Shadowblade (31 page)

“Baelor!” he cried, not caring if any of his neighbors heard him. “Baelor! Baelor! Baelor!” he repeated, once for each cardinal point.

One by one, the candle flames extinguished themselves and an orange flickering light shimmered into view amidst the circle. Slowly, the orange glow grew brighter and brighter until finally a vaguely man-like shape took form. Flame-like appendages descended to the floor and arms extended from a more discernible torso. Finally the head took shape and the orange glow left the being that now stood in the circle.

It was one of the most interesting looking beings Zach had ever seen.

“Who summons Baelor, Prince of Shadows?” asked the strong and raucous voice. Baelor’s head was that of a wizened older human and he wore a crown of rubies. His eyes, however, were like pools of inky blackness. As much as he wanted to, Zach knew he could not look away and show any weakness. Baelor wore a fine burgundy coat that was not unlike the dress coat of a military general, complete with a white shirt adorned with gold chains and a golden belt. His burgundy trousers bore a black stripe down each side and he wore leather boots that were as inky black as his eyes. And perched on the great being’s shoulders were two very unlikely creatures, a cat and a toad.

“I am Zacharya of Hyrum,” his voice croaked first, but became stronger. “I have summoned you, Dark One, to exchange favors.”

“What favor do you seek, Zacharya of Hyrum?” asked the dark being, a smile playing at his lips. The eyes of the orange cat perched on his left shoulder watched him, while the rust-colored toad seemed to be looking around the room.

“Power!” hissed the voice companion.

“Indeed,” nodded Baelor. “But, please be more specific.”

“There is one of the blood of Harfour in this city, one whose life must be extinguished in order for me to break the curse of the lich price of Lordsdeep.”

“I know of the lich prince,” said the demon with surprise. “He chose you to break his curse, did he?”

Zach nodded.

“That is quite an honor, you must have impressed him. What makes you think you have earned the right to ask me for a boon?”

“I am the Shadowblade of Powyss!” Zach said with a grin. “I have killed scores of the Red Dragons’ soldiers and assassins, even their own Tartarus Monks who are your enemies!”

“Tartarus,” the demon growled, his anger dissipating. “You have no doubt earned the ire of my wayward brother. I suppose that would earn you a boon.”

“A boon, yes!” said the voice, sounding a bit maniacal to Zach. The demon raised an eyebrow slightly but gave no other indication that he had heard the invisible voice.

“There are many of that line in this city,” said the being known as Baelor.

Zach was bewildered for a moment. Why hadn’t the dagger warned him? Surely if there were a number of those who could claim that lineage the dagger would have sensed it.

“Perhaps the blood of Harfour is too weak in them, Dark One,” suggested Zach. “For
Morloth
has not detected their presence.”

“There is one whose blood is strong enough to satisfy your bargain with the lich.”

“Tell me where he is and how I can find him,” said Zach.

Baelor nodded and flicked a bejeweled finger in the air. A cloud slowly took shape in the room between him and Baelor and a familiar image formed in its midst.

“It cannot be him,” said Zach. “The dagger would have warned me.”

“The dagger knows your heart, Zacharya. It sensed weakness in you.”

“No!” shouted Zach with passion. “I cannot kill
him.
Anyone but him.” Baelor smiled, he enjoyed toying with the human.

“No? Very well. How about
him
?”

The cloud swirled and shift and an unfamiliar form took shape.

“Who is that?” he asked.

“That is Fellsmere, the leader of the
Nyzyr.
And he is right outside your door!” Baelor burst into laughter as Zach glared angrily at him.

Zach waved a hand at Baelor and called out the word that would send the dark spirit back to Hades where it resided.

“Be gone!” he called. “We
will
talk more, soon!”

A haunting laughter drifted to Zach from the midst of the circle as the figure turned into orange light and disappeared. Zach tossed the book back into the cabinet and lunged for
Morloth
just as the door to his apartment burst apart, showering the room with splinters.

A cloaked and cowled figure that was as dark as the shadows stalked into the room with a blade of
darkfire
in each hand. His head moved back and forth as he sought the one who dared move into the
Nyzyr’s
territory, who dared try to be
Nyzyr w
ithout invitation. Zach felt power radiate from the man who looked down at the pentacle on the ground.

Zach called upon
Morloth’s i
nnate powers and its blade extended as long as a sword and razor sharp. Then a mirror image of
Morloth a
ppeared in Zach’s other hand and he stood, shrouded in shadow. He could feel
Morloth’s
agitation, as the powerful call of the man’s blood made the blade come to life; he knew then that the magical blade’s powers could not fail.

As Zach surged across the room and the man’s head turned, flaming blades raised high in defense, it seemed that his attacker could not see him! He knew
Morloth w
as powerful, but he expected one as powerful as the leader of the
Nyzyr t
o be able to see him even when he was shrouded in shadow.

But Zach didn’t have time to dwell on this as the formidable foe executed perfect defenses against Zach’s attacks. The man was extremely talented and his reflexes were as quick as lightning. Zach had the advantage of invisibility but the
Nyzry w
as nearly invisible himself, wrapped in a blur of his own shadows and Zach had not scored any hits. The blades of both assassins rang and sparked with infernal light as the two matched each other blow for blow. It seemed that each time he struck his opponent, the
Nyzyr
managed to return the same attack back upon him.

