Shadows Falling Season One: Thrice Dead Men

by T. E. Hodden

  I do not give a wet fart what some Court Decree says about him! Maysan turned on her niece, seeming to grow to a giant and loom over Corvus. You will watch for him, and he will watch for you.

  “It feels wrong to do nothing,” I said. “You are sure this is wise?”

  I will let you know when I have news. For now, we shall seal this portal, before anything too dangerous gets through to Earth.

  We left and I burned the portal closed behind us.

  Maysan withdrew from our minds, as we stood in the flooded tunnel. Corvus said nothing as her shoulders slumped, and she turned to wade her way out.

  “I need to stop at the safe house,” she said, “For a change of clothes.”

  *

  The spells and defences were in place at the manor.

  I crouched by Ajax, in the lounge, and petted the fox like dog. He made soft purring noises, and I suspect he chose not to notice that I was dripping over his floor. The spells in the house were firmly in place, fortifying the house. The dog gave me a sharp look.

  “I suspect,” I whispered, “That My Lady Maysan is concerned that whoever is against us is a close enough friend that we will not know their intentions until they are past your defences. There are many in the Court who know of this house, but have made a point of not knowing me.”

  Ajax yapped happily. I looked over my shoulder.

  Corvus was dressed in one of her formal silk gowns, black embroidered with silver leafs, over a roll necked sweater, tight trousers, and high heeled, sharp toed, boots. Around her neck hung a silver necklace with a pendant shaped like the Emberleaf logo.

  “Too much?” She asked.

  “It is dinner with friends, you don't need the gown.”

  “I like the gown,” she said, holding it between her fingers.

  I smiled and looked at the necklace. “May I?”

  She held it up. “Father gifted me this when I was knighted. It was our great grandfather's.”

  I turned it over. There was a complex pattern etched into the back of the leafs. Corvus brushed the metal, and the pattern of etching changed to interlocking circle.

  “What does it mean?” I asked.

  “I have no idea,” she admitted. “Is it not beautiful though?”

  I nodded. “Is it a spell?”

  “Not one I have ever understood.”

  I paused. “Our great grandfather?”

  She smiled and kissed my cheek. “He would have liked you.”

  “He would?”

  She nodded. “He was always fond of rolling up his sleeves and getting his hands dirty. He was a little blunt, and probably wouldn't show it, but... Yes. He would have liked you.”

  “What happened to him?” I asked.

  “Old age and cold nights.” Her tone softened. “I only knew him when I was very young, and he was very old, even by our standards. I still miss him so much. He wore this every time I saw him, and the night of my ceremony, father draped this over my neck, and promised me I would always carry the best part of my Grampy with me.” She laughed. “I didn't believe I had anything of Grampy's kindness, bravery or chivalry, myself, but that made it mean more to me. It is... the benchmark I have to strive for, to be worthy of.”

  I closed her fingers around the pendant. “I think you need a little more faith in yourself, Corvus.”

  “You will excuse me if I struggle to believe that, while I sit here with my tail between my legs, waiting to be allowed home.”

  “You came here to try and put something right,” I reminded her.

  “And look what a mess I made!” She chuckled. “Can you forgive our first moments together?”

  “It's probably how most people feel when they meet me.” I nodded for her to follow me. “I think I need to get cleaned up too.”

  “Well...” Corvus gave me a teasing look. “As best you can, perhaps, but we should not expect miracles...”

  *

  Corvus had an odd smile that crept across her face every time we used the Underground. It would start as we swiped our way through the barriers, and grow rosy by the time we were at the platform. Each new station we passed through, seemed to be a new delight to be discovered.

  “Do you have anything like this at home?” I asked, as we boarded the train, and it rattled on its way through the tunnel.

  “Not like this!” Corvus watched the windows. “How does one get to drive one?”

  “I have no idea.” I felt something itching at the back of my mind. I winced and looked around.

  “You feel it too?” Corvus nodded. “What is it?”

