by Matthew Wolf
“Who are you? What in the blighted hell do you want with me?” the small voice called from the darkness.
Darius sighed. “That’s Zane’s sister all right.”
Ayva cuffed his arm, and he grumbled, then the voice spoke. “Did you say… Zane?” The girl stepped into the half-light but not huddled and afraid like Darius was expecting. Though caged, she stood straight and fierce like lightning placed inside a bottle. She had flaxen hair and a soft round face, but there was a fire in her. “My brother… Is he alive?”
“He’s alive,” Darius said. Then grumbled inwardly. I don’t think he can die. That angry fool took on a whole inn full of thieves.
Hannah breathed a sigh of relief.
Faye moved forward, extracting a key from a series upon her belt and unlocked the heavy bolt. Ayva rushed inside. “Hannah, we’re friends of your brother—we’ve come to rescue you, but there is not much time… ”
Darius entered the prison when he felt the ground shudder beneath him. What was that? Unshackling his manacles, he knelt, touching the cold stone floor. Footsteps thundered, approaching. Fear gripped his heart. He touched Ayva’s arm. “We have to leave now. Hannah”— he turned to the young girl— “are you ready?”
She bobbed her head, snatching a tattered jacket from the ground.
Metal clanged.
They twisted to see Faye.
Instinctively, Darius lunged for the bars. Faye quickly twisted her key with a terrifying click. Confusion and anger flooded through him. He reached for her, but she nimbly leapt back. Standing on the outside of the hollow, Faye’s expression was unreadable—only the white of her eyes gleamed from within the shadows of her hood.
“Faye?” Ayva questioned. “What on earth are you doing?”
The two women joined him at his side.
“What’s going on?” Hannah asked. “Who is this woman?”
“Faye… unlock this door,” Darius said slowly, as he calmly gripped the bars.
“I’m afraid I can’t do that, dear rogue,” Faye said.
Darius felt Ayva tense at his side.
He swallowed. “And why exactly not?”
“You see, I wasn’t always at your side. When I told you I had tried to abandon my past, that wasn’t the whole truth,” Faye said.
“No,” Ayva breathed.
“Open this door!” Darius shouted.
Faye ignored them. “It’s a funny thing, trust, isn’t it?” As she spoke, she unsheathed one of her many daggers, tossed it into the air and caught it by the blade repeatedly. “Life is a dance with fate. We think ourselves smarter or faster than her, but always… in the end…” She tossed the dagger high. It twirled. She caught it by the blade, but, due to the angle, the dagger’s edge cut into her palm. “She wins.” Faye’s expression didn’t shift as she eyed the blood upon her hand, as if resigned.
Darius twisted as the sound of clapping echoed through the chambers. A figure appeared, dozens of dark thieves at his back, and there was no doubt in Darius’ mind as to who it was. Wearing shreds of black cloth about his slender frame, and a black mask from which blond tufts of hair stuck out, the demon thief approached.
“Darkeye…” Darius cursed.
“Name recognition,” Darkeye said in a grating voice like a blade slowly unsheathed from a tight scabbard. “My, my. I feel important.” The thief leader stopped before the cage. “Well done, my dear. I am proud of you.” With the back of his fingers, he stroked Faye’s cheek compassionately.
Faye shirked his touch like poison, but replied in a low hiss, “I live to serve.”
“Yes, well, perhaps unwillingly for now. But the glory days of old will return, and you will realize that I have only your best interests at heart,” he declared. But Faye didn’t answer. Darkeye looked back to the cage, hand resting casually upon the blade at his hip. “These are the two you mentioned?”
“As promised,” Faye replied.
Darius’ blood boiled, but he tried to conceal his rage. He held his leaf-blade close, hiding it behind his back, preparing himself.
“Greetings,” said Darkeye in an infuriatingly calm voice, eyeing them in the shadows like a hungry beast. He waved to his thugs. “I’d like to see our guests of honor in the light of the cavern. Bring them out, and don’t forget to take the young man’s sword that he’s attempting to hide, and so poorly.”
The hulking thugs barreled in, grabbing Darius before he could swing his blade. They yanked his arm behind his back, and he cried out in pain as he was thrown to the ground, sword points aimed at his neck. When his blind fury died, he saw Ayva was nearby, and his blade sat a dozen paces away.
