The Knife's Edge

by Matthew Wolf

  “Aren’t you coming? Can’t you get it easier yourselves?”

  Maris laughed, “And risk our own hides?”

  Omni looked to Maris and the man cut short his laughter.

  “If we’re discovered we’ll have a whole city in an uproar. If you’re found stealing your sword back, it’ll only be mischief,” Omni explained. “We’ll keep the alley safe for your return.” And make sure I don’t run away, Gray thought.

  He turned, barely believing what he was doing, grabbing the rope, and he climbed hand over hand. When he reached the top, he looked back down. The Ronin had vanished.

  A stone turret sat upon the roof, looking over the town of Lakewood like a sentinel. Gray slowly crept up to the watchtower, staying low, and peeked over the lip of the stone. The turret was empty. Climbing inside, he found a ladder. It led down and into the guard’s hut.

  What in the seven hells? He wondered again. First the stories come to life, and now I’m about to risk my life for them? But the sword was his, and he wanted it back. He paused upon the tower, looking out, knowing they were out there somewhere, watching.

  Then, with a deep breath, he descended

  Arrival

  GRAY GRUNTED AS HE LANDED ON the balls of his feet. He rose and brushed himself off, looking around the small room.

  It lacked any décor, aside from a few crude tapestries to cover the stone walls, and several weapon racks filled with wooden weapons. The hearth before him still glowed with orange embers, and on the nearby table he noticed a half-eaten loaf of bread. He reached out and touched it. Still warm. They’ll be back soon. I’ll have to hurry. There was only one door in the room, his only option was forward. Tiptoeing across the room, he grabbed a wooden spear off a rack and approached the door.

  He pushed open the heavy door and entered the hallway. There are others near. It was the same calculating voice that told him Vera was more than she appeared. Cautiously padding through the hallway, he came to a split.

  One hallway led straight ahead with a series of doors on either side. Laughter and voices emanated behind the nearest one. Suddenly the door flung open. Gray threw himself to the wall. A guard in chainmail appeared. Bright light poured forth from the room. The guard tossed words with those inside, and then closed the door with a thud, cutting off a chorus of laughter. With a deep belch, the man stretched and moved down the hall, away from Gray.

  The other hall snaked, winding down and smelling of pitch. Clutching the wooden spear tightly, Gray followed the flickering torches. He reached the end of the hall and saw a giant cast-iron door with more bracketed torches flanking its side. It stood wide open. Cautiously, he neared when he heard grumbling and grunting from inside. He gripped the spear tighter and slipped into the dim room.

  Kneeling in the darkness with his back turned was a small gangly man. He mumbled angrily, as if arguing with himself. Gray moved closer and watched as the man, hunched before a giant chest, fumbled with a large ring of keys. In the light of the torch, he saw pockmarked cheeks and silver rings in his ears. It was the trader whose cart he had snuck upon at the gates of Lakewood. Erebos.

  “Merhass! Which stinking one is it? If I find out you lied, I’ll wring yer’ filthy neck,” Erebos grumbled, oblivious to his presence.

  Gray saw something dark pool around his feet. The torch light resolved its red tint. Blood. He turned and in the shadows was a body. He approached, keeping his eye to the trader. The man on the ground, a guard by the look of his armor, was still alive. With a look of anguish the guard reached out, gripping Gray’s ankle with surprising strength. Gray wanted to tell the man it was going to be all right, to impart strength in him, but before he could, the guard gurgled, choking on his own blood and gave a final breath.

  “Are you finally dead?” Erebos asked and twisted, squinting like a creature unaccustomed to light. Gray lifted the spear. The trader squawked, and flung the set of keys towards him. Gray batted the keys from his face, giving the man just enough time to grab a metal blade. In the lurid light of the torches, Gray saw the small man’s dark eyes and sickly pale face.

  “I don’t want to fight,” he said hastily. “We can both drop our weapons and…”

  “Shut up!” Erebos snapped, and then tempered his voice as if afraid of others hearing. “You just say that because I have the real weapon. Who are you? Did the Shadow’s Hand send you? And answer quickly or I’ll cut you!” he jeered, thrusting the dagger.

