Shadowblade

by Tom Bielawski

  Two great doors soared into darkness above and a pair of men with golden scaly skin and dangerous pole-arms guarded the door. These scaly men were actually golden dragons who could use magic to change their shape into something to fit inside buildings made for those who walked on two feet. But even these steely guards did not bother Devoricus and the doors slid silently open.

  Devoricus was overcome with awe as the light and warmth of the audience chamber washed over him. He knew this was a reaction forced upon him by the powerful magic of his Master who was not really a god in the sense that mortals understood. Qra’z was really more like the Cjii, an immortal of sorts. But Qra’z was one of the First Six who were created by the Great Zuhr so long ago. And in turn, the First Six helped create the rest of the less powerful Cjii and then the mortal races who populated Llars and its moon. This magical awe was something that the First Six had contrived to cow their mortal underlings, but it still had some effects on the Cjii.

  Devoricus entered the audience hall and tried not to look at the various Cjii serving the other gods of Llars or even the beings who were visiting from other realms. Today a beautiful female, who styled herself a goddess elsewhere in the universe, was fawning over the virile and strapping Lord of War and Might. But when the great golden warrior realized that Devoricus was present, and kneeling before his Master who towered over him, Qra’z waved his hand at the gathered courtiers and dismissed them.

  Slowly the attending beings vanished in some dramatic fashion or another and soon the Cjii was alone with his master.

  “Well?” growled Qra’z.

  “My Lord,” replied the Cjii humbly. “Bishop Darius will likely flee Hybrand for the safety of Arnathia today or tomorrow. I have instructed him to ensure that Emperor Arnath knows your will regarding the alliance with this Prophet-General Shalthazar. Whether Darius does flee Hybrand for Arnathia, or someplace that suits him better, remains to be seen.

  “The Arnathians are going to abandon territory and cede it to your brother, Umber, and his minions. It seems that a powerful Shadow Sigilist is on his way to Hybrand now to destroy our forces there.”

  “So, my brother wants to take Hybrand from me so he can bring the Hurkin Horde across the Rift and onto the Arnathian Continent,” surmised the god.

  “Umber does not plan to invade Arnathia, Great One. My sources are reporting that the Hurkin Horde will be used to assault the Cklathlands.”

  “This alliance he proposes smacks of deception,” said the golden warrior as he rose from his great throne of swords and shields. “But with my brother that is always a risk.”

  “I agree, Master. I believe they truly do intend to conquer the north with the Nashian forces, but the Hurkin Horde may indeed be used to push into Arnathia.”

  “Well, he shall be in for a nasty surprise should he attempt such folly. For now, we abide by the alliance I have made with Umber. We shall cede Hybrand to my brother. If he chooses to behave himself we will leave him alone. But if he brings those vermin from across the Rift onto my continent, I will unleash my army upon the world and there will be hell to pay.”

  “Indeed, Great One. There seems little doubt that Umber plans to use the Horde. But to what end, we can only guess. He already has power over the dead, I do not know what extra benefit the wild Hurkin would give him.”

  “It does not matter,” said the Master. “What matters now is that there must be peace with my brother if we are to fight Zuhr together. And we will, very soon, begin the process of taking Him down.”

  “What do you require of me, Great One?”

  “I will dispatch messengers to the Emperor and the Patriarch to ensure that Arnathia stays out of Hybrand and the Eastern Kingdoms. Forget the sniveling fool, Darius. He deserves whatever fate befalls him should he choose to stay in Hybrand. Instead, I want you to continue to spy on my brother and to report to me directly. I want to know what he and his Cjii are doing. I want to know what he is planning and how he will accomplish it. And, I want to know what my father is involved in.”

  “As you command, Great One,” said the Cjii, bowing humbly.

  Qra’z waved his hand at the Cjii and said nothing more, but Devoricus knew he had been dismissed. Just as quickly and dramatically as when they had left, the courtiers of the Golden Dragon returned in puffs of smoke or flame or bursts of light. Music played again and the food and wine tables appeared from nowhere; spirits flowed freely in the hall and the merriment began again. Devoricus was tempted to partake of his Master’s legendary free flowing wine, and delicious food, but Qra’z was an unmerciful ruler. The Cjii had no doubt he would very much regret any such foolishness and so he left the palace immediately.

