by Ben Hale
She flapped hard, her hand outstretched, her fingers reaching. The ring passed into the mist and she followed, stretching her entire length, following the ring by the faint glimmer in the mist. In a final burst of speed, her fingers closed around the ring, flaring her wings to come to a stop . . .
Deep in the fortress, the cage of fire and the cage of water pressed against each other, the enchanted flames pushing against the water, causing the ice to burst into steam, the heat rising as the two contrasting magics were forced together. Cracks in the bars appeared and spread, and then both cells detonated, the blast shredding the entire chamber, the ball of fire consuming the corridor beyond and the surrounding stone.
The Bloodsworn in the nearby halls felt a rush of air before the fireball claimed their lives, the blast ripping through the supports, exploding outward to shatter an outer wall. Lorica, just feet from the shore of the lake, was knocked into the water, the blast singeing her wings.
She groaned, her vision and mind swimming, and just managed to make it to shore. Her face speckled with dirt and blood, she looked blearily up to the castle. Bereft of its supports, an entire wing of the castle groaned, and then collapsed into the raging flames. Struggling to focus, her ears ringing, she did not notice Gendor step out of the smoke and raise his dagger, until it sliced across her back.
Chapter 36: Fear of the Hunted
Shadow followed Relgor, leaping to the beams above the corridor and following them along the ceiling. He cast a shadow crossbow and fired several bolts at the krey’s back. The light blunted the weapon, but he cried out each time they struck. He glared back, and Shadow chuckled in delight.
Shadow dropped into the corridor just as Relgor ducked into a room. Shadow caught a glimpse of the Gate on the opposite side of the chamber before Relgor slammed the door shut. Shadow came to a halt at the barrier.
“Do you mean to flee?” Shadow taunted. “From a slave?”
Like many of the doors in Mistkeep, this door had a small, barred window at the top, allowing Shadow to see the interior. Relgor stood with his hand on the edge of the mirror, one foot inside the Gate. He cast a look back, the black in his eyes spinning red.
“Your kind cowers before mine,” Relgor said haughtily. “I would never run from you.”
Shadow heard the slight tremble in his voice, the sound of one attempting to control their fear, and not entirely succeeding. Relgor was rattled and alone, but now that he was partially safe, he would return to his former scorn, and seek to erase the memory of his terror. An idea came to mind that appealed to Shadow, and so he leaned against the wall opposite the door.
“Gather your forces, then,” he said. “And let us see if you really are the superior race.”
Relgor’s gaze would have scorched steel, and he shouted into the Gate, his tone that of command. Seconds later, a dakorian stepped through the Gate and rose to his full stature. Five others followed, the last of which was Tardoq himself, Wylyn’s Bloodwall.
“Come and get me,” Shadow said. “If you can.”
He turned and sprinted away, his mocking words galvanizing the dakorians and Relgor in pursuit. Shadow guessed that Relgor would have preferred to send the soldiers to kill him alone, but the sting of fleeing before a slave needed to be eradicated, and so Relgor joined his soldiers.
Shadow turned a corner to find a dozen Bloodsworn hanging from the traps he’d set. Others fought to disentangle them, with some also getting trapped for their efforts. All looked to Shadow at his appearance, rightfully guessing he was the culprit.
A grin on his face, Shadow stepped onto a man bound to the wall, using his shoulder to leap into the rafters above. Curses and crossbow bolts were hurled at him, but he leapt across the gap, dodging those hanging by their feet.
Relgor and the six dakorians rounded the corner and charged through, shoving the Bloodsworn aside. Relgor barked an order and a handful joined him, the group accelerating after Shadow.
He dropped to the floor of the corridor, avoiding a blast from a dakorian hammer as he rolled through the door. The wood shattered, the power of the weapon sending the bent hinges into the corridor beyond.
Shadow raced through the entrance hall and turned to his shadow form, leaping straight through the portcullis at the entrance. Like smoke, he passed through the barrier and then turned solid before darting onto the bridge that would take him into the Evermist.
Relgor screamed for someone to open the portcullis, and a pair of dakorians caught the bars and heaved them upward, allowing the army through. Dropping the portcullis behind, the entire group charged the bridge.
