Lord of Shadows: Shadow of Skiamance - Vol. VI
Immortus
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Lord of Shadows: Shadow of Skiamance - Vol. VI
by Immortus
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Chapter 30: Daemonsteel
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I didn't know what to do. Kneeling down by Dawn's side, hands trembling,
I examined the terrible injury. The dagger that was meant for Evan's
heart had instead sunk into Dawn's shoulder, luckily missing anything
fatal but still oozing blood at an
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incredible rate. Crimson pearls rolled onto the grass, staining the bright green a formidable red.
"Potions. Evan, you have healing potions," I managed to choke out. Even as I glanced desperately to his face he shook his head sadly.
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"It would be no use," His expression was dark as night. Wrapping a rag around his hands, he picked up the dagger I killed the Ender with, careful not to touch the blade. Holding it out, he examined it with contempt, not even trying to conceal
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it.
"This is daemonsteel," he started grimly, still look at it with hate. "A demon blade. It's very essence is poison, worked into the metal at forging. There is no easy healing. Even if the wound isn't fatal, eventually..." Evan trailed off, but I
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didn't have to be a genius to figure out how it ended. No. I would not let that happen. Not to Dawn.
Dawn let out a breathless, humourless laugh, then flinched as the movement triggered pain.
"In a right fix, aren't I?"
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I didn't smile. I stared back at Evan, shaking my head.
"There must be something we can do." Anything. Anything at all.
Evan's expression became, if possible, even harder. Like the very mountains we were riding to.
"Magic is the only
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way. But healing takes a lot of power. An Aetherling might have helped, but the chances of finding one here are very remote. We need a mage. A strong one. Someone strong enough to heal Ender wounds."
I shivered. You will find Magic in
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Thorian Mines. Every loose end seemed to lead to that place. Fate truly is a strange thing.
"We have to go on," I said urgently. "Monetia said we would find Magic in the mines."
Evan stared at me like he'd been slapped in the face. He was
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angry. I could read it in his eyes. But I could also see him struggling with self-control. Whether to rage at me or look at Dawn. His good natured side won. Breaking his glare away from me, he sighed frustratedly and ripped his jacket
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off. I frowned.
"What are you doing?"
He answered by tossing it to the ground and tearing off the left sleeve of his shirt in what seemed like an angry gesture.
"Saving her," he snapped, scowling in concentration, kneeling beside
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me. Turning to Ellen, who stood a few metres away, pale-faced, Evan beckoned her over. Ellen's blue eyes looked like ice in the sun. About to melt but still hanging on to what little professional coldness they had left.
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Evan glanced at me again, his voice urgent. "There are plants. Plants that can slow the poison. Self-heal, Woundwort. Ever heard of those?"
I nodded. "Self-heal I know," When I was little, I ran up the stairs of home when I tripped and sliced
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my leg on a broken banister. Byjorn fixed me up some of the creeping plant that was sticking through our window, the small violet flowers and oval leaves able to staunch bleeding. How I was glad for that knowledge now.
Evan gestured his
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head towards the shrub.
"Go. And when you get back, you tell me everything that happened last night. I want to hear every damn word. Do you understand?"
I nodded.
"Come on Smith," Ellen said, tugging my arm and starting in
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that direction. I turned back, calling out to Dawn.
"You're gonna be fine." The way it came out, it sounded more like a request than statement. "I'll be back,"
Dawn groaned, rolling her eyes.
"I'm not going anywhere," she
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muttered roughly.
It was slow going. To me all the plants seemed the same, a blanket of yellow and green covering the floor. It felt like an eternity, every wasted second agonising. But it reality only a few minutes had passed when Ellen finally
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sighed with relief, muttering, "I got it," and running gracefully to me. Sprigs of the Self-heal and another, unfamiliar plant were clutched in her hand.
Evan was examining the injury when we got back, nodding in our direction and
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beckoning us closer. He had laid out strips of what used to be part of his shirt neatly by his side.
"Alright, stay back and give her some space," he commanded, turning back to Dawn. He touched the hilt of the dagger that was sticking out of her
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shoulder, then grimaced. His hand closed around it. "I'm sorry," he said. "This is going to hurt."
