Void: Book Five of the Nightlord series

by Garon Whited

  I didn’t like it. I didn’t like it one bit.

  I sat by my sand table, scrolling over the southern shores and eating something. A servant showed up, once, to bring me food. After that, a Knight of Shadow always brought it in. I think I usually managed to say a thank-you to whoever did it, but I might have missed a few.

  I scrolled my viewpoint on the sand table over to Ynar and the city of Iyner. It was about as far west as one can go and still find a major coastal city. From an invasion standpoint, it had appeal. If we could take it, we would basically be starting an invasion from the west. A clear battle line could be drawn. Landing in the middle would mean establishing a foothold surrounded by enemy territory and with our backs to the sea. This did not strike me as a good idea. Any line of advance would be flanked by the enemy, unless we expanded in a circle, outward from the landing site. That, sadly, was impractical. It would take hundreds of thousands of men to proceed in all directions and fight a multi-front war.

  No, as I saw it, there were only three real places to land. Iyner was a good one. Take the city, establish a base of operations, and sweep eastward from it, conquering territory as you go. The other option was a nowhere little village on the eastern edge of Praeteyn, almost on the border of Kamshasa, and sweep west. That would bring us more quickly to the city of Salacia, possibly the largest population center in Praeteyn, but it would also mean not operating from a fortified base.

  Hmm. Where do they have the big temple to the Lord of Light? I want to say I saw it once, but I don’t recall where it was. If we took that, it would be a major blow to morale. No, wait; better idea. Where do they have the deveas or prophates of the Church? Taking them prisoner—or simply killing them—would set the faith back. Something to look into.

  The third place for an invasion was more awkward, but certainly more surprising. H’zhad’Eyn is an elongated kingdom and runs along the western edge of the world, down to the burning desert, and back eastward, south of Ynar and Praeteyn. It was still being consolidated under the rule of the Church, so we might find more allies there to add to our forces in the process of kicking the Boojum’s people out.

  I had no idea what Lissette was going to do and I wasn’t going to ask. I do like to plan ahead, though.

  I turned my attention to the south and considered what was to come.

  Karvalen, Thursday, March 15th, Year 9

  Shortly before dawn I realized I was hungry. I worked hard at operating the sand table, the scrying spells, the sensor filters, all that. Blood wasn’t the issue. I need that mostly when I’ve been exerting myself physically. Thing is, I haven’t been eating people with the same carefree abandon I used to. Eventually, I have to, but I try not to let it get to that point. As for exerting myself, well… no matter how much magic is in the air, exerting myself on a spiritual level will make me spiritually hungry.

  Literally.

  Fortunately, it was only a mildly peckish feeling, akin to wondering if it was time for lunch. Nevertheless, this is a bad sign. I still recall the aftermath of being starved. It is an experience I have gone out of my way to prevent. Hopefully, there was someone in the Karvalen dungeons awaiting the Demon King’s attention, or at least the King’s justice. I know they used to send most of those guilty of capital crimes to the gladiatorial pits in Stadius, but they also occasionally sentence people to the larder. If I recall correctly, didn’t I alter that? I should write this stuff down.

  The Knights of Shadow on bodyguard detail assured me there were prisoners condemned to await my evening meal. I thanked them and refused dinner. If I needed it, tomorrow night would be soon enough. It’s good to know we have snacks, but it’s also good to practice feeling hungry now and again, to get used to it.

  Next on my list was finding a way to stick a sensor inside an actual Temple of Light. They were defended against such intrusions, but I thought I might be able to work my way around them.

  Beltar and Dantos showed up after the sunrise. I was sitting back, feet up, fingers steepled, thoughts grinding along. They entered the room, swung the pivot-door closed, and politely waited until His Fearsome Majesty, the Demon King and Lord of Shadows deigned to notice their presence.

  I hate when they do that.

  “Come on in, have a seat, tell me all your troubles,” I invited. They moved seats up to the sand table and we sat there over a map of the Lord of Light’s territories.

