Shadowblood

Chapter Twenty-Five

Sardec studied the ruins. There were bodies on the cobbles. Whole streets had burned to the ground; it looked as if the fire had started somewhere and there simply were not enough people to get it back under control. There had been rain since then and water puddled in the streets. His small party moved amid the desolation like the last survivors in a dying world.

The children looked around them with wide, wondering, frightened eyes. The adults had the same childlike quality about them.

Sardec wondered if there was anyone left alive in this place, if there was anyone left alive in the entire world. Where had all the people gone? Where could they possibly have fled to? Surely it was not possible that they were all dead?

"There's an apothecary's shop on the corner, sir," said Weasel. "We can look in there for some healing herbs and sleeping drafts. We'll probably find lead for bullets as well."

"Go to it, Sergeant," said Sardec. "And keep your eyes open for any survivors. I'd like to talk to any locals that you can find. We need to find out what's going on in this country. We need news. We need information."

Weasel gestured for the Barbarian and Toadface to follow him, and loped off towards the building he had indicated. Sardec sat down on the remains of a tumbled down wall and indicated to the rest of the party that they should stand easy.

"I don't like this," said Rena, coughing. "It's like everything and everyone has died. It's like we’re the last people in the world. I'm starting to believe all those folk who claimed that the end times are here."

"I can understand how you would see things that way," said Sardec.

"Whatever happens now, I don't think the world will be the same."

Sardec nodded. "They say it was like this during the last days of Al’Terra. The Princes of Shadow unleashed all manner of strange sorceries. I always thought those things were exaggerations, but now I think they might have understated the reality."

"I wonder if the plague has reached Talorea. I wonder how the people I know in Redtower are doing."

Sardec reached out and stroked her hand in an attempt to reassure her. It was the first time a long time she had mentioned the town in which she had grown up. She had lost many of her family to a previous plague. He was surprised that she was holding up as well as she was.

Weasel’s shout was terrifyingly loud when it came and he realised then how quietly they had all been speaking. It was as if they were standing in a graveyard, talking respectfully of the dead.

Weasel had managed to find some survivors. He was pulling them out of a cellar. There were two of them, an emaciated looking man and a woman who looked as if she had once been much fatter, judging by the way the folds of skin flopped on her face and neck.

"Who are you?" Sardec asked.

"My name is Pteor, your honour, and this is my wife, Karin."

"What happened here, man?"

"The plague, sir. It swept through the town and killed most of the people. Too many to burn or bury. Then the dead started rising. Lots of people fled. Some of them fought. The fires started. The town burned to the ground. I don't know what happened next but all the dead men left. It was as if something summoned them."

"How did you manage to survive?"

"I'm not sure, sir. By the grace of God, I think. The herbs helped and the fact that we hid in the cellar probably didn't do any harm either."

"The herbs?"

"When my wife started to show symptoms of the plague I tried red berry root. It’s not something I would normally have tried since red berry is more for pregnant women than anything else but the colour reminded me of the plague spots and nothing else seemed to be working so I thought — why not? It helped and then the fever broke and she got better. She did the same thing for me when I started to go down."

"Are you saying you found a cure for the plague?" Sardec felt suddenly excited. He told himself not to get to hopeful.

"I tried the paste on other people and it seemed to cure all the symptoms as well. Of course some of them died from complications, or hunger or simply just the strain. But none of them rose from the dead."

"Are you sure, man?"

"I can't be certain, your honour, since I only tried the herbs on half a dozen people. However, if I did come down with plague again, I would want my wife to try the same cure."

"You think it's likely that you might come down with the plague?"

"Who knows, sir? We've not shown any symptoms since we recovered."

"Do you have any more of these herbs? Quick, man — answer me!"

"I have a sack of the stuff in my basement. It's always been cheap. Who would've thought it would be so useful? It might not prove to be so cheap in the future!"

"Will you give us some?"

"Are you sick?"

Sardec nodded and indicated the children and the limping, weary soldiers. Rena coughed a little too and he widened his gesture to include her.

“What about you, your honour?”

“I am not sick.”

“It’s true that the Terrarchs are blessed by the Light then, sir, and that the plague passes you by.”

Sardec did not feel blessed but he could see how things might look that way to a mortal so he simply nodded. “How long does this cure take to work?”

“A few hours, sir, if the victim is in a really bad way.”

“Might it be worth those men who don’t have the plague taking some of the drug anyway, as a preventative?”

“I don’t see how it could hurt, sir, other than by exhausting the berry paste when we might need it later.”

“If this works, Pteor, I will see that you have your weight in gold. You will go down in history as the man who found a cure for the greatest plague in history. You and your wife had better come with us. Pack up what you need. You’re going to be rich and famous!”

The mention of the gold made the man perk up. He hustled off and got busy, and Sardec offered up a prayer for his endeavours.

It was night and for the first time in a few days, there were no signs of illness among Sardec’s small command. No one was kept awake by coughing. All of the people who had seemed to be getting ill slept peacefully. Sardec sat within the abandoned Palace and watched some more antique furniture burn. Once he would have despised the waste but now they needed the warmth more than they needed the beautiful old chest of drawers. He looked down on Rena and thought he detected the faintest signs of improvement. There was more colour in her cheeks.

“They look healthier, sir,” said Weasel. The Barbarian grinned and nodded his head emphatically.

“Do you really think that old alchemist has found a cure for the plague?” he asked.

“We’ll just have to wait and see, but it’s starting to look that way.”

“If we can get this knowledge home we’ll all be heroes,” said the Barbarian thoughtfully.

