Shadowblade

by Tom Bielawski

  “Where is the Temple?” growled the paunchy man, dangerously.

  “We have only just liberated Hybrand from Arnathian control,” answered Prince Cannath. “The Temples of Zuhr and Qra’z are being converted for our use, Your Eminence.”

  The dour priest did not seem to even notice that the prince had answered him. He walked up to the trio, flanked by members of the Hybrand Royal Guard, and bowed his head to the monarch in a very small show of respect. A number of the priest’s retainers scurried out from a smaller wagon which had followed the first and began offloading the cleric’s possessions; it looked like the priest would be staying for a while.

  “Welcome to Hybrand, Your Eminence!” said the prince with forced enthusiasm. The priest grunted and turned to face Coronus. The blue elf bowed respectfully and then kissed the holy man’s staff; Gavinos repeated the gesture. With a nudge from Gavinos, Cannath bowed before the priest and kissed the outstretched ram’s head staff.

  “Thank you, Your Highness,” said the priest, finally acknowledging the prince. “I am Malig, the High Priest of Ilian Nah. I am second only to the Holy Prophet-General himself.”

  “Then you have journeyed a very long way, Your Eminence. Please, allow my servant to show you to your apartment. We will have a banquet in honor of your arrival and of tomorrow’s coronation!”

  “Indeed,” said the priest. Then he turned to the stoic Commander Coronus. “Will Ognadrog the Merciless be here by tomorrow?”

  “We expect his majesty’s arrival by ship tomorrow morning, Eminence,” came the whispered reply.

  “Good.”

  Cannath shot a furious look at Gavinos, but the Elvish merchant gave the prince a silent look that promised a discussion later. Prince Cannath seethed while he waited for the cleric and the two elves to finish with their pleasantries and the priest was shown to his quarters. A train of servants, priests, and acolytes ferried the high-priest’s belongings and the materials that would be needed to establish a proper temple from the carriages to the palace.

  “Do not worry, Prince Cannath,” said Gavinos gently, after the cleric and his attendants left the area.

  “Don’t worry?” he returned, angry. “How can you say that? King Ognadrog the Merciless, King of the Hurkin, ruler of Hurkromin, and the commander of the Hurkin Horde, is coming to my coronation!”

  “It does seem a trifle rash, doesn’t it?” said Gavinos with a guilty expression. “Still, you may be sure Ilian Nah has great plans in store. A great alliance will be formed between Hybrand and Hurkromin, paving the way for a glorious future!”

  “Will be signed? Do I get a say this?”

  “Naturally, My Prince,” soothed Gavinos. “Of course you do. But you must understand that it was the will of Ilian Nah that liberated you from Arnathia. His will must be done!”

  “Indeed,” mused the prince. Cannath saw the logic in the elf’s reasoning, but he was not pleased with all these surprises. “What of the Spiders? Shall I expect this Erriagabyn to attend my coronation as well?”

  “I’m afraid so, Your Highness. He too, is a servant of the great Ilian Nah. It has only been revealed to me that the leader of the Spiders is a very prestigious leader among the followers of our new god.”

  “Hmm. So he lied to me with all that talk of his ancestors and mine serving together and that extinct goddess, Amira.”

  “I do not know, Your Highness. Perhaps what he said was partially true. One can never know the mind of a god. As we have already learned, the realms of the gods are in turmoil, an alliance between the two gods could have been made.

  “But it does not matter, your alliance with the Spiders was a necessary means to achieve a necessary end. The benefit was mutual, you are aware that the Spiders have contributed greatly to your cause.”

  “Fine,” he conceded. “Let’s just get on with the coronation. Then we shall have a discussion about what else is demanded for by the will of Ilian Nah.”

  “As you wish, Your Highness.”

  C H A P T E R

  11

  The Pack.

