Sha-e-Fa: Sha-e-Fa, #2

By Heather Wielding

As the earth moves, high seer J'dra knows the Balance of the Universe to be in danger. An ancient artefact is taken from its grave in the World of the Dead, and with it, rises a dark force. J'dra sends two young brothers to find the source of all evil, and as he does, his peaceful life as high seer is shattered. Portals open to take the brothers to unknown realms, and the Balance hangs by a thread. Might struggles to break free, and J'dra travels to Wizard's Peak to seek aid from Ingold the Great, only to find nothing as it was.
The Universe is shifting, and the might of Sha-e-Fa alone is to blame. Will the brothers find a way to stop it from tearing the Balance apart? Or will darkness rule all known realms once more...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Heather Wielding
• Release date: Apr 10, 2011
• ISBN: 9781458012647

Book preview

Book One

Age of Aldera

Part 1

Chapter 1

"F or centuries the treasure has waited.

"For centuries the Universe has waited for the jewel to be raised from its rest.

For centuries the Universe has waited for me.

The CatGoddess made a swift gesture with her hand, and a servant appeared to take the small crystal orb away, unaware that he would stare into it for the rest of his days.

The CatGoddess made another gesture, and the doors were opened.

Her warrior entered, clad in an armour of dark steel. Her wizard had made him, and his soul would writhe in her delicate hands for all times.

He bowed, but her face did not move.

The face of the mask was forever expressionless.

I have a task for you, she spoke.

Go into the World of the Dead, and claim the treasure that will bring me the dominance of the Universe.

The naézrac listened to her orders. He was made for her, made to obey her. He bowed only to her, and the dark jewel her wizard had used to make him.

Once, she spoke, "in a thousand years, Akheos shines brightly upon the World of the Dead.

"Once in a millennium the Dead Star will turn its burned face upon a dead world, revealing a treasure guarded by a dead woman.

"That time is close at hand.

"Soon Akheos will shed its light upon a pyramid that withholds the greatest treasure known to the Universe.

I want you to claim it in my name.

Her warrior bowed.

Yes, mistress.

Her will was no surprise to him. He had heard the call of the buried treasure, had sensed its need to see daylight.

He would have gone to retrieve it whether his mistress willed him or not.

You must go alone, she ordered.

Seekers will be sent to find you, and the fewer know of what you will soon do, the better.

Yes, mistress, he spoke. He wouldn't have brought servants had she allowed it: some tasks did not need witnesses.

You must hurry, she instructed. The Dead Star will shine upon the World of the Dead for a short time only.

Yes, mistress, he spoke. He felt the urgency, had felt it for many lunar cycles.

The treasure was calling for him as well as his mistress.

"You must go now.

Go, and bring the treasure to me.

Yes, mistress, he spoke.

Chapter 2

Desert sands flew around him. Wind had risen suddenly. Sand crept into his eyes making it impossible for him to read his map. Magic didn't help. Grenaz had already tried it. His power wasn’t strong enough to create a stormless vacuum. It was obvious the World of the Dead didn't like him, and did its best to push him out. But Grenaz wasn't about to give up. He had a quest and he was going to finish it.

Or let it finish him.

The storm settled as soon as it had risen and Grenaz quickly took advantage of it. He paused, took out his map and examined it for a long time. Occasionally he raised his gaze to glance at the sandy world around him.

Finally he sighed in frustration and tucked away the map.

The World of the Dead was covered in sand, light brown and very fine. The little land marks that had existed at the time Grenaz's map was drawn, had long ago been buried much like the inhabitants of the world. Grenaz couldn't tell whether he was on the right track.

A river was drawn on the map. By following it Grenaz would have easily reached his destination. But after he had set foot on this world, he hadn't seen a drop of water. He knew the flask he had brought with him would soon run dry, but did not worry. He also knew he could get off the sand infested world as soon as he had come into it.

Grenaz continued on. He walked without tiring through the desert, walked without eating and sleeping, walked as there was nothing left in the world but to walk. In a way it was so: he was on a quest, and the quest was all that held meaning for him.

At sunset he saw a pyramid in the horizon. Grenaz nodded sharply and quickened his pace. He couldn't be certain it was the right pyramid; the World of the Dead had more graves than any other, and the pyramid was the most popular form. Yet Grenaz had something that insinuated he hadn't come all this way in vain. His instincts were strong and hardly ever wrong. Now they told him that this pyramid was the one he had been looking for.

