Rise of the DarkWalker: The Chronicles of Carter Blake, Book II

Thick smoke and the metallic stench of blood filled her nose as Adora fought and killed the swarm of demons. Warriors screamed in pain and howled battled cries as demons roared in triumph or agony. Her sword arm was weary and sore from the bloody claw marks near her bicep. A tyrant had caught her with its talons while she fought a L’Arc in the last fight.

Adora twisted to the side, avoiding the tail spike of a lesser demon. Before it could recover, she caved the side of its skull in with her heavy mace. Ichor and brain tissue clung to the spikes. A piercing scream sliced through the noise, causing mortal and demon alike to freeze.

A titanic winged shadow passed over the intermingled armies. She looked up. ‘Fuck. An abyssal drake. Of course it’s one of those. As if we didn’t have enough to worry about already.’ Fire the color of jade billowed from the drake’s maw and hit the ground as it flew overhead. Humans, elves and dwarves were engulfed in the conflagration while the fiends capered gleefully.

The conflict had been barely even before. Now it was almost a rout. Catching movement from the corner of her eye, Adora ducked the pincer swipe of an alpha demon. At the same time, she slammed her mace into its sternum with a crunch she could feel. The ground shook, taking her attention from the fiend’s dying convulsions.

She looked up and saw the drake had landed. In the air, its serpentine movements had seemed graceful. On the ground, it moved like a half paralyzed snake. A cavalry soldier and horse were swallowed whole as it lowered its head. The hulking figure in scarlet trimmed ebony armor which leaped down made her heart lurch.

He was one of Drago’s most powerful allies, the demon general Kholo. Most scattered before his onslaught, but a few brave knights raced to challenge him. They, too, fell to his saw-tooth sword. Before long, there was a wide path between her and him.

She stared, eyes bulging. Her whole body trembled as she retreated. ‘I’m going to die. I don’t want to die. I’m too young to die. I never got to kiss Carter again. I wonder what he’s up to?’

As Kholo approached, a black apparition appeared between them, raising an explosion of dust and causing the combatants to pause. When it passed away on the breeze, the apparition was revealed to be a man in grey dragon skin armor with a crystalline blue sword held behind his back. The weapon, about the length of a broadsword, had a blade that looked about two inches wide with a beveled tip and was held behind his back.

The demon general halted. “Robilar.”

The Chronomancer stood upright and tipped his head. “You’ve heard of me. How delightful.”

“Not for you. There is a bounty on your head, Time Lord.”

“No, I’m not the Time Lord. She’s not born yet.”

“What?” Kholo’s head tilted a bit to the right.

“Never mind.” Robilar swung his sword out to the side. “Recognize this?” The broadsword, forged from a rare blue crystal, shimmered with an otherworldly light, its flawless blade refracting colors like a living prism.

“No. Should I?”

“Really?” Robilar peered at the blade and then back at Kholo. “Nothing?”

“No, why?”

“Huh.” He scratched the back of his head. “I’d have sworn you’d recognize it especially as I took it from you five years ago.”

The demon general growled. “I’ve never seen you – or your little sword - before, human.”

Robilar grinned. “Half.”

The general roared and swung his great saw-toothed sword for Robilar’s head.

The Chronomancer leaned back, the blade whizzing through the air.

Kholo whipped it back around in an arc, aiming to take his enemy’s head as he straightened.

Robilar ducked and the weapon took a few of his hairs. “Close one there, demon.”

A third whirling attack.

Robilar twisted his torso in an arc while side stepping.

Kholo recovered and stepped out of his reach.

Robilar planted his sword in the dirt, leaving himself unarmed. Kholo spat on the ground and the two circled each other.

Seeing all eyes were on the Chronomancer and demon, even that of the drake, Adora sidled around. She tightened her grip on her weapon. Closer she drew to the fiendish creature.

Its head spun to focus on her.

She jumped in the air in false triumph, and pointed. The abyssal drake whipped its head to where she indicated. In a blink, she leaped to its back, her mystical armor helping to propel her. The serpentine neck shot up and around. In a single, fluid motion, she swung her mace down with both hands, driving it into the drake’s skull with every ounce of strength she had left.

