The Shadow Road; Dark Heritage Saga II

By Michael Bertolini

The dark army is growing.

After defeating the vampire lord Oztool, Amras and his companions must find a way out of the frozen waste of Mystra.

Fingon Darkleaf is being pursued after smuggling Princess Blakenship to safety by an unknown enemy. Only with the help of friends new and old can he hope to keep the innocent child alive.

In times of terror who can you trust?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Michael Bertolini
• Release date: May 4, 2011
• ISBN: 9781458157355

Michael Bertolini

I live in Simsbury, Connecticut where I graduated from Central Connecticut State University with a bachelor's degree in history. I have been writing for years but published my first book, The Cold Tower, in February 2010. My writing appears on various creepypasta websites online and in print. [Many of the published books are available from all major online book sellers as well as my website; all are available on my website or at Amazon.com].

Book preview

BOOK ONE

Michael J Bertolini

Copyright 2012 Michael J Bertolini

Smashwords Edition

To Arthur and Mabel

PROLOGUE

Alek walked into the tavern with his head held as high as it could go; which was not very high at all. Standing just above three feet tall he was a halfling, sometimes called a half-man. He had just arrived in Southport from Yorshirtok after bringing an elf and his daughter in his carriage. He liked working as a carriage driver, it was good money and allowed him to travel around the allied lands; but there was something special about these travelers that made him happier than usual.

The normal fare for two travelers between Yorshirtok and Southport was five gold coins, but the elf had paid him ten gold coins to rush the journey as much as he could. When they arrived in the city an hour ago the elf had paid him five more gold to keep his mouth shut; fifteen glorious gold coins.

Secrecy was not new in his business either. Everyone had secrets, some worse that others, but as long as Alek got paid he did not care. He thought about this fare a little more than others just because the elf had paid more than a mischievous noble; but he put it out of his mind as he walked into the tavern to get himself a drink.

This particular tavern was a better place than his typical haunts in the city. There were silver and gold coins passed around between customers and wenches, fine clothes and finer looking women. It was not entirely glamorous; there were a few drunkards playing a game of cards while a hooded man sat in the shadows nursing a mug of ale and another man sat beside a finer looking woman, her hand between his thighs. But compared to the people in his usual places they were almost too civil.

After looking around Alek walked to the bar and climbed onto a stool. He ordered a pint of ale and a roast chicken to eat while he decided where to stay in the city for the night; there were several places he normally stayed but with the extra money in his pocket he was considering improving his sleeping arrangements. He even thought about finding a place without fleas in the beds.

He enjoyed every bite of the tender meat while watching the room with the cautious eye of someone often caught in bar fights. He looked for those that would start a fight and then at those that would join in. He found the first man, a bald dwarf with a long grey beard tucked into his belt. He was gambling but as long as nobody cheated him all would be fine. Otherwise the place was quiet and the large man near the door inspired everyone to behave.

Once he finished his food Alek swiveled in the stool to relax, leaning back with his elbows propped on the bar top. As night replaced day more patrons were coming in and the space would soon get crowded. While the mischievous couple had already departed the drunkards were still there as was the man in the corner, but a lot of other sorts of folk had come in.

There were men dressed in fine tunics drinking while entertaining a young lady and a pair of city guards sat eating before going out on their rounds in the city.

But Alek’s eyes were drawn to two women sitting in the nearby corner. They were both human, dressed in large dresses designed to make them look more respectable than they really were. They noticed him staring and winked.

He could not believe his eyes. He wondered for a moment if the ale was getting to his head when one of the women stood and approached him. Her brown hair was done up above her head, a pair of curls fell loose around her large brown eyes. Her lips were painted red and she had a birthmark just above her lip. The top of her gown was low cut so that he could see down the front of her dress without any effort. She smiled, the corners of her lips turned up ever so slightly as her inviting eyes narrowed. He blushed and nearly fell off of his seat.

My friend and I saw you when we came in. The woman said with a slight Midellian accent though her Shiren was perfect. She leaned closer to him, both to whisper in his ear and to make it easier for him to see her breasts. He gulped and nearly fainted but was stopped by the woman’s gentle touch. Would you like to join us tonight? We were feeling lonely and you look like the sort of man to keep us… entertained. She smiled again, her lips parted slightly. She had perfect teeth that matched the rest of her perfect figure.

He gulped again and nodded. He wanted to join them so much that he never stopped to think why they were coming on to him, he was not the sort of person that attracted such women. He was short, dressed in simple clothes that were frayed and covered in patches. His skin was dirty and his hair a mess with some missing teeth. He knew what they were; their profession was no secret but he did not care. He had the money to afford them now while in the past he had never been able to enjoy the company of one of the city’s prostitutes; how they could know that he had money was a mystery to him though he wondered how expensive that roast chicken was.

