Shadowrealm (19 page)

"Regg-"

Swords rang from scabbards. Shields were unslung. The soft sound of spell casting carried through the rain, Roen asking for Lathander's blessing.

The darkness expanded and eight or nine score Shadovar warriors materialized from the darkness. They wore archaic black plate armor that featured points, studs, and spikes in abundance. Their large, oval shields, enameled in black, showed no heraldry and looked like holes. Helms with nose guards obscured most of their faces, but the gtay skin Abelar could see reminded him of a corpse. They bore bare swords in their fists, the blades made of black crystal. Shadows leaked from all of them. They seemed part of the darkness.

"Shades," Abelar said. Like Erevis Cale.

Leather creaked. Horses whinnied. The two forces regarded each other across the grass, the rain thudding off of armor.

One of the Shadovar took a step forward and in that single stride moved from the darkness in which he stood to within a few paces before Abelar and Regg. Firstlight and Swiftdawn did not buck. Abelar and Regg did not start.

The Shadovar removed his helm to reveal a bald head and black eyes.

"By order of the Hulorn, ruler of Sembia, you are prohibited from crossing the Mudslide River."

A rustle went through the company, the murmur of anger. It took a few moments for Abelar to reconcile the words with reality.

"The Hulorn does not rule these lands," Regg said. "His power extends to Selgaunt and its environs. No farther."

"You are mistaken," said the Shadovar.

"The Hulorn and Selgaunt are allies of Saerb," Abelar said.

"If it were otherwise," the Shadovar said, "you would all be dead already."

Regg, on Firstlight, took a step forward. Abelar stopped him with an arm across his chest.

Regg said, "You should hope your blade is as sharp as your tongue, shade. Should it come to that."

The Shadovar did not take his gaze from Abelar. "Matters are as I have stated. You will not be allowed to cross the Mudslide.- Go back. Stay. Neither is of any moment to me. We will prevent with force any attempt to cross the Stonebridge or otherwise ford the river."

The company murmured angrily.

"Force?"

"Prevent?"

Horses inched forward. The tone grew uglier than the weather.

Shouts carried to them from the caravan. "What does he say?" "What is happening?"

"Have they come to aid us?"

"We must cross," Regg said. "Whatever the Hulorn may say.

Following the Mudslide would hook the refugees back in the direction of the Shadowstorm. And mountains blocked them to the north. Their only hope was to cross.

Abelar dismounted and approached the Shadovar. The shadows around the shade swirled.

"Look behind us, man," Abelar said, working to keep his voice calm. "These people cannot be caught in that storm. We must get across the river. We are trapped against it. I will answer to the Hulorn for you allowing us passage."

The Shadovar looked past Abelar and into the sky, to the Shadowstorm. When his gaze returned to Abelar, Abelar saw no pity or understanding in it, just darkness.

"You have heard my words."

Growing anger put an edge on Abelar's tone. "My son is in this caravan."

Shadows spun around the Shadovar. "The more pity you."

Day after day of constant tension had drawn Abelar's emotions taut and they snapped at the Shadovar's words. Sudden rage stole his sense and he punched the Shadovar in the face with a gauntleted fist. Bone buckled and the man's nose exploded blood. He fell to the ground, groaning, shadows whirling. Abelar drew his blade and advanced.

"The more pity me, you say? The more pity me?"

Ten Shadovar appeared around their fallen commander, blades bare. Arms closed around Abelar from behind, lifted him from the ground, and turned him around. His entire company looked ready to ride the Shadovar down. Trewe's horse reared. Others whinnied and tossed their heads.

"Calm heads!" Regg shouted. It was he who had hold of Abelar. "Calm heads! Think of the refugees!"

Regg was right.

"All right," Abelar said to him. "All right." "All right?" Regg asked.

Abelar nodded and Regg set him down and released him. Abelar turned to see the entire Shadovar force had stepped through the shadows and assembled before their commander in a bristling arc of steel. The bald Shadovar rose, and as Abelar watched, his nose stopped bleeding and the broken bones squirmed back into place. The Shadovar sniffed loudly and spit a glob of blood and snot.

"Attempt to cross the Mudslide and you all die."

The shadows engulfed him and his troop and they disappeared into the darkness.

