Worldship chronicles:
Xzul’s Tears
57,438 words
By Raven c.s. McCracken
2005
Chapter 1
Xzul smiled and said, “When I was a little girl, all I ever wanted to be, was a god.”
A pillar of smoke curled upwards in
the still air of the
The town’s gates were a twisted smoldering ruin and the cities inhabitants ran about in chaos while what was left of their homes burned. And watching it all was the corpse of the town’s mayor, or lord, spinning gently in the air. The body’s insides dangled down like a jelly fish, a calling card that was now all too familiar. Xzul noted sadly that none of the towns guard seemed to be helping with the fire; a quick glance revealed that they were busy being dead.
From the crowd a woman ran shrieking toward her, “Help us, please!” She pointed to a nearby burning building and offered no explanation other than to sob, “My family.”
Xzul dismounted, and her horse vanished as she touched the ground. “If this were anywhere else, I could put this inferno out!”
“What do you mean?” asked the frightened townswoman.
“I mean that on this,” Xzul made a
stabbing gesture with her mailed fist, “the
The Shadowknight just shook her head, “Lead on.” Once at the doorway, she cast a shield and ran into the inferno, in a moment she was lost to sight.
By suns set, Xzul rode from the smoldering village amidst the cheering townsfolk. With a weary smile, she stretched her shoulders, and pressed on into the night; a flower from the village in her hair, a reminder of their gratitude.
Xzul used these visions to placate her as she crawled up the slope away from yet another destroyed village. Covered in mud, she barely had the energy to rise up and stare back at the ruined town. Visions of the hundreds of those, she could not save, flashing in her mind.
For years, she had been repeating this scene, following her quarry through burned and destroyed lives. Helping where she could, and searching, always searching. And while she searched, her life fled before her; she missed her family, friends and their family. She missed a warm bath, and simple plain decency, along with some sense of peace to replace the constant anxiety of the chase. Couple this with the responsibility for anyone in distress and it added up to a burden, no mortal should have to shoulder.
The morning dawned clear and bright. In the early shadow of the Ice Teeth, Xzul encountered travelers. They were disciplined, well provisioned, and armed: three things that ensured survival in the treacherous mountains; so named for the shards of ice blasted about by the vortex winds among the peaks.
The group stopped, and a single member of the party approached cautiously; Xzul noted they all had weapons casually pointed in her direction.
Xzul gave the traditional greeting of the Shadow warriors, “Are you all safe and well?” The words more than a formality, they were a sincere offer of assistance. The rider seemed to relax at this, if only somewhat.
He was middle aged and rugged looking with a dark beard and severe black eyes. His mount was healthy, if somewhat road weary and it stood calm in the face of her psionic steed.
The rider tossed his head to shake
some of the sweat out of his black hair, “Well enough for passing through the
teeth from the
“On your travels did you encounter
anyone of this description?” Xzul created a small illusion in her palm. The image was of a mage dressed in the manner
of a warrior. With elaborate gold and
silver armor plus a blood red cloak emblazoned with the symbols for the
“Of that you could be correct.” Xzul halted her probe, “He is a servant of the dark gods and an immortal mage warrior called Heartrakk.”
“Immortal! Then he will return if killed.” The rider’s eyes plainly showed fear; he was smart enough to understand that there was a bit of danger in simply encountering one who sought such a foe. Xzul could sense that he wished to introduce himself, but her words had blocked that desire. Having knowledge in these times was a dangerous thing. All too often, something as simple as knowing a name could get one killed or worse.
Xzul let the illusion drop, “Yes, if killed he will return within days. The only way to truly vanquish such an immortal is to imprison them. I have been tracking him for over two years to do such a thing.” She touched the hilt of her sword with an expression of malice. “It is Shadarkeem metal, prison to the gods.”
He looked at her strangely. “Who, w-what are you?”
Xzul was surprised at his break in discipline, and flashed her best smile. “I am Xzul, Shadowknight of the Terra Isles!”
The psionic steed moved at a smooth pace, never tiring. Forged of mental energy it was intelligent and steadfast in the face of any event. Xzul had to resist naming the thing so real did it seem. Its white coat and perfect play of muscles, only an illusion-she knew-but an artful none the less, made the psispell almost alive.
She followed directions, supplied by the scout, to the mountain hold called Stonetree, half expecting it to be destroyed when she got there. To her relief it was not. The massive structure was built of petrified wood molded by earthpower into a great fortress bridging a raging river. If Heartrakk took this path, he would have come across this place without fail, and could still be within.
Xzul cursed for the thousandth time
the
The guard leaned from the window to get a better look at the approaching rider. She was astride an impossibly white horse, with a magnificent sword strapped to her back. Her black armor, and mailed skirt, was accented by gold gauntlets and greaves. Trailing in the breeze like a parade was a clean red velvet riding cape lined with black fur, the hood pulled up hiding her features. In the center of that cape was the symbol for the order of the Mensavanguard or Shadowwarriors. At the sight of the chevron, the guard swallowed hard and made a sprint for the gates.
Xzul rode slowly, she sensed the guards excitement, and heard him alert every one he passed. There was no subterfuge and no thoughts of Heartrakk in the boy’s clean young mind.
Xzul noted that the gates were freshly scarred by what appeared to have been gigantic claws. It seemed that the wild was still wild.
The small horse-gate opened as she approached, the guards spilling out to salute her. She rode in with a gracious smile to each of them and on into the open streets of the town. Children surrounded her instantly and with her entourage, she made her way to the main courtyard of the fortress.
Vannet
“I hear she can read minds, milord,” said one of his advisors.
