Emperor of Shadows

by Mike Truk

  Through the huge Market Square, onto Field Avenue, and from there directly to the gate. Guards who’d been posted on lookout stared at me in confusion but ran back to report to their commanders regardless.

  My mind was clear. The die had been cast. There was no longer time for regrets.

  So I marched with a light step, shoulders squared, straight toward my destiny.

  Finally, I saw barricades up ahead, hastily thrown together and defended by Captain Rory’s men. They straightened in shock at the sight of me, unsure, turning to stare at their captain, who climbed down the outside of the barriers to doff his helm and approach me.

  “My lord?” called out Captain Rory as I slowed, came to a stop. The crowd pressed behind me, but slowly came to a stop as well.

  “Change of plans, captain,” I said. “Clear the barricades away and open the gates.”

  Rory stared at me, face blanching, and then past me at the crowd. Then, slowly, he regained his wits. “You’re sure, sir?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “I… I see. Very well. As you command.” And so saying, he turned and bellowed, “clear the way!”

  A shocked silence followed, but the guards complied, slowly tearing the barricades apart, They moved carts out of the way and rolled barrels until at last, the gate was clearly in view.

  Rory marched ahead as I began to move forward once more, the crowd picking up the pace behind me. “Open the gate!” he roared.

  More general stupefaction from the guards, more slack jaws and uncomprehending stares. But Rory’s manner was assured, his confidence total. “Open the damn gate!”

  Shouts came down from above – queries and confusion, but Rory ignored it all. Even as the guards milled along the edges, staring, those operating the huge gates set to work. Raising the portcullis, they heaved in a team of twenty to raise the vast bar that had been dropped in the brackets.

  I stood silently through all this, watching.

  Shapes came running toward me. Cerys, Tamara, Netherys, spilling out of the corner house in which we’d spoken only an hour before.

  They ran right up to me, expressions wild, confused, panicked.

  “Kellik!” Cerys seized my arm. “Are you mad? Ensorcelled?”

  “Not mad!” cried Tamara, taking my other arm. “He’s doing the right thing.”

  “It’s a grandiose way to go about getting yourself killed,” said Netherys, tugging her hood down low over her features. “Much easier to just slit your wrist in a tub of warm water.”

  “Kellik?” Cerys studied my features, peered into my eyes. “Did someone put a spell on you?”

  I took her hand in mine, raised it to my lips, kissed her knuckles. “No spell, my love. Just a decision. I’ve chosen a path.”

  Her eyebrows rose in disbelief. “To let the White Lioness kill everyone?”

  “No. I mean, fuck her, but no. To…” I paused, trying to find the right words. “To be true to my desire to serve Port Gloom. Tamara was right. I can’t force this city to be what I want. If I’m to be true to my word, to my desire, then I have to let the people do what they wish.”

  “Even if it results in their being massacred?” asked Cerys.

  “Even so,” I said. “Because I won’t massacre them instead.”

  “You’re sure about this?” she asked, voice dropping to little more than a whisper.

  “Yes,” I said. I felt my chest expand, the last of my burden melting away. “I’ve given my all to this city. This is the last gift I can give. The last way for me to truly serve. I’ll set it free, for better or worse, and let the people forge their own way.”

  She shook her head in wonder, then interlaced her fingers with my own. “Oh, Kellik. Very well. Then I shall stand by your side.”

  “You don’t need to,” I said. “It’s going to get ugly out there.”

  “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be,” she said, leaning in to kiss me softly.

  Tamara’s fingers interlaced with those of my other hand. “The same.”

  Netherys sighed audibly. “With no hands available, I’d grasp your cock, but even I grow shy with thousands watching.”

  I snorted, looping my arm over her shoulders to squeeze her close; then, together, we turned to face the massive gate.

  At last it shuddered open, foot by slow foot, to reveal the awaiting army of the White Lioness beyond.

  Taking a deep breath, surrounded by the women I loved, I raised my chin high, and set forth.

