Shadowblade (10 page)

So Zach ventured out into another blustery day in Powyss and decided to continue his exploration of the dingy maze of alleyways that led away from Port of Powyss to other sections of the vast city. With the odd charms and book of spells in his coat pocket, he searched the seedy sections of Powyss where he hoped he might find the type of shop that would be interested in the trinkets he had taken from the corpse of the Red Dragon assassin.

After wandering the back alleys, and threating a few would-be cutpurses with his dagger, Zach came across a shop that he thought would serve him well. The shop was a ramshackle one-story building, weatherworn and faded, with few windows. The door was dark and seemingly rotten and above it a sign swayed on rusty chains;
Baldric’s Artifacts and Relics
. The door to the shop opened just then and Zach, hand still on his dagger, saw a monk with a red sash slithering out of the store and into the shadows of the alleyway. The man came straight toward him and Zach thought might have to kill the monk. But as the hooded monk approached, Zach saw that the man was looking down at something in his hands and apparently had not seen the Cklathman.

After the monk passed, Zach put his dagger away. He now knew that this was the shop he needed to visit. If the Red Dragons’ assassins frequented this shop, the knowledge he needed would likely be found here. But would the shopkeeper report him for possessing these items which came from a Red Dragon? However, he really didn’t know for a fact these items were unique to the Red Dragons. It was a risk he was willing to take.

Zach entered the shop and closed the door behind him, gratefully noting the warmth generated by a great hearth. The shop was a malodorous place and seemed to house a collection of mismatched junk resting in random piles; until he reached the back of the shop. An open doorway beckoned, leading to another room deeper into the building. Zach stood in the doorway and was amazed by the contrast with the room in front. Everything inside was neat and orderly, shelved and labeled, and nothing looked out of sorts.

Cautiously he walked inside, thinking there had to be a reason for such strange separation of order and chaos. But it truly didn’t matter.

“Hello?” Zach’s mysterious voice-companion called out. Zach growled in aggravation.

“Hush!” Zach said. “
I
do the talking. You’re just going to get us in trouble.”

“I
am
doing the talking!” retorted the voice. Zach just shook his head and hoped that he could find out where this voice was coming from. Was there some invisible companion following him around? The ghost of someone he had wrongly killed? Or was it just in his head?

“Of course I’m in your head!”

“Is anyone there?” called Zach, ignoring the taunt.

“Just a moment,” came a muffled voice from somewhere in the store. Seconds later a short and stocky elderly man with thick glasses wearing a brown leather apron appeared behind Zach.

“I’m Baldric. Can I help you?” he said in a kindly voice that made Zach wonder if he was in the right place after all.

“Yes,” he hesitated, and gripped
Morloth
tightly under his coat. If the old man became squeamish or acted as though he might alert the authorities, Zach would kill him and move on. Then he removed the charm pendants from his pocket and showed them to the man.

“Oh, my,” he whispered. Then he cast a wary eye at Zach, appraising him. “I see no red sash on you, young man.”

Zach said nothing, looking at the man. The old man smiled and nodded.

“I’ve been in business here forty years. I will deal with anyone whose gold is good, none of that gem currency here. I haven’t stayed in business all these years by asking too many questions and I’ll not start now.” The old man walked to the front door and dropped a bar behind it. Zach wasn’t entirely sure that the bar would be effective, more likely the rotten door would crumble and any would-be assailant could just duck right under the bar.

“No sense in letting some busybody in on our business,” he said as he shuffle stepped his way back to Zach. “Now, sit down at the counter and let’s talk. What do you want from me?”

“I want to know what these items do, and how much you will pay me for them.”

Zach placed the two charm pendants on the counter and slid to the other side while the old man made his way around to face him.

“Hmm,” said the old man, picking up the ram’s head charm and holding it very close to his eyes. “I daresay you didn’t find
this
in your grandmother’s attic, eh?”

