The God in the Shadows (The Story at the Heart of the Void Book 1)

by TorVald, Nikolas

  Glancing around her she saw that neither Kant nor Mattle had noticed her foray into the world of her head. Kant was still pulling food from his bags and Mattle was sitting in his saddle looking bored to death of traveling for so long. Aren gave her a curious glance but at her triumphant grin he rolled his eyes and turned back towards Kant, barely concealing his hunger for the food Kant was passing around. Selth felt a slight moment of confusion, it had felt like an hour had passed inside her head, but she shrugged it away. This was better anyways. Kant and Mattle wouldn’t try questioning her or Aren about what had happened and she wouldn’t draw any more attention to herself after the incident with her horse.

  Selth’s stomach growled its approval as Kant passed her a slice of bread and cheese. As her hand closed around it, she glanced up at him in surprise. The pieces were larger than usual, “We should reach a town before night falls,” he explained curtly, “we can replenish our supplies there so there’s no reason to be stingy now.” she shrugged and began eating hungrily. She hadn’t been sure they would actually go into the towns so close to the border with Mardule. She was happy they were going to, though, and hoped they would sleep in the town too. She would prefer to be in a bed instead of on the ground if at all possible.

  Their group moved back onto the road and started down it, eating as they rode. Nobody spoke for the next few minutes as they wolfed down the food and even after that the group held its silence. Selth was perfectly content to do just that. Aren had helped her with the magical pressure but he still seemed to be angry about the situation with her horse and she didn’t want to talk with Mattle until she could sort out how she felt about having him back from the dead. On the one hand, it was exciting for the one person she had always felt she could rely on, who had protected her from all sorts of things, to come back and be with her on this adventure. On the other, it was difficult for Selth to match this new Mattle up to the Matt she had known back in Redtower. He was changed; he had become an Inquisitor and could control nature if what Aren said could be believed. Plus, he hadn’t approached her about recognizing who she was despite the fact that they had been traveling for several weeks together. The Matt she had known wouldn’t have waited so long to talk with her. He would have approached her the first day and they would have fallen back into their friendship almost as quickly. Selth frowned to herself, she wasn’t sure that she liked this new Mattle too much. He had abandoned her, after all, and no matter what Aren said about Inquisitor initiation, that couldn’t be tolerated. She shook her head, she would have to talk with Mattle before she could make any real judgments about him and that could wait for the town tonight.

  Having decided on a plan, Selth focused on riding. Mattle might have convinced her horse not to kill her but the mare certainly still didn’t like her and riding it was challenging. Avoiding the refugees moving away from the border with Mardule was even more so, as her mare kept moving in unconventional ways to try and throw her from its back. The next three hours passed in silence. Aren and Kant talked with their heads together for a few minutes so that no one could hear them but otherwise the party remained quiet. An hour before the sun went below the horizon the town that Kant had promised came into view. There had been multiple signs as they approached, the increase in foot traffic along the road along with more farms and cleared sections of forest. Selth was looking forward to seeing a town. They had stopped in them every night on the initial stretch of their journey from Redtower but it was still exciting to see the places. She had spent all of her life surrounded by people and she couldn’t get over how small towns were in comparison to what she had always known.

  The place they rode into was even tinier than she had expected. Kant had called it ‘Gideon's Pasture’ and Selth could see why. The whole town looked like it could fit inside a field for sheep. There was an inn facing out to the road and several houses grouped together around a well. Otherwise the population seemed to be entirely made up of farmers coming in to enjoy a drink at the inn, The Brewer’s Barn. Everyone was dressed in simple clothes and looked the exact same, a combination of rough, sun exposed skin and happy, honest faces.

  Selth looked around quickly as Kant led them to the back of the inn and dismounted. Aren, Mattle and herself followed suit and a young groomsman ran up to take their horses. Kant gave the boy a few coppers and with many bows the boy took their horses to the stables. Selth and the others walked into the inn with saddlebags in their arms and the innkeeper, a fat man wearing an apron bustled up to greet them.

