Warriors of the Black Shroud

by Peter Howe

  She dismounted, handing her unicorn to a waiting page, and strode purposefully up the stairs to the Royal Chambers. The knights headed toward the Hall on the other side of the courtyard, leaving the three friends by themselves. Walker looked at Eddie. He stood with his head bowed, determined not to look at anyone.

  “Eddie,” Walker said hesitantly, not knowing quite what to say.

  “Leave me alone,” Eddie muttered under his breath. “Just leave me alone, please.”

  “But Eddie,” Walker persisted, “we’re your friends.”

  “Nobody needs a coward for a friend,” he said.

  Frankie stepped forward and once again put her arm around him. This time he tried halfheartedly to shake it off, but she was determined.

  “Walker’s right,” she said. “We are your friends, and you’re not a coward. You said yourself that there was nothing even the king and the knights that were with him could do, that the Black Count was too powerful, so what could you have done?”

  “I could’ve tried,” Eddie answered, “and I should have tried, but I was scared and I couldn’t move. That’s the point, not whether I could’ve done anything. If I were armed with a thousand Lances of Light it would’ve made no difference. I couldn’t move. I let fear control me and I swore I would never let that happen again.”

  Chapter 14

  Walker could feel the tension in the air as Lumina called the emergency meeting of the Council of Lightkeepers to order. Eddie was at the meeting because he was the only witness to the king’s death, and Frankie was also in the antechamber for no other reason than her determination not to be left out.

  “Lightkeepers.” Lumina’s voice rang out. “Give me your attention.”

  The room went silent and all eyes were upon her. Fussingham sat waiting to scribble down every word she uttered, but Luzaro was nowhere to be found.

  “We mourn the loss of our beloved sovereign,” she went on. “But as we cope with our present grief we have to look to the challenges that lie ahead. We must decide on two things immediately: how we face any further threats from the Black Count, and who will rule the Kingdom as we go forward.”

  She paused for a moment, scanning the faces of her audience. All eyes were upon her.

  “We should think carefully about the future of this realm,” she continued. “Maybe we should consider another form of government. Having a king has served us well as long as one as wise and courageous as Leukos held the throne, but since he left no heir perhaps we should ponder other ways of leading our people.”

  A murmur of surprise and disbelief rippled through the audience, and Walker saw Jevon go rigid with anger. Lumina continued to speak.

  “Ever since our victory at the Battle of Barren Plains there has been peace because we allowed the Black Count to roam freely through Diabolonia. That is his realm as Nebula is ours. I would propose that we do nothing to further aggravate the situation. If the Black Count sees no more incursions into his territory I believe he will leave us alone and we will continue to live as we have, in harmony.”

  This time a buzz of agreement ran through the crowd.

  “Furthermore, I suggest that we elect a committee of leaders from the ranks of the Lightkeepers,” she went on, “to deal with the future government of the realm.”

  “An excellent idea, my lady,” said one of the knights, a pompous fellow that Walker had noticed before, “but only if you will agree to lead it.”

  “I would be happy to, Lord Lucata,” Lumina replied, “but only if you also agree to serve upon it with me.”

  “It would be an honor and a pleasure,” he responded.

  Jevon could stand this no more. He stood up and faced Lumina.

  “My lady, are you not forgetting something?” he asked. “This is a Kingdom, and for good reason. We depend upon the Source for everything we hold dear, but the workings of the Source are mysterious, and only a Chosen One can know its secrets. A committee cannot stand before the Source and benefit from its wisdom. That is why King Leukos sent our messenger far and wide for many Eons searching for a Chosen One like himself, and finally we are blessed to have one among us.”

  “But this so-called Chosen One, this bearer of the mark,” protested Lumina, “is just a child, and a child of the Outerworld at that. What does he know of the Kingdom and its ways?”

  She turned to address Walker.

  “Tell me, boy,” she demanded, “do you know the secrets of the Source?”

