyn stared back at the demon lord.

  "You summoned me here for this! I am a Demon Lord! You think so little of me?"

  "So then you do not know. Pity. Well I guess we'll have to destroy your physical form then."

  "No! Wait. I will tell you. The Eremians have an ace up their sleeve so to speak. They have gained favor from one of the powers that be. They do plan to take this puny island, though not anytime soon. That is all I can say. Now for my help what do you plan to give me? How about this tasty little morsel here? The demon grinned again and brought his claw to point at Meeka. Her bones would crunch nicely I think."

  Meeka stepped back in fear and Gen moved to stand in front of her. The demon frowned.

  "Awww, is she yours then, little Mageling? This is no fun. I grow sick of this game." The demon looked over at Duncan and winked. "Do your thing boy." Duncan was filled with rage. How would these people just let this evil being go free? He would put a stop to this now. He reached back and unstrapped his axe. His hands gripped the handle tightly and a warmth spread throughout his body. Duncan smiled but then something went horribly wrong. The axe grew cold in his hands and laughter filled his ears. He couldn't move his arms! Something had taken control of his body. His arms drew back and he let the axe fly. It flew mere inches past Gen and buried itself into Lyn's chest. Duncan screamed. "NO!" The circle was broken and the barrier came down instantly. Lyn flew back and landed upon the floor. The Crow acolytes headed for the door in a mass of hysteria. The demon laughed and drew himself up to his full height. His massive wings barely fit in the chamber. He stooped down a bit and brushed Gen aside like a man made of straw. He then stuck a huge black claw deep into Meeka's chest. She screamed then fell limp. The demon pulled his claw back out, and Gen, as he picked himself back up, saw with horror that Meeka's soul was attached to it.

  "Thank you, Young Mage. This is mine now. Come get me if you want it back!"

  Gen screamed and began chanting a spell. The room suddenly grew bitter cold. Gen's eyes rolled back into his head and he slowly floated above the ground. Ice began to form on the walls of the great chamber and the Demon Lord looked upon the small mage with a glint of fear in his eyes. Lightning arced across Gen's body and the chant of magic turned to a roar of rage and power. His hands shot forward and a huge shard of ice formed in front of him. It flew like a ballista bolt and pierced through the left side of the demon's chest. The demon howled in pain and fell back. Another shard began to form in front of Gen then suddenly his body crumpled to the floor. Aaron stood over Gen's prone form, holding a small strap of leather weighted at one end. With Gen laying on the floor, the Demon Lord flew up and broke through the roof of the chamber. Obsidian blocks fell and crushed some of the running acolytes to death. Aaron bent and picked up Meeka and dragged her limp form to a small door slightly ajar at the back of the large chamber. He then returned and drew a large knife and walked towards Gen. Thomas lunged out of nowhere and tackled the large man to the floor.

  Gen woke screaming. The room he was in was lit in flickering blue torchlight. He looked around confused. Had it all been a dream? He swung his legs over the edge of the cot and tried to stand up. The room spun around him and he sat back down. The room was empty save for him, a straight backed chair with his robes folded upon the seat, and a wash basin filled with water. He stood up again slowly and stumbled over to it. He splashed the cold water on his face and felt a little better. He pulled on his robes and instantly felt awake, though his whole body ached and his head felt as if it had been used as an anvil. Gen shook his head and walked over to the door. It opened on noisy hinges and he stepped out into the hall. He wandered the halls until he saw movement ahead of him. He walked toward the room and found himself in a sick room of sorts. There were dozens of cots lined up and many wounded lay upon them tended by a few silent Crow members. One turned toward him when he entered the room. She stood up and walked over to him. She took his hand and pulled him toward the end of the room. She opened a door there and led him into a small private room. He saw Thomas first. Then he saw who was upon the cot. He rushed over and fell to his knees beside the bed. "Meeka!" She lay motionless. He could see her chest rise and fall slowly as if she were in deep sleep. He looked back at Thomas and saw that he had been crying. "What is wrong with her?"

  Thomas tried to speak but tears overtook him again and he turned away. The girl that brought him into the room quietly walked out and shut the door behind her. Gen turned back to Meeka.

  "Meeka? Wake up." She lay there sleeping still. The tears came upon Gen and he laid his head down upon her bed and cried. It felt as if his insides had been ripped out. He jumped when he felt a hand upon his shoulder. He looked up and saw Lyn standing above him with a look of sorrow upon her face.

  "How? But, you. Duncan..." Gen babbled in confusion.

  "My brothers and sisters brought me back. We did all we could for Meeka, but."

  "But what? What's wrong with her? Why doesn't she wake up?" The tears came again and he buried his face into his hands.