  I looked up and down the carriage, my heart jolting as I saw a blonde man, in a sharp suit, with piercing eyes and hawkish features. “Wasn't he dead last time we saw him?”

  Corvus tensed, she reached for her jacket. I put a hand on her arm.

  The train slowed towards a station. The man with the stolen face was watching us, his cold stare fixed on mine. The train lurched to a halt, and he rose to his feet, marching at me. He drew up his sleeve, revealing a hollow nodule of bone in the underside of his wrist. His manner was predatory, his expression blank.

  We ran from the train, and into the station, ducking around a corner and up a flight of steps. The blonde man held up his wrist. There was a pop in the air, and a bone dart lodged in the tiled wall. Corvus hauled on my arm, dragging me around another corner, as the Assassin unleashed two more shots. Corvus had conjured her sword, and she struck the darts, knocking them aside.

  I let flames dance on my fingers. “Stand down!”

  The Assassin did not stop. He fired again. I flexed my will and reduced them to sparks with a spout of flame. I scorched away two needles. The third hit my shoulder. I felt as though there was lava in my veins. My knees buckled and the litter strewn floor rushed up to meet me. I was numbed before I hit the concrete of the floor., my every muscle jelly, my head weightless.

  The Assassin rushed forwards. He fired a shot at Corvus. She hacked it aside, and danced around his back handed strike. With a grunt of effort she changed her grip on her sword, and threw herself at him, knocking his arm up out of her way, as she drove the sword into his heart.

  There was a thud as one of the spikes hit the ceiling.

  There was a gurgle as the Assassin dropped to his knees.

  Corvus kicked him aside, so he lay across the floor, placed her sword against his throat, and beheaded him with a single cleaving chop, so hard her blade carried on and sliced through the concrete.

  “Robert?” Her voice sounded distant and vague.

  I tried to tell her I was okay. I couldn't move my lips. I was struggling to breathe.

  Darkness closed in around me.

  Thrice Dead Men (Part two)

  I was jolted awake as I fell against the floor. A different floor. A familiar floor. My head rested against the polished wood of a door. There was something about the feel of the air, and the smells I could not quite describe, that was more than familiar.

  It was home.

  I opened my eyes. My head was full of fluff and pain. My body was full of nausea, aches, and pains. My throat was dry, and sweat covered my face. I could not look up. I could only see ankles. Corvus and her heeled boots, and Emily's well scuffed trainers.

  “Hey!” For a moment Emily sounded joyous. Then, in the moment she must have seen me, there was a sharp intake of breath. “What happened? Why is he soaked to the skin, and bleeding, and...”

  “Robert said you were a nurse? Medically trained?” Corvus stepped over me. “He needs help.”

  “He needs to be in a hospital,” Emily gasped.

  “I did not drag him across this infuriatingly large city, on three different subterranean trains, because he would be safe in a hospital.” Corvus dragged me over the threshold. “Now. Please, help me!”

  I was dragged through the flat, and lifted onto the kitchen table.

  “What do you mean safe?” Emily demanded.

  “I mean that somebody tried to murder him, and
they will be looking to do the same again.” Corvus grinned. “If they find him.”

  “He is right next to his flat. I'm his next door neighbour.”

  “Exactly! We are at neither his home, or mine.” Corvus nodded. “And if somebody asks if you saw us, then you tell them we went to a hospital in Ealing Broadway.”

  “Why Ealing?”

  “Because on the map of the Underground trains it was in zone five, a long way away.” Corvus put a folded towel under my head. “Ignore the dirty water. The infection is a poison from this wound. A friend is bringing me an antidote, but I need his symptoms treated, to keep him alive, until I can help.”

  Something touched my shoulder. It felt like a nail being driven into my bone.

  “What kind of a poison?” Emily asked.

  “I do not know,” Corvus crouched by me. “He is fevered, he is paralysed, and he loses his awareness of his surroundings often.”

  “Who...” Emily's tone hardened. “Who exactly are you?”

  “A friend.” Corvus cleared her throat. “Family. Kind of. It is complicated.”

