Gods of Shadow and Flame

by M. H. Johnson

  Malek had the grace to blush. "My apologies. I don't know where that came from. Just a flash of a memory, I suppose." He chuckled wryly. "We always seemed to work best as tactical commanders and as Delvers by always seizing the moment, spotting our foe's weaknesses and immediately charging in, blades swinging, without a moment's hesitation or second-guessing ourselves. For all that a master strategist may wish to pause and devote endless hours to devising the perfect strategy for a given situation, in the heat of the ever changing conditions of combat, the best battlefield commanders are those who know how to sense the flow of combat and see exactly what must be done, and do it, without overthinking it, exactly how Eloquin trained Jess and I to be, playing us to our strengths, even as other students were relegated to more careful deliberations, studying ancient wars and the flow of campaigns in their entirety."

  Malek grinned "Of course, Jess and I had the knack for strategic planning as well, an act that once almost got us into serious trouble, but never mind that. In any event, our training carried over to our experiences in Shadow, and since we are both among the living, it worked out well for us."

  The Guildmaster gave an approving chuckle. "That is right. Both you and Jessica were prize students of Eloquin's. Trained as saboteurs and assassins as well as battlefield commanders, well versed in causing havoc behind enemy lines. Training so thorough that the deadliest Crown Agents tend to be recruited from Squires of War. Is that not so, young Malek?"

  Malek blinked, suddenly breathless. He had been careful to speak only in the most general of terms. Many had heard the term Squire of War, few knew what it really entailed. But of course Gregorian would uncover Malek's background. With such an uncertain, potent Delver now at his Guildhall, tied to a group of companions who now had permanent quarters here, how could he not?

  "It is not for me to say," Malek said at last, almost as if it were a test of sorts, for he had his own oaths to keep regarding the fierce training he had received at Highrock

  Gregorian gave an approving nod. "Exactly, dear Malek. For you see? You are able to hold onto old oaths of discretion, old duties and promises given, even if they no longer apply to your present life as a Delver. You are also free of the obligations of nobility, for all that you still enjoy a noble's rank, your father's folly in rejecting you not even worth noting, save to say you are a blessing to our nation, whatever that man might think."

  Malek felt suddenly shaken, realizing just how insightful and well informed Gregorian was. He was glad that he had not permanently gotten on this man's bad side with words said in angry haste a few days prior, for which Morlekai had, rightly, immediately put him in his place, very like an alpha nipping an unruly pup.

  "And fear not, my young friend. For as I'm sure you've already deduced, few are as in the know as the Guild's highest echelons, appreciated by those truly in power for our discretion, our ability to assist, and in always keeping to our own oaths."

  Malek gave a cautious nod. "Of course. Who would know what our nation prepares for behind the scenes better than Guildmasters such as yourself? Men who might be called upon to assist with all sorts of… things… that various individuals in charge of our great nation might need done, so as to better navigate Erovering through the storm to come."

  Gregorian gave a soft chuckle. “I see you do understand, my dear Malek. You and I both know what’s coming, and how important it is that we be prepared. How important it is that we be valued and appreciated by those who pull so many strings of power and influence. And how important it is that our integrity never be questioned while doing so.”

  Malek gave a slow nod. Imagining the Guild serving as a shadow branch of assassins under the king himself, taking out unwanted opposition to various policies, discretely, even as Friends of the Guild, a status so many lords and ladies almost desperately strove to earn, could at least rest easy, knowing that oaths made would be kept, and they at least didn’t have to worry about the Guild maneuvering against them, whatever other enemies they may have to contend with aside. “I think I understand.”

  Gregorian's knowing eyes bore into his own. "I sense that you do, my dear Malek. I sense that you do." He smiled then, releasing Malek from his gaze. "And let us not forget, you did keep faith with those foolish sailors who had chosen the wrong voyage to involve themselves with; allowing them to survive the night after having sailed you and the children back to port. I have no doubt they will tell the tale of how their foolish captain had outsmarted himself, as well as the fact that you allowed the remaining crew to leave unmolested. Not an entirely bad tale to have circulate in certain circles. It should serve us well enough, so long as you keep in mind why it is so important that none have cause to doubt the value of our word. Not the most powerful noble nor the most vile lowlife. Our word, once given, is sacred, transcending all other factors."

