Shalthazar prepared to cast his first Sigilspell and, rather than being apprehensive about the fast approaching enemy ship full of heavily armed brutes, he was giddy with anticipation. The wizard closed his eyes and focused on drawing the dark tidal forces into himself. Then he spoke the command word and traced the Sigil in the air before him. Instantly he was overcome with a rush of potent magical energy!
Shalthazar forced himself to focus, overcoming the intoxicating effect of this powerful magic. Slowly, in answer to the will of his spell, water droplets rose up from the surface of the sea and formed a cloud. As the droplets rose high into the air they took on the shape of a large swirling vortex; it was a tornado of water! Shalthazar willed the storm to do his bidding and a tendril shot out from the aquatic tornado towards the rapidly approaching long ship. The crew of the long ship saw the danger coming, frantically tried to reverse course, but it was too late. The tendril enveloped the ship and lifted it from the water. A bemused grin slipped across the wizard’s face as he watched men dive from the deck of their ship into the cold water of the ocean.
Wickedly, the wizard willed the vortex to spin the enemy ship; faster and faster it spun, turning the beams and planks of the ship into deadly missiles. Finally, the ship broke apart, exploding, sending wooden projectiles hurtling in all directions, some of which struck one of the Vaard long ships. Shalthazar laughed mercilessly as a few of the men on the surviving enemy ship were impaled to its deck. He was especially pleased when a wooden beam hurled through the enemy ship connected with the Silver Dragon, causing an explosion of wooden debris; he knew it must be taking on water!
Survivors floated in the sea amongst the splinters and planks of the first Vaard ship, the second was slowly making its way toward the Silver Dragon under oar power, and the third was stuck fast to the Silver Dragon, though it was fatally damaged. Shalthazar believed things to be going quite well, the Vaard seemed to sense the hopelessness of their situation; their only hope of survival lay in taking the Silver Dragon for themselves. He turned his attention back to the skirmishing on the decks of the connected combatant ships and saw that his men were systematically cutting down the enemy fighters. His troops were handling the undisciplined Vaard quite well, all but for a Vaardic shaman who was lobbing pathetic magical darts into the fray.
Shalthazar once again called upon the Tides to shroud his body in Shadowfire, and his terrifying form stalked across the deck towards the Vaardic long ship. The enhanced strength, hearing, and vision that came with the powerful spell made him giddy. He sent a huge Vaardic warrior flying over the Silver Dragon’s gunnel with one shove; a feat the elf would never have been able to do under normal circumstances. Unable to reach the heavily defended enemy ram, the wizard decided to test his enhanced abilities and leaped across the open water, Shadowfire splitting the air in a trail behind him. He landed in a crouch on the deck of the enemy ship and quickly rose to his feet, Ckatani blades charged, held aloft and coursing with dark flames. Trails of flame followed the elf’s dancing blades as he cut a swath of death through the Vaardic warriors. Finally, he reached the shaman who was now trying to climb the rigging to escape the powerful wizard.
The shaman, dressed in a fur cape and painted leathers with black teeth and dead rodents hanging from his belt, looked down at Shalthazar and repeatedly spit at him, uttering unintelligible words all the while. Shalthazar knew ordinary arcane magic when he heard it, although this magical arcane language was clearly different from that used in his homeland. He filed that thought away too, wondering if the magical language itself had something more to do with the impotence of arcane magic here than the effects of the Fabric. A wispy web of silk materialized from the barbarian’s spittle and wrapped itself around Shalthazar, immobilizing him. The wizard stood very calmly allowing the web to envelop him, giving his enemy hope. Then, seemingly with no effort, Shadowfire erupted from his body and turned the web to ashes. The wizard laughed heartily.
“And I had actually considered taking you prisoner!”
The shaman looked perplexed that his spell had failed him, and he clearly couldn’t understand a word the wizard was saying. When he heard Shalthazar laughing at him, the shaman wet himself from fright. With a shriek, he tried to scramble farther up the rigging and away from the dark wizard, but Shalthazar gave quick pursuit. With his enhanced strength, he grabbed the shaman by the ankle and flung him to the deck below where he landed with a thud; some of his black teeth scattered on the deck around him.
