by Ben Hale
Shadow’s laugh of anticipation reverberated in the tavern, sending a ripple of fear into the ranks. With two light orbs still active, Shadow could not cast a solid form. A sword would be almost ethereal, leaving him near defenseless, but the gloom was sufficient for a different sort of weapon, and Shadow cast a pair of demons.
Darkness welled up from the floor, swelling to become flesh and body. Each demon gained four arms and a dragon’s head with two sets of jaws. Like creatures from a nightmare, they flexed their arms and growled, sending the dwarves into a hasty retreat. The demons were twelve feet tall, each arm as thick as a dwarf’s torso. Their jaws snapped and they stalked forward, beasts of terror that elicited a scrambling panic.
“Kill the demons!” the captain bellowed, his voice tinged with fear. “And find the assassins!”
The dwarves converged on the demons, the axes hacking at their shadow flesh. The blades passed through the shadow magic, striking tables and chairs into kindling. Bursts of fire also passed through the demons, their bodies swirling like smoke from the passage, the balls of fire scorching more tables, even striking other dwarves.
One fireball struck a dwarf in the shield. The dwarf was knocked out the window, his armored body colliding with a charging dwarf beyond. Shields and weapons went scattering, and one dwarf tripped another into the stone.
A lieutenant howled and hacked at the demon’s leg, the blade passing through the shadow and striking the dwarf at his side, the blade cutting a shallow line across the dwarf’s leg. The injury was not serious, but the dwarf glared at his companion and struck him on his helmet, knocking him sprawling.
“Watch yourself!” he growled.
The demons released a roaring snarl that galvanized the dwarves to action. The soldiers inside the tavern charged the beasts, while the ones outside leapt through the windows and charged at their backs. The two sides crashed into each other, a tangle of shouting and struggling bodies.
Lounging on the arch of stone above the broken light orb, Shadow watched the pandemonium with a smile on his face. Lorica released a quiet chuckle and crouched at his side, pointing to the demons.
“It’s not going to take long for them to figure out those demons are harmless.”
“So?” he asked.
“So we are still trapped,” she said.
In the dim light she pointed to the windows, where hundreds of dwarves blocked the way to the outside. Nets and crossbows were mounted, ready to strike at anyone flying out of the structure, and there were enough soldiers to prevent them fighting their way out.
“Enjoy the show,” Shadow said.
“We have a target to get to,” she said.
“You want to know the secret to life?”
“You’re going to tell me even if I say no,” she said.
He grinned and pointed to the chaos below. “Don’t mourn what you lack. Love what you have.”
Her smile faded and her features hardened, and he realized she was thinking about her fallen sister. “We need to go,” she said. “Gendor has already lived too long.”
“As you will,” he said with a sigh.
The dwarves had begun to calm, the officers realizing the demons were not corporeal. The captain finally restored order and the dwarves came to a stop. He took a cautious step forward and reached up, his hand passing through the beast’s arm.
“They’re just smoke,” he shouted. “They can’t hurt you.”
Shadow drew his small hand crossbow and fired toward one of the two remaining light orbs. The sudden tinkling of glass echoed, and the darkness mounted. Lorica drew her own hand crossbow, the bow expanding into place. She fired at the remaining light orb, plunging the tavern in darkness.
“Stand fast!” the captain bellowed. “They cannot harm you! They’re just—”
A giant hand wrapped around the captain and lifted him off the ground. The dwarves surged back as the demon issued a snarl so visceral that hardened soldiers recoiled in fear. The demon reared back and hurled the captain across the room, his body landing on a pile of his soldiers. Then the two demons charged, plowing through the armored dwarves on their way outside.
“Where do their voices come from?” Lorica murmured. “Or do you have sound magic as well?”
He held up his gauntlet, where a series of small runes were embedded in the leather. Each bore a different symbol, the orange coloring that of sound magic. He smiled as he pressed one of the runes, and a demon bellowed a warning.
“Care to try?”
