Robert Newcomb - A March into Darkness

Einar stepped closer. Looking at the warriors’ armor insignia, he was delighted to learn that each fighter held considerable rank. He was pleased, because they would probably have the information that he needed.

Einar boldly walked to stand between the warriors and the shrews. Without taking his gaze from the warriors, Einar ordered the shrews to back off. The snarling beasts retreated toward the door. The warrior protecting the others glared hatefully at Reznik, then Einar.

“What is your name?” Einar asked. His voice was controlled, almost courteous.

“I am Derrick,” the warrior answered. He raised his sword a bit higher. “Who areyou?” he demanded. He was so exhausted he could barely speak. “Why have you attacked us?”

“My identity is of no consequence to you,” Einar answered. “But your rank as a Minion officer matters greatly. The Recluse is vast-therefore I require a guide. Although it’s beautiful, most of this place means nothing to us. Our only reason for being here is to gain access to Failee’s research chambers.”

Smiling, Einar placed his hands into opposite sleeves of his robe. “You are going to show me those secret doorways,” he added quietly.

Laughing, Derrick lifted his sword point higher. “Never!” he shouted. “Because you command the shrews, it is clear that you serve the Vagaries. Serena is no doubt your queen. We would gladly die before helping you!”

Einar shook his head. “You don’t understand,” he said. “I was once one of the First Wizard’s most powerful consuls. My gifts have only grown since then. Allow me to show how vulnerable you are.”

Stretching forth one hand, Einar called the craft. To his great surprise, Derrick suddenly felt his dreggan handle become warm, then hot. Soon it was too scalding to hold, forcing him to drop it to the floor. He watched in awe as the dreggan melted at his feet, forming a pool of liquid steel and gold. Enraged, Derrick glared at the consul.

“Now then,” Einar said calmly. “You will escort us to the lower regions.”

The warrior remained defiant. “No,” he answered quietly.

“Then perhaps another object lesson will help,” Einar replied.

Pointing one hand toward the bleeding warriors, Einar again called the craft. An azure bolt loosed from his fingertips to go tearing across the room. Striking a wounded warrior in the forehead, the bolt blew his cranium apart. Blood, bone, and brain matter flew into the air and splattered against the rear wall. Einar lowered his hand.

“Do as I ask or your two remaining friends will suffer the same fate,” he warned.

Gritting his teeth, Derrick shook his head. “Do what you will,” he said. “Our answer remains the same.”

Frustrated by the warrior’s stubbornness, Einar again raised his hand. Then a thought came to him. There was a simpler way to get what he wanted. He had never entered a Minion mind. It would prove interesting.

Summoning his powers, Einar invoked the spell allowing him to control the warrior’s consciousness. Reznik and Actinius watched with rapt curiosity.

Suddenly the warrior’s head snapped back, and his eyeballs rolled up in his head-sure signs that his mind had been overtaken. Reznik and Actinius marveled at their master’s talent. Being able to penetrate another’s mind was a rare skill.

Satisfied, Einar lowered his hand. Weak from blood loss, the other warriors could only watch.

“Now then,” Einar said, “do you know where the secret entrances to the lower regions are found?”

“Yes,” Derrick answered thickly.

“How many are there?” Einar asked.

“Seven.”

“Good,” Einar answered. “You will show us each one.”

“Yes,” the warrior answered.

Einar smiled. “There’s a good fellow,” he said. He turned to look at Actinius. “After we have gone, kill the other two any way you like.”

Actinius nodded. “With pleasure,” he answered.

“Now then,” Einar said to Derrick. “You may lead the way.”

With Einar and Reznik in tow, Derrick walked numbly from the room. Leading them back to the grand stairway, he started down. As they took their first few steps, Minion death screams rang out from the bedroom above.

Two hours later, six secret entrances had been discovered and marked. As Derrick led them toward the seventh, Einar smiled. This had been a productive day.

Derrick stopped partway down another hallway. Reaching up, he grabbed an oil lamp sconce attached to the wall and gave it a sharp tug. As the sconce angled downward, an oaken wall panel slid open. Using the craft, Einar burned a mark into the wall just below the sconce, identifying it for later use.

Like the other disguised passageways, this one’s steps led down into darkness. Suspecting that the First Mistress would have lined the stairway with radiance stones, Einar waved a hand. At once a pale green light illuminated the way. He looked past the helpless Derrick and into Reznik’s eyes.

“I’m going down,” he said. “I want you to return to the outer ward, then issue the needed orders. Have the craft tools and the Scroll of the Vagaries sent down immediately. Above all, ensure that the Recluse is protected.” Then he looked over at the helpless warrior.

“Feed him to the shrews,” he ordered. “In his current state he will give them no trouble. Be sure that no Minions remain alive, then join me in the lower regions. We are about to make history.” Without further ado, Einar disappeared into the depths.

“Come with me,” Reznik ordered Derrick. Having no choice, the officer followed along.

On reaching the outer ward, Reznik called the shrews, envelopers, Valrenkians, and consuls together. After ordering the craft tools and the Scroll of the Vagaries taken to Einar, he selected several consuls to come forward.

“You are to fly back to the Ghetto,” he said. “Tell our comrades that they may start the shipments.” Pausing for a moment, he looked at the remaining consuls and Valrenkians.

“Continue to clean the Recluse and set things right,” he said. “Once that task is done, join Einar and me in the lower regions. The important work is about to start.”

To Reznik’s delight the Valrenkians and consuls started cheering and shaking their fists in the air. He happily joined in. After today nothing could stop them.

Reznik looked at the shrews. Their numbers were so great that they filled the outer ward, spilled across the drawbridge and lake bridge, and out onto Parthalonian soil.

“As many of you as possible will hide yourselves in the lake!” he ordered. “The rest are to patrol the surrounding area. Devour any strangers who come near!”

Snarling and hissing, the shrews lumbered from the castle grounds. Walking to the drawbridge, Reznik watched as shrews by the hundreds submerged into the lake. As the surface stilled, he smiled.

Returning to the outer ward, Reznik raised his hands to the sky. He couldn’t see the envelopers, but he knew they were there.

“Cease your camouflage so that I might see you!” he shouted. At once the sky filled with envelopers, their gray, sleek skin fluttering in the wind.

“Half your numbers are to patrol the sky above the Recluse!” Reznik ordered. “The rest are to become one with the castle! Go!”

Some envelopers dutifully sailed upward, again disappearing as they took on the sky’s and clouds’ exact likenesses. The others soared toward various places on the castle’s structure. Landing flat against the walls, turrets, guard paths, and keep, they soon blended in perfectly with their surroundings and disappeared.

After ordering Derrick to remain where he was, Reznik walked across the drawbridge, then traversed the lake bridge to stand on Parthalonian soil. Looking back at the Recluse, he smiled.