  Cal slunk his way through the city of Powyss, limping just a little. Night was waning and soon the sun would rise, making it difficult for him to maintain his lupine form. The longer he ran, the more his strength returned and the innate healing abilities of the werewolves took effect. When his strength finally returned, he stopped in a back alley to make a meal out of a sleeping vagrant before continuing on into the wilderness.

  After he slaked his thirst, he contemplated what to do. Pack Leader would not be pleased, of that he was certain. Time had gotten away from him while he drank the blood of humans on the streets of Powyss. Dawn was breaking now and Cal headed toward the bole of the great tree where he left his supplies. He lay down next to the dead tree and shifted into human form, brushing away clumps of fur and wiping off blood. Then he retrieved a flask of water he had left the night before and drank while he got dressed.

  “What am I going to tell her?” he asked himself aloud. He had failed. He was supposed to find information concerning the whereabouts of the companions and report back. His spies had reported nothing to him, so he had no choice but to explore the city himself and try to pick up the scent of his quarry. And when he did, the scent trail led him to a few places along the waterfront. At the waterfront he detected the familiar scent of one of the companions, the bard. But that scent disappeared inexplicably and so the werewolf continued to follow the original spoor.

  Where it led back to Zach. The werewolf knew he should have taken time to gather intelligence about the companions’ intentions in Powyss, for the companions most certainly were there. But something in the man’s possession called to the werewolf and resonated very deeply within him. It was as though the source of the cursed creature’s very existence were somehow linked to something the man was carrying, something that could end his curse.

  And he wanted it.

  But when he followed the call of that strange force, he discovered that this human was no ordinary human. He was no sheep grazing peacefully in a pasture waiting to be slaughtered by a hungry wolf. Zach turned out to be a deadly fighter and had almost bested the tenacious werewolf.

  “That dagger,” he mused, ruefully rubbing the site of the wound that had now healed but was still very painful. Even though the wound was now gone, there was a visible scar, a surprise because a werewolf’s wounds had always healed completely. “That dagger stung like a devil.”

  He sat down against the bole of the tree and rested, thinking of what he would tell the Pack Leader. Should he lie to her and say that there was no trace of them? Should he tell her of the conflict with the man and that infernal dagger? There might be some useful information to be gleaned there.

  “If she knows I failed, she might just turn me over to Morghal.”

  That particular thought sent shivers down his spine, Morghal could probably feed his carcass to a demon and make his spirit watch it happen. Finally, as he prepared to drift off to sleep, he decided on a course of action. He would tell her of his conflict with the human, Zach, and that he had discovered the man’s departure from his companions. The Pack Leader would only be interested in what he had learned of the ones who were continuing their quest for the Everpool. His spies at the dockyards had confirmed that the rest of the companions fled north, across the sea to Obyn.

  And that is where Alyksandra will want to go.

  Believing that would be the safest course of action for the protection of his own hide, the man dozed off to rest until nightfall. After dark he would resume the form of the great blackwolf that he and his pack favored and return to the Pack Leader to report.

  After nightfall the four werewolves planned to meet in the forest a few miles outside the city of Obyn. The moon was full and the werewolves felt the dark power of the Shadow coursing strongly through their unholy veins. Cal’s information prompted the Pack to obtain passage to Obyn, where they finally found their quarry. After Cal’s encounter with the one called
Zach, the Pack Leader had become wary of these mortals.

  Alyksandra stood as a great blackwolf at the bank of a stream and looked at the reflection of the moon on the rippling surface while she awaited the arrival of her minions. She detested herself and everything she had become. She had been a werewolf for so long now that she could not remember who, or what, she had been in her mortal life. Even the fleeting glimpses of memory that appeared in her mind from time to time had ceased. She was hollow now; she was nothing. The part of her that had been human had protested against the werewolf’s desire to murder and feed on the blood of mortals, preferring to feed instead on the orcine races or other evil creatures. But Alyksandra had ceased to care even about that.

  She caught the scent of one of her minions, Calepo, approaching; he was bringing her a meal. And by the scent, it seemed as though the meal were human.

