The Tomb of the Dark Paladin

by Tom Bielawski

  On a distant corner of the planet Llars, a castle stood atop a high peak surrounded by a most unusual city. The city was Alfheym, capital of the magical and mysterious realm of the Crimson Elves. Alfheym was a place few outsiders were ever privileged enough to visit. At the very end of the Northern Continent, its remoteness and its legendary magic were powerful deterrents to potential foes. So powerful were the race of red-skinned elves that even the infamous Frost Elves were loath to fight them, and hadn't for nearly a thousand years.

  Crimson Palace was a brilliant beacon of the power of the elves, its bricks of reddish gold and beams of fireore glowed with the power of the Tides that never left those favored of Zuhr, the true god of Llars. This day a council was in session deep within the confines of the brilliant Crimson Palace. It was the Council of Princes, the leaders of each of the tribes of Alfheym, and their meeting today was of dire portent.

  The chamber in which the council now met was at the top of the tallest tower in the massive palace. The chamber was round and took the entire top level of the tower. One massive window overlooked the city of Alfheym and the port in which ships from all points of Llars, and even beyond the terrestrial boundaries of the world, drifted lazily in the sea.

  Prince Llew stood on the balcony, his black and gold cloak rippled softly in the breeze. A number of flowering plants and vines decorated the stone pillars within the chamber and on the balcony; the flowers gave off a perfume unlike any other on Llars.

  "Prince Llew," came a whisper from the Council Guard. "The Council is present."

  The red-haired prince nodded gravely and exhaled. He turned and entered the council chamber. The five gathered princes stood in respect for their elder as he stopped at the head of the council table.

  "It is by the graces of the Great Father that we are able to meet here on this dire occasion. We give Zuhr thanks and pray that we are in time. Please, sit."

  The princes of the realms of Alfheym sat, each garbed in their chosen military attire with shirts of blood-colored firemail.

  "War is soon to be upon us, gentlemen. And so it is that I call on you to raise your armies and awaken our ancient allies. I fear it may be the last time we do so."

  "What is the threat we face, Prince Llew?" asked Prince Glandyr of the Drayk Tribe. His eyes burned with intensity and the air about his body shifted ominously as the Tides flowed through him, Sigils emblazoned on his sleeves flared with an intensity to match.

  "Has the time come for the Tides to return to Llars?" asked Prince Owyn of the Red Wyrm Tribe.

  "The heavens are in turmoil. The children of Zuhr have begun a war that even now stretches across the lands of Llars. Yerkses has given himself the title of Steel Emperor and has begun moving into the Cklathlands. The army of Ilian Nah has surged across the Northern Continent, none that have faced its might have survived. The Arnathian Empire is on the brink of disaster, civil war has erupted in a number its provinces and Hybrand has been liberated in a bloody coup."

  "Surely the demise of Arnathia is good news for us, Prince Llew," remarked Princess Dalfrija, standing in for her husband the Prince of the Smok Tribe.

  "Under different circumstances, Princess, I would agree. Yet the vacuum of power that had been created in Hybrand was filled by agents of Ilian Nah, or Umber as we know him. What will happen in the rest of the provinces of Arnathia? We know that Yerkses has rejected Zuhr and embraced his wayward son, Q'raz. Now the Steel Emperor has designs on far-reaching conquest, perhaps even reaching down into the Arnathian provinces. Where better to conquer than countries already embroiled in turmoil?"

  "Arnathia has always been devoted to Q'raz. Why would Yerkses move against them?"

  "‘Fortune favors the strong’; it is the cornerstone belief of those dedicated to Q'raz, Prince Lohik-Arme of the Flame Tribe. Yerkses is drunk with power and in possession of a formidable army and navy. The earls have all sworn allegiance to him as their emperor and thirst to take over the lands of the Cklath.

  "But the worst is yet to come." Llew paused and looked each of the gathered princes in the eye. "The Shadow Sigil has returned and it is spreading like a disease across the world."

  "This cannot be!" barked Prince Belmar of the Black Serpent Tribe. "Zuhr took the Tides away from them, all of them!"

