Shadowlord (Chapter I)

Be sure to read "Shadowlord (Prologue)"  first!

Chapter I

The day was hot. Few upon Khor could remember such heat in the past. The sun gazed down upon the population of the port city of Pytris with such intense heat that the streets were scarcely populated on this day. No cool breeze swept off the bay as usual, no shade was provided by the nearby mountains, and nothing protected the populace from this scorching heat. The only place life was to be found was in areas largely shaded. Even there, however, the temperatures were nearing unbearable.

Sweat dripped down Knil Tangk’s stubby face as he skillfully cleaved off a chunk of wood. The dwarf sat on a chair in the corner of his blacksmith shop whittling a block of wood for his son. His shop was no more of a blacksmith shop than a woodworking shop, for about half of his business came from selling his wooden figures to friendly townsfolk. This particular figure was of a dragon, wings spread with a ferocious look on its face. Along with being the best blacksmith in town, in fact he would dare say in the east, he was the best woodworker around. The details he could carve were amazing. Individual teeth stuck out of the beast’s mouth, lining the top and bottom in perfect detail. Knil had once seen a dragon himself before the Great Dragon Wars-which to Knil’s knowledge had completely wiped out the dragons when the Dark Magi’s terrible blast had been horribly miscalculated-while traveling northeast to Tagernis. Though it was small and didn’t see him, it still gave him quite a fright. It was a blue dragon; an evil type looking for prey. It had strayed far from the lair, but still to be safe Knil had taken a detour through the Plains of Fog. He had even caught a glimpse of the famed Fortress of Wizardry, where the study of magic is conducted. Some day he would have to carve the Fortress of Wizardry. Someday before he forgot the details.

Business had been slow today. There was not much need for weapons nowadays, but still some people needed swords or pikes. Back during the Elvin wars, when the dwarves had forced the elves to live in the land behind the Crystal River (the dwarves had tried to do more than that, but could push them no farther back than the Crystal River), was a blacksmith’s dream, or so his father used to tell him before he died. Always a job to do and you could name a price ten times higher than normal. His father had never cared much for woodworking. Once, his father also had told him, Jau’Gautha himself came in and ordered 200 battle-axes, and one specially made one for him. Oh, no one could ever get his father to shut up about how he had forged Jau’Gautha’s axe, now the Legendary Axe of Jau’Gautha, or Jau’Gautha’s Blood, after it had been enchanted with his own blood with his dying breath. Now the wars were over and business was slow.

It was getting late and no one had come in for hours, so Knil decided he had better start closing up. He set his knife that he himself had crafted down along side his half finished carving to finish tomorrow. As he finished closing up shop he noticed four strange men in cloaks walking the town and eyeing the buildings, after coming across each one man glanced down at a sheet of paper and shook his head. Then the men moved on to the next building and followed the same procedure. It was strange for Knil to see someone and not know who they were, even though this was the capital city in Prytris, so he figured that they must be travelers and paid them little more attention. He gathered his locks for the doors and locked all but the main entrance.

He exited his shop and locked it, then started heading home when he glanced back to the travelers as they stopped by his shop. Again they eyed this building with interest as they had with all the others and again the man with the paper glanced at it. This time, instead of shaking his head the man with the paper nodded and one of the other three men pulled at the door. Seeing the lock the men looked around the streets.

The man with the paper saw Knil and spoke. “Well hello there, dwarf, would you happen to know where we could find the blacksmith that runs this shop?” The man had a strange accent, one Knil had never heard before. The men had their cloaks over their heads so he couldn’t make out many facial features, but he could tell that all four of these travelers were human. They carried no weapons, at least none of which he could see, and so Knil just regarded them as some travelers who wanted a weapon to protect themselves with on whatever journey they may choose to venture.

Knil noticed the dark colored cloak of the man who spoke. The other men behind him had deep blue cloaks on. He couldn’t tell if the speaker’s cloak was black or dark blue. It really didn’t matter the color, of course, since color classification had been dropped ever since the devastating Magi War. All colors were forgotten and few remember what they stood for anymore.

Knil looked back to the speaker and spoke. “Yes, traveler, I do. First may I ask what brings you foreigners to this lovely city on this brutally hot day?”

“Yes, we have no trouble with kind questions. We come here seeking the blacksmith during our travels north.”

“North eh, where be you headed?”

“Oh,” the man said with a chuckle, “I suppose we will find out when we get there.”

“I know exactly what you mean, traveler.”

“So, about the smith. You said you know where to find him. Would you care to share your knowledge?”

“Why certainly I’ll tell you. And I’d hope I know where to find him, being that it is my shop and all, and I the smith that runs it.”

“So it is. We have heard that you are the best smith around, and that your knowledge of weaponry is extensive.”

“That I am and yes it is.” Knil nodded his head.

“Well then, we are not in need of a new weapon, but rather looking for one of the old. It is a type of hammer. A very special hammer, imbued with a silver gem.”

“And does this weapon have a name, it being so special and all?” Knil asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

“That is does,” the foreigner replied, “It is known as the Doom Hammer.”

Knil’s eyes grew wide, and a grin drew itself on his face, “May I inquire just what you are going to do with such a weapon? It has only one special purpose, to free the Demon Lord.” A smile showed itself upon his face, thinking how foolish the idea of that was.

“Our business is ours and you need not know what its purpose is intended to be. Now, all we request is the location of this fabled hammer. We have traveled far in looking and now our search comes to you. We trust you know the location.”

“Yeah, well, it’s locked up tight at the Fortress of Wizardry.” Knil frowned at the last comment made by the foreigner. He chuckled to himself some, thinking of how absurd this conversation was. “Good luck gettin’ that thing outta there. How do you plan on getting in, it being magically sealed and guarded?”