As Shalthazar dropped lightly to the deck he saw that his own troops had not been idle. The Nashian soldiers and Marines appeared to have the enemy troops under control. He dragged the limp body of the shaman back to the Silver Dragon, feeling weaker by the minute. Gratefully, the elf relinquished the body of the shaman to a pair of Marines who dragged away it somewhere, presumably the brig.
Admiral Maynar found Shalthazar as he returned to the Silver Dragon. “Prophet-General, the Vaard have given up! Our battle is over,” said the Admiral eagerly. “By the holy light of Ilian Nah, we have prevailed against their greater numbers! All blessings to you, Holy One!” the admiral said as he bowed low to Shalthazar.
The Prophet-General nodded approvingly; he turned to see the Marine commander along with the captain of the Silver Dragon leading two manacled prisoners to the bridge.
“Who are those prisoners, Admiral?” asked Shalthazar.
“Let us find out, Holy One.”
The two walked up to the bridge to meet this prisoner. The Dragon’s captain and the Marine commander, stood at attention and saluted the Admiral and their Prophet-General as they approached. The Marine guards glanced respectfully at their superiors but held their prisoners in check with cocked crossbows.
“Admiral, the Silver Dragon is now secure. All hands are accounted for. Five injuries and as many deaths to report,” Captain Faloman reported. “I have sent dispatches to find out how the rest of the fleet is faring. It appears we have drifted far from our course.”
“Good work gentlemen!” returned the admiral. “Captain, how are we going to disengage ourselves from that rat-infested ship of theirs?”
“Sir, the ram of the enemy ship is apparently detachable, as is the main mast,” replied Faloman. “There is a large wooden pin that secures it to the prow of their ship. It is designed to be detached allowing the enemy to disengage after plundering and scuttling their victims’ ship.”
“I see. Disengage that pin, before we sink!” the admiral said. The Marine commander, Colonel Sauger, barked an order and several of his Marines boarded the enemy long ship with a few Roughneck sailors, quickly tending to the ram.
“Colonel, who are these degenerates you have brought to me?” the Prophet-General asked the Marine commander quietly, he was getting so weak he was beginning to feel dizzy. He fought himself for control, knowing that he could show weakness before neither friend nor foe.
“This is Chief-King Varex Jarrsen, Overlord of the Vaardic nations of Iceplain,” said the Marine commander with pride. Shalthazar smiled as the commander continued, he could not believe his luck! “My interpreter tells me that the Vaardic raiders were ready for us. This flanking maneuver was conceived with the intent of singling out our command ship.”
“No doubt his status as Overlord would have been strengthened had he beaten the enemy leader in battle,” replied Shalthazar. “Who is the other?”
“He says his name is Olaf Redskull and he is some sort of sub-king, or tribal king; we can’t be sure.”
The Prophet-General looked down at the pair, deciding what to do with them. “Captain, after we disengage from the Vaardic ship I want it scuttled. I want the survivors rescued from the water and thrown in the brig. Fire a couple of shots at the remaining ships. If they do not resist, offer the enemy quarter and take them prisoner. If they resist, kill them all.”
The captain saluted in response.
“A word with you, Captain Faloman,” said the wizard, in a very threatening manner. The
captain nodded gloomily, and paused as Shalthazar placed a hand on the man’s shoulder, whispering the command word of the Sigilspell called soulfeed. The captain cried out in pain and fell to his knees before the Prophet-General. His vision was dimming and he found it very hard to speak. In fact, the pain was so great that the captain felt he was going to die, right there in front of his crew. As the essence of the captain’s soul began to slowly drift into the wizard’s body, Shalthazar began to feel stronger.
“Captain Faloman,” he said slowly, allowing himself to feed on only a small portion of the man’s soul. “Do you fear death? Do you feel that cold blackness drifting towards you?”
The man nodded, panicky.
“You are dying, Captain. And your soul strengthens our god as you do. Do you think it is wise to reprimand your betters in public?”
The pain would not allow the captain to speak, so he just mumbled something and shook his head.
