Where was the prince? The throne room was toward the east side of the castle, and the royal rooms were on the south. There were no important rooms in the center of the castle.
Of course, Caspian is probably hiding somewhere secret and small so we can’t find him. Ryland wracked his brain for an idea. But he has to get reports of how the battle is going and be able to give orders to his men, so that means somewhere accessible. He winced as his shoulder tensed, and he bit his lip to keep the tears from his eyes.
He didn’t know where the prince would be, but he did know that wherever he was, hundreds of Caspian’s guards were sure to be close by.
“We’ll have to search each room,” he said. This wasn’t going to be easy.
Devin was well aware of the constant shifting of the shadows behind him as the Tja-maq appeared and disappeared, but he ignored it, staring into the empty corridor ahead of him without really seeing it. Finally, the noises behind him quieted, and he whirled around, facing the shadows who were now standing in a row, none of them moving.
“Report,” Devin growled. He was getting tired of this battle. Puny mortals, thinking they can defy us! They would be nothing without that ancient spell that rips away our powers! He let the anger simmer before storing it away for later. He didn’t have time to think of the past now. Anger is your only friend, my boy, Devin remembered his father saying once. Or, at least Devin thought his father had said it. He couldn’t remember the man much, seeing as he had died when Devin was very young. None of the Tja-maq had ever told Devin much about his father, but he was fairly sure the man had been killed by humans. One more reason to resent the inferior species.
“We found the prince. He’s inside a small room with two guards and four messengers, which is how he’s getting reports. Hundreds of men are in the surrounding corridors, and there’s no way to get into the room without going through them. Ryland is heading right toward him with about fifty troops.”
Devin scowled. “Why would he do that? That’s not enough to take the prince at this time. Not without those we sent in from the tunnels and released from the prison.”
The shadow sneered. “Humans are stupid. He cannot comprehend that all his troops are free and should be called to his aid. Or perhaps he wishes to be a hero.”
Devin rolled his eyes. “A hero,” he scoffed. “Right. The fool will get himself killed.”
“He is also severely injured,” one of the other shadows interjected. “He will die soon.”
The rest of the shadows all smiled and started hissing to one another.
“ENOUGH!” Devin snarled at them. “Do you want revenge or not?” They all quieted and regarded him with wary eyes. “If Ryland dies, I will never be king, and we will never be able to get back at those humans who wronged us. Do you understand?”
The shadows nodded, subdued. They did not like catering to humans. Neither did he, but it was necessary. For now.
“We must keep Ryland and the rest alive.” Devin thought for a moment. “A few of you will gather the other troops to Ryland’s force. The rest of us will attack the prince’s men. With our forces we will be able to give the humans a fighting chance.” If Ryland’s troops were the first ones to engage the prince’s men, the sounds of the battle would alert Caspian, and he might be able to escape, but if Devin and the Tja-maq attacked the prince’s army, he could muffle any sounds of fighting with his magic, ensuring that the prince would have no idea of their approach. It was the best way to end this quickly, and Ryland needed it to be over soon if what the shadows reported of his injury was correct.
“I thought you said you didn’t want anyone to see us,” one shadow snarled, stepping forward.
Devin rounded on him, putting his face so close to the creature that it froze with fear. “That is why we will leave before they get there and kill all others.”
Practically whimpering, the Tja nodded, the shadowy substance that made up its body almost passing through Devin’s face as it did. Quickly, fearing retribution for such a close call, the creature stepped back and stood stiffly, and Devin swiftly pulled away as well. Being passed through by a Tja was extremely unpleasant.
Clearing his throat and trying to shake away the lingering feeling of discomfort, Devin turned to the others. “Any other stupid questions?”
No one spoke, and Devin grinned. “Good,” he practically purred while shadows crept from his eyes and spilled down his cheeks. Within moments he was in his Tja-maq form again, the most powerful of his kind. This time his red and black sword appeared at his side, ready for the fight ahead.
He breathed deeply. “With the shadows we travel, with the shadows we are strong. We shall win with them as we live on them,” he said, smiling faintly. The words were a famous speech one of their kind always said before going into a battle, and he had always enjoyed hearing them. It felt marvelous to be the one saying them this time, and at such an important battle. This fight would determine the fate of their kind.
The Tja-maq all nodded in agreement. “The shadows will prevail,” they gave the customary response together.
Devin turned, and the others melted into shadows behind him. Thanks to his . . . unusual form, he could not become a shadow and travel as quickly as the others. However, his natural physical form was also what allowed him to have such great power while the others could not reach their own magic. He wasn’t entirely sure why he was different from his family, but he was. It was both a blessing and a curse.
Maybe once they secured Algar, found the sword Mepherius, and destroyed it, he would learn the truth about himself and his abilities. He hadn’t been born yet on that fateful day when they had last battled the humans, but his mother had told him repeatedly about it. On that most horrific day, the humans and the wizards had united against the Tja-maq, who were ruling the world, and bound them with a spell that took away the majority of their powers. The spell would pass on from generation to generation as long as the sword existed, and even future-born Tja-maq would be inflicted by it. Many of their kind had been subsequently sought out and killed, practically defenseless without the full use of their powers. Now, they hid in the shadows instead of ruling them as was their right.
