by D. P. Prior
Hagalle sighed and raised his hands to the sky. ‘Advance with the main army and let them see our strength, but under no circumstances attack without my say so. Do I make myself clear?’
Starn’s face reddened and he blinked repeatedly. ‘You want us to lay siege to the city, my Emperor?’
Hagalle rolled his eyes. ‘No, you buffoon. I want you to do as you’ve been told.’ He rapped his knuckles on the side of Starn’s head. ‘Don’t think. Obey.’
Starn saluted, bowed, and nearly tripped over his own feet as he hurried off to comply with Hagalle’s orders.
‘A wise move, my Lord,’ Farian said. ‘See if we can lure them out into the open. Last thing we want is street by street fighting.’
Hagalle bit down on his bottom lip. ‘But how long do we wait, eh, Farian? If this Cadman’s got half a brain he’ll not give up the defensive advantage. Gods only know what’s happening to my subjects in the meantime. Either they’ll take the bait or they’ll split and run. If they do neither, we attack come morning.’
Hagalle watched General Starn bumbling about relaying orders and wondered how on earth the once mighty armies of the west were now in the hands of such utter nincompoops. Once this was all over he’d be doing some serious restructuring. With the plans he had in mind for the empire he’d need men of far greater calibre than Starn.
He caught Farian watching him out the corner of his eye. And he was another one. Couple of prats, the both of them. Better off without them. If you wanted something doing…
THE DOME
There was a boy floating above his head. ‘Ain’s teeth!’ Shader surged to his feet, but lost contact with the ground and spun skywards. The boy’s head whirled around him laughing, fair hair plastered across his face. He reached out a hand and caught Shader’s wrist to steady him. ‘You’re dreaming,’ he said. ‘Sammy?’ ‘Huntsman sent me. They’ll be glad you made it back OK.’ Sammy cast a look over his shoulder as if there were others watching. ‘Mamba’s found the statue.’ ‘Mamba?’ Sammy moved aside to admit the hulking black man with the serpent’s head. ‘It movesss wessst,’ Mamba hissed. ‘Towardsss the docksss. Huntsssman thinksss it isss being taken to the Anglesssh Islesss.’
The snake-man faded from sight and Sammy was now no more than a swirling face. ‘You must find it, Deacon,’ he said. ‘Find it.’ Shader sat bolt upright and opened his eyes. He was surrounded by overhanging branches. Beside him Barek slept on a bed of leaves. ‘Come on.’ Shader shook the lad. ‘Time to go.’
***
They walked for long hours, the humidity slowing their progress. With Barek’s help, Shader removed his chainmail hauberk and dragged it along behind.
Barek stopped him and pointed through the trees at a vast dome thrusting from the earth, its black surface shimmering and flecked with green. They emerged into a circular clearing, approaching the dome with caution. It was coated with rock dust, the ground strewn with debris and uprooted trees.
‘What is it?’ Barek asked. ‘Something left by the Ancients?’
Shader crouched down to study the fresh earth around the base. ‘Looks like there’s been recent movement. Forced its way through the earth.’
‘Earthquake?’
Shader shook his head. ‘Not in Sahul. At least I’ve never heard of one.’
They walked around the dome until they came to a broad metal ramp leading inside.
‘Magic?’ Barek asked, keeping his voice hushed.
‘Think you were right first time,’ Shader said. ‘This has the feel of Ancient tech.’
Barek stood at the foot of the ramp and squinted up at the dark interior. ‘It’s like nothing else I’ve seen from that era,’ he said. ‘Sarum’s towers are older than the Reckoning, and yet this is completely different. It reminds me of the tunnels beneath the templum. I don’t like it. It’s giving me goose bumps.’
Shader felt it too, but wasn’t about to add to the scaremongering. He’d seen enough of magic and demons to no longer doubt their existence, but this was something else. Clapping Barek on the shoulder he strode up the ramp. ‘ “That which doesn’t kill me,” Barek…’
He stopped at the top to wait for the lad, who was dragging his feet.
‘Whisks me off to another world for a life of slavery?’ Barek said with a grim set to his jaw. ‘Elias had this story about these little gnome-like creatures whizzing about in flying teapots or something. Said they were harvesting humans for experiments on another planet. Still, you never know with Elias. All depends on how much he’s been smoking.’