“Good. If you fail to remember that again, and if you dare attempt to tell me what to do, our next encounter will result in the complete destruction of your soul. When I am done with you, you will simply cease to exist. And as you die, you will beg me to send your soul to the Seven Hells where your fate would be more pleasant. Am I clear?”
The pitiful bawling wretch blubbered and nodded and the wizard knew he had made his point. A good many of the officers and crew had seen how easily the Prophet-General had wilted their battle-hardened captain with the touch of a hand. Shalthazar smiled.
“We understand each other then. Carry on, Captain Faloman.”
Admiral Maynar, too, had seen what transpired between his junior officer and his commander. He had wanted to step in, yet to do so would undermine the Prophet-General, and certainly result in a more severe punishment. With a sigh, he resigned himself to watch what transpired and silently cursed the fool captain for offending their Prophet-General.
The moment the wizard released his grip, the ship’s captain swayed as though he might lose consciousness. “Captain, why have you not attended your duties?”
One of the officers who had witnessed the encounter rushed to his captain’s aid and helped the numb man stumble to his feet.
“1st Officer, it seems the good captain is in need of rest. Would you see to his duties, please?”
With panic in his eyes, the 1st Officer shouted at a pair of sailors and ordered them to help their addled captain to his quarters. Then the 1st Officer scurried off to carry out the Prophet-General’s orders. Shalthazar, rejuvenated from stealing a portion of the captain’s very soul, smiled broadly and thanked the 1st Officer for his diligence. The result of that spell had truly shocked the dark wizard; he had no idea that feeding on another’s soul could be so powerful! No wonder the gods could be so hard to defeat. The effect was even better than that of the Tides!
The officers followed with the prisoners, prodding them from behind. They were an undisciplined group and could not grasp the concept of standing in formation. He ordered the kings to stand in front of the rest of the captured prisoners. After some discussion among the junior officers it was decided that the Vaardic fighters would be allowed to stand as a mob, but they were manacled and under heavy guard. Shalthazar stood patiently, without comment, as the prisoners were readied for him. He did not like to micromanage mundane tasks; it was unbecoming one of his rank and stature.
“Let it not be said that the hand of Ilian Nah is not just. Interpreter, tell these ‘kings’ that they have met their new Overlord.” Shalthazar looked them both square in the eyes. “Tell them if they will declare their souls to Ilian Nah, and swear fealty to me, they will be spared.”
Upon hearing the translation, the Vaardic Overlord looked at Shalthazar and spat on his shoe. Without missing a beat, Shalthazar grasped the man by the throat with his left hand and traced a Sigil in the air with his right. He gratefully pulled the Shadow Tides into himself again and placed his right hand onto Jarrsen’s chest. Slowly, he forced the tips of his fingers into the man’s chest, breaking the skin with a sickening “slurp” as the rest of his hand forced its way deeper into the barbarian king’s chest. To the amazement of all, the Vaardic Overlord neither shouted nor struggled but looked the dark elf in the eye, although his face was contorted in pain. Then, Shalthazar ripped the heart from the man’s chest and smiled as his eyes met those of slowly dying man.
As the life left the eyes of the chief king, Shalthazar let his limp body fall to the ground.
“Ask them if anyone else would like to spit on my shoe,” the elf said acidly, as he tossed the bloody heart into the sea.
Olaf Redskull, thoroughly impressed with his new liege lord’s powers, immediately bowed in submission to Shalthazar, Prophet-General of Ilian Nah. Reskull, and those officers of the other ships who had chosen as wisely as their remaining king, were given quarter and allowed to walk freely among their far more powerful captors, even as their men remained locked up among the brigs of the many Nashian warships. Shalthazar knew, now that word of his honorable treatment of their king was spreading, that the king’s men would respect the Prophet-General for not having shamed their honor. And it didn’t hurt that the wizard had recruited a few apprentices, strategically placed among the other warships, who were eager to demonstrate their skills with the Sigils.
