Shadowbred (43 page)

The ambassador’s expression showed no fear. His voice was steady and cold. “The hulorn is in no danger from me.” He held up a dark hand to halt whatever the bodyguards might have intended.

“No, not anymore,” Cale said, and brandished Weaveshear.

The ambassador cocked his head. He said softly, “You are a shade,” and his gaze moved for an instant to Vees Talendar. “Strange that I have not heard of this earlier.”

“Magadon Kest,” Cale said. “You have him. Where is he?”

The ambassador said, “Magadon is a friend of yours, I assume?”

Cale grabbed the Shadovar by his finery and almost jerked him from his feet with one hand. The shadows around the two men spat purple sparks.

The Shadovar bodyguards appeared around them, blades at the ready.

The ambassador’s eyes showed brewing anger but he shook his head and the bodyguards did nothing.

“It is fortunate for you that we are where we are,” the ambassador said.

“What is going on here?” Tamlin demanded, circling the two so he could see Cale’s face. “Mister Cale? Cease immediately.”

Riven moved around rhe table into Cale’s field of vision, eyeing the Shadovar. Three of the bodyguards turned to face him, shadows swirling around them. Riven chuckled.

The three Shadovar, as silent as shadows, spread out for combat.

Cale glared into the ambassador’s face. “If anyone dies in this room, I promise that you will be among them.”

The Shadovar’s face hardened. Shadows as black as midnight streamed from his flesh, swirled around Cale.

“You are playing a dangerous game, child.”

“Mister Cale!” Tamlin said. “You are assaulting an ally of Selgaunt and an ambassador of a foreign state.” To the Helms standing in the doorway, Tamlin said, “Arrest him.”

“Stand your ground,” Cale said, and did not hear the Helms advance.

“You seem tense,” Riven taunted the Shadovar, turning a circle in their midsr, feinting to elicit movement. “What color is your blood, I wonder?”

“The same as yours,” the ambassador called to Riven. “We are men, as you. And we are allies of your lord.”

“He’s not my lord,” Riven said with contempt.

“Unhand him, Erevis,” Tamlin said. “Now. This is Rivalen Tanthul, a prince of Shade Enclave, and his people are Selgaunt’s ally.”

Rivalen nodded at Cale. “I arranged the attack on Yhaunn so you could succeed in your rescue of Endren. Is that not evidence of where my loyalties lie?”

Cale shook his head. “It is evidence only that you are a skillful liar. I do not know your game, but I know your like.”

Rivalen’s eyes narrowed. The room darkened.

“Release him, Erevis,” Tamlin said. “And apologize. You are in the wrong.”

“Very in the wrong,” Rivalen said sofrly.

Riven scoffed.

“Erevis?” Tamlin said.

“Fear not, Lord Hulorn,” Rivalen said. “This is a trifling matter.”

Despite his reassuring words, his eyes smoldered. “Mister Cale does not understand that Magadon is no prisoner. He is performing a service for us. Voluntarily.”

Cale reluctantly let Rivalen go, though he still held Weaveshear at the ready.

Riven spat on the floor of the great hall and said, “A lie.” Cale nodded. “You lie.”

“Tell him the nature of the service,” Tamlin said to Rivalen.

“You will forgive me, Hulorn, but the matter does not concern Selgaunt or Sembia at this time.”

Tamlin seemed at a loss for words.

“Bring him to me,” Cale demanded. “Now.”

Rivalen’s eyes flared. He studied Cale’s face. “I will take you to him, if you wish.”

Cale smelled the trap but had little choice. He needed to learn where Magadon was being kept.

“No,” he said. “You tell me where he is and we will go ourselves. I have my own methods of travel.

Rivalen stared into Cale’s eyes. Cale answered with his own stare.

“He is in Sakkors,” the Shadovar said.

“I’m unfamiliar with—” Tamlin started to say.

Cale held Weaveshear’s point at Rivalen’s chest. “Sakkors is three hundred fathoms under the Sea of Fallen Stars.”

“Not anymore,” Rivalen answered. “See it for yourself, shadeling. The enclave’s name should be enough to allow you to use the Fringe to take you there. Scry it first if you wish. There are no wards to stop you.”

Cale studied the shade’s face, seeking the lie. He could determine nothing; Rivalen’s face was a mask. He looked to Riven, who said, “We can kill them all now and figure it out afterward.”

Cale smiled at the thought. The Shadovar bodyguards tensed. Leather creaked. Armor clinked.

