The Shadowgate:
The Warlords of the Air

These Voroshk, who actually introduced themselves—as Nashun the Researcher and the First Father—both spoke the language of Juniper. Nashun the Researcher had by far the best command. Neither had social skills of a sort likely to put a smile on the face of many mothers. It was clear that the demonstration of manners toward persons outside the family was an exercise with which they had little familiarity.

After the introductions I stated the obvious. “You people sure got yourselves into big trouble.”

You could feel the Voroshk closing their eyes and sighing inside all that black material.

“We will survive,” the boss Voroshk declared. He strained to keep anger and arrogance out of his voice. He had less success with confidence, which made me wonder if he did not really mean it.

“No doubt. What I saw of your family’s capabilities impressed me. But honestly, you realize that your family’s survival will require more than just fending off the shadows.”

Nashun made a dismissive gesture with one gloved hand. “We come to you because we want our children back.”

He spoke clearly and slowly enough that Lady caught that. She made a surprised little noise that might have been half a laugh.

“You’re out of luck. They may prove useful. Nor have we any incentive to give them back.”

Their anger seemed a palpable force.

Tobo felt it. He said, “Warn them that any power they use to try to break through will bounce back at them. Tell them that the harder they try the worse they’ll get hurt.”

I translated. Our visitors were not impressed by anything a boy said. Neither did they experiment. They did recall events at their own shadowgate. The Researcher said, “We are prepared to make an exchange.”

“What do you have to trade?”

“You still have people on this plain.”

“Go for it. They’re covered. When the dust settles you’ll be picking up dead family members.” Of that I was confident. Because Tobo trusted Shivetya completely. “You’re powerful but ignorant. Like an ox. You don’t know the plain. It’s alive. It’s our ally.”

Smoke should have rolled out of their ears. Goblin sometimes did that in the old days. But these men had no sense of humor.

Their desperation overcame their anger.

“Explain,” Nashun hissed.

“You know nothing about the plain but you’re arrogant enough to believe that your power will be supreme there. In a realm of the gods. Evidently you don’t even know your own world’s history. The people you’re facing, that you believe you can threaten, are spiritual descendants of soldiers sent out from Khatovar five hundred years ago.”

“What happened before the Voroshk does not signify. However, you demonstrate ignorance of your own.”

“It is of consequence. You want something from the last Free Company of Khatovar. And you don’t have anything to offer in exchange. Except, possibly, that disdained history and a little contemporary knowledge.”

Neither man commented.

Lady told me, “Ask them why they want these kids back so bad. They’re safe over here.”

I asked.

“They are family,” the First Father said.

His voice had a quality which made that seem not only plausible but possibly even true.

I said, “They’re a long way away. They’ve been travelling northward steadily since they arrived. One is deathly ill.”

“They have their rheitgeistiden. They can get down here in a few hours.”

“I think this guy is for real,” I told Lady. “He’s really got some mad-ass notion that I’d give those kids their toys and turn them loose, just on his say-so. They sure don’t have to work to survive in Khatovar.”

The Researcher picked up the one word. “I mentioned your ignorance. Listen, Outsider. Khatovar is not our world. Khatovar was one city of darkness, where damned souls worshipped a Goddess of the night. That evil city was expunged from the earth before the Voroshk arose. Its people were hunted down and exterminated. They have been forgotten. And they will remain forgotten. Never will any Soldier of Darkness be permitted to return.”

Once upon a time, on a lazy day, ages before he had become the vessel he was now, Goblin had told me that I would never get to Khatovar. Never. It would forever remain just beyond the horizon. I could get closer and closer and closer but I would never arrive. So I had imagined I had set foot in Khatovar. But I had only been to the world where Khatovar had existed once upon a time.

“Time itself has evened the score. That which Khatovar sent out came back. And the world that killed Khatovar will die.”

“Did you catch that?” Lady asked.

“Huh? Catch what?”

“He used the world evil. We don’t hear that much in this part of the world. People don’t believe in it.”

“These guys aren’t from this part of the world.” I returned to the language of Juniper. “Given a complete, working breakdown on the construction and operation of your flying logs, and of the material from which your clothing is made, I’d say we could give you what you want.”

Lady did her best to keep the others up-to-date on what was being said. She did not always get it right.

Nashun the Researcher could not grasp the enormity of my demand. He tried speaking three different times, failed, finally turned to the First Father in mute appeal. I was sure his hidden face was taut with despair.

I told my guys, “It might be wise to back away from the shadowgate. These people are about out of patience.”

I felt wonderfully wicked. I always do when I frustrate overly powerful, responsible-to-no-one types who think all existence was created only for their pleasure and exploitation.

I told the Voroshk, “It’ll be dark soon. Then the shadows will come out.” And, as the Voroshk exchanged glances, I borrowed from Narayan Singh. “When dealing with the Black Company you would do well to remember: Darkness always comes.”

Lady’s expression was one of less than one hundred percent approval when I turned away. “That could’ve gone better.”

“I let my feelings intrude. I should know better. But talk wasn’t going to get us anywhere, anyway. They think too much of themselves and too little of everyone else.”

“Then you’re giving up the dream of returning to Khatovar.”

The Voroshk made their first furious attempt to bust through the shadowgate.

I did warn them.

They did not want to listen.

It was worse than I had imagined it could be.

It was worse than Tobo had predicted.

The countermagical blast hurled both sorcerers all the way up the slope to the edge of the plain, bouncing and tumbling all the way. By some miracle neither broke the barrier protecting the road. Maybe Shivetya was watching over then.

One still had shown no sign of recovering when I gave up watching. I told Tobo, “I reckon it’s time to go, now. Those guys might have gotten the message this time.”

I did not look back. The trials the Voroshk faced left me confident that they would never become a problem to my world.

As we descended the hill I asked, “Anybody think there might be a connection between the Shadowmasters and the Voroshk? They seem to have gotten their start about the right time. And the Shadowmasters tried to sever all connections with the past in Hsien. It was just too big a job. I wonder what we’d find out if we talked to some ordinary farming stiff over there?”

“I can ask Shivetya,” Tobo said. “And the prisoners.” But he did not sound particularly motivated.