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  Fated in Darkness

  The Sanctuary Series

  Volume 5.5

  Robert J. Crane

  Fated in Darkness

  The Sanctuary Series, Volume 5.5

  Copyright © 2015 Midian Press

  All Rights Reserved.

  1st Edition

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

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  Prologue

  Aisling

  She waited in the quiet place, in the darkness, with not so much as a candle to shed light. The smell of the linens, the scent of blood all reminded the woman who called herself Aisling Nightwind of nothing so much as approaching death. The bitter taste of it was upon her tongue as she drew a ragged breath and closed her eyes.

  Here in the caves of Saekaj and Sovar, the chill lingered upon her skin. This is the way of things here, she thought as pain surged through her. Her fingers came up warm and wet from the site of the pain, and she was reminded of battles and woundings past.

  Have I ever hurt worse than this? she thought. It was hard to recall, with the burning agony rolling hard within her. She couldn’t move, could barely breathe, and the darkness did not help.

  How did I get into this mess …? she wondered into the quiet. She held back a scream for fear of what attention it might draw. She suppressed it, held it tight inside and clenched a hand. She ran fingers over the ridged blade of her dagger and the pain subsided, giving her space to think for a moment.

  Ah, yes … that’s how it began, she thought, tasting the bitterness within once more. Hard to forget unless you’re addled by absolute anguish … which I am. She drew another shallow breath and opened her eyes to the darkness. Darkness is familiar to me. I have lived in darkness most of my life … as have we all … and it is into the darkness that we are fated to go when our time is up …

  1.

  Terian

  One Year Earlier

  The descent into Saekaj reminded Terian of human myths of an old underworld, a place where souls lived in torment and pain for all eternity, locked into a prison of fire and darkness to suffer endlessly. Just like home, he thought, looking out the window of the rattling carriage as it bounced along the rutted road that stretched from the gate to the open, sky-framed world above down to the depths of the dark elven capital, surrounded on all sides by rough and rocky cave hewn out of rock.

  “You stare out as though you could call the light to shine down into the tunnels,” his traveling companion said in that slow, nearly hissing way that he had.

  Terian took a whiff of the stale, still, chill air, of the earthy aroma and fetid scent of spider dung and pulled his head back into the carriage. Was I looking longingly behind me? “No light comes down here from above,” he said, turning to look at Malpravus, the Guildmaster of Goliath, “I recall that well enough. It would be anathema, even if it could reach.”

  “Oh, don’t be dour, dear boy,” Malpravus said, his cowl over his eyes, his lips stretched into their usual grin, “I offered you a path. On an auspicious day such as today, one would think to find you overjoyed. After all, should things go well, you will finally be able to return home.”

  Terian’s muscles tensed involuntarily, a fevered shot of hope ran through his stomach and departed just as quickly. “Home,” he said, almost under his breath. “Yes. It would be nice to go … home.”

  “You might just be there, soon enough,” Malpravus said, tilting his scrawny neck to look out his own window.

  I doubt it. “Indeed,” Terian said, without much in the way of feeling. The cold of the tunnels crept in on him, through the spiked, hardened armor that he wore like a second skin. He blinked as a thought bubbled up to his mind. “How did you find me?”

  Malpravus simply grinned, his smile widening. “You mean, how did I know to look for you on the far distant shores of Arkaria, far from any portal or civilization?”

  Terian did not look at the necromancer, instead gazing out the window at the passing of cavern rock. All of it looks the same. All of it. I suppose it’s like a blue sky in that regard. “Yes. That is what I meant.”

  “I heard the call of death, my lad,” Malpravus said, and now his cowl swept over his eyes, shrouding them in darkness. “An inescapable, rushing wave of death so significant that it was as unto the trumpeting of an entire army outside one's window.”

  “The scourge,” Terian whispered, and a vision of grey-fleshed creatures, low like dogs, with skin like rotted elephants, eyes devoid of life, went flashing through his mind. He watched in his mind’s eye as a long bridge collapsed into rubble, carrying thousands of the rotting wraiths into the watery embrace of the Sea of Carmas. Thousands of them, perhaps tens of thousands—

  And one other. The vision of old armor played in front of Terian’s eyes, made him feel he could almost reach out and touch the man within, take his hand—

  Alaric is dead. “You heard them coming,” Terian whispered, “and came to see?”

  “I came to see,” Malpravus said, though he seemed to be holding something back. “One does not merely stand aside when something of that nature comes whispering into one’s thoughts. Though it was hardly a whisper. More like a rising scream in the still night.” His grin returned to manageable proportions. “Still, I was glad to see you, to catch you after your … altercation.”

  The thought of Cyrus Davidon staring him down flitted into Terian’s thoughts once more. Now, Terian? he had asked, weary and earnest, as though it were some simple matter, easily disposed of.

  This isn’t over between us, Terian had said. He had meant in every sense, though his mind flailed at his reason in order to find a way that this could be so. Not yet.

