Author's Note: Feel free to skip this brief intro and get right on ahead to the story.
Duskport is the first novel in the (soon to be) Shades of Grey trilogy. I have been writing it since summer of 2010 and am aiming to have it completed before the world ends in 2012 (that would be nice right?). Anyways, what you guys are reading is my first rewrite, I hope you enjoy.
For those of you who were already followers of Shades of Grey and are wondering where the other story went, I have taken it down so as not to have a duplicate story progressing. From here on out I will be posting the rewrite as I complete it. You will probably notice most major changes near the beginning. If you, for any reason, would like to see the later chapters that have been taken down, feel free to PM me about it. Hopefully, this way you will be able to receive a bit more frequent updates.
Shout out real quickly to Bien, if he reads this, sorry for the wait.
I love reviews and can take criticism, please dump them on me in copious amounts.
Peace bredren, Now read…
Prologue
"If a wizard dies in the dark, does anyone know?"
The perpetual murky darkness of Duskport cloaked the two figures standing in the recess of the lopsided building. The constant drip drip of water could be heard as the last dregs of the previous storm trickled down from the massive crack that spanned the cavern's ceiling some two thousand feet above. Rain was a rarity in Duskport as only a small strip of the city, located directly underneath the giant cavern's abrasion, received any direct moisture.
The two men, one short and the other tall, wore heavy black cloaks to protect themselves from the misty remnants of the rain that made it to the bottom of the enormous cave. Both had their cowls pulled low to conceal their features, a sight not uncommon to the murky City of Shade. They watched the street before them with rapt attention, eyes raking the street from the depths of their shaded faces.
To the casual observer they appeared to be just two more of Duskport's dubious inhabitants, eyeing the crowd for a potentially profitable purse. A closer inspection of the pair would suggest otherwise however. Beneath their cloaks hung masterfully crafted weapons; a short sword was belted at the shorter figures waist and two exquisitely crafted maces hung from loops on the taller form's belt. Their eyes gleamed with the savage intent of a predator as they scanned the rapidly thinning throngs of mismatched cutthroats so common to the city.
Duskport, because of its location buried deep within the sea cave, never really saw much light, despite the sliver of sun that shone through the ceiling's crevice for a scant three hours a day. However, neither did it ever see true darkness as the luminescent moss and lichen that covered the cavern's walls cast a uniform, dusky glow across the city at all times, giving it its name. Due to this lack of exposure to the sun, most people lived according to their body's internal clock, waking and sleeping when they felt it was necessary. Because of the difference in people's internal time telling abilities, there was generally only a two or three hour lull each day in which the majority of the city slumbered.
An hour passed and still the two figures maintained their silent vigil. The broken patches of predated cobblestones interspersed with areas of dirt and rock were beginning to show as the crowds thinned. Beggars, tired of whining and pleading for coin, crawled off to whatever wretched holes they could find. Shop keepers began to close up their shops as the inflow of people subsided, deciding it was probably time to get some rest themselves. Thieves scurried off to do their silent work and strong-arm enforcers relinquished their turf to the denizens that prowled the quiet hours of the early morning, Duskport's only real quiet time. Through all this the watchers remained motionless as statues, their eyes fixed on the ruined street before them. It had taken much planning and many sly words for them to arrange what they hoped was about to happen and the wait was well worth the potential gain.
Silence reigned as the street finally emptied, the last few shop keepers and their bodyguards hustling out of the shadowy avenue. Time passed and the shorter of the two stalkers began to get impatient.
"Looks like he isn't coming," the little man whispered with annoyance as he rolled his shoulders in an attempt to relieve his cramped muscles.
"He will be here," breathed the taller man without taking his eyes off the street, "just be patient."
"We have been waiting here for hours," persisted the shorter one, "what if our intel was wrong?"
"You mean your intel."
The little figure gave a conceding shrug and reached up under the cowl to scratch his nose. "Aye, my intel." His patience was wearing thin and he was ready to be gone from this muggy, damp location. The heavy wool cloak was plastered to him with sweat and water and was beginning to itch terribly.
