Doors of the Dark Read online

  She sighed and turned to Idrimel. “How about we make a deal? You lot help us find our friend, and then once he is safe, I’ll consider taking on your mad quest to save the multiverse. Notice I said consider, not will.”

  And hopefully this madness all starts to make sense after that. She pushed thoughts of the Engineer out of her head. Just find the bracer. Find Malek. If I live another day after that, then there’s time to decide what’s to be done.

  “You’ll consider helping us?” Athyzon’s deep voice raised in disbelief. “So we risk our lives and squander who knows how much time trying to find this mage of yours, and then you might just walk away? It could very well be too late at that point.” His face hardened, and he began shaking his head. “Idrimel, I knew this was a poor idea, counting on some—” He cut off at a look from his sister.

  Nera glared at Athyzon. “Go on.” She motioned for him to continue. “Were you about to refer to my racial heritage? You wouldn’t be the first nor last. What I haven’t yet heard is the part about what’s in it for me by risking my hide to save your precious home world.”

  “You’ve got some nerve—”

  Idrimel shushed her brother with a hand on his gauntlet. She smiled at Nera although it seemed a bit forced. “We’d be honored to join your search for your friend, Nera, wouldn’t we?” She looked at her brother and Yosrick pointedly. “She may not yet see the will of the gods in our quest, as we have been so blessed by Sol.”

  The gnome raised his ale in a salute before downing a draught. Looking as if doing so pained him, Athyzon finally nodded curtly in agreement, struggling to hold back a scowl.

  “Well then, if everyone is agreed…?” Nera looked around at her companions.

  Waresh grunted noncommittally while Endira nodded.

  “So, it’s decided then. It just so happens Endira and Waresh were about to join me on a… um, necessary task for our quest. So drink up—just don’t get too comfortable. We’ve much work to do yet tonight, and you all can prove your worth. We have to get into the Noble District, steal an artifact without raising the ire of an undead arsehole, and get away clean. That’s just the first day. After that, we travel to the Gray Lands.”

  Nera laughed aloud, unable to help herself, at the looks of shock on all their faces. I’d laugh at myself too if I heard those foolish words come outta my mouth just a week ago. Her mood quickly sobered as the gravity of the situation sank in. Bloody hell, I wish Arron and Malek were here.

  She took another draught of ale before taking a long look over the group seated around her—her new companions.

  What a motley bunch of arseholes we are. This is gonna take Sabyl’s own luck for us to simply make it through the night and not end up killing each other.

  Chapter 8

  “Are ye sure this is the right place, fiendling?” Waresh eyed the decrepit manor house dubiously. “I doubt there’s anything living here other than vermin.” He hitched up his belt and spat on the ground.

  “Vermin. That’s one way to look at it, dwarf,” Nera acknowledged. A nasty piece of vermin who preys on the living. The last time she had entered the manor, she barely escaped with her life. Although the owner was likely still imprisoned—she hoped—the estate looked even more foreboding in its current state of decay.

  Cast-iron gates hung crooked from hinges mounted on the high stone wall encircling the estate. What had once been impeccably manicured gardens were overgrown and weed choked. Moss and lichen clung to walls as if struggling to pry the stones free from the mortar.

  Their journey through a hidden tunnel had been uneventful despite Nera’s fears the passage had been discovered and guarded or walled off. The guild used it to traffic goods and persons in and out of the Noble District, unseen from prying eyes. The tunnel appeared to still be in use, as evidenced by the lack of a layer of dust on the floor and cobwebs.

  The passage had ended in an old coach house, which seemed abandoned, standing in an overgrown corner of a property dominated by a large manse. The grounds were deserted, and they were able to slip out to the street unnoticed. Nera suspected the guild owned the property. The past few times she’d passed through, it was equally unoccupied.

  The quiet, tree-lined avenue of the Noble District onto which they exited seemed a world apart from the rest of Nexus. A complex irrigation system pumped water into the district from the Molten Canal, providing the nobility with their prized trees and gardens. Nera couldn’t really blame them much. She rather enjoyed the greenery, and had she a family with the right blood and great wealth of clink, she would have wanted the same.

