I sat before the front railing of the Dawn Dancer, a Gnomish hydrofoil, and ate my breakfast of bacon from the Shortman Hills and fried squid traded from the Mer, and slightly bitter tubers in a sweet sauce from the far-off Empire of Zinkaria. The ninety mile per hour wind did not disturb me for a glass shield along the front edge protected the flat deck, and the rock steady deck of a hydrofoil neither rose nor fell.



We were leaving Cloudshadown Mountain, the home island of a once-great and now fallen empire with a Master Librarian Intended we called ‘Al’, an en route to the mainland and the city-state named the City of Parasols. We had no worries on the open seas. Nothing could catch a Gnomish hydrofoil in full flight, except for a rogue wave.



The hyperactive crew kept a sharp eye out for such things, and continually kept adjusting the rigging of our sails. I could see several ways to make things easier, a lot easier for the sailors, and only sacrifice one or two percent efficiency rather than this constant readjustment. But, then, I’m a human, and a worldwalker, and I don’t need to be doing something every thirty seconds like the gnomes. Just watching them tired me out.



Most of the day passed bright and clear in the wake of the miracle I had prayed for. We came skimming into the harbor past the stone seawalls like a swiftly flung stone in a slingshot.



Stern and splendid humans waited at the bottom of the pier. Their swords were curved, and as we docked, I saw a man in a dress or robe, I should say aproach while holding a parasol above his head. He wore the twin curved swords in the style of the samurai, and my heart sank. Maneuvering in an Oriental culture could be difficult for such a Westerner as I. But then they did not necessarily have those categories here.



So we waited.



A messenger came forward.



“Honorable Gnomish Captain. Do you have any of the hated enemies of humanity on board, the Elves?” He said,and bowed.



Seeing as we had two, I loosened my gladius in its sheathe.



“No, honorable emissary, we do not.” The Captain said as Dlarion, the elf, walked out of the underdeck. I shuddered, and the deliberately disinterested gaze of the messenger passed right over him.



I suspected magic, but the messenger seemed too alert for that.



The Captain negotiated a fee, and we headed into town to find lodging, and horses for our ride tommorrow.



Considering the low level of technology, it was a remarkably clean town. Buildings were of paper screens mostly despite the geology under the city seeming very solid. Old habits die hard.



I stopped in an alchemist’s shop to get a bagful of things, and spent most of the night working on various compounds until I had just the two I wanted.



The next day on the long horse ride across the marches of the human kindogdoms, I asked Dlarion about the odd treatment accorded to the elves. He sighed.



“When the founding family of the City was exiled to this continent, the patriarch was set upon by several groups of elven pirates. He took that to mean that all elves were pirates, and so he swore an oath for himself and all descendants to destroy all the ‘Elves who are the enemies of humanity.’

I am not the enemy of humanity so I don’t count according to those of his descendants who saw better. There is one advantage to your short human lifespans. We have disagreements still festering that began on the morning that the Sun first rose over this planet.” Dlarion explained the weird behavior to me. I was glad I had not pulled out my sword.



We travelled for a fortnight across the plains, and were obliged to enter into one tournameant of jousting. Dlarion due to superior skill, and my strength and size (they asked me if I had troll blood since the average man was five and a half feet tall) brought us into the semi-finals but then the competition turned serious, and both he and I were knocked out by the real professionals at jousting.



They were hard-bitten men who could outride me even if they were falling down drunk.



Dlarion won the archery competition, and I won the hammer toss just barely beating the local blacksmith who had a cold.



Still, I recruited a score of free knights to our cause with a tale of glory, and the pearls I had held back from trading in a pawn shop many worlds ago. Here they were fantastically valuable.



Occasionally, we saw bandits, but they did not want to tangle with what looked like a small war party without a great amount of loot to compensate them for the risk. Still Dlarion and I got into a friendly competition at sniping bandits who spied on us.



He used his arrows, and I wove magic. I collected another name. A rather obvious one. “War Wizard.”



At the far edge of the Human Kingdoms, we came to a wild grassland, and a river separating the scrub we rode on, from the blowing soft green. Overlooking the city was a great rock, peculiarly shaped. This was our destination.



So we rode down. Scouts from the city raced back, and a large party of armed men and women came out of the city. You could not call it an army because it was more of a mob, but they outnumbered us a hundred to one.



A negotiating party under flag of true went forward, and we met it with our own.



They came back, and it was not good. The city had fallen to the Enemy. He promised them safety from the raids of the horse tribes, and they wanted safety so desperately that they ignored everything else. I sensed a great relief from a long born strain. They would not willingly take it back up for many years. And by then it would be too late.



I looked at my forces. Dlarion could possibly defeat me. In almost every way, I was a better fighter than him except he was so fast, so accurate that you did not see the first two arrows leave his back, or be strung, or released. And I had twenty knights.



Knights in heavy armour were effectively tanks. Each one was worth twenty-five peasants, or at least ten regulars, and that was ordinary knights. Mine were veterans.



We might be able to take them, but I had little wish to cause a slaughter of their or my side. Both sides would bleed freely this day unless I did something else.



I rode forward alone, and brought out the shadows that all men have in their soul, and wrapped them about myself in a simple spell that was risky to the state of my own mind.



Like a raven flying low over the ground, I galloped up to the opposing force. My army, they were, I decided. I owned them.



“Why do you stand in my way? What treachery is this? Shall I turn loose the tribes from my spell that they may burn your pitiful town to ashes?”



Gulps. Assessing glances, and I charged forward the last twenty feet. The impatience convinced them. They jumped off their horses, and bowed.



“Great One, we apologize. You may have my head, but spare the rest please.” Their leader warbled in what he probably thought was a sad display of fear, but I considered it one of the finest moments of courage, I’d seen.



Still, rather than applaud the bravery, I had a job to do. And I took an example from another Dark Lord.



I reached out with my telekinesis, and jerked him off his feet by the neck so that he hung in the air level with my face.



“Tell me why I should not take your soul.” I growled at him. He hung choking and nonplussed at my unfair question. If he disagreed, I’d strike him, and if he agreed that was worse. Or so he thought.

“Bah.” I tossed him aside.



“You will open your gates, and conduct me to this Night Sword immediately. My private guard will come with me, and you will not, under pain of death, cross them in any way.”



They looked perplexed, and finally one grew brave enough to point out that the Night Sword was not in the city. The butte behind the city was the hilt of the Night Sword. The hilt shot a thousand feet into the air, and I felt like sinking an equivalent distance into the ground.



“Did you think, I did not know that? Take me there at once.” I hollered, covering up my mistake by using fear.



Its fun to be the Dark Lord. Whenever you make a mistake, you kill an advisor for betraying you, but I was not that caught up in the role yet. Still, most of the people looked at my selected guide as if he were a dead man. None moved to protect him.



And my knights moved into the crowd, and not so gently pushed them back into town.



Tadeusz