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Authors: Tom Bielawski

Tags: #Fantasy, #Speculative Fiction by Tom Bielawski

Shadowblade (20 page)

BOOK: Shadowblade
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Baeric stood slowly and looked at his counterparts. He said nothing for a long time, making eye contact with each one, giving Rohan indigestion at his pause. Finally, as if winning some sort of internal debate, Baeric nodded to no one in particular and walked up to the banner draped over the altar at the end of the room. This banner was a new addition to the room, replacing the old Flaming Sword and Scales of Ulrych. The new banner was black with a silver shield displaying a hand with the palm open, inviting. Stunning Rohan to speechlessness, Baeric knelt with his right palm outstretched and open in imitation of the banner.

Baeric stood and returned to his position at the table, silently daring anyone to challenge him. When none had, Baeric nodded again and said this, “I give my soul and my Seat to Zuhr. It was written in the Histories long ago that Zuhr is the Father of Creation.” Baeric paused and looked at each of the gathered men. “It was also written that Zuhr would one day return to Llars and gather his people. Scholars have pondered this matter endlessly and pointlessly debated its meaning for centuries. And here, in this Chamber of Debate, we shall concede that we have been shown the way and there will-be-no-debate!” Stunned, Rohan could not fathom what had come over the curmudgeon of the High Seats. If the Grand Patriarch could count on one person to give him grief and question his every decision, that person had always been Baeric. Yet, ironically, Baeric Goldswar had become the first to throw his support behind the Patriarch. Rohan knew better than to make any comment or bestow any praise to Baeric, lest the man turn it around on him. With an effort, Rohan kept his face neutral and looked around the room.

Kayl appeared amused while Leur Flambeau appeared vexed, Ailrocz appeared contemplative, and Gun looked conflicted. He braced himself for an onslaught and said, “Second High Seat Ailrocz, what say you?”

Ailrocz Kazacz smoothly rose to his feet and surveyed the room. He glided graciously to the banner at the end of the room and repeated High Seat Baeric’s actions. When he returned to his seat Ailrocz said, “Lord Ulrych has given us the Way to the Great Father, for which I am eternally grateful. I gave my soul to the Great Father Zuhr, and I have felt the difference in the brotherly love of Ulrych and the Fatherly love of Zuhr. It is clear to me that Zuhr sent his son to Llars to help us find our way to Him,” and Ailrocz sat down continuing to flummox Rohan where Baeric had left off. Rohan did his best to hold his tongue and nodded to the Third High Seat.

“What say you, Gun?”

Gun rose and cast his fierce, icy, blue-eyed gaze around the room. “This book has me in a fit!” he grumbled with his singsong Vaardic accent, with a quick and forceful sigh. “Humph. It challenges our perception of the future and the Heavens. Humph.” He slammed his fist on the table and Rohan desperately wanted to jump, flinch, cringe, or otherwise give in to his broiling emotions. The debate would start now, he thought and smiled at the irony that it would begin with Gun.

“Yet, when I consider it through the prism of the Histories, there can be not a doubt. I too have accepted Zuhr as the Great Father and Ulrych as the Brother. It was not so hard an adaptation when I opened my heart to Him. The Scholars always viewed our relationship to Ulrych as the protective older brother, if not in so many words. And, truth be told, that relationship was lacking in many ways. Yet it becomes clear to me now, Ulrych came to us centuries ago to open the Way to our Great Father. The Book of Zuhr is the Way!” With that, Gun sauntered over to the banner and knelt with his open palm out.

Rohan was amazed at his luck. No, he thought. Ulrych has made it so. Rohan was so happy he wanted to cry. He looked at the banner and almost felt the presence of the open palm on his shoulder, comforting him. Rohan knew now, he could do this.

With an effort he made himself smile warmly at Gun. “Baeric, Ailrocz, Gun, it does my heart good to hear you men have joined me in accepting the Turths we have been gifted with. What say you Fourth High Seat?”

“I say the Fourth Precept of the Great Father: Spread word of the glory of the Great Father to all and speak not against him,” said Kayl as he repeated the show of faith from his copy of the Text of Zuhr. Rohan smiled warmly at him as he returned to his seat, proud of the young man and glad he had once again shown Rohan that he was no longer given to youthful arrogance.

“Leur Flameou, what says the Fifth?” Leur stared at Rohan and his eye twitched. Rohan recognized that for what it was; anger. He nodded and Rohan and said, “Speak your mind, Leur. You are among friends here.” The rest nodded or grunted in assent, looking at the man from the Principality of Amberlou.

Leur stood, bowing toward Rohan. Then he spoke, “I read that book,” he almost spat the word and appeared to be shaking with rage. “I have never seen such inane blithering in all my life! How can you deliver such blasphemy to me in my own temple? Amberlou will never accept the will of that d’mor!” Baeric appeared ready to throttle Leur and stood quickly. Rohan held up a calming hand, palm out, toward Baeric.

“Leur, I don’t understand. What happened? What can I do to help you, my brother?” asked Rohan genuinely.

“What happened? While you all were sequestered away in your towers, pondering this,” he said, slamming the book on the table, “the Sargan Duchy moved against Amberlou! While I was sequestered in my tower, my city was plundered and razed by Zuharim! My congregation suffering from sword and fire while I was safe in my tower reading this! I went to their aid when I could, but I was too late. I had to flee to avoid my death! Flee!” he shouted, his eyes daggers for Rohan.