  “Family?” Emily shook her head. “He does not have family.”

  “My father and his mother, er...”

  “I see.” Emily crouched over me. “He needs water. There is a bottle in my fridge.”

  Darkness folded back around me. I felt my clothes being torn open, and fingers prodding me, feeling for my pulse, an ear on my chest, and some other gentle probing.

  “You believe the people who did this will be looking for him?” Emily asked.

  “Yes. I killed him. He is probably very upset with us.”

  “Wait, he is dead?”

  “Probably not any more.”

  “What?”

  “My -er- friend, the one who is fetching the antidote, tells me the Assassin is one of the Thrice Dead Men. Death is not a permanent state for them. They are closer relations to yeast, or jelly fish, than humans, and almost immortal. I chopped his head off and left him in an Underground station, but he was probably back on his feet, and in a foul mood, before the authorities found him.” Corvus hesitated. “I hope he did not meet any Policemen after I fled. They are not prepared for him.”

  “Are you...” Emily seemed to measure her words carefully. “If you are ill, and you did this, I want you to know I will not be angry, but I do want you to tell me the truth so I can help my friend.”

  “You think I am mad?” Corvus snorted a laugh. “Don't you know what he does? What he is?”

  “An industrial security consultant!”

  “Oh. No. Robert is a half born Etharian. He is a guardian of the Loom. He...”

  “What?”

  “Emily,” I croaked the word and held her sleeve.

  She looked down at me. I took my hand away and flexed my mind, making the flames dance on my fingertip.

  “Oh.” Emily whispered.

  There was a knock on the door. Corvus tensed.

  “Your friend?” Emily asked.

  “I doubt it.” Corvus shied back. “Who knows we are here?”

  “For a dinner party?” Emily guessed. She raised her voice. “Hello?”

  “Ems?” The voice was Liverpudlian, soft and warm. “Is everything okay?”

  “Jason!” Emily chuckled. “It's okay. It's my guy. He can help.”

  Emily went to answer the door.

  Corvus stood up and stared through the flat. I heard the door open, and some chatter in the hallway. Corvus tensed and moved suddenly from my field of view.

  There was a thud, of a bone dart being fired. Then another.

  “No!” Corvus screamed.

  There was another thud. She staggered back, and slumped against the table, one of the darts in her neck. The Assassin followed her. He stood behind her, and felled her with a savage chop to the back of her neck. She fell to the floor, her eyes rolling back in her head.

  The blonde Assassin stooped and picked her up, putting her over his shoulder in a fireman's lift. He paused and gave me a long, considering, look. He smirked, and walked away. There was a groan from somewhere out of sight. Emily, I realised, in pain.

  The sound was cut short, by the thud of a stamping kick.

  I tried to cry out, but could not. The pain in my head grew, and the world fell out of focus.

  *

  “Robert?”

  The voice was soft and whispered in my ear, from the darkness.

  “Cylder.” The word felt like a smile. “I do dream of you.”

  “This isn't a dream.” The voice touched my thoughts in a caress. “Let it become one.”

  Something formed from the darkness. A meadow of long grass and clover, beneath a sky full of shooting stars. I lay on a blanket in the bed of a pick up truck, watching the stars. Cylder lay beside me, her regency dress replaced with a polka dot number from the fifties, and a floral scarf. She retained her sculpted hair and neon colours. Her dress glowed in the darkness. She was staring up at the sky.

  “This is beautiful,” Cylder whispered. “Is the memory yours?”

  “No.” I tried to drag my gaze from her, but could not. “I saw it on a movie once. A horror film about monsters in an American wilderness. I had this silly dream that if I ever got a date with a woman I thought was the right one, I would find a way to bring her somewhere like this, on a night like this, and just wish on those shooting stars to make love work out.”

  Cylder smiled and put a hand over my heart. “You never struck me as a romantic Robert.”

  “What good would magic be without romance?” I asked.

  Cylder chewed her lip. “I like this dream.”

  There was something I was supposed to remember. “Am I dying?”