  Malek nodded, easing a sigh of relief, as if he were a hooked fish suddenly freed to swim away once more.

  "When all is said and done, you saved twelve innocent children, from as dark and vile a fate as would haunt any parent's worst nightmares. I commend you for having the resolve to take the darker path for the greater good, even here in the waking world. The Guild always has a need for members with that singularity of noble spirit and purpose. Something I hope you will keep in mind in the days and weeks to come."

  Malek blinked. “You mean Delvers willing to serve as blackened daggers.” He flushed of a sudden, fearing he had just said the worst thing he possibly could. And after the Guildmaster had looked upon his actions in such a forgiving light, here he was, boldly confronting him about a topic all agreed to leave unsaid.

  Much to his utter relief, Gregorian did naught but favor Malek with a gentle smile.

  "It is not always easy to walk the darker path in the waking world, even when the cause is just, as was your own, especially when one must be willing to shed the blood of those who oppose your righteous cause. A path you yourself have walked plenty of times as a Squire of War already, have you not? One of Eloquin's Chosen. The king's secret weapon, purging numerous bands of slavers and raiders from the face of Erovering, neither asking nor giving quarter, no matter how well fortified those bases had been, no matter how your foes begged. That purging relegated to lads and lasses little more than children who dared to don the mantle of Squire, the Council itself refusing even to acknowledge that the problem existed. And all of this, starting years before you joined our ranks. Serving King and Crown much like you did tonight, the blood on your blade justice dispensed, the rescued serfs comprising so much of Highrock's utterly loyal staff a balm upon your soul, much like the children sleeping but feet away from us even now. Is this not so?"

  Malek swallowed, speechless, his heart hammering. Truly, no secrets were hidden from the Guild.

  "Ah, and think of the virtue of it! A dozen little ones who I promise you will live better lives, now that you have saved them. Children who, I would not be surprised, will find themselves sponsored by kind masters in worthy trades, or schools outright if they have the mental fortitude for it, their parents suddenly blessed with better work than perhaps they have now." The Guildmaster nodded. "Yes, the blood of foul slavers had to be spilled. But you did not shirk from that duty. You honored that responsibility, as you always have before. For you, Malek, are Delver and Squire both. And now twelve children and their families will live lives blessed by hope, mercy, and grace, because of your ability to take the harder path. To judge their lives more worthy than the monsters who would torment them, and to boldly do what must be done.”

  Malek dipped his head in genuine gratitude, touched by the first half of what Gregorian was saying, as much as he was discomfited by the deeper message. “Any help that the Guild would give to the children’s families, I am most grateful for, Guildmaster. And of course, you may use whatever expenses are incurred out of my own purse.”

  Gregorian gave a gentle chuckle. “No need for that, dear Malek. Have you not already given away a prince's ransom saving your shie
ldsister from foul intrigue of a most diabolical nature?”

  Malek shivered even as Gregorian gave a sympathetic shake of his head. The man knew far too much. "No, dear Malek. You are a Delver in excellent standing who has told a noble tale of courage and rescue, even here in the waking world. And we will do our part to make sure those children's lives are the better for it. As they have been rescued by you and by extension us as well, we owe it to the glory of our own tale to allow their stories to end as happily as we can help make them. Rest assured, noble Malek. Full bellies, warm winter clothes, secure lodgings, and hope for honest and honorable trades are dreams we shall grant all their families, and all thanks to you."

  Malek couldn’t help but smile in pleased relief. “Thank you, Guildmaster.”

  "No, dear Malek. It is I who thank you. And thank you as well for sharing the confession of your guardsmen acquaintances who have let it be known to you just how… skewed the priorities of Barlton's town council have become. Rest assured my young friend, I shall explain to our council in exquisite detail the importance of having investigative agents among the town guard who will act on behalf of all our citizens equally, not just a favored few." His cold smile caused Malek to shiver in delicious anticipation, imagining how fast those narcissistic fools would jump to appease the Guildmaster when they found out just how displeased he was with their conduct.

