by J. K. Barber
In the darkness, the room seemed immense, it size combined with the thick layer of dirt made their passage through the ancient room almost soundless. Branden peered through the black towards the pillar of slightly glowing crystal that lay farther in. He thought he saw smaller motes of light near the floor, but they could have just been reflections of the radiance coming from the crystal. At the distance from which the smith was standing, it was hard to tell.
Branden raised his torch high above his head in an attempt to see the ceiling overhead, but the feeble light was lost in the vast darkness; the roof was outside the range of his sight.
“Do you smell that?” Jared asked, sniffing the air.
Mala took in a deep breath as well. Wrinkling her nose she said, “Yes. It smells like…”
“Branden! Look out!” Jared cried.
The former King’s Guard lowered his torch to look into white eyes. The dead flesh twitched, and Branden saw a flash of light out of the corner of his eye. Instinct made the smith pull his head, back but pain still bloomed across his forehead, as the tip of a sword blade scraped across his skull.
Reeling from the wound, Branden stumbled backwards. Sasha and Talas moved to his side, raising their shields, and Branden heard the sound of metal on metal, as Sasha grunted under the force of a blow. An altogether different tone soon followed, as something struck Talas’ shield and clattered to the floor at the veteran’s feet. A sharp cry of pain, definitely male, sounded behind Branden. Looking at the floor, the smith saw a black metal dagger, its pommel shaped like that of a grinning skull, lying at Talas’ feet. Glancing up, Braden saw that its twin sprouted from Jared’s thigh, and the hunter’s leg buckled, driving him to one knee. Several more objects whistled through the air around them.
“We can’t see in this cursed darkness!” Talas yelled. “We need more light.”
“Maybe I can help with that,” Chyla said, raising her hands above her head. “Ordum illumines!” the Nhyme yelled, and the room was suddenly awash in light. Hundreds, if not thousands, of tiny motes of radiance appeared about the room, allowing Branden to see the full scope of the room and the danger in which they now found themselves.
The vault, in which they stood, was about forty paces across and the walls curved upwards towards a domed ceiling overhead. The pillar of quartz-like crystal in the middle of the room stretched five stories upwards until it almost touched the roof. The walls were covered in age-worn murals, their true semblances lost to centuries of dirt and decay.
The room’s other inhabitants were what caught Branden’s attention more than the room itself, now fully visible in the arcane light that filled the chamber. Five cloaked figures stood arrayed before Branden and his companions, while a sixth stood at the base of pillar of crystal with his arms stretched wide. The figure was also clothed head to toe in the same black clothing as his companions with his hood pulled up obscuring his face. However, he held a stout looking staff in one hand. The creature was chanting something in a harsh foreign language, using tones that the smith had never heard come from a human throat. Arranged in a circle around the crystal were a ring of thick black candles and were the smaller specks of light the smith had seen upon first entering the room.
With Talas and Sasha in defensive positions around him, Branden had a moment to notice that the candles had been sheared off on one side, an angular cut from the middle of the wicks to their bases. The truncated sides all faced inwards, causing the wax from the melting candles to pool around the base of the pillar. Branden’s attention was quickly brought back to the approaching foes before him.
The creatures’ dark loose-fitting garb seemed to float about them, as though the smith was viewing them underwater. It was almost peaceful to look upon, their strangely hovering cloaks trailing behind them. Wielding swords of the same black metal and design as the daggers they had flung before, the Shadow Walkers advanced.
Chapter 37
Years of training took over as Sasha stepped to her sister’s side, after her father had recovered. Drawing her sword, Sasha did her best to hold off the two Shadow Walkers that attacked them. Her skill and her steel thwarted the creatures’ initial efforts to kill the swordswoman and her sister. However, Sasha felt herself being driven, practically herded, away from the rest of her companions. Her sister had figured out their strategy as well.
“They’re trying to separate us,” Katya yelled, as she thrust out her staff blocking a sword from slashing into Sasha’s side. Blue sparks flew from the weapons connecting, and the Shadow Walker pulled back his arm, as though he had been shocked. Undeterred, the creature renewed its attack though, driving the twins farther away from their companions.
