Shadow of the Conqueror

by Shad M Brooks

  “I didn’t need sweet words; you put that idiot in his place well enough.”

  “He wasn’t an idiot. Daylen, you need to stop looking down on everyone.”

  “I’ll look down on those who prove themselves to be intolerant, narrow-minded sunspots.”

  “That description could fit well with certain actions you’ve performed recently.”

  “Bringer, did I ever say that I don’t look down on myself?”

  The coachman wouldn’t charge the two for the trip, Ahrek being a Bringer and all, but Ahrek materialized a dun to pay the ten-gram fare anyway, insisting that the coachman take it.

  They sat up top in the open air as the coach lurched forward, increasing speed rapidly, passing the packed dirt streets of the town to cross onto the cobblestoned imperial roads.

  “I’ve never been able to decide if that’s forgery or not,” Daylen said.

  “What?”

  “The fact that you can create money.”

  “I could have just as easily created anything of value, but money can be exchanged much easier.”

  “I guess so. You know you could make yourself rich.”

  “A Bringer so desirous of material wealth would be unworthy of the calling in the first place.”

  “You’re just supposed to help others, that doesn’t exclude helping yourself.”

  “Not for a Bringer. The calling requires far more selflessness than that. Our desire to help others must be of such strength that we would give away any riches we already possessed in the first place.”

  “Okay, why don’t you make other people rich?”

  “There’s a difference between giving to those that don’t have enough in life and giving to those that do have enough more than they need. In fact, people who have enough in life will find far more happiness from being content and grateful than wanting more. Riches do not bring happiness.”

  “Wise words,” Daylen said, leaning back.

  Ahrek smiled and took out his sketchbook. He began to draw, though it was clear the constant bumps were affecting the quality of the overall illustration. He seemed content enough, so Daylen tried to relax.

  The sky was covered mostly by clouds that fall, but it didn’t look like it would rain. The country around Karadale was beautiful, with the occasional ruin standing elegantly amongst a copse or proudly by themselves, all seeming to be a natural part of the land.

  “You mentioned something about sensing when I was channeling light,” Daylen said, “and that I could sense it, too.”

  Ahrek smiled and closed his sketchbook. “Yes. The fact that you didn’t know anything about it was proof enough that you weren’t an Archknight. It’s one of the first things they’re taught.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “It can be used to sense the Shade.”

  “Oh. How do you do it?”

  “Archknights—well, not Archknights specifically—Lightbinders and Lightbringers are similar in that we can feel light on our skin.”

  “That was the first thing I noticed when I got my powers.”

  “Well, we can do more than that; we can sense the inner light within all living things. If you reach out with this sense you will notice this light. Now, I did say this light is within all living things, but humans are the odd ones out.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Humans are different. The light in plants and animals is bright and never wanes. Even the wolf or grif that wants to make a dinner out of you has a light within them that shines ever bright, for they cannot do the one thing humans can: make moral choices. This is why their lights can never be as dim or as bright as ours.”

  “Are you saying this inner light is a reflection of a person’s, what, personal goodness?”

  Ahrek looked at him from the corner of his eyes and smiled. “Not in all cases, but generally, the better a person is, the brighter their inner light. If they’re evil, their light is barely there, but even the most loathsome person still has a measure of light within. There’s only one type of human that has utterly no light inside, though you couldn’t really call them human anymore.”

  “The Shade,” Daylen said. “But this is supposed to sense light, and if the Shade have no light that would mean there’s nothing to sense.”

  “Exactly. A living thing with no inner light is an abomination, and for those people with the ability to feel for the light that surrounds them, coming across a void in the light is as easy to notice as a slap to the face.”

  “I see.”

  “And as the Archknights are our best defense against the Shade, you can see why they teach this ability first. You should learn it too, to constantly reach out and feel for the light in all things. It’s not difficult—but as you know, if one isn’t taught, one might never learn how to do it.”

  “Okay, so what do I do? How do I try and feel with… I don’t even know.”

  “You know what light feels like on your skin. You’re feeling it right now. Well, look for that feeling, but with your heart.”

  “With my heart? How am I supposed… Oh!”

  “See? Easy once you know what to do.”

  It was incredible. Daylen could feel the light around him, that light in all living things; the countless blades of grass on the sides of the road, the nearby trees, the people in the coach, and the Bringer beside him. While feeling this he literally had a sense of where they were. He could see all things around him without using his eyes. With this ability, no one would be able to sneak up on him again. Daylen realized that this was how the Archknights were able to fight so effectively in the dark and during the night: they could still see what they were fighting. This skill was far more useful than the Bringer had implied.

  Suddenly a skycoach roared overhead, flying in the opposite direction to them, buffeting their coach with a huge burst of wind.

  “Why under the Light is that coach flying so low?” Ahrek said, looking at the departing coach with deep disapproval.

  “Fun,” Daylen said.

  Ahrek looked at him in consternation. “Fun?”

  “Yeah. Have you ever flown a racer?”

