02 - Shadow King

by Gav Thorpe - (ebook by Undead)

  “I did not know that the roads were barred to those who travelled to pay homage to Queen Morathi,” said Eoloran, bowing apologetically. Alith could imagine the self-loathing his grandfather felt at having to utter such words, but pride was the least casually of their subterfuge.

  “There’s war afoot, you should know that,” snarled the captain. “The roads must be clear for the queen’s armies.”

  “We would offer no obstruction, my noble friend,” said Eoloran, keeping his gaze downcast. “In fact, we travel to the temples of Anlec so that we might entreat the gods to bless the endeavours of Morathi’s favoured warriors. We are not fighters, and we owe everything to the great soldiers of Nagarythe who would protect us against the persecution of Bel Shanaar.”

  It was a well-rehearsed turn of phrase, which Eoloran had devised after much thought, and it seemed to be working on the captain.

  “There is little room in the city for vagabonds and wanderers,” he said. “I warn you that there is a levy upon the people of Anlec to provide more warriors for the army. I see nothing of value in this motley band, but it is the queen’s decree that all stand ready in defence of our realm.”

  “You are right, we know little of war and battle,” said Eoloran. “Yet, should our enemies threaten, none will fight harder than I in the defence of Nagarythe and her great traditions.”

  Alith was forced to turn away and cough to conceal a short laugh at his grandfather’s wordplay. Certainly the Anars would fight hardest to restore Malekith to the throne.

  The captain mulled over this answer for a time. Having wearied of the lack of sport provided by Eoloran, he waved the Shadows aside, forcing them onto the muddied grass bank that lined the road. With glowers at the group as they passed, the soldiers formed up and marched on, leaving the Shadows in peace.

  Eoloran urged them onwards, keen to put distance between the Shadows and the soldiers, and only after some time did he speak more freely again.

  “I judge that we are no more than a day from Anlec, and we must be on our wits,” he warned. “So far it seems that Malekith’s ploy is working, for if the druchii suspected any attack on Anlec, all roads would be closed. We must enter the city before the threat is known, lest the gates be barred against all entry prior to our arrival. I feel that events will quickly come upon us. We must put haste before caution. We must reach Anlec before nightfall tomorrow.”

  Anlec was more of a fortress than a city, though massive in size and home to tens of thousands of elves. It was the greatest citadel in the world, built by Aenarion and Caledor Dragontamer to hold against the tide of daemons that had assailed Ulthuan. Immense walls encircled the city, bolstered along its circumference by twenty towers, each a small castle in its own right. Black and silver banners flapped in the spring wind from a hundred poles and the glint of weapons could be seen as hundreds of guards made their patrols along the battlements.

  There were three gatehouses, each grander than the manse of Elanardris and protected by war machines and dozens of soldiers. The gates themselves were immense portals wrought from blackened iron and enchanted with the most powerful spells of Caledor. Walls extended like buttresses from beside the gates, creating a killing field into which bolts and arrows and spells could be cast upon any attacker. A ring of outer towers, each garrisoned by a hundred warriors, protected the approaches. Perhaps most daunting was the great moat of fire that encircled the entire city, which burnt with a magical green flame and could only be crossed at three mighty drawbridges.

  It was across one of these bridges that the Shadows walked, the heat and crackling of the flames to either side. The sun was setting behind Anlec; the city rose out of the gloom like a black monster, spires and towers its horns and claws.

  Once this place had been the beacon in the darkness, the fortress of Aenarion the Defender. Now the sight of its black granite buildings sent a shudder of fear through Alith and he cast a glance at Eothlir and Eoloran. Not for many centuries had they come to the city, ever since Morathi had usurped rule from the chancellors and councils left by Malekith. The stories of the dark rites and bloody rituals were enough to make the skin crawl, and the sight of the city left Alith’s father and grandfather with pale, pinched faces.

