by Wacht, Peter
Hands clasped tightly to the hilt, he infused the blade with the Talent, its white glow almost blinding as he drove the point of the sword with all his might into the head of the Great Shark. Sliding through much like a stick through mud, the magicked blade bit through the beast’s dense skull into the Great Shark’s brain. That was the end.
The Great Shark’s attack faltered, its life drifting from its eyes as it slowly but inexorably slid back from the ship’s deck toward the ocean. Not wanting to go with it, Thomas pulled his sword free with a wrenching tug and jumped from his perch on the Great Shark’s skull, his feet falling out from under him because of the water-slicked deck. He was about to follow the carcass of the beast into the frothy water when a hand gripped Thomas by the arm.
Oso had reached him just in time, grabbing hold of what was left of the deck railing to steady himself. As the dead weight of the shark fell into the sea, the ship righted itself, damaged but still seaworthy.
“The third Great Shark,” said Oso. “We need to …”
“Don’t worry, Oso. That Great Shark has more to worry about than us right now.”
Thomas lay back on the deck, not caring that he was soon soaked through by seawater. Exhausted, he needed to catch his breath.
Oso peered out over the waves. Thomas was right. The Great Shark was retreating with several smaller fins in pursuit. Dolphins. They seemed to be hunting the monstrous shark.
“They are,” said Thomas, reading his friend’s mind. “Three Great Sharks are more than a pod of dolphins can handle. But one Great Shark? That’s a different matter. I doubt that beast will make it more than a league alive.”
“But how did the dolphins …” Oso stopped speaking, looking down at Thomas who had a wide grin on his face. Oso smiled as well, shaking his head in good-natured resignation. Even now, after all this time, Thomas was full of surprises.
CHAPTER SEVENTY EIGHT
Taken to Task
Several hours after the battle, the injured having been seen to, Thomas and Kaylie wandered to the bow of the Waverunner, the ship battered but still in good shape considering the assault that it had faced. They enjoyed the quiet, the privacy, needing time to collect their thoughts. The struggle against the Great Sharks had balanced on a knife’s edge for a moment, until Thomas had done something that no one had expected. His actions had unsettled Kaylie in a way that she didn’t like.
“Thomas, I wanted to talk to you about something.” Kaylie turned from the bow, looking out over the ship as well, glancing at Thomas, who seemed a bit uncomfortable. “And just so we’re clear, I’m not speaking to you as a friend right now. I’m speaking to you as the Princess of Fal Carrach.”
Thomas nodded, looking at her sheepishly. “All right.”
Kaylie continued. “You’re the leader of this expedition. But more than that, you’re the leader of a Kingdom that depends a great deal on you. To say nothing of all the other responsibilities that seem to weigh on you. You can’t always put yourself in danger. We’re here, your Marchers are here, knowing the dangers they face, yet they’re here because of you. They’re following you. And they expect to fight with you at the Breaker. So instead of thinking that you have to manage every skirmish or danger on your own, allow your Marchers to do what they excel at. Allow them to do what they came here to do. They’re here to protect you and help you gain the Key. You can’t place every task, every burden, on just your shoulders.”
Thomas stared at Kaylie for more than a minute, the spray from the bow of the ship slicing through the ten-foot waves and coating their hair and clothes with a fine mist of salty sea.
“Point made, Princess,” Thomas responded. “I’ll keep that in mind going forward.”
But his thoughts were elsewhere. For now he was content that his Marchers were safe and on the right path. And he felt certain that he would find the Key, giving him the ability to unlock the magical defenses of Blackstone. But beyond that he was less certain. When it came time for him to meet the requirements of the prophecy, to stand across from the Shadow Lord and fight for the future of the Kingdoms, would he survive the encounter? Would he live or die?
CHAPTER SEVENTY NINE
Prick of Pain
The Shadow Lord stared down at the carving in the floor of his throne room, his burning eyes boring into the figure of the boy with the blazing sword. For an instant his rage almost got the better him, feeling the Dark Magic beginning to swirl around him as he felt the need to strike out at the boy, to smash the stone, for apparently there was no other way to harm his nemesis. Mustering all his willpower, he forced himself to release his hold on the power that surged within him.
The Wraith was dead. His deadliest assassin was no more. How it had been killed, he didn’t know. But the Shadow Lord had felt the sharp prick of pain when his dark creature, bred specifically for a task such as the one given to it – to assassinate those who would oppose the Shadow Lord – had disappeared. As had the beasts in the Winter Sea. Simply gone.
He should have expected this result, though he had hoped for better. The boy was resilient, if nothing else. Dangerously so, as he had proven time after time. Once again, the boy had forced the Shadow Lord to rethink his strategy. No matter what obstacle the Shadow Lord had placed in front of the boy, he had avoided it. Perhaps he should simply assume that the boy would find the Key, that he would succeed on his quest, and that sometime soon the Shadow Lord would stand exactly where he was now, but instead of staring at a stone carving, he would instead face the boy. The prophecy spoke of it, and based on the boy’s success, the prophecy seemed to require it.
But he didn’t have to simply accept the reality that appeared to be trying to impose itself upon him. There was more that he could do. There was more that he could try. He had other killers that he could set in front of the boy, if for no other reason than to make the boy’s life more difficult before he finally saw the ruins of Blackstone with his own eyes.
Regardless, the boy would die, whether during his search for the Key or, if he was lucky enough to survive that quest, the duel prophesied to take place in the Shadow Lord’s lair. Either way, the Defender of the Light would be no more, and the Lord of the Shadow would reign supreme.
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