Paul Kemp: Shadowrealm

The power churning through Cale's head lit his body afire. The shadows around him spun wildly. Sakkors and its flying mountain flared with Magadon's power, glowing orange and red like a tiny sun as it sank toward the ground.

I am hate! Magadon shouted. And I am power!

Above them, Kesson's chanting gave way to a scream of agony. His horns shattered, and blood poured from his nose, his ears, his eyes. The shadows around him spun. He grabbed hold of his head, screamed again, and fell face-first to the ground.

"Now!" Cale said, and staggered forward, bent as if against a gale.

Riven and Rivalen, blades bare, did the same. Both men bled freely from their nose and ears.

Sakkors shined red and orange as it slowly sank, its light chasing the pitch of the Shadowstorm, overwhelming the shroud that surrounded Sakkors. To Regg, it seemed an artificial dawn and he fell to his knees.

"There is light even in darkness," he said.

Lathander had provided him another sign. His work was not yet done. He stood and looked around the glowing plains.

Through the rain and darkness he saw four forms in the distance, and marked them as Erevis Cale, Riven, the Shadovar, and Kesson Rel.

He grabbed Nayan by the arm. "There! Can your men take us there?"

Nayan looked, saw, nodded.

"Roen, gather your priests!"

Cale, Riven, and Rivalen stumbled forward to execute Kesson Rel.

But Kesson, his head haloed in red light and bleeding from his eyes, ears, and nose, with pulsing veins tracing a throbbing web on his brow, rose to all fours.

"No!" he said, and made a cutting gesture.

No! Magadon shrieked, and Cale heard madness in the tone.

The red glow around Kesson's head winked out. Cale cursed, lunged forward, and raised Weaveshear high for a killing stroke across the back of Kesson's neck.

Kesson threw an arm out blindly behind him and power exploded outward from his form. Black energy slammed into Cale, Riven, and Rivalen. It blew all of them backward five paces, cracked bone, opened flesh.

Exhausted and bloodied, Cale rose to all fours, knowing they had missed their opportunity, knowing they were all going to die.

He found himself staring at a booted foot. Hands took him under his armpits and lifted him to his feet. Regg stood there, looking past him, through him, to Kesson Rel. Nayan stood behind the Lathanderian, his expression unreadable.

Cale glanced around and saw Roen and the priests of the company, ten in all, arrayed in a circle around Kesson Rel, who rose haltingly to his feet.

Warmth suffused Regg's body. The armor and shields of Roen and his fellow priests glowed orange in the setting sun of Sakkors' fall. He thought of Abelar, of faith, of friendship. The thoughts lit a fire in his spirit and he dropped to one knee, brandished his battle-scarred shield, and channeled the divine light of his god. The seed Abelar had planted in his soul bloomed fully.

"Dawn dispels the night and births the world anew," he began, and the rose on his shield began to glow.

Roen fell to one knee, held forth his own shield, his own rose, and joined his voice, and his light, to Regg's.

"May Lathander light our way, show us wisdom…"

The remaining priests fell to one knee, held their shields before them, and joined in the Dawnmeet prayer.

"… and in so doing allow us be a light to others."

The shields of Lathander's faithful glowed with a brightness to rival a dawn sun. Regg's spirit soared to see their faith so embodied in the symbol of their god. He wept as the holy luminescence exposed the darkness of Kesson Rel.

Kesson, already weakened, screamed in the blast of light, fell to the ground. Their light burned away the shadows that shrouded him. He writhed on the ground as if he were afire, shrieking.

"Finish it," Regg said to Cale.

The light from the Lathanderians made Cale queasy but he endured. He watched Kesson fall, shriek, watched the darkness around Mask's First Chosen fall away. He took Weaveshear in both hands and stepped into the circle. Riven did the same.

The light stripped away the shadows that coated Cale, his shadow hand, and for the first time in a long time he felt human. He glanced at Regg and Roen, and thanked them for that with his eyes.

Still, the emptiness of his spirit, the hole dug by the Black Chalice, needed filled.

He and Riven stepped up to Kesson Rel. Riven stabbed him through the chest with a saber. Cale cut off his head, and his screams, with Weaveshear.

Power began to gather.

Rivalen watched blood and shadows pour from the stump of Kesson Rel's neck. His thoughts seethed, frustration burned. He clutched his holy symbol so hard in his good hand that it cut his flesh.

He had schemed for centuries only to watch it fall apart before his eyes. He didn't know the spells he needed to steal Kesson's divinity. Instead, he had to stand idle and watch Erevis Cale become a god.

He cursed Brennus, cursed fate.

Above, thunder rumbled. A lightning storm lit the sky. The Lathanderians rose, their light diminished, and backed away from Kesson's corpse. One of the shadowwalkers started forward, but the Lathanderian Cale had named Regg held him back.

The wind whipped. Darkness formed around Kesson's body, a cloud of impenetrable blackness. Cale and Riven eased back a step. The wind became a gale, tearing at their robes, turning the drizzle into a sizzling spray. Thunder and lightning lit the sky and shook the ground. Power gathered in the shroud around Kesson's body, the stolen divinity separating from its mortal vessel. It leaked into the air over his corpse to form a cloud that looked less like darkness and more like a hole. Rivalen saw in it the echo of the emptiness devouring Ephyras.

And in the emptiness Rivalen found revelation.

Brennus had told him that only a Chosen of Mask could safely partake of the Black Chalice, but Brennus had not known of the relationship between Shar and Mask. They were related, and so too were their servants. A Chosen of Shar, too, should be able to safely drink.

Cale and Riven fell to their knees as the power gathered. A hum filled the air, growing in volume. The clot of shadows continued to coagulate over Kesson, expanding.

Rivalen spoke an arcane word and summoned the Black Chalice from the extra-dimensional space in which he had stored it. It materialized in his hand, heavy with promise.

"I am your Chosen, or I am your failure," Rivalen said to Shar.

He drank, and screamed.

The hole in Cale's being yawned, and pulled at the dark power seething over Kesson. Cale heard a humming in his ears, the roll of thunder, a scream, and he could not be sure that it was not his. Shadows churned around him. The power gathering over Kesson expanded. The wind blew so hard it threatened to flatten him to the ground. A continuous boom of thunder shook the ground. Lightning shot from the sky, struck the inky cloud above Kesson, once, twice, again, again. The cloud roiled, seethed, the power within it gathering.

Cale braced himself. The hum increased in volume, the wind, the thunder.

A beam of darkness and power shot from the cloud at Cale, but not just at Cale. Another beam struck Riven in the chest. Another struck Rivalen.

All three screamed as a fraction of the stolen divinity filled their beings, overwhelmed their souls, transformed them from men to gods. Cale's senses felt afire. His nose burned. His eyes watered. His bones ached. He fell to all fours as his mortal soul recoiled, as divine power filled the hollow spaces in him.

Then it was over.

The wind died. The thunder and lightning relented.