Shadowblade

by Tom Bielawski

  “Here now!” demanded the old man, backing away from the Red Dragons. It was clear to Zach they were going to keep up the charade of wanting more money until the old man ran out of it, then they would arrest him anyway. “I paid ya, fair and square!”

  “You ferried a party of felons to Obyn. A human knight, a Keneerie witch, a bard, a woman of the Jaguar Tribes, and an Arnathian fugitive.”

  Zach stared in disbelief at the old man. Could it be? Could his friends have somehow survived? He remembered the werewolf talking of capturing his “friends,” but he had assumed them all to be dead by now. And yet somehow they had survived. They had been here in Powyss! He was conflicted then, thinking how it might have been good to see them again. But, no. They would not have been happy to see him after he abandoned them to the horrors of the Black Keep.

  Trelwigger’s crew saw what was transpiring and began to untie the mooring lines, ready to shove off. Trelwigger himself looked as though he were preparing to leap into his boat to avoid capture when two Red Dragon soldiers grabbed the front of the man’s tunic and began to pull him away. The third man, dressed in the attire of a Tartarus Monk, stood calmly behind, his cowl drawn low to cover his face and intimidate with his dark presence. Trelwigger’s crewmen were armed and seemed ready to fight to free their captain.

  At that moment, Zach decided to act. He decided that he owed his old friends one last favor for abandoning them in those haunted woods. Remembering that as long as he held his dagger he would not be seen, Zach slammed Morloth’s blade between the monk’s unprotected shoulder-blades. The monk’s knees gave way and Zach let him fall slowly to the ground, giving his dagger a moment to slake its thirst. Then he pulled the dagger out and cast the body into the icy waters.

  The soldiers had not noticed anything until they saw the body of their monk floating in the water beside the pier. In their confusion, Zach grabbed the first one from behind, wrapping his left forearm around the man’s head. Then, with his right hand, he ran Morloth’s blade across the man’s exposed throat and hurled him into the icy water. The remaining soldier was beset by fear and just numbly stared as his companions bled out in the water. Zach planted Morloth into the base of the man’s skull, and kicked the body into the waves.

  Trelwigger had been paralyzed by fear as what seemed to be a shadowy blade killed his three tormentors in a matter of seconds. Realizing he was now free, the man turned to go but Zach grabbed him and held the tip of his dark blade to the man’s throat. Zach smiled, for the crewmen must certainly believe their captain was being held aloft by a ghost.

  “The blade pressed against your throat is real, captain!” Zach warned. “Do not fight me for I have just saved your miserable life.”

  The captain nodded slightly to let his phantom savior know he understood and would not be foolish.

  “Good,” Zach moved the tip of the blade away from the man’s neck, a little. He was enjoying how powerful the enchanted blade had made him. “You will do something for me in exchange for saving your life.”

  Again the man nodded slightly. The crew of Trelwigger’s vessel stood apprehensively, watching and waiting to see what would happen. For the moment, no more Red Dragons were coming.

  “You will return to Obyn immediately. You will find those passengers you ferried across illegally. You will tell them that the hunters have not lost their scent. They are being pursued by werewolves!”

  “Find the passengers...hunters have not lost the scent...pursued by werewolves. Yes, sir!” With that Zach gave the man a shove and sent him sprawling to the deck of his boat where he landed amidst a pile of ropes. Trelwigger and his boat slipped back out away from the pier and drifted away as a squad of Red Dragon soldiers trotted down the dock toward them.

  “Kill them all!” hissed the voice in his ear. “The fools are easy prey!”

  Drunk with power, Zach considered slaughtering the Dragons for it would be a simple thing with the powers of invisibility. But Zach stayed his hand and allowed the soldiers to march past. A monk in a black cassock trailed the soldiers; as he passed, Zach felt the man’s eyes searching the place where he stood. It seemed to Zach as though this monk could sense his presence and he decided it might be better to move on. The monk turned and watched the direction Zach was now walking, but the confused look on his face suggested that the man did not know exactly what it was that he sensed. And after a moment, the monk returned his attention to the bodies of his fellows now floating gently in the sea.

  C H A P T E R

  8

  Rohan.

