Ender of Worlds: A Morgan Rook Supernatural Thriller (The Order of Shadows Book 4)

by Kit Hallows

  “Help is on the way, we'll get you all out of here” I whispered as I crept behind the blinkereds. “Just stay still and quiet.” I crouched behind Astrid and Samuel. They kept their eyes on Endersley as he continued to mutter to himself at the workbench.

  “You okay?” I whispered.

  “Warm and toasty,” Samuel replied, but as he continued there was no humor in his voice. “I’m sorry, Morgan. They got the jump on me, there was too many of them. Plus they had a lot of guns.”

  "It's happened to the best of us. How about you, Astrid?” I whispered.

  “I’m angry,” she said. “Really fucking angry and ready to shed some blood.”

  “Good,” I said as I laid the rifle down, grabbed one of the last crystals from my bag and tried to turn the lock on the chains to rust. "This isn't working”

  “Yeah, we weren't able to conjure our way out either.” Samuel whispered “If you've still got that wicked dagger, this would be a good time to use it.”

  He held his bound arms up as I pulled out the blade and slipped it through the heavy chains. "Is that better?”

  “Yeah and just in time.” He stretched his arms and kept an eye on Endersley as I cut Astrid loose. "Stroud’s on the way, imminently. He spoke to Endersley earlier via one of the blinkered corpses. And the gods know there were plenty of them for him to choose from. Enderley's been on a spree, killed at least a dozen since we arrived. Some went into the furnace, some were injected and turned restless. I want that bastard’s head.”

  “You’ll have it. Just-”

  A crackling, hissing static filled the air and the thick ridges of paint upon the canvas began to undulate and peak like a turning tide.

  Stroud was coming.

  55

  The painting shimmered and tendrils rose like smoke from the edges as the pigments within its framework churned and writhed like a pit of snakes below a moonless sky. A heavy rumbling filled the mill, the din so deafening it almost seemed the world was caving in.

  Endersley turned to the canvas, his twitchy fingers pulling at the ends of his sleeves and his face filled with nervous anticipation. Then he folded his hands submissively before him as two forms emerged from the center of the dark abyss. One remained hulking and indistinct while Stroud's face appeared as pale as freshly fallen snow against his scarlet frock coat.

  I moved into the shadows, pulled the dagger from its sheath and crouched down, biding my time. As I waited to spring, Stroud’s companion came into focus. It was a colossus encased in armor. At first I took him to be a giant knight, and then I saw the cloudy corpse-blue eyes. A hexling. A towering armored hexling, that stood ten to twelve feet tall.

  Stroud turned to Endersley and his face bore a dark, furious expression. “I saw your grand scheme unfold in the city. Watched it through the eyes of the dead. There should have been hundreds if not thousands of eyes to peer through, but the only conduits I could find were the ones Rook and his friends had left in their wake.”

  “I have them.” Endersley’s lips twitched into a smile as he nodded towards Astrid and Samuel. “Right over there.”

  Stroud barely gave them a glance. “You may have his companions, but you do not have Rook. And now the blinkereds are stirring like a nest of copperfangs. They know something’s happening, they sense it. But we needed an outrage to tip them to outright war. And you failed to provide it.”

  “The restless will take care of that-”

  “Your methods are not working. The blinkereds are armed to the teeth. We’ll need them to turn on the magical community, and for the magical community to turn on them. The meager number of restless you’ve managed to raise will not inspire the conflict. The blinkereds need to be pushed to war. These are a people who have been abused and milked like cattle by their masters for centuries, yet the vast majority of them haven’t even registered it. We needed an outrage, a massacre to get their blood up.”

  Endersley swept a hand toward his makeshift laboratory. “I’m on the verge of something big. Something that should cleanse this world come what may.”

  “What is it?” Stroud asked with mocking dismissal on his ghostly face.

  “A means of making the disease airborne.” Endersley glanced back to the shackled people. “My recent tests have all been promising. Very promising.”

  As Stroud turned to glance at the chained blinkereds, his eyes passed over mine and he froze.

  Fuck.

  I stepped into the light, dagger in hand.