  Gray dodged the blade and answered, “No one, I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

  “No one? Then you’re of no use, and no one will care if you die,” Erebos replied.

  “Fine!” He said quickly, before the man could move. “I didn’t want to tell you, but…” He dropped his hands and assumed his most confident tone. “Drop the blade and I’ll tell you all. I swear.” He stood tall, and swallowed, towering over the little man. “Believe me when I say, if one drop of my blood is spilled you will see justice, and the Hand will not be kind.” Gray watched as a sudden light of recognition entered the small man’s beady eyes.

  “Then you mean to say you are of the Kin, as well?”

  Gray was more cautious to accept this title. Though he didn’t see any choice. “I am, now give me the blade, and slowly.”

  Erebos shook his head. “But she said I was the only one… I was to get the sword before they arrived and deliver it to them by hand. That’s what she said! She promised me,” he voiced, as if pleading. He looked up, his face a mixture of confusion and betrayal. The look was replaced by a sudden mask of rage. “She promised me!” he shouted, spittle flying from his mouth as he rose to his full height—far taller than Gray imagined.

  He cursed, having guessed wrong. “Calm down, I was…” he searched for a word to not offend the man, but found none. “I am not the Kin!” he said at last, but the man’s eyes were wild, as if consumed with only the desire for blood.

  Erebos strode forward, raising his dagger.

  “Worth a try,” Gray whispered beneath his breath, gripping the spear tighter.

  The trader circled him. “Ah, I was worried for a moment, but I see it’s simple now. If you are of the Kin, I have only to kill you and the oath will be mine,” Erebos said with a crazed laugh. He tossed the blade to his other hand and slid it along the inside of his forearm, then licked the bloodied steel.

  Ambidextrous, the voice inside Gray’s head shouted. Suddenly, time slowed as a picture was painted, not so much in real scenes, but in feelings, deeply embedded, moves and strikes and counters—all of it against warriors that fought with both hands, and all of it as if he had done it a thousand times before. Ambidextrous fighters are always more skilled at attacking than defending, the voice said. Strike first and you will have the advantage.

  Gray’s eyes snapped open as the man lunged. The dagger dove for his stomach. Gray lifted the spear in the nick of time. The blade clipped the wooden haft in two.

  Attack! The voice commanded, fusing his limbs with energy. He ducked, the blade whistling over his head. He charged forward. Erebos swung again, swiping at his neck. In the last moment, he flipped the spear around, and rammed the splintered end through the man’s jutting jaw. It happened so fast that Erebos’ expression hardly changed. His small eyes split wide in surprise and his blade clattered to the ground. With a gurgle, he fell to his knees, dead.

  Dazed, Gray dropped the spear and moved to the door. The hall was empty. He listened for any sound. Nothing. Turning back, he snatched the metal ring of keys from the ground. He fumbled trying to match one to the chest’s ornate lock…words sounded inside his skull. Often the smallest of keys unlocks the greatest of treasures, Mura’s voice echoed.

  Gray found the smallest iron-cast key and slid it into the chest’s slot. It slid home with surprising ease. He laughed in surprise, and with a twist and a clicking sound, the lid popped open. With haste, he moved aside weapons until he uncovered it. A polished gem amid rough-hewn rocks, Morrowil. In the light it appeared sim
ply a perfectly forged steel blade. Suddenly, whispers bounced off the stone.

  Quickly, he untied the white cloth from around his waist, and wrapped it around the sword again, then strapped the bundle to his back. Silently, he treaded back down the hallway. At the split, he turned left, and as voices neared, he swiftly slipped out the nearest side door without a breath.

  Luckily, he found himself outside. A soft rain fell and mist covered the ground. He glanced left and right. Nothing but dead-end alleys. Straight ahead, the narrow alleyway bisected with the main avenue. Distantly, he heard sounds of the festival, but otherwise, it was deserted. He stepped forward when the mist parted. Figures stepped from the shadows.

  “Omni,” he said. “You scared me, where did you come from?”

  “You should be scared,” another said from the shadows. It was Seth’s voice. “Did you think you could evade us so easily?”

  “Aye, I’m wondering what you were thinking as well,” Maris inquired.