‘You’re rambling, Barek.’
‘Yes, sorry. Happens when I’m scared.’
Shader slid the gladius from its scabbard. ‘I was quoting the Liber. “That which doesn’t kill me makes me stronger.” ’
‘Can’t say I got on with that bit. Didn’t seem to fit with the rest,’ Barek said. ‘Guess it’s all part of the mystery.’
The interior was a cavernous black metal chamber that gave off a greenish glow. A cloying mist hung in the air, smelling of age and decay.
‘What the Abyss?’ Barek said, dropping to one knee.
The floor had been chalked with strange markings—complicated sigils, and words in a language Shader didn’t recognize. A crude and massive triangle had been drawn upon the floor at a slight remove from the writing.
‘What did I tell you?’ Barek said, standing. ‘Magic.’
A chill crept over Shader’s flesh. He glimpsed movement out of the corner of his eye and pointed the gladius at a dark sheen on the wall. Keeping the blade before him, he advanced and started to discern the shadowy form of a man with a body of black mist. He could just about make out a cloak and armour, and a vaguely formed helm from which crimson eyes blazed. The figure was almost completely incorporeal and devoid of shade or colour.
‘Callixus?’ Shader held up a hand to keep Barek back.
The gladius flared, igniting the blackness around it with a pure golden glow. The wraith-knight cowered before the blaze.
‘Alas no,’ it said. ‘But praise Ain. I thought I’d never again see the tabard of the Elect on a living being. Does the Order survive?’
‘It still serves the Ipsissimus, although perhaps with less distinction than in your time.’ Shader lowered the sword. ‘What are you doing here? What is this place?’
‘It is a tomb,’ the wraith said. ‘For those not permitted to die. Have you come to rot alongside me, to destroy me, or to help me?’
‘Why aren’t you with the others?’ Shader re-sheathed the gladius. ‘You’re known to my Order as the Lost, and yet clearly that’s no longer the case. Callixus attacked Pardes, and I fought your comrades in Sarum. Why should we help you?’
‘Because I am a deserter. I have broken my oath to the Grand Master.’
‘You disobeyed Callixus?’
Shader didn’t know why he should be so shocked, after all, hadn’t he defied the Ipsissimus?
‘The Grand Master succumbed to despair, as did my brethren. I do not blame them. Our misery has been unimaginable, our desolation complete. Ain has not come to our aid during these lonely centuries. There is only so long hope can survive.’
Barek stood beside Shader, pale-faced and trembling. ‘But you held out?’
The wraith turned its mournful eyes on the lad. ‘Ain is faithful, young man. He will come, in time. Maybe I’m deluded, like my brothers say, but I refuse to despair. Callixus should have punished me for my disobedience, but he did not. I saw hope in that. And now two brother Nousians stand before me with the blood of life pumping through their veins. Ain is good. Ain is merciful.’
‘What I don’t understand,’ Barek said, ‘is why you don’t leave. The door’s open. We just walked in. What’s stopping you?’
‘Where would I go? What would I do? My life should have ended centuries ago. When Ain wants me, He will come.’
‘Maybe Ain’s waiting for you to do something useful,’ Shader said.
The wraith’s eyes flared.<
br />
‘Your Order is an abomination,’ Shader said. ‘Even as we speak a battle is brewing and the Lost will be in the forefront of it. Maybe this is what Ain’s been waiting for, a chance for you to stop being a victim. You’re still a Nousian, aren’t you? We’re going to need all the help we can get.’
The wraith let out a long hiss and drifted around the chamber. Black mist trailed behind it like cobwebs. ‘You know nothing of what we suffered. Nothing! Do you think I haven’t thought of fighting back? We all have, but against this Cadman we are powerless.’
Shader folded his arms across his chest. ‘Then why are you here and not doing his bidding along with the others? For Ain all things are possible.’
‘Yes?’ the wraith said. ‘Then why did he leave us? Why?’ A sob escaped him and he hunched over beside the wall. ‘Forgive me, Ain, forgive me. You are faithful. I trust in you.’
Shader was about to make another retort when Barek silenced him with a finger to the lips. The lad approached the wraith and sat on the floor.
