Shadowblade Read online

  “In fact, Rohan, I am to become the Patron of the church you will lead and you may refer to me as such. You will form an order of knights in answer to the vile corruption of the Zuharim. They will be an obstacle and the corrupted will weep when the First Paladin Returns, not to their Order, but to yours. Many of them will flee the corruption of their order and the misguided priority of fighting a war in Al Zocar. You will seek them out, Rohan. Accept them. For the knights who venerate the Patron Ulrych will be called the Sword of Zuhr. They will protect the weak, seek out injustice, and bring peace. In times to come, a great war may yet be fought in Al Zocar, but that time is not now.” This last the Patron said very quietly to himself.

  Rohan looked up from his weeping and saw

  ancient wisdom in the eyes of Patron Ulrych. He felt peace descend on him in the presence of the Patron.

  “I understand, My Patron. I will do as you command, as the Lord Zuhr wills. I see the wisdom now. Thank you for listening to me blather!” Rohan smiled heartily at the Patron. Ulrych smiled back.

  “The comfort I have given you, Rohan, comes from the Great Father, Zuhr. All things are possible in his light. I am afraid I have taken the last of the liberties granted me by Zuhr. And now I must take my leave. Know this, Rohan, from time to time I will reveal myself to you at the Great Lord’s direction to bear his message to you. I will always be the Sword of Zuhr, and I will protect his church. I will return when the time is right and lead you against the darkness.”

  As the Patron Ulrych faded from sight, Rohan laid down on the floor resting his head on the book given him by Patron Ulrych. He closed his eyes and felt warmth begin to fill him. He felt welcomed and realized that Ulrych was the older brother he never had, raising him in the stead of his absent parents, and preparing him to go into the world.

  Rohan stood in the paneled room below the temple of Ulrych, pacing. He was dreading this moment from the instant he left the Tower. He hoped that the Seven would understand what he was going to tell them. He knew it was too much to expect any amount of excitement or eagerness from the Seven, but he held fast to the plan of Great Lord Zuhr.

  There were eight throne-like chairs positioned around the golden table. Rohan looked at table and chairs, and the tapestries and rich artwork in the room, as if seeing it all for the first time. He felt sick at the luxuries and the indulgences the church had taken and thought of all the people who could have been helped by the money spent on this opulence. He shook his head, “One battle at a time.”

  The massive door at the end of the room swung open and the Seven filed in. Seven was the collective term often used to describe those who occupied the High Seats of the Church, and the term was used even when they numbered less; today there were five. In a moment there would be none. Each one of them stopped at the seat designated for their number and looked at the Patriarch.

  High Seat One, Baeric Goldswar, eyed Rohan distrustfully. Baeric stood in his scarlet and gold robes with silver trim at the sleeves and hems and fanciful silver leaves and symbols. Baeric’s love of his traditional Gyrannish symbolism distressed Rohan to no end, yet he certainly was useful and effective when dealing with the Gyrannish Tribal regions and their irascible chiefs. Rohan knew that Baeric would likely be his staunchest adversary at first. If he could just convince Baeric, the rest would not be so ardent in their debate. Alas, debate was the intended purpose of this room. Rohan sighed as the First took his seat.

  The Second, Ailrocz Kazacz, was resplendent in his royal blue robes with black trim and silvery scrollwork. Ailrocz served the area along the mighty Pol River and the stalwart people who thrived there. Ailrocz was a warrior-priest and had personally organized the only militia of the Pol region to successfully fight off the Brigand Gangs. The Pol River was considered the main highway through that region of the North. It originated in the Silver Mountains, passed through The Hundred Lakes’ independent communities, and terminated in the ocean. It was the most widely used trade route to the interior regions of the North, also widely believed to be the most favored by the Brigand Gangs. Ailrocz nodded respectfully to the patriarch and sat down.

