Shadowblade
Authors: Tom Bielawski
Tags: #Fantasy, #Speculative Fiction by Tom Bielawski
The Chronicles of Llars
Volume Three:
Shadowblade
By Tom Bielawski
Shadowblade
Tom Bielawski
Copyright Tom Bielawski 2012
Published by Tom Bielawski Publishing
Cover art by Ronnel D Porter
Editing by RW Jensen
Cystic Fibrosis (CF)
I am a CF Dad and someone I love needs a cure.
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-clogs the lungs and leads to life-threatening lung infections; and
-obstructs the pancreas and stops natural enzymes from helping the body break down and absorb food.
This disease used to be a death sentence. Now, more and more people with Cystic Fibrosis are living into their 30’s, 40’s, and beyond. And that is thanks in large part to organizations like the Cystic Fibrosis Foundation (CFF) and others who have supported and driven the research community with awesome fundraisers, studies, and media attention.
Please support
CFF.org
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), Boomer Esiason Foundation (
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C H A P T E R
1
Of Two Minds.
Zach stalked angrily away from the group, cursing Carym for a fool. It was high time he went his own way, but now that he was alone he wasn’t certain of the wisdom in leaving the safety of numbers. He doubted himself in those early moments leaving behind his friends. The cursed wood of the Black Baron was a dangerous place to be with an army, but alone it could turn out to be his death.
But as the man walked away from his friends and fought back the unnatural fear that pervaded this haunted land, he was somewhat relieved to note that he did not seem to be in danger of being attacked. There were no signs of any orok patrols and for the moment at least, there did not seem to be any demons or undead knights wandering about. His senses were keen, and his warrior’s instinct strong, and those very things had kept him alive before. He trusted them now.
His mind wandered back to the terrible decision he had just made, and the deed that accompanied it. Had he been right? He was certainly on a path that led to permanent enmity with his closest, and lifelong, friend. His steps faltered then, thinking about the friendship he was leaving behind; about the adventures they had together; about the dangerous missions they had endured.
He stopped. Was it worth all this? Was it worth losing the friend who had truly been a brother to him? Carym had helped Zach unquestioningly throughout their lives, even in dire circumstances, more times than the man could remember. They had each risked their own life to save the other’s, more times than he could count. Did friends really walk away? Did friends steal precious artifacts from other friends? He felt guilty about taking the device from Carym, but he reconciled his guilt by telling himself he had been driven by a powerful force, stronger than he could comprehend. He wondered whose guiding hand made him cross that line, he wondered if he had stepped too far across to return.
The tiny voice that embodied his upbringing and the values he was raised upon sounded in the recesses of his mind then. He stood still, remembering the times spent together after Carym lost his own family in their youth. They had been inseparable, just like brothers. Zach’s own family took Carym into their home. They lived together, ate together, worked together, and held common faith in spite of Arnathian animosity.
Zach laughed ruefully, faith was something he had lost a very long time ago and yet it was something that Carym seemed to possess strongly. He wanted to feel that same sense of faith again, longed for it. He knew that if he returned to the group his friend would forgive him, if not the others. Isn’t that what mattered?
With his heart in his throat, Zach turned around and began walking towards his friends, picturing each of them in his mind and how they might react upon his return. And when his mind recalled the face of the Keneerie woman, Gennevera; Zach froze in mid-stride. In his mind her face was a mask of hatred and condescension. She would look upon his return with scorn, she would poison the others against him. Then Carym would hate him too; and that was something Zach just could not face. That tiny voice that reminded him of better times, slowly and purposefully drifted into the obscurity of conflicting emotions. Anger, envy, fear, shame. His pride could not allow him to ask forgiveness for fear of shame.
He gripped the pommel of his dagger in frustration; torn, as he stood on the road. He glanced each way, seeing his future play out in drastically different fashions. This was a pivotal moment from which there would be no return, no matter how he chose. And then it felt like his insides turned to stone; his emotions slowly evaporated, gone as though they were a distant memory. Then the pain was gone too. His vision was now clear, as was his purpose. He could not go back, not ever. He would not be welcome, they had made that clear to him in the Underllars. He remembered the scorn on the faces of the companions when he returned to the group after his discovery of the lich prince’s treasure. He had sensed their displeasure, and perhaps their jealousy. They had wished he
hadn’t
returned!
