The Spear of Stars

by Edward W. Robertson

  Farms had been ripped up to rot in the sun. Villages had been dashed into boards and straw. Cities had been smashed into piles of stones like broken teeth. Skeletons lay on the land like gruesome snow. All was still. Silent. Dead.

  Seeing this, I fell into despair. "There is nothing left to save. All our efforts were for nothing!"

  Gent placed his hand on my shoulder. "This is the same horror that befalls all lands blighted by the Vampire of Light. I have seen it myself. You cannot save the land now."

  "Then what is left for me?"

  The old sorcerer smiled. "Vengeance."

  They rode onward into the devastation. They were soon set upon by a horde of Blighted, and then by a squadron of lesser liches that would surely have overwhelmed them if not for the protective aura and wicked punishment of their divine spear. And then, at last, they came to the Vampire of Light.

  Sabel spoke heroic words, damning the vampire for what he had done. The vampire just laughed, moving to take their souls with a wave of his hand.

  But the spear protected them.

  The battle lasted for even longer than Gent's wrestling match with Rosgar of Redkeep. What little hadn't been destroyed by the vampire's ravages was now blasted apart by tsunamis of nether and ether and the radiant power of the spear. Both Gent and Sabel suffered one wound after another, healing each other the best that they could.

  Then came the moment when the vampire knocked Gent down, and Gent did not rise again. The vampire turned on Sabel, ether flowing from his hands. Sabel reached for the shadows and found he had none left.

  Death stood before me, as it had stood before so many others. Light glowed from the vampire's hands. I only had one weapon left: if the spear left my hands, it would be over.

  Yet to stand empty-handed was my only hope of salvation.

  I threw the spear with all the strength of my arm. The vampire assaulted it with ether, which the spear drank like a panting dog. Thwarted, the vampire tried to step aside, but the spear followed his movement. Lastly he roared out with the sound of clanging kettles, loud enough to deafen the world.

  But nothing he did could stop the spear's blade from taking out his heart.

  The lich died then. For-real died; he wasn't just locked away again or something. The light of the purestone faded, then the Spear of Stars broke into its nine parts and vanished. The death of the lich didn't restore the land to vitality, either, and after Sabel revived Gent, they spent a long time searching the countryside for Sabel's family. It was months before they found the bodies, still Blighted and warped.

  When at last my tears were all gone, and I had accepted what had befallen me—that there was nothing left in my homeland, indeed nothing left of my homeland—I accompanied Gent back to Cal Avin, making one last treacherous journey across seas full of storms, monsters, and hatred.

  Yet my quest was not yet over. On landing in the city of Had Len, I swore to make good on the vow I had made and forgotten over two years ago: to find and rescue Leb, the poor slave who had given me two great gifts: first, my hope for the future. And second, his friendship.

  But that, my fellow voyagers, is a story for another time.

  The book ended there; there were no endnotes or afterwords. Dante leaned back from the small desk he'd been reading at, his mind readjusting to the fact that he wasn't there with Sabel, but was on a boat, and the sun was about to touch down on the western sea.

  He didn't know what to make of Sabel's tale. He couldn't even say when or where it was supposed to have happened, other than "some time ago" and "maybe in Alebolgia but also possibly somewhere else altogether." For all its length, very little of it even had to do with methods to combat and defeat the White Lich.

  But if Sabel's story was true, that meant the lich could be killed. Even if it took a divine spear handed down by the gods in a land so far away he'd never even heard of it—still, it could be done.

  He fell asleep early and woke to the idea that something was wrong. At first he thought he'd uncovered some new insight about the book in his dreams, but the true source of his anxiety soon came to him. He activated the loon connected to the one Sorrowen carried. There was no response. He waited a minute, then tried again, and a third time.

  "Sorrowen and Raxa were going to a meeting with the Golden Hammer last night," he told Blays after locating him out on the deck. "I haven't heard from them since. And they're not answering me now."

  Blays yawned without covering his mouth. "Maybe they just don't want to talk to you."

  "They were there on my orders."

