by Jon Bender
“If Magus Jaxom’s theory is correct, the enchantment will likely have broken once the vessel was destroyed. Still, it cannot hurt to inspect them anyway,” Serin said.
“Very good. One of the men outside will direct you to where the bodies are being kept.” Corin gestured towards the door--a dismissal if Jaxom had ever seen one.
Serin and the other two mages left the room without another word.
Corin addressed the others present. “That will be all for today. You have your preparations to make, and I suggest you see to them. General Blackburn and Jaxom, please stay.” The men began to file out, but Celia had not moved. The king gave her a hard stare but said nothing until the door was closed again.
“I told you, Celia. My answer is no,” Corin said.
“I have every right to command. My father is not young enough to lead men into battle,” she said. Her voice rose as they picked up the argument where they had left off when Jaxom arrived.
“You haven’t been trained in combat and command. You would only be putting your life and the lives of others in unnecessary danger,” Corin said.
“Of course I’ve had training. What do you think I’ve been doing at my father’s holding? Trying on pretty dresses?” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm and frustration.
Corin spread his hands palms up, indicating that was exactly what he thought. Celia took a step towards him, perhaps to give a demonstration of how deadly trying on pretty dresses could be. The General interrupted by clearing his throat.
“Perhaps, we can let Jaxom decide if Lady Celia can handle herself. He was with her last night, so he should have a good estimation of her capabilities,” Nelix said.
Both Corin and Celia looked to the General. “I agree,” Celia said. “Jaxom can tell you. I saved him last night.”
“I thought you said he saved you,” Corin said.
“We saved each other,” Celia replied breezily, avoiding the trap Corin had laid.
“Very well, we’ll let Jaxom decide,” Corin said. With all eyes on him, Jaxom gave the general a withering glare, which the old man returned with a mischievous smile. Celia looked confident and satisfied while Corin simply waited, assured that his oldest friend would side with him.
Jaxom sighed. “Celia did save me last night, twice in fact. She seems to handle a blade well enough,” Jaxom said tentatively.
“There you have it.” Celia said.
“He said you know which end of a sword is the pointy one. Not that you know what to do when a line of cavalry charges your infantry,” Corin said.
“That’s easy. Move the pike men to the front and have archers fire into the front ranks to break up the charge,” she said smugly.
The three men in the room stood there dumbstruck. Corin’s mouth-hung half-open. Jaxom had studied battle tactics with Corin. While it was not something he had ever excelled at, he knew her answer was correct. In the midst of their shocked silence, Celia grew increasingly pleased with herself. She even crossed her arms and stuck her tongue out at her cousin, something she did when victorious over him in childhood. Realizing what she was doing, she covered her mouth with a hand and turned bright red in embarrassment.
Finally regaining his composure, Corin stood a little straighter. Jaxom thought he saw a bit of defeat seep into Celia’s defiant stance. “I don’t care what you learned in a book. It’s not the same--”
“Leave off, Corin,” Nelix interrupted. “Jaxom says she can handle a sword, and she was quicker to answer than half of the young lordlings we have commanding small units. She obviously knows what she’s about.”
“Fine,” Corin growled. “But you will work directly under General Blackburn’s command. You will do as he says. Agreed?”
Celia controlled her smile, barely, and curtsied deeply. “Of course, Your Majesty,” she said, as if the whole idea had been Corin’s and she was simply obeying his command.
“General, please take Lady Celia and work her father’s… her men into your current strategy.”
Bowing at the waist, the General gestured for Celia to lead the way. Celia embraced Corin and Jaxom then walked out, her back straight and shoulders set with pride.
“Father is probably spinning in his grave right now. I just sent my little cousin off into battle.”
“He didn’t know your little cousin as a grown woman. I’m not sure he could’ve handled that any better.”
“Well it’s done. I can’t take my word back now. Let’s move on to something within the realm of our control.” Corin moved to look over the map and troop placements.
“What did you mean earlier about an oversight being corrected?” Jaxom asked.