She hesitated, and then shook her head. “I want to find my sister’s killer before he dies of old age.”
“Love what you have,” he admonished.
“Says the guardian who cannot feel.”
The statement stung, and his smile faded. He turned and slid down the slope of the arch, irritated that her words had landed heavy. Reaching the bottom, he threaded his way through the beams to the exterior of the structure, where one of the demons continued to rampage.
The entities looked like demons, but they were more like brawlers, knocking dwarves aside before charging into the hacking blades. Pieces of shadowflesh were left in their wake, the demons growing weaker by the second.
The dwarves not battling the demons were outside, hunting for the assassins. Shadow and Lorica dropped into their midst, taking the dwarves by surprise. Shadow evaded a hasty downward slash and ducked a blast of fire. Then he returned to his shadow form and slipped through their ranks.
Dozens of dwarves converged upon them, but Lorica swept her wings wide and leapt into the air. Nets were raised and dwarves aimed stubby crossbows. But the leap was a feint, and she dropped back to the ground, slamming into a pair of dwarves before rolling beyond, reaching one of the large mounted crossbows.
With nets hanging from the bolts, the weapon could fire nets into the air at shocking speed, the machine designed to ensnare a flying adversary and bring them to the ground. Lorica reached it and raised her sword, but Shadow caught her elbow and turned it aside.
“What are you doing?” she demanded, her blade sparking off the ground.
“Why destroy it?” he asked.
He sidestepped the blow from the machinist and brought his knee into the dwarf’s face, knocking him backward. Then Shadow kicked him down the steps, into the dwarves rushing upward. The distraction allowed Shadow to grasp the controls and lower the weapon to point at the dwarves rushing their position.
A smile split his features as he pulled the lever, firing into their ranks just feet away. Nets exploded outward, instantly collapsing over the dwarves and leaving them entangled. Dwarves cried out as they found themselves caught in their own traps, their struggling bodies piling upward as others attempted to leap over, only to be caught anew.
“You enjoy this far too much,” Lorica said, fending off the stragglers.
“You enjoy this far too little,” he replied.
A dwarf cast a fire golem and the beast charged their flank. Shadow spun the machine and fired, but the net was too small to slow the golem, which came to a halt and reared back, bringing both arms down upon Shadow’s position. Shadow darted backward, retreating with Lorica for the blacksmith shop. Lorica reached her blade out and sliced one of the controlling ropes, disabling the machine just before a dwarf reclaimed the weapon.
Shadow leapt over a flashing axe and sprinted for the blacksmith shop as the dwarves closed in. “What now?” Shadow asked.
“Now you follow me,” she replied.
“We can’t fly out of here,” he said.
“We don’t need to fly,” she replied. “We need an escape tunnel, and its right there.”
She pointed at the exhaust shaft. Several of the machines in the blacksmith used stonesap, and the exhaust was funneled through a large pipe system into the stone ceiling above. Lorica stepped on the anvil and leapt to the roof. Pulling herself up, she jumped to the shaft and kicked. The metal screeched and bent, and she kicked again, knocking it askew. Shadow picked up a bucket of w
ater and hurled it on the fire, filling the room with steam and mist. Then he followed her up.
Smoke billowed up from the hole as Lorica swung the metal shaft to the side and ducked beneath. Shadow held it for her and then followed, cramming into the confines of the shaft. He cast a line of shadow upwards and then grabbed her wrist.
“Hang on,” he said.
They shot up the chimney, disappearing as dwarves burnt the mist with blasts of fire. Shadow held his breath as he passed through the smoke at the top, where the chimney curved and merged with the wall of the great cavern. The end of the shadow rope sprouted spider legs and continued to pull them up the shaft, through the curves and out of Torridin.
The sounds of battle faded when they reached the top, and Shadow coughed in the smoky room. Smoke from the chimney and other chimneys entered through holes in the floor and filtered through small pipes to reach the surface above. Fortunately for them, at the back of the chamber sat a small access door, a method for dwarves to maintain the ventilation system. Lorica slowed in the absolute darkness, but Shadow cast a giant fist and struck the door, blasting it from its hinges.