  “Rook!” Endersley said. “He’s-”

  “Here,” Stroud finished. He floated across the platform, his approach silent as he glared down at me. “And what is this?” he asked, his eyes on the dagger, his tone more curious than afraid.

  “Your demise,” I said, “I’m going to kill you.” Terrible, almost uncontrollable anger consumed me as I faced the man responsible for the vile deeds that had befallen all that I’d held dear. Here he was, the monster that had propped up Wyght and the misery she’d inflicted on so many. The man who had Tom killed in a derelict tunnel reeking of stale piss. The man who'd had Hellwyn destroyed right before my very eyes.

  “I don’t want to hurt you.” Stroud’s spectral eyes locked on mine. They were dangerously hypnotic, like gazing down from a rickety bridge and being filled with a terrible yearning to leap. Slowly his darkness began to insinuate itself in my mind…

  He pointed his ghostly finger but kept a careful distance as he spoke. “You don’t want to harm me, Morgan. It would be a mistake. Just as a young boy being dragged to this vile world was a mistake. But then the knight, Tom, was no stranger to errors. Indeed he made one after another, but the most atrocious of them was his decision to follow the Queen’s command to slaughter me and everyone I loved. But in the end,” he smiled, “it seems he failed there too, didn’t he my son?”

  The word struck me like a wrecking ball and the room seemed to spin. I felt sick, deathly ill and yet this realization wasn’t a surprise, not fully. There had been a part of me that had known all along. While the truth had been locked away, it seeped out over the years, manifesting as odd dreams and visions. It was a secret knowledge that belonged to my dark other and he'd held it close and hidden; he was Stroud’s son. Which made me… what?

  “You’re wondering who you are?” Stroud asked. “Let me solve the mystery for you, Morgan. You’re but a splinter of my son’s soul. A fragment of his mind. You’re the heroic persona he clung to when he was afraid. When the arcane truths I revealed to him as a child were too much for his young mind to bear. The side of him that rose up when he wished to deny his true unfettered nature and retreat into himself. You’re not real, Rook, you’re even more of a phantom than I am. An aberration that surfaced when my boy was ripped away from his world and was thrust into another. The split of a mind under great duress. You’ve had your time. You’ve fared as well as any covert parasite. Perhaps you've even served a purpose? For you concealed my young, inexperienced son’s commanding spirit from this hobbling intolerant blinkered society. But now it’s time for you to be expunged.”

  Move aside, my other roared, his demand forceful.

  “I’m not going anywhere,” I said. Stroud’s revelations were cutting and they’d made me sick to my core, but I wasn’t going to crumble. Aberration or not, my name was Morgan Rook. I lived, I breathed, I loved. And I was as real as anything else in this world.

  I charged toward Stroud, dagger in hand.

  The hexling’s eyes flashed as it rounded on me, its heavy steps making the platform rattle and shake. It raised an armored fist, the mace in its grip glinting in the light of the furnace. I backed along the platform and ducked the swing of the brutal iron ball. It crashed to the metal floor and the platform buckled and jerked, throwing Endersley off his feet. He sprang up with an ax in his hand, his eyes feverish as they jumped from Stroud to me, and then to Astrid and Samuel still crouched on their knees.

  The hexling swung the mace again, I dove aside and the chain whistled o
verhead as it cut through the air. Once it was clear I dashed forward, my dagger and gaze fixed on Stroud. He was within reach, and his scornful iciness was giving way to fear.

  I lunged at him, intending to sever his throat a second time…

  No!

  My other struck so hard he threw me from my consciousness. I watched as he stayed my hand before it reached Stroud, the dagger stopping just short of his ghostly throat. I tried to claw my way back into my own mind but he’d seized control. This was what he’d been biding his time for…conserving his strength to use against me in this moment.

  I pushed back, wrestling against his psyche but his grip was like iron.

  The platform shook as the hexing loomed and the shadow of its mace fell over me.

  Stroud waved a spectral hand, commanding it to stop. He gazed from the dagger to his son. “Destroy it. Quickly.”

