by Alan Scott
“I am aware of that.”
“He and the cult embraced the legends and fables that surrounded Mancer. You must beware of them.”
“Oh, yes.”
Moore gave a resigned smile. “Whatever you think or know about that, Shadow Killer, we did hold the line at the Battle of Crescent Plain.” Moore’s voice waivered, slightly, “We took huge casualties, but we held the line.”
“I know you did,” Shadow Killer tapped his fingers against his thigh, “but the victory was tainted by the death of King Karl Rothgal, the massacre at the field hospital, and the disappearance of Richard Heart.”
“Yes,” both men agreed, sadly.
“We became a shadow of our former selves,” began Peter, “and split into two factions – the warrior chapter, which went on to serve with distinction at the last Great War, and a monastic chapter, which was tasked to discover the truth behind Mancer.”
Shadow Killer looked puzzled. “I seem to be asking this a lot, but – why?”
“Why the need for the truth?”
“Yes.”
“We needed to know if the sacrifice of so many men was worth it. We needed to know if the code we live and die by – ‘We stand when no one else will’ – was a fabric of lies or if there was an element of truth in it.” Peter shrugged his shoulders.
“Does it actually matter?” said Shadow Killer.
“Of course it matters!” Andrew eyes were bright with anger. “Of course it matters,” he repeated, calming himself as he spoke. “If there is truth in the legend, then our men died upholding a noble belief. If the legend was all lies, then they died for nothing.”
“Semantics,” Shadow Killer scorned. Eyeing the men carefully, he continued, “Why do you need me?”
“The truth?”
“I prefer it.”
Andrew took a deep breath. “The legend and myth is too much interwoven with the truth that it is impossible to tell which is which. We needed to talk with someone who had been around when Hubert Mancer was alive, who knew him.”
“But we could not just march in and ask you,” added Peter.
“True,” agreed Shadow Killer.
“So we set a trap, or a puzzle, if you prefer.”
“For me?”
“Yes,” admitted Peter, “we know you don’t like secrets or mysteries, so we created one by claiming the Dark Prophecy as ours and insisting it was known as the Mancer Prophecy.”
“So once you had captured me, how were you going to stop me killing you?” grinned Shadow Killer.
“Our prophecy has an additional verse.”
Very slowly and very deliberately, Shadow Killer said, “An additional verse.”
“Yes,” both men replied.
“I knew there was something else.” Shadow Killer rubbed his chin. “And what does this additional verse say?”
“What was Mancer like?”
“How do I know there is an additional verse?”
“How do we know you will tell the truth about Mancer?”
“You don’t.”
“Then we seem to be at stand-off.”
“Unfortunately,” said Peter, sadly.
Shadow Killer sighed and closed his eyes. He did not have time to play this game. He needed to get back to the palace. “So you want to know about Hubert Mancer?”
“Yes,” they both replied.
Shadow Killer turned to look at the two men. “Then let me tell you a story of his youth. It was during one of the many border wars between Zarekland and Yeris. Mancer’s regiment, the Third Lowland Regiment of the kingdom of Zarekland, was stationed near the border. His company, the Fifth, was defending a section of the line near a local farm. This farm had become a refuge for local women and children fleeing the horrors of the fighting.
“Information had come through that the enemy was going to make a push near the farmhouse within the hour. The officer in charge of the company decided that they should pull back a mile down the road and dig in. When the sergeant asked about the women and children, he was told they were acceptable losses.
“As the company was starting to march away, Mancer broke ranks, went up to the officer, and slid his dagger into the man’s belly. Walking away from the dying man, Mancer drew his sword and made his way to the farmhouse.
“He just stood there as everyone watched, shaking with suppressed rage and tears flowing from his eyes. Then, a huge man called Ogre, who was the flagbearer, made his way to stand beside Mancer. Silently, Ogre looked down at Mancer and unfurled the company flag and planted it firmly in the ground.
“Next, his Sergeant - Sergeant McKenzie - walked up to him and asked ‘Why?’. Mancer silently turned his head and stared at his sergeant with a deep burning rage in his eyes and tears streaming down his face. He turned his gaze once more to the road leading to the farm. Sergeant McKenzie then informed Mancer that, if he survived this battle, he would be on latrine duty for two months; then he stood next to him.
“One by one the rest of the company formed up around Mancer, so instead of retreating down the road and leaving the women and children to fend for themselves, the Fifth Company of the Third Lowland Regiment of the kingdom of Zarekland formed a defensive line and prepared to defend the farm.
“It was not long until the enemy appeared and formed up into a battleline. Upon seeing the enemy, Mancer took a step forward, gave them the finger, and shouted out, ‘Come on, you fat bastards!’
“The battle was hard fought and, over the period of the day, more and more elements of the Third Lowland Regiment arrived to reinforce the farmhouse defenders. In the end, the Zarekland forces were victorious. A few days later, the new captain for the Fifth Company arrived. That man’s name was Captain Nathanial West, and the rest, as they say, is history.”
“You have given us a lot to ponder,” said Peter.
“Yes, a lot to ponder,” agreed Andrew.