Curses made the rounds of the company. Lightning ripped the sky behind them.

"Gods damn it," Abelar said.

"What the Hells is going on here?" Regg asked.

"How do you mean, 'reconsider'?" Cale asked Rivalen.

The Shadovar prince approached them, but stopped short of the reach of their blades.

"A dimensional tether," he said, nodding at the green glow that flashed around Cale. "Kesson tried to prevent your escape."

"He failed," Riven said.

"Did he? Why are you still within the storm, then?" To that Riven said nothing.

"You had something to say," Cale said. "About us reconsidering."

"Yes. By now Sakkors and an army of Shadovar have intercepted the Saerbian refugees retreating before the Shadowstorm."

"What?" Cale asked. The shadows around him churned. Those around Rivalen swirled in answer.

"They will not be allowed to cross the Mudslide and continue to Daerlun. Instead, they will sit with the river to their backs and Kesson Rel's Shadowstorm closing in on them."

"You are a liar," Cale said.

"No. I will take you to them."

Riven took a step forward and spoke in a low voice. "There are children in that caravan."

"A solution is before you," Rivalen said, giving no ground to Riven. "Assist me in destroying Kesson Rel. When he dies, so, too, does his Shadowstorm."

Cale and Riven looked one to the other.

"Let them pass and we will help you," Cale said to Rivalen. "You have my word."

"Your word means nothing to me, priest. And while we debate and haggle, the Shadowstorm draws closer to the Saerbians. Their deaths will be on your head."

The shadows around Cale roiled. Weaveshear bled darkness. "You are a bastard."

"I am trying to save Sembia. Your intransigence leaves me little recourse."

"A show of good faith, then," Cale said, and indicated the glow of Kesson's spell. "Get this off of me."

Rivalen considered. "Very well."

Riven stepped to Cale's side. Shadows poured from his sabers. "You try anything other than a counterspell, you'll find me less than helpful."

Rivalen smiled, and took in his hands a holy symbol of platinum and amethyst. He intoned the words to a counterspell and shadows went forth from his outstretched hand and engaged Kesson Rel's spell.

Cale felt the power of the two spellcasters charge the air around him. Green sparks shrouded him, flared, flashed.

Riven tensed and Cale held up a hand to head off the assassin's attack on Rivalen.

"I am all right," he said. Rivalen's face showed strain, then surprise. His counterspell ended. The sparks of magical battle died. Kesson's spell did not.

"You cannot counter it," Cale said, not a question. "No."

Riven sneered. Rivalen glared at him, the shadows around him roiling.

"It will expire in time," Rivalen said, his brow furrowed. "How long?"

"An hour. No longer. When it does, verify my claims. I will meet you at the shores of Lake Veladon at midnight tonight. Then we can begin."

"Begin what?"

"Go see that what I say is true. When you come to me at midnight, I will tell you what you need to know."

Cale had no choice but that did little to mitigate his anger. "When Kesson's dead, then it's you and us, Rivalen. You have my word on that, too."

Rivalen smiled, showing fangs. "As I said, priest, your word means nothing to me."

A stab of pain behind Cale's eyes caused him to wince, his eyes to water. Hate sizzled in his consciousness.

Kill him, Cale, projected Magadon. He is at the root of all of this.

He offers a way to kill Kesson Rel. He lies, like my father. Mags— Kill him!

Magadon tried again to control Cale, to control his weapon arm and lunge at Rivalen. Cale thought of the Saerbians, and resisted.

To his relief, the shadows swallowed the shade prince, extinguished his golden eyes, and he disappeared.

Magadon's attempt to control him ended.

Do not do it again, Magadon. Never again.

You are a liar, too. You are all liars. To the Abyss with you, Magadon said, and the connection closed.

Riven must have seen the mental exchange on Cale's face. "You all right?" the assassin asked.

"Magadon," Cale said, and the darkness around him roiled.

Riven stared at him a moment, then paced the dead grass. "There's more to all this than that Shadovar is telling, Cale."

"Agreed, but he wants to kill Kesson. He's gone through too much to just set us up. Agreed?"

"Agreed."

"After we've done that, after we've saved Mags, we'll deal with whatever comes."

Riven seemed to accept that. He stopped pacing. "Says something, him coming here by himself."