  "Umber is a crafty and wicked child, Prince Belmar. He imbued a dark and terrible power upon each of his Dark Disciples in the days before the Dark Paladin found salvation and turned on Umber. Each of them is connected to the dark power of the Shadowrealm, the place where the powers of the Shadow originate and spreads its wickedness throughout the universe. Through them, the Shadowtide has returned to the world.

  "But there is more. The Dark Disciples have not been idle. They have been consorting with Umber's Cjii and are at work creating an army of Shadow-beings. Shalthazar, the leader of the great army of Ilian Nah, has created a cadre of truly heinous monsters to fight for him. And the Hurkin Horde has come across the Rift, they are headed for Hybrand."

  "Umber and Q'raz," said Belmar, "in league against their father?"

  "So it would seem," agreed Llew.

  "There is no choice, then, but to call upon our ancient allies," said Dalfrija softly, the fire-jewels in her ears glimmering between strands of raven colored hair. "We cannot stand against their armies alone, and it seems none are left among the humans to stand with us."

  "Leave the humans to their own devices, they are the reason the Tides were taken from the world in the first place," grumbled Owyn.

  "How long, Prince Owyn, would it take before the combined might of Arnathia, Ilian Nah, the Hurkin Horde, and the Steel Empire bear down upon Alfheym? And if that were not enough, the Frost Elves have left the icy reaches of Erestonin. What will we do when they come to Alfheym?"

  "We flee!" said Lohik. "The High Elves of old fled Llars for the forests of Hastor ages ago, so should we."

  "Prince Lohik, Prince Owyn. If my husband were here, he would remind you of the ancient days when we Crimson Elves stood fast with our human and Dwarvish friends. We called upon our ancient allies once before. We must do so again!"

  As the words left Dalfrija's mouth, the air near the doorway to the balcony began to shimmer and glow. In minutes the shimmer became a light so bright that all eyes had to turn away. Then the light was gone and in its place stood the figure of a man.

  "Dear Lord!" gasped Owyn. The others were speechless at the sight of the figure that stood before them, shining and beautiful and deadly all at once. He wore armor of fireore and a sword with a gleaming red blade. He was tall as any Crimson Elf, and his skin was a deep crimson color; but this was no elf.

  "Noble lady and lords," said the newcomer striding noiselessly into the room. His voice was deep, melodious and commanding. He radiated a sense of peace and righteousness throughout the room. "I know that this visit is quite unexpected and I hope you can forgive me," he began, looking at each of the stunned elves. "But the danger to your realm, and to all of Llars, is as dire as you have learned and I can waste no time on formalities."

  "Prince Crystoph!" sputtered Belmar. "We are not--"

  "Silence, good Belmar," interrupted the Cjii. "We have no time. I am here with a warning: call upon your ancient allies and do it now!"

  The assembled rulers of the elves were stunned into silence, both by the appearance of this great Cjii and by the dire warning. Crystoph, warrior-prince of Zuhr's host, was well known in the lore of the Crimson Elves, and was highly revered. Throughout the storied history of the great nation of Alfheym, Crystoph occasionally appeared before its rulers with advice or warning. That significance was not lost upon this council.

  "Prince Crystoph, even with the power of our ancient allies behind us, how can we stand against such terrible darkness with no other armies to aid us?" asked Llew, still unsure whether he should believe that the real Prince of Angels was standing in this very chamber. "Even the mighty dwarves have long since abandoned this world!"

  Crystoph glided across t
he floor to stand beside Prince Llew who was so awed by the presence that he went pale. Crystoph placed a hand on Llew's shoulder and the elf calmed instantly.

  "I did not come here to speak of dwarves who cannot fight by your side. I came to speak of men that will fight by your side."

  The elves glanced at each other in uncertainty. Llew had just finished listing all of their enemies; it seemed that there were none left to stand with them. Yet this newcomer was telling them there was an army that might join them.

  "The army I speak of fights for no country, they have no king. They are an army unto themselves, committed to fighting evil and restoring Zuhr's own place of prominence among the people of Llars."

  "Great One, that ancient and noble army of Zuhr has fallen into darkness. The Zuharim have become meddlers in death and dealers of disease."

