(Shadowmarch #2) Shadowplay

by Tad Williams

  Something dropped down out of the sky, covering the demigod’s face for a moment like a living black shadow. Jikuyin let out a screech of startled pain that ripped through Barrick’s brain and knocked him to his knees. When he managed to climb back onto his feet, Barrick saw that the black shape was gone and that the spidery demigod was moaning and rubbing at his face. When he took his limbs away, the place where Jikuyin’s single remaining eye had been was now a welling crater of radiant gold.

  Blind…! He’s blind! Barrick knew he had only one chance: while the monster shrieked and thrashed his tattered arms in fury, Barrick put his head down and ran at stumbling speed straight toward him, then veered wide, diving and rolling just beneath the grasping talons of a gold-dripping hand the size of a wagon wheel.

  The giant sensed that he had missed his quarry and let out a rasping, wordless bellow that shook the very hills around them, so that stones came tumbling down out of the heights. Barrick did not stop to look, but ran as fast as his exhausted muscles could carry him, gasping for breath with every step. The god’s cries of rage dwindled behind until at last they were only a distant noise like thunder.

  He had finally staggered far enough to feel safe. He dropped onto his hands and knees, straining for breath. A black shape plummeted down out of the air, its wide wings brushing him as it landed. It took a few hopping steps and then leaped up onto a rock to regard him with a bright eye. Barrick had never thought he would be so pleased to see the horrid creature.

  “Skurn—is that you?”

  “Where be my other master?”

  It took a moment for Barrick to realize what the bird was asking. “Vansen. He…he fell. Down in the mine. He’s not coming out.”

  The raven regarded him carefully. “Saved you, I did. Poked that big one’s eye right through, did. Was that Jack Chain?”

  Barrick nodded, too tired to speak.

  “Then I be the mightiest raven what ever lived, be’nt I?” The bird appeared to consider this, walking back and forth along the top of the stone, clucking a bit. “Skurn the Mighty. Pecked out a god’s eye.”

  “Demigod.” Barrick rolled onto his back. He had better be far enough away now, because he couldn’t move another step.

  Skurn leaned back his head. His throat pumped, swallowing. “Mmmm,” he said. “God’s eye. Slurpsome. Wishet I’d got the whole thing.”

  Barrick stared at the bird for a moment, then began to laugh, a ragged, painful bray that went on and on until he began to choke.

  When the boy had his breath again and was sitting up, a thought came to him. “Tell me, you horrible creature, do you know where Qul-na-Qar is? The House of the People?”

  The raven regarded him. “What be in this plan for me? Didn’t save me like my master did—fact be, I saved you.” He preened. “Fact. Skurn the Mighty.”

  “If you’ll help me take this…if you’ll help me get to Qul-na-Qar, I’ll make sure you never have to hunt for food the rest of your life. In fact, I’ll bring you fresh kills on a plate, every day.”

  “True?” The raven hopped a few times, fluttered up, and settled. “Bargain, then. If you be trustworthy.”

  Despite feeling as empty as a forgotten scarecrow, Barrick could still muster a little irritated pride. “I am a prince—the son of a king.”

  Skurn made a snorting noise. “Oh, aye, that makes a difference.” He thought, blinking his dark eyes slowly. “But you were my master’s friend. So—partners.”

  “Partners. By the gods, who would have thought?” Barrick crawled into the bushes, not caring where he lay his head. “Let me know if anyone comes to kill me, will you?”

  He did not wait to hear the raven’s reply, because sleep was already pulling him down into dark places deeper than any mineshaft.

  Vansen kept on because there was nothing else he could do, putting one foot in front of the other, trudging forward along the endless pale span through black nothing. There were times that he paused to rest, but he never did it for long, because each time he would begin to worry that he might somehow get himself turned around, that he would confuse the two indistinguishable directions and by accident set off back in the direction he had come.

  At other times he entertained the amusing notion that instead of a curving span across an abyss, he was walking on the outside of a great ring floating in darkness, that it had no beginning or end, and that he, Ferras Vansen, sentenced for crimes about which he was not quite certain (although he could judge himself guilty of much) would walk it forever, undying, an endless sentence.

  But could the gods really be so cruel? And even if they were, why did he still feel tired, as a living man might feel?