“Don’t ponder too long. Hubert Mancer was simply the man he was. It’s not his fault that people have pinned their hopes and fears on him. It’s not his fault that people try and make him something he is not.”
“We know,” agreed Peter and Andrew.
“Now keep your end of the deal.”
“Yes, of course,” smiled Andrew. “Please, wait here.” With that, Andrew made his way through the garden and into the main building.
Peter looked around. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”
Shadow Killer looked at the hard frost glistening in the light of the full moon. “It is.”
Silence reigned.
It was about ten minutes later when Andrew Moore returned and silently handed over a rolled up scroll to Shadow Killer. Shadow Killer, keeping his one hand by his side, looked quizzically at Moore.
“Oh, sorry,” muttered Andrew as he unwrapped the scroll and held it out for Shadow Killer to read.
As he read the words for a second time, a mocking smile appeared on his face and a light laugh escaped his lips. “I now understand the smile, old friend.”
“Eh, sorry?” said Peter Hazelgrove.
“It’s nothing,” dismissed Shadow Killer with a shake of his head. “An old friend of mine used to wear this really annoying mocking smile. You could never know if he mocking you, himself, the world, or all three.”
“That would be annoying,” commented Peter.
“You have no idea.” Shadow Killer grinned before looking serious. “However, now that I have read the full Mancer Prophecy, I understand his smile.”
“So why the smile, Shadow Killer?” asked Peter Hazelgrove.
“The sheer number of paradoxes.”
“What... what do you mean? It is fairly straightforward, is it not?” asked Andrew. “The Midnight Man will return. There will be some fighting and, when it is at its bleakest, a man of low standing will save the day.”
“That is a truly simplified version,” said Shadow Killer.
“I know; however those of the military branch of our cult search for this mysterious man.”<
br />
“Sorry, they what?” interrupted Shadow Killer.
“They search...” Andrew stopped what he was saying before stating, “That smile is really, really annoying.”
Shadow Killer kept silently smiling at the pair of men in front of him.
“Would you kindly stop that?” asked Peter.
Shadow Killer slowly shook his head. “Why do you call it the Mancer Prophecy?”
“Because the Cult of Mancer discovered it,” answered Andrew.
“Truly?”
“Yes, truly.” A hint of anger crept into Peter’s voice.
Shadow Killer looked up to the clear sky and the millions of dots of light that hung there, in the dark and cold night. “You really don’t see it, do you? – the wonderful paradox and irony.”
“See what, Shadow Killer?” Peter demanded.
Lowering his gaze, Shadow Killer stared directly into Peter’s eyes. “The person you are searching for is... Mancer.”
“What?” Peter and Andrew exclaimed together.
“The last section of the prophecy is describing Hubert Mancer.”
“But he died over fifty year ago!” stated Andrew Moore.
“I know.”
“As I said earlier, a wonderful paradox and irony.” Shadow Killer grinned.
“Are you positive that it is our Lord Mancer the prophecy is describing?” asked Peter.
“Oh, yes, of all the people I have met in my long life, only Hubert Mancer would stand before certain death, scream out an insult, and believe that he would survive.”
Peter rubbed his brow. “I don’t understand. How can a dead man return and defeat the Midnight Man? I can understand how the Midnight Man can return; after all, he is Spirit and, if his host body dies, he can simply move on, however, Lord Mancer was just a man. How can he return?”
“I don’t have a clue,” replied Shadow Killer.
“What?” declared Peter.
Shadow Killer shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t have a clue.”
“You are Shadow Killer, one of the great Dev’vers!” said Andrew.
“I was.” Shadow Killer took a deep breath. “I was. I am now a one-armed bodyguard for a queen, and talking about being a bodyguard, I must return now. Keep that scroll safe and hide it well.” Shadow Killer opened a shadow-door and stepped through.
Andrew and Peter watched as the portal closed and vanished. “We have learned much, this night,” said Peter. “It changes everything.”
“Actually, it changes nothing,” said Andrew.
“Why?”
Andrew looked up at the night sky. “As I said before – The Midnight Man will return. There will be some fighting and, when it is at its bleakest, a man of low standing will save the day.”
“And as Shadow Killer said – that is a very simplistic view,” countered Peter. “What of the human cost? What of the stories of those who will fight, die, and live through it?”
Tears slowly started to fall from Andrew’s eyes. “I fear those dark tales will begin sooner than we think.”
“Fear not, my friend,” Peter moved to stand beside Andrew, “for we are the Cult of Mancer and we shall be a beacon of light when this world plummets into darkness.”
Andrew blinked away the tears and, half-laughing, said, “Will we have the strength to stand before evil and tell it to go away, in no uncertain terms?”
“I like to think that there is a little of Lord Mancer in all of us, upon which we can call when needed.”
“Peter?”
“Yes.”
“Do you think that Lord Mancer was a good man?”
Peter paused for a moment before saying, “Does it matter?”
***
Shadow Killer exited the shadow-door and stepped onto the balcony. He could hear the raised voices from inside the room. They were still debating how to deal with the Red Bank. Shadow Killer ignored them and leant on the guardrail of the balcony, looking at the deep black water. “You almost got me, Cloud Chaser...”
