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‘SO THIS LUMINARY NINE group,’ Tarasque said, her hands still firmly pinning the blue-skinned tiefling to the wall. ‘They’re the answer to our little situation, are they?’
Barcius wet his lips, ‘There’s no guarantee, but they are the one whom I entrusted with the task of watching over the demon in my absence,’ he replied. ‘But with the skies burning and the shadow beasts prowing the City of Starstrand, I’d make the assumption they failed that task.’
I watched his face twist and contort, seemingly calculating his plan if his hypothesis proved true. Without his group there was the fear the demon was already free.
‘How do we find them?’ Tarasque asked, easing her grip a little, but still enough to keep the tiefling choking when he didn’t speak. ‘This group of yours?’
I chirped in, ‘Forgive my interruption but, if it is as you say, that the Luminary Nine, did in fact fail their task. Would they still be in the chateau?’
Barcius’s expression was grim and he cast his grey orbs to the sky, ‘That’s what I’m afraid of,’ he said. ‘I’d like to consider the possibility they were able to seek refuge, but perhaps that is too optimistic of me to consider, given the state of Starstrand.’
I opened my mouth to say something, then closed it again. The question resting on the tip of my tongue seemed insensitive to speak, given our predicament.
‘There seems little sense hanging around here,’ Tarasque announced to the group, releasing her grip on the tiefling and allowing him to slump onto the ground. ‘If it is as you say, then we need to make haste to the chateau. I’m trusting you to get us there swiftly.’
Barcius coughed as he got back onto his feet, brushing the dust from his garments. ‘I assure you, your trust in me will not be misplaced.’
‘Don’t let me regret my decision,’ the fire genasi grunted at him, as her tresses became dying embers, and waited for Barcius to take the lead.
The tiefling fixed his tie and pulled out a piece of parchment from his notebook. ‘If I’m correct, we’re standing in Orion’s alley,’ Barcius said, folding the parchment until it resembled a map. His fingers traced a route until he tapped a single location. He made a face, ‘The quickest route is to stick to the back alleys, but that might not be the safest option due to the shadow beasts.’
‘We’ll take our chances,’ Tarasque snapped, her hand resting firmly on the hilt of our greatsword, ‘Besides, they’ll be no match for the Ashen Order.’
Barcius sighed and shook his head, ‘You would be wise not to underestimate these demons.’
The rest of us followed the tiefling’s lead, lurking in the back alley streets of the city and trying our best to avoid drawing the attention of the shadow beasts.
I watched as the creatures wandered around aimlessly, seemingly unaware of our presence. Some clung to the stone walls, clawing at the brick work, and others stalked around like unwanted visitors. They seemed harmless, until I saw their claws at their sides. A wave of uneasiness washed through me, my mind focusing on the image of the Darkling impaled by my abilities. I quickened my steps, catching up with my comrades and pushed the thought deep to the back of my mind.
We continued our trek until we reached cast iron gates, the metalwork eroded with age. Barcius furrowed his brow, taking hold of the chains that coiled around the gate. A padlock kept us from venturing further. He slammed the chains back into the gate, his expression angry and yet calculating. I heard him utter a few curse words under his breath before peering through the gap in the gate until his expression softened.
‘This wasn’t what I expected,’ the tiefling adjusted his posture and gathered us together to speak. ‘If the demon was released, then it would stand to reason that these chains would be broken, however they’re only aged by rust.’
I interjected, ‘How are we to get in if the gate to the chateau is locked?’
Tarasque scoffed, ‘We’re adventurers, Saria. The same way we deal with everything, by any means necessary.’ She produced an orb of fire in her hand and grazed the metal of the chain. The links melted away into nothing but ash, with the padlock dropping to the stones with a clang. ‘Problem solved.’ She turned and flashed a smile at the tiefling.
Barcius stood silent for a moment and then creaked open the gate, ‘Please stay close, there’s no telling if the demons have made it this far,’ he said, stepping into the courtyard.
The courtyard, much like iron fencing, was eroded with age, dry moss covered the brickwork, with discoloured stones half coated in dirt. In the centre stood a silent sentinel, a bronze statue of a tiefling warlock standing proud with his staff and spellbook in hand in front of a huge building.
‘Is that?’ I asked aloud.
Barcius gave a single nod to confirm, ‘Home sweet home,’ he grimaced. As he passed the bronze statue, he stroked the cloak of the tiefling, ‘Good to see you again, old man.’
A warmth swelled in my chest, I bit my lip to stop myself from crying. The way he greeted the statue with love, like his grandfather was here in the flesh.