‘You haven’t told us your name,’ he said. ‘I’m Barek, and this is Deacon Shader.’
The wraith looked up, the fierce glow in its eyes softening to a warm orange. ‘I was…I am called Osric.’
‘Osric,’ Barek repeated. ‘Tell us, Osric, what happened to your Order?’
Shader groaned. They hadn’t the time for this.
Barek held up a hand. ‘Everything,’ he said. ‘Just as you remember.’
Osric sank down to the floor and sat cross-legged, mirroring Barek. Shader bit back his frustration and joined them.
‘The Ipsissimus ordered us to aid the Abbey of Pardes in the 432nd year of the Reckoning. The Grey Abbot had sent word of a mawgish incursion. There was no help from Sarum, but that was nothing new. The mawgs didn’t make a direct assault, but the abbey was effectively under siege.
Our fleet arrived just as a massive invasion force set sail from the Anglesh Isles. We rode swiftly from Sarum’s port, thinking we would have but a few days to raise sufficient defences. There were three hundred of us, all Elect knights under the command of our Grand Master, Callixus. We were attacked from the rear by Sarum’s militia and driven towards a large force of Imperial troops who had been barracked at the city for this very purpose. Apparently the Emperor had heard news of our mission and suspected foul play.’
‘Nothing’s changed there,’ Shader said.
Barek was rubbing at his palm with a thumb, tracing circles where the flesh had been pierced and then healed.
‘We could easily have turned and crushed the militia without having to face the more heavily armed Imperial troops. Callixus, however, had no wish to worsen the relationship between Sahul and Aeterna, and so sought to evade both forces. Just as we began to despair of so doing we were approached by an old Nousian who offered to guide us. He showed us a route through the northern suburbs that led to Fenrir Forest. He said he would meet us there and show us a secret way to the abbey.
‘We galloped beyond Sarum and entered the dark wood. It seemed odd that our guide waited amidst the trees as we entered, for we had thought to have left him far behind in the city. Callixus found him trustworthy, and so we followed him deep into the forest. At last we came to a clearing. A vast metallic dome rose up before us, a great edifice from a bygone age. The old man said it was the entrance to the tunnels that would take us to Pardes.
‘We entered via a wide ramp and found ourselves in this very room. Our guide waited at the entrance, a look of smug satisfaction on his face; a look that has burned itself into my memory.
‘Callixus must have sensed betrayal for he spurred his horse towards the villain. The old man cast something dark at the Grand Master, who fell writhing from his steed and began to decompose. We watched in dread as our lord was reduced to a seeping putrescence from which rose a shadowy form that drifted to the side of our erstwhile guide. I charged the old man, but was struck down by the same magic.
‘The villain laughed and then changed his appearance with some sort of illusion. There before us now stood a grotesquely fat man dressed in the scarlet robes of the governor of Sarum. He taunted the other knights and gloated about how easily deceived we’d been. He changed again, this time revealing his true form, brittle and skeletal, with filmy strips of dry skin clinging to the bone. Then he was gone and the ramp rose up to seal us within this metal tomb. Here we suffered Ain knows how long until the air was exhausted. Callixus and I watched our brothers choking and gasping.
‘They found no respite in death, however. The skeletal creature returned and employed a powerful necromancy, which raised them along with their steeds. Here we remained, entombed, but conscious throughout the centuries.’
‘This skeletal creature you describe…’ Barek began.
‘Now goes by the name of Cadman,’ Shader said.
Osric nodded.
‘He was once governor of Sarum?’ Barek asked.
‘Probably not by design,’ Shader said. ‘Cadman’s a liche, of that I’m certain. I’ve faced his kind before in Verusia. I expect he became too successful at whatever else he was doing and attracted unwanted attention. I can’t imagine a less desirable position for a liche. They’re cowardly wretches, always laying plans to ensure their own survival.’
The creatures he’d fought in Verusia had largely been mindless minions. Their liche masters were rarely seen, and seldom stuck around in a fight. When cornered, though, they were deadly opponents. Shader had seen an entire company blasted apart by dark fire. The Seventh Horse had given chase, but found nothing other than shapes in the mist.
‘But why would the Lost follow Cadman after what he’s done to them?’ Barek asked.
