Shadow of the Conqueror

by Shad M Brooks

Its claws sank into his shoulders, pulling him into the air with it and trying to rip him in two.

  Daylen enhanced his fortitude to resist the Shade’s unnatural strength.

  The light from Daylen’s sunstone enveloped them both, but it wasn’t strong enough to nullify the Shade’s powers.

  It shrieked as it tried to rend him, but Daylen’s power kept him in one piece.

  The Shade held Daylen’s sword arm at bay, but he did manage to raise his left fist and push the small sunstone into the Shade’s face. The stone’s light alone might not have been bright enough to affect the Shade, but making physical contact was different.

  The thing shrieked in pain and they fell.

  Daylen directed their fall, forcing the Shade under him, and managed to pull his sword arm back enough to drive Imperious through the monster’s gut as they landed.

  Shattering glass sounded as Imperious resisted the Shade’s touch. Seven hundred and ninety-one, Daylen thought in the back of his head.

  The Shade screamed and, with one arm, threw him away. Daylen was still bonding light to his body, so the landing didn’t break any bones.

  Getting to his feet, Daylen’s bonds suddenly switched to healing without him causing them to do so. In a few seconds, the deep cuts in his arms from the Shade’s claws were healed.

  The sunstone felt noticeably smaller than when he had found it. Indeed, when looking at it, Daylen saw that it was half its original size. His powers were consuming it.

  The two Shade circled him in the air. It took a lot more than a mere impaling to kill a Shade. Cutting them in half or a proper decapitation would do the job. The problem was that a Shade’s flesh was twice as tough as a boar’s.

  Then suddenly Daylen was surrounded by light.

  Ahrek.

  “Thank the Light!” Daylen said, sighing in relief. Ahrek was using his powers and light was streaming off of him, though he was only able to illuminate a five-meter radius before the darkness fought back. It was like the shadows were trying to press in on them.

  “This is certainly unexpected,” Ahrek said.

  “Blackheart. He must have thought this was a nice security measure.”

  “The fool.”

  “That’s what I said.”

  Ahrek looked up and to his left, possessing the same light sense as Daylen even though their powers were different. “Any more than these?” Ahrek asked.

  “Only the two, both lesser, one injured, with no unique powers as far as I can tell.”

  “Then let us end this quickly,” Ahrek said, stretching out his hand, the light emanating from his body being drawn to it. Bright, intense light suddenly shot in a beam from Ahrek’s outstretched arm. It pierced the darkness—and though it grew weaker the further away it was from Ahrek, it was still strong enough to strike the nearer Shade, which then fell from the air.

  Daylen raced forward while channeling light through each of his bonds to speed, spinning and slicing the thing in two, Imperious chiming its sound of breaking glass. Yes, a Shade’s flesh was tough, but for Imperious it was butter.

  “Seven hundred and ninety,” Daylen said softly.

  “I’ve seen you before,” a grating voice whispered softly from the darkness.

  “The Shade, it speaks!” Ahrek called out, from where Daylen couldn’t see.

  “Lesser Shade can’t speak, Ahrek! Not for themselves, at least. A Greater Shade is speaking through it, using their hive mind.”

  “Yes. You know us well,” the Shade said. “I remember fighting you.”

  This wasn’t good. Daylen had to kill the thing quickly. “You’re remembering my father,” Daylen lied. “He fought you the last time you things tried to end the world.”

  “Oh, but we remember—we remember everything, and we remember you. Yes, you say we tried to end the world, yet you have done more in bringing that about than anything we have ever done…Dayless the Conqueror.”

  “Silence!” Daylen screamed, enraged.

  He drew on the light from his sunstone, but he wanted more. He wanted to kill this thing as fast as possible. Pulling on the light, like sucking in as much air as he could, Daylen absorbed the whole stone and his powers suddenly surged. In a blindingly fast motion, literally a fraction of a second, Daylen sped forward and cut the Shade in two.

  The chime of breaking glass reverberated through the cavern as light flooded the cave. Daylen managed to think, Seven hundred and eighty-nine, but was then quickly distracted by what he had done. Somehow he had absorbed the whole sunstone, which gave him a brief burst of heightened power.

