Shades of Grey

KESTASLA— JUNE 1844

I drew both my Flamesword and the Longsword I had acquired inside the Kuligari camp before making my first strike. I brought them both down through the head Cynocephali, expecting to cut directly into them. Instead, the soldier stopped in mid air and dematerialised in a whiff of smoke.

For a moment, no one moved. I looked up at Forma, giving her a knowing glance.

“This will be easy,” she laughed.

I cocked a smile and made my first attack. With a single strike, I had caused three soldiers to fade from the front. With another attack, I made four on both sides and five soldiers behind me fade. This was the most bizarre fight I had ever been in.

“How are you faring?” I asked Forma as I continued to strike.

“Considerably well. You?” Forma answered, not out of breath at all.

“The same. I’m almost enjoying this,” I replied honestly. I heard her chuckle.

“Would you like to keep one to play with when we leave?”

“Very funny,” I smirked, returning my full attentions to the soldiers, just as five of them leapt for me, their swords held at the ready.

I easily brought both my swords in between theirs and forced them all to the side; causing them to pierce five soldiers surrounding me before bringing my own swords swiftly through the five who had made the first leap. I then jumped into the air and landed on two soldiers, knocking their swords backwards and slicing into eight of the nearest Cynocephali before striking the two I stood upon. All in all, it took less than thirty seconds to destroy twelve of the soldier projections.

Manouevres like this continued at lightning speed until only one soldier was left standing at the end of the empty hallway. I looked up at him and placed my Longsword back in the compartment on my pantleg. I was determined to get answers from this soldier before erasing him from existence.

“Would you really stand so strongly after seeing such a battle?” I taunted, striding towards him confidently.

“What Master Malehvarei orders, Master Malehvarei shall receive,” he responded loyally, swinging his own sword in readiness. “And he has ordered your head.”

In a flash of movement, I pinned the soldier against the wall and held my lit Flamesword to his throat. His projected skin sizzled, dangerously close to eradication.

“Who is Malehvarei?” I asked forcefully.

“The greatest wizard of the Golden Age,” responded the soldier with reverence.

I frowned. The Golden Age had ended almost four hundred years before, if he was speaking of the Golden Age I thought he was...could he be speaking of a ghost?

“Is he somewhere in this castle?”

At that moment, Forma dealt with the last of the Turma, transformed into herself and flew to my side.

“He is this castle, everything and everyone in it…he is everywhere…”

I exchanged a look with Forma when the realisation struck me.

“Is he Truceris?” I asked. The soldier nodded, a smile of admiration plastered dumbly on his ugly dogface.

“Yes…he is the heart and the soul of this castle…”

“Does he control you all?” I asked. “Is there anyone in this castle who can think for himself?”

The soldier just laughed, confirming my fears.

“He controls everyone in the castle,” I stated blankly to Forma.

“Then what would be his motive for capturing the Dragons? Why was Natara concocting an anti-aging potion?”

The soldier laughed louder and I shoved him roughly against the wall.

“What do you know?”

The soldier looked at me and spoke softly.

“Go to Hell, Hunter!”

I rolled my eyes as the soldier rejoiced in more gales of laughter. I threw him across the hall into the opposite wall as he faded into smoke, silencing his obnoxious guffaws.

“What now?” Forma asked.

“I need to get Anesthia out of the castle,” I said, walking strongly down the hall.

“Why?” Forma asked, matching my stride. “Would Malehvarei be able to—”?

We both stopped suddenly as cacophonic, ear-piercing sounds of rusty metal echoed throughout the expansive hallways. Forma and I covered our ears and watched as the many suits of ancient armour that lined the corridor sprang to life and strode toward us, their spears held out at the ready.

“You dare to intervene with my plans?!” boomed the sonorous voice of Truceris. It echoed through the cavernous, empty corridors in a barrage of sickening sound.

“What are your plans?” I asked with directness, even as the sword points touched my neck.

“Don’t pretend you don’t already know,” replied the voice.

“I don’t,” I said forcefully. “So why don’t you tell me what happened to you?”

Malehvarei let out a gruesome cackle that snaked its way through the stone halls, echoing off the cold, hard surfaces and resonating in the open obelisks and domed ceilings. The same shadowy figure that had haunted the metal forest of Truceris then appeared out of the wall and slid easily into the first suit of armour.

“Alistair the First refused to give me what I wanted. I had no choice.”

“What did you want? What happened?” I pressed quickly, looking at the lead suit of armour as it held its spear centimetres from my jugular vein.

“I was so loyal to his family,” Malehvarei spat with disdain. “And he refused to give me what I deserved!”

“What happened?” I pressed again, blinking for the first time since the suits of armour had sprung to life. “What are you?”

“It was at the height of the great war between Kestasla and Zorsos. Alistair wanted a place to put his prisoners of war. So I created Truceris, a prison that could see, feel…and think…using parts of my very own soul to give it life. After it was finished, the prison stretched for miles underground around the city, capturing any stray Zorsian soldiers that dared to approach. Alistair seemed satisfied, but he refused the one thing I asked for.”

“What was that? What did you ask for?” I probed softly.

“Freedom.”

Malehvarei’s voice was dark and full of dangerous hatred, the kind of voice that one develops after holding a grudge for over a lifetime.

“I had been the slave of his family for some time and I swore that I would have my revenge, even as Alistair had me executed in the middle of the city square for treason. While standing on that platform, I cursed the family with early death and I swore that vengeance would be mine. Then I laughed, right up until the blade sliced into my neck.”

