The Woad to Wuin

by Peter David

  Well, the damage my chest had sustained was certainly new. I was a mess. There was a gaping hole where the fire had burned through my tunic, and the material itself was now on fire. Frantically I tore the tunic from me, ripping it apart and throwing the fiery tatters to the ground. My vision started to clear, and I looked down in dismay at the charred hole in my chest that the gem had once occupied. The hole did not go entirely through my chest, fortunately. It was more like a deep, blackened crater. It still hurt like hell, though.

  And other things began to come clear as well. The veil upon my mind, that which had seemed to separate one part of my brain from another, was lifted. Suddenly the man that I was, and the man that I had become, were reconciled, and I fully comprehended for the first time in months what had truly happened to me. And the knowledge shook me to the core.

  And that was when Boar Tooth, about whom I had completely forgotten, howled in fury and swung his sword at me.

  I backstepped … and the only thing that saved me was my complete and utter collapse. My right leg totally gave way beneath the sudden shift, and I was on the ground, looking up in utter bewilderment.

  Boar Tooth advanced on me, swinging his sword back and around, and at that moment I knew beyond question that my invulnerability was gone. And that instant, with death only a heartbeat away, I heard a high-pitched, angry shriek, and suddenly Mordant was upon Boar Tooth’s face, clawing and screeching. Boar Tooth no doubt screamed, but the outcry was muffled by the drabit’s body.

  My sword lay barely a foot away. I threw myself forward, grabbed it up, and swung it with all my strength. It was a cheap and rather pathetic blow, but it was nevertheless an effective one, for I struck him in the tendon just behind the right ankle and severed it. Boar Tooth was busy struggling with the drabit and didn’t realize until too late what had happened, and then he too was upon the ground, writhing in pain. Mordant had vaulted off him just before he’d fallen, and then I was upon Boar Tooth in a flash. Crippled I once again might have been, but the strength in my arms was still undiminished, and I slammed Boar Tooth’s head up and down repeatedly against the ground, bellowing, “You speak to me of killing helpless women!? This is for her! This is for that woman whose only crime was mourning her husband! Did you think I’d forgotten that? Monster! Brute!”

  The reality of the world around me spun away, and then strong hands were lifting me off the battered and confused Boar Tooth. I struggled the best I could in the grip of those who had once been my loyal men, but it was a struggle just not to pass out from the pain that was screaming within me.

  And then terrified cries of “Look!” and “Impossible!” and “Gods save us!” erupted from throats all around me, and I looked at what was prompting them to cry out. With my newfound knowledge, with my awareness of just what had transpired during the time that the Eye of the Beholder had kept me in its grip, I somehow knew what to expect. And even so, when I witnessed it, it was still heartstopping.

  From each of the fractured shards of the Eye, a single shadowy being was emerging. Each was of darkest ebony, with a twisted smile upon its face and a shimmering sword in its hand. Within moments a hundred of them were there, standing in the courtyard, looking around with that very familiar sneer.

  Familiar … because it was mine.

  Chapter 10

  Shadow Dance

  It wasn’t me.

  That was the realization I had come to, the understanding that had flooded into me. It was not, and never had been, me.

  All right … that was not entirely true. It was me in the sense that my darkness, my frustration and anger, my fundamental loathing for the world helped to propel the events and the things that had occurred. That part was me.

  The rest had been the Eye of the Beholder …

  … and the Rockmunchers.

  The fury that had driven me, the thirst for vengeance and conquest, had been at the behest of trolls who had been unfairly and prematurely deprived of their lives by invaders. They had been a vanquished race as their conquerors had stormed through the caverns known as Ba’da’boom in a quest to deprive them of their fortunes and their lives. The quest had been successful, and the Rockmunchers had died beneath the fearsome weapons of the invaders. They had not, however, gone quietly.

  In point of fact … they had not gone at all.