  And what was it about the gods that pricked at him? Why were they weighing so heavily on his thoughts? Every time he tried to remember how he had come to this place, what had seemed solid fell apart in his grasp, like fog. He could not remember where he had been before this—in fact, he could remember almost nothing that had happened since he threw himself against the guards in the demigod’s underground fortress. He seemed to recall a city, and something about his father, but surely those were dreams, since his father had been dead for years.

  But if those had been dreams, then what was this place? Where was he? Who or what had set him on this unending track?

  What if he just stepped off this pointless, endless bridge, he wondered, and let himself fall? Could whatever happened—death or an equally pointless, endless plunge—really be so much worse? It was something to keep in reserve, he decided—a door. It might turn out to be the only door that could lead him out of this dreadful emptiness.

  Ferras Vansen had no answers, but being able to ask questions at least kept him from going mad.

  It was as though he had blinked, but the moment of his eyes being shut had lasted for a year instead of an instant. When he noticed what had happened, everything had changed.

  The abyss was gone, the infinite, eternal black faded in some strange way to a much more tangible darkness, that of ordinary shadow. Something that felt like stone still lay beneath his feet, but flat, not curved, and he had the distinct sense of being surrounded by something other than the dreadfully familiar void.

  He stopped, surprised and more than a little frightened—after so long, any change was terrifying. He dropped to his knees and sniffed the cold stone, pressed his forehead against it. It felt real. It felt different, which was even more important.

  He stood up and to his immense surprise the darkness itself began to recede, or rather the light came and dissolved it: brightness flooded in, the light of actual, homely torches, and he could see walls around him, stone walls that had been decorously carved. He followed the lines of the ceiling up and discovered, to his horror, an immense shape looking back down at him, black and ominous. But it was only a statue, a huge image of Kernios, and although Vansen was startled when he looked down and saw the same statue staring up at him from beneath his feet, he grasped a moment later that he stood on some kind of looking-glass stone, a vast mirror which reflected the pit so intricately carved in the ceiling overhead, as well as great Kernios looking down, or up, from its depths.

  Staring up and then down made him dizzy. Vansen almost fell, but caught himself. Where was he? Was this some deep place in the earth beneath the demigod’s mine? He had fallen through the god’s open gateway—was this the heart of the god’s sanctuary? But it seemed too…ordinary, somehow. The carving was beautiful, the statue of Kernios awe-inspiring, but they did not seem otherworldly.

  He caught himself when he almost toppled again, forced himself to breathe. He was weary beyond belief. He was alive. The one was proof of the other, and the solid room around him was more proof that he had survived, no matter where he might be. Across from him was a massive doorway. He went to it and tested it. Despite its heaviness, it swung open at a touch.

  The room on the other side was full of small figures—waiting for him, Vansen thought at first, but when he saw the startled look on the littl
e men’s faces he knew that was not true. Servants of Kernios, perhaps? But there had also been tiny men like this in Jikuyin’s mines. Vansen held up his hands, wondering if they could speak any language he knew. “Can…you…understand…me?”

  “What in the name of the Earth Elders were you doing in the Council Chamber, stranger?” one of the little men asked him, frowning. “You’re not allowed in there.” His eyes grew wide with alarm and he turned and scuttled out the far door. The rest of the little men followed him, looking back fearfully as they fled, as though Vansen were some kind of dangerous beast.

  He stared after them and a chill traversed his spine from tailbone to skull and back. Not only was it his tongue the little man had spoken, it had been a perfect Southmarch accent. What was happening? What kind of trick was being played on him?

  Vansen stood for a long time letting his heart slow, staring around the wide room and trying to make sense of what had happened to him, but almost afraid to find out. At last the door of the large chamber opened and a group of the little men, this time carrying shovels and picks and other weapons, came cautiously toward him across the shiny stone floor. Vansen lifted his hands to show he was unarmed, but his attention was caught by the stout man who came with them—a normal man, someone Vansen’s own height. There was something oddly familiar about his face…

  “I know you, sir,” he said as the big man and his child-sized army approached. “You are…gods save me, you are Chaven, the royal family’s physician.”