  "Do not presume to know my mind, mortal Prince of Red Wyrm!" thundered the powerful Cjii. The power he commanded was palpable and the room felt charged with the energy of his conviction. This great being would brook no argument from the gathered princes of Alfheym. "You are the Watchers, you are the Fyrbold! Alfheym was once the pride of the world! In military might there was no equal, not even in Erestonin. In trade, no nation had farther reach; and in diplomacy none were as in tune with actions of every government on Llars as Alfheym. Your ancestors have done you a terrible disservice by withdrawing from the world. Do not follow the path of the High Elves into irrelevancy. Your reach into Llars should be so great that what I came here to tell you should not be news! So it should have been for the chosen people of Zuhr!"

  None spoke, the rebuke was clear. Although it was the ancestors of these great elves that had begun Alfheym's shift toward insignificance, they had done nothing to reverse it.

  "The time has come. You will call upon the ancient allies. For you may be certain that the enemy has already done the same." Crystoph gazed at each with intensity and each one felt their mettle being tested and weighed. Finally, the great Cjii nodded.

  "A human who has been entrusted with the Sigilstones has taken refuge among the Hand of Zuhr--"

  "A human?" gasped Dalfrija scandalously. The menacing gaze in the angel's eyes and the crackling of lightning dancing across his fingers sent her quickly into meek silence.

  "A human," he said pointedly, daring another interruption. "He is a Cklathman from Hybrand and he has power over the Tides. He was chosen by Zuhr to return the Sigils, and I believe he will do exactly that. However, the forces of the Shadow hunt him fiercely. Should the stones fall into the wrong hands all would be lost."

  Llew sat silent, letting it all sink in. That a human could truly use the Tides was shocking enough, but a man that could use more than one? It took great strength of will for the elf not show offense at this thought. Fear that the angel might deem him disrespectful was all that kept him in check. Still, it challenged his spirit and it galled him. How could Zuhr give that honor to a human? How could a human be responsible for spreading that power across Llars? It was the height of irresponsibility!

  As if he were reading the elf's thoughts, Crystoph swung his gaze to Llew. As their eyes met, the angel's hidden message became clear. It was pride and hubris that had brought Alfheym down, and the pursuit of such sins would ensure the permanence of its end. Llew vowed he would not let pride interfere with what must be done to save Alfheym, and the world. Crystoph nodded, seemingly satisfied at the outcome of Llew's internal struggle. No one else spoke up. Either they came to the same conclusion as he, or they simply didn't want to risk the angel's ire.

  "This man needs my help, and I will do my best to help him fend off the Shadowfyr as he seeks the Tomb of the Dark Paladin."

  "Will the ancient allies answer our call?"

  Crystoph nodded, the angel believed it could not be otherwise. "While the ancient allies will come, it is the Hand of Zuhr which you must embrace. Invite them to operate from Alfheym, help train them to fight the Shadow, and find any who show promise in use of the Sigils."

  "Yes, Great One," said Llew. "It shall be as Zuhr commands."

  The Cjii's face went blank for a moment, then his mask of determination returned. "See it done."

  "Master, can we count on the angels to lead us?"

  He had begun walking to the balcony, but slowed at the question. "The angels, I am afraid, will not come." Crystoph's voice was hard, but all knew there was something lying beneath the warrior's polished steel surface. "They will not come because they cannot. An attack by Umber's demon-Cjii upon our very own city is imminent."

  "You seek to fight them in the heavens," said Llew in awe. "In your own home that we may not have to fight them here."

  "It is a goal that will not be completely realized, Prince Llew. You will indeed face Umber's demons here on Llars, for that vile trickster does not hold to any sacred oath, yet the angels shall do their best to minimize the taint on the world."

  "Master," began Llew. "We shall do as you command. Let none believe that the elves of the Crimson Flame do not honor the will of the Great Father!" Llew's enthusiasm and passion were echoed in the determined eyes of the princes.

  "Very well," nodded the Prince of Angels. "I will take my leave now. The Hand of Zuhr will come to Alfheym, treat them fairly and teach them the ancient battle lore of the Crimson Elves. I will return."