  “No, ma’am,” Walker replied. “His Majesty took me to the Sanctuary and revealed them to me, but said that until I agreed to be king I would not remember them.”

  “And my understanding is,” said Lumina, “that you have no desire to be king. Is this not so?”

  Walker looked around him at the many faces of the Lightkeepers, as well as those of his friends and Jevon. He thought of his parents and the world that waited for him at home, but he also thought about the king and Astrodor, Eddie, and Lightning. Suddenly everything became clear to him. He could not fail them. He could not fail his friends. What did he have to lose, anyway? How often would a kid from rural New England get to be the king of anything?

  “No, Lady Lumina,” he said. “That isn’t so. I do want to be king.”

  As he said this he suddenly felt like he was back with the king walking down the passages that led to the Sanctuary. It was like watching a movie on fast-forward, but it was also crystal clear, and he remembered everything the king had told him in detail. Then it was over and he was still in the room full of Lightkeepers. His body hadn’t moved; only his mind had gone back to the Source with the dead leader.

  “You may wish to be king,” Lumina said, “but we must decide if you’re fit to be king. You bear the mark, but without the secret of the Source what good is that for the Kingdom?”

  “I know the secrets,” he assured her. “All of them.”

  “But you just said moments ago that you didn’t,” she protested. “Which is it to be—do you or don’t you?”

  Jevon answered for him.

  “Lady Lumina,” he said, “King Leukos promised the Chosen One that he would remember all that he was told in the Sanctuary only when he decided to become his heir, and that is what has just happened. I submit that as the Guardian of the Secrets and Bearer of the Mark this young man is the only one qualified to lead us. The danger is great, and the peril within the walls may be as grave as it is outside them.”

  “I am yet to be convinced of the boy’s abilities,” Lumina answered sharply, “and I refuse to believe we’re threatened by our own people.”

  “Not our own people,” Jevon corrected her, “but the Nightangels. King Leukos feared that these agents of the Black Count had infiltrated Nebula and would pit neighbor against neighbor. He said they can take any form, and if they were among us now we might not even know. As you know, my lady, strange things have been happening on the streets. You must have seen and heard—”

  “Oh, not the Nightangels again!” Lumina said, rolling her eyes. “His Majesty, great leader though he was, had groundless theories about many things,” she said. “I would need more evidence of this than I have seen so far.”

  “My lady,” replied Jevon, “I hope you never will see the evidence you require, because if you do it may be too late.”

  His hope was to remain unfulfilled, for no sooner had he said this than the evidence appeared. Shouts and cries could be heard from the streets outside the Palace. A Lightkeeper standing near one of the windows turned to Lumina with horror on his face.

  “My lady, something terrible is happening.”

  But before she could move toward him to see for herself, there was a shout behind her and suddenly Walker felt an arm around his neck. A hand that was as thin as a skeleton’s pressed the point of a dagger against his throat. Then he heard a voice yell “Grab the girl!” He couldn’t move his head because of the knife, but out of the corner of one eye he saw a figure grasp Frankie’s arm and lift her clean off her feet.
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  The figure was dressed in the same white clothing worn by all of Nebula’s citizens, but his appeared to be several sizes too large for him. He had almost no flesh on his body, mostly just skin stretched tightly over bones; his head was like a skull with hair and bulging eyes that were a brilliant red. He looked monstrous and yet somehow familiar.

  “I have her!” the creature said. “She won’t get away!”

  Suddenly Astrodor ran toward the monster.

  “Father, is that you? What has happened to you? Why are you doing this? Please let her go,” he pleaded.

  “I’m not your father, you stupid boy,” the creature replied. “Your father died two Eons ago. I merely took his form.”

  Astrodor froze where he stood. His eyes were wide with disbelief. Jevon stepped in front of the person holding Walker, and spoke to him in a calm voice.

  “Luzaro, release the boy and let’s talk about this.”

