A Tide of Shadows Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  A Word About Cystic Fibrosis

  Map

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  About the Author

  More From Me

  Contact

  The Chronicles of Llars

  Volume One:

  A Tide of Shadows

  By Tom Bielawski

  A Tide of Shadows

  by Tom Bielawski

  Smashwords Edition

  Copyright 2011 Tom Bielawski

  For God,

  and for my family.

  A word about Cystic Fibrosis (CF)

  I am a CF dad; someone I love needs a cure.

  CF is a genetic, inherited, disease that affects the lungs and digestive systems of about 30,000 children and adults in the United States, and 70,000 worldwide. A defective gene and its protein product cause the body to produce unusually thick and sticky mucus that clogs the lungs and leads to life-threatening lung infections, and obstructs the pancreas stopping the 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 CF are living into their 30's, 40's and beyond. And that is thanks in large part to organizations like 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, Cystic Life (cysticlife.org), Boomer Esiason Foundation (esiason.org), or any other great organization that is helping to fight this terrible disease.

  Thank you,

  Tom Bielawski

  P R O L O G U E

  Pathways.

  A Deal With...

  The darkness swirled around him, caressing him, teasing him, daring him to step off the disc upon which he stood. He didn’t really know if he was standing at all; he had been before he stepped into the magical doorway. Using a Pathway was a very difficult and disorienting ordeal; only those truly powerful in the ways of the arcane would dare attempt it without fear of going mad. Losing control here would certainly mean death to any novice. The Pathways were created millennia ago, not by powerful arch-magi as was commonly believed, but by the immortal races, some of whom were called Cjii. These were the beings employed by the Greater Powers, they believed themselves to be gods and played their parts with vigor.

  These simple truths were not widely known in the Far Realms from which Shalthazar haled. Most of the common beings there barely grasped the concept that their world was not flat, never mind the complicated laws of interplanar travel, the existence of immortal beings, and that their own gods were not much more than children with a lot of power and a weak grasp of reality.

  Shalthazar was no commoner, however. He had been alive for a few centuries and was very wise in the ways of the arcane. He was patient, methodical, and extraordinarily determined to topple one of those beings who purported themselves to be true gods. He had hatched his plan nearly two centuries ago, and it was an elaborate one that he was quite certain would work.

  The prickling sensation on his skin brought him back to reality and self-control. Even the briefest of mental wanderings and lack of intense focus on the present could be deadly on these Pathways. Although the wizard had not sensed any of the immortals nearby, the spirits of the damned who were enthralled by them were everywhere. The presence of the damned was inescapable. Their sinuous tendrils accosted him, their thoughts barraged his mind. Shalthazar repelled their assaults with ease, but not without cost; his strength was leaving him.

  Suddenly, the Pathway through the complex spaces between the many planes of existence ended before a portal to his chosen destination: Llars.

  He stood there a moment, looking through the hazy doorway to the bright and uncomfortably warm world beyond, still repelling the silky tendrils that were the longings of the damned who were ever trying to trick him into wandering from the Path; a deadly mistake. He shook off the thoughts, remained focused, and prepared to enter the portal. Two centuries of preparation brought him to this moment, to the very doorstep that would take him to new levels of power and greatness. He was giddy, and he was ready to begin.

  But then -

  “SHALTHAZAR AZAH FARAHNAN!” thundered a familiar voice.

  “STAND AND PAY YOUR DUES!” the rumbling distorted his vision and threatened to sway his balance. Any deviation from the Pathways would be disastrous for the mortal. But the immortal Cjii gliding towards him would face no such troubles; in fact this ancient being had probably helped create the Pathways.

  Shalthazar turned slowly and purposely, face ever stoic, as he contemplated his last meeting with Nephlazubit, the Pathway Collector.

  “What is it Neph?” he asked with forced calmness.

  Fortunately most Cjii cared little for mortals and thus, knew little about them. Nephlazubit was no exception, having seen precious few mortals, and was unaware how fragile the mortal body really was. Had he truly known how puny and weak mortals were, things might have gone very differently for the wizard.

  The great titan lumbered down the Pathway and stood before Shalthazar, the butt-spike of his giant halberd planted firmly, the blade gleaming with its own light as milky tendrils of the misty Pathway air pulsed and flowed about the menacing weapon. The face of the great Cjii split into a wide grin, fangs dripping with saliva, his broad nostrils flaring as he laughed.

  Shalthazar did not let the friendly demeanor of the Cjii fool him. The Cjii were notoriously unpredictable and chaotic, ruled by their emotions. This encounter could still end very badly for the dark wizard. However, his immeasurable self-discipline continued to allow him to maintain his wizard’s air of indifference as he faced the massive immortal.

  “You owe me ten souls, Shalthazar,” he said in a friendly voice. The wizard did not miss the slight twitching of the immortal’s left eye. He did not immediately know what it signified, but it couldn’t be a good sign with the chaotic Neph.