A thug moved to grab it. The huge man with a curly head of hair and barrel-like arms snatched the handle and immediately cried out in agony, falling to his knees. He continued to shudder, trying to let go of the leaf-shaped blade, his scarred muscles roiling like snakes moving beneath his skin. At last, he keeled over, silent.
Another of Darkeye’s men touched the man’s throat and backed away, shaking his head. Dead, Darius realized. The other minions looked to Darius with snarls of anger and confusion, and he felt hope rise inside of him. “What… what kind of trickery is this?” said a big thug, eyeing the dead thief and the quiet green blade.
“Go ahead,” Darius taunted, looking to Darkeye. “Take it.”
Calmly, Darkeye pulled off his mask. Darius fought to not look away. Darkeye’s face was that of an almost ordinary man, with blond hair and a white scar that ran across his nose, cheek and over his eye. But there was no mistaking the aberrant strain of darkness within him… a murderous hunger that shone in the man’s auburn eyes. “Leave the blade,” he instructed then looked back to Darius. “If you think that a blade of magic is something to fear, then you are in for quite the treat, boy. I shall give you your first lesson on true terror.”
Darius felt a smirk rise, but he bit off a retort as he saw Faye’s expression. For a moment he thought he saw her features shift, mouth twitching in fear. But then it was gone, and her expression was almost bored once again. “If I’m done here…” she began, moving away.
“Stay,” Darkeye ordered harshly. “I wish for you to watch this.”
Darkeye led the way, and Faye and his guards followed, escorting Darius and Ayva back to the center of the chamber where the pit sat, leaving Hannah behind in her prison.
Darkeye pulled a glimmering bloodstone from the chamber’s white floor and held it in his hand. He stalked nearer to the dark pit as he spoke, “Bloodstone is truly fascinating. Did you know in every Devari’s blade a fragment of bloodstone is kept? It’s what gives their swords that brilliant blaze when they embrace their ki and allows their blades to slice through weaker steel and even magic.” With a sharp ring, the man unsheathed his blade. It blazed brilliantly in the light streaming from above. The blade looked familiar, and Darius realized it was just like Victasys. Just then, Darkeye twisted slightly and he stiffened. His cloak… It was made of bloodied, patchwork scraps of nearly a dozen crossed-swords sewn together, emblems of the Devari cloaks.
Darius gagged, as he saw bits of flesh still caught in the cloak’s fabric. “You’re a monster,” he voiced.
Darkeye looked back, lifting his sword to Darius’ throat. “A monster? No, I’m an animal, as we all are, but I am simply the strongest of them. There is no crime in strength, Darius, only weakness.”
“Weakness is not a crime,” Ayva whispered softly.
“What did you say?”
“You lie,” she hissed.
All gazed at her, a silence setting over the black cavern. The other Darkeye officers sent cruel stares toward Ayva’s small, huddled form. Her head was bent, brown hair falling around her face.
Darkeye sniffed. “Nature does not lie, girl. The truth is, we are simply beasts, and I am the strongest of those beasts. Pity. Sympathy. These are words that breed weakness into an already pathetic world, a world that—”
“—Enough!” Ayva interrupted angrily
, looking up. “Your words are sickening, like a poison that festers, taking the guise of truth. ‘Weakness is death, strength life…’” Ayva spit at Darkeye’s black boots, and Darius hid a surprised grin. Ayva’s one-eyed guard snarled and raised his hand to slap her, but Darkeye gripped the man’s wrist like lightning, stopping him. Ayva’s voice gained strength with every word. “That rhetoric may work for those with darkness and a lust for power already in their heart. But the truth is you are wrong.”
“Tell me then, girl,” Darkeye said quietly, “how am I wrong?”
“‘Weakness is death, strength is life.’ That’s wrong. Your clan spews those words, but they are too mindless to see that there is strength in sacrifice, and power in compassion. Your limited definition of the word ‘strength’ is what blinds you to the ultimate truth.”
Darkeye half-smiled dangerously. “What truth is that?”
“Ayva,” Darius said, warily. “Don’t…”
But Ayva’s voice rang with clarity and the light of veracity as she spoke. “The truth that your creed is a lie, and fodder for only the truly weak, the truly pathetic.”
