A Shadow Bright and Burning

by Jessica Cluess

  “I think we’ve got him,” Dee yelled, waving to me.

  But with the sound of snapping wood, the monster burst through the net, its tentacles waving and its hideous shadow mouth open in a triumphant call. We rushed to regroup.

  “It’s too strong,” Blackwood said grimly. “It can’t be stopped.”

  A tentacle came out of the darkness and nearly slammed on top of me. Magnus pulled us to the side.

  “Are you all right?” he shouted.

  “Yes. We have to turn back.” We tried to protect one another as we moved down the street.

  “I’m not running,” Magnus said, warding a blade as the tentacle began to slither away. With a great cry, he leaped into the air and brought the blade down, severing the thing. Half of it went flopping along the street like a landed eel. Korozoth screamed as foul black fluid erupted out of its stump, coating Magnus, who, blinded, tried to get away. Another tentacle walloped him off to one side. He rolled a few times and lay there.

  “Let me go,” I shouted as Blackwood wrapped an arm around my waist. Korozoth moved toward Magnus, prepared to absorb him.

  Rook appeared beside me. He bled and sweated so badly that his clothes clung to his body. His eyes were black, but I could see that he was in control.

  Cupping my face in his hand, he whispered, “All will be well, Nettie.” His breathing was a slow wheeze.

  “Stay here,” I gasped, clutching at him. He stumbled toward the monster with his arms above his head, calling in that terrible, screeching voice. Korozoth stopped a mere foot from Magnus and paused, as if determining the best course of action.

  Rook called the shadow to him.

  Korozoth bellowed in surprise as Rook began to summon wisps and tendrils of its own body. Cloaked in the monster’s darkness, he yanked at the beast. Korozoth turned away from us, inch by inch. Rook was actually pulling it after him. He dodged the tentacles twice. His luck couldn’t last, though. With a grumbling cry, the monster finally struck him down and held him while he thrashed and screamed. Blackwood put a hand to my mouth to stop my shrieking; I bit at him in an attempt to free myself.

  Finally, the monster released Rook. He lay on the ground like a broken toy, his arms and legs at strange angles. He wasn’t moving. I screamed as Korozoth inched toward him, fighting free from Blackwood.

  I grabbed Wolff’s arm. “If I give you a light, can you manage the rest of the net?”

  “What? Yes, of course.”

  I ran, my heartbeat loud in my ears. I had to turn the monster, keep it from consuming Rook and Magnus. I created a column of wind and rose high into the air in front of Korozoth. With a shot of blue flame at eye level, the beast noticed me. I brought myself back to the ground as fast as possible. A tentacle landed beside me as I touched down. Frantic, I summoned up Mickelmas’s duplication spell, and a moment later, there were four of me stationed around Korozoth, every one of them—of me—brandishing a stave. As I moved, my copies moved.

  Mystified, Korozoth struck down a duplicate, and I saw my chance. Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to race toward the thing. It rose above me, a wall of black smoke. I warded myself as I ran. If this didn’t work, I would die.

  I didn’t even think. I just screamed.

  Blackwood shouted my name, and his voice was the last sound I heard as I ran straight into Korozoth and blackness overtook me.

  The darkness was absolute. I picked my way down the stairs slowly, trying to keep the candle flame from guttering. “Hello?” I whispered, shivering. My nightgown wouldn’t keep out the chill. I might have a cold tomorrow, and Mr. Colegrind would never allow me a day in bed. I frowned as I came down the final step. The darkness felt closer than usual.

  “Who is it?” a little voice whispered. A small blond boy squatted at the back of the cellar, among the bags of potatoes for tomorrow’s peeling. He sat wrapped in an old shirt, his hair damp and his black eyes bright with fever.

  “What’s your name?” I put the candle down, tucked my hair behind my ear, and crouched beside the boy.

  “I don’t know.”

  “You must have some idea.”

  He shook his head. “Can’t remember nothing.” He trembled in pain, rubbing his left arm.

