The Fragment of Shadow (The Shattered Soul Book 2)

by Ben Hale

  The soldiers shifted uneasily when a quiet laugh escaped Shadow’s lips, causing those nearby to turn, catching a glimpse of him as he swelled in size, wrapping his body in flesh of shadows . . .

  Chapter 18: The Darkened Cellar

  In the depths of darkness, Shadow could have cast anything, but the confines of the cellar did not permit a dragon. Instead, he wrapped himself into the body of a reaver, and just for fun, added a scorpion’s tail. And two extra arms sprouting from his back. And a second head.

  Twenty feet long, his body was armored in steel-like plates, his tail bearing a lethal spike. In the midst of foes, he crouched low and released a rising growl, the sound betraying his eagerness and sending the people stumbling away.

  He charged into a group, lashing out with his tail, skewering a man and tossing him across the room. His great jaws snapped shut and crates splintered, the wood smashing into Ravens and an Order member. Screams and shouts filled the cellar as Shadow rampaged in their midst.

  He reached a dakorian and warped his claw into a giant hand that wrapped around the fearsome warrior’s throat. Lifting him free, Shadow slammed him into a pillar, and then into the opposite wall. The soldier swung his hammer against the shadow body, cracking plates of armor.

  The other dakorian swung his hammer at Shadow’s second head, but Shadow whipped the scorpion tail at the soldier, the blade at the end smashing into the dakorian’s chest and knocking him tumbling away.

  “You are as strong as they say,” Shadow said, bringing his jaws to the dakorian’s armored skull.

  “And you’re just an ugly human,” he sneered, struggling to break free of Shadow’s grip.

  Indignant, Shadow’s voice dropped. “Ugly?”

  Shadow reared back and slammed him into a pillar, snapping it in two. Then he picked up the dakorian’s legs and held him up to the ceiling, before bringing him down on the broken pillar. The beam had formed a shard of wood, and it pierced the dakorian’s armor, driving into his flesh.

  He cried out as Shadow pinned him to the floor, and still reached for Shadow. But the mist had begun to dissipate, and with each passing second, Shadow’s body lost its solidity. The dying dakorian’s arms went limp, allowing Shadow to dart away, narrowly avoiding the hammer of his companion.

  Shadow threaded his way through the enraged Ravens. Those with paint on their features were furious, their anger making them foolish. Shadow ducked an axe, the blade slicing deep into an Order member’s side. He screamed in anger and struck back. Another sword came for Shadow, and he slipped to the side, poking the swinging blade with his finger, sending it into a woman’s helm. The steel held, and the clang echoed in the cellar until the woman slumped to the floor.

  Shadow leapt above the battle, smirking as he passed over the chaos below. He leaned over the edge and cast a group of shadow soldiers. They lacked the ability to do much harm, but they sewed chaos in the ranks of the Ravens.

  He spotted Thorg approaching Water in his cage and veered in his direction. Just as the dwarf spoke, Shadow reached out and wrapped a clawed hand around his torso. Then he picked him up and launched him across the room, his body bouncing off the stairs and colliding with several Ravens.

  The remaining dakorian struck Shadow’s flank, hacking at his armor. Whirling, Shadow merged his two heads into one giant one, and chomped on the soldier. He continued to fight even with his upper body in Shadow’s jaws, so Shadow launched him at the cage of fire. He crashed into the bars, his sheer weight cracking several bars before he bounced over and struck the ground, burn lines on the bones of his back.

  The duel had permitted the rest to converge on Shadow, so he cast a horde of gremlins in the darkness. The smaller creatures of shadow burst through the darkness, jumping to women and pulling their hair, tearing into the clothing of the men, and clawing at feet. Women shrieked and men howled, and Shadow laughed in delight.

  Shadow paused when he spotted Serak. The father of guardians had retreated to the side of the conflict, where he stood watching. His expression was calculating, almost triumphant. Annoyed at his expression, Shadow stepped free of his entity and sent it into the melee. Then he leapt to the ceiling and snuck behind Serak.

  “Enjoying the conflict?” Shadow asked, driving a shadow blade for his back.

