Dark Legion Read online

  “This passage has seen a lot of use,” he said.

  “Well… I doubt someone would build an underground passage like that if they didn’t intend to use it,” I said.

  “Fair point. But look at the ground—there are a lot of tracks. “And there,” he said pointing into the woods, “is a path that leads into the forest. A single path.”

  “What is its purpose, do you suppose?”

  “At a guess… I think it was used to smuggle goods in and out of Sagemont.”

  “I don’t know, that passage looks pretty old,” I said.

  “Yeah. I doubt Elijah built it. Let’s see where this path leads.”

  “We’re going into the forest at night?” I asked as I looked out into the darkness, but it called to me as the passage had. “Why not camp here till dawn?”

  “How long do you suppose it will take before the Dark Legion ventures into the cellar? You don’t think they’ll follow that passage to this very spot? I want to be at the end of this path before the Inquisition gets there to ask tricky questions.”

  “Why follow the path at all?” I asked, but I knew. It called to him, too.

  “Adventure? Curiosity? I don’t know…”

  “Well, it beats going back into that passage without a torch,” I said.

  Marcus slid the door back into place. It was a large timber board that was covered in dirt that had grass growing in it. When it was back in place, it was hard to spot—or it would have been, were it not for the footprints leading to the grassy mound.

  We set off along the track and walked for about an hour before the path split into three. The surrounding forest had become denser the further we’d walked, and I could not see far down any of the paths. The call… Call to what? Adventure? Whatever it was, the thing that had called me into the passage and then down the forest path was gone.

  “I say we make camp,” Marcus announced. “I’m standing right next to you, and I can’t even see your sneering face.”

  “By ‘make camp,’ you mean we sleep in the mud, right?”

  “Pretty much.”

  I grunted in disapproval.

  I woke, surprised that I slept at all. My clothes were damp, just short of soaked, and I cupped my hands to blow hot breath into them, rubbing them together. I would have killed for a fire. And a hot coffee; the things I would have done for a coffee.

  Dawn had barely broken, and I saw Marcus crouching next to a path that led up a ridge. “Morning,” I said. Marcus shook his head and did not respond. “What’s wrong?”

  After a long pause, Marcus said, “Last night, the path split into three. Now, I see only one path.”

  “It was dark. I thought it did too, but maybe we were mistaken?”

  “Maybe…” Marcus stood up and shook his head again as he started down the path.

  An hour later we crested the ridge, and I tugged on Marcus’s coat. I pointed down the valley below at the cleared line of forest I’d seen from the old tree.

  “Look, it’s that construction project I told you about. The one they are bringing all the slaves in for.”

  Marcus stared down into the valley. “That’s not the same one, but I see it.”

  “It’s not?”

  “Do you see the lake?” Marcus asked.

  I looked. I could see a long way from our vantage point, but the lake was nowhere to be seen. “Shouldn’t I be seeing the lake?”

  “Yes, you should,” Marcus said, nodding. “Something… strange has happened. We have been walking for a long time, true, but we are a long way from Sagemont. Impossibly far.”

  We were staring down at the valley for a while longer when a raven landed in a tree nearby. It cawed at us. I walked toward it and tried to shoo it away. But the bird just looked at me until I was close, then flew to the next tree. And so Marcus, the raven, and I made our way down the path.

  We walked for a long time, and my legs ached. I asked if we could rest, but Marcus kept walking. I had never seen the man so nervous. His hand frequently went to the hilt of his sword, checking it was where he left it. The call was back too, ever tugging us forward.

  At long last, Marcus agreed to a rest, and we sat on a large boulder protruding out over a steep cliff. The sun beat down on me, and from its position it looked close to midday. Below us, forest stretched out to the horizon, and canyons marred the terrain. There was no sign of human life to be seen. The only sound was that of birds, cicadas, and the rivers that flowed through the canyons below, cutting ever deeper. Above, a flying reptile glided in lazy circles.

