Mercenaries fight for gold. Not flags. Why can we not just offer the devils more than Valdor?”
“This Wolf is a peculiar sort. He fights for the cause once paid, and will not quit till the fight is done.”
“Absurd!”
“He is….old-fashioned in that way.”
“Indeed. Then how the devil can you aid me, old man, if you can’t bribe the curs, and this….shadow is beyond us?”
“There are only two ways known to defeat a shadow,” he smiled. “Use his true name, and bind him by it.”
“What are the odds you know that,” he demanded.
“Poor. But there is another way. Send another shadow,” he smiled, and waved his hand.
Almost at once, a tall, gaunt figure with pale, leached skin over a skeletal frame appeared beside the guild master. “I give you….our shadow,” he told the king. “An older, more experienced shadow with powers I’m certain this young shade has yet to master.”
“Hmmm. You can find this shadow, and kill it,” he demanded of the pale thing before him as the priests all but screeched their chants ever louder now at the sight of the thing in the dirty tunic, and ragged breeches.
The shadow did not even reply.
“It will,” Harlock assured the king. “For I own this shadow by virtue of its true name, and it is bound to my will and whim.”
“Why not offer the thing earlier,” he demanded. “We could have used such a devil to end Valdor’s threat long since.”
“The guild has its own secrets, sire, as you must have yours,” he said pointedly. “Shall I send him to find, and slay this shadow for you now?”
“For a price, I might guess,” he growled.
“Of course.”
“What price?”
“I have a grandson. A good man, with a handsome visage, and good wits. Name him your daughter’s betrothed. He is of noble stock, too, and a canny man. Name him betrothed to the lady Miranda, and my shade is yours to command.”
“In truth,” he murmured. “Then, do I agree, you must add to the deed. I want the heads of every surviving Ericson, save the queen’s babe I want delivered back to me,” he demanded.
“As you command,” Harlock, a bit of a secret mage in his spare time smiled as he bowed to the king, and envisioned accidents soon befalling the king and his own sons once his grandson was wed. For then he would use his magics to become his own grandson, giving him yet another life, and finally taking the throne for his own as he planned since the beginning over two hundred years ago.
Harlock Graves looked up at the shadow, and fearlessly put his hand on the thing’s shoulder. “Find the shadow,” he commanded in a tongue few spoke in this age.
The shadow did not speak. It simply nodded, and vanished with Harlock at its side.
“Devil’s magic,” one of the priests hissed as the pair disappeared.
“You would wed your innocent child to that monster’s kindred,” the king was asked by a more canny advisor.
“You think I would give my lass to anyone unworthy of her? Once he has done my bidding, I’ll put paid to both of them. For I recall the old stories, too, and know there is yet a third way to slay a shadow.”
“Truly,” one of the priests asked. “How?”
“As that corrupt
“This Wolf is a peculiar sort. He fights for the cause once paid, and will not quit till the fight is done.”
“Absurd!”
“He is….old-fashioned in that way.”
“Indeed. Then how the devil can you aid me, old man, if you can’t bribe the curs, and this….shadow is beyond us?”
“There are only two ways known to defeat a shadow,” he smiled. “Use his true name, and bind him by it.”
“What are the odds you know that,” he demanded.
“Poor. But there is another way. Send another shadow,” he smiled, and waved his hand.
Almost at once, a tall, gaunt figure with pale, leached skin over a skeletal frame appeared beside the guild master. “I give you….our shadow,” he told the king. “An older, more experienced shadow with powers I’m certain this young shade has yet to master.”
“Hmmm. You can find this shadow, and kill it,” he demanded of the pale thing before him as the priests all but screeched their chants ever louder now at the sight of the thing in the dirty tunic, and ragged breeches.
The shadow did not even reply.
“It will,” Harlock assured the king. “For I own this shadow by virtue of its true name, and it is bound to my will and whim.”
“Why not offer the thing earlier,” he demanded. “We could have used such a devil to end Valdor’s threat long since.”
“The guild has its own secrets, sire, as you must have yours,” he said pointedly. “Shall I send him to find, and slay this shadow for you now?”
“For a price, I might guess,” he growled.
“Of course.”
“What price?”
“I have a grandson. A good man, with a handsome visage, and good wits. Name him your daughter’s betrothed. He is of noble stock, too, and a canny man. Name him betrothed to the lady Miranda, and my shade is yours to command.”
“In truth,” he murmured. “Then, do I agree, you must add to the deed. I want the heads of every surviving Ericson, save the queen’s babe I want delivered back to me,” he demanded.
“As you command,” Harlock, a bit of a secret mage in his spare time smiled as he bowed to the king, and envisioned accidents soon befalling the king and his own sons once his grandson was wed. For then he would use his magics to become his own grandson, giving him yet another life, and finally taking the throne for his own as he planned since the beginning over two hundred years ago.
Harlock Graves looked up at the shadow, and fearlessly put his hand on the thing’s shoulder. “Find the shadow,” he commanded in a tongue few spoke in this age.
The shadow did not speak. It simply nodded, and vanished with Harlock at its side.
“Devil’s magic,” one of the priests hissed as the pair disappeared.
“You would wed your innocent child to that monster’s kindred,” the king was asked by a more canny advisor.
“You think I would give my lass to anyone unworthy of her? Once he has done my bidding, I’ll put paid to both of them. For I recall the old stories, too, and know there is yet a third way to slay a shadow.”
“Truly,” one of the priests asked. “How?”
“As that corrupt
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