I will be glad to join you. He said, jumping off of his seat. He followed her to her friend, holding her hand as would an obedient child, his small stature giving credence to that very illusion. He walked with her, a grin on his face, drawing the attention of the city guards. They looked at him and then at the women. One started to stand when his partner stopped him, shaking his head. Prostitution was frowned on in Yorshire, but not illegal.

The other woman, dressed like her friend but with blonde hair instead of brown, stood when they arrived. Without a word they led Alek out of the tavern and into the summer night air.

Southport was built on the side of a cliff, much like the capital city Yorshirtok, but this city was carved into and out of the very rock. Many streets went underground, twisting into dark sections of the city that were home to criminals and less fortunate. Divided into three tiers. most of the homes and shops were separated from the docks of the lowest tier. The middle tier was a mix of residences and shops with a few taverns while the top tier focused on the travelers that came through the city; nearly every inn and tavern was on the top tier.

The top tier provided both the only access to the roads leading to the other cities and the twin bridges that led to the island where the wealthiest people of the city lived. The bridge crossings were guarded to keep those like Alek from getting to the island.

The women said nothing to Alek, the brunette still holding his hand as they walked to the nearest bridge. Alek had never been allowed to even step on the bridge because of his appearance but to be going across the bridge in the company of two women meant so much more.

The walk across the bridge took a while; the nine hundred foot expanse crossed the Silver River; this shorter bridge was near the northern gates that led up to Yorshirtok; the southern bridge was more than twice as long and provided a grand view of the nearby ocean; between the two bridges was an inlet that formed the large harbor.

The women eventually led him to a mansion a few streets away from the bridge. It was a grand home of an old family. A four story spire flanked the right of large wooden doors with a black tiled roof and graying façade. Small statues, of what Alek could not tell, stood perched on various parts of the roof keeping guard over the ancient looking structure. A low stone wall blocked the yard from the home, while a black iron gate stood open. The front walk was tiled stone, the pattern too complex for Alek to discern.

If he could he would not have taken another step.

There were several carriages of high quality parked in front of it. Alek thought the whores would lead him through the front door but he was wrong. The women turned away from the front of the house and followed a small stone path towards a side door.

We must go in this way. The front door is for the city guard to see. Our real guests go in this side door. The blonde said, leaning down to whisper to the confused Alek. He turned to look at her but could not see much more than her breasts. He naively smiled and followed them in. The women opened the door and walked in before him. He followed, entering a small room that looked to be a pantry. There was a door that led to the kitchen where the sounds of several cooks came from. He frowned; this was not what he expected.

The door suddenly slammed shut and a bag was pulled over Alek’s head. He tried to struggle, but whoever held him was much stronger than he. He tried to pull at the hands and nearly screamed when he felt coarse hair where there should have been skin. He became aware of heavy breathing behind him but could not consider it or his captor’s stench for long. He was hit by something heavy and he fell unconscious.

~*~

Alek woke several minutes later to find that he was bound to a chair by several lengths of rope. The room was small with only one door before him. He knew he was not alone as soon as he was awake; there was someone, something, breathing heavily behind him. It reminded him of the bulls he saw once at a show in Sandstorm but that did not make any sense to him. Then the door opened and the two women walked in with cold stares, disgust in their eyes.

Ladies… He said, trying to find his voice though it refused not to shake with fear. I do not know what games you like to play, but I do not like this. He said as he tried in vain to wrestle against his bonds. The women said nothing but just stood there like silent sentinels. After another moment another woman walked in.

She was old, her skin wrinkled and her hair grey. She was wearing an elegant gown that hid her lower figure, complete with corset that held her chest tight. He did not need to be told that she was the lady of the house; he knew she was a well known and respected noble and he sorely wished that he could remember her name, but his head hurt too much. She looked at him with pursed lips and hands clasped before her chest.

Tell me what I want to know and I will let you leave, she said with a shrill and demeaning voice, do you understand? She asked. Alek nodded, he just wanted to get out of there. Good. Tell me about the people you brought into the city.

The people? His head was fuzzy and it took him a moment to remember the elf and his daughter. He was struck on the side of his head again, catching a brief sight of the hair covered fingers that whipped him.

Do not waste my time, half-man. Tell me what I want to know, now. She did not get anymore aggressive, though Alek sensed his time was running short.

There was an elf and a girl… his daughter I guess. He said. He did not want to be struck again; he was already starting to succumb to vertigo.

You guess? Was she his daughter or not?

I do not know, he never said.

Describe him to me. The woman asked and Alek did. He was taller than she and dressed like a seasoned traveler. He carried a walking stick that was engraved with numerous runes; one being an eye. The strangest thing about the elf was that he must have been blind because he had kept a wrap around the top half of his face.

The girl?

I do not know. She was young, light skinned, he paused, she looked familiar but I do not know why. Alek took a deep breath and tried to relax. He closed his eyes and when he opened them he felt a little better. The three women looked at each other before the older woman turned back to him.