"If your intel is no good then I have no use for you," replied the taller man coldly. Disgust bled through his words like an open wound, revealing his own barely withheld frustration as he struggled to control his mounting ire. "If you cant then…" he trailed off, his eyes fixed on slight movement at the end of the broken cobblestone street. The tall man smiled beneath the cowl and nudged his companion in the arm. Perhaps their luck was turning around tonight. Slowly the two watchers hands slid beneath their cloaks and released their respective weapons, making sure to keep them quiet as they slid from their sheaths.
The movement at the end of the street solidified into definite shapes as the figures moved closer through the gloom. There were two people walking side by side. One was a young half-elf, perhaps in her early twenties, with thick, strawberry blond hair that hung well past her shoulders and startlingly blue eyes. An array of freckles was scattered across her nose and cheeks but if anything it only added to her exquisite beauty. Under one arm she held several large, leather bound books while her other hand covered her petit mouth as she laughed gaily at whatever story her companion was telling.
The other was a man of middle age, with streaks of grey gracing his brown hair and a pair of crescent spectacles perched on the tip of his nose. He wore long black robes with silver filigree lining the edges and had a set of three rings adorning his left hand which was gesturing animatedly along with whatever tale he was spinning to the pretty half-elf.
The taller watcher tensed and nudged his diminutive counterpart again, "You didn't mention that Valanie would be here as well."
The smaller man shrugged callously, "I didn't think she would be out this late but it doesn't matter, so long as she doesn't see us you know that he won't let her come in harm's way."
The tall man made as if to reply but fell silent as the Valanie and her middle aged companion moved within earshot. The pretty young half-elf was still laughing merrily at her counterpart's tale, though the man was speaking in such a low voice that neither of the darkly clad watchers could catch more than a few sparse words.
Both cloaked lurkers held their breaths as the conversing pair passed by the nook where they reclined in the shadows, barely feet from them. The watchers counted three paces past before they made their move, raising their weapons and rushing out from their concealed location. What they found though, was not what they had anticipated.
The bespeckled man stood facing them calmly, his hands resting within the long pockets of his voluminous black cloak. Behind him, looking slightly apprehensive stood Valanie. Both men pulled up short and hissed in frustration from the depths of their cowls, lowering their weapons slightly and stalking off in opposite ways around the waiting man. The brown haired man gave an interrupting cough as if to say that he did indeed see them. "May I help you gentlemen?"
The man's voice was cold and stern, that of someone used to giving commands and having them obeyed. The two lurkers gave pause on opposite sides of the man for the briefest moment, cast one look at the nervous Valanie, then sprinted full speed towards him. The brown haired man was ready for them though and even as they moved his hands raced through the beginnings of a spell.
Both lurkers were less than a pace away when the wizard finished his spell. Waves of force rolled out from the man, cracking the cobblestones and sending both charging assassins flying backwards into the numerous piles of rubbish that lined the streets. Dazed but unhurt by the forceful expulsion, the two men scrambled back to their feet only to be met with the angry wizard's next magical assault. A lightning bolt thundered across towards the shorter lurker, who threw himself aside in a desperate attempt to avoid the deadly missile. Wood and bits of stone flew wildly as the spell hurtled past the diving man and blew a sizeable chunk out of the building behind him.
Standing ten feet behind the battling wizard, Valanie seemed hesitant. Unsure of whether to step in and aid her battling master or give him the space he needed to properly fight, she fidgeted nervously with her stack of books. Her indecision did not last for long however as her middle aged mentor spun to face her.
"Go Valanie I will take care of these ruffians. Back, back to the Dusk Palace and don't stop for anything until you get there." He spun to face his attackers once more. "I will be along shortly."
The half-elf maiden gave a jerky nod then turned on her heel and hustled up the street and off into the darkness. The short lurker smiled beneath his hood; so predictable. The distraction cost him however, as the wizard's next spell rolled in.
A ball of force hurtled through the air and struck the man in the chest, hurling him across the cobblestones and sending him skidding into a small rickety cart which promptly collapsed on him.
