Shadowblade

by Tom Bielawski

  Ten thousand men. Although they must keep these men stationed throughout the lands to defend against the Nashians and the Steel Empire, he still couldn’t believe it. Rohan sent his page to summon Leur Fleameau.

  “What can I do for you, Lord Bishop?” Leur asked with respect, standing at military attention. Since the gathering of the High Seats, Leur had finally begun to deal with his grief. Leur knew in his heart that the invasion of his homeland and the death of his brother, the prince, had been solely the fault of the Steel Emperor. He’d resolved that the liberation of Amberlou would come in due time and Rohan pledged the assistance of the Church to that end. But each man knew that a greater evil was rising in the form of the dark god, Umber.

  When Rohan shared the plans for the formation of a knightly order called the Sword of Zuhr who would face enemies of the Church, dispense justice, and protect the priesthood, Leur resigned his High Seat and resigned from the priesthood to join the Sword of Zuhr.

  “Greetings Sword-General; be at ease, brother.” Rohan was pleased when Leur relaxed. “Within days, recruits will be arriving here to train under your command.”

  “This is good news, Bishop. As we speak I have only three hundred men, archers most of them. Of those, only twenty-five are candidates for the Sword.”

  “Then you will be pleased to hear how busy your brothers have been,” he said with a smile. “The first of five thousand will begin arriving tomorrow.” Rohan watched with pleasure as the words sank in. Leur’s eyes were alight with anticipation.

  “Five thousand?”

  “Five thousand. Another five thousand have been recruited and have begun their training in the free lands to the north.”

  “Thank you, Bishop!” he said as he snapped to attention.

  “Do not thank me, Leur. Thank Zuhr.”

  “What are your desires for this army, Bishop?”

  “I will leave those matters to you. Your record in the military service of Amberlou was exemplary, your training far more advanced than any of the rest of us. You are well suited to this task.”

  “Then I believe I know what must be done, Bishop,” he began. “The Arnathians have the most formidable military force in the world. I have studied their tactics and their structure. The Hand of Zuhr will be the main force of arms devoted to Zuhr. An army, for lack of a better term. The Hand will be divided into three regiments of three thousand each. Each regiment will be comprised of three battalions of one thousand each. The final thousand will be those who are qualified to become a knight in the Sword of Zuhr.”

  “That is a sound strategy, Leur. You have the blessing of the High Seats.”

  Leur began to leave then turned back to face his bishop. “Is there something else, Leur?”

  “Yes,” he said. “Why the change in title? Why are you no longer called the Patriarch?”

  “I felt that the term Patriarch was too proud. We are all humble servants of Zuhr, there is no need for mighty titles.”

  Seemingly satisfied with that answer, Leur snapped to attention, did an about-face, and exited his bishop’s office.

  “So, this Leur Flammaeu is now the commander of the Hand of Zuhr?” asked Sir Ederick.

  “He is the commander of the Knights of the Sword, Sir Ederick,” corrected the bishop. “The order which you are now part of. He is experienced in battle, although probably not as experienced as you, and has commanded the Knights of the Sword in minor skirmishes against expeditionary forces of the Steel Empire with great success.”

  “I see,” said the knight.

  Carym wondered how Ederick would handle the transition from his old order to the Hand. He hoped the man would be able to let the past go and not be bogged down by the destruction of the order to which he had given his adult life. Somehow, Carym knew Ederick was made of stronger stuff, however, and he felt confident his friend would be ok.

  “And that was just a year ago,” finished Bishop Rohan. “The Nashian invasion was swift and surprising. Although Gun managed to secure passage out of Svaka in advance of the invasion, we have not heard from him since. His High Seat is empty, as are those who were seduced with promises of greatness by the clergy of Qra’z in the Steel Empire to the west.”

  “I am the one Patron Ulrych spoke of, aren’t I?”

  “Yes,” replied Bishop Rohan as Sir Ederick climbed out of the coach. “There can be no other.”

  The Tower was a beautiful palace rather than one specific building. It was really a castle, a military fortification, and a small city unto itself.