When Evan pulled it out Dawn's cry of pain made me wince. Drops of red sprayed in different directions. Quickly he bandaged the wound, using the plants
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and the rags, then forming a crude sling. When he finished, Evan sighed, then picked up a scrap of cloth and started wiping the blood off his hands. He took one look at Dawn, then strode over to us, out of earshot.
"I'm sorry," he
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sighed regretfully, for once his voice not full of bitterness or sarcasm, ringing with sincerity. A sincerity I seldom heard from the northerner. "I wish there was more that I could do. But we haven't got much time."
I was afraid to
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ask. I couldn't form the words. But Ellen voiced the question that I wasn't able to.
"How long?"
Evan shrugged, continuing to wipe his hands which were still slick with blood.
"Hard to say. I've only seen it happen a few times in my lifetime."
"Did
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any of them survive?" I asked.
His enigmatic expression was impossible to read. "Well I'm standing alive and breathing in front of you, aren't I?" replied Evan mysteriously. "But if there's one thing I can tell about that girl is that she
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doesn't give in easy. She'll be fine. You'll see," he added in response to my worried expression.
Ellen cleared her throat quietly, making me jump. I'd almost forgotten she was there.
"Magic in Thorian Mines," she said. "You were saying?"
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Evan's expression hardened as he gazed at me, a bit of that familiar glare creeping through the self control.
"You know this could have been avoided if you just came straight with us this morning."
I winced and hung my head, looking down
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at the ground. In truth, I doubted that my information would have prevented the inevitable, but the accusation stung all the same.
"But not important now," Ellen pressed, determined to get to the point. She looked at me, those blue eyes sparking with
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interest.
Quickly, and impatiently, I went through what Monetia told me. Or at least the parts they needed to know. I left out the bits about the demons and the setting sun and the water magic, focusing on Thorian's Mine that everyone
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seemed so frightened of. When I finished, heavy silence took over.
"Thorian Mines is an ancient place," said Evan. "A dark place. But we must hurry. The last thing we need is getting caught by Skiamance now."
To me, Skiamance seemed like the
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least of our worries.
"What about the other Enderman?" I asked. Ellen shook her head.
"He won't come back on his own. Either that, or Skiamance will kill him for us." Her expression turned shrewd. "The Emperor doesn't enjoy failure."
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The three of us glanced at Dawn, who was now propped up against a rock.
"Let's go," I said.
"Let's scram," Ellen agreed, walking back to the horses. Striding over, I looked at Dawn in concern as I helped her up.
"Will you be able to
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ride?"
She rolled her eyes and climbed onto the horse, trying to hide the wince of pain.
"I don't have a lot of choice, do I now?"
We pushed on, the pace increasing rapidly. The miles covered, the distance galloped, all of it faded away
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into one relentless goal; reaching Thorian Mines and finding the mage Monetia was sure we would find. The storm clouds above the mountains kept gathering, darkening by the minute. It wasn't too long before I felt the first few tense
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splatters of rain on my face, the splatters gradually gaining confidence and pelting down with more force before rapidly turning into a torrent. But no amount of rain would weaken my resolve. I would save Dawn's life, and no one, not even Skiamance,
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would stop me. But I had a feeling that whatever dwelt in Thorian's Mine was a lot worse than the Shadow Walker.
We saw the sign a few hours later, which was just as well, since the sky was beginning to darken with the coming of the evening. Evan's
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horse stuttered to a stop as he examined it, frowning, his wet hair plastered to his face. Apparently coming to a decision, he swung the steed around and took the left path, the gradient beginning to steepen slightly.
We rode several more miles along
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that path, which gradually became rougher and rougher before it was little more than a game trail. And beyond that we hit the mountain line.
I glanced up in awe at the towering monster of a mountain before me, unable to comprehend the
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true scale of it, the size of it. The tiny door set into it's face seemed insignificant comparison. But that was without a doubt our destination, because Evan cleared his throat and urged his mount to a stop.
"Alright you lot. We go on foot from
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here."
Climbing down wearily, I patted my horse that got me so far.
"Thanks mate. I owe you one," I murmured to the thing.
"They'll find the way home," Evan called out impatiently, already beginning to hike the short distance to the
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door. "Now come on!"