  The man twisted, spoiling Shadow’s aim. “Shadow,” he said evenly. “You weren’t supposed to be here.”

  “I like to be where I’m not wanted,” Shadow said, circling the man.

  “Since you are here, allow me to give a piece of advice,” Serak said. He calmly withdrew a small light orb, blunting Shadow’s knife as he struck again.

  “What’s that?” Shadow asked, circling back in case Serak attacked.

  “When the time comes, remember that a piece is never as powerful as the whole.”

  “I will remember that,” Shadow said. “Just as you should remember what it’s like to be swallowed.”

  Shadow had directed his giant beast behind Serak, and it dipped its head. Serak twisted to evade but the tongue slapped across his cheek, rising up his head and sticking it on end. Serak sputtered and attempted to wipe the moisture away, but his hand came away with paint. Shadow laughed at his dismay and leapt astride his beast.

  Serak bellowed for light, and someone ignited a light orb. The mist was clearing as well, and with each spark of light Shadow’s beast faded. In moments he would be vulnerable, and he cast about for a place to hide. Instead he saw Water on his knees inside the cage, and the wall at the back of the cellar beginning to tremble.

  A wicked smile on his face, Shadow retreated, letting the chaos die, permitting Serak to return to his place at the cage. A faint cracking of stone indicated a wall was about to break, but none but Shadow seemed to notice.

  Serak stepped into the pool of light by the cage and Shadow stifled a laugh. The guardian’s features were painted bright orange, his hair spiked in one direction from where Shadow’s beast had licked his face, the saliva holding the hair straight upward. Paint dripped down his face and onto his body, staining his fine tunic.

  “You’ll pay for that,” Serak growled, his eyes on Shadow, who stood on the threshold of darkness.

  “Not before you do,” Water said. He brought his hands together, and the back wall exploded.

  The wave crashed over the cage, cooling the bars until they disintegrated. Parting around Water and Lira the wave flooded the basement. When the bars disintegrated, he caught Lira about the waist and the water picked him up, carrying him into the room.

  Thorg and the thieves still on their feet converged upon Water, and Shadow leapt to join his brother. Serak’s orders had been followed, and soldiers continued to ignite light orbs. Bereft of darkness, Shadow found himself in the midst of a dozen foes. Drawing his dagger, he fought for space.

  Steel rang on steel, echoing in the cellar, and then Shadow spotted Water astride a wave of water. As a man swung his blade, Shadow flipped over his head, and came down close to Water’s wave. He leapt aboard, his taunting laughter echoing back to the defeated enemy.

  The wave carried them up the stairs and into the house, where Water had to bank them to the side. They crashed into a cabinet and glass shattered, fine dishes shattering on the floor. He caught a glimpse of Lorica through an open door and swiveled to watch as the Ravens mounted pursuit. Lorica burst into view and cut them down, surprising Thorg, who appeared on the stairs. Catching him by his tunic, she launched him into the dining hall and smoothly shackled his wrists.

  Lorica leapt into the dining hall and shut the door before anyone else appeared. The rest of the guards flooded from the cellar, filling the corridor, with Serak at their back. Shadow offered a mocking wave as they blasted through the front doors and disappeared into the storm.

  They streaked across the grounds and through the gates, where Water banked them into the road. The storm had picked up while they were inside and rain battered against them. Water used the extra power to accelerate, speeding them away fro
m the Raven’s manor.

  “They were ready for us,” Water said.

  “It appears that way,” Shadow said.

  Water nodded, but Shadow noticed the anger in his gaze, and realized he thought Shadow had sent him into a trap. He had, of course, but Water’s anger was a nice reward. Water sent a burst of water beneath them, carrying them to a rooftop garden and sending the makeshift river speeding out of sight. Riders appeared and gave chase, but they failed to notice Water’s escape, and they carried on.

  Water motioned to the disappearing river. “That should keep them occupied until we are out of Keese.”

  “Well done,” Shadow said, shaking water off his arms.

  “Couldn’t have done it without your aid,” Water said, but his features were tight, like he was upset.

  Shadow bowed and swept his hands wide. “I live to serve.”

  “I thought you lived to play,” Lira said.