  "If they were your orders, you probably got them killed."

  "That could actually be the case. The meeting was between the Drakebane's authorities and the Mallish resistance. Right now, those two are about as friendly as a rattlesnake and another rattlesnake that had its country stolen from it by the first rattlesnake."

  Blays scratched the spot where his ear met his head. "If something went wrong at the meet, the Drakebane's people will know about it. Weren't we going to speak to them as soon as we made port? Maybe they'll know what happened."

  Unlike everything else in the world at that moment, the skies were peaceful and clear, and they cruised across the waves even swifter than Naran had estimated they would. The green of the Mallish coastline was visible by late morning. As they neared Bressel's waters, which were unusually, almost freakishly deserted of shipping and commerce, they were hailed by a sleek Tanarian military vessel, its crew dressed in the green of the Drakebane. Not at all sure he could trust them, Dante met them with nether in hand, but on hearing they had the Drakebane's old ally Gladdic with them and that they had news of the White Lich, the vessel's captain escorted them directly into the harbor.

  Somehow, word spread faster than they were able to tie up. They were just stepping off the Sword of the South when the Drakebane himself arrived in the company of several advisors and the intimidating Knights of Odo Sein.

  Over the years, Dante had met his share of kings, queens, emperors, and regents, and had been amused to discover that even the ugliest of them carried an inherent regalness that stood out like a candle in the dark, as if their connection to the divine not only made their souls something more than human, but which elevated their appearance as well.

  The Drakebane was no exception. His strong features were thick by Tanarian standards and his black hair was streaked with the blondes and reds that so often marked his people's nobility. Though he had to be approaching sixty, he still had the build of a warrior, his face weathered but not yet starting to droop—although the bags under his eyes suggested he could use a lot more sleep than he was getting.

  "My lord." Gladdic bowed. "At one time, the men with me were our enemies, seeking to stop us from preventing the Eiden Rane's release. But I vouch that they were deceived by the Righteous Monsoon into thinking you were a great tyrant who oppressed and slaughtered his own people."

  The Drakebane looked Dante up and down, then Blays. "Oh, I remember you very well."

  "Yet it must be remembered that whenever the lich appears, all that was ordered becomes jumbled and dangerous, and those who attempt to navigate the waters of the swamp must—"

  Drakebane Yoto made a small gesture, silencing the priest. "There's no need for pretty words and prettier excuses. I've heard much of what has happened. You stood against the Eiden Rane to save my nation even after I had given up on it. All of you are true patriots of Tanar Atain. As long as you live, I will honor you for it."

  "Wonderful," Blays said. "Tell me, does this honor come with any sort of cash prize?"

  Yoto took on an amused look. "Whoever you are, you must be very, very useful, if this is how you're allowed to speak to kings."

  "Please forgive us," Dante said. "His station is normally quite evident, but we must have lost his dunce cap during the voyage."

  The Drakebane was very eager to hear the full story of their adventures in Tanar Atain, which they related as the emperor's guards stood watch over them
and Naran's crew offloaded the cargo of Tanarian goods they'd taken on at Aris Osis.

  Yoto was both heartened and sobered by the tale. When they finished, he could only shake his head. "Valiant but ultimately doomed. I know that feeling well. It's my fear we'll experience it once more when the lich comes for us here."

  "You think he'll come for Bressel, too?" Dante said.

  "As long as the Knights of Odo Sein continue to breathe, there is a chance, however small now, that he will be thwarted; even if his death is too much to hope for, it's possible we can imprison him in a new Riya Lase. He may wait to gather even more power, but I believe he'll want to give us as little time to prepare as possible."

  "That was the impression I got while I was under his control. We came close enough to killing him to spook him. He wants to stomp that out as soon as he can."

  "So what's the situation down here?" Blays gestured to the docks and the city beyond. "Now that you've killed their king and seized control of their capital, have the people of Bressel flocked to your banner in joy?"

