The HaRT Knight Decaverse

Heir of Magic

Chapter 38

Whispering Canyon

Slowly and carefully, Alexander lowered himself down into the depths of the canyon, his shoulders and hands screaming in agony. It felt like he had been climbing down the rope for ages and yet he got no closer to the bottom. Luckily the harionago hair rope was perfect for this kind of climb, as long as you need one more inch of rope, you would have it. In theory, that should mean that no matter how deep the canyon was, the rope would take him to the bottom.
If there even is a bottom, Alexander thought skeptically. At this rate, I won’t reach the bottom by the next full moon.
A hawk-like screech nearby brought Alexander back to the present. He had heard that sound before while he still served on The Golden Spear. He turned his head this way and that, his angelian eyes seeing a lot better in the dark than a mere human could ever dream of.
He saw the creature flying straight at him—a harpy. It had the body and face of an exquisite woman, but where arms were supposed to be, the creature had wings. Instead of feet, she had talons as sharp as daggers, and feathers covered her entire body. Harpies were very territorial creatures that would attack anyone who came close to their nests.
Alexander slackened his grip and slid down the rope. His hands were in agony and bleeding where the rope cut into the flesh, leaving a searing heat behind. The harpy shrieked and dove after him. When she reached him, her talons caught him in the face and a line of white-hot pain seared where she had cut open the flesh. The harpy turned gracefully in the air, her giant wings flapping fiercely before she dove once again. This time, her talons closed on Alexander’s shoulder, cutting into the thick leather, only the armored plate beneath it giving any resistance. The creature had him and pulled him from the canyon wall and into the air.
Alexander gripping the rope for dear life, but he wouldn’t be able to hold on. The creature was too strong and smart; it flew erratically in all directions trying to get him to loosen his grip on the one thing that was keeping him alive. It finally achieved victory as it suddenly dove into the shadows and the rope slipped out of Alexander’s bloody hands. The harpy did not slow down after freeing its prey from the rope; it kept diving deeper and deeper into the shadows.
It wants to smash me on the canyon floor, Alexander thought as the wind burnt his eyes.
Out of desperation Alexander pulled the silver dagger from out his boot. It would blow apart as soon as he tried to swipe at the harpy, but the explosion might give him all the distraction he needed.
Alexander closed his eyes and swung the dagger over his head; the blade sliced through the harpy’s leg as if it wasn’t even there. It let go of a screech of pain and agony and dropped its captured prey. Now that he was falling, survival instinct took over and he grabbed for the harpy. A tiny brush of feathers in the palm of his hand told him that some part of the creature was in reach. He closed his grip on whatever it was, and the next moment, the sensation of his fall slowing for a second, then continuing forward as planned. He had grabbed the tip of the creature’s wing, making it impossible for the harpy to fly.
The feathered woman screeched in protest as both their bodies sailed down to the bottom of the canyon. Alexander moved calm and quickly, flipping himself on the creature’s back, his arm closing around its neck. The harpy realized its wing was now free and slowed their descent considerably, now traveling in a more diagonal direction than a vertical one. But they stayed aloft for only a few seconds before they hit the ground.
Both of them tumbled on the stone floor until their bodies came to rest. Alexander was up on his feet first. The harpy was still gathering her senses about herself when he was upon her. He focused on increasing his strength with aeroturgy and as the punch landed, there was an explosion of air and a crack that reverberated off the walls as he smashed in the harpy's skull.
Alexander stared at the dead creature for just a second before dropping to the ground to sit back. He breathed hard as he sat there in the dark, calming his racing heart. He looked down at the silver dagger in his hand, still whole and unmarred. Even though it had shown no extraordinary abilities, it appeared the dagger was magical.
For a second Alexander imagined himself trying to fight Cain wielding a sword with this little dagger. He shook his head and whispered to himself, “I need to find the weapon here.”
Alexander forced himself back onto his feet and stared at the surrounding darkness, trying to decide which side would be better at hiding an ancient sword. Unfortunately, every direction looked exactly the same. Black shadows dominated the world at the bottom of the canyon with even blacker mist twirled on the floor.
“Hello?” Alexander called as he heard a woman crying in the distance.
The sound of the woman’s haunting lament echoed off the stones, making it sound like there were hundreds of them mourning at some horrible funeral.
“Hello?” He called again, slowly moving in the direction the crying was coming from.
“Are you okay? I won’t hurt you,” he tried to assure the woman.
“I’m here,” The tearful reply came from the shadows this time.
