by Ken Brosky
“Oh holy crap,” Seth whispered. Even Grayle seemed taken aback by that news.
“Why?” I asked. “I’m not all that special, shadow monster. I’ve got bruises and scratches and a broken rib. I’m a mess.”
The prince moved closer to the fire. I followed, still dragging my pen on the ground.
Imagine a magnet. A big magnet. Imagine all those little domains pointed in the same direction.
“You are what I’ve waited so long for,” Vontescue said. “With your pen, I will destroy the symbols binding me to this castle. Then I will use the pen to destroy humanity once and for all.”
“What about your townsfolk?” I asked, stepping back. Still dragging my pen on the floor.
Vontescue laughed. “I will keep some as subjects, for a while. But the Corrupted must perish. They have served their purpose, perhaps unwittingly. With their creation came the hero, a necessary counterbalance to such a new danger. But a hero is only as good as her mind allows, and you have the best of that quality. With your knowledge and power at my disposal, I will finally be able to wipe your parasitic species from the planet forever.”
I glanced at Grayle. He was watching the prince warily now, stepping away from the fireplace as the prince moved closer. He’s afraid, too.
I moved left, dragging my pen across the floor. Think of one big iron magnet, Alice. Think of those little tiny domains like arrows, the electrons spinning as they orbit their atoms. Think of a magnetic field that can attract the prince’s rusty iron sword.
“Your pen will not save you,” the prince said, watching me with bemusement. “This body is a mere shell. When it cracks and falls away, I need only choose another. Join me willingly, Alice. Do it and I will let your friend and his love live out the remainder of their lives in the town of Agnosara, safe from my wrath, treated like royalty by my subjects and then granted a quick death only after the rest of humanity is destroyed. That is the best outcome of this.”
I slid left. “The best outcome is your destruction.”
“Surely you cannot begrudge my passion, Alice. You saw how easily Agnim the magician bent greedy men to his will. What hope is there for such a fragile, dangerous species? You offer nothing. You have nothing.”
I glanced at Seth and Sanda. “We have love,” I said. “That’s humanity’s hope.”
Vontescue stepped closer, his black cloak flowing behind him like a shadow. Like the carvings in the Corrupted cave full of princesses.
I stepped right, eyes darting toward the floor. I’d created a large rectangle that ran from one length of the room to the other. I connected the golden glowing lines, and like a flash of lightning the prince was upon me! He’d crossed the room so fast that half the candles in the room blew out, the others dancing wildly and casting shadows over his cracked face.
He brought his blade back. I tapped the glowing lines with my foot.
A quiet hum sounded, as if an old light had just been turned on for the first time in years. The prince groaned, baring his teeth, slowly bringing his blade around. The sharp tip dipped down, drawn to the magnetized floor.
Still. Even with the powerful magnet, his strength was enough to bring the blade around. I tore my pen from the tip of my wooden sword and parried low. The sharp iron chipped away a chunk of wood from my blade, but the force of my beat-parry was enough to push his blade toward the ground.
The tip touched the floor. The prince grimaced, using all of his strength to pull it away from the magnetic force. His body creaked and groaned, as if his muscles had become brittle and were threatening to break apart under the stress. I thrust my wooden sword at him and he parried, cutting out another chunk from the blade. He laughed, watching the sliver of wood land at Sanda’s feet. Seth pulled her closer to the door.
“A clever trick,” Vontescue said, stepping closer. He clutched his sword with both hands. His other hand was cracked now, like a porcelain doll that had been dropped by a child. “But you can’t possibly expect to kill me, Alice. And if you persist, I will end your life. I will take Sanda’s body and wait a hundred more years for another hero to arrive.”
“I can stop you,” I hissed, bringing my sword up. I thrust again, aiming for his cracked face. He grunted, pulling his blade away from the floor and using every ounce of his strength to swing upward. Another chunk of wood flew away from my sword, this time nearer the hilt. The momentum forced the prince’s blade back around toward the magnetized floor. Another lightning-shaped crack appeared across his forehead, running down his cheek.
