Shadowlith (Umbral Blade Book 1)

by Stuart Thaman

  When Palos remained silent, the king continued with a nod. “This formula he sought came from some crazed notion Hademar had read in one of your forefather’s journals,” the king said, pointing a finger at Palos’ chest. “Apparently, Alistair the Fourth believed he could bring back the dead.”

  Palos was wholly taken aback. “Impossible,” he quickly denied. “I’ve never heard of such a journal,” he added.

  The king smiled weakly. “Whether the journal was authentic or not, Hademar believed it to be so. He believed it enough that he left all of this in search of an answer. He left his birthright, the throne of Karrheim, and took a hundred of our best soldiers with him, sailing for Nevansk far to the north. No one in Vecnos had heard from him since—until a week ago,” he concluded.

  “He’s here?” Palos asked, his face clearly displaying his overt shock.

  “Not here,” the king replied, shaking his head. “He has landed near Mournstead, and he makes that city his home, at least for the time being.”

  “Mournstead?” Palos exclaimed. “What could he possibly want in that desolate place?”

  Gottfried sighed. “He believes shadow magic can bring back his dead wife,” he said. “He used to ramble about some nonsense where he could return a shade back to its body, reawakening the body and bringing the person back to life. Regardless, I think he intends to open The Shadow King’s tomb in search of more answers. My spies in Mournstead have lead me to believe that is his plan.”

  Palos waited a moment to let everything sink in before he responded. Opening The Shadow King’s tomb struck him as something terribly dangerous for all of Vecnos, though he didn’t specifically know why it scared him. “What do you intend to do, my lord?” he finally asked.

  “I intend to stop him!” the king laughed as though the answer should have been obvious. “Hademar is a lunatic. He’s unstable. He’ll plunge Vecnos into the depths of war and despair if he thinks it will bring back his beloved Petra. I should never have let him leave Karrheim,” he said.

  Suddenly, everything began to come together as some sort of grand, twisted scheme in the back of Palos’ mind. For a moment which filled his veins with adrenaline, he imagined leading a valiant army across Vecnos and slaying Hademar himself.

  “And your news?” King Gottfried inquired, pulling Palos from his vision.

  “Yes, my lord,” Palos began hesitantly. He wasn’t sure he wanted the king to know what had happened at his estate. Perhaps such a distraction would make the king think he was weak, or too busy to help settle the issue with Hademar. Thinking quickly, Palos decided to unilaterally change the reason for his visit. “My son was wounded severely,” he began. “He was attacked in my courtyard, though we captured the villain and put him to death in your name, sir.”

  If he was remembered for nothing else, Palos knew he would be thought of one day as a shrewd politician and an expert liar, though he did not believe the two skills were any different. He watched as King Gottfried thought on his words.

  “That is most unfortunate,” the king replied after a moment. “And Alster will recover, I trust?” he asked.

  “It was Jarix,” Palos corrected. “He was nearly run through with a spear, but he will make a full recovery,” he added.

  The king nodded. “Our laws require my approval for any execution carried out on my behalf,” King Gottfried said sternly. “You acted without my approval?”

  Palos flashed a disarming smile. “The man was caught in cold blood, your highness. I merely expedited an order which I knew you would give,” he explained.

  Gottfried was about to speak again when the door to the balcony opened and the herald poked his head through. “At Lord Palos’ request, a meal has been prepared and set out in the great hall,” the herald interrupted.

  The king nodded in dismissal. “Come, Palos,” he said, his mood lifting somewhat at the prospect of food. “We will speak more of this later, if we find the time. The rest of the high court should arrive by tomorrow morning. I expect us to discuss this business with Hademar and determine an expedient solution. Until then, you are more than welcome to stay here in Whitecliff. I’ll have someone ready a suite for you and your guard.”

  Palos gave a deep bow before following the king to the great hall back on the first floor. As he walked, Palos couldn’t help but smile to himself. Whatever was going on at his estate with a potential shade hunter could wait. If Alster had been kidnapped or killed, so be it.