  They passed a patrol of mercenaries headed in the opposite direction, who barely spared them a second glance, and made it to Zaefir’s property a few minutes later, unchallenged.

  “This place has an ill feel to it,” Idrimel clutched her holy symbol tightly in one hand, face pale as she regarded the estate. “The living are unwelcome here.”

  At Nera’s insistence, the plane-blessed siblings were cloaked and wore their cowls pulled low. Without that precaution, they would have drawn far too much attention for her liking.

  “Mmm… depends what you mean by ‘welcome.’ I doubt the undead would object to the opportunity for a feast—especially on such lovely flesh as yourself and your brother there.” Nera smirked at the siblings. “Zaefir the Undying, this one called himself. Ancient, pompous, and a strong thirst for blood.” Nera stepped up to the gate with more confidence than she actually felt, but she had to act the part as the reluctant leader.

  “I’ve heard of this Zaefir,” Endira said quietly. “He was once an influential noble whom some claim has dwelled in this manor ever since it was constructed shortly after Nexus itself, millennia ago. Rumor has it he was a loyal servant of Shaol who was granted immortality for vile service performed for his god.”

  “I do not like the sound of that,” Athyzon interjected. “Perhaps this one is best not to be trifled with, then.”

  “What’s wrong? You scared, O blessed one?” Nera asked. “I’ve got two mighty servants of Sol, one a paladin no less; a stout dwarven warrior; an elven mind-bender; and a uh… whatever you are.” She nodded at the gnome. “Surely this doesn’t frighten you lot? It only took four of us to put the Undying in his place the last time we were here.” Despite her attempts at bluster, she felt the chill touch of fear run down her spine at the prospect of entering the dreaded manse again.

  We got lucky the last time—that could’ve turned out much worse. Nera grasped one bar on the wrought-iron gate. Inside, the compound was eerily silent. Who knows if that undead bastard has gotten free in the past years?

  “Do you speak truly?” Endira asked, stepping up beside her. “It is said Zaefir mysteriously disappeared around a decade ago.”

  “What does ‘put in his place’ mean?” Athyzon asked. “Does he still live or not?”

  “More like twelve years if I remember right.” Nera shrugged. “Last I saw him, he was imprisoned in a block of stone. Now, if we’re all finished standing around out here, our business awaits. Unlike the Undying, we don’t have an eternity.”

  Before she could lose her nerve, Nera slipped through the gap between the crooked gates. The noise of the city suddenly became muted, as if a magical pall of silence was cloaked over the property. The only sound she could detect other than her breathing was the chirping of a lonely cricket somewhere in the undergrowth.

  Looking back, she saw the party still standing a few paces away, watching her, various expressions of unease on their faces. After a moment, the gnome shrugged and stumped forward. Even his normal clamor of armor seemed hushed. He grunted and shoved against the iron gate, causing it to emit a screech, which made the hair stand up on the back of Nera’s neck. The harsh sound seemed to snap the others out of their stupor, and they quickly joined the gnome, passing through the gate and onto the grounds.

  “There’s a light on in the manor,” Yosrick observed. “I thought you weren’t expecting anyone to be residing here.
”

  “So there is. And no, I wasn’t although I wouldn’t put anything past that evil bastard. Keep your wits about you and your weapons ready,” Nera replied. She nervously eyed the faint, flickering light in a side window. “Let me take the lead while the rest of you hang back about twenty paces or so.”

  The others seemed content with that idea, so she quickly started up the main pathway leading up to the manor. Once, horse-drawn carriages had traveled up to the circular courtyard before the wide staircase and disgorged their noble passengers to attend some ball or other event. As if by second nature, she placed each foot carefully and moved in a slight crouch that she hoped would allow her to evade any trap or ambush she might encounter. Overgrown bushes and tree limbs intruded on the once-immaculate lane. The shadows could only hope to be as silent as Nera as she approached the manor.

  All was still until she reached the edge of the circle before the wide staircase. A bush rustled from just off to her right, giving her pause. A pale rodent the size of a cat squirted out from below a bush and raced up to the building, where it disappeared around the corner.