  “Shall we start with the war?” Beltar asked.

  “It is kind of the elephant in the room,” I agreed.

  “Elephant?”

  “Sorry, wrong metaphor. The war is the demon on the doorstep.”

  “Ah! Yes, I understand that one.”

  “Excellent. You start and I’ll make appreciative noises,” I told them. Beltar raised an eyebrow, but started things.

  “Yes, well, the Knights of Shadow are, by and large, maintaining a presence around the various Temples of Shadow.”

  “By and large?”

  “Some of them—Shields, mostly—feel it appropriate to offer their services as guardians in noble households who may have depleted their manpower for the invasion.”

  “Seems reasonable. How many are we talking about?”

  “Close to a hundred, no more.”

  “I shudder to think what could go through a hundred of the Order of the Shield.”

  “They are not all together, my lord, but scattered among noble holdings.”

  “Of course. Do continue.”

  Beltar paused, thoughtfully.

  “My lord, I hesitate to ask, but I fear my curiosity is too great.”

  “You’re forgiven. Ask away.”

  “Do you… how can I say this? You are two, not one. There is the spirit of the Lord of Shadow and you. Do you… hmm. It is known you sometimes use the Brazier of Oz to speak to yourself, as it were…” he trailed off.

  “Hold it. Who calls it ‘the Brazier of Oz’?”

  “You do. Or, rather, the giant face of smoke speaks of it in those terms.”

  I rubbed along my jaw, noting I needed a shave. Giant face of smoke acting as though he were all-powerful. A smoke generator crafted by a wizard from another world. Yes, I could see his point. I decided to let it go.

  “All right. What you want to know is why I don’t just know these things when the Lord of Shadow is a god, and I’m partly the Lord of Shadow?”

  “That is the essence of it, yes, my lord.”

  “We divide our efforts,” I told him. “The spiritual manifestation of the Lord of Shadow does things best suited for a spiritual manifestation. I do the things best suited for a physical entity. And wars can get… quite physical, if you catch my meaning.”

  “Indeed, and it speaks well to my understanding of why you are physically here. May I ask what you wish done with your troops, my lord?”

  “Nothing, yet. I want to see what Lissette has in mind with hers. If she can win this war, so much the better. If she can’t, well, I don’t want it to appear I’m swooping in to save her. I’m hoping if things go wrong, she’ll ask for help and we’ll be well-prepared to give it. I’d rather it appeared as if she held the Temple of Shadow troops in reserve, rather than… whatever it is she’s doing.”

  “I may have some answers to that last part,” Dantos informed me.

  “Oh, good. She doesn’t tell me anything.”

  “Of course not,” he agreed. “She is afraid.”

  “Afraid? Of me?”

  “While it can honestly be said you are terrifying,” he agreed, “it is also fair to say the Bright Queen does not fear you. She fears hurting you further, for she is well aware of how deeply your departure wounded you.”

  “Back up. Put the war on hold. How do you know all this?”

  Dantos looked guilty. I could feel my eyes widen. Dantos? Dantos looked guilty? The world was ending.

  “My lord, if I might have a private word?”

  “Beltar, would you excuse us? Dantos and I need to have a talk.”

 
; Beltar glanced back and forth between us, clearly disturbed. He nodded and hurried from the room. My eyes never left Dantos.

  “Dantos?”

  “With your indulgence, my lord.” He gestured three times, establishing a privacy perimeter spell. It was a good one, too. Economical gestures, good use of energy, well-defined space, everything. It would take real effort to breach. Once he finished, he spoke quickly.

  “The spell cannot be trusted to last long. I work with Sir Kammen and report to him. I must not say more in a flimsy defense such as this, but entreat you to discuss such matters with him rather than risk compromising the secrecy involved.”

  I wondered about that. How would Kammen know so much about Lissette’s views? And why would it be so vital to keep it a secret?

