Shadow of the Conqueror

by Shad M Brooks

  “Is the second dock the highest in a stack?” Lyrah asked.

  “In the First Harbor it is, Lady Archon. There’s only two docks to each stack, as it accommodates for the largest of ships.”

  Though Lyrah didn’t know much about skyport procedures, she did know that the First Harbors were regularly reserved for the more important ships.

  “Have it put in the lower dock, the first, and the patrol ship will anchor above,” Lyrah said.

  “I’ll see it done,” the Harbormaster said, bowing.

  “Then dock one, stack twelve of the First Harbor it is,” Lyrah said.

  “Excellent,” Mr. Tellfen said. “You may use my personal office once your brother arrives from the Hold for your meeting. And if there’s anything at all, please…”

  “Thank you, but this sitting room will be sufficient,” Lyrah said. “Please keep everyone from entering while we’re here, except our brother, of course,” Lyrah said with a dignified smile.

  Mr. Tellfen smiled back, bowing. “Yes, of course. Good day, Lady Archon, and if there’s anything you need, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

  Lyrah and Cueseg watched the men and woman leave the sitting room. Once the doors were closed, Lyrah turned to Cueseg. “You didn’t need to glare at them the whole time.”

  “If they think we unhappy, they try and please us more.”

  “But you’re not exactly good at subtle facial expressions, Cueseg. You looked like the men were constantly farting throughout the conversation… Wait, that’s a bad example. You Tuerasians don’t find farting offensive.”

  “That is because it is not.”

  “What do you find offensive?”

  “Having dirt on face and clothes, but the most offensive thing a man can do in my culture is to have his penis be strong when others can see.”

  “What!”

  “The most offensive thing a man can…”

  Lyrah could feel her anxiety rise. “I heard, Cueseg! But… Light. Speaking about things like that makes me really, really uncomfortable.”

  “I was thinking you better at this now. When I speak of Tishlue and sex, you not uncomfortable.”

  “No, I was, believe me, but that was different. You were depressed and…and talking about it with me seemed to help you.”

  “So you do for me?”

  “Well, yes.”

  Cueseg was silent for a moment and then touched his fingers to his forehead and opened his arms to bow. “Thank you, Lyrah. You are noble and strong.”

  “Oh, well… Um… You’re welcome.”

  An awkward silence followed, though Lyrah was getting more accustomed to them recently. She eventually let herself collapse onto a couch.

  “I am hungry,” Cueseg said.

  “That’s nothing out of the ordinary.”

  Cueseg walked to the door and spoke to someone outside, Lyrah couldn’t see who, and eventually a large platter of assorted cheeses, crackers, and fruits was brought in.

  Once the attendant left, Cueseg picked up a small block of cheese and looked at it with a horrified expression. “This has mold all over!”

  “It’s blue cheese, supposed to be a delicacy.”

  “Mold is delicacy?” Cueseg exclaimed incredulously. “It is mold!” Cueseg threw the cheese at the door in disgust, saying, “You Hamahrans make me sick,” and then carefully examined every other cheese block with a look of distrust.

  Lyrah sighed and grabbed a grape from the platter. “Then eat the fruit. Surely Hamahran grapes can’t be worse than Tuerasian?”

  “That depends, do you wait until it is moldy?”

  “No.”

  “Only with cheese.”

  “Not all cheese. Try some of the others. Light, you might have even liked the moldy…I mean, the blue stuff.”

  “If the mold is good, then you eat.”

  Lyrah pursed her lips. She had never tried blue cheese and couldn’t say she really wanted to, either. It was mold, after all.

  “Exactly,” Cueseg said with a hint of humor in his voice.

  Several minutes passed before the door to the sitting room opened and a man walked in wearing the Archknight’s Mantle over black dueling clothes. Lyrah recognized him. He was Archallion Kennet, commander of the Archknight Hold in Highdawn.

  Lyrah stood and walked to greet her superior, while Cueseg reclined in his chair, eating a cracker.