  “I believe the price you demanded was seven souls, Neph,” he said calmly, very calmly. Shalthazar was fairly confident that his own powerful array of spells and weapons would help him prevail in a one-on-one match with even this powerful immortal. However it was very unlikely that there weren’t other Cjii hiding nearby, Cjii who would presumably enter any fray on the side of their own.

  The giant creature leaned down to stare at Shalthazar for a moment; the wizard didn’t flinch. Satisfied by whatever the immortal saw, Neph stood straight again and nodded. “Seven it was then, wizard. Ten it is now. I have taken a measure of your worth and I have foreseen what you will become,” the creature laughed in grim satisfaction. “I am giving you leave to travel the Pathways as you please. Be certain you send me my due, it should be no problem for one such as you!”

  Shalthazar bowed in acceptance of the Cjii’s gracious offer which seemed to satisfy the giant immortal. Then Neph flashed an oddly jovial grin and lumbered away from the greatly relieved, if somewhat perplexed, wizard.

  Mentally vowing to examine this experience later, Shalthazar turned back to the portal and prepared himself to step through. No telling how many more of them are around. Best be quick about it! He grumbled to himself.

  “Going somewhere?” the voice floated towards him from every direction at once it seemed. It was like that in the Pathways. Was there another Cjii after him? Had h
e forgotten something?

  Shalthazar looked around wildly but saw no one. Wildly? His composure was slipping. Then, with chagrin he saw that his portal had moved. This too was common in the Pathways; he wasn’t certain if it was due to the chaotic nature of the Pathways or the whim of some mischievous Cjii. The wizard centered himself and walked toward the portal, thankful it hadn’t moved very far, and hoping it wouldn’t move again. Then he started feeling panicky and began to run. Panicky? He cursed himself for a weakling and a fool, but he continued to run anyway.

  Shalthazar, as calmly and reasonably as he could, ran to the portal, focusing only on sliding through to the other side.

  ***

  Shalthazar stumbled out of the portal and into an apparent chamber of ice. The sudden planar shift from the in-between realms to solid ground was quite a shock to one’s senses. It was similar to the way a man felt after spending time on the deck of a heaving ship, then stepping onto dry land; it always takes a few moments to gain back your land legs. Shalthazar sensed no imminent threat and risked a moment to center himself and reach for his magic. He found that he was able to sense the energy in this place in much the same way as he could back home, yet the connection was tenuous and energies were much harder for him to connect to. This was not unexpected, however.

  Quickly he blinked his eyes as he adjusted to his new surroundings. Ironically, it was not particularly cold in the icy chamber. He must be thousands of miles from where he wanted to be. The chamber was filled with bluish green light that descended through long shafts in the ceiling. He brushed himself off and wondered where his calculations had gone awry. His chart of the Pathways had cost him dearly, it was a price he would not soon forget; there should have been no errors. He saw his chosen destination from the other side of the portal, he should have been someplace far warmer. Truth be told, Shalthazar despised heat and he was not really displeased at this comfortable waypoint on his journey; if he could only figure out where to go from here. And, how to avoid those damnable Cjii!

  He noticed that there did not appear to be any door or way out of this chamber. The portal that led him here had vanished, as it should have. Shalthazar reached into the pocket of his vest and felt for the reassuring presence of his ring; a powerful item he had created centuries ago, which would enable him to escape this type of unanticipated circumstance. This chamber was devoid of decor and anything to sit on, he noticed wryly. At the far end was a doorway leading to...another chamber.

  This one was far different. There was something in the shadows at the far end of the new chamber, an altar seemingly made of ice. He perceived that he was in some sort of temple, perhaps within a glacier, and began to see that he had not come here by chance. The dark wizard had discovered this gem of a world a very long time ago. Hidden in a dark corner of the universe, he had been studying it for some time. Powerful god-magic had been used to hide this world from prying eyes, magic which he had sensed over the better part of a century but which he could never discern the source of. Always could he sense its presence, but never could his own powerful magic deduce the location this tantalizing world. Finally, after many years of searching, he found an artifact of tremendous power, which he ultimately destroyed to enhance the sensing magic of his detection spells; it worked.

  Finally, Shalthazar had discovered the world known as Llars.

  But the wizard was wise enough to know that if the gods of this place went to such great lengths to hide it, there must be good reason. He spent decades studying this new world from afar and seeking what made it so special. He had been ardently careful to avoid detection by the creators of its powerful magical shield though, and would only use his scrying magic for brief periods of time over the decades. He did learn that this world was rich in natural resources, specifically gold, but such things were typically above the desires of gods.