‘Despair has robbed them of the strength to oppose his will. When faith in Ain dies,’ Osric touched a spectral hand to his forehead, ‘people will believe in anything: prophecies, powers, the influence of the stars. If they’re desperate enough, they’ll even believe lies.’
‘But not you,’ Shader said.
‘My allegiance remains to Callixus, the man in possession of his own will, not the slavish automaton he’s become. And whilst Ain is slow to answer my prayers, He grants me faith.’ Osric locked his eyes to Shader’s. ‘But faith can be very dark.’
Shader looked away and then stood. He walked to the entrance, staring out at the trees. ‘You still haven’t told us what this dome is.’ He slapped a hand against the wall. A resounding clang echoed around the chamber.
Osric drifted to his side, following his gaze. ‘That I do not know,’ he said. ‘And I doubt Cadman really knows either. The world is full of mysteries, praise be to Ain. Do you intend to join this battle against my brothers?’
Shader thought for a moment before he replied. Sammy’s voice was strong in his mind; that and the remembered pain of Shadrak’s blade. ‘I don’t think so.’
‘What?’ Barek said. ‘But the White Order…’
‘Are in good hands. Justin might be a terrible Nousian, but he’s a capable knight with a good head on his shoulders.’ Shader grimaced, realizing he could just as well be talking about himself. ‘Hagalle may not take too kindly to our having escaped,’ he continued. ‘He has more than enough men to deal with Cadman. I’m going after Shadrak. I need to get back my piece of the statue.’
‘The Statue of Eingana?’ Osric asked.
‘You know of it?’
‘There is a society within the Elect that ensures the Order remains true to its purpose. It is called the Saphra Society. Only a handful of knights are invited to join, mostly from the upper ranks. In my time I rose as high as Marshall so I was a member, as was Callixus. We preserve the secrets of the Order, the reason for its foundation.’
Something else Shader had been kept in the dark about. What next? Some revelation about the Templum itself? Dark secrets concerning his parents? In this shifting world he was beginning to wonder if he could even trust his memories, his sense of who he was. Shader fought to keep the bitterness from his voice.
‘Which is what?’
‘The Elect were formed in response to the Blightey affair. When the Ipsissimus was murdered, his Monas was taken.’
Shader knew all that. Blightey had eventually been cornered with the help of the Grey Abbot. ‘That’s ancient knowledge.’ Shader suddenly thumped himself on the head. ‘Idiot,’ he said. ‘The Monas concealed a piece of the statue, just like the Grey Abbot’s.’
Osric nodded. ‘That’s the raison d’être of our Order, brother Shader. The Elect are trained with the sole purpose of protecting the artefact from those who would steal it. There have been many more attempts. Ipsissimi have been attacked by evil forces that have driven them insane or killed them. It is a function of the Saphra Society to ensure the artefact is safely passed on to the successor. You would have known all this if you’d not abandoned your duty as Keeper.’
Shader spun to face the wraith. ‘What? How could you…?’
Osric pointed with a gaseous finger to the Sword of the Archon sheathed at Shader’s hip. ‘The Ipsissimus would never permit the Archon’s sword to leave Aeterna, and only the Keeper can wield it. There can be no doubt that you won the competition, for the sword follows your desires. I may have been blinded by its light when you entered the dome, but I am not blind to reason. If you had stayed in Aeterna you would have known of the Saphra Society. The Keeper of the Sword of the Archon sits at its head.’
Shader felt giddy. Aristodeus must have known all this. That night at the docks he’d encouraged Shader to flee to Sahul. And the Grey Abbot— he’d been the one to suggest the tournament.
‘This Society of yours,’ Shader’s voice was hoarse. ‘Who founded it?’
‘The Ipsissimus,’ Osric said, ‘but on the advice of the Grey Abbot and one other.’
‘Don’t tell me,’ Shader said. ‘A bald man in white robes? Goes by the name of Aristodeus?’
Osric’s eyes narrowed to glowing slits. ‘Yes, but how do you know this? He must have been dead for centuries.’
The more Shader pieced together about his old mentor, the less he liked it. ‘There’s obviously more to our beloved philosopher than meets the eye. What do you make of the fact that he knew I was planning to bring the sword to Sahul? In fact, he positively encouraged it.’