  The rest of the occupants followed the bishop out of the coach. They were now at the Tower of the North, the home of the new church, and its army, all devoted to Zuhr. They would be spending the long winter here but he felt the urgency of his quest calling to him as he left the road behind.

  “What is to be my part then?” he asked, worried. “I feel like I’m in over my head.”

  “And that may be precisely why you were chosen to do your part; you have no aspirations for exploiting the great powers that you wield. But, who can know the mind of Zuhr?” he said. “He chose you to find the Everpool. And that is what you will do.”

  “So what’s in store for me now? Here in Myrnwell?”

  “Now?” the bishop repeated. “To start with, we would like you to screen some of the recruits for their ability to use the Sigils.”

  Carym grimaced at that. He wasn’t sure he should be using the Sigils himself, never mind screening others.

  “I can accept that, I suppose. Although, I don’t feel I should be teaching anyone right now.” He paused for a moment, considering. “I have learned that the ancient Tome of Sigils is the key to unlocking the mysteries. Won’t we need that to teach others?”

  “Indeed we will. And that shall be your first order of business when you do recover the Tome. For now, I suppose it’s a good thing your friend, Morgon, is here to help you screen recruits.”

  “Morgon?” Carym’s mind raced, he hadn’t seen the man since Dockyard City. And even then, he could hardly call the man a friend. “The red-skinned elf?”

  “Yes. The Crimson Elf from Alfheym. He has recently arrived. He is one of the Fyrbold, a Watcher. He is privy to many of the secrets of the Fyrbold and should be able to help you hone your skills while you are here.”

  “Morgon,” he repeated. He did not know the man at all, and yet felt a sense of relief that came with the knowledge of his presence. “I met him briefly, in Dockyard City. He gave me something very precious, and very powerful.” The Sigilstones, six marble sized stones which related to the six disciplines of Sigil Magic. Each uniquely-colored stone a focus of power for its specific discipline. Each stone had the ability of channeling the power of the Tide over which it held sway, intensifying the magic that passed through it. And Carym constantly felt the pressures of each stone as it called to its own Tide of power.

  “Indeed,” mused the bishop. “He told me something of the details of your acquaintance, though I suspect there is much yet that I do not know.”

  “Tell me more of this Hand of Zuhr. What is it all about?” asked Carym, redirecting the course of the conversation.

  “The Hand is an army of knights and men-at-arms dedicated to Zuhr’s holy ways.”

  “Like the Zuharim used to be.”

  “Like the Zuharim used to be,” agreed the bishop. “But more. While the Zuharim used to be good and holy men, their roles had been small and limited. And the knights were forced to recruit laymen to fill their ranks when wars were fought.

  “The Hand is an army of professional, trained soldiers who are dedicated to Zuhr. We also strive to find the good Zuharim as they come back from the war in Al Zocar, the ones who have not been corrupted by the Shadow, and welcome them into our ranks.”

  This elicited a growl from the newly made Sir Ederick, Knight of the Sword. Sir Ederick had recently come to the knowledge that the Zuharim, the order to which his entire life had been devoted, had been usurped by the Shadow and turned into a
n instrument of dark magic. Their order had been banned by the Rhi of Myrnwell over his claims of having been subjected to Zuharim curse, and it was only by the intervention of Bishop Rohan that the Zuharim were not all executed on sight. The bishop was able to convince the Rhi to allow him to conduct hearings to verify whether any accused Zuharim was a practitioner of the dark powers or not. Sir Ederick had been so accused by Delfyd Rhi and was exonerated by the bishop. But the Rhi’s thirst for vengeance against Zuharim would not be slaked by exonerated knights, and the bishop was confident that the Rhi would find a way to retaliate.

  “By Zuhr’s teeth, I’ll make those dark ones pay,” hissed the knight. His forced change of allegiance had not been sitting well with him. Other than Carym’s own encounter with the dark knights, Sir Ederick had been operating under the assumption that there was nothing amiss with his order. Before meeting Carym and his companions on the road in Ckaymru, the knight had been fighting in a decade long war in far-off Al Zocar. His commanders sent the decorated knight on a mission to the various Zuharim barracks around the Cklathlands to seek reinforcements for the war. What he found was an order in disgrace and himself accused of practicing vile dark magic.

