Shadowblade

by Tom Bielawski

  “The prince is on his way here with a platoon of crack soldiers; the Royal Guard, I believe. They will be here in minutes. No doubt you should run and hide somewhere.”

  If it weren’t for the immortal’s mocking tone, the bishop might have believed the immortal’s story. “Immortal Devoricus,” said the bishop angrily, “do not trade jibes with me. I can kill you while you inhabit that form. Lest you forget, you need me to release you from that mortal prison.”

  “You’re such a bore, Bishop Darius. You need to find one of your whores and relax a little.” Seeing that the bishop would not take his bait, he went on. “Darius, this mission has been extraordinarily trying. Umber has cloaked his Cjii so well I cannot find them anywhere. You know the risk I am taking.”

  “Bah,” scowled the bishop.

  “Bah yourself. The code of the Cjii is very specific. We can take no action in the affairs of mortals other than guiding, advising, and ‘prodding.’ Unless other Cjii have already done so, or we are summoned by a mortal and offer an exchange of services. There are no exceptions.”

  “Yes. You did some prodding today, didn’t you?” the Cjii shot him a dark look. “And you wouldn’t want the Hierarchy to learn of this, would you?”

  “No need for threats, Darius. I am merely stating that this is not an easy task. I’ve bent quite a few rules to get the information I am about to give you. First: Prince Cannath has entered into an agreement with one Shalthazar, an elf wizard of some renown. Shalthazar has led an army across the northern continent and has, at this moment, conquered nearly half of it. All in the name of the brother of our glorious Qra’z.”

  “Umber’s minions want to take over Hybrand,” reasoned the bishop.

  “No.”

  “Do not toy with me, Devoricus,” warned the bishop, displaying a wand that no doubt possessed a few nasty spells. “My patience is at an end.”

  “Calm yourself, Bishop!” returned the Cjii angrily. With the flick of a finger, the bishop’s wand burst into flames causing the old man to drop it on the floor. “I still possess my powers and I can kill you. So let’s get back to the point. Shall we?

  “Good. Shalthazar is going to supply Cannath with the troops he needs to rise up and crush their Arnathian oppressors.”

  “That is unlikely,” scoffed the bishop.

  “Be that as it may, support in the form of warships and troops are on their way here. We can expect their arrival within days.”

  “Warships,” repeated the bishop. “Even if our navy returned with reinforcements, they couldn’t get here in time to defend against an attack. This Shalthazar will have the defender’s advantage at sea.”

  “He has placed the charge of securing Hybrand’s freedom in the hands of one ‘Commander Coronus.’ Apparently that name is supposed to strike fear in the hearts of mortals.”

  The bishop ignored the immortal being’s sarcasm. He was wondering if that name should sound familiar. Then it struck him, “Frost Elf!”

  Devoricus was silent. Frost Elves inhabited societies existing in the colder reaches of the world. Yet at times they would strike out in the world, laying waste to countries and destroying entire civilizations. In centuries past, the Frost Elves had even set their sights on Arnathia. They landed on the coast, not far from Hybrand, and spread across the Arnathian Empire leaving a swath of destruction in their wake, until they reached the capital. Entire divisions of Arnathian infantry had been destroyed by the powerful elves until finally, the might that was Arnathia, crushed the elves in the capital city. The bishop shook his head.

  “An army of Frost Elves would blaze through Hybrand and into Arnathia with little resistance. With the fragile state of our empire right now, they could topple the crown.” Bishop Darius trembled at the thought of the Frost Elves arriving on the shores of Hybrand, and so soon. He decided it would be best to leave this province before the murderous elves arrived.

  “The Frost Elves would be a scourge of shadows across our empire,” agreed the Cjii soberly. Even the Cjii possessed a healthy respect for the mighty Frost Elves.

  “Shalthazar is also known as the Holy Prophet-General of Ilian Nah. That is the name by which the bastard Umber is known across the great sea. Ironically, in the land also known as Ilian Nah, Umber is seen as a god of justice and might.”

  “A clever ruse,” said the bishop, quietly pondering. “Taking the guise of the mighty Qra’z. It is little wonder there are no temples to Qra’z in Old Ilian Nah.”

