Steel and Shadow: An Epic Fantasy (11 page)

             
He had woke to a demon.  A true demon.  He raged after his fear left him, demanding priests bless, and exorcize the entire palace.  He then ordered every man ‘enchanted’ executed.  The nanny, too.  Then he ordered more personal blessings and protection for his own person.  Every man that already thought the king mad was now certain of it as he claimed ghosts and demons now walked the walls of Galdyra, and that the devil himself had risen to champion Valdor.

             
Only one man didn’t doubt, or mock.

             
He was thoughtful, and left to make his own inquiries before he acted on his suspicions.

X

             
“Where are we,” Helena asked as she realized they were standing in the middle of a small grassy plain not far from a small township just ahead.  Overhead, the sun was just starting to light the sky, and she realized that Koa looked more than a little pale just then.

             
“On the border of Kanlys and Galdyn, just shy of the borderlands.  We need to rest, and then we will slip over the border.  I hoped to reach the grasslands ere the sun caught us, but….”

             
“I see.  Even your….abilities have limits?”

             
“Alone, I could have flown farther.  ’Tis much harder to carry a true human through shadows,” he admitted.  “It can be….wearying.  I need but a few minutes, and a hot meal, and I’ll be fine.”

             
“Still, if we’re yet in Galdyn,” she shuddered as he led her toward that town.

             
“This close to Kanlys, there are many of mixed blood hereabouts.  We just need to pass as common folk, and then we’ll slip over the border, and lose ourselves until we can reach Valdor.”

             
“But, your…..armor?”

             
Even as she spoke, shadow wreathed him, and when it faded, he seemed to be wearing only simple, linen breeches, and a common tunic of deerskin.  Even his sword was gone.  In its place, he now carried only a long staff.  He looked like any other freeman found on the borderlands.  A freeman of Kanlysan blood.

             
“How is it a Kanlysan champions Valdor,” she finally asked him quietly.

             
He gave a wry chuckle to that.  “’Tis a long story, lady.  Mayhap we shall have time to share it after we leave this town behind,” he told her pointedly.  “For now, I am Kaye,” he called himself.  “And you are my companion Helen I acquired from a pleasure hall for my own convenience.  Douglas shall be our son, which ’twill explain my….protecting you both.”

             
“A wise ploy,” she nodded, and followed close to him.  “Even if I look old enough to be mother, or aunt, rather than companion.”

             
“You are still a handsome woman, Helen,” he called her pointedly.  “Do not doubt it despite that fool’s abuses.”

             
“You are very kind, sir….   Ah, Kaye.”

             
He only nodded.  “Let us find an inn, have a hot morning meal, and then move on.  Like as not, the little babe would like fresh milk, too.”

             
“Aye,” she nodded, noting Douglas was starting to stir restlessly.  “Only mine dried long since….”

             
“If you will allow me,” he said quietly, and turned to gently brush his long, strong fingers over her breasts, shocking her for a moment.  Not half so much as the sudden, familiar feeling of milk swelling in her breasts as she gasped at the weighted, bloated feeling she knew from her own babes, and the ones lost her.

             
“Is naught beyond you,” she exclaimed in wonder as he turned to lead her into town.

             
“There are many things beyond me, lady.  I am, at heart, still but a man.”

             
She only looked at him, holding her son close as she kept to his heels, like a dutiful ‘companion’ would in the world of men.  In her eyes, he was far from a man just then.  He was a virtual demigod, and she prayed he could keep his vow to see her home.  Just then, that was all that mattered to her.  That, and her son.

X
             

             
“My lord,” the older man strode boldly into the throne room where priests gibbered and chanted around the king.  “I believe I can aid you.”

             
“Indeed?  Now who are you, sir,” George demanded irritably, “And how can I expect aid of a man that looks older than I?”

             
“I am indeed older,” Harlock Ian Graves smiled, his weathered features surprisingly pale for a freeman.  “I am Sir Graves, of the United Guild Elders.  I bring grim news, but an answer, too.”

             
“Will you stop babbling in riddles, and just speak your mind, freeman,” George spat.  “I get enough flattery from your guild sycophants!”

             
“Just so.  I believe, my lord-king, the devil you saw was a true shadow.  One of those thought but rumor and legend from the old tales.  I believe, sire, he is a true shadow from what you have said.  And from what I have learned, I feel he is the very shadow that rides with the Xandaran mercenaries that follow the Black Wolf.”

             
“Mercenaries?  Then why did we not hire these devils, if they are so good?  So…powerful?”

             
“They are Xandaran, sire.  They tend to loathe Galdynians,” he reminded him.

             
“Hmmph.  Mercenaries fight for gold.  Not flags.  Why can we not just offer the devils more than Valdor?”

             
“This Wolf is a peculiar sort.  He fights for the cause once paid, and will not quit till the fight is done.”

             
“Absurd!”

             
“He is….old-fashioned in that way.”

             
“Indeed.  Then how the devil can you aid me, old man, if you can’t bribe the curs, and this….shadow is beyond us?”

             
“There are only two ways known to defeat a shadow,” he smiled.  “Use his true name, and bind him by it.”

             
“What are the odds you know that,” he demanded.

