Bereft: The Fall, #2

By James Maxstadt

Long live the Queen!

Everyone else can die.

The battle is over; the war is lost. Dalmorpheus and his friends are taken. Cast into a prison from which there is no escape, Dal falls into despair. All he can do is relive their defeat and listen to the anguish of the others as they're tortured. And Siphanthia, Princess of the Line, who he's not-so-secretly love with, is the main target of his captor's rage.

Even if he can escape, how will he get the rest of them free? And how can he possibly end the fight against Glinfildia, the supremely powerful, mad sorceress who's already beaten them at every turn?

The answer just might lie with those who have been previously overlooked. New allies, with powers of their own, could prove to be Glin's undoing.

When all is said and done, will Dal and the others be able to return Home? Or will Glinfildia have the final laugh, once again?

Find out now in the stunning conclusion to the adventure started in "Shriven."

• Language: English
• Publisher: James Maxstadt
• Release date: Dec 5, 2022
• ISBN: 9798215654149

James Maxstadt

James is the author of more than fifteen fantasy novels. He loves writing books with quirky characters that are full of action, humor, and a lot of adventure. A fan of fantasy since he was young, James thinks a good story that can take a person away from their everyday life is something worth reading. He’s found over the last several years that writing such stories can be just as rewarding. When he does have his head in this world, he can usually be found relaxing at home with his beautiful wife Barb, doing some home renovation or woodworking project, or signing books at comic conventions and Renaissance Faires. Follow him on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/DukeGrandfather

Book preview

Chapter 1

DAL WAS ALONE. MORE alone than he could ever remember being.

He sat with his head against his drawn-up knees, his hair hanging limply on either side of his face, obscuring his abject expression. Not that there was anyone else looking, or light by which to see, for that matter.

He sat in the same cell as before. The same one that Glinfildia had sent him to after he had brought her to Siphanthia, thinking that the mad woman had actually changed and was in need of their help. Of course, she hadn’t and wasn’t, and that had kicked off a horrible series of events which had ended with Baztronius dead, the Court destroyed, and the rest of them held captive, while Glin finally took the throne as her own.

The only mercy, if it could be called that, was that Glinfildia hadn’t had them killed. She wanted them around to gloat over, to rub their noses in the fact that she’d beat them all and had been onto their plans from the beginning.

Not that it mattered. None of it really did, anymore.

The game was over, the battle was finished, the war lost.

Dal knew he was never getting out of that cell. The first thing he’d done, of course, was to try to open a gate on the latrine hole again, but either the spell that had previously made it more than a stinking opening for shit and piss had been taken away, or his magic simply wouldn’t work on it now.

He’d been there for three days, without any knowledge of what had happened to the others. Were Siph and Larkin still alive? Was Zan? And what about Linda, Zan’s invader girlfriend? Glin had wanted them as witnesses to her rise in power, but had told Abenfar to quell the rebellion and use any means necessary to do it. From what Dal had seen, the monstrous invader warlord wasn’t going to be gentle.

He sighed, and sipped a little of the bitter, oily-feeling water that had been the only thing given to him since his imprisonment.

The noise came again. The same one he’d heard more than a few times over the past three days. Piercing, drawn out, and high-pitched, Dal tried to convince himself that it wasn’t a scream. That it wasn’t Larkin or Siphanthia, screeching in agony.

But it was. Altonius had promised him that.

The former Shriven Elder, the one who’d conspired with Glinfildia to bring the invaders to Home, had spoken to Dal when he was first brought back to Rockscrag Prison.

You’ll stay here this time, Altonius had promised, his voice floating through the open hatch at the bottom of the door. Unless Lady Glinfildia requires your presence. You should be grateful to her. She has given strict orders that you are not to be harmed. And I am nothing if not a humble servant to the new queen. He paused for a wheezy, phlegm-filled laugh. Dal hoped that meant he was in ill-health and would soon start to die slowly and painfully. Still, there was nothing said of the others. The walls of Rockscrag are thick, boy, but keep a sharp ear out. I enjoy a challenge.

And that had been the one and only time anyone had spoken to him.

The scream— if that’s what it was— came again. Whatever Altonius was doing, he was going to pay for it.

Dal just didn’t know how.