  “Indeed. His followers are fools, yet they are powerful fools and a force to be reckoned with.”

  “What do you know of this Shalthazar?”

  “Very little. He is a mighty wizard from another world although he bears the appearance of a Llarsian of Keneerie decent,” began the Cjii, enjoying the bishop’s scowl. High ranking church members knew that there were other worlds in the universe beside Llars, but they preferred to keep that knowledge secret. “From what my own informants tell me, Shalthazar entered into an agreement with Umber, the Lord of Darkness.”

  “A bargain for power,” stated the bishop.

  “Indeed. Shalthazar is now a master of the Shadow Sigil and has trained a number of followers in its use.”

  “A Shadow Sigilist,” repeated the bishop numbly. “There hasn’t been one of those in a very, very, long time.”

  “Aside from those few who already know the secrets of the Shadow Sigil, Shalthazar has recruited an army of disciples whom he is training in the use of the Shadow Sigil. He has also revived the orders devoted to the dark prophets of the past and created a corps of binder-mages.”

  “Qra’z protect us,” whispered the bishop.

  “Unlikely,” the Cjii said with a yawn. “He has his own problems.”

  “Such as?”

  “Such as...the ones I am not permitted to discuss with you,” said the Cjii, hoping to provoke his mortal counterpart. “What will you do now O’ Wise and Brilliant Bishop?”

  “That depends on the wishes of our master, Qra’z.”

  The Cjii became sober, then spoke in a low voice. “I am going to tell you what the plans of the great Qra’z happen to be, so save yourself some trouble.”

  The bishop looked at the immortal shrewdly, noticing that flies were beginning to gather around the body of the host. The immortal could not possess a mortal body for very long, and the presence of the flies were a sure sign that this one was reaching its limit.

  “Qra’z wants to make a bargain with Umber.”

  “You can’t be serious!” he exclaimed. “That’s absurd. Emperor-”

  “Will do what Qra’z wants him to do. And that is to make an alliance with Shalthazar and Umber. The old fool, Zuhr, thinks He can simply do away with the churches of men and convert the followers of the gods to his own,” scoffed the Cjii. “He will soon find out that his children will not be so easily turned.”

  “That is hard news, Devoricus. Our empire is so fragile now with all the uprisings that it would take very little for it to topple.”

  “Would that be so bad?” asked the Cjii, goading the bishop.

  “It would indeed be bad. The Church of Qra’z has been one with the Arnathian Empire for over a thousand years. If one fails, so does the other.”

  “And what would be the end result?” prodded the Cjii. “A loss of central control over the church body could lead to the formation of a number of local churches, each ruled by an Arch Bishop or High Mucky Muck or what have you. With no one above them to pull strings or issue ridiculous edicts, the potential for power would be great.”

  “You raise a very interesting point. However, the empire has not fallen and we are still in Hybrand on the brink of an invasion. Should I flee to the capital?”

  “I care not,” said the Cjii simply. “I have done my duty.”

  The bishop held his nose as the stench from the rotting corpse grew suddenly worse, fluids began to ooze from its ears and its pores.

  “Be gone with you!” he hissed at the Cjii, hol
ding his arm over his face. “You stink!”

  “You will bring the Patriarch of Arnathia this news. The emperor is to make peace with the Prophet-General and cede his claims over Hybrand to these Nashians as a show of good faith,” hissed the immortal, enjoying the bishop’s discomfiture.

  “Yes, yes,” growled the bishop impatiently. He was beginning to take ill from the fumes. “Now go!”

  “But Bishop Darius,” said the Cjii reverently, “I need you to release me from this prison.”

  The bishop scowled as he walked to his desk and retrieved another wand. He pointed it at the Cjii and whispered a prayer to Qra’z, a small jet of flame erupted from the tip and propelled the immortal backwards and out of the bishop’s office. He continued to batter and prod the Cjii with jets of flame until the immortal was standing outside.