  “So you say,” the man said. He did not look the type to be leading any armed band, even one this size. “But I do not admit it. You are trespassing here, you know. What are you doing in the Funderling’s guildhall?”

  “Funderlings? Guildhall?” Vansen could only stare at the man. “What madness is this? Where am I?”

  “By all the gods,” Chaven said, and stopped. He put out his arms to hold back the nearest Funderlings, or perhaps to support himself—he looked as though he had been struck a blow. “I know this man, but he was lost in the battle against the Twilight People. Are you not Captain Vansen, sir? Are you not the captain of the royal guard?”

  “I am. But where am I?”

  “Don’t you know?” The physician shook his head slowly. “You are in Funderling Town, of course, underneath Southmarch Castle.”

  “Southmarch…?” Ferras Vansen looked around the chamber again in stunned amazement, then took a staggering step toward Chaven and the Funderlings, causing some of the little men to raise their weapons in alarm. Vansen fell to his knees, raising his arms in the air to praise all the gods, then the crowd of Funderlings watched with worried faces him as he threw himself down on the floor, laughing and weeping, and pressed his face against the blessed solidity of the stone.

  Appendix

  PEOPLE

  Aduan—former king of March Kingdoms, husband of Ealga, and builder of M’Helan’s Rock lodge

  Aesi’uah—Yasammez’ chief eremite, of Dreamless blood

  Aislin—a Skimmer tanglewife

  Alessandros—Anissa’s father, grand viscount of Devonis

  Ananka—baroness, former mistress of King Hespter, now Enander’s.

  Angelos—an envoy from Jellon to Southmarch

  Anglin—Connordic chieftain, awarded March Kingdom after Coldgray Moor

  Anglin III—king of Southmarch, great-grandfather of Briony and Barrick

  Anissa—queen of Southmarch, Olin’s second wife

  Annon—a demigod, son of Kernios, killed by Jikuyin

  Argal—Xandian name for Perin

  Argal the Dark One—Xixian god, enemy of Nushash

  Arimone—the autarch’s paramount wife

  Arjamele—one of Qinnitan’s neighbors at her childhood home

  Ashretan—Qinnitan’s sister

  Autarch—Sulepis Bishakh am-Xis III, monarch of Xis, most powerful nation on the southern continent of Xand

  Avin Brone—count of Landsend, the castle’s lord constable

  Axamis Dorza—a Xixian ship’s captain

  Ayona, Countess—wife of Perivos Akuanis

  Azinor of the Onyenai—a god, one of Zmeos’ sons by Zuriyal

  Baddara—an innkeeper in Lander’s Port

  Barrick Eddon—a prince of Southmarch

  Barrow—a royal guard

  Barumbanogatir—a demigod, child of Sveros

  Baz’u Jev—a Zandian poet

  Bazilis, Favored—envoy for autarch

  Beetledown—a Rooftopper

  Berkan Hood—the Tollys’ lord constable

  Birin, Lord of the Evening Mist—a god, one of Perin’s sons, killed in the God War

  Bloodstone Smoke Quartz—magister of Smoke Quartz family

  Brabinayos Boots-of-Stone—Hierosoline name for Barumbanogatir

  Brigid—a serving woman at the Quiller’s Mint

  Briony Eddon—a princess of Southmarch

  Brother Lysas—Pelaya’s and Teloni’s tutor

  Caprock Gneiss, Highwarden—important Funderling of the Fire Stone House

  Captrosophist Order—school of mirror-lore, founded in Tessis

  Caradon Tolly, Duke of Summerfield—second oldest Tolly brother

  Caylor—a legendary knight and prince

  Celebrants of Mother Night—Qar order/subspecies/cult

  Chakkai—a people of the southern Perikalese mountains

  Chaven—physician and astrologer to the Eddon family

  Chert Blue Quartz—a Funderling, Opal’s husband

  Cheryazi—Qinnitan’s sister

  Children of the Emerald Fire—a Qar tribe

  Cinnabar—a Funderling magister

  Collum Dyer—one of Vansen’s soldiers

  Conary—proprietor of the Quiller’s Mint

  Conoric, Sivonnic, and Iellic tribes—“primitive” tribes who lived on Eion before conquest by the southern continent of Xand Crooked—Qar name for Kupilas