“We have our ways. Ways in which you have no matter in.”

“Really. I don’t dare ask what they are. Am I right in doing so?”

“Well, I suppose it can’t hurt to spill our secret. We plan to force our way in and kill all that oppose. We will call on powers not of this world, and will break the enchantment. Then, when the dust clears, when all war is over, we will be rewarded beyond measure.”

“Interesting.” These guys were obviously insane, so Knil figured to drop the conversation here, after one more question. "War? I have heard nothing about war."

"The Demon Wars." He replied in a cold, empty voice.

"Indeed, but the Demon Wars have long been over." These guys must be living in the past. Crazy.

"Quite. What do you know of the war ending? Has it really ended, or just begun?"

Knil just stared, "Right."

"Well," the man sighed, “Thank you for this information, my friend. What is your name?”

“Knil,” he told the man, “Knil Tangk. May I ask the name of you, traveler?”

“Ranov, Ranov Chlutp.” the man said. “Now, Knil, I must thank you for this information, but I am afraid that I have said too much.” Ranov nodded and the three other men, all who had been standing behind Ranov during the whole conversation, stepped forward. “We cannot trust a common dwarf, such as you, to know the fate of the world, and depend upon that dwarf to not betray us.” Ranov turned and started walking away, but stopped some twenty feet away and looked back. “The Demon Lord thanks you for your services, you will be repaid.” With that, he walked away.

Knil now realized the comments Ranov had made about the Demon Lord, who has been long entrapped in a Crystal Ring, was not as foolish as it had previously sounded. Now Knil recognized the cloak. He could make out the insignia of two red serpents winding around each other, fire blazing in the eyes and a look of evil on their faces.

A rush of adrenaline pumped through his veins, fueled by the sudden hatred and anger toward this traveler. “Dark Magi scum. You abandon the order for evil arts and I can only imagine what you are up to now that you dare show your face. You would not tell me your ‘plan’ for fear of another overhearing. But whatever you can be up to, it’s no good.”

“Aye, you see through us too well. Or do you? Are we leading you to believe what we are doing so you can turn it into what we want you to believe? Or are we bluntly telling you the truth to let you concoct your own idea of what our plan is. Are we trying to do an act so heroic, or suicidal, or even necessary, so you will accept us in your society, or are we evil through and through. You never believed us magi anyway, why would you believe a word that I’ve said today. Maybe I have told some truth, carefully dropping hints to let you figure out our plan and try to stop us. All I will let you know, not that knowing it will change anything, is that we are looking for the crystal ring and the Doom Hammer.” With that, the mage turned and started walking down the street.

Thoughts raced through Knil’s head. No one knew where the ring was. It has not been seen for hundreds of years, with no record ever recorded on its location. How are those blasted Dark Magi, mysterious as their magic may be, supposed to find it? And how are they ever going to get the Doom Hammer out of the Fortress of Wizardry? No one is going to let them just walk in and take it. And there’s no way they’d be able to ‘force their way in and kill all that oppose’ them. Seeing those robes, no one will even let them through the portcullis. Knil had little time to wonder these things, for the three men standing before him slipped silver dirks out from under their cloak and slowly stepped toward him, their dirks shining brightly in the glaring sun. He eyed each nervously as he reached toward his scabbard. His hand felt nothing there and as he looked down he realized in terror that he had left his sword in his shop.

The sky darkened as a cloud rolled in front of the sun, gracing the inhabitants of Khor with its cooling shade. Knil, his mind racing about what to do, didn’t notice the break in the heat. No one was in the streets to come to his aid because of the cursed heat. Normally the streets would be buzzing, and a few friends and long time customers would have fought to the death alongside the dwarf. But today, no one would come.

“Aye there, wouldsh ye baable to direct me to the choldest mug’a’ale this townsh got to offer? This heat is incredabadle!” The man staggered as he fumbled over the word ‘incredible.' He had obviously already had more than enough ale for a week.

Astonished, Knil looked to see a sailor standing near the Dark Magi, waving down to Knil after getting no response from Ranov. Knil’s hopes rose and he was about to yell out, but before he could he saw a strong hand flash out from under Ranov’s cloak. He held out his hand and mumbled something. A Ring of Fire flared up around him, and he mumbled another phrase. The flame rose up slowly and completely engulfed him. Knil couldn’t tell, but he thought that he heard one more phrase of the spell, and five arrows, seeming made out of pure fire to Knil, shot out of the flame with amazing speed and accuracy, piercing the sailor in the heart and burning a bloody a hole in his chest.
The sailor’s lifeless body dropped to the ground in a jumbled heap of burning limbs. The smell of burning flesh reached Knil and made him want to vomit. His heart sank. That was his last hope, if it was hope at all.

Ranov was not done with the body yet, though. As the flames lowered to his ankles, he cupped his hand and raised it above his head to his arm’s full extension. A large tremor shook the ground and for a disoriented moment Knil thought that there might be an earthquake. Then his senses returned and he saw that the sailor’s body was no longer there, only charred earth where it had been.

The three men with the dirks had also been hypnotically captivated by this spectacle, but as soon as it ended they continued to pursue Knil.

Being a dwarf, he knew that he could never outrun three humans. He stood before them bravely and closed his eyes. A tear from the corner of his eye stood out of the sweat beads on his face. He never knew who the attacker was as the dirk plunged deep into his chest.

Before them lie the body of the dwarf, Knil Tangk, face down with a pool of blood gathering around him. He had died bravely, like a warrior, and would be rewarded by their master, the Demon Lord, in the after life. The three men starred at Knil’s body for a moment. Then, concealing their dirks, they turned to catch up with Ranov.



Be sure to read the next chapter, "Shadowlord (Chapter II)" !

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