The Shadowmage Trilogy (Twilight of Kerberos: The Shadowmage Books) (100 page)

Smiling, Tellmore put a hand on the knight’s armoured shoulder.

“And I know your reluctance to face wizards, but I promise you this, Sir Renauld. I trust you to keep me safe from harm of the mundane variety. I will do my best for you and your men to defend you against enemies magical.”

“The baron has given us a task, and I would see it done.”

“Indeed. Now, gather your men and let us proceed,” Tellmore said, pocketing the prism as its inner light faded and died. “I believe a confrontation is due very soon. It seems we are close to our final destination and the others are already waiting for us.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

W
HAT
L
UCIUS HAD
thought was a hall had turned out to be a mere passageway. Perhaps that great archway was only a minor entrance to this dwarven mountain stronghold, though he found it difficult to imagine anything grander in scale or design.

The place that confronted him now was a real hall, by the standards of the ancient dwarven architects.

Lucius found himself staring across a chamber that was more than half a mile across, and he marvelled at the carved buttresses that rose from six points to climb the walls and meet at a single point high above him. Together, they held back the weight of the mountain from this cavernous place, and had done so for millennia.

The high walls were lined with stairways and balconies, seeming to be guardpoints or perhaps dwellings burrowed into the bare rock. However, it was the sight below that took his breath away.

He snuffed out his spell of illumination, as it was no longer needed. All the light needed to illuminate the huge hall was provided by swift-flowing rivers of lava far below, funnelled into channels by canals of thick bronzed metal that seemed impervious to their heat. Suspended above them were stone bridges, elaborately carved yet immune to the decay of time, wide thoroughfares that sported small buildings along their length. Seven of these bridges led to a central plaza, at least as large as any of the Five Markets in Turnitia, a broad platform suspended by nothing more than the bridges themselves. The plaza was a wide-open paved space, perhaps used as a gathering point or trading area in ages gone, though it was filled with nothing but dust now. Like the bridges, small stone buildings lined its perimeter.

The end was close, he could feel it. Murmuring to him through its magical connection, the Guardian Starlight felt as though it was almost crooning, lightly encouraging him toward their final destination. The centre of the plaza, Lucius felt. Was that where everything would finally be revealed to him, the mystery of the Old Races and their tragedy, his link to them and the Guardian Starlight?

Gingerly, Lucius descended the staircase immediately before him which wound down to a platform that jutted out from the rock face and was connected to the nearest bridge. The descent was not as easy as it had first looked, as the dwarfs must have had some posture, size or gait that made taller steps easier for them; they proved hard work for Lucius.

Hands, shins and knees cloaked with the grey dust that had been lying on the steps, Lucius finally reached the bottom and brushed himself down. Looking across the hall to the plaza, he saw the buildings lining the bridges, some with single entrances and glass windows, others with wide open lower floors – a mixture of homes, shops and tradesmen’s workshops, he presumed.

“Infidel!” The shout ricocheted round Lucius, bouncing off the walls. He just had time to look round before he was struck full in the chest and knocked off his feet.

Writhing in pain, Lucius staggered to his feet to see the Preacher Divine, clothes ragged and face haggard, clambering down the steps, brandishing his staff as he did so.

Cursing under his breath, Lucius ran for the bridge, wondering just what it would take to kill the damned Preacher Divine.

S
TANDING MIDWAY DOWN
the staircase, Alhmanic felt the full power of the Final Faith flow through his staff as its crystal tip gleamed with energy. Holding the shaft down three-quarters of its length, he pointed the weapon downwards to the platform and unleashed another magical bolt.

Incredibly, the Shadowmage dove to one side and avoided it, the bolt kicking up a cloud of dust and leaving a blackened stain on the stone. Continuing his roll, the Shadowmage bounced back to his feet and raced for the bridge, his image flickering and blurring as he cast a spell of concealment.

Alhmanic smiled as he whirled his staff in a high arc, calling upon the power of past saints to create a gust of wind that flowed down the steps, rolled over the platform and drove over the bridge, causing a roiling tide of dust. Having witnessed the trickery of Shadowmages before, he had given some time to thinking how to defeat them.

As the wind swept past the Shadowmage, the dust swirled about his form, making him easy to pick out. Laughing at his own ingenuity, Alhmanic jumped down the last few steps and chased after the fleeing Shadowmage.

U
PON ENTERING THE
great hall, Adrianna quickly surveyed the arena and spied Lucius and Alhmanic already engaged in battle. Her eyes lit up at that, for the death of the Preacher Divine was collateral damage she could well accept.

Adrianna stepped off the staircase and levitated across the hall to hang high above the plaza. She saw Lucius try to evade the Preacher Divine’s attacks as the two crossed the bridge, and she swooped to deliver an early end to the fight.

Screaming like a harpy as she plummeted, she unleashed rocketing balls of compressed air, each as hard as a rock. The salvo impacted around both men below, and she heard Lucius cry out in surprise as he was thrown off his feet.

The Preacher Divine reacted faster, and she saw him brace for the assault, his staff spinning in his hands as it deflected her magic away from him to expend its energy harmlessly against the buildings lining the bridge. Small shards of stone were splintered from the buildings but they otherwise resisted the attack. In return, the Preacher Divine altered the rhythm of his staff, keeping it spinning in front of him but adding a flourish to every rotation that cracked off a bolt of energy from its tip, sailing at speed back up to her.