  “I wasn’t thinking anything. I simply needed another way out.”

  “Did you have trouble?” Omni asked.

  “There was a man there already.”

  “Did you kill him?”

  “He attacked me. I had no choice.” As he said the words, he realized the breadth of what he had just done… It had been easy. Something about that terrified him.

  Maris slapped him on the back. “Good, I only hope you did it silently.”

  Seth stepped out of the shadows, anger in his stride. He had a sharp nose, dark eyes, and long black hair, and carried Heartgard, as if ready to unleash it at any moment. “What in the blight did you do that for?” He snapped. “Was your goal to alert the whole town? Why don’t you just announce yourself as an intruder while you’re at it?”

  “You’ve been less than subtle in your deeds as well, Seth,” Aundevoriä replied. Seth shot him a look, fingering his blade. Aurelious took to his brother’s side.

  “Silence! Enough, you three,” Hiron said. “Let the boy respond.”

  “No one was alerted, there is no need to check,” Gray said.

  “Was it your first kill?” Omni asked, touching his shoulder.

  “I’m not sure,” he answered truthfully. “That is, I can’t remember.”

  Maris, rolling his dagger through his fingers, sheathed the blade and looked up. “Well then, that sounds like an interesting past you have.”

  “A tale for another time,” Omni said. “The man you killed, what was he doing when you found him?”

  We were searching for the same thing, and I’d seen him before.”

  “When?”

  “Entering Lakewood,” he said. “He was the cart driver. A trader named Erebos, he called himself. He helped me get in, though unwittingly. I snuck onto his cart after the gates were closed. The man seemed suspicious at the time, but I never really thought much of it.”

  “Just now, did this Erebos say anything?” Omni questioned, blue eyes glinting in the mist.

  “Other than wanting the blade? He didn’t make much sense. He seemed mad.”

  Omni gave a nod and looked to the dark sky. “Most of them are, driven by their desire and the false promise of immortality from their masters.” Omni gripped his blade in one hand. “If you are telling the truth…” The Ronin paused. “Did he call himself anything?”

  “Kin,” Gray said, remembering.

  All around, the other Ronin tensed.

  “What does it mean?” he asked.

  Maris spoke from the recesses of his hood, his voice dark, “Shadow men or women. They are agents of the dark beings. They’ve called themselves many things over the ages, but now they are known as the Kin. They appear before Shadow’s arrival.”

  “It means they are coming,” Omni announced. “The Kage are near.”

  The Kage

  AS THE WORDS LEFT OMNI’S MOUTH, a scream rent the air.

  “They are already here,” Hiron whispered.

  With a metallic ring, Maris unsheathed the dual blades from his back, dashing towards the sound. The other Ronin followed.

  They sprinted out of the alley, and a figure crashed into Gray, sending him to the ground. In the tangle, eyes met his, filled with terror. The man scrambled over him, stumbled to his feet and continued running. Gray turned. A wave of darkness towered over the stone gates. It surged higher engulfing all it touched.

  Guards leapt from their posts upon the gates and fell to the ground far below. More guards threw spears into the seething black only for them to disappear. Shrieks sounded, and then cut short as men were swallowed whole by the darkness.

  The wide gates gave a sudden thud, pulsating like a throbbing heart. He stepped back. Again, the thud echoed, and the doors bulged under tremendous pressure. He twisted, and looked down the road behind him. In the corner of his vision, he saw the Ronin. Their faces were hard, their feet planted firmly.

  “It’s them,” Omni’s words cut through the screams.

  Gray saw an aura distort the air around each Ronin—a gold aura wreathed Omni, Hiron was wrapped in a cerulean hue, and Seth seethed a fiery red, flames licking at Heartgard’s surface. Nearby, Dared’s eyes were rimmed in black, soaking in the darkness. Aurelious and his brother, Aundevoriä stood side by side. Aurelious’ blade, Stice, was changed, no longer metal, but a pale white as if made from bone. Aundevoriä, on the other hand, held Durendil, and the blade now looked made of granite. He gripped a marble shield in his other.

  Gray unsheathed his own blade from his back, the white wrapping falling to the ground. The blade glowed a blinding silver.