Where did you bring them?

The Golden House Inn. That was the last I saw of them, honest.

Thank you. You may go now. The old woman turned and left the room while the others stayed. Alek waited for them to undo his bonds but they made no attempt to move.

They smiled.

They started to change.

His screams were silenced as the blood began to pour from the knife cut in his throat. He left an hour later in several pieces, mixed in with the garbage that was sent out of the city to be dumped into the sea.

ONE

Fingon Darkleaf stood on the stone roof as his cloak fluttered slightly in the breeze coming off of the sea. Once the storms that devastated the Torn islands passed the weather had been peaceful. He breathed in the salty air and let it out slowly.

To an observer that did not know any better he seemed to be staring off across the city but Fingon could do no such thing; his eyes had been cut out nearly fifty years before by Akaiden; where his eyes should have been where black orbs that reflected the dim torch light from the city below. He stood with his bow before him, a sentinel above the sad city of Southport.

Southport was the largest port in all of Yorshire and it attracted the scum of the earth along with the merchants and their goods; in some instances they were one in the same. Over the years the city had grown dirty, the guards corrupt, and the formerly beautiful city was starting to resemble the wretched metropolis of Barbohas.

Fingon was glad that he could not see this since the first time he came to the city it had been beautiful. The place had been filled with gardens, the streets clean and crime nearly non-existent. Now every wary traveler needed to be armed even though unsecured weapons were illegal, in the past he never bothered to string his bow. There was also an arrow between his fingers; he would need less than an instant to nock it and fire.

He barely heard the footstep behind him. His stalker was light footed, so quiet that Fingon’s sensitive ears nearly missed the sound of him stepping onto the gravel roof top. In a blur Fingon turned, arrow nocked to the bow string, and fired. The arrow hissed through the air like a bolt of lightning but was caught by the stranger. Fingon kept the bow raised, though he did not draw another arrow.

He smiled.

One of these days I will get you, Lauliss. He said, slowly lowering the bow. Standing at the far side of the roof was a man dressed in black from head to toe. He wore a leather jacket with hood, fingerless black gloves and black boots. His breeches were black and a black leather vest completed the ensemble. He dropped the arrow to the ground and lowered his hood.

He was as tall as Fingon with bronze skin, the top of his bald head decorated with intricate tattoos like the warriors of the Vulgan States. Lauliss appeared to have the mixed features of man and elf but unlike Fingon his heritage lay in neither. Lauliss was known as a fey-god; son of an immortal God and a mortal nymph. His father was Domoros, God of blacksmiths and weapons master of the heavens. He built every sword, axe, and dagger carried by the Gods. His mother was Typha, a wood nymph from the southlands. Because of his heritage he could travel between the heavens and the mortal realm at will, though he preferred to remain in the mortal world with his mother.

Lauliss walked to his friend and greeted him with a warm hug. He released Fingon after a moment and stepped away. He looked around, taking in the sight of the city. Like Fingon he had grown disgusted with Southport. He feared that the immoral values of Southport would eventually creep northwards to Yorshirtok, one of the last beautiful cities in that part of the world.

Fingon had no idea how old Lauliss was, but he was certainly older than Fingon’s four hundred years. Lauliss, in his long life, had seen good and evil, and his eyes reflected his tiredness with the world. In the past fifty years that they had known each other Lauliss had made several subtle comments about joining his father in the heavens permanently, if only to make it easier on his troubled mind.

Did you find the carriage driver? Fingon asked after a few moments of silence. Lauliss remained silent, his gaze drifting from the city proper to the island.

Do you remember what I said when I gave you that bow? Lauliss asked.

You told me that the bow would never miss a shot, but my instincts were a better guide than any magical weapon ever crafted, he said nothing for a moment before continuing, including those made by your father.

Your instincts were right in not trusting the Halfling, Lauliss said, turning to face Fingon, it did not take much encouragement for him to be led away from the tavern. I had hoped that he was leaving with two whores rather than two shape-shifters, but I was not so lucky.

Shape-shifters? Are you sure? Fingon asked.

Without a doubt.

When did you suspect trouble?

When they led him to the island rather than one of the houses, there are no brothels on that rock in the river.

What happened then?

They brought him to a noble house.

Do you know who’s? Lauliss nodded, though Fingon could not see it.

Isabella Crane’s home. Fingon froze, his body becoming rigid in shock and fear. Of all the noble families in Yorshire, that was the last name he wanted to hear.

Are you sure?

I saw her myself. I also saw one of the shifters with her. Fingon stood silent, digesting the words, as Lauliss continued. Shape-shifters have favorite forms that they use to disguise themselves when in public. They take on personas and live with the secret of their ability. Isabella Crane spoke with Jade Star.

The assassin?