  Chapter 16

  I strode forward into the no-man’s land, the carnage everywhere, the dead and still dying. Flocks of crows had settled like plague flies upon heads and limbs, their caws victorious, and for a moment I could only think: they are the true inheritors of this earth.

  But my gaze sought out and found the enemy line. The thousands arrayed, awaiting the signal to charge forward and deliver more death.

  There, in their center, astride her peerless mount, was the White Lioness.

  Resplendent in her beauty, her elegance, refined by her hatred, her grief, her desire for vengeance and release.

  The people of Port Gloom faltered behind me at the sight of the army.

  How could they have known? They’d been transfixed by images of glory, of redemption, of salvation.

  They were met instead with the brutality and senselessness of war. Slowly, they gazed about themselves at the broken, the blood, the ruptured flesh.

  Inhaling the stink, then turning their suddenly tremulous gazes upon the army that had brought this to be.

  I didn’t slow. I spread open my arms as if to greet the whole of the White Sun’s faithful, my loved ones by my side.

  What was it all for, in the end? The struggle? The unending quest for power? Why had I sought to change the world, or, at the very least, Port Gloom? To impose myself upon the fabric of reality, mold it in my image, seek a form of immortality through reform, through affecting the lives of countless thousands?

  I was no longer quite sure.

  Everything was falling apart. Emotions were rising within me. Joy and grief had me by the throat. I felt blessed, cursed. Cerys, Tamara, Yashara, and Netherys had never been more precious to me. I wanted to gather them into my arms, celebrate our love, this finite time we had together.

  But I wanted to weep for those I had lost. For Iris. How one day I might stride forth and be without one of these women by my side. How time would steal each of them from me, even the long-lived Netherys.

  Why struggle when the Hanged God stood to one side, sharpening his knife and biding his time?

  I wanted to laugh. To weep.

  What was it that mattered most in this life? What was the secret, the hidden kernel of true knowledge?

  My father was dead and gone. The Family ashes blown to the wind. Had their downfall mattered? Yes, and I regretted it not, but with each moment I cared less for their fates.

  I thought of Lugin. Of the poor, the beggars, the indigent, the street kids, the broken souls, the shattered lives.

  They’d been wronged, prevented from being their fullest selves, from feeling the glory that I did at loving and being loved. At having enough power to have a choice.

  Every one of them deserved that power.

  That was it. That’s what I wanted.

  Not to rule. Not to dictate. Not to impose.

  But to fulfill, bringing each trampled soul into full bloom. Raising every Lugin so they could have their moment in the sun.

  Why?

  Maybe it was Tamara’s fault. Maybe what she’d done to my soul. But if so, as I’d said to her before, I was glad for the change.

  At my core, that’s who I was. One who had been wronged, whose life had been warped and then discarded. Everything I’d done had flowed from that disruption. All my efforts had been bent to righting that wrong, to undoing the damage done to me by Everyman Jack, by the Family, by my father, Aurelius.

  And from there, it had been a simple matter to extend the same desire to every
one who’d been so wronged.

  If I deserved justice, so did they.

  But not if it meant creating new wounds, a new dictatorship. Salvation through force made no sense.

  And was the trap, I was suddenly sure, that had ensnared my father. It had led him down his dark and winding road, to a place of hedonism, cynicism, and inhumanity.

  Your fate was sealed the moment you raised the rod.

  Which left - what?

  Walking between the corpses, sensing the terrible potential for greater massacres, my mind struggled to define that last answer.

  How did you help without force?

  “Here she comes,” whispered Cerys.

  The White Lioness had nudged her mount forward, trotting toward us.

  “Plans?” asked Netherys, breathless.

  “Kellik?” Tamara turned to me. “What now?”

  What now?

  I watched the White Lioness approach. So perilously beautiful, so tragic. She’d asked for none of this. We’d killed her. We’d stolen into her sanctum and struck her down, and in so doing, set this whole chain of events in motion.

  She was the personification of our hubris.