So Zach slowed his attacks and didn’t try terribly hard to strike his foe and he tried to ponder the meaning of that revelation. Would the same thing happen to the
Nyzyr
if he struck Zach? If Zach dealt the
Nyzyr a
killing blow, would he himself die?

That was certainly one Hell of a defense!

The
Nyzyr’s f
ace became visible to Zach in flashes as the two men danced their dance of death, and Zach began to see why the assassins were so elusive. The man’s skin was a pasty gray color and his eyes were sickly looking with yellow irises and catlike pupils. His gleaming white teeth were actually fangs and Zach had the impression they must be razor sharp. Zach instinctively knew the man’s unusual strength, his deflection defenses, and his ability to shroud himself in shadows had to be gifts from Baelor. These were powerful gifts, and he wondered what else the man could do.

Instead of trying to strike the man down, Zach began to concentrate his attacks on disarming him. Remembering
Morloth’s
powers of healing by taking energy from its victim, Zach knew then that the only way to get past the man’s damage inflicting defenses would be to strike a deep enough blow that
Morloth c
ould drink of the man’s blood. Zach hoped this would weaken him and his defenses, if Zach sustained any damage by dealing the blow
Morloth w
ould recover his lost health from the
Nyzyr’s
v
ery soul.

He wasn’t sure the plan would work, but the
Nyzyr’s
attacks seemed to intensify and the shadowy warrior was now taking the offensive. The man was learning Zach’s style of fighting even though he could not see him! And then, the man disappeared in a flash of smoke. Zach didn’t know what to expect but he did know enough not to stand in same place and dived to the ground in a somersault, rolling to his feet on the other side of the room. The
Nyzyr w
as suddenly standing behind where Zach had just been and was swinging his fiery blades viciously at thin air. Zach seized the moment and leaped at the invader, but the
Nyzyr w
ould not be caught off guard. Suddenly the master assassin turned and defended Zach’s attack as though he had somehow seen it coming.

Zach rebounded away to catch his breath and was somewhat relieved to see that the invader, too, seemed to be feeling winded.

“Come out and die!” called the gravelly voice of the attacker. Zach knew better than to answer, the man’s keen hearing would pinpoint his location if his own breathing didn’t. Fortunately, he was able to get his breathing under control quickly and just began circling, trying to think of a way to injure the man. Just then the
Nyzyr w
hipped out a pair of small crossbows from inside his cloak, each one capable of firing three bolts. The first weapon fired and Zach dodged to the side, bolts thudding into the wall behind him. But the move gave him away and the second crossbow fired immediately. One of the bolts struck Zach in the shin and he let out a growl, that was all the head assassin needed. The
Nyzyr
lunged across the open space toward Zach, his blades whirling. Zach rolled and swung a blow at the man’s feet, scoring a glancing hit on the back of the man’s heel. As his own blade slid through the man’s clothes and flesh, Zach felt the presence of cold steel slicing into his own leg.

Although he let out a vicious yell of pain, Zach was pleased to hear the invader did too. The two backed away from each other, limping. The
Nyzyr
hid his body in shadows once more and Zach found it difficult to see the man, but he could still tell where the man was standing. And then Zach had an idea.

Zach immediately moved toward his foe. He moved loudly enough to give away his presence, but quietly enough not to make it seem obvious, just as a cloud of yellow smoke oozed through the room. Zach lunged for the open window and the clicks of a handheld crossbow told him the assassin had anticipated such a move. Two bolts struck home, one in his shoulder and another in his calf and he couldn’t help but shout in pain. If his plan worked it wouldn’t matter.

Zach leaned against the window sill as though he were going to try to flee, but instead he pulled his shirt up over his nose and sidestepped the window. The assassin was there in a flash, blades flying wildly. Zach slammed
Morloth d
eep into the man’s thigh and fell to the ground, his own calf throbbing in pain. With his magical dagger no longer in his hand, he was visible to the attacks of the master assassin.

The
Nyzyr
was in pain, it showed on his bizarre face as he dropped to his knees with a hand on
Morloth’s s
kull tipped pommel. Blood dripped from the assassin’s palm and Zach knew that the blade was doing its job, it was feeding on the assassin’s soul. Realizing he could not remove the dagger, the man rose unsteadily and advanced on Zach. Zach could do little now, having lost the source of his powers. He felt naked, vulnerable, and was bitter that he had become so dependent on a thing of steel to survive. The old Zach would never have done that.

Zach wanted to move, to fight. But the conflicting effects of the blade’s power and the injury reversing effects were disorienting, causing him to experience bouts of pain and regenerative healing simultaneously. He managed to roll to his side as the assassin drunkenly swung one of his
darkfire
blades and struck the wall where Zach had just been. Zach drew a pair of concealed throwing knives from his shirt and threw them at the assassin. But the attack failed as one blade bounced harmlessly from the man’s chest and the other bounced off his throat as though it had struck a wall of steel!

“You can’t kill me!” shrieked the
Nyzyr
a
s he fell to his knees and clawed at
Morloth.

“
You’re right,” admitted Zach, his vision dimming. “
I c
an’t.”