  “I was ready to send another beam of light,” Ahrek said, “but clearly you didn’t need it.”

  “I, um…I just did something strange.”

  “I saw. You surged your powers with the sunstone.”

  “I what?”

  “Absorbing a whole sunstone for a large but brief burst of power,” Ahrek said, walking to Daylen’s side. “It’s called surging. I can do it, too, but if we absorb a sunstone that’s too big too quickly, it will kill us.”

  “And you didn’t tell me!”

  “I’m still waiting to see you use your powers responsibly. You’re doing better, but I’ve yet to see you control yourself when angry. Breaking Sain’s arm didn’t help. With that in light, I think it’s obvious why I don’t tell you how to get more out of your powers.”

  “Even if it might save my life?”

  “I didn’t know we would run into the Shade, Daylen. Still, the knowledge you had of your powers is perfectly adequate for anything you need.”

  “And what if I had been holding a sunstone that happened to be bigger and accidentally killed myself?”

  “Very few people figure out surging on their own.”

  “Well, I’m one of those few.”

  “Obviously.”

  “Is there anything else you’re not telling me?”

  “When I was a teenager, I liked to draw naked women.”

  Daylen ground his teeth in frustration. “Ahrek.”

  “It’s true. Oh, puberty,” he said with a sigh, “a very difficult time.”

  Daylen glared at him.

  “Someone’s not in a laughing mood… Okay, you need to be touching the stone to surge from it. A sunstone about the size of a fist is as large as you would want to go. Surging a whole stone of that size will give you a massive burst of power and won’t kill you, but you’ll feel like a horse kicked you in the chest for the length of a fall. Alternatively, if already in regular light, you can draw on the stone at a slower rate for a small but consistent enhancement on top of your regular powers but that will fatigue your body’s channeling ability much quicker. You might find yourself quickly exhausted and unable to channel at all for several hours.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Look, Daylen, I only know so much about lightbinding—specifically those things that overlap with my own powers. Right now, there’s nothing else that comes to mind.”

  “Well, I guess I know now,” Daylen said, grabbing his gauntlet from the ground. He walked to a few nearby sconces, where he took their sunstones. This surging thing could be very useful.

  “You handled yourself admirably,” Ahrek said, looking to the dead Shade. “And you were right to call for me.”

  Daylen was pulling on his gauntlet. “I did what needed to be done.”

  “You’ve clearly fought them before.”

  “Yeah. Even in day, the Shade lurk under any dark rock. A lot of people find themselves against them.”

  “But few survive.”

  Daylen looked down on the Shade he had just killed. It was the female one, and indeed she had been a young girl when turned. “Most likely it was Blackheart that turned them,” Daylen said. “Locked them away in that dark cave. I bet this one would have grown into a Lust given enough time, and then no weak-willed red-blooded man could have resisted its sexual compulsion, especially not these brainless pirates. Light, Blackheart was a fool.”

  “M
ore arrogant than foolish, though arrogance can make many intelligent men fools,” Ahrek said. “Interesting that the Shade thought you the Conqueror.”

  “Is it?” Daylen said, preparing to spin some bull. “You picked out that I was the Conqueror’s son the first time we met. I look just like him, and my father was my age when he fought the Shade during the Fourth Night. It’s an easy mistake, considering.”

  Ahrek was silent for a few seconds. “Yes, clearly.”

  “This thing,” Daylen said, nodding to the dead monster, “can’t have been the captive Blackheart linked to his sword, otherwise it would have shattered when she turned.”

  “Then we best search this place thoroughly.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  I didn’t even know who this Rayaten was at first, for he was still a young man and did his work in the background. He was not even a Guild Master. However, it was his efforts to oppose me through enriching the Guilds and circumventing my policies that earned him the position of Master of the Artistry Guild. If I had known of his actions at that time I would have executed him without hesitation, but he was subtle in all his dealings, as with the other Guild Masters. They had learned to do nothing too conspicuous. I thought I had the Guilds mostly in check, though I couldn’t have been further from the truth.