The fleet made good time to Volkstaad, home of the Overlord of Iceplain. The landscape stretched out along the horizon, bleak and dreary under a steel gray sky. Smoke fires, disturbed by swirling and angry arctic winds, created a hazy aspect to the city before the mighty Nashian Fleet. As Shalthazar’s fleet held a line formation in the main harbor of Volkstaad, home of the Overlord of Iceplain, some of the Vaardic survivors of the encounter with the Silver Dragon escaped to the mainland. The devious elf hoped that survivors, under the watchful gaze of his apprentices, would tell tales of the superiority of the Nashian Fleet. The seed of these tales had been planted among the minds of each of the Vaardic captives with the assistance of the Shadow Sigil. The newfound Vaardic allies would spread the word of their former Overlord’s treachery and that the great Prophet-General of Ilian Nah had helped save the precious fleet of the Vaard.
Umber warned the elf to use caution; sheer force might win him a throne, but it would not win loyalty. The elf knew that in order to cement his hold on the people of Isfjell, he had to appeal to their sense of greed and thirst for destruction. Once he had their attention, he would offer the Vaardic warriors a place in his military with a promise of war and spoils.
Shalthazar moved away from the great window of his stateroom and sat behind his desk. Before him sat Admiral Maynar, Colonel Sauger, General Nox, and Captain Faloman. The captain, recovered but still shaken from his previous encounter with the Prophet-General, sat bleakly before the desk, his skin pale, sweat dripped down his brow. He would not soon forget the lesson he was taught for disrespecting his Prophet-General.
Shalthazar’s stateroom was a beautiful chamber outfitted with luxurious furniture and a beautiful desk made from the rare Nashian Black Oak, said to have magical properties. The sun was setting on the western horizon and Shalthazar could feel the Tides shifting and rolling with the shifting tides of the seas; it was a peculiar yet powerful manifestation of magical energy.
The elf listened to the reports from the rest of the fleet. Good news. Only one ship lost, several enemy ships scuttled and few casualties among his own men. His own apprentices reported that he could expect a very mixed welcome in dealing with the Vaardic peoples in Volkstaad, but this was not unexpected. So long as their reception was mixed and not galvanized against him, he had little doubt of their success. With the use of a Sigilspell called Multi, the wizard could easily multitask his brain to function on several levels at once, each level independently recording and processing data and making decisions. This unusual ability helped him to get things done quickly and kept his subordinates on guard. And, in this way, he was able to simultaneously process the reports from his apprentices and the men seated before him.
“Prophet-General, I must protest. The presence of these barbarians will unsettle morale!” General Nox said strenuously, but politely. The elf did not answer but shifted his gaze to the Marine, Colonel Sauger.
“Prophet-General, I put my faith in the wisdom of Ilian Nah. Although I share my reservations with General Nox, a Vaardic Brigade under the General’s command could be an effective tool.” Colonel Sauger knew that his title, Commander of Marines, made him equal in title to both General Nox and Admiral Maynar, if not in rank. However, he clearly understood the value of keeping himself on the general’s good side and thus kept his answer neutral.
The general was silent a moment. “We cannot allow the Vaardic to assimilate into our forces. How can we trust the Vaardic forces not to turn on us in battle?”
“That is the easy part, general. We will appeal to their sense of greed and bloodlust. They will be offered a prominent role in battle and a share of spoils in exchange for their loyalty to Ilian Nah. The greed of the Vaard has been well documented.” Shalthazar again marveled at the wisdom and foresight of Umber; he had truly thought of everything. Including coffers with enough gold to bribe an empire, if need be. “However, to assuage your concerns, the Vaardic brigade will not assimilate with our forces. Instead, you will train them to fight as a single unit which will be placed under your command.”
Shalthazar rose from his desk and returned to the large window in the back of his stateroom. “Tomorrow we commence our plans for the conquest of a continent! Captain Faloman, make certain the prisoners are ready for a short boat ride tomorrow. Colonel, your Marines will to accompany me shore side.”
Understanding that they had been dismissed, the three commanders and the ship’s captain filed out of the stateroom and went about their tasks. Shalthazar poured himself a glass of rum, a spirituous beverage favored by the Vaard, and enjoyed its burning sweet taste. Yes, he thought. Things are coming together nicely!
The Dragon Writers Collection Page 26