Sasha spared a look around and saw her twin’s words to be true. The Shadow Walkers had attacked and then moved in at angles to separate their opponents. She saw her father and Mistress Mala to her far left fighting a pair of Shadow Walkers. Closer to her right, she saw that Talas had been singled out and was engaged with one of the creatures as well. The swordswoman saw something flitter off of Talas’ shoulder, but then her attention was needed to block a blow from one of the Shadow Walker’s with her blade. She blocked a slash from the other assailant with her shield. Though the creature’s weapon did not touch her body, the contact from the sword was solid, and Sasha felt the shock travel down her sword arm, slightly numbing it. Sasha knew she could not keep this up for long.
“Hey, sis?” the redheaded twin called out to her sibling. “A little help here, please?” In answer, a small burst of energy exploded in the face of the creature to her right. The Shadow Walker’s hood caught fire, and the creature ripped it away from his face.
“Great Mother!” Sasha heard Katya gasp behind her.
Sparing a quick glance, Sasha looked into a familiar face. The face, with features of the young man who had helped her father in the smithy some winters back, looked at her with lifeless eyes. His name was Ivan, or at least it was before he became this thing. He had grown up to be a member of the town guard in Snowhaven. He was going to marry… Sasha remembered, but the swordswoman’s brain could not process the rest of what she knew about the dead man, who stood now before her; anger, pain, and sorrow fueled Sasha’s arm, and she attacked anew. With a yell she hacked at the other Shadow Walker, who also wore a face she recognized. He had trained with her in the yard. Simon… She shook her head, refusing to acknowledge their attacker as anything but an abomination of another brave man she had once known.
“Great Mother,” Talas intoned, as he battled the Shadow Walker. It hadn’t been said as an expletive as Katya had used it; the former priest uttered the phrase as the beginning of a prayer he recited during the fight. “…take this, your child, into your embrace,” Talas raised his shield to fend off a sword stroke aimed at his head, counter-attacking with a swing of his mace towards the creature’s skull. “Forgive him any harm he may have done…” Talas continued, even as the Shadow Walker’s left hand struck out like a snake, catching the mace by its haft and holding the weapon in place. With a quick twirling of the blade in its hand, the Shadow Walker struck again, this time at Talas’ exposed arm. Pain exploded from the veteran’s upper arm as the Shadow Walker’s sword bit into the meat of his bicep. Luckily, the odd angle of the blow, plus the fact that it came mostly from the creature’s wrist and not his fully extended arm, allowed Talas to keep all his limbs intact.
A small blur flew across the face of Talas’ attacker. “Get off of him, you big meanie!” Niko cried out as he pulled the hood down over the eyes of the Shadow Walker. Temporarily blinded, the creature released Talas’ mace and swatted wildly, catching the Nhyme and sending his diminutive frame flying several yards before it slammed into a nearby wall. The tiny creature fluttered down to the dirty floor, struggled for a moment, and then lay still.
Talas swung low with his mace and continued on with his prayer, the pain in his arm making the words come through gritted teeth. “And forgive those who have harmed him.” The veteran’s blow
caught the creature on the side of the knee. Talas heard a satisfying crunch, as the Shadow Walker’s leg buckled, and it spun a quarter turn before falling to its knees before him. “We ask that you allow him to move on from this life to the next,” the former priest said, as he drew back his arm until it was almost behind him, “so that he may be a better servant to your will than he is today.” Talas swung with all his might, pain burning along his arm from his wound, as he put his full force behind the blow. It caved in the back of the skull of the kneeling Shadow Walker. The creature’s body lingered in its kneeling position for a moment more, before falling forward onto the stone floor and did not move again. “Blessed Be,” Talas finished.
