Shadowkeep

Kane paced within the dark edifice of Shadowkeep, his bare feet slapping the rocky floor. The chill had no effect on him. He was used to the cold of these snowcapped mountains.

Try as he might, the repetitive motion failed to quell his agitation. His plans had gone terribly, horribly wrong. The King's Shield had been surprisingly powerful. His mind still bore the headache like a painful memory, unwilling to recede.

A Mind Bender—he should have seen it. The task was supposed to be easy: overpower the carrier and take the remaining Dragon Stones. But he'd underestimated the protector. The Shield broke into his mind and discovered the grand scheme lying within. It left his head burning in agony. He'd been forced to retreat, allowing the Shield to escape north.

He snorted, his pace faltering. So much for remaining in the shadows! His entire plan hinged on secrecy. It would be far easier to carry out his tasks without hordes of Drengr scum searching for his fortress and counter attacking at will.

But not for long....

Such abominations! He could hardly wait to rid the world of the dragon-kind who called themselves Drengr. The dragons alone were meant to carry the mythical form bestowed upon them by his forbearers, the great Asarlaí of old. Blessing certain dragons with humanity? Gifting them the ability to transform into humans? It wholly disgusted him. What was Queen Isabella thinking? But never mind that, he would succeed. Soon, none of draconic descent, dragon or Drengr, would walk this land again.

His pacing continued. Every so often, he stopped to peer from the many loopholes in the tower, searching out over the tall jagged peaks of the Northern Barrier Range. Still no sign of his lethal assassins. Vodar wraiths. He had summoned them from Undirfold to finish his work, and with luck, save him from further exposure. But the longer they tarried, the greater his fury grew. Greater still was the doubt-ridden voice in the depths of his mind. Had they failed? After hundreds of years of meticulous planning, would his precious work be destroyed by one, stupid mistake?

To say he was eager was a vast understatement. He was growing desperate. The two remaining Dragon Stones were all that stood between failure and fulfilling his masterplan. With them, he would have a complete set. With them, he would bring about an end to the Drengr monarchy. What a sweet end it would be.

Dragon Stones....

He'd always found it intriguing that such seemingly harmless objects held so much power. Funnier still, so few in the world knew what they were or how they worked. But he knew, oh yes, and he had to have them, even if he died trying.

He'd first learned about the Dragon Stones during his early years of magic, long before his skin turned pale and gaunt, longer still before his eyes had taken on the red glow they now held. During those times, he lacked the knowledge to truly understand their worth, let alone possess them. Even then, the stones called to him like a shadowed whisper in the night. They were nothing but myth. Descriptions of their existence could only be found scattered throughout old tomes of stories long past. He never let that stop him. Eventually, the day came to seek them out.

It took him nearly half a millennium to locate all five. During his travels, he delved deeper and further into Asarlaí magic, learning things the Magoi could never possibly know. His increasing power kept him alive, giving him the needed strength to carry on. How formidable the power of living was for one determined to fulfill a destiny, especially a prodigious destiny such as his.

The first Stone was an easy acquisition. He procured it from the bottom of Eagle Lake in the North. The depths of its hiding place were far greater than any human could reach. But he was no human. He was an Asarlaí, the last living Asarlaí in Dragonwall.

But not elsewhere, his mind taunted.

The second, he discovered by chance. Like the first, it had once belonged to the dragons at the end of the Second Age, those of the Ice Clan. Their leader had hidden it well, along with the other two he once possessed. This one was not at the bottom of any lake. Rage had locked it away in the frozen realm of Kalderland, requiring him to parley with Kalderland's inhabitants, the Kalds, great ice giants of Black Rock Ice. In exchange for their cooperation, he made it possible for them to seek a prize of their choosing—support in their planned attack against the North. It was he who led them through the range and into the kingdom. Yet, it was no fault of his that their desires ended in failure.

The most difficult of the three was locked away with the Gobelins. Obtaining this one resulted in his alliance with them, a most convenient outcome. Although, he would not have guessed it at the time.

Now only two remained. These were the two Rage had failed to discover. They stayed hidden for years immeasurable, until the King's Shield recently procured them, which, mind you, was an integral part of his grand plan. What he had not planned for was the guard's ability to retain them. The wretch should have been an easy kill, but now he protected his prize with the threads of his very existence, exercising every bit of magic to keep them safe and out of Kane's hands.

A wicked smile stretched across his lips. Vodar wraiths were lethal, with blades coated in poison. Impossible for humans, and difficult still for someone like the Shield to overcome. He glanced out of another loophole. Still nothing.

Where were they? A vein jumped in his forehead. He used his fingers to smooth his scowl and massage his temples. It was foolish, but he was tired of waiting. He strode across his study and removed six onyx crystals from a shelf, arranging them in a row on the floor. If his wraiths would not come, he would make them come.

Behind the crystals he spread fire powder, finer than the finest sand, and valuable beyond measure. The barrier was mostly symbolic, but nonetheless, a necessary part of the process.

When everything was assembled, he stepped away and began his incant. His lips hardly moved while he muttered. "Skaepa an eldár, vaxa eldár, brenna eldár..." The first words spoken ignited the powder, coaxing the flames into a blaze. They burned a deep blue—the color of honest magic. These flames were to be the tall backdrop necessary to eliminate any possibility of retreat, not that his wraiths were stupid enough to run from him.

As his incant progressed, a shadowy line of darkness connected the stones. The black thread grew in thickness until he moved on to the next set of phrases. A loud crack split the air, like the breaking of stone. It echoed against the rocky walls. His six assassins appeared. The number was symbolic, six Vodar wraiths to match the six King's Shields. Each stood in front of its respective onyx crystal.

His chanting ceased.

"Great lord." Their heads bowed. "Why have you summoned us?" Their hissing came from beneath their shadowy hoods.

"You dare question me?" His voice was a low snarl. He looked them over, glancing from one to the next. They had arrived with their short swords drawn, ready for battle. Perhaps his timing was not the best.

"What have you to say for yourselves? What of your mission?"

"We nearly had him, my lord!" the one in the middle said, taking a step forward. "We had the Drengr surrounded. You will be pleased to know he is wounded." There was blood dripping from the Vodar's poisoned short sword.

"Wounded? Pleased?" He repeated the words back in the same hissing manner. "The Drengr is not dead then?" The news was inexcusable. "Where are my Dragon Stones?"

What legitimate reason could they give for the length of time this mission was taking? Were these not the most evil creatures in all of existence? Certainly there were others, but none that he dared summon as of yet.

"We would have obtained them, great lord, had you not summoned us at the worst possible moment."

He was never one to admit a mistake, nor would he now. Perhaps he should have given them more time, but the deed was done, and here they stood. Besides, time enough he had given them.

"You have been tracking the Drengr for weeks," he pointed out. "I grow tired of your inability to carry out my orders." As his anger flared, so did the fire line. The Vodar wraiths flinched and stepped forward out of its way. "I should burn you here and now." He clenched and unclenched his fists.

"Please, great lord, we will not fail again." Vodar were terrified of fire. It was the only painful way they could be punished. Perhaps they needed to feel the weapon of their weakness.

"No, I dare say you will not fail. You know what awaits you if you do." Again, the fire flared. "I want him dead, and I want those Stones. Now go!" He removed his magical hold on the fire, extinguishing the flames, freeing the way for the Vodar. They fled from the room like a gust of black wind, hissing its way from Shadowkeep. 

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