  “No.”

  “You’re missing out. Honestly, I’d compete in the races if I had the time. I would probably win the championship, too.”

  “You know how to fly, do you?”

  “Better than most.”

  “Well then, why don’t you?”

  “There’re other demands in my life.”

  “Which are none of my business, I’m guessing.”

  “Look at that, you’re learning.”

  “It’s possible.”

  “I tell you, some of these modern coach designs are starting to impress me.”

  “You know, your father was considered quite the genius engineer, apart from his endless warmongering and oppression. In fact it was his keen understanding of technology that one might say facilitated his great success.”

  “Yeah, I know…but just because my, um, father liked something, doesn’t mean that I can’t.”

  Ahrek raised an eyebrow.

  “Don’t be stoned, you know what I mean. I wasn’t referring to his bad tendencies.”

  “Which is why I said nothing. But while we’re talking of your father, I should mention that even he had an inner light brighter than average.”

  Daylen gasped. “Impossible!”

  “It’s true.”

  “Then this sense doesn’t say spit about a person’s goodness,” Daylen said with a sneer.

  “A man who believes he is doing good will have a strong inner light, even if he is performing evil things. There have been several murderers who had strong lights within.”

  “How is that possible?”

  “Some were mentally disabled and didn’t fully understand what they were doing. Others believed what they were doing was right or had some other justification. You need to remember that a bright inner light doesn’t always mean a person is good.”

  “But you just said it did.”
>
  “No, I said that in general the better a person is, the brighter their inner light. You just have to try and read people at the same time. It requires care and consideration, especially with people of weak inner light.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Weak light is a result of repeated actions one knows to have been wrong. It’s particularly weak when the individual knows of their errors, but they don’t care. A lack of empathy or kindness can result in weak light, as can dishonesty, just as well as outright murder and the vilest of actions.”

  “So it can be hard to tell the casual jerk from an ax murderer.”

  “Yes. Like I said, this sense must be used with care. You possess a great gift, Daylen—don’t abuse it.”

  “Your own gifts are as significant, and while we’re together I’ll be sure to see that you don’t abuse your powers, either.”

  Ahrek chuckled. “If I use my powers in any way that doesn’t help others, I lose them. You’re so quick to make sure you’re on the same moral footing as everyone around you.”

  “I get annoyed at people who presume to know more than others or teach those who already know.”

  “Are you talking about yourself, or me?”

  “No, I’m…”

  “People can be so critical of others without realizing they’re just as guilty.”

  “Or there could actually be a person who does know more. Life experience counts for much.”

  “And is that person you?”

  “It’s more likely to be me than others. There are a lot of idiots in the world, Ahrek, and you have no idea what I’ve been through in life.”

  “You’re a fool to think that you know everything in the world.”

  “I didn’t say that. I said I’m more likely to know something over another, and that’s mostly due to experience.”

  “Oh, because you’ve lived for so long. There’s a lot of people older than you, Daylen, so don’t discount them.”

  “Fine, I won’t discount the wisdom of anyone older than me.”

  “And you think the youth have nothing to offer? The words of children can hold great wisdom at times.”

  Daylen laughed. “I’ve clearly been speaking to the wrong children.”

  “I’m not saying everyone—yes, children included—know more than you, but they’ll at least know a few things that you don’t, and to discount them you’ll miss those times when those precious truths come out. You need to look for those admirable qualities in others that you don’t possess, look up to them for that, and try to learn from them. Otherwise, all people will seem beneath you and you’ll never become a better man.”

  Daylen knew the Bringer was right, and was blackened annoyed by it. If Ahrek hadn’t said it, Daylen would have been more inclined to adopt the advice. But if he did now, he would be acknowledging that someone else knew better than him—a young boy, at that, which was the very root of the issue within Daylen that Ahrek was trying to reveal.

  Daylen clenched his teeth and swallowed his pride, which was like swallowing a whale. “You’re…right. For so long I’ve presumed myself to know better than others. The truth is I don’t, not in everything. I’ll try and take on what you say, but don’t expect night to become day in a fall.”

  “Oh, not at all. The very fact that you’re aware of your own failings and are trying to better them is the greatest step any man can make.”

  “You make it especially hard, Bringer. You’re all but perfect and stand as a constant reminder of my own inadequacies—in character, I mean. In looks, the constant comparison is quite pleasant.”

  “My, my, was that a joke?”

  “Better than anything I’ve heard come from you.”

  “If I remember correctly, you believe that jokes are meant to make other people laugh. That one was a little mean-spirited.”

  “I wasn’t being cruel, and you would have to be particularly sensitive to take offense at that,” Daylen said, looking down the road.

  Ahrek chuckled.

  Daylen looked back to him. “Now, see, that wasn’t a joke. Why’re you laughing?”

  “You’re probably the most overly sensitive person I’ve ever met, taking offense at the smallest of things, like my mentioning your youth.”

  “Yeah, well, I never said I wasn’t a hypocrite.”