He closed his eyes. It didn’t change anything. Everything was still pitch-black and no matter how hard he tried to ignore it; he could still hear the pitiful wail.

SOMEHOW, HE’D MANAGED to sleep. At least, he assumed as much when he was suddenly no longer in his comfortable bed, in his apartment, someone warm and soft pressed against him, but was back in the dark, cold cell. His face was pressed to the hard, stone floor and he was shivering. Whatever else they did, they didn’t bother to heat the cells in Rockscrag.

The small pass-through at the bottom of the door banged open. Even the little bit of light that shined through from the hallway beyond was almost blinding, and Dal had to scramble to cover his eyes as it pierced into his brain like a knife. Something was shoved through the hatch and it slammed shut, blocking out the light again. Whoever it was hadn’t bothered to say a word.

Dal crawled on all fours to the door, searching the floor with his fingertips. A rectangular, metal tray met his touch. On top of that, a hunk of hard bread and something round that squished easily when he picked it up. An apple? A pear? Some piece of fruit that was well past its prime. Given the way that it felt, Dal was just as glad he couldn’t actually see the bread.

Regardless, he ate them both and then had to quickly make his way to the hole in the floor, glad that it was no longer his escape route.

It was the only food he got for two days, until the whole thing was repeated again, only this time with a mound of what felt like rice. Dal ignored the things he felt moving in it and ate anyway.

At least they gave him water and, mercifully, he didn’t hear the screams every day.

WHEN THE DOOR OPENED, Dal wasn’t ready for it. He was awake, since he could only sleep so many hours, even in the dark with nothing to do. He was pacing his cell, going exactly three and a quarter steps before turning and taking the same amount the other way. He’d already done his push-ups and crunches and was now trying to pass the time until they brought more food.

Exercising was supposed to make you stronger, the repetitions becoming easier. For Dal, it seemed to be having the opposite effect. Every day that passed without food, or with the limited amount he was given, made it harder to do anything.

He was on the leg of his short trip headed toward the door when it opened. In his fantasies, Dal had thought of what he would do, given the chance.

The door would open, an invader would enter, and Dal would strike out, quickly crushing his throat and leaving him there to die while Dal made his escape. He’d return home, recuperate and figure out a way to get the others free. Then—

But, when it happened, it was so sudden and the light so overwhelming that he could only clamp his eyes shut, throw his hands in front of his face, and stumble backwards until he hit the wall and slid down it.

Poor Dalmorpheus, her voice purred. Is the light too bright? I’m sorry; I wasn’t thinking.

But Glin’s voice didn’t sound sorry. She sounded happier than Dal had ever known her.

What do you want? he managed to croak out. He opened his eyes a tiny fraction, but even that was still too much. Days of darkness were not so easily overcome.

To see you, of course. I’ve missed you. Although, I must say, you have let yourself go. You’ve lost weight. And you stink.

The accommodations here aren’t quite up to my five-star standards, he replied. There, he was able to see a little bit. A few more minutes and he’d be able to face the light without flinching. And the food is atrocious.

Glinfildia laughed. Ever the defiant one, aren’t you?

It’s one of my more charming qualities. Have you come to kill me?

Kill you? No! Why would you even think such a thing?

I don’t hear the screams anymore, Dal said, blinking rapidly as he sought her out. I think that means the others are dead, so I’m next.

Screaming? I’m sure you’re mistaken. I gave Altonius strict orders that none of you were to be harmed.

That’s not what he said. He said it was only me.

Well, Glin huffed. Who are you going to believe? Him, or me?

That’s a good question, Dal thought to himself. They were both liars and monsters. Either would say whatever they thought would benefit them the most. So you’re saying that they’re not dead? Zan and the others?

Glin came nearer and bent toward him, putting her hand under his chin to tilt his head back to look up at her.

Say it, she whispered. Say what you really want to. You don’t care about Zanfanthius, or Larkin, or anyone else. Say it.

Her nails were digging into his flesh, but Dal kept his watering eyes focused on hers.

Siphanthia. He said her name clearly. I want to know if she’s still alive.

Glin’s smile was like a predator. Her nails dug deeper.

Then, she laughed again and stood, letting his face fall from her grasp.

My sister still lives. Both of them, as a matter of fact. I have no desire to kill them. They’re my only family left, you know.

Because you killed the rest, Dal muttered, not caring if she heard him or not. She ignored his words.