  “I’m Nettie Howel. They say you got scars all over. Can I see?” The boy pulled at the neck and sleeves of his shirt to let me glimpse the horror of the pulsing sores. Mr. Colegrind said girls shouldn’t take an interest in such gruesome sights, but I couldn’t help my curiosity. The boy whimpered as something moved inside the cellar. “Don’t be scared. It’s probably a mouse, or maybe a rook. They get trapped down here all the time. I got something for you.”

  “What?” He hugged his knees. Feeling sorry for him, I held out a small cup.

  “Miss Morris said this would be good. It’s black pepper, mustard seed, and mint leaf, to cool the fever. Mr. Colegrind told her she should let God do what he must. I snuck into the kitchen to get it.” Proud as only an eight-year-old could be, I gave it to the boy and coaxed him past the spice and bitterness. As he drank and sighed in relief, the darkness around us seemed to become less oppressive. When he opened his eyes, I could see I’d been wrong. His eyes weren’t black, but blue.

  “Thank you, Miss Howel.”

  “You don’t have to call me that. Just Nettie.” I rocked back on my heels, studying him. “You sure you don’t have a name?”

  “No. Maybe you could give me one, Nettie.” We talked for two hours, trying to imagine a proper name. I wanted Edgar or Fitzwilliam or Nebuchadnezzar. He wanted something else. But I stayed with the boy in the darkness until his fever lessened.

  —

  I STOOD IN THE BLACKNESS AND listened to my ragged breathing. I wasn’t dead. Not yet. I blinked the remnants of the vision away. Korozoth had such a skill with illusion that apparently entering him allowed the victim a perfect re-creation of a past memory. I wasn’t sure why I’d glimpsed that childhood moment with Rook. Perhaps it was down to chance, nothing more. Perhaps Korozoth sensed which memories were most precious to me.

  There was a sharp pain in my heart. Rook couldn’t be dead.

  Voices swirled around me. I lit myself on fire and looked about. Now inside the monster, I could dimly see that it was a great funnel of a cloud, not solid fog all the way through. Forcing myself to be calm, I constructed another column of wind.

  I rose higher and higher, my fire illuminating the undersides of tentacles. All the while, faces appeared and disappeared within the shadowy folds of the monster, mournful, pale faces that morphed in and out of existence. There was a man with a gray beard, who cried and vanished. Here was a young woman, weeping and wailing. Charley sobbed until her image was pulled back into the shadow. The higher I climbed, the more I could hear the whimpers and the cries of those who had been absorbed. If my ward failed, I would join them.

  Master Agrippa appeared before me in the blackness.

  “Henrietta, why did you let it take me?” he groaned.

  He reached out to me with two perfect hands. This was a trick, one of Korozoth’s illusions. Still, seeing his image brought tears to my eyes.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered, and continued on. Mr. Colegrind came out of the darkness, trying to touch me with spidery fingers.

  “How dare you escape me?” he hissed. I passed him. Mickelmas appeared this time, swirling his coat and pulling at his beard.

  “You made a bad choice,” I called to Korozoth, my voice almost lost in the torrent of wind. “He doesn’t frighten me.” As if acknowledging the mistake, Mickelmas disappeared and was replaced by Aunt Agnes. I knew that long face, that pale brown hair, and those darkly accusing eyes the moment I saw them.

  “You were a horrid child,” she said, her voice a hollow whisper. “That’s why I sent you away. No one in their right mind could love you.” It felt like a hot needle pierced straight into my heart.

  “That’s not true,” I whispered, inching backward in fear. “I have friends.”

  “
The magician who lied to you? The sorcerer who wanted you dead? The boy who saw you only as a plaything?” I felt myself weaken as I was sucked deeper into the black cloud. She stretched out her hands to touch me…and why not? Wasn’t she correct?

  No. Hargrove had helped me, Magnus had come back for me, and there was Rook. There had always been Rook.

  “You’re a liar!” I shouted. I scanned my surroundings, searching for the perfect opportunity to put my plan into action. How strange that this hadn’t been more difficult. No tentacles attempted to grab me. It felt almost as if Korozoth were granting me safe passage. I found that unsettling as I flew higher and higher….