  Sharee had been right. Their fearsome shades had continued to reside in Ba’da’boom, gaining strength from their eternal darkness and even more eternal resentment against the beings from above who had stormed them and annihilated them. And when I had passed through their caverns, when I had been assaulted by them … they had sensed in me a kindred spirit. One who harbored as much anger and resentment toward humanity as they themselves had.

  And more … apparently, they sensed the power of the gem that I had upon me, even though we were not yet bonded. They sensed what the gem was seeking, and were more than happy to provide it. So they … they inhabited me. Set up shop within me. I, who had been an innkeeper, had become a living inn. More … I had become, just as foreseen, a shadow of myself.

  There, in the desert, when I was on the verge of death, my life force at its weakest, my soul exhausted and ready to provide no resistance … that was when the vengeful essence of the Rockmunchers took full control of me. That was when the Eye of the Beholder knew that it had found its ideal mate and merged itself into my body, so as to take possession of the soul as well.

  But the shades of the Rockmunchers required the darkness to survive, for they had spent centuries in that environment, both living and dead, and daylight was anathema to them. Thus did Apropos the Peacelord become known, at first, as the creature who came in the night. Stalking innocent and helpless victims, acquiring followers and then a following. Perhaps the preference for the night added to the mysteriousness that was the Peacelord. Whatever the reason, the night raids of Apropos of Wuin began to become legendary, and that was when the ranks of the followers began to swell. The more powerful and popular “I” became, the more formidable a force I was able to amass. Soon daylight raids were no longer a burden … except that the Rockmunchers in possession of my mind and body preferred to remain inside at such times. They feared the light of truth, the flame of knowledge. All they knew was instinct which told them to hide themselves while scheming and planning new assaults and terrors.

  But finally, by purest happenstance, their instincts betrayed them. During the battle of Jaifa, as bizarre fortune would have it, the sun was blotted out by shadow. Day turned into night, and in his tent Apropos the Peacelord awoke from his daytime slumber and leaped to the erroneous conclusion that night had fallen. This obscuring of the sun and premature evening fall was caused by that rare phenomena generally referred to as an “occultation” … or, as some call it, an “eclipse.” Rockmunchers, even dead ones in possession of my body, knew nothing of such things. All they knew was day and night, and when night came upon them, they erroneously leaped to the conclusion that it was time to indulge in some mayhem.

  And so they had, leaping out of the tent and into battle. A most zealous display did they put on, employing my body as they had before to hack and slash and attack all comers. But then they were startled by something most unexpected: The return of the sun. Faced with the advent of their most reviled enemy, the Rockmuncher’s control of my heart and mind was shattered, and they slipped far, far back into the recesses of my mind as my own awareness finally took hold of myself after a lengthy “sleep.”

  Thus it was that I came to my senses standing over a slain foe and wondering how in the world I had arrived at this pass.

  With my own personality, albeit befuddled, nevertheless back in control, the Rockmunchers could do nothing. Nothing except wait with the infinite patience that only the deceased can display. Wait for the last, few bright areas in my own soul to be totally devoured by the Eye of the Beholder so that they could reassert themselves and establish dominance over my mind and body once and for all. They had temporarily regained c
ontrol during my berserker rage in fighting Meander’s men. And now they had been anticipating becoming fully in charge and, with my own soul joining theirs permanently in hatred, never fearing light again.

  I had thwarted that plan.

  They weren’t taking it well.

  For a moment that might have been carved from the great glacier of passing time, all stood frozen. No one knew what to make of this new development. And really … how to explain it? How to say that the mystic, caliginous spirit of the witch goddess Hecate had been, in its dying throes, drawn into a gem of such incredible power that it was called the Eye of the Beholder—the “Beholders” being gods—and that the incredible potency of that soul had provided a final catalyst that enabled the long imprisoned, vengeful shades of dead Rock trolls to utilize the Eye and manifest themselves in my shape.

  “Run,” whispered Slake to the assemblage, and really, that more or less seemed to be all that was needed.

