Shadowblade

by Tom Bielawski

  “That man’s a wizard, Prince Cannath!” said Captain Amos scandalously. “We ought not trust him, Sire!”

  “Wizard or no, Captain, he has saved us,” the prince replied solemnly. “And I shall have my revenge on General Craxis!”

  Cannath left a small detachment of men at the port and sealed the gates. He knew that the port could be defended easily by just a few men, at least long enough to allow him a retreat and escape aboard the Eradicator, if that became necessary.

  Having won the battle for Port Hybrand, Commander Coronus reassembled his troops on the main avenue outside of the port where Cannath and his remaining men found them. Cannath attempted to speak with the commander, to offer congratulations and thanks, but the grim elf ignored him.

  In the distance he could hear the shouts of the dreaded Arnathian Senior officers, calling their men into ranks. He looked at the elf, who stood silently surveying his troops, but saying nothing and began to fear the arrival of more Arnathians.

  What is this man doing? he wondered. Now he could hear the sound of swords slapping on shields, like thunder in the distance. That signaled one thing; the Arnathians were ready to fight. Soon he would hear the tell-tale sound of their heavily booted feet stomping on the cobblestone roads of Hybrand as the deadly warriors trotted inexorably towards them, and doom would come with them.

  “Commander, that sound is the Arnathians preparing to move. They will come in full force-” the elf silenced the prince with a wave of his hand, a slight tingling pain tickled his brain for a brief moment.

  “I know what they are doing, Prince Cannath. We will fight them here.” Cannath swallowed an angry retort as the elf’s malevolent eyes cast him a baleful glance. He decided to trust in this new god, Ilian Nah, and turned to face his own men, preparing them for battle.

  The most dreaded and fearful sound in the world, the sound of the Arnathian Army running towards an enemy, steadily and in step, smashing swords on shields every fourth step, drifted down the avenue and echoed off buildings. Cannath knew this would be the deciding moment. As a former Arnathian military officer, he knew they would bring their full force to utterly destroy a rebellion before it started. Odds didn’t matter much to the Arnathians, for they were so good that each Arnathian soldier was worth any three of his enemy; any enemy.

  Coronus stood at the front of the formation of sickly looking, yet fearsome, troops who stood silently awaiting the onslaught of the Arnathian force that was moving inexorably toward them. After moments that seemed like hours to Cannath, Coronus began moving forward and his contingent -numbering far too few to Cannath’s reckoning- followed their commander. The front of the column of the Arnathians spread out suddenly and formed into a wedge formation, hoping to break the enemy ranks by splitting them in two groups with the point of their wedge.

  Yet, the battle-hardened Arnathian Army had never faced anything like Coronus or his glazed-eyed troops that were now running to meet their foes.

  Coronus’ angry concentration never wavered; the dark clothed man seemed to be reaching toward his back for something that wasn’t there. Cannath saw that the man’s forearms actually disappeared for a brief moment and then flickered back into view holding something that held the appearance of a sword in each hand. These swords were just as blurry and dark as the shadows of Assassins’ Alley!

  The elf swung the blades outward. In seconds he clashed with the lead man of the Arnathian forces and cut him to ribbons. The sound of the clash of the opposing forces was deafening as sword and spear and shield met head-on and at full force. The force of the impact was so strong that the front ranks of Arnathian soldiers were actually thrown backward and into the trailing ranks of their own men, causing many to fall. The fight turned very quickly against the Arnathians, who had never seen such an enemy; it was as if their column had run headlong into a wall!

  The Prince of Hybrand watched in awe as the elf efficiently cut down every attacker unfortunate enough to come his way. Of those that put up a fight, it appeared to Cannath that their weapons never made contact with the swords of the blue-skinned man. And, from time to time, Cannath watched as a cloud of darkness enveloped a platoon of Arnathians, or a skull made of blue fire raced through enemy ranks biting and slashing with teeth before finally exploding into a ball of blue flames and consuming the bodies of men in a mass of blue and green flames.

