Shadowblade (16 page)

With
Morloth
in hand, Zach slipped out of the store and left the door open behind him. He hoped that when the dead Red Dragon’s fellow soldiers discovered the grizzly scene they would be too confused by what they saw to think about searching the area. Luckily, there was no one else in sight as Zach darted through the maze of alleyways that paralleled the waterfront. He moved with caution until he reached his own inn.

By now it was dark, he was grateful because it would be unlikely that anyone would notice his bulging pockets if they noticed him at all. In fact, he was pleased that when he slipped inside the main room the innkeeper barely looked up from his desk. He just scowled and grumbled something that resembled a greeting as he stared at his work.

Zach didn’t reply and went straight to his room. He dropped his things on the bed and immediately set a fire in the small hearth. Once the room was sufficiently warm, he began to examine his treasures.

Zach placed the items on the small table in his room and with a giddy hand began to examine his find. The papers were a disappointment and proved to be nothing but simple business ledgers. The ledgers revealed that the man was quite wealthy, apparently he had been a successful dealer in
fireore
. If he had not been forced to kill the man, Zach might have tried to find the businessman’s home and rob it. Sadly, that avenue for wealth would be closed now that he was dead.

He set those papers aside and placed
Morloth
on top to keep the breeze from the open window from scattering them across the room. Zach enjoyed the fresh air, even though it was cool, and felt invigorated.

He picked up the sack of coins and poured them out onto the table. The coins were a mix of Arnathian gold, Ckaymrish silvers, and a smattering of gem currency from the Eastern Kingdoms. There was enough money in that bag to carry him through an entire year!

Next, he picked up the ring and held it close to the flickering light of the oil lamp. The ring was a truly fine piece of craftsmanship and Zach was certain it had to have been made by the Crimson Elves. The band was golden-red, its surface smooth and swirling like the gentle waves of a lake. The top of the ring was flat but inscribed with a foreign script with raised characters. The script was smooth and flowing and almost danced before his eyes, he thought it looked like a form of Elvish; the script seemed to glow in the flickering light.

He placed the ring on the table and picked up the metal box. The box was almost too beautiful to behold, adorned with the same script as the ring and inlaid with flowery filigree of flowing streams of silver and gold across its surface. The box was locked but did not seem to have an opening for a key. He thought perhaps there must be a concealed keyhole, but his examination of the box’s surface did not hint that there was. Either the keyhole was too cleverly hidden, or the box was magical in nature and would not open by ordinary means.

He thought of the box which he had taken from his friend, Carym. That box was a magnificent creation of magic and was said to house the spirit of a long dead knight. He still didn’t know why he had taken that box from Carym, only that he felt compelled to do so. Then Zach realized that ever since he accepted
Morloth
from the lich in Lordsdeep, he had felt compelled to strange actions far too often for his liking. Still, he was intensely curious about that device, and though he could find no way to open it, he did recall hearing Carym discussing the device’s arcane nature. He knew he would have no chance of finding a way to make it open, and even if he did he wasn’t certain he would want to meet the spirit of an ancient
Fyrbold
inside.

With a sigh he pushed away the new
firesteel
box, knowing he would not make it open today. Even if it did not open, it was a rare treasure worth far more than the small fortune in coins he now possessed. Zach picked up the ring again and placed it on his hand. Being an item of apparent Elvish make, Zach thought perhaps the ring might be enchanted with special abilities for the wearer. He turned the ring left, then right, then all the way around his finger hoping to trigger a reaction of some kind. Nothing happened, perhaps it was not magical at all.

The book and the charms that he had taken from the Red Dragon assassin were also on the table. He picked up the pentacle charm and examined it but saw nothing more than he had before and placed it around his neck. Then he picked up the ram’s head charm and a most remarkable thing happened, he found that he could actually read the Tayban script!

He put the charm down, blinked his eyes, and picked it again to see if his eyes were playing tricks on him. The result was the same, the Tayban script was as legible to him as any Cklathish language or Arnathian, the tongues that Zach was fluent in. Perhaps reading Tayban wasn’t quite the right way to look at it, he thought. It was more like the script formed words in his mind and he understood their meaning, rather than a literal translation. Intrigued, he picked up the leather-bound book and opened it; he could read it too!

“The ring,” he mused aloud, looking at in wonder again. When he removed the ring from his fingers, the Tayban script was nothing more than illegible scribble to him. What a remarkable ring! He wondered what else the ring would enable him to read. He picked up the book again and decided that it was just what Baldric had thought it would be. The book seemed to be a holy book of sorts, outlining the basic tenets of...

“Baelor,” he whispered. “But Baldric said the Red Dragons were followers of Tartarus.”

“Yes,” answered the voice. “Baelor represents another faction of Umber worshippers. In Powyss they are the
Nyzyr
. Much like Tartarus, he required his followers to
bind
with him.”

“When did
you
learn so much?” he asked the voice caustically.

“You would be surprised to know what I know.”

Zach did not answer, instead he continued to peruse the book. In addition to the brief history of Baelor, seemingly a prophet of sorts, there were instructions regarding the ritual necessary to ask the great being for the blessing of its presence. There were also rituals which detailed ways to ask the dark immortal to lend its inestimable power to the devotee, and rituals for binding the devotee to the immortal being. The manner of that binding was not lost to Zach, the mortal would be bound to the immortal. Was that a risk worth taking? He thought perhaps it might be.

