As Zach surged across the room and the man’s head turned, flaming blades raised high in defense, it seemed that his attacker could not see him! He knew Morloth was powerful, but he expected one as powerful as the leader of the Nyzyr to be able to see him even when he was shrouded in shadow.
But Zach didn’t have time to dwell on this as the formidable foe executed perfect defenses against Zach’s attacks. The man was extremely talented and his reflexes were as quick as lightning. Zach had the advantage of invisibility but the Nyzry was nearly invisible himself, wrapped in a blur of his own shadows and Zach had not scored any hits. The blades of both assassins rang and sparked with infernal light as the two matched each other blow for blow. It seemed that each time he struck his opponent, the Nyzyr managed to return the same attack back upon him.
So Zach slowed his attacks and didn’t try terribly hard to strike his foe and he tried to ponder the meaning of that revelation. Would the same thing happen to the Nyzyr if he struck Zach? If Zach dealt the Nyzyr a killing blow, would he himself die?
That was certainly one Hell of a defense!
The Nyzyr’s face became visible to Zach in flashes as the two men danced their dance of death, and Zach began to see why the assassins were so elusive. The man’s skin was a pasty gray color and his eyes were sickly looking with yellow irises and catlike pupils. His gleaming white teeth were actually fangs and Zach had the impression they must be razor sharp. Zach instinctively knew the man’s unusual strength, his deflection defenses, and his ability to shroud himself in shadows had to be gifts from Baelor. These were powerful gifts, and he wondered what else the man could do.
Instead of trying to strike the man down, Zach began to concentrate his attacks on disarming him. Remembering Morloth’s powers of healing by taking energy from its victim, Zach knew then that the only way to get past the man’s damage inflicting defenses would be to strike a deep enough blow that Morloth could drink of the man’s blood. Zach hoped this would weaken him and his defenses, if Zach sustained any damage by dealing the blow Morloth would recover his lost health from the Nyzyr’s very soul.
He wasn’t sure the plan would work, but the Nyzyr’s attacks seemed to intensify and the shadowy warrior was now taking the offensive. The man was learning Zach’s style of fighting even though he could not see him! And then, the man disappeared in a flash of smoke. Zach didn’t know what to expect but he did know enough not to stand in same place and dived to the ground in a somersault, rolling to his feet on the other side of the room. The Nyzyr was suddenly standing behind where Zach had just been and was swinging his fiery blades viciously at thin air. Zach seized the moment and leaped at the invader, but the Nyzyr would not be caught off guard. Suddenly the master assassin turned and defended Zach’s attack as though he had somehow seen it coming.
Zach rebounded away to catch his breath and was somewhat relieved to see that the invader, too, seemed to be feeling winded.
“Come out and die!” called the gravelly voice of the attacker. Zach knew better than to answer, the man’s keen hearing would pinpoint his location if his own breathing didn’t. Fortunately, he was able to get his breathing under control quickly and just began circling, trying to think of a way to injure the man. Just then the Nyzyr whipped out a pair of small crossbows from inside his cloak, each one capable of firing three bolts. The first weapon fired and Zach dodged to the side, bolts thudding into the wall behind him. But the move gave him away and the second crossbow fired immediately. One of the bolts struck Zach in the shin and he let out a growl, that was all the head assassin needed. The Nyzyr lunged across the open space toward Zach, his blades whirling. Zach rolled and swung a blow at the man’s feet, scoring a glancing hit on the back of the man’s heel. As his own blade slid through the man’s clothes and flesh, Zach felt the presence of cold steel slicing into his own leg.
Although he let out a vicious yell of pain, Zach was pleased to hear the invader did too. The two backed away from each other, limping. The Nyzyr hid his body in shadows once more and Zach found it difficult to see the man, but he could still tell where the man was standing. And then Zach had an idea.