The scaly plate gave way beneath the tremendous blow and the drake slumped, dead. As the immense beast collapsed to the ground, she leaped off its back with a battle cry.

Robilar and Kholo ceased their fight at the sound of the drake’s death and looked up.

The demon general’s head rose just as she brought her weapon down onto his forehead.

Both crashed to the ground. Adora’s momentum sent her tumbling over the demon’s corpse, her arms awkwardly pinned between their bodies.

White hot agony lanced through her left arm as it broke with a wet crunch. She screamed and blacked out.

###

Adora opened her eyes to a blur of dimness. After a few blinks, the canvas roof came into focus, rippling in a hard wind. ‘What happened?’ She blinked a couple more times as she put her fingers to her temple. ‘Oh, yes. Kholo.’ She remembered the heady feeling of soaring through the air and crashing down on the demon lord, driving her mace into his skull before colliding with the ground. ‘My arm.’ She lifted both limbs before realizing in surprise that neither hurt.

“You’re finally awake. That’s good.”

She sat up and looked to her right. Robilar lounged in a chair near her bed with his feet propped up on her table, ankles crossed. He sliced up a green-skinned and white-fleshed oblong thing with an etched steel knife and ate it. The food’s scent was fruity and floral while also delicate and sweet. It reminded her of cool morning dew on orchard fruits.

“What is that?”

“It’s a pear. From down south.”

“I’ve been all over the land and never encountered anything like it.”

“The other side of the ocean.” He took his feet down and leaned over, offering a slice. “Try it.”

Adora accepted the piece of pear and studied it. It was wet and sticky. The skin was like that of an apple. She glanced back to Robilar.

“It’s fruit, and good. I’d not be eating it if it were dangerous.”

“While it may not be dangerous to you, it might be to me. You’re not human, after all.”

“I’m half human.” He shrugged. “The other half is Goldrine.”

“What is Goldrine?”

“Precursor elves.”

“Huh?”

“The Goldrine were the first elves created by Kellün.” He sat back and sliced another piece of pear before eating it. “They’re extinct. Wiped out in a war with the Moon Dwarves.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

He shrugged. “I know. Don’t worry about it.” A cloud crossed his face. “Try the fruit. You’ll like it.”

Giving him a final skeptical look, she bit into the exposed flesh where his knife had sliced away a bit. The fruit was soft, and smooth, with a sweet, slightly floral taste. Her eyes widened in surprise. “Thish ish wommerful!”

He nodded and dipped his hands in a bowl of water on the table next to a vase of honeysuckle. He flicked droplets of water on her. “I can’t believe you stole my kill. I wanted to kill Kholo.” Despite the lightness of his words, there was also a hint of regret in his voice.

She swallowed after chewing. “Stop pouting. Your posturing was taking too long. I also had the element of surprise, and took advantage of it.”

“Yeah, but you’re not supposed to be fighting like Carter. His way is dishonorable.”

Flipping the blanket off her, Adora swung her legs off the bed. “Tell me, Robilar: If you’re slain, will it matter how honorable you were? Will you know?”

“Yes, of cour—”

“No you won’t. You’ll be dead. We both know Chronomancers don’t get an afterlife.”

He folded his arms. “Sounds like you’ve been reading some of the histories.”

“Is it wrong?”

He turned his head away.

“Didn’t think so.”

He shot to his feet. “Why am I to be punished for my ancestors sins? I had nothing to do with them!”

“Aren’t you benefiting from their actions?”

He helped her to her feet. “Tell me, Your Grace: Would you see it as a benefit to outlive all of your friends and loved ones?” His voice was softer now. “To see them die over and over again? Would it be beneficial to know that no matter what you try, you’ll ultimately fail to keep them alive and you’ll have to continue without them?”

His mercurial mood was dizzying. “Of course not.” She studied him. “What has you in such a spiral of mood swings?”

“Carter is going through something dangerous, and I can’t help him, even though I know what it is.”

A maddening and persistent tickle, dancing on the edge of her skin popped up between her upper shoulders.

She raised her right arm up, to reach it, but she wasn’t flexible enough to get it. The itch skittered down her spine, and she brought her left arm up and back to intercept it, but her arm wouldn’t bend enough.

