Shadow Magic, page 3
Vilos had sent Captain Yosef and half the cavalry to look into the nomad trouble. Vilos was friends with several headmen who might know why the other tribes were so stirred up. The mission would also give the young cavalrymen some much needed experience.
Yosef readily agreed to the mission. He selected a mix of new recruits and veterans then headed into the desert as soon as they acquired the necessary provisions. Vilos expected Yosef to return about a week after Shara’s birthday. He hoped the attack only represented one angry tribe and not a larger uprising.
Soon he could see the city walls and the main gate. The walls stood fifty feet tall and twenty feet thick. They had fallen only once to an invader, when Vilos’s ancestor had conquered the city a thousand years ago.
Since then three sieges had befallen Sultan’s Oasis. All three had been broken by winter sandstorms rather than the soldiers of the city guard.
They arrived at the gate, which swung open at the sultan’s approach. Massive horns sang out to announce the lord’s return. King’s Way, a broad road through the heart of the city, went straight from the main gate to the palace. Along both sides throngs of people had gathered.
They cheered as Vilos rode down the street. About halfway to the palace a little girl in a dirty white smock darted out into the street. She carried a pair of King’s Tears. The white flowers looked like daisies and grew wherever they could find a few drops of moisture. They were pretty, but most farmers considered them a nuisance.
Vilos dismounted and before the child’s mortified mother could drag her out of the street he knelt and took the flowers. The girl wore a coat of dirt like a second skin. She smiled when Vilos accepted her gift. Vilos took one and broke the stem about four inches below the flower and tucked it behind the little girl’s ear. The second flower he kept for himself.
“Consider that my personal invitation to you and your mother to attend my daughter’s birthday celebration.”
When Vilos got to his feet the people cheered even louder. He remounted his camel and waved again. To the little girl he threw a wink. She beamed and winked back. This would certainly give her a story to tell her friends when she got home.
The rest of the trip down King’s Way passed without event. As Vilos approached the white marble walls that surrounded the palace another set of horns sounded and the black iron portcullis clanked up. He had just entered the garden that grew around the palace when he spotted Shara running toward him. He just managed to dismount before she leapt into his arms. Vilos spun her around once then set her back down.
“I missed you, Father,” she said.
“I missed you too, Shara.” Vilos turned to his men. “I'll walk to the palace with my daughter. Take care of my camel.”
The men saluted and one of them grabbed the reins of Vilos’s camel.
Vilos linked arms with Shara and they started down one of the white stone paths that ran through the garden. Palm trees hung over the path providing shade to lessen the day’s heat. “Anything interesting happen while I was away?”
“Sarafin’s determined to go through with her marriage to the wheezer.”
“I spoke to the man a couple times,” Vilos said. “He didn’t seem that bad.”
“I know. I just think she could do better.”
“If she’s content, try and be happy for her.”
“I’ll try,” Shara said. She still didn’t seem convinced. Her face brightened. “I almost forgot. We received a sending from Uncle Kent yesterday. He’s coming to my party.”
Vilos looked dumbfounded. “My brother?”
“Yes, he said he’s looking forward to seeing you again.”
Vilos scratched his head. “I’ll be damned. I wonder what he wants.”
“I don’t know.” Shara’s nose wrinkled up. “I think you want a bath.”
Vilos lay in bed that night thinking about his brother. In truth, he’d thought of little else since Shara had mentioned Kent. All through dinner he’d had only half an ear for his daughter and the small group of friends that had joined them.
Shara and Sarafin had debated endlessly about what Kent would be like. Shara had never met either of her uncles.
What could Kent want? In the nineteen years since the Crown War ended, Vilos hadn’t heard a word from either of his brothers. When his wife had died he’d heard nothing. Now Kent decided to speak.
Vilos flopped over onto his back and stared at the silk canopy of his bed. What could he want? That was Vilos’s last thought as he fell asleep.
Vilos wandered through a tunnel. The dark stone walls pressed tight around him. A strange mist filled the air making it impossible to see more than a few feet in any direction. The floor of the cave was smooth so at least he had no fear of tripping on some unseen obstacle. Vilos shuffled along through the darkness and finally emerged into a huge domed cavern.
A creepy déjà vu feeling struck him. He swore he’d seen something like this long ago. Light filled the cavern as twenty torches ringing the perimeter burst into flame. The torches were held in the hands of twenty stone statues. The statues looked identical to his stone soldiers.
The far end of the cavern rose above the floor about ten feet. The raised portion still lay hidden in shadows.
Vilos knew where he was.
He didn’t want to approach the dark corner of the cave, yet he found his legs wouldn’t obey him.
Though he fought with all his will, Vilos continued to inch closer to the darkness. He stopped at the base of the platform and found a short flight of steps.
A blinding flash of light forced Vilos to raise his arm and cover his eyes.
When he lowered his arm he found a hooded figure seated on a throne of black volcanic glass. On either side of him stood a golden pole topped with a glowing crystal. The man wore a purple robe with black trim.
The dark figure beckoned.
