by Hallows,Kit
"Oh. The cowardly knight versus the man with the hand-me-down sword. How will it end?" His laugh was short and cruel. I had no idea how to kill a shade but I was looking forward to finding out.
Prentice raised his blade and walked towards me. I backed out of the sunlight, hoping to draw him in. The moment the light hit his eyes, I'd decapitate the son of a bitch.
Stroud clapped his hands. The ghostly boom took me by surprise as it echoed like distant thunderclaps. "No. This is not how it's meant to be."
Prentice turned back. "I can do this."
"No, you can't. You're a spent force, Prentice. But you've helped me wipe out the Order, so at least you can depart this world with a smidge of redemption."
"We had an agreement," Prentice said, his voice rising.
"I never agreed to anything," Stroud turned to me. "You asked why your friends died. The simple truth is, Prentice Sykes wanted to be free of the nasty little tumor in his gut. Their lives for his, that was his offer. He brought me here because he thought I'd be desperate enough to serve him. He was wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong."
Anger flashed in Prentice's eyes. He stopped just short of the light as he turned back. "You would never have found this world if it wasn't for me-"
"You expect gratitude? Loyalty? After what you did? A fury crept into Stroud's voice. "I'm afraid it's out with the old order, and in with the new. However, I will give you a fitting send off. Snakes for the snake."
Tendrils of black smoke oozed from the painting and drifted into Stroud's form. His eyes grew bright and he held his hands out, drawing shadows from every corner of the room.
The gatherer of shadows.
The tendrils shifted and began to flow from his palms. Gathering before him, they writhed into long coils. Snakes formed of darkness, with amber eyes and madly flicking tongues.
Prentice turned ashen.
"That's right," Stroud said. "You're not fond of snakes, are you?"
They slithered over the floor with a sound like a thousand whispers, their bodies thick and swollen. Prentice backed towards the light, oblivious to me, as each snake became intent upon him.
He stood in the light and held his sword before him, preparing for them to strike but they stopped at the edge of the square and hissed.
"Fuck you!" Prentice said. There was a haughty note of triumph in his voice.
I could have shoved him back into the shadows, but I didn't. No, I wanted to fight the son of a bitch myself.
Stroud raised a hand to the skylight and whispered.
The glass blackened until the light grew dim enough for the snakes to breach it. They lunged towards Prentice and slithered up his legs as he screamed and hacked and slashed. His panic betrayed him as he cut both the snakes and himself. Blood sprayed from the gashes in his legs, sending the snakes into a frenzy. Their bodies swelled as they began to encompass his flailing form.
His scream was cut short when a fat swollen snake coiled across his head, encircling his mouth, then his nose. His eyes grew wide and he began to flail madly.
I almost ran to help him. Almost. Instead I watched in horror as the creatures writhed around him and he collapsed under their spectral weight.
The snakes struck, their teeth long and sharp as they punctured his exposed flesh. Smoke rose from the wounds, his skin began to char and the snakes slithered in a frenzy until I could see nothing but a writhing mass of black.
Soon silence fell over the room as the snakes slithered back into the shadows, leaving a pile of charred bones upon the floor.
"The Order is no more," Stroud said. "I'd expected to feel a greater sense of satisfaction but in truth, it's been quite the anticlimax. Perhaps it's because I've encountered a new problem, and it's in need of a solution. Tell me, who are you?"
"I gave you my name."
"But it isn't really yours, is it? You weren't born in this world. Tell me, how did you come to arrive here?"
"I was born right here, in this room." I walked towards him, my heart beating hard, fear battling to offset my raging fury and loathing.
"The portal? It only links this world with my own..." He gazed back at the canvas. I raised my sword, spurred by the glint of its light in the gloom.
I had no idea if it would harm him, but there was only one way to find out.
Stroud turned back to me. "You're not going to give up, are you?"
"No. I'm going to annihilate you. First you, and then your assassin."
"Really? Why wait then, let me summon it for you." Stroud gestured to the door as it flew open.
43
The assassin burst into the room, its eyes gleaming, dead and blue behind its mask. It glanced to Stroud, awaiting his command. He nodded to it and the unspoken order passed between them.
I didn't need to hear it. I knew what it was.
With several leaps I sprang back toward the far end of the room hoping to buy myself a few scant moments. I'd seen what this creature could do, time after time. It seemed unstoppable, that fighting it would bring nothing but death.
But this wasn't the time for fear. This was the time for vengeance.
My sword glimmered, its blade brimming with power as it awaited my intent. I itched to run forward, to meet the creature and hack at it with all the power I could muster.
Instead I watched as the assassin prowled towards me, the tip of its blade scraping and gouging the floorboards. Behind it, Stroud watched, his form thin and dark but for his softly glowing eyes.
His evil, remorseless arrogance filled me with rage and disgust. If I just could get to him...
The assassin brought its sword up two handed.
This was going to hurt.
I parried, wincing as the familiar shockwave of pain shot through my wrists and arms. The assassin brought its sword up for another swing. I lunged forward, testing its defense. It brought its blade across its chest to counter the blow.
I swung again.