  “Three rooms,” Kant said before the innkeeper could speak, “and dinner and breakfast for four if it’s possible.”

  The innkeeper smiled at them, rubbing his hands together briskly. “Of course good sirs, and miss.” he said turning to Selth and then back to Kant, “It will be a silver mark per room and ten coppers for the food.” The innkeeper winked at the four of them and added in a happy whisper, “There’s a traveling bard staying here tonight as well, he should start performing soon if you’re in the mood.”

  Selth brightened, she had visited inns in Redtower where traveling bards had stopped to play and it was always great fun to listen to them. A good bard could make stories from the Age of Legends come to life. Mattle shifted with excitement as well but Aren and Kant showed no sign of either excitement or annoyance at the information. Kant simply handed over the required money and motioned for the innkeeper to lead them to their rooms. The innkeeper was obviously eager to talk and he tried to ply Kant with questions as he showed them to their rooms. “My name is Lucas,” he said cheerily, “What might four fine people such as yourselves be doing out on the road, armed with such lovely weapons as those swords?” Kant made no reply and Lucas kept asking questions but by the time they reached their rooms he had given up. It was clear that nobody was going to tell him anything so he opened three doors which were situated next to each other and bustled back to the common room.

  “Why didn’t you answer any of his questions?” Selth asked Kant as he went into the first room.

  He glanced back at her as though she were an idiot, “Innkeepers are notorious gossips. If I had said anything to that man everyone in the common room would have known about it by the time we got back downstairs. By tomorrow morning everyone would know we were in town and be trying to ask us their own questions. This close to Mardule’s border that would likely be a death sentence. As it is Lucas won’t have anything interesting to say so he’ll keep his mouth shut. We can be out of this place with barely anyone knowing we were here. Those people we do talk to will forget us as soon as we leave the town tomorrow.” Before she could ask any other questions he strode into one of the rooms. Mattle followed and Aren disappeared into the room to the left.

  Selth went into the last room the innkeeper had shown them. There was a bed pushed up against one wall of the room and a few pegs for hanging her gear but otherwise the room was as sparse as anything she had ever seen. She dropped her bags in one corner of the room and hung her cloak and coat on the pegs set in the wall. When she walked out of her room Kant was standing in the hallway. He looked at her and his mouth twisted into a frown, “Didn’t you bring a dress or something?”

  “No!” she said angrily, “What use would I have for a dress? It just gets in the way of movement and it’s uncomfortable besides.”

  Kant rubbed his forehead with the back of his arm, “Yes, but it also helps you blend in. As you are you stick out like a sore thumb. Your cloak covered it before but now everyone can see that you’re dressed like a boy and that alone could make us the talk of the town.” he smiled wryly, “They don’t have much excitement around here.”

  Selth rolled her eyes, “I’ll just put on my cloak.” she said, annoyed. It would be uncomfortable to sit in a common room all night with a cloak on. She knew from experience how hot it could get when twenty men were all drinking themselves blind in the same room.

  Kant started nodding but Aren cut him off, “Nonsense, this is the simplest of things.” He moved
his staff in a strange pattern and the gem at the top, although hidden, glowed brightly. Selth didn’t feel any different but when she looked down it appeared as though she was wearing a simple dress that extended from her neck to her ankles. Kant raised his eyebrows and said nothing but when Mattle came out of the room his jaw dropped nearly to the ground. Before he could say anything she pointed at Aren who gave a cheerful wave. He opened and closed his eyes a few times as though he still couldn’t believe what had happened and she indulged in a small smirk of amusement at his behavior but neither said anything. The four of them trudged down the steps to the common room and found a booth in a corner just as the traveling bard came into the room.

  16

  Ancarth the Black

  The gods we created are creating gods of their own. This growth, this new spread of power and thought, is wonderful. I cannot wait to see where it will lead us.

