Minutes Before Sunset

by Shannon A. Thompson

46

  Eric

  Darthon swung his sword, and a wave of bright lightning shot across the ground. It tore through a tree, and I leapt over a log, dodging the blow by my feet. I returned the attack and missed his body by inches. He was stronger, but I was faster. It had been that way since I’d managed to get back to the forest, retreating in a calculated battle. My thoughts were even faster than his were.

  A knife stuck the bark above my head, and leaves shattered around me. Or not.

  I sucked in a breath and pulled the blade out of the tree. Having the heavy weight of my sword in one hand felt offsetting with the knife in my other, but I didn’t allow it to affect my focus. I watched Darthon’s every move—his legs, his arms, his torso—as he paced to the side, glaring through the dark. I knew he couldn’t see as well as I could. It was a light’s weakness. It was his weakness.

  “How’s that shoulder doing?” Darthon asked, his voice straining against his throat. He was wearing out.

  I winced at the reminder. My left shoulder muscle was torn and obliterated. It was painful to even hold the knife with my hand. I could feel the pain increase with every movement. “I’ll live,” I said, steadying my stare.

  I hated to admit it, but I was wearing out, too. My entire body burned, inside and out, and I knew his attacks had inflicted more damage than my adrenaline allowed me to register. I was hurt, but I’d fight through it. No matter what.

  “What’d you do with the human?” Darthon asked, taking deep breaths. “I always enjoy seeing them fall—and so easily, too.”

  Urte was right. Darthon wasn’t like me. He was born evil.

  “She ran,” I said, hoping he wasn’t playing a game. He could’ve lied about seeing Camille take her away, but I doubted it. She’d come and gone so quickly, I’d barely registered it in the midst of our battle. “I don’t know where she is.”

  Darthon glowered, and his black eyes expanded. “She’s a shade; isn’t she?”

  “I assumed she was a light.”

  His upper lip curled. “Why would I hurt my own kind?”

  “I wouldn’t put it past you,” I said, and he grinned. His teeth illuminated like his hair. “You’ve used Fudicia before.”

  “She’s easy to use,” he said, and I tightened my grip on both of my weapons. I couldn’t let him relax forever. I had to strike.

  I lifted the knife, ready to throw it, but Darthon’s eyes lit up and so did the blade. It turned into fire, and I gasped, dropping the scorching metal. My concentration faltered, and my sword disappeared, zipping through my veins.

  Darthon ripped through the air, his sword before him, and flew straight for my torso. I leapt back, but I hit a tree. It was too late. I was as good as dead.

  Inches in front of my face, a cluster of shadows smacked into his feet, and Darthon flipped over himself. His sword, before shattering into the darkness, sliced my stomach, and I curled over as he collided into the trees behind us.

  Urte and Pierce stood in front of me, and Pierce grabbed my shoulder, picking me up. “You okay?”

  “Fine,” I grumbled, but my spilt blood spoke for me. It dripped over my fingers, and I grasped my torn abdomen, trying to catch my breath. The wound was deep, but not deep enough to kill me. Yet.

  Pierce stiffened. “Shoman—”

  “I’m fine,” I repeated, and then the air warmed.

  Bracke, Camille, and Luthicer were here, too, and they didn’t hesitate. They rushed through the woods, dodging flying debris as Darthon shot energy their way. He was strong, but I didn’t know if he could take us all on his own. He was outnumbered.

  The ground shook, and I stumbled, grabbing the tree as Darthon’s energy exploded against my father’s. A man of the first descendant bloodline was stronger than the others.

  “Let’s go,” I said, leaping past Pierce before he could stop me.

  I yanked out my sword, and my feet left the ground. I flew over the forest floor, flickering in and out of the shadows, and I was on the frontline. Even though I couldn’t see Darthon through his illumination, our swords struck, and the power vibrated across my arms.

  My feet pushed backward in the dirt, but I shoved back and gained my ground. My skin felt like molten lava, and breathing hurt worse. I held it, drowning the pain, and pushed until my shoulder couldn’t hold up any longer.

  I tumbled backward, rolling over myself before standing up. The dirt stung my stomach, and my vision spun, but I remained standing. I couldn’t lose. Not now. Not ever. My sword was intact, and so was my body—sort of.

  The glare died, and Darthon’s black eyes met mine. Blood trickled through his blond hair and down his forehead. He licked his lips and tilted his head before I ever saw them coming.

  Camille and Luthicer rushed past, and the others followed. Darthon lifted his palm, bloody and torn, and fire blasted against their bodies. Eu and Pierce smacked into a tree, but my father held up his arm, and it flew over him. Next to him, Urte was unharmed, and the half-breeds were unfazed.

  “Give up, Darthon,” my father said, but the boy locked his expression and stance.

  He wiped his fire-covered hands on his pants and spread his fingertips apart. The ground melted around Urte’s feet, yanking him toward the dirt. It molded over his arms before he could react, and my father followed.

  I jumped away, but Darthon hadn’t even tried with me. Instead, he laughed. “I should’ve assumed you’d bring friends into this,” he said, and his eyes fluttered over Luthicer and Camille. Chains—as bright as his sword—wrapped around their limbs and tied their bodies together. They collapsed, wiggling against the metal as it cooled, but they couldn’t break them.

  I was on my own.

  “I thought you liked other people to be involved,” I said, trying to kick the dirt away from my father, but it didn’t budge. His blue eyes widened, and I blocked an attack Darthon shot toward him.

  “Only when I want a challenge,” he glowered, and I shot forward, hoping his attacks would be concentrated on me—and only me. I didn’t need the others to be hurt.

