Shadow of the Conqueror

by Shad M Brooks

  The force released him, and Daylen crashed along the dusty side road.

  He gasped for breath. That invisible blow had been so strong that it had cracked a few of his ribs. All his paths began to channel light into healing. He could breathe more easily now and he got to his feet knowing full well what had happened.

  The Bringer had used the miracle of movement against him—in other words, telekinesis.

  Ahrek was walking toward him, looking furious.

  Most of Daylen’s injuries had already healed, and he channeled light into speed, drawing Imperious.

  “Put that away, you fool!” Ahrek said.

  Daylen was livid with rage and tried his best to control himself. It was blackened hard.

  The Bringer had actually lashed out with his holy powers against him. The wretch should die for that.

  The Bringer walked right up to Daylen, giving no thought to Imperious in his hand. “You’re an Archknight!” Ahrek said through closed teeth.

  Daylen was so stunned by the question that his rage waned, though it was still most certainly there. “Why in the light would you say that?”

  “You’re channeling light!”

  “You can sense it?”

  “Of course I can, and so can you…” Ahrek’s face suddenly switched to realization. “Unless you don’t know that you can. You’re a deserter? But then you should have lost the powers.”

  The surprise helped Daylen’s anger come to a more manageable level. “I’ve never been an Archknight,” he sneered.

  “But only Archknights have such powers.”

  “Apparently not. And why does it matter? I have the powers of the Archknights, I can lightbind. It’s not as if the world has fallen apart.”

  “Why does it matter?” Ahrek asked rhetorically. “If people other than Archknights can receive their powers, it means unworthy people like you might abuse them!”

  “Unworthy! Who’re you to say that? You just manhandled me with yours!”

  “Because you nearly killed a man!”

  “He attacked me, and I was far from killing the fool.”

  “Oh really, did you know that you broke all his ribs?”

  “What?”

  “If I hadn’t been here, he would have died. It’s obvious you don’t know the slightest thing about controlling your powers or when it’s right to use them.”

  Guilt took away the rest of Daylen’s rage. He had no idea he had pushed the man so hard.

  “You’re like a child attempting to fly a skyship.”

  “Hey, I didn’t ask for these powers.”

  “Oh, so you would be willing to give them up if you could?”

  Daylen frowned. “Well, no. Of course not.”

  “How did you get them?”

  “None of your blackened business.”

  “Stop pushing me away, I’m trying to help you!”

  “I didn’t ask for your help! I don’t even want you here, but I can’t exactly say no to the Light, can I?”

  “But if you don’t let me do what the Light wants me to do with you, then you’re practically denying it anyway.”

  “And what do you think the Light wants you to do with me?”

  “Stop you from becoming your father!”

  The words stung deep.

  “Look at your actions, Daylen. Were they the actions of a good man, or of a power-hungry tyrant more concerned about his own convenience than the lives of others?”

  The reality of Ahrek’s word struck Daylen.

  Ahrek was absolutely right. Daylen had acted like Dayless the Conqueror. In other words, he was acting exactly like himself. Daylen stumbled, walking a few steps before falling to the grass on the side of the road,

  “I am like him,” he said in remorse. “I’m exactly like him. Is there any point in trying to change?”

  Ahrek smiled down at him. “If not, the Light wouldn’t have even sent me. And hopefully, if you’re willing to accept my help, you won’t do anything like that again.” Ahrek sat next to Daylen in the shade of the long townhouse.

  It was so patronizing to have a man half Daylen’s age tell him what to do.

  “It’s not like I wanted to,” Daylen said. “I just get so angry, and you can’t tell me that snot didn’t deserve a good thump.”

  “Oh, you gave him more than a thump. Regardless of his aggression, there was a hundred different ways you could have handled it.”

  “I was treating him with the same respect that he was showing me.”

  “Oh for Light’s sake, you really are a child.”

  “A child!” Daylen said in disgust. He was eighty-two years old, black it! “I am NOT a child…”

  “You’re definitely acting like one, and although that man was, too, you can’t afford to be so foolish! You possess too much power and could cause great harm. On top of that, people will be judging you based on your parentage before even meeting you, so you’ll have to work twice as hard to gain their trust or at least show that you’re not to be feared—and breaking the arms of those who accost you won’t help convince anybody that you’re not like your father!”

  Daylen was doing his very best to listen to the Bringer, and considering the resentment he felt boiling over, it was quite the feat. He knew everything the Bringer was saying; Light, there was probably nothing the Bringer could actually teach him that Daylen didn’t already know, but he deserved the reminder.

  “So next time don’t feel so entitled to respect or special treatment,” Ahrek continued. “You don’t demand respect, you earn it. People can be cruel and heartless, judgmental and unjust, and treating them with the same spite will only make things worse.”

  “Yes, yes,” Daylen said, standing, reaching the end of his patience. “I’m not brushing you off. You’re right, I agree with you, and I’m sorry. I acted like a spoilt brat.”

  Ahrek rose. “There’s one more thing.”

  “And that is?”

  “Your powers—how did you get them?”