“Sheathe your weapons,” Tamlin commanded. “Do it. Now.”

Cale ignored him, as did Riven, as did the Shadovar bodyguards.

Cale stared into Rivalen’s face and leaned in close. “Know my mind, shade. If you have harmed him, I will kill you.”

“Know mine, shadeling,” Rivalen answered. “You live only because of my respect for the Hulorn. Were we not in his ptesence, things would be otherwise.”

“Yap, yap, little dog,” Riven said, and Cale saw real anger behind Rivalen’s eyes.

Cale stared into Rivalen’s face and saw the familiar dead space behind the shade’s eyes—like Cale, Riven, and Nayan, Rivalen had a killer’s eyes.

Cale knew with certainty what would happen in Sakkors. The Shadovar would not turn Magadon over to him, not willingly.

“We go,” Cale said to Riven, and both of them backed away. To Tamlin, Cale said, “You are allied with serpents, my lord.”

Tamlin snapped, “No. I have done the only thing that can preserve this city. You are dismissed, Mister Cale. Do not return.”

“You are making a mistake,” Cale said to Tamlin.

“I am correcting one.”

Cale’s hand twitched but he resisted the urge to knock Tamlin down.

“You shame your father,” he said, and Tamlin blanched. Cale had knocked him down after all.

The darkness in the room deepened as Cale and the Shadovar drew it about them. Each stared at the other as they started to meld with the shadows, each making the other hard promises.

Cale tightened his grip on Weaveshear and thought of Sakkors. When he felt the correspondence, he moved himself and Riven there.

ŚŠŚ ŚŠŚ

Chunks of stone fly off with each strike of the pickaxe. I make rapid progress. The srink of brimstone and rot grow worse but I dare not open the door for ventilation. The fears are still outside. I strike the wall again and again, drowning out the sound of the fears, quelling my own. The sweat freezes on my skin, the air is so cold.

“Hir it, Magadon,” encourages rhe voice. “You are almost through! Hit it!”

The fissure in the stone grows deeper and wider. I strike it again, again. The wall crumbles under my onslaught, the debris gathering around my feet, the dust filling the air of the cell.

At last I pierce it and the head of the pickaxe pokes through to the other side.

Orange light rushes into the room, a blast of air so frigid it burns. There follows the sound of screams, and smells like a thousand graveyards. I gag, recoil, vomit.

“Again, Magadon! It is too small for me to get through.”

I wipe my mouth, sore, spent, and shivering. I want to look through the wall, to see what lies beyond. I cast aside the pickaxe, step to the wall, and look through the hole.

I catch a glimpse of pits of flame carved in ice and filled with agonized souls, then a form blocks my view.

“Don’t look, Magadon,” says the voice. “None of that matters.”

But I have already looked, have already seen. Horror lies on the other side of the wall. Darkness. Evil.

“You must free me, Magadon,” says the voice.

Aghast, I shake my head. I cannot open a door to that.

“You must,” says the voice.

I steel myself and peer through the hole again. I must be sure. “Show yourself,” I command. “Back up so I can see you fully.” “No.”

“Do it or I will walk away. I will give myself to the fears. Show me.”

Silence from the other side. Then, “Very well.”

The form backs away from the wall until I can make him out in the light of the flames. I cannot contain a gasp.

He is me, but not me. Fine red scales cover most of his skin. His horns ate so long they curl back on themselves, and membranous wings sprout from his back. Fangs protrude from his hateful mouth. His eyes, my eyes, radiate malice and madness.

“You are a devil,” I say, unable to look away.

“No. I am Magadon,” says the devil. “Part of him. The same as you. Nothing more. But I am the only part not lost to the Source. You must free me. That is your duty.”

I shake my head. “I won’t. You are not the only one free of the Source,
am also free.”p>

“But only for the moment. Listen.” The fears have gone silent.

“Open the door of the cell,” the voice says. “The fears are gone. Even they are lost. Look outside, Magadon. See what is coming. Hurry. He is almost gone. And so are we.”

“You are liar,” I say.

“Quite so, but he could not live without the lies.”

I do not understand. “You make no sense.”

The devil laughs. “He calls himself a ‘tiefling’ but he knows that is not true. A tiefling is touched by a devil’s blood. Touched. He has a devil for a sire. He is a half-fiend and then some. The lies are all that make it tolerable. Without me, without the lies, he would be lost.”

I shake my head again. “With you, he’s lost.”