He could feel the treasure calling for him from inside the tomb.

Grenaz had followed his insight to the World of the Dead. He had felt the calling for the first time four cycles ago. Since then the buried treasure had been the only thing on his mind. He had given all his time, all his energy to find it. The instinct some might have called an obsession had brought him here amongst the ghosts and graves of ancient kings and leaders. Now the instinct told him to break his way into the pyramid.

Grenaz circled the building all but buried in the fine sand. He could only see the top quarter. The rest of the pyramid was hidden in centuries of sand.

I shall have to remove the sand, Grenaz spoke to himself. He didn't dread the task at hand. Magic would come to his aid.

Grenaz stepped back. He was quite certain his own might would not harm him, but it was safer not to take the risk.

When the distance between him and the pyramid seemed long enough, Grenaz raised his arms toward the darkening skies and spoke a few words in a language known only by those magic had blessed.

The sound of his voice sliced through the tomb-like quiet of the world and brought forth a wind stronger than the storm he had travelled through. But unlike the storm this wind circled only the pyramid, slowly removing the sand that had buried it.

Patiently Grenaz waited. The element of air was quick to answer a sorcerers will, but the sand was deep. Grenaz didn't mind the wait. It gave him time to plan ahead.

The wind settled after the pyramid stood in the desert bare and uninviting. Only then did Grenaz rise and return to the pyramid.

Now a deep pit surrounded the pyramid. Grenaz waited to see it fill with water, but nothing happened. Sand now ruled the World of the Dead, and water was scarce, if not extinct.

Grenaz stepped over the edge of the pit and fell gracefully to the bottom. The fall would have killed an ordinary man, but Grenaz was no ordinary man.

Again he circled the pyramid, now looking for signs that would tell who slept eternal sleep in the tomb. His instincts told him this was the pyramid that withheld the treasure, but Grenaz wanted to make sure. Better tomb robbers than himself had died in traps.

The bottom of the newborn well was slowly filling up with water, a liquid so rare in the World of the Dead. Grenaz hardly noticed it. He had found what he had so long searched.

On the eastern side of the pyramid he found markings. The wall awaiting dawn was engraved with hieroglyphs. Grenaz couldn't read all of them, but understood enough.

A priestess was buried in the pyramid, told the markings. She had dedicated her life to protecting the Universe and guarded now, in death, a treasure ancient and priceless.

The hieroglyphs were old and difficult to read. Grenaz figured they hinted towards a curse that awaited anyone who dared disturb the sleeping priestess.

Grenaz didn't believe in curses. He was willing to tear apart every tomb in this desert world if it contained something of value. It was the traps that worried him.

Grenaz had encountered quite a few traps in his line of work. One of them had rid him of the toes on his left foot, another had blinded his right eye. He had travelled far and paid a high price to find a toleen to sing vision back into his blind eye. Grenaz didn't regret, though. The call in the remains of his soul left no room for remorse.

The markings revealed nothing. This worried Grenaz. The treasure within was priceless, and he was alone. Usually he travelled with a band of men, most of them drifters, hired hands missed by none. Usually he let his men do the dirty work, willing to see some of the loot disappear into greedy, scabby hands.

This time he had come alone. This treasure was one-of-a-kind and he needed it all to himself.

Now he wished he would have brought a few slaves, just to enter the pyramid first. His mistress had offered slaves, but he had said no. One man travels faster than fifteen, he had said. Now the choice was likely to rid him of his life.

Grenaz returned to the northern side. The pyramid had no entrance, no door nor window holes to attract scavengers. It had been sealed after the priestess had been laid to rest. Earthly treasures had probably been buried with her, treasures she had not enjoyed in life. Dozens of slaves had suffocated beside her mummified corpse, food and drink had slowly rotted while gold and jewels shone into eternal darkness.

And the treasure, most priceless of them all, lay between her dead breasts.

The tomb would be located in the centre of the pyramid. The chamber would be carefully hidden and surrounded by little deadly traps. This Grenaz knew from study. It seemed all pyramids were alike in that sense.

But first, he needed to get in.

Grenaz pulled out a small piece of jewellery from under his black breastplate. Re'na, he said, holding the amulet by its silver chain, allowing it to turn freely.