“But what was the Tartarus Monk doing with Baelor book?” he asked aloud, more to himself than to elicit a response from the voice.

“Does it matter?” came the harsh reply. “It’s ours now, we should use it to our fullest advantage!”

“No, it’s too soon. We should study it more.”

“Bah, you’re an old woman!”

But Zach was beginning to think the voice had the right of things. Perhaps the book was being delivered to him for a reason. Was he meant to use it? Did Umber want Zach to join his forces and become one of the dark god’s great lieutenants? Zach shook his head. He was ready to attain power, but he wasn’t sure he wanted it to come from Umber.

“How can you
not
be sure?” demanded the voice, reading his thoughts. “Isn’t this what I’ve had to listen to you whining and sniveling about? Where
else
are you going to attain the power you desire, if not from the Dark Lord?”

“Maybe you have a point,” he admitted. “What harm could there be in trying? Umber does seem to reward his followers well. How bad can he be?”

“Something comes,” hissed his invisible companion. Then Zach heard what he swore could only be the sound of a four-legged creature padding down the hallway outside his door. Zach knew it was unlikely the proprietor would allow anyone to bring a dog into the inn and he gripped
Morloth
tightly. The sounds of the creature’s feet stopped by his door and he saw a shadow pass back and forth through the crack underneath. Then he heard sniffing and he thought the sound was like that of the great hounds used by some of his kin to hunt game back in Hybrand. He moved silently to the side of the door, hoping to flank whatever intended to enter his room and surprise it.

The door was not locked, and Zach cursed himself. What kind of fool had he become? He was sure he had locked it behind him when he entered, but it was certainly not locked now. The door did not possess a knob, rather it had a flat handle that simply needed to be pushed downward to release the catch and open the door. If something was preparing to enter his room it would be a simple thing to open this door.

How could I forget?
He berated himself silently.

Slowly the handle depressed and the catch was released. The door burst open violently, slamming into the wall as it did. Even though Zach had prepared himself for a violent entrance, he had still been taken aback by the noise and the appearance of the foul thing that entered his room. The thing was somewhat manlike in its shape but had a coat of shaggy fur. Its head was something of a cross between that of a wolf and a man. Its upper body was a mass of rippling muscle and power and its arms ended in hands with long, razor like, nails. The lower half of the body suggested a much stronger resemblance to the hind end and legs of a wolf or a great dog, he decided it must be a werewolf.

Whatever it was, Zach was certain the beast was here for him. So Zach lunged at the werewolf but, inexplicably, the thing seemed to sense his attack and sidestepped, but not before Zach grazed its belly with
Morloth’s
tip. The beast let out a fierce yelp in response to the pain, and returned with a slash of its own. Zach having had the advantage of action over reaction was able to dodge the devilish claws.

The werewolf was definitely looking at him, its eyes alight with hatred. It breathed hard through its canine like maw and its razor sharp teeth glinted in the flickering light. Zach was not pleased to learn that this thing could in fact see him while he was holding his magical dagger. But the sting he gave the werewolf had affected the beast enough for it not to attack without caution.

Zach knew that the creature’s greater reach, and probably greater speed, would overcome his ability to fight with the dagger. He could not flee, for the beast would certainly catch him and maul him to death. What he needed was his sword, which was lying across the room near his bed. Sensing that its prey was beginning to understand the futility of a fight, the werewolf eased closer Zach.

“I smell fear in you!” the voice was an odd throaty mixture of a canine growl and human whisper. “Come closer, let us play!”

As if in response to Zach’s unspoken desire for a sword,
Morloth’s
blade grew in length and appearance to match that of his own sword. With a grim smile Zach stepped in and slashed at the creature, aiming for its dagger-like claws. He struck the creature’s hand as it tried to swipe him and one of the wicked claws skittered across the floor. The pair circled each other then, the werewolf snorting and growling as it held its injured paw-hand, Zach looking for a way to maim the thing further.

Finally the werewolf lunged and Zach almost succumbed to its lightning speed, but he had been able to make a vicious swing and sidestep at the same time striking the creature along its forearm. He could not, under any circumstances, allow the beast to close with him, for he would fall to the larger creature’s greater reach and strength. And so Zach remained on the defensive, content to keep the stalemate going, while he awaited the perfect opening. The creature lunged at him again, and again Zach managed to sidestep and strike a glancing blow on the beast’s forearm.

“I can do this all night, beast!” he hissed. “Can you?” Zach wasn’t sure what he was trying to accomplish with the taunt but he suspected there was some sort of limitation to the creature’s power. He had heard all the legends that said werewolves only came out at night and during a full moon. Well it was night but the moon was certainly not full, and so he did not trust the legends.

The creature responded with a bizarre expression which Zach assumed to be a condescending smirk. He had also heard that werewolves could not be injured by mortal weapons, but this one had definitely succumbed to
Morloth’s
enchanted blade. Finally the werewolf had Zach near the corner of the room and instead of allowing the circling game to continue, the beast used its quickness to gain an advantage. As Zach moved to the left, the werewolf darted left, as he tried to move right the werewolf darted to the right. Zach knew he had been effectively cornered and the great beast would close the distance soon enough.