  Drakebane Yoto exhaled sharply. "The city remains heavily divided. The priests and bureaucrats we seeded the city with over the years stand with us, as do their personal followers. But the royalty stands against us, along with the loyalist priests and most of the mob."

  "Have you considered exposing their brains to the light of day?"

  "I've been hesitant to initiate further violence. In my experience with the Monsoon, that will only harden their resolve to fight us. At the same time, what good does it do to weaken both sides when we need every hand we can get to bear arms against the lich?"

  "We have to unite the city," Dante said. "If we're still fighting each other when the enemy gets here, we might as well deliver him our own severed heads."

  "If you know how to charm a hostile foreign leadership and populace to your side, I'll not only listen, but have one of my scribes write the deed down for posterity."

  "I thought you people didn't believe in writing things down. That the best ideas proved themselves by continuing to live on without the need for any scrolls or books."

  Yoto smiled. "There are always exceptions for rulership. 'Hypocrisy!', you will object. Yet if it serves to sustain the empire, what's wrong with a little hypocrisy?"

  "The fact it's hypocrisy. Regardless, there are two time-honored methods to bring the people to your side: love, or fear. Talk, trick, and bribe them to your side, or purge a few of their more visible leaders—preferably in bloody fashion—to frighten the others into bending the knee."

  "I fear we won't get far with words. Last night, I made an offer of peace to Ordon Adaine of the Golden Hammer, which seems to be the strongest of the opposition groups. He rebuffed my offer. This rejection came in the form of an attempt to kill me."

  Dante perked up his ears. "Was there a young man and woman from Narashtovik at this meeting? Possibly practicing sorcery?"

  "Yes, and they helped me disengage and remove myself from danger. They were your agents?"

  "Did they live?"

  "They were taken by the Mallish. I don't know what happened to them after."

  "I'll want to know everything, but before that, we need to work out our high-level strategy. I'd really like to have a general idea of the goals we're shooting for before I rush off to do something that would ruin our chances of achieving them."

  "Like cutting out Adaine's guts and using them to lace his own boots," Blays said.

  "Yes," Dante said. "Like that."

  Gladdic rested his hand on his robe's rope belt. "What was Adaine's objection to forming an alliance against the Eiden Rane? That in killing King Charles, you had destroyed the alignment between heaven and earth?"

  "Just so," the Drakebane said. "He is a peer of yours? Do you have any insight into how we might convince him over?"

  "You can't. That is at the core of his faith and his faith is at the core of himself. I do not fault him for this; he is in this regard a better man than I. He cannot be corrupted. Hence our only choice is to kill him."

  "I have greatly missed the warmth of your counsel, Gladdic."

  "Most of his acolytes will have to be killed as well," Gladdic went on, as if he hadn't heard the Drakebane's little rebuke. Or maybe he simply knew his assessment of the situation was correct, and didn't care in the slightest if someone called him cold for holding it. "But I would first seek to undermine him. Tempt and bribe some of the lesser priests. Let them know that there is a path to survival, if they wish to take it. That way, when we rip out the core of the resistance, the remainder may defect to us."

  Yoto paced to the edge of the dock. Sunlight bounced from the calm waves. "Since our coup, we've inflicted as little violence as possible. This has kept the mob uncertain. Unwilling to march against us. I fear that if we move to gut the priesthood, the mob will turn on us. If the lich isn't planning to march on us, if he sees us riven by civil war, he'll strike us immediately."

  "We must worry about the interior of Mallon as well. Civil war in Bressel will likely provoke the nobles of the other counties to levy armies to march against us. You have created the perfect situation for an ambitious duke to lay his own claim to the throne."

  "Here's an alternate plan," Blays said. "You guys should just defect to the lich's side. With talk like this, the Blighted will get so demoralized they'll soon commit mass suicide, leaving nothing standing between you and the lich."

  Dante shooed at a seagull that had wandered too close. "Maybe it would be better for us to make our stand somewhere less hostile. The Collen Basin, maybe. Or even Cavana."

  "Oh yeah, those guys will jump at the chance to be besieged by the White Lich."