The four of us walked to the door in the mountainside. In some ways it was similar to the door me and Ellen found in the tunnels; corroded with rust, stricken by age and abuse of the elements. A ragged wooden sign was nailed
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clumsily above, letters carved into the fibres as if with a knife.
"Thorian Mines," I read the inscription aloud. "Cainis, hospei, cainis spiritas Thorines. Corras, hospei, fer que contritum est mundune."
"What's it mean?"
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Dawn asked absently, gazing up at the sign as well. I paused. I read it a few more times to be sure of the meaning. It was strange really, how simply, how naturally the ancient tongue came to me. Perhaps Videntus was right after all. When I met Magic
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in Thorian Mines I might ask him to give me some lessons.
"Beware stranger," I answered, albeit uneasily. The words almost seemed like they were written by a madman. "Beware of Thorian's ghost. Turn and leave stranger, for the world is broken." A
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chilling shiver ran through me. Maybe they were.
We all glanced at each other, then altogether looked at Dawn. I could have sworn she looked paler and more weary than a few hours ago. Time was of the essence.
I glanced again at
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the old door. Even then, I had a bad feeling about the place, an uneasy stillness that settled in my heart. Little did I know just how much grief that place would cause me. If I could turn back the clock I would have spun around and ran, as far and as
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fast as I could from that place. But I didn't know then. Nobody did.
Still examining the door, I stood the silence. The heavy, pressing silence. I glanced at the faces of the others. Dawn seemed pale and tired, Ellen determined. The
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expression on Evan's face was harder to read. One might have thought there was a touch of fear.
It was up to me to break the silence. "Well let's hope Thorian's ghost is in the mood for guests," I grumbled darkly, and, on that happy note, the four of
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us wrenched the door open and disappeared into the Mines. The terrible, terrible Thorian Mines.
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Chapter 31: Thorian Mines
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To be totally honest, I didn't know what to expect from the Mines. I
expected to see crumbling rocks and dungeons, monsters and corpses,
skeletons of previous adventurers foolish enough to enter piled high.
What I didn't expect was a
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clean, ordered, well lit tunnel. Torches lined the walls, burning dimly and highlighting the smoothness of the walls. Support beams, the timber sanded and clean, held strong at intervals down the shaft. Dawn looked around, surprise
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on her face mirroring my own.
"I thought it would be..." she paused, frowning as if remembering something unpleasant. "Different."
Evan wasn't listening. Scowling, he examined a torch, running a finger through
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the flames. He did it a few times, trying to figure something out. I could almost imagine his gears turning.
"Can't be nothing else," he murmured, glancing at his finger. "Must be Etherfire..."
"... Nicknamed Everfire," I added musingly.
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"Because it burns forever."
Byjorn told me of the stuff. Etherfire was a mixture of Netherrack powder and ground clay, that, when made properly and lit, burned hot enough to melt steel. The flammability came from the
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Netherrack, and the clay let it burn steadily rather than exploding in one go. Once lit, it stayed lit, requiring a damn lot of water to put out. Attempting to smother a flame of pretty much guaranteed being set on fire and burnt to a crisp. It was
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dangerous stuff, too unpredictable to be used in normal forges. But if it was this stuff in these torches... It was a wonder the whole place didn't go up in flames.
"Not forever," Evan muttered distractedly. "But close enough." He
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glanced at it again, as if thinking over an idea. Rolling up his sleeves, Evan muttered a quick, "Sorry Thorian," and proceeded to promptly wrench a torch out of it's bracket.
Dawn examined the flaming torch with something close to
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amusement, glancing at the ragged shadows swaying on the walls. Perhaps it was my imagination, but they seemed darker than normal, wilder.
"That's not Etherfire," she said finally, as Evan stood in front of us, holding the torch
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triumphantly.
"Eh?"
Dawn sighed, leaning tiredly against the wall. "If that was Etherfire, your whole arm'd be burnt off, let alone your finger. It's probably just enchanted fire." Her voice sounded strained and tired.
I tried not to
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notice the small, red stain on the makeshift bandage, or just how tired my best friend looked, or the pain in Dawn's eyes she stubbornly tried so hard to hide. It was hard. Hard to know that time was running out.
