A Tide of Shadows

by Tom Bielawski

  With his awareness traveling across the town, moving from shadow to shadow, he was able to get a clear picture of the city he meant to visit. It was a city not unlike human cities in his homeland. There were streets radiating out from a castle mount based at the city-center. There were shops and bazaars, merchants and patrons, peasants and lords. He now focused his mind on the castle, which was quite large and appeared to be a city in and of itself. The wizard watched the comings and goings of the people in this city for some time, but learned nothing of particular importance. He reveled in the experience of traveling through the portals that linked the Realm of Shadows to this one. Any shadow was an open door to the dark wizard, nothing was beyond his reach now.

  Shalthazar stroked his chin in thought as the images faded from his mind. He had learned a great deal from studying Umber’s tomes, yet he had learned little from viewing the city that he had not already known. He removed the clothes from his pack and donned the drab robes of the order to which he would profess membership. There was one more detail to attend: his appearance. He had to look more like the Keneerie elves of Llars and less like those slender elves that shared his blood on his own far off world. But a simple illusion spell would eventually wear off, giving away his true identity.

  “No,” he thought, “I need to permanently alter my appearance somehow.” The wizard opened the Sigilbook Umber had given him and turned to the first section listing magical powers. Transformation. A Sigilspell which would allow the wizard to permanently alter his genetic structure to suit his desires. It was a powerful Sigil, but not too powerful for this sorcerer. The wizard traced the Shadow Sigil in the air before him, speaking the command words that would call forth the Shadow Tides and bend them to his will. A sudden blast of wind assailed Shalthazar shrouding him in darkness. Intense pain washed over him, and he felt as though his bones were being ripped from his flesh and his body was nothing more than an amorphous mass. When he was close to passing out, the pain began to subside. Then he began to grow stronger, more rigid, his bones and muscles now firm. As the darkness lifted, the wizard’s strength returned as well as his power. He felt it surge through his new form, invigorating him, lifting him, driving him. Shalthazar felt his purpose renewed.

  He opened the Sigilbook again and thumbed through it until he found what he was looking for, soul destroyer. There was no power with which this diabolical wizard was familiar that could rival that Sigilspell. It would rip the soul of a being from its body, instantly killing the shell, and turning the soul itself into the purest form of energy to be used by the Sigilist. A person with a sense of due caution would have realized the inherent dangers of daring this advanced use of power. Yet Shalthazar cared little for caution, his ambition and drive for power had served him well through his long years and he wasn’t about to change now.

  And true to the dark wizard’s ambition, he would settle for no ordinary victim. To exploit the soul destroyer’s true parasitic powers, he would need an extraordinary subject, one with something that would enhance the wizard’s own powers and reputation among the Cjii.

  Shalthazar cleared a circular area on the ground, and cast a series of wards to protect it. Each ward he cast began as the smoky image of a Sigil hovering in the air above the ground, then as he spoke the command word, each ward shifted into the shape of a smoky dagger and slammed into the ground! Then he made a second circle surrounding the first, and protected it with more wards. In the center, he traced the form of another Sigil in the dirt. Finished, he examined the concentric circles for a long while, ensuring the perfection of the magical wards. Then, he repeated the process creating a second and third set beside the first.

  Shalthazar stepped into the first set of circles and began the spell. A swirling vortex of shadow magic surrounded the wizard, and another formed in the center of the other set of circles. The air crackled with dark power as the swirling masses of energies dissipated, leaving Shalthazar to face the immortal creature which he had just summoned.

  Flames and darkness swirled around the feet of the summoned, leaving only beady red eyes visible to the summoner. Shalthazar held still despite the sudden assault on his senses. Flames began to dance around his own feet! The wily wizard had dealt with these creatures before, however, and he was no fool. A simple illusion was all that could penetrate his magical wards. With a laugh he dispelled the illusion and the creature before him hissed in anger. Then, as the shroud of darkness finally lifted from the opposite circle a figure appeared. It was an ordinary looking woman dressed not unlike a serving wench with hands clasped before her, and her gaze cast demurely at her feet. Ordinary looking to be sure, yet deadly.