  Cannath watched in amazement as the sickly troops cut down the deadly Arnathian soldiers. Although it appeared as though there was no stopping Commander Coronus, he was still wildly outnumbered and now a large contingent of Arnathian forces had circumvented him and moved toward the gates to the Port. Prince Cannath, who was being held in reserve, prepared his men.

  “So this it? This is our last stand?” he shouted in frustration, and looked skyward. With resignation he said, “You tempt me with a brief taste of victory and steal it from my grasp. To what end?”

  “My Prince, have faith. All will be-” the captain began.

  The prince whirled to face his subordinate, the point of a dagger near the man’s face. The typically stoic prince growled at him, “Have faith in Zuhr? He has abandoned us, fool! Look at Coronus! He fights with the power of Ilian Nah!” Cannath withdrew the dagger from Amos’ face and threw his arms to the sky.

  “Ilian Nah, I beseech you! Help us as you help your brilliant commander! Aid us now that we may vanquish our foes!” Captain Amos thought there was a mad, wild, gleam in his prince’s upraised eyes, and it worried him almost as much as his lord’s blasphemy.

  Suddenly, the corpse littered street behind Coronus and his troops became a mass of writhing men! “By all the gods!” whispered Cannath.

  “By Zurh’s teeth!” said Captain Amos. “What devil magic is this?”

  Indeed, wondered Cannath. What was happening? Incredibly, before his very eyes, the corpses of the fallen Arnathian soldiers and Hybrandese citizens alike, began to rise to their feet! It was amazing. The prince had seen nothing like it in all his years. Nothing. How could this happen? He was about to signal a retreat to the port when he was amazed even further.

  “Sire! The corpses, they are fighting against the Arnathians!” exclaimed Captain Amos wearing an expression of horror.

  “They are,” he said dully. He watched in perplexed amazement as the corpses stemmed the tide of angry Arnathians who had begun to circle around with the intent of destroying Cannath’s weak forces. They were cut to bloody pieces! And then, those very bloody pieces arose from the ground and joined the fight against their former compatriots.

  Cannath and his men looked on in amazement. There was nothing they could do, or were even needed to do. The Arnathians were being routed. He could see the confusion in his enemy as friend turned against friend, and he even possessed a single moment’s pity for them; but a moment’s only. A smile crept across his face as the final knot of Arnathian troops was overwhelmed by their own deceased men.

  The victory was complete.

  By the orders of Commander Coronus, the last remnants of Arnathian regulars were hunted down and killed or turned over to his care. Prince Cannath’s loyal followers, and those who were now too happy to be rid of the Arnathians to care who took their place, were gleefully acceptant of this task.

  Prince Cannath led his victory procession throughout the town toward the Royal Castle. He intentionally took the long way around hoping to instill the fear of waiting in those left behind in the castle. He had heard that Craxis -the old bastard- had tried and been unable to escape as the seed of revolt spread through the city of Hybrand. Craxis locked himself in the palace with his personal guard, prepared to fend off a siege until reinforcements arrived, surely runners had been sent to the reaches of Hybrand calling for reinforcements. Let them bring their entire Army! It would not be enough! Cannath took great pleasure in the knowledge that the crotchety old general was probably livid at this turn of events, and seething over who the mastermind was.

  He took all of this in with a wide grin. Captai
n Amos, his stalwart advisor, sat at his side atop a fancy wagon given to him by Commander Coronus. It was black as night and inlaid with silver trim and sapphires; worth a king’s ransom no doubt. He waved at his reclaimed subjects and he didn’t care that most them had certainly cursed him but a day before. In fact, inwardly he felt as though that was as it should have been.

  Now he was eager to take what was his. He wanted to get to the castle and make Craxis pay for his crimes against Hybrand, and against him. The prince was not nearly as nervous at the steady approach of the certainly monumental task of retaking the castle as Captain Amos was.

  “My Prince, what makes you think this will be so easy?” asked the man.

  “Commander Coronus has agreed to help us regain the castle; certainly a trifle for one such as him,” the prince replied, his tone matter of fact, a distant stare in his eye. “Have you dispatched the messengers for parley?”