Ellen wasn't paying attention. She
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rolled her eyes and said scathingly, "Very important. I wonder why I didn't know that."
But something Dawn said caught my attention.
"Enchanted fire?" I asked. "Like by magic?"
"Probably."
Well that was
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interesting. Perhaps we were closer to finding our mage than I thought. Up front, with a crude, scarred grin, an over exaggerated gesture, and a voice of comfortingly familiar sarcasm, Evan said,
"Why, do follow me. I'm sure nothing will
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go wrong."
We started walking. Nobody spoke. Everything condensed into the rhythmic thuds of footsteps on stone, the only sound I could register. Nothing jumped out at us. No strange noises echoed in the tunnels. It seemed
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like we had the shafts to ourselves.
I suppose that was what me so uneasy though. The clean, well lit tunnels didn't give any reason for the hairs on the back of my neck to prick up, for my skin to tingle. The enchanted torches didn't excuse the
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unseen eyes that seemed to knife into my back. Nor the intense fear I felt, constantly glancing over my shoulder, glancing around, seeing demons and monsters in every shadow, every corner.
It made me so uneasy because there
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was no rational reason to explain my fear. It seemed instinctive, like a half-forgotten memory, a shadow of a beast inside me that wanted to bolt.
The tension mounted over the nerve racking minutes. The tunnel was mostly straight. We
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passed a few openings that branched out into other shafts, but all of them were made of rough and unkept stone, shrouded in sinister darkness without torches to light them. In silent mutual agreement we passed by them. As I glanced into the
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dark, gaping holes of their entrances, I couldn't help but remember Monetia's words.
What lives in the dark, the beautiful, ancient voice seemed to whisper in my ear, what always lived in the dark.
Shut up, I told it angrily. I needed
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to keep my act together. Last thing anyone needed was me freaking out. Keeping a tight lid on your imagination in this place was vital. Vital if you didn't want to go insane.
What I most certainly didn't expect was for the voice to answer. I jumped
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when the voice whispered in my head again, a snake slithering around my mind, steadily coiling around my thoughts. Did I go insane without me noticing? Perhaps. But somehow I knew that wasn't the answer.
What a way to treat a god Darien... Who
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taught you your manners?
Something was wrong. This wasn't Monetia. This voice, although still soft as silk, didn't resonate with the natural beauty Monetia's did. This voice was laced with malice, a persuasive malevolent purr. Sounded like her
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brother.
"Get out of my head!" I said angrily, more loudly than intended, my voice echoing loudly in the confined space. In front of me, Evan jumped, and Dawn flinched, and Ellen half-turned at me with a knife in her hand, gasping from surprise.
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Everyone stopped and turned accusingly at me. Beside me, Ellen took a shuddering breath and returned the switchblade to her pocket, shaking her head, muttering darkly.
"Don't you ever do that again," she muttered
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threateningly.
I glanced around. Nothing. But I could the thing's presence, a faint tint of evil, of malevolence in the air. Suddenly I wished She Who Warned was here. Monetia would have helped me. Somehow. However twisted her
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reasons were, whatever games and gambles she played, somehow I knew deep down she did care for me. I flinched as Monetus spoke again.
Ah... I see you are acquainted with my sister. Eternal know it all, so annoying, so good. But no matter. Time to run,
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hero. It has awoken. Try not to shout next time.
He has awoken. I shuddered. Somehow I didn't like the sound of that.
"Darien, what'r you- what is that?" Evan's exasperated voice suddenly snapped with fear.
"Didn't you lot hear
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the thing?" I asked. Dawn frowned nervously, completely ignoring me. Then her eyes widened.
"Oh Notch," she managed to choke out. "Evan, I see it. I'm praying that I'm wrong."
"See what?" Ellen muttered
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distractedly, still eyeing me as if she might be in need of that knife.
"See what?" I added, spinning around. Things were bad enough without them thinking I was crazy. Evan and Dawn stood side by side, facing the way we came from. Dark
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expressions crossed their faces. I looked where they were looking. For a moment I was unsure what I was seeing.
The tunnel stretched out into the distance, testament to the large distance we covered. The twinkling torchlights in the distance
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were just barely visible, lining the wall. A draught swept by, swaying the flame in the torch nearest to us, the one just to my left.