  * * *

  Grab Sain,” Daylen said. “He’ll know where the captives are held.”

  “You’re not joining me?”

  “I’d rather you be the hero, thanks. Anyway, I want to take a look through Blackheart’s quarters.”

  Ahrek nodded and left.

  Daylen scanned his surroundings and noticed a very fancy door, like one you would see in a manor house. It was on an upper level of the cave and a walkway had been carved out of the stone leading to it. The timber frame around the polished door was of rough workmanship, as were the structures strewn all around, making for a stark contrast.

  “Subtle,” Daylen huffed to himself, walking toward the door.

  Enhancing his strength and weight, Daylen kicked the door in. The door’s lock was so strong that it held firm, causing the door to split in two down the middle as it burst open.

  Beyond was a short sunstone-lit tunnel that led to a large room-sized cavity. Once inside, Daylen whistled low and long. The room was filled with the finest comforts money could buy, putting the captain’s cabin back on the Maraven to shame. A great, opulent bed, gold-trimmed armoires, satin couches, a massive sunstone chandelier, a large window built into what was a natural opening to the outside of the island, a huge open fireplace, patterned rugs lining the floor, shelves and shelves of books, an ivory-key grand piano, gold-and-silver-trimmed chests, a fully stocked liquor cabinet with some of the finest of wines, statues, paintings, and a large cushioned chair behind a chestnut desk.

  Daylen looked back to the tunnel, knowing that these things couldn’t have fit through it, but then remembered the window. It was four meters in breadth and must have been removable.

  Daylen kicked open a nearby chest. It was filled with coins and Daylen guessed the other chests were just as full. All that loot from the skyships Blackheart had robbed and then sold. He really had been raking it in.

  Daylen poked through the chests, looking for the golden coins known as crowns, the largest and most valuable coin in the Hamahran currency. Interestingly, the chests only contained the less valuable coins, mostly rupenies, making the total worth of all these chests far lower than it appeared. A few crowns would be worth more. So it seemed that the coins actually worth something were too valuable to be left out in the open, even here.

  But why were all these rupenies on display?

  “It’s a misdirection,” Daylen realized out loud. If someone found Blackheart’s den while he was away and tried to rob him, they might just think this was all his wealth and not bother to look further. This meant that Blackheart was indeed hiding the larger portion of his wealth, and where his money was would be anything else he truly valued.

  Looking about the lavishly furnished room, Daylen knew he didn’t want to spend the time ripping it apart.

  If only my powers could point out hiding places, Daylen thought, and then paused, realizing something. Maybe they could? His ability to find things was a result of his own natural perception.

  Testing, Daylen drew in light and tried to bond it to his perception. He noticed things instantly: like the fact that there were more bottles of Summerside wine in the liquor cabinet than anything else, and that the bed sheets had recently been changed.

  Daylen smiled and channeled all four of his bonds which would enhance his perception sixteen times more than his natural ability.

  It was incredible. He noticed everything that could be noticed. With the slightest glance at the desk Daylen knew it had four hidden compartments, was made from three separate trees, all oak, and was fifty-two years old counting from the time of its construction. Daylen could deduce the age of the trees that had been used to make the desk and when they had died, where they would have grown, the lacquer used to polish the thing, and knew the number of all the dents and scratches that were on the sides that faced him, twenty of which had been made with a dagger, one with a side sword, and another with a cutlass—and there were still more things that came to his mind with that one piece of furniture. He was noticing just as many things about every other item in the room.

  Daylen gasped at all the information flooding him and broke the bonds. It was just too much.

  Clearly there’s even more ways I can use my powers, Daylen thought.

  Interestingly, when the bonds broke, Daylen forgot most of the information that he had in his mind only moments ago. Not too surprising; the natural mind wouldn’t be able to remember so much, in fact he had a soft headache now which might have been some type of side effect. That or his poor sleep was finally getting to him. At least he retained the most important things he had noticed.