  “And if I could clear something up, I’m far from perfect.”

  “Well, I haven’t seen any particular failings, apart from self-righteousness, but that’s just my insecurities grabbing at straws. People find it easier to attack a person’s credibility than to accept advice and counsel.”

  “There! You do possess wisdom, when you look for it.”

  “Oh, I can be quite wise; it’s just putting it into practice that’s hard,” Daylen said, looking back out over the countryside as the two of them fell into silence.

  This inner light that Ahrek had taught him about was very intriguing. Using it, Daylen could sense the people in the coach beneath them. With casual sensing, he didn’t feel any difference between the people’s lights. When he tried to look closer with his sense, however, their different brightnesses seemed to come into focus.

  The softest light there belonged to Lighteena Devashion. It didn’t really surprise him that the Devashion woman’s light would be the softest—Lighteena was always a stuck-up arrogant tit—but how far did it go? Was she a thief or a murderer, or was she just selfish? Ahrek was right: Daylen couldn’t make judgments on people based off the light he sensed without learning more.

  Feeling curious, Daylen looked to Ahrek and felt for the Bringer’s inner light.

  Daylen was nearly blinded. The man shone like the damn sun, except… Daylen looked closer. It was hard to describe, but there was a tiny bit of darkness in him. It was almost lost in the light’s glare, but it was most certainly there, and as Daylen focused on it, he was able to see just how deep the darkness was. There was something wrong about it. Such darkness shouldn’t be within so much light. It didn’t belong. What did it mean?

  Daylen laughed to himself as he realized it probably represented some small flaw. How many black spots were hidden in his own light? Probably hundreds.

  “Something funny?” Ahrek asked.

  “By now I’m very confident you wouldn’t laugh at it.”

  “Very well.” Ahrek let the silence return for a little while before he spoke again, saying abruptly, “I’m too bossy.”

  Daylen glanced to Ahrek, confused. “What?”

  “That’s one of my failings. I tell people what they should do too often, even on things that are inconsequential. I always think I know the right way to do things.”

  “You do at that, and I can certainly see how it could rub people the wrong way.”

  “I’m also too inquisitive. I’ve always stuck my nose into other people’s business, and find it hard to judge when it’s appropriate to do so and when I should have kept to myself.”

  “I could have told you that, but a Bringer gets a certain…allowance. It’s kind of their job to intercede and help.”

  “But we’re not really supposed to help people who don’t want that help; unless the Light says otherwise, as with our current arrangement.”

  “It’s probably why the Light picked you. Anyway, I do need help. You’ve proven that much…and I’m grateful for it.”

  Ahrek looked stunned. “Thank you, Daylen. That means a lot.”

  “Yeah, well, don’t get used to it.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  With my most loyal men I cut my way into the throne room, detaining all within. There I executed the Queen with my own hands in front of her most loyal subjects and family, her daughter, the young princess, included.

  She was a girl of nine years, screaming, “Traitor, treason!” and that she would see me hung by my own entrails for murdering her mother. I was shocked that a child so young could speak of such violence, but then I realized that she wasn’t a normal child. She was an aristocrat, bred to be cruel and s
elfish. That girl would live her entire life with the intent to see me dead, as with the families of all those I had already executed. I suddenly knew that if Hamahra was to have any peace going forward, all possible threats had to be dealt with.

  So, I executed the girl just a few minutes after her mother, her screams of hatred and vengeance upon me echoing through the hall right up until I separated her head from her small body.

  After that I ordered the executions of every aristocratic family. Grandfather, grandmother, son, daughter, child, and babe, all killed at my command.

  After, once I was finally alone, I knelt, expecting to cry at the horror I had just committed, but no tears came.

  I could feel nothing.

  * * *

  Master Archons, we’re about to arrive in Treremain.”

  Lyrah sat up from the bench where she had slept.

  Cueseg was already awake. “Good. I am hungry,” he said. “Bring me food.”

  “Yes…of course,” the junior postman said—Hamahran-born by the look of him, and young. Probably his first employment.

  Lyrah and Cueseg were in the main cargo hold of the National Post’s ship, where two flat benches had been fixed to the sides in case of the odd passenger. Sacks of letters and parcels lay all around them.

  It had been a very restless few hours.

  “This is all we have, masters,” the postman said once he had returned, and he handed Cueseg an open can of beans with a fork.

  Cueseg took the can, his eyes staring at the postman and his face blank. The postman handed Lyrah the other can and fork and then returned to the helm.

  Cueseg threw the fork aside and hesitantly scooped a small handful of beans into his mouth. “Ough! This is bad, this is very, very bad,” Cueseg said after struggling to swallow. “If this is what putting food in metal does, I will never do it. Tastes like rust!”

  Lyrah ate her beans. “There’s nothing wrong with them.”

  “Yes, you Hamahrans think if the food does not kill you, it is good. There is more to food than this. Like taste.”

  “These beans have plenty of taste. Nothing like some good rust.”