Shadow of the Conqueror

by Shad M Brooks

  “I can, and that’s why I killed them.”

  “You killed them? When I said for you to do what needed to be done, I meant for you to capture them to be tried and punished!”

  “Where they’d be executed anyway, we would hope. Can you imagine if any of them got free? This way, we save time. Regardless, I was justified under the law.”

  “But there were so many, and surely they didn’t all resist?”

  “No. Most surrendered and begged for mercy.”

  Ahrek looked horrified. “And you still killed them?”

  “Without hesitation.”

  Ahrek was unable to say anything, his face a mask of dismay.

  “Did I do wrong in my actions?” Daylen asked. “You think they deserved any better?”

  “No. It just troubles me deeply, very deeply, that you’re capable of such things.”

  “Me too, but the ugly truth is there needs to be people like me in the world so those who can’t stomach such brutality need not lose their innocence.”

  “I know… But what under the Light have you gone through to make you like this?”

  “Ahrek, I told you, that’s none of your business.”

  Ahrek stared at him and nodded. He patted Daylen on the shoulder and left to see to the girls, attending them one at a time, healing when needed, but mostly consoling them and letting them cry on his shoulder.

  Daylen walked to the side of the deck to look out at the sky and land below. The ships had slowed to a stop and the air was still and quiet.

  Killing so many in such a short time made Daylen feel dead inside. He knew he would be faced with violence in this new life—Light, he even went out of his way to look for it—but he hadn’t really been expecting to perform a massacre so soon.

  Just another one to add to the list, he thought to himself as his heart broke and he fought back tears.

  Such was the tale of his life.

  “Thank you,” a young voice said from Daylen’s side. “Thank you for saving us.”

  Daylen wiped away a stray tear and turned to see one of the girls. She was a beautiful thing with big dark blue eyes and blue hair with streaks of scarlet throughout.

  Daylen didn’t know what to say. His instinct and natural reaction was to berate such a comment—common decency didn’t deserve thanks—but he couldn’t bring himself to be so harsh to this poor pretty creature. She had been through a horror and needed no more negativity.

  “It’s nothing.”

  The girl wept as she replied, “No, it’s not. You saved us.”

  She suddenly dived into Daylen’s arms, hugging him as she broke down, crying, “Thank you, thank you!”

  It felt very awkward.

  When Daylen could bear no more, he gently pried the girl, who must have been around sixteen, from his side and told her to see if Ahrek could help her. She wiped away her tears and smiled at Daylen as she left.

  Oh, Light! She thinks I’m some blackened savior, Daylen thought before looking to the other victims. Though still distraught, many of them were looking at Daylen with as much gratitude and hero worship in their eyes as the first.

  Why aren’t they looking at Ahrek like that? Daylen wondered. Ahrek looked much more the hero than Daylen’s old grumpy scowls. Seriously, if Daylen was completely honest, Ahrek’s youth was far better looking than Daylen’s old, haggard…

  Daylen sighed. He still hadn’t gotten used to his new appearance. Daylen was eighty-two years old and he was used to looking his age. He might not physically feel that old anymore, but mentally he certainly did. Yet to these girls Daylen would look to be very close in age to many of them, as well as strong and admittedly attractive. A heroic figure if there ever was one, like those only found in romance novels.

  Daylen sneered at the repulsive image. He had to get away from the attention, so he made his way over to the pirate he had spared.

  The young man was still tied up.

  Refreshingly, he looked at Daylen in nearly the exact opposite way the girls had. He’d had a front-row seat to Daylen’s treatment of both captains, after all, so to this sorry sod Daylen might as well have been the Herald of Night in the flesh.

  “If I were going to kill you, I’d have done it by now.”

  The young boy, maybe eighteen or nineteen, slowly stopped cowering, though he was most certainly still afraid. “What…what do you want with me?” he said with a Hamahran accent—which was odd, because his messy hair was a deep purple, the common color of the Dayshan peoples of Daymony and Delavie. There were a few streaks of green, though, which meant he had some Hamahran blood. He had a square face with handsome features, a strong jaw, and sharp, discerning green eyes.

