The Tomb of the Dark Paladin (13 page)

Should he abandon the Nashians to their own devices, they would promote someone else to take over Shalthazar's position and likely declare him a traitor and fraud. Shalthazar had entertained the notion often enough, but in light of the fact that he seemed to have become dispensable, it might prove wiser to stay the course. The dark elf was beginning to see that there might be another option. One that would leave a powerful army at his beck and call should he need to turn on his master. Did the dark god not foresee this possibility?

With his magic once again restored to him, the dark elf harnessed the power of the Shadowtides and transported himself through the ethers back to his laboratory. The elf returned to his comfortable desk and wearily sat down, then opened an old and worn tome. Should he decide to rebel against Umber, there was no doubt in his mind that the dark god would find a way to revoke Shalthazar's use of the Shadowtide; the dark god had hinted at that possibility more than once. The more exposed Shalthazar was to Umber, the more he realized how much pretense and illusion were part of the god's repertoire. Perhaps Umber did not have a true hold over the Shadowtide after all.

How could he? Zuhr was the most powerful of the gods of Llars, of that there could be no doubt. If Zuhr had banned the use of the dark magic from the world, how would Umber have the power to countermand such a decree? Umber was, undoubtedly, circumventing the chief god's law--but how? Umber's faith in the powers of his chosen few, the thirteen Dark Disciples, and his intense interest in their survival, seemed out of place to the elf. Were they the key? He began to think they were connected to the existence of that power, and that their demise could be disastrous for the Shadowtide. 

He opened a book from his home world, one into which he had recorded his most powerful theories and speculations about magic, the old magic that seemed so diluted here. Time and again he had thought that he had found the solution to correcting the weak flow of arcane power on Llars. Each time he failed, he felt as though the answer was within his grasp. As he flipped gently through the pages of the ancient tome, he stopped and stared hard at one page. The elves of his home world had dealt with this very problem themselves centuries ago when they found their magic dampened by a supernatural means. They were able to overcome the hindrance by strengthening their magical language to compensate for the supernatural dampener. This was something that he had tried on Llars with very small benefit. The problem seemed more complex here. Changing the language was but one part of the problem. He began to wonder if the existence of the Shadowtide itself was the cause, and therefore, how it would benefit him to continue working for the dark god.

Zach was something of an enigma to the dark wizard. He had been ensnared by the lich who dwelt in Lordsdeep and then compelled to perform a task that freed the lich from his eternal bonds. In return, the lich promised Zach that he could have all the lich's material and magical wealth; a great prize indeed. Shalthazar had not decided whether this was a matter of true concern. The lich had proved useful in that it could exert its powerful will, and thus Umber's will, upon the human from a great distance. The lich's communication with Umber had been the only reason that Shalthazar knew of the arrival of the companions in the Underllars at all, a distinct failing in his own network of spies. But Shalthazar's apprentices in Lordsdeep had learned a great deal about the lich while they were searching for Umber's secret device. The ancient creature was not loyal to anyone, and seemed only to be motivated by its need to die and move on the underworld. It had proven over time that it would allow nothing to get in its way. If it could exert its will on Zach so very far from Lordsdeep, he would have to ensure that the lich's will was not contrary to his own. 

And how had those pitiful wretches found themselves in the Underllars in the first place? From the reports of those few troks that survived their encounter with this ragtag band, they were, in fact, the Fyrbold and his friends. Shalthazar's forces still held that glorious city, and that thought cheered the greedy wizard. Unlimited wealth in precious metals and gems would make future endeavors possible. All the more reason to ensure that those who knew of his secret city were destroyed. Shalthazar sensed that the lich-prince of Lordsdeep had a hand in the companions' arrival in the lost city in the first place, playing on Zach's greed in order to facilitate its own freedom. While it was a vexing matter it was one that the evil wizard could not afford to dwell on; Umber was a cruel master and had little time for excuses or failure. Shalthazar wanted to find the device before he started his springtime campaign, and Umber was breathing down his neck to see that it was done. For the moment, he had to focus on obeying Umber's wishes and trust that Umber's Pack would catch up to the thieves soon. Meanwhile, he would have to prepare for the possibility that Umber could choose to eliminate him when his usefulness was exhausted.

One of the dark god's decidedly unpleasant minions, the Headless Rider, seemingly had things well enough in hand in the Cklathish land of Ckaymru but had allowed Shalthazar's prey to escape and lost possession of the infamous Black Keep. The lair of the ghost-lord known as the Black Baron was located in a strategic position and it galled the dark wizard to have lost that prize. When he had learned that the dread knight had captured one of the companions, a diminutive Silver Mountain elf, he had been pleased. Then the dim-witted undead knight managed to temper that great accomplishment with failure too.

Shalthazar let out a deep breath to calm and center himself as he stood before the door to his official chambers, the room in which he most often chose to entertain his guests. He enacted a 
multi
 spell which allowed his subconscious mind to consider other matters and actions on many levels simultaneously while his conscious mind dealt with the matter at hand. He willed the door to the chamber to open and glided inside, his feet hovering above the floor. Wrapped in a haze of darkness and shadow, he radiated powerful energy that instilled fear within underlings and, at the same time, shrouded his face.