  “Do you think we should turn back?” I asked.

  Marcus shook his head. “I am not convinced we would get back where we started. Forces are at play, I am convinced of it. Whether for good or bad, I intend to see what they want with us.” The raven cawed, and Marcus stared at the bird, baring his teeth. The raven did not seem concerned.

  Part of me was relieved. For reasons I could not explain, I desperately wanted to know what lay at the end of the path. I wondered if, as Marcus said, there were forces at play, or if it was simply the compulsion that all adventurers felt.

  I reached into my satchel and retrieved one of the small wheels of cheese I’d pinched from the imperial ship. I cut a thick slice and held it out to Marcus. He shook his head, then frowned and took it anyway. I sliced one for myself. Damn it, I should have taken more. It was delicious and strong, and it’s not like the princes still needed their cheese. I tossed the wax strip at the raven. It cawed, but remained where it was.

  A short while later, we stood and started walking again. Barely had we started when Marcus froze in his tracks. I peered past him. Straight ahead, nestled between two hills, stood a large mansion with smoke rising from its chimney. I sure as hells had not seen the house when we’d stopped to rest. It was a rather large thing to miss. The raven looked at us, cawed once more, and then flew to the mansion.

  Marcus’s hand was back on his hilt.

  We approached the mansion, keeping low. The place simply made no sense. Who in the hells would build something of that size in a location so remote? We snuck past the front door and around the mansion, but saw no one, and no other way into the house.

  “What do we do?” I asked.

  “Knock?” He still looked tense, but knock he did. There was no answer, so he knocked again and got the same response. I tried the door and found it unlocked. The hinges squeaked as I pushed the door open. “Hello? Anyone home?” Marcus yelled down the long corridor. He turned to me with a questioning look. I shrugged, and we went in.

  The floorboards creaked with each step we took. I looked at the walls as we crept along. Tapestries and paintings of all sizes covered the wall. Some depicted large battles, some beautiful landscapes, but most were portraits. I did not recognize any of the people depicted. Most were human, but there were also elves, and others… I had no name for. One of the paintings was familiar, though. Not the painting itself, but I had seen a crude copy of its subject before in a children’s storybook about brave adventurers delving into ruins, hunting a great treasure or some such. The painting was of an island chain that the book had claimed to be in White Lake. I wondered if the author had just copied this painting without knowing the island’s true location. The one on the wall appeared to be an original, but it had no caption.

  We approached a door at the far end of the corridor. Marcus put his ear to the door for a long moment but evidently could not hear anything. He knocked on this door, too, but once again got no response. He took a deep breath as he slowly turned the doorknob and pushed it open.

  I screamed.

  A large reptile stood in the door, facing us. It stood on two legs and matched me for height. Razor-sharp teeth protruded from its mouth. Marcus drew his blade and stabbed it deep into the creature’s chest. When he drew it out, the creature fell but remained rigid. It did not move. It never moved. Marcus crouched beside it and punched at it. A hollow beat resonated from its open mouth. A stuffed reptile? Why?
/>   Loud laughter erupted from around the corner. Marcus stood, readied his blade again, and leapt through the door, dropping into a fighting stance. There was a loud crash, then a curse, and the laughter continued. Marcus looked confused. I walked through the door. An old man lay next to a toppled chair behind a desk. The laughter came from him.

  The old man stood up and caught his breath before picking up his chair. He righted it and looked at us as he sat down. He smiled broadly as he gestured for us to join him.

  “Gentleman… sit, sit. I have waited a long time to meet you. A very long time.”

  We sat facing the old man, and he sat smiling, looking from Marcus to me and back again. I felt uneasy in his presence. A cold sensation surged past me like a river. It resembled what I felt when naming was performed, but this… this was something else.

  As he moved his head, light reflected from his bizarre spectacles, catching me in the eye. I could not tell if the lenses were as thick as they appeared to be, but they were much smaller than any I had seen. The look of the man struck me as unusual in other ways, too. His long gray hair and beard clashed with his smooth skin.