  “Why was someone like you with a bunch of pirates?”

  “Someone like me?”

  “You’re not as bad as the other pirates, not even close. So…how did you become one?”

  “Why would you think I’m any better?”

  “Are you?”

  The boy stared at Daylen for a time before glancing away. “Yeah.”

  “Exactly. So, why did you become a pirate?”

  “I didn’t really have a choice,” the boy said rudely. “I grew up in Raidaway. If you don’t steal or kill, yeah, you die, it’s as simple as that. Joining a pirate crew seemed my only way out of the place.”

  If this was true, the boy would have lived a very rough life. It wasn’t hard to see how he’d ended up where he had. “Well, you’re not a pirate anymore. Try to steal from me and I’ll kill you, got it?”

  “Yeah, so I’m your slave?”

  “Exactly. A prisoner slave, until I feel it’s safe to let you go. Until then you’ll do exactly as I say, or I’ll make sure to turn you over to the authorities for piracy. You’ll either be executed or given a nice steel collar where you’ll become a real slave, spending the rest of your life in the mines.”

  The boy looked at the girls across the deck and, sneering, spat at Daylen’s feet. “I might be a pirate, but I’ll never be a part of sex trafficking, you rapist scum.”

  Daylen leaned down and backhanded the boy across the jaw with his natural strength, knocking him to his side. “You’re in low light as it is, so don’t push it,” Daylen said—and then, enhancing his strength, he hoisted the boy into the air. With his other hand, he grabbed the boy by his cheeks and forced his face to look at the two impaled captains over on the pirate’s switchback. “See the other captain? That’s what I do to those who take part in human sex trafficking. I bought passage on this ship and only discovered what was going on while cutting all your mates to pieces. Now, with everyone else dead, I guess these ships are mine for the time being. So, do you have a problem working for me now?”

  The boy mumbled his reply through his squeezed mouth. “No.”

  Daylen dropped him back to the deck, and the boy rubbed his face.

  “How are you so strong?”

  “I eat my vegetables.”

  “No one becomes that strong naturally.”

  “You’re right,” Daylen conceded. “In fact, with only a thought, I can turn your gut into flesh-eating worms that’ll devour you from the inside out. So don’t cross me.”

  Interestingly, the boy’s face paled but he did his best to hide it, throwing a disbelieving sneer Daylen’s way. He must have wanted to change the subject, judging by his next words. “They weren’t my friends. Blackheart was a bastard and deserved what you did to him.”

  “Look at that, we’ve found something we agree on. So, what’s your name?”

  “Sain.”

  Daylen leaned down and untied Sain’s bonds. “You can call me Daylen. Now, Sain, you’re going to show me where your crew’s hideout is.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  My attendants did a good job at keeping things quiet, but it didn’t take long for the girls to stop volunteering. I was never gentle with them, yet I still believed they came willingly—at first. The truth was that my attendants coerced the girls that caught my eye.
Whether out of loyalty, a lust for my favor, or a belief that a happy ruler led to a happy empire, my servants saw to my every whim. They bribed at first, but eventually devolved into threats and acts of violence.

  As my people slowly started to fear me more and more, often through acts I did to achieve that very purpose to ensure obedience, a nightmare slowly began to grow among the young women that they might catch the eye of the Emperor.

  * * *

  Lyrah continued to follow the scent of the boy vigilante, the blackened son of Dayless the Conqueror.

  “I think he went to the skyport,” she said to Cueseg beside her.

  “Then we find which ship they take and follow.”

  “That’s the plan,” Lyrah said as they quickened their step. The people continued to part before them, more so now as they moved with obvious purpose.

  As they came close to the skyport, Lyrah noticed a man standing atop a box and speaking passionately to a crowd of people.

  She stared at him.

  “What is it?” Cueseg asked.