  "Her soul is gone. Wherever it is now, we cannot call it back to the body. Whoever or whatever has it is more powerful than any of us. We did everything we know to do. You've been asleep for a week, Gen."

  "A week?" Gen was overwhelmed with confusion and sorrow. The room spun before him and all, once more, went black. When once again he awoke, he opened his eyes to see Thomas sitting beside the cot. He sat up slowly and saw that he was in the room with Meeka. Another bed had been set up and he was laying upon it. Thomas stood up and walked over to Gen.

  "I'm so sorry." He threw his arms around Gen and began to cry again. Gen returned the embrace and tears of his own began to flow. When they had both calmed down, he gently pulled himself away and looked at Thomas.

  "Tell me what happ
ened. Where are Duncan and Aaron?"

  Thomas sat down upon the cot and looked down at his hands.

  “I tried to stop him. I really did, but he was too strong. He hurt me too. I tried to stop him.”

  Gen looked down at Thomas' hands and gasped. Thomas' hands were crossed by several deep scars. His fingers didn't look like they moved quite correctly anymore.

  "Thomas. What happened to you?" Thomas sat silent a while and then finally started to speak.

  "It was Aaron. That demon took Meeka's soul and you started chanting. The room grew cold as midwinter." Thomas shivered. “You somehow threw a lance of ice through the demon and was building a second one when Aaron hit you in the head with a sap. The demon flew out through the ceiling and Aaron took Meeka back into a small room at the back of the chamber. Then he came back and had a knife. He was going to kill you! I dove for him and knocked him away. I tried. Really Gen, I tried but he was so strong. He hurt me bad. He cut me, Gen. He was laughing as he did it. He almost cut off my fingers. The look in his eyes. He enjoyed it! He would have killed me but some of the Crow's came in and he ran off. I tried to wake you up, but, the blood. There was so much blood, Gen. I....I couldn't stay awake. When I woke up, they had fixed my hands as best they could. Most of their healing went to Lyn. Thank the Gods they saved her. They tried for days to bring Meeka back. Lyn said something about her soul being in a place they couldn't get to. A few days later, you woke up. I thought I was going to lose you too." Thomas grew silent and deep sobs wracked his body. Gen reached out and held his friend close until his tears had stopped.

  "Thomas?"

  "Yes?" Thomas didn't meet his friend's gaze.

  "Will you please go get Lyn? I need to speak with her." Thomas nodded as he got up and silently left the room. Gen stood after Thomas had left and pulled a chair up beside Meeka's body. Her chest still rose and fell regularly. She looked as if in a deep sleep. Gen held her hand and waited. It seemed a few hours passed before the door finally opened and Lyn stepped into the room.

  "You're awake again. Feeling any better?"

  "How do I bring her back?" Gen asked, his voice flat. Lyn sighed.

  "You would have to find her soul and rejoin it with her body. That is all."

  "Where is her soul? Does that Demon Lord, you raised, still have it?" Gen's eyes met hers and his gaze seemed to burn into her soul. She met his gaze and did not look away.

  "If he still had it, we would have been able to retrieve it. No, we looked for it three long days until we finally found it. It's someplace dark, very dark. I have no idea how to get there on my own but it feels as if it's left this world."

  "Is there any way I can get it back then?"

  "There is a tie, between you and her. You should be able to follow that back to her soul and retrieve it. Though you would have to leave your body to get to where it is."

  "Show me how."

  "You could die." Her voice was filled with sadness.

  "I am dead. Without her. There is no life for me."

  "Wait until you are more rested, then I will show you."

  "You will show me now." Gen's voice carried a tone of command and power and Lyn stepped back unwillingly.

  "Lie down and I will show you." Lyn shook her head sadly as Gen walked over and laid back upon his bed. "I will take your soul out and set you on the path. That is as far as I can go with you.

  "Fine. Just do it." Gen closed his eyes.

  "It will be painful. Prepare yourself." Lyn began singing a chant in a tongue that sounded elven. Gen screamed as a great wrenching pulled at his chest and he opened his eyes to find himself standing on a path that glowed a dull red. The path was straight and seemed never ending. He placed one foot in front of the other and began to walk. Days seemed to pass but he did not stop. He walked on and on. Suddenly, a giant gate loomed before him. It was made of green iron and hematite skulls lined the tops of the spiked gate. The gate was shut fast. He pounded against it but it would not open. He gathered his will and sent it slamming like a ram against the gate. The gates shuttered but held fast. He rammed them again and again, and finally, a bar shattered into thousands of tiny shards. He squeezed through the gap and walked a few steps when all around him appeared dark shapes. They flew at him. The shapes attacked so suddenly that he couldn't throw up any defenses, and he felt claws like icy fire burn through his flesh wherever they landed. He screamed and opened his eyes to find himself laying back on his bed. Lyn was collapsed on the stone floor beside him. He tried to move and found that he could not. A few moments later, the door opened and Thomas rushed in. He saw Lyn and yelled something back through the open door. Gen couldn't hear him. He could only see what was in front of his open eyes. Thomas rushed over and felt of Lyn's neck then he sighed visibly and looked to Gen. His mouth formed words but Gen could not hear them. Then Thomas stood and rushed beside him. He was pressing his scarred and damaged hands against his chest but Gen couldn't feel him. Then his vision faded slowly to black.