  Shalthazar smirked, and callously stepped to the edge of his circle of protection. His smirk evolved into a righteous smile as the elf brought his gaze to bear on the demon.

  “Cjii-” the wizard began, then stopped interrupted by the beast.

  “Spare me, elf,” the being said, exasperated. Shalthazar looked on, his expression deadpan. “I prefer demoness, thank you!”

  “And I prefer to believe that I am in charge. Do not interrupt me again,” he responded with quiet confidence.

  The demoness sighed as her demeanor changed from shy to bored. Realizing that the wizard had not fallen for her trick, the demoness blew her hair from her face in a pout and sat down on the ground cross-legged, her head resting on her hand.

  “Well...master?”

  Shalthazar caught himself staring at her ample bosom and forced himself to focus on the task at hand.

  “Who are you?” he asked, realizing he now had the upper hand despite the immortal’s sarcasm. The fact that she said “master” at all was a statement of her acceptance of his authority, but only just. Her preference of the term demoness over Cjii amused him. Demons and angles were Cjii, just like old Nephalzubit, the Pathway Watcher. Some of them took the titles given them by their patron deities quite seriously, angels the worst among those.

  “Demoness,” he added with a sly smile.

  Shalthazar was shrewd and enjoyed the contests of will that were such an intrinsic part of summoning magic. Witchcraft, Necromancy, Binder-Magic, and Summoning magic were atop the list of dark practices and were he to be discovered at this moment, the entire plan would be in jeopardy. But the wizard knew there was little chance of any of the pitiful magic-wielders of this world breaking through his wards.

  “I am Tureva of the Lower Hades. What business does an Elvish monk of Ilian Nah have with me?” she asked with a bemused smile, all immortals were aware of the true nature of Ilian Nah.

  “My business is my own. I will make it your business when I am ready,” he replied firmly.

  Angrily the demoness shouted a word in her throaty otherworldly language and a bolt of energy sailed through the air towards him. The wizard stood his ground, smiling. The bolt stopped harmlessly at the edge of his protective circle. Then it circled around him and dissipated, absorbed by his magical wards and transferred to himself. He felt energized, consumed by power. Demon magic was said to be only one step removed from god-magic in potency, and it was known to extend the lifespan of ordinary mortals. Shalthazar, however, knew the truth of the existence of demons and that they were really not the gruesome monsters they portrayed themselves to be. Shalthazar was not foolish enough to believe that demons weren’t every bit as dark and cruel as they let on, but he had learned some of the nature of the immortal race and the whimsical names they gave themselves.

  Reveling in the power coursing throughout his body, Shalthazar momentarily forgot the demoness’ presence; a mistake that would have proven fatal to a lesser man. The wizard came back to his senses quickly and addressed the demoness to keep her under control.

  “Tureva of the Lower Hades, I thank you for that most generous gift of power.”

  “Master elf, I see that you are powerful beyond all reckoning,” she said mockingly. “Indeed, your powers must rival that of the great Umber himself,” she swooned. “You have proven your mettle
, O Great One. Now, please send me back to Hades. I was involved in a very enjoyable pursuit and I am eager to return,” the demon said sweetly, fingering the bodice of her serving wench outfit. Shalthazar had no doubt the demon was truly eager to be gone, but he also suspected that she was testing him. If he gave in to her seductive demands, he would lose status in her eyes and their next encounter could be far more volatile.

  “No,” he replied simply.

  The eyes of the demoness flashed dangerously, the air around her crackled with power, and her hair drifted away from her head like the tentacles of an octopus. She was very angry now and she was beginning to feel up to a fight.

  “You must do one thing before I release you,” he commanded.

  “No,” the demoness replied darkly. “And I don’t believe you can make me,” she was whispering now. Her eyes dared him to challenge her.

  “That is where you are mistaken, Tureva of Lower Hades. You see, I do have the power. Look at the symbol below your feet!”

  “What is that supposed to mean?” the demoness asked, yet Shalthazar detected fearful recognition in those devious eyes.