The yellow stone wall began to flicker. Slowly an uneven rectangle of something resembling quick-silver flowed out, turning the wall into a small, angular lake of living silver.

Grenaz tucked the amulet back under his breastplate and stepped into the silvery lake. The substance gave way to him, allowing him to walk through the stone wall.

Inside Grenaz uttered a word and the Portal he had opened closed behind him. It would have closed on its own given some time, but Grenaz felt uneasy with an open passageway behind his back.

The pyramid was dark. Stone walls were thick, and without windows. Sunlight had been blocked out thousands and thousands of years ago, and Grenaz was the first to look upon the empty chambers after the tomb had been sealed. His eyes quickly adjusted to the darkness, and soon he saw as well as he did in broad daylight.

The chamber was empty. All there was to see were yellow stone walls and dust covered stone floors.

Grenaz stepped hesitantly across the floor. He walked glancing around, fearing something might fall on him, fearing he might step into something that would gnaw his leg off. Once, in another tomb, a gage had fallen on him. Magic had set him free, but the heavy iron bars had rid him of three of his toes. The incident had taught him caution.

The air was thick and stale. An ordinary man might have feared disease or suffocation, but Grenaz was no ordinary man. Nothing as plain as sickness would destroy him.

A corridor spread out in front of him. It continued on behind him. Grenaz knew it would lead into the burial chamber. All he needed was to follow it.

And to solve the puzzle.

Grenaz looked up. He saw nothing but dust and ancient stone.

He walked forward, occasionally glancing upwards. He wasn't in a hurry. His mistress had waited long, and could wait a few moments longer.

Grenaz would get her prize, in good time.

A thin beam of light stopped him. It fell down to the dusty floor.

Grenaz walked into it. He felt no fear. Light could harm no-one, especially not a naézrac.

He looked up, and saw where the light came from. It was no trap.

There was a small hole in the ceiling, a hole that led all the way to the top of the pyramid. This was what he had been looking for.

The burial chamber could only be accessed when the stars aligned. Only when Akheos, the Dead Star, spread its light into the pyramid through the little hole, would the chamber open, and allow someone to enter.

Grenaz didn't believe the puzzle was created for visitors. He believed it was made so someone could leave the pyramid.

People had been buried alive before.

Akheos was close. Its light touched the edge of the hole.

He wouldn't have to wait long.

An ordinary man might have sat down, paced around restlessly, had a snack.

Grenaz was no ordinary man.

He stood still, watching Akheos as it slowly made its way to shed its light upon him.

Light, white and piercing, streamed into the corridor, and Grenaz heard stone move.

It was time.

He walked on.

The corridor had changed. Stone had shifted, revealing another passageway. It led down, deep into the earth.

The priestess rested in the middle of the pyramid, only her grave had been set deep into the ground.

The passageway led him down. Stairs were carved into the earth in a rectangular form: a flight of steps followed a sharp turn.

Twenty flights of stairs and twenty turns, and he reached the burial chamber.

Time was short. He needed to return while Akheos's light still shone into the pyramid. Otherwise he would be sealed in, left to rot with the dead priestess and the treasure she guarded.

The priestess lay in darkness, a golden mask upon her face. Riches and wealth surrounded her, but Grenaz was interested in only one of the treasures she rested among.

Sha-e-Fa shone its own, soft light on her dead bosom.

Grenaz felt his scalp tingle. It was a strange feeling, and it reminded him of the time he'd had a short, yet unpleasant encounter with fire ants.

Something was near, something that had haunted his dreams.

Something that had called for him for so many days and nights filling his heart with unquenchable longing.

Lovingly he pried dead fingers aside, and lifted Sha-e-Fa into his hands.

It shone in his hands, spreading soft light onto him, and his soul, or what remained of it, was at last in peace.

Chapter 3

M istress, Grenaz said as he knelt before a woman whose face was hidden behind a mask. I have done what you told me to do.

Grenaz brought forth a pouch sewn of fine, black velvet. He opened it, carefully untying its lacing, and raised a diamond for all to see. As he handed it to the woman wearing a cat's face, the diamonds surfaces caught sunbeams and formed small rainbows that painted his hands in the colours of hope and forgiveness.

Disappointment cut his heart as his mistress took the diamond into her soft, tanned hands. He had carried it long, and now, as it was taken from him, he felt his life had lost all meaning.