It matched my maneuver.
Again and again. The same defense. The same attack. Hellwyn would have spotted this pattern if she'd had the chance. Tom too if he hadn't given up.
I focused my intent and allowed it to flow through me, from mind to blade.
The sword thrummed as if in accord.
I stepped back as the assassin brought its weapon up and swung, its blade a silver arc descending towards me.
I blocked it.
It was all I could do to hang onto the hilt as the blow juddered through my arm. I jumped back and sidestepped its next attack.
The assassin's sword smashed into the hardwood floor and stuck.
I lunged.
Time seemed to slow as the assassin furiously wrenched its sword free and brought it up to parry my blow. I changed course and the tip of my blade sliced through the assassin's arm, cleaving its hand off.
Its sword clattered to the ground. The hand spasmed, leaped like a spider and scuttled towards the fallen blade as acrid black wisps of smoke spilled from the wound.
It made no sound as it swept down to retrieve its sword.
Sever.
I waited for the assassin to seize the weapon before lopping off its other hand.
It lumbered back, smoke spilling from the stumps at the end of its arms. And then it narrowed its eyes and it dropped its useless limbs, as if resigned to the killing blow.
"And...now...your...head," I growled, fury and adrenaline coursing through me.
The assassin closed its eyes, anticipating a blow that never came as I flew past it, my sights locked on Stroud.
44
"I'm impressed," Stroud said. "My Hexling was skilled. It decimated highly trained knights and-"
"It was predictable," I said. "But most of the people you ambushed with it didn't see it coming. I did."
"Clearly there's more to you than meets the eye." Stroud held his hands out, coaxing the shadows back towards him. They formed a black, swirling pool at his feet. "I've only been in this world a short time, but I've seen conside
rable evidence of the fragile mental stamina this place inspires. I see it in you too." He closed his eyes and clapped his hands.
The dark pool shifted and three black columns rose up. They formed bodies with defined torsos, arms, legs and heads. Shadows swirled around them, refining their features as sparks ignited in their eyes.
My heart ached when the recognition took hold.
Tom, Hellwyn...and Willow.
The venomous expression on her face was like a sucker-punch.
Tom was the first to strike. The sword had been formed from shadow, but it cut like a razor. The slash in my thigh would have been deeper if I hadn't jumped back. It smarted as if the blade had been laced with acid or salt.
I barely had time to move as Hellwyn lunged forward. Her sword struck the sleeve of my coat as I pulled away. Tom leaped forward, his sword sweeping in a black arc towards me. I ducked as it sliced through the air above my head.
Tom's shadowy form was thrown off balance. I stepped forward and drove my sword through his throat. Dark drops of matter misted the air. Tom clamped his hand over the wound but the inky blood continued to flow. The shadow creature swayed on its feet and the lights in its eyes began to dim as the phantom unraveled to nothing.
Hellwyn's sword rushed towards me.
"Block!" I fell back and hit the floor hard, my sword deflecting the majority of the blow as I scrambled back to my feet and a second figure closed in.
Willow.
Her sword grazed my hip as I rolled to the ground amid a shower of sparks. Then both Willow and Hellwyn came at me as one.
I dropped to my knee and parried Hellwyn's blade.
"End!" My sword arced back, passed through her midriff and she burst into slivers of shadowy smoke.
Willow's sword came from nowhere. I managed to block the brunt of the blow but the tip slashed the back of my hand, opening a gash in my flesh. I cried out in agony as my arm spasmed. It felt like a stream of icy fire had been injected into my veins.
I crumpled, barely countering her second and third strike.
She brought her blade up for a final stroke, leaving herself wide.
I fell forward and drove my sword through her heart.
She spasmed, her eyes wide. Her look of anguish made me sick to my core and it was all I could do to keep myself together. "She's not real," I whispered. "She's-"
The agony of my wounds raged. It felt like my blood was turning to ice. As if a deep black contagion had seeped into my veins and was slithering toward my heart.
Willow's shadow form began to fade, the betrayal on her fleeting face the deepest wound of all.
I climbed to my feet, fury coursing through me as I charged toward Stroud. He watched, his face impassive. "Where did you learn to fight like that?" he asked.
I had no words. I brought up my blade as one intention passed through my mind.
Stroud shook his head. "It's a pity to see such a talent go to waste, but clearly there's no other choice." He closed his eyes and raised his hands, as if intending to bring the ceiling down upon our heads. The last of the shadows snaked towards him and the room became impossibly bright as he opened his mouth to swallow them. His skin turned from ashen to coal and his eye sockets filled with pools of darkness, as if the shadows had consumed him from the inside out.
He thrust his hands out.
With the roaring crash of a tsunami, two black tentacles shot towards me, their barbed tips aimed at my heart.
There was nowhere to escape, no defense.
I closed my eyes and opened my soul to the deep magic buzzing through the asylum. It thrummed up through the floor and filled me with a heady rush.
The shadows continued to thunder towards me. I let them. As they smashed into me, it was all I could do to stand against them. Then my whole body convulsed with the raw and terrible force.
I opened my mouth to release the crescendo of power building inside me and my cry became a hungry, primal roar.