  A storm of terror ripped through the men, and they had no interest whatsoever in trying to trade blows with creatures who had sprung fully formed from shattered shards of a gem. They knew sorcery or matters of an eldritch nature when they saw it, and none of them wanted any part of it. The shades of the Rockmunchers in the shape of Apropos, however, wanted a part of the assembled soldiers. They saw, in the beings who surrounded them, incarnations of the merciless monsters who had deprived them of their futures. That my soldiers had had nothing to do with the deaths of the Rockmunchers didn’t really enter into it. They wanted vengeance, my men were at hand, the power of Hecate had emboldened them, and all the cries of “Run!” weren’t going to do one bit of good.

  I had been wondering, even as I stood there paralyzed with fear, whether they were capable of articulating any sort of noise. The answer to that was a most resounding “Yea,” as with one voice the assembled shades of the Rockmunchers of Ba’da’boom cried out their chants of longing and damnation, and then they ran in all directions and began their attack.

  My men tried to run. It did them very little good. The alternate “me’s” were upon them in a flash, and my men would punch and claw at them to no affect at all. But my ghostly incarnations would then bring their own shadow blades down upon their victims, and each cut was deep and true and lethal.

  It was also obvious to me that the … creatures … shared whatever anger happened to be upon me at that moment. Whilst the others scattered, wreaking havoc wherever they could, four of them concentrated on Boar Tooth. Apparently the resentment I’d carried toward Boar Tooth ever since I encountered his first act of brutality had been present within me but rather repressed. Well, there was no repression anymore. The four of “me” who had singled out Boar Tooth each grabbed an arm and a leg of his respectively, and he realized what was about to happen and alternately screamed curses and begged for his miserable life. Each was equally effective, which is to say, not at all. With only the slightest hesitation—more, I think, to hear what he had to say so they could laugh at it, rather than out of genuine interest in complying—the Shades-Who-Walked-Like-Me yanked in four different directions. They could not have gotten a more immediate, or gore-filled result from their efforts.

  It was utter chaos, which of course was exactly what they wanted. It was amazing how quickly things could change; one moment I was the center of attention, and the next I was completely forgotten as the troops endeavored to fight back. They outnumbered my dark duplicates, but it didn’t seem to matter. Remember, after all, how many soldiers I had been able to take down when it had been just me in berserker mode. Well, that was as nothing compared to these shades as they descended upon my men, hacking and slashing and drinking deep from the cup of revenge. They were fueled by their own resentment over the genocide of their race, my own fundamental hatred for humanity as a whole, and the fearsome power that had been Hecate. It was a potent combination … and one that I had no desire to be anywhere near.

  I had a brief glimpse, in the midst of it all, of Meander. Somehow he had managed to get his hands free, even though they’d been tied behind him. I suspected that he’d always had enough sheer strength to break his bonds. He had simply gone along with all of this in his odd, detached manner, possibly to see how it all turned out. He certainly seemed to be enjoying it now, for he had gotten a sword in his hands, and he was slicing this way and that at the various shades. Physically, he was having no effect on them. Yet I found it morbidly curious that, despite the lack of impact he was having, the shades were loathe to try and finish him. Several gathered near him, feinted, but did not yet press the attack. I had no idea why.

  Nor did I choose to dwell on it, for at that moment my only concern was getting out of there. I had no reason to assume that the shades would spare me their wrath. Indeed, I’d probably be a prime target. For as enraged as I had been with the men who had sworn loyalty to me, I was just as infuriated with myself for having empowered them to indulge in such horrid activities. And that self-loathing would certainly translate into serious trouble at the hands—or blades, or whatever—of the creatures who bore my shape.

  The important thing was not to run out of there in a panic. That’s what virtually everyone else was trying to do, and it wasn’t going well for them. The courtyard was already slick with blood, and my shades were having a grand old time in the midst of the slaughter.