  “You know me as Luzaro but my name is Thoren, Captain of the Nightangels,” replied Walker’s captor. “Luzaro, too, met with—shall we say, an unfortunate accident. I took his form hoping to find out the location of the Source but alas, to no avail. Luckily this Chosen One came along just in time, and now he can unlock its secrets.”

  At that moment a group of Nightangels armed with swords and daggers crashed into the antechamber. They easily pushed their way through the unarmed Lightkeepers.

  “Take the other child and disarm him,” Thoren ordered, “and bring the page as well.”

  Eddie raised his sword.

  “No, I’ll die first!” he shouted, swinging the sword over his head in wild circles.

  The Nightangels backed away, watching every move that Eddie made. He edged toward Walker, his weapon flailing over his head.

  “Move in and get him,” Thoren ordered.

  With their swords held out in front of them four of the Nightangels began to close in on the boy. One of them thrust a sword into the path of Eddie’s blade, and there was a clanging sound and a shower of sparks as metal met metal. Eddie managed to hold on to his weapon, but the clash allowed the other three Nightangels to close in. One of them grabbed his wrist and disarmed him, while another put an arm around his neck and pulled him to the ground. He continued to struggle, kicking out at his enemies with all his might, but it was useless, and he was taken captive.

  The Nightangels dragged all three of their prisoners into the king’s bedroom. When guards were in place at the doorway Thoren released Walker, while still pointing the dagger at his neck.

  “Well, Chosen One,” he growled, “your memory returned just in time. Lead us to the Source now that you remember how to get there.”

  “Don’t do it!” yelled Eddie.

  “Silence!” roared Thoren.

  The Nightangel holding him slapped a skeletal hand across Eddie’s mouth, and the boy gagged. The stench of decay that came from every one of their captors hung heavily in the bedroom.

  “What if I don’t take you,” Walker said, trying to sound brave and defiant. “What if I tell you to go jump off a cliff.”

  “Then you would cause the long, slow, and painful deaths of your friends, one by one, and in front of your eyes,” Thoren assured him. “We have ways of killing that make eternal slavery seem like a pleasant vacation. We would start with the girl first, and since you’re such a sensitive soul, I wager you’ll give in before we’re even halfway through.”

  Walker looked at Frankie. She had already tried to bite Astrodor’s “father” and had given a hefty kick to his shins, but nothing had any effect. Walker realized that if it weren’t for him she wouldn’t be in this mess in the first place.

  “So for their sakes,” Thoren continued, “it would be best if you could remember everything that old fool Leukos told you.”

  Walker paused for a minute before answering.

  “If I take you there,” he asked Thoren, “what’s in it for me? What do I get?”

  “You get to see your friends live,” Thoren replied.

  “I don’t care about them,” Walker said. “They’re not really my friends. I don’t have friends; I’ve never had friends. No, I’ve been thinking. If I can’t be king I want to be a Nightangel. I’ve always been a loser, and for once in my life I want to be on the winning team, on the team that has the power. That’s the deal. I’ll take you to the Source, but you have to do that for me.”

  The other children looked at him in stunned silence. Then Eddie pulled the hand away from his mouth and yelled at Walker.

  “You traitor; you coward. I wish I’d never seen you and that stupid mark. I wish you’d died—no—I wish you’d never been born. If I ever . . .”

  The Nightangel clamped his hand back on Eddie’s mouth and roughly shoved him to his knees. Frankie stared at Walker.

  “Please don’t do it, Walker,” she begged. “Please!”

  “Well, well,” chuckled Thoren. “You may be a smarter young man than I imagined. Of course the Black Count is the only one who can make such a decision, but if you help us I think he would be agreeable.”

  “Okay,” said Walker. “I’ll take you to the Source. No need to bring these three along. They’ll only get in the way and try to cause trouble.”

  “Agreed,” said Thoren.

  He ordered two of the Nightangels guarding the door to join him, and the three of them waited for Walker to lead them to the most secret Sanctuary of the Source.

  Chapter 15

  Well, boy,” growled Thoren. “Let’s get started. I know we go from here. The king’s servant sees many things.”