Robilar cleared his throat, rose and turned away.

She paused in her attempts at relief and tilted her head. “What?”

He gestured in her general direction.

Adora glanced down. The position of her arms, and her sindon chemise being as thin as it was, highlighted her breasts. She dropped her arms and spun back to her bed, drawing a blanket to her chest.

“You could have said something, Robilar.”

“Apologies, Majesty. I didn’t realize you were going to stand.”

She huffed and looked around. Spotting her trunk, she went over and opened it. After retrieving her kirtle, she proceeded to put on breeches and a gambeson.

Robilar was studying a map at her table when she turned.

“What are you looking for?”

He raised his head. “Carter’s movements.”

A wave of his hand drew her closer. He pointed at a town. “Lavitz was spotted here with a guard sergeant in a tavern. According to a thief, he got into a confrontation with an assassin who was supposed to cool off. Said his eyes changed to a bright blue, and his nailed the assassin to the ceiling with his sword.” Robilar peered over to gauge Adora’s reaction.

Her right hand was over her mouth and her eyes were wide. “What happened after that?” Her voice was whisper quiet.

“The sergeant hurried Lavitz out and he went after a local gang of slavers.” He returned his gaze to the map and tapped an area a wheel to the south of Rivorei. “The guard followed after him around dawn, and later told his captain they’d found no survivors, just an abattoir.”

The queen leaned forward, placing her hands to either side of the lower right corner, sighed and glanced up at her friend. “What else?”

The Chronomancer shrugged. “He vanished for a couple of months, and then popped up two and a half wheels from Bisquine.” He tapped the map. “I found him in an ancient keep where he was trying to help a village with their undead problem. Lich, to be exact. We went to Bisquine, to gain the aid of Keldur’s paladins, but he vanished after going to speak with their commander, who turned out to be a shape-shifted demon.”

“By the Abyss.” Adora wiped her hand across her face. “What’s the next report you have of him?”

“I don’t.”

###

Carter clutched his head as he slowly sat up. ‘By all the hells, what happened to me?’ He looked around. The dying light of dusk cast long, eerie shadows across the dense foliage, with hues of deep purple and fading orange mingling in the treetops.

‘What happened to me? How did I get here?’ A flash of Dearbhaile being grabbed and killed by the giant, Detmold, popped into his mind. ‘Okay, I remember that, but nothing else. Why? What’s happening to me?’

Water dripped from lacy green fronds and snaked down the thick rope of vines wrapped around tree trunks. The rhythmic drip of water from the leaves created a soft, persistent patter against the forest floor, mingling with the distant, fading calls of diurnal creatures. Uncertainty hung in the warm, wet air as the creatures prepared for the long stretch of darkness. In the distance, a monkey howled to its tribe, causing the others to take up its noise. The sounds of nocturnal animals rose as they roused themselves.

‘Great. It’s night, I have no idea where I’m at, and I have no supplies.’ He glanced down to his hip. ‘Or a weapon.’ The pounding of waves caught his attention. ‘Is that the surf near me?’

Rising to his feet, he turned to the sound. ‘If there’s surf, maybe I’m near a harbor, and can learn where I’m at.’ With a faint smile on his face, and lightness in his feet, he hurried to the sound of the water, took a step into nothingness, and fell.

The world spun wildly and wind rushed past his ears as gravity pulled him into a disorienting descent, leaving his stomach somersaulting. Time seemed to stretch, before the water hit him with a stinging slap, cold and shockingly abrasive, sending a jarring shiver through his entire body.

The air exploded out of his mouth. Water – cold and salty - rushed in, choking him. Disoriented and drowning, he kicked franticly as his lungs burned, trying to find the surface to no avail.

Arms weak, lungs screaming to let in air, but was in reality water, Carter felt himself slipping away from the world.

‘Shit. I’m going to die. I don’t want to die. I need to get back to Adora’ The thought of the queen galvanized him, giving him a burst of energy to fight harder, but it didn’t last. His final struggles caused him to sink faster. His awareness faded.

Strong arms wrapped around his chest and pulled him sideways. In seconds, he was on land, insensate. He was laid on his back and powerful arms compressed his chest rhythmically until the water was expelled from his lungs.