  “Aye, my lord. I have. As you ordered they shall stand as statues until you arrive to personally oversee the communication.”

  The prince made no reply, made no comment to let his captain know that the underling had been heard. Yet, Amos did not need an audible reply, the look on his prince’s face was reply enough.

  Finally, the beautiful wagon, flanked by a guard of Cannath’s loyalists and with a rear guard of Coronus’ men, made it to Castle Road; the road that wound its way up the steep cliff face to the Royal Castle which sat at the pinnacle of the castle mount.

  Cannath took in the sights and sounds as the procession came to a halt. He wanted to savor every moment leading up to the glory awaiting him, and every moment of Craxis’ certain anguish over his fate to come. He watched as osprey rested along the high walls of Castle Road and seagulls swarmed over a school of shad in the bay; for a moment he was distracted by the thought of the huge striperfish that must certainly be beneath the school of shad, gorging themselves and driving the frightened baitfish to the surface as Coronus’ men drove the Arnathians to their doom.

  Ah, but even the fun of that catch would be but a pittance compared to what was to come.

  Two guards in shiny black armor snapped to attention at the approach of the wagon. With a sharp salute from their steely halberds, they acknowledged the authority of Prince Cannath of Hybrand, and allowed him to pass. He expected as much as he returned their salute in proper military fashion. These were in fact Coronus’ men and each bore the intricate Sigil design covering their armor that alluded to the same mysterious aura of magic that surrounded Coronus. Cannath shuddered at the power that the man must have at his beck and call. Oh, what he would do to wield that sort of power!

  “My Prince,” said Captain Amos.

  “Yes, Captain.”

  “Are you certain we can trust him?” asked the man cautiously and quietly.

  “I am. Trouble yourself no more with it. I will not repeat the mistake of my grandfather, you may be certain.”

  Amos was not so certain, yet he wisely held his tongue. He knew his master was wiser than he, and deferred to the prince’s judgment; still he couldn’t shake the feeling that this was not all going to turn out so well.

  Finally, the procession made it to the drawbridge where, as ordered, his men stood stonily awaiting the arrival of their prince. As expected, the Arnathians had tried to parley with the Cklathish warriors, but were answered only with silence.

  Cannath regally stepped down from the wagon and Amos dutifully hopped down with him. The side door to the wagon opened and out stepped Commander Coronus. Amos swore that Coronus was the darkest, most evil, creature he had ever laid eyes on. When Coronus looked toward him it was as though a shockwave of sickening power washed over him and everyone else in the area; it made bile rise in his throat and he wanted to empty his stomach right there. A glance at the rear-guard and their vacant, sickly, stares only reinforced the man’s reservations.

  “PARLEY!” shouted Cannath in a voice that was so loud that Amos swore it couldn’t have been his. It was moments later when the reply from the watch-post over the portcullis came.

  “PARLEY!” came the reply.

  “PREPARE FOR TERMS!” shouted Prince Cannath in the formal Cklathish way.

  By making the Arnathians wait, they knew that this was the Cklathish way to show they were giving the terms and the Arnathians were going to listen. Moments later the drawbridge slowly opened and was lowered across the yawning chasm between Castle Road and the Royal Castle of Hybrand. When it slammed to the ground a lone figure stood at the other end.

  Craxis! thought Cannath gleefully. The prince watched as the man strode arrogantly across the portcullis and stopped where the prince, his captain, and Commander Coronus were standing. The elderly general did not even acknowledge the presence of Prince Cannath, instead he faced the elf, Coronus.

  “What are your terms?” croaked the old general in his condescending way. Coronus merely looked down upon the old man with a withering gaze and, it appeared to Amos, that Craxis’ outer shell broke for just a moment. It looked to the old captain like Craxis wanted nothing more than to kneel and retch! Then the moment passed and the crotchety old man was cool as ice.

  Craxis glowered. “You will regret this day, pig! I can hold this Castle with my men for weeks while we await the arrival of the entire North Fleet and a Division of Imperial Marines!” the general said confidently.