  In that moment, Palos felt so close to doing something truly legendary that all of his other worries melted away.

  The woman would not let Alster, Elsey, or Rai into her home, but she did allow them to sit around her fire pit to warm themselves as they all ate. “So how do we get to Scalder’s Inlet?” Rai asked rather curtly as he handed the woman a sizeable chunk of smoked venison. She had pulled back her fur hood, and long strands of dark hair whipped around her face in the wind. At first, Rai thought she would be friendly, but the longer he stayed near her the more standoffish she became.

  Alster watched the woman eat in silence. He didn’t trust her, but he didn’t think she was overtly dangerous either. Still, he kept his hands near his dagger just in case.

  “Well?” Rai asked again.

  The woman glanced up from her venison for a brief second, then looked away. “Go that way,” she said quickly, glancing toward what Alster presumed was the east. The sun was almost directly overhead, so Alster wasn’t really sure which direction was which.

  “Do you have a map?” Rai asked, his voice revealing his impatience.

  The woman shook her head.

  “How far is it?” Rai demanded.

  When she had swallowed another chunk of meat, the woman wiped her mouth to speak. “Not very far,” she said. “Four days, maybe five.”

  Rai sighed. “Are there any landmarks?” he asked. “Anything to guide us? A trail? Cities? Villages?” he finished with a yell.

  The woman visibly shrank backward.

  “I’m sorry,” Rai said, though he clearly didn’t mean it. He didn’t want to lose whatever progress he had made with the woman, though she was barely helpful at all. “Can you tell us where to go with more detail? Could you lead us to Scalder’s Inlet? I’ll give you more food if you guide us there,” he finished.

  The woman shook her head. “No one goes to Scalder’s Inlet,” she replied quietly.

  Something about the way she spoke gave Alster a chill which ran deeper than the frosty wind. “Why doesn’t anyone go there?” he asked.

  The woman looked at him, and her eyes shone like hot coals. “No one goes there,” she repeated.

  Rai looked like he was about to yell at the woman again, but Alster stopped him with an upraised hand. “What do you mean?” Alster asked her gently. “What’s at Scalder’s Inlet? Why won’t you go?”

  The woman seemed to tremble, but Alster figured it was simply the cold. “Ghosts,” the woman whispered, her voice nearly stolen away by the wind. “Shades…”

  AN ARMY

  Palos looked around to the other men seated in the windowless chamber. At the head of the long, oak table, King Gottfried reclined in an elegant chair. In high court meetings, he always wore his full raiment of regal garb. The crown of Karrheim was made from spun gold crafted into several interlocking antlers, each one studded with a brilliant gemstone. At his side, the king wore an ornamental longsword made from a single piece of hammered silver. It was an entirely impractical weapon, but it served its purpose well, representing the sheer authority and wealth the king commanded.

  “Several of my associates in Mournstead have reported that Hademar, my brother, has returned to Vecnos with his retinue. My information leads me to suspect that he intends to use shadow magic to bring his late wife back from the dead,” King Gottfried explained after the formal pleasantries of the meeting had been exchanged. A few of the court members traded worried glances, but no one spoke. “I intend to stop him, and I’m open to suggestions on how,” the ki
ng said.

  “Are you certain Hademar must be dealt with by force?” the man to Palos’ left asked. He was the noble from one of Vecnos’ northern ports, and he was the oldest member of the high court.

  “My brother has never been known for his level head or willingness to listen to reason,” Gottfried replied. “A diplomatic option would be preferable, but I have little confidence it could be achieved.”

  The old noble nodded and folded his hands in his lap.

  “What is the danger of allowing Hademar to try?” one of the younger nobles asked. Palos knew the man, but he couldn’t quite remember his name. The upstart had taken his father’s seat the year before, and all Palos could recall was that he represented one of the settlements near the Rift, an extremely profitable mining operation.