  “Archonair,” the brother said, nodding to Lyrah, calling her by rank. “Archus,” he added, nodding to Cueseg. Cueseg sat up and touched his forehead with the tips of his fingers and swept them out. He then reclined, continuing to eat.

  “Sister,” Kennet began in a stern voice, “what’re you doing so far from your hunt?”

  “We’re still hunting, brother, but a different quarry. Cueseg and I have come across a young man who can lightbind—and he isn’t an Archknight.”

  Kennet looked like Lyrah had just told him the world wasn’t flat. “That’s impossible,” he said. “This young man must be a brother who’s also left his assigned area for some reason. Or he’s a deserter.”

  “Is the son of Dayless the Conqueror a member of the Order?”

  “What?” he asked, flabbergasted.

  Lyrah pulled the extra from her pocket that announced the Conqueror’s death and the existence of his son. “I assume you’ve seen this?”

  “Yes, and the stories printed in the broadsheets,” Kennet said cautiously. “What of it?”

  Lyrah pointed to the depiction of the son who supposedly looked exactly like his father, just younger. “This is the boy we chase, and I’m fairly certain the Order would know of a member that looked exactly like the Conqueror, let alone if he was his son.”

  Now Kennet looked as though Night had fallen. “Are you certain?”

  “There’s no doubt.”

  “Then we must detain him immediately!”

  “That’s exactly what Cueseg and I have been trying to do.”

  “Do you know where he is?”

  “No, but we know where he’s going to be, and I suggest we make a little surprise to greet him.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  I was a hypocrite, wanting all people to be equal but granting privileges to my soldiers. I needed to incentivize military service to maintain the strength of my armies. This eventually created a class distinction as real as the aristocracy I overthrew—but I didn’t care. I rewarded loyalty, which secured my military and thus my power, which I used to suppress and punish all discontents.

  * * *

  You can leave if you like,” Ahrek said across the aged table as he sat in the ship’s mess, sketching in his book.

  Sain, sitting across from him, sneered. “Yeah, how exactly?”

  “Take the pirate ship. It’s still perfectly capable of flying.”

  “You would let me go with a whole skyship?”

  Ahrek looked right into Sain’s eyes. “Yes.”

  “And what would your friend think of that?”

  Ahrek put aside his sketchbook to eat another piece of sticky bread, speaking between mouthfuls. “Oh, he would be livid, I’m sure; but I’m not his servant, I’m his friend, and friends don’t always agree. You’ve done exactly what we demanded from you—led us to your former associate’s hideout. I see no other reason to force you to stay with us.”

  “And what if I’ve led you into a trap?”

  “I trust you.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  “Actually, I do. I’m a Lightbringer, remember? I don’t lie.”

  “And what if I want to stay?”

  Ahrek’s brow rose and he felt genuinely surprised. “You actually want to stay?”

  Sain looked away. “Don’t tell him that, whatever you do…but yeah.”

  “Why? You haven’t exactly been treated well.”

  “I’m used to that,” Sain said, turning back to Ahrek. “Look, you’re a real Lightbringer and I’ve seen that you mean to free the girls aboard. You both have no reason
to find Blackheart’s captives or clean out the rest of his crew, yet you are. Why?”

  “Because it’s the right thing to do, and in our case, we have the ability to do it.”

  “Exactly, and that’s why I want to stay. I’ve been forced to do some really bad things, but now that Blackheart’s dead, I have the chance to do something right for once. I figure sticking with you two is doing just that. I might even learn something.”

  “Hmm…” Ahrek nodded. “Well, I see no issue with another companion, and Daylen will be fine so long as he thinks you don’t want to stay. It’s when he thinks you want to stay with him that he will try and get rid of you.”

  “That’s stupid.”

  “No—you just have to understand him.”

  “And you do?”

  “I’m beginning to.”

