Shadowblade (4 page)

But the man was too far gone now. His eyes rolled up into his head and he was alive no more. In disbelief, Zach rolled the man onto his side and sliced open his robes. He was fairly sure that the wound he had inflicted with his dagger had not been fatal. The wound was dry, brittle to the touch, and emitted a foul odor. He looked at the blade and marveled when the steel of the blade lengthened before his very eyes!

“What a marvelous weapon,” said the detached voice in wonder; that same voice that had been plaguing Zach since he emerged from the haunted woods. But Zach had no interest in conversing with whatever was stalking him, it appeared to be on his own side for now and so he would not do anything to change that.

“Hmm,” was all Zach would say in response. Judging by
Morloth’s
behavior, Zach had to admit the possibility that this weapon could extend the length of its own blade and easily reach a vital organ from almost any strike. He tossed
Morloth
onto the bed and decided to examine the dead man’s body. It was becoming drier and more brittle by the second. Zach had to be very careful when moving the man, for pieces of his flesh seemed to wither and flake off before his eyes.

He found a pair of charm necklaces in the man’s pockets. They were odd, one was jet black and carved in the shape of a ram’s head while the other was a pentacle made of jade or perhaps lapis; he could never remember which was which. Doubtless these were charms or amulets of power, but Zach had little trust of such arcane objects for they often led to the demise of the wearer. He decided, however, that these items might earn him some money if he found the right place to sell them.

The only other interesting thing that Zach found was a small, leather-bound book that had been tucked into an inside pocket. He opened it and flipped through the book realizing that it, too, was arcane in nature. Was it a spell book? He didn’t know, but it was a very strange little book. He would not sell that.

“Magic would make you a truly powerful adversary!” spoke the voice. Again, Zach didn’t respond. He had in fact been contemplating a new profession, one in which his awesome new talents would serve to make him a wealthy man. He had never before entertained the idea of using magic in the way a magic-wielder does, having always relied on his own steel to survive. He had to admit that the potential to enhance his own talents with magic spells would make him a force to be reckoned with, should he decide to learn that deadly and mysterious craft. Though true magic-wielders were very few in number, there were a number of differing ways in which each variety harnessed their magic. To Zach the most fearsome were those rare few whose magic came as a reward for the fervor of their devotion to one of Llars’ few deities. He wondered if this was one of those men.

But that was a question which would not be answered now. And as he began to wonder how he would rid himself of the body, the problem seemed to solve itself. Because at that moment, the body of the corpse simply disintegrated into a pile of odd-smelling dust and black robes on the floor. Zach very carefully pushed as much of the dust pile into the cassock as he could manage without making a mess, and tied it into a ball. Then he opened the window above the alleyway and hurled the balled-up sack of dust as far as he could. He was happy to see in the dim light that the remains landed on the roof of the building next door.

“We need each other,” said the ever-present voice.

“We do not,” he replied aloud. But it bothered him that the voice had been responsible for warning him of impending danger and he wondered if the voice was somehow connected to the powers of the dagger. He had to admit the voice was right, but he didn’t like having to rely on something other than his own senses for survival.

“You see the truth!” said the voice, accusing.

“I don’t suppose you can read magic?” Zach asked his invisible voice companion. There was no response. Zach sat on his bed and realized that the time had passed very quickly during his encounter with the intruder. It was dawn, and it was a new day.

C H A P T E R

2

Experiments.

Shalthazar pushed aside the missives and notices that were piling up on his desk and sent a mental command to one of his apprentices. In moments his door opened and the apprentice removed the mundane business from his presence. Since the campaign for the Northern Continent had come to a pause in this former principality called Creals, the wizard had begun delegating the business of running his fledgling country to his generals and advisors. In fact, Arman Sul, the ruler of Old Nashia across the sea, had sent one of his administrators to help the Prophet-General with the cumbersome issues of running a country. But, the wizard thought irritably, the man had only just arrived in New Nashia. He was setting up his affairs in the new capital city back east, near Vaardlund, and was of no use to the wizard here.

Nonetheless, he resolved not to concern himself with matters of property rights, homes and land damaged by his troops, or crops lost to his soldiers and the harsh winter. Those were matters for his underlings, for he had far more important concerns.

Shalthazar stood beside the large table in the middle of the room which displayed his papers, scrolls, and books in neat stacks. Beakers and jars with bizarre contents lined the shelves and tables in the vast laboratory. The wall along the right side of the rectangular laboratory was lined with shelves bearing jars of items necessary for the weaker form of arcane magic used by witches and warlocks on Llars. This was the form of magic that Shalthazar was used to practicing, one that required special components to trigger or activate the desired spells. Yet here on Llars arcane magic was weaker, muted, in comparison to the world which the wizard came from. Shalthazar felt that his powerful intellect could decipher the mystery that made arcane magic inferior to that of the Sigils and had been collecting everything he could that might help him unlock its power. Very recently the wizard had conducted several successful experiments with his apprentices that helped him isolate the problem to the dialect of magical language in use on Llars, something he had long suspected was a factor. But he had to put those experiments on hold for something of greater importance.