  “Why do you want to know? So you can be a Lightbinder on top of being a Lightbringer?”

  “Bringers can’t become Lightbinders, or at least this is what the Archknights have said, including the Bringers who’re members of the Order.”

  “Then why do you want to know?”

  “Daylen, think of the implications! The peace we have in the world is in large measure thanks to the knights. Their mandate is to protect the world not only from the Shade but from anything that threatens it, even empires if they become corrupt enough. The knights are small in number when compared to an army, but they have been able to fight because of their power. The perfect example of this is your father—if not for the Archknights, the world would still be under the boot of Dayless the Conqueror.”

  Daylen’s huff was near a laugh, for he knew the truth of that more than anyone.

  “And here you are, showing there’s no true connection between the Order’s mandate to protect and their powers.”

  “That’s an assumption, Bringer. I could be an anomaly and the knights’ powers still reliant on their oath.”

  “Is that what you believe?”

  Daylen sneered. “Not really.”

  “Exactly. It’s more likely that you prove anyone could receive the Archknight’s powers, if they only knew how. Now imagine for a second,” Ahrek said gravely, “what would happen to the world if someone like Dayless the Conqueror became a Lightbinder.”

  This time Daylen did laugh. “Oh, I don’t need to imagine.”

  “It’s nothing to laugh about,” Ahrek responded crossly. “The world would fall into chaos and destruction of the likes we have never seen, and the Archknights would be ill equipped to save us.”

  “No. A single Lightbinder can’t stand against several. The knights would take him down.”

  “And what if hundreds of wicked men became Lightbinders?”

  “There are plenty of good people outside the Order and they’d seek the power as much as those who would abuse
it; enough to balance things, anyway.”

  Ahrek looked to be considering Daylen’s words until his eyes widened and he said, almost to himself, “Not if they might die.”

  “You’re talking about the Vigil.”

  “You know?”

  “My father sent spies to try and find out the knights’ secrets.”

  Ahrek huffed. “I’m not surprised—though I am that he told you.”

  “He told me everything before he died.”

  “Really? Then you might possess some important information.”

  “And I’ll share only what I choose, like the fact that the Vigil is performed on a ceremonial skyship that flies toward the sun, and that one in three initiates die.”

  “I knew that some die, but one in three?”

  “That’s the average.”

  “Strange that there’s a consistent rate, especially since the knights say it’s because one’s heart isn’t pure.”

  “Specifically that they weren’t truly sincere in their desire to fight evil for the rest of their lives. Well, I can tell you my heart isn’t pure, and I made no vow.”

  “Which means the deaths are a result of the process. This is very troubling. A good man who is content with his life has no need for supernatural powers and has little reason to risk all he has for them. But power-hungry madmen… They would gladly risk their lives for the strength to impose their will on others. Only then, when oppression reigns, would good men be willing to risk their lives for the power to fight injustice, and then it would be constant war. If you received these powers merely from something you did, you hold a very dangerous secret, one that could change the world and bring death and destruction for ages to come.”

  “A secret has twice as much chance of getting out when a second person knows it, Bringer. I’ll not be telling you.”

  “But you do know the secret; the powers didn’t come upon you in your sleep or something like that.”

  “I might know the secret and I’m well aware of the implications of such knowledge. No one will find out from me, just as no one has found out from the Archknights.”

  “Will you give me your word that you won’t tell a single soul what you know?”

  “I don’t need to promise you anything, but I’ve already said as much. No one will find out how I received my powers, including you.”

  “Then I’m satisfied.”

  “Why would I care if you are?”

  Ahrek ignored him. “And what will you do next—with your powers, that is?”

  “Help those in need to the best of my specific and unique abilities.”

  “You’re referring to your swordsmanship.”

  “A Grand High Master who can lightbind. A potent combination.”

  “A disturbing one. Your father set out with good intentions to help people when he overthrew the aristocracy, and look where that ended.”

  Daylen huffed a laugh. “Well, I’m not planning anything like that. I was thinking of hunting down pirates among the Floating Isles.”

  “That would be a violent life.”

  “Then nothing out of the ordinary.”

  Ahrek studied him again before saying, “You would make the skies a little safer, true, but what you should really do is join the Archknights. If you want to help people, that’s where you belong, and they would be able to teach you how to fully control your powers.”

  “The thought has crossed my mind, but I’m reluctant to give up my freedom so soon. Besides, there are things I need to do first.”

  “But you do intend to seek them out, eventually?”

  “Eventually.”

  “Good, and until that time it’s best we avoid Archknight attention, as they’ll be most insistent on bringing you in, so to speak, when they learn of what you can do. They’re very protective of their secrets.”

  “You almost seem to be on my side.”

  Ahrek moved so his body pressed against Daylen’s.

  Daylen turned to Ahrek with a look of consternation. “What’re you doing?”

  “Now I’m on your side,” Ahrek said with an amused smile.

  Daylen groaned and walked back to the street.

  Chapter Fourteen

  I never dreamed the aristocracy would go so far as to attack their own people, innocent people, just to get at me. The aristocracy hadn’t even implied that they might be capable of such violence, which is why I had thought my family was safe at the gathering. I was a fool.