  The Third, Gun Sivursen, was short and stout. Gun was a member of the Svaka Vaard clan, and was notoriously fond of food and drink. He was oddly attired for one of the legendary savage Vaard, but he was a man of contradictions it seemed. He wore brown doeskin leather trousers, with a white blouse with lace on the sleeves and collar favored by merchants of the Broken Islands, and a richly embroidered cloak of black velvet trimmed with silver and blue. Rohan smiled at Gun, as odd and intimidating as the man was, the Third was one of the most genuinely nice people he had ever met. Gun was an old Svaka merchant fisherman before he took his post within the church and Svaka fishermen were men who put high stock in a man’s word. The stocky Vaard was deceptively strong, fierce in his devotion, and a shrewd businessman. Rohan was glad to have him as the Third, because it was the Third’s job to reconcile the Church’s accounts.

  Kayl Kyndya, the Fourth Seat, was a man that Rohan felt a personal joy in knowing. The young man was dressed in the stately attire of those living in Tarheym. He wore a red cloak held together at his neck with a silvery chain and pendant, a black satin tunic bedecked with chains and symbols of rank, and shiny black boots. Kayl Kyndya was a slender man of a mere thirty years, and made the position of High Seat at age twenty-five; the youngest to ever take a High Seat. Kayl was a man from the region of the North bordering the Alfheym, land of the revered and reclusive Crimson Elves. Twelve years ago, before Kayl took the cloth, Rohan had met him there while enroute to meet with an emissary from Alfheym. Kayl had been a youth who enjoyed chasing women and Rohan had spent three entire evenings trying to set the young man on a better path. Rohan had despaired that his arguments had fallen on deaf ears and he prayed for the young man. Two years later, Rohan had learned that the youngster had married five women, each in a different town, and was being hunted by as many angry fathers.

  Kayl found Rohan again on a pilgrimage to the Tower of the North where he spent many days interviewing the young man and convincing him to meditate and pray, so that he could assess his worthiness. In the end, Kayl’s heart seemed to be in the right place and Rohan set about teaching Kayl how to mend the fences he had broken. Rohan, and the fathers of his harem, were all quite pleased there had been no children involved. In fact, Rohan had been able to persuade each one of the fathers to donate coin to the church for purpose of covering the costs of Kayl’s apprenticeship. Much to Rohan’s chagrin, Kayl was possessed of a photographic memory and passed all his tests with flying colors. Over these short years Kayl had progressed through the ranks more quickly than any in history and, due to a severe shortage of clergy in Fourth Region, Kayl became a High Seat more quickly than any in history.

  With a knowing smile for Rohan, Kayl took his seat.

  Finally, The Fifth High Seat in attendance, Leur Flameou of Amberlou, took his seat. Leur was a grim man with a pockmarked face and oily hair. He was simply attired wearing nothing more than a simple white shirt with black trousers and a gray cloak clasped with a silver fist. Leur nodded respectfully to the Patriarch with a twitch in his eye and clenched jaw as he sat down. Rohan was concerned, yet Leur was always a dour man.

  The Sixth and Seventh had chosen not to attend. An affront to the Grand Patriarch, yet one that was not unexpected. These two remaining High Seats were from the Barony of Errex, and the Earldom of Sellers. Both had thrown in their lot with the newly crowned Steel Emperor, and neither had responded to any missives. Rohan prayed for the men, he knew that the Steel Emperor was a solid supporter of Qra’z now and dissension would not be tolerated.

  Rohan sighed again, looking out across the massive table richly carved with historic scenes. “My brothers, let us begin our meeting in silent prayer.” Rohan skipped over the traditional invocation to Ulrych, knowing that such an invocation would be inappropriate from now on. He bowed his head and prayed softly for the strength to debate the men gathe
red before him and, thankfully, none questioned his lack of propriety. This was a table of equals. Each man silently said his own prayers, the time for debate and questioning violations of procedure would come.

  Then the meeting convened.

  “It pleases me to see you all here and I see that each of you has his copy of the book that I sent to you.” Rohan’s stomach was upset and he was sweating. Nothing like this had ever happened in history. “I hope each of you has had the chance to prayerfully consider the content of the book and compare them with the Histories that we already know to be true. We all see that troubles are ahead and I cannot express how urgently we need to begin our work. I will say nothing further and open the floor. We begin with the First, what say you?”