  “No.” Cylder stroked my cheek. “But out there your world is pain and you are very sick. This is your respite.”

  “My friend is dead, and my sister is gone. I have to-”

  “Not yet.” Cylder leant her head on my shoulder. “Wake up now, and you can do nothing, but there will be pain. Don't try to surface yet. Please.”

  Her smile held me back.

  “I am sorry. I have not been a good friend, and I have not spent enough time with you.” I wondered why that was so important to say, all of a sudden. “Does your sister share her books with you?”

  “Always, you are very kind to us.”

  “Does she tell you I am at your service?” I felt my smile changing cadence. “That... if there is anything I can bring for you, I will.”

  “What I want is to be remembered,” Cylder's tone was soft and cold, like fresh snow. “We both know that asking you to spend time with me is a game of Russian Roulette.”

  “Even like this?” I asked. “In dreams?”

  She smiled. “Dreams can be risky for other reasons. You can not always control what you show me. They might reveal too much of the thoughts you would rather keep private.”

  “But in theory?” I asked.

  “It is possible, but it is a commitment one should not take lightly.” She stroked my hair. “Why do you ask?”

  “Because I hope we are friends,” I admitted. “And because I keep asking favours of your kin, but offer only trinkets in return.”

  “I do not think you know what you offer us,” Cylder shook her head. “London is ours. It is built from the sea, and from rivers. All that stone? Once it was the sand and silt from our beds, with the fossils of our gardens, and the signs of history. We love our city. We do not want to see it sullied by darkness and evil. We see what you do, and what you try to do. We are grateful for far more than a few kind words and second hand books.”

  “You know my heart,” I said, with a laugh.

  “I know it beats quicker when you ask of me, and it changes gear when I spare you a smile.” She shifted away from me. “I know you are scared that I will find that petty and mortal, a pollution to our friendship.”

  “You do?”

  “And yet here I am,” she said. “Did you know her long? Your friend?”


  “Emily? Yes. She had been my neighbour since I moved to the flat. She was a nurse, a good neighbour, and a very good person.” I stared at the sky. “She deserved better.”

  “Nobody deserves the hand she was dealt. What will you do?”

  “Find the one who killed her.” I felt a supernova of anger in my heart. “I will find my sister. I will save her from him. I will keep her safe. And I will see the Assassin faces justice.”

  “Not revenge?” Cylder whispered.

  “Part of me wants revenge, but... no. It has to be justice. It has to be right. That... is what Emily deserves.” I unclenched a fist. “I can't do that here.”

  “Soon.” She stroked my hand. “Wake up soon.”

  “Are you... you... or the you I sometimes dream of?” I asked.

  “You dream of me?” She cocked her head. “Here?”

  “No.” I laughed. “How do I know you are really you?”

  “Because when you ask my sister what you can bring me to cheer me up, she will tell you to bring me flowers.”

  “Flowers?” I smiled, trying to ignore the moment that was waiting when I woke.

  “You could guess flowers. I want a toy dog. One of those wooden ones, on wheels with a string leash.” Her cheeks glowed. “If you would be so kind?”

  “If that is what she tells me you want.” I smiled. “Please, Cylder, let me say something stupid?”

  “Of course.”

  “If... this is real, and this is our only dream together, then... it is worth it. This is a good dream.”

  “It is.” She agreed, her head still on my shoulder. “I am sorry Robert.”

  “Sorry?”

  “It only lasts this long, and then...” She shivered. “And then reality is waiting for you.”

  “I know.” I took her hand. “I will spend more time with you. In dreams, or taking my chances, I will be a better friend. I will find a way.”

  “That sounds like a dangerous promise to make.”

  “I promise to try.”

  She kissed my forehead, as the weightless sensation of waking claimed me.

  *

  Robert!

  “Cylder...” I croaked. “No. She's gone... Maysan. Thank you.”

  Robert, drink this.

  A glass phial was put to my lips. The liquid that drizzled into my throat was bitter and sharp. My head began to clear.