Zach immediately moved toward his foe. He moved loudly enough to give away his presence, but quietly enough not to make it seem obvious, just as a cloud of yellow smoke oozed through the room. Zach lunged for the open window and the clicks of a handheld crossbow told him the assassin had anticipated such a move. Two bolts struck home, one in his shoulder and another in his calf and he couldn’t help but shout in pain. If his plan worked it wouldn’t matter.
Zach leaned against the window sill as though he were going to try to flee, but instead he pulled his shirt up over his nose and sidestepped the window. The assassin was there in a flash, blades flying wildly. Zach slammed Morloth deep into the man’s thigh and fell to the ground, his own calf throbbing in pain. With his magical dagger no longer in his hand, he was visible to the attacks of the master assassin.
The Nyzyr was in pain, it showed on his bizarre face as he dropped to his knees with a hand on Morloth’s skull tipped pommel. Blood dripped from the assassin’s palm and Zach knew that the blade was doing its job, it was feeding on the assassin’s soul. Realizing he could not remove the dagger, the man rose unsteadily and advanced on Zach. Zach could do little now, having lost the source of his powers. He felt naked, vulnerable, and was bitter that he had become so dependent on a thing of steel to survive. The old Zach would never have done that.
Zach wanted to move, to fight. But the conflicting effects of the blade’s power and the injury reversing effects were disorienting, causing him to experience bouts of pain and regenerative healing simultaneously. He managed to roll to his side as the assassin drunkenly swung one of his darkfire blades and struck the wall where Zach had just been. Zach drew a pair of concealed throwing knives from his shirt and threw them at the assassin. But the attack failed as one blade bounced harmlessly from the man’s chest and the other bounced off his throat as though it had struck a wall of steel!
“You can’t kill me!” shrieked the Nyzyr as he fell to his knees and clawed at Morloth.
“You’re right,” admitted Zach, his vision dimming. “I can’t.”
The Nyzyr was in fact dying. Zach knew it through the magical connection he had with his blade. Morloth was drinking the man’s life force greedily, enjoying the blood of Harfour. But the magic that protected the Nyzyr by inflicting the same damage he received back onto his attacker was causing Morloth to kill Zach too. His vision was dimming and he was becoming weaker, when a voice floated through his mind.
I could let you die, pitiful mortal. It was the voice of the lich prince of Lordsdeep with whom he had struck his bargain. But I will not, for you have found one of Harfour’s heirs. You have been bold, and that is a quality I value greatly.
Zach strained to open his eyes and saw the ghostly figure of the lich prince of Lordsdeep hovering behind the slumped form of the Nyzyr assassin. The ghastly being was dressed in the rich garb of his office which contrasted starkly against his skull-like visage. He was holding a sword, point down, over the Nyzyr’s neck. With one quick stroke, the Nyzyr was dead and Zach faded into darkness.
C H A P T E R
14
Balzath.
Zach awoke in darkness hours later. His head was throbbing and he groaned as he rolled over and surveyed the damage to his room. The body of the assassin who had come to kill him was gone, in its place was a rumpled pile of clothing and a few weapons. The lich had saved his life.
Zach struggled to his feet, but was pleased to note that his wounds had healed. The dagger had done its work and healed him while it stole the very life from the assassin whom it had struck. Zach examined the pile of clothing that had been his attacker and found Morloth buried underneath. He placed the blade inside his coat, as he usually did, and examined the items in the pile of clothing.
Aside from a few coins, a pair of black daggers, and a black hood there was nothing of interest among
the dead man’s possessions. Zach examined the daggers more closely. As the red Tayban script glittered evilly he recalled that his attacker had wielded two long blades of darkfire. Zach understood that these blades were of great value, and clearly magical in nature, and he placed them on his table along with the black hood before throwing the remaining garments out of his window to the street below.
Although Zach was exhausted from his ordeal, he was thrilled and excited. He had just defeated the deadliest assassin in all of Ckaymru, an assassin armed with powerful enchantments of protection. And now that he had broken the lich’s curse, there was a reward to be had. But how was he going to collect it? The last he had seen of the lich was just before he blacked out.