  Baeric stood slowly and looked at his counterparts. He said nothing for a long time, making eye contact with each one, giving Rohan indigestion at his pause. Finally, as if winning some sort of internal debate, Baeric nodded to no one in particular and walked up to the banner draped over the altar at the end of the room. This banner was a new addition to the room, replacing the old Flaming Sword and Scales of Ulrych. The new banner was black with a silver shield displaying a hand with the palm open, inviting. Stunning Rohan to speechlessness, Baeric knelt with his right palm outstretched and open in imitation of the banner.

  Baeric stood and returned to his position at the table, silently daring anyone to challenge him. When none had, Baeric nodded again and said this, “I give my soul and my Seat to Zuhr. It was written in the Histories long ago that Zuhr is the Father of Creation.” Baeric paused and looked at each of the gathered men. “It was also written that Zuhr would one day return to Llars and gather his people. Scholars have pondered this matter endlessly and pointlessly debated its meaning for centuries. And here, in this Chamber of Debate, we shall concede that we have been shown the way and there will-be-no-debate!” Stunned, Rohan could not fathom what had come over the curmudgeon of the High Seats. If the Grand Patriarch could count on one person to give him grief and question his every decision, that person had always been Baeric. Yet, ironically, Baeric Goldswar had become the first to throw his support behind the Patriarch. Rohan knew better than to make any comment or bestow any praise to Baeric, lest the man turn it around on him. With an effort, Rohan kept his face neutral and looked around the room.

  Kayl appeared amused while Leur Flambeau appeared vexed, Ailrocz appeared contemplative, and Gun looked conflicted. He braced himself for an onslaught and said, “Second High Seat Ailrocz, what say you?”

  Ailrocz Kazacz smoothly rose to his feet and surveyed the room. He glided graciously to the banner at the end of the room and repeated High Seat Baeric’s actions. When he returned to his seat Ailrocz said, “Lord Ulrych has given us the Way to the Great Father, for which I am eternally grateful. I gave my soul to the Great Father Zuhr, and I have felt the difference in the brotherly love of Ulrych and the Fatherly love of Zuhr. It is clear to me that Zuhr sent his son to Llars to help us find our way to Him,” and Ailrocz sat down continuing to flummox Rohan where Baeric had left off. Rohan did his best to hold his tongue and nodded to the Third High Seat.

  “What say you, Gun?”

  Gun rose and cast his fierce, icy, blue-eyed gaze around the room. “This book has me in a fit!” he grumbled with his singsong Vaardic accent, with a quick and forceful sigh. “Humph. It challenges our perception of the future and the Heavens. Humph.” He slammed his fist on the table and Rohan desperately wanted to jump, flinch, cringe, or otherwise give in to his broiling emotions. The debate would start now, he thought and smiled at the irony that it would begin with Gun.

  “Yet, when I consider it through the prism of the Histories, there can be not a doubt. I too have accepted Zuhr as the Great Father and Ulrych as the Brother. It was not so hard an adaptation when I opened my heart to Him. The Scholars always viewed our relationship to Ulrych as the protective older brother, if not in so many words. And, truth be told, that relationship was lacking in many ways. Yet it becomes clear to me now, Ulrych came to us centuries ago to open the Way to our Great Father. The Book of Zuhr is the Way!” With that, Gun sauntered over to the banner and knelt with his open palm out.

  Rohan was amazed at his luck. No, he thought. Ulrych has made it so. Rohan was so happy he wanted to cry. He looked at the banner and almost felt the presence of the open palm on his shoulder, comforting him. Rohan knew now, he could do this.

  With an effort he made himself smile warmly at Gun. “Baeric, Ailrocz, Gun, it does my heart good to hear you men have joined me in accepting the Turths we have been gifted with. What say you Fourth High Seat?”

  “I say the Fourth Precept of the Great Father: Spread word of the glory of the Great Father to all and speak not against him,” said Kayl as he repeated the show of faith from his copy of the Text of Zuhr. Rohan smiled warmly at him as he returned to his seat, proud of the young man and glad he had once again shown Rohan that he was no longer given to youthful arrogance.