Carter coughed and gagged, the air rasping in and out. His rescuer helped him to a seated position.

“Slow breaths at first, Handsome.”

He became aware of how soaked he was when the breeze racing over his body made him shiver. Finally, the coughing fit passed. His throat still burned. His rescuer was indistinct from the rest of the night. Yet, he felt comforted and safe with the unknown person who had saved his life.

“Who are you?” His voice was hoarse and pained. “And, thank you for saving my life.”

“I am Amando, prince of the Mer.” There was a smile in the other’s voice. “And, you are welcome.” The silhouette bowed with one leg forward and both arms cast to the side.

Carter slid back until he leaned against a tree. He cast his gaze around and realized the moons were hidden, or hadn’t risen yet. The heavy darkness felt oppressive. “Would you be willing to start a fire, or do you prefer the dark?”

“Oh. I am sorry. I forgot you humans do not see like we do.”

Amando moved off into the night. Carter looked up at the starry sky. None of the constellations he’d become familiar with were in evidence. ‘Am I even still in the Realm, or have I travelled to another world?’

The smell of salt water and a heavy tread told him when the Prince of the Mer returned. Branches clattered as they were dropped in a pile. “So, what is your name, Handsome? Or, may I keep calling you that? You are easy on the eyes, as you humans would say.”

Carter, now more composed, focused on the conversation at hand. He was eager to find out more about this enigmatic prince and a possible alliance. ‘Adora could use the help with her constant battles with Drago’s demons.’

“My name is Ca— Lavitz.” He barely caught himself in time, almost giving his real name instead of his Patchwork Knight persona. ‘Hopefully, Amando didn’t catch that.’ “Are you flirting with me?”

“I am, indeed, Calavitz.” Flame shot up from the wood, crackling merrily. He turned to the Walker. “I’d rather eat you, but I’m sure that would be moving too fast.” Amando winked, the firelight casting a mischievous glint in his eyes. Carter smirked but stayed on guard, knowing the stakes of this encounter.

Now there was light, Carter got a good look at his rescuer. He was about six feet, six inches in height with long red hair, a thick beard, broad muscular shoulders and a narrow waist in what appeared to be green tights. His bare chest was smooth and well-muscled.

“I’m flattered, but I’m taken.”

“I bet I could make you forget him.”

“I doubt you could make me forget her. She’s my wife.”

“Oh. I beg your pardon.”

“It’s alright. As I said, I’m flattered.”

“Really? Most would take offense.”

“For being hit one while married? Where I’m from, that’s taken as a sign they’re still attractive.”

Amando raised an eyebrow, a faint smile playing on his lips. “Indeed, customs vary greatly between cultures. I’ve encountered many peculiar practices among humans.”

Carter laughed. “Indeed. So, where is the Mer nation?”

“In the ocean.”

“Wait. You’re a merman?” Carter looked the Prince over. Other than the slight greenish tinge to his skin, he didn’t see anything that indicated he was.

Amando stiffened and his skin rippled, showing hidden scales. Carter’s eyes widened as he saw the earlier playfulness from his savior was gone. In its place, was regal stiffness and a scowl. “It is considered a deadly insult to my people to be called merfolk, or any variation.”

“I-I apologize, Your Majesty. I did not mean to offend.”

“You’re not like other humans I have encountered, Calavitz.” The Mer titled his head and considered Carter. His bearing no longer as stiff.

“Um, it’s actually Lavitz, not Calavitz.”

“Forgive me. I misunderstood when you introduced yourself.”

“You are forgiven. So, how long can you stay on land?”

“For about a month. Provided we take frequent saltwater baths, that is. Why?”

“I’m hoping to persuade you to join the army of my wife, and queen against the forces of Drago the Clanless.”

The Mer uttered a bark of laughter. “Not a chance.”

Carter paused and poked the fire with a stick. ‘Adora’s forces are stretched thin. If we don’t find allies soon, we could lose everything.’ He returned his gaze to the Prince. “Why is that?”

“We don’t get involved in the affairs of land dwellers.” He sat on a fallen tree trunk. “We have enough issues with them polluting our seas.”

“I’m willing to do anything to get you to change your mind.” At Amando’s leer, he hurriedly corrected himself. “Almost anything.”