  “Go ahead and find the Portmaster. I’ll catch up.”

  Cueseg looked to the soapbox man. “Ah, this again. Do not make too much trouble,” he said, then left for the port.

  “It was the Conqueror who made our nation strong!” the Dawnist bellowed over the boos and jeers, though there were a few in the crowd who seemed to be truly listening. The young man wore a dirty buttoned shirt and slacks, but no sword and especially no red ribbon, as wearing one would justify people challenging him to a duel just to shut him up.

  Lyrah couldn’t help but listen to a little of the tripe.

  “Indeed, Hamahra would have been destroyed by our own aristocracy—but it was the Conqueror who liberated us! And then after that, the other nations flew in like drakes to take our lands. Who was it that fought them off? We all know who! The same man who saved us from starvation and ensured we were always fed. These days, we regular people starve and the Senate not only does nothing—they are complicit! Why? Because their pockets get lined with gold crowns by those who force us to work in their factories like slaves.”

  The Dawnist pointed to the well-dressed people in the crowd booing at him. “Of course they don’t want the Empire back, because people like them couldn’t exist in it. In the Empire, everything was owned by all, not the greedy few that steal money from our own pockets. Not that it’s much, barely seven measly rupenies an hour while they hoard all the wealth that we make for them!” he roared to the crowd. “Then there’s the Guilds, who don’t allow the common man to learn their trades and charge a fair and honest price for skilled labor. The Emperor fought the Guilds to regulate them properly, and what did they do? They rose up against him! Under the rule of Dayless the Conqueror, each man got his fair share and no man could make himself better than another!”

  “Except for the Conqueror himself,” Lyrah said calmly; but with Light bonded to her voice, it carried over the crowd, silencing everyone.

  The Dawnist gulped. It seemed he hadn’t noticed Lyrah until this moment.

  “He put himself above everyone and killed for the slightest inconvenience,” Lyrah added, her controlled tone resonating powerfully. “Anyone who thinks to bring back the days of the Dawn Empire is a fool. You say everyone got their fair share? I lived through that time, and you did not, so let me tell you what it was truly like. The Great Bastard took everything from everyone and returned the barest portion. Yes, all were equal: equally oppressed, poor and starved. No one could own property or land, not even their homes, and thus when the Great Bastard felt a population had outgrown the resources of their land, he forcefully relocated countless families, and executed any who resisted—women and children included.”

  Lyrah began to walk toward the man. “Later, he ordered his men to execute the family members of anyone he deemed a criminal, killing innocents for the most inconsequential actions that he thought rebellious. You glory in the privilege of attacking the government while espousing a way of rule that would have you executed for the same. Even those that didn’t speak out against him were forcefully conscripted into his armies and sent to die in the unjust wars he declared on innocent nations.”

  Lyrah was now standing directly in front of the Dawnist. “Most people think the Archknights are only sworn to fight against the Shade, but our true mandate is to protect the peoples of the world. We, the Knights of the Arch Order of Light, declared war on the Dawn Empire! Do you know what that means?”

  The man was failing to look defiant, though he tried. He stumbled back off his box.

  “It means that The Dawn Empire had grown to threaten all of Tellos, and the Archknights, for the first time in their existence, entered into a political conflict. The Dawn Empire drew every nation into war. It became an enemy to all that is good, and you want to bring it back?”

  Every other Dawnist Lyrah had confronted like this had said no, claiming they were only supporting the good that the Dawn Empire did, not the bad. But this man forced himself to stand tall and replied, “Yes! And you Archknights betrayed yourselves in fighting against our rightful ruler! The impure elements must be purged, and I cast night upon you and your order!”

  Lyrah couldn’t believe what she was hearing. This young man actually had a measure of light within him, meaning he honestly thought what he was doing was the right thing.

  Which made him very dangerous.