Zach did not reply to the man’s attempt at humor, but it was clear that the elderly merchant knew something of the item.

“There are tiny, minuscule, writings around the horns of the ram,” he said as he peered at the ram’s head charm, holding it this way and that. “Looks like Tayban script.”

“Tayban
script?”

“Yes. Tayban
is a magical language. It was used by the first practitioners of the magic of the Tides, some say as long as three thousand years ago. But, those early sorcerers eventually discovered the Sigil languages; the superior precision and control of the Sigils over the Tidal forces led to the downfall of the Tayban
language. From then its use continued in the writings of prophets and seers, many prophecies pertaining to the loss of the Sigil magic and its eventual return were recorded first in Tayban.” Zach recalled hearing one such Elvish prophecy concerning the return of the Sigils while he was in the Underllars; and that had turned out to be true. That prophecy had been recited by the Silver Mountain Elves, yet he wondered if it had originally been written in Tayban
.

“I’ve heard one such prophecy, though it was recited to me.”

“During the time of the Dark Paladin, Tayban
became the favored language for a certain discipline of the Shadow Sigil practitioners dealing with the control of immortal beings, such as demons and Cjii. Although not as powerful as the Shadow Sigil, and more limited in scope, the Tayban language offered lesser sorcerers a limited use of the Shadow Sigil.”

Zach was impressed with the man’s knowledge. He was a good judge of character and it was very unlikely that this old man was lying to him. By telling Zach of the charm’s magical powers, he was essentially driving
up
the price he would have to pay. Unless he had no intention of buying it.

“Go on,” urged the voice, eager for knowledge. Zach, too, was eager for knowledge but the voice’s brazenness might just get him into trouble. Luckily Baldric had not noticed that a different voice was speaking.

“So, this charm is something that allows the user a certain measure of control over demons.”

“Demons,” he repeated numbly. What had that bastard assassin planned for him? A trip to Hades to be devoured by a demon? That thought was particularly unpleasant. Then the voice piped in with its own question, “What would someone do with a demon that had fallen under their control?”

“Oh, any number of dastardly deeds, to be sure,” said the man with a half-smile on his face. “Unleashing a demon on the forces of your enemy would be handy trick to turn the tide of a battle. A demon might be compelled to grant a wish or a boon to the one who called it in exchange for sending it back to its own realm; a tricky thing, that.

“But the most common purpose for an amulet or charm like this is to seal a pact with a demon, strike a bargain which benefits both sides equally.”

“What sort of bargain would benefit a demon?”

“Ah, there is the heart of the matter. A demon’s magic is extremely powerful, more powerful even than that of the Sigils. A demon could grant a person an extension of its infernal power in exchange for something the demon values. The nature of the power granted depends largely on the powers of that demon, as does the nature of what the demon will ask for in return. I have heard of demons demanding to share the mortal’s body, allowing it to walk among the mortals of the world and wreak havoc. I have heard of others demanding the soul of the mortal in exchange for vast power, but those who sell their souls are marked in some significant way by their demon lord.”

Zach wondered if his assailant had entered into such an agreement. Perhaps that was why the body turned so remarkably to dust, perhaps that was its parasitic diabolical host claiming its prize.

“Do you really believe all that?” Zach asked, still skeptical.

“Does it matter what I believe? You wanted to know about this device, and I have told you.”

“Right. What about the other one?” he was excited to think of what sort of powers a demon might offer him.

“That one is made of blue lapis, and has no Tayban script as far as I can see. But it
is
a pentacle, and that is an important symbol to those who practice magic in any form. If these items were found together, one might have a power that is related to the other. Perhaps the pentacle is a protection device from the powers of persuasion that demons employ?” he speculated aloud. “Only a magic-wielder that understands Tayban would truly know.”