Shadow tumbled into the hallway, coughing at the dust and smoke. Lorica did the same, and the two leaned against the walls, sucking in great breaths. Shadow wiped at the dirt now staining his tunic.
“I prefer to escape without getting so dirty,” he said.
“You’re afraid of ash now?”
“My clothes are ruined,” he said.
“I don’t care,” she said, rising and pointing down the corridor. “I want Gendor.”
“Don’t be so hasty,” he said. “We find Relgor, we’ll find the Bloodsworn. Find the Bloodsworn, and we’ll find Gendor.”
“We should have left Torridin, but you wanted to eat.” she said.
“What’s with the anger?” he asked, his own anger rising. “We got out, didn’t we?”
“I’m tired of you slowing me down.”
He bristled. “Sure it’s not the other way around?”
She closed the gap in a single step. “Have you ever lost someone you love? Or do you even know how to love?”
He folded his arms, feigning nonchalance even as heat crept into his voice. “Do you even know how to have fun?”
“I don’t want to have fun,” she shouted. “I want to kill the one that slaughtered my family.”
“You’ll get to them eventually,” Shadow said.
“I don’t have the time you do,” she said. “Do you know what I would do if I had your life? I’d help people, not treat them like their purpose is worthless.”
He laughed, the sound so filled with rancor that she flushed. “I’ve heard others say the same,” he said, “but do you know what people would do with a longer life? The same thing they do with a shorter one. You would hunt and kill, because that’s what you are. And warriors lose family members and friends. Don’t you see? You’re the reason your family is gone. You should have been a weaver.”
She glared at him, and when she spoke again her voice had turned a dangerous calm. “It appears I was mistaken, thinking you an ally.”
“Perhaps you are right,” he sneered. “For once.”
“I’ll message you if Relgor comes to the north mine,” she said. “Then we part ways.”
Whirling, she departed. Shadow scowled and watched her leave, annoyed and angry. Turning down a different corridor, he left Torridin behind, trying to shed the pall Lorica had left. He’d thought they were drawing closer, but then she’d returned to her previous animosity. He knew he’d reminded her of the loss of her sister, but he’d thought she’d gotten over the loss.
His scowl deepened when he noticed again his lack of remorse or sympathy. The woman had lost her family just weeks ago, and he’d been talking about focusing on a fleeting amusement. As he made his way down the silent corridor, he wondered why a hard knot had appeared in his chest, and why it reminded him of his blade on the kitten.
Chapter 25: Axehead Mine
Once in the tunnel, he morphed into a jungle cat, the large shape giving him speed and power. Surging down the dark corridor, he accelerated into a run. Shortly afterward, his corridor intersected with a tunnel containing mining tracks.
He came upon a cart full of dwarven miners headed to work. They talked and laughed, drinking ale as they shared tales of their labors to a young dwarf in their midst. Shadow snarled, the sound echoing in the confines of the tunnel. The dwarven laughter died as they scrambled for their axes, spilling ale in their haste. Shadow streaked by, allowing just enough of his body to be seen to inspire terror.
Shadow flashed a smug smile as he departed but heard Lorica’s disapproval. Accelerating, he sought to put distance between himself and Lorica, hoping it would allow him to return to the pleasure of working alone. He’d always enjoyed it before and saw no reason why he could not return to solitude. Despite his efforts, a strange hitch remained in his chest.
The tax record led him to the southwestern end of the Tyndrik mountains. The record had described a mine that contained an odd, black material that was neither metal nor rock. It lacked the known properties of other stones, but the dwarves, being dwarves, set about mining it anyway.
Shadow found the offshoot and sped down its length. The complete darkness allowed him to add to his entity, and his jungle cat grew to become a black reaver. As a black reaver, his body was larger than a lion’s, his massive, muscular arms strong enough to rend armored men in two. Large spines extended from his back, and if he were real, would have been made of metal, which was part of the reaver’s diet. He passed through several junctions and slowed as he reached the mine. All four types of reavers were feared, and Shadow used the cloak of a great predator as if it would shield him from the lump in his chest.
