Chapter Four: Dispatched

  Slowly, my mind reassembled itself.

  White, burning spots resolved into warped colors and broken shapes, which in turn began to sharpen into the world around me. Sensation returned in fragments; pain first, then weight, then the distant ringing in my ears.

  My eyes drifted back toward the courthouse.

  It was nearly half a mile away. The explosion had hurled me an obscene distance, and even from here I could see the point where I had been ejected; black marble walls torn apart, the structure no longer resembling a building so much as a hungry obsidian maw.

  Closer to me, something moved.

  Darvneev.

  The realization came sluggishly at first. He was crawling forward, his body mangled, ruined and yet that same stupid smile was stretched across his face.

  Why… why is he smiling?

  The moment the thought formed, the distance between me and the reality of the situation collapsed.

  Darvneev was smashed into the ground, his body nearly shredded and yet it was pulling itself back together, flesh knitting and reforming with obscene persistence.

  And walking toward him was a man.

  Short. Incredibly stocky. Wrapped head to toe in black robes of fine silk, embroidered with gold so intricate it bordered on sacrilege. In his left hand he carried a crooked staff, a small bell hanging from its center, suspended by eight black threads.

  As he advanced, his form began to change.

  He grew; subtly at first his frame thinning, stretching. By the time he was halfway to Darvneev, he stood as tall as Kain himself. With every step he became more wrong, until he loomed over us, near-giant and stick-thin, his robes hanging loosely from a body that no longer seemed built for them.

  The bell tolled.

  A deep, echoing note rolled out from the tiny charm, baritone and vast, reverberating through the air as though the sound itself displaced reality. It lingered unnaturally long before fading.

  The figure stopped before Darvneev.

  Its spine bent with a sharp, twitching crack as it folded forward at a perfect right angle.

  No.

  No… no, no, no.

  This couldn’t be real. Eidruhn wouldn’t come for one of us. Not for something like this. Not for—

  My thoughts fractured as I forced myself to focus, desperate to understand what I was seeing.

  Darvneev pushed himself up on his single functioning arm.

  “Master,” he said, voice bright with glee. “I’ve been waiting for you. I prepared the perfect sacrifice.”

  The Valitian Wayfarer did not respond.

  Long, grey fingers extended unfolding, lengthening; and closed around Kain’s ankle. With casual strength, the god lifted the severed lower half of the young vampire’s body, then turned toward where the rest of him lay.

  He began to walk.

  Slow. Calm. Unhurried.

  I didn’t know how, but I was certain of it the faceless thing was looking at me. Not at me.

  Into me.

  Behind him, Darvneev’s expression twisted; confusion bleeding into horror as the elder being marched past him, dragging his intended offering away by the blood chains still binding him to Kain’s legs.

  Then the god spoke.

  “Kainen af Veyndral-Solvheim von Ebonhart,” Eidruhn intoned. “I have an offer for you.”

  He took one final step.

  Something pulled inside Darvneev’s chest.

  A black chain materialized over his heart, dread coiling through his spine as it went taut drawn toward the courthouse.

  Then Darvneev was gone.

  The crystallized blood shackle fell limp, empty where the would-be lord had been.

  A harsh chuckle followed; the sound of flint striking flint, barking from the faceless thing before me. Its robes rustled as its ribs writhed with mirth at Darvneev’s disappearance.

  It leaned closer.

  Its already impossibly long torso stretched further still, unfolding like an endless slinky as it reached toward me.

  A grey hand rested on my shoulder.

  My body lurched as my waist snapped back into alignment with my ribcage, a surge of vitality flooding my senses as my flesh hastily repaired itself. Breath returned in a sharp gasp, pain receding just enough to function.

  “I am Eidruhn,” the god said calmly. “Sometimes called the Wayfarer by your kind.”

  He reached down and hauled me to my feet with casual strength, his fingers snaking around my wrist as though I weighed nothing.

  “It would seem I arrived too late,” he continued mildly. “Melo does keep me busy.”

