Power's Shadow

by Richard Parks

  “I think we’ll have to swim for it,” Kian said.

  Marta shook her head firmly. “I think that would be a very bad idea.”

  “Oh, there aren’t any craja about, if that’s what worries you,” said a new voice. “But there is a bridge to your left.”

  How did he know about the craja? Marta thought, before she realized that she still didn’t see who was speaking.

  The hooded figure that Marta saw at the site of Taleera’s cottage stood on the opposite shore. Marta would have sworn on any relic you’d care to name that he hadn’t been there a moment before.

  “I’ve seen you before,” Dena said.

  Dena too? Well, well….

  Marta wasn’t really surprised. The forces pulling her to this place had brought Dena as well, and if that was because Dena was shadowing her the effect was the same. They were both there. Now it was perhaps time to find out why.

  “You can see my fire just in the distance,” the man said. “I’ll be waiting.”

  Now they could see a fire, or at least a greater glow, coming from the north wall of the cavern, plus what might have been a stone bridge further, or at least a deep dark shadow in the shape of a bridge. What they didn’t see was the person. It was as if he pulled the gloom of the place around himself like a cloak and winked out of sight.

  “I think we’ve met the man Abbot Seb spoke of,” Dolan said.

  “It’s not possible he is who the abbot says he is,” Kian said.

  “Perhaps no more or less possible than who the abbot claims to be,” Sela said. “It’s perhaps one thing the Kuldun nuns and monks accept without question, and they accept very little at face value from what I’ve seen.”

  Does that really matter just now?” Marta asked. “I think we—I and Dena, at least—need to speak with him, whoever he is.”

  “Oh, I’ve got questions of my own,” Prince Dolan said, his expression grim. “But I will defer to you for now.”

  “Then I must ask you to put your swords away,” Marta said. “If he’s who he is reputed to be, blades would be a provocation but otherwise useless. If he’s not…well, you won’t need them. He’s one slightly built man against the three of you. Though, frankly, I think Sela could handle him on her own.”

  Kian was reluctant to say the least, but Prince Dolan saw the sense in what Marta said. He sheathed his blade and after a moment’s hesitation, Sir Kian followed the prince’s example.

  The shadow over the water resolved itself into a stone bridge, just as the hooded man had said. Kian insisted on crossing first, apparently to reassure himself that he was still fulfilling his duty, and Marta saw no reason to object. After Kian jumped up and down on the stone a few times he was satisfied that the structure was sound, and Marta and the rest followed him over.

  “That way,” Kian said.

  “Wait,” Kel said. He kept close to the shore of the river, but went several steps ahead of them, then stopped and looked at something on the rock in front of him. “Look at this.”

  Prince Dolan was the first to reach Kel. “So,” he said. “That part of the story was true.”

  Marta soon saw what the two men were referring to. There by the shore lay two perfectly preserved skeletons. Or perhaps it was more accurate to say that they were beyond preserved—the conditions in that place had enhanced them. Rock crystals sprouted from the bones, nearly encasing them, growing in spiked clusters on their cold brows like a pair of crowns.

  Kian frowned. “You mean the two murdered princes of Wylandia? I thought that was a fairy tale.”

  “If by that you mean ‘not true,’ you were apparently in error,” Dena said dryly.

  “We don’t know who these people were,” Dolan said. “But they fit the legend as I understood it. More to the point, if this is in fact the two lost princes, then this is the place where my ancestor was alleged to have slain Tymon the Black.”

  “Well, he thought he did, and I was definitely dead…sort of. It didn’t quite last, but that wasn’t his fault.”

  The hooded figure was back, this time not more than twenty paces beyond the skeletons, and Kian’s hand was on his sword hilt in an instant, but he managed to keep himself from drawing it. The man in the hood merely pulled back his hood so that they could finally see his face. What they saw was a man who, by all appearance, couldn’t have been much older than thirty.

