The Vitalis Chronicles: Tomb of the Relequim (19 page)

As for the present, changing his mind and seeking out the Demon for help meant walking straight into danger. He wasn't sure how to get in touch with the old snake, but he knew he must. Getting back to Grandia would be difficult at best, especially considering the possibility that the Demon wouldn't hear him out at all. It was too high of a risk to take in either case. He needed something closer.

Brutus had been seeing a medium in secret. That sort of activity was hard to keep hidden for long, especially for someone as high profile as the Premiere General of Elandir. Brutus had been a dangerous soldier, but a fool in most other realms of life. He had shown that foolishness fully in his lack of discretion regarding his spiritual experimentation. If she was the sort of medium the Shade assumed her to be, she could help him. He knew she would be in Elandir somewhere. He only needed to find her.

And therein lay the challenge: entering the Black City. Quietly.

He had to assume that they still had a few working shelters. And though they may not be thinking he would return, they would have planned for it. He didn't have much choice; he would have to find a way in. It shouldn't be so hard, but he knew better than to discount precaution.

He would make his arrival at the usual time of the influx of goods into the street markets. With the increase of traffic into the city, he should be able to slip in among a crowd and begin his search. He didn't know where he was going to look, or who he was looking for, but he had to try.

It took the Shadow King the better part of a week to make his way north to Elandir. He walked quickly, without stopping. It felt like he made no progress as he wandered through the wilderness. The desert was bordered to the north by thick, low trees that clustered together and slowed him for a bit. Their long, spindly branches reached out and snagged his cloak at every opportunity. Increasing amounts of dormant foliage covered the ground the farther he got from the sands. The temperature continued to drop steadily as the days wore on, and soon he was walking through the familiar territory of Elandir.

He wove among the rolling hills that hemmed the great plains in to the south. Glistening streams twisted among the brown grass and trees to welcome him as he wandered through the shade. He breathed in the crisp winter air as he stopped atop the last hill on his path. Ahead lay the plains, and on the horizon sat the black walls of Elandir.

There weren't many farms this far south. There were even fewer people. Regardless, he pulled his hooded cloak more tightly about his neck as if to hide. Walking into those plains would leave him exposed, vulnerable to detection. And while there were few he feared, fear was eating slowly at the edges of his mind. It was desperation driving him now, though he would never admit it.

He walked down the hill, boots crunching on frost-bitten plants as he made his way for the city. He would have to join the road before he got to there, and from here the Eastern Gate sounded the most promising point of entry. The largest farms lay to the east of the city. Often the square inside the gate was so crowded that just walking through became a challenge. The winter weather would reduce the number of people selling their wares. But any farmer with a surplus in his stores was likely to be out, as well as many of the craftsmen.

The sun rose steadily overhead as he walked along the first plowed field of many. The lack of visible life on the ground belied the fertility of the earth under his feet. It made his heart sink to think that he would be leaving it behind, betraying it. Even if he had only been posing as its protector.
Troy Silvers,
he thought with a bitter smile.
I can be you for a little while longer if I must.

The Shade that would be Silvers found a small road that led north and stepped onto it as a cart pulled out farther on. He pulled his hood down further on his head, hiding his long hair and face as he steadily caught up to the old man and his donkey. He was surprised the man didn't have a truck. Only the outlying villages and mountain folk seemed to use animals for work any more. Perhaps he was more perturbed than surprised at the cart. At least passing motorized vehicles wouldn't have much opportunity to identify him.

As he got closer he noticed more people joining the road ahead from other farm houses. A few trucks pulled out and made for the city but the vast majority were on foot. It was a much higher turnout than he would expect. Soon he was walking among them. As they came to the junction with the main road he could sense a thick tension.

On the highway stood a long line of trucks and passenger vehicles. Most were left at a standstill as they tried to work their way through the crowds. Passenger vehicles weren't allowed in the city. The streets of Elandir were far too narrow to handle many vehicles and were thus kept to a minimum within the walls. But the people on the road seemed to be hoping things would be different today.

Hundreds if not thousands of people were walking along the road, all headed for Elandir. None of them were carrying anything that looked remotely market-worthy. His heart rate picked up. What was he walking into? Every step he took brought him closer to a destiny darker than he had ever imagined possible. Whatever happened, he didn't want a flood of people around for it. His conscience was sick and withering enough as it was. Witnesses to his betrayal would only make it worse.

There were murmurs among the various groups that huddled against the cold as they walked. Some sounded excited, others wary. There was a strange mixture of emotion that he found disquieting. It was as if the whole territory had been summoned to Elandir. They passed through a village as they continued towards the Black City. The little windows set in warping wood sat dark along the road. Their vacuous, gaping stares left them looking abandoned.

The broad black walls towered over them now, even though they were yet a few miles out. The Summitless Mountain. Elandir. He could see more people streaming in from the roads that came from the north and the south. He could just make out the smoke stacks of the ships moored in the port along the Elandris. Even some small boats seemed to be coming in along the offshoot they called the loop that ran from the Elandris under the walls. It seemed like the whole world was filing through the gates of the city. Soon the crowd he was in began to bunch up as they passed under the square eastern arch. The walls were so thick it was like walking through a tunnel.

“
Can't believe the old dog is back,” a man nearby muttered to his friend.

“
I never thought he'd be gone so long.”

“
Certainly hoped he would be.”

“
He ain't so bad, watches out for us farmers. Subsidized grain just before he went missing.”

“
Power hungry, that's what he was.”

“
Maybe it's like they're saying, everything's changed.”

“
Nothing's changed, mark my words. Everything will be the same as it was before. Always is.”

