Shadowblade (37 page)

He glanced at the magical Sigil map in his hand and saw the small blue circle that represented himself, moving steadily toward the blue triangle that represented Medov. Finally, he reached the door that led to the general’s private offices. It was only then that he noticed the stark contrast between the opulence of the palace corridors and those of the servants. This corridor was cold and had been carved roughly from glacial ice. It was not illuminated by any sort of flame that the immortal could see, but there was enough light to see by. There were no adornments on the walls, no carpets on the floor. Just a barren hallway that was interspersed with other passageways and doors made of ice.

He knocked loudly on the door with the butt of a dagger and the door swung silently inward. He stepped inside and the door swung closed. A hearth blazed in one corner and the room was comfortable. Strange weapons from all over Llars adorned the walls, Devoricus assumed they were trophies by their bloodstained and battle-worn blades and handles.

“Welcome,” came the whispered voice from beside him. He almost jumped in surprised and cursed himself for his irrational fear of the mortal Frost Elves. He turned toward the voice and was face-to-face with General Medov, the commander of the First Scouts.

“Thank you, General Medov,” said the immortal after recovering his wits, bowing low.

“Please, sit. I need not remind you to speak carefully here.”

“Indeed,” answered the Cjii as he sat in a large leather chair across from the general’s desk.

“How may we be of service to each other, Captain Dansg?”

“Here is what I require,” he said, passing a scroll to the general.

General Medov sat back in his own chair and read the scroll. It simply asked what he did not want to say aloud, knowing that the Raven Queen had spies even among her spies.

“Come with me,” he said simply, rising from his chair and walking back into the servant’s corridor. Devoricus followed after and glanced at his map occasionally to be sure he wasn’t being led into a trap. After a very long time of walking in silence, the Frost Elves seemed to value silence greatly, they arrived at a staircase behind a hidden door. They descended several levels down a spiral staircase until they reached the bottom and another plain looking door.

“Where we now go, you must remain absolutely
silent!
” warned the general. “Beyond this door lies the Temple Dungeon. It is monitored very closely by the Raven Queen and her wizard spies. We shall see what it is that you require, you will hear what it is you need to hear, and we will leave. Is that clear?”

Devoricus stepped out onto a catwalk that ran along the ceiling of a massive cavern far below the palace. The cavern was immense and had been divided into two halves by a wall that did not reach the ceiling.

As the pair walked out onto the catwalk that seemed to have been created from the glacial ice, Devoricus looked down. To the right of the cavern was the palace dungeon. Its maze of cells and walkways skillfully carved from the ice of the glacier were filled with humans, lesser elves, oroks, and other beings with which the Cjii was not familiar. Warves and troks patrolled the corridors between the cells and guarded the icy dungeon.

Opposite the dungeon, beyond the dividing catwalk, was another chamber carved from the glacier upon which Palace Erestonin sat. It was an unfinished chamber and slave workers labored under the whips of their Warvish masters, making the cavern bigger. But, at the far end of the cavern, loomed a wall that was a sight that defied even his own highly advanced Cjii intellect.

It was an opening that appeared to penetrate the magical Fabric that surrounded Llars. And, judging by those who moved back and forth through the opening, it led to the very gates of Hades, Umber’s own kingdom among the Shadowrealms! He looked at the general in disbelief. The man simply nodded back, confirming his suspicions. Tens of thousands of demons and Cjii and their lower minions marched back and forth across the rift in the Fabric of space and time, using this tunnel that had been created connecting Hades to the world of Llars.

Devoricus was no master of the Code of the Cjii, but he suspected that this was a very significant violation on the part of Umber and his minions. Qra’z would be amazed that his brother could be so bold, and would probably want to know how the Dark One had accomplished such a feat under the very nose of their father, Zuhr.

He stared at them for a long time, counting and assessing, and he realized why the Temple Dungeon was so full. The prisoners were being fed to the infernal army of the Dark One, others were being fed to a mass of strange looking creatures that looked to be made from corpses. Not that Devoricus pitied the inferior beings, he had simply learned that there are far better ways to extract the life force of a mortal than by simply eating it. He also saw a strange looking elven female standing among several golem-like creatures, she was wrapped in writhing shadows and seemed to be casting a spell. The creatures were haphazard looking and bizaare, seemingly possessed of mismatched limbs. Perhaps the magic-wielder was responsible for their creation?

But Devoricus needed more than this, Qra’z would not be pleased if he did not return with more than this simple observation. He looked at the general and nodded toward the cavern floor. General Medov seemed to understand what Devoricus wanted to do, but did not at first seem to want to acquiesce. Finally, with a grimace, he turned and walked toward the far end of the catwalk where another staircase lay hidden.

The pair descended the stairs and entered the dungeons where they found a pair of troks escorting five cowering human prisoners, prodding them along with spears and jabbering at them in their strange tongue.

General Medov stalked up to the lead trok and struck him in the head with the butt of his dagger. Devoricus, unused to the hardy nature of the troks, was surprised to see the creature was still alive after the general struck him, let alone that he was still standing. Medov simply pointed in the other direction and when the stupid look fell from the creature’s pasty, leathery, face the trok and his fellow simply turned and ran back the way they came. Devoricus did not understand the language of troks, although he could learn it in a matter of seconds had he chosen to, and assumed that the general and the troks could not speak each other’s languages either. But it seemed everyone spoke the language of violence.

The slaves were clothed only in thin shirts of rough fabric that could not possibly have warmed them in the ice of the glacial palace. Devoricus observed that the cold made them lethargic and more compliant, something he thought of as a clever tactic. Medov still did not speak, but pointed toward a large door in the dividing wall that led into the other chamber where the portal gaped into the Shadowrealms.

