Twilight of Kerberos - [Shadowmage 01-03] - The Shadowmage Trilogy (Shadowmage; Night's Haunting; Legacy's Price) (94 page)

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.”

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.