Gary Gygax - City of Hawks

“You… you… dare make demands of Me?”

“I crave your pardon, Gloomy Majesty. By no means would I be so foolish as to require anything from so royal a lord as you-unless such generosity and favor were given freely, such as in exchange for some service to your majesty and the realm.”

“It is a trifling matter for me to take it from you.”

“Undoubtedly so. Your might is fabled, Lord of Shadows.”

“Shadowfire. Hold it forth.”

“I fear to do so at this moment, majesty. Perhaps when we have discussed the small things which trouble me, we can then view the stone.”

Dark forms began to fill the chamber. Terrible things were taking shape, and all were inimical to Gord and the great lions. Gord responded by reaching into his pouch, touching the strange black opal, and willing its power to travel along his arm and into his body. As he did so, Cord’s flesh began to radiate an iridescent, opaline paleness that washed outward to make deep shadows penumbral.

In effect he had become the luminary of the chamber, and the beams that he shed had a startling effect. Some of the shadows vanished as the pale beams touched them, dispelling into the nothingness they were in actuality. Those not the stuff of illusion became transparent, as if each were but the ghost of a shadow creature, and, lacking substance any longer, wafted harmlessly through the shadowy material stuff of the place to become helplessly entangled in the veils that festooned the room. Fish caught in nets, once-powerful things of Shadowrealm bleated weakly from their filmy prisons as their overlord watched with a bleak expression.

“So you are conversant with the baser powers conveyed to you by the gem,” Shadowking said with a flat tone of resignation in his voice. “Shadowilre bestows such ability because I placed the power within its heart. What I have made, I can unmake.” The last statement contained no hint of threat, not a touch of braggadocio. Indeed, the Lord of Shadows seemed rather filled with sadness when he uttered the pronouncement. This moved Gord.

“Be at ease, majesty. I have no desire to usurp your rule, to contest with your might-even to place myself into an adversarial position. With all due respect and deference, I am here by no will of my own, but the circumstances of my situation demand that I protect myself vigorously.”

The Lord of Shadows scoffed. “You suggest I regard you as a dear cousin even as your flaunt your lese majesty in My palace! Am I to be blackmailed? Never!”

At that, Gord had to take a firm stand. “Have I made demands of you? It is painfully evident that the situation is quite the opposite. I am without memory of my recent past, a virtual prisoner in this place, this shadowy plane, against my desire, and you seek to strip from me my only means of defending myself here as I seek the means to depart from your realm forever. My cause is just, Shadowking, and my course straight. I have that which you seek-Shadowfire. I know not how I gained it, but never did I take it from you! I will gladly gift the gem to your majesty, but in return I ask your royal word that you will restore my memories and see to it I am carried safely to the material world once again.”

“Yet you might be able to usurp the throne, you know.”

“Begging your pardon, majesty, I know nothing of the sort, nor do I care to discover if there is truth in your assertion. Once more, I offer the opal to your lordship, asking only the two small favors I require in return.”

“You are worthy, Gord,” Shadowking laughed, leaning his long spine deeply into the ebon plush of his chair and tilting his pale face back in order to allow the sound to roll forth unhindered. “Without certainty as to strength, potential, or foes, you decide upon a course and walk that line thereafter. Perhaps you do speak truly… I find no guile in your words, nor do the manifold dweomers which cloak this Vault of Veils indicate aught but honesty.” The Shadowlord tilted back his massive seat and looked at Gord along his aquiline nose, black eyes deep and unfathomable. “Am I to accept you as both peer and honest petitioner, then?”

“For the nonce, your majesty… Who amongst us can claim equality and forthrightness for longer?”

Again, Shadowking laughed. “I begin to actually like you, master Gord. You rule naught but yourself, and only that betimes, I think. Still, you are clever and amusing and speak openly. I accept that. Now I shall do the same. Many who dwell within My Realm, the Plane of Shadows, are not indigenous. These Outlanders come here by choice to continue their chosen ways, and such ones are at odds with me, inimical, as it were…”

“The creatures known as gloams?” Gord asked uncertainly.

“Exactly, young prince, but not restricted to that narrow lot by any means. They are once-humans, you know. The murklings were once gnomes and dwarves; the fuligi, curiously enough, elvish sorts. These migrants, along with evil-natured natives of this plane-shadowkin and others too-have combined to oppose My rule and curry mischief and rebellion. I can no longer trust my adumbrates, for instance, due to the machinations of Imprimus and his ilk. Only the phantoms are basically loyal, and, too, certain other of the lesser creatures of Shadowrealm. This split, the division of my subjects, affects me, of course.”

“Disloyalty is always painful, majesty,” Gord said to fill the silence, for the lean monarch had fallen into a reverie.

“You misunderstand. It is natural, for you are not one subject to such conditions. When one’s realm becomes fractious, then the lord tied thereto suffers accordingly. I, Master Gord, am a dangerous schizophrenic. It is a malady not of my own choosing, nor born of any mental frailty I possess. I am shadow, and as It is torn by factiousness, so too am I. Alternately I am the good, the ill, and the indifferent within the bounds of the plane. Should there develop yet another great division within Shadowrealm, then I fear that I, its monarch, would suffer yet another splintering of my already disjointed personality.”

Aghast, Gord leaped to his feet. “Then I must now offer my sword and my service to you, majesty, in order to restore matters to their rightful state or, failing, lose my life.”

“Pretty sentiments, no doubt nobly voiced. Why, then, your refusal to give unto Me what is Mine? Restoration of the opal orb will do much to mend my torn psyche.”

“What of mine own dilemma, majesty?”

Shadowking looked annoyed. “You are consigned to this plane by means supernatural. Some mighty servant of an evil deity sought your death, or perhaps It was the vile deity personally-no matter! Ere you expired, you sought the power of Shadowfire. It cheated the one who slew you, carrying you here instead of to the kingdom where your slayer sought to consign you. Perhaps even another entity had a hand in that… I can but hazard guesses there.”

“Is there aught which will return me to my own place?”

“This place is your own now. Once I might have been able to change the course of things to your benefit. Not now.”

“Shadowflre?”

“Restorative, longed for. but insufficient.” The lean lord of the shadows slumped gloomily, resigned to his fate.

Gord bowed, placing one knee upon the gray-veined black marble of the chamber’s floor. “Majesty,” he said softly, drawing his sword and holding its chill blade gingerly in gauntleted hands so as to avoid its enervation, “I offer my self and my sword in your service. Will you accept?”

“Yes, for all it may matter to either of us. I have but scant hope.”

“In that event. Lord of Shadows, I gladly give over Shadowfire into your hand,” the young adventurer said with firm resolution ringing in his voice. “No vile sect should ever abridge any sovereign lord in his own domain!”