  “The unicorn’s ear,” said Walker. “You have to grasp the unicorn’s ear.”

  He pointed toward the heraldic carving on the far wall. It was in the form of a shield with the sun-shaped symbol of the Kingdom in the lower half, above which were two crossed swords. The top part depicted a unicorn’s head with a crown around its neck. The animal’s left ear was the only part of the carving that stood out enough to get a hand around. Thoren raced toward the shield, grabbed hold of the ear, and pulled with all his might. Nothing happened.

  “I warn you,” he snarled, “don’t play games with me.”

  Walker said nothing but walked toward the carving himself. When he took hold of the ear, which he could barely reach, the wall silently revolved to reveal another room, smaller than the bedroom.

  “The way to the Source is open only to a Chosen One,” Walker explained.

  “I’m so glad we have one, then,” sneered Thoren, grabbing hold of Walker’s arm and dragging him into the room, followed closely by the other two Nightangels. Once everybody was inside, the wall slid back into its closed position. Thoren whirled around, his dagger at the ready.

  “This had better not be a trap!” he cried. “If it is it will be the last one you set.”

  “Why would I want to trap you, sir?” Walker said respectfully. “Remember, I’m on your side. I told you, I want to join the Nightangels.”

  “But there is no way out of this,” Thoren observed, looking around the room. “Where do we go from here?”

  Walker went to the far left-hand corner of the room and turned back toward Thoren.

  “We go this way,” he said, as he walked through the wall and disappeared. The three Nightangels ran toward what appeared to be a solid wall, but it was merely a trick of light, a projection of the room’s glow that hid a narrow opening.

  They found Walker waiting for them in a passageway that spiraled down in broad sweeps, going deep belowground. Thoren strode ahead of them, and as the other Nightangels prodded Walker forward they noticed a strange thing happening. The farther the boy went the brighter he glowed.

  “That’s good,” Thoren remarked when they pointed this out. “That must mean we’re on the right path.”

  They had gone no more than a few feet when he seemed to be proven wrong. The passageway suddenly stopped in a dead end. Thoren went up to its face and inspected it carefully. It looked like solid rock. There were no s
eams, cracks, or any other indication that it had ever moved or ever would.

  “I assume,” he said to Walker, “there is a solution to this.”

  “Yes, sir,” Walker replied. “A very simple one.”

  He walked up to the rock face and placed his hand upon it. A rumbling noise started and vibrations began to shake the passageway. Then, slowly, the end of the tunnel began to open. As it did a bright light flooded the passageway, temporarily blinding them with its intensity. When their eyes adjusted they saw that the light came from the walls, floor, and ceiling of a large room, empty except for another carving of the same heraldic shield that they had first seen in the Royal Chambers.

  “We are at the Sanctuary,” Walker said, “but for the next part I need the help of you two gentlemen.”

  He turned to his escort of Nightangels.

  “Do whatever he says,” Thoren ordered impatiently.

  “You must lift me up,” Walker instructed the two creatures, “and place the mark on my cheek next to the eye of the unicorn.”

  The Nightangels were strong and with one on either side of him they easily lifted Walker up and did as he said. As his birthmark came close to the carved eye a piercing alarm began to sound, and slowly one entire wall of the room began to rise. The alarm became louder, and light of an unimaginable brilliance shone through the opening.

  When the wall was completely open the alarm stopped, but its shrill sound was replaced by the scream of the Nightangels. They pressed their hands over their eyes and stumbled blindly around in front of the Source, bumping into one another. They grabbed on to one another’s clothing or put their arms out to steady themselves, and Walker saw that their eyes had lost all their brilliant red color and now were horrific milky spheres protruding from their sockets.

  “You ordered me to remember all the secrets the king told me and I did,” he said. “One of them was that only a Chosen One could withstand the light of the Source. All others will be blinded by its brilliance. That’s why it was important that Frankie and Eddie didn’t come with us.”