  “Sir Ederick, I cannot say how profoundly disturbed I am by all of this. There is nothing that I can say to ease your grief, for you have truly lost something you hold dear. Yet Zuhr has made it clear that His children have strayed, and He has shown me that the Zuharim as an institution is lost. Yet there is hope for those who are like you, those who have not been touched by the Shadow.

  “It was Zuhr’s own decision to create the Hand, not to fight in Al Zocar and reinforce the Zuharim, but to fight the darkness here. This invasion of darkness by the forces of Umber is what matters. The hearts and minds of men are what matter, not a long lost and long desecrated piece of ground across the sea.”

  “What is the purpose of the Sword of Zuhr?” asked the bard, quietly listening until now. “And what is Ulrych’s role, now?”

  “The Sword of Zuhr is comprised of our most valuable knights and Ulyrch is the Patron of that Order. As we have learned, Ulrych is a Cjii. He is a mighty general and war leader and that is why he is the patron of the Sword of Zuhr.

  “Knights of the Sword are the men who are the most battle tested, skilled, and the most devout of those in service to the Hand. They are the best and brightest and many of them possess an array of skills not found among the Knights and Men-At-Arms of the Hand. Some of the men have even found themselves blessed with special divine powers.”

  “Divine powers?” asked Carym. “What sort of divine powers?”

  “Ahh,” whispered the bishop with pride and emotion. “That is something you shall have to see for yourself, for it seems to come upon them in miraculous and unexpected ways.”

  Carym nodded, and noticed Ederick’s intrigued expression. But the knight did not press the issue further, for the desire and thirst for power and favor were looked down upon by true knights. Sir Ederick was as true a knight as Carym had ever met and knew that the man would not seek power and favor for the glory of it; such high favor was bestowed only upon the worthy.

  There was quiet for a while and the men drifted back into their private musings as they walked. Carym looked about the bustling town and wondered where his old friend Zach was and how he was faring. Not long after reaching Obyn, Carym and the companions received a cryptic message from Captain Trelwigger about “hunters” coming to get them. The terrified man would say little of the one who made him pass on the message, but Carym had his suspicions. Would Zach protect Carym or would he betray him further? Was there some hope that his friend would come back or did Zach only send that warning because there was some benefit for himself?

  Carym suspected the latter was the truth of the matter, Zach would go where his own interests were best served.

  The men walked the rest of the way in silence, followed distantly behind them by Gennevera and Hala and some women who were attending them. Carym wanted to fall back and go to Genn, but he did not.

  His personal feelings had to be put on hold for the greater good. The fate of the world could rest on what decisions he made next and he could ill afford to be distracted by love.

  For the sake of what lay ahead, and for the sake of them all, Carym decided to leave his heart behind him. For his new calling must now begin.

  C H A P T E R

  9

  Prince Cannath.

  Cannath decided that he could no longer wait for Hugh to return. He wondered with great ire what had happened to the man. It was very unlike him to simply disappear for days. Prince Cannath knew that his friend had been consorting with some very unsavory people on his behalf and considered the possibility that he had been captured or killed. He did feel sad about that. He was, after all, the reason that Hugh had engaged in the shady business of gathering intelligence in the first place.

  But, Cannath concluded, if Hugh had been captured then he need not concern himself with the possibility that his rebellion might be compromised. The man had begun training with a monk from the Order of the Open Palm, and while Hugh was not a full-fledged monk, he had quickly learned much of their ways. These monks were very mysterious and seemed to have strange abilities that were mystical in nature. Thus the devotees of Zuhr had to practice their ways in secret due to the imperial decrees limiting the practice of other faiths and the ban on magic.

  After so much time had passed with his men turning up no sign of Hugh, Prince Cannath had privately declared his friend dead. He had no time to mourn however, he had a rebellion to oversee. He waited anxiously for the arrival of Commander Coronus and his fleet, looking out over the bay from a balcony high atop the Tower of Thaynes. The Tower, built centuries ago, was the tallest spire in the building known as the Hall of Thaynes. It was a monument to the previous monarchs of Hybrand. Ordinarily, Cannath enjoyed spending time on the Tower, but today his mind was elsewhere. A cool breeze from the north calmed him and reassured him that his visitors should be arriving soon.