For reasons no one could explain, his physical form was almost—almost—excluded from the curse, but his powers had been restrained as well, though less than the others. Still, he had never known what it was like to be truly him, thanks to those humans. And he never would. Not unless they took Algar and found and destroyed Mepherius.
Devin picked up his pace. Traditionally, when the Tja-maq went into battle, they would summon a cover of darkness. Not only would it blind the enemy, but the shadows would give them strength. Unfortunately, because of the curse, they didn’t have enough power to do so.
We are still strong. We will be able to beat them, Devin reassured himself. We are the Tja-maq!
One of the other shadows had taken the lead, with Devin and the rest following. Finally, the shadow paused, and he heard its quiet voice announcing that just around the corner, the forces that Ryland and his men would have to go through stood guard. The prince was hiding in a room behind the wall of human men.
The shadows turned to look at Devin, and he nodded. There was a momentary pause of silence, and then, as one, the shadow army oozed around the corner. Remembering the prince, Devine quickly erected a spell to prevent any sound from escaping the hallway.
The men in the corridor shouted with fear at the black cloud seeping toward them, and Devin heard the clanking of armor and weapons as they shifted about. “What is that?” someone asked. The shadows blended together, making it look as if the Tja-maq were one creature.
Devin smiled, his pointy teeth showing as he strode forward, his shadow boots making small clicking sounds on the stone. He stopped in the center of the shifting shadows, who awaited his command to attack.
“Your worst nightmare,” he hissed at the scared guards.
With those words, the shadows darted past him, ruffling his ha
ir, and his cloak wrapped itself around him in the sudden wind. The shadows formed swords made of shifting darkness like themselves, holding them as extensions of their bodies. The swords blended with the creatures, making them hard to see and dodge. The first line of surprised guards was cut down within an instant. Their bodies fell to the ground, their edges blurring as they turned into shadows and dissipated into nothing, leaving only their swords behind them.
The second wave of human soldiers concealed their shock and raised their own swords. The shadows and the guards contended fearlessly. The fight would have been easy had the numbers been more even, but for every guard the Tja cut down, three more took their place.
Devin pulled free his own sword from its red and black scabbard, feeling strange as he did so. He was the only one with a substantial sword that came with his transformation. Yet another way he was different from his family. He concentrated briefly on the red and black blade, and the colors shifted, turning all black with red only lining the edges. It took on a slightly more shadowy feel, shifting and bending like the others’ swords, but still more substantial. Now the sword was ready for some real action, enhanced with Devin’s own unique shadow power.
Devin raised his free hand and chanted, his eyes glowing with a dark light that seemed to suck in actual light like a black hole. His hand glowed with the dark energy, pooling it into a sphere. Then, it darted forward in tendrils that looked like dark light, striking down many of the advancing foe. When the darkness struck a guard, it jumped to the nearest human and struck him too, and on and on, a zig-zagging chain of dark lightning.
Devin finished the spell, watching briefly as the humans his magic struck turned into shadows and disappeared just like the rest. Dozens vanished in a few breaths of time. Wishing he had the strength to repeat the spell, Devin raised his sword and lunged at the puny humans, cutting them down. He was worn from using magic to get inside the gates and to burst the main doors, but he would regain strength soon. Until then, he’d continue a regular assault.
The shadows worked as one, an inherited trait they each shared. Each seemed as if they could read the others’ thoughts and act accordingly, though it was only instinct that kept them so attuned to each other. The humans were slightly less organized, which gave the shadows an advantage.
But the Tja were experiencing some difficulties. Devin sucked in a breath as one of the human soldier’s swords pierced his arm and sliced a shallow gash into it. He roared in pain and cut down the human with a vengeance. Pulling back from the battle, he examined his arm. It was just a scratch, but it had been such a long time since Devin had experienced pain of any sort that the wound felt like it was on fire.
Devin looked around, observing that the other Tja were experiencing similar problems. And they were tiring. Normally, they could fight for hours on end, but the spell restricted their magic, which gave them their energy, and they had already fought long and hard to get Ryland’s troops into the castle.
Silently, Devin cursed the long-dead wizards who had cast the spell against them. He wished intensely that he had been able to find Mepherius and broken the spell before the invasion. A Tja-maq near him screamed in pain, and he winced.
Devin knew he had to do something, something drastic, or else they would lose. Gritting his teeth, he raised his hand above his head, chanting another spell, dredging the strength from somewhere deep inside him. His outstretched hand gathered dark lightning, and some of the energy traveled from his hand to his eyes, which overflowed with more shadows. He let loose a cry of agony, the sound rending the air, drawing the eyes of soldiers and Tja-maq alike.
With a final chant, the energy released and zipped toward Devin’s family, striking each of them. As one, they fell onto the ground, the dark energy pulsing around their shadowy forms, making them twitch.
The humans celebrated their victory, and Devin watched them through slitted eyes where he had fallen onto the floor after the spell was finished. The fools. Do they really believe I would cast a spell to hurt my own side? No. Now they would win.
