The Vitalis Chronicles: Tomb of the Relequim (16 page)

What he wanted to know now was more about the Fisherman. About his life before he donned the broad canvas hat and dingy gray rain gear. He wanted to know who the hero had been before the bland cliché was born.

“
Tell me about the wars,” Ardin said one day when visiting the bridge.

“
The what now?” The Fisherman was lost in his own thoughts, his expression blending grimly with the overcast sea.

“
The Continental Wars, you said you fought in them.”

“
Hmm...” He mused on the request for a moment but stayed silent.

“
Why do they call you the 'Cleaver?'”

The Fisherman laughed at that. “They don't! At least none who knew me as such. The Cleaver is my blade. They said it looked more like a giant meat cleaver than any respectable sword, and so the name stuck.”

“
So what's your title then?”

“
Just 'Captain.' That's more than enough title for me.”

“
The Shadow,” Ardin said. “What are they?”

“
Ah, the gray bastard weighin' on yer mind is he?” He sighed as he smiled. “It's been somethin' like fifty years since they made that old ghost. The Shadow were made to fight for the Magi, pure and simple.”

“
But who made them?”

“
The Magi did, magnificent process that. I don't know where they came up with the original material to make them, but I always assumed it was the Greater Bein'.”

“
Yeah, I met her in the Temple of the Magi.”

“
Her? Huh, I always thought of him as a... well, a him. I guess it would be hard to know for sure now he has no body. As for the Shadow, haste was the problem. They never consulted the Creator in the
process.”

“
Why is that a problem?”

“
Well the Bein' has no ability to create, only to modify and build upon what is already in existence. When he, or she I suppose, sought help governin' mankind she asked for help from the
Creator. He consented, and together they made the Magi. Thus they were a new creation, the first of their kind and, like we humans, bein's that exist on the spiritual plain as well as the physical and metaphysical.”

“
But the Shadow don't...”

“
Aye, that's right. They take after their namesake in a number of ways. They're neutral, unfeeling, almost like machines built solely for the purposes of war. Mankind had never fought to any scale beyond that of a good tavern brawl. And so the Magi, in great need of an army, sought out the Bein'. And in their combined haste they made the Shadow.”

“
You didn't think it was a good idea?”

“
I don' know, lad.” He shrugged as he thought about it. “They were certainly helpful. The Magi finished makin' 'em just in time, 'bout when the cliffs were raised for the Great Defense. We might'a been lost without 'em.”

“
But...”

“
But they should've sought help from the Creator. Lookin' back is always clear skies, lad, while the seas ahead is covered in storm. But they should've known better, 'specially the Bein'. Some say it were his own pride that got in the way, that he was headed the same way as the Demon. But that's all hearsay and speculation. I think he was just desperate.”

“
So if there wasn't a human army at the time, how did you get involved?”

“
Ho lad! There was an army! Not a good one mind you, but we formed up as best we could manage. The Magi declared it important we learn how to defend ourselves. Elandir put up the largest numbers 'n money. But the rest contributed some as well. In any case, the Magi were unwillin' to risk our lives if they could help it. So they sent the Shadow to the front lines of the defense. They were apt fighters, the Shadow Warriors, but initially they died by the hundreds. Didn't know how to properly handle themselves.”

“
How many were there?”

“
Oh, I don't know lad. Somewhere around three thousand. There was a finite number created; they weren't given the gift o' life.”

“
They couldn't make more of themselves? Like... shadow babies?”

The Fisherman laughed at that. “Shadow babies? That's a right terrifyin' thought. Nah
lad, they couldn't. And more importantly, they had no spirit to speak of. Nothin' to connect 'em to the Creator.”

“
So if they died...”

“
They just float around! Like ghosts that can't see nor touch nor taste a thing. They may be nearby as we speak. Once unhooked from their physical presence, they just wander 'round, waitin' to be
called to a new connection.”

“
The Shadow King... that's why he's looking for the Magi. For power.”

“
Aye, he wants to bring back his lads, and there ain't enough Magi left to do it.”

“
Could... could I?”

“
Don't reckon I know lad, but I suspect not. No single Mage had the power to carry out the task. I've never seen it done with fewer than three, even when Charsi was around. After the repulsion of the
Black Ships' invasion on the Continent, it took a long time to rebuild the Shadow army. Almost as long
as it took to create them in the first place.”

“Why doesn't the Shadow King just get the Greater Being to bring them back, then?”

“That there's a question you'd have to take up with the Bein' yourself. But I reckon he, er... she's not too keen on that mistake. It led to her own fall from grace in some ways, and I don't think she'll ever help him. 'Specially after all that's happened since.”

“Since the war?
”

“
Since the Purge, lad. But that's a differen' story! Stop distractin' me!” He laughed.
“I joined up to learn to fight, and when the Magi sailed for Grandia they
took two battalions of us along with them.
Green we were, fresh as young minnows and twice as naïve.”

“
Why do you say that?”

“
We got slaughtered, lad. The Magi turned their gaze from us for two minutes and half of us got wiped out.”

They sat in silence for a while, the Fisherman's stare turned blank at the memory. Eventually Ardin ventured to ask how it had happened. His father had never told him any of his own stories from serving in the military, and he had regretted not having pushed for them every day since.

“
Dragons, lad. The first time we'd ever seen anythin' like it.” He shook his head slowly and looked at Ardin.

“
The old Demon had been hard at work, makin' new and horrifyin' monsters that none had even heard rumor of in nightmares. The Demon looks nothin' like a dragon himself, but they share the same ugly thirst for blood. We'll call him a dragon for it from time to time. The creatures he threw at us in his invasion were brutal; they lusted for death.” He turned away again. “These were a different breed all together.”