  “That too,” Shadow said.

  Lira was drenched, her hair in disarray, her clothing sodden. But there was a smile on her face as she dismissed her sword. Water murmured to her and dried her clothes, and Shadow used their distraction to glance at the manor. He hadn’t thought Lorica would stay and fight once she knew Gendor was absent. But she’d stayed to fight Thorg. Now she was in a hornets’ nest of foes, and he was surprised to feel a pinprick of worry.

  “Serak was ready for us,” Lira said. “He was ready for Water.”

  “I thought the same thing,” Water said, glancing to Lira. “That cage would have taken a year to build, and multiple mages.”

  “But Wylyn has only been here for a few months,” Lira protested, shaking her head in confusion.

  “It appears Serak planned to trap you before Wylyn appeared,” Shadow said, feigning confusion.

  “In the Gate Chamber,” Water said, glancing to Lira. “He did say he wasn’t ready to meet us.” Then he frowned and swept a hand to Shadow. “Did you know it was a trap?”

  “Perhaps.” Shadow couldn’t resist a smile.

  “I could have been branded,” Water growled.

  “We got what we needed,” Shadow said, pleased to see Water angry. He didn’t often lose his temper. “And it was a pleasure to see you so furious.”

  “You got what you needed,” Lira said, her expression tight with disapproval. “And we paid the price.”

  “You were supposed to get caught,” Shadow reminded them. “And you did get the chance to speak to Serak. From what I heard, you learned a great deal.”

  “You lied to us,” Water said.

  “Serak would have noticed if you were prepared,” Shadow said. “You aren’t very good at assuming a different persona.” He stole a glance into the street, and spotted Lorica at the corner. “It’s been a pleasure, brother, but my assignment awaits. Have fun with Lira.”

  “Where are you going?” Water asked. “Did you get the map?”

  “Do you even know me?” Shadow asked. He reached into a pouch and tossed the map to him. “Something came up—I’ll meet up with you later.”

  Without waiting for a reply, Shadow dropped to the ground and darted away. Lorica appeared from a nearby alley and joined him, and the two disappeared into the city. He noticed blood on her clothes and a nasty gash on her arm, as well as a cut on her stomach. A third injury marked her leg, and burns scorched her armor and clothing.

  “You’re supposed to leave him looking like that.”

  She scowled. “Gendor wasn’t there.”

  “Too bad,” Shadow said, a shade too flippantly.

  Lorica caught his arm and pulled him into an alley, where she pushed him against a wall and drew her sword. The blade touched Shadow’s throat, pinning him to the wall. Her glare was more than anger.

  “Gendor was never there,” she snapped. “You lied to me.”

  “Are you saying you found nothing?” he challenged.

  “I didn’t find Gendor,” she said. “But I did find Thorg . . .”

  Chapter 19: The Missing Target

  Lorica watched Shadow disappear through the window into the Raven’s bedchamber, still wondering if she could trust him. His plan to infiltrate the Raven guild hall seemed solid, but she got the impression he was withholding a great deal of information, and she didn’t like being left in the dark. The Ravens were the best lead she had for finding Gendor and Thorg, but the way he’d spoken of Gendor’s presence did not leave her feeling confident.

  Lightning sparked in the clouds above and thunder rumbled. The rain had started but the full storm had yet to hit, and water sluiced off her clothing. She grunted in irritation and wished her traveling companion was more reliable.

  She retreated into the darker shadows of the oak tree, positioning herself next to the bushes. Guards patrolled the grounds, the security augmented with the forces that had arrived the previous day. She hadn’t seen any sign of Gendor, but she’d seen Thorg.

  The thought of the dwarf assassin betraying the guild tightened her gut, and anger ascended her throat like bile. She stifled the emotion, reminding herself that it could get her killed. She waited for another group of guards to pass and then hurried to the outer wall of the manor.

  Like most noble houses in Talinor, the windows were shuttered, the bars on the two lowest levels preventing entry by thieves. Shadow had scaled the exterior wall like it was easy, that annoying smile fixed on his face.