  “Coffee?” he asked. “Should help with the somber mood. I do love the effect that coffee has on social gatherings. It makes things so much more hospitable.” He turned to a side table and retrieved a coffee pot and three cups. He filled the cups, placed one in front of each of us, and smiled with an expectant look on his face. When neither of us touched our cups, he sighed, causing his mustaches to flap about. He leaned back in his chair. “Fine, be difficult, then,” he said.

  “Why are we here?” Marcus asked.

  “Well… let’s see. You broke into my house and destroyed my decor.”

  “We knocked. You didn’t answer.” Marcus said.

  “So you just let yourselves in?” the old man asked. “A bit rude, isn’t it? It didn’t occur to you that perhaps an old man choosing to live as far away from others as I do might not want company?”

  “You said you were expecting us. Why?” I asked.

  The man smiled at me. I could not detect any malice; he was clearly finding humor in the exchange. I was not.

  “Let me introduce myself. My name is Malakai,” he said, folding his hands. His smile slowly dried up when we did not respond. “This is usually the point in these proceedings where you introduce yourselves. Hi, my name is Saul. Great to meet you, I am Marcus. No, the pleasure is all mine. Crazy weather we’ve been having. Oh, not as bad as last year. And so on, and so forth.”

  I looked at Marcus, who looked as confused as I felt. “You know our names,” Marcus said. “How do you know our names?”

  “I know a lot of names. I take great interest in the world around me, though I rarely participate directly.” Malakai said.

  “That really does not explain much,” I said.

  “Alas, you are right, child. And I regret that I can’t tell you much more about myself.”

  “Why are we here, then? You can tell us that, right?” Marcus asked again.

  “Some of my plans have gotten away from me recently,” Malakai said, drumming his fingers on his desk. “I am hoping that this meeting will nudge things back in the right direction. For one thing, my friend Elijah has been a naughty elf. Blowing up his inn and running for the hills… very naughty!”

  “You knew Elijah?” I asked. “How do you know he was responsible?”

  “His money troubles have been getting too much for him—he has spoken to me about it. When I first met him, he told me of his plans to burn the inn and fake his death. I offered to help him.”

  “You helped him burn the inn?” Marcus asked.

  “No, no, child. He needed money. So I gave him some, in exchange for goods and services. I have been conducting some very interesting experiments. Some time back, I acquired a whole lot of empty metal tubes. It occurred to me that if I could find a substance, preferably a liquid, that was combustible, I could engineer a way to make them shoot through the air for great distances. Wild fun!”

  “What does this have to do with Elijah?” I asked.

  “Well, initially I tried to use lamp oil. That… didn’t work at all. It created a big flame and singed my beard, but achieved little else. I needed something more combustible, something with more of a bang. Elijah’s father built a large distillery in his cellar decades ago. I offered to modify the still and let him process lamp oil into a more combustible liquid, in exchange for gold coins.”

  “Did it work?” I asked.

  “No… Not so much. It had more bang—a lot more bang. But exploding metal pipes were not what I was after. I fear Elijah used my liquid to achieve his own bang. An explosive event that has made a shambles of my plans,” Malakai said, frowning. “His selfishness has had repercussions that I am left to mend.”

  “And we are here because… “

  “Because I need you to help me set things right,” Malakai said.

  “And why would we do this?” I asked.

  “Because I can help you in turn.”

  “With what?”

  “With odds and ends. Like helping you with your planned visit to my old chum, Solas.”

  I felt my jaw drop. This old man knew too much. That, combined with the cold feeling washing over me, made me very scared of him. I was running through the list of poisons I had applied to the pins stuck in my sleeves, and fidgeted with the pins when the old man spoke again.

  “Saul… it saddens me to see what you have come to. I can’t say I blame you, but it is a sad thing to see how cheap a life has become for you. Put aside your dark thoughts for now and pay attention. I know this is an odd meeting. And I wish I could be more open with you. You will learn more, in time, but for now I want you to realize that I am offering you a mutually beneficial arrangement.”