  The obvious answer hit me. He is rather popular with the ladies, from what I gather. Lissette isn’t under a vow of chastity. She’s a queen. She’s a woman. She has needs her husband—her absent husband—can’t fulfill. If a king can have a concubine, consort, or a harem, can’t a queen have at least a couple of sideboys? I understood the concept perfectly, but I could see why it might be kept a closely-guarded secret. People tend to be conservative where they aren’t reactionary, and the predominant attitude toward women is still a long way from equality and a short walk from property.

  I just hoped the reputation of the Bright Queen wasn’t endangered by any breakage from the social mores. And Kammen was a good man. As long as Lissette was happy with the arrangement—and Kammen, of course—I couldn’t think of any complaint. I wished it could be different—maybe I had just the tiniest bit of irrational jealousy—but you work with what you have. In short, if it was good to them, it was good to me.

  “All right,” I agreed, “but didn’t you already give away the fact there was a secret?”

  “My lord, I thought you knew! Not about the Bright Queen’s views, but about…”

  “Ah. Right. Okay, fair enough. I’ll discuss it with him.”

  “I thank you, my lord.”

  He unwound his spell—which, I noted, had taken some hits during the discussion; someone wanted to poke a scrying nose in. Someone inside the Palace of Karvalen, apparently, since the Palace’s defensive shields were still up. Interesting. Spies? Or just people too curious for their own good about the Demon King? Possibly both.

  Damn. Spies. It didn’t even cross my mind we would have people in Karvalen, Carrillon, pretty much every major city, all reporting back to whoever was in charge of the Church of Light. Oh, double damn. How many other nations are interested in what’s going on? Not just Church of Light spies, but how many more? After all, why scry when someone can eyeball the situation and tell you? Scrying sensors can be blocked or deceived over a limited area. Observing a fleet assembling is a scrying job. Listening in on the plans about what to do with the fleet is a spying job.

  No, that’s the wrong way to think about it. Why not make use of every possible means to gather information? Scrying sensors, spies, turncoats, oracles, divine revelations, all of it. If you’re going to throw a war, you want to know two major things: what you’re doing, and what the other guy is doing. Sun Tzu had something to say about that, I think. I ought to re-read The Art of War, and soon.

  Which only begged the question of why the Church of Light wasn’t making more preparations. No, again, that’s wrong. Why aren’t the people, as a whole, making preparations for war? Or is the Church planning something devastatingly effective? Divine intervention, despite anything the local gods have to say about it, maybe?

  I need to pay some serious attention to the temples and find out what’s going on in there.

  Dantos let Beltar back in and they resumed their seats.

  “I trust all is well?” Beltar asked.

  “Perfectly. Aside from a few minor things like my growing appetite, the upcoming war, conflicts among the gods, and a mild headache, of course. How are things with you?”

  “My health is excellent and my appetite somewhat less than yours,” he admitted. “Shall I send for food?”

  “You know what? No. Let’s send for something to eat and head to the council chamber. It has more privacy spells. How’s that sound?”

  “Eminently satisfactory, my lord.”

  We trooped out, escorted by the trio of Shadows, and a runner sprinted off to summon breakfast.

  Once we were suitably settled and somewhat fed, Beltar brought up the matter of the Knights of Shadow again.

  “My lord, I understand the basic premise of wishing to hold a reserve and so be prepared to defend Her Majesty’s plans. I do not understand some of the logistics involved, however. We have, perhaps, two thousand knights, or almost. We can field at least three thousand men, counting the trainees who are ready to stand in battle. These are scattered, however, among a dozen major temples and all are within the kingdom. If I may say so, this is hardly the best position for them if they are to be dispatched to rescue—excuse me. If they are to be dispatched to support the troops of the Crown.”

  “It’s only a trip of, oh, say two thousand miles, tops,” I pointed out. “Okay, maybe more if we have to go to the eastern or western border of the Church-held territory. You believe this to be a problem?”

  “Since you evidently do not,” Beltar replied, “I no longer do.”

  “Just like that?”

  “Just like that.”

  Just like that, added my altar ego. Beltar did not respond, so I assumed it was only meant for me.

