"You know why they want it, don't you?" she hissed, anger flaring in her eyes as she slid to the floor.
"Who?" he demanded, eyes narrowed. When Balzath offered to share intelligence, he was skeptical of her motives.
"All of them want the Everpool."
"Be more specific, witch."
"Eriagabbyn thinks that drinking the water will make him a god."
"Really," he stated. It was an inane assumption.
"But it won't," she said. Shalthazar freed her from her bonds and she floated down. "It may, however, give him the powers of the Fyrbold, a Firemage."
Balzath squirmed from the intensity of the wizard's stare. While he doubted that this were true, he recognized what a threat the Dark Disciples operating in Hybrand would become. His hold on the Shadowtide was incredible and superior to each of the Dark Disciples individually; however, if one of them were to tap into another of the Tides, or even align themselves against him, his existence could be endangered. It was a prospect worth analyzing.
"And the others?"
"They believe the same. Each of them, except Cerunnos the Dimwit, has spies seeking the Tomb and the Everpool. Though they all have a healthy fear of the guardian of the Tomb."
"What of Umber?" he asked, focusing on the point that the witch seemed to be avoiding. She met his gaze directly, and the wizard saw sanity peering at him through a haze of madness.
"Umester," was all she said, and it was enough to give the centuries old wizard pause. Umester was Umber's bastard offspring, imprisoned long before the Dark Paladin's rise to power. From what Shalthazar had learned on his own about the nature of that demigod, they would all be better off if he stayed in prison.
"Umester resides in this device?" he asked, mostly to himself. He held the box up to the light and gazed at it. Oddly, he had not sensed any divine power within it and still did not. It wasn't until he opened the power of the Tides and used it to see inside that he recognized the terrible, menacing power within.
"So this was Umber's plan all along," he mused. "But to what end? What will that gain him?"
"You are a pawn, Shalthazar. You are meaningless to him, to them all, and you will be sacrificed." Balzath seemed subdued and unusually coherent, which gave her perspective more credence. Anger stirred within the dark wizard and the power of the Tides roiled in response to his considerable will. He quickly regained control of his emotions and began to plan his next move. "Umber only bargains when he cannot command. And when he bargains, he wins. I know the cost of bargaining with him."
He dismissed the witch with a wave of his hand. Umber's propensity for deceit was well known. He stared at the device for a long time, his mind computing the possibilities against what he knew of Llarsian history. Finally, Shalthazar came to a conclusion and his hand instinctively reached for his ring of return. He had long wondered what the dark god's true plan was, for all who work in the Shadow work for themselves; but thus far, he had not been able to work it out.
And now that he knew, he wasn't happy.
The Prophet-General of Ilian Nah now knew that his favor with the dark god had been an illusion. He had been used and he was going to be discarded, perhaps in a very unpleasant way. Had the witch been lying, or trying to charm him with her magic, Shalthazar's wards of protection would have alerted him. Though he did not know precisely how, he had already known that the dark god was likely to betray the bargain the two made. The witch's information simply added the missing pieces of the puzzle and confirmed his suspicions. That meant a number of things were likely going to happen soon. Umber would prevent him from using the Tides thereby limiting the wizard's power to simple arcane magic, something that was inferior in strength and power to Sigil magic. It seemed likely that if the dark god were going to kill him, he must weaken the powerful elf first. But Shalthazar had lived a very long time and was used to the treacherous ways of those who dwelt in the shadows. He had been preparing for such an occasion.
Shalthazar had fervently, and with total secrecy, pursued the mystery of the weaker arcane magic. The truth of the matter was that the spoken arcane language was itself the key to the problem. There were a number of arcane languages used on different worlds in the universe and Shalthazar knew a great deal about them all. He had cautiously experimented with a number of spells, interchanging the various words needed to exploit and control native magic until he made a very interesting discovery. Arcanium, the magical dialect language used by spell casters on Llars, had been created in such a way as to deliberately weaken the structure and power of each word. His experiments and lengthy study had revealed that within the written form of each word of this dialect were other words that Shalthazar knew quite well. It was in fact a form of a very advanced cipher, and Shalthazar had discovered the key. To the dark wizard the deception was intentional and made for the purpose of allowing elite, and specially chosen, wizards to have tremendous power beyond those of their peers.
