The Black Keep (The Chronicles of Llars) (11 page)

But the chamber where the pool lie hidden was also the hiding place of the Tome of Sigils and the resting place of the most nefarious person in Llarsian history; the Dark Paladin. Shalthazar knew of this mortal man who had been scant inches from destroying Grymm, the Lord of the Dead, in hopes of aspiring to take his place. And the dark wizard wanted very much to learn the secret of that one’s powers. But, much to Shalthazar’s consternation as he learned the story, the Dark Paladin somehow found salvation in his final moments. In despair over the destruction his duel with Grymm would cause, he allowed himself to be killed by Grymm rather than ruin all that he had hoped to gain. The Dark Paladin’s actions were recognized by Zuhr and he was forgiven; but his sin did not go without punishment. The powerful knight was sentenced by Zuhr to stand eternal watch over his own tomb, located at the sight of the magical Everpool.

Shalthazar tasked Balzath with finding this Tomb of the Dark Paladin and to retrieve the Tome of Sigils, which would prevent Zuhr’s followers from using the Sigil Magic against him. The devious Elvish wizard also wanted some of the fabled waters of the Everpool and the promises of power held within its depths. So he granted Balzath command of a garrison of troops recently arrived from Nashia and sent her south into the Cklathlands to find the Everpool.

But Umber had another, highly secret plan in mind. The dark god wanted a
very
powerful item recovered at all costs. Although the wizard did not know what that item was, he suspected that it must be truly important and he desperately wanted to see it for himself before handing it over to Umber. Having just reached out to the Society of the Damned, those cursed and undead inhabitants of Llars whose main goal was to force others to share their tortured existence, Shalthazar had something in mind. He had recently commissioned the Society to track down and neutralize someone who was a threat to his grand plans.

Why is there
always
someone who can thwart my schemes?
He wondered darkly, dreaming of ways to make the meddler pay.
Just once, I would like to commit my crimes with
no
interference!

Shalthazar knew the Pack would track and kill his interloper, but something about all this was bothering him. The dark elf was not a believer of coincidence, as was proven by his own recent events. It was odd that the object of the dark god’s desire was located deep within the Underllars, a place where this scheming do-gooder was currently fighting his little army of “mini-drow;” Shalthazar was as fond of that little nick-name as he was of his vicious little Elvish cousins. He had little doubt that the Trok-Syth would destroy this Carym and his pitiful little band with impunity. What worried the wizard was the proximity of Carym to the device in the Underllars, which Umber so intensely desired.

And could be no coincidence,
he decided.
All the more reason to squash this human and secret away Umber’s precious little object.
He wanted to study it and perhaps
clone
the device, or find a way to exploit its powers. But that pesky god was more meddlesome than any deity he had ever had the misfortune of dealing with. Umber, true to his word, had indeed provided Shalthazar with some very valuable weapons. The wizard had access to the dark god’s fearsome Shadow Lords, the infamous undead warriors of Umber who haunted the minds of men throughout Llars, in order to carry out highly specialized missions. Umber had also given the elf the secrets to ensnaring his mortal servants by allowing them to bind their souls to those of the dark god’s immortal demon lords; the process granted the mortals powerful magic while the god received souls to feast upon.

No matter, his Pack would soon take care of both of these problems.

Another of Shalthazar’s fiendish lieutenants had recently captured a very strategic, and very haunted keep. This had turned out to be a wonderful ordeal, the dark elf having wished he could have been part of it. The result had been an explosive display of power involving the worlds of both the living and the dead.

The elf sat atop his sleek nightmare at the head of his mighty army, once doubled in size from volunteers and draftees, now tripled in size with reinforcements from Nashia. He detested the formalities of rank, but he had learned much about maintaining order and discipline among an army. The Nashians were exceptionally skilled at this and the dark elf knew his generals knew their business. Yet, every now and then he must appear before his forces, conduct inspections, speak with the troops, observe drill maneuvers and bestow awards. Especially awards. Rewarding behavior he considered basic habits of a job was a foreign concept, and one he was a bit unsure of. Yet, he trusted in his subordinates and was amazed at the extent to which his troops would go, even sacrificing themselves in battle for the good of their fellows and to accomplish their mission; all because they knew they would be recognized.

The self-serving elf truly did not understand such an altruistic concept, and was skeptical that the same results of bravery could not be coerced more easily by the whip, but he had to acknowledge what he saw with his own eyes. And so, the Nashian war machine had a very successful campaign. The elf let his mind wander to other things, taking advantage of the Sigilspell he called
Multi
.

While he commended soldiers and participated in the ceremonies, he thought back over his successes. He had established secure trade routes throughout his new territory and goods and money were now flowing to and from Old Nashia across the sea. In fact, reinforcements from Nashia had established keeps throughout the land, policing the towns, patrolling the highways, and fighting hard fought battles with the brigand gangs of the Wildlands. Order had been brought to a continent that had not seen it in five centuries.