  “Must take a while. I mean, he seems like such a stone-cold…I don’t know, warrior, and then he learns that he killed his half-brother and he cries like a baby and hides away in his room for a fall.”

  “You wouldn’t cry if you found out you had killed your brother?”

  “If I didn’t know him, and if he was a bastard like Blackheart? No. I wouldn’t.”

  “Well, as cold and heartless as Daylen might try to act, he is a man of deep passion and feeling.”

  “So he’s secretly a softie?”

  The Lightbringer smiled. “Deep down, yes.”

  “Why are you following him? I mean, you’re a Lightbringer! I get it that he thinks he knows what he’s doing, and he does have those powers he likes to show off. But he is still just a kid. By the looks of it, he’s even younger than I am.”

  “Aside from how old he looks, Daylen possesses the intelligence, maturity, and burdens of someone much older… I still don’t know how, and he’s very guarded about his past, but he must have endured many things that have forced him to grow up faster than most.” Ahrek’s voice softened as he reflected on his mysterious companion. “You can see it in his eyes. It’s almost as if there’s a whole lifetime’s worth of suffering behind them.”

  Sain didn’t reply right away. “Yeah, there is a look about him. Still, that doesn’t answer why you’re following him when it should be the other way around.”

  “The Light told me to follow him.”

  “Really? The Light.”

  “You don’t believe in the Light?”

  “No.”

  Ahrek sighed. “Then I can see why I’ve crossed your path.”

  “Why?”

  “To help.”

  Sain looked cynical. “You going to convert me?”

  “Only if you’re open to it, but that’s not my purpose. Like I said, I’m here to help.”

  Sain harrumphed. “Well, I’ll take any help offered.”

  “You haven’t had much of it in life?”

  “No, not really.”

  Daylen had lain in his quarters for a fall. He had barely felt the ship move shortly after his seclusion; Ahrek was taking it to a safe cove, most likely.

  His mind was in turmoil, his self-hatred having taken over. He would have cast himself from the cabin’s window had he not known to his very core that he deserved to be tortured for eternity. A lifetime would have to suffice, or two in his case.

  “I’ve been a plague on this world,” Daylen said to the Light. “And now I might have spread my own spawn to plague it in turn.”

  Daylen had vowed forty-five years ago to never have another child after his first two were murdered. Nothing in his life had caused such profound sorrow as that. He thought he could never live through losing another child… and yet if Blackheart had indeed been his son, Daylen had not only seen the death of another child he had been the one who killed him. His own child, and in a most unholy and merciless way.

  The thought caused him to wail in agony.

  Yet Blackheart had been a vicious murderer and had needed to be stopped. Who more appropriate to stop him than his father? If Daylen was indeed his father.

  “If I’ve sired more children,” Daylen said to himself, “they are my responsibility. I’ll have to hunt them down and see if any others are like their brother. . . like me, and put an end to them. Daylen’s tears returned as he spoke. “How many more of my children’s deaths will I have to see?”

  It was so clear why the Light hadn’t let him die when he had reached the end of his years. His punishment was far from over—it had to be, when there were such profound and intimate ways to yet prolong his torment.

  “Let me go to oblivion,” Daylen said pitifully to the Light. Suddenly he roared, “Consign my soul to Outer Darkness and be done with it!”

  Nothing happened, of course. He was left lying on the large bed, being crushed by the guilt of a million sins.

  Yet after a time, a new thought entered Daylen’s mind.

  If Daylen did have more children, maybe, just maybe, there might be one of them that had become good. Unlikely; but oh, if there was, it might mean that Daylen could actually have left one good thing in the world. If he did, he had to find that one. If the others had turned out like Blackheart he would have to find them too and see if any might change their ways. If not, then. . .

  And with that thought, the small, vain hope that one of his potential children might be good, Daylen felt he had the strength to return to his feet.

  He ate some bread, and even though he despised the fact that he hadn’t died when he should have, he could still appreciate being free of the burdens of old age. Not even two weeks ago, eating solids as simple as bread would have utterly ravaged his bowels for a fall.