  “Tymon of Morushe,” he said, and gave a slight bow. “Before they started hanging all those other names on me. That was my first one. Delighted to meet you all…even those of you I have yet to have the pleasure. Lady Marta I know, and Lady Dena and her debt servant Kel…Bonetapper I’m aware of, though we haven’t been introduced properly. Come to that, none of the introductions were exactly proper.”

  “Prince Dolan of Borasur-Morushe,” Dolan said. “This is Sir Kian.”

  “It wasn’t Borasur-Morushe then,” Tymon said. “That happened…I guess about the time your ancestor came to call. That would have been your ten times great grandfather, I think. Galan. Splendid fellow, very bright...though not nearly as subtle as you, I think. I hope you’ll forgive me for such a personal remark. I’m alone a great deal of the time. My manners have no doubt suffered.”

  “I haven’t that excuse,” Marta said. “But would it be ill-mannered to ask a few questions?”

  “Not at all. I was expecting them.”

  “You’ve been watching us, perhaps for a long time. Why?”

  “Because we have common interests, though of course you couldn’t know that yet. And a common enemy.”

  “Who would that enemy be?”

  “Amaet, of course. The Power who created the Arrow Path. The Power who is responsible for my being here, five hundred years past the point where I should be dust.”

  Marta took a breath. “She’s not my enemy. I serve Amaet.”

  “You can tell yourself that, but the truth is that you’re searching for a way to be free of her. So am I.”

  “Excuse me, Lady Marta,” Prince Dolan said, “But I have a question of my own—are we supposed to be believe that you’re really the man called Tymon the Black, and that you’re over half a millennium old?”

  “Actually, no,” Tymon said. “Highness, I know you’ve met Brother Seb, and I’m equally aware that extraordinary claims require proof equal to the task, and even an intelligent person can convince themselves that Seb has somehow managed to fool the largest group of sceptics, scholars and savants on the mainland that he’s lived…well, actually he’s a few years older than I am. So, no, I’m not asking you to believe that.”

  “You mean it’s not true?” Dena asked, and Tymon smiled again.

  “Oh, it’s absolutely true, Lady Dena,” Tymon said. “I’m just not asking you to believe it, because for the business at hand, it doesn’t matter what you believe.”

  “If you know what I am, then you know that I feel the pull of…the Law of Power that I’m seeking,” Marta said. “I feel it here, and that’s why I came. Do you have the sword called Part-the-Breeze?”

  “Yes I do,” Tymon said.

  “You took the sword from my father’s armory?” Prince Dolan asked. “I would ask ‘how,’ since it should have been impossible, but perhaps a better question would be ‘why’?’”

  Tymon smiled even wider. “Your ancestor would be proud. I took the sword because I knew it would draw Lady Marta here…but your information is incomplete. I didn’t take one sword—I took all three.”

  Dolan gasped. “Then Brother Collas…?”

  “Made three reproductions, not one. But he deliberately introduced a relatively obvious flaw into one copy at my request so the theft could be discovered…by someone who had a very deep knowledge of Master Solthyr’s work. Otherwise, I’m afraid no one would have noticed. Master Collas is just that good.”

  “I spotted it,” Sela said. “But not the other two.”

  “Because you never saw them,” Tymon said. “And next I suppose you’ll want to know how I know that, w
hich is also not important, but let’s get it out of the way.”

  The twig creature that had guided them through the Blackpits appeared at Tymon’s side. “This is a stick golem. In the old days it would have been held together with twine at the joints. I’ve had plenty of time to refine the design, and it’s much improved. See how there appears to be nothing holding the thing together? I’m especially proud of that. I can make as many as I want, any size I want…up to a point. They can go where I can’t go, see what I can’t see. Anything I want to know, I can find out.”

  “And if the thing is discovered, or there’s any risk of it, the thing can simply revert to twigs,” Bonetapper said.

  “Yes, very good,” Tymon said. “Probably the perfect spies, but as I said—not important. You came here for a reason, Lady Marta. You all did, just not for the same one, though some of you think so. Much, much confusion, so shall we start sorting that out? Yes, I think we should. Please follow me.”