  He watched with longing as a great black osprey leapt from its perch above the balcony and dove towards the water below at a dizzying speed. Cannath smiled as the great bird dove into the water like an arrow, leaving very little splash. Then, the great bird’s head surged out of the surface of the water, followed by its thrashing blue-black wings, shiny as the water ran off the feathers. Cannath envied the bird its freedom, and he envied the large and tasty trout the bird was going to enjoy.

  The air was cold and the winter wind was brisk, but winters were not severe in Hybrand. Unlike the lands of the northern Cklath, snow rarely fell in any great amount here and rarely stayed on the ground when it did. There were no signs of snow this day and the skies were blue and clear over the cobalt sea.

  He brought his attention to the task at hand, and resumed scanning the horizon. Today was the day. Today, Cannath would bring retribution to the hated Arnathian General who had truly ruled over Hybrand. All was ready now. Loyal Cklathmen had been positioned in numbers around Hybrand City and teams of Spiders were in place and prepared to wreak havoc on the enemy. Cannath was not pleased with having to ally himself with the Spiders; however, he tabled his disdain for the greater good. He idly wondered if he was trading the evil he knew for an evil he didn’t, but Gavinos assured him there was nothing to fear from either the Spiders or Commander Coronus.

  Cannath’s heart lurched at the sight of the speck on the horizon. It was only a speck, yet Cannath instinctively knew it was a large ship. Patiently he watched and waited, peering through the immense centuries-old spyglass placed atop the tower. The ship was black with black sails and appeared to be wispy and indistinct. He was at first unsure if this ship heralded the arrival of his army, until he saw the seal of Shalthazar emblazoned upon the main sail. He was told what to look for. Cannath’s spirits lifted; soon he would be paying Craxis back for all the shame and humility he had been forced to endure at the hands of that insufferable old man.

  Can
nath watched and waited for more ships, but they never came. Slowly, the black ship crept closer yet there was still no sign of more ships following in its wake. He wondered if there had been bad weather or an attack by the Arnathian Fleet, but he doubted the latter. Cannath knew that the majority of Craxis’ fleet had been called away to aid in quelling uprisings elsewhere in the empire, forcing the old general to rely on ground based supplies.

  Somewhat mollified by the fact that there would be little in the way of sea power to obstruct his plans, Cannath continued to watch the ship grow larger and larger. He saw sweeping oars jut out from the sides of the ship every now and then, only to be pulled back in. Cannath had been an officer in the Arnathian Army in his youth and had been involved in some amphibious assaults by sea. He recalled that some larger ships often employed oarsmen to aid when the winds were too weak, or to navigate treacherous waters. But the waters of Hybrand Bay were deep and clear and there was nothing to collide with.

  “Gavinos!”

  “Yes, My Prince?”

  “It appears our reinforcements have arrived,” he said trying to appear outwardly calm. Inwardly he cursed all elves for their infamous habit of failing to provide details, such as the small detail that there was only one ship coming. “Fire the watch light, signal our men to stand ready.”

  How many troops could possibly fit in the belly of one ship? he thought angrily. He desperately hoped it would be enough to fight the fearsome Arnathian regulars and that he would not be sending his people to slaughter. A failed coup would surely lead to his execution and would likely cement the Arnathian death grip on Hybrand.

  “Let us go and meet Lord Commander Coronus, My Prince,” said Gavinos, a bit too eagerly. The pair descended from the tower to the port below and Cannath’s mind raced with possibilities; good and bad. As they exited the tower a company of the old Royal Guard was waiting and escorted the prince and his adviser. Although the Royal Guard had been banned by their Arnathian rulers, Cannath had called them back to service and their ranks swelled with willing recruits. Boldly, his men now displayed the banned symbols of the Hybrandese Royal Guard and a standard bearer carrying the colors and arms of the Hybrand Royal House proudly marched before them, the great black eagle on a golden flag rippling in the breeze.