  Daylen walked to an armoire and pulled on it. The whole thing moved forward and opened like a door. It slid easily, as it was built onto a railing that sat in the stone floor—and, once opened, it moved aside to reveal a two-meter-tall steel safe that had been built into the stone behind it. But this wasn’t what Daylen was looking for. No, his powers had revealed something else: something ingenious and elaborate that would have taken a long time to set up.

  It was a very clever little trick Blackheart had engineered to hide his most valuable things, and Daylen knew he wouldn’t have noticed the clues without the help of his powers. Like the rope holding the chandelier: it was actually a painted steel cable. Steel cable was a more recent invention that was only now becoming more industrially used. The pulleys guiding the cable were made to bear massive weights. Daylen might not have noticed the hidden weights in the chandelier, that its frame was made of reinforced steel, or that the cord wrapping around the winch to raise and lower the chandelier was redirected into the stone wall. The railing supporting the armoire was made for something much heavier than a cedar cabinet.

  The crank attached to the chandelier’s cable also functioned as a combination lock. Pulling on it, the crank slid out a little, releasing it from the cogs, but engaged a combination system. Enhancing his hearing and focusing on the crank, Daylen easily noticed each click as he turned it, letting him know he had hit the right pin. With all pins pushed, Daylen reengaged the cogs of the crank and began turning. The chandelier lowered as would be expected, but this time it functioned as a counterweight and the whole safe he had just found was pushed forward, swinging from a large reinforced steel arm out of the wall.

  The safe was real enough, but Daylen knew that nothing truly valuable was inside. It functioned as another misdirect, a deception, and as it turned out, a door and bulwark for the real safe.

  Blackheart seemed to know that the best way to keep something from others wasn’t to barricade it behind steel, but rather to ensure its location was so well hidden that no one would ever find it.

  There was no door to thi
s second, real safe, for the first safe was the door. Inside was a brightly lit room filled with workshop desks, equipment, shelves, and chests, but what caught Daylen’s eye most was the fully equipped sunforge. Daylen had suspected this, since Blackheart had linked his sunforged sword and shield to other people as a perverse kind of leverage. Most sunsmiths insisted on taking the blood needed to forge the links themselves so they could ensure no one was being linked against their will, which meant that it was unlikely Blackheart had gotten a sunsmith to link his captives. No, Blackheart himself had been the sunsmith.

  The room was lit by large piles of sunstones, which were needed for sunforging.

  The side shelves and small chests were filled with loot and valuables, many of which held quate and crown coins. Daylen noticed that just one of these small chests held more money than all those outside.

  Daylen walked casually through the room, inspecting everything. He found a medium-sized chest on a desk filled with what looked to be shattered pieces of dull yellow glass—but Daylen knew it wasn’t glass. They used to be sunucles, and the shards were dull yellow because they had been common wood before the forging process. The sunucles had either been shattered by darkstone or the people they were linked to had died. Daylen also noticed many larger pieces of sunucle amongst the smaller shards that looked to be intact.

  Pulling them out, he found that they were tags, the size of bookmarks, with a hole in the end where a slip of paper had been tied with string. Each piece of paper had a name written on it.

  Daylen inspected the tags one by one and found a name he recognized: Sain. This was the leverage Blackheart had over him. It appeared that Blackheart used sunforged linking to blackmail everyone, even his own crew, and all the shattered tags in the chest were a result of the crew Daylen had killed. But ten other tags were still unbroken. Did Blackheart have more crew that weren’t here in the den?

  Regardless of who they were linked to, no one deserved to be linked against their will.

  Daylen took all the tags to the sunforge and began adjusting the circular focusing lenses that were held above by steel levers. It had been over twenty years since he had done this and it brought back many memories. Just like swimming, his skills hadn’t waned; in fact, they might have been sharper. He didn’t have to pause and fight to recall anything, something he’d had to do with every second thought when he was old. Well, he was still old, he thought, just not physically. The doors to his mind were open, everything there ready to be used. Did being young help him recall information and facts? If so, that would be ironic. The age when a person possessed their greatest mental capacity just happened to be the age when they were the most stupid!