  C H A P T E R

  7

  The Siren’s Call.

  As he left the Call, Zach was increasingly aware of how much lighter the purse given to him by Lord Cannath had become. He enjoyed a moment of genuine mirth, knowing that the prim and proper lord would likely be furious to learn how Zach was spending his money! But his laughter dried up as he thought again that his gold was dwindling.

  He walked along the waterfront and the snow had ceased its attempt to cover the world in a blanket of white powder, but the skies were heavy with clouds and it looked as though winter had not given up its fight quite yet. Zach paused a moment at the intersection of an alley and noticed a waterfront shop claiming to deal in fireore, a famously valuable metal mined only in the lands of the Crimson Elves. With a hand on his dagger, Zach realized he had found a way to acquire some money.

  Seeing no Red Dragon patrols about, he strolled up to the shop’s door. When he saw that it was locked, he sighed. Did he really want to risk a break-in during the day, when any passersby might see him? Several wandered up to the large bay-view window and peered inside, but moved on when they realized the store was closed; and none had seen him!

  Zach walked away from the store and strolled down the alleyway, seeing a pair of youths hiding amongst the refuse and debris. Neither could have been older than fifteen, raggedly dressed and filthy. Thieves, he was certain. He was amazed, however, that these youths did not see him either. He stopped and heard one whispering to the other.

  “I know I heard something, I did!” hissed one, very quietly. Zach was surprised he could even hear the hushed tones.

  “I heard it too, Ollie!” replied the other youth, surprised. “But I don’t see nothin’ now, I don’t.”

  “We need a mark soon, or we ain’t going back to the house tonight!”

  They can’t see me! he remarked to himself, clutching his dagger tightly. It must be the dagger.

  “Kill one of them now,” came the voice beside his ear. “Test your new abilities.”

  Instead of being annoyed by the voice, Zach was amused. For the abrupt silence told him that the would-be muggers had heard that unseen voice, even if they hadn’t understood what it wanted him to do. Zach wasn’t averse to killing a pair of street urchins, but he felt his time would be better spent breaking in to the fireore shop. He turned about, gripping his dagger tightly and walked back toward the shop.

  “Coward,” growled the voice, but Zach ignored it. He walked right up to the front door and jammed Morloth’s tip into the small gap between the doorjamb and the catch. Quite suddenly, Morloth’s blade lengthened itself and the tip seemed to strike something hard. As the blade made contact, Zach jammed it farther in and was rewarded with the sound of metal striking the floor. He pushed gently on the door and slipped inside, closing it behind him. He jammed a piece of the broken lock under the bottom of the door to keep the wind from blowing it open, and to alert him if someone entered after him.

  The shop was cool inside, but not cold, suggesting that the proprietor had been gone for at least a short while. It was a pleasant but small shop with a glass counter that displayed some very fine metal wares beneath. In addition to selling rare and mythical fireore, the shop seemed to house the wares of a very talented silversmith. Shelves lined the wall behind the counter
displaying fine plates and cups and decorations of silver inlaid with gold or painted or skillfully crafted in other ways. He moved behind the counter and chose a few less desirable silver cups, as they would likely attract less attention on a fencer’s market than the others, and it wasn’t what he was after anyway.

  There were no other rooms in the shop that he could see and so he surmised that there had to be a hidden strongbox somewhere, it was very unlikely that a man would risk carrying all the money and the valuables needed to operate a store on his person each day. He wondered if the man lived nearby, upstairs perhaps. Then dismissed the thought as he sought the location of any truly valuable items. There had to be a strongbox.

  Finding no signs of a hidden wall panel, he walked back and forth along the floor behind the counter listening for changes in the sound of his footfalls, hoping for the presence of a hidden compartment. Hearing nothing so obvious, Zach got down on his hands and knees and tapped the floor gently with the dagger’s pommel, listening intently. Finally, he found a floor board that sounded just a bit more hollow than the others. He stuck Morloth’s tip into the slight gap between the boards and pried the length of it. Then he repeated the process on each side of the board and gently removed it from its place.