  I put down my utensils and leaned against the back of the chair.

  Before we go any further, this room is warded and shielded from mortal eavesdropping. Is the Boojum poking his highly-luminous nose into this?

  Nope. He’s… well, he’s bigger and stronger than any of us up here, but, collectively, we can beat him down like an anvil on a tomato.

  Don’t you mean, “a tomato on an anvil?” I asked.

  I do not.

  I thought about it for a moment. An anvil on a tomato. It did make for an interesting mental image.

  A while ago, he went on, we laid a restriction on his power usage in this world. He hasn’t broken through it.

  Good to know. Hey! You’ve mentioned the restriction before, but I have a question. Can he talk to his priests?

  Of course. There’s a difference between working miracles—answering prayers, in the sense they ask for a favor and he grants it—and simply praying for guidance. Talk is cheap. Miracles take work.

  So, he could look at the world and tell them the fleet is coming.

  Yes, but I would know it. The connection between priests and gods is not secure. We’re having a private conversation. When the Mother of Flame speaks to one of the lesser priestesses, I can eavesdrop. See the difference?

  I think I get it. Oh, well. There went a good hypothesis.

  For what?

  Why the southern kingdoms aren’t arming up for a war. If they were depending on him to tell them about any catastrophes—and he couldn’t—that would explain why they’re goofing off. But you tell me he can.

  Yes, he can. But they aren’t preparing?

  You sound surprised.

  You are. Besides, I’ve been politicking up here when I’m not trying to track the Boojum’s movements. Mortals are mostly your responsibility.

  Fair point. I’ve been looking them over with a sand table and I can’t find signs of preparations. Oh, there’s some fighting still going on in the southwest—H’zhad’Eyn?

  That’s the place, he agreed. They just moved in recently.

  Right. That one. From what I can see, the Church is quashing any remaining military resistance to their power. There are a couple of towns under siege and some guerrilla-slash-rebel activity, but I don’t see the Church finishing those off, turning the moderate-sized forces involved around, and being in time to meet the fleet at some undefined point on the coast.

  Now you mention it, neither do I. Any thoughts?

  Lots of thoughts, none of them goo
d. Do you see any hanky-panky up there that could be a nasty surprise?

  Nope. I’ll double-check, though. I don’t see how there could be. Too many people up here don’t like or trust the present Lord of Light, especially now that the original Lord of Light is capable of… huh. There’s no good word for it. Manifesting? Communicating? He’s no longer too weak to transmit—how’s that?

  I get it. So, the other gods aren’t fond of him?

  If Mary died, how would you feel about some stranger who wore her favorite outfit and hung around in your home?

  I think I see.

  The current Lord of Light is an usurper and a foreigner who slid into the original’s shoes to steal whatever he could from our garden. That put the mongoose in the snake pit, let me tell you! He doesn’t seem too perturbed about it, but there’s a lot more divine hostility than there was, now that the original is hanging around again. Nobody likes the idea of being supplanted, and we have a constant reminder that Someone actually did it—and might not mind picking fruit from other trees, as well.

  All good to know. Keep up the good work.

  You, too, he told me. And keep a close eye on the fleet. Once they set sail, they’ll be more vulnerable than at any other time.

  I know.

  Carry on.

  I opened my eyes and sat forward again, resuming my ravenous devouring of anything organic set in front of me. Dantos and Beltar were kind enough not to interrupt my pause for thought or my two-fisted eating. Once I slowed to one-handed eating, Dantos took up the dialogue.

  “My lord, I have heard on many occasions how you intend the rulership of your kingdom to be in the hands of the Bright Queen…”

  “That’s correct.”

  “I have—many have—questions about the succession.”

  “Yeah, I’ve been giving that some thought. It’s not like Liam can be a king when his father is still alive.”

  “Exactly, my lord.”

  “However, I’m also told it is either a serious breach of manners or actively forbidden by the gods for an avatar of any deity to take up rulership in the mortal realm. Am I wrong?”