  Morgon disappeared as dramatically as he entered. When all could see beyond the spots in their vision they looked at each other in determined silence. For the first time in centuries, Alfheym was going to war.

  A shimmering portal of pure energy and light closed behind Crystoph, leaving Alfheym and the world of the Crimson Elves far behind. The warmth and power of the Flametides surged through him as he stepped into the elemental plane of fire, the place where the source of the Flametides was located and spread out into the world of Llars. Crystoph was protected from the elemental fire that would be deadly to mortals not versed in the use of the Sigils. Everything here was made from heat or fire or light, even the odd beings that resided in the inferno. There were entire civilizations of benign beings made of heat and light, brilliant birds whose feathers were flames of varying colors, and animals to match. However, there were also beings and powers that were evil and dangerous here. The Realm of Flames was in fact one of the few realms where a Cjii of any kind could be killed.

  Crystoph found himself standing at the edge of a great city of flames. In the distance, beyond the city, was a mountain range. The warrior-prince leaped into the air in a surge of flames and light and raced across the skies of the Realm of Flames. In another time, the great Cjii might have taken his time and visited the king of the folk who lived in this unique realm, but urgency propelled him past the royal palace and onward. The great Cjii knew that he had to be very watchful, for in these mountains lurked a very dangerous creature that could challenge even the might of an angel such as Crystoph. He reached the greatest mountain in the range and sped to the ground below, landing in a crouch that sent molten debris flying into the air. He stood and strode to the foot of the mountain where a gleaming arch of pure, cool, black marble stood in stark contrast to its molten surroundings. The black marble was inlaid with Sigils of power and framed a door of shining fireore.

  Crystoph stood before the ancient arch and stared at it for a moment, lamenting the passing of the era when the arches had been made. As the great Cjii placed his hand upon the cool stone, he sensed a malevolent presence behind him. The warrior-prince whirled, in a flash his fiery sword was out and poised in the air, a shield of flames danced upon his arm.

  Before him stood another warrior, equally impressive in might. This warrior stood in armor of shining gold and steel with a helm that bore the visage of a golden dragon. No fire danced about the sword and shield of this warrior, but none was needed. With the emblem of the golden dragon etched in nearly every piece of the warrior's metal, Crystoph knew he faced one of the Cjii who served Q'raz.

  The two stood silent, staring, for a long moment. Finally, Crysto
ph broke the silence.

  "I should have known one your foul kind would be skulking about in my shadows."

  "Indeed, Crystoph. And thank you for leading me to this arch. I've been searching for the arches for a very long time, my master will be very pleased with this turn of events."

  "What do you and your wayward master want with it?"

  "I know what you've been up to!" taunted the golden warrior in a singsong voice.

  "Spy!" spat Crystoph in disgust.

  Laughter erupted from the depths of the golden helm. "Let's get on with this, shall we Crystoph?"

  Crystoph responded with a swing of his great sword, flames trailing through the air behind it. The golden Cjii ducked low, rolling out to the side and back to his feet with supernatural speed. Crystoph was there, however, matching the enemy Cjii's speed with his own and swung again. This time the other Cjii blocked the blow with his own great sword. Sparks flew and the air crackled with the energy and power that these two immortal beings commanded.

  The two traded blows, striking and parrying and blocking; each seeking an opening to exploit but finding none. Each of the Cjii knew that their own eternal existence could be lost if their fragile mortal bodies were killed in this realm. Finally, Crystoph delivered a powerful kick to the side of his enemy's knee and was rewarded with the sound of cracking bone. But his enemy was a wily and skilled warrior. As his armored foe fell to the ground, he tucked and rolled to his side, lashing out at Crystoph's shin with his sword. The blow glanced off Crystoph's leg, doing no direct harm, but caused the Cjii to retreat a step.

  Crystoph knew that the longer he fought, the more precious time was being wasted. He had to end things quickly and get through the arch, but neither could he let this servant of Q'raz escape with the location of this arch. There was too much at stake. If Zuhr's Cjii lost control over the arches to Q'raz, the Golden Dragon would gain the upper hand in the coming war.

  Having created an instant of distance from his enemy, Crystoph lowered his defenses. It was time for something drastic.