The Dark Lord

Dahak's grimace transformed—rage, loathing, a death-like grin—and settled into sullen fury.

'Yes,' he spat out. 'I fear oblivion, even I who have reached across the abyss and stolen life from death, who command the air, the earth, all the powers that crawl and walk and ride upon the wing!' The sorcerer's hands fluttered open, groping in the darkness. His voice changed again, swelling with agony and despair. 'I see the sun rise and some dead part of me begins to live! I walk in the green hills and I rejoice to feel cool air upon my face! I see the multitude and see their arts, hear their songs, feel the rushing, flowing life in their breast and I am... afraid.'

A tapering nail stabbed in the air, splitting darkness from darkness. Stars rushed out of the void so revealed and Zenobia swallowed a shout of amazement. A blue-green world whirled past in sable night, a pale moon winging at her shoulder.

'Here is such a small thing,' Dahak groaned, framing chaos with his hands. 'Yet so precious! I cut out my heart, killed my soul, bled away every human feeling—yet they remain! This tiny, frail pocket remains...' He turned, face ghastly with fear and incipient horror. 'You do not understand, you cannot understand. How could you, for you have not looked upon the abyss and seen the dread chaos yawn before you, blotting out stars, suns, entire worlds?'

Struggling to master her astonishment, Zenobia groped for words. 'No... we have not. Can any human look upon the abyss and survive, or keep mind enough to tell another?'

'No.' Dahak shook his head. While she spoke, he had mastered himself. The cut sealed, the green world vanished, the stars swallowed up once more. Only his voice remained, a dry, whispering echo in the encompassing darkness. 'Know this, rebellious Queen. There is a door of stone hidden far from here. Hidden and sealed with signs and powers beyond your grasp to bind or loose. While that door is closed, the green world you love so much lives. Should it open—and it stands closed now only by my will!—then this frail refuge will be annihilated, swallowed, consumed in the blink of an eye.'

Zenobia said nothing, though her heart quailed before such a vision.

'We are a fluke,' the sorcerer's voice whispered. 'An aberration. Random chance casting up a bubble shining in golden sunlight. Now, you will do my bidding and follow my will, and serve freely, or all this will be lost.'

'You will destroy the world, if your desire is thwarted?' The Queen's voice trembled slightly.

'Not I,' Dahak answered in a hoarse, exhausted voice. 'Not I.'

'Then...' The Queen struggled with a clenching pain in her gut. He is telling the truth!

'I baited annihilation,' the sorcerer said mournfully. 'I opened the door just a hair, just a thin crack, and snatched power and glory and knowledge from dread chaos' domain. But I drew attention in the briefest of moments—in a slice of time so small no human mind could catch, or follow, or measure its passing—and now the door is closed, but it is known, and watched relentlessly.' A hollow laugh echoed. 'The watchers at the threshold do not tire or wander or sleep. They have eternity at their beck and call and they are very hungry.'

'But while you exist, the door is closed,' Zoe said tensely, pushing the Queen aside. 'You are holding it closed against them.'

'Yes,' echoed out of the darkness. A few faint gray sparks began to drift among the pillars, shedding a corpse-light upon stone faces. 'I disturbed a delicate balance and what once remained closed of its own nature yearns to open fully.'

'Can the door be truly closed again?' Zoe regretted the question as soon as the words escaped her lips.

A mocking silence was her only answer. The Queen looked down, unwilling to venture further words.

'You can die, then?' The Boar's voice rumbled out of the dim shadows. Shahr-Baraz had quietly taken a seat on the floor beside Khalid—who sat clutching scabbard to breast, barely breathing, eyes screwed shut—and Odenathus, who watched the Queen with a queer, troubled expression. 'You are afraid not only of your own oblivion, but what will come after.'

The silence shifted, charging with malice and anger. The Boar pursed his lips, thinking. After a moment, he smiled faintly. 'You are a canny old snake,' the king said, 'but secrets are hard to keep. Shall you tell these children, or shall I?'

'Tell them what?' snapped a cold voice. Twin points of pale light gleamed in the shadows.

'Tell them about the Roman. The Roman and the sea.'

The pale gleams blinked once, then twice. Shahr-Baraz laughed softly.

'Our Lord of the Serpents,' the Boar began, voice rumbling with ill-disguised humor, 'does not like the water. If memory serves, he dreads even to ride in a ship. He asked me to build a bridge of earth and saplings just to cross the Propontis. He took to the upper air—on a mount I've had the misfortune to ride myself—rather than cross the sea on a fine, swift boat. Once, once he was forced to swim in the salt sea for a dozen heartbeats—he still bears those scars on face and body like the gouges of a burning iron. No, he does not like the deep waters.'

The twin points of light flared, glittering like the edge of a blade catching the moonlight.

'Shall I say on?' Shahr-Baraz matched gazes with the thing in the shadows. 'I shall, I think. If you are outraged by the truth, you can surely destroy us all.'

The Boar gave the others a calm, almost amused look. The Queen marveled at his equanimity and in the crystalline moment while their eyes met, she realized he was entirely free from fear. Has he ever been touched by fear? she wondered. Does he even know how it feels, how it tastes?

'There is a Roman wizard,' Shahr-Baraz continued, nose wrinkling like his namesake. 'And he is very strong. By my eyes, as strong as our old snake here. They met, they fought, during the fall of Constantinople.' The king flashed a smirk at the darkness. 'A draw. We have not met him yet on this campaign. They are holding him back, waiting, I think, for the right moment to strike us unawares.'

The Boar lifted his chin questioningly at the shadows. 'Is he alone?'

'No.' The twin points of light thinned to narrow slits. 'There was a witch at his side.'

'A witch?' The Queen's eyebrows rose in surprise. What kind of witch? One like us?

'Yes,' hissed the sorcerer. 'But Arad was by my side. Still we drew even.'

Shahr-Baraz nodded, pleased to have learned so much. 'Now Arad is not your only servant—Odenathus and the Queen are your allies—there will be four against two. Will this suffice if you meet again?'

The sorcerer did not answer and the King of Kings nodded to himself again. 'I am not a wizard,' he said in a contemplative tone. 'But I think I understand the matter of this door of stone. By its nature, a door is intended to open, and any wayward, wind, or current of the air, may shift such a fragile balance.'

Both the Queen and the king looked to the shadows and found the gleaming eyes dulled nearly to invisibility. Shahr-Baraz hid another mirthless smile, giving the Queen a challenging look.

'This Roman,' she hazarded, watching the kings eyes, 'his powers are much like yours, Lord of the Ten Serpents?'

'Yesss...' A hissing trill spiraled away into silence. 'I feel him in the hidden world, a storm around which all currents twist and run awry.'

'Do they touch the door?' Shahr-Baraz's voice was keen and sharp.

'They will,' Dahak whispered, something of his hidden fear surfacing again. 'If he lives.'

'He is growing stronger?' Zenobia forced herself to voice the question. Father Sun crush this serpent and free my soul from helping him! 'What will happen if he finds the door of stone?'

A cough of laughter answered. 'Men are curious creatures, far worse than cats. What ape has ever failed to plunge his hand into a dark hole, scratching for something sweet?'

The Queen looked at Shahr-Baraz questioningly. 'Could we tell this Roman the truth?'

'We will not!' Dahak surged out of the shadows, sending a cloud of gray sparks rushing away from his advance. Wild shadows flared on the walls. 'The moment he perceives the door, the watchers beyond the threshold will become aware of him and their thoughts will crowd his mind with visions and enticing dreams. Even a moment's desire or hesitation or wayward intent on his childish, reckless part and the