             
“Poor.  But there is another way.  Send another shadow,” he smiled, and waved his hand. 

             
Almost at once, a tall, gaunt figure with pale, leached skin over a skeletal frame appeared beside the guild master.  “I give you….our shadow,” he told the king.  “An older, more experienced shadow with powers I’m certain this young shade has yet to master.”

             
“Hmmm.  You can find this shadow, and kill it,” he demanded of the pale thing before him as the priests all but screeched their chants ever louder now at the sight of the thing in the dirty tunic, and ragged breeches.

             
The shadow did not even reply.

             
“It will,” Harlock assured the king.  “For I own this shadow by virtue of its true name, and it is bound to my will and whim.”
             

             
“Why not offer the thing earlier,” he demanded.  “We could have used such a devil to end Valdor’s threat long since.”

             
“The guild has its own secrets, sire, as you must have yours,” he said pointedly.  “Shall I send him to find, and slay this shadow for you now?”

             
“For a price, I might guess,” he growled.

             
“Of course.”

             
“What price?”

             
“I have a grandson.  A good man, with a handsome visage, and good wits.  Name him your daughter’s betrothed.  He is of noble stock, too, and a canny man.  Name him betrothed to the lady Miranda, and my shade is yours to command.”

             
“In truth,” he murmured.  “Then, do I agree, you must add to the deed.  I want the heads of every surviving Ericson, save the queen’s babe I want delivered back to me,” he demanded.

             
“As you command,” Harlock, a bit of a secret mage in his spare time smiled as he bowed to the king, and envisioned accidents soon befalling the king and his own sons once his grandson was wed.  For then he would use his magics to become his own grandson, giving him yet another life, and finally taking the throne for his own as he planned since the beginning over two hundred years ago.

             
Harlock Graves looked up at the shadow, and fearlessly put his hand on the thing’s shoulder.  “Find the shadow,” he commanded in a tongue few spoke in this age.

             
The shadow did not speak.  It simply nodded, and vanished with Harlock at its side.

             
“Devil’s magic,” one of the priests hissed as the pair disappeared.

             
“You would wed your innocent child to that monster’s kindred,” the king was asked by a more canny advisor.

             
“You think I would give my lass to anyone unworthy of her?  Once he has done my bidding, I’ll put paid to both of them.  For I recall the old stories, too, and know there is yet a third way to slay a shadow.”

             
“Truly,” one of the priests asked.  “How?”

             
“As that corrupt bastard said, we do all have our secrets,” George now sneered.  Devils were one thing, but his own grandfather had fought shadows.  And he recalled there was a more certain way to put paid to them.  You simply had to kill the mage that bound them to this world.

             
He’d let this guildsman Graves handle the other shade, and then he would slay Graves.  And he would end up with all.  For while most thought him mad, he was in fact obsessed.  His grandfather had carved the world into its current shape by his thirtieth year.  He had made Galdyn one of the nine great kingdoms, and kept it that way. 

             
His father had been content to rule what was handed him.  As George aged, however, he became less content, and wanted to be remembered like his grandfather, as a man of power and ambition.  He wanted to widen his reach, and turn Galdyn into the power of the known world.  Not just one of many.  By claiming Valdor, he would be more than doubling Galdyn’s size and power, and not any of the other kingdoms would dare strike at him then.  Nor would any mere shadow stop him.  Infernal shades should have just stayed in their mountains and barrens where they belonged.

             
Did they not realize the world of men did not need their kind?

X

             
“The king’s bedchamber,” Harlock spat, eyeing the room.  “Why are we here?  I wanted…..”

             
The shadow spoke for the first time, his voice a basal growl of flesh and gravel that sounded eerily hollow.  “Even I cannot follow another shadow,” he told the guild mage that held his power as his own.  “I can, though, go where he has been recently.  By following where he has been, it is likely we shall soon be where he is going.”

             
Harlock glared, and grunted impatiently.  “Fine.  Just be quick.  I want this done, and my betrothal….  My grandson’s betrothal, confirmed by week’s end.”

             
The shadow only eyed him dourly, saying nothing to that as they vanished again.

             
“So, then, the rumors were true,” Harlock said a moment later as he studied the small chamber where he reappeared just inside the palace tower where none visited save the king.  “He must have had a secret mistress hidden here.  Which begs the question, who,” he murmured, eyeing his slave.

             
“The Valdoran queen lay here,” the shadow drawled in his low, gruff tone, knowing a command when he heard it by now.  “Thrice did she birth life in this room.  Until the young shade appeared, and carried her away.”

             
“He carried her…..  I would not think he could manage such a feat as yet.”

             
“He is young.  Still, he is stronger than you believe.  I sense his power.  He is young, but he is potent.  His is a darker shade than I have touched in many decades,” he admitted.

             
“Hmmmm.  Then mayhap we should learn his name, and turn him to our will rather than just destroy him,” Harlock smirked, ever eager to find and exploit whatever opportunity came his way.  As he did when he first learned the dark arts that gave him a shadow slave, and learned to attach his spirit to new flesh when his old body wore out. 

             
“Until I see him.  Until I face him.  I cannot discern his name,” the shadow told him.  “His passing is obvious, but his essence is…..fathomless.”