“I’m coming,” Alexander assured her, pulling his dagger from his boot before moving on again.
Even though he could see perfectly in the dark, he doubted the woman would be able to, so he quickly conjured a flame int the palm of his free hand as he crept forward. The sound was getting clearer and clearer as he moved through the shadows.
After a few minutes Alexander finally came across a shadowed figure hunched next to the canyon wall. Immediately he knew something was wrong when he saw the figure, its features were all wrong and its limbs too long.
Alexander gripped the dagger more tightly in his hand and raised his hand holding the flame into the air to illuminate the sobbing figure. The moment the light fell on it, the sobbing stopped only for feral growls to replace them.
The monstrous creature leaped at Alexander with animal ferocity and unnatural speed. The sudden movement took him by surprise and caused him to back away and trip over a stone. As he fell backward, he saw the creature sailing over him, its claws snatching at thin air.
Alexander hit the ground with a thud, his head hit something jagged, and the dagger he was clutching for dear life spun away from him. He immediately forced himself back to his feet, flames dancing in both hands now.
The creature had already turned around and was readying itself for another attack, and for the first time, Alexander got a good look at it. It had a short, dog-like muzzle with a mane of spotted fur. Its back was hunched and its arms and legs were longer than its entire body.
With a growl, it leaped forward, its dagger-like claws ready to tear Alexander to shreds. Alexander flicked his wrists as he dove to one side and sent the flames in his hand soaring at the monster. They struck it on its chest, scorching the fur and burning flesh.
Darkness swallowed the canyon for a second before Alexander could conjure two new flames. As the light returned, he saw the creature turn to face him again, apparently oblivious to the fire that had just struck it. The creature growled and charged once again.
Before Alexander could even move, the wind howled and two creatures swooped passed him and at the monster. The two wolves barked and snarled as they leaped onto the beast. The white wolf tore out the creature’s hamstring as the black wolf grabbed it by the throat.
Alexander stared in horrified amazement as the two wolves from his dreams tore the monster to shreds. It was over in a matter of seconds. They had torn the beast to shreds, leaving a bloody mess behind, and yet, not a drop of blood stained the wolves.
With the danger dealt with, they turned to Alexander and the black wolf stared into his eyes while the white wolf loped off to one side. It reappeared a second later, the silver dagger he had dropped clutched in its teeth.
“Thank you,” Alexander said as he took it from the wolf. The white wolf nodded its and went to join its brother. He pointed at the slaughtered monster and added, “Thank you for that as well. What was that thing you just killed, anyway?”
“A crocatta,” the black wolf said.
“It lures people into the shadows by mimicking the cries of a woman,” the white wolf elaborated.
Alexander thought for a bit. It had been very foolish of him even to believe a woman would be down here. As far as he knew, he was the first person ever to make it down here alive. He replaced his dagger in his boot, then stared at the wolves.
“Well, I have come to you like you asked. I am alone, and it’s the full moon.” Alexander said. “Where is the sword?”
“Swords,” the white wolf corrected him.
“Swords? As in more than one,” Alexander said.
“Yes, there are two,” the white wolf said.
“And you need not go to them. They will come to you, if you call them,” the black wolf added.
“If I call them?” Alexander asked, confusion taking over.
“They will only pass to one who proves to have an affinity with them,” the black wolf explained.
“And one who has an affinity with them can call their names,” the white wolf finished and then looked hopefully at Alexander.
“How am I supposed to know what to call these things?” Alexander asked.
“If you have an affinity with them, you will,” the white wolf said.
Alexander frowned. “Slasher and cutter?”
“You are thinking too much,” the black wolf said.
“I don’t know what these things are called. Who’s even to say I have this affinity you speak of?” Alexander snapped at the wolves.
“If you didn’t have it, you would not have been able to understand us,” the black wolf replied.
“We would not have been able to come to you in your dreams,” the white wolf said.
Together the two wolves said, “For we are the spirits of these swords.”
“You’re the spirits of the swords?” Alexander said in amazement. There were ancient tales of such swords. So thaumaturgicaly powerful they manifested spiritually. He had always believed such weapons to be only a myth.
“Think!” the black wolf barked.
“What are our names,” the white wolf said calmly.
Before Alexander could hazard another guess, the two wolves howled and leaped forward. They sank their fangs into his hands and snarled at him.
“Say our names,” they kept saying over and over and Alexander’s mind scrambled to come up with an answer. He recalled how one of his dreams had ended like this. But before his dream self had yelled their names, he had woken up. But the wolves in his dream had said something to him that night. He closed his eyes and tried to remember.