Shalthazar truly loved this chamber; he designed it with complete intimidation and domination in mind. A large desk of black wood inscribed with magical Sigils of silver and gold took up a great portion of the room; to visitors, it seemed as though the desk's Sigils were charged with magical light. The desk was raised a few feet above the floor so that Shalthazar always looked down on his guests. There was an assortment of pictures and tapestries designed to baffle the eye and bewilder the mind, so that anyone visiting the Prophet-General of Ilian Nah would be constantly disoriented.

The dark wizard floated into the chamber and passed the remarkably calm visitor who stood before his desk, a cloak of shadows trailed behind him. He floated around the desk and seated himself in the throne-like chair, decorated with leering skulls and stark white bones, the hood of his crimson and black robe drawn low. The visitor before him bowed in respect, then straightened. Shalthazar said nothing, simply staring at the visitor and processing the information that was flowing into his mind on many different levels at once, trying to see what sort of mettle the visitor possessed.

Satisfied that his visitor would not be cowed easily--the wizard detested craven underlings--he acknowledged this person's presence.

"Why have you interrupted my work?" he asked softly, his voice ripe with deadly power.

"Forgive me, Great One. I am Zacharya of Hyrum, former friend and companion of Carym of Hyrum. I have information which I am certain you desire."

The wizard softened his demeanor, a little, allowing the faintest hint of a smile to play at his lips. What a fortunate turn of events, he thought.

"You have captured this Carym of Hyrum for me?"

"No, Great One--"

"You have fled from him, have you not?"

"Yes, Great One--"

"Why have you interrupted my work?" asked the wizard again, a dangerous edge in his voice. The dark wizard ensured that the shadowy corners of the room seemed to come alive to those brought before him; to Zach it would appear as though eyes and shapes flitted amidst the shadows, watching eagerly.

"I know Carym well, Great One. I know where he is now and I know where he will go," Zach paused a moment. He appeared confident and undeterred by the wizard's unsettling presence. "More importantly, I know how he will get there."

"I see," murmured Shalthazar. "And what reward do you think you deserve, Zacharya of Hyrum?"

"The reward I seek is merely the glory which will come from being part of your great cause."

"Hmmm, somehow I doubt that," the elf paused, considering. "I have heard something of your exploits in Powyss," the wizard said in a very low voice. "The work of the Phantom was commendable, yet somewhat counterproductive to my own cause in Ckaymru."

"Forgive me, Great One. My intent was not to undermine your alliances--"

"Yes, yes," he waived his hand dismissively at the man. "I know about the lich-curse and your extraordinary dagger."

Zach bowed partially and straightened.

"You were successful in drawing out Harfour's heir and killing him, and that drew the ire of the Nyzyr."

"Yes, Great One. That is so."

"Cerunnos was not pleased and was prepared to kill you. You are formidable, Zacharya, but I do not think you could stand alone against one of Umber's Dark Disciples.

"Fortunately for you, that is where Balzath rescued you." The wizard was pleased to see that the man before him was calm, even though it was clear the man resented the wizard's choice of words. Shalthazar detested many of the arse-kissing underlings who worked for him and he had been hoping to find an assassin to aid him in his plans. It seemed he had found the right man. Any man who could withstand the fearsome presence of the Prophet-General of Ilian Nah and not be unnerved to the core, would not collapse under the pressure of the great works the wizard had in store for him. "Yet, certainly you would have escaped Powyss nonetheless."

"I thank Your Holy Eminence for Balzath's timely arrival," offered Zach, grudgingly. "I owe her my life."

"Well, I think you can find a suitable way to repay her. She seems quite taken with you," the wizard was pleased that someone else had become the focus of the capable -yet seemingly mad- witch. "Tell me, will Carym of Hyrum turn to the Shadow with the proper motivation?"

"Carym has a very troubled soul. I have seen him give in to the darkness that lurks in his heart a number of times, other times he seems able to banish and overcome it," Zach explained. "I know that he is Fyrbold. And yet I have seen him use the power of the Air Sigil, the Earth Sigil, the Spirit Sigil and even the power of the Shadow Sigil. He has found a great strength in his devotion to Zuhr, but he is a flawed man. His weakness is the Keneerie woman whom he loves, Gennevera. That relationship might be exploited in order to turn him."

"In what way?"

"Carym's wife and child were killed during a Vaardic raid on our village years ago. Their deaths triggered a cold, relentless, fury in him. He led a campaign against the Vaard in retaliation and ensured that their butchery of our people was repaid in kind. Perhaps if Gennevera were to turn against him, or die, he might be driven to such extremes again."

"I like the way you think, Zacharya. If Carym of Hyrum can be turned to the Shadow, he would become a great weapon in my service," the wizard thrummed his fingers on slick surface of his great desk. "I have another task in mind for you."

"My Lord, Carym came into possession of something while we were in Lordsdeep and I would like to offer it to you as a token of my loyalty."

"Go on," replied the wizard, intrigued.

"I do not know exactly how it came to be his, yet I do know it is something of great value. He claimed that this object was the home of a long-dead Fyrbold called Mathonry, who resides within it. I know that Carym learned how to use the device and he had even been inside where he received instruction in the use of his magic from the ancient being."

"I see," said the wizard, one eye twitching slightly. Although the man in front of him would be unable to see any such facial expressions due to his magic, the wizard was annoyed with himself over it.

"Where is the object now?" the sinister mage leaned ever so slightly closer as though he knew the answer to the question. Zach reached into a pocket inside his long black coat and removed something from within. He held the palm of his hand up before the dark wizard and bowed his head. A shiny box of beautiful craftsmanship twinkled, despite the shadows in the room.