Sha-e-Fa, said the woman with a cat's face. The jewel of life, power, and light.

She turned, holding the sparkling jewel high for the crowd to see.

Sha-e-Fa! she shouted, and the crowd took the word.

Sha-e-Fa! the crowd chanted reaching for the woman who bore a cat's head, the woman who held liberation in her hands.

As the crowd started to lose interest in the new-found prayer, she spoke.

The emperor is dead! she shouted. The emperor has abandoned his people in the time of their need, and fled to meet his gods!

The crowd muttered. The death of the emperor was a well-known fact, but no-one had dared imply he had chosen the time of his own departure.

The emperor cared not for his people! she pressed on. Her plan was daring. Either she would succeed or be torn to shreds by an infuriated crowd. If her deception was noted, nothing could protect her. Not Sha-e-Fa nor the naézrac she had gathered.

The emperor discarded his people! The emperor left his people to face an invincible enemy!

The crowd started to take on this new idea.

The enemy had attacked on the first morning after the emperor's death. The enemy army had been great, efficient, and skilled in magic. The city was defenceless. Women and children hid in the basements, crying and clutching on to each other as the men marched to meet their death armed with rusty swords, protected by splitting shields. But before the first strike was made, another army rode to the city's defence, an army clad in white, an army bearing a sigil never seen before.

And before the army rode Aldera, the woman whose face was the face of a cat.

Her army fought without mercy, and slew the enemy. The city was saved, and Aldera felt confident enough to put her plan to the test.

The emperor abandoned his people, but someone rose to protect them!

The crowd knew who the woman was talking about.

Aldera!

Someone saved them from the enemy!

Aldera!

Someone cared for the people discarded by the emperor!

Aldera!

She quieted, but the crowd did not. It thundered, praising Aldera, the cat-headed woman who had ridden to their rescue, the woman who had just undermined all authority of the once-loved emperor, soiling the name the crowd had once cherished.

A priest stepped out of the shadows, the highest priest, he, who bore more power than the emperor himself. Only he could name a new emperor. He would do it regardless of the will of the people if he must, knowing the people didn't fear to take matters into their own hands. Power shifted quickly from hand to hand, a takeover followed another. And all the while the people decided who was to rule.

The crowd was stilled as the high priest raised his arm. The silence was not complete, but he could not ask for more. A crowd of ten thousand was never utterly still.

You have praised this woman, the CatGoddess, the high priest spoke. He was old, too old to speak loudly. Therefore he used a specially designed speaking horn to amplify his voice. The crowd didn't see this as a weakness. The people closed their eyes from old age and the bother it brought, seeing only an honoured priest, a representative of the gods, a wise man, a merciful man.

This woman, the CatGoddess, has expressed her will to lead the people, the high priest continued. Though the ceremony required it, he did not speak in kind words of the deceased emperor. An uneasy feeling had awoken in him, a feeling of an oncoming dread. He could not place it, could not point out its origin, but he knew it had something to do with Aldera and the sparkling jewel she held.

Let the people decide, the high priest said. If he had not needed one of his hands to hold the speaking horn and the other to lean heavily on a cane, he would have held his arms out as to embrace the crowd.

How do you decide? the high priest asked. The crowd shifted, anxious to speak its mind. Who shall lead you?

The answer came without hesitation. Its might scared the high priest, its power almost made him drop the ornate speaking horn.

Aldera! the crowd bellowed.

Aldera!

Grenaz waited in the shadows, watching the ceremony take place, watching the following coronation ceremony. All the while his eyes were fixed upon the treasure he had taken from the pyramid in the World of the Dead, all the while the jewel crowded his mind.

They should have been chanting his name, not hers.

Grenaz had fought in her army, had looked the enemy in the eye, unlike Aldera who had hid in her tent while the battle took place. A decoy had rode in her place, and in her place the decoy had died.

Grenaz hid in the shadows, watching, waiting, wallowing in his envy. He was the one who had found the jewel, he was the one who had raised it from its dark resting place.

And still the crow chanted her name instead of his.

Jealousy burned him, and Grenaz welcomed it. He hadn't felt anything like it in a long time. In fact he hadn't felt anything at all in a long time, nothing except the yearning towards a long-lost artefact that had decided to use him to rise to see daylight again. Sha-e-Fa had awoken true emotions in him for the first time in his new life.