“The mages have been given great latitude while in service to me. Their needs are paid for from the treasury, and they are left to do as they wish until I have need of them, which is not often. They are now going to earn their keep. We will have two mages living within the castle at all times. You may not have come as close to death as you did last night if you had more magical help.”
Jaxom was not sure how he felt about having other mages living under the same roof. For years, he had been the only one. Corin was probably right, however. Things may have gone much better if other mages had been there last night. They could have prevented much loss of life. The Guard had fought bravely, but if Jaxom had not been there… He shivered at the thought of losing both Corin and Celia.
“What school of magic do you think is responsible for the shades?” Corin asked.
“I’m not sure that it is an enchantment,” Jaxom said. “But it makes sense. I don’t know of any school that has command of the shadow.”
“Where does that leave us? Obviously, this was an attempt to send our kingdom into confusion with the coming war. Killing me could tip Ale’adaria into the hands of Dradon and Azuria, those bastards. But I don’t think either of them had the ability to pull off what happened last night.” “I don’t either. Whoever sent them wanted to give the southerners an advantage,” Jaxom replied.
“I need you to talk to those dead men and find out who sent them, who has this kind of power.”
“I told you before. I don’t talk to the dead. I just kind of go through the memories left behind,” Jaxom said.
“Whatever you do, I need you to do it. We can’t afford to go to war not knowing who our enemies are.”
“I will do what I can.”
Chapter 5
The guards outside the council room told him he could find the shades’ bodies in the holding cells. After climbing down a series of torch-lit stairs, he arrived at the outer room to the cells. Two men stationed near the door sat playing dice at a small table. They stood and saluted as he approached. A third man sat writing at another table. Jaxom sighed when he realized it was Cribble.
Cribble leered at Jaxom, glancing at the saluting men with disgust. “What can we do for you, Master Jaxom?”
“Why are you here, Captain? I thought you were assigned to the outer gates.”
“With last night’s attack, the Guard Commander ordered more men stationed in the castle itself. You never know what might be lurking around these halls,” he said.
“I need to examine the bodies.”
“Sighing, Cribble stood and walked to the iron door separating the room from the holding cells. Grabbing a torch from the sconce on the wall, he looked back at the other men. “One, three, one,” he said.
Throwing the heavy bolt on the door, he pulled it open, metal hinges squealing in protest. Without another word, the guard captain headed into the darkness. Quickening his step to catch up, Jaxom heard the door slam behind him and the bolt thrown back into place.
“What did you say to the men back there?”
“That’s the code for them to open the door to let us out. If you don’t give the proper sequence, they have standing orders to not open it.”
As he followed the captain, Jaxom made a mental note of the turns, just in case he had to get out on his own. They passed several
occupied cells. “Who are these men?” Jaxom asked.
Cribble spat. “The worst the city has to offer--rapists and murderers, sentenced to live the rest of their time down here. Waste of food if you ask me.”
Jaxom left it at that. He agreed with Cribble, but was not about to admit it. Corin was not the kind to order an execution in cold blood. Thankfully, Ale’adar had few of such criminals, leaving the cells mostly empty.
Finally, Cribble opened an ironbound door into a room with large tables in rows, on which black-clothed men had been laid to await cremation. Only two torches lit the space, leaving the farther corners in darkness. Approaching the nearest table Jaxom found that the shade no longer had a shadow mask. Serin had been right. Once the vessel was destroyed, the enchantment had been broken. The man’s face was nothing out of the ordinary. It was a face you could see on the street and never think twice about it. The black robes gave no clue as to where they had been made. Placing a hand on the dead man’s forehead, Jaxom channeled the energy of death, delving into the dead man’s memories. This time, the memories were jumbled, unclear. He pushed harder, trying to focus on the earliest and clearest memory he could find.