  “Then you have a powerful enemy,” Lyrah said, and turned to the crowd. “I can see that most of us here wish this fool would stop speaking his hate, but taking away his freedom to do this would make us as bad as the Great Bastard himself. We cannot stop him from speaking, but it’s our choice to listen. Like a disease, our displeasure brings him joy, and I’ve done this, too, by confronting him. I see that I was mistaken. What I do now is what I hope you all do: ignore him! Take away his power, and let the fool cry to the empty air.”

  Lyrah left and, thankfully, most left with her, the Dawnist calling out after them in a frantic voice.

  “You cannot stop us! The Dawn Empire will return, and though you choose to leave, others will listen and join our cause! Long live the Dawn Empire!”

  The people ignored him but the disappointing thing was that Lyrah knew it wouldn’t last. Most people were so insecure in their beliefs that they couldn’t resist defending them, sometimes violently, in reaction to the smallest disagreement. Thus as soon as more people heard the Dawnist preach such offensive dogma, they’d stop and argue, fueling the fool’s ego. Then, with a crowd there, like a herd of goats, more people would come, including some who’d actually be susceptible to the Dawnist’s lies.

  Yet there was no more Lyrah could do unless the Dawnists broke the law. Considering their patron, they might be capable of some truly terrible things. If that was the case, she and the Archknights would be there to oppose them.

  It was easy to find Cueseg within the skyport. Just look for the only dark-skinned, yellow-haired topless man with muscles like rocks.

  “They are on a skyship…” Cueseg began, but then stared at her. “Lyrah, your face is different, and even me who is bad with faces, it is big enough to know. You are angry.”

  “It’s the Dawnists.”

  “Yes, they need to be killed.”

  “They can’t be killed for controversial opinions, that would make us no better than the Conqueror.”

  “Belief becomes action and their belief is to kill people who do not agree. It is better to stop a crime before it happens.”

  “But you can’t punish a person who hasn’t committed a crime, even if they want to commit it.”

  “This is stupid. If they want to do bad, they are guilty as if they did.”

  “Only if you can prove it, and though it’s clear what the Dawn Empire was, most Dawnists try and paint a much nicer picture. Everyone knows that they’re preaching hate, but unless they incite criminal activity, it’s not right to act against them.”

  “No. If they are left to grow strong, i
t will be hard to stop them, and I will be there to tell you so.”

  “I’m sure you will,” Lyrah said with a sigh. “What were you saying before about the skyship?”

  “The boy we are chasing, he is on a skyship to the head city of your land.”

  “The capital,” Lyrah said.

  “Yes, the head city.”

  “It’s not called the head city. It’s the capital, Highdawn.”

  “Yes, your head city.”

  She shook her head tiredly. “Whatever. Did you find out what type of ship they caught?”

  “A trade ship called Maraven.”

  “Then it’s slow… Good. All we need is a fast ship, and if we fly under the Floating Isles we should overtake them.”

  “Yes, and we might find pirates as we fly,” Cueseg said, smiling.

  “Feeling a little restless, are we?”

  “Our powers need to be used; if not, we should not have them.”

  “Yeah, with how frustrating this blackened chase has been, I’d like to hit something, too.”

  Lyrah found the Portmaster, a short bearded man, and enquired after the fastest ship destined for Highdawn.

  “There’s a Tuerasian trader destined for the capital,” the man said. “Name’s the Tecato, or Taybato or some such. They’re fast, those prig ships…” The man suddenly paused and looked to Cueseg embarrassedly. “Ah, my apologies, Master Archon. I, ah… It was a slip of the tongue.”

  Cueseg simply glared at the man.

  The Portmaster swallowed.

  “We’ll see to the ship,” Lyrah said. “Thank you, Portmaster.”

  Lyrah looked to Cueseg once the man had left. “A Tuerasian ship. Should I expect the captain to be as difficult as you?”

  Cueseg face was still. He glanced at Lyrah, saying nothing.

  “What, are you really that upset about the Portmaster saying prig?”

  “No.”

  “Then why so sullen?”

  “What does this mean?”

  “Upset.”

  “I am not upset.”