Jared pulled the dagger out of his leg. Blood poured from the open wound in his thigh. The dagger had more than likely hit an artery, but Jared didn’t have the time to investigate it further. Rising as best he could, Jared supported most of his weight on his right leg, as he drew an arrow from the quiver on his back and nocked it in one smooth motion. Taking quick aim, he fired one arrow and then another into one of the Shadow Walkers that was attacking the twins. In their battling, the creature’s voluminous hood had fallen back, exposing its head. Katya was momentarily stunned by a pommel strike to one of her hands that held her staff, painfully smashing her fingers, and had distanced herself from the Shadow Walker to recover. Taking advantage of the opening, Jared put an arrow into the creature’s shoulder and neck. Unfortunately, the shafts did nothing but startle the creature for a moment. Once the surprise wore off, it renewed its attacks on Sasha and Katya. Sasha moved in to protect her sister and blocked Jared’s chance at another shot.
Bright light bloomed from below, causing him to squint. Looking down he saw Chyla looking at his wounded thigh. She had summoned a globe of light, much like the multitude of tiny balls of radiance that filled the room. However, this one was much brighter and with the vision that he had borrowed from the rat in the hallway earlier, looking at the tiny globe was like looking directly into the sun.
“Get that damned light out of my eyes!” Jared yelled his voice laced with pain and frustration. “I can’t see anything.”
“But you’re hurt,” Chyla’s tiny voice said, almost lost in the din of battle. “Your leg looks bad. I need to take a closer look.”
“And if we’re dead, because I can’t see to shoot anything, it really won’t matter now will it?” the hunter snapped. Jared knew he was being harsh, and that Chyla was just trying to help in the only way she knew how, but he was in pain and felt helpless. His arrows did little against these creatures. And if he were to charge in with his sword, his hurt leg would make him more of a liability than an asset. He was frustrated and was losing his calm.
Thankfully, Chyla’s light dimmed enough for the hunter to see another Shadow Walker expose himself, as it fended off Mala’s twin longswords. No matter what Jared had to say about the Master Swordswoman’s personality, she was a force to be reckoned with. The Shadow Walker she was fighting stepped back to give itself room to fight, and Jared put an arrow in its chest and another into his leg. Normally, the first shot would have been a killing blow, but against the Shadow Walkers it was merely an annoyance.
Chyla flew up to Jared shoulder. “You’re bleeding a lot,” the Nhyme woman said. “If I don’t get your wound healed up soon, you’re going to pass out.” She hesitated, as if thinking about a course of action, before continuing. “Course, if you’re passed out, then you won’t be squirming so much and I can fix your leg. But if you lose too much… Niko!” Chyla screamed in Jared’s ear and flew away. The hunter slightly flinched at the sound of the high-pitched yell, causing his arrow to miss his target. He had been aiming for the head of the Shadow Walker, standing at the base of the crystal pillar, but the arrow ricocheted harmlessly off of the far wall and clattered across the stone floor. Jared growled in frustration and nocked another arrow. As the hunter sighted, before letting fly another shot, he saw a bright spark of light fly from the crystal pillar and collide with the stone wall of the chamber.
Mala cursed as she took another shallow cut across her forearm. She was not used to fighting with Branden as a partner, and the big smith was not used to fighting with a partner at all. The Shadow Walkers, on the other hand, were working as a pair and winning the fight. Mala stole a quick glance at Branden and saw a wound across his forehead. It was bleeding freely, as head wounds often did, and flowing into his right eye, impairing his vision. Branden swung his huge hammer down at an angle, a good swing but a fruitless one. The Shadow Walker dodged the blow, stepping aside and thrusting out with its sword. Mala swept the thrust wide with one of her swords, while slashing with her other. The cloaked figure in front of her stepped back to avoid her blade, only to have an arrow strike him in the chest and then another in his leg. Momentarily staggered by the force of the projectile, the Shadow Walker paused and moved awkwardly on its wounded leg. Mala attempted to take advantage of the break. Spinning so that she would pivot behind Branden’s back the swordmistress yelled out, “Slide to your right!”
Branden, to his credit, reacted quickly, but the instinctual reaction that fighting pairs built over years of practice together was just not there. The request had been made so that Mala could strike, and it was Branden that attacked instead. The Master Swordswoman cursed under her breath, knowing that the smith striking would expose him; she had been closer after they moved, so she could have struck without ramifications. The smith swung his large maul, taking advantage of the other Shadow Walker’s hindered movement, and made solid contact. The creature’s collar bone was crushed, and its arms hung uselessly off it to its sides, as it was driven to the floor. It was a successful move; however, the smith’s blow was over-extended, as Mala predicted.