Relgor slowed as he reached the end of the bridge. In the night and within the swamp, Shadow would have a great deal of power, and Relgor seemed to recognize his disadvantage. He scowled and slowed, glancing back towards the safety of the fortress.
Shadow, having entered the Evermist and circled back, ducked beneath the bridge and traveled back towards Mistkeep. The thudding of dakorian boots came from above, fading as the group reached the swamp. Then Shadow caught the darkness and flipped onto the bridge. Alighting inches from the krey, he leaned in and whispered in his ear.
“How does it feel to be afraid?”
Relgor nearly leapt from his skin. Anger replaced Relgor’s fear, and he sprinted to his forces, joining the dakorians and Bloodsworn on the bank of the lake. They lined the bank, aiming their weapons at Shadow.
“Kill him!” Relgor cried.
Shadow leapt to the side of the bridge and caught the railing, swinging into the welcome darkness beneath. Blasts of dakorian hammers and crossbow bolts streaked across the bridge, filling the night.
The supports of the bridge curved down and out, and Shadow leapt from end to end. Ahead, the soldiers barred the way, leveling weapons at him, but Shadow reached to the underside of the bridge and used the darkness to swing to the opposite side. From there he leapt to the bank and into the swamp.
He immediately took to the trees, lashing himself to the darkness above and ascending from view. By the time Relgor and his group appeared, Shadow was safely perched in a crook of a branch.
“Give us light!” Relgor barked. “His magic will be useless.”
The dakorians struck the trees, their hammers empowered by the impact. Glowing runes appeared on the shaft and on head of the weapons, illuminating their faces. The Bloodsworn used pocket light orbs, holding them aloft to shine into the gloom. Shadow activated the rune in his gauntlet that threw his voice, his voice seeming to come from everywhere and nowhere.
“Look at the little krey . . . isn’t he adorable?”
“I want him found,” Relgor spat.
“Alive?” Tardoq asked.
“Dead,” Relgor snapped.
“. . . your fear is pleasing to my ears . . .”
“I’m not afraid of a slave!” Relgor bellowed.
Shadow’s mocking laughter came from ahead, and the group charged into the trees. The dakorian in the lead swung his hammer—and tripped over the line of shadow at his feet. His growl ended as his body fell upon a bed of shadow spikes. Some were made ethereal by the glowing hammer, but enough were solid that they pierced his bone armor, leaving him mortally wounded.
Tardoq scowled at the dying dakorian. “Spread out, groups of three. One dakorian each. Find and flank him!”
The group split up, but all kept close enough to each other to take advantage of the light. It was a smart tactic, especially when Tardoq barked another order, and one of the dakorians pulled a small sphere from a pouch in his armor. Standing behind a trunk close to the fallen dakorian, Shadow frowned, and recalled the spheres the Bloodsworn had used in the assassin council chamber. Instead of using it like a weapon, the dakorian tossed the ball into the air and it floated upward, where it began to glow. Instead of exploding, the energy within turned to light, flowing outward to fill the swamp, illuminating a large swath. Fortunately for Shadow, it cast a multitude of shadows behind trees and brush.
Shadow smiled
in anticipation, and then dropped behind the trunk of a dead tree. He crept close to a trio and pulled on the darkness, the shadows wrapping around his arm to form a giant claw. From the night he swung, slashing the Bloodsworn from cheek to chest.
The scream rattled the others, and they converged on the spot. The one in the rear passed into the shadow of a tree and did not emerge. His companion turned, his eyes going wide as the killer was carried aloft.
“Here!” he cried. “He’s here!”
The body tumbled to his feet, and he recoiled in fear. The dakorian jumped into the tree, the limbs groaning as he sought to reach the height. But the action put him into the shadowy limbs. Even as Tardoq bellowed at him to descend, great jaws appeared from the mist, and devoured the dakorian. The dakorian’s shouts were punctuated by the snapping of bones, and then he fell silent. In the shocked stillness, the broken body of a dakorian landed heavily, and all eyes stared at the corpse.
“Do not step into the shadows,” Tardoq bellowed. “He is not a foe you know!”
Their fear turning to terror, the Bloodsworn rushed to the safety of the light orb, while the dakorians spread out, and at Relgor’s order, tossed more lights into the air, flooding the swamp with illumination.
“More!” Relgor barked.
“We only have one left,” one of the dakorians said.