On the left side of the chamber was a row of high backed wooden chairs, each bearing an inert humanoid form. These were his latest creations using the Shadow Sigil. Shalthazar was proud of the work that he and his new apprentices had conducted in secret and considered each macabre form a masterpiece, an instrument of death to be used in the coming campaign. The dark magic that he was involved in had to be kept secret from his Nashian underlings who believed that their god, Ilian Nah, was truly the Lord of Justice. In fact, the Nashian people, who hailed from another part of the world, have unknowingly worshipped Umber for thousands of years believing him to be Ilian Nah.

The time was not right for the foreigners to learn the true nature of their god.

Though the wizard was proud of his creations, and confident in their ability, they were as yet untested. He could not allow the Nashians to learn of his new weapons, nor could he simply take them into battle in their untested state. There was too much at stake. That was the main reason why he had ordered the creation of this underground laboratory. The presence of this great laboratory was indeed known to the Nashians, but its exact location and its contents were known only to Shalthazar and his apprentices.

Shalthazar gazed at his creations, wondering what he would call them, when a knock on the door indicated that another of his apprentices had come. With the slightest push of his powerful mind, the laboratory door opened. Urelis and Zerelis entered the chamber and waited for their master to acknowledge them.

These two promising apprentices were twins, and had been dabblers in magic before the coming of Shalthazar and his army. Shalthazar’s minions were always on the lookout for magic-wielders among the enemy. The wizard knew that use of magic in nearly any form was a tie that could bring magic-wielders of warring factions together. Even those who practiced different forms of magic found a commonality with each other in a world that was rife with anti-magic bigotry. Shalthazar himself would determine what path his new wizards would take. Some of them would train in the use of the Shadow Sigil, strengthening Umber’s growing number of Shadow Sigilists. Others would become binder-mages, those whose very souls would be bound magically to that of a powerful immortal Cjii who would grant the binder-mage a portion of his powers. It was a risky process for the mortal, but one which would enhance his or her powers greatly and further Umber’s cause. And still others would become clerics of the Dark Lord, Umber, and gain special powers granted directly from the King of Darkness.

Shalthazar was a generous - but strict - master and his apprentices had the best clothing, supplies and mounts. In return for his knowledge of the Sigilcraft, the apprentices did much of their master’s arcane bidding, and performed many of the experiments he wished he had time to do on his own.

And so these two young men, magic-wielders in the employ of a recently dethroned petty monarch, had quickly offered their allegiances to the great wizard, the Prophet-General of Ilian Nah. These young men possessed extraordinary talent for the Shadow Sigil and had grown in the use of their new powers quickly.

“Your rapid progress in the use of Sigils has been well noted. I have urgent missions for each of you.” Shalthazar knew these men were ambitious, all of his apprentices were. However, unlike many of his comrades, Zerelis was shrewd and possessed of a strong sense of duty. He believed that his zeal would be rewarded in its own time, which made him more trustworthy than some of his backstabbing comrades.

Urelis, was another matter.

“You have heard of the Glacier Palace of Erestonin, yes?” the wizard asked Zerelis.

Zerelis nodded curtly, revealing no hint of his inner thoughts to his twin. Shalthazar had no need of such physical indications, he read the young man’s mind plainly enough. Zerelis knew that this was the palace of the monarch of the Frost Elves. The Frost Elves were a mysterious and fearsome race of elves living in the frozen wastes. They were hardy folk who could survive amidst the harshest of conditions. Deviously intelligent, few who ventured to their wondrous and mysterious lands ever returned. And those who did, returned changed for the worse, tortured by the horrors inflicted upon them.

Yes, he knows of them
, Shalthazar said to himself with a grin, letting the mental connection falter. He was amused by the man’s well-founded fear of Erestonin.

“You will travel there and deliver this message.” The elf held out a jet-black scroll case inlaid with silver and rubies. He need not reassure his apprentice, all knew that harm made to those under Shalthazar’s protection would be repaid tenfold, even to the Frost Elves. “Remain as long as is necessary to return with their reply.

“You may go, now,” intoned the elf. Zerelis relaxed a moment, allowing himself to reach out to the Tides. A talisman hanging from a leather strap at his hip gleamed in the light of the dark wizard’s laboratory. The talisman appeared to be little more than a block of obsidian, a substance highly valued among the new Sigilists for its ability to store vast amounts of Tidal energy in the form of ready-to-cast Sigilspells. The master wizard required all of his apprentices to carry one, and to keep it charged with as much power as they could. And the only Sigilspell he required them to possess at all times was called
travel
. This was a potent form of magic which allowed a person to travel anyplace on Llars in a matter of moments, using the elemental plane of Shadow as a go-between.