"What exactly is it that you see?" Ellen asked irritably. I put my finger to my lips, still watching the lights in
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the distance intensely. Ellen scowled but was quiet.
Then, as I watched, the lights at the end of the tunnel dimmed. It seemed like a torch had gone out. A pause. I could hardly breath. Just one light, I prayed, just let it be that one
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light. Evan's face was pale. He looked no better than Dawn. For a moment nobody could breath. Just when we thought it was ok, that we could relax and breath, that we could go on, the next torch went out.
And then the next one. Then the
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next. One by one the lights were extinguished, the darkness creeping closer and closer before it sped up and the torches went out with more speed.
"It's only torches," I muttered, trying to disguise my fear.
"It's not the torches that bother me,"
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Evan spat. "It's what's taking them out." He started walking backwards. The darkness was creeping closer. Now it was 30 metres away.
Beware the shadows, the spirit of warning told me. What lives in the dark. What always lived in the dark.
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Something was in those shadows. This was no ordinary darkness. One by one the torches extinguished, metre by metre the shadows slid forward.
"Run," I muttered, backing away the same as Evan. "Just run!"
There was nothing
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else to it. No fight. No plan. How do you fight a tidal wave of blackness pouring as if from a river, a torrent of darkness engulfing the tunnel right behind our heels?
We bolted down the shaft. In front of me, Evan's flaming torch was a beacon,
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guiding my aching feet and my straining eyes. After a few minutes we hit our first crossroads. I suppose that just went to show just the immense size of this place.
Evan skidded to a stop and Ellen and Dawn ploughed into him, almost knocking
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him to the ground but for the fact I caught his arm and hauled him to his feet. He glanced around wildly.
"Right or left?" he yelled. "Right or left?"
"Right!" Ellen yelled back.
"Left," Dawn shouted in a strained
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voice. Evan glanced at me desperately, looking over my shoulder. The lights kept going out, steadily, one by one.
"Right," I said, resisting the urge to say, or left. Now wasn't the time for crude humour.
Evan barrelled to the right, us right
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behind him. The steady footsteps I heard before morphed into ragged irregular thuds on the stone as we ran from our unseen pursuit. Up ahead I could spot another turn; another right. Evan and the others barely slowed down as they rounded
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the corner, but my feet caught in themselves and I fell face down to the floor.
"Go!" I waved the others on as they paused, before awkwardly scrambling to my feet. My hands and arms and face were grazed, but I ignored the
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trivial pain.
I quickly caught up to them, just as they rounded another corner, another turn to the right. There was little sound apart from ragged breathing and pounding footsteps. Running. Simple running. And then we turned another
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corner, yet another right.
"Holy..."
Evan's pace stuttered, eyes wide, as he tried to take in what we were seeing.
"Keep going!" I yelled. I knew exactly why his brain was imploding. It shouldn't have been possible. That turn should have
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intersected with the first tunnel, the one we originally were in. The few openings we saw there were dark and made of dirt. This stone tunnel, at present and discounting the pursuing darkness behind us, was the same as the first one and overflowing
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with light. It was straight, with no twists or turns to suggest the very existence of the first tunnel. It was impossible.
But it was there. This was the real terror of Thorian Mines. Not some crazy, bloodthirsty monster, some
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grotesque evil creature out of a fairy tale. It was the way it messed with your mind. The way it turned your understanding of all there was against itself. The way it ignited the most primal and basic of fears.
We started
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running again. Suddenly the girls gasped and Evan swore. In front of us, the lights were going out too. The darkness was sweeping in from both sides now. We all stuttered to a stop. Me and Dawn turned around, almost back to back with the
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northerners.
Evan only had time to utter: "Oh crud," in a small voice.
And then the last of the torches went out, including Evan's, and we were plunged into darkness.
* * *
The lonely miner glanced at the map yet again,
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squinting as he tried to make out the faded lines. The ragged, torn, faded, stained, grubby, and very abused parchment yielded no information he didn't already know. He had memorised this map long ago. The lonely miner glanced at it only out of habit
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in this dark, lonesome place. And yet it was no ordinary map.