Twisting in mid-air, Adrianna looped and spun to avoid the Preacher Divine’s attacks, all the while continuing her own rain of destruction down upon him. Together, they traded magical blows and counterpunches in a fearsome display of arcane skill and power.

T
ELLMORE HELD UP
a hand to halt his small column of soldiers. Cocking his head to one side as he drew the prism from a concealed pocket, he tried to work out who was fighting and how they were faring.

“Two – no, three wizards ahead,” Tellmore said quietly to Renauld. “It would appear we are the last to arrive.”

“So long as we are the only ones to leave. I’ll be a great deal happier when they are dead,” Renauld said.

“One using natural magic, the other... something else. I can guess that would be the Vos agent, though.”

“You said there was a third?”

“Yes. Faint, but it is there. Trying to avoid battle, not face it head on. Our Shadowmage, I fancy. If he is not waging full-blooded war, we may be lucky.”

“Especially if the other two take each other out.”

Tellmore nodded. “Well, it has been known, Sir Renauld, it has been known. However, I won’t count on it. Come, let us see what confronts us.”

As they reached the great hall, Tellmore heard the gasps of astonishment from the men-at-arms as they saw the huge interior but he immediately focussed on the pitched battle between Adrianna and the Vos agent.

The Shadowmage was using her magic to stay airborne and mobile, proving a difficult target to hit as she dove, unleashed an attack and then twisted out of the way of the inevitable reprisal. Below her, the Vos man was using his staff to block her attacks while delivering his own. That at least answered the question of the fourth practitioner of magic and the strange divinations Tellmore had gained from his prism.

Tellmore could plainly see the folly of the man’s position – he might be well matched against the Shadowmage while his staff remained at full power, but such items had a habit of fading during prolonged use and he would not bet a bucket of horse dung on the man’s future after that. Frankly, the odds would not be good as they stood right now, if Adrianna’s reputation was anything to go by. One slip, and the Vos man would be dead.

He could not see Lucius from his vantage point, but that did not surprise him. No doubt the Shadowmage was hiding, seeking to gain an advantage over his opponents or, perhaps, simply escape.

“Spread your men out,” Tellmore said to Renauld, and the order brought a frown to the knight’s face.

“Your pardon, Magister, but will you be able to protect us if we are strung so far out?”

“It is a risk, but one worth taking, I think. They are too focussed on their own battle at the moment, giving us the upper hand. You stick with me, and we’ll go down to pick our time to attack. Your men will be safely out of the way until we are ready to act. Make sure they keep their heads down, and we can catch everyone off guard. Think of it as an ambush – with a bit of magical support from me, of course.”

Renauld smiled as he considered the plan.

“I like that, Magister. We’ll see it done.”

“Good, good,” Tellmore muttered, as much to himself as the knight, who busied himself giving orders and directing his men to their hiding places.

Tellmore then directed his full attention to Adrianna and the Vos man, watching their battle, studying their methods and abilities. The potential within Adrianna was readily apparent, and Tellmore did not look forward to confronting her. If possible, he would evade her completely; that was not cowardice, just common sense.

The Vos man he was more comfortable with. With any luck, the man would be killed by Adrianna or otherwise have his staff, his only source of magical power, completely drained in his duel. If Tellmore picked his time correctly, there would be no danger there.

Casting his eyes across the other bridges and plaza, Tellmore could see no sign of Lucius.

The presence of Adrianna and the Vos man complicated things, certainly, but Tellmore clung to the hope that, somehow, his course of action would suddenly appear clear and simple.

S
KIDDING TO A
halt inside one of the stone buildings ringing the plaza, Lucius fought to control his breathing lest it give him away. There was little chance of that, given the cacophony of Adrianna’s duel with the Preacher Divine.

Entering one of the houses, Lucius inched forward to take position beneath a window. Through its perfect transparency, he could see the centre of the empty plaza and, while he could still feel the tug of the Guardian Starlight suggesting he make his way there, it was depressingly far away. Simply sauntering across the open ground would be suicidal.

Outside, the magical duel came to a sudden end. Briefly, Lucius felt guilty as he found himself hoping it was Adrianna who had fallen; he might have a chance in open confrontation if it were the Preacher Divine who had survived.

Any such wishes were quickly dashed as a breeze fluttered through the building, quickly building up to a gale. Dust began to drift down from the ceiling as the entire building began to shake violently. A giant crack caused Lucius to peer up through the descending dust as light penetrated the ceiling through cracks that quickly spread across its surface. With a wild wrenching movement, the ceiling gave way, breaking apart as it tumbled onto the concourse.

Adrianna rose into view above him. Her fire-scarred face held a baleful look.

“You will not escape me again, Lucius,” she cried out above the howling of the gale. “The Guardian Starlight is mine!”

“You have become twisted, Aidy. You are the
last
person who should have it!”

“It has corrupted you, don’t you see, Lucius?” Adrianna said as the gale died down and she drifted towards him. “You do not have the knowledge or the will to control an artefact of the elves. It would be better if you simply gave it to me.”

“It doesn’t want you. I know that much. Whatever this thing is, it chose me. It is in my blood, Aidy, that is why it wanted me. I have some connection to the elves, however diluted by the years since their passing. No amount of study can replace that.”