  I stood in a blindingly white room. There were no windows, no furniture. Where in God’s name was I? I was no longer inside Korozoth. When I turned around, I came face to face with R’hlem the Skinless Man.

  He was as hideous as he had been in my dreams, the pulsing blue veins and arteries strung along his arms, the taut stretches of bloodied muscle that bunched or released with his movement, and that burning, ugly yellow eye at the center of his forehead. I shied away, pressing my back against the wall. The monster moved toward me.

  “My dear child,” R’hlem said, his voice disturbingly human, “how tired you must be of all this fighting.” He stroked his bloody chin with his raw fingers.

  “Where am I?” I whispered.

  “My faithful Korozoth’s finest illusion, stronger than any dream. It gives us space to talk.” He reached out a hand and stroked my cheek. Retching, I pulled away from him and wiped at my face. “I want you to come with me, my dear. Your abilities are interesting, particularly the fire. Where did you learn such a skill?”

  “I won’t go anywhere with you.” I touched the walls, pressed against them. R’hlem laughed at me.

  “You’ve a fine inner strength. Falling out of that window to escape me was impressive. You show far greater resilience than the last girl the sorcerers honored. She gave in to my dreams so quickly. Embarrassing, really.” I stopped and stared at him. Gwen. He’d destroyed her body and her soul, and now he dared to be contemptuous of her. “I’d hoped she’d be a trophy for me, but in the end I unloaded her onto Korozoth. But you.”

  “Stay away from me.”

  “After careful evaluation, I’ve decided to offer you a place by my side. I want to assign you to my elite service of Familiars.” His voice was soothing, despite his hideous appearance. “I want to train you for great power.”

  They said R’hlem kept only a few personal servants. They also said he tore off their skin to make them like him.

  “No.” I tried to run, but he blocked me.

  “You must accept. You won’t survive this without agreeing to my offer.” He reached out that bloody hand to me.

  “Nothing could compel me to join you.” He herded me into a corner of the room. I was trapped.

  “The ward has shattered.” He smiled, a particularly hideous sight. “Korozoth has you now, secure inside himself. He can take you back to me this instant. He can leave your city in peace. If you surrender, he will go. If you do not, he will level every building, every home. He will devour as many people as he can stomach, and his appetite is tremendous. His Familiars shall decimate the sorcerers. If you do not surrender, everyone you know will die.” He took me by the neck and choked me. I gasped, tried to pull his arm away. He studied me with his great, lidless eye. “Does that compel you?”

  “No.” I got some pleasure out of the look of irritation that crossed his face.

  “The city will be gone by morning.”

  “They won’t let that happen.” I barely got the words out, wincing as his grip tightened.

  “Your sorcerers? A collection of boys playing with wind and rain?” He saw that I wouldn’t give in. “What’s your name, child? Before I end your life, I’d like to know.” He squeezed tighter and tighter, and dark spots exploded in my vision.

  I was going to die. Part of me wanted to give in to him, to let it end quickly.

  The logical part noted that if R’hlem could touch and harm me, perhaps I could do the same to him.

  “What is your name?” he said again. I motioned that I could not speak. He loosened his hold.

  I drew a ragged breath and said, “Henrietta Howel.” With a thought, Porridge sprouted a blade. “Goodbye.”

  I struck for his heart, but I hit empty air. I was back inside Korozoth, and falling. Screaming, I grabbed for Porridge with both hands. There was an instant where I could feel the stave hurtling just out of my grasp, which would end with my death on the ground. But I snatched Porridge, and the wind returned, buoying me upward.

  Why had R’hlem let me go? Perhaps he couldn’t truly kill me in an illusion and had returned me abruptly to Korozoth to let me fall to my death.

  Never mind. It was time to put my plan into action. I hung in the void, my breath coming fast. What if this didn’t work?

  All I could think of was Rook, Rook striking Magnus when he thought I’d been insulted. Rook sitting with me on the moor, the wind blowing his fair hair, a smile on his face to be out of Brimthorn. Rook leaning toward me in the kitchen, our lips almost touching. Rook lying there, dead. If I failed, his sacrifice would be for nothing.