“If we can get this knowledge home I’ll see you all decorated by the Queen and with a pension for life.” Sardec realised he was making very free with the rewards but he felt sure such munificence would be more than justified. In some ways it would be the discovery of the age. Who would have thought that a simple medicine used to ease women to childbirth would prove to be the cure for the worst scourge ever unleashed on this world?

He told himself to calm down, that it had not been established yet and even if it was the cure might only work for some people or prove only temporary. He felt hopeful though and that brought fear — of failure, of death. More than just the safety of his small party rested on him now. The lives of every human being in Talorea or quite possibly the world now did.

Perhaps Fate had just done this to torment him, to dangle the possibility of success and triumph in front of him just to yank it away. He told himself not to be so self-obsessed. All he could do was try and complete the task set in front of him and leave others to worry about the machinations of destiny.

Rena’s eyes opened and she saw him looking down on her.

“Hello,” she said.

“How do you feel?”

“Better than I have done in days.”

“I’m glad to hear it. You look better too. So do the others.”

“You look thoughtful. What were you thinking about?”

He told her. “You worry too much,” she said.

“I have a lot to worry about.”

“You’ll do your best. You always do.”

“What if I fail?”

“What if you don’t? All you can do is try. You can’t let worrying about the consequences stop you or make you second guess your decisions. You’re right — this is potentially the most important thing in the world now. You need to bring knowledge of it back to Asea or Lord Azaar.”

He saw the realisation flicker across her face — they did not even know where Asea was or whether she was still alive. “There are others who will know what to do about this. The important thing is that it works and we bring it back to the West. Then we might have a chance to overcome this plague and win this war. And now you had better get some rest. We still have a long way to go and you need to recover your strength.”

“What about you?” she asked. “Don’t you need rest too?”

He rose from beside her and glanced around. “I just need to check the sentries and then I shall get some sleep.”

Rik was glad the coach approached Askander. The tension had increased within him with every league as they approached the city and he felt like he was wound up so tightly that something within him might break. He knew that the greatest struggle of his life was approaching and now he just wanted to get it over with.

The full moon was near. That was when the barriers between worlds were at their lowest. If there was any time when an attempt to summon a Prince of Shadow was going to be made, it would be then.

He was as ready as he was ever going to be. He had learned a lot from Tamara and from Asea both. He could see in the deepest of shadows and darkness now in a manner that did not only use his eyes but gave him a strange mystical awareness of the space that surrounded him.

He could open the pathway and look through it to any shadow within a hundred yards, listening and seeing things there in black and white.

He could open the paths between deep shadows in a manner that would let him pass through them. He could mould the shadows and bend them to his will when he concentrated, altering their appearance, letting them flow over him to hide himself, to cloak him from the eyes of those who would see him. He had kept this a secret even from Tamara.

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.

“Do you want to come with us or not?”

The man shook his head and the others seemed to take their cue from him. “With all due respect no, noble Terrarch. We have no desire to go West to Talorea.”

“Then we shall bid you good-day,” said Sardec.

“Be careful if you are heading into the Black Hills, sir. The dead are very numerous there and very savage, or so I have heard.”

“Thank you for the warning. We shall keep our eyes open.”

In the distance a bird sang. The sun peered through the clouds. Flowers bloomed and their scent filled the air. Sardec studied the land around him. It was lovely in its way, abandoned farmhouses set in the shadow of the rugged hills. It came to him then that this was not really the end of the world. Even if every sentient being in it died, plants would still grow, animals would still roam the woods. It would be a world empty of people but it would not die.

He felt more cheerful now. They had found what might prove to be a cure for the plague. If they could get that back to Talorea, they would all be heroes. He found that did not matter quite so much to him now as it once would have. Once he had lived for the idea of fame and glory. The events of the past few months had shown him quite how foolish that was. There were more important things to him now. Rena would live. The children would live. The surviving soldiers would live. He cared about these things. They were important to him. Far more important than the prospect of fame.

Another thought struck him. Rena noticed it and said, “What is it? What are you thinking?”

“It just occurred to me that the plague only affects human beings. It doesn’t affect plants or any other animal as far as I can tell. I was wondering why that was.”

She looked thoughtful and a little embarrassed as a person will when they are out of their depth. “I don’t know why that would be. I don’t know anything about magic. I don’t know anything about medicine.”

“Neither do I,” he said. “I find the older I get the less I know. It just interests me. I think you might have hit the nail on the head though. I think a combination of magic and medicine is at work here. I think someone designed this plague, created it to affect only human beings. And I think that that was a very wicked thing to do.”

“Who would do that?”

“I would like to say someone who was mad, someone with no sense of right or wrong, but I suspect it was done by someone with too much of a sense that they were right, with the certainty of it in fact. And I suspect it was done by a Terrarch like me.”

“If they did that, they were nothing like you.” She sounded very certain of that and he wanted to believe her.

A piercing whistle cut through the air. Weasel waved and pointed at the surrounding hills and Sardec saw immediately what was wrong. There were figures, human figures, moving along the brow of the hill paralleling them. He suspected that they were not really humans at all. He took the spyglass from his pocket and trained it on them. The figures leapt into view.

At first they looked like a crowd of ordinary people, but he could see that their clothes were tattered and rotten as was their flesh. It looked like they had found the dead people or rather the dead had found them.

He hoped the monsters had not seen them but was disappointed in this when they began to shamble down the hillside in pursuit of his small command. They came on slowly but inexorably, far too many to fight in this open ground. Fear seized Sardec’s heart. He gave the order for them all to run. The Barbarian seized up Lorraine. Pteor tugged his wife along. Toadface grabbed Alan by the hand and the whole small party fled along the mountain paths.