Troy Denning - The Cerulean Storm

Most men called it shadow, that dark stain visible only as an absence: the cold gloom cast upon the ground when their bodies blocked the light of the crimson sun. Wiser minds referred to it as the Black, and they knew that it separated everything that existed from everything that did not. It lurked just beneath the surface in all things, like the leathery shell of some great egg, buried shallow and about to hatch. Outside lay the barren mountains, the endless sand wastes, and the bleak, windswept plains that were the world of Athas. Inside lay the Hollow, filled with the languid albumin of nothingness.

Within this colorless ether floated the bones of an ancient skeleton. It lay curled into a tight ball, its shoulder blades fused into a large hump and its gangling arms wrapped around its knees. The skull seemed remotely human, though the slender jawbones, drooping chin, and flat cheekbones insinuated that this was not entirely true.

The skeleton filled the Hollow completely, but it would have been wrong to call the thing huge. In this place, size had no meaning. Only existence mattered, and by the mere fact that it was, the skeleton occupied all of the vast emptiness inside the egg.

The skeleton scratched at the murky shell with long, barbed talons, dreaming of the day it would be reborn. For the first time in an eternity, it felt confident of escaping its timeless prison. Forks of lightning circled its misshapen skull like a crown. Sparks danced in the empty sockets, where once it had possessed eyes.

Beneath the scratching talons appeared a pair of blue embers and a long slitlike mouth. The features were all the skeleton ever saw of its servants. The shadow people were part of the Black, as trapped within the dark shell as their master was, inside the emptiness of the egg.

We felt your summons, Omnipotent One.

The servant used thought-speech to report, for sound did not exist within the skeletons eternal prison.

I have been thinking, Khidar, the skeleton replied. It slowly twisted its oblong skull around to stare more directly into the shadows eyes. The sorcerer-kings must be near when the Usurper frees me.

Thats too dangerous! The servants eyes grew larger and brighter. The six of them have grown stronger than you know, Rajaat. Theyll destroy us!

A ball of lightning formed above Rajaats head. They wont destroy me! he snarled. If you hesitate to sacrifice a few lives so I may return Athas to its greater glory, perhaps you should remain in the Black.

Khidar winced, his eyes and mouth sliding down the inside of the black shell. Our fates are bound together, he said, with more regret than enthusiasm. We have no concern except the future of Athas.

Never forget that, Rajaat hissed, the blue rays in his empty eye sockets flickering in ire. Think of all that I have sacrificed to return the world to your people, and follow my example.

We are most grateful, Khidar assured him. Well see to whatever you wish.

Good. It would be best to avenge the sorcerer-kings betrayal before proceeding with the Restoration, Rajaat said. The lightning began to crackle more steadily and calmly over his head. After that, well cleanse Athas of the most profane strains of the degenerate races. The half-breeds shall die first.

Which ones? asked the servant.

All of them: half-elves, muls, half-giants, every filthy abomination produced through an unnatural union. We must kill them as soon as possible.

As you wish.

The New Races come next, Rajaat continued, knotting the barbed talons of both hands into tight fists. There are so many! It may take us a century.

We must expect opposition, Khidar warned. Sadira and Rikus-

Are half-breeds. Theyll die with the others! the skeleton pronounced. Ill destroy them as soon as I finish with the sorcerer-kings.

What of the Usurper? asked Khidar. Will you make him a sorcerer-king?

Yes, Ill keep my promise, provided he honors the cause of the Pristine Tower, Rajaat answered.

And if he betrays us like Borys and the others?

My new champion will never do such a thing, the skeleton replied. After he witnesses the fate of the other traitors, he will not dare.

King Tithian of Tyr gnashed his teeth in vexation, accidentally crushing the sweet chadnut upon which he had been sucking. The pulp filled his mouth with sour, peppery seeds that burned his tongue and made his eyes water. He swallowed the kernels in a single gulp, hardly noticing the fiery aftertaste that chased them down his throat.

Its a whole damned fleet! His old mans voice was hoarsened by the spicy chad seeds.

The hunch-shouldered king stood behind a low stone wall, peering through a curtain of swirling dust. A thicket of masts had just appeared in Samarahs tiny harbor. While the thick haze prevented a reliable ship count, Tithian could see so much billowing canvas that the flotilla looked like a cloud bank rolling in from the Sea of Silt.

Why should the fleet anger you, Mighty One? asked Korla, clinging, as always, to Tithians arm. She was the fairest woman in the village, with ginger-colored hair and a sultry smile. That did not mean she was beautiful. A life of heat and dust had framed her brown eyes with deep-etched crows-feet, while the sun had baked her skin until it was as creased and rough as a mans. Korla clasped the kings elbow more tightly. Your retainers wouldnt dare come for you with anything less than a dozen ships.

Tithian pulled free and straightened his shoulder satchel.

She frowned. Soon youll show me the wonders of Tyr-wont you?

No. Tithian fixed a disdainful glare on her weather-lined face.

You cant leave me behind! Korla objected. She glanced at the small crowd of villagers gathered behind the wall. After what Ive been to you, the others will-

Quiet! Tithian ordered. He waved a liver-spotted hand toward the harbor. That isnt my fleet. Rikus and Sadira will come by land, not ship.

Korla lowered her eyelids and sighed in relief.

Dont be too relieved, said Riv, Korlas brawny husband and Samarahs headman.

An elf-tarek crossbreed, Riv had a square, big-boned face with a sloped forehead and a slender nose. Standing so tall that the village wall rose only to his waist, he cut an imposing figure. Normally, Tithian would have killed such a rival outright, but the headman had taken pains to make himself indispensable as an intermediary to the villagers. Besides, the king enjoyed flaunting Korlas adultery in front of him.

Your reign as whore-queen will end soon enough. Riv glared at his wife.

Whys that? Tithian demanded, shuffling around Korla to confront the huge crossbreed. Is there a reason I should fear those ships?

Riv shrugged. Everyone should fear Balican armadas. But I see no reason they should concern you especially, he replied. He raised the thin lips of his domed muzzle, showing a mouthful of enormous canine teeth. I only meant that Korla shouldnt expect to go with you when the time comes. Ive seen enough of Athas to know shed only be an embarrassment in the city.

You may have seen the brothels of Balic, but you know nothing of life in Tyrs royal court, Korla spat back. She regarded her husband suspiciously, then continued, Now answer the kings question. We havent seen a Balican fleet for more than a year. Why now?

Riv sneered. Ask your lover, he said. Hes the mindbender.

Ill know the answer soon enough, Tithian said, thrusting his hand into his shoulder satchel. And if you ever again refer to me as anything but