  A woman, she thought with indifference. She turned away from the water to face the direction where the large blackwolf, Cal, approached dragging the remains of a fresh kill.

  For you, Pack Leader. The four of them had been part of the pack for so long that they were beginning to behave like true wolves.

  Alyksandra approached the still form and sniffed as Cal backed away with his head and body low to the ground in deference to her leadership. Cal had tangled with her twice, challenging her role as Pack Leader. But the second time had nearly cost him his life and he finally acknowledged that Alyksandra was a superior warrior than he and had not challenged her again.

  She looked at the bloody face of the woman and tried to imagine something of her appearance. Aside from her blond hair and youthful good looks, Alyksandra just could not seem to concern herself with the plight of this woman. She could not make herself care whether the woman had had a family, whether she would be missed, and she could not attach a sense of remorse. It didn’t matter to her anymore.

  Nothing did now. Not even finding the cure for their curse seemed to matter.

  She began licking the blood from the woman’s face, then moved to her jugular vein. The warmth of the blood told her that the woman had not been dead long, perhaps only minutes. Soon after she was done draining the blood from the woman’s corpse, Aura and Karl arrived at the creek. Alyksandra turned away from the corpse allowing Calepo and Karl to eat.

  Yes, Pack Leader? asked Aura when the two female blackwolves were far enough away from the males.

  What have we learned of our quarry?

  It is as we feared. They have been taken to the Tower where they now train to be knights.

  What of the others? asked the Pack Leader.

  The others, except for the assassin who resides in Powyss, are all with the Fyrbold.

  The pack leader and her Second stood together at the water’s edge, listening to the relaxing sounds of the water cascading over the rocks.

  Have you been in contact with Morghal? asked Aura.

  Yes. He is not pleased, but he is less angry than I would have expected.

  Perhaps he is becoming a more caring person in his old age, Aura quipped. But the Pack Leader didn’t seem to hear.

  We are to remain close enough to Obyn to gather information and report the goings on of this group called The Hand of Zuhr. They are of great interest to Morghal and this Shalthazar.

  I grow tired of waiting, Pack Leader. As do we all. What do we care of the desires of this Shalthazar? I suspect he will not help us in the end.

  I think you are right, Aura. But Shalthazar or no, we must do as the Society demands and provide intelligence about this new army of knights.

  Well, Cal will certainly enjoy the added time in Obyn to whore and feed, snarled Aura with a glare of disdain at the carcass of the woman he had just killed.

  Alyksandra found her own lip curling in disgust and enjoyed the fleeting moment of emotion before it passed. She shook her wolfish head. If she didn’t do something soon about Cal’s recklessness, it could spell disaster for them all.

  This is a dangerous group of humans, said Alyksandra. We may need help fighting them in the end.

  One of them almost killed Cal, said Aura, glaring at her packmate in disgust. She too had to rein Cal in more than once. I wish he would have succeeded!

  I wouldn’t mind a look at the magical dagger that can wound one of us so severely, and the other items that Cal said the human was playing with before they fought.

  If you can believe anything Cal says.

  Ordinarily, I would not. But, the rest of his information was accurate and verified by our informant. We are closer to our quarry than we have ever been.

  Still, Pack Leader, these mortals are powerfully armed with magic and weapons. And they fight cohesively, as a disciplined unit. We cannot use our customary attack patterns, instilling fear and separating them from each other may not work. We four may not be enough to take them on.

  What do you suggest?

  I think we need to consult Morghal, Pack Leader. Aura was hesitant as she spoke, no one enjoyed the presence of Morghal. But he was an Elder in their secret Society and there were other powerful minions that answered to him. Perhaps he will find or provide the assistance we require.

  If Morghal sees our request as weakness, that would be disastrous for us all.

  I see no other choice, Pack Leader. Morghal has already been lenient with us due to the powerful nature of the forces allied with these mortals, I do not think he will see this as weakness.

  I hope you’re right. Otherwise, we are all doomed.