“That’s quite a speech,” Darkeye said calmly, but Darius saw rage welling behind his eyes, like a furnace of hatred.
“It’s only the truth,” Ayva replied.
“Is it now? Sacrifice… Compassion…” Darkeye spit the words out like venom, all the while circling the pit, his sickening Devari cloak fluttering behind him. “This bickering is growing tiresome. You say you speak the truth? Then I wish to be enlightened.”
“What are you talking about?” Darius questioned.
“Let’s play a game and test your truth… your beliefs against mine to determine who is right once and for all. Fitting words in the end, don’t you think? Sacrifice and compassion.” With that, he nodded to his guards who grabbed Ayva and pushed her before the black abyss.
“No!” Darius cried. “Don’t!”
“Show me the power of your weakness,” he said and waved his hand.
Her eyes flashed wide, and the guards shoved her forward. Ayva fell, tumbling into the black pit, and a crash echoed in the darkness—the sound of bones snapping.
Horror flooded Darius.
He stared over the dark lip, frozen in shock.
Darkeye smiled at him, calmly. “Well? What are you going to do now?”
Darius snarled. He was an arm’s length away from Darkeye’s throat, close enough that he could grab the man.
He twisted. His sword. It lay paces away—too far. Just then, the shadows in the pit flickered.
The beast was stirring. Darius stared into the pit, terror growing.
Darkeye smirked. “What are you waiting for?”
Darius cursed. With a cry, he leapt. Air whistled around him as he hurtled into the darkness—in a flash, he remembered a dark night, leaping from Lakewood’s tall roofs to escape a game of dice gone wrong. He’d tensed upon impact and had broken his leg.
Don’t tense.
He relaxed and hit the ground. And the floor cracked.
Darius looked around. In the dim, glittering red light from the bloodstones, he saw what he had landed upon. Bones. Thousands of them. They had dulled the blow of his fall. In the murky light, Ayva knelt nearby, looking dazed. He rushed to her side and pulled her up.
“You all right?” he asked.
She gripped his arm as the darkness shifted. “I’m guessing you didn’t have a plan?”
He shook his head. “This was as far as I got…”
And the darkness hissed, dark red gleaming off the angular blackness. He glimpsed the sheen of long, black claws. Swiftly, Darius reached for his blade but his hand felt air.
He cursed and spoke, “When I say, dive…” he began.
The beast screeched and leapt.
“Dive!” he yelled.
He crashed into more bones as the beast skittered, hurtling into the wall in a dark explosion. Quickly, Darius leapt to his feet. The beast turned. It stood near a patch of glistening red bloodstone, their dim light hinting at the creature’s full form. It was monstrously huge, that much was clear—nearly brushing the walls and twice again as tall as Darius. Its skin looked like undulating black metal, but instead of reflecting the dim light, it absorbed it. Upon its back and arms were huge black protrusions like bladed fins. It watched him, its dozen pairs of eyes shining an even more ominous red.
“Ayva…” he breathed, seeing the creature had cornered her and was stalking nearer for the kill. Ayva pressed herself against the bloodstones, as if looking for a way out. Then, he realized… the bloodstones. Ayva realized it too. She pried a nugget of red from the wall and hurled it at the beast. The red glowed brighter, as if feeding off her power, and then collided with the beast in an explosion of fire. The Darkwalker shrieked.
“More!” Ayva yelled.
And Darius pried a huge stone from the wall, felt it grow warm in his hands and hurled it at the beast’s back with all his strength. It burst, lighting the pit in fiery embers, searing the creature’s black flesh. The Darkwalker snarled in rage and pain, and twisted to him. Yet if it was wounded, it didn’t show it. It stalked forward, eyes glinting with the hunger for blood.
“Dice,” he cursed, stumbling back, “bad idea… ”
“Darius!” Ayva shouted, throwing more bloodstones. The red gems burst upon the creature’s back. A burning smell, like putrid meat, hung in the air. He saw holes form in the creature’s flesh, but then vanish, its black skin turning smooth once more. He gulped as the creature neared, ever closer.
And he shouted, “Ayva! It’s not working!”