“I see,” said Zach, his hand on the small leather book. As the old man examined the lapis pentacle he wondered if he should ask the man …

“About this book?” interrupted his invisible companion voice. Then, without even knowing he had done so, the book was in his outstretched palm. Before Zach could retrieve the book, the old man grabbed it and held it reverently. Zach frowned dangerously, if he could ever find a way to make the bearer of that voice show itself, he’d kill it.

“No need to get angry, young man,” cautioned the shopkeeper. “This is quite a find. Quite a find indeed.”

“What is it?” he asked, his mood becoming surlier by the moment.

“It’s written in Tayban,” he said, thumbing through the pages. “It’s hard to say exactly what. Some of the pages possess lengthy passages; teachings or instructions of some kind perhaps. Others pages are written in poetic form, possibly prophecies or even magic spells.

“I cannot buy these from you.”

Baldric handed the items back to Zach with care. Zach was conflicted. He wanted to sell the items because he needed money. Still, something told him that it would be foolish to let these valuable, and possibly magical, items escape his possession.

“I’m quite sure you saw the man who left here before your arrival?”

“I did.”

“That was a Tartarus Monk,” he said in a low voice. “If I were caught in possession of items belonging to the
Nyzyr
, especially items taken from a Red Dragon that I suspect is no longer living, I would be savagely tortured and killed. No doubt they would rip my soul from my body and destroy it!”

“They can do that?” asked the voice in awe and wonder.

“Those who deal with the dark powers are capable of many dark and devious actions. Even so, such powers can be deadly to the wielder, even for a dark monk like the one who just left here.”

“I did happen to meet one of them recently. I heard something happened to him,” said Zach in an even tone. “What else do you know of them and the
Nyzyr
?”

“’Tis is a dubious privilege indeed to meet one of them, young man,” stated Baldric, his eyes alight with the significance of Zach’s statement. “These Tartarus Monks fell in with the Red Dragons before the Dragons rose to power in Powyss. The monks were fewer and farther between then, almost no one had ever heard of, or seen, a Tartarus Monk. No one seems to know even where they came from; they just appeared among the Red Dragon patrols.

“Tartarus is the name of the founder of their order, a vile man if there ever was one. Some say he was a Frost Elf, others say he was a hurkin, or even a demon or a Cjii. Tartarus revealed to the world that Umber was the Lord of Death, not Grymm. While that is a common belief among the varied sects devoted to Umber, Tartarus had a very appalling take on the matter. He believed that it was his duty, and that of his followers, to send souls to Umber. They were, and still are, keen to send any soul to the Shadowrealms that they deem unfit to live; or any that offends them in some way,” he added with a growl. “Tartarus, was granted the power to cast disease upon those who were deemed unworthy in his eyes. The agony of the afflicted is said to be the penalty for daring to desecrate the world with their unworthiness. Tartarus eventually died and became one of the immortals, or Cjii; perhaps he was one to begin with. Who really knows?

“Since his ascension, as Tartarus Monks call it, all monks are required to
bind
their souls with the immortal’s spirit. In this way, Tartarus can still inflict death and disease through his followers who in turn gain the use of the immortal’s extraordinary powers!” Baldric glanced cautiously at the door as though it might burst into splinters at any moment, allowing a squad of Tartarus Monks to file in and kill him. “I once saw one inflict his deadly touch upon a beggar, and the man withered away into dust within minutes!

“Sometimes they inflict disease on healthy people just to see if they can survive it! It is even said they can make a woman barren, or cause her to give birth to serpents!”

Zach wasn’t sure he believed all that, but he did believe that the Tartarus Monks held some very unique powers and the ability to wither a body to dust fit with his own experience in his room. He recalled the dark priest in Dockyard City that had accosted him and Carym, that priest had some remarkable powers of suggestion. Perhaps there
was
something to all of this. Was this book the key to unlocking them? What other mysteries were in that tome? He gazed longingly at the book, as though willing the letters to translate themselves before his very eyes. Whatever else the book possessed, Zach was certain the key to his own powerful future lay within.