“Look on the table, fool!”
“One of these days...” he began to say to the voice. But when he looked on the table he saw something that had not been there before his confrontation. It was a ring made of pure emerald, and he knew that this was a gift from the lich.
“The key to our reward!” whispered the voice, so close that Zach felt that it could almost have been his own. But he dismissed all thoughts of the nagging voice and examined the ring in awe. He felt power coursing through its cold green surface when he held it in his hands. “Put it on,” urged the voice.
He wanted to put the ring on, badly. But he had enough respect for all things arcane, and all things that once belonged to an undead lich, that he thought it best to wait. Zach decided that it would be prudent to find another place to live again, now that the Nyzyr knew where to find him. So he packed his few belongings and clothes into a backpack and walked out into the night, abandoning his apartment. He needed to find a place where he would remain undisturbed, where no one would think to find him. He decided that he would return to The Siren’s Call, until he could find another apartment.
The Siren’s Call was still uninhabited, as he had expected. He entered stealthily through the smashed door, taking care to leave it as it was, and hoped that passersby would assume nothing was amiss. Thieves had ransacked the place and vandals had destroyed what the thieves had not taken, but the corpses remained. Zach bypassed the corpses, with a brief glance at what was left of Siren, and went into the room where he had met Kella. The young prostitute’s body was absent and Zach couldn’t fathom why.
“Someone must have really liked her!” said the invisible voice, laughing darkly.
Zach shrugged his shoulders and sat down at the table. “Whatever,” he said grimly.
He removed the pentacle charm from under his shirt and let it hang on his chest. Then he went about making a new circle of calling, as the Book of Baelor called it, and placed the candles in the cardinal points as before. He repeated the spell exactly as he had done previously and waited. Soon, the same orange shape formed from the blackness at the center of the circle and he found himself looking at the bizarre spirit called Baelor.
“So, you have bested Fellsmere,” observed Baelor. Zach nodded. “What do you want from me? Surely you know you cannot replace Fellsmere as leader of the Nyzyr!”
“Indeed, Great One. I do not wish to become the leader of the Nyzyr, I just want the powers that they possess!”
“Bold,” said the demon casually. “And yet, you have proven something to me by killing Fellsmere; he was the best in my employ. Now I must choose another from his underlings to succeed him.”
Baelor stared hard at Zach, then. Even the heads of the toad and the cat glared at him and he hoped that those strange and dark creatures were not about to attack him.
“I wish to bind with you, to receive your power!”
“And what do I get in return? A freelance agent who goes where he chooses?” said the dark spirit, angrily. “My followers fall into specific hierarchies, they do not do freelance work!”
“I understand, great one. But I know how to find something you will find to be of incredible value.”
“Oh?” asked Baelor, petting the head of the cat on his shoulder. “What might that be?”
“The location of the Everpool!”
“The...” the spirit began, his eyes squinting in disbelief. “How is it possible that you know where that is?”
“I was an assassin for a group operating in Hybrand called the Spiders. Informants reported the location of the Everpool to our leader and he tasked me with finding it.”
“A fine job you’ve done with that,” said Baelor caustically. “You were charged with finding the Everpool and yet you remain here in Powyss, killing pathetic Red Dragons. And you did it with a magical blade that any child could wield.”
“A good deal of ‘pathetic Red Dragons,’” Zach grumbled.
“True,” conceded the immortal being with a laugh. “And you’ve managed to make Tartarus madder than he already was! I suppose that counts for something.”
Zach bowed his head in respect, he had expected the immortal to have welcomed him to his ranks more openly once he understood the man’s prowess.
“What of the lich?” asked the dark being.
“I do not know,” admitted Zach. He knew it would be foolish to lie, this immortal spirit seemed to know a great deal about the beings that inhabited the realms of the dead. He might even know the lich personally.
“What is it you seek, Shadowblade?”