Vilos had no desire to get any closer, but as before his body had other ideas. He climbed the steps and stopped ten feet from the throne. The man stood to face him. Though six inches shorter than Vilos and at least one hundred pounds lighter, the man radiated an aura of power such that Vilos knew if they came to blows he wouldn’t get the better of it.
The dark figure threw back his hood, revealing the face that Vilos had feared for the last twenty years. Thin and hawkish with a bald head and icy blue eyes that seemed to look through rather than at you, the sorcerer hadn’t changed since Vilos last saw him. Two tattoos resembling a skull surrounded by black flames, one on each cheek, decorated that strangely compelling face.
“What do you want?” Vilos asked at last. His voice sounded soft and weak in his ears.
“You know,” the sorcerer said in a voice so deep it seemed to shake the cavern.
“No,” Vilos said.
“I’m coming.”
Chapter 5
“No!” Vilos sat up in bed screaming.
A pair of guards burst through the door.
“Are you all right, Majesty?” they asked in unison.
Vilos nodded as he tried to regain his composure. “Just a nightmare, I’m fine.”
The guards saluted and returned to their posts. When they had gone Vilos rolled out of bed. He’d get no more sleep this night. He threw open the door to his balcony and stepped out into the cool of the night.
He loved looking out over Sultan’s Oasis after dark. Even this late a few lights burned in the city. Saloons and gambling halls most likely. They never closed.
Vilos glanced up at the sky. The moon had passed its zenith and now hung low in the sky. At best he’d slept five hours. Tomorrow, make that today, would bring ten hours of open court.
A long ten hours.
A few strides brought him back to his bed. Vilos knew he should try and rest, but he kept on going, settling in front of his desk instead. At his touch, a small crystal globe in the center of the desk began to glow with a soft white light. Vilos smiled as he ran his fingers over the cracked surface of the desk. It was one of the few artifacts remaining from the first sultan’s time.
He plucked the top parchment from a stack of fifteen on the corner awaiting his attention. Some people had sent a written complaint in advance of their court appearance. Since sleep seemed impossible, he might as well work.
When he finished reading all the complaints on his desk, the sun had risen and reclaimed the sky. His room filled with golden light and servants were moving around outside. Shara wouldn’t rise for another two hours, at least, but he had to talk to her before court opened.
Vilos threw on his robe. Shara’s room was just down the hall from his. Two stone soldiers barred her door. “Stand aside.”
The two golems moved left and right and he rapped on the door. Shara must have heard the golems move because she answered the door after only a few seconds.
Disheveled and bleary eyed, her dark hair sticking up in every direction, she squinted at him. “Father?”
“We need to talk,” Vilos said.
She stepped aside and Vilos went in. As soon as she shut the door the golems stepped back in place. Shara yawned and sat down on the edge of her bed. “What’s wrong?”
Vilos told her about his dream.
“What a terrible nightmare,” Shara said.
“It was more than a nightmare.” Vilos stared pacing. “I know the sorcerer. Many years ago he did me a favor, probably saved my life. Now he’s coming to collect his payment.”
“So pay him.” Shara said it like it was the simplest thing in the world.
“I intend to,” Vilos said. “The problem is, the sorcerer can be a little unpredictable. You still wear the ring I gave you?”
She held out her left hand and showed him the silver ring with a moonstone setting. “You said I should never take it off and I haven’t.”
“Good,” Vilos said. “You remember how to use it?”
She nodded. “Turn the moonstone three times to the right.”
He nodded. “Good. If I tell you to use it, don’t hesitate, and don’t worry about me. Just use it.”
“What kind of lunatic would dare attack me in the palace surrounded by guards, stone soldiers, and you?”
Vilos stopped pacing and sat down beside his daughter. “A dangerous one. Promise me you’ll use the ring if I tell you.”
She looked into his eyes, her lip trembling slightly. “You’re scaring me, Father.”
“Promise me.”
“I promise.”
He pulled her close.
“I love you, Shara.”
Chapter 6
Daktari made his way through the streets of Sultan’s Oasis. Throngs of people crowded the stalls. Merchants haggled with customers. The stink of livestock and unwashed men filled the air. All the noise and life set the purple-robed sorcerer’s teeth on edge. How he longed to summon an acid fog to dissolve the flesh from their bones.
He forced the thought away. Always the demon’s corruption tried to push him to violence. Unnecessary death and destruction was its way, not his. While he had no compunction about killing, he found mindless slaughter pointless and a waste of magic.
Grimacing, he pulled the cowl of his robe down lower over his eyes. Almost as unbearable as the people was the bright sun beating down on him. The heat didn’t faze him, a simple frost aura kept it at bay. The light troubled him more. High sun would arrive soon and Daktari’s eyes, accustomed as they were to the shadows of his underground home, complained with bitter tears of hate.
The miserable setting combined with the demon’s influence almost pushed Daktari into a true rage. And when the shadow sorcerer was enraged, even demons steered clear.
He could easily have teleported directly to the palace. He’d been there several times and the feeble wards guarding it were no barrier to him. Unfortunately, he couldn’t do so without alerting everyone inside and that would make his task more difficult. So Daktari endured and pushed his way through the crowd. The White Palace and his prize beckoned.