‘Is this?’ Tarasque asked, slowly moving in a circle as she looked up at the bronze figure.
Barcius turned to meet her gaze, ‘The grandest warlock to walk this realm, yes,’ he said, ‘Ser Osim Yun Amrai. My grandfather.’
I gazed up at the figure, wearing a billowing cloak with a mantle upon his shoulders. A thin ponytail trailed behind him with a wispy beard and half-moon glasses rested on the bridge of his nose. His staff was different from my own, three crystal rods surrounded a single crystal orb and wrapped in a branch-like cage. I made a mental note of the detail, remembering there had been three amethyst eyes on the trial gate. I wondered if it was a code of some sort.
‘This way, hurry,’ Barcius said in a hushed tone, unwilling to alert the shadow beasts.
Before us sat the abandoned chateau, mould-covered brickwork and shattered windows greeted us. An uninviting stench of rot in the air. We gathered around the entrance, a door standing between us and our mission. It should’ve been a simple task to get it open, if it had not been for the shadow beasts that swarmed us the moment Barcius placed his hand on the door.
They came for us, their slow moments sifting into reckless sprints.
‘What did you do?’ Tarasque hissed, drawing her greatsword. She stood before us, preparing her stance.
The tiefling stuttered inaudible words while rummaging for his spellbook. I watched as the same three amethyst eyes materialised on the door. All Barcius needed to do was wake them. He leafed through the book, muttering words under his breath. Beads of sweat wet his brow, as he pierced the tip of his index. He winced in pain but smeared the crimson tears across the woodgrain, drawing a number of symbols that matched the pages of his book.
‘Hurry up, they’re almost here,’ Tarasque growled through gritted teeth, as she took a step towards the fiends. Half a dozen shadow beings inched closer to the group.
I slammed my hand onto the ground, commanding the earth to bend to my will. Dozens of spikes erupted from the ground, creating a minefield for the beasts to navigate around. ‘That should slow them down,’ I said. A swell of pride warmed my heart. But my victory was short lived when the shadow beasts threw themselves against the rocks, crushing them like sandcastles. ‘Or not.’
Barcius shook, fumbling with the last of his symbols he needed to write. The door illuminated with a faint purple light then unbolted itself. It creaked open, allowing us safe passage.
‘Quickly, everyone inside, now,’ the tiefling shouted, hurrying us all inside.
Tarasque was the last to enter, kicking several beasts in the face and screaming like a primal savage just as a pair of hands hauled her inside and the door slammed inches away from her face.
‘What took you so long?’ she asked, her tone still fuelled by anger.
Barcius shot her a glance as he bolted the door from the inside, ‘As I said, this place is protected by layers of enchantments,’ he replied. ‘It’s not as easy as asking it to open in an ancient language. No offence, Saria.’
I shook my head and said, ‘I wouldn’t have suggested, it was a miracle that worked for me.’ I cast my mind back to the previous trial, where the ancient language of my ancestors proved useful. My eyes then focused on the wetness of the tiefling’s hand. Blood. ‘Is your hand okay?’
Barcius looked down at his hand then back to me, ‘Just a scratch,’ he replied. ‘One cannot break enchantments such as these without first giving over a sample of themselves.’
‘May I?’ I asked, taking a step closer. He nodded to agree and put his hand in mine. ‘It might sting a bit.’ I added just as my finger tips glowed. The wound stitched itself together, forming a neat line scar across his thumb.
‘Thank you,’ he said, running his index across the line.
I dropped his hand and returned his kindness with a smile. ‘It’s the least I can do.’
Tarasque cleared her throat, drawing my attention away from my comrade. ‘Are they likely to break through that lock or should we begin barricading the door?’ she asked, folding her arms across her chest and eyed up the main door. A dozen fists pounded against the wood, with eerie snarls.
‘It should hold them,’ Barcius said. ‘Besides, we need to ensure that the Luminary Nine are alive, then secure the demon.’ He stalked off alone, searching for something.
Each of us split up, hunting for an entryway. In his years of travelling and adventuring the tiefling had forgotten the location to the underground manor. I wandered around the open space, an oval reception room, carpeted with mould. Portraits hung on the wall of ancestors passed, covered in thick layers of dust. A chandelier hung low from the ceiling, with candles almost burnt out and wax dripping on the table below. A single bouquet of withered roses sat in the centre of the table, the colour drained from the petals. I peered up at one of the portraits, the one with the least amount of dust, and saw a similar detail. The same staff rested in the hands of the figure, yet I couldn’t make out its face. I assumed the portrait must be Grand Warlock Osim.