The Fisherman stared out into the ocean, looking back on memories he wished he didn't have.
“
I was in the half that was left untouched. The other battalion... poor bastards got ripped to shreds. You'll find few terrors to match those beasts in this world.”

“
I've seen them; they're horrifying.”

“
Nah lad, you've only seen the whelps. The blue ones?”

Ardin nodded.

“
Aye, that's what you'd said. No, there are two other types of dragons lad, most easily told by their color. The reddish ones are big, bigger than anythin' you'll ever see. But they're rare, and right moody. They only bothered us once, and they're more concerned with saving their own scaly hides than obeyin' their master. He doesn't take to breedin' them any more.”

“
What are the other ones?”

“
Black, or 'onyx' dragons. They're the bastards that tore us up. They're still big; not as big as the red buggers, but they're fast. And what's worse, they're aggressive as a bear bitch in heat. Their scales are made of some horrid metallic substance. The beaut' with dragons is each has a strength, and a related weakness. The blue dragons are water fowl, easily scared off by flames not their own. The red dragons were shooed off by the Magi's ability to conjure up various spells of ice and water.”

He smiled faintly. “In reality lad, these things just scare the beasts. To put one down takes an excellent shot with a more powerful weapon or stroke of magic than can easily be produced.

“
But the onyx dragons, those bastards don't fear none o' that. It takes lightnin', electricity, and a
brutal amount at that, to come so close as to discourage them. And I ain't never seen it done but once.”

“
Is that what you did?”

The old man laughed at the question.

“
No lad, not I. I was but a boy then, wettin' my trousers at the mere mention of snakes let alone dragons! No, but the Magi figured it out. Not before losing a good many men to the beasts though. The thing is, Ardin, you can't bring metal weapons to the fight with them. They turned what we called
artillery then against us, used it as their canvas to paint our carnage. They ain't to be trifled with lad, so unless you can conjure up a mighty storm, we'll be hidin' if e’er we see one.”

“
They used your artillery against you?”

The Fisherman didn't answer for a long time. He just rubbed his beard and maintained his staring contest with the waves. After a while he put his hand down and closed his eyes.

“
They come in pairs or packs of three. Dark, broodin' creatures they are, but ne'er solitary. We was on the hills up north, just west o' the jungles near White Shores. We'd held off a counter assault by the Demon's army and were feeling pretty damn good about ourselves.

“
'Bout the time we'd finished cheerin' and mockin' the enemy's retreat, one of me mates pointed
somethin' out on the horizon.

“
We couldn't see 'em so we poked fun at him. Paranoid we called him; but then I saw 'em too. Others started seein'em; black specks what looked like birds flyin' towards us. Only they got bigger, and bigger, till we knew they weren't no bloody birds. They veered to the south, towards the other battalion. They closed fast.

“
The Magi were movin' north to join us in the battle. They thought the main fight would be farther south, so that was where they had put the Shadow. Little of the fight had shifted north durin' the battle itself, so when the dragons came they had to adjust their deployment. But they were too late...

“
There was no one there to save those men, no one there to put up a real fight. The first dragon simply passed overhead. The men had never seen anythin' like it. They yelped and dove fer cover, but all the beast did did was cough up a glob of black... tar lookin' stuff anyways.

“
It struck a cannon dead on. This was back before true war machines had been developed, mind you. These guns pretty much shot large balls of iron and were far from accurate.

“
The glob of black grew on it, throbbing and glowing as little bolts of what looked like purple lightning ran along it. Pulsin', writhin'... growin'. We could barely see it but one of the men that survived told the details later. He said some gathered 'round it to watch out of a morbid curiosity. The dragon had flown out and away, circlin' wide, leavin'em alone.

“
As for the tar, it consumed the canon, all nine feet of its iron casing. In a matter of minutes, out of it came a smaller version of the bastard that had puked it up. It tore the tar from it like a newborn pup and thrashed about, gainin' strength as the men shot at it.

“
It tore them up lad. Killed dozens before it took to the sky and started attackin' 'em from above. The others joined it then, breathin' a black fire like nothin' I never seen. It was infused with a broilin' purple lightnin'; men burned and smoked and died and never so much as caught fire.”

He fell silent again, long enough that Ardin was unsure if he would continue.

“
The Magi, they rushed to help, but were too late.” He looked back up. “The battalion was gone, five thousand men dead 'n gone. The dragons ate or burned the lot of 'em, tore 'em to shreds. They would have come for us too if not for the sheer force of magic the Magi used in retaliation. They were furious, the Magi. Furious that they had failed in their charge to keep those men safe; they took it upon themselves to kill those bloody dragons.”

He looked at Ardin.

“
They got two of them over the next four days, and lost four of their own in the process. Caspian called off the chase for fear of worse casualties. But they never forgot that encounter. And neither have I, lad. Neither have I.”

E
LEVEN

P
OMPIDUS
M
ERODACH LAID HIS CANE AGAINST THE TABLE THAT STOOD NEXT TO HIS BED
.
He pulled his dead leg up. His pudgy face contorted against the pain as he sat himself up against the wall. He had lost a fair bit of weight since his encounter with the Shadow King, though by looking at his face you wouldn't have known. He didn't look any better for it. He looked used up.

If he was sick of anything it was being cooped up, left in the dark. He didn't really know what was going on outside or how the city was faring without him. They brought him regular reports. Falsified reports he was certain. He was even more certain now that his instructions were no longer being carried out. It made the Mayor angry to know he was being disregarded. He hated the idea that he was inconsequential.

“
Feeling any better today?” The doctor walked into the room, only half paying attention as he
continued to read the charts on his clipboard.