Yes. But Isabella has more than assassins with her. There was at least one minotaur, perhaps more; and worse.

Worse?

I saw a carving in the stone walkway leading to the front door of her home. It was hidden in other patterns, but I saw it clearly. It is a binding circle; I think she employs a demon of some sort to defend her home, he paused, glad that no such demon had appeared to fight him when he was sneaking about, I do not know what kind and I would hate to even guess.

Then she is a real threat. He turned and walked to the edge of the roof. Was there anything else?

I managed to follow Jade to an abandoned store in the city. I think she has been hiding a group of assassins there. Jade was in the service of Akaiden’s guild, the Moon Blade; she cannot be underestimated. Lauliss said. His words were sharp and full of wrath; there was history between the fey-god and shape-shifter.

They will go to the Golden House looking for me and Rose. Fingon said.

Then it was a good idea not to stay there.

They will search other inns, kill people for answers.

You are not staying at an inn; they will not find you and the royal child, Lauliss paused, though now I know why you let the driver see her clearly. Paying him extra was a good touch, but he was killed because of it. Fingon was not usually one to use such deceptive tactics that could cost an innocent person his life; but there were such times when compassion had to be put aside.

I needed to know where the threat was coming from. Ashera was terrified. He though back to his meeting with the queen a few days before in the temple. That morning she had begged Fingon to take her daughter Rosalyn to safety. Fingon wanted to save the entire family but they would not leave; so he came up with the plan to lure the enemy out of hiding.

His plan had worked with frightening results.

You should leave the city at first light. Lauliss said. Get to Cal’adir as quickly as you can.

I must warn the king and queen, Fingon said. They were in more danger than they knew; something had to be done to stop it.

I will go. You have your orders; save the child. Lauliss said as he turned to walk away. He did not tell Fingon what else he planned to do. Fingon would empty his quiver to stop him from that course of action, and Lauliss knew that he could only stop so many arrows before he was finally hit.

~*~

The cold was unbearable.

Amras Oronar pulled his cloak tight around his shoulders as he put one foot in front of the other through the knee deep snow as he kept a sharp eye out for shelter. Isla Solwen, a few strides behind him, shivered as her lips started to turn blue despite the scarf covering her face. Page, walking behind Isla, followed her friends since she could no longer see Amras.

The wind howled like an unseen monster while the snow kept their pace slow. They looked for shelter wherever they could, but even the mountains provided little protection from the seemingly unending blizzard. No longer sure of their way they had been attempting to go east but they could not be sure of that any longer. They did not even know if it was night or day anymore. The sky was always black, the storm pushing them to their breaking point.

After they killed Oztool they spent two days in his tower to rest and recuperate from their many wounds. They explored the entire place, killed the last of the zombies in the basement, and searched through the supplies left by the humans. They found cold weather clothing made of thick padding to help retain their body heat and when they left they followed the path the fleeing soldiers had taken in hopes that it led somewhere.

Amras had found their frozen bodies the next day; all had succumbed to the weather. He did not tell the others; he feared they too would die in the frozen waste of Mystra.

While they had been resting in the tower Page had found a few scrolls that told them about the history of the place they were in. Several hundred years ago the dwarves discovered a plethora of the precious and often rare stone known as mithril; but unfortunately it was in the northern reaches of the Scission Mountains. It had not been a frozen waste then but it was no less dangerous. Beasts and monsters roamed the stone hills in search of prey and the dwarves made a tasty meal. In most cases the dwarves would not have suffered too much from this, but the mithril that they had found was on the surface, shining like a beacon under the sun.

They built a stone tower in the mountains connected to their cities in the south by a network of underground tunnels and began their work. But then the worst thing that could have occurred happened; humans settled the nearby coastline. They had found good fishing in the cool waters and the mithril deposits in the mountains. They began to harvest both and soon there was conflict between the dwarves and the humans.

They fought in skirmishes when they happened upon one another but stayed focused on their work until one massive battle when one mountain peak was discovered to be made entirely of the precious metal. Both peoples wanted it and they fought over it. The battle lasted months and, in their fury, they did not notice the drastic changes in weather.

The mountains seemed to freeze over night, filling with snow as the human settlement was nearly destroyed; all that remained was the tower which became encased in ice itself. The settlements were abandoned, the mithril never harvested and the bodies of the dead left to the weather the constant storms. The only thing that survived was the temple of Aran, built into the side of the mountain closest to the human settlement; a vent of heat from the core of the world kept the cold out.

The friends had attempted to go back to the temple but the storms were so insistent that an avalanche of both snow and rock destroyed the entrance and their only hope of getting back. Page knew few teleportation spells but she was not confident that she could get them to safety. Now they were searching for either the other side of the mountain range or the dwarf tower.

Amras pushed his way through the snow as the weight of his travel sack seemed to grow. Both Amras and Isla had taken off their metal-lined