  They crossed the killing ground swiftly. Alith glanced up at the high walls to either side and lamented silently, fearful for any warrior doomed to assault Anlec. No doubt many thousands of loyal elves would lose their lives when Malekith attacked. Pushing these sombre thoughts from his mind, Alith heartened himself with the knowledge that the Shadows had arrived. It would be their purpose to ensure the gate opened to save those warriors from such a bloody fate. Seeing Anlec firsthand strengthened Alith’s resolve and he took no small measure of pride in the idea that the Anars would play such a pivotal role in the war for Nagarythe.

  Fires could be seen through the yawning maw of the open gate, flickering from the dark stone of the flanking towers and the huge arch of the portal. A chill swamped Alith as the Shadows passed into the gatehouse, as if all light had been extinguished. He suppressed the urge to glance backwards as the city swallowed them.

  ——

  Anlec Restored

  The night was torn by the screams of sacrificial victims and the screeching entreaties of wild cultists. Alith stood at the window of the abandoned garrison tower and looked over Anlec. Fires of different colours broke the darkness, while bloodthirsty mobs ran amok in the streets below, fighting each other and dragging off the unwary to be sacrificed to the dark gods of the cytharai.

  The Shadows had made their lair in a deserted building not far from the northern arc of the city wall. Once it had been home to hundreds of soldiers, but they had been moved south to confront the threat from Tiranoc. Like many parts of Anlec, the area was eerily quiet, the cultists preferring to keep to the centre of the city where the great temples were found. There was strength in numbers as the cults vied with each other for dominance.

  There were chambers below the tower that the Anars had not ventured into since their first exploration, appalled by bloodstained floors and barbed manacles, broken blades and wicked brands. Shuddering at the thought of the torments that had been visited upon fellow elves, they had closed the doors and kept to the upper storeys.

  “I had no idea that we could fall so low,” said Eoloran, appearing at Alith’s shoulder. “In this place of all, where once there was such dignity and honour, it pains me to look upon what we have become.”

  “We are not all the same,” said Alith. “Morathi has spread weakness and corruption, but Malekith will bring strength and resolve. There is still a future worth fighting for.”

  Eoloran did not reply and Alith turned to look at his grandfather, to find that he was gazing at Alith with a smile.

  “You make me proud to be an Anar,” said Eoloran, touching Alith’s shoulder. “Your father will be a great lord of the house, and you will be a fine prince of Nagarythe. When I see you, memories of the ancient past disappear and pain goes away. It is for the likes of you that we fought and bled, not these wretches that cavort through Aenarion’s city.”

  Eoloran’s words warmed Alith’s heart and he grasped his grandfather’s hand.

  “If I am so, it is because I have your example to follow,” said Alith. “It is the fine legacy that you will leave us that stirs me, and I call myself Anar with such pride that I cannot put it into words. Where others faltered and fell into the darkness, you have stood unflinching, a shaft of light for all to follow.”

  Eoloran’s eyes glistened with tears and the two embraced, drawing comfort upon each other’s love and putting aside the horrors that lay outside.

  Breaking away after some time, Eoloran turned his eyes back to the window and his expression hardened.

  “Those that have perpetrated these atrocities must be punished, Alith,” he said quietly. “But do not confuse punishment with revenge. It is fear and anger, jealousy and hatred that feed these cults, stirring those darkest emotions that li
e within us all. If we stay true to our ideals, the victory will be ours.”

  For nine days the Shadows concealed themselves within the heart of the enemy. For the most part they stayed out of sight, but singly and in pairs they dared the city on occasion, to gather information and food. The daytime was less perilous than the night, for the orgies and sacrifices of the night before left the cultists sated for a while and the streets were quieter.

  While the cultists ruled the night, the garrison of Anlec held sway in the daylight, patrolling the streets vigorously to ensure that total anarchy did not consume the city. It became clear that Morathi held the various forces in balance, indulging the cults to retain their support, yet reining back their excesses enough to ensure that some semblance of order was maintained.