The energy surrounding each shadow melted into their forms, and they all stopped twitching. As one, they rose, bigger and stronger than before. Shadows gathered from the corners of the hallway, and the missing bodies of the fallen human soldiers coalesced once again from those shadows, then rose, taking up their swords and moving against their former allies.
Devin grinned and managed to prop himself up on his elbow. His magic had given the Tja-maq a taste of the power they wielded before the curse had fallen on them. One of their abilities had been to wield those they had killed against their enemies, like shadow zombies.
The shadows grew denser and fell over the corridor, triggering Devin’s night vision. Darkness didn’t descend completely, but it created a slight fog that caused the foe to squint to see their enemies, who were dark like the shadows they wielded. Devin had lost the sound dampening spell the moment he had cast the one to strengthen his family, but it didn’t matter. The fog the Tja-maq had made would have the same muffling effect.
Devin watched as his family made better progress than before, cutting down a greater number of the guards. He himself felt weak and drained from the effort of casting his spell. His breathing was stuttered and shallow, and he paused for a moment, closing his eyes on the scene of darkness before him. The shadows surrounding his eyes lessened, then faded. He felt himself changing back into his human form, an instinctual reaction to the loss of power. Unlike the other Tja-maq, who would transform back into shadows if weakened, it was easier for him to maintain a human form.
Resting, he heard one of the shadows hiss, the crackling of energy, and the cries of the wounded. Then, silence.
Devin fought to open his eyes, and when he succeeded, he saw there was not a human soul left, only the shadow versions of the dead the Tja had made. Those versions blurred and dissipated, retreating to the corners of the room and taking the unnatural darkness with them.
The Tja-maq breathed quietly, the magic Devin had cast on them fading, and their forms reverted to the weaker versions of themselves. Several hissed in pain while others uttered small whimpers.
Devin took a jagged breath and let it out slowly, trying to pull himself together. The cut on his arm burned worse than before, even though he knew it was only his mind playing tricks on him.
“All of you who are injured, go. Heal yourselves,” he whispered quietly. He meant to sound commanding, but the words came out weak and strangled. A couple of the inhuman forms glanced at each other before fading and darting across the ground into the natural shadows.
Now even fewer were left to stand by Devin. They approached him, and two transformed into their human forms to help lift him up.
“That was a taste of what it was like before,” one of them breathed.
“Yes, I felt powerful,” a second said. “That is what we should be, and more.”
“We didn’t know you could do that, Neri-shna.”
Devin growled at the speaker, “It’s not something I would do on a regular basis.”
They took in his weakened state and nodded silently.
“One of you, go see where Ryland’s group is and give me a report,” Devin commanded.
One of the shadows hissed quietly before disintegrating and darting along the corridor floor. A moment later it returned, and when it spoke, it sounded almost frantic.
“The others you sent to help Ryland were successful in gathering our forces, and they are almost here.”
Devin’s eyes widened. “Quick, you fools, get me away from here. We cannot let them see us.”
Chapter Thirteen
Ryland stumbled and almost fell as blackness encroached upon his vision once more. Captain Rei steadied him, giving him a nervous glance.
“How . . . many men . . . do we have . . . now?” Ryland said through gasps.
“A lot more, sire. Other groups in the castle didn’t have much opposition. They just needed a leader. We are almost to the center of
the castle.”
Ryland glanced up at the hallway and winced as the world tilted around him. His stomach heaved, and he almost threw up. He took a few shallow breaths to steady himself.
“I wonder . . . where . . . he is,” he got out.
Suddenly, a man appeared at his elbow. Ryland squinted at him through tears, and his brain foggily registered that he was one of the strange men in Devin’s original group.
Where is Devin? I haven’t seen him since we got into the castle, Ryland thought dimly. He tried to hold on to the question to ask the man before him, but it slipped through his grasp and was lost in a wave of pain.
“I can lead you to Caspian,” the man announced quietly.
Ryland felt his heart soar, then stutter and fall to his toes. He wasn’t sure if he would live to see Caspian’s face again. He nodded at the man, and the world tilted again. This time he really did fall over. When he hit the ground, his shoulder jerked, sending searing pain through his body. He writhed on the ground, only noticing the pain that encompassed him.
“Your Majesty, stop moving; you’ll injure yourself even more!” he heard Rei saying to him, though it seemed to come through a distant tunnel.
He fought for control, calming himself. He curled up in a ball and tried to forget the pain, but it was impossible.
“Someone get over here and help me carry him!” Rei’s shout came from far away.
Ryland felt himself being lifted up, and he heard someone whisper so low it seemed to be in his mind, “The fake prince is nearing his demise.”
Ryland opened his eyes slightly and turned his head through great effort to see Devin’s soldier staring at him with a frightening expression on his face. Ryland shuddered, and the world went black.
The shadow led the unconscious Ryland and his group to the corridor right outside the prince’s room. The shadow pointed to the door and informed them the prince was inside. The prince and those with him were completely unaware that their enemies were so close at hand. The shadow watched blankly as the soldiers gently laid Ryland down with his back pressed against the wall before retreating to have a quiet but heated discussion as to what to do next. They were leaderless, and therefore clueless.
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