  “Oh I’d love to sit in on that little conversation,” Malek grinned, earning a soft chuckle from Gregorian.

  “I think it best you forgo that, my young friend. Unmitigated terror is not the mood I wish to strike with them, and your gaze can be most intense, when you feel a passion for something.”

  Malek nodded. "And may I apologize as well, Guildmaster, for words rashly said in the heat of the moment when first we met.

  The man waved his apology away. “Think nothing of that, dear Malek. Your noble intentions speak for themselves. I have no doubt you’ll save your berserker fury for those foes of the Guild and creatures of Shadow who most deserve it, jovial bluster aside.”

  Still feeling a bit chagrined, Malek nodded, earning an approving grin form Gregorian. “Excellent, young Malek. I am glad we had this opportunity to discuss the affairs of the evening, and to put your heart at ease.”

  Malek got up with a polite bow. “Thank you, Guildmaster Gregorian.”

  "But of course. And Malek? Should other situations arise that require one brave enough to walk the shadowy path, just know that we support you. Please, though, take a moment to speak to me about it, if time permits, just so we don't cause irreparable harm from acting against currents we don't fully understand. And who knows? There may be times when we could inform you of opportunities for a deliverer of justice such as yourself." The Guildmaster quickly raised a placating hand. "Possibilities to consider, my dear Malek, that is all. Acts you could perform for the greater good, if your heart believed the cause was just. We would leave it to your discretion to at least consider, knowing you would not break our trust by revealing the nature of the confidences given."

  Malek gave a slow nod. “That seems reasonable, sir.”

  “Excellent! Sleep well, young Malek, and with an easy heart. You rescued a dozen children and their families this night. And higher causes few Delvers can claim, when all is said and done.”

  35

  Malek felt curiously lighter as he made his way back to quarters. His heavy heart felt oddly eased, as if he had somehow been forgiven the horrors he had committed this night, in light of all the good he had done.

  He actually found himself looking forward once more to the adventure he and his companions would share in the days ahead, feeling strangely at peace with himself, hoping the terrible nightmares he had been plagued with would at last subside, having saved at least a few children from the horrors of slavery.

  Alacabar was awake when Malek entered their quarters, lounging upon a grand oaken chair perhaps custom-made to comfortably fit his massive frame, strumming a peaceful melody upon his lute, sausage-like fingers plying the instrument with surprising grace.

  A mellow gaze locked upon Malek’s own, and he smiled. “So. Has our dear Gregorian convinced you to be his pet assassin?”

  Malek gazed dumbstruck even as Alacabar returned to his lute, his melody turning mournful, like a dirge. “I can well imagine the gist of your conversation, his surprising approval for your actions this night. Rest easy, pup. I will not fault you. You saved a good many young lives, and I have no doubt the Guild will sponsor them and their families as well, giving as noble an ending as could be had to this tale. But keep in mind, my brother, you did butcher more than a few men this evening. And you can’t deny that such an act, far more perhaps than chasing dark dreams and beasts of nightmare in the realms of Shadow, is a weight you still must bear upon your soul, human or otherwise.”

  Malek grimaced, emitting a soft, defeated chuckle. "Bloody hells, Alacabar. And I was just beginning not to hate myself. But of course he'd have use for soothing my conscience. Those Delvers willing to kill for cause or purse upon the waking world being pretty rare, from what I've gathered."

  Fingers still strumming a mournful tune Alacabar gave a slow nod. "And who better to focus upon than a former Squire of War? Soul already stained with the blood shed for King and Crown, and I no better, having killed more than a few men in righteous fury, as you yourself have seen, pup." Alacabar vented a mournful sigh. "It is good, perhaps, that we loathe the darkness in our souls just a bit, so long as we don't let the weight of our regrets crush us, so long as we also give ourselves the freedom to embrace the glory of our lives at other times. To accept the bitter along with the sweet redeems us just a bit, I think. It shows that there is hope yet, for our bloodstained souls." He smiled then. "It is, after all, the heart of why we hunt for the artifact that we do. Redemption, perhaps. For ourselves, and perhaps for the world we call home. Certainly it is a cause worth dying for, as much as any other."

