William King - Shadowblood

During the journey he had gotten to know his half-sister better.

There were times when he asked about his father, filled with curiosity about the Terrarch he had killed and never really known, and was surprised by some of the things she told him. He had not been the worst of fathers and his truly sinister nature had only become evident once Tamara was out of her childhood years. It seemed that he had changed over the time she had known him, becoming stranger and madder as he practised thanatomantic sorcery in response to his ageing.

Knowing what he did about such things Rik found that easy enough to believe. It was at once a revelation and a warning to him, a vision of what he could become himself if he followed a certain path. He wondered if he would have any choice about that- he was young now but perhaps if he became old and feeble like he had seen befall others, the temptation would become greater.

He was fooling himself, in some ways, because the temptation was always with him now. He knew the strength and power he could acquire by draining other living things of their life, and the more his knowledge grew the more he felt the temptation. Tamara had given him access to a body of knowledge that seemed to come naturally to him, far easier than the sorcery that Asea had taught him. It was as if he had always known it and merely had to be reminded, like a student having their memory jogged by a fragment of poetry, like a memory of childhood brought back by a certain smell or sight, like something that had always been there in his blood and had only now started to emerge and change him.

He wondered if this was the trap of which Asea had tried to warn him, at once simple and devilishly subtle. By using magic you not only changed the world, you changed yourself along with it. It was part of a process. He wondered what changes were being made to him by all this knowledge, in what subtle ways the patterns of his thoughts were being re-aligned. He had always been ambitious. He had always wanted such power and now he knew secret means of gaining power that were unknown even to the two sorceresses who had taught him. He could make himself very strong by using thanatomancy and there were going to be times in the near future when he would need such strength.

Rik wondered what he would do then. He had no illusions that he was likely to prove a match for an entire Brotherhood in the service of the Princes of Shadow. He doubted that even Asea was and she was far older and more powerful than he. Most likely the whole enterprise was doomed from the start and the best thing he could do was simply turn around and flee to the edges of the world.

But…he simply could not. He had committed himself to this mission and to Asea and there was a certain sullen stubbornness in his nature that would not let him back out of it now, at least not until she did. It occurred to him that he still had a huge chip on his shoulder and something to prove. He wanted to show Asea and the world that he was as good as any Terrarch, as persistent, as brave, their equal in any of the virtues on which they so prided themselves and so despised their human subjects for supposedly lacking. It was not a good motive for getting himself killed but somehow, it and the basic loyalty he felt towards Asea kept his feet firmly on the road Eastward long after common sense told him that he should make a run for it.

As they breasted the hill and looked down onto the ancient port city and the mighty fortress that loomed over it, he knew that this was going to be his last chance.

At first Sardec could not quite believe his eyes. Ahead of them was a small group of people, and they were people, not walking dead. Weasel had assured him of that. He had gone forward and talked to them and they were human enough. The watched him approach now, warily. One or two of them pointed pistols at him, others kept scythes and rakes held ready as if they were weapons. They had not allowed Weasel to come any closer than thirty yards but they let him walk right up presumably because he was a Terrarch.

Sardec studied them closely as he approached. A few of them were dressed as peasants, one or two like rich merchants. All of them looked afraid. Many of them prayed and made Elder Signs in the air. One of them, older, bearded more richly dressed and with the accent of a successful merchant said, “Good day to you, noble Terrarch.”

“Good day. What news of the world?” The man looked at Sardec suspiciously. He was a native Kharadrean and Sardec was a Talorean so he had every reason to be so according to his own lights. The Kharadreans regarded the Taloreans as invaders and Sardec was not sure that he blamed them for it.

“It is the end of the world, noble Terrarch. Or so I’ve heard tell. The plague has killed millions and the dead will not stay in their graves. You and your men are the first living beings we have seen in days.”

“But you have seen others.”

“Yes but we have met more of the dead. We fled from them and that is why we are still alive to talk to you.”

“Have you heard any news?”

“It seems many of the dead join the Sardean army but many more roam free seeking to devour the flesh and drink the blood of the living. They wander the land in huge bands. Some of them seem to have kept some intelligence and become leaders; most are mindless.”

Sardec realised they had missed a lot by sticking to the out of the way trails. “Have you heard anything of a Talorean army?”

“The Taloreans have fled West back towards their borders. They fear to stand before the Sardeans since their great General was defeated.”

Sardec did some swift calculations. “When did you get this news of them?”

“It would be at least a week ago, noble Terrarch.” Some of the other survivors nodded in confirmation. None of them looked like victims of the plague. None of them showed any symptoms. Sardec mentioned this.

Their spokesman looked at once fanatical and shifty. “That is because we abandoned any who show signs of the plague when they first develop symptoms. I left my own wife and children behind. It was better for them and better for us. Some of us need to stay alive if the human race is to survive.” He paused for a moment and added, “And continue to serve the Terrarchs, of course.”

Sardec said, “You can come with us if you want to. We are heading West. But there will be no abandoning the sick. We have a cure for the plague.”

“That would be a great blessing if it were true, noble Terrarch. Not that I doubt you, of course. If you say it, it must be true, you being one of the Elder Race and all.” It seemed to Sardec that there was less respect in his tone than there would once have been. He imagined that most of the survivors were going to sound like that. There were going to be some changes in the social order after this. Perhaps the cure they carried would prove to be another weapon in the hands of the Terrarch rulers. If they kept it a secret, they could give the cure to whoever they liked as a reward to the loyal. And they could withhold it from those who were disloyal if they so chose.

He would have liked to believe better of his people but he knew things were otherwise. There were those who would seize any weapon that presented itself, who would do anything to maintain their position in the world. The best way of preventing this was to spread the knowledge as widely as possible, to ensure that everyone knew what the cure was and how to apply it, so he told the merchant and immediately regretted it for he saw a cunning look come into the man’s eye and guessed that the merchant saw an opportunity for profit here. Sardec dismissed the thought. It did not matter whether the man sought profit or not. The knowledge would be out there in the world and would eventually spread anyway, particularly if Sardec made a point of making sure of that.