Ordinary maps were useless down here, because the tunnels of Thorian Mines constantly changed and shifted. But they did so in patterns. The lonely miner had learnt that 20 years ago. This
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so-very-not-ordinary map showed these patterns. The tunnel with the three scratches that turned left shifted into a right turn every other week. The shaft with the two cursed diamonds had a dead end for 2 hours every day. But there were more
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things on that map the lonely miner had drawn up all those years ago. Many more.
Some places in Thorian's Mines were safer than others. That too was marked out on the map. The lonely miner knew from the years which tunnels would let
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you live another day and which ones would leave you another skeleton in the deep, either from traps or Thorian himself. But now he was lost. Again. That happened often in this godforsaken place. The lonely miner shuddered as he remembered the
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first time he had come here, how scared he felt, how hunted. However much experience you had those feelings never really went away.
The lonely miner sighed and reflected for a moment. Soon then tunnels would shift again. In half an hour or so he
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should be able to locate himself. But for now it was safer to stay put. It was strange, the lonely miner thought to himself. After so many years to come back here. Monetia had put him up to it. Another one of her stupid games.
He argued. Of
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course he did. Last time he played, the lonely miner lost so much and more. But last time he was just a pawn; an expendable piece, just a gear in the machine of things much greater. This time he was the key; a rook so to speak. At least that was what
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the spirit of warning told him.
"They need you," she had said. "Humanity needs you." Of course it did. It seemed he always did everything for everyone else. Never for himself.
Sighing again, the lonely miner slumped against the wall,
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tilting his head back and surveying the shaft with a great sense of nostalgia. 20 years ago he was in this place for the first time. Fresh and naive and young. It was a miracle he had survived. No actually, it wasn't. In fact it was quite likely. He
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was an advanced magic student. He wielded the knowledge of Magorum's books and spells, and the years of training abroad in Terraria. Of course he survived.
The lonely miner hefted his heavy pickaxe. Might be that he would need to
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break his way through some stone walls. Pushing it aside, he sighed, lost in memories of the past.
Now that he hadn't lost his mind, that was a much greater achievement. Almost three years he spent in this place, before he
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managed to escape. The lonely miner shook his head, running a hand through the brown hair that was now streaked with white. He had lost his identity, his friend, his place in the world. But he hadn't lost his mind. Was it worth it? He sincerely
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hoped so.
The lonely miner glanced down at his scabbard and drew his sword, laying it down on his knees and examining it, watching the torchlight wash over the soft shifting shades of metallic blue. He ran a finger across it's familiar length. He had
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owned this blade for a long time. A very long time. The sword was long; larger than most. Although heavier, the greater reach outweighed the weight disadvantage.
His finger slipped carelessly and barely swept across the sharp blade. Despite the fact
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the finger barely brushed the edge, a drop of blood welled up on the cut. He would have a scar there now. Dragonstone blades always left scars.
Then the lonely miner glanced at the initials on the hilt, the engraving as clear as ever even
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after all these long, long years.
S.L
The lonely miner stared at the initials. S.L seemed lost to him, a half-lucid, half-forgotten dream of another life.
Monetia had been vague. She had been very vague. But
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she did say one thing clearly. If he was to play once again, if he was to regain at least some of what he had lost, he had to remember S.L. With all of the painful memories that entailed. The lonely miner stood up.
He had to remember S.L.
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He had to remember himself.
* * *
The darkness was heavy. Oh so very heavy. It pressed down from all sides, leaving us totally blind. Helpless. I waved a hand in front of my face. Nothing. Just the same inky black-out.
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Something heavy dropped on my foot, and Ellen yelped.
"Oh god, I just stepped on something soft..."
"That something soft was my foot," I grumbled.
"Oh. Sorry."
I could feel the panic of the others bubbling up to the
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surface, straining to be let out, charging in the air like before a storm. Taking a deep calming breath, I said,
"Let's think about this logically. We need light. Ellen, can you oblige?"
"I can try," she muttered in a shaky voice. She
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muttered something, and a spark fizzled in the darkness. But the torch didn't light. She tried again. A few more sparks. But the were small. Nothing like her usual.