The other lurker, expecting an opening, surged towards the wizard with his maces poised to strike. The blow never came though as the wizard barked out a command word and simply vanished, reappearing some thirty feet further down the street.
Maintaining his momentum, the tall lurker continued to bear down on the wizard who hastily threw up his hands and muttered an arcane word. Flames roiled out from the middle aged man's out stretched hands, forcing the tall lurker to throw himself to the ground. The lurker waited for a split second as the deadly inferno raged above him before he leapt to his feet and swung viciously with his mace.
The wizard back peddled furiously to avoid the blow but was not quite quick enough. The mace scraped across his brow, knocking his head to the side and sending him staggering to the left.
There was a clatter from the side as the shorter lurker dragged himself out of the wreckage of the cart. He was covered in dust and splinters, but overall, didn't seem too injured. His eyes lit up as he saw the stunned mage and he quickly slipped a small glass vial out from under his cloak and hurled it at the staggering wizard. As the glass connected with the stones at the man's feet, a pillar of flames roared to life, engulfing him utterly and causing the taller lurker to shield his face from the hellish heat.
As quickly as the inferno had appeared it vanished, leaving a scorched blast radius upon the cracked cobblestones. The middle aged wizard was nowhere to be seen.
"Did we get him?" asked the shorter lurker, moving over to join his taller companion by the edge of the blast marks.
His question was answered almost immediately as a lightning bolt thundered inches above his head, close enough to rip his voluminous hood off and send him sprawling. The other lurker spun on his heel to face the reappearing wizard who was stepping out of a shimmering blue portal.
The tall lurker hissed in anger and resumed his reckless charge towards the middle aged wizard. This time though, the mage was prepared for him. Pulling a small purple crystal from one of his numerous pockets he threw it up into the air, uttering a string of three guttural words. The crystal hung in the air for the briefest of moments before shattering into a thousand pieces. There came a ripping sound as the very fabric of reality began to tear and a gaping purple portal comprised of swirling vapor formed some twenty feet above the charging, cloaked man.
The tall lurker came to a skidding halt and looked up with apprehension at the swirling portal above him. Understanding the danger he was in he threw himself aside but was unable to escape the wizard's second, perfectly timed spell. The man suffered a gut-wrenching feeling as his feet lifted off the ground and he began to "fall" upwards. He thrashed and clawed at the air but to no avail as he "fell" into the purple portal and vanished from view. There was a snapping, cracking nose and the portal flickered out of existence.
The wizard, having been expecting the rapid change in gravity, had enacted a levitation spell and now floated calmly back to the cobblestones as gravity returned to normal. Blood poured freely down the right side of his head and his robes were burnt and singed in many places but his face was cold and poised. Setting his jaw, he stalked towards the now de-hooded lurker who lay face down on the cobblestones, moaning and holding his slightly smoking head. The wizard placed his heel on the downed lurker's shoulder and flipped the groaning man over onto his back revealing a sharply angled face with dark, beady eyes beneath a fop of curly, mousy, brown hair. The wizard's eyes widened behind his cracked glasses and he took a slight step backwards.
"You!" he exclaimed taking another step back, "What is the meaning of this?"
The mousy haired man gave a week chuckle from the ground, "Aye, me."
"But why would," the wizard continued to splutter, still trying to come to terms with this newest development, "I mean when the Dusklord finds out!"
His eyes narrowed and his lips pursed. "So you've been the trait…"
He was cut off midway through his sentence by a loud crack. His head snapped oddly forward and he crumpled to the ground in a heap, revealing the taller lurker standing in front of a vanishing blue doorway of his own that quickly blinked from existence. Looking down at the dead wizard's crumpled form he tossed the contents of his left hand, a cracked and blackened mirror, onto the man's back.
"Yes Emmanuelle di Agriegan, he is the traitor."
Stepping over the corpse, the tall lurker proffered a hand to the still prone, mousy haired man, who took it and hoisted himself to his feet.
Surveying the battle torn street and Emmanuelle's body the mousy haired man nodded in satisfaction. "A good start then."
His companion looked around for a moment before conceding to the point. "Aye," he nodded, "a damned good start."