  With a glance backward, she saw her companions making their way up the lane. Despite their attempts to move quietly, she cringed at the noise from the warriors’ armor, particularly the gnome and the dwarf. Nera held up a hand for them to hold their place.

  Those bastards make as much noise as a troop of drunken dwarves at a victory celebration.

  When the group stopped, she darted across the open courtyard. She passed a crumbling fountain that had stopped flowing long ago, then slipped into the shadows at the base of a wide set of stairs leading up to the main floor above. She took a couple deep breaths, fighting to remain calm while listening intently for any sounds of alarm within the manor, which would indicate they had been noticed.

  Nothing stirred. After silently counting a couple minutes, she stepped out of the shadows and waved her companions forward. They made it without incident, crowding up against the wall. More than one set of knuckles was white over the hilt of a weapon, Nera noted.

  “Great evil emanates from this building, as if the stones themselves absorbed the foul aura of the master of this demesne. The blood of many innocents has been shed here.” Idrimel clasped her holy symbol and made a gesture for Sol’s protection.

  “You don’t know the half of it,” Nera replied. “Human cattle were locked in the dungeons below here, their blood siphoned off bit by bit so their master and his thralls could cheat death.”

  Idrimel paled, eyes darting around nervously.

  Athyzon placed a gauntleted hand on his sister’s shoulder. “Take heart, for Sol protects us from whatever filth cowers inside. Let us be on with this distasteful task, Nera.”

  “Very well. Around the side of the manor is a grated window to the dungeon. I picked the lock the previous time I was here, and seeing the sorry state of the grounds, I’d wager we can still get through there.”

  “We’ll follow you,” Endira whispered.

  The grated window was hidden behind an overgrown thorn bush. Nera could almost hear the whispered plea for help coming from the window as it had so many years ago, which had led her, Arron, and their friends into confrontation with Zaefir and his minions.

  Nera was about to try to slither under the bush when Yosrick stepped forward and shoved the thorny branches aside, pushing them back with his shield and clearing the way. Nera nodded in thanks and crouched down to examine the window.

  A musty stench laced with carrion wafted from the dungeon. The old lock lay on the ground where she had left it. She remembered how they had pulled it shut behind them to avoid alerting any of Zaefir’s thralls. During their escape, they had rushed out through the front door.

  Nera pulled a tiny flask of oil from a pouch at her waist and drizzled some over the hinges. After replacing the flask, she gripped the rusty bars and pulled, the lean muscles in her arms and legs bunching. The grate shifted slightly but wouldn’t open.

  Waresh knelt beside her and grasped the bars with his thick hands. With the dwarf’s added strength, the two of them were able to easily force it open with a faint scraping sound.

  “Huh. I reckon most of us won’t fit through there,” Waresh observed. “Perhaps ye and the elvish lass.”

  “Aye. If Endira joins me, we can clear the way to the main doors and open them from within.”

  Everyone nodded agreement. The rest save for Endira retreated to the front of the manor while Nera slipped through the window and down into the dungeon. She could remember the pale child from years before, whose cell she’d entered. The prisoners were all gone now, most rescued, but a few had perished in the attempt. The feeling of selfless pride in rescuing those victims had been new to her, a feeling not undesirable. The pleased look in Arron’s eyes afterward had made it all worthwhile to her.

  “Is it clear?” Endira whispered.

  Shaking off the memories, Nera peered out into the gloomy hall. Nothing stirred within. “Come on—all’s quiet.”

  Endira slipped through the window nearly as easily as Nera had.

  The dim light through the window barely illuminated past the cell. Before Nera could activate her earring’s faint light, Endira’s skin began glowing with a pale, yellowish nimbus. The effect was subtle, unlike a torch or lantern, allowing the eyes to adjust on their own to make out detail in the darkness.

  “Nice trick,” Nera said, and Endira smiled in return.

  Something crunched faintly underfoot when they stepped out into the hallway. A closer glance revealed the skeletons of rodents strewn throughout the hallway. Taking care to avoid stepping on the bones and making noise, they crept down the hallway toward the stairs.