  XIX

  Seven Years

  Rain came down in sheets, turning the packed dirt road into a soggy mass. Flashing bolts of lightning lit the night, turning the utter darkness into blinding freeze frames of light. The bolts were so close that the thunder could be felt throbbing through the ground. A lone figure walked slowly down the dirt road that had turned more into a deep mud. The thin figure had the hood of his robes pulled down low over his face. He seemed in no hurry, leaning on his cane with each step as if walking was painful. The figure's head rose slightly and a glimmer could be seen reflected off the eyes deep inside the dark shadows of the hood.

  An inn just ahead was illuminated by the lightning. A weathered sign, hung by the door, depicting a single cracked beer mug, swung violently in the storm. He walked on towards it. When he got to the door, the storm was in full swing. The wind pushed against him as if telling him he wasn't wanted here. A thin white hand reached out from the soaked sleeve of the black robes and grasped the door's twisted, wrought iron handle. With a slight resistance, the door opened suddenly outward. The wind seemed to change its mind and pushed the figure into the inn as if to get him out of the way. He walked slowly through the opening, and with an effort, pulled shut the door behind him.

  A fire burned in the hearth at one end of the large room, though the table in front of it was vacant. It was the only open table in the place. The inn fell silent with his entrance. The only sound was that of thunder, though it seemed the storm had lessened. The patrons all sat and stared at this black robed man. The hood swept slowly across the room then focused on the empty table. The figure walked with his slow determined gait across the room. He sat at the empty table and leaned his cane against the fireplace within easy reach. A barmaid walked slowly over to him. She looked young, but small lines crowned out from the corners of her eyes and her blond hair bore streaks of silver. She wore a tattered green dress that once must have been nice. A stained apron covered the front of the dress. Her walk was quiet but determined.

  "What will you have, Sir?" She asked in almost a whisper as if unwilling to break the silence of the room.

  "Hot mulled cider," The answering voice said in a tone so low the barmaid had to bend near to hear him. She nodded and walked quickly back into the kitchen, glad to have an excuse to leave, if for only a short while. The man sat calmly, his hood still pulled down low over his face. Steam rose from his robes as the fire began to dry them out. The silence of the room grew long and people began shifting in their seats. The barmaid returned with a steaming mug of deep brown cider. She set the mug before him, spilling a bit. Her hands were visibly shaking.

  "That be twenty silver," she said, crossing her arms to hide her shaking hands. A low whistle sounded from the corner and the barmaid threw a cold look that way. An old dwarf received the glare before shaking his head and returning to his ale, grumbling into his beard.

  "Here you are," the man said after he reached into a pouch on his belt. He withdrew a heavy gold coin and placed
it on the table. "Do you have any rooms?"

  The barmaid stared wide-eyed at the coin. It was of Eremian mint, and a fresh one at that. She could feed her family for a year with that coin. Slowly she reached out and grabbed the coin as if doubting it was real. When the reassuring weight of it was in her hand, she looked into the hood trying to meet the man's gaze.

  "A, A room?" she stammered. "We have one left. Up the stairs and to the left, third door. Would you like anything else?"

  "That will be all, thank you." He looked down at his soaked robes. "Wait. A clean towel if you would, please."

  "Right away, Sir!" The barmaid blushed as she rushed back into the kitchen. The man reached out one of those thin white hands and picked up the steaming mug. The top disappeared as it went inside the hood then reappeared and was set back on the table.

  "Hope ya aren't planning on staying long," a big man at the bar said more than a little too loudly.

  "I am just passing through," the reply a soft whisper that somehow equally carried throughout the silent room.

  "Good. Ya see. We don't like your kind here. If'n ya start sumthun, then we'll jes have ta take care of ya like we did them there others." The big man smiled a mostly toothless grin through a black, greasy beard. He was about six foot three inches and looked to be a lumberjack from his build, or maybe a blacksmith.

  "And just how did ya take care of them there others?" the replying whisper imitated.