Damn them!
he thought.
I don’t need them.
Zach turned away from his friends, away from his old life, and away from the light. His road was going to be a better one, more profitable, more pleasurable, and now that he had met the lich prince of Lordsdeep, he was going to become far more powerful.
The fools! he
thought to himself.
They have doomed themselves. Without their bellyaching, I have at least a chance to escape this cursed wood.
And so Zach walked down the seemingly ancient road, away from his friends and his former path, his sword in one hand and his wondrous dagger in the other. The dagger seemed to have a personality of its own, forceful and strong. And since the moment he laid his hand on that blade, he could sense when the blade was thirsty and needed to feed. But the dagger also imparted its frustration to him more than once, frustration aimed at the perceived lack of respect from his old friend and new companions. The dagger was proving to be a trustworthy friend, more even than Carym could be.
But as he wandered along, he wondered if there would come a time when the dagger no longer needed him. Would it betray him and lead him into a trap? Would he become too reliant upon this man-made device and forget his own skill? He shook his head and hoped that day would never come, for then he would be at the mercy of this powerful weapon. He shook his head again and banished such thoughts, his dagger was new and it was all his. Such a day when he needed to be concerned about these things would not come.
Now, for the first time in a very long time, Zach was keenly aware of every creaking branch and rustle of leaves coming from the woods around him. There was little doubt in his mind that time passed in a different manner in this part of the enchanted wood. The time was deep night where he walked now and the moon was nowhere in sight. There was no fog, and best of all, no hissing of oroks skulking about the trees to indicate pursuit.
The farther away from his friends he traveled, the brighter his mood became as he realized that he
was
leaving the haunted lands of the Black Baron behind. It was a bizarre thing, for as the bothersome bard that had only recently joined Carym's quest had said - no one ever made it out of the cursed woods alive. And though Bart the bard was well-traveled and knew the land of Ckaymru well, Zach didn't trust him. As he continued to walk, he pondered how all these people conveniently joined Carym and his grand quest as they went. To what end?
It didn't matter. His friends were likely being herded toward their doom even now, as sheep herded to the slaughter, he found it hard to pity them. He
had
warned them, after all.
Zach trudged along though the night, stopping along the side of the road often to listen for sounds of pursuit and finding none. By dawn he found that he had indeed left the haunted lands of Baron Tyrannus far behind. For reasons that Zach could not even begin to fathom, that dark spirit had allowed him to leave the haunted lands unscathed. He felt energized, alive, and determined he would make his own way in the world. He decided that he would forget the business about seeking the Everpool. Perhaps he would even abandon the group which had sent him and Carym on this fool's errand in the first place. The Spiders, as they were known in Hybrand, seemed to have abandoned him. And yet, should they learn that he was indeed alive, he would be expected to complete their foolish mission, and likely die in the process. He knew his own potential was far greater now than what he could ever reach working as a slave to the Spiders in Hybrand.
I have more talent in my little finger than many of the Spiders combined,
he thought with a smile.
Why should I settle for being a pawn when I can be a king?
As he walked he let the limitless possibilities of his future lift his spirits. Perhaps he would start his own band of mercenaries, or perhaps he would join one of the legendary guild houses that ran much of what happened behind the scenes in Arnathia. That thought intrigued him, rumors abounded of the destabilization of the mighty Arnathian Empire, the empire that had stood for a thousand years. Perhaps Hybrand would be successful in expelling the weakened Imperials from their homeland forever, it was certainly best to strike while the iron was hot. Many believed the Arnathian Empire was just too big for its own good now, requiring more personnel than ever to defend it. Its forces were stretched impossibly thin, even for the mighty Arnathian Army. Yet the greedy emperor had always striven to attain more power and land and the control of trade routes, straining the glue that held the myriad cultures and peoples of the empire together. According to reports the Spiders were gathering from their own sources around Arnathia, it appeared the empire was being forced to quell uprisings in three or four regions at once. Zach smiled at the thought of the empire breaking apart. He enjoyed the thought of the smarmy Arnathian citizens wailing pitifully for mercy from those whom they had oppressed for centuries and had mercilessly killed for sport. The prospect for accumulating wealth amidst the chaos of nations emerging from that once-mighty empire was delightful to Zach and kept his spirit cheerful through the cold night.