  I had already slid my sword back into my scabbard, and now with my staff firmly in hand, my back against the wall, I started to make my way out of the courtyard. I knew I had to get to the stables, grab a horse, and bolt out of there. I only wished that the marvelous Entipy had still been alive, since I had not yet found a horse that was her equal. But I was hardly in a position to be choosy; presuming I made it to the stables, I’d take whatever I could get.

  Slake was trying to rally the troops, waving his sword over his head and screaming defiance. But his screams were laced with fear, and that drew the shades to him like a great beacon of darkness.

  I was almost out the far gate when suddenly I skidded to a halt. One of my shades was blocking my way. It stared straight at me, and its eyes were burning with a black flame that generated no heat, but only cold. I felt my knees buckling under me, fear overwhelming me. It grinned from ear to nonexistent ear and advanced upon me.

  “No … please, no …” My voice trembled, and I would have backed up if I could have commanded my body to do something other than quake. At that moment there was a warning screech, and the shade looked up just in time to see Mordant swooping down toward it.

  The shade fell back, swinging its sword in anger and confusion at the rapidly darting beast, and not coming close to touching it. I realized that the drabit was serving as a distraction, and I did not hesitate to take full advantage of it. I quickly made my way out the gate as the shade, apparently having totally forgotten me, kept trying to pick the swift-moving beast out of the air and failing utterly.

  I heard the cries and shrieks of pain and death behind me as I hobbled to the stable as quickly as my lame leg would permit me. I thought about how many times I had heard those sounds in other cities, other towns, and how it had never seemed to matter. After all, those were just the fortunes of war, correct? Oddly enough, hearing the death throes of my army, the agonies of men who had—until recently—sworn utter fealty to my name … it mattered even less than any of the cries I’d heard from our victims.

  The horses were mad with fear in the stables, bucking about, knowing that death was hurtling about on raven-black wings, and unable to get away from it. Had they not each been tied to posts, they would easily have smashed down the walls in their crazed endeavors to get away. I picked one that I recognized from my expedition in pursuit of Beliquose. Moving as quickly as I could, considering my hands were trembling, I fastened the bridle on while the horse tried to buck away from me. I held it fast as I yanked the reins back around it, and didn’t take the time to attach a saddle. I clambered onto the horse’s back, and it certainly wasn’t one of my more graceful moves, but I
managed to get myself up there just the same. Once again for convenience sake, I twisted my walking staff apart, shoved the two halves into my belt, and then yanked out my sword. I cut the horse’s ties to the hitching post, and the great creature wasted no time at all in darting out of the stable, as anxious to leave this evil place behind as I was. The other horses whinnied and neighed in supplication, and I must tell you that I have always preferred horses to people, and been far more concerned about the fate of the former than the latter.

  I drew the reins tight, snapped the horse around. With quick, efficient movements I sliced through the tethers that were keeping the horses in place. At first my horse resisted, anxious only to leave this place of uncanny death behind, but I think the beast realized what I was doing after I’d freed the first couple of its fellows. From that point on it stopped fighting me, and then it was only a matter of a minute to liberate the lot of them.

  I could do nothing further for them; there was no time. It sounded to me as if the noises of battle and blood and death were drawing closer. I slammed my knees into the horse’s side, cried out, “Yaaahhh!!” and urged the horse forward. Frankly, it needed no urging. The horse fairly leaped forward, and it was all I could do to hold on as it galloped out onto one of the main roads and headed for the front gates.

  I was in the way.

  That is to say, the shades of me. Several of them, blocking the path. I muttered an oath as the horse reared up, whinnying in terror, and the shades converged upon me. The horse needed no guidance from me. It darted to the right, and the shades moved to intercept, but the beast was too quick. It went as far to the right as possible, and my right leg slammed into the front of a small building. Fortunately there wasn’t a great deal of damage to do to that particular limb, and then we were past our pursuers, pounding past the jagged wall and through the lower part of the city.