  I could only watch as my other leaped toward the furnace. No! I cried. I tried to shove him aside but his force was greater. We neared Astrid and Samuel as Endersley rounded on them, ax in hand. Samuel ran toward me then leaped away as my other thrust the blade, almost tearing through his chest. He followed through with a punch and I felt a flash of pain as my fist met Samuel’s chin, sending him toppling to the floor. Astrid’s gaze fell on the blade as she held Endersley back and I could see no one else could stop him as we strode toward the furnace, the roar of its heat growing in its intensity.

  No! I used everything I had to thwart his will as he raised my hand. For a moment I stilled it, but then he shoved me back and hurled the dagger. It sailed through the air, the orange flames gleaming on its pearlescent blade as it wheeled round and around and plunged into the burning coals.

  What have you done! My rage boiled over as I shoved against him, grasping at the edges of my own consciousness. Finally I found purchase. He tried to shove me away but my anger overwhelmed his and I pushed back and took control.

  But I was too late, the dagger was gone.

  I dove for the rifle I’d hidden in the shadows, and shot Endersley as he swung his ax at Samuel. The bullet struck him in the chest and he staggered and toppled to the ground with a thud.

  The floor rumbled as the hexling descended. Someone moved in from the gloom. Astrid. She’d recovered their weapons and threw Samuel his bow and quiver then pulled a knife from under her cloak.

  I wheeled around as the light shifted and another heavy rumble filled the air. It was Stroud, drawing in darkness from the portal behind him. He placed his hands together and unleashed a stream of shadows on Samuel and Astrid. They leaped as one and rolled across the ground as the deadly curse obliterated the machinery behind them and unleashed a rain of dust from above.

  Stroud continued to summon the darkness, his hands reached toward the corners of the room and their murky depths lightened as his powers grew.

  His sights were locked on Astrid. I ran as the black tendril emerged from his hand. With a viper-like strike, it hit before I could reach her, and she cried out my name as she collapsed to the ground.

  56

  The torrent of darkness continued to stream from Stroud’s hand. It slithered through the air like a serpent and drew back to strike Astrid again as she lay helplessly upon the floor. I leaped into its path, screaming. The icy darkness bit into me and everything went black, then my eyes flew open and a great chill shot into my blood as I gasped for breath.

  Stroud had seized the spell and modified its intent in an effort to save his son, but he was too late. The malicious power was inside me and I could feel it snaking through my veins as it raced toward my heart. The pain was agonizing but I embraced it. I let it sink into my cells, drawing in its power just as I’d done with Talamos Gin’s magic, so that I could use it as my own. Stroud watched, open mouthed. In awe.

  His memories flashed through my mind. I saw him standing in a grove of trees, staring down at piles of bones. His cult slaughtered, his wife and son… or so he’d believed in that moment, all dead. The terrible agony churning within him was almost too much to bear. Then a slow, grave-cold call to vengeance whispered and nagged away at him, demanding an oath of devastation and retribution. It was every inch as keen as mine had been for Elsbeth Wyght. I truly was my father’s son…

  I slipped back into my own consciousness and watched Stroud’s ghostly hands grow thick with shadows. The hexling moved to his side, protecting its master. I gazed back to find Samuel clutching Astrid’s hand, she was almost as pale as Stroud, her face stricken and deathly. The sight of her broke my heart.

  Samuel glanced past me to Stroud, his teeth bared, his eyes filled with a malice I’d never seen in him before. Its intensity chilled me to the bone. He clutched an arrow in his other hand and the point began to glow, as if it had been just pulled from the forge roaring behind him. He was hexing it, no… they were hexing. I watched as the last of Astrid’s magic slipped from her fingers into Samuel’s hand. Gently, Samuel released her and notched the arrow in his bow string.

  The hexling moved toward its master, but not fast enough.

  Samuel let the arrow fly. It arced through the air like a comet, hissing as it shot toward Stroud. The hexling tried to block it but its armor was too cumbersome.

  Pain and surprise passed like a cloud over Stroud’s spectral face as the arrow passed through him. The strike wasn’t fatal but it was clear he’d been wounded. His form flickered and the shadows in his hands withdrew. He threw a weak flickering curse at Samuel, but he stepped aside, and it fizzled off into the gloom. “Fucking coward!” Samuel roared. He strode toward Stroud and I joined him, my strength still hampered by his curse.