  “No plans,” I said, releasing hands and unslinging my arm from around Tamara’s shoulders. “No angles. I’m going to apologize and accept her judgment.”

  “She said she’d kill everyone till we produced Iris,” hissed Cerys. “We can’t just apologize.”

  “Not much else we can do,” I said.

  Cerys stared at me in disbelief. “Kellik!”

  I closed my eyes. Surrounded by the dead and my loved ones, watched by tens of thousands, the fate of an entire city resting on my shoulders, I felt so light, so light. Was this grace? An acceptance of the inevitable? Was it failure? Was it cowardice?

  I couldn’t be sure.

  But I was done with scheming, with angling, with wielding my king troll powers for the greater good, even as I clambered over fresh corpses to get there.

  “I love you all,” I said, and tears came to my eyes. “I wish we had more time together.”

  The White Lioness was almost upon us.

  I’d meet her honestly, would treat with her fairly. And whatever verdict she returned, I’d accept it as just.

  But I’d not do it in this human form.

  For I was no human.

  I was a king troll.

  And if I was to discard all illusions, all lies, then I would meet her in the flesh.

  It was easy, so terribly easy to reach down into my depths and unlock that final catch. To let slip the form that resided within me - my most natural self.

  I inhaled deeply, feeling my chest expand, and a moment later, every bone did the same. I grew, stretching, power unfurling within me, clothing tearing.

  Taller and taller. Muscle corded over my lean form, distinct and striated, flensed of all fat. I grew taller than Pony, a full three yards tall, and oh, I felt so light I marveled that I didn’t float up into the sky.

  I raised my palms to study them. My skin wasn’t jet black as before, but a lead gray, my palms turning to a fine, pale cinder. My talons were white, the horned knuckles the same color.

  Cries of horror emanated from the city walls. There was a great inhalation, then shouts from the White Sun’s forces.

  I spread my arms wide to welcome the White Lioness, who drew her steed to a halt, the horse shying at my presence.

  Even Aurora was shocked at my revelation.

  How ironic - at my most powerful I had the least desire to exert myself, to impose my will upon the world.

  I’d never felt so complete.

  So at peace.

  So myself.

  “Kellik,” whispered Cerys.

  “It’s all right,” I rumbled. “Don’t fear, my love.”

  “No, Kellik. Look.”

  And I frowned, following her arm to where she pointed.

  I saw a corpse twitch. Its arm spasmed, then its head jerked around. A hand splayed brokenly against the dirt, then with a shove began to rise, climbing to its feet.

  Around it, the other dead began to move.

  At first ten, then a radius of some hundred, then further.

  Everywhere, the dead began to rise - easily some thousand corpses, perhaps more.

  Pulling themselves to their feet, they climbed out of ditches, unimpaled themselves from shit-smeared stakes. Disentangling themselves from the mounds into which they’d fallen, all of them orienting on us.

  Eyes were blank, expressions numb.

  Only one person could animate so many.

  Only one person could bring a whole battlefield to life.

  Iris.

  “Hello, Kellik.”

  I turned, seeing her walk toward me from between a forest of obliquely angled stakes. Stepping over rivulets of congealed blood. Emerging from between shrouds of death midges and flies.

  And oh, she was beautiful, clad in her black wedding dress, her eyes ringed with kohl, her lips blackened, her form slight, her expression kind. Pale skinned, slight, face heart-shaped.

  The queen of the dead.

  “Iris,” whispered Tamara, gripping my arm. “This is your doing?”

  Iris ignored her, coming to a stop before me. Reaching up to search my features, her eyes reflected only love. “Here you are,” she whispered, and the sound of her voice gave me shivers. “My sweetest love. You’ve come home at last.”

  My heart was pounding, racing, and I reached up with my huge clawed hand to place it over her frail own.

  I heard the sound of the White Lioness dropping to the dirt, the jingle of her armor, the thud of both boots hitting the ground.

  I wanted to ignore her, to ignore the cries and hoarse shouts coming from both armies.