  Carym was jarred to wakefulness when the wheel of the coach he was riding, and dozing, in struck a sizeable hole in the road. He looked around, dazed; rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Peering out the window, he stared for a moment, taking in the beauty of the countryside passing them by. It wasn’t that Hybrand wasn’t beautiful in its own way, Carym thought it was, but Myrnwell was possessed of an ethereal, mysterious beauty, as though there were an entire world hidden just beneath the one in which he now existed. While Hybrand certainly had bountiful forests, vast lakes, and majestic rivers, it seemed somewhat hollow to Carym, as though its own supernatural qualities had been robbed from it.

  By now they were far from the royal palace in Obyn and the maniacal Rhi, Bart’s own cousin, Delfyd. The Rhi had been humiliated by Bishop Rohan, head of the new Church of Zuhr, in his own court. Fortunately, the Hand was strong enough in Myrnwell that the Rhi dared not move against them; not even when the bishop trumped the monarch by extending the church’s protection to an outlaw Zuharim by the name of Sir Ederick Shieldsmoore. When Ederick was hastily transferred from the ranks of the Zuharim to the ranks of the fledgling order called The Sword of Zuhr, Delfyd Rhi had been furious. The bishop fully expected a reprisal from the Rhi, but he did not believe it would be soon.

  As Carym’s mind cleared, he caught on to what Ederick and Bishop Rohan were talking about; changes in the heavens, a war among the gods. Was that what started all this? Carym forced his mind onto the topic of the bishop’s conversation as they bounced along.

  “Ah, Carym,” said the bishop warmly. “I was just discussing with Sir Ederick the recent changes in the Church of Ulrych.”

  “I remember hearing about the rumors,” Carym acknowledged. “We already knew of the Zuharim turning to darkness. What has gone wrong in the Church of Ulrych?”

  “Why, nothing!” exclaimed Bishop Rohan, with a warm smile. “Nothing went wrong. Everything went right! If you don’t mind, Sir Ederick, it’s critical that Carym understand the way things will be from now on; I’d like to start over.”

  “Of course, Bishop. It’s critical that I understand as well. Please do.”

  “Carym, as you know, I was once called The Grand Patriarch of Ulrych and I was the head of his church. About a year ago...”

  The Grand Patriarch of Ulrych stood outside the Chamber of the Sun high atop the Tower of the North in the land of Myrnwell. He was dressed in his ceremonial robes of scarlet and gold with a purple sash and conical hat. The staff of his office, the Staff of the Sun, glowed faintly with light reflected from the outside. He cast his eyes down before the image of the flaming sword and scales, the symbol of his faith, and took in the beautiful mosaic on the white marble floor. He removed his shoes and cap and quietly pushed open the golden door; bald pate reflecting the rising sun’s rays. His retainer remained outside.

  The Grand Patriarch, Rohan Van Dyn Gram, eased himself down on the soft purple fringed pillow in the center of the room. As the sun’s rays reached the top of the chamber, golden beams reflected off a series of mirrors and illuminated the room in a golden radiance. Rohan closed his eyes, and pictured every detail of the beautiful chamber in his mind’s eye. He emptied himself of thought and focused his mind on the prayer. He recited the Prayer of Calling, a secret prayer passed from one Patriarch to the next by word of mouth for centuries, and basked in the warmth and radiance that filled the chamber and his soul.

  The Prayer of Cal
ling was a powerful prayer that allowed the Patriarch to commune with the Angels who served Ulrych. Although it was widely known that the Patriarch could do this, the method was completely secret. The prayer held no power over otherworldly beings, rather it allowed the Patriarch, while seated in the Chamber of the Sun, to reach out across the barriers between the Heavens and Llars and be heard by one of the servants of the god.

  Golden radiance filled Rohan’s soul and he basked in the glory of Ulrych’s light for a long time, soaking in the ecstasy of the divine light. Finally Rohan began to wonder why he was allowed to absorb the glorious radiance for so long, and then he sensed a presence enter the room. He opened his eyes when he felt that he was permitted to do so and was awestruck by what he saw.

  In his lifetime of service, decades as Grand Patriarch, Rohan had been privileged to commune with three different Angels of Ulrych. In all of his conversations with his predecessors, and his studies of church history, the same three angels would appear or commune with Grand Patriarchs when the Prayer of Calling was used. Rohan always felt the power of the angels when he was in their presence and he always understood their superiority and the respect they commanded. But Rohan had never even dared to dream that he would be face to face with his lord, Ulrych, before the day of his death.