  “It was opportune timing.” Terian looked back out the window as a clatter sounded ahead of their coach. He saw movement as the coach turned, the spiders at the fore responding to the driver’s command.

  Shouts echoed through the tunnel, harsh sounds in the dark. A guard wearing the distinctive bracer of the Saekaj militia clanked in light armor as he walked up the window and butted his head through the window. “A thousand pardons, General Malpravus,” the guard said with a hard bow of his head, “but I must account for your guest. Sovereign’s orders; no entry to the upper city without registration.”

  “But of course,” Malpravus said with a simple bow of his head. “A very sensible precaution in these troubled times.” He glanced at Terian. “Identify yourself.”

  Terian felt frozen in the moment, mind warring with him for what he should say. “I am Terian,” he said after a brief pause, “of House Lepos. I am a citizen of Saekaj.”

  The guard listened intently but showed no sign of recognition. “Very good, sir. I’ll record you in the logbook as a guest of General Malpravus, here on his pledge of good conduct.” The guard backed his helmeted head out of the window and his boots made a soft clanking sound as they left the carriage’s step and found the ground below. “Open the gate for the General!” he called, voice echoing through the tunnels.

  “What the
hell was that about?” Terian asked, almost to himself.

  “These are dangerous times, my boy,” Malpravus said, long fingers steepled in front of his face. “The war has been raging for two years now. The seeds of discontent are well and truly sown in the lower city, for the brunt of the privation has landed much harder on them than Saekaj.”

  Terian felt himself nod slowly. “There’s rebellion afoot in Sovar.”

  “They are never more than a step away, those dregs,” Malpravus said, sniffing, “but this time the Dragon’s Breath seems well and truly lit, primed to explode with but the slightest spark. The moment is ill for that, though; one would hope that it could be put off until this war is concluded.”

  “With the victory of the dark elves over the humans and elves, yes?” Terian asked. He worked to keep the cynicism from ripping through his words like a knife cutting silken cloth.

  “With the victory of the Sovereign over his foes, yes,” Malpravus said, eyes hidden but mouth in a thin line. “Be wary of how you speak in these tunnels, Terian Lepos. The tongue is still considered a most dangerous weapon in this place, as well it should be.”

  “I was merely asking about the war,” Terian said, “in a most subtle way.”

  “Hmm,” Malpravus said, almost indifferently. “Then I will tell you about the war’s progress, in perhaps blunter terms than you might expect outside of this carriage.”

  “Is speaking the truth of its progress a crime now as well?” Terian asked.

  “No,” Malpravus said, “merely a harbinger of disloyalty, which is perhaps worse in these times.” He paused, cocking his head. “Our armies remain on this side of the River Perda, choked off from the Elven Kingdom by that cursed river. The Sovereign does not wish an advance in any case; he wants to fight the humans and finish his business here before moving forward with an invasion of elvendom.”

  “Probably shouldn’t have picked that fight in Termina, then,” Terian muttered.

  “Oh, yes,” Malpravus said quietly. “That was where your father died, wasn’t it? Killed by Cyrus Davidon?” The necromancer grinned again. “I would imagine you should very much like to have a reckoning for that one.”

  This isn’t over between us. Not yet. “Perhaps,” Terian allowed as a stinging barb of regret sprung into his stomach. Termina. That was where it all began to go wrong. “So that front is stalled. What about against the humans?”

  “We move closer to Reikonos,” Malpravus said, “but are preparing to take the war into the east, to the Riverlands and to the Northlands. Into the places where humanity finds its last remaining supply of food. A solid conquest of either, and Reikonos will starve, what with the Plains of Perdamun already devastated and the elves bottled up from shipping to the human capital.”

  Terian blinked. “The plains are …?”

  “Like a skeleton picked clean,” Malpravus said with a leer. “The Sovereign’s forces have culled the farmers’ crops and encircled your former guild in preparation to crush them.” He sighed. “Such a shame. A hundred thousand of our soldiers are laying siege to Sanctuary even now. I had heard that they were poised to move in and end the thing; perhaps once it is done the Sovereign will grant me what is left of that ailing fortress to establish his presence in the plains.”

  Sanctuary … under siege? About to be destroyed? At last the emotions warring within Terian broke, casting him firmly in one direction. He wanted to scream, to cry out in the carriage, to draw the glowing red blade of his father and put it to fine use spilling Malpravus’s blood all over the wooden interior, to rip through the door and charge back up the slope of the tunnel and run hard across Arkaria to the Plains of Perdamun, to throw himself against a hundred thousand dark elves—

  But instead he sat, frozen, in the seat next to the necromancer and controlled his breath lest Malpravus notice anything amiss. “Interesting,” Terian managed to get out without sounding strained.

  “Indeed, these are interesting times,” Malpravus agreed. The carriage was rattling over the stone streets of Saekaj, passing through the quiet markets. Ahead, Terian could see one of the waterfalls that bracketed the Sovereign’s palace, pouring forth out of the cave walls like a bath being drawn by a servant. “This is the place to be at this moment, I will tell you, dark knight.”