“I am the shadow of chaos,” the black wolf had said in a growl.
“I am the ghost of order,” the white wolf had snarled.
Alexander yelled, “Your names are: Shadow and Ghost.”
The second the words left his lips there was an explosion of light bright enough to illuminate the entire canyon. It faded slowly until only a faint glimmer was left shining from the two swords Alexander held in his hands.
Never had anything felt so made for his hands to grip. On the hilts were the two carved figures of a wolf heads, their mouths open as if to bite their prey. Out of the muzzles came the sharp thin blades, the one sword’s blade was as white as snow while the other’s blade was so black it barely was barely visible in the shadows that once again dominated the canyon. At Alexander’s feet a scabbard had appeared, images and symbols carved beautifully into its silvery metal.
“Blade of Balance,” Alexander said under his breath. Instantly the black sword and white sword turned to mist and smoke that swirled together before solidifying into a single sword made from the same metal as the scabbard.
Alexander wondered for an instant how he had known to do that as he picked up the scabbard from the ground. But as the thought occurred to him so did the answer. His soul and the souls inside these blades were now part of him, he knew everything about them now because now they truly were one.
Unfortunately, Alexander’s elation at getting the magical blades did not last long, however. An unnatural wind crawled across the canyon floor, scuttling the leaves and sending a horripilation running up his back. He felt an invisible pull from somewhere behind him and turned around to see a large stone door carved into the side of the canyon wall. A terrible pressure built up in his head and shadows framed his vision as a hollow sucking sound dominated his hearing.
Was that there before? Alexander wondered as he stepped closer to the door, examining the intricate hieroglyphs that covered it from top to bottom. Despite his so-called new mastery of all languages, he couldn’t decipher any of them. The only phrase that made sense wasn’t even part of the door at all, but looked more like someone had vandalized the canyon wall by carving words into the stone. They read: When this door opens it shall be the time of the awakening and all hope shall cease to exist.
Alexander wanted to back away, to turn around and retreat up the harionago hair rope and back to Pensilisurbis, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t even take his eyes off the door. Something was pulling at him, calling him forward—literally.
A voice from beyond the door called to him in what sounded like a tribal chant. “Come to me, come bow to me, come join with me. Come to me, come bow to me, come join with me.”
Before Alexander even knew what he was doing; he reached out with one hand for the door.
An iron grip fell on his wrist and a familiar voice said, “No.”
“Come to me, come bow to me, come join with me,” the voice called again and for a second Alexander tried to break free, but despite his extreme increase of strength since his coming of age, he couldn’t even budge the hand gripping his wrist. He shot its owner a dirty look and saw Silver looking back at him, his expression serious.
“You can’t go near that door. I won’t allow it,” Silver said.
Alexander broke free of the hold the thing beyond the door had on him and backed away as Silver let go of him.
“I’m sorry,” Silver said as Alexander rubbed at his bruised wrist. “The catastrophe that would be unleashed if that door is ever opened would result in the destruction of all reality.”
“Aren’t you being a little dramatic?” Alexander asked hopefully as he kept one eye on the door.
“Not in the least bit, I’m afraid,” Silver said, his eyes fixed on the door as well. “The day this door opens is the end.” He finally broke away from the door and looked Alexander in the eyes as he added, “Of everything.”
“It’s that dangerous, and it’s just sitting here?”
“It’s hidden well here. Only a handful of individuals have ever discovered its existence,” Silver said.
“But that means there is a handful of people who might try to open it.”
“Some have,” Silver admitted and Alexander shivered. “The great war fought on this world shortly after its creation, the war people call the War for Anarchos, was in fact, the war for this door,” Silver said. “Now, at least, the veil of this world separates it from the other worlds and many who might have wished to open the door.”
“That’s great, but I still don’t think I’m going to be able to sleep knowing this thing is here,” Alexander complained.
Silver smiled. “Welcome to my world. But you need not worry too much. As you’ve seen for yourself, this canyon is dangerous enough to keep most people away. If anyone should reach the door, I will deal with them. Or else my master will take care of it personally.” Silver shivered at the thought. He finally turned away from the door and smiled at Alexander as he said, “The time will come when you will need to concern yourself with this door and what lies beyond, but for the time being, you have other things to concern yourself with.”
“What are you talking about?” Alexander asked.
“Danger approaches in the form of your first real trial.” Silver pointed up at the crack of light above, and the next second, six massive wings made of crystalline disks of an opalescent-silver color spread behind his back. “Come on, I’ll show you.”