  Malek nodded. "I know, Alacabar. Saints above, I've felt both extremes often enough. A loathing so deep I would end it all, save for the haunting gaze of my shieldsister, should she ever have need of me and I not be there by her side. And other times when I feel such a glorious, heady rush, so alive and potent with a Delver's strength! The sheer joy of running through endless banks of winter snow with the tireless stamina of the strongest wolves, feeling as if I could run or revel or fight forever."

  Alacabar nodded. "Or the mad glory of embracing Shadow, every fiber of our body and soul alive as we behold once more the terror and beauty of the Dreamrealms, never knowing if we will stumble upon darkest nightmare, reveling in savage fury unleashed as we bath in our foe's blood, or if our souls will soar, overwhelmed with the beauty of beholding even a glimpse of a pristine world free of worry and care, a dream in truth, catching sight of a wondrous empires lost to timeless moments of perpetual song and beauty. We no more real than dream to those souls endlessly living those final golden hours, for all that we might lose ourselves for an endless time dancing in their arms, embracing those visions of unspeakable beauty in acts carnal and beautiful, weeping with awe for songs so joyous our souls soar to the heavens on wings of wonder.”

  Malek sighed. “So true, my brother. So true.” He chuckled softly. “Yet from what little I recall, our Delvings always appear to be of the darker sort.”

  A wry smile from his nodding companion. "That is true as well, dear Malek. Perhaps it is but the weight of our souls holding us down. I am given to understand, after all, that that wondrous moonlit bridge to Faerie, forged by your most remarkable shieldsister no less, serves as a path to a land that very much echoes the sweetest aspects of the realm of dreams."

  Malek nodded. "As the bards have told since those first brave souls returned, along with the Crown Prince himself, Ulric freely courting a dozen of the Guild's most renowned bards, encouraging everyone to hear the tales of wonder and folly experienced by those who had walked the moonlit path by his side. And we have all heard any number o
f stories both bitter and sweet. It seems that even in Faerie, one must always be willing to make a choice, never as easy as it first seems, and to accept the price to be paid. One's experiences might be impossibly sweet, but the wrong choice could have led to bitterest sorrow."

  “Or simply accepting the burden of one’s bounty,” Alacabar noted. “Such as the tale of that tailor who can sew articles of clothing so soft and light that the thickest cloak feels as soft and lush as the sheerest silk.”

  Malek sighed. "Ah yes. The ever pining tailor who surrendered the chance to be with his true love forever in Faerie for his gift, and has regretted it ever since. I have heard that tale as well."

  Alacabar grinned. “Indeed you would, for it is a favorite of the bards that frequent our hall here in Barlton. And of course, there is the added burden that folk such as you and I share.”

  Malek nodded. "The Delver's Plight, as it is called. The very powers of Shadow that saturate our souls and fill us with inhuman strength and cravings also serve as a weight preventing us from ever ascending that moonlit path to Faerie, no matter how much we crave to walk astride those starry skies, leaving this world and all its cares behind."

  Alacabar’s tune became one of bittersweet melancholy. “Indeed, young Malek. This is so. So many tales told, for all that only a handful or two of desperate dreamers have even attempted the journey, so far as we know.”

  Malek sighed. "To say nothing of Jess, who, for her noble efforts, saving the Queen of Faerie herself and perhaps that realm entire, lost all her Delver's power in doing so, the sacrifice Faerie or fate demanded of her. Now she is so fragile it breaks my heart. I have to hug her so carefully, afraid I'll crack a rib if I don't treat her like glass."

  Alacabar gave a slow nod. “For all gifts of Faerie have a cost, even if that gift was the glory of saving the land entire, her tale so potent it flooded the dreams of countless bards, so many folks awakening knowing her tale, for all that she slept most of a year with the burden of what I suspect was her final Delving.”