Cold Fusion - A Sci-fi, Fantasy, and Fusion Short Story Anthology

Chapter 3

Putting his strange night spent sharing a fire with his greatest enemy behind him, Paxon pressed hard to the south. According to the vision his patron had granted him, the thief had fled into a cursed forest at the base of the southern spur of the mountains to the right of the road. While cursed forests and bogs were fairly common, with the Shadow running amok over much of the world, there was only one on this continent. And he was heading right at it.

Three more days of hard travel and Paxon crested a low ridge to find himself looking at the dark, forbidding edge of the Charwood, 200,000 acres of Shadow-tainted forest. Pulling Troika to a halt, he gazed at the narrow, tightly packed trees.

"Well, what we're looking for is in there, somewhere," he said out loud, reaching out to pat his mount on the neck. "Let's hope there's a trail, or that'll be a hard slog to cut through."

Troika snorted then began walking off the road.

"You see something that I don't, girl?" Paxon muttered as he let his horse pick her way through the brush lining the road and onto the grassy slope leading down into the forest. There they found an old road winding its way down the slope, its meandering track nearly lost in the long grass.

"Nicely done, old friend," the veteran paladin said with a smile. He had, indeed, failed to see the road, hidden as it was.

From their new vantage point, he could see the old road led right into the forest. Hopefully it pressed deep into the dark arbor where, according to his patron's vision, the thief hid with its ill-gotten goods from the Vault.

Knowing an ambush could greet him the forest's edge, Paxon paused for a moment to study the approach. Then after loosening his sword in its scabbard, settling his helmet on his head, and slinging his heavy shield over his off arm, he urged Troika back into motion.

It took a moment or two to traverse the slope, the road making the descent easy. Then they were at the edge. In one moment they were walking in the sunshine, and in the next they had been swallowed by shadows, dank and ominous as they folded around them. Grim as the forest's corruption began pressing against his senses, Paxon guided Troika past the brambles marking the edge and deeper into the forest itself.

There! The road indeed continued through the close standing trees, a narrow but passable corridor winding between the dark trunks.

"Steady, girl," he quietly said, using his shield hand to handle the reins in order to keep his sword hand free. "Just keep to the path, ..."

The attack came without warning, a maelstrom of violence and darkness that boiled out of the trees to knock Paxon out of the saddle. Hitting the ground hard enough to see stars, he tried clawing out his sword. But the maelstrom's power was too great; it quickly settled on top of him to pin him down and drive the remaining air from his lungs.

He had just enough time to see the maelstrom drive a wildly kicking Troika to the ground. Then everything went black.

Paxon swam in that darkness for what felt like an eternity. Then, just as abruptly as he was attacked, he was jerked back awake.

"Paxon Grey," a low voice hissed, filled with malevolent hate. "You've come a long way just to die."

As his senses cleared, Paxon felt the rough ropes binding him hand and foot.

"You've stolen an artifact from the Vault of Light, villain," he pushed aside his dismay to growl. "Give it to me or ..."

The darkness in front of him, what he had thought was mere shadow, shifted with a life of its own.

"Or what, paladin?" it snarled. "I don't see a legion of knights at your back, and you now languish in bondage. Your patron has betrayed you by sending you alone. You will die here."

That tightened the veteran paladin's expression.

"Will I, monster?" he countered. "Then why am I bound instead of already bleeding out my life?"

"Because Maug knows you are not alone!" a familiar voice declared from close by.

Eyes wide, Paxon twisted towards the voice.

"Caryk?? What are you doing here?" he demanded to know as the dark elf padded into view on the back of his fel saber cat.

"Lord Captain," Caryk greeted him with a smile and a nod. "Remember how I said I had not come for you?"

"Aye, I remember."

Caryk's smile broadened slightly before he pointed at the seething darkness that he had named 'Maug'.

"That is what I have come for."

"Lord Agurak's Hand," the darkness stammered, the voice abruptly filled with fear. "I, I was going to give him the artifact as a gift, proof of my loyalty!"

Ignoring the stammering darkness, Caryk climbed off his mount to walk towards Paxon. As he did, he continued to explain.

"My mission is to punish Maug for its betrayal of my patron. It was Maug's intent to use the artifact it stole from the Vault to seize power from its master, Agurak the Beast." He reached down with a curved dagger to slice through the rough rope holding Paxon captive.

Rubbing circulation back into his wrists, the paladin looked up at the grim Hand.

"It's my mission to retrieve that artifact," he said with a thoughtful frown. Then he was taking Caryk's offered hand to let the drow pull him back to his feet. "So it was coincidence that put us to our separate but alike missions at the same time, and in the same place."

"Indeed," the drow agreed. "Lucky for you, Lord Captain, that it did. Else I wouldn't be here to cut these ropes."

"Please, Lord Hand, have mercy ..." Maug pleaded. Only to howl in pain as Caryk stabbed out a hand to send a bolt of red lightning lashing into the center of the darkness.

Holding the lightning in place, the drow turned back to the thoughtful human.

"You'll find your artifact nearby, Paxon, compliments of my master."

Nodding, Paxon bowed.

"You and your master have the thanks of my mistress for your assistance," he said somewhat formally, to which Caryk inclined his head in acknowledgement.

"The patrons haven't always fought each other," he said with a wry smile. "However, there's a good chance when next we meet, we will be enemies once again."

Paxon nodded, a smile touching his own lips.

"More than likely, Caryk. Journey well."

"Journey well, Paxon." Then the drow turned to send a second fork of red lightning into the seething darkness and the howling grew louder.

He could still hear the howling as he rode Troika out of the forest, the artifact in a saddle bag. It didn't disturb him, however. If anything, it reminded him of just how strange his encounter with Caryk Shadowsong had been. Not the least of which was having his greatest enemy showing him more honor and nobility than any knight he had known in his decades of service. Truly, even in the darkest shadow, there was still light.