Paul Kemp: Shadowbred

"Again, Magadon! It is too small for me to get through."

I wipe my mouth, sore, spent, and shivering. I want to look through the wall, to see what lies beyond. I cast aside the pickaxe, step to the wall, and look through the hole.

I catch a glimpse of pits of flame carved in ice and filled with agonized souls, then a form blocks my view.

"Don't look, Magadon," says the voice. "None of that matters."

But I have already looked, have already seen. Horror lies on the other side of the wall. Darkness. Evil.

"You must free me, Magadon," says the voice.

Aghast, I shake my head. I cannot open a door to that.

"You must," says the voice.

I steel myself and peer through the hole again. I must be sure.

"Show yourself," I command. "Back up so I can see you fully."

"No."

"Do it or I will walk away. I will give myself to the fears. Show me."

Silence from the other side. Then, "Very well."

The form backs away from the wall until I can make him out in the light of the flames. I cannot contain a gasp.

He is me, but not me. Fine red scales cover most of his skin. His horns are so long they curl back on themselves, and membranous wings sprout from his back. Fangs protrude from his hateful mouth. His eyes, my eyes, radiate malice and madness.

"You are a devil," I say, unable to look away.

"No. I am Magadon," says the devil. "Part of him. The same as you. Nothing more. But I am the only part not lost to the Source. You must free me. That is your duty."

I shake my head. "I won't. You are not the only one free of the Source, I am also free."

"But only for the moment. Listen."

The fears have gone silent.

"Open the door of the cell," the voice says. "The fears are gone. Even they are lost. Look outside, Magadon. See what is coming. Hurry. He is almost gone. And so are we."

"You are liar," I say.

"Quite so, but he could not live without the lies."

I do not understand. "You make no sense."

The devil laughs. "He calls himself a 'tiefling' but he knows that is not true. A tiefling is touched by a devil's blood. Touched. He has a devil for a sire. He is a half-fiend and then some. The lies are all that make it tolerable. Without me, without the lies, he would be lost."

I shake my head again. "With you, he's lost."

The devil does not dispute it. "Go look outside, Magadon. Do it now. See what comes."

Despite the dread that floods my chest, I move to the door and listen. I hear nothing. Are the fears truly gone? I have to know.

Heart thumping, I slide back the lock. When the fears do not renew their assault, I open the door a crack.

Still nothing. I take a breath and throw it wide.

"Look at the far side of the bubble, Magadon."

I do and see the bubble dissolving. It is as if a horizon is moving across the world, annihilating everything behind it.

"Loose me and I will save him. I will call his friends to him."

I say nothing and watch death approach.

"They are near," the devil says. "I called them long ago through the crack but I cannot do it anymore, not unless I am freed. He is too far gone. Let me out. Let me out now, or it will be too late."

I cannot. I will not.

"No," I say. "I know what you are. He locked you away for a reason. You are evil. It's better for us to be lost. All of us."

"No," the voice says, and I hear real fear in the tone. "Think of all that will die. Darkness, yes, but light, too. Goodness. Lost forever. Would you let that all die to spite me? Would you? All men harbor a darkness. It's what makes them men. Save him. Save us. You must."

I stand in the doorway and watch the world dissolve.

"I can't," I say. "I can't."

"There is no more time," the devil says. "We are all going to die. You, me, him, all of us. Do you want that to happen? Can you allow it? Choose. Do your duty or die. Choose!"

11 Uktar, the Year of Lightning Storms

Cale and Riven materialized on the edge of a floating city shrouded in darkness-Sakkors, newly raised. The mountaintop that Cale had last seen at the bottom of the sea had been lifted from the depths and positioned so its flat top faced the night sky. Cale leaned over the edge to see the Inner Sea, still and black, far below them.

Sakkors had been rebuilt somehow. Shadows twined around thin spires, thick walls, along wide boulevards, through the windows of shops, residences, and noble manses. The city was nothing but dead stone; there was no greenery of any kind. Something about it reminded Cale of Elgrin Fau.

In the distance, he could hear the sounds of workers-hammers banging stone, shouts.

"Quite a feat," Riven said, looking around.

Cale nodded. "They will attack the moment they appear."

"Of course they will," Riven said. "I saw his eyes."

Riven reached into a belt pouch and removed two small stones-one a deep purple, one a light purple. He tossed them into the air and both whirred in a tight orbit around his head.

"More from the Sojourner," he explained to Cale.

Cale nodded, grasped his mask, and incanted a spell that made him faster, stronger. He expected an immediate attack from Rivalen and his bodyguards. The delay worried him.

They moved away from the edge of the mountaintop to give themselves room for combat. Before they had taken ten strides, the darkness around them deepened, swirled, surrounded them. Even Cale had difficulty making out shapes within the darkness.

"Here we go," Riven said, assuming a fighting crouch.

"Rivalen lives," Cale said, "but only until he tells us where Mags is."

A pair of golden eyes formed in the black, then a series of dark forms. Rivalen and his five shade bodyguards emerged from the murk. The bodyguards bore blades, and Rivalen held a black disc with a purple border in his hand, a holy symbol. Cale saw power crackling around it.

Cale charged. Riven read his lead and engaged two of the bodyguards nearest him, blades whirling. Before Cale had taken two strides, Rivalen pointed his holy symbol and said, "Die."

A gray beam shot from the shade's symbol. To Cale's surprise, Weaveshear did not absorb it and the dark magic hit Cale's chest, entered his flesh, and twined around his heart. Cale gasped but kept his feet and continued forward. He lunged and offered a weak overhand swing with Weaveshear. Rivalen dodged backward but not before Cale's blade opened a gash in his chest. Rivalen hissed with pain.

"Not enough, shade," Cale said through gasps. Despite the magic seizing his heart, he pressed ahead and stabbed at Rivalen's stomach. The shade sidestepped the blow and Weaveshear only skinned his side.

Rivalen grabbed Cale by the wrist and held it to keep Weaveshear away from him. Cale struggled but found Rivalen's strength to be a match for his own. Purple light shot through the darkness that swirled around them.

"You are a priest," Cale said through gritted teeth.

"And more," Rivalen answered, and intoned a prayer.

Cale recovered enough to chant a prayer of his own. Both completed their spells at almost the same moment. Dark energy flared in both their free hands and each reached for the other. Their hands met and both spells discharged harmful energy.

Wounds erupted from both of them. Cale's spell opened rips in Rivalen's arm, chest, and face. Rivalen's spell twisted Cale's organs and tore gashes in his arm and face. Both men shouted with the pain as their flesh struggled to regenerate. Neither released the other. Cale struggled to free Weaveshear for a killing strike but the Shadovar would not let him loose.

"You are a priest," said Rivalen through the pain.

"And more," answered Cale. He butted his head into the bridge of Rivalen's nose, heard a satisfying crunch, and used his greater size to drive the shade backward.