In truth the intent and origin of this brilliant ruse mattered little to the dark wizard, he had a way to use this powerful magic independently of the Sigils. Perhaps with further experimentation and time, he might discern a method of joining the two powerful methods of wielding magic; but time was not on his side. Now that he had unlocked the secret of the Arcanium cipher, the true power of the arcane magic that he knew so well was at his disposal.
Using his new powers, he had been able recreate his spell books and other items of power left behind on his home world. Now he was going to use it to teach his corps of wizard apprentices the secret of its power.
The arch-wizard summoned his high ranking apprentices, each with the military rank of captain: Zerelis and Urelis, brothers who were opposite in appearance and personality but alike in their power and drive; Arawyn, Keneerie, who had the personality of a stone but possessed the raw power of arcane magic; Kleach, a human and former assassin who had an invaluable knowledge of science and was particularly gifted with poisons and spells that created disease and affliction; and Dyspater, commander of a mercenary company that had fought valiantly against Shalthazar's army yet perished to the last man--except for Dyspater. Dyspater had only been a dabbler in magic during his life, and then only to enhance his skills as a fighter and tactician, but Shalthazar sensed great magical power within him. At the end of the great battle, when Dyspater lay unconscious and near death, Shalthazar stopped a Nashian soldier from killing him.
Dyspater was a true warrior-mage and harnessed the best attributes of both classes. He was fierce in battle and a born leader, that is why Shalthazar installed him in the position of Lord Marshal of the Empire. Dyspater was a clever tactician, a skillful administrator and powerful enough in magic to intimidate or coerce subordinates to do his will; and his loyalty had been proven time and again.
All of his apprentices had gathered in his chambers, and the great wizard hovered so as to look down upon them all. A moment after the apprentices had arrived, Balzath appeared in the room in the form of a ghost made from shadow. Shalthazar acknowledged her arrival with a nod and scrutinized his apprentices.
"Let us get down to business, for time is not our ally. Umber never meant to return the power of the Shadow to prominence in the world, and our favor with him has come to its end. If we do not act cohesively, the end will come very soon for us all."
"Why?" demanded Urelis, ever brazen. "What have we to fear?"
"We have a great deal to fear, Urelis," hissed Shalthazar. "Umber means to destroy us. Once the Tomb is found and the Everpool destroyed, we will be cut off from the Tides and executed!"
"Master, how is this possible?" asked Arawyn. "How can the Tides be taken away from us?"
"With ease," said Balzath, floating up to hover beside Shalthazar. She maintained her ghostly form to remind the lesser wizards of her prowess. The men looked at her curiously, she was unusually subdued. "Umber is a dark and devious master. I made a bargain for my power with him long ago; a bargain that I now regret. My immortality comes from the ethere
al tie that connects my body to the Shadowrealm, a realm which lies beyond our own. I am a veritable font for the magic of the Tides and it keeps me alive. By my existence the Shadowtide has been returned to the world."
"And so it must be with each of the Dark Disciples," mused Dyspater.
"Correct," she replied. "We all connected to the Shadowrealm and to each other."
"Sever the tie that binds you all to the Shadowrealm, and the Tides stop flowing into Llars," mused Dyspater.
"He means to kill off all of the Dark Disciples then," said Zerelis. "Quite an interesting predicament for you, Balzath."
"It won't be interesting when you find yourself powerless against a mob of troks, oroks and hurkin bent on tearing your miserable limbs from your bodies!" she snarled. "Our collective existence is all that can threaten Umester and whatever horror he plans to unleash."
"Umester," whispered Arawyn, his face betraying his instinctive fear of the name. "Umester truly existed?"
"Exists," corrected Shalthazar. "He is here in this very keep, imprisoned within a magical device."
"Destroy the device Master!" urged Urelis, "Don't give it to Umber!"