  “Tell us what you want, and let us decide,” I said.

  “The Inquisition has its hands on one of my pawns. Neysa, will be put to the question. You know full well that their methods are lethal. You will help me get her out.”

  “Neysa is working for you?” I asked.

  “No, not yet. But she will. The girl has great potential. She has much to offer the world, and I will not see her die because of the foolishness of an elf.”

  “And how do you expect us to get her out of the Inquisition’s grasp.” I asked.

  “A trivial task,” Malakai said. He stood and made his way through the messy room. Instead of walking around the many things that cluttered the room, he clambered right over them. He climbed over several stacks of books and over a glass enclosure housing some exotic animal I did not recognize. He leapt over a half-finished painting on the floor and ducked between two species of stuffed reptile which were arranged in a sexual position. Finally, he made his way to a dusty cabinet on the far wall. As he opened it, a number of scrolls tumbled out. He left most where they lay, but picked one up, seemingly at random.

  “What’s with the reptiles?” Marcus asked, gesturing at the stuffed creatures.

  “I take great joy in arranging things just so,” he said with the scroll in hand. Taking a different route back to his desk, displaying no less athleticism, he sat down and placed the scroll in front of us.

  “Give her this scroll,” Malakai said, nudging it closer.

  “But how do we get her out?” I asked.

  “Don’t worry about it, just give her the scroll,” Malakai said. His brow furrowed in thought. “I don’t like taking such direct action, but there is no helping it in this case, I fear.” He smiled again, looking at us both.

  “This is ridiculous,” Marcus said, slamming a fist down on the desk. Coffee spilled from his cup, and a trickle ran toward the scroll. Malakai nudged the scroll away from the coffee, then sat back again. “You use some trick to get us to this place in the middle of Gods-damned nowhere; you somehow know our names, and Elijah’s and Neysa’s, too. Yet you have told us nothing about yourself. You then ask us to do an unusual but risky task for you and offer us nothing in re
turn. How do you expect this to go?”

  Malakai looked angry. I got the impression that he was not often refused. “Fine,” he said. “I’ll make this easier. Take the scroll and give it to Neysa!”

  As he spoke the words, the cold rushing past me became as ice. Marcus and I leapt at the scroll, but he beat me to it.

  I stared at the man. “How dare you do that?”

  “Like you haven’t done it dozens of times to others,” Malakai said. “You left me no choice. Too much hinges on this decision to leave it to free choice. Besides, if you two stopped being stubborn arses for just a moment, you might think long enough to realize that when Neysa speaks, and she will, you two will be in serious trouble.” Malakai leaned forward and sighed, the anger leaving his face. “I know, I know. I ask you to trust me and give you no reason to do so.” He opened a desk drawer and retrieved a piece of paper. It was folded in half and closed with a wax seal. He gave it to me. The black wax was imprinted with the image of a raven. I looked back at Malakai and raised an eyebrow.

  “Some answers, but none you will understand until the time is right.”

  “Answers to what, exactly?” I asked, trying to contain my anger.

  “Your brother,” Malakai said, smiling. I tore the seal without a second thought, and opened the sheet of paper. It showed a stylistic depiction of a large cat, surrounded by symbols, possibly letters in a language I did not recognize. I looked up at Malakai, and I could feel the anger flushing my face.

  “I told you, it won’t make sense until the time is right. Do this task for me, and if you don’t believe that I have sufficiently reciprocated by the next time we meet, then you can walk away.”

  I doubted it. He’d used our true names to make us pick up the scroll. Even then, I felt compelled to get the scroll to Neysa. Marcus stood, and I followed his lead. Marcus held the scroll over the desk as if to drop it. He could not. His shoulders slouched in resignation, and we turned and left the mansion without another word. Marcus looked at me as we stepped out the door.