Now is the time, Alice. Don’t fear death.
I swung my blade around, stepping in and stabbing the prince’s heart. His dark eyes widened. One of his hands fell away from his blade. With both hands, he brought his sword around, thrusting his blade directly into the left side of my chest.
Sanda gasped. Seth cried out.
The prince coughed, staring down at the wooden blade protruding from his chest. Already, his torso had begun to crack, pieces breaking away like pieces of a boiled eggshell and leaving only the shadowy essence of the Malevolence behind. His eyes followed the length of his blade, where it was stuck firmly in my chest.
I took a deep breath, staring into his dark eyes.
“But … but how …”
I willed my body to become ethereal. The prince’s sword slipped through my ghost form, landing hard on the magnetized edge of the rug with a deafening clang.
“My real body is safely in my bedroom,” I said. “With the dresser pushed in front of the door. I’m meditating real calm-like, you know?”
The prince fell to his knees. He held up his right arm. It crumbled, leaving behind only his shadowy essence. He laughed. “The perfect thrust! And with it, finally, this wretched body falls away. And my next host, locked away in her bedroom.” He coughed, and chunks of his shoulder fell away, landing on the floor and breaking apart. His clothes went with his body, as if they’d simply been painted on. His cape began shriveling, curling at the edges.
I willed my ghostly body back to a more solid form, reaching with each arm and pulling up the sleeves of my sweater. I showed him my forearms.
The Malevolence howled. The prince’s surprised face crumbled away, leaving only a black shadow with dark red glowing eyes that seemed to hover inside the darkness.
“The wards …”
I nodded. I had two on each arm, drawn in black magic marker by Briar before the fencing tournament. “They’re on my real body. Protecting me.”
“Grayle,” the Malevolence hissed, shaking away the remaining fragments of its clay-like body. It was now nothing more than a pitch-black shadow, its essence so cold that I could feel it even without the benefit of a real body. “Go to her bedroom. Shoot her.”
“Why?” Grayle asked. “So you can kill me, my master?” He shook his head, stepping around the creature so that he was nearer the door. The door burst open. Scar stepped inside, swiping aside the nearest candelabras before their light could turn him into human form. They fell to the floor with a clang; the candles left trails of wax, their flames extinguished during the fall.
“Here is where, finally, you are gone for good.” Grayle lifted his gun, pointing it at Sanda.
“Grayle, wait!” I shouted, reaching down and picking up the pen. Everything seemed to slow down. I couldn’t grab the pen fast enough. My vision blurred. My heart raced. Two things happened at once.
Grayle pulled the trigger.
Seth stepped in front of Sanda.
Chapter 13
I opened my eyes, back in the bedroom, heart racing, chest sore but not bleeding. Just badly bruised, like the lion bite on my leg. I sat up, fumbling for the spare saber I’d drawn earlier. I grabbed it and ran to the door, pushing aside the heavy dresser and feeling a pop in my ribs. A fresh wave of pain ran through me, stealing my breath.
My inner voice screamed in my head:
Fight through it, Alice!
And then came Agnim’s haunting prophecy:
I see the death of your loved ones …
I forced a deep breath, compelling my legs to carry me up the grand staircase, through the dimly lit hallway and up the winding staircase to the prince’s lair, my sore leg crying out with each step, the pain in my chest growing heavier, spreading fast.
At the open doorway, Scar blocked my path, growling low. I charged him, matching his roar. He swung his paw and I swung my blade upward, turning him into a cloud of ash.
The room was in chaos. The Malevolence had a hold of Sanda’s left leg, its oil-like arm pulling at her. Her pajama pant was pulled up and her skin was blue all around where the shadowy fingers had grabbed hold.
Grayle was gone, the window near the door cracked and broken.
Seth was lying on the ground, beside one of the tall candelabras. Even with only a few candles still lit, I could see just how bad it was.
“Maybe I shouldn’t have done that,” Seth croaked. Sanda clutched him, sobbing uncontrollably, kicking wildly at the Malevolence’s cold shadow at it moved up her leg.
