The Shadowmage Trilogy (Twilight of Kerberos: The Shadowmage Books) (99 page)

Now deep within the World’s Ridge Mountains, Lucius had, with some regret, abandoned his horse days ago and proceeded on foot, drawn on by a growing conviction he felt emanating from the Guardian Starlight. He had seen more of the brutish creatures he encountered before, and they seemed to congregate in immense tribes. The chances of his horse surviving with those savages marauding were low.

Once, he had seen a creature very similar to those misshapen beings, but this one had been a real monster. Standing at least ten feet tall, so far as Lucius could tell while trying to avoid its notice, it had the same hard, leathery skin as the other creatures, the same stooped gait, but was far more muscular. Its arms, thighs and chest bulged with power, and Lucius had no problems imagining the monster uprooting a tree or tearing his arms from his body with brute force. Fortunately, it had not seemed very attentive to its surroundings, and he had been able to sneak past without provoking it.

As he walked cautiously under the arch, Lucius noticed that strange writing was carved into its stone frame, some script he could not decipher. Looking up, he saw it continued far above his head, perhaps up to the very tip of the arch. This simple entrance could have swallowed one of the towers of the Citadel, and still have plenty of room to spare.

Lucius had already guessed the Guardian Starlight had led him to an ancient dwarf stronghold, and he felt the architecture confirmed this, having the same form and function as the structures he had seen in his dreams. Everything the dwarfs had built seemed to have an air of indestructibility about it, a sense of permanence.

The darkness inside the archway was soon broken by a spell of illumination as he held up an open hand upon which danced a pale blue flame. It revealed a wide hall bored into the mountain. He could feel the emptiness around him, the sense of being in a wide open space, and he fed more magic into the spell until the blue flame shone with a brilliant radiance.

It did not help greatly.

Peering into the gloom, Lucius could make out the shadowy form of one wall to his left, but its opposite was still shrouded in darkness and he could only guess at how far above him the ceiling lay. It was as if the dwarfs had built everything for people a hundred feet tall.

Not even the sounds of his footsteps echoed within the hall, any such noise hopelessly swallowed by the immense interior.

A slight tug pulled at his magical senses, a familiar nudge he had long ago associated with the Guardian Starlight. It had led him to this place, that much was clear, and he had at first thought it was leading him to safety. Now, as the feelings dancing at the edge of his arcane vision grew stronger and more persistent, he was not so sure. It was as if there were a great weight threatening to press down upon him, hidden yet obviously there, much like the ceiling of this great hall, millions of tons of rock supported by a barrier invisible to him in the darkness. Quite what that weight was, he did not know, but its presence had a sense of destiny to it, a final end.

Whether it was for him or the Guardian Starlight though, he could not answer. Lucius was content to follow its directions for the moment as it had not led him astray yet and he was all too aware of the magical wrath incarnate that was Adrianna not far behind him.

As he walked further into the mountain, Lucius began to realise that, while covered by the dust of ages, the hall was otherwise remarkably clean. The archway had borne no door or barrier, and he had expected to be fighting his way through more of the savage tribal creatures, but there was no evidence they had ever ventured inside. There was no nests, bones or bodily waste scattered about. It was possible they had never found this place. Possible, but unlikely. He guessed they knew every inch of their environment. Which begged the question, why had they not used this place as shelter?

One hand on his sword’s pommel, the other never straying far from the Guardian Starlight, Lucius continued down the hall until he reached its end. There he saw a sight more incredible than any he had witnessed before.

H
ANDS SPLAYED ACROSS
the rock, Alhmanic pulled himself forward to get a better look at the figure walking cautiously into the immense archway. His staff had led him this far, and he was sure the man he now followed was the same Shadowmage that had attacked his camp. He could not see the other, far more dangerous one, but that was fine as far as he was concerned. It would make the next step all the easier.

The Preacher Divine was dishevelled, filthy. He was exhausted and hungry, but all thoughts of discomfort fled the moment he saw his quarry.

After the Shadowmages had left the site of the elven ruins, Alhmanic had scoured the surrounding area for a horse, then had ridden, hard, southwards, led by the rumbling vibrations his staff emitted as it tracked the elven artefact, as a hound fixates on a fox. He had ridden his horse harshly, cruelly, and with all speed until its heart simply gave out.

A nearby farm had supplied another mount, requisitioned in the name of the Anointed Lord, blessed be those who give her succour. Throughout the Territories and into southern Pontaine, Alhmanic had requisitioned, bargained, and bullied common folk for their horses and whenever that had not worked, he flat out stole them.

It was all for the greater good, he reminded himself. Those farmers and craftsmen eking out an existence away from the cities were doing God’s own work by providing him with a horse. Even if they did not realise it until after the fact.

All the time, he chased the elusive Shadowmage who had disappeared into the darkness of the huge archway, a brief blue light flaring up from within as he cast a spell to help him see. Alhmanic needed no such tricks, having learned long ago that faith alone could make a blind man see. Well, faith and an enchanted staff.

Alhmanic unlimbered his weapon and felt its power course through his hands. He felt that it knew he was close to journey’s end, that the artefact was within his grasp.

No more almost this time. He would enter that archway and claim his prize, or die in the doing.

H
ITTING THE GROUND
hard, Adrianna tried to roll with the impact but her limbs would not obey her commands. The impact forced the breath from her body and, for a moment, she lay still on the stony ground, chest rising and falling as she drew in air. Eyes closed, she rested both body and mind. It would be a battle, she was sure. Lucius
had
to know that she would not take his betrayal lightly. He
had
to know there would be a terrible price to pay.

