Path of Darkness

Path of Darkness

Prologue

Getting across unseen would be difficult. There were a hundred yards of moon-lit grassland separating one wall of trees from the other, and the elves had keen night vision. It had been several thousand years since the Stalker last encountered a member of the vile race, but that was one detail it would never forget.

Slipping in silence through the thicket, the Stalker scanned the clearing for something—anything—that could give it access to the grove. Its search was not in vain. A sliver of darkness reached across the pale grass, forming an inch’s width of space through which to move. The Stalker stretched along the shadow bridge, across the border of the grove.

Blue, ethereal torches flickered throughout the many giant tree trunks, but they could not drive away all of the darkness. The Stalker crept through the shadows cast by the magical flames, evading the elven sentries. Though much of the massive trunks were darkened, it took far longer than expected for the Stalker to find one sufficiently draped in shadow. It dug its claws into the sappy bark and began to climb, pulling itself toward the flickering lights high up in the trees.

It was not long before the Stalker came to a bridge that seemed to have grown straight out of the side of the tree it was attached to. The delicate scaffold connected to the next closest of the massive trunks, and was one of countless walkways running throughout the grove. Doors and windows lined the tree trunks, and staircases wound upwards to another level of walkways. The Stalker climbed until it reached the very tops of the trees. There had been twelve different levels, all of them teeming with elves.

Slinking inwards, the Stalker clung to the bottoms of the walkways, always keeping to the deepest pockets of shadow available. The beacon that had been calling to it for months was strong here, on the twelfth level. Astaldereg was somewhere close. The Stalker looked forward to becoming reacquainted with the only prisoner to have ever escaped its grasp.

The shadow leapt from walkway to walkway, moving ever closer to the source of the drone in its head as it slipped past elven sentries. The sound led to one of four grand, elliptical balconies that hung out from the side of the center tree, overlooking the city. More blue torches outlined the balconies, vesting them in a surreal glow. The Stalker saw figures moving along the edge of the closest balcony, and the drone in its head shifted in pitch, becoming a terrible whine.

The balconies were above even the highest of levels; it looked as though there was no way to get there without entering the trunk of the massive center tree. So the Stalker climbed up the side of the trunk and slipped along the bottom of the balcony, clinging to the darkness like a ladder. As it crept closer to the edge of the balcony, it could hear voices.

“…Hate to leave so soon.”

It was a male voice, and by the way the drone was behaving, the Stalker was positive it was Astaldereg.

“I know. I have only just returned, and already we are planning to leave. I wish there was more time, but we have to act while we still can.”

This second voice was female, and carried the accent of the Elves. As it crept to the edge of the balcony, the Stalker was glad it would get a chance to kill one of them as well.

“No, I understand.” Astaldereg sighed. “He was very clear in his message. We have to act now, or risk losing his aid.”

The Stalker stopped. The conversation was beginning to sound interesting, and it thought the Master might like to know what was being said. The Stalker opened a channel in its mind, sending everything it sensed to its master. Once it was certain the connection was established, it crept to the edge of the balcony.

The Stalker had missed some of the conversation while contacting its master. Astaldereg was already responding when it reached the edge of the balcony.

“Look, I still don’t have a real good idea what’s going on here, but I’m putting my faith in you and your father on this. Things have happened that I never would have expected, and if you believe we can help the rest of the human race and defeat this…Shadow King, then I’m all for it. I say we should…”

Astaldereg broke off. The shadow heard footsteps approaching the place where its prey stood. A male voice spoke in the language of the Elves, causing the Stalker to cringe.

Suddenly, the bottom of the balcony was flooded with blinding light. Dazed, and with no darkness to cling to, the Stalker fell. It cut through the air like a stone before crashing into one of the lower walkways.

It regained its footing, fighting disorientation as dozens of elves surrounded it. They were dressed in dark blues and greens and poked at it with blades and spears.

Several arrows tore through the air, burying themselves in the Stalker’s chest. It screamed, its voice a high-pitched, deafening wail, and lunged toward the closest of the offending elves. Its claw-like fingers dug into the elf’s chest, splattering blood across the walkway. More arrows flew into its back, and the Stalker ripped the elf’s head from its body before hurling both at the archers.

The elves edged closer, boxing the Stalker in. It spun, pushing their spears away, forcing many from their owners’ hands. One of the elves swung with its sword. The Stalker tried to block, but the blade slipped under its arm and into its side. Howling with pain, the Stalker seized the elf by its arm and neck. It pulled, ripping the limb off.

The sword still sticking out of its side, the shadow turned and advanced on another of the filthy elves. A third volley of arrows struck, but there was already so much pain the Stalker barely noticed.

In its rage, the Stalker tore through the ranks of elves, tossing them aside like dolls. It was about to break through the last of the group when a sparkle of silver caught its attention. It turned toward the source in time to catch a silver crossbow bolt through the head. It stumbled for a second, released the most pain-filled wail yet, and toppled over the edge of the walkway.

As it struck the ground, the silver bolt was forced deeper into its head. It was dead before it stopped moving.

On the other side of the world, a man sat in a room devoid of light. He sat upon a throne with a grim look etched upon his face. His hands gripped the edges of his throne for a moment before waving his hand in the air.

A door opened out of the surrounding void, and light spilled across the nothingness. A servant stepped into the doorway, its features blacked out by the light behind it. “Y-yes, milord?”

“Bring me Jamis.”

The servant bowed and hurried out of the room. As the door closed, leaving him once again devoid of light, the Shadow King smiled.