  My thoughts reeled.

  The thousand-jointed god focusing his attention on a mortal generally meant one of three things none of them particularly pleasant, unless one had deeply rooted personal issues.

  “What do you mean… too late?” I asked, the words leaving my mouth before I could stop them.

  I felt the pressure of his attention intensify not eyes, not a gaze, but something heavier settling on me.

  “I intended to extend my offer before you reached the courts,” Eidruhn replied. “But you know how it is.”

  A pause.

  “Wars to fight. And those orphans won’t burn themselves.”

  The words dragged a memory to the surface.

  Orphaned children grow into soldiers, my commander had once said. And soldiers come back and raise more orphaned children.

  Then he had incinerated a church doors barred from the inside.

  Eidruhn gestured with one elongated hand.

  “Come,” he said. “Take a walk with me, Kainen. I think you’ll find what I have to offer… interesting.”

  I stepped toward him without thinking.

  The ground beneath my foot compressed.

  Space folded inward, the world rushing to meet me as my foot landed beside Eidruhn’s own. He straightened as we moved, his grotesque proportions settling into something almost, almost human.

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  I took another step.

  This time, the effect was catastrophic.

  The surface of the world surged beneath us, continents blurring as roads vanished and forests screamed past in a breathless rush. I couldn’t even register what I was seeing before it all came to a sudden, violent halt.

  We stood atop a cliff.

  Below us stretched a pitch-black ocean, its surface churning inward upon itself; a vast vortex of dark water spiraling endlessly into the void.

  “I’ve had my eyes on you for a long time, Kainen,” Eidruhn said conversationally. “But I never had cause to intervene. You were… precocious. And our rules prevented me from interfering.”

  He tilted his head slightly.

  “But now,” he continued, “that has changed. Thanks to Darvneev. Thanks to your father’s sacrifice. And Zaaria’s little overstep.”

  A faint amusement crept into his tone.

  “I have just enough leeway to give us something we’ve all been looking forward to.”

  I stared down into the abyssal sea, watching the black waters fold endlessly into themselves.

  I listened as the god spoke at length; saying everything, and explaining nothing.

  “Just tell me what the hells you want,” I said finally. “And tell me where we are.”

  Eidruhn laughed softly.

  “My, my,” he said. “Aren’t you an angry one.”

  He leaned closer.

  “Hasn’t anyone ever taught you to mind your manners before divinity, Kain?”

  “Then smite me,” I said.

  I spread my arms wide, grief cracking into something uglier; disdain, exhaustion, a fury too tired to burn cleanly. “Anyone. Go on. No?”

  When nothing happened, I let my arms fall. I looked up, then thought better of it and dropped my gaze back to the abyss. I raised an eyebrow and turned my deadened stare back on the Wayfarer.

  “I’m not going to smite you, Kainen,” Eidruhn said mildly. “Though I’ve done it for less, as you might imagine. I don’t appear personally to smite children.”

  He stepped closer, uncomfortably so, until we stood at the very edge of the cliff. Below us, the black vortex churned and if I had to guess, it led straight into Melotrix’s maw.

  “No,” he continued, “I would much rather you hear me out. And I suspect you’d agree you have no better options at present.”

  I swallowed the questions clawing at my throat; even the one I wanted most, unwilling to give him a weakness to exploit.

  “I’m listening, Wayfarer,” I said carefully. “Tell me what you want me to do for Valtae.”

  His skin tightened around his jaw, pulling taut like stretched leather. Beneath it, the outline of razor teeth curved unnaturally around his skull.

  “I have a unique offer for you, Kainen,” he said. “An offer to make you a dungeon lord.”

  My breath stilled.

  “And not merely any dungeon lord,” he continued. “The first of your kind. On a new world.”

  I forced my thoughts into order, reaching for a calm I did not possess. I thought of my father of the spell he had cast so I could run and the ache that followed nearly broke my focus.

  “What do you mean,” I said slowly, “the first of my kind? And what new world? Stop speaking in riddles if you want me to take this seriously.”

