Prologue
When Light is gone, alas, beware of the shadows in the dark.
- Unknown
The ruins of the city lay silent in the night. Crumbled ornaments on walls and pillars were the only reminders of its glorious past. It was clear that the new inhabitants did not care for the art of humans. With them chaos and destruction had fallen upon the city. Debris sank ever so slowly into the mud. Feces and other excrements sullied statues of forgotten gods. And on the central square, once stage for merchants and traveling performers, rose a strange white building surrounded by a glowing fog.
Not far from the abandoned market place hid a figure in the shadows. Aged leather on ebony skin smudged the shape of the nightly visitor. Like a thief he scrunched into the corner of a collapsed wall that once fenced around a noble manor and now hid the intruder from observant eyes.
An unnatural heat smoldered in the city. It must have been of magical origin. The last rays of sunshine had touched the earth of the Dark Lands centuries ago. Ice should have covered each and every inch of its ground, but instead snow could only be seen in the mountains whose crowns fought an eternal war with thick, dark clouds. At any given point in time, looking to the horizon one saw lightning dancing upon the great stone warriors.
The uninvited guest did not remain unaffected by the heat. Sweat oozed out of his pores and mixed with a paste of Deathroot and Mazeplant covering every inch of his skin. The smell of decay it emanated deceived the sensitive noses of creatures that all to happily thrust their sharp teeth into the flesh of careless victims. Not even the harness of leather dressing the skinny breast of its bearer would grant much protection.
The worry clouding childlike eyes was hardly surprising.
He was screwed. And it was his own fault.
Instead of lying more or less secure in the crotch of a beech cracking beechnuts, he found himself much deeper in hostile territory than he had planed. Should he try to sneak back? Give up? He frowned. It was too late for that. The Deathrootpaste would soon lose its effect and then it was only a matter of time until the demons found him, lured by his human smell. He probably would not even find his way back. The last hours had shown that his sense of orientation in the city could be compared to that of a blind boar that had lost its sense of smell. He had two options: He could die a warrior, or, he could die a coward. If he fought, he would at least take some of these disgusting creatures with him into the abyss.
A few steps in front of him, a crack split the wall he hid behind. There, the foundation was higher than the street, if he waited for the right moment, he could jump one of the demons patrolling the city. He gulped, terror shook his limbs. Still, he slowly set one foot in front of the other.
A strange, gurgling noise caught his attention. His heart jumped in his breast. It was the same sound his mother had made, when she tried to speak, her throat cut from ear to ear. And it was the same sound, the Ash’Khanarr made when they conversed. One or more of the demons were approaching. It took all of his strength to beat down the desire to run, but he knew he would only end up a sad example for stupidity if he tried to flee. His mind was blank. It was now or never. He jumped.