  It was late afternoon on the ninth day when Alith and Casadir took their turn to go out into the city and find out what news they could. Garbed in their elegant robes, swords concealed beneath the folds of cloth, the pair headed for the main plaza outside the palace. There was a guard of soldiers upon the steps that led up to the huge doors of the citadel, and a throng of elves was massing in the square.

  There was a hum of conversation, an edge of fear to the atmosphere that drew Alith’s attention.

  “Let us split up and see what we can hear,” he said to Casadir. “I will meet you back here in a short while.”

  Casadir nodded and headed off to the right, passing in front of the steps. Alith turned left, towards the market stalls that had been set up on the edge of the square. He moved along the stalls, seemingly browsing the sellers’ wares yet he was alert to the hubbub around him.

  Amongst the usual fare of a market there were more sinister goods on sale. Ritual daggers inscribed with evil runes, talismans of the cytharai and parchments filled with incantations to the underworld gods. As he eyed a silver amulet forged in the shape of Ereth Khial’s sigil, Alith heard a passer-by mention the name of Malekith. Turning he followed the group of elves across the square. Amongst the languid strolls of the other elves, these five moved with purpose towards the street of temples that lay to the west.

  “Riders came in early this morning,” one was saying. Though the air had not yet thrown off the full chill of winter, she was dressed in a diaphanous veil that was wound loosely about her body, her pale flesh exposed for all to see. Upon her back were scars in the shapes of runes, and her flesh was pierced with rings of gold. “My brother was at the south gate and overheard what was said to the guards. The riders told the garrison that Prince Malekith advances on Anlec with an army.”

  This was greeted with twitters of fear from the other elves.

  “Surely he won’t attack the city?” said one.

  “Are we safe here?” asked another.

  “Perhaps we should flee,” suggested another.

  “There is no time!” said the first, her voice shrill. “The riders say that the prince is but a day’s march away. His wrath will fall upon us ere sundown tomorrow!”

  A thrill of excitement pulsed through Alith on hearing these words. He longed to follow the group further but they had turned up the steps that led to the shrine of Atharti and he had no desire to enter that damned place. Cutting down a side street, Alith circled quickly back towards the square and there he found Casadir waiting for him.

  “Malekith is close,” Casadir whispered as Alith came up to him. “I heard a captain of the guards sending his company to the walls to make ready the defence of the city.”

  “He is but a day away,” said Alith as the two of them walked together back towards the abandoned barracks. “Or so some believe.”

  “Morathi is keeping this news secret for the moment,” said Casadir. “She fears that there will be panic if the people find out that the prince is about to besiege Anlec. Perhaps we should spread the word, and hope that we can cause fear and confusion and hinder her plans.”

  “That might be a good idea, but I would speak with my father first,” said Alith.

  “I will linger a while longer and see what else I can learn,” said Casadir. “I will return to the tower before dusk.”

  “Be careful,” said Alith. “As this news spreads, I fear hysteria will grip many of the cultists. The sacrificial fires will burn high this night.”

  Casadir nodded reassuringly and disappeared into the gathering crowds. Alith headed for the Shadows’ lair at a brisk pace, keen to move quickly but fearful of attracting attention. If Malekith was indeed but a day away, his approach having been kept secret by Morathi’s warriors, the Anars had little time to prepare their plan of action. Though the prospect filled Alith with excitement, he felt an underlying dread that the Shadows would fail and the prince would be destroyed upon the city’s walls.

  As Alith had predicted, the night was punctuated by much rowdy behaviour, the beating of drums and the blare of horns as word spread of Malekith’s approach. Amongst the mayhem of the cultists’ tribulations and celebrations, the tramp of marching feet reverberated around the city as the garrison turned out and such forces as were near at hand were brought back to Anlec. The Shadows kept to their dark tower whilst this hysteria gripped the druchii, fearful of being set upon in the streets.