  Tymon led the way to the far end of the cavern where they had seen the brighter glow. As they approached they saw what appeared to be a brazier with flames in it, though it gave off no smoke. Closer still they could see what appeared to be the base of a stalagmite about either feet across, cut off cleanly about three feet from the floor. There were small blocks of stone about the size of a brick arranged in a circle around the edge of the base. Balanced evenly on three of those were the swords.

  “Please examine them, Lady Sela,” Tymon said.

  Sela stepped closer and looked closely at the first sword. “This is Part-the-Breeze. There’s no doubt.”

  She walked over to the next sword. “Bonebane,” she said, and then went to the next one. She finally looked up. “Sunrise. He’s telling the truth, at least about this.”

  “Cautious,” Tymon said. “Where caution is indicated. I like that.”

  “Those swords belong to Borasur-Morushe,” Dolan said pointedly.

  “Highness, it was never my intention to keep them. Think of it as borrowing rather than outright theft, and for a good cause. Now all the swords are present. Lady Marta?”

  Marta took a deep breath. “Bring out the others. Please.”

  The swords were carefully unwrapped and placed on the stalagmite table. Sela called them out as they took their places beside the others.

  “Leafcutter.”

  “Sunlight-on-Water.”

  “”Sunset.”

  When the six were accounted for, Sela finally drew her own sword and placed it beside the others.

  “Shave-the-Cat.”

  Dena frowned. “Now what?”

  Marta just shook her head. “You think I know?”

  “But you feel it, don’t you?” Dena asked. “The Fifth Law.”

  Marta closed her eyes for a moment or two, trying to sort the truth from her hopes and fears. She finally sighed and opened her eyes again. “Yes. The Fifth Law is here. I feel it. Don’t you?”

  Dena looked away. “No.”

  Marta frowned. “What do you mean, no? You must.”

  “Since the Fourth Law,” Dena said. “I haven’t felt anything. That’s why….” Her voice trailed away, and her angry flush said that she hadn’t meant to say as much as she had.

  “You were following us,” Bonetapper said.

  Dena stood a little straighter. “I will do what I have to. I did tell you that.”

  Other than her mother, Marta had never met another Arrow Path witch, or rather a true one. Whatever else Dena might have been, she was that. Marta felt the kinship even as she felt Dena’s anger, and her fear, and her pain. Marta recognized all that in Dena, but mostly what she felt then was the pull of the Fifth Law.

  I am so close.

  Marta thought of the time when she had first realized that Master Solthyr’s swords and the Fifth Law were somehow connected. She remembered the two swords singing to each other. Marta stepped closer to the stalagmite table and looked at the arrangement of the swords.

  “Why the circle, Master Tymon?” Marta asked, and the magician shrugged.

  “I thought it looked nice,” he said, but this time Marta did not believe him.

  Whatever this is, it is not random.

  She glanced back and realized that Dolan, Kian, and Sela were clustered together, whispering. She shook her head and walked to where they were. Tymon stood politely by the swords, waiting.

  “Whatever you’re thinking about, please forget it,” Marta said.

  “But we weren’t…” Prince Dolan started to say, then apparently thought better of it. “You must know,” he whispered, “that this man is both dangerous and likely insane.”

  “Dangerous? Absolutely. Insane? I do not think so. Which is sort of a miracle, really. He should be insane. I think I would be. He’s not, at least as I understand the meaning of the word. Stay alert, certainly, but please let yourselves be guided by me in this. I want your word, Highness.”

  Dolan sighed. “I can’t speak for Lady Sela, but I will take no action without your order, Lady Marta. I hope you know what you’re doing.”

  “So do I. Sela?”

  “He has my sword. What can I do?”

  “You can keep watch and if something goes wrong, try to get everyone out. That goes for you as well, Prince. If something happens to me, get out. Don’t try to get to the swords, don’t try to get to me, don’t confront Tymon unless as an absolute last resort. Understood?”