  Daikonas Vo—a Perikalese White Hound

  Dandelon—a character in Hewney’s King Nikolos

  Dawet dan-Faar—envoy from Hierosol

  Dawtrey—a legendary knight, sometimes called “Elf-spelled”

  Devona—a goddess, aka “Devona of the Harp”

  Devonai kings—ancient line of Hiersoline royalty

  Dimakos Heavyhand—one of the last chieftains of the Gray Companies

  Doirrean—young Prince Olin’s nursemaid

  Donal Murroy—onetime captain of the Southmarch royal guard

  Dowan Birch—a player in Makewell’s Men

  Dreamless—also known as “Night Men”

  Drows—a race behind the Shadowline, related to Funderlings

  Durstin Crowel—baron of Graylock

  Ealga Flaxen-Hair—former queen of March Kingdoms, wife of King Aduan

  Earth Elders—Funderling guardian spirits

  Effir dan-Mozan—a Tuani merchant

  Eilis—Merolanna’s maid

  Elan M’Cory—sister-in-law of Caradon Tolly

  Ena—a young Skimmer girl, Back-on-Sunset-Tide clan

  Enander II—king of Syan

  Eneas—son of Enander, prince of Syan and heir to throne

  Erasmios Jino—Marquis of Athnia, aide to King Enander of Syan

  Eri—Chaven’s oldest brother

  Eril—an Akuanis family servant

  Erilo—god of harvest

  Erivor—god of waters

  Erlon Meaher—a court poet in Southmarch, rival of Tinwright

  Eshervat—Xixian name for Erivor

  Estir Makewell—sister of Pedder Makewell

  Fanu—a relative of Idite

  Febis—cousin of the autarch

  Feival Ulian—a player in Makewell’s Men

  Ferras Vansen—captain of the Southmarch royal guard Finn Teodoros—a writer

  Four Sunsets—the fairy who owned Dragonfly

  Funderlings—sometimes known as “delvers,” small people who specialize in stonecraft

  Gailon Tolly, Duke of Sum
merfield—an Eddon family cousin

  Geral Kelty—one of the Southmarch guards lost behind the Shadowline

  Gil—a potboy at the Quiller’s Mint

  Grandfather Sulfur—a Funderling elder of the Metamorphic Brothers

  Gray Companies—mercenaries and landless men turned bandits in wake of the Great Death

  Great Mother—goddess worshipped in Tuan

  Gregor—a laundry worker

  Gregor of Syan—a famous bard

  Guard of Elementals—a tribe of the Qar

  Gyir—a Qar, Yasammez’ captain, aka “Gyir the Storm Lantern”

  Habbili—a god, the crippled son of Nushash

  Harsar—Ynnir’s counselor

  Hendon Tolly—youngest of the Tolly brothers, Guardian of Southmarch

  Hesper—King of Jellon, betrayer of King Olin

  Hijam Marukh, aka “Stoneheart”—captain of the autarch’s Leopard guards

  Hiliometes—a legendary demigod and hero

  Idite—Effir dan-Mozan’s wife

  Ikelis Johar—High Polemarch (chief general) of Xis

  Iomer M’Sivon—Baron of Landers Port

  Irinnis—foreman of military engineers, Hierosol

  Jacinth Malachite—a female magister

  Jeddin—chief of the autarch’s Leopard guards

  Karal—king of Syan killed by Qar at Coldgray Moor Kaspar Dyelos—Chaven’s mentor, aka “Warlock of Krace” Kayyin—“real” name of Gil the potboy

  Kearn Tinwright—Matt Tinwright’s father, a tutor

  Kellick Eddon—great-grandnephew of Anglin, first of Eddon family

  March Kings

  Kelofas—a Hierosoline noble

  Kendrick Eddon—prince regent of Southmarch, eldest son of King Olin Kernios—god of earth and death, one of the Trigon brothers King Nikolos—Syan monarch who moved the Trigon out of Hierosol Kiril—Pelaya’s brother

  Krisanthe—Queen Meriel’s mother, the twins’ grandmother Kupilas—god of healing, also known as “Habbili” and “Crooked” Lady Simeon—a lady-in-waiting during the twins’ youth Lander III—son of Karal, king of Syan, aka “Lander the Good,” “Lander