  Rohan was so awestruck by the presence of his god that he forgot to prostrate himself and gawked like a child at the circus. What he saw was a kind looking man, quite old yet remarkably fit with smooth features. He was wearing gold and silver armor that was dazzlingly beautiful with a sword at his hip and a shield on his back. His hair was quite short, in military style, yet it was snow white and his eyes were golden like the rays of the setting sun. Ulrych smiled benevolently at the highest cleric of his church.

  When Rohan realized he was gawking, he quickly put his face to the floor and said, “Forgive me, Lord. I meant no disrespect.”

  “There is nothing to forgive, Child of Zuhr,” replied the gentle voice of his patron deity. The voice was warm and full of compassion and light. “Please, rise.”

  Rohan returned to a kneeling position and faced Ulrych. “You honor me with your presence, my Lord.”

  “Nay, it is you who honor me, Rohan. You: my faithful follower and shepherd of my flock. You have led the church with strength and courage and held to the precepts with more tenacity than any of your predecessors.” Ulrych continued to smile and let the compliments sink in. Rohan began to sense a sadness in the god’s demeanor. “Rohan, I have never appeared to any of the Grand Patriarchs save the very first. And, now it is only fitting that I counsel with you, the last Grand Patriarch of this church.”

  “My Lord, can this be true?” he stammered. Fear gripped his soul at the portent of the deity’s words. “Is the destruction of the church at hand? Please, tell me and I will do whatever it takes to keep your flock whole!”

  “Calm, Rohan,” Ulrych said with kindness and a little mirth. “There is naught you can do. This truly is the end of the Church of Ulrych as we know it. The Great Father, Zuhr, father of all the gods, has willed it so. In the beginning, Zuhr commanded his children to manage the affairs of Llars and care for its people in his stead. I and my sister, Zerva, have been good stewards of our followers. And we have been blessed with the righteous and good who have chosen to walk in the path of the light.

  “Yet, I am afraid that my brothers, and my other sister, Zervish, have not held true to the responsibilities given them by the Great Father, Zuhr. You see, Rohan, we are not true gods as you have been led to believe.” Rohan’s eyes bulged in his head.

  “How can this be, Lord?” Rohan asked with sadness. He felt like a child who had learned that there really were no Tuathan Elves who come into his home with sweet cakes at the Solstices. “The Histories-” he began, but was interrupted.

  “Could we have inspired the Writers and the Prophets to view things differently? Certainly. But, Zuhr intended for his people to grow and learn and explore his creation. He intended for his people to discover the many mysteries of the stars, and the sun, and the moon, and the creatures of the lands and seas, and the very ground you walk on.”

  Rohan nodded. He understood completely. “I see, my Lord. Had the great Zuhr told us everything we ever needed to know from the very beginning, what could ever drive us to do more, be more, learn more, and know more? Our minds would be little better than that of the slave who depends on his master for every piece of knowledge. Zuhr wanted us to be free to learn and succeed on our own merits and grow.”

  “Yes, my devoted follower. And, people of that time would scarcely have been inclined to believe that Llars is but one world among the many moving around our sun, or that there are many suns with many other worlds made by Him, when the common knowledge of that time said otherwise. Nothing in the Histories is contradictory to the Truth of Creation, yet much in the histories is left without answer.”

  “And, so long ago, people could scarcely believe that there was only one true god responsible for all creation as they knew it,” Rohan said absorbing everything. “So Zuhr allowed them to believe that you were gods, and only hinting at his own existence. This was better than having his creations worshipping trees and rocks, I assume?”

  “You have the right of it, friend. Zuhr knew that it would take time for the people to come to Him. He knew that mortals were inclined to believe there was a god lurking behind every rock, tree, and cloud. He knew that those mentioned in the Histories as ‘the Builders’ would be viewed and worshipped as gods, though it was never written as such. And we did in fact help Zuhr in the creation to a small extent; we populated the Original Races as He asked us to do. This is how the humans, elves, and orcine races were made. And it is how we were made too.” Ulrych walked around the chamber and peered out across the land.