The other man smirked. “Like what?”

Carter shrugged. “I don’t know. Something only I could do?”

“You can’t even swim. How do you expect to be able to do anything I can’t?”

“Maybe it’s not something you aren’t able to do. Maybe it would be something you weren’t allowed to do.”

“I am Prince of the Mer. I can do anything.”

“Your people have no treaties with other peoples? No taboos?” Carter scratched his jaw. “Your father hasn’t forbade you from doing something?”

Amando crossed his right arm over his chest and rested his left over it while rubbing his chin. “You know, there might be something you could do for me.”

“No sex. I see you looking me up and down like a steak.” Carter grinned.

The Prince chuckled. “No, no sex, even though it would blow your mind. I’m actually thinking of an item that was stolen from us seven generations ago by the Swamp Elves.”

“What is that?”

“It is called ‘Conker’s Blade,’ and is an artifact wielded by my ancestor, Imelda the Conqueror. She used it to unite the Mer, ending millennia of war between the tribes.”

“What does it look like?”

“The blade resembles the rostrum of a carpenter shark made from diamond. The cross guard is pearl and the pommel is onyx.”

“Sounds like an impractical weapon, but I can get it.” Carter stretched.

Amando eyed him. “Just like that? You think it’ll be that easy?”

Carter rose and twisted his upper torso to the back and side. After it crackled, his did the same on the other side. “I never said it would be easy, Your Highness. I said I could do it.”

The Prince of the Mer rose. “How?”

“You’ll see. Now, how about you show me where these Swamp Elves live?”

###

The whine of mosquitos served to distract Carter a little from the wet rot scent that washed over him with each step. ‘Phew. I can’t tell if that’s something dead, or just stagnant water.’

He pulled his sticky shirt away from his chest trying to allow coolness to go over the sweat trickling down his body, but the heavy air offered no respite.

He paused, and glanced away from the trail to the encampment across the swamp from where he stood. ‘The shortest distance between two points is always a straight line,’ he mused. A six-point buck dipped its head down to drink. Water near its head erupted upwards as a large alligator lunged from under the water and caught the deer by the neck. The gator pulled the kicking and screaming buck under the water and rolled, churning up the water. ‘The longest distance between those two points, leads to longer life,’ he decided. ‘Gotta find another way to the encampment. I hope this is where the swamp elves are. The last one was abandoned for years.’

Slapping his bicep crushed a mosquito which decided he was tasty. He resumed his slog through the mud and rain fell on him once more. ‘Yay. More rain. Just what I was hoping for.’ The rain served to remind him of the burning at his crotch that he’d almost succeeded in pushing out of his mind. “Fuck this chaffing sucks. I’d give almost anything for some dry clothes and powder.”

As he grumbled to himself, Carter reached up to push away a dangling vine, only to freeze when it moved in his hand. The vine wasn’t a vine at all. It was a huge python, lazily yawning to reveal the inside of its grayish-pink mouth. Carter’s pulse quickened. “Sorry, bub. Didn’t mean to disturb you.” He ducked under the snake, careful not to make any sudden movements, before continuing on.

Before he got two steps further, six men rose from the ground - elves with skin the color of wet earth, their bodies streaked with moss and tangled in vines. Their eyes, narrow and gleaming like polished stones, watched him with cautious intent. The mud that had concealed them clung to their limbs as they rose, blending seamlessly with the swamp until they stood, eerily still, as if they were part of the landscape itself.

The two closest wielded spears with flint tips and the four further away pointed cocked bows at him. Carter held his hands out to the side to show he wasn’t armed and looking for a fight. One of the men with a spear jabbered something at him, but he had no idea what it was. “Can you understand me?”

The men tilted their heads to the side. A nearby elf spoke in a rapid, lilting language. Carter blinked rapidly as his brow furrowed. Sweat crept through his beard as he tapped his lower lip with his index finger. “I am Sir Lavitz. I’m looking for swamp elves.”

The same elf shook his head slowly. Carter dropped his head. ‘By all the hells. Why have I never checked to see if there is translation magic?’

The spear wielder to his left jabbed the weapon at him, coming close to his stomach. Carter snatched the weapon from his hands. The archers drew back their bowstrings which creaked under the pressure.