“I love you,” she said.
“I love you, too.” He smiled. His hand shakily traced the side of her face.
Then it dropped.
I fell over, knocking over two of the candelabras. My body refused to move. I could only watch in horror as the Malevolence pulled itself into Sanda’s mouth like smoke.
Her skin paled. Her glassy eyes went wide. The Malevolence disappeared inside her. Suddenly, Sanda’s body began to shake. There came a terrible, inhuman scream that seemed to come from everywhere all at once. Sanda drew in a breath, her chest heaving. She exhaled …
Black smoke escaped from between her lips. The scream intensified. I covered my ears, unable to look away. As the smoke escaped, it took on the Malevolence’s form. A shadowy hand reached out, clawing at the air as if it were trying to get back inside Sanda’s body. But it was too late.
The Malevolence dissipated, its scream fading.
Sanda collapsed beside Seth, her chest rising and falling slowly, almost peacefully. One hand reached out, blindly grabbing his. “Love,” she whispered in his ear. Her eyes fluttered, then shut.
“Seth,” I sobbed, pulling the vial of magic liquid from around my neck. I opened it, kneeling beside Seth and dribbling it into his mouth. “Seth, wake up. Wake up, Seth!” I lifted his lifeless body up, cradling his head in my arms. “Come on, Seth. Wake up! Wake up!”
A cold wind slipped in through the cracked window. The rest of the candles blew out, leaving only dancing firelight. Shadows infected on the walls.
One of the shadows moved closer.
“No!” I screamed, releasing Seth and diving for my saber. The pain in my chest temporarily stunned me, forcing me to roll over onto my now definitely broken rib. I cried out, pulling myself to my knees.
The shadow materialized. Long, tattered robe. Hood drawn tight, only the very tip of his bony jaw jutting out. Long, rusted scythe clutched in two bony hands.
Death.
“No!” I screamed, rushing at him, swinging my blade. He flew closer. One skeletal hand brushed me aside. I landed on the rug, feeling another pop in my ribs and another wave of fiery pain. The saber fell out of my numb hand. I clawed at the rug, crawling toward Seth.
But it was too late. Death was already over him, reaching down.
A warm ball of yellow light slipped out of Seth’s body. Death grabbed it, stuffing it inside his robe.
“No!” I screamed.
He melted back into the shadows. A strong gust of cold wind snuffed out the fireplace.
Leaving only darkness.
To be continued on October 25th!
* * *
[i] Hans in Luck
by the Brothers Grimm
Hans had served his master for seven years, so he said to him, “Master, my time is up. Now I would like to go back home to my mother. Give me my wages.”
The master answered, “You have served me faithfully and honestly. As the service was, so shall the reward be.” And he gave Hans a piece of gold as big as his head. Hans pulled his handkerchief out of his pocket, wrapped up the lump in it, put it on his shoulder, and set out on the way home. As he went on, always putting one leg before the other, he saw a horseman trotting quickly and merrily by on a lively horse.
“Ah,” said Hans quite loud, “what a fine thing it is to ride. There you sit as on a chair, never stumbling over a stone, saving your shoes, and making your way without even knowing it.”
The rider, who had heard him, stopped and called out, “Hey there, Hans, then why are you going on foot?”
“I must,” answered he, “for I have this lump to carry home. It is true that it is gold, but I cannot hold my head straight for it, and it hurts my shoulder.”
“I will tell you what,” said the rider. “Let’s trade. I will give you my horse, and you can give me your lump.”
“With all my heart,” said Hans. “But I can tell you, you will be dragging along with it.”
The rider got down, took the gold, and helped Hans up, then gave him the bridle tight in his hands and said, “If you want to go fast, you must click your tongue and call out, jup, jup.”
Hans was heartily delighted as he sat upon the horse and rode away so bold and free. After a little while he thought that it ought to go faster, and he began to click with his tongue and call out, “jup, jup.” The horse started a fast trot, and before Hans knew where he was, he was thrown off and lying in a ditch which separated the fields from the highway. The horse would have escaped if it had not been stopped by a peasant, who was coming along the road and driving a cow before him.