  Moving fast, I un-warded the protective shield about myself. With a sob, I exploded into flame, catching the fog around me on fire. Flames rippled on my skin, whirled about me, and turned scarlet. As I moved within Korozoth, up and down, the fire spread. The beast roared as it transformed into a flaming vortex. I could hear the groaning and whirling of a great wind, and realized with horror that we must be taking off.

  The monster returned to the earth with an unceremonious thump. My friends had done it, used the fire to fashion a net and bind him, burning, to the ground.

  The flames billowed and rose to such a scorching degree that the world became consumed in brilliant white. I burned so hot that I believed I was beginning to die. I felt Korozoth’s death release and heard the cries of thousands of voices, the ghosts freed at last. When the monster disappeared and the flames vanished, I could see the stars above me.

  I dropped headfirst for the ground, too tired to fly. Arms caught me, and Magnus eased us both to the street on a cushion of air. He laid me across his lap and cradled my face.

  “Howel? It’s done. He’s dead. He’s actually dead. Sweetheart, it’s done.” He stroked my cheek.

  “Where is he?” I croaked. I broke from Magnus’s grasp and crawled to Rook, who lay still on the ground. He wasn’t breathing. “Rook,” I whispered. His image was blurred. The smoke from the fire had damaged my eyes.

  “You did it! Howel, you did it! Look, my God, it’s wonderful,” Dee called, his face stained with soot. People began to rush into the square and gape at the ash and embers floating out of the sky, all that remained of Korozoth. I bent my head, clutched Rook against my chest, and cried.

  “You’ve saved us, Henrietta.” Fenswick stood on my bedside table and saw to a cut above my eye. The little hobgoblin spoke with affection. “Your queen will be pleased. They tell me she survived.” I winced as Fenswick pressed a stinging, wet cloth to my head. It didn’t much matter, of course. Rook was dead. I wanted to go to sleep and stay asleep.

  “The gossip among the servants has it that your queen will want to put the sorcerers more on the front lines now. What a difference that will make.” Fenswick made an irritated sound when I didn’t respond. “There’s no need to lie there like a fish, you know. You’re not that badly hurt.”

  “I will be once the soldiers come to take me back to the tower. The queen ordered my execution.”

  Fenswick huffed. “Not this again. Do you really think you’d have been in this bed the past two hours if the queen thought you dangerous? Her Majesty took advice from the wrong people.” He dried my face. “No one will hurt you now.”

  My vision blurred with tears. “They might as well kill me. I let Rook die.”

  “What?” Fenswick’s right ear twitched and bobbed.
“No, he’s alive. I’ve told you already.”

  “What?” I grabbed the unfortunate hobgoblin by the shoulders and lifted him from the table. “How? Where is he?”

  “Unhand me! I suppose I can’t blame you, you were half blind and raving when Magnus carried you back here. Hopefully, this time you’ll remember what I’ve said. Ow! Stop squeezing!”

  “How could he be alive?” I gasped.

  “Rook teetered on the edge between life and death. I merely saw to it that he tipped over the correct way.” Fenswick proudly flapped his ears.

  “Where is he?”

  “Resting in Blackwood’s room. Do you think you can remember all this information? If you give me a moment to put my kit away, I can take you there.”

  I tossed Fenswick onto the bed, threw the blanket off my legs, and stumbled for the door while he yelled at me to come back and carry him. Tripping twice, I checked every door along the boys’ corridor until I found a room with a fire in the hearth and Rook propped up in a canopied bed, his arms and chest bandaged. Lilly dozed in a chair. When I said Rook’s name, his eyes opened. Oh God, he was alive.

  “Don’t crush me, Nettie.” He laughed as I crossed the room and fell onto the bed beside him. “I’m not beyond the reach of death.”

  “Are you all right?” I touched his hand. His breathing sounded shallow and strained, but at least he was breathing.

  “I’ve some new scars.”

  I buried my face in his shoulder. He stroked my hair.

  “I’m so glad you’re all right, miss,” Lilly said when I’d composed myself enough to sit up. She grasped my hand. When she let go, her fingers were all sooty. “Oh dear. I’ll get the young gentlemen.” She wiped her hand on her apron as she left the room.