‘I think I found something,’ I announced to the group. I prayed my suspicions were correct. ‘What if your grandfather kept the secret safe until your return?’
Barcius turned to meet my gaze, his grey orbs widened at the promise. A smile appeared on his lips, ‘That sly dog,’ was all he could manage before walking past me to inspect the portrait from himself. He gripped the sides of the rusted frame and pulled it off the wall. A small indent in the wall greeted him, his smile widened. ‘It appears your theory was correct. Fascinating.’ Barcius slid the indent until something in the distance clicked then returned the portrait to its original position.
The ground started to rumble as a bookshelf in the far corner creaked open. A secret entryway revealed itself, with a narrow spiral staircase leading to the lower part of the chateau.
‘Come, we must hurry,’ Barcius said, guiding us towards the staircase. ‘If the clan is still here, they’d be hiding in the crypt below.’
Tarasque kept her greatsword close and added, ‘Be on your guard, keep your minds sharp.’
I held my crook near to my chest, then watched as Mitztail drew his rapier. All of us readied ourselves for an ambush. The tiefling led the way, descending the stone steps and followed by each of us in turn, keeping a short distance between us all until we reached the bottom. Dimly lit sconces made of cast iron clung to the walls, candle wax dripped to the ground. An eerie silence welcomed us inside the crypt. A vast corridor stood before us, with distant voices attracting the attention of my tiefling comrade.
‘Perhaps, that’s them,’ Barcius said. There was a hopefulness to his tone. He began half walking, half running down the narrow corridor, like a man on a mission.
The rest of us followed close to his heels, still holding our weapons close, despite the expectation the voices belong to his clan. As we ran, I noted the unusual decor in the corridor; from the dirt-coated stones to the bones and skulls littering the ground in piles, too many to count properly. Seeing them churned my stomach, and the foul stench of decaying flesh hit the back of my throat.
We turned the corner at the end of the corridor, until we reached an opening that led us onto a balcony overlooking an antechamber. Tarasque took the lead, she pressed a finger to her lips and gestured for us all to kneel along the stone wall. She inched herself closer to the railing, peaking through the gaps.
A low chanting began, in a language I didn’t recognise, with several voices speaking at once. There was an uneasy expression plastered across the tiefling’s face and he listened to the words.
‘You know this language?’ I turned to ask him.
Barcius grimaced, nodding slowly. ‘Unfortunately, I do,’ he said. ‘But these aren’t the voices I expected to hear down here.’ He edged closer to the fire genasi, peeking through the gaps in the balcony himself. His grey orbs widened at the scene below, as he watched he began to edge himself backwards.
‘What’s wrong?’ Tarasque asked, her brows knitted together, ‘Are these not the people you asked us to find?’
The tiefling shook his head and his whole body started to shake violently.
I took my turn to peer inside the antechamber below. A wide circular room, dimly lit with a slightly warmer light. The sconces lit with newly placed candles, judging by the shape and colour. Thick crimson towers of wax. In the centre of the antechamber was an obsidian stone table, with a crimson cloth running down the centre, small golden tassels were sewn along the hem. A small army of figures, dressed head to toe in crimson cloaks with their hoods drawn up over their faces. I noted the inky sigils decorating the hems of the robes. They appeared familiar but I couldn’t place the markings in my mind.
Are these the elusive Luminary Nine, Barcius spoke of?
If they were, why would he be looking petrified?
Looking back at my comrade, I could see him become a shell of the man we’d all come to know. I wondered what he could have seen. Something, someone had spoked him. There was terror in his eyes, I’d never seen him react in such a way.
I glanced back down to the hooded clan below, their chanting continued yet each of them bowed before a tapestry. An inky creature was crudely illustrated on the parchment, the hooded figures were enthralled by. I pushed my ear through the gap, hoping to decipher some of their words.
‘May the eater of worlds return to this realm,’ I heard them chant and my eyes widened.
‘Barcius,’ I said, shuffling back towards my tiefling comrade. ‘Who is this eater of worlds?’
The tiefling turned to look at me, paralysed by fear, ‘Cultists, here in this crypt,’ he muttered to himself. ‘Osim said this day would come. The demon will summon an army of crimson followers, after three hundred and thirty three sacrifices are made, the spiral of decay will open and the lost god shall return to this realm.’
Barcius’s eyes rolled to the back of his head as he collapsed to the floor. One final word escaped from his lips.
‘Tharizdun.’
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