Darkeye cackled above them, “Fools! Darkwalkers cannot be killed by anything from this world. Bloodstones are useless!”
The Darkwalker hissed, and the stench of a grave filled the pit. The creature reared up onto its many legs and lunged, slicing at his neck. Darius ducked out of instinct and the claw scraped over his head.
“I will not die this way!” he roared and reached up his hand.
Something pulsed in his head.
The Leaf.
But Faye said the spark couldn’t be used down here. Yet there it was. And something else as well…
His sword.
The Darkwalker reared up, ready to finish what it started, and its mass of limbs and gleaming claws flashed, cutting from all angles. Darius cried out, pulling upon the Leaf. He lifted up his hand, feeling the sword, as if it was an arm, waiting to be used.
Come to me, he whispered.
And it came.
He felt it whirl through the air, end over end, faster and faster—a cry shouted from above as the sword flew through Darkeye’s guards and descended into the pit, racing through the darkness and finally slamming into the heel of his hand. The Darkwalker lunged, pincers plunging for him, a breath away. Darius sliced and bellowed in fear. The leaf-blade gleamed its emerald sheen as it sluiced through the darkness.
Contact.
The creature’s beady red eyes flashed in confusion as its black flesh parted, his sword cleaving it in two. The dark beast let out a sickening gurgle, and the two halves fell, crashing against the bones in the reddish light, and then vanishing into nothing. Just like the Nameless… he remembered from long ago, the fearsome nightmare that Kail had killed.
Quickly, he rushed to Ayva’s side. Reaching out a hand he helped her up, bones rattling beneath them. “Are you all right?”
She nodded. “A few bruises but no more,” she said and shivered. “You?”
He checked himself in the dim light then remembered Faye’s words: a Darkwalker’s touch is death. He held back a shiver of his own. “Guess we’d know, right?”
“Impressive,” a voice called from above.
Both turned to see the outline of Darkeye standing upon the pit’s precipice.
Darius called angrily, “Is that proof enough for you?”
Darkeye’s voice echoed back, “Ah, but you broke the rules.”
“What are you talking ab
out?” he shouted.
“The sword. It was clearly cheating. The strength was supposed to be your own, and not the magic of a sword.”
Darius’ fist clenched at his side, “You dicing scum!” he yelled furiously. “The sword was mine. I summoned it with my own strength! You—” And he felt Ayva’s fingers on his arm tighten. “What?” he said angrily, turning toward her. Despite the darkness, he thought he saw her eyes shining, a faint golden hue.
“He’s trying to bait you to talk about the sword,” she whispered, and then called, “We passed your test and more. Now let us go!”
“Sadly, I cannot do that. Sithel’s gold does not entice me, but you two do, and so does your sword. Lucky for you, I’ve a heart of gold,” he said, and Darius could almost feel his sly sneer. “As such, I shall give you two choices: a life with the clan, or a noble death, your last hours spent hungry, alone and mired in darkness. Choose wisely. The pit will give you time to contemplate your choices. Alas and woefully, this is where we part for now. There’s a war coming, and I must make preparations. Come, Diaon, say your goodbyes.”
War? Darius wondered. What the dice is he talking about?
Faye approached the edge of the pit. In the faint light, Darius thought he saw her face—sorrow? Could it be? Smoothly, the woman sheathed her blade with a hard click and spoke. “Farewell, my friends.”
“Wait!” Ayva called. The woman froze. “You have a choice.”
“Sometimes we simply can’t outrun the wrongs we’ve done. Sometimes we don’t have a choice.”
“Sunha… You can’t leave us here!”
“Leave you?” she echoed, amused. “A curious choice of words, wouldn’t you agree? Fate truly has a cruel sense of humor,” she said and turned away. “A piece of advice for the road,” speaking over her shoulder, her voice echoed into the darkness around them. “Treasure family, for it is all you will ever really have, for good or worse. Safe travels, my dear companions, in this realm or the next.”
With that she was gone.
* * *
As Darkeye’s men followed with their torches, Darius watched the light upon the cavern’s ceiling dwindle and then vanish altogether. And darkness, deeper than ever before, pressed in on them, the bloodstones flickering. The leaf-blade’s green glow winked out of existence. He shivered and hugged his rags tighter.