  – Celithic to Shattrenlix

  A serving girl brought four bowls of lamb stew for their table and mugs of ale for both Kant and Aren before hurrying back to her station so she could listen to the bard while still looking like she was working. Kant and Aren started talking about the trip to Mardule in subdued voices but Selth was with the serving girl, she wanted to hear the bard.

  The traveling bard was a tall, white haired man who still walked with a brisk skip to his step. His multihued cloak was a mixture or red, blue, green, yellow and white and he ruffled it dramatically as he took his position on the stage. Pulling his lute around his shoulder he slowly began tuning it, seeming to savor the tension as it built up in the room. Finally, he was done fiddling with the pegs on the instrument and with a strum of the strings every eye turned towards him. “Behold, ye listeners.” the bard intoned gravely, “Of the story of the greatest mage in the land of Aulternanden and his fall from grace to the blackest of pits.” he strummed his lute again, creating an atmosphere that screamed of evil, “Behold!” he cried, “The story of Ancarth the Black!”

  With another strum of the strings the Bard began his story, “In the Age of Legends when men walked with dragons and the lord of the night threw his undead hordes to drag down the halls of men, a mage walked the earth. He smote down the armies of night where they raised from the ground to raid villages of helpless humans. He conquered the will of the dragons and forced them back to their wild lands in the Mountains of Endless Night. He forced The Lord of Night back into his foul realm and was raised as a hero to all the people. His name was Ancarth and the people gave him the title the Pure. Ancarth the Pure, the most powerful mage to walk the lands of Aulternanden since time began. Wherever he went the land flourished, animals grew fat and crops grew strong. He was invited into the halls of kings and queens, he was brought to the shining towers of the academy and named the Archmage of Aulternanden.

  “Ancarth’s fame brought him suitors from across the world. Nobles offered their daughters’ hands and Kings offered princesses for him to marry. But Ancarth the Pure was not swayed by their offers for power and he married a peasant girl from the village of his birth whom he had always loved. None could hold anger with him because of all he had done for the world and this peasant girl became the most widely accepted lady of the land. But there were others who were jealous of this woman’s prestige. Who felt that without her Ancarth would choose one of them to be his bride.

  “One dark day Ancarth left his bride for a journey to the Mountains of Endless Night, though at the time they were the Mountains of Dragons as the everlasting darkness had yet to descend on them. What he did there and who he met remains a mystery to this day but it was then that the mountains fell into darkness and it was then that the last monsters from the Age of Legends stopped journeying into the civilized lands of Aulternanden. Ancarth the Pure returned to the academy of magi triumphant but his triumph did not last. His bride, his one love, lay dead on the bed they shared when he stepped through the doors to his room, a dagger plunged through her breast. In his fury he tore down the academy, tore down the structures that pumped life into the world of Aulternanden and housed the men and women who saved it from the forces of evil. No magi were harmed as Ancarth’s power surged out in a maelstrom but their great buildings were left in dust with only the towers of Azgoth, those towers that still stand today, remaining unharmed. When the dust had settled, Ancarth was nowhere to be seen.

  “Four years passed with nary a word from the Archmage of Aulternanden. Six women of noble houses died in that time, each lying on her bed with a dagger plunged through her breast, the first murders that Ancarth ever committed against the race of humans.” The bard’s face took a darker turn and the sound of the music became sinister, “But they were not to be the last. Ancarth the Pure emerged back into the world cloaked in a darkness so deep that none could see the face of the mage they had once known. It was only his voice and the staff of power in his hands that revealed who he was. Where he walked pestilence followed. Animals died and crops wilted. Storms struck from clear skies and villages burned to the ground.

  “Armies of creatures more terrible than the undead hordes of The Lord of Night flowed in his wake and took the lands of men for their own and the Archmage of Aulternanden took a new title for himself, no longer Ancarth the Pure. He became Ancarth the Black.

  “The twisted regime of Ancarth the Black began its march against the world of Aulternanden. The magi of the academy were helpless against his power. They sent men and women, legions of magi to stop the flow of monsters but wherever magi went he was waiting for them. Whatever powers he had consorted with to leave him shrouded in blackness and surrounded by monsters of death had given him more power than any magi could face. Thousands died in the storms he brought down to conquer those he had once protected.

