Terry Simpson - The Shadowbearer

The channels stretched on, but for all the light within the Travelshaft’s confines, Stefan couldn’t see more than thirty feet ahead. The walls lining either side were an unchanging gray and black mass. Occasionally, another channel intersected the main ones, leading off to a city or town. The journey continued this way, almost devoid of time’s passage, one steady flow where he stood still while the rest of the world moved around him.

As they made their way in silence, they encountered several convoys passing on the other channels. Most consisted of soldiers escorting wagons and supplies, while others were merchants and their guard contingents. No one used the Travelshafts without protection. Not with the Svenzar raiding them at will.

“Stay on guard,” Stefan shouted to Kasimir and Garrick. “The way things have been going the past few days, it would only be fitting if we encounter the Svenzar here.”

Before they were able to pass the word, the ground lurched. Ahead, a wave of earth flowed in an undulating mass from the rocky walls. The movement came to an abrupt stop in the open space between their channel and the outer one. Then dirt and rock spewed upward.

“Svenzar!” Stefan yelled. “Take positions.” Eyes fixed on the creature he leapt from his mount and snatched his bow from below the saddle.

A head the size of a wagonbed formed. The ground continued to flow up, pushing the head higher and higher until it stood upon a mass of stone well over twenty-feet in height.

Arrow nocked, Stefan aimed for where he expected the eyes to appear.

The Svenzar’s stoneform body continued to grow. The ground rumbled and the chamber shook as the being created itself from the earth. Different colors of sediment layered its body, accompanied by metallic glints. Rigid, square shoulders formed, quickly followed by muscled arms a dozen or more feet across. Fingers clenched and unclenched. The wide chest matched the head in proportion. A hollow boom echoed as the rest of the Svenzar from the abdomen down hewed itself from the dirt, stone, and metal in one motion that ended with its feet appearing. Debris showered the channel.

The ground rumbled again, and smaller waves, hundreds in all, appeared within the cavernous Travelshaft. They grew along the walls. Pebbles, small rocks, and dirt rained down. Stefan cast his gaze up to the roof high above them. There, the humps in the stone existed also.

Mouth agape, he stared as the humps formed into smaller versions of the Svenzar-their young counterparts, the Sven. They inhabited the walls, standing sideways or hanging upside down from the roof like bats made of stone.

Stefan raised a hand to signal to his men. They knew to fire as soon as the creatures opened their eyes. He focused on the Svenzar.

The Svenzar’s eyes did not open. A voice like musical notes put to speech but at the same time, a basso rumble, said, “Put away your weapons, Knight Commander Dorn. We seek an audience.”

H ow, in all that’s righteous, does the creature know my name? Stefan wondered

“Don’t trust them,” Garrick cautioned as he stepped up next to Stefan, his bow drawn, fletching to ear.

“Look around us, Garrick.” Stefan lowered his bow. “Even if we wanted to try hold out until the infantry and the scorpios arrived, we couldn’t. Not without Alzari or Ashishin.”

“What if they decided to take you?” Kasimir’s weapon still pointed at the stoneform creatures.

“We wouldn’t be able to stop them if that was their wish.”

“I hate being helpless,” Garrick said.

Stefan nodded. “Me too. Me too.” He raised his voice. “Men, lower your weapons.” Exhalations and the creak of strained wood easing on either side of him confirmed Kasimir and Garrick followed the order. Stefan glanced behind to make sure the rest of the cavalry complied, and then he faced the Svenzar once more. Fissures and cracks were appearing on the creature’s body in patterns he couldn’t quite place. “Svenzar, how do we do this?”

Stony chips fell away from the Svenzar’s eyes as they opened to reveal emerald pools. The eyes reminded Stefan of his own. “I wish to speak to you alone, Knight Commander Dorn. Come to me. Leave your men behind.”

“How do I know you don’t mean me harm?”

“You do not.”

“I’m supposed to trust such an answer?”

Voice tinkling in those musical notes, the Svenzar gave what sounded like a chuckle, “What choice do you have?” The Svenzar gestured a massive rocky hand to the Sven surrounding Stefan’s men. “Our young are more than enough to handle your men. Within the stone, we hold power. All you see here is ours to do with as we will.”

As if in emphasis, the creature waved its hand, and the ground shook. Walls grew from the earth, spouting up until they blocked off any possible retreat. For the first time Stefan also noted the sense of motion that persisted inside the Travelshafts had come to a complete stop. The sensation was as if the entire world paused and waited for a command.

“Point taken,” Stefan said aloud. Under his breath he said, “Should they do anything to me, fight to the death.”

“Yes, sir,” both men replied solemnly.

Stefan exhaled, let his bow drop to the ground, and strode forward. He refused to unsheathe his sword. A measure of command was necessary. Feet crunching on smaller portions of rubble, he picked his way through the rock chips and debris littering the floor until he found a clear path along the metal tracks. As he strode to the Svenzar, he kept his back straight, his chest out and paced himself with an easy grace. In this situation, he would show no fear.

When he drew within a dozen feet of the creature, Stefan realized the fissures and cracks on its body did form lines and patterns. In fact, they appeared to be more like tattoos. He strained his eyes and was able to pick out images of men, creatures he’d never seen before, landscapes, scenes of great battles, and sparkling celestial bodies. The intricacy of the artwork made him gasp. Even the murals along the walls in the Royal Palace paled by comparison. This was the first time he ever witnessed such a vibrant tapestry.

“I have watched you and your people for years.” The Svenzar’s voice was softer now, more musical than before, and conversational.

Stefan stopped. The Svenzar’s stoneform body stretched so high Stefan needed to crane his neck to peer into its face. Up close, the tattoos wormed and shifted. They gave off the impression the men and creatures watched his every move. “Why?”

The Svenzar chuckled. “So impatient your race is. You often want answers to questions you already know and to those well beyond you. It must be a trait of having a shorter life span.”

“If I knew the answer I wouldn’t ask.”

With a sigh that drifted upon the windless air, the creature said, “I have monitored you because you shape the future. Your decisions and choices affect all around you.”

“Isn’t that the same for everyone?” Stefan frowned. The conversation somehow felt off, a little odd.

“Yes, but for your kind more so than any other. Look at what your conquering of Ostanian lands has done. In Granadia you have changed the life patterns of countless millions.”

“I almost get the sense you aren’t pleased,” Stefan said.

“Upheaval, instability, fates in constant change ….” The Svenzar cocked its head. Boulders fell from its face in a rumble, but when they struck the shoulders and chest, they clung as if snagged in mud and were absorbed into its body. “I would not say I am not pleased … more … concerned. Such events take thousands of years to occur among the Svenzar. For you, it takes hundreds.”