  Darius forced the man into the center of Temple Square, whispering holy words of power and burning the Cjii’s host body with jets of flame. A few darts of magical light were returned by the Cjii but the bishop’s own magic dispelled them easily enough. A throng of onlookers had gathered and many of them made the sign of the golden dragon as the bishop shouted claims of heresy. Finally, when enough fearful onlookers had gathered, he engulfed the Cjii’s avatar in gouts of flame and turned the mortal host to ashes even as he released the immortal spirit to continue its diabolical work. He knew he must ensure the body was burnt beyond recognition, for if the soon-to-be thayne were to discover that his advisor and friend had been killed by Darius it could jeopardize any plans Qra’z had for an alliance with Shalthazar.

  The elderly bishop smiled at the bloodthirsty Arnathians who saw the human torch become a pile of ashes. They cheered and jeered and then went about their business. The bishop returned to his offices deep inside the temple to contemplate what to do next. The in-fighting between the gods of Llars was very intriguing, and he began to suspect that this war would spill over onto the mortal world of Llars itself. He imagined how profitable such a war would be for the winning side, and he hoped Qra’z was on the winning side. Ordinarily, the Golden Dragon was on his own side. But Darius knew that his lord was wise enough to know that an alliance would be necessary to defeat the great and powerful Zuhr.

  But would Zuhr truly be defeated? Was it even possible that the younger gods could defeat the Great Zuhr, the Creator of the Universe? Darius began to think that might not be possible. He contemplated his own future then, imagining legions of Cjii battling on this very ground for the future of the world. Who, or what, could survive such an ordeal? Would anything be left?

  Darius was a practical man, even if he was a bit sadistic and self-centered. He was aware of these traits and was proud of them. So it was time for Darius to consider whether a change of alliance was truly necessary, or, perhaps a change of location.

  In any case, the immediate problems must be dealt with. War was coming and the bishop wasn’t sure how it would be handled. Would there be an exodus of Arnathian citizens back into the Empire Proper? Would Cannath arrest any Arnathians left behind and seize their property? What would happen to the temple? It seemed likely that the crown would simply abandon Hybrand and those who remained behind.

  He sat back in his comfortable chair behind his large desk and drank a glass of chilled apple wine as he thought over the likely scenarios. Perhaps he would simply abandon Craxis and the Arnathian troops and return to the capital. That way he would be honoring his lord’s bidding by not interfering, and he could rid himself of that callous twit, Craxis. And when he returned to Grand Temple in Arnathia, he could simply affirm that the blame of the loss of the Hybrand Province lay on the shoulders of the deceased general.

  All in all, it sounded like a strong plan. But he would have to leave soon, very soon. Perhaps this very evening. He looked at the time keeper on the shelf next to the door and watched it for many long moments. In the end, he decided, it didn’t really matter what was going to happen next. It would be best for his own survival to remain a faithful follower of his god, for as long as it was wise to do so, and leave Hybrand to its own devices.

  Devoricus allowed the bishop to play to his crowd, something he knew would become unnecessary in the coming days. During the charade Bishop Darius had been whispering the words that would release the Cjii from his corporal prison. Once the immortal spirit was free from the body of Hugh Renaul, the body disintegrated into a pile of ash.

  Devoricus’ spirit instantly slipped into the tunnels connecting the many planes of existence to the mortal realms. Once he was wholly in the immortal realms he recovered his usual flawless physical form and conjured a flaming chariot to take him where he needed to go. Next he conjured a flaming sword in one hand and a flaming shield in the other, even the Cjii were not immune from attack in the immortal realms. The magical the chariot hurtled forward at incredible speed, invisible beasts carrying the immortal on a journey that would end with him standing before his master, Qra’z.

  The chariot left a trail of flames as it streaked along the magical pathways. The Pathway was very much like a great bridge spanning a vast emptiness, stars were visible all around. The spirits of the damned clung to the Pathways to avoid the danger of oblivion that threatened them every moment of their pitiful existence. The snaking tendrils of the damned begged him for their freedom as he passed them by, but he paid them little mind. Occasionally the Cjii would end the pitiful existence of one of the damned with a swing of his great flaming sword, but he did not do so today. Today he bore his great weapon and shield because he worried that some of the other Cjii could very easily be lurking about the Pathways, preparing to waylay the follower of Qra’z.