Jaxom stood in a great room of unadorned grey stone. All around him, dozens upon dozens of men and women, all dressed in black, stood gazing at a raised platform at the head of the room. On the platform, three men in dark robes chanted before a great throne made of black stone. The man sitting on the throne had black hair, graying slightly at the temples, and even blacker, emotionless eyes. A presence drifted into the still air of the room, something answering the call of the men on the platform. The man on the throne raised a hand, and the three men stopped chanting. A woman emerged from the crowd. She walked slowly forward, then stopped, kneeling before the three men who again began chanting. Darkness began to swirl around the woman, passing through her. Tears streamed down her face, and her lips shaped in the form of a silent scream. Then the darkness slowed, settling on her face as an impenetrable mask of shadow. The women stood and stepped away as the next person moved to take her place.
This went on for over an hour until finally it was Jaxom’s turn. Stepping up to the platform, he knelt as the others had before him. The swirling darkness pierced through his very being. Something in the darkness spoke to him, a whisper that somehow felt loud enough to split his skull open. WILL YOU SERVE!? WILL YOU OBEY!? Jaxom could feel the man whose eyes he watched through answer yes, screaming the reply in his mind. I WILL GRANT YOU GREAT POWER, SO THAT YOU MAY DESTROY ALL THOSE WHO STAND AGAINST US. Again, he screamed, agreeing to whatever the voice wanted if it would only give him that power. I FIND YOU WORTHY OF MY GIFT. The darkness joined with him, seeping into his very soul, and covering his face. Jaxom felt power flowing through his body, giving him strength, speed, and the ability to become one with the shadows.
Something changed then, something impossible. The voice spoke to Jaxom directly. I SEE YOU, MAGE… I KNOW WHAT YOU ARE… SERVE ME AND BECOME MORE THAN YOU EVER DREAMED POSSIBLE.THIS IS NO MEMORY, MAGE. EVEN NOW, I SEE YOU STANDING OVER THE BODIES OF THE FAITHFUL.
Jaxom pushed out with his mind, forcing it back into the flow of the shade’s memory and was grateful when the voice did not follow. He could not release the memories yet. He needed to find something useful. When the memories settled, he found himself walking through the night into the early morning, the sun coming up on his left. He knew they must find a place to wait out the day. The Faithful were weaker in the light, and their strength would diminish with the dawn. The memory played over and over, and he did not understand why he could not move past it. Then he realized the places around him were changing. The shade had walked south through the night for almost two weeks. When he arrived at Ale’adar, the city lights stung his eyes. With his brethren, he moved forward into the city. YOU CANNOT HIDE FROM ME MAGE… I CAN FIND YOU WHERE EVER YOU GO…That was it. He had enough, and now he knew that the shades had come from the North. Pulling his own mind from the memories, he felt the voice try to pursue him. Jaxom cut the flow of magic as he retreated, giving the voice no path to follow. Still it persisted, clawing after him until he pulled all the way free.
Jaxom was staring down at the dead shade. Glancing over his shoulder, he found Cribble staring hard at him, fear etched on his face. He had seen Cribble defiant, angry, even worried, but he had never seen him afraid before.
“What is it?”
“Who were you talking to?” Cribble’s voice wavered.
“I was talking?”
“Yes and whatever it was…talking back.” Cribble’s voice hardened as anger replaced fear.
“What did you hear?”
“I’m not sure. I only got the last part clearly. It said that it could find you wherever you went,” he said.
It was impossible. The voice had said it could see him standing over the bodies of the faithful. Did it mean literally? Had it been watching him here… in this room? He drew the power of death to heighten his senses. There. Jaxom felt something in the room with them. Focusing on the corners, he saw a shadow huddled in the darkness, watching them. The creature, knowing it had been spotted, stood. Erect, its shadow-made body reached seven feet in height with its head almost brushing the ceiling. Its body was thin with long arms ending in five very long, very sharp-looking claws. As it stepped forward into the dim light, though, it flinched, and its substance seemed to lessen. Jaxom heard the sound of steel on leather as Cribble drew his sword.
“What is that?” the Captain said, thrusting the torch forward to cast more light on the creature while brandishing his sword in the other hand.