  “Ancarth the Black swept across Aulternanden until only the kingdom of Andin still held against him. City after city fell until only the capital of Andin remained, protected by the last of the magi. An army of men fifty thousand strong rode out of the city to face the hordes of Ancarth and with them rode the last thousand magi. Ancarth strode forth and with his dark power ripped the ground apart under the feet of his approaching foe and the thousand magi held it in place. A thousand magi against one man turned to the darkest of powers and it was all they could do to stop his power from ripping apart the world around them.

  “The battle waged on, the men of Aulternanden refusing to break as Ancarth’s hordes smashed into them. Fifty thousand men turned to twenty thousand and twenty thousand turned to ten but still the men of Aulternanden fought on, protecting the magi who were the last hope of the world against the black power of Ancarth. For five hours the men of Aulternanden held back a horde of unimaginable numbers. A battle the likes of which has not been seen since nor existed before.

  “As the battle drew to a close and the forces of Ancarth the Black appeared to overwhelm the last defenders of mankind a bolt of lightning flew from the magi. They numbered still a thousand, the men of Aulternanden had done their job well, and as the lightning flew Ancarth raised his staff to defend himself. But he was too late and the bolt flashed home. With a cry of outrage, that ripped apart the ground for a mile all around, blackness surrounded Ancarth and his hordes and they vanished from sight. Barely five thousand men stood where fifty thousand had existed before. Seven hundred of the thousand magi had given their life force to the bolt that was their last desperate attack against Ancarth the Black. But when the surviving men searched for Ancarth and his hordes there was no sign. Only his staff of power was left of the armies and the man that had conquered nearly all the world of Aulternanden.

  “For the next thousand years the men of Aulternanden worked to reconquer the lands that Ancarth had left as wastes. But to the lands where Ancarth emerged, shrouded in darkness, it is impossible to venture. A full half of the world of Aulternanden lies in waste, twenty thousand years since the march that brought the race of men to the verge of death. Ancarth’s staff of power was hidden, none know where, and the world waits, watches, and pr
ays that the black mage himself is dead. There are none alive today who could hope to stand before him and his hordes.” With a last strum of his lute the traveling bard finished his tale, his face seeming to glow with the darkness of Ancarth the Black. Selth was leaning forward in her seat, enraptured by the tale the bard had spun and with surprise she realized that everyone in the room was doing the same.

  “A long time since I heard that tale,” muttered Aren behind her and she nearly leapt out of her seat in fright, “And never in so realistic a manner.”

  She looked back at him, “It’s not true,” she stammered out, “Is it? I mean, I know there were plenty of amazing things in the Age of Legends but that didn’t really happen, did it?”

  He looked at her somberly before shaking his head, “It’s too true, unfortunately. Ancarth the Black was and is the greatest threat that Aulternanden has ever known. That bard doesn’t know half of the story,” he pointed an accusatory finger at the man in question, “and even the half he does know is enough to chill a person to their bones.”

  Kant looked away from the bard to stare at Aren, “Then what’s the other half of the story, if you’re such an expert.” he was trying to sound gruff and unmoved but Selth caught a slight tremor in his voice.

  Aren looked around their group and motioned the three of them closer, “The full story is that we don’t know why Ancarth the Black left the lands of men unconquered. He lost his staff of power but the staff is a tool for focusing power – not power itself. Even without it he was able to transport himself and a horde the size of which none of us can comprehend to the other side of the world.” At Selth’s gasp he looked over at her and nodded, “Yes, there is a reason that half of Aulternanden is uninhabitable, why half of Aulternanden is dubbed ‘the forgotten lands,’ but it’s not because of the corruption left over by Ancarth the Black. It is because of Ancarth the Black himself. All men who wander into those wastes are killed by the very same monsters that the bard just told us about. Monsters that no one can imagine. But the academy has kept an eye on the wastes, and Ancarth is restless.”