I exchanged a brief look of revulsion with Forma.

“When I woke up,” Malehvarei continued. “I was the prison. I had become Truceris, reduced to this pathetic shadow.”

I said nothing as he took a moment to calm his rising anger.

“Then,” he continued, his voice growing darker with sinister aplomb. “I found that my powers could extend beyond those I had designed for the prison. I found that with a simple pinprick, I could control members of the royal family. I could infect others that worked in the castle and even create images for those minds not yet under my control. So, to test my abilities and exact my revenge, I eliminated the royal family and brought the rest of the castle under my control.”

“So, Roman is dead then?”

The suit gave a patronising laugh.

“Of course he is dead. That fool died in a vapid attempt to wrestle an Evratan on the outer plains of Kestasla. Roman was never an intellectual being.”

I swallowed, buying time as I organised all of this information in my head and tried to choose the next relevant question.

“So why kidnap Dragons? What is Natara really doing?”

Malehvarei laughed.

“Natara and I were lovers once. We both respected the power of the other and when she heard what had happened to me, she came at once to see me. We then began to make plans for a potion that would reanimate the dead King Roman before turning him immortal and allowing me to inhabit his body.”

“You were planning to take his body?!” I cried.

“I CANNOT CONTINUE MY PLANS IF I AM TRAPPED INSIDE THIS CASTLE!” boomed Malehvarei, causing the foundations of the entire castle to quake. “I need a mobile body if I am to cultivate my empire.”

I covered my gaping mouth in shock when a thought struck me.

“Were you here when my mother…” I could not finish the sentence, which Malehvarei found amusing.

“Of course I was. My control of the castle had just begun. It was Natara’s idea to kidnap her Maisling and send the Hunter into the nearby Graylight camp, wherein she managed to tear your father away from his tribe and forced him to join with her. Together they returned to the palace and broke into my jails to release her Maisling. Your parents became quite famous in their travels: destroying hordes of reanimated corpses, countless Vetala clans and God knows how many packs of Feral Vampires. It was difficult not to know of the Echo duo, Hunter and Graylight working together. If only the Hunter had not made that foolish bargain with the Vanguards in her youth…”

I stared up at the lead suit of armour, surges of fervent anger and horror flowing through me at this new piece of information.

“What bargain?” I asked in a hushed voice.

Malehvarei gave another demeaning chuckle.

“Do you really think I would divulge that information? Knowledge is power, my dear and right now, I am so much stronger than you.”

In a flash, I brought my Flamesword out of its sheath and across the stems of every spear and sword aimed at my neck, followed by a powerful backwards leap out of the throng of armoured suits. Forma followed, changing easily into a Magorgian Beast and decimating several of the animate suits. I, however, kept my eyes on the lead suit of armour.

“But WHY?!” I shouted, my voice reaching octaves almost as powerful as Malehvarei’s. “Why tell me now?!”

“Because at this moment, I am working on expanding my empire. I have done wonders for Kestasla and I intend to broaden my control while I still possess the capability to do so. My plans for expansion have already begun.”

I looked to Forma in horrified realisation.

“Anesthia!” We both thought at once.

I then changed into my Dragon form and leapt into the air. Forma and I took off down the empty hallway once more, flying through the empty corridor at top speed and bursting through the golden doors to Anesthia’s chamber.

My breath caught in my throat as I saw her, frozen at her vanity with several mechanical roots holding her in place as a particularly large root plunged into her chest…right over the Xanthar key.

“NO!”

I leapt forward and loaded a round of water pellets into my Flesh Pistol, firing at the mechanical roots. Forma changed into an Ice Dragon and exhaled long streams of ice over the roots as well. Within seconds, each root was frozen solid. I gave each a good kick and watched them shatter under the force.

“How long do you suppose we have before more roots come to finish the job?” Forma reasoned as she changed back into herself.

“Not long enough,” I answered, placing my Flesh Pistol back in the compartment in my boot and grasping the frozen root lodged deeply inside the queen’s chest. I pulled at it and after several tense moments, I managed to yank it out of Anesthia’s skin.

The lifeless queen dropped to the floor, just as the castle began to quake.

“We need to go,” Forma said, changing into a Magorgian Beast.

“No,” I said strongly. “You need to go. Get the queen back to Xanthar.”

“WHAT?!” Forma’s telepathic voice was so loud that I heard my brain rattle in my skull. She angrily changed back into herself and marched towards me as the quaking increased.

“There isn’t much time!” I cried, drawing my Flamesword and reloading my Flesh Pistol. “Go!”

“Not without you!” she countered, moving the barrel of my Pistol away and focusing my attention on her. “I’m not content to ferry the queen all the way back to Xanthar while you fight a megalomaniacal prison! I’m staying and that’s final!”

There was a tense moment as I watched the angry passion flow through her face.

“Alright. Will you at least take her into town and alert the citizens as to what is happening? Help them escape?”

She nodded and smiled.

“That I will do.”

She changed into a Magorgian Beast once more and I placed the queen securely on her back.

Forma took off faster than I had ever seen her move and I turned, waiting as the castle façade began to crumble into the twisting metal forest in the chamer below, waiting as Malehvarei stretched his rootish appendages, waiting as he took over the entire castle.

Waiting for Truceris to stand and fight.