They must be able to see the glory that I’ll bring back to Home. The respect of those around us. No longer will we hide in the shadows in the world of the humans, or any other.

When did we hide? Dal asked. In Home, we were the rulers, or did you forget the Shadowkine?

My children? How could I ever forget them?

Dal didn’t bother to remind her that there were a lot of Shadowkine that were not her children as she called them. An underclass of various shapes, sizes, and abilities, the Shadowkine had been used by his people for generations. Now, they roamed Brevardia forest, trying to stay hidden from the invaders Glin had brought there.

Your plan is to attack the human world? I heard something to that effect. You’re insane. The humans will cut Abenfar’s army to shreds.

We’ll see, Glin said cheerfully. But don’t think you’ve figured out my plans. After all, you haven’t been able to yet.

Dal had to admit that she had a point.

How long are you going to keep me here? he asked.

Glinfildia didn’t answer him. When he looked up at her, she was watching him coldly.

Until you’re properly glad to see me, she finally said. She turned and left the cell without another word, the door slamming behind her and casting Dal into darkness once more.

A few minutes later, Dal could hear the horrible screaming start up again.

HE WAS DUE FOR FOOD the day after Glin’s visit, but it never came. Dal banged on the door and shouted, but no one responded. He wondered if the others could hear him. If so, maybe it gave them some small measure of hope that he was still alive. He yelled again, loud enough to make his throat hurt like sandpaper had been dragged up from his stomach, and then stopped to listen.

Nothing. No answering yell was returned, no guard bellowed at him to shut up.

At least there was no scream.

Dal returned to the wall and sat, trying to ignore his aching stomach.

It wasn’t until two days later that they finally fed him. Dal was light-headed and felt feverish when the small hatch banged open and something was pushed through. He scrambled over to it and didn’t even bother trying to guess what it was. Instead, he shoved the food into his mouth, bent over the tray like a dog at its dish. Whatever it was, it was foul, with a horrible smell, but he gobbled it down, and drank the entire small pitcher of rank water that they gave him as well.

He was going to regret not saving any of it, but even his willpower was gone.

He couldn’t keep doing this.

If Glin came again, he’d go with her. He’d be hers. She could do with him what she wanted, and with the others, too. After all, Glinfildia was a beautiful woman, and they’d had— well, if not good times, at least passionate ones— in the past. He could have that again. As well as food, and water, and wine...oh, glorious wine! He almost couldn’t even remember what that tasted like.

He’d be out of the darkness and living in the Palace of Home.

It’d be good for the rest of them, too. He’d convince Glin that they needed to be treated better, given light and food that wasn’t half-rotten. Allow them to communicate with others. Hell, in enough time, he was sure he could persuade her to release them. And maybe that would all be for the good. Maybe, now that Glin was in charge, she’d stop trying to kill them all and reconcile with her sisters.

Yes, he’d tell her he was ready to be whatever she needed him to be.

He laid down with his back to the door.

Who was he kidding? He would never go with Glin, he’d never give in to her, and he’d never abandon the others.

Even if it meant he died in this cell.

Through his closed eyelids he made out a light. It wasn’t bright, but in the total darkness of the cell, it shone like the sun. Dal opened his eyes, sure that he was hallucinating. The glow started to intensify, until it would have been hard for Dal to look at it even if his eyesight was normal.

Whatever it was, it was coming through the wall directly at him.

Chapter 2

DAL SCRAMBLED BACKWARD, pushing his back against the wall behind him, trying to put as much distance as the tiny cell allowed between him and whatever was coming for him. He was sure it was something that Glin had cooked up, some sort of Summoning that would toss him around like a sack of wet laundry. He was in no condition to stop it.

But, whatever it was didn’t attack. Its light glared brilliantly for a few seconds, then abruptly went out, casting the cell into even deeper darkness than before— if that was possible. Dal strained his ears, listening for some sound that would indicate who was there with him, but he heard nothing. There was no sound of breathing or of soft footsteps.

The air in front of him grew cold for a moment, then warmed again just as quickly.

He’d felt that before. Where? It was hard to remember anything before the cell.

At Siphanthia’s. And again, in the Palace.

It was one of the Hidden. One of only three remaining, he now knew.

What was it doing here, though?

