Mighty Hammer Down

by David J Guyton

  Chapter 12

  He sat drumming his fingers on the wooden throne where his fathers sat before him. Not many were aware that anyone sat there but him, since it was a carefully guarded secret that he in fact was mortal. For hundreds of years, they had cultivated the idea that he and all of his fathers before him were the same person, creating the illusion of immortality. It was not easy to keep up the charade, since anyone who saw the older leader would certainly notice when he was replaced with a man many years younger. To counter the complications, they were forced to mate at the youngest age possible, keeping the age gap small. They also attempted to mask any differences in appearance with a thick beard, and usually a hooded cloak over the head. In some cases, a scarf or other cloth was used to cover the face. If people were especially suspicious, they could always be killed.

  He knew that by having a child he was in danger of losing his power, so when he was younger, he killed the only child he brought into the world, right after he murdered his father. He was the first to attempt such a bold move in hundreds of years, and to his surprise, no one who knew his secret of immortality dared to question his decisions or force him to have another child. He had always thought that the man sitting in the throne was controlled by men behind it, and while that might have been the case for his fathers, no one but he wielded any power in his land.

  He looked to the cloth coverings on the walls that held images from the ancient past. He was very bored with the look of the grand room, and decided then and there that he would have new scenes sewn into new fabric to hang in his throne room. While he was at it, he would change a few things so that history would see him shine even brighter. No one would question it.

  Behind the fabric were strong walls made of stone. His people rarely built with stone because they lacked the necessary knowledge, but also because suitable stone for building was difficult to find in these parts. Most of the time the brittle rock would shatter and break when it was being pulled from a quarry, so not many stone buildings stood. This particular building was made by the Vindyri more than 200 years before when they controlled these lands. His face soured when he thought of the people.

  Unlike the rulers before him, he intended to do all he could to become truly immortal; not as a hero lives forever, but as a man who truly never dies. He went to great lengths to find all the books he could, hiding them from all others. He knew that knowledge was the ultimate power, and if there was a secret to living forever, he would find it. He prayed every day that Rohni would guide him to it.

  He stared down at his drumming fingers. They were long and reminded him of the graceful movements of a spider. He brought his other hand up to his long face and caressed his bearded chin in thought. On the inside, he was frustrated that he had not yet received his reports, but he remained calm and collected on the outside. Over all, he was a patient man, knowing that each tiny step toward his goal was getting him closer, even if it was painfully slow. After years of planning, the wheels were finally beginning to turn and his plan was springing to life.

  "Zidaoz, the messenger is here," a man said from the doorway open to the bright sun outside. "Will you see him now?"

  Zidaoz was the word that meant "ruler" or "king" in Bhoor-Rahn. He was never given a name at birth, and instead he simply answered to the title, being the closest thing he had to a name. Instead of giving a reply, he just nodded.

  The man exited and another man appeared. He was not draped in robes like most Bhoors preferred, but in travel clothes, similar to what the soldiers wore, but without any of the leather and simple plate armor. The strength and weakness of the Bhoors was their great number; there were enough men to cover the world in a swarm, but there were too many to provide them all with adequate armor.

  "Zidaoz," the man said as he bowed deeply, "I have come with news from the west."

  "Tell me your news, traveler," Zidaoz said as he threaded his fingers together and rested his elbows on his throne.

  "Things go according to plan. The Vindyri have been retreating for days. Much blood has been spilled, but our numbers remain strong."

  "Excellent. Follow the Vindyri and kill them until the sun sets four days from now, then return to Bhoor-Rahn. Do not attack them unless they attempt to follow you across the Dori Plains into our land. There will not be many. Once you are able to look over your shoulder and not see them on the horizon, take 100 men south and make for the southern wall."

  "As you command Zidaoz," the man said as he bowed again.

  "Go now, and make haste. Rohni demands it."

  He watched the man run through the doorway and out into the bright sun. He was grateful that there were few in his land that needed to be closely watched. All were loyal to him. All worshipped Rohni without question. Every man could be trusted to commit himself utterly to the cause. His long rounded teeth showed as he smiled to himself.

  He rose from his wooden throne and stretched his long arms and legs. He walked down the five steps covered with decorative carpet and turned right, heading for the private rooms in his palace. The throne room had no door, and was open to the public in an attempt to symbolize the openness of the Zidaoz to his people. He laughed out loud at the absurd notion. Nothing was further from the truth. His laughter was muted in the hallways covered in cloth.

  He came at last to his private chambers. Ten guards stood in the hallway leading to the doorway that had no door, but only a heavy cloth to cover the entrance. None of the guards looked his way, knowing that if their eyes fell upon him, they would be tortured and killed. His personal guards were only supposed to focus on threats to their leader, not their leader himself. None of them ever spoke.

  Once inside the candlelit room, he sat in the center of the floor and crossed his legs in front of a solid gold bowl filled with water. After a long prayer to Rohni, he began to chant, staring into the water before him. He focused his concentration until the room around him began to darken, and everything in the room gave way to shadow. From the darkness came the light of thousands of stars, making him squint as brightness suddenly filled the room. He floated in the air as if he were a star himself, shining in the midnight sky.