Jaxom backed slowly towards the door, hoping that Cribble was doing the same. He channeled the power he still held into the corpses of the dead shades, but gave no command for them to move. As Cribble moved into the hall, Jaxom heard the sound of banging coming from outside, a sound much like that of cell doors being opened. Suddenly, the shadow creature rushed forward with its claws outstretched. With a thought, four of the shades leapt from the tables to grapple with the thing. They had no weapons, but Jaxom only needed them to delay it. The creature slashed with a clawed hand, cutting a risen shade in half at the waist. Jaxom rushed out the door, drawing his sword as he fled.
With Cribble on his heels, Jaxom rounded a corner and was forced to dive to the side as a club made from the leg of a table sped towards his head. Cribble thrust his sword through the attacker’s mid-section then used a boot to kick the now dead prisoner free of his weapon.
“What is going on?” Cribble yelled.
“Let’s just get out of here.” Using his connection with the risen, he looked through its eyes to see how much time they had. One risen clung to the things back while another struggled to hold an arm in place. A clawed hand flashed in front of him and the connection was severed. Not much time at all. “What are you waiting for? Lead the way!”
“Excuse me… I did not want to interfere with your communing with dead or whatever it was you were doing,” Cribble took off down the hall.
Halfway to the iron door, a mob of ten freed prisoners stood in the low torchlight, blocking their path. Cribble stopped in his tracks. The prisoners were only armed with wooden clubs and sharpened stone daggers, but their sheer numbers would buy time to use the makeshift weapons to good effect.
“Blast them with a fire ball!” Cribble said.
“I don’t have command of fire.”
“What good are you, then?”
In anger, Jaxom raised his hand and unleashed the blight at the mob. The column of twisting black and grey smoke smashed into the first man’s chest, wrapping long tendrils around him, then spread to others before his screams of agony had even begun. By the time the prisoners realized what was going on and backed away, four had been ensnared. Their bodies rotted where they stood. Bits of flesh fell away and their hair fell out in clumps. Not wishing to hear their screams, Jaxom directed the smoke to wrap around the men’s throats, silencing them forever. Finally, Jaxom r
eleased the magic, his arm dropping to his side.
Cribble stood stunned, his sword hanging limply by his side. Jaxom knew the effect his magic had. A fire mage would have simply blasted his way through, leaving ruin in his wake, but Jaxom was capable of far worse. Nudging Cribble with his shoulder, the Captain came out of his stupor, raising his sword again to meet the remaining prisoners. Surprisingly, they stood their ground in the face of what they had just seen.
Cribble was met by two prisoners, one holding a club and the other a sharpened piece of stone. Cribble’s blade shattered the makeshift club when the prisoner tried to block his swing, passing right through to cut a deep rent in the man’s chest. The other prisoner, seeing an opening, moved to stab Cribble in the ribs, but found only the flaming end of the torch Cribble still carried as it smashed into his face. Blind and screaming in pain, the filthy man fell to the ground, rolling away.
Jaxom faced off against two men of his own, both brandishing clubs and working together to allow the other an opportunity to strike. When one of the men feinted, Jaxom kicked out instead, catching the prisoner’s leg. The heel of his boot ground into the man’s knee and sent him reeling. Swinging his sword at the other, Jaxom slashed downward, carving a deep furrow from the man’s right shoulder to his left hip. The prisoner was dead before he hit the ground.
A deep roar echoed from behind them, and Jaxom knew their time was up. The shadow creature had finished with the risen and was now headed towards them. Casting about him, he raised the recently dead inmates who then picked up their improvised weapons, clashing with those who they had just moments before fought alongside. Grabbing Cribble by the shoulder, he shoved him past the fighting further down the corridor. Making the turns needed to get back to the guard room, they had almost made it when the roar sounded again right behind them. They wouldn’t make it.
Jaxom pushed Cribble forward. “Get the door open, but don’t wait for me. Don’t let that thing get through into the castle.” Cribble looked into his eyes before nodding and running down the hall.