"I have orders to throw the device into the Everpool, once its location has been found. Umber knows who resides within the device, if I fail to have it destroyed we are all doomed. And he will find someone else to carry out his will."
"So we are doomed either way!" said the rash Urelis harshly.
"We are only doomed if we do not have a plan, my brother," said Zerelis. "And I am quite certain our master has a plan."
"Our salvation will come from Arcanium," said Shalthazar, anger tinged his voice.
"Arcanium?" demanded Arawyn. "It's child's play compared to our power!"
"That is precisely what the overlords of this petty world intended for you to believe. The power of Arcanium was intentionally muted, thus we have become enslaved to the Sigils and ill prepared to defend ourselves otherwise."
"But you have discovered the secret?" asked Urelis, amazed. "You know how to unlock its power!"
"Indeed, and it was an arduous task. It shall suffice to say that I have solved the mystery and I will share it with you, my apprentices. However, I demand two things in return: your loyalty unto death, and your silence. Our salvation lies within ourselves alone. Umber's power will come to bear upon us and we must stand firm to withstand it. With the secrets I will teach you now, we will survive."
"Survive?" said Urelis with a sneer. "I don't want to survive, I want to rule!"
"That will come, my apprentice. That will come."
"What is your plan, Master?" asked Kleach, fingering his favorite blade.
Shalthazar smiled grimly, noticing that Balzath had slipped away. "We will do as we are commanded, and throw Umester's prison into the Everpool."
"And set Umester free?" asked Urelis. "Won't that set in motion our own destruction?"
"Precisely."
Shalthazar stood atop the tallest tower of Fort Ogerwall, the tower below which his laboratory could be found. The former mercenary from Wight, Dyspater, had been elevated to Marshal and was carrying out Shalthazar's administrative duties perfectly. He followed instructions as well as any soldier and took his studies in the Arcane seriously. Shalthazar was eager to see the man blend the power of magic with his tactical brilliance upon the field of battle. Although the dark elf knew that he was going to be paid a visit by General Medov, it was only due to Dyspater's shrewd intelligence gathering services that Shalthazar learned of the assassin's imminent arrival. The general's name sent fear through the spines of even Shalthazar's dark apprentices. News of a visiting Frost Elf would spread like wildfire through the ranks of his army, and the Nashians would not approve. What was inestimably worse for troop morale, however, was the elf's manner of arrival.
The wind whipped about the evil elf as he stood atop his tower, his cloak cracked in the air about him. The sun would set soon and the winds that carried south over the Ogerwall Mountains would likely bring snow this night. But night was not here, yet. In the distance, the faint sound of thunder carried across the valley. However, it was not the thunder that accompanied bad weather that he heard, rather it was the thunderous sound of massive wings beating the in the air.
Thump, thump. Thump, thump. Thump, thump.
Shalthazar closed his eyes and recited the words of an arcane spell, one he had learned long ago, which allowed him to see across great distances. Slowly, the terrible sight took shape in his mind, and to the wizard it was as though he were seeing through the eyes of a dozen birds all at once. As the sight focused on the murky object hurtling through the air, he was filled with a terrible sense of awe and wonder. For here was a dragon, larger and more powerful than any the elf had encountered in his considerable life. Its neck was extended, head sleek with horns that lay straight back against its neck. Its body was long and narrow and its wingspan was huge. Dusky light seemed to be absorbed by its oily brown scales. Its tail was as long as its body and carried a long spike that could spear an elephant through with no trouble. Upon the back of the dragon rode a tall elf with cupped ears and skin the color of a pale blue sky. His build was sturdy and solid, it was clear he was a soldier. Scars dotted his face and his blue-black hair had silvered from age. Shalthazar sensed there was more to this elf, and so he cast another spell. Detection gave him a sense of the magical power of person or thing, and the nature of that magic did not matter. As Shalthazar focused his mind's eye on the dragon once again, the rider appeared to him limned in a red swirling aura.
Interestingly, it appeared that General Medov could use magic.
Shalthazar broke the spells and returned his awareness to the immediate location. He wondered if the tower would support the massive weight of the great wyrm.