  The board concealed a large compartment, which seemed to extend off to one side under the counter. He suspected that there might have been an easier access point to the compartment, but it would certainly have taken him longer to find it. He glanced outside the large waterfront window and was pleased to see that the snow was falling again and it seemed a bit more blustery, and less likely that someone would peer inside.

  He reached inside the compartment with his free hand and felt gently around inside, supposing he was more likely to trigger a trap at the proper opening of the compartment than here. When his bare hand glided across the surface of polished metal, metal that was warm to the touch, his heart began to race. Only firesteel, made from fireore would retain a measure of warmth in this cold weather. He continued to feel around the item and determined it was a box. He gently removed the box from the compartment and placed on the floor in front of him. He marveled at its craftsmanship, its beauty, and its color. For the metal was a golden-red and he had never seen anything like it.

  “Focus,” hissed his invisible companion voice. He heeded the warning and reached back into the compartment, focused on finding whatever else was inside. He removed a sack containing a goodly amount of coins, a stack of papers, and a ring made from firesteel. There was nothing else inside the compartment.

  The weather outside was growing steadily worse and gusts of wind were pounding the door, he knew he must either find a way to lock it or take his plunder and leave. Rather than risk getting stuck inside all night, he chose to take his prizes and leave before the storm was so bad he could not walk in it. As it was, he would have to risk the back alleys that offered a measure of protection from the now howling wind. He knew he should leave some of the prizes behind as he really did not have enough pockets to conceal his plunder, but he was overcome with the desire to keep what he found. All of it. So he placed Morloth into his waistband and freed both hands to stuff the papers and the money into his coat pockets along with the silver pieces he’d taken from the shelves. He slipped the ring onto the ring finger of his right hand and then picked up the firesteel box.

  Then the door blew open, the piece of steel he had used to prop it open went skittering across the floor.

  A flurry of wind and snow blew into the small room and blinded Zach for a moment, the cold breeze addled his brain. The door closed again, a bolt slid home, and when he could see he was facing two men.

  Two very angry looking men.

  “The dagger!” growled his voice companion, and Zach realized he wasn’t holding the dagger then. Even as he reached for Morloth he knew the protections of the dagger would not hide him now, the men saw him. However, as he closed his hand over the hilt his mind began to formulate a plan.

  “Stop!” ordered the closest man who leveled a handheld crossbow at Zach, a Red Dragon by his sash. The second didn’t have the telltale sash of a Red Dragon, but he was very angry nonetheless.

  “Thief!” shouted the second man. “You know what we do to a thief, thief? We cut off his hands!”

  Before Zach could blink, he raised his hand and launched Morloth through the air, the magical dagger spun end over end and planted itself to the hilt in the Red Dragon’s neck. The man dropped his crossbow causing it to fire, the bolt narrowly missing Zach’s head as the man clutched at the blade in his neck. The man thrashed, unable to remove the blade, while the second man watched, horrified.

  The second man, who Zach now saw was unarmed, backpedaled toward the door as the first man’s death throes ceased. Zach let the dagger have its fill, enjoying the look of fear on the other man’s face.

  This is power! he thought, smiling evilly at the man. Morloth was back in his hand now and he advanced upon the faltering man.

  “Please, take what you want!” begged the man.

  “Oh, I will!” he replied devilishly.

  “Just take it and go, I won’t trouble you!”

  “But you already have,” Zach said, amiably. He held skull pommel of the enchanted dagger to the man’s throat, allowing its evil jaws to nibble on the man’s neck, a trickle of blood dripped down onto his shirt. The dagger was thirsty.

  “No...no,” the man said, getting weaker. “No...I...won’t...trouble you.”

  “I wish it didn’t have to be this way,” Zach said genuinely as the man’s knees gave way and he dropped to the floor. “But you have seen my face.”