  Eidruhn laughed a sharp, grinding sound, like joints scraping bare bone.

  “You are correct,” he said. “Clarity, then.”

  He turned fully toward me.

  “I want you. I want to make you a dungeon lord and grant you my boon. And I want you to be the first of your kind on a planet with which we have yet to make true contact.”

  I frowned. “So there’s a rift. A newly formed gateway.”

  His long hand settled on my shoulder.

  “You misunderstand, my boy. There is no rift. No one from this place could reach Earth not without my assistance.” A pause. “At present, we have nothing to do with that world.”

  His grip tightened slightly.

  “And if you accept, you will be the one to change that.”

  Cold crept through me.

  “Are you saying I’d be trapped there?” I asked. “Permanently?”

  “I wouldn’t go quite that far,” Eidruhn replied. “Forever is a longer time for most than it is for your kind. But you should not plan on returning. Or on ever seeing this place again.”

  He gestured vaguely behind us.

  “I do not require another dungeon lord in Valtae.”

  I rubbed at my brow, the other hand curling into a fist. “Why would I want this? You’re asking me to abandon my entire life. My home. I fought for this place.”

  “And look what it has given you in return,” Eidruhn said calmly. “Framed. Disgraced. Your father dying to buy you time.”

  He leaned closer.

  “You have a choice, Kainen. Everyone does. But consider what I am offering.”

  Then he did something I hadn’t expected.

  He sat down beside me.

  The god’s long, fluid legs dangled over the cliff as he turned his attention away, as though the matter were settled.

  “A chance to begin again,” he said. “You may refuse, but you and I both know there is nothing left for you here.”

  He glanced back.

  “But you could still protect your family.”

  Something in my chest twisted.

  I stared down at him, eyes burning.

  I should have known.

  He had planned this from the beginning. He knew exactly what to say.

  “Tell me how I can protect them.”

  Eidruhn’s smile stretched; only slightly, but enough. We both understood it now. This was the true offer. The rest had been prelude.

  I was trapped.

  I had listened too long. I knew too much. If he could protect them, then refusal was no longer an option, and Eidruhn knew it.

  “Make a deal with me, Kain,” he said softly. “I’ve told you what I want. And I believe I know what you want.”

  I stared down into the swirling black ocean below, bitterness thick in my throat.

  It’s my fault.

  I was short-sighted. Arrogant. And now—

  “Save my father,” I said. “Protect my sister.”

  My voice steadied despite the fracture in my chest.

  “And I’ll do it. Whatever you want.”

  Eidruhn laughed genuinely amused this time.

  “I admire the spirit, my boy. What I want is simple. Go there. Build the dungeon. Be a dungeon lord.” He tilted his head. “But if you desire more than that, if you wish me to benefit your kin further… Then you will owe me a favor.”

  “I don’t care,” I said immediately. “Do it. Whatever blank check you’re demanding, I accept.”

  I didn’t hesitate.

  “I, Kainen Ebonhart, accept the terms.”

  I seized his hand before he could respond.

  The pact slammed into place.

  Dark magic flooded me, cold and absolute, sinking hooks deep into my soul as the agreement finalized itself.

  Bastard.

  The thought was singular, bitter; and useless. I had walked exactly where he wanted me.

  Eidruhn straightened.

  Then, calmly, he reached into his own chest.

  Long, bony fingers parted loose, grey flesh as though opening a pouch. He reached inside himself without resistance, grasped something solid, and slowly drew it free.

  A rib.

  No… A spine.

  Long, black, wet bone slid from his body, multi-jointed and serpentine, thousands of pulsing red nerve filaments writhing along its length.

  I staggered back.

  “What in the hells is that?” I nearly shouted.

  “Shh,” Eidruhn murmured, already gripping me. “The deal is struck, my boy. And your heart is far too important to your kind.”

  His voice was gentle indulgent as though soothing a fussy child.

  His fingers slid along my shoulder, down my back.