He then offered the spear in both his hands to the one who’d spoken. “I don’t think he should have it back.” He nodded to the now disarmed elf.

The elf lowered his spear and leaned on it, laughing. He accepted the other one’s weapon, and then waved for Carter to follow. The elves started for the village at a jog with the one he’d disarmed sending him a black look.

###

Alistair stood talking to a swarthy man clad in plate greaves and boots. The Avalanche’s great size partially hid the stranger, but Adora could see the wiry man wore a belt, two knives and a great sword across his back, and nothing else. ‘Who is he, and why is my general being so deferential to him?’

She watched for a moment longer before a cleared throat behind her reclaimed her attention. She turned back to the Chronomancer, Robilar.

A score of candles, dancing in the cool breeze, provided the only light which was directed at the table with a map of the region. A collection of pins with her symbol on them marked where her army lay. Another set had an unfamiliar sigil on them, about six inches from her army. Shadows from the pins played over the map, alternately obscuring and revealing details of the vellum.

He stood on the other side of it with his arms folded. “Sir Alistair knows his job, Majesty. Making plans for countering Drago is currently more important than a supplicant.”

“I think he’s more than an mere petitioner, Robilar.” She sighed and turned back around before crossing the tent to her general and the mysterious man he was speaking to. The men ceased their conversation and turned to her. Alistair stood at attention and saluted while the stranger smiled. “Hello, Adora. It is good to see you again.”

She stopped with a frown. “Who are you?”

He glanced around, making sure only the four of them were near. “Azrael. But, for your men’s purposes, I am called Nathaniel.”

She stiffened and her hand flew to her chest “Why are you here? Isn’t that forbidden?”

Her guardian angel rubbed the back of his neck. “Things are a bit… chaotic in the Outlands. Kellün isn’t responding to prayers, Azerith is missing and Chokkan… Well, the less said about him, the better.” He sighed. “The Walker is needed now, more than ever, but he cannot be found. I grew tired of waiting for orders, and came to do my duty in person.”

‘Tired of waiting for orders? What could have the gods in such disarray?’ As she processed what he’d just said, Adora got a sinking feeling in her gut. “What do you mean, ‘Azerith is missing?’”

“He’s not in the Silver City, and isn’t granting his worshippers their spells.”

She tugged at her gambeson as she chewed at the corner of her lip. “It sounds like the Outlands are in disarray.” After a few minutes, she came back to what he’d said last. “What duty are you talking about?”

“To keep you safe, of course.” He straightened to his full height and put his hands on his hips.

“I would speak of this further with you later.”

“Certainly, Your Highness.” Azrael bowed.

As she turned to Alistair, Robilar tapped the angel, and nodded for him to follow. Outside the command tent, Robilar lead Azrael around to the back, away from the others. “How much are you planning on revealing to her?” He said in a near whisper.

“Most of what she asks.”

“But, she can’t know about —”

“Relax, Chronomancer. I will not tell her of her destiny.”

“That is a relief.” Robilar sighed.

“Did you truly believe I would be so irresponsible?”

“Honestly?” Robilar put his hands on his hips. “I never thought you would decide to inhabit the corpse of a human, decide to bare your absurdly perfect muscles, and literally fight beside your charge, so as far as I knew, it was within the realm of possibility.”

“Is the snark necessary?”

“As the Walker of Worlds likes to say, ‘Absolutely.’”

Azrael narrowed his eyes. “I have fought alongside my charges before. I never told them of their destiny.”

Robilar leaned forward. “You never fell in love with a charge before, either.”

“No.” The angel shook his head. “No, I didn’t. Becoming attached to a charge is forbidden, and could lead to Falling.”

The Chronomancer raised his right eyebrow. “You know you can’t lie to me, right? Time bows before me.”

Azrael looked away, and swallowed hard. “That point is moot. I will protect her with my life.”

The Chronomancer put his hand on the angel’s arm. “Only if there is absolutely no other way. If you think there is a sliver of a chance she will live without your sacrifice, you take that sliver.”

He kept going a few steps and paused before returning . “What? Why?” His brow was furrowed.

“I know your fate, too.”