  Zach let the dagger have its fill, lest it exert some terrible influence upon him that he wasn’t yet aware it could do, and cause him trouble in the future. He remembered the lich prince’s warning that the dagger needed to feed. Only when the shop owner’s skin had dried and become almost leathery, did Zach removed the dagger. Zach ducked back behind the counter and replaced the floorboard that concealed the hidden compartment

  Then he quickly checked the shopkeeper’s body and found that he had nothing of value but a ring of keys, at least nothing that was easy to find. Zach pocketed the keys and checked the body of the dead Dragon finding a small purse of Ckaymrish silver coins and a pair of daggers. He removed one of the Red Dragon’s daggers and inserted it into the wound that his own dagger had caused moments before. Then he arranged the shopkeeper’s corpse so that he was lying near the body of the Red Dragon, his hand on the dagger. While Zach knew that this little bit of misdirection would not fool a seasoned investigator for a minute, it might fool a few ignorant Red Dragon patrolmen long enough for Zach to remain a step or two ahead of the authorities.

  With Morloth in hand, Zach slipped out of the store and left the door open behind him. He hoped that when the dead Red Dragon’s fellow soldiers discovered the grizzly scene they would be too confused by what they saw to think about searching the area. Luckily, there was no one else in sight as Zach darted through the maze of alleyways that paralleled the waterfront. He moved with caution until he reached his own inn.

  By now it was dark, he was grateful because it would be unlikely that anyone would notice his bulging pockets if they noticed him at all. In fact, he was pleased that when he slipped inside the main room the innkeeper barely looked up from his desk. He just scowled and grumbled something that resembled a greeting as he stared at his work.

  Zach didn’t reply and went straight to his room. He dropped his things on the bed and immediately set a fire in the small hearth. Once the room was sufficiently warm, he began to examine his treasures.

  Zach placed the items on the small table in his room and with a giddy hand began to examine his find. The papers were a disappointment and proved to be nothing but simple business ledgers. The ledgers revealed that the man was quite wealthy, apparently he had been a successful dealer in fireore. If he had not been forced to kill the man, Zach might have tried to find the businessman’s h
ome and rob it. Sadly, that avenue for wealth would be closed now that he was dead.

  He set those papers aside and placed Morloth on top to keep the breeze from the open window from scattering them across the room. Zach enjoyed the fresh air, even though it was cool, and felt invigorated.

  He picked up the sack of coins and poured them out onto the table. The coins were a mix of Arnathian gold, Ckaymrish silvers, and a smattering of gem currency from the Eastern Kingdoms. There was enough money in that bag to carry him through an entire year!

  Next, he picked up the ring and held it close to the flickering light of the oil lamp. The ring was a truly fine piece of craftsmanship and Zach was certain it had to have been made by the Crimson Elves. The band was golden-red, its surface smooth and swirling like the gentle waves of a lake. The top of the ring was flat but inscribed with a foreign script with raised characters. The script was smooth and flowing and almost danced before his eyes, he thought it looked like a form of Elvish; the script seemed to glow in the flickering light.

  He placed the ring on the table and picked up the metal box. The box was almost too beautiful to behold, adorned with the same script as the ring and inlaid with flowery filigree of flowing streams of silver and gold across its surface. The box was locked but did not seem to have an opening for a key. He thought perhaps there must be a concealed keyhole, but his examination of the box’s surface did not hint that there was. Either the keyhole was too cleverly hidden, or the box was magical in nature and would not open by ordinary means.

  He thought of the box which he had taken from his friend, Carym. That box was a magnificent creation of magic and was said to house the spirit of a long dead knight. He still didn’t know why he had taken that box from Carym, only that he felt compelled to do so. Then Zach realized that ever since he accepted Morloth from the lich in Lordsdeep, he had felt compelled to strange actions far too often for his liking. Still, he was intensely curious about that device, and though he could find no way to open it, he did recall hearing Carym discussing the device’s arcane nature. He knew he would have no chance of finding a way to make it open, and even if he did he wasn’t certain he would want to meet the spirit of an ancient Fyrbold inside.