  “I didn’t know I was a challenge,” I said, and he took one step forward. Sweat spread the blood across his face.

  “You’re not,” he said. “Alone.”

  As the words left his mouth, a black silhouette flashed behind him. The arm wrapped around his neck and twisted. His neck snapped, and he hit the ground before I could even breathe.

  The shadow formed, and I recognized her for the first time—her black hair, her pale skin, her purple eyes. Jessica. “What are you doing?” I asked as she ran toward me, breathless.

  “I had to help,” she said, and her stare widened as she took in my injuries. “You’re hurt.”

  “I’m alive,” I said, and she spun around, reaching for Camille and Luthicer.

  “Don’t touch us,” Luthicer said, wincing as his body smoked. “It’s made of Light energy. It’d only hurt you.”

  “But it shouldn’t hurt you—”

  “He can hurt his own kind, too,” Camille managed, and I grabbed Jessica before she ignored their warnings. We couldn’t help them.

  “Get out of here,” I said, but she glared.

  “It’s safe,” she said. “He’s dead.”

  But he wasn’t.

  Darthon groaned, standing up on shaking knees. Jessica froze, and he grinned as he met her stare. “Didn’t they tell you?” he asked, cracking his neck into place, crunching the skull against the spine. “I can only die by Shoman’s hands.”

  I yanked her back as the information struck me. Did that mean I could only die by his? I didn’t know, and, by the other’s reactions, they didn’t either.

  “I would ask for your name,” Darthon said, marching forward as he gained his composure. “But I’m guessing I already know who you are—”

  She pulled out her sword, and it was over. He knew who she was.

  “Jessica, no!”

  She shot forward without me, attacking despite th
e illogical reasoning. She couldn’t kill him, even if she tried.

  Darthon, at the last second, pulled his weapon out, and the two collided, flipping over one another. I leapt toward them, but fell when a hand wrapped around my ankle. It was my father’s.

  “Get me out,” he said, and I threw my hands in the air.

  “I can’t!”

  “Use your sword.”

  I followed his orders and dug the blade into the ground. It waved, and the mud slashed, smacking my father in the face. He shook his head, covered in muck, but stood. I released Urte, too.

  We stumbled over one another as we ran toward the explosions, dipping in and out of the darkness. Darthon and Jessica were fighting, but she was pushing him backward. She was stronger.

  I twisted around the last branch and squinted against the light as I neared them. Urte lifted his arm, but he continued with my father. All three of us got to her side, and Darthon’s eyes widened behind his weapon’s glare.

  I maneuvered around them, attempting to get behind him, but he swung his sword around. He broke through branches, bushes, and split trees with his force. Beads of sweat curled over his face, and his arm was sliced, numerous times and deep into the flesh from Jessica’s attack.

  His black eyes blinked rapidly, as he turned his torso, lifting his skinned hand. My father grabbed Jessica’s shoulder, and they shot to the side. The blast missed them by centimeters, and I struck Darthon’s leg before he could do it again.

  He radiated, and my dark energy sucked to my feet. My knees sank to the ground, and the others collapsed, falling against the sinking forest. I clenched my teeth, expecting Darthon to strike with his sword, but he folded in half and disappeared.

  The power that defeated us was the Light’s realm, and Darthon couldn’t use it against us, even if he was leaving. He’d given up.

  I gasped, and air pierced my lungs, freezing the molten blood in my veins. I shivered, and my sword disappeared. It was over. He was gone.

  “Shoman.” My father stumbled to my side, and I looked into his eyes. His normally unreadable face was contorted. He opened his mouth, as if ready to speak, but then his arms wrapped around my shoulders, and I grabbed his arm. He was shaking.

  “He’s gone,” I said, and my father leaned back, sitting on the ground. Even his knees were trembling, and his blue eyes flickered between brown and blue. He could barely hold his form together.

  “For now,” he said.

  “We have to go,” Urte said, walking over, and Jessica rushed behind him.

  She was the only one not bleeding. “What happened?” she asked, but I doubted she was asking about Darthon. Her eyes were focused on my injuries.

  I managed to stand, and she reached for my arm but pulled away, biting her lip. “I’m afraid to touch you,” she said.

  “I’ll be okay,” I said, and the others shattered through the darkness, bringing shadows and light. Their restraints had disappeared with Darthon.

  “Let’s go,” Camille said, and her white aura enveloped our crowd.

  I clenched my teeth as my molecules shattered, whirling into an abyss. We landed in a white corridor, filled with shades. Two rushed forward, grabbing Pierce and Eu as they collapsed. They were hurt.

  “Help them,” my father barked, and he sat on the nearest bench. His appearance was faltering, but no one paid any attention.

  Nurses dragged Eu, Pierce, and Urte away, while Luthicer and Camille stood around. Their burns were already healing, and I stared at my own injuries. They remained.

  “Shoman?” Jessica was the first to notice. “What’s wrong? Why aren’t you—?”

  My knees hit the floor, but pain didn’t follow. I fell backward, and Luthicer was over me, his white hair dangling across my face. “What hurts the most?” he asked, and I opened my mouth.

  I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t feel anything.

  Luthicer paled, and he yanked Camille down. “Lift him up,” he said, and my vision fogged over. I was aware of Jessica’s screams, but I couldn’t hear anything else. I only saw red—blood covering Luthicer’s hand as he lifted it.

  He shouted again as my shade form ripped. My skin tore apart into a human as I lost all control, and the blackness consumed my conscious.