  “Ye’re a tasty morsel, ain’t ya?” The voice came from around the corner ahead, causing them to freeze. A crunching sound was followed by slurping.

  Nera signaled Endira to wait and crept up to the corner. Peering around, she saw a gaunt figure sitting on the stairs. Blood dripped from the man’s chin. A fat, headless rodent was in his grasp, possibly the same one she had seen outside the manor.

  The man tore another chunk of meat free from the rat, smacking his lips as he chewed. “Mmm, yes, the Master provides for us,” he mumbled around the mouthful of rodent.

  “One of the thralls,” Nera whispered back to Endira. “I’ll take care of him.”

  She palmed one of her throwing knives and edged around the corner. The man was intent on his snack and didn’t see her. A low whistle from Nera caused the man’s head to jerk up, and his eyes widened.

  A quick flick of her wrist sent the knife sailing down the hall. It plunged into the man’s forehead with a wet sound. He slumped over, his snack falling from his hand a moment later.

  The two of them slipped past the dead thrall and made it to the main door upstairs without further incident. The grand entry hall was filled with rodent droppings and cobwebs. Dusty oil paintings, decorative statues, and vases lined the hall, some of which could probably fetch a fair price, but Nera wasn’t thinking about loot. Her only goal was to recover the bracer and get away.

  Footsteps through the dust indicated where Zaefir’s thralls made their way about the manor. The doors had been secured since Nera’s previous escape—a thick wooden beam barred the towering double doors. She and Endira set the beam aside and unlocked the doors, which fortunately made almost no sound when pulled open.

  Nera gave a low whistle. The others appeared at the top of the stairs a moment later and joined them inside the hall.

  “Any trouble?” Athyzon asked.

  “Found one of the thralls down below, munching on a rodent. Other than that, nothing,” Nera replied.

  They went back down the path to the dungeon. Passing the cell they had entered, they advanced down a long hallway past a number of other cells. Nera remembered the prisoners slumped within, covered in scars and scabs from where they had been drained of blood to feed Zaefir.

  At the end of the hall was another stairca
se leading downward. A glow of candlelight flickered below. The group quietly made their way down and into a large sanctum. Lighted tapers burned around the perimeter of the room. At its center, just as Nera remembered, was the statue.

  Twice the height of a man, a huge slab of black basalt had been carved into the terrifying likeness of Shaol, Lord of the Abyss. The humanoid figure was broad across the chest, with massive shoulders and heavily muscled arms ending in taloned hands. Folded wings sprouted from the creature’s back. The horned monster’s eyes were ruby gemstones, which held a faint glow as if lit from within by flame.

  Nera stopped, afraid to make a move. She didn’t think the eyes had glowed the last time she had been there. A nearly palpable presence filled the room, and a chill ran down her spine. Skeletons lay where they had fallen around the room as a result of the desperate battle she and her companions had fought years before against Zaefir and his minions.

  A shadow moved near the base of the statue, and a cadaverous, hunched figure clambered to its feet and squinted at the party.

  “You… you’re the one!” A bony finger pointed at Nera. “I remember you casting the Master into the stone.” The thrall bared his teeth, and his eyes gleamed in hatred as he lurched toward them. “He yet lives—you cannot kill the Undying! He speaks to me through the stone, and I obey. He craves blood… sustenance… more than life itself. Your blood will right a wrong!” He threw back his head and let out a nearly ear-shattering screech before throwing himself at Nera.

  Before Nera could react, a flash of light swept past her, and the pathetic creature tumbled into three pieces, forearm and head severed from the body by Athyzon’s greatsword.

  Nera nodded her thanks to the paladin as he stepped aside.

  “Sol, grant us the blessing of your light and drive out the darkness of evil from this place,” Idrimel intoned. Her holy symbol blazed with light, and Nera had to squint against it. The glow bathed the party, but stopped halfway across the room as if striking an invisible force. Darkness seemed to pour from the statue, like an inky fountain, resisting Idrimel’s spell.