  “Tut tut, general,” said Cannath in his most patronizing voice. “You are in Cklathish lands and here, we discuss our terms first. So, open your thick ears and listen.” The general seethed and sputtered but said little else. He would not allow himself to be seen as one who abandoned military custom.

  “Surrender now, and you will be given a quick death. Your men will be turned over to the care of Commander Coronus and returned to Arnathia in exchange for other terms,” Cannath paused and looked Craxis in the eyes as he spoke. “Refuse and you shall be given a most hideous and painful death, which I will personally oversee. I might be the one to drag the blade across your fat belly and let your entrails hang free.”

  Craxis spit on Cannath’s feet and did an about face, marching back toward the castle.

  “General!” called Commander Coronus, his smooth voice stopping the old general in his tracks. “There is one more thing.”

  The general turned hesitantly to face the Frost Elf and Prince Cannath, a cold sneer on his face.

  “You will receive no reinforcements. Arnathia has ceded Hybrand, its people, and it soldiers, to the Prophet-General of New Nashia. If you resist us, you resist your own Emperor.”

  “Liar!” called the old man, ferociously. “I would have heard of this before you.”

  “It was an agreement reached just days ago. You have been abandoned. Why not surrender? Perhaps Prince Cannath can be convinced to spare your life.”

  Craxis turned with a snarl and stalked back across the bridge. Cannath watched with a smirk as the drawbridge closed with finality against the framework of the castle walls. He knew that the castle would be his again in a matter of hours.

  “What do you mean that Hybrand has been ‘ceded’ to New Nashia, Commander?” asked Cannath as he turned to face the elf. Captain Amos tried to conceal an expression of fear. “I thought this was an alliance!”

  “But it is an alliance, Thayne Cannath. You are the ruler of your country. Consider that the duties of protecting your fledgling country belong to New Nashia and the Prophet-General while you grow in your own power and right.”

  “I see,” said Cannath. “Very well, as long as that is the extent of things.”

  “Now, what is it you desire from me, O Prince of Hybrand?” asked Coronus, and Cannath turned his thoughts to the immediate problem of liberating the castle. But Captain Amos was not convinced, and he wondered what it would take to show Cannath the error he had made in allying himself with Coronus.

  “What is it you desire from me, O Thayne of Hybrand?” repeated Coronus in his whispery, spidery voice.

  Amos swore that his ski
n began to crawl every time he heard that sound. The powerful Elvish lord’s black coat inlaid with silver and sapphire shimmered, giving him an eerie glow in the setting sun. The sapphires and strange Sigils seemed to dance and swirl before the eyes of the beholder, lulling one into a false -no, deadly, sense of security.

  “All hail Commander Coronus, the great!” Cannath raised his arms high and the gathered troops gave a resounding cheer. “You have helped liberate a people long oppressed. I have but one final favor to ask of you.”

  “’Tis not I who deserves the title ‘great’, but the Great Lord Ilian Nah. It is he from whom all power flows! Name your favor, and the Great Lord Ilian Nah shall see it done!”

  Amos wanted desperately to cry foul. He wanted to grab his lord and shake him; warn him that this was surely the work of the Dark Lord. Amos knew that Zuhr would be displeased with this turn of events. Yet, for some reason, he simply could not take his eyes from the swirling Sigils on Coronus’ high collared coat. He began to sweat, even in the biting chill of the winter evening.

  “Commander Coronus, help me retake my birthright. Help me expel these wretched Arnathians and punish General Craxis for all that he has made me suffer!” the prince was working himself into a rage. The more he spoke, the more tense and angry he became. His face turned red and veins began to bulge on his forehead. “When this is done, I wish to be crowned by the holy power and rule by the divine right of Ilian Nah!”

  Amos felt as though his soul were being stolen from his very body and could do nothing about it.

  “I see. This Craxis has indeed held the nation of Hybrand under his boot heel for many years, and the same can be said of his predecessors. Too long have you suffered under Arnathian oppression! Ilian Nah rewards those who struggle to overcome and destroy the unworthy! Ilian Nah gives you his blessing to exact vengeance upon them; you make take your bloody due, Thayne Cannath. And the Great One will help you do it!”