“I want the power of the Nyzyr!”
“The Nyzyr?” asked Baelor, his thunderous voice shaking the building.
“The powers of the Nyzyr!” Zach said with conviction and the demon smiled.
“And what could a pathetic mortal like you offer me in return?”
“The riches of Lordsdeep.”
“Lordsdeep,” reflected Baelor thoughtfully. “And how can you promise me something you do not possess?”
“I possess the key to the riches, left to me by the lich prince of Lordsdeep himself when I broke the curse that held him prisoner there.”
“I know of this curse, and I know of the lich prince. Let me see this key,” said Baelor, eyes alight with intensity and power.
Zach wasn’t entirely sure that the ring was the key, but he doubted it could be anything else. The assassin had certainly not left it on his table. He supposed it was possible that the lich had betrayed him, and left him this trinket in place of the treasure of Lordsdeep. But he did not think that was the case as the lich had nothing to gain by lying to him. He had eternity, after all, to find another willing subject.
“Here is the key.” Zach held the ring in his open palm before him for Baelor to see. Baelor leaned forward, peering at it intently and Zach felt the ring crackling with energy in his palm. He desperately wanted to put the ring on and see what would happen, but he wanted the power of Baelor even more.
“Very well, Zacharya of Hybrand,” said Baelor intently. “I agree to the terms: the powers of the Nyzyr in exchange for the key to the treasures of Lordsdeep.”
Zach thought the immortal being answered too quickly, revealing that his interest in the ring was greater than Zach had anticipated it might be. Which meant that Zach wasn’t through bargaining.
“That isn’t all,” he said. “I have another term.”
“You are too brash, mortal!” Bael shouted in anger, as he held his arms up above his head. Flames danced on his palms and lighting crackled about his figure; the air was alive with his irate energy. But Zach knew Baelor was bluffing.
“Indeed. Then I shall be content with the treasures residing in Lordsdeep,” he said simply. Baelor eyed him dangerously but Zach knew he was protected from the creature’s magic. He also knew, however, that Baelor was most certainly not under any sort of compulsion to remain and did so because he chose to. Zach’s spells of calling could not command a being such as Baelor, only request his presence. Baelor was a master of deception, however, and a lesser man may have been fooled into believing otherwise.
“What makes you think I, a great Cjii of the Shadowrealms, give a damn about your term?” asked the dark spirit in anger.
“Because you are still
here,” he said simply. “I know I have no power over you and you can leave at any time. Yet you remain because you want the treasure. I confess, I do not know what is so powerful and appealing to the likes of you, but I recognize that it does appeal to you.”
“You are clever, Zacharya of Hybrand; too clever by half. But I will hear your term.”
“Your gifts of power will be unconditional. You will have no sway over me or how I use the powers that you grant me, and you will leave no mark upon me.” Zach hoped he wasn’t pushing the immortal Cjii too far with such a bold demand. But the man knew he had the upper hand. He held in his hand the key to the untold wealth and power of the lich prince of Lordsdeep, and if the Cjii didn’t agree to his bargain he would still have that wealth. If the demon agreed, then the man would become more powerful than any assassin on Llars.
“Fine,” agreed the Cjii after a few moments. “But I have another condition as well.”
Zach groaned inwardly, but nodded.
“You will hand over the items that you took from that Red Dragon assassin. You will give them to me, as they have no business in your hands or anyone other than a Nyzyr.
“You will not stay in Powyss. You will depart immediately for the Everpool in the company of a woman who is looking for you as we speak. Her name is Balzath, a Dark Disciple in the service of Umber. Your skills and knowledge will enhance our chances of reaching the Everpool before the Fyrbold does, Shadowblade.”
“So be it,” said Zach quickly. Powyss suddenly seemed unworthy of his presence and he wanted to reach out into the world with his new powers. And he knew that the Nyzyr would not tolerate his presence in the city after he killed their leader.
Shadowblade Page 21