Get Siphanthia, he said out loud. She’s the one you need to save.

If the Hidden heard him, it gave no sign. As a matter of fact, Dal couldn’t have said if it was still in the cell with him or not. The Hidden could move in mysterious ways and it might have simply shown up there as it passed through.

Are you there? he asked. If you are, do what I tell you. Save Siphanthia.

His only answer was a sense of faint pressure, squeezing his entire body from his shoulders down. A soft light glowed again, but dimly this time, not enough to hurt his eyes, but enough to allow him to see.

He began to move, sliding away from the wall.

What are you doing? he yelled. Stop, damn it! Go get Siphanthia!

But the Hidden didn’t stop. Instead, Dal was lifted off the ground and his speed increased. He flew, face first, directly at the cell wall. If he had been free to, he would have thrown his hands up to try to ward off the blow that was coming.

The wall rushed at him and he squeezed his eyes shut, his entire body tense.

He felt like all of his blood had frozen and his muscles were nothing more than blocks of ice. There was no resistance, no pain from being flung against a wall. Just one quick moment of freezing cold and then nothing.

Dal opened his eyes and got a quick glimpse of a hallway before he was swallowed up by another wall, back into the darkness of another prison cell, another wall, and then out, high in the bright, day-lit air, and moving farther up, above and away from Rockscrag.

No! he struggled against the Hidden, but he might as well have been a baby cradled in its mother’s arms. No! Take me back! She’ll kill them, don’t you understand? Glin will kill the rest of them!

The Hidden ignored him and kept taking him higher into the sky, until they were lost in the clouds. Involuntarily, Dal shivered. The thin air was even colder than his cell. Possibly, the Hidden felt him and understood, because it began to descend, bringing Dal lower, until he was soaring over the bare, inhospitable plains that surrounded Rockscrag.

They were moving unbelievably fast, the land below passing in a blur of blended colors and textures. They flew over water, but Dal couldn’t tell if it was a pond, a lake, or the ocean, they were moving so fast.

The Hidden slowed as they neared a vast forest. Brevardia. Dal would recognize the ancient woodland anywhere. He wondered briefly if any of the Shadowkine would look up through the trees and see him flash by overhead. If they did, would they recognize him, or was the Hidden keeping him, too, out of view?

They came to Home proper, and the Hidden slowed even more. A lot of the village was in ruins. Buildings had been put to the torch just as they had been the day the invaders first came. Even now, dead bodies lay where they had been struck down, days after Glinfildia sent Abenfar to quell the uprising that Larkin, Zan, and Linda had incited. Some of the invader villagers were still alive. Dal managed to see them at work, trying to put their town together again.

With a start, he realized that he was coming to think of it as their town. Not the town of his own people. 

Then, he was beyond it, and heading for the Palace.

Not there. He pleaded with the Hidden. You can’t go there. Glin will take you.

The Hidden gave no more response to him now than it did at any other time since it had shown up in his cell. Dal struggled against it, having no better result this time.

To his vast relief, it took him past the Palace without stopping. His stomach lurched as the world flickered and shifted around him, and he was suddenly flying through the streets of the human’s city, not far from his own apartment. It wasn’t the same as going through a gate. There, the transition was instantaneous. One second you stood in one world, the next you were in another. This was more like forcing the worlds to change around you or ripping violently through the barriers between them.

None of the humans on the street noticed him soaring above them. The Hidden must have been shielding them both from view. There were no signs of panic among the humans, either. They hustled by in their normal hurry to be about whatever business it was they were all so engaged in. Something Dal had never truly understood. But all that was a good sign. A clear indication that if Abenfar was indeed in this world, he was lying low and hadn’t started any wholesale slaughter yet.

His own building appeared, and the Hidden took him straight up the side. Dal flashed by other apartments, moving much too quickly to catch more than a glimpse of their interiors. Moments later, they were outside of Dal’s balcony. His wards flashed briefly, one time, as the Hidden passed through them like they weren’t even there. Dal wasn’t sure if that was because of something Siphanthia had done when she helped him with them or because his magic was no match for that of the Hidden.

Either way, he was inside without ever having opened the glass door. The sense of pressure around him disappeared, and he dropped to the carpet, his legs too weak to hold him.

Go back for her! he cried.

But he didn’t even know if the Hidden was still there, or if it was already gone.