Near the end of the market he shoved a large man aside. The fellow stank of ale and vomit. No doubt that was from the stain on the front of his filthy tunic. Disgusting savages, the lot of them.
Before the sorcerer had taken two steps he felt a large hand clamp around his shoulder. The big man spun him around. “You’d best watch who you’re shoving, little man.”
That was more insult than Daktari would bear. He summoned a wisp of shadow magic into his right index finger and tapped the oaf between his beady eyes.
His head exploded in a red mist.
People ran screaming in every direction. Daktari let out a little sigh as the corruption and bloodlust that constantly haunted him backed off a fraction. It would be back of course. Like an addict, this fix would only keep the cursed feelings away for so long.
He hurried on toward the palace, no longer bothered by the unwashed masses.
The gates of the palace stood open and unguarded. Court day was the one day each month people could enter and leave the palace grounds at will, lucky for the guards—he was so close to completing his pact that any delay was apt to send him flying off the handle.
With barely a glance at the gardens surrounding the palace or the young lovers strolling through it, the sorcerer strode right toward the palace doors. Two guards dressed in leather armor and carrying spears stood on either side of the entrance. As Daktari approached they crossed their spears in front of him.
“Sorry, sir, court’s closed after ten,” the man on the right said, pointing toward a sundial sitting beside the steps.
Daktari’s scowl twisted his lips. He didn’t have time for this. “You’re not going to let me in?”
“Orders,” the man agreed.
“Pity for you.”
Before the confused guards could figure out what he meant, Daktari pointed at the guard that had spoken, drew the ether around his extended hand, and infused it with shadow magic. A purple aura surrounded the guard and lifted him off the ground.
With a flick of his wrist Daktari sent the man streaking through the air.
The guard came to a sudden stop when he struck the palace wall. His body left a crimson streak down the white marble as it slid to the ground.
He turned back to find the second guard already had the door open. As he passed by he heard the fellow mutter, “Never wanted to be a guard anyway.”
Daktari chuckled. The violence combined with his amusement to fully stabilize his mental state.
Once inside and out of the murderous light he let out a soft breath. The beautiful white floor and walls weren’t really to his taste, but the shadows, at least, were welcoming.
He walked down the main hall. Along each side, a row of twenty pillars supported a high domed ceiling. Intricate carvings showed scenes from the daily life of the natives before the sultan’s ancestors had conquered them. Daktari had no interest in any of this. He could sense his quarry straight ahead.
A pair of stone soldiers stood beside wooden double doors inlaid with gold. Daktari approached and flung the doors open with a gesture.
The court bore few decorations. A double row of ten benches ran three-quarters of the length of the room. At the front two chairs faced the sultan where he sat on a gold throne carved to look like he was sitting in the mouth of a cobra. Behind the sultan stood the remaining eighteen stone soldiers.
About a hundred people sat staring at Daktari as he entered. Vilos laid a hand on the hilt of his sword. Beside him, his daughter stared in apparent amazement that anyone would dare enter her father’s court without permission. She looked beautiful in a conservative blue gown and silver tiara, so young and full of life.
Daktari smiled. At last he could complete the pact and free himself of the demon’s malign influence.
“Court is closed,” Daktari said. “Anyone who wishes to see tomorrow’s dawn, get out.”
No one moved.
They all stared at him, dumbstruck.
His recently sated rage came roaring back. He blasted the flesh from a fancily dressed man near the door. When the skeleton hit the floor it crumbled to pieces.
That had the desired effect.
People ran screaming past Daktari and out into the palace.
When the throne room had emptied of all save the sultan and his daughter, Daktari walked forward and sat in one of the chairs facing the sultan.
“Hello, Vilos. It’s been too long.”
“Twenty years. I thought you’d forgotten me. Until last night.”
“No such luck.” Daktari’s lip curled into a serpent’s smile. “I’ve come to claim my due.”
He looked knowingly at the princess.
Shara started and Daktari laughed. “You never told her. My dear, you were promised to me before your birth.”
The princess looked at her father. “Father? This madman is lying, isn’t he?”
“Not now.” Vilos stood up and faced Daktari. “I’m not the same weak boy you bargained with those many years ago. I am sultan now and I declare our contract void.”
Daktari raised an eyebrow. “You declare?”
“As sultan my word is law. Now get out of my palace.”
Daktari rose, eyes narrowed. “You presume much to speak so to me. Your word may be law, but only if you can enforce it.”
Vilos looked at the nearest golem. “Stone soldier, throw this man out of the palace.” The golem didn’t flinch. He pointed at a different golem and repeated the order.
Nothing.
“You thought to use my own golems against me? Foolish.”
“They’ve never failed me before,” Vilos said.
“That’s because I wasn’t here to counter your orders.”
“I have two hundred men on the palace grounds and five thousand in the city. You won’t escape with my daughter.”
Daktari shrugged. “Call them. They won’t last long against my stone soldiers.”
Vilos collapsed back onto his throne. Daktari had him and he knew it. The sorcerer had waited twenty years for this moment. Soon he would be free of the demon’s yoke.