Axehead mine, so named for the prominently shaped cliff above the entrance, extended straight under the mountain. Then the mine curved and wound its way lower, following the initial silver vein.
Shadow reached the top of the mine and slipped into the depleted silver vein, following it downward. Relinquishing his hold on the black reaver, he turned back to human form and stopped in a storage alcove to pick up the clothing of a dwarven miner. Donning the helmet, he manipulated the shadows on his face so it looked like he had a beard. He was shorter than the other fragments, so he could pass as a dwarf. Although he could infiltrate the mine in his elemental form, doing so would leave him insubstantial, and the first light he passed would reveal the illusion.
His disguise complete, he followed the winding mine until he reached the deep shaft. At four hundred feet across, the shaft was an enormous cylinder that plunged straight down. A scattering of lights pierced the darkness, most set around a dwarven ascender that clung to the side of the shaft, a platform large enough to contain several mine carts. A glow came from the base of the shaft, and he heard the faint tapping of hammers.
Shadow snorted as he gazed into the depths. The dwarves had spent a fortune to dig the shaft, just to explore what they did not understand. Foregoing the ascender, he leapt into the void and cast a pair of shadow wings that slowed his descent.
The shaft was deep, deeper than he’d first thought. Easily five hundred feet down, its walls were rough and scored from dwarven mining equipment. Shadow stuck to the dark side of the shaft. As he approached the collection of miners at the bottom, he slid down the wall and alighted next to a section of machinery.
The base of the shaft contained a single towering piece of black stone. The miners had likely noticed it by scanning the earth and had dug down to reach the strange ore. They had nearly unearthed the whole of it, and half a company of dwarves crawled over the scaffolding they had erected. Side tunnels split off from the base of the shaft, leading to living quarters and a meal hall.
The dwarves were shaping the stone, carving it into a giant dwarven warrior, the helmet and shoulders already completed. Other dwarves were busy cutting the statue’s axe, while still others labored over the intricate armor
of the statue.
Unnoticed, Shadow landed against the back wall and picked up a hammer. Then he ascended the scaffolding and joined the throng. After all the fighting and mischief, he found the honest labor refreshing.
For four minutes.
Growing bored, he retreated to the dark well of the shaft and ascended to a crevasse thirty feet off the floor. It was dark enough that he could carve out the stone inside the crack, the scraping of stone blending with the dwarven hammers and chisels.
He carved out a tiny chamber and cast a bed out of darkness. Reclining on its surface, Shadow settled in to wait, annoyed that his thoughts continued to return to Lorica, and why he felt so vexed.
While the dwarves labored, Shadow slept, and when he awoke he slipped into the mine and explored. He searched the meal hall and the sleeping quarters, even rifling through the large trunks at the foot of their beds while the owners slumbered, their snoring reverberating off the rough stone walls.
When he’d explored everything, he returned to his hiding place, but remained restless. As the hours grew into days, he realized he needed a distraction. Fortunately, the dwarves were a surly group, prone to quarreling, so Shadow decided to provide himself some amusement.
He stole a hammer from a dwarf and left it next to his neighbor. A shouting match ensued, and Shadow retreated to watch the display. While other dwarves stopped to survey the argument, he subtly shifted a chisel in a dwarf’s hand so, the next time he struck, it would break a piece rather than carve a line. Distracted by the argument, the dwarf hit the chisel, only to see a small chip form in the otherwise smooth carving. His look of dismay brought a burst of laughter to Shadow’s lips.
“Is someone laughing?” the mine captain barked, causing the other dwarves to retreat to their labors.
The dwarf, a grey-headed captain the others called Hort, grunted in irritation and sent the others back to work. He then surveyed the workers, a scowl forming on his face. Shadow kept his attention on the crate he was unloading, the food set out in a neat row atop a dwarf’s warhammer.