  “Reluctantly understood,” he said, and Sela just nodded.

  By now Dena and Kel had joined the group and heard the last of what Marta said.

  “I’m not leaving without what I came for,” Dena said. “No matter what happens.”

  “You must choose your own way,” Marta said. “But if something does go wrong, then this wasn’t the Fifth Law. There would be no reason—“

  “I’m staying where you stay, going where you go. I’m not leaving,” Dena repeated, and Marta finally shrugged.

  “Then let us go find what we came for.”

  Marta and Dena approached the table together. Tymon just stood a few feet away, looking patiently interested.

  “They’re beautiful, if a weapon can be beautiful,” Dena said. “But what is their purpose?”

  “I cannot imagine,” Marta said, “that Master Solthyr had either you or me in mind when he created them. They are what they appear to be—weapons. What I felt when the two swords Sela possessed touched each other had to be due to some characteristic or inherent quality in the blades that implies the Fifth Law. What is that quality? I do not know.”

  “I cannot imagine,” Tymon said, and his words may have echoed her own but she could not find any mockery in them, “That staring at the swords is going to help.”

  Marta smiled. “No, I don’t think it will.”

  Marta looked around at the cavern floor and picked up a small nodule of limestone about the size of a peach pit. This she placed between the first and second fingers of her right hand and gently rapped it against the blade of the closest sword, Bonebane. The steel rang for a few moments, then the sound faded. Marta tried again with another sword, Sunlight-on-Water, and got much the same result. The steel rang, but the sound quickly faded.

  Dena frowned. “What are you doing?”

  “Looking,” Marta said.

  She wasn’t sure what she had expected, she just knew that what had happened so far wasn’t it, and certainly nothing like the day when Sela had accidentally brought Shave-the-Cat and Leafcutter together….

  “Oh.”

  The sword Master Solthyr specifically gave to his daughter.

  Marta found Shave-the-Cat and picked it up, then Leafcutter, and then very carefully tapped them together. She was rewarded with the same ringing sound in both swords, louder than she’s achieved with the pebble. She very carefully placed both blades back in the table where they continued to ring. In only a few moments the other five swords had picked up the vibration and were ringing on their own without even being touched except by the sound of
the first two.

  “It’s getting louder,” Dena said.

  “It most certainly is,” Tymon said. “Interesting….”

  Marta almost fancied she could see the vibration being propagated around the circle as each sword seemed to pick up the vibration, add its own harmony, and pass it along to the next sword in the circle. Soon the humming seemed to fill the entire space of that huge cavern, growing more intense by the moment.

  “I can feel it in my teeth,” Prince Dolan muttered.

  Somewhere in the distance they hard a splash, then another. Soon after, there was the crash of a stalactite falling onto the stone floor.

  “The whole cave is ringing with it,” Bonetapper said. “That is not good.”

  “But what does it mean?” Dena demanded of everyone and no one.

  Marta was puzzled about that as well. Certainly, she could imagine that there was some natural principle of sound that the monks and nuns of the Kuldun Monastery could spend years working out, but she didn’t have that much time. Certainly Master Solthyr had been clever to design the seven named swords to create this effect. In the right circumstances and the wrong hands, it could be a more powerful weapon than any sword. Yet Marta did not care about any of that. All she did understand for certain was that there was a principle implied in what she was seeing and hearing. The Fifth Law was here, right in front of her, and still she was too thick to recognize it.

  Separately, each sword is just a sword, but together….

  “Oh.”

  Simple. The Laws always were, at heart. Or perhaps it was just that, once the veil was lifted and the sunlight shone through, it merely seemed that way. There were seven swords, just as there were—as Marta understood—seven Laws. That was, probably, a coincidence. Or perhaps not, but the Law was illustrated plainly enough that Marta finally saw it, felt it, and internalized it into the very core of her understanding.