  She grunted and strode to the back door of the manor. It was guarded by a burly human, and she crept up on his flank, using the rain to muffle her approach. Just as he turned, she stepped from the bushes and struck his helmet. She caught him as he slumped and dragged him back into the bushes. Then she eased her way through the now unguarded door and passed through the storerooms to the kitchens.

  She was still irritated that Shadow had let her unwittingly infiltrate the manor, but it now proved very useful, and she already knew the layout. She ducked into a storeroom as a pair of cook women rushed by, obviously intent on finishing a meal in time for the Raven.

  Lorica poked her head out of the doorway and then eased into the corridor. The smell of bread and roast meat wafted from the kitchens, the savory scents drifting down the hall. She slipped into the kitchens and donned an apron over the dress she already wore, both obscuring the armor she wore beneath.

  “You look nice in a dress,” Shadow had said as they’d prepared to infiltrate the manor.

  “Why aren’t you donning a persona?”

  Shadow had laughed. “Why would I need to?”

  As she strode down the corridor, she kept her gaze on the floor, irritated and impressed by Shadow. His magic made him arrogant, but was his pride not earned? She wondered if any strongroom on Lumineia could not be breached, simply because he was so adept at bending darkness to his will. For the first time, she considered the idea that Shadow was actually his name.

  She made her way into the dining hall, and then ducked into a closet filled with brooms. She left the door ajar, allowing herself a view of the grand table. Through the far doorway she could see the door to the cellar, where the distant sounds of voices were audible.

  Shadow had refused to name the ally that would provide the distraction but insisted they would infiltrate below, while he ascended to the top of the manor. With Lorica entering on the first floor, the trio were able to see the entire breadth of the large home, allowing each of them to find their intended target. She fleetingly considered ascending to the top floor and spying on Shadow but wondered if even she could sneak up on the man. Reminding herself of her purpose, she settled in to watch the dining hall.

  The dining hall was large enough for a castle, with a lofty ceiling and hand-woven rugs. The table itself had been cut by magic, the large surface smooth and polished to reflect the many light orbs hanging from the ceiling.

  Two great paintings occupied opposite sides of the room, one of Lord Dentis, the other of his wife. Lady Dentis wore a bright red dress in the depiction, accenting her beauty and lighting her hair.
Her eyes were soft and delighted, a slight smile on her lips as if she knew a secret the viewer did not.

  She examined the room with a critical eye, preparing herself for the coming battle. Thorg was as dangerous as Gendor, and if they came together, she would be hard pressed to fight them both. She thought of Gendor’s face and her hand tightened on the hilt of her oathsword, her mind returning to Loralyn’s body. She would not fail to exact revenge.

  A flicker of movement drew her eye, and she spotted a group of Ravens appearing in the entrance corridor. They followed the man that had arrived yesterday, the one she knew as Serak. At the rear of the group, Thorg strolled with his hand on his axe hilt.

  Her heart quickened, her breath growing harsh. She recalled his expression when he’d sided with Gendor, and his sneer of pleasure as he’d killed the other members of the council. He was a dwarf who loved the shedding of blood. He too had killed Lyn, and Lorica wanted to kill him, to drive her oathsword through his traitorous heart.

  She reached for the door of the closet but her hand froze on the handle, the cold metal reminding her of her purpose. She was here for Gendor. She gripped the handle so tightly her fingers turned white, but the moment passed, and Thorg disappeared into the cellar with the others.

  She forced her hand to unclench and then retreated into the closet, her breathing coming in ragged gasps. Thoughts of her sister were fast and hard, and she struck the wall with her fist, fighting to hold them in check.

  Seething in silence, she waited. Every moment she wanted to descend into the cellar and grab Thorg by the throat, to squeeze Gendor’s location from the assassin before plunging her blade through his heart. She fought the desire with logic, and told herself that she was an assassin, trained to be patient. But patience hadn’t lost its family.

  Through the cellar door she heard a muffled thump, and she welcomed the distraction. From the ensuing sounds she assumed Shadow’s friend had been caught in the trap, and she wondered if Shadow had considered the possibility that Serak would kill them. It rankled that Shadow had not given the identity of his ally, and she was tempted to cross the corridor and look for herself. But if she were noticed . . .