  “Hmm,” the wizard replied. He rather enjoyed mental chess games. It was so very rare to find an adversary worthy of his intellect. Although he doubted this lower demon would be exceptionally challenging, she was powerful and extraordinarily cunning. He pointed at the second circle with his right hand and spoke the words of the language of Shadows. Black energy coalesced in a swirling black mist at the center of the empty circle beside those of the wizard and the demoness.

  The smoke cleared and another immortal being, a demon of hideous description hovered menacingly, his wings buzzing like an angry wasp. A pit demon from the Abyss, the creature bore a resemblance to a reptile with the wings of a wasp. The creature, clearly male, was enraged and demonstrated its anger at being Summoned. Howling and thrashing, the creature displayed what the wizard would later term a “demonic tantrum.” Shalthazar calmly stood in his circle watching the creature fight, futilely, against its magical bonds. When it had ceased to struggle, the wizard made his move.

  Sensing that the creature was somewhat weak from the Summoning spell, Shalthazar took a gamble and stepped from his circle of protection. He knew that an assault against him was inevitable, yet he trusted in the protections offered him by the powers of the Shadow.

  Ensuring that Tureva was watching him, Shalthazar boldly strode toward the angry demon, who was now attempting to hurl fireballs and lightning bolts at him. As each bolt of energy was caught by the wizard’s magical wards, he became stronger and almost drunk with power. The wizard reached into the circle with his left hand and quickly grasped demon’s throat. With a spoken word the black flames of the Sigilspell, soul destroyer, surged down his arm and consumed his hand. He held it aloft and momentarily admired the fiery black torch, its flames cool and powerful. Then he willed his right hand to take the form of a dagger of shiny black steel, and it did.

  Tureva looked on with concern, knowing that any Lord of the Shadow Sigil could command magic as powerful her own. Yet she was intrigued by the lesser demon’s impending doom. Suddenly, Shalthazar thrust his blade-hand into the writhing demon and flayed its chest wide open. The demon was now too weak to fight, its essence being absorbed into Shalthazar through his magical blade. The demon shrieked in pain as the wizard’s hand shifted back to a fiery appendage and he reached inside the partially opened chest with his hand, his other hand now firmly attached to the demon’s throat.

  Tureva abandoned any thoughts of testing the powerful Sigilist further, and eyed him with fear, if not respect.

  Finally Shalthazar found his treasure. With a great heave, the wizard ripped a glowing cord of silver and black from inside the demon’s chest and yanked it free with all his might. As the cord came free of the demon its pain-filled thrashing ceased. The magical cord wrapped itself around the wizard’s arm like a snake, slithering its way to Shalthazar’s head where it was simply absorbed by the wizard. Unceremoniously, he let the husk that was now the demon’s corpse drop; where it promptly turned to ashes. Swooning with the power he stole from the pit-demon, Shalthazar brought his gaze to bear upon the figure of Tureva.

  “I need a mount,” he said simply. The demon looked at him curiously. “One that is strong, impervious to mortal magic, and will strike fear in the hearts of my foes.”

  “It seems a Lord of the Shadow Sigil should need little help in that arena.”

  “Nevertheless,” he continued firmly.

  “What did you have in mind, my lord?”

  “A nightmare,” he snarled.

  “Hmm. I see,” she said placidly. “There is but one small matter to attend, my lord.”

  “Very well.”

  Shalthazar handed the demoness a pouch containing something he knew she would value very highly. Even though he could destroy this demoness as he did the pit-demon, such an endeavor would be far more dangerous and would not serve his purposes. The demoness opened the silky black pouch and her face split into a wicked grin. Inside the pouch was a collection of things beloved to this demoness who thrived upon the lives of weak-willed men. Umber had planned for the bargain as the cost of dealing with demons and provided Shalthazar with the necessary information he needed to acquire what she wanted. This salacious demoness prided herself on seducing pious men, making them partake in reckless debauchery and lustful behavior with herself or one of her many beautiful concubines. She was skilled in reading the minds of men and using their fantasies against them. Once the man had abandoned all that was dear to him, and gave in to her seductive ways, she would make him her pet and torture him by tempting him with more of what he would never have again. Finally, she would have one of her concubines separate the wretched slave’s manhood from him, reminding him of all he had given up before sending his soul to an eternity of damnation.

