Steel and Shadow: An Epic Fantasy (2 page)

             
“I remember nothing but that moment,” the lad commented, looking up at the sky again through the trees around them.  “And growing up with the contempt of those around me,” he stated solemnly.

             
“Flatlanders are guided by witless priests, and pampered nobles who know little of the world beyond their own walls,” another warrior drawled, tearing off a strip of the roasting meet with a dagger to hand him.  “Lad, wisdom means different things to different people.  But Jengus is right.  If you wish to be a man, then you stand up, and spit in the eyes of those that would damn you.”

             
For a moment, raw fury burned in those dark eyes, and Jengus almost smiled. 

             
Here, he knew, was a very valuable ally. 

             
“I will teach you a warrior’s art, and skill, lad,” Jengus told him.  “For it occurs to me that you would make our ranks the most feared among all the nine great kingdoms with a man like you amongst us.”

             
He only nodded, looking as somber as ever.

             
“Tell me, Sir Jengus.  What do shadows do in this world?  And how do I do the things that….?”

             
He gestured helplessly, and looked to him for answers.

             
“Shadows, or spirit-walkers, are as I said.  More spirit than flesh.  Because they….  Because…  You simply are.  Thus, mortal weapons cannot touch you.  Any weapon, be it fist, or steel, put upon you is sent back to the bearer.  ’Tis your best defense, but not your most potent.  I have heard some shadows that labor for certain powerful mages could even steal the very breath from an entire legion’s lungs with but a draw of his own nostrils.  You, however, are young, and not likely forged for such feats.  Not that it matters.  I think you are actually more human than shade, which is good, and likely why you returned to this world as you did.  All the same, many men, especially in these ‘civilized’ lands, do not understand your ilk, so best not to reveal who or what you are too casually.”

             
“The men in the village feared me.  They once kicked….  Or beat me.”

             
“Only to find themselves struck down, I wager,” Jengus nodded.

             
“Aye.  They even had a priest try to burn me when I was ten.”

             
“I can wager what happened to him,” the gruff, grizzled warrior to his right snorted. 

             
The lad looked away, his offered meal yet to be touched. 

             
“Some men deserve their fates, lad,” Jengus told him.  “Sometimes, for a man to stand, another must fall.  Either in shame, in chains, or….  Aye, even in death.  ’Tis the way of this world.”

             
“That I know,” he said quietly.

             
“When we reach Argus,” Jengus told him.  “We’ll find you suitable garb, and a blade worthy of the name so we can begin teaching you its use.  If you’ve half the will I’m guessing, you’ll learn well enough,” he nodded.

             
“He’ll need a proper name,” the older man near Jengus said blandly. 

             
“What did the sheep we sheered call you,” another asked the lad.

             
“Nay,” Jengus murmured when the lad only looked grim at that.  “He needs a telling name.  One to set his enemies on guard from the start.  A name ’twill mark him as strong, and dangerous.  One to warn others that here….  Here be their doom,” he grinned at the lad.

             
“Call me as you have named me,” the lad said after a long pause.  “Call me Shadow.”

             
“Too obvious, and too simple, lad,” Jengus murmured.  “We’ll call you….Darke.  Koa Darke.”

             
“Koa,” another echoed.  “Dark, I get, brother, but….Koa?”

             
“Darke, you lackwit,” Jengus grinned at his companion.  “In my native land, Koa Darke means ‘prince of shadows,’” he smiled at the lad.  “Considering what is hidden in your own flesh and spirit, lad, I thought ’twould be a fine name for you.”

             
The newly named Koa nodded. 

             
“I like it.  Thank you, Sir Jengus,” he nodded.  “I shall strive to be worthy of the honors you have granted me.”

             
“I’m sure you will, lad,” the warrior of just over twenty winters nodded.  Then he turned to his men, lifting a battered tin cup with only water in it just then.  “Lads.  Welcome Koa to the ranks.  Welcome our new brother to the ranks of warriors and mercenaries,” he grinned.  “Far more honorable a pastime than nobles or guilders will ever know!”

             
The men cheered, and for the first time, Jengus saw the faintest hint of a smile on that pale, drawn visage.  It would be the first and last sign of such an expression on that somber visage for many years, he would learn.

             
“My lord,” the steward moaned, staring at his gaunt, fearful master.  “The invaders are at the walls.  A full half legion of the king’s own failed to even slow them.”

             
“The bloody black legion,” the duke’s son hissed.  “’Tis said a true demon of hell rides with them.  That he cannot be slain, nor even touched,” the portly young lordling said in dread.

             
His father, a leaner, gaunt man who had been riding with the king’s own until recently, only stared from his chair without comment.  His pale, haunted visage flitting between the two as he asked his freeman servant, “What do they want?”

             
“Unconditional surrender,” Sir Deakes told him grimly.

             
“Do it,” Lord Andrus Clarke nodded decisively despite his haggard appearance.  “Tell them we yield.”

             
“Father!”

             
“My lord, surely if we hold out…..?”

             
“You cannot hold out against the devils we face.  The Black Wolf of Xandara rides out there, Deakes.  And he rides with a shadow!  A very shadow of death!”  He eyed his son, then rasped, “I have seen it.  Aye, I’ve seen it with my very own eyes.  What need of those mercenary devils with demons when they command a shadow!”