DAL STAYED WHERE HE’D been dropped for several minutes. His head was spinning from lack of food and his headlong rush from the prison. He took in huge gulps of air and tried to calm his racing heart.

He needed to get back. Now that he was out, he had access to his own magic again. He could make a gate, as close to Rockscrag as he could get and go back to rescue the others. All he had to do was reach his library and the secret room within, the one that no one knew about and even Glin had missed when she ransacked his apartment. He could get weapons there, he had books with spells that were more powerful than those he kept in his head. He could... well...

He tried to push himself to his feet, but only managed to get to his hands and knees. He stayed there, head down, panting, while the floor swam in his vision. He tried again, but his weakness was too great and he sprawled back on the floor.

Too fast, he muttered. Got to go slower.

So he did. He crawled to his sofa and used that to help him up. He collapsed on to it and allowed himself a few minutes to simply sit, commanding his stomach to stop lurching. With great effort, he stood up and carefully made his way to the kitchen. There was food in his refrigerator. He knew better than to eat too much, too quickly. His stomach couldn’t handle that. Instead, he took a piece of fruit and a couple of slices of bread and chewed them slowly, washing them down with water that was blessedly clean.

He took his time eating, pushing off his sense of urgency.

Can’t even make a gate, he told himself, and then proved it by trying anyway.

The effort was enough to make him quickly sit, before he fell down.

All he could do was hope that it would be a few days before Glin discovered that he was gone.

Of course, maybe he was worrying for nothing. Maybe right now, the other two Hidden were heading this way with Larkin and Siph, while the one who had borne him home went back for Zan. If Siph could summon one of them for help, she could summon them all. And, besides, why would she have only sent the one for him? It made no sense.

No, the more he thought about it, the more certain he became that he wouldn’t be alone for long.

He continued telling himself that as night began to fall, and there was still no sign of any of the others.

Finally, he admitted that they weren’t coming and moved to his bathroom. He ran the water as hot as he could stand and slowly lowered himself into the tub. He was desperate to get back to them, but right now, he had no way of doing so. All of his training as a child and beyond had instilled in him that you did what was possible, when it was. For Shriven, a lot was possible, but without the strength to make a gate, Dal had no way of reaching his friends. So he needed to do the next best thing and do everything he could to regain that strength.

The bath felt wonderful as he scrubbed away the filth of living in the same clothes in a dirty cell for several days. But he couldn’t relax. The only thought in his mind was that while he was lounging in hot water, Siph was being tortured by Altonius.

He forced himself to be calm and finish his bath. He took his time shaving away the scruffy beard that had grown, and then dressed in warm, soft clothes. Taking more food, he sat in the most comfortable chair he owned. A bottle of wine was practically screaming at him to open it, but he ignored it and stuck to water. In his state, a single glass would have incapacitated him, and that wasn’t what he wanted. Not tonight.

He ate more and dozed. When he woke, it was full night outside. Dal didn’t turn off the lights. The mere thought of being in the dark, even the semi-dark that came with living in the city, was enough to send shivers through him and cause a cold sweat to bead on his forehead. He thought of getting up and going to his actual bed, but that was going too far.

No. While Siph and the others were still held, he wouldn’t use his bed. It was nothing that would help, a meaningless gesture, but one that he felt better making. It was bad enough that he was free while they weren’t. He didn’t need to compound the sin.

Instead, he slept in the chair, waking several times throughout the night with a cry dying on his lips. Every time, he bolted upright, sure that his rescue from Rockscrag had been nothing but another dream. It took him several minutes to fall back asleep each time, and even then, it was only his sheer mental exhaustion that allowed him to.

Finally, the sky began to brighten. Dal had made it through the night. He just hoped that his friends had, too.

Chapter 3

DAL WAS STILL HORRIBLY weak. He ate breakfast, making sure to take it slow, and then took a cup of coffee out onto his balcony. He remained standing and looked out over the city while he sipped it and tried to plan.

First, he needed to get the others out of Rockscrag. Anything else was secondary to that. Making Altonius pay for the things he’d done, removing Glin from her usurped throne, getting rid of Abenfar, all of it could wait.

Hell, all of it had to wait. It wasn’t like he could do it alone.