  Stars whirled by as he searched for the one he was looking for. Colors surrounded large clusters like unmoving smoke, bathing him in different colors of light. Each star felt different, each cluster was unique in its beauty. Finally he came to the star he was looking for. He approached it, and as he got closer, all the others faded. Soon the room was black as pitch except for the silver star before him. He called to it, prodded it, spoke to it until finally it too faded to black. In its place stood a figure that was barely visible. Knowing he now had the figure's attention, he spoke to it.

  "I have done what we have planned. The Vindyri are now retreating, and soon I will meet my men at the southern wall to wake the Dirujen. I trust that you are holding up your end of the bargain?"

  A quiet voice came as if it was an echo muted by soft earth. "Things are developing as planned. Much has happened to slow us, but we will soon have full control. You should know that the southern wall is not the true wall, as it is only made of stone and made to keep people from walking into danger. Beyond the wall, past the horizon is the true barrier."

  "I am aware of the location of the Dirujen and the others. As I said things are going according to plan," Zidaoz said as his irritation rose slightly. The man's lack of confidence in him frustrated him greatly.

  "I still await word from the others," said the quiet voice. "They are not as fortunate as you and I, and cannot use magic to communicate. Their riders should arrive in the next day or so."

  "Their cooperation is integral to the plan. Should they decide to rebel, or lose heart, all will be lost," Zidaoz reminded the man, although he was certain that he knew the stakes involved.

  "They will remain loyal, Zidaoz. Their future and the lives of their children depend on it. They know that it is too late to change their minds. Doing so would bring doom to their people." The figure seem
ed to look over its shoulder. "I must go now Zidaoz, someone approaches."

  The black form swirled and faded to the shadows as the room lit brightly again with starlight. He moved with tremendous speed past them until finally he found himself on the floor, his legs twisted uncomfortably beneath him. He righted himself and started to stand, but saw drops of blood on the floor. Reaching to his face, he realized his nose was bleeding. There was always some price to pay for using magic, but a bloody nose was hardly an expensive one. After all, he had found a secret world between worlds where he could contact many people who had a knowledge of magic. When he discovered how, he would contact Rohni through that world, but until then he would use the world for his own purposes. He searched every day for a star that was hidden, or one that shone brighter, always hoping it would be his god. So far, he found that there were endless humans connected to that shadow world, but he found no god there.

  He pulled himself together and stood, wiping his nose, only slightly dizzy from the ordeal. He wasn't sure why, but using magic was getting easier each time he tried it, even if he didn't seem to be gaining any power. There was a connection that he felt that was deeper and more intense than he ever suspected, and each time he gave himself over to the magic, he came closer and closer to the origin of the power. He hoped when he finally reached that center that he would find Rohni, and through their connection, he could finally walk the earth among mankind. This was his ultimate goal, for Rohni would surely grant him the gift of immortality if he was able to create such a pathway for him.

  At times, he thought he could feel the presence of the god. It made him feel weak, as if the burden of carrying his flesh around with him slowed and hindered him. It was a cold feeling, not a cold presence, but rather a warm one, making his human body with all its blood and bones feel cold and dead by comparison. When he felt this way, he prayed for a full day, begging Rohni to appear and guide him. So far Rohni had not found the need to make himself or his wishes known, but each time it filled his soul with faith and courage, like cool water filling an empty well.

  Zidaoz found himself running his fingers over the spines of the books he had in the room. This was only a small collection compared to the vast treasures of books elsewhere in his palace, but these were rare and special. Many of them were books on strategy and history, but some were books of magic. By learning to eliminate rules of nature, he was able to unlock the secret that had led him to the shadow world. All the information was right there at the tips of his long fingers, and no man had ever before put the pieces together. He trembled with excitement as he considered what other realities he could create with all the pieces he had collected. He needed only to arrange them in the ways he saw fit, and the world would bend to his will.

  He slid a red book from the collection and carefully opened it. There was no title, and in fact no words written in it whatsoever. The reader had to have a wealth of knowledge before he was able to actually see the letters that were hidden by magic. He dove deep inside his soul and searched for the feeling he sought. He couldn't explain how to do it even if he had someone to explain it to; it was more like a feeling than an action. He searched inside himself until he found his center, which he pictured as a rope hanging in the darkness. He imagined that there was a round stone with a hole in it hanging on the rope, and by moving it up and down in his mind he could connect to different corridors leading to different abilities. In his mind he slid the stone up the rope to the proper position, and when he opened his eyes he saw the words appear on the pages. He went to a table and sat, placing the book in front of him. He would need to study this book if he was going to attempt to wake the Dirujen. To his knowledge, it had never been attempted before, but since he knew that the history of Bhoor-Rahn was riddled with false information -like his immortality--he knew it was possible that it had not only been attempted in the past, but actually accomplished.

  He wasn't sure what the beast would look like or how it would behave, but he intended to be the only one to have any control over it. He wanted to be able to use the Dirujen in the coming war, but he also wanted to have the power to destroy his allies should they decide to turn on him. He smiled at the notion of destroying them when the war was over anyway, but such matters were for another day.

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