  “It would seem that the dark elves are on a bit of a roll,” Terian said with muted enthusiasm.

  “The entirety of Arkaria is destined to be controlled from within these caverns. I stand close to the Sovereign now, high in his estimation.”

  “What does it take to get there?” Terian asked, strangely curious. Sanctuary …

  “You should know,” Malpravus said, “I have heard from the Sovereign himself that you were in his inner circle once, and that he would not have parted with you but for your strong argument.”

  “I was in his inner circle?” Terian mused. “I didn’t know that.”

  “The Sovereign keeps his ways mysterious,” Malpravus said. “He keeps his council in darkness—”

  “Like everything else.”

  “—but he speaks highly of you, even in spite of that little incident two years ago,” Malpravus finished.

  “The one where he sentenced J’anda and I to death for personal betrayals?” Terian felt the full weight of his armor upon him, the armor and something else, perhaps. “He’s not the forgiving sort.”

  Malpravus smiled thinly. “I admit, I am interested to see how this meeting goes.”

  Terian blinked. “You’re taking me to him? Right now?”

  “Oh, yes,” Malpravus cooed, “of course. I could scarcely bring an exiled person into the upper city without immediately presenting him for judgment to the Sovereign.” He grinned. “I am intrigued to see his reaction to you.”

  Terian’s lips stiffened before he could betray his sudden, rising fury. Strange to whip around with these emotions, like a horse gone mad, bucking in all these different directions. “He might well kill me without another word.”

  Malpravus regarded him almost indifferently then shrugged. “You are my gift to him, and this is the trial through which you must pass if you wish to come home.” He turned, and his cowl rose just a few inches so that Terian could see his dark eyes. “Do you wish to go home?”

  Terian met his gaze, channeling all the deceit he’d practiced in the last year into his eyes to make them match Malpravus’s cool indifference. “I want to go home,” he said and meant it.

  “Then speak that loyalty to the Sovereign, and he may grant you your wish,” Malpravus said, turning back to the window. They had begun to pass the stately, sculpted manors that lined the road to the Sovereign’s palace, hewn out of the rock and decorated impressively.

  “Or he may grant me death,” Terian said.

  “I won’t leave you dead, dear boy,” Malpravus said with a fearsome grin, “you’re much too valuable to discard in such a manner.”

  Terian’s blood froze in his veins as they passed an estate on his right. He could not tell which was the greater chill; the veiled promise of Malpravus exercising his dominion over Terian’s corpse or the sight of his old home out the window. Could be either, Terian decided. Either is almost a fate worse than death; coming back here or being Malpravus’s puppet.

  The carriage rattled on, passing through the gates ahead with nothing more than a wave from Malpravus. “We are expected,” the necromancer said, sounding pleased with himself. “The guards must have sent a runner.”

  “Or perhaps the Sovereign is merely thrilled to see you,” Terian said. “How long were you gone?”

  “It was two days' ride to the bridge,” Malpravus said with a shrug, “so not terribly long as far as these things go.”

  Terian considered Malpravus shrewdly. After Terian had accepted the necromancer’s offer, Malpravus had wrapped his bony arms around Terian in the jungle and cast his return spell, taking them both to a building in a place that Terian did not recognize. There were black curtains over all the windows, and the fur
niture was so nondescript as to defy placement with any culture. A half dozen members of Goliath were there, waiting, and a wizard had teleported them to the portal outside Saekaj Sovar’s entrance, from where they’d begun their steady descent to this moment.

  “I’m sure that everything is quite all right,” Malpravus said with that same indifference. “Otherwise, we would have been greeted with a much different reaction.”

  The Sovereign does not suffer failure lightly, Terian thought, agreeing silently with the Goliath Guildmaster. “What is your task in all this?”

  “I help command my armies against the humans at present,” Malpravus said. “Did you not hear them call me General?”

  “How big is Goliath now?” Terian asked, trying to decide how to approach the subject. “Did you lose many in your exile?”

  Malpravus let loose a light chuckle that was disturbing as the carriage came to a stop. “We are now almost twenty thousand strong, so no. The exile from Reikonos was actually a boon to our recruitment. We were able to gather unto ourselves some of the, shall we say, less savory elements of Arkaria.”

  Terian looked at him through slitted eyes. “Did you go to the bandit lands? Did you pull from the ranks of the lawless?”

  Malpravus’s grin stretched wide once more. “They are quite bitter toward the great northern powers down there, did you know?”

  Terian bottled his feelings inside. No wonder he didn’t mind traversing to where he found me all by himself; he’d have used that last portal in the southeast before if he’s been recruiting the bandits and savages to his guild.

  The door to Terian’s side of the carriage was pulled open with a squeak of hinges, and a guard held it open expectantly.

  “Well, dear boy,” Malpravus said, gathering his blue robes about him, “this is it.”