Hans pulled himself together and stood up on his legs again, but he was vexed, and said to the peasant, “It is a poor joke, this riding, especially when one gets hold of a mare like this, that kicks and throws one off, so that one has a chance of breaking one’s neck. Never again will I mount it. Now I like your cow, for one can walk quietly behind her, and moreover have one’s milk, butter, and cheese every day without fail. What would I not give to have such a cow?”
“Well,” said the peasant, “if it would give you so much pleasure, I do not mind trading the cow for the horse.” Hans agreed with the greatest delight, and the peasant jumped upon the horse and rode quickly away.
Hans drove his cow quietly before him, and thought over his lucky bargain. “If only I have a morsel of bread -- and that can hardly fail me -- I can eat butter and cheese with it as often as I like. If I am thirsty, I can milk my cow and drink the milk. My goodness, what more can I want?”
When he came to an inn he stopped, and to celebrate his good fortune, he ate up everything he had with him -- his dinner and supper -- and all he had, and with his last few farthings had half a glass of beer. Then he drove his cow onwards in the direction of his mother's village.
As noon approached, the heat grew more oppressive, and Hans found himself upon a moor which would take at least another hour to cross. He felt very hot, and his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth with thirst. “I can find a cure for this,” thought Hans. “I will milk the cow now and refresh myself with the milk.” He tied her to a withered tree, and as he had no pail, he put his leather cap underneath, but try as he would, not a drop of milk came. And because he was working in a clumsy way, the impatient beast at last gave him such a blow on his head with its hind foot that he fell to the ground, and for a long time did not know where he was. By good fortune a butcher just then came along the road with a pushcart, in which lay a young pig.
“What sort of a trick is this?” he cried, and helped good Hans up. Hans told him what had happened.
The butcher gave him his flask and said, “Take a drink and refresh yourself. The cow will certainly give no milk. It is an old beast. At the best it is only fit for the plow, or for the butcher.”
“Well, well,” said Hans, as he stroked his hair down on his head. “Who would have thought it? Certainly it is a fine thing when one can slaughter a beast like that for oneself. W
hat meat one has! But I do not care much for beef, it is not juicy enough for me. But to have a young pig like that! It tastes quite different, and there are sausages as well.”
“Listen, Hans,” said the butcher. “To do you a favor, I will trade, and will let you have the pig for the cow.”
“God reward you for your kindness,” said Hans as he gave up the cow. The pig was unbound from the cart, and the cord by which it was tied was put in his hand. Hans went on, thinking to himself how everything was going just as he wished. If anything troublesome happened to him, it was immediately set right.
Presently he was joined by a lad who was carrying a fine white goose under his arm. They greeted one another, and Hans began to tell of his good luck, and how he had always made such good trades. The boy told him that he was taking the goose to a christening feast. “Just heft her,” he added, taking hold of her by the wings. “Feel how heavy she is. She has been fattened up for the last eight weeks. Anyone who bites into her after she has been roasted will have to wipe the fat from both sides of his mouth.”
“Yes,” said Hans, hefting her with one hand, “she weighs a lot, but my pig is not so bad either.”
Meanwhile the lad looked suspiciously from one side to the other, and shook his head. “Look here, he said at last. “It may not be all right with your pig. In the village through which I passed, the mayor himself had just had one stolen out of its sty. I fear -- I fear that you have got hold of it there. They have sent out some people and it would be a bad business if they caught you with the pig. At the very least, you would be shut up in the dark hole.”
Good Hans was terrified. “For goodness’ sake,” he said. “help me out of this fix. You know more about this place than I do. Take my pig and leave me your goose.”
“I am taking a risk,” answered the lad, “but I do not want to be the cause of your getting into trouble.” So he took the cord in his hand, and quickly drove the pig down a bypath. Good Hans, free from care, went homewards with the goose under his arm.