"Come on, hurry," I pressed, trying not to sound too aggressive. I grew more uneasy in
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the dark with every passing second. If anything was stalking us, if anything wanted to get to us, we were sitting ducks. Or, well, standing ducks. Completely out in the open and completely blind.
"I'm trying," she hissed back. Frightened
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fingers clenched my hand, and I flinched.
"Sorry," Dawn whispered. "'S only me."
"Right," I muttered, exhaling. Under normal circumstances I would have pulled away, but these were definitely not normal circumstances.
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Shivering, frightened and in the dark, I could understand the need of reassuring contact. So I squeezed Dawn's hand and tapped my foot against the stone impatiently.
"Anytime now would be great," Evan murmured uneasily.
"I am trying," Ellen
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replied angrily. "It's hard. It's like somebody's blocking my magic. Like a shield. I need to get around it."
Another pause as Ellen concentrated. And then Evan said, in a voice much unlike his own, a voice peppered with fear and sharpness,
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"Can you... hear that?"
I paused and listened. Now that he pointed it out I thought I could hear a faint murmuring, whispering. The whispers were too low to make out words, but I sensed oldness. Old words. And not particularly friendly either.
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"Yeah I hear it," I replied, trying to keep down the panic that was starting to claw it's way up my throat. I frowned and spun around. "It's coming from behind us."
"No," said Dawn slowly. I felt her shifting around to face the other
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way. "It's coming from... from all around us,"
I tried to speak, but broke off. There was nothing to be said. The whispering was louder now, loud enough for me to make out some words.
"As campfires dwindle, as shadow treads," the voice
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swept by me like a wind. Old words. Ancient Minecraftian words. "When hope collides and firelight ebbs..."
"What's it sayin'?" Evan asked. I ignored him.
"Ellen, we need light now!" My voice rose in a panic.
"I'm working on it Smith!" Her reply
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was supposed to be angry, but it didn't really come out that way. We were all damn terrified. I flinched and spun around again as the whispering started up again.
"...As shadows wake and dance and crawl, when smiles diminish, laughers fall..."
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The whispering was more persistent. Louder, closer... Heavy footsteps, not ours, shook the stone. Something was stalking this way, pounding it's way towards us...
"Ellen, come on!" I yelled. Evan and Dawn took a step backwards closer
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to us. Dawn was clenching my hand so hard I lost feeling in my fingers. The whispering seemed amused.
"A time will come, when wolves will howl, when dark awakens all things foul..."
The pounding came closer still. I heard the thing's heavy
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breathing. The whispers surrounded us... What lives in the dark... What always lived in the dark... We were in the dark... I thought I glimpsed something... I never felt so scared before... The stone walls around were shaking... The fear
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was too much...
"ELLEN LIGHT!" I bellowed.
In her surprise, a glob of fire the size of an apple appears in the air, landing on Evan's torch and catching instantly. Immediately the light leapt to our surroundings like a lion out of a cage,
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roaring to life and illuminating the tunnel. For a moments all we could do was stand and breath. The heavy pouding of my heart drowned out all other noise. Then Evan cautiously glanced one way, and swung his torch around and looked the other
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way.
Nothing.
No sign of the... whatever it was. The footsteps ceased. So did the breathing. The whispers had diminished to stutters, hissing angrily at the light. And good riddance too.
We glanced at each
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other, breathing heavily. It wasn't real. Or if it was, it wasn't designed to kill us. It was designed to scare us. And a damn good job it did too. As we looked at each other with a deep understanding, I knew we were thinking the same thing: if that
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was just the start, what will it be like even deeper in? I wiped the sweat off my brow, then looked at Dawn. She was still holding my hand.
It was only then that I noticed how unnaturally hot her skin was. Fever. Not good. Daemonsteel was like that.
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The Ender forged blade was designed to ebb away at the victim's life before either letting the poison run it's course or weakening the opponent to when it wouldn't matter anymore.
Both ways ended in the inevitable. Dawn's life had become in
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hourglass, and the sands were almost out. And she knew it.
"Come on," I said finally, breaking the brittle silence. My voice sounded braver than I felt. "Let's go find Magic." I didn't like this place. There was a reason entry to this place was
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forbidden. I just hoped we wouldn't have to find out why.