  Stroud looked at us and I saw the flicker of fear in his eyes. Then he turned and fled for the portal as his hexling thundered toward us.

  I summoned all the power of Stroud’s curse into my palms and conjured a ball of black flames. It shot toward the writhing canvas but struck the creature as it leaped to protect its master. Then Stroud's pale form merged with the darkening shadows as he vanished into the rift.

  57

  The hexling was ablaze as it charged across the platform, its dead eyes fixed on Astrid. I confronted the creature, my sword raised as I tried to divert it, but it paid me no heed.

  Samuel's arrows flew, glancing off its visor as I swung the sword of intention at its legs, trying to slow its descent upon her, but the blade was no match for its armor.

  The shadow of the creature’s arm swept across the floor as it swung its mace. Samuel rolled out of the way and the weapon smashed into the platform. He leaped to his feet and fired an arrow that slipped through a gap near the hexling’s wrist. Its fist spasmed and the mace fell.

  It seemed the arrows might be our best chance at downing it, if Samuel could get a clear shot. I ran behind it and clambered up its back clinging to a joint in the plating as I plunged the sword of intention between it.

  The hexling faltered as I swung up to its shoulder, sheathed the sword, and pulled at its visor. It shifted, but not enough.

  Give me strength I cried as the last dregs of Stroud’s power swirled through my veins.

  No my other growled as he surfaced, drew the remains of the magic into my hand and discharged it into the ground.

  You’re next, I said, once I’m done with Stroud I’m coming for you. He bristled with fury but it seemed his power was spent. But I had no magic to summon either, and no access to crystals as the hexling stormed toward Astrid.

  It would crush her within seconds.

  I grasped the visor with every scrap of strength I had left, and pulled. The metal bit into my fingers and it squealed as it slowly began to lift. I took a deep breath, gave it one final tug and it creaked as it shot open. Samuel stood over Astrid, an arrow poised. He fired and it struck the hexling’s face.

  It wasn’t enough.

  Enraged, the hexling stumbled on.

  I pulled my sword, fixed my eyes to the joint at its armored neck, and swung hard. “Cut!”

  The blade glowed bright
as it sliced through the air, my every intent driving it. It struck the joint, sank deep into the giant’s throat, severing its dead flesh and bone in a perfect stroke.

  Its head stayed seated upon its lumbering shoulders until I kicked it hard and sent it hurtling to the floor with an almighty thump. The hexling’s body toppled, one step toward Astrid, one step back.

  It was going to fall.

  I threw the sword down and grabbed the armor on its back as I dropped, pulling it backwards, and then leaped clear as it crumpled into a cloud of dust.

  As I picked up my blade and looked back, Samuel was already on his knees at Astrid side. And then something moved in the corner of the platform.

  Endersley was up, fumbling at his work bench. He turned, a syringe in each hand as he advanced on them.

  The glow of my sword caught Endersley’s attention. He wheeled my way as I stumbled toward him, his eyes filled with wild, maniacal fury. I was too shattered and broken to speak but the hatred I had for the man energized the sword.

  “You should-” Endersley began. I swung the blade and lopped his arm off. It fell to the ground and before he could react, I had his hand in my grasp. I wrestled the syringe from his fist and plunged it into his chest.

  “Enjoy,” I said, before head-butting him in the face. He staggered back in a strange, staccato way. Then he grasped the syringe, pulled it out and threw it down. His face turned ashen and his entire body began to convulse. “My heart!” He clutched his chest and his eyes bulged. “It’s stopping. It…” Blood tinged his eyes red, and he bared his ratty teeth as he toppled to his knees with a scream. The sound was horrific, but it added to the triumphant swell of vengeful fury that had me held in its intoxicating spell.

  “Kill him,” Astrid said, then she coughed violently as she lay cradled in Samuel’s arms. Her face was as white as chalk and the torment in her eyes was enough to jolt me from my sick thirst to watch Endersley suffer. Then I realized she wasn’t talking to me, but to Samuel. He laid her down gently, notched an arrow and let it fly. It struck Endersley’s throat. He glanced around and tried to speak, then collapsed.