  Gottfried shook his head. “Tensions with Mournstead are already high, they always have been. If Hademar opens the tomb of The Shadow King it could cause more undue friction between east and west,” he replied.

  “Mournstead still belongs to Vecnos! You are still their king!” the young noble implored. “They don’t have the strength for rebellion.”

  Gottfried nodded, but he did not look convinced. “I’m not worried about an open rebellion,” he replied. “You are correct, Mournstead lacks the strength to stand toe-to-toe with Karrheim, and they do still answer to me, but I don’t want this turning into something more serious in two or three years,” he said.

  “It might be easiest to stop Hademar quietly,” another nobleman added. “Perhaps a vial of poison or a well-placed dagger could do the trick,” he said. Palos looked to judge the king’s reaction to such regicide, but the king’s stony visage showed little.

  A few nobles nodded their agreement, but then Gottfried shook his head. “When he left Vecnos twelve years ago, he took a sizeable contingent of soldiers with him. My spies report that most of those men have returned to Vecnos with my brother, and there is a strong possibility they have bought into Hademar’s delusions and will protect him,” he explained.

  “How would open warfare on the eastern side of the Rift look to Mournstead?” the noble asked.

  “I don’t know,” Gottfried admitted with a heavy sigh. “The people east of the Rift might interpret an army moving through their lands as a sign of aggression. It could reopen all the old wounds. Or they might thank me for ridding their land of a lunatic,” he said, clearly at a loss.

  “It should be done with a small force, not an army” Palos said, raising his voice just enough to command the attention of the room. “No more than a hundred soldiers. We send Karrheim’s best, most loyal men through the Blightstone Gate. We hunt Hademar, and when we find him, we leave no one alive to remember what happened. It can be done, but it needs to begin quickly, before he has a chance to find The Shadow King’s tomb. If we catch him off guard, it won’t matter if he has soldiers with him or not.”

  A few of the other nobles added their consent, and King Gottfried mulled over the idea with a slight smile. “I presume you would offer to lead such an expedition?” Gottfried asked, meeting Palos’ eyes.

  Palos bowed respectfully. “Yes, my lord,” he said. “If my son Jarix were healthy enough, I would send him, but he is still recovering and time is of the essence. If it pleases you, legend has it that much of Alistair the Fourth’s armor was buried in the Red Mountains with The Shadow King. If Hademar does locate the tomb, I’d like to see it for myself.”

  “I’d like to know this court’s position,” Gottfried said, leaning forward in his chair to call for a formal vote.

  “I like it,” the old nobleman said. “A risky plan, but no one ever did anything worth mentioning without a bit of risk,” he added.

  As was the custom, Palos stood and turned his back, since it was his proposal which the vote would decide.

  “All right,” the king said a short moment later. “It passed.”

  Palos turned around and sighed. He hated waiting for votes, but that one had been nearly instant. In accordance with Karrheim’s laws, he was not permitted to know who had voted for either outcome, or even the exact number of votes for or against his proposal, and it had been that way since long before anyone in the room had been born. Palos liked the system, but he had to admit it was nerve-wracking.

  “I want this settled within six months,” the king added. “I’ll lend you seventy soldiers, five officers, and one of my lieutenants. I won’t tell them where they are going or what they are doing. They will simply be instructed to follow your commands without hesitation.”

  Palos tried to keep the smile from his face, but he could not. All of his grand schemes were coming together perfectly. “Thank you, my lord,” he dutifully replied. “I shall inform them of their true mission once we cross the Rift. Until then, they will simply be marching out on a training mission.”

  “Perfect,” the king replied. He looked back to the seated nobles around him. “For the rest of you, I know how much this information might be worth in gold. I don’t think I need to tell you how important keeping this mission a secret is to the wellbeing of us all,” he said, meeting the gaze of each nobleman in turn.

  When each man agreed to keep their silence on the matter, King Gottfried dismissed them without another word.

  Palos stepped into the hallway behind the king and stretched his back. Across the hall, Captain Holte leaned casually against a marble pillar and fiddled with a button on his shirt.