The people of his kingdom welcomed the structured, secure, orderly existence that had been lacking until now. The relatively weak rulers of the small cities had just enough power to keep control in their own cities, inter-city feuding had prevented most alliances from ever taking hold. Beyond city borders chaos had reigned as brigands and outlaws roamed the forests and highways terrorizing travelers and merchants. Trade was unreliable, farming was difficult, and famine was a problem. The Nashians brought order, trade, and economic prosperity. They were widely welcomed, even if their coming meant harsh laws and strict living; a national identity had been restored.

General Nox had become quite supportive of the prophet. Being a man of action over words, the fact that the elf’s plans had been executed almost flawlessly had gone a long way toward convincing the general of his worthiness. The wizard knew that this lull in the campaign would allow him to work on some of his own special projects, and he was eager to begin. Having turned over much of the business of governing his new land to subordinate lords newly arrived from Nashia, as well as his military commanders, Shalthazar knew that his time was approaching, for he cared little for the doldrums of ruling.

The Church of Ilian Nah was flourishing now, and locals were flocking to the temples with enthusiasm. The chaos that existed in this realm was a sickness upon the land and the souls of its people; the arrival of the Lord of Justice was their panacea. Temples belonging to the other gods of the realm had been taken down, ancient druid groves and stone circles were located and summarily destroyed by the Nashians. Shalthazar well knew the potency of druidic powers and was relieved that the druids of this realm had been neutralized.

All of these things went through the mind of Shalthazar, Prophet-General of Ilian Nah, as he assisted with the awarding of medals to his troops. And as he pinned the last medal on a deserving soldier, with a masterful show of false enthusiasm, Shalthazar let his mind drift towards something of a far more interesting nature. The wizard concluded that things were definitely well enough in order to pause his military campaign and begin his one personal mission, one with far reaching effects. The great experiment he had planned for later this evening would prove one of his long standing theories about the use of the Shadow Sigil, and it would reveal the extent of his powers!

C H A P T E R

4

A Way Up.

Zuharim.

Carym glanced back over his shoulder to watch Zach at the rear of the patrol, and saw Zach glancing back over his own shoulder. The irony struck him hard. Here he was watching to see if his old friend was up to something when in fact, Zach had been watching to see if something was up behind them. Ruefully, he shook his head. For some reason he just couldn’t shake the anger he felt at his old friend. He was certainly angry that the man had run off and left them. And he was angry that whatever trouble his friend had gotten into, he had almost brought it down on their heads. Not to mention that he had run off and left the whole party alone to worry about what had become of him.

Still, that shouldn’t have been enough to warrant Carym giving his friend the silent treatment. He glanced back again and saw that Gennevera was doing her part, watching her field of view, but her gaze lingered over Zach too. Carym knew that Zach had expressed his distrust and dislike of elves often, and had to wonder if the woman was resentful of that prejudice. He sighed. It was bad enough he had to deal with his own strained friendship with Zach, that had been made more difficult when Zach had thrown wood on the fire with Gennevera, muttering about “dirty” and “nasty” elves; a fact not made better by the appearance of the Trokkish variety of elves on their journey.

Carym forced himself to focus again on his responsibility as leader of the group; forward. The road they were on was paved with bricks of marbled granite and it was lined with decorated glow poles. The buildings here were typical of all the buildings in this city; gaudy, extravagant, and made with enormous wealth. Opulence was the rule here, not the exception, and he had become indifferent to it all. The irony of that struck him as well; on the surface there would be far too little wealth for any of them. He toyed with the idea of paying himself for his troubles; it wasn’t like there was anyone here to miss it. But his conscience wouldn’t allow it; he never could abide a thief. Besides, he had a sinking feeling that thievery, or the attempt thereof, was what had gotten Zach into trouble.

Zach again. Somehow his thoughts just kept coming back to Zach. The group continued on in silence. From their last survey of the city, they knew that it was veritably crawling with troks and they had to remain as stealthy as possible.

Carym was suddenly reminded of the need to rest and vowed that they would stop for a sanity break soon; the silence of this place was disturbing and there was an otherworldly pall that hung over everything. Even though there had been no more encounters with the spirits of the dead, the warnings of the undead soldier on the pier so many days ago remained in their thoughts. Yes, a stop would be in order soon; he didn’t want a dagger in his back to be the first sign that the silence and the ghostly presence were driving his companions mad.

Finally the group made its way to the edge of the city and found the entrance to the Sun Tunnel that hopefully led upward and out. Amazingly their luck held and they had not been accosted by troks or by anything else. Carym signaled for the group to halt and the five squatted down, still and silent. As they listened and watched for signs of trouble Carym scanned the tunnel entrance. It was framed by a massive archway with a large golden sun encircled by silver stars at its apex. Numerous scripts flowed about the archway adding to its beauty; he wished he could read them. Inside the archway was a staircase as wide as the tunnel. From his vantage point, he could see the stairs stopped at a landing above the archway where a room with a large window overlooked the street behind them.