Mighty Hammer Down (14 page)

Unlike the rulers before him, he
intended to do all he could to become truly immortal; not as a hero
lives forever, but as a man who truly never dies. He went to great
lengths to find all the books he could, hiding them from all
others. He knew that knowledge was the ultimate power, and if there
was a secret to living forever, he would find it. He prayed every
day that Rohni would guide him to it.

He stared down at his drumming
fingers. They were long and reminded him of the graceful movements
of a spider. He brought his other hand up to his long face and
caressed his bearded chin in thought. On the inside, he was
frustrated that he had not yet received his reports, but he
remained calm and collected on the outside. Over all, he was a
patient man, knowing that each tiny step toward his goal was
getting him closer, even if it was painfully slow. After years of
planning, the wheels were finally beginning to turn and his plan
was springing to life.

"Zidaoz, the messenger is here," a man
said from the doorway open to the bright sun outside. "Will you see
him now?"

Zidaoz was the word that meant "ruler"
or "king" in Bhoor-Rahn. He was never given a name at birth, and
instead he simply answered to the title, being the closest thing he
had to a name. Instead of giving a reply, he just
nodded.

The man exited and another man
appeared. He was not draped in robes like most Bhoors preferred,
but in travel clothes, similar to what the soldiers wore, but
without any of the leather and simple plate armor. The strength and
weakness of the Bhoors was their great number; there were enough
men to cover the world in a swarm, but there were too many to
provide them all with adequate armor.

"Zidaoz," the man said as he bowed
deeply, "I have come with news from the west."

"Tell me your news, traveler," Zidaoz
said as he threaded his fingers together and rested his elbows on
his throne.

"Things go according to plan. The
Vindyri have been retreating for days. Much blood has been spilled,
but our numbers remain strong."

"Excellent. Follow the Vindyri and
kill them until the sun sets four days from now, then return to
Bhoor-Rahn. Do not attack them unless they attempt to follow you
across the Dori Plains into our land. There will not be many. Once
you are able to look over your shoulder and not see them on the
horizon, take 100 men south and make for the southern
wall."

"As you command Zidaoz," the man said
as he bowed again.

"Go now, and make haste. Rohni demands
it."

He watched the man run through the
doorway and out into the bright sun. He was grateful that there
were few in his land that needed to be closely watched. All were
loyal to him. All worshipped Rohni without question. Every man
could be trusted to commit himself utterly to the cause. His long
rounded teeth showed as he smiled to himself.

He rose from his wooden throne and
stretched his long arms and legs. He walked down the five steps
covered with decorative carpet and turned right, heading for the
private rooms in his palace. The throne room had no door, and was
open to the public in an attempt to symbolize the openness of the
Zidaoz to his people. He laughed out loud at the absurd notion.
Nothing was further from the truth. His laughter was muted in the
hallways covered in cloth.

He came at last to his private
chambers. Ten guards stood in the hallway leading to the doorway
that had no door, but only a heavy cloth to cover the entrance.
None of the guards looked his way, knowing that if their eyes fell
upon him, they would be tortured and killed. His personal guards
were only supposed to focus on threats to their leader, not their
leader himself. None of them ever spoke.

Once inside the candlelit room, he sat
in the center of the floor and crossed his legs in front of a solid
gold bowl filled with water. After a long prayer to Rohni, he began
to chant, staring into the water before him. He focused his
concentration until the room around him began to darken, and
everything in the room gave way to shadow. From the darkness came
the light of thousands of stars, making him squint as brightness
suddenly filled the room. He floated in the air as if he were a
star himself, shining in the midnight sky.

Stars whirled by as he searched for
the one he was looking for. Colors surrounded large clusters like
unmoving smoke, bathing him in different colors of light. Each star
felt different, each cluster was unique in its beauty. Finally he
came to the star he was looking for. He approached it, and as he
got closer, all the others faded. Soon the room was black as pitch
except for the silver star before him. He called to it, prodded it,
spoke to it until finally it too faded to black. In its place stood
a figure that was barely visible. Knowing he now had the figure’s
attention, he spoke to it.

"I have done what we have planned. The
Vindyri are now retreating, and soon I will meet my men at the
southern wall to wake the Dirujen. I trust that you are holding up
your end of the bargain?"

A quiet voice came as if it was an
echo muted by soft earth. "Things are developing as planned. Much
has happened to slow us, but we will soon have full control. You
should know that the southern wall is not the true wall, as it is
only made of stone and made to keep people from walking into
danger. Beyond the wall, past the horizon is the true
barrier."

"I am aware of the location of the
Dirujen and the others. As I said things are going according to
plan," Zidaoz said as his irritation rose slightly. The man’s lack
of confidence in him frustrated him greatly.

"I still await word from the others,"
said the quiet voice. "They are not as fortunate as you and I, and
cannot use magic to communicate. Their riders should arrive in the
next day or so."

"Their cooperation is integral to the
plan. Should they decide to rebel, or lose heart, all will be
lost," Zidaoz reminded the man, although he was certain that he
knew the stakes involved.

"They will remain loyal, Zidaoz. Their
future and the lives of their children depend on it. They know that
it is too late to change their minds. Doing so would bring doom to
their people." The figure seemed to look over its shoulder. "I must
go now Zidaoz, someone approaches."