  “Captain,” Palos said, summoning the man to his side. “I hope you brought a comfortable pair of boots,” he said.

  “Boots?” Holte looked confused.

  A broad smile spread across Palos’ face. “King Gottfried is giving me a small company of soldiers. We set out for the Blightstone Gate tomorrow at dawn,” he said enthusiastically.

  “And your estate?” Holte asked, though his face showed how much the prospect of marching toward potential war intrigued him.

  “It will be there when we return,” Palos told him. “Send a messenger to Jarix. Tell him I will be gone for several months, a year at the most. Tell him that when I return, he should be prepared to receive a commission here in Karrheim.”

  “You think this business with Hademar will lead to war?” Holte asked skeptically.

  Palos nodded. “I very much intend it to,” he replied quietly. “A war is exactly what I need.”

  “What would it take to get you to lead us to the inlet?” Rai asked the strange woman.

  She shook her head, nervously fidgeting as though she would run at the slightest provocation.

  “How far can you take us?” he asked, beginning to lose his patience again.

  The woman looked at him with a glare that spoke volumes.

  Exasperated, Rai stood and retrieved another large piece of smoked venison from their horse. “How much?” he asked.

  The woman eyed the meat hungrily. Rai wondered how anyone could live in such a desolate place. As far as he could tell, there wasn’t any game larger than rabbits, and they were still too far from the ocean for fishing to be relevant. He didn’t know how warm it got in the summer, but he guessed the growing season was only a few months at the most.

  “How-”

  “All of it,” the woman cut him off suddenly. “I’ll draw you a map for all of it.”

  “Half,” Rai countered.

  “We’ll take the deal,” Alster interjected. “Draw us a map and take us as far as you can, and you can have all the meat,” he said, thoughts of seeing the high command flooding his mind.

  The woman nodded.

  “And we’re staying here tonight,” Rai added. “We’ll sleep outside, but we need blankets, or something else to keep us warm.”

  Again, the woman only nodded, but she did not voice any discontent regarding the deal.

  “We’re settled then,” Rai said with something resembling a smile. He looked toward the sky and tried to gauge the time.

  “Why don’t we leave now?” Alster asked. He watched the strange woman cauti
ously. Something about the way she spoke and the way her eyes darted around made her appear untrustworthy.

  Rai stretched his legs on the hard ground. He was warm near the fire, but his muscles were sore. He grimaced at the thought of renewing their trek. “Some of us use our own two legs, Alster,” he said. “We don’t all get to the ride the horse.”

  Alster looked downtrodden.

  “Besides,” Rai continued, “I want to show you some things. Eastern Vecnos is a different place. Once we go beyond the Rift, I want to know that I can count on you if it comes down to it.”

  “Count on my for what?” Alster asked.

  Rai smiled and finished the piece of venison he had been eating. “That dagger,” he said. “I want to trust you swinging it without killing me on accident.”

  The thought of fighting another shade terrified Alster. When he considered the possibility of fighting against a human like Jarix or anyone else trained in combat, he began to have second thoughts about leaving the estate entirely. “Alright,” he finally responded. “Teach me what to do.”

  On the morning of the second day since they had parted ways with their strange guide, Rai, Alster, and Elsey finally saw the giant flotilla of ice moving slowly up and down in the ocean, telling them they had officially arrived at the Frosted Coast. Snow blew sharply at them from the west, cutting across their faces and making them shiver. The soft flakes piled up in large drifts that followed the contours of the land. With every step, their horse sank into the snow, making soft crunching noises beneath its hooves.

  “According to the map, we should be getting close,” Rai said. He turned the crudely drawn hide over and folded it before returning it to his pocket.

  Before them, the glacier stood like a giant wall. Small parts had broken off and bobbed near the shoreline, but maybe one hundred feet into the water the ice rose up and nearly touched the sky.

  “What’s on the top of all the ice?” Elsey asked. She stretched her neck to try and see the top of the glacier, but it was far beyond her view.