  My strength drained away.

  Consciousness blurred as a dull, spreading pain bloomed behind my ribs.

  The last thing I saw before the dark took me was my own pale spine tearing free from my body.

  I came back screaming.

  My eyes snapped open, panic seizing me as blinding light flooded my vision. I thrashed, heart hammering, instincts screamed sun!

  Then relief hit just as hard.

  Moonlight.

  Cold. White. Harmless.

  “Easy, Kain,” Eidruhn said. “I’m not about to let my newest associate burn.”

  He smiled.

  “I’ll free your father. I’ll protect your sister.”

  That was it.

  He didn’t wait for questions. Didn’t allow a word in response.

  He grabbed my collar and hurled me over the cliff.

  The world slowed.

  Every moment stretched as I fell, the black vortex below yawning wide as the ocean swallowed me whole.

  “You bastard!” I screamed.

  Then the void took me.

  I hit stone.

  Hard.

  A smooth, grey, featureless floor shattered the breath from my lungs as my body crumpled. Regeneration stirred; sluggish, wrong, crawling through me like something reluctant.

  Too slow.

  I pushed myself upright and reached inward, focusing on my aura.

  My brow furrowed.

  What the hells is wrong with me?

  The flow was wrong. Constricted. Pressed inward as though something were forcing it back into me, while my body fought it, rejecting my own power, shoving my unholy aura outward in a violent feedback loop.

  My energy writhed and twitched, straining against an unseen restraint wrapped tightly around my spirit.

  I looked up.

  The room was small. Bare stone. Empty.

  Save for a single door.

  Carved into it was a cross-like symbol, its ends knotted with unfamiliar, elegant geometry.

  I reached out.

  The door moved easily.

  Stone swung open on seamless, silent hinges that had no right to exist.

  Beyond stretched a long, featureless corridor, pitch black; visible only to my nocturnal sight.

  At its far end stood a stone tablet.

  Its markings were reminiscent of Atlantean script.

  Yet different.

  Alien.

  And still, the meaning settled into me with absolute clarity.

  Do not have fear. I am right here.

  I reached forward and placed my palm against the chiseled stone.

  My flesh hissed.

  Smoke curled off my hand as my skin sizzled beneath my touch. The pain was distant detached but unmistakable.

  I’d felt it before.

  Purification.

  Something in the tablet had tried to cleanse me.

  A voice echoed inside my skull, bored and dispassionate, yet brimming with zeal and hatred all the same.

  “Sinner.”

  I spun around.

  Nothing.

  Empty air greeted me as I scanned the corridor. “Who’s there?” I snapped. “Show yourself at once.”

  I blinked.

  I was facing the tablet again.

  My hand was still pressed against the stone.

  More words flowed into me.

  “Angels. Priests. Blades. Thieves.”

  My thoughts softened. Warped.

  The world dissolved as visions poured into my mind.

  A being of pure white stood before me, its radiance eclipsing the sun until the star itself seemed dull and insignificant. Skin like polished ivory. Eyes burning white-hot. Twelve vast wings unfurled from its back as it lowered a massive trumpet toward me.

  Crosses appeared in the void, dozens, then hundreds each blazing with cold white light.

  They burst.

  From each cross emerged towering figures clad in gleaming white armor, longswords planted point-down into nothingness. A legion stared back at me, their helms splitting open only where a cross-shaped void cut through the metal.

  Wings erupted from their backs.

  They rose together, hovering beside the trumpet-bearing angel.

  And in their wake—

  A frail body lay curled on the ground.

  Small. Starved.

  Arms wrapped around its knees, shaking as the last remnants of light drained away, leaving the man in near-total darkness. Slowly, he stirred. Unfolded himself. Crawled toward the light with desperate, trembling movements.

  His hand reached out.

  Stopped.

  Closed around something small. Circular. Palm-sized. Covered in ridges and cruel little spikes.

  He brought it to his mouth.

  Bit down.

  Red fluid sprayed across the void.

  Then I woke up.