They stopped talking as the crowd pressed closer together. No one seemed willing to say much as they entered the Black City. Silvers noticed it was quiet aside from the grunts of gentle pushing and pulling. The walls stood ominously over him as he found himself within their ring. Piercing his disguise with their lidless stare. His stomach twisted as he grit his teeth and forced down the fear.

Fear. What a weakness that had proved to be. If there was one trait of humanity he would love to leave behind it was that. He didn't need it for caution. He was observant and wise enough to know when to wait and watch or run. The emotion was more like a disease. Ever seeking to paralyze him.

The fear wasn't alone, however. Entering Elandir was flooding him with all kinds of emotions. This was a city sworn to the Magi, and them to it. His oaths had never changed, even though he had been betrayed. He knew it. He needed to protect these people, not ally himself with their enemy. And here he was, working his way towards their betrayal from their very midst. His stomach lurched and he pushed it back down. He had to do this.

They crossed into the eastern square where citizens of the city began to join them. The whole mass of people seemed to be making its way towards the center. They flowed along one of the eight roads that crossed the city. Each cut through the main street which spiraled from the center all the way out to the walls.

At first, Silvers thought about sliding out to the outskirts to see if he could wait for the streets to clear. He didn't want to make the jump here, it would definitely be noticed. It didn't take long to realize he would have a hard time moving quietly to the side. People pressed in from every side. He felt like he could lift his legs and be carried along in the crowd. His fears and apprehensions froze his ability to decide what to do next. Before he knew it, he was swept along towards the central square.

He didn't know where to go as it was. Perhaps inspiration would strike if he continued on. He hoped it would. Each intersection they crossed had various shops on the corners, but none were open. The atmosphere grew increasingly excited as they were joined by more and more people. Flags flew from nearly every window. It seemed there was some grand event happening today. What that meant struck him as they neared the square. Large events meant increased security. More eyes. More trained soldiers.

He saw the stage before he knew what to do. Above it, on tall wooden pillars streaming with flags, was a giant canopy. The whole thing looked gaudy, like an expensive circus. It was overtly patriotic, covered in the city's colors of black, white, and red. Larger flags with the seal of Elandir flew from the canopy's four corners and raised center. Above it flew a solid red flag with a black star in its center. The Mayor of Elandir was returning to his post.

Pompidus Merodach sat in the center of the large platform, resting comfortably atop a high-backed chair. It was ornately carved, the ancient work of the Magi. On his right sat his ranking military officials, some of which he would have to promote as soon as he was reinstated. To his left sat the city's Council, a group of influential men he had wanted to be rid of for some time. They may have been elected by the people they represented, and they may have in turn raised him to his current seat, but they were weak. Foolish. And liable to turn on him at any moment. He had to finish them, and soon.

His hands shook involuntarily. Whether from the cold or his nerves, he couldn't be certain. He clenched them together on his lap as he furrowed his brow and stared at the crowd. There were mixed feelings about his return, that much was obvious to him. The events to the south would swing things in his favor, however. At least with the general populace.

His peers were proving more difficult. Even among the military he was finding it difficult to distinguish allies from enemies. The two morons who had visited him in the infirmary had influence. With the help of some crafty lieutenant they had managed to pull the right strings to get him released from the doctor's care. He still didn't know who it was that had worked so hard to keep him under wraps, but he would find out. He had his suspicions in any case, and he could bide his time.

Until then he had a lot on his plate, far more than he had ever wanted to deal with. His nice, stable, comfortable government was near collapse. It revealed to him just how delicate things had become as he had taken more power. If he were to put things back on track he would need to act quickly. He needed to restore the balance of his rule.

That meant securing the support of the military. The last thing he wanted was a legitimate power structure. If they ever managed to restore the oversight of the Council, he would lose control. Maintaining such a large military had proven difficult to justify after the Purge. But they controlled the inroads to some of the most lucrative trade routes. The mining operations in the east, the fishermen to the north, and the port of Brenton on the west. They controlled it all. And if you wanted a choke hold on those, you needed guns to press the throat. At least, that was what he had always argued.

Thankfully, Silverdale and Liscentia had been foolish enough to tip their aggressive hands in his absence, and now he might have his opportunity to maintain his grip. Bill and Clive had even suggested that a time of war was perfect to dissolve the city's Council once and for all. They may have sounded like idiots when they said it, but what they said was brilliant, and he was happy to agree.

They had become his right hand men in the last few weeks. He felt like they were the only ones he could trust in spite of their obvious faults. Why they had come to him or how they managed to accomplish half of the things they did was beyond him. But they had been of endless help, swaying not only the military but also the Council to reinstate him. Dealing with various points of opposition quietly, securing support, even clearing the way for this event.

In spite of the amount of trust he placed in them he knew it wouldn't last. They were after something. Whether they had been sent by someone else or were acting on their own he hadn't yet figured out. But he knew that as soon as they had what they wanted, they would leave him. Or worse, they might even turn on him.

Merodach knew men like them though; when he had started out in politics, he hadn't been much different himself. He had to trust for now that he could use them to his advantage, and hope that he could figure out what they were after before they had it.

However, Lucius, the lieutenant that had been their door into the military, was of markedly different stuff. Merodach could read the man's innate sense of justice and loyalty, skewed as it may have been. A wretched man at his core, he was nonetheless predictable. And he thought what he was doing was right. Merodach could use that.

His fears of Silvers had yet to leave him, however. The man-turned-Shade was a mystery that haunted his dreams. In fact it haunted his waking life in worse ways than he was willing to admit. He didn't think Silvers would ever return to Elandir, but he mandated his bodyguard carry an active shelter with them at all times. They only had two that worked any longer; attempts to secure more from Liscentia hadn't gone well. The mobile one was ungainly, requiring cabling and a generator the size of a large chest. He could hear it rattling away behind the stage as he brooded.