The wind suddenly howled and violently blew the leaves around.
“Ah, you don’t like being called by your real name, do you? But I remember you – when you were Cloud Chaser, a Chosen, an Air Spirit flying free in the Star Mountains, before you were trapped and became insane.”
The wind again gusted brutally around the balcony.
“Likewise, you know who I am, and I will fight you.”
Laughter came from the wind.
“I will fight.”
“You will lose,” the wind said.
“Yes, I know,” replied Shadow Killer, with a mocking smile.
The fury of the wind increased. “You will DIE!”
Shadow Killer raised his head and smiled into the growing storm. “We all die in the end.”
Chapter Five
And Further Afield...
Through the open window, the scent of jasmine was carried into the room on a gentle breeze, along with the musical sound of falling water. Jacob Pace reached out for the glass of deep red wine, which was sitting on his desk, and took a chaste sip. Carefully, he placed it back down and continued reading the report in front of him, the rest of which were stacked neatly on his in-tray, awaiting their turn.
An hour or so passed as he worked away, before he leaned back in his chair and, with his mind, called out, “Lucas!”
“Yes, Father,” came the almost instant reply.
“I require your presence.”
“As you command, Father.”
Jacob Pace reached for his wine glass, raised it to his mouth, and drank just enough to moisten his lips and throat. A shadow-door opened in his office and from it stepped an elderly gentleman. “You called, Father?”
Jacob looked at his youngest son and raised a disapproving eyebrow.
“Sorry, Father,” said Lucas Pace. His entire body shimmered and blurred for a moment, before revealing a youthful and surprisingly fresh-faced man in his mid-twenties.
Jacob ran his tongue over his teeth and drummed the fingers of his free hand on his desk. “It seems that my curse of having disappointing sons had not yet been lifted.”
“Sorry, Father,” repeated Lucas.
“Sorry, Father,” Jacob said with a sneer. “At least your dead brother, Solomon, had the guts to be a man around me, even if he had the intelligence of a vole.”
“I know I disappoint you, Father.”
Jacob studied his only remaining son whilst taking another taste of his expensive and rare red wine. “Lucas.”
“Father?”
“I sometimes think that you pretend to be a spineless and worthless man just to spite me.”
“Not at all, Father.”
“Mmmmm.”
A deep silence fell between the two men as Jacob continued to study his son and slowly drink his wine. Lucas stood silently before his father’s desk, his eyes firmly fixed on the floor. It was thirty minutes later when Jacob placed down his empty wine glass and folded his hands on the table. “Tell me what you know about the Mancer Prophecy.”
Lucas took a deep breath and thought for a moment. “It is a current prophecy. It states that the creature known as the Midnight Man shall return and sweep all before him.”
“What do you know about the Midnight Man?”
“He was initially an Air spirit called Cloud Chaser, who became trapped in the body of a man named Nathanial West, hence causing Cloud Chaser to become insane and become the Midnight Man. My deceased brother, Solomon, was involved with Nathanial West and, hence, by default, with the Midnight Man.”
“That was… adequate.”
“Thank you, Father.”
“That was not praise, Lucas.”
“Sorry, Father.”
Jacob shook his head. “Anyway, do you think this prophecy threatens us?”
“The Midnight Man is linked to us via Solomon.” Lucas paused for a moment as he collected his thoughts. “There is a potential for the Midnight Man to be a threat to us.”
&
nbsp; “How?”
“If he does successfully take over the continent of Talocants, he would have quite a power base, plus…” Lucas paused.
“What is it, Lucas?” Jacob asked, quietly.
“The Midnight Man is still an Air spirit, a Chosen.”
“Correct.”
“His home was the Star Mountains.”
“Again, correct.”
“So he will know about…”
“The Draken amulet,” finished Jacob as he stared at his desktop and tapped his fingers.
“Correct, Father.” For a fleeting moment, Lucas’ mask slipped to reveal the face of a man of deep intelligence and inner strength. “If he gains the Draken amulet, he would be a force to contend with.”
“You have given me much to think about, Lucas.”
“Yes, Father. Is there anything else?”
“Yes, there is. I require you to attend, upon my behalf, your sister’s event in two weeks’ time.”
“What event is Oceania hosting, Father?”
“Call yourself a Pace? You only continue to disappoint, Lucas.”
“I apologise, Father, for all my failures, and the fact that I always fail to meet your expectations.”
“I don’t want apologies, boy; I want you to be the man I am.”
“No one can be the man you are, Father.”
Jacob drummed his fingers slowly and powerfully on his desk. “Boy, you test my patience.”
“Sorry, Father.”
“Quite. Anyway, back to your sister. As you know, ever since her husband fell, Leviathan has been courting her.”
“I am aware of that, Father.”
“Well, there have been developments.” Jacob smiled a very rare smile. “The Kraken has returned.”
“What?” Lucas asked in astonishment.
“Her husband, the Kraken, has returned.”
“But he died, what – eleven years ago at the Battle of Light. I always thought that his spirit was destroyed, as well as his body.”