“Leur, I am so sorry. Why haven’t we heard of this before?” he demanded looking at the others. He was answered with angry and unknowing looks. There was an unspoken treaty among the Free States of the North; no Free State would ever move against another without first seeking arbitration. He was even more troubled by the allegation that the Zuharim would take sides and resort to pillage and plunder, despite the warning Ulrych had passed to him. When none could offer an answer Rohan said, “I am sorry for your losses, Leur. You know our resources are yours.”

“To Hades with you and your resources!” he shouted. “Don’t you see, this is the work of your precious Zuhr! Death, mayhem, and dishonor!” this last he growled in a low voice.

Silence passed over the group as all eyes moved toward Rohan.

“Leur, I understand that you were interrupted in your examination of the texts. It is a most dreadful tragedy, yet it brings to light something the rest of us have come to understand. The Corrupted are those who claim to worship Zuhr yet they have embraced the ways of the Shadow. Tell me, Leur. Did these Zuharim use dark magic?” Rohan leaned forward intently as he asked the last.

Leur stared at him unblinking for a moment. Then, “How did you know that, if you had not heard the news of the invasion?”

Rohan sat back and the rest nodded to each other silently. Kayl rested a hand on Leur’s shoulder and said, “Ulrych foretold of the fall of the Zuharim; it’s in the book!”

 

 

Rohan had sent his High Seats out to their regions to recruit good men to join the Hand and Sword of Zuhr. In only a few short days messengers arrived at the Tower with missives from the High Seats. So far the recruiting process had gone remarkably well. Three of the High Seats reached their home Tower’s and had gathered men along the way while the remaining two had farther to travel to reach home.

When Rohan tallied the numbers his hands began to tremble. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. So he checked and rechecked the numbers. When he finished, he had to get up and walk around the Chamber of the Sun as he thanked Zuhr and Ulrych for blessing him with fortune. The numerous militias along the mighty Pol River had eagerly flocked to the standard of Ailrocz the Strong, giving Zuhr five thousand men. Baeric reached his own homeland quickly. Baeric was a close friend and adviser to the monarch he served, Baron Galdric; the baron took Baeric’s council eagerly. When the baron learned of the vile actions of the Steel Empire and the Zuharim, he quickly transferred command of his small army to Baeric, bringing the feisty man’s numbers to three thousand men. Gun and Kayl had yet to reach their distant homelands. Even so, each had already gathered a thousand men to their standards.

Rohan knew that Gun would have his work cut out for him. The Vaard were a notoriously violent group, surviving largely by raiding and piracy and they had little patience for the ways of Ulrych. Gun was a formidable man himself. Yet, Rohan had not met anyone of Vaardic heritage who was not formidable. Gun was a veteran warrior in his own right, he was so well respected that no Vaard had dared raise a hand against him. Not even the tribal shaman, who, like most Vaard, venerated the spirits of Vaardic ancestors. Still Rohan feared the man would find few more to add to his numbers from the Vaardlands.

Ten thousand men. Although they must keep these men stationed throughout the lands to defend against the Nashians and the Steel Empire, he still couldn’t believe it. Rohan sent his page to summon Leur Fleameau.

“What can I do for you, Lord Bishop?” Leur asked with respect, standing at military attention. Since the gathering of the High Seats, Leur had finally begun to deal with his grief. Leur knew in his heart that the invasion of his homeland and the death of his brother, the prince, had been solely the fault of the Steel Emperor. He’d resolved that the liberation of Amberlou would come in due time and Rohan pledged the assistance of the Church to that end. But each man knew that a greater evil was rising in the form of the dark god, Umber.

When Rohan shared the plans for the formation of a knightly order called the Sword of Zuhr who would face enemies of the Church, dispense justice, and protect the priesthood, Leur resigned his High Seat and resigned from the priesthood to join the Sword of Zuhr.

“Greetings Sword-General; be at ease, brother.” Rohan was pleased when Leur relaxed. “Within days, recruits will be arriving here to train under your command.”

“This is good news, Bishop. As we speak I have only three hundred men, archers most of them. Of those, only twenty-five are candidates for the Sword.”

“Then you will be pleased to hear how busy your brothers have been,” he said with a smile. “The first of five thousand will begin arriving tomorrow.” Rohan watched with pleasure as the words sank in. Leur’s eyes were alight with anticipation.

“Five thousand?”

“Five thousand. Another five thousand have been recruited and have begun their training in the free lands to the north.”

“Thank you, Bishop!” he said as he snapped to attention.

“Do not thank me, Leur. Thank Zuhr.”

“What are your desires for this army, Bishop?”

“I will leave those matters to you. Your record in the military service of Amberlou was exemplary, your training far more advanced than any of the rest of us. You are well suited to this task.”

“Then I believe I know what must be done, Bishop,” he began. “The Arnathians have the most formidable military force in the world. I have studied their tactics and their structure. The Hand of Zuhr will be the main force of arms devoted to Zuhr. An army, for lack of a better term. The Hand will be divided into three regiments of three thousand each. Each regiment will be comprised of three battalions of one thousand each. The final thousand will be those who are qualified to become a knight in the Sword of Zuhr.”

“That is a sound strategy, Leur. You have the blessing of the High Seats.”

Leur began to leave then turned back to face his bishop. “Is there something else, Leur?”

“Yes,” he said. “Why the change in title? Why are you no longer called the Patriarch?”

“I felt that the term Patriarch was too proud. We are all humble servants of Zuhr, there is no need for mighty titles.”

Seemingly satisfied with that answer, Leur snapped to attention, did an about-face, and exited his bishop’s office.

 

BOOK: Shadowblade
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