  Daylen left the cabin to be about his work, which in this case was the cleansing of a pirate’s hideout where an innocent person was being held captive, having been linked against their will to a sword which had been used by a now-dead tyrant.

  Daylen found Ahrek and Sain up on deck.

  The skyships locked anchor in a shadowed cove of a floating island, Ahrek obviously having moved the ship away from Blackheart’s den.

  The old priest and young pirate noticed Daylen as soon as he emerged.

  “I don’t want to talk about it, so don’t ask,” Daylen said, walking past the pair.

  Ahrek nodded with an insufferable look of compassion and Sain seemed compliant enough. Daylen was half surprised Sain was still here. He had guessed Ahrek would have let the snot go free by now.

  Daylen made his way to the helm and the two followed.

  “I’m confident we haven’t been discovered,” Ahrek said, “but a side effect of our seclusion is that we haven’t been able to keep an eye on the den.”

  “What has fallen has fallen,” Daylen said as he worked the ship’s levers. “You might want to get those girls below deck.”

  The girls seemed to be doing better. Thankfully, Sharra wasn’t among them—Daylen really wouldn’t be able to stand seeing her right now. The adoring looks that the girls were sending his way were insufferable enough, and they began to trigger another blackened damned erection. This young body of his had its downsides. No wonder teenage boys were so retarded, what with all this blood flowing in the wrong direction!

  Daylen glared at the girls. He really was their handsome young hero, he thought bitterly. What would they would think of him if they learned he was once the greatest tyrant the world has ever known? Could saving their lives be enough to convince them that he had changed?

  No.

  “So we’re going in right now?” Ahrek asked.

  The question pulled Daylen from his thoughts. “Yes. I’d say grab a sword, but for you that would be redundant.”

  “Can I have a sword?” Sain asked.

  “Not a—” Daylen started, but his words were interrupted by Ahrek.

  “Of course.”

  Daylen looked to Ahrek, stunned. “We’re not giving him a sword!”

  “Sain isn’t our captive,” Ahrek said calmly. “I trust him. He’s kept his word and co-operated with me completely while you locked yourself away.”
<
br />   “I said no!”

  Light shone from Ahrek’s hand, materializing into a swept-hilt broadsword. Ahrek handed it to Sain. “I’m your companion and friend,” Ahrek said to Daylen, “not your servant. We’re going into a dangerous situation and Sain has the right to defend himself.”

  Daylen was furious, even if in the back of his head he knew Ahrek was right. I have to get used to this, he told himself as he gripped the two levers and forced himself to breathe in deeply and evenly. I’m not an Emperor anymore, and if there’s any hope for me becoming a new man, I have to stop getting so angry with everyone. There’s not a soul in the world that I have a right to command.

  “Fine!” Daylen said. “But if you’re going to give him a sword, you might as well give him Blackheart’s old one.”

  “But it’s not linked to him.”

  “It wasn’t linked to Blackheart, either,” Daylen pointed out. “He’s not going to come across anything that will break the thing, so we might get some use out of it before we find whomever it belongs to.”

  “Very well,” Ahrek said, holding out his hand to Sain.

  Sain returned the broadsword and Ahrek turned it back into light, then materialized a copy of Blackheart’s sunforged sword.

  “I said to give him Blackheart’s sword, not to make a copy.”

  “This is Blackheart’s sword.”

  “It’s a duplicate.”

  “No, this is the very same sword.”

  “But you just made it!”

  “Only because I had stored it within me previously.”

  “What?”

  “It’s a little ability that comes from the miracle of creation,” Ahrek said casually. “You think I create things from light, but technically I just reform light into a different state—but it’s still light. This is the same with all creation. Everything is actually light, just in different states of being, or spheres of organization. I can technically return anything to light, but only those things that don’t have true identity, and came from myself, can be fully absorbed back.”

  “True identity—what does that mean?” Daylen asked.