  C H A P T E R

  12

  Thayne.

  The coronation of Thayne Cannath of Hybrand was going to be a grand affair, if somewhat behind the prince’s own schedule. Cannath resigned himself to allow his Elvish advisors to carry on with their great plans for a coronation in the spring, for when he was crowned, his power would be undisputed. The Prophet-General sent a coronation gift to the new thayne consisting of a fortune in gold and gems. Shalthazar included a small note with the gift offering his congratulations and explaining that the new monarch would need something to fill his coffers considering that the Arnathians had long ago drained away his royal fortune.

  Cannath was at first wary of the gift and had considered refusing it in light of the strings that had already been attached to the help he had already received. But one look at an open chest full of glittering emerald and ruby coins and gems and Cannath forgot all of his objections. There was enough wealth there to renovate the castle and run his kingdom for five years!

  The renovations to the castle had been conducted very quickly with artisans and laborers imported from Old Nashia across the sea. These strange folk were nice enough, but the influence of the strange architecture of their homeland was apparent in their work. Nevertheless Cannath did not mind. Hybrand City had been decorated and a great festival held in honor of Hybrandese independence from Arnathia. The Cklathish Games had been reinstated in their traditional fashion and Nashian settlers introduced a new event to the Games, the jousting tournament. It was incredibly popular, and people from all over Hybrand came to participate in the games held in honor of the new thayne’s coming coronation.

  Cannath had been pleased to see how well the Nashian artisans and craftsmen had been blending in with his Cklathish countrymen so far. The arrival of King Ognadrog the Merciless and his retinue brought a fair amount of displeasure from the Hybrandese, but Cannath had been able to assure his people of the necessity of having the Hurkin nation on their side.

  When legions of the Hurkin Horde began to arrive and offload onto the docks of Hybrand City, the people of Hybrand became restless. But the hurkin soldiers were remarkably disciplined and well behaved, which shocked and surprised all the citizens of Hybrand. And though the hurkin race possessed a reputation for being brutal savages, most of the people who passed those rumors had never actually seen or met a hurkin. Soon hurkin soldiers began to frequent the establishments in Hybrand City and the natural fear of their somewhat ungainly appearance began to wear off.
>
  The hurkin people were not very appealing in a physical sense. Most were very tall with thick bodies and limbs. Their hair was always dark, whether it was brown or black or red, and their eyes were always yellow. The males had canine tusks that protruded slightly from their mouths, giving them the appearance of a perpetual sneer, while the well-endowed females did not bear tusks and appeared much more human-like. Both sexes bore the gently upturned nose that gave them a slightly piggish appearance and the ill-deserved reputation for stupidity and stubbornness. In reality, the hurkin people were all very strong and intelligent and possessed a cadre of very capable magic-wielders.

  The event that shocked Cannath and his people the most was when an engineering battalion of the Hurkin Horde arrived and began rebuilding the village of Hyrum. At first the engineers had been viewed with suspicion by the people of the village when they showed up with their equipment and began surveying the land and taking measurements. But when the shipments of timber and stone began to arrive, and the hurkin began constructing new homes and buildings, the sentiment quickly changed.

  It seemed the Horde was not the infamous haphazard mob of savage and brutal barbarians that everyone thought it to be, but an army of professional soldiers whose heritage reached back thousands of years.

  Cannath smiled as he thought of all these things, sitting in his private chambers in Castle Hybrand, awaiting the moment of his destiny. The pre-coronation festivities in the grand ballroom were being concluded and the preparations for his crowning were being made. In moments the royal page would arrive and knock on his door and he would be escorted downstairs to the ballroom where the ceremonies would begin. He instructed the elderly high-priest of Ilian Nah to conduct the majority of his sermon before Cannath arrived, so that he would be spared from listening to the drivel. To his surprise, the old cleric agreed. More festivities would begin after the coronation and another jousting tournament was scheduled for the afternoon, this one would feature participants from Old Nashia and the Hurkin Horde.