  Time was immaterial here, and for that reason the Cjii could not tell how much time had passed from the moment he entered the Pathways to the moment that he reached his destination. He willed the chariot to come to a stop before a great arch. As the immortal stepped down from the chariot, it vanished from existence with a thought. The arch was golden and it glowed brightly with its holy light. Within the arch was a door and along its edges were words in the ancient language of the immortals. The Pathway stopped at the arch, only emptiness lay beyond it and all around it.

  Devoricus stepped up to arch and a pair of gigantic golden dragons materialized to either side, startling the immortal. Feeling put off that he could actually be startled by the beasts, Devoricus bristled at the scrutiny of these massive dragons which served to protect the arch from unwanted entrants. Then, sensing he would not be hindered by the great scaly beasts, he passed through the archway and into the realm known as Gehenna.

  Gehenna was a strange place for the god of War and Might. It was a place of sharp contrasts that disoriented even the immortal Cjii who served the Master of Gehenna, Qra’z. Devoricus walked to the palace of his master, for none but the Master was permitted ride in Gehenna. The road upon which he trod was at times made from shining gold bricks, while at others it seemed to be made from ordinary stones, and still other times the stones seemed to become so hot that they glowed red. The sky above was a shifting and swirling mass of reds and oranges and yellows; streams of molten silver meandered across the massive battlefields upon which an army of Cjii was constantly training.

  Devoricus continued on past the battlefields where his kin were skirmishing in mock battles, demonstrating the awesome power which was about to be unleashed upon Llars. The mortals had rediscovered the use of the Sigils, Umber and his ilk had returned the Shadow Sigil to prominence, and Zuhr planned to wipe them all out. But Qra’z was a survivor, and he would not be caught off-guard. In fact, the great god of War planned to conduct a preemptive strike on the followers of Zuhr very, very, soon; he hoped to weaken the Great God by destroying his followers.

  The palace of the Master of Gehenna was massive and comprised of towers and spires and walled keeps and a great mote. The walls were made from shining gold and true golden dragons soared about the heights of the towers or lounged lazily along the battlements. The golden dragons were a powerful ra
ce of dragons that had abandoned Llars long ago to work exclusively for this mighty god.

  As Devoricus arrived at the palace the drawbridge lowered itself slowly to the ground and allowed the Cjii to walk over the mote of molten silver. The heat from the mote was intense, even for an immortal, and he hurried across quickly. Upon reaching the portcullis, a giant golden dragon head loomed down upon him from the battlements above the entrance.

  “What do you want, Cjii?” boomed the voice of the dragon. The Cjii was not fearful of dragons, but dragons were incredibly powerful and did have the power to kill a Cjii.

  “I have an urgent message for our Master,” he replied back boldly. He would not give this beast the satisfaction of thinking it could control a powerful Cjii.

  “Indeed,” snorted the dragon. A small gout of flame puffed from its mouth as it laughed. “What is this message?”

  “The message is for the Master, not you,” he replied caustically.

  “Very well,” said the dragon. With a lazy flip of its tail the portcullis raised and the dragon seemed to have lost its interest in the Cjii. “You may enter.”

  Devoricus strode through the archway beneath the portcullis and walked toward the audience hall where Qra’z held court when he wasn’t on the battlefield. The Cjii had been to the Master’s palace before and had long ago learned to avoid the illusions and temptations that were placed about it to distract a visitor to his doom. He walked down a long hallway decorated with more wealth than all the kings of Llars had in their coffers put together. As he passed an open doorway, a soft hand reached out and grabbed him by the arm. A beautiful and naked woman, a fellow Cjii, stood there and beckoned Devoricus to enter her den. A number of other female Cjii, naked or in various states of undress, appeared in the chamber beyond the doorway and called to him with promises of pleasure beyond imagining.

  But Devoricus knew better than to associate with the wives and concubines of his Master and so he withdrew hastily from the chamber door. He moved quickly down the hallway and hoped there would be no more distractions to tempt or lure him away from his duties. Today he was fortunate and reached the audience hall without further delay.