  Having learned as much as he could from afar, the time had come for closer inspection. The powerful wizard had hoped that he could slip into this world undetected and live among its people, using his magic to blend in and learn more. In fact, based on years of observation of this planet, he had chosen to live in the land called Canaria. Canaria was a collection of islands and home to numerous wizards and magical guilds, which seemed to benefit from a thriving trade in occult items and supplies. Canaria was also the home of several pirate clans and had no effective national government. Instead, each island ruled itself, yet each considered its own people to be Canarian. An ideal place for the rogue wizard to establish himself, or so he thought.

  Aside from the obvious reasons of an environment favorable to magic-wielders, Shalthazar’s main purpose for coming to this region was to study the magic-wielders themselves. He was intensely curious as to why those who were considered powerful wizards on Llars, would have been considered of mere average ability elsewhere and hoped he would find the answer to this mystery among the significant population of sorcerers, sages, and magic-wielders. Once this mystery was solved, the dark wizard would then begin exploring this new world, eager to find a way to begin the next phase of his plans.

  Pondering the turn of events that took him from his chosen destination, the shrewd wizard had been certain his course plotting had been precise. His chart had been as accurate as any that could be had. He had studied the magical fabric surrounding Llars at length and in great detail, he had catalogued its properties quite well over time and had been able to define a specific set of rules for how it functioned; there was little guesswork. The Pathways should have taken him to Canaria as he had planned; something or someone must have altered his spell at the last moment. While he admired the incredible feat of timing and mathematics necessary to alter his spell at the precise moment necessary to fool him, he was fairly annoyed.

  He began to suspect that the dismal Cjii, Nephlazubit, had been behind this turn of events and surveyed the chamber for some method of mundane escape. Going back to the Pathways now would only prove to Neph that his little trick had worked, and the wizard would be at the immortal’s mercy in the Pathways; never let it be said that Shalthazar was at anyone’s mercy.

  Continuing his examination of his surroundings, the wizard saw murals depicting battle scenes and other occasions in what he assumed must be the history of the strange land he was now in. Many of the scenes were what one might expect in most any culture, heroes battling monsters and valiant armies vanquishing superior forces. However, other images were far more sinister; entire nations becoming enslaved by superior foes, mass sacrifices and, intriguingly, depictions of apparently dead warriors fighting alongside living people. In most worlds, such an event would portend great calamity. Yet here, in these depictions, it seemed to the wizard that those in command of the dead warriors were honored leaders.

  Fascinating.

  The common thread among these paintings, murals, and other artwork, he noted with decided interest, was that the triumphant were elves. Yet these Elvish conquerors were unlike any other race of elves he had seen in his many centuries of life. These amazing warriors were taller than most of the humans in the depictions and they had patchy, bluish-white skin. Those traits, along with hair that matched their skin, gave these elves a distinctly frosty and cold appearance.

  So, he must be in the home of the Frost Elves. From his studies, he knew that they were a powerful race which had held dominion over other races of Llars during various times in the world’s history. Due to the small numbers of their kind, the Frost Elves did not now enjoy the level of greatness this race had known throughout its history.

  Shalthazar marveled at the workmanship and he sensed that powerful magic had been used to preserve the perfection of this chamber over the course of many long centuries. It really was a beautiful chamber, oddly warm and comfortable with ornately carved pews, beautiful tapestries and powerful artwork. It was a work of perfect irony, he thought with pleasure. The room truly was deceptively inviting, which stood in stark contrast to the abysmally evil being that this room was dedicated to. The wizard
was not a believer in coincidence and now rightly understood to whom this temple belonged; and that he had had a hand in Shalthazar’s magical detour. He would not need to seek revenge on Neph after all; not yet anyway.

  Shalthazar drew his attention back to the altar area and saw an ancient looking tome suspended above it. Dark and foreboding, it loomed large over the altar. The tome easily reached the same width as Shalthazar’s outstretched arms.

  The wizard was overcome with curiosity. He knew he should have been cautious, but he was beginning to understand something of this divergence from his chosen destination. The wizard did not generally believe in chance or random occurrences; someone or something must have played a hand in his detour. Before he knew it, Shalthazar was standing at the altar with his hands hovering over the suspended tome. His perception of the magical energy stored within caused his senses to tingle and he felt giddy. Perhaps the answer lay within.

  True power was contained within those pages, of that he was certain. Perhaps there would be a clue that would enable him to master the magical shield surrounding Llars. Shalthazar had studied much of the culture of the Frost Elves who inhabited Llars and he was passably fluent in their language. Yet the characters on the pages of this tome were like nothing he had ever seen. Each elaborate character appeared to be a word, or possibly an entire phrase unto itself and each radiating its own sense of power. He studied them all, turning the pages and examining the images too.

  Then, something materialized before the wizard. It was as though all of the shadows in the room raced toward one spot and coalesced into a man-like form. If Shalthazar was dark, this man was worse - the epitome of darkness; radiating pure evil as the sun radiates light. Black and dismal and despairing, he commanded respect and projected fear. Ordinary mortals with good sense would have cowered before his dark majesty, yet Shalthazar was no ordinary mortal.