"It does," Cale said. It said Rivalen was not afraid of them.

They spent half an hour huddled against the rain, back to back, watching the darkness for the creatures that prowled the Shadowstorm. Cale felt like the green glow of Kesson's spell made him a beacon, but they encountered nothing. After a time, the glow winked out and stayed gone.

"Spell has ended," Cale said, and stood.

"Let's move," Riven said.

Cale smeared shadows into a lens, cast a minor divination, sought Abelar, found him, and caused the shadows to take them there.

Whether waking or sleeping, I dream of the Source. Cale has betrayed me, so the Source must be the tool of my revenge, my salvation. Remembering the feel of its power in my mind, the

touch of its ancient intelligence, I feel a hole of longing open in my mind, an absence that needs to be filled.

I find myself standing near the hole, a gaping, jagged aperture in the mindscape of my mental domain. The stink of rot rises from it. I creep forward, peer inside, hoping to plumb the depths to which I have sunk.

Veins as thick as my wrist wind a jagged path along its sides, pulse like a nest of vipers. Its depth extends as far as I can see, the bottom lost in darkness, like me.

A voice whispers from within the hole, echoing up its sides. The veins throb when the voice speaks. It is my father's voice.

"Cale cannot kill Kesson Rel. He has already failed once."

I shake my head, trying to dislodge despair. "He will try again and succeed. I have seen him do things that no ordinary man could do. He will keep his promise."

My father chuckles. "His promises are shit. He promised his god to return his divinity. He promised the same thing to me. He will say anything, yet he means nothing. Now he allies with Rivalen Tanthul, who tortured you. You cannot trust him. You must save yourself."

I hear my own thoughts in the words and protest. "You lie."

"No. You lie. To yourself. Soon the Shadowwalkers will leave the Wayrock. They intend to leave you here. No one will ever return for you. They wish you to die, alone on this island as you are in your head. It is Cale's doing."

The words strike at my fears. I lean forward, start to speak, lose my footing, and nearly fall into the hole. I jerk myself back, heart racing, breathing rapidly.

The veins that line the hole are pulsing.

"Be mindful," says my father. "You are starting to slip."

He laughs. I curse. Staring into the abyss, I realize that Cale cannot save me. He does not want to save me. I must save myself.

"You want revenge on those who damaged you—"

"You damaged me!"

"The Source offers everything you want."

The ache for the Source's comfort wells up in me, accompanied by the beginnings of a plot. A hear a sound at the bottom of the hole, as if something ancient has stirred to life after sleeping for ages. I lean over the edge. Something is moving down here, deep in the darkness.

I lean too far, scream as I fall. My father's laughter rings off the walls as I plummet.

CHAPTER TEN

5 Nightal, the Year of Lightning Storms

Drawn blades and an alarmed shout of "Shades," met the arrival of Cale and Riven. Cale held up his hands. Riven already had his sabers clear of their scabbards.

"We are friends," Cale said.

"Hold!" Abelar shouted, his eyes on Cale.

Abelar, Regg, Jiiris, Roen, and a dozen other members of Abelar's company stood in a circle on the shore of a river Cale assumed to be the Mudslide. The Lathanderians relaxed, and sheathed their weapons. Apologies and greetings followed. Abelar embraced both Cale and Riven.

"I am pleased to see you both. We could use your blades and talents."

Downriver, Cale saw the inkblot of Sakkors hovering in the air. Opposite that, he saw the charred,

churning clouds of the Shadowstorm as they ate the sky. Between them sat Abelar's company and the Saerbian refugees, just as Rivalen had said.

"Our blades and talents did nothing against Kesson Rel. We failed, Abelar."

The Lathanderian kept his expression neutral. "But you live, still. We will find another way."

"We may have found one. We need a word in privacy. You and Regg."

Abelar looked to Regg and Regg nodded and said to his company, "See to your duties. Get everyone near the river. No closer to that city, though. Summon food. Keep everyone as warm as possible."

Nods and murmured assent, then they moved off.

"Jiiris," Abelar called, and the red haired warrior brought her horse over. She nodded to Cale and Riven, though Cale saw distant hostility in her eyes. Perhaps she blamed them for Abelar's turn from Lathander.

"You do not have to ask," she said to Abelar. "I will see that Elden eats."