Cale held up his mask. "I am the Right Hand of the Shadowlord." He nodded at Riven. "And he is the Left."
"A servant of the Shadowlord murdered this city."
The horde of smaller wraiths broke into a chorus of whispers. Cale heard the building hostility. He nodded.
"Now it is to be set right. Let us pass."
"Nothing can set it right," the Silver Lord hissed, and the cloud of wraiths crept in closer.
Cale inclined his head, conceding the point. "No. But Kesson Rel can be made to pay."
The wraiths' whispers died out and the four larger wraiths regarded Cale for a moment before they turned toward each other. They crowded together closely, as if in discussion, though Cale heard no words pass.
Cale, Riven, and Magadon shared glances but no words. Many moments passed before the wraiths turned back to the companions.
"His life is ours to take. But we are bound to this place by his craft. You must bring him to us. Swear it or die."
Cale shook his head. He was done with promises. "No."
The wraiths swirled in agitation. The air turned frigid. Red eyes flared. The circle of lesser wraiths around them closed in. The larger loomed over them.
"Cale…" Riven said.
Cale said, "I will return him here if I can. If I cannot, I will kill him where I find him. If that comes to pass, I will bring you proof of his death."
The wraiths fell silent, considering his offer. Finally, one of them said, "So be it."
Another said, "You must pass his creature alone. We are bound not to harm it."
"We are not so bound," Riven said.
With that, the wraiths flowed apart and opened a path toward the gate for the three companions. Cale, Riven, and Magadon shared a look, then started through. Cale felt the wraiths' eyes on them throughout. The creatures reached for them as they passed, as if to touch them, but never did.
When they emerged from the mob of wraiths, they could see ahead the raised circular stone platform upon which the darkweaver crouched. The gate glowed behind it, suspended between rune-covered twin pillars. A swirl of pitch wound around the platform, clung in ribbons to the darkweaver's enormous, spiderlike body. Eight tentacles as thick as barrels and as long as a dagger toss sprouted from the creature's sides. Clusters of black eyes dotted its form.
The gate flashed brightly and Cale caught an image within it of a black spire suspended over a void.
The darkweaver saw them and its tentacles churned. It lifted half its body from the platform and hissed. A voice in Cale's head said, Lay down your weapons and approach. No harm will befall you. You may use the gate as you wish.
Cale felt the magical compulsion behind the words but resisted it. He knew the darkweaver's message was a lie. He looked to Riven and Magadon. Both were clear-eyed; both nodded.
"Oh, we'll approach," Riven said, low and dangerous.
"We go," Cale said, and rushed toward the dais. Riven and Magadon sprinted hard after. The army of wraiths behind them followed on their heels, moaning in anticipation.
The darkweaver hissed again, lifted itself on four of its tentacles, and shambled its girth partway down the platform. It reared up its front, opened a sphincterlike mouth large enough to swallow a man whole, and vomited a cloud of shadows. The darkness roiled forward like a storm and engulfed Cale and his companions.
Cale felt around mentally for the sense of the darkness and found it, distant but there. He stepped through it in a single stride to appear on the platform behind the darkweaver's hulking form. The energy from the gate behind him made the hairs of his arms stand on end. He ignored it, reversed his grip on Weaveshear, and drove it into the creature's gray flesh. Shadows poured out of the gash and the darkweaver squealed in agony. It twisted its body and lashed at Cale with three of its tentacles. Cale dived under one blow, and intercepted the second with his upraised blade, severing the thick appendage and leaving it flopping and bleeding shadows atop the dais. A third thudded into his side, cracked ribs, and knocked him from the platform. He hit the ground in a heap and his breath went out of him. The darkweaver loomed over him.
Yellow light pierced the darkweaver's cloud of shadows, and Riven and Magadon rushed forward out of the darkness. Riven held his sabers before him; Magadon held his glowing yellow mindblade-the source of the light-in his fist. Cale noticed for the first time the thin black streaks that ran the mindblade's length.
The darkweaver braced its tentacles on the ground and leaped off the dais and into the air. Magadon pointed a hand at the airborne creature as a red glow haloed his head. A beam of white luminescence shot from his palm, hit the darkweaver in mid air, and sent a few chunks of seared flesh flying off. Hissing with pain but undeterred, the darkweaver hit the ground nearly atop the mindmage, tentacles flailing. A writhing limb clipped Magadon on the side of the head and knocked him to the ground. A second wrapped him about the torso, lifted him from his feet, and began to squeeze.
Riven lunged at the creature, his blades and body a whirlwind as he chopped his way through the darkweaver's tentacle attacks. He ducked, spun, leaped, dodged, all while cutting his way to Magadon. Chunks of the weaver's flesh flew off in all directions; shadows spilled from the wounds.
Cale shouted the words to a spell that powered his hands with baleful, black energy. He stepped through the shadows, appearing atop the darkweaver's humped back, and slammed his fist into the creature. The energy streamed out of him and split the creature's flesh. A deep hole opened, and stinking shadows leaked from it.
The darkweaver shrieked with agony and bucked, throwing Cale from its back. Cale hit the ground in a roll and rode the momentum onto his feet. A tentacle tried to sweep his legs out from under him but he jumped over it. As he came down he drove Weaveshear's point through the tentacle and pinned it to the earth.
Magadon freed a hand and another burst of energy from his palm hit the creature in the face and destroyed several of its eyes. Riven sent another severed tentacle flopping to the earth.
The darkweaver shrieked, its ruined flesh gushing shadows.
Cale shadowstepped atop the creature's back and drove Weaveshear into the wound created by his spell. The blade sank all the way to the hilt. The darkweaver hissed, spasmed, and collapsed. It did not move.
Cale leaped off it, breathing hard.
"All right?" he asked his comrades.
"Fine," said Riven, wiping his blades on his trousers.
"Better than this pile of dung," Magadon spat, and hacked the corpse of the darkweaver with his mindblade, once, twice, a third, a fourth. By the time he was done, he was smiling like a madman.
Cale and Riven shared a look. Cale's gaze lingered over the seemingly corrupted weapon.
Magadon's smile vanished. Without offering an explanation, he let the blade dissipate.
A hiss escaped the carcass of the darkweaver. At first Cale thought it was not dead, but then black fumes went up from its flesh in a cloud. The stink caused Cale to gag and cover his mouth. Magadon vomited.
The three backed away from the carcass as the hissing grew louder. They watched as the creature's body began to dissolve before their eyes, shrinking, collapsing on itself, boiling away into foul gas.
When it was gone, Cale sheathed Weaveshear and said to the wraiths, who still watched, "That is the first of Kesson Rel's servants to fall."
The wraiths whispered and surged forward, circling the spot where the darkweaver's body had been.
Cale, Riven, and Magadon climbed the stairs of the platform and walked up to the gate. The glowing green curtain of magical energy stretched between two stone pillars as thick as oaks, both covered in runes. The shadows around Cale poured into the gate, drawn by its power.