             
“A…..shadow,” his son Freddie asked.

             
“A spirit made flesh right out of the old tales,” Robbie Deakes shuddered.  “’Tis said such creatures cannot die.  That trying to strike at them only brings you down.  That to even curse them is to curse yourself.”

             
“Ha!  Like as not ’tis but a barbarian trick.  Those Valdorans….!”

             
“Half those men are Xants, and Mountain folk,” his father cut in with a cold growl.  “And the shadow looks like a man of Kanlys.  Aye, Kanlys!  You think I don’t know what I am saying, young lackwit!  I saw that devil stride across the field, cutting down any man before him without raising a hand.  Without.  Raising.  A.  Hand.  And when he did draw steel…..”

             
The duke shuddered in terror.

             
“’Twas like watching the very Hand of God reap flesh and blood from the earth.  Nay, we cannot stand against such a creature.  Yield, Robbie, and pray the mercenary bastard that guides that shadow will not loose him upon us.”

             
“’Tis why you returned when the legion you rode with fell in glorious battle?”

             
“Bah,” the duke spat at his son.  “I have seen little glory, or honor in this war.  Just death, and too much of it.  King George stirred a hornet’s nest this time when he violated his own treaty with Valdor.  Five years of peace and prosperity since the last war, and for what?  So the king could shatter his own lands in his senile rage.”

             
“Treason,” his son gasped.  “Father, you must be wary…..!”

             
“You think such matters when Death itself pounds at your door?  George has led us to ruin, boy,” he called his son.  “Ruin!”

             
He turned and looked at the now pale Robbie, who knew the duke was usually a stanch and loyal man that defended the king. 

             
“Go, man.  Go, and tell them we yield.  Then, pray God they are as merciful as they are deadly.”

             
Robbie nodded, and walked out of the parlor where the duke sat staring at the growing darkness of his unlit room.  His son shook his head, and walked out after the steward.  He would see this….shadow himself.  Not that he believed his father.  Demons were real enough.  But shadows?  Wife’s tales.  Besides, a true priest of the true god would soon set this supposed demon on the path back to hell.  He’d go find Father Benuus, and send him out to see this creature with Robbie.  A bit of the true god’s light would send whatever shade was out there back to its pit, if ’twere not just some barbarian trick, as he suspected.

X

             
“Here comes the little duke’s envoy now,” Commander Jengus Sanz smiled darkly as he watched the gates open, and stay open as the men lining the walls of the fortress built around the duke’s manor just stared at them.

             
“Do you think he will yield,” Koa asked quietly, his grim visage as impassive as ever as he watched the two freeman walk toward them carrying a truce banner.  One of them, he noted with some amusement, was a priest.

             
“A priest.” One of the men in black, leathern armor their band had adopted when the rumors of a ‘black legion’ first began to circulate after Koa helped their reputation spread when their victories soon began to outnumber their losses with him at that side.  “Lad, I think they mean to exorcize you,” the warrior teased as he nodded toward the man in a gray cloak that looked better fed than half the men on the walls.

             
“Priests are but men,” Koa murmured, his voice as bland as his manner.  “And usually, just as corrupt.  I’ve yet to meet one that knew aught more than how to swindle his flock of dupes and pawns.”

             
“Just so,” Jengus nodded, watching the men walked toward them.  He had to give the freeman credit.  Where the priest lagged and showed a reluctant stride, the freeman in livery that marked him as having some standing in his lord’s service walked proudly, and without hesitation. 

             
He could respect a man with such spirit and boldness.  He hoped he wouldn’t have to kill him.

             
“Tode, Caleb,” he murmured as the men closed on their line.  “Open the flanks now, and spread wide,” he told his captains as they all massed behind four columns so far.  “Let them see us.”

             
The two officers nodded, gesturing as their men moved to open their flanks, and form a long line of armored men that stretched out as wide as the walls before them.  Their legion of mercenaries had grown from those days when just barely forty men had survived their old commander’s folly to nearly a full legion’s strength.  Two thousand men strong, those first men unanimously made Sanz their leader for having the wisdom and foresight to not only recognize Koa, but make him an ally.  Teaching him to be a warrior himself, young Koa had soon mastered every weapon put in his hands, and with his powerful gifts, he became an engine of destruction that helped revitalize their band, and turn a handful of common mercenaries into the most feared legion in all the nine lands.

             
Just as Commander Sanz had predicted.

             
Koa always rode beside his commander, too.  He carried no rank, accepted no favors, and did not indulge in the usual vices of men of their rank.  He simply shadowed Jengus, leading many that did not know the truth to believe the ‘Wolf of the Mountain’ was truly a mage that had raised his own guardian-shadow.

             
It was a tale that only helped their already formidable reputation.

             
Even the Daviqi, the most notoriously stubborn raiders of the northern lands, had actually fled the field last year at just the sight of their banner.  It was a tale that still made them laugh.

             
All but Koa. 

             
He had watched the enemy bolt, and simply remarked, “How disappointing,” before riding away back to camp.

             
Now Jengus watched the men who paused to stare at the men moving into position before them, and then he rode up to greet them when they were just a few yards away. 

             
“Name yourself, freeman,” he said, Koa right beside him, his cold, dark eyes likely fixed on the priest if he knew his friend.