The second Shadow Walker that they had been fighting thrust its sword beneath the smith’s arm, bypassing Branden’s breastplate and sinking deep into his torso. Blood sprayed the ground, as the creature retracted his weapon. The large man staggered and fell. The Shadow Walker brought down its sword for the killing blow. Mala’s blade was quicker though and blocked the creature’s attack.
Standing over the smith, she said, “Branden fall back. You’ve done your part for today.” Mala knew that the location of the blacksmith’s wound meant it was dire, but she tried to sound optimistic. “Let the rest of us have some of the fun,” she grinned outwardly, but her heart sank. This is my fault, she thought. I expected too much of him. A King’s Guard is battle-hardened, but not in cooperative paired combat. Now Dara’s husband will die for my folly. Please forgive me, my friend!
Branden looked up at Mala with a hand over his grave wound, and a weak smile crossed his face. The smith then coughed harshly, spraying blood between his fingers and onto the dirt-covered stone. He collapsed, letting his hammer fall to the floor and gasping for air. Unfortunately, Mala was in no position to help; the unbroken Shadow Walker renewed its attacks, and Mala was hard-pressed to fend it off. Skill aside, the thing was strong, tireless, and almost impervious to her attacks. Adding to these attributes to the fact that the swordmistress’ movement was now hindered by Branden’s body at her feet, Mala knew that she had to change her position.
As if sensing her dilemma, the Shadow Walker shifted slightly and pressed forward. The only options for Mala were: to either risk stepping over Branden and possibly tripping or move back to her left, farther away from the rest of her companions. I’ll be isolated, she thought, but, if I could just hold the Shadow Walker off for a while longer and get better footing…
The question resolved itself, as Mala went for a thrust and her foot slipped in Branden’s blood. She turned to keep herself from falling and exposed her back to the Shadow Walker. Righting herself as best she could, Mala reversed her grip on her sword, slid it behind her, and turned the Shadow Walker’s attack into a glancing blow. A line of liquid fire traced its way along her back, from Mala’s shoulder down to her waist. She cried out in pain and backpedaled… right over Branden.
Feeling herself falling, the swordmistress did her best to take the impact fully across her back and hope the wind wasn’t knocked out of her too badly. She hit the stone floor hard and raised her crossed swords in front of her in a feeble attempt to ward off the Shadow Walker’s blade. The black-cloaked figure stepped forward, straddling Mala’s prone figure and raised its black steel longsword above its head. As a last-ditch effort, Mala drove her boot up in between the creature’s legs. The Shadow Walker stopped, looked down at the swordmistress’ boot and then back at her.
Now that she had time to look, Mala recognized the face of the body of the man who stood above her. It was one of the men that Mala had left behind to guard Pieter in Snowhaven. I’ll see you soon dear friend, she thought of her fallen partner. Maybe, next time we’ll get it right. Mala stared directly into the milky eyes of her assailant and waited for the sword to fall.
Luckily, it never did. The creature above Mala reeled as something struck it in the forehead, and she heard a loud cracking noise. The Shadow Walker staggered for a moment, but it was all that Mala needed. Kicking out with her legs, she swept the creature’s feet out from beneath it, and it flopped to the ground. Another loud crack reached her ears, as the side of the things head impacted the stone floor. Rolling to the side and onto her knees, Mala dropped the sword from her left hand, took her other sword in both hands, and brought the blade down with all her might onto the exposed neck of the Shadow Walker. As the severed head rolled away, the body struggled for a moment and then lay still.
Mala looked over to Jared. Blood was pouring down his leg from the wound in his thigh. He looked pale but smiled anyway. “Sorry,” the hunter said, as he nocked an arrow with a small metal sphere on the end. “I ran out of broad heads. All I have left are bodkins and squirrel killers.”