Images flashed through my mind, terrible vignettes of pain, squalor and despair. Echoes of the patients who'd lived and died in this terrible place bound within the darkness and festering energy Stroud had been feeding off.
When I opened my eyes I saw the world through a filter of unfettered fury and hatred. I rushed towards Stroud. He glanced toward the door as if seeking help. I threw out a command, it smashed shut and dust drifted like snow from above.
Stroud backed towards the painting. I conjured a ball of jet black flames in my hand and let it fly as he stepped back into the portal. It burst across its surface, turning it fiery red as the flames danced across the canvas.
A voice cried out. I couldn't understand the words, but they were Stroud's. He glared at me for a moment then his dark ghostly face merged with the flames, and he was gone.
The fire roared, illuminating the boiling swirls and ridges of black paint. Faint figures were tossed within its dark waves, the artists who had somehow been coaxed to paint out their despair, madness and torment. And in doing so, had opened a portal between worlds.
I strode from the room as it filled with the acrid burning fumes, my body coursing with malevolent black, evil intent.
45
The magic seethed through me as I stalked down the corridor. It whispered, cajoling me to do terrible things. Slash, burn and maim. To smash anyone I encountered into dust.
It was impossible to defy the urges as they raged, demanding violent resolution. They rooted deep within me like a black pestilence and the terror I'd once had for this place was long gone.
I had no fear now.
I was fear.
Nightkind wandered from the cells and feeding rooms. They stood before me and howled with defiant fury and despicable threats.
I met their eyes.
And they began to cower.
They'd shown no mercy to their victims, to those vulnerable wretched figures still cowering and crippled in the cells. So I'd show the tormentors no mercy either.
Two hulking wolf men rushed at me.
The power surged through me as I punched through the chest of the first and squeezed its pulsing heart into pulp. My hand was wet as I pulled it out and threw the creature against the wall.
I drew my sword, beheaded the other and kicked its twitching corpse to the floor.
The rest began to flee. I grabbed one, a demon with an ancient, wicked face.
"Please!" it begged.
It tried to squirm free but I held it tight and stared into its eyes. "Who was he?"
"Who?" I could almost see the thoughts racing through its wicked mind and the lies it was desperately constructing.
I placed my palm on its forehead until it screamed. "And you think you're evil." I grinned as I pressed my hand harder. Its knees buckled and it almost dropped to the floor. I grabbed the fiend by the shoulders and smashed it into the wall. "Tell me who he was or I'll fucking eviscerate you." Somewhere inside, I knew this wasn't me, but it seemed whoever I'd become was on the verge of getting an answer.
A strange expression passed through the demon's eyes as it gave me an almost beatific smile. "The walker?" he asked, his voice almost a whisper. "The shade in the shadows? A great, great force. The greatest force I've ever seen."
It spoke like a religious zealot. The irony of this wasn't lost on me.
"Tell me who he was."
The demon stopped struggling and went limp in my hand. "Do what thou wilt," it said with another serene grin, "shall be the whole of the law."
I broke its neck and dropped it to the ground. The others, having witnessed our exchange, turned and scattered.
I went after them, cutting them down one by one, spattering the cracked walls with their blood. Howls and screams broke out, shrieks of terror and pain. The walls seemed to shake with their cries, as if recalling familiar pleas from decades past.
I marched on, making my way through the bloody asylum. Consumed by a terrible black rage matched with an evil, eldritch force. Except it wasn't me. It was someone els
e. And I could only watch as this relentless dark stranger entered cell after cell and cut down the monstrous inhabitants within and gruffly freed the wretched humans stained by the gore of their abusers.
Panic swept through the asylum.
Many of the creatures fled.
Many died.
Soon, it was empty.
46
I stood before the doors, my sword dripping, and gave one last roar as I forced the rage and horror out of me. And then I threw them open and staggered into daylight.
The bright sun hit me hard. Nausea overwhelmed me. I dropped my sword and leaned over as my body rejected the magic's black poison. Remnants of it still swirled through my system as I straightened up and wiped my mouth.
I reached into my bag, found a spent crystal and held it tight as I channeled the last of the abominable energy into it. Swirls of inky darkness passed from my hands, turning the clear shard a deep opaque black.
I'd need to find a safe place to dispose of it, somewhere far from this cursed, desolate place.
The mild September sunlight felt almost blinding. I pulled out a pair of shades and slipped them on.
The forest surrounding the building was still, the creatures that had fled the asylum, long gone. A few straggled, broken people emerged from the building, their eyes wild, their faces lost. I'd have to call this in.
I dialed Underwood and gave him a heavily edited rundown. He sounded dubious, but that was a problem for some other day. Next I called Dauple, who could barely contain his excitement.
Ashcombe's dented Jag gleamed upon the drive.
I placed a hand over the keyhole. The door clicked open.
I drove away and didn't look back.
47
I hobbled up the stairs one at a time, my body aching, my head numb. I'd hoped to get to my apartment unscathed, but Mrs. Fitz was at the ready, her hand on her hip.
She took one look at my face, nodded politely and closed her door.