  “So long I’ve been dreaming,” whispered Iris. “And now finally feel awake. You’re more beautiful than I even I had conceived.”

  “Necromancer,” cried Aurora as she strode toward us. “There you are. You will pay for your crime.”

  Iris turned her to gaze at the hereshen. “Hello, exemplar. I thought I’d left you dead. But perhaps… no. On some level, I might have suspected.”

  Aurora was seething, her eyes slit. She tore her gleaming helm from her head and cast it away. “You will pay for what you did to me. What you brought into being. The damnation into which you thrust me. Prepare yourself!”

  “You cannot hurt me,” said Iris, her tone sorrowful.

  Aurora smiled darkly. “You think not?”

  “She destroyed Baleric,” said Cerys.

  At which Iris raised an eyebrow.

  Aurora drew her blade. It spat white fire, caustic and hectic like water thrown into a pan of hot oil.

  Iris turned to face her full on. Studying her carefully, she said quite simply, “Oh. I see.”

  Aurora slashed her blade twice before her, raising it to point its tip at Iris’s chest. “Here it ends unless you grant me release.”

  “Can she hurt you?” I asked.

  “No. But just as I removed your father from play by sending him into the arms of the Paruko, so can she entrap me with her abilities. Sever me from this world and sink me into a rift. Fascinating.”

  “Grant me death!” screamed Aurora. “I will not ask again!”

  “Free her,” said Cerys.

  I dreaded the answer. “Can you do that?”

  Iris smiled sadly. “I can. But it will cost me.”

  Aurora’s blade was incandescent, so bright I couldn’t look at it.

  “After I destroy you I shall destroy the world,” hissed Aurora. “None deserve peace while I suffer. I shall tear down every wall. Burn the fields. Choke the rivers with corpses. Feed every soul to the ravens, and then cut those blackbirds down from the skies. I will fill the heavens with smoke, will cut down every tree. You mock me? You deny me the Hanged God? Then I will build such a pyre to him that he will have no choice but to claim me. Release me, necromancer, or the world shall perish instead!”

&n
bsp; “I can free her,” said Iris, “but at great cost. For I do not have sufficient strength. Even now my power trickles away between my fingers. Death has placed limits on me. But if I had more power, then yes, I could release her.”

  “More power?” I asked, voice hoarse. “How so?”

  Iris turned to gaze up at me. “Oh, my love. To mend this divine rift, to heal over the dark elf goddess’ desires, to cauterize this wound, I need to draw from an endless font.”

  “An endless…” I trailed off, realizing what she meant.

  And smiled.

  And spread my arms.

  “Then have at it. It’s perfect. My final gift to the world.”

  Iris’s eyes swam with tears, and she leaned forward to place her face to my dark chest as if listening to the mighty pounding of my heart.

  “You are yourself in truth,” she whispered. “Very well.”

  “Kellik?” Cerys sounded decidedly nervous. “What is going on?”

  Iris placed a hand on my chest, turning to stare at Aurora. “Perhaps this is fitting. I shall grant your wish, hereshen.”

  The dead began to fall. Those furthest collapsed first - then, with ever greater speed, the animated army toppled, the radius shrinking as if Iris were withdrawing her power. Then the very closest fell into the mud and blood and lay still.

  Iris fairly radiated power, the air around her tasting of ozone. She raised a hand, closing her eyes, and a slender line appeared between her brows.

  “Know peace, troubled soul.”

  Aurora straightened, lowering her blade. The fury left her beautiful face, her eyes opening wide with startlement.

  But it wasn’t enough. Iris was growing faint before me, indistinct; still Aurora stood, swaying. A great eye of black magic bloomed behind her, swirling and cast through with purple glyphs of power. Through that archway I saw twin eyes stare at us all, eyes steeped in wickedness and might.

  “Mother Magrathaar!” cried out Netherys, falling to her knees.

  Only then did Iris begin to draw from my strength. I felt it as one feels a current of cold water washing over your hand when you plunge it into a stream - a swift flowing that stemmed from my heart.