He and Medov marched the cowering slaves passed the sleeping Cjii guards, through the door, and into the portal chamber beyond. The heat that was flowing into the chamber from the portal was overwhelming to Devoricus who had not expected to feel it inside the glacier. Rows upon rows of lower demons and their Cjii handlers stood or marched in tight military formations or practiced martial combat with each other. Devoricus was amazed, stunned. Never before had the hordes of demons and Cjii in Umber’s service trained to fight in an organized and disciplined manner, they had always relied upon their numbers and fear.

They marched the prisoners past a platoon of scaly demons standing at attention, then made their way around several occupied fighting circles until they reached the portal itself. A great map had been inscribed on the floor and the general nodded towards it as he began to unchain the cowering slaves. Then Medov used the long spear taken from the troks to slice one Achilles’ tendon on each slave as he unfettered them.

Devoricus ignored the howling pain of the victims as he tried to scrutinize the great map, knowing full well that they would have more to howl about in moments.

“What are you doing here, General Medov?” asked a smooth, silky, feminine voice from behind the men. Devoricus turned quickly, too quickly, and saw the Raven Queen standing behind the whimpering slaves.

“My queen!” said the general as he threw himself to the floor. Devoricus copied the general’s position perfectly, if only a fraction of a second too slow for his own liking. He certainly didn’t want the Raven Queen to catch on to his disguise. While the Raven Queen was in fact a mortal, she was one of Umber’s Dark Disciples, the most powerful mortals to ever exist on Llars.

“Rise,” said the queen, her tone bored once more. “Rise and speak, general. You too, captain.”

“Your Majesty,” he began, but the queen cut him off. Devoricus was surprised by the appearance of the woman. Her skin was charcoal gray, almost black, very unlike her subjects. Her hair was jet black too and her eyes seemed like pools of darkness. She was wearing a gown of blue and white and silver and carried a scepter and crown of
silveryl
. A large blue-black raven perched on her shoulder and eyed him closely.

“Bavfa,” she said. “You may call me Bavfa, my sweet.”

“Bavfa,” he said. “We are here to provide an offering to Baelor. I have information for the Dark One, and I need information about the Steel Empire.”

“I see,” she said simply. “Proceed.”

Devoricus made a show of poking and prodding the cowering slaves as he watched the general recite an incantation of calling. It was not a true magical spell, as would have been necessary not so long ago, but a simple offer of respect. Soon the cavern filled with shadows and a form coalesced out of the darkness.

“Baelor,” said the queen with a condescending familiarity. It shocked Devoricus that a non-Cjii, even one as powerful as she, would be so callous with a Cjii. But it was well known that Umber favored his Shadow Hunters, some of them beyond even the favor he bestowed upon his own Cjii and demons. And it seemed that Devoricus had found out who was truly in charge here among Umber’s forces.

“Raven Queen,” came the rumbling reply. Devoricus had not met Baelor before, but all of the Cjii race had heard of him. He was just as famous, and possibly as powerful, as Prince Mycal the archangel of Zuhr. It was the orange cat that the man allowed to perch on his enormous shoulder, and the reddish toad on the other, that struck the lesser Cjii the most. It was very peculiar behavior. Then again, the Cjii observed, most of Umber’s Cjii were given to eccentricities.

“General Medov has a report to share with you. And he requires information in return. Be a dear and give him what he needs,” she said. The great Cjii simmered at the lack of respect given to one who held so high a rank among the immortal races.

However, the great Cjii did as he was told and brought his gaze to bear on the general, who made a show of respect. He and Devoricus shoved the slaves forward and the towering Cjii gave them a disgusted look. Then the great Cjii exhaled forcefully and showered the five humans with a breath of fire, leaving nothing but ash behind.

“Your pathetic sacrifice is accepted, mortal. What is your report?”

“Your Majesty, we have reports that Emperor Yerkses is planning to start a war in the Cklathish Islands. This goes against the agreement he made with Prophet-General Shalthazar who was to have the honor of first invasion. Once Yerkses has all of the Cklathlands conquered, he intends to move south and challenge Shalthazar’s hold over Hybrand. He believes himself to be the rightful heir to all the Cklathish peoples and lands.”

Devoricus was shocked when he heard this news, and angry that none of his own informants had discovered this. The Steel Emperor had forsaken his belief in Zuhr for Qra’z, and been rewarded handsomely. Devoricus just could not see a reason why the man would dare such a move and wondered if the general was feeding Baelor misinformation. If so, the general would not survive the night.

“Hmm. The Cklathlands are the territory of Shalthazar,” growled the Greater Cjii. “And when does Yerkses the Foolish plan on betraying his god and the new alliance between Umber and Q’raz?”

“Tomorrow, Your Majesty.”

There was silence among the queen, the general, and the demon for a long moment.

“How did you come by this information?” demanded Baelor.

“My spy is very close to the Emperor, Your Majesty. He is posing as a bard in Yerkses’ court.”

“I know of this person. What information do you require?”

“What should I tell my informant to expect? How shall I protect him so that he may continue to provide us with reliable intelligence?”

“You may tell him that if he is so close to the Emperor, he should council the man against this rash action. And that he and Qra’z will come to regret it.”

“Very well, Your Majesty. What of the invasion? When should my First Scouts be prepared to strike against the Cklathlands?”

The Cjii let out a rumbling roar of laughter that sounded much like a peel of thunder.

“Soon!” he laughed, and General Medov knew not to press the matter further.

“Your Majesty, there is one other thing which I need to report. Prince Mycal used the Pathway Arch located at the foot of the mountains to the south of Erestonin to bring his legion into the mortal world of Llars.”

“That Arch was destroyed!” growled the Greater Cjii angrily. “I did that myself, centuries ago. How could it be active now?”

“I beg your pardon, Your Majesty. Zuhr’s legion must have discovered a way to create another one.”