  Hiron gripped his dual daggers, “This is it. Be ready.”

  Seth roared over the screams, “Let them come!”

  Baro looked grim. His meaty fists gripped his giant war sword. “Fight together! Side by side!” The doors shuddered. A loud crack split the air and the gate burst, showering wood and stone. From the haze, nine figures cloaked in black strode forth. They rode dark steeds, the beasts’ eyes rimmed in blood. Malice surrounded them. In their armored fists were long, cruel blades.

  Gray’s hands wrung tight around Morrowil’s haft until it hurt. Darkness seeped beneath his skin, and he saw a thin vein of black slink across the sword’s surface.

  “Maris, take Gray and run! Save the villagers!” Omni shouted.

  “No, I can fight! “ Gray shouted in return.

  “Perhaps another time,” he replied. “For now you must help the villagers escape.”

  “Seems you live another day, boy,” Maris said, grabbing his arm. Gray yanked his arm free when the earth shuddered and he was thrown to the ground. He looked up as the walls crashed down. Saeroks, vergs and Nameless flowed over the rubble.

  A guard, his legs broken, moaned and tried to crawl to safety. A saerok strode forth from the dark pack. In a swift motion, it cut the man’s throat with one-long claw silencing his cries, and as if on command, the dark army moved forth.

  Maris grabbed Gray’s cuff and pulled him up. “You’re coming, now!” He dragged him away when a sudden mist appeared. A blade slashed at his face. Gray was slammed in the shoulder as Maris took his place and parried the Nameless’ blade. The Nameless took form and their blades moved in a blur of steel, striking, parrying and evading with impossible speed.

  The pendant burned against his chest. He gripped it and words flowed through him. The sword is what they want! No matter what, you must not stop! The tone was both familiar and elusive. But the truth was clear. Gray stumbled to his feet and ran, flying around the next bend. A hundred paces ahead, he saw the clearing and the villagers. They danced and laughed unaware of the chaos that approached them.

  As he glimpsed the colored tents, he shouted at the top of his lungs, “Run!” Yet he was too far away, and the music and cheer drowned his voice. His legs burned and he shouted again. This time, his words carried as if by some strange purpose, “RUN! Flee for your lives!”

  At his amplified words the villagers turned. The music cut short. Fear a
nd panic spread in their faces. Gray turned and saw the hordes. Saeroks and vergs charged, loping on all fours. He held his ground gripping Morrowil tighter when the ground shook with a terrible boom. Suddenly, there was another explosion and the house on his right erupted in shards of wood and fire.

  He shielded his eyes and when he opened them a huge timber hurtled towards him. At the same time, he heard Maris call his name. Upon the roof, Gray saw another figure. Red eyes flashed amid the chaos as the timber came crashing down.

  * * *

  Cries of terror filled the air.

  Gray skull rang and he tried to make sense of the world. He put a hand to his head and saw blood. Skin deep, a voice said reassuringly. Assess your surroundings.

  He was in a courtyard, and at the center, was a large oak on fire. Maris lay motionless beside him. He crawled to the Ronin’s side. The man’s white hair was soaked red. His chest wasn’t moving. Panic rose in him until a voice guided him, and he placed two fingers on the man’s neck. A throb. He was still alive. Before he could breathe a sigh of relief, he felt the rush of wind, and looked up.

  A figure stood on a burning branch. The man’s cloak wavered in the wind.

  Kail.

  An explosion shuddered the buildings, and he was thrown to the ground. When he looked back, Kail was gone. Suddenly, the flames upon the rooftops were snuffed, and darkness slunk over the courtyard. Fear gripped his heart and he clutched his chest. Slowly, he twisted.

  Standing in the center of the yard, wreathed in darkness, was a nightmare. He wore plates of black armor, as if molded to his towering frame. Upon his broad shoulders, sat round, heavy pauldrons, one with a jutting spike.

  Gray’s eyes flashed to Morrowil. Too far, a voice warned.

  The Kage spoke, “For two hundred lives of mortal men I have lingered in darkness and shadow. Waiting. Now, at long last, the gates will be breached, and Farhaven will know true terror.”

  “You cannot use the blade without me,” he answered. “I know the prophecy.”