The black form swirled and faded to
the shadows as the room lit brightly again with starlight. He moved
with tremendous speed past them until finally he found himself on
the floor, his legs twisted uncomfortably beneath him. He righted
himself and started to stand, but saw drops of blood on the floor.
Reaching to his face, he realized his nose was bleeding. There was
always some price to pay for using magic, but a bloody nose was
hardly an expensive one. After all, he had found a secret world
between worlds where he could contact many people who had a
knowledge of magic. When he discovered how, he would contact Rohni
through that world, but until then he would use the world for his
own purposes. He searched every day for a star that was hidden, or
one that shone brighter, always hoping it would be his god. So far,
he found that there were endless humans connected to that shadow
world, but he found no god there.

He pulled himself together and stood,
wiping his nose, only slightly dizzy from the ordeal. He wasn’t
sure why, but using magic was getting easier each time he tried it,
even if he didn’t seem to be gaining any power. There was a
connection that he felt that was deeper and more intense than he
ever suspected, and each time he gave himself over to the magic, he
came closer and closer to the origin of the power. He hoped when he
finally reached that center that he would find Rohni, and through
their connection, he could finally walk the earth among mankind.
This was his ultimate goal, for Rohni would surely grant him the
gift of immortality if he was able to create such a pathway for
him.

At times, he thought he could feel the
presence of the god. It made him feel weak, as if the burden of
carrying his flesh around with him slowed and hindered him. It was
a cold feeling, not a cold presence, but rather a warm one, making
his human body with all its blood and bones feel cold and dead by
comparison. When he felt this way, he prayed for a full day,
begging Rohni to appear and guide him. So far Rohni had not found
the need to make himself or his wishes known, but each time it
filled his soul with faith and courage, like cool water filling an
empty well.

Zidaoz found himself running his
fingers over the spines of the books he had in the room. This was
only a small collection compared to the vast treasures of books
elsewhere in his palace, but these were rare and special. Many of
them were books on strategy and history, but some were books of
magic. By learning to eliminate rules of nature, he was able to
unlock the secret that had led him to the shadow world. All the
information was right there at the tips of his long fingers, and no
man had ever before put the pieces together. He trembled with
excitement as he considered what other realities he could create
with all the pieces he had collected. He needed only to arrange
them in the ways he saw fit, and the world would bend to his
will.

He slid a red book from the collection
and carefully opened it. There was no title, and in fact no words
written in it whatsoever. The reader had to have a wealth of
knowledge before he was able to actually see the letters that were
hidden by magic. He dove deep inside his soul and searched for the
feeling he sought. He couldn’t explain how to do it even if he had
someone to explain it to; it was more like a feeling than an
action. He searched inside himself until he found his center, which
he pictured as a rope hanging in the darkness. He imagined that
there was a round stone with a hole in it hanging on the rope, and
by moving it up and down in his mind he could connect to different
corridors leading to different abilities. In his mind he slid the
stone up the rope to the proper position, and when he opened his
eyes he saw the words appear on the pages. He went to a table and
sat, placing the book in front of him. He would need to study this
book if he was going to attempt to wake the Dirujen. To his
knowledge, it had never been attempted before, but since he knew
that the history of Bhoor-Rahn was riddled with false information
–like his immortality--he knew it was possible that it had not only
been attempted in the past, but actually accomplished.

He wasn’t sure what the beast would
look like or how it would behave, but he intended to be the only
one to have any control over it. He wanted to be able to use the
Dirujen in the coming war, but he also wanted to have the power to
destroy his allies should they decide to turn on him. He smiled at
the notion of destroying them when the war was over anyway, but
such matters were for another day.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

His days were filled with endless
distractions. It was a Burden being such an important figure
because he lost the luxury of solitude. At least none of the other
Mages knew about his relationship with Mirra. They would never find
him there because it was a secret that only they shared. At all
other times, however, he was either busy at some unimportant
meeting with his father, or tending to his plan with the other
Mages.

The latest distraction was a Mage who
came to interrupt him while he was in the shadow world. He detested
returning to the real world where his body felt heavy and weak, but
each time he visited he was able to gather strength from the realm
and carry it back with him. Power surged through him and made his
blood tingle, but the feeling was ruined as he realized he had to
deal with the man behind him.

"What is it?" Uritus asked without
turning to face the man.

"I am sorry to bother you, Red Master,
but we found something in one of the books. We cannot be certain,
but there is an obscure reference to the location of the
armor."

"Why can you not be
certain?"

"The pages are old, Red Master, and a
few are missing. There is only one small section with any relevant
information, and it is written in Old Medoran. The translation has
been difficult."

Uritus finally turned to the man. "And
what does the passage say?"

"We think it says that the armor is
hidden in Medora, encased in stone. That doesn’t help much, but
there is also the word ‘first’ on the next page before the damaged
pages become illegible. From what we can gather, the armor is
hidden in a wall or building, possibly the first structure of its
kind in Medora."

"Very good, Brother. I am pleased with
your progress. Have men search the records at the Great Library in
Taburdum and find out which structures were the first built in
Medora."

"I have already sent men to the old
capital to do this, Red Master. I await their return. However there
is a good possibility that the reference in the book is wrong, or
that our guess as to what it means is wrong."

Uritus stretched his neck from side to
side. "I am aware of that Brother. I do not expect to find it any
time soon. We will go forward with the plan as we intended. The
armor can wait."

"As you command, Red Master. The
purple Mages have been assembled and waiting since yesterday. They
ask if you are ready."