  “I see. You and Zerva and the others are creations of the Great Lord Zuhr as well,” he said. Ulrych nodded.

  “Although our lives are eternal, we have souls like you and we can be killed here on this mortal plane.”

  “How many of you are there, Lord Ulrych?” he asked curiously.

  “You have a sharp mind, Rohan. There are hundreds of thousands of immortal beings, though I am one of the First Six. We are fewer in number than the mortals of Llars, yet we are still many.” Rohan was amazed. He was learning things that the Great Scholars never dreamed of. And he would be entrusted to reveal it all, in time. “But there are only a few who wield the awesome powers granted us by Zuhr. The other, less powerful, immortal beings serve us in various ways.”

  “While you and Zerva serve the will of Zuhr, others do not,” Rohan said matter of factly. Ulrych was proud of Rohan’s mind and pleased that he had chosen this man to be his Patriarch.

  “Qraz of the Arnathians, Umber of the Orcine, Grymm of the Dead, Zerva of the Wood, and Zervish of the Sea. We were the first of Zuhr’s children, followed by one hundred other powerful immortals, or Cjii, as we call ourselves. We married and had children and formed great cities and great societies. But we were made for a greater purpose and Zuhr forbade any further reproduction among us. Each of the First Six gathered our followers and shaped them into a hierarchy to do our will. Zerva and Grymm chose to release their followers asking them to serve me instead. Unfortunately, those who had pledged themselves to Zerva went their own way when she freed them. Many of them roam the world interacting with the races, some beneficent, others corrupt. Still others fled to the Shadowrealms where they thought they could escape the power of the First Six. To their own consternation, they discovered that Umber now ruled from there. Those who follow Umber call themselves the Society of the Demon.”

  “That means damned in the older tongue, yes? And, the Angels follow you.”

  “And Zuhr,” Ulrych nodded. “Needless to say, my brethren in the Heavens and Shadowrealms are not happy with Zuhr’s recent decision. Many have fled from the Heavens and Shadowrealms and have descended to Llars, seeking refuge. Others have chosen to form alliances and it appears as t
hough a line is being drawn even now. A very clear line.”

  Ulrych was quiet for several moments and Rohan did not interrupt him. Finally Ulrych said this; “There is nothing else I may reveal to you about the goings-on in the Heavens. It should suffice to say now that a war in the Heavens has spilled onto Llars and Umber is behind it. War comes, Rohan. We must be ready. As Zuhr’s own chief among the First Six, I have the distinct honor of leading the fight to come; you will be my right hand.”

  “Great Ulrych, I know nothing of fighting or war!” he exclaimed with fear.

  “Ahh. But you possess loyalty, faith, and wisdom. These are what I shall rely upon in the coming days. We will call the generals of the earth to aid us with strategy and we will be blessed with the Return!”

  “The Return, Lord Ulrych?”

  “The lost art of the Sigils. Zuhr has chosen a humble man to bear the burden of bringing back the power of the Sigils. He will come here, to Myrnwell. Your Order must seek him out and protect him. He will need our help. I will be here to guide you, and when the time comes I will walk among the people. I must prepare the way to Zuhr and show the people of Llars that it is to Him they owe their faith.

  “I have faith in you, Rohan, to find the words and deeds to make this conversion so. Here is something I have written about our great lord, Zuhr, that my help you in your task. There will be many churches going forward, Rohan. And that is OK. Yet, have care for there will always be those who will take the darker paths in the name of Zuhr. Your church will be the model for all to follow in the trying times ahead. And when these times come, those who truly profess faith in Zuhr will find the way. You will now be known as the Arch-Bishop of the Church of Zuhr; lead by example, Rohan.”

  Rohan suddenly began to weep.

  Ulrych did something, then, that he had not prepared himself to do. In fact, he felt like he might pay the price for such action later. Ulrych materialized himself wholly in the physical presence of his Patriarch. In this form, Ulrych knew that he could in fact be killed, yet he did not fear this. When Rohan actually felt the physical hand on his shoulder he was so amazed that he fell to his knees. Ulrych took hold of Rohan and held the man as he wept, offering him the comfort the man would need to offer his own flock. “Weep not, brother. For we are brothers in the eyes of Zuhr. Know he will not abandon you the way your parents did. You are his child and he will protect you with his might.