Fifteen minutes passed before the dragon became visible to the elf's naked eye. Dyspater sent instructions to those who stood watch on the battlements not to sound the alarm no matter what strange sights befell them this night. He did not want to send a panic through the streets of the great keep or the village beyond, although it seemed to Shalthazar that the presence of the great wyrm might do all of that anyway.
Finally, the beast was overhead and made a number of great circles above the keep. At first no one below seemed to notice anything was amiss. Then an excited guard standing watch on the battlement caught the attention of other guards. A runner was sent into the town below and as the beast circled lower and lower, Fort Ogerwall came to life. The wizard could not afford to be distracted by the people, he could ignore them so long as they did not foolishly try to attack the dragon. The elf forced combat spells into his mind and prepared himself for the possibility that the general might try to kill him right there atop the tower. Though Shalthazar assumed that the general was in fact coming to kill him, it seemed counterproductive for the general to kill him without at least gathering intelligence about the wizard and his apprentices.
Shalthazar watched as the great beast finally landed on the roof, the beams of the structure quivered and groaned from the impact of the giant lizard's feet. Its great eyes scanned the sky above for a long moment before its passenger hopped lightly to the ground. The man, dressed in leathers and furs, tugged on a rope attached to the saddle and a large bundle fell to his feet. Shalthazar returned his attention to the dragon as his visitor gathered his things. All great wyrms were intelligent enough to be capable of speech. This one, however, did not seem inclined to even look at the dark elf wizard, something that Shalthazar was grateful for. Unrest in the keep was evident and the dark elf wished that the Frost Elf had arrived in a less conspicuous manner. The Nashians were not overly tolerant of the darker races of Llars, and the Frost Elves topped their list of treacherous evildoers. When he factored in the appearance of the great dragon, something not seen on Llars in centuries, the dark elf knew that dissent would follow. The impact of the arrival of this formidable blue elf had complicated his agenda, and accelerated his survival plans.
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nbsp; A squad of soldiers thundered along the battlements and across the catwalk leading to the base of the tower where the dragon now stood. Soon the soldiers would make the climb up the spiral stairs that wound their way to the top, coming to the defense of the tower and their master.
Once the Frost Elf had retrieved his things, he crossed the empty space to meet Shalthazar. Without a glance or hint of communication between the newcomer and his mount, the dragon leaped into the air and beat its wings furiously as it sought to gain altitude. Once the thunderous noise was far enough away, the blue elf bowed to Shalthazar and spoke. By now the Nashian soldiers had reached the top of the tower. They paused on the landing, eager and waiting for the slightest hint of danger to their master.
"My Lord Shalthazar," said the blue elf, his accent thick. "I am here at the behest of our great master, Umber."
"For what purpose?" he demanded. "I was not told to expect any of the Dark One's underlings."
The Frost Elf raised his head and his pale blue eyes met Shalthazar's, a malevolent gaze peered out from a dark blue hood. "My purpose?" he asked. Shalthazar said nothing, kept his gaze locked with that of the Frost Elf's. The air crackled with tension and Shalthazar expected trouble.
"I am here to kill you."
Shalthazar scowled and a blazing swirl of shadows erupted from the ground beneath his feet, consuming him in a protective shell. He stretched his hands outward and darkfire flared at his fingertips, fiery tendrils slithering from digit to digit like a snake.
"Do not fear, foreigner," said the blue elf calmly. No hint of emotion cracked the surface of his hardened features. "I have merely stated my purpose, not my intention." Medov stood calmly, his arms at his sides in a non-threatening manner. Shalthazar let his magic swirl and rage for a moment as he considered the elf's behavior. He sensed powerful magic about this adversary; curiously, he sensed that it came from a benefactor and not from within. Medov was in a precarious position; he was atop a tall tower facing an arch-mage of incredible power with a squad of deadly soldiers waiting in the wings. While the general could certainly offer a powerful fight in an arcane battle, Shalthazar was confident in his own ability to win. No, if Medov intended to kill him he would choose another time--and another method.
The Tomb of the Dark Paladin Page 10