  Some said I rose up against the aristocracy for the people, some to fight tyranny, some for power and my own glory; but the truth is that it was all for revenge, plain and simple. They had murdered my world, and I would see every single one of them receive the same punishment.

  I called on the people and gathered those in the army loyal to me, attacking every single barracks loyal to the aristocracy. It was a quick and efficient, if brutal, war. My desire for vengeance was tempered by my need for it; thus, I was methodical in my tactics and brought every skill I possessed to bear. At no time have I ever acted with more mastery over war than in the revolution.

  After a few months, the remaining army sided with me and we took the capital.

  * * *

  Daylen found the coach heading to Treremain. It was driven by an enclosed darkstone driver and could make the trip several times a fall, though a skycoach would be faster still.

  Lighteena Devashion, with her daughter of the same name, as well as Jaram Hanathore, Daymay Frenden, and someone Daylen didn’t recognize, waited to board the coach. They all eyed Daylen distrustfully, though the Devashion sprit blushed when Daylen’s eyes passed over her.

  At least the Le’donners had all cleared out. Daylen had only so many brain cells to lose.

  Daylen rolled his eyes and turned to Ahrek. “Let’s ride up top.”

  Ahrek nodded, but before they could pay the fare, the captain of the local Civic Guard, Edem Davenday, approached them with several constables instep. Captain Edem’s brush-like epaulettes on his shoulders made him stand out.

  The conners behind him looked nervous, many with a hand resting on their rapier or shooter that hung from their belts. Shooters housed shotspikes, darkstone-propelled stakes that hadn’t been nearly so commonplace once. Daylen had redesigned them a few years into his rule, making the spikes smaller, and inventing the shooter housing. This made shotspikes much easier to aim and, with it, a common peasant with little training could become a deadly, effective soldier. It was partially thanks to his shooters that the Dawn Army had been so formidable. They were illegal, of course—even Daylen had the foresight to keep such dangerous weapons from the common people, though some could still be obtained through the black market.

  The people needed to be armed and ready for the Shade if Night ever fell, but a shotspike was about as effective against a Shade as tickling it. To drop those monsters you needed to slash it open and let the blood flow, something that only a cut, focused sword could do. This was why carrying a rapier was at the very edge of propriety.

  But the constabulary had to deal with people, and thus rapiers and shooters were standard issue. Since Daylen’s initial design, others had added to it, making two, four and six shooters. Six shooters were a bit too cumbersome, which was why conners carried the fours.

  “Daylen Namaran?” Edem asked. He was one of the oldest men in Karadale, being fifty-two years, thirty Daylen’s junior. There were very few people alive as old as Daylen, for they would have had to have lived through a whole Night and two revolutionary wars. It was hard to escape death with so many opportunities, though Daylen had—ironic, considering he had been at the center of it all.

  “What do you want, Edem?” Daylen said.

  “You’re under arrest.”

  Daylen was about to tell the snot to go and jump off the Edge, but instead he breathed deeply to calm himself and said, “Under what charge?”

  “Assault and disturbing the peace.”

  “No harm was done, Captain,” Ahrek interjected,
“and it was those who accosted Daylen that caused the disturbance.”

  The captain looked to Ahrek, and his resolve seemed to falter. “That’s not the account I heard.”

  “I’m perfectly willing to take this matter to a higher authority,” Ahrek said. “Whose word do you think the local Magistrate will side with: the embarrassed mob who got beaten by a single youth, or that of a Lightbringer?”

  “You do know who the boy’s father is?” Edem asked.

  “Of course I do.”

  “He should be locked up…”

  “Since when does the law punish the children for the crimes of their parents?”

  “It’s been done before,” Edem said. “The families of conquered rulers have been locked away in case they might try a coup. And on top of that, I saw his father punish—no, I saw his father kill the families of those he deemed as criminals, which was anyone who as much ruffled the bastard’s shirt!”

  “We would hope to prove ourselves better than the Great Bastard, wouldn’t we?”

  The captain paused, and though he tried to make his lowering eyes look like he was thinking, it was plain to see that he was ashamed.

  “This boy is within my care,” Ahrek said.

  Oh, how Daylen hated being called boy, and he most certainly wasn’t in Ahrek’s care either; but Daylen let the comment slide, as he could see it helping.

  “He’ll not become like his father,” Ahrek added.

  Edem cleared his throat. “Well, I suppose there’s no point in questioning the word of a Bringer.” He nodded to Ahrek. “Anyway, I’d rather not have to deal with the all the blackened paperwork. If he’s leaving my town, I say good riddance. Have a good fall, Bringer.” The captain then turned with his constables to walk away, but not before giving Daylen a scowl.

  Light! Daylen thought. It’s a blackened good thing that I didn’t have any children after I rose to power, if this is how they’d have been treated.

  Ahrek turned to him. “See, for the most part, things can be resolved peacefully.”

  “What, you didn’t notice how polite I was?”

  “I noticed that you didn’t break anyone’s arms. Your words, on the other hand, weren’t particularly sweet.”