“And summon sound into a sword that can cleave a man in two,” added another.
Vannet saw the horse vanish, as Xzul dismounted, and had no doubt that the stories were true.
He turned to his advisors and said quietly, “I wonder if she can slay dragons?”
An advisor smiled wickedly, “She surly is here for some reason, and that can be our price. If she can read our minds she will see it clearly.”
Vannet sat in his throne in frustration. “As well as the answer to whatever it is she seeks.”
“Perhaps, or perhaps not; it may be she asks a question beyond your reach; in that case we will be free to barter.”
Vannet scooped up a goblet, “Too many holes. I will just have to play the game as it goes. I know little of her order.”
At the back of the room, Alna Brigghaft, the youngest of his staff cleared his throat. The youth seldom spoke, but his advice was always modern and up to date.
“The order of the Mensavanguard was manufactured by the Psisheen Oracles with aid of the Alchemist’s vats two centuries ago. They are a new race, milord, created as powerful guards.” Alna pushed his way forward as if his words gave him momentum. “They were granted freedom in past century. And since that time, they have sworn themselves to defending any who require aid, in repayment of the gift of life.”
The lord took a sip of wine, “Gentlemen,” he raised the cup in way of a salute, “this is the last of the crystalberry from the lower valley. There has been no work in the fields this year and the trade routes are threatened.”
Vannet scowled, “This business with the drake must be stopped. We have tried negotiation, bribes, even sacrifices of those condemned, but still it comes.”
Alna clasped his hands in supplication. “If you ask for assistance she will aid us, without need for payment, milord.”
His last words caught everybody’s attention. The chatter had just started when the doors opened and Xzul walked into the chamber.
Her beauty caught everybody by surprise when she dropped her hood. Vannet heard gasps escape from the assembled advisors, and had to admit he had never seen a creature like her.
She was tall, a head taller than any in the room, with golden brown skin and an oriental cast to her features. Her short white hair framed a set of catlike white eyes set in an almost perfect face. On her neck was a unique tattoo of a hawk and a sword. She appeared to be in her early thirties and in the peak of health, with no scars, though her armor spoke a far different tale. Vannet had expected welts and marks from stem to stern, but her skin was unblemished and radiant.
Xzul gracefully stepped from her cape, and performed the ritual bow of the Vanguard before she asked, “Are you all safe and well?”
Vannet
--
The Storm drake’s lair was situated atop a twisted stone spire that beckoned to any who desired death. From her vantage point, she could see Treestone and other surrounding villages, ripe targets for such a strong flyer.
Clinging to the cliff side, just below the lip of the entrance, Xzul whispered to the wind, “Good thing I don’t have to use my hands to cast spells.”
The wind tossed her short hair as she closed her eyes and concentrated for a few moments; her head glowed as she invoked three psispells: Protection, Quickness and Cloaking. Allowing them all to run on duration, Xzul freed up her mind for combat. With care, she then climbed up into the drake’s cave, trusting in the Cloaking to keep her silent and safe for a short while.
Amidst a strange birdlike aroma, silver coins carpeted the floor where the beast lay wedged in a crack near the ceiling. Its tail was moving and it emitted a strange clucking noise while its eyes scanned a parchment through a large magnifying glass.
Without warning, it quickly crawled from the crack to a stone table and searched through a pile of parchments as delicately as it was able. Finding the page it sought, the drake breathed a bolt of lightening and ignited a large chandelier above. Then, as absently as one would open a jar of cookies, it slid a stone aside and grabbed at something beneath. Xzul heard a man scream!
The vanguard charged into the room. With a thought, she called forth the Axe and threw it at the monster’s claw. As the spell left her hand, it broke the cloaking. Unerringly it struck out at the beast …and splashed; the drake’s natural resistance protecting it from the spell’s effect. Fortunately, for the monster’s intended victim, the surprise made the beast loose his grip.
Xzul caught the man with Telekinesis and he screamed, “The floor!”
His words were echoed by her 6th sense. She barely had time to erect a shield before the drake released a gigantic bolt directly at the carpet of silver coins below her feet.
The cascade of energy flowed around her shield and the Mensavanguard stood proudly within. Leaping upwards, she then summoned the Soundsaber in mid-flight and began striking the creature in a fury, scoring several solid hits.
Enraged, the beast managed to get in a blow with its clawed fist. The force of which, while blocked by a shield, sent her across the room and smashing into the cave wall, a blast of lightning added in for good measure.
Xzul pulled herself from the steaming stone, and released the Soundsaber, replacing it with the longer reach of the Lance. She had an expression that dripped blood and determination.
“You must be an old one.” The question seemed to register on the drake. Its head pulled back on its great serpentine neck, the expression unreadable. She pressed the dialogue, “Old enough to crave knowledge over flesh?”
“What do you,” the drake snorted, “know of …either.” Its voice was like the thunder of a thousand storms.
“Little enough for such a short span,” Xzul tightened her grip on the lance, “But, I do know that your search will end here, if this continues. Why do you plague the township?” She nodded her head in the direction of the man she rescued. “They have done all they can to placate you.”
The Storm drake shrugged; lightening crackled about its skin like armor. “They refuse to worship me.” The words were cold. In them, the vanguard could read centuries of rule by right of strength. The thoughts stirred disturbing feelings within the knight. In a small part of her mind, she could relate to its desire for worship. Xzul shoved the emotions aside.
“They are men, and refuse to worship any but the gods.”
“Am I not a god to the likes of those below?” argued the drake.
Xzul leveled the lance, “Not when I can destroy you.”
To be continued…