She had not yet thought exactly what course her retribution would take. Maybe, just maybe, if Lucius surrendered and handed over the Guardian Starlight, she would spare him. The wretched thief had had his uses in the past, after all.

Adrianna opened her eyes and took another deep breath. Just a little longer, she told herself. Rest just a little longer and get some of your strength back.

She had been so close to cornering Lucius in Turnitia, his presence still lingering within its walls as she walked its streets. She had arrived perhaps just an hour or two, no more than that, after he had departed.

The race across the Anclas Territories had taken its toll, draining her body and leaving her weak. And so, Adrianna had continued her pursuit of Lucius on horse, sparing her magic and allowing her to regain her sapped energy. There were, after all, few places he could run to, and none that would shield him from her. She was already close to him, and now it was only a matter of time before he was caught and the Guardian Starlight became hers.

Then the real work would start.

Lucius’ course did not surprise her, making a crow’s line to the southern mountains. After all, where else could he try to hide but in the trackless wilderness?

Her problems began as she entered the foothills. Ambushed by a large ogre, Adrianna had lost her horse to a blow from a wickedly heavy club before she had blasted the creature into the earth. From that point, she had been forced to use her magic to travel again.

After the encounter with the ogre, a tribe of orcs had dared cross her path. None would make that mistake again, though more time had been wasted as she tracked the last fleeing creatures to properly demonstrate the folly of attacking a Shadowmage.

That had fired her emotions and the old anger came back. Adrianna embraced it, used it to counter fatigue and fuel her spells, feeding it directly into the magic. The effect was almost explosive, and she shot into the sky once more, the air rushing past her at eye-watering speed. The Guardian Starlight was close, she felt as though she could almost reach out and touch it. The foothills sped past below, a blur of browns and greys interrupted only by patches of sparse vegetation clinging to life among the rocks.

As Adrianna lost altitude, the spell of transportation beginning to wane in power, she spied a remarkable structure coming into view. The rugged mountains gave up their secret, a huge archway built into the rock face, obviously dwarven in construction. A single pulse of magic, released with a single word from her lips, confirmed that Lucius had gone inside.

She had no idea why Lucius had come to this place nor how he knew of its existence. Indeed, Adrianna had been half-expecting the Guardian Starlight to lead him to some abandoned elven outpost like the one it had been recovered from, perhaps directing him to what it perceived as safety.

Whatever his reasons, he was now within the dwarven fortress. Trapped, and alone. It was now only a matter of time.

The Guardian Starlight was as good as hers.

C
ATCHING THE SUN
briefly, the prism in Tellmore’s hand flashed with blinding white light, causing him to wince as he continued to stare into its depths. He tuned the discomfort out, along with the clattering of armoured soldiers behind him and the growing cold of the wind. Through the prism, his mind soared, seeing a ghostly representation of the terrain around him, as well as the tell-tale glowing blood-red spots that marked the positions of the three other practitioners who were close by.

Tellmore sighed, seeing the trouble ahead that had become inevitable, and this caused a worried Renauld to hover at his shoulder.

“Is something awry, Magister?” Renauld asked.

Frowning, Tellmore considered this before answering.

“Perhaps...” he said, then hesitated. “Maybe an opportunity, it is difficult to say at the moment. There are other wielders of magic here.”

“Other wizards?” Renauld said, a degree of apprehension in his voice.

“Stand firm, Renauld,” he said. “And remember, the lowliest man-at-arms can strike down the greatest wizard if he is close enough. We just need to close the range.”

Renauld looked doubtful at this, but said no more.

“I can at least see them all through this,” Tellmore said, holding up the prism once again. “They will not be in a position to surprise us.”

Tellmore and Renauld had headed a column of twelve mounted men-at-arms, but had been forced to abandon their horses as the terrain turned against them. Dispatched by the Baron de Sousse, Tellmore had been left under no illusions that he was now expected to complete his mission to retrieve the Guardian Starlight, and return to Turnitia in time to join the first invasion force. Even now, the first of the baron’s allies were arriving in the city, leading their troops which were being garrisoned within the Citadel.

To this end, Tellmore had cast a spell of enchantment within his finest glass prism, one he had ground into shape himself over many months. It was as near perfect as any in Vos or Pontaine and he was using the spell to track the Guardian Starlight and the “interested parties”, as the baron had described them, who were pursuing it.

Sir Renauld and the men-at-arms would give Tellmore an advantage in any confrontation with the other practitioners of magic, but Tellmore knew he could not rely upon them for victory. Shadowmages were crafty opponents, and Adrianna was as powerful as any wizard Tellmore had seen in his life. He regarded her as a formidable opponent. Lucius, less so, but the man was still a thief and in Tellmore’s mind that made him damn near an assassin – the thought of a knife in the back in some dark corner of this wilderness was not an appealing one.

And then there was the third participant in this little drama. Tellmore had not been able to divine who this was but both he and the baron had assumed it was some agent of Vos, perhaps connected to the force that had destroyed their camp in the Anclas Territories. Through the prism, the shifts and twists in the forces of magic marked the agent as no wizard but the bearer of a powerful artefact – perhaps some relic if they were truly from Vos. Tellmore had little experience of such things, though he had studied them in the Three Towers and knew not to underestimate the power of the Final Faith in creating offensive magic from the belongings of their saints.

He turned to face Renauld.

“If we are attacked by magic, I want you and your men to stay close to me,” he said. “I will do everything I can to protect you and keep our enemies off balance. When the opportunity arises, follow my lead and strike. I would be quite as happy to see them fall to a sword in the throat as from one of my spells.”

Renauld nodded. “Understood and agreed, Magister. I know you are no glory hound.”