And he wasn’t going to be able to free his friends alone, either. Even if he had time to regain his full strength, he was going to need help, and there was only one place he knew where that might be possible.

He finished his coffee and left his apartment. Without Jayce reporting on him, he didn’t think it would be that easy for Glin to track his movements, or at least he hoped not. Even though he felt paranoid the whole way, nothing happened as he walked to the small convenience store Siph had taken him to after Glin and the invaders had killed the Court.

He walked in and nodded to the clerk, who might have been the same one as when he’d last been there. Dal liked humans, enjoyed some of their company very much, but, in this case, he really wasn’t sure if it was the same man. Regardless, it wasn’t important. What was, was seeing if he could find the same magic Siph had used to open a very specific gate.

The cooler he approached looked the same as any other in the store. Filled with cans and bottles of drinks, it had a glass door with a silver-colored handle. Dal reached out and opened it, letting cold air settle around him, but nothing else. He shut it and stepped back.

The magic to open a gate was simple and something that any of his people could do. But there were some that were specific to a time and place. Like the one that had allowed him to escape Glinfildia’s old cell. That one would only open to the ladder leading down and eventually out into one of the halls of Rockscrag prison, or at least it had.

This one would only open to the cavern where Siphanthia left a token to let her people know she was still alive. The other survivors of the attack had done the same, and Dal was hoping that he’d find something in there that would tell him where they were. Others of his kind were scattered about the city, but they were no help to him. Servants, shopkeepers, tradesmen, and others had been driven from Home during the Fall, but none of them were warriors. Those had stayed behind, fighting to let the others escape and very few of them had made it out. Those that did were gathered and kept in the house that the Court set up as a makeshift Palace.

If any of them were left alive, any who could help Dal free Siph and the others, he’d have to find them this way.

But first, he needed to get in.

The door had been closed when he first came here. It wasn’t until Siph opened it and stepped through that it revealed itself to be what it truly was. Therefore, the gate had to be inside. Dal hadn’t seen her cast the spell, though. She’d simply opened the door, stepped over the threshold, and was gone. But her magic was much stronger than his, and she was more well-versed in casting it. It could be that he simply didn’t notice her doing it.

He opened the door and made a gate. Nothing happened. Not because he was still too weak, or because his magic wasn’t working, but because he didn’t make a gate to anywhere. There was nothing inherent inside the cooler that led to the cavern.

Okay, try something else, he thought to himself.

He let the door swing shut again and took a step back, his hand rubbing at his chin as he thought.

You need help?

The store clerk was leaning over the counter and watching him suspiciously.

No, I’m good, Dal smiled. Just trying to decide what it is I want.

Oh. Okay. But he didn’t draw back behind the counter.

Dal really hadn’t wanted to take the time to have to cast some sort of glamour, so that the man wouldn’t pay attention to what it was he was doing, but it seemed that he had no choice. He should have known better, actually. Siph had made it seem to the humans as if they weren’t even there, from the time they’d left his apartment to here. That wasn’t a skill Dal had.

Instead, he moved his fingers and whispered a few words, feeling the magic steal across the space between the clerk and himself. When it reached him, he looked confused for a moment, like he couldn’t remember what it was he had been doing. He glanced back at Dal, who smiled disarmingly at him, and drew back, picking up the newspaper he’d laid on the counter.

Haven’t lost it all, Dal said to himself, and turned his attention back to the cooler.

He made a gate on the door itself and nothing happened.

He opened the door and tried to step through, bumping his shin on a lower shelf.

He closed the door and tried to step through, meeting only cold, hard glass for his trouble.

Frustrated, he opened it again, reached in, and pulled out a bottle of beer, which he cracked open and took a swig from. He’d leave money on the counter when he left. But that wasn’t going to be until he figured this out.

He drank his beer and eyed the cooler, getting angrier by the second. Damn Siph! Why couldn’t she just tell him the secret? Did she really think he would come here and desecrate the place or something? Or give the secret away to Glinfildia?

Annoying. He paced back and forth, trusting in his glamour to not draw attention from the clerk.

The row of coolers all looked identical. Glass fronts, rubber seals, wire shelves inside, chrome handles...

Wait. The other handles were chrome. Or plated, or whatever the humans used. Shiny, gray metal, anyway. And so was the one on the cooler he needed to figure out. But his was subtly different. The sheen was slightly off.