  "If it gives us a better chance than defending Bressel in the midst of a civil war, we have to consider it. Even if we have to lie to them about what's happening."

  The Drakebane rubbed his beardless mouth. "I couldn't even keep my own nation from splitting in half. How can I expect to unite these foreigners to my banner?"

  "Maybe it isn't enough to go to Collen or Cavana," Dante said. "Maybe we need to go back to Tanar Atain."

  Blays spat. "Gods no! I just got the smell of fish out of my hair."

  "That would be a most curious choice," Gladdic said. "As the years advance, my memory has grown duller, yet I seem to recall that we just fled Tanar Atain in defeat."

  "This time, we wouldn't be trying to destroy the lich," Dante said. "We'll fight a war of distraction intended to buy time and keep him away from our cities—as Naran sets sail for Cal Avin."

  "Cal Avin?" The Drakebane tilted his head, smiling wryly. "You seek the Spear of Stars. How did you hear about it?"

  "How did you?"

  "My sorcerers had the idea that a weapon designed to fight liches might be of some use to us."

  "But you couldn't find it."

  Yoto shook his head. "One of my sorcerers spent three years searching for it. But he could never find the place the spear was supposed to be kept in."

  "The Realm of Nine Kingdoms."

  "Yes, that's the one."

  "If this man has learned enough about the spear, there's a chance I can make one for us. Where is he now?"

  "It seemed to me that he knew a great deal," the regent said. "Unfortunately, that knowledge is now gone. He died during the taking of this city."

  Dante swore, then repeated the oath more loudly, drawing a look of reproach from a grimy stevedore rolling a cask out of the Sword of the South.

  "Well, that was mighty daft of him," Blays said. "Why didn't anyone warn him we were about to arrive with incredibly obscure knowledge that was just given to us the other day?"

  Gladdic frowned at a ripple in the water below the pier. "Do you know if he had any writings on the matter?"

  "I'm certain he did," the Drakebane said. "My line has always allowed our sorcerers to maintain a library, as long as it was kept secret. But any writings would have been in our archives in Dara Bode."

  "Which is now in the hands of t
he lich."

  "Indeed."

  Dante gestured to Naran. "Knowing the Drakebane's scholar couldn't find the Realm in years of searching, are you still willing to travel to Cal Avin?"

  "Not so long ago, I would have thrown back my head and laughed at such a foolish suggestion," Naran said. "But we're now in need of a bravery that borders on stupidity, aren't we?"

  "We crossed that border long ago," Blays said. Then his eyebrows tried to jump in two different directions. "Don't shove off just yet. Emperor Yoto, how long ago did this sorcerer of yours die? A few weeks ago?"

  "That's right," the Drakebane said. "It was only a few days after we struck against the king."

  Blays made a flourish. "Then our man isn't really gone."

  "Oh, he's just a little dead, is he?" Dante said. "Maybe we can just shake his corpse until he wakes back up."

  "You can try that if you like. Or we can try the way that we already know works just fine."

  Gladdic laughed loud and hard, smacking his palm against his thigh. "There are many times, Blays, when I wonder if you are merely here to sop up any loose ale that threatens to distract the rest of us. Yet at moments like these, I understand."

  Dante sighed. "What am I missing?"

  "Do you not see? There is no need to travel to Cal Avin and beyond when we can simply travel into the Mists to speak to the sorcerer."

  "But that would require dreamflowers." Dante snapped his gaze to Naran. "Which you can bring back from the Plagued Islands in less than a month."

  Naran rubbed his jaw. "That's no time at all in comparison to what it would take just to reach Cal Avin."

  "You'll need to bring Winden back, too. One of the Harvesters, at least. Someone who can make sure the flowers stay alive during the journey."

  The Drakebane was looking at them like they were proposing a cannibal feast. "The man is dead. How do you intend to speak to him?"

  "We know how to get to the afterworld," Dante said. "There's a small chance he's already gone to the part of it where the living can't follow, but I doubt that's happened. People typically spend at least a few years in the accessible part, and usually decades."