The devil does not dispute it. “Go look outside, Magadon. Do it now. See what comes.”

Despite the dtead that floods my chest, I move to the door and listen. I hear nothing. Are the fears truly gone? I have to know.

Heart thumping, I slide back the lock. When the fears do not renew their assault, I open the door a crack.

Still nothing. I take a breath and throw it wide.

“Look at the far side of the bubble, Magadon.”

I do and see the bubble dissolving. It is as if a horizon is moving across the world, annihilating everything behind it.

“Loose me and I will save him. I will call his friends to him.”

I say nothing and watch death approach.

“They are near,” the devil says. “I called them long ago through the crack but I cannot do it anymore, not unless I am freed. He is too far gone. Let me out. Let me out now, or it will be too late.”

I cannot. I will not.

“No,” I say. “I know what you are. He locked you away for a reason. You are evil. It’s better for us to be lost. All of us.”

“No,” the voice says, and I hear real fear in the tone. “Think of all that will die. Darkness, yes, but light, too. Goodness. Lost forever. Would you let that all die to spite me? Would you? All men harbor a

darkness. It’s what makes them men. Save him. Save us. You must.” I stand in the doorway and watch the world dissolve. “I can’t,” I say. “I can’t.”

“There is no more time,” the devil says. “We are all going to die. You, me, him, all of us. Do you want that to happen? Can you allow it? Choose. Do your duty or die. Choose!”

11 Uktar, the Year ofLightning Storms

Cale and Riven materialized on the edge of a floating city shrouded in darkness—Sakkors, newly raised. The mountaintop that Cale had last seen at the bottom of the sea had been lifted from the depths and positioned so its flat top faced the night sky. Cale leaned over the edge to see the Inner Sea, still and black, far below them.

Sakkors had been rebuilt somehow. Shadows twined around thin spires, thick walls, along wide boulevatds, through the windows of shops, residences, and noble manses. The city was nothing but dead stone; there was no greenery of any kind. Something about it reminded Cale of Elgrin Fau.

In the distance, he could hear the sounds of workers— hammers banging stone, shouts.

“Quite a feat,” Riven said, looking around.

Cale nodded. “They will attack the moment they appear.”

“Of course they will,” Riven said. “I saw his eyes.”

Riven reached into a belt pouch and removed two small stones— one a deep purple, one a light purple. He tossed them into the air and both whirred in a tight orbit around his head.

“More from the Sojourner,” he explained to Cale.

Cale nodded, gtasped his mask, and incanted a spell that made him faster, stronger. He expected an immediate attack from Rivalen and his bodyguards. The delay worried him.

They moved away from the edge of the mountaintop to give themselves room for combat. Before they had taken ten strides, the darkness around them deepened, swirled, surrounded them. Even Cale had difficulty making out shapes within the darkness.

“Here we go,” Riven said, assuming a fighting crouch.

“Rivalen lives,” Cale said, “bur only until he tells us where Mags is.”

A pair of golden eyes formed in the black, then a series of dark forms. Rivalen and his five shade bodyguards emerged from the murk. The bodyguards bore blades, and Rivalen held a black disc wirh a purple border in his hand, a holy symbol. Cale saw power crackling around it.

Cale charged. Riven read his lead and engaged rwo of the bodyguards nearest him, blades whirling. Before Cale had taken two strides, Rivalen pointed his holy symbol and said, “Die.”

A gray beam shot from the shade’s symbol. To Cale’s surprise, Weaveshear did not absorb it and the dark magic hit Cale’s chest, entered his flesh, and twined around his hearr. Cale gasped but kept his feet and continued forward. He lunged and offered a weak overhand swing with Weaveshear. Rivalen dodged backward but not before Cale’s blade opened a gash in his chest. Rivalen hissed with pain.

“Not enough, shade,” Cale said through gasps. Despite the magic seizing his heart, he pressed ahead and stabbed at Rivalen’s stomach. The shade sidestepped the blow and Weaveshear only skinned his side.

Rivalen grabbed Cale by the wrist and held it to keep Weaveshear away from him. Cale struggled but found Rivalen’s strength to be

a match for his own. Purple light shot through the darkness that swirled around them.

“You are a priest,” Cale said through gritted teeth.

“And more,” Rivalen answered, and intoned a prayer.

Cale recovered enough to chant a prayer of his own. Both completed their spells at almost the same moment. Dark energy flared in both their free hands and each reached for the other. Theit hands met and both spells discharged harmful energy.