  “Leur Flameou, what says the Fifth?” Leur stared at Rohan and his eye twitched. Rohan recognized that for what it was; anger. He nodded and Rohan and said, “Speak your mind, Leur. You are among friends here.” The rest nodded or grunted in assent, looking at the man from the Principality of Amberlou.

  Leur stood, bowing toward Rohan. Then he spoke, “I read that book,” he almost spat the word and appeared to be shaking with rage. “I have never seen such inane blithering in all my life! How can you deliver such blasphemy to me in my own temple? Amberlou will never accept the will of that d’mor!” Baeric appeared ready to throttle Leur and stood quickly. Rohan held up a calming hand, palm out, toward Baeric.

  “Leur, I don’t understand. What happened? What can I do to help you, my brother?” asked Rohan genuinely.

  “What happened? While you all were sequestered away in your towers, pondering this,” he said, slamming the book on the table, “the Sargan Duchy moved against Amberlou! While I was sequestered in my tower, my city was plundered and razed by Zuharim! My congregation suffering from sword and fire while I was safe in my tower reading this! I went to their aid when I could, but I was too late. I had to flee to avoid my death! Flee!” he shouted, his eyes daggers for Rohan.

  “Leur, I am so sorry. Why haven’t we heard of this before?” he demanded looking at the others. He was answered with angry and unknowing looks. There was an unspoken treaty among the Free States of the North; no Free State would ever move against another without first seeking arbitration. He was even more troubled by the allegation that the Zuharim would take sides and resort to pillage and plunder, despite the warning Ulrych had passed to him. When none could offer an answer Rohan said, “I am sorry for your losses, Leur. You know our resources are yours.”

  “To Hades with you and your resources!” he shouted. “Don’t you see, this is the work of your precious Zuhr! Death, mayhem, and dishonor!” this last he growled in a low voice.

  Silence passed over the group as all eyes moved toward Rohan.

  “Leur, I understand that you were interrupted in your examination of the texts. It is a most dreadful tragedy, yet it brings to light something the rest of us have come to understand. The Corrupted are those who claim to worship Zuhr yet they have embraced the ways of the Shadow. Tell me, Leur. Did these Zuharim use dark magic?” Rohan leaned forward intently as he asked the last.

  Leur stared at him unblinking for a moment. Then, “How did you know that, if you had not heard the news of the invasion?”

  Rohan sat back and the rest nodded to each other silently. Kayl rested a hand on Leur’s shoulder and said, “Ulrych foretold of the fall of the Zuharim; it’s in the book!”

  Rohan had sent his High Seats out to their regions to recruit good men to join the Hand and Sword of Zuhr. In only a few short days messengers arrived at the Tower with missives from the High Seats. So far the recruiting process had gone remarkably well. Three of the High Seats reached their home Tower’s and had gathered men along the way while the re
maining two had farther to travel to reach home.

  When Rohan tallied the numbers his hands began to tremble. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. So he checked and rechecked the numbers. When he finished, he had to get up and walk around the Chamber of the Sun as he thanked Zuhr and Ulrych for blessing him with fortune. The numerous militias along the mighty Pol River had eagerly flocked to the standard of Ailrocz the Strong, giving Zuhr five thousand men. Baeric reached his own homeland quickly. Baeric was a close friend and adviser to the monarch he served, Baron Galdric; the baron took Baeric’s council eagerly. When the baron learned of the vile actions of the Steel Empire and the Zuharim, he quickly transferred command of his small army to Baeric, bringing the feisty man’s numbers to three thousand men. Gun and Kayl had yet to reach their distant homelands. Even so, each had already gathered a thousand men to their standards.

  Rohan knew that Gun would have his work cut out for him. The Vaard were a notoriously violent group, surviving largely by raiding and piracy and they had little patience for the ways of Ulrych. Gun was a formidable man himself. Yet, Rohan had not met anyone of Vaardic heritage who was not formidable. Gun was a veteran warrior in his own right, he was so well respected that no Vaard had dared raise a hand against him. Not even the tribal shaman, who, like most Vaard, venerated the spirits of Vaardic ancestors. Still Rohan feared the man would find few more to add to his numbers from the Vaardlands.