  Alith spent a sleepless night with the others, alternating between keeping watch for intruders and discussing the coming events with his father and grandfather. When the rosy haze of dawn crept across the horizon, barely glimmering over the stone wall of the city, Alith was in the highest chamber of the tower with Eothlir and Eoloran. In the light of the dawn and by the fires of torches along the ramparts, they could see a great many warriors standing ready to receive an assault.

  A singular question had vexed Eoloran since their arrival at Anlec and he gave voice to it again as the sun crept onto the sill of the window.

  “From which direction will Malekith attack?” he asked, though posing the question to nobody in particular. “We must know which gate needs to be opened.”

  “I have heard conflicting reports,” said Eothlir. “Some believe he marches direct from Tiranoc and comes from the south, while others have said that he comes from Ellyrion in the east.”

  “From his messages, we know the prince intended to muster his army in Ellyrion,” said Alith. “The east seems the most probable direction.”

  “That does seem likely, but such is the confusion that I have even heard tell that he comes from the west, having landed at Galthyr. While I suspect that you are right, Alith, it is not beyond the bounds of reason to wonder if his plans have changed, either through his own decision or forced by the actions of the druchii. A wrong assumption would not only cost us our lives but could damn Nagarythe to this torment for many more years to come.”

  “Then we must see for ourselves what is the truth,” said Alith.

  “And from where would you look?” said Eothlir. “The walls are full of warriors and no tower save for the citadel is high enough to see any distance.”

  “When faced with only one path, no matter how dangerous, that is the route we must take,” said Alith. “I will scale the citadel for a vantage point that will give us sufficient warning of Malekith’s approach. We need time to order ourselves and reach whichever gatehouse he assaults, and for that we need to know his intent as soon as possible.”

  “If only there were some way we could send or receive word from the prince,” said Eoloran. “A bird, perhaps?”

  “I fear that Morathi’s eye will be alert to such things, and we risk revealing ourselves for only an uncertain gain,” said Eothlir. He paced to the window and back, obviously distressed. “It seems unwise to send out a solitary spy, Alith.”

  “Better that only one is caught than all, and I would not ask any other to risk themselves,” said Alith. “Do not be too disheartened. Anarchy still holds sway over much of the city, though I am sure before long Morathi will instil a greater fear in her followers than Malekith. The shadows are still deep at this early hour and a lone figure moves unseen where many would attract attentio
n.”

  “I am still not certain,” said Eoloran.

  “Then you’d best bind me and leave me here, for I intend to go!” snapped Alith, who then fell silent, taken aback by his own determination. He continued in a more measured tone. “I promise I will not take any unnecessary risks, and if I hear word that confirms Malekith’s plan I shall return immediately and dare nothing. All eyes are outwards at this moment, none will see a solitary shadow.”

  Eoloran said nothing and turned away, giving his assent yet not able to say as much. Eothlir stepped in front of Alith and placed a hand upon the back of his son’s head. He pulled him closer and kissed his son upon the brow.

  “May all the gods of light watch over you,” said Eothlir, stepping back. “You must be quick, but in your haste do nothing rash.”

  “Believe me, I would like nothing more than to return whole and unharmed!” said Alith with a nervous laugh. He waved away his father’s concerns and headed for the door.

  Alith stripped off the cumbersome Salthite robes he had been wearing and adorned himself with a simple loincloth and red cloak, such as might be worn by a Khainite. He wrapped a ragged sash around his waist in which he placed a serrated knife. Thus disguised, Alith slipped from the tower without a word to his fellow Shadows.

  The street directly outside was empty and the tower itself concealed the view from the walls. Hugging close to the side of the street, where tall-roofed buildings had once housed thousands of warriors, Alith headed for the centre of the city.

  Feeling that he would arouse less attention on the main roads than if he were seen skulking through alleys and side streets, Alith took the most direct route to the central plaza, coming at the palace of Aenarion from north-west. Here were many of the homes of Anlec’s rulers, most empty while their noble owners commanded troops on the wall or were with their soldiers far to the south. Leaping over garden walls and flitting past bubbling fountains, Alith looked for a means by which he could gain entry to the citadel.