  The powerful energy released in such a hideously evil act upon a righteous man empowered her and had an intoxicating effect.

  “How is it, my lord Shalthazar, that I am to be certain these souls were obtained in the proper fashion?” she asked slyly, giddy with anticipation.

  “Do not be coy, Tureva.”

  The demoness cringed upon hearing her own name from mortal lips, reminding her how vulnerable she was to him at this moment.

  “My word is good and it is backed by Umber!” he said with anger. Shalthazar was pleased to see her cringe again at the name of the Dark Lord. “You have been paid far more than such a task is worth. After all, nightmares only reside in Lower Hades.”

  “Your wish is my command, Evil One,” replied the demoness sullenly. It was clear to Shalthazar that the demoness thought his request foolish, or perhaps wasteful, he could have bargained for something of far greater value. Yet a nightmare he required, and a nightmare he would have.

  A moment later a sleek black horse with glaring red eyes stepped out of a shimmering magical portal. The undead horse snorted and smoke flared from her nostrils, her eyes were red as flames. She stood eighteen hands tall and her shiny black form was truly magnificent to behold; no mortal beast could compare to the might of the nightmare. She sauntered to the wizard and stopped, head lowered affectionately.

  “I am pleased, Tureva. You may go.”

  The wizard waved at the demoness with an air of indifference and she promptly vanished into another portal. Shalthazar paused a moment to be certain the demon was truly gone. Then he destroyed his magical circles so she, or another, could not attack him by surprise. The dark beast watched him closely with intelligent eyes as he approached, proudly looking down upon him. One flick of the horse’s sharply pointed hoof would slice him open, if it had chosen to do so.

  “I am your master now, Noirilo-nah,” he said using the Shadow name for the nightmare. Cautiously, he laid his hand on the mare’s sleek black flank; the heat radiating from her was intense. He was pleased with his new mount. Properly disguised by the Shadow Sigil, she would pass for a large warhorse but
in battle she would strike fear into her master’s enemies, breathing fire and slashing with sharp hooves.

  Shalthazar conjured a complete set of ceremonial horse armor commonly used by the Nashian military forces. Then he donned his own armor and attire and cast an illusion over the otherworldly beast giving her the image of a large yet exotic warhorse. His disguise complete, Shalthazar packed his belongings and led the dark horse down the mountainside to the town below.

  ***

  The walk down was treacherous but uneventful; the surefooted nightmare was used to the rocky and harsh terrain of Hades and led her master swiftly and safely to the bottom. When the wizard reached the main road leading into the town, he mounted the nightmare and rode the rest of the way. The demonic horse was intimidating and fearsome to behold, sure to cause ordinary horses to spook and flee. Mortal horses were prey animals, and as such, keenly aware of danger signs like the arrival of a predator animal such as a nightmare.

  Her hooves rang like small thunderclaps with each fall on the stone street leading Shalthazar from the wilderness into the town. For a moment, the elf reveled in the terror such a display would inspire in ordinary men. Men! He must not let any men glimpse the true nature of this animal. Quickly he called upon the Shadow Tides and wrapped the nightmare in them enhancing the concealment he cast upon her earlier. He hadn’t counted on the residual power that a nightmare might bring with her from Hades. In fact, her magical nature almost seemed to be fighting his enchantments! Shalthazar hopped down from the beast to inspect his work. If this plan was going to succeed, he would have to be constantly on guard. Any slips, even the slightest, could ruin everything. The wizard swore he would never let that foul demon of a god have his soul! No, Shalthazar had other, far greater, ambitions!

  After careful inspection, Shalthazar was satisfied that his Sigilspells were holding the disguise, and this time it would last. He climbed back on the big mare and continued down the road in a much quieter fashion. Finally the wilderness gave way and he began to notice small homes and travelers appeared at intervals on the road. The horse was alert, her eyes aglow, looking this way and that, wary, watchful, silently warning others to fear her from time to time as she laid her ears flat on her head. Shalthazar smiled as he watched a local man struggle to regain control of his panicked horses. The disguise he cast over the horse was good enough to fool humans, but animals knew better.