Tardoq stepped to Relgor. “We should retreat,” he murmured. “This is his battleground, and we are at a—”
“We do not retreat from slaves,” Relgor snarled.
“This is no normal slave,” Tardoq hissed. “It is unwise to—”
The krey rounded on him. “Do not tell me what is unwise. Or have you forgotten your place?”
“The light will not last,” Tardoq growled. “The deton spheres will expire soon.”
“Then I suggest you find him quickly.”
“Are you just going to talk?” Shadow called.
He leaned against a tree at the edge of the pool of light, his pose languid, his smile amused. The dakorians spun, unleashing blast after blast from their hammers. Others charged the spot, reaching the burning trees to find the trail curving away, his mocking laughter daring them to follow.
“Go!” Relgor barked.
Tardoq growled in dismay and ordered a pursuit, and the Bloodsworn reluctantly followed. Racing down the dark path, they did not see Shadow flit into the trees above and toss a rock into the nearby lake.
The ripples of the impact faded, and then a large shape shifted underwater. In the gloom it surfaced and darted into the trees, passing over the carcasses of crocodiles that lined the shore. Its passage may have been silent, but the animals of the swamp went still.
The great predator followed the second thrown stone, and then veered toward the sounds of Relgor’s force. It slowed as it came alongside the trail, and then leapt across, so quickly its giant shadow passed through the light. A Bloodsworn disappeared, his scream cut short.
“Use the deton!” Tardoq barked.
The dakorian tossed the sphere into the air, and the scene glowed to life, revealing a giant shape partially hidden in the brush, the body in its jaws. The group turned to fight, but this was no figment of shadow, and it released a dark rumble as it stepped onto the trail.
“Scaled reaver!” one of the Bloodsworn shrieked, and fled.
“It’s just a beast!” a dakorian roared and aimed its hammer.
The scaled reaver darted around a tree, and then charged. He cut through the dakorian, its jaws snapping just once, nearly tearing him in two. Relgor screamed and those that remained attacked the beast, but it swung its tail, the barbs standing on end, impaling a Bloodsworn and knocking others from their feet.
It caught sight of Relgor and accelerated, its fluid body gliding across the ground. A dakorian stepped into its path, its hammer striking the reaver’s head. The beast rocked to the side, and then whipped its tail, knocking the dakorian into a tree, the brutal impact reverberating in the swamp. Another dakorian struck the reaver’s flank, but it whirled, its jaws clamping shut on the dakorian’s horned skull. With the agility of a cat, it yanked the dakorian from view, dragging him into its pond.
The remaining Bloodsworn fled, evaporating into the mist. Alone with Tardoq, Relgor cursed their cowardice and turned to the Bloodwall. His voice tinged with hysteria, he huddled at the dakorian’s side.
“Kill them both!” he shrieked. “I want them dead!”
There was no answer, and he looked up to the hulking dakorian, demanding answers. Tardoq, his eyes on his dead companions, scowled, and then leveled a glare so filled with hate that Relgor retreated.
“You are my mother’s Bloodwall,” Relgor barked. “You WILL protect me!”
Tardoq regarded him for several moments and then retreated, his large frame evaporating into the mist. Shadow watched the soldier abandon the krey, recognizing the act as a silent rebuke of Relgor’s leadership. It was the first time he’d seen a dakorian disobey a krey, and Relgor’s shock indicated it did not happen often.
“I AM YOUR MASTER!” Relgor roared.
Tardoq did not respond.
Shadow stepped into view, and the krey whirled, yellow swirling in his black eyes. “I’d say screaming was unwise,” Shadow said.
Shadow retreated as the reaver appeared but stayed close enough to witness. The krey spotted the large beast slink into sight and froze, his chest heaving as he stumbled behind a tree. Then the reaver snarled and Relgor bolted, desperation filling his voice as he called out to Shadow.
“I know you could save me!”
“Why would I do that?” Shadow asked. “After all, I’m just a slave . . .”
He retreated into the night, listening for Relgor’s final scream. It came quickly, the sound punctuated by sheer terror. Shadow smiled and took to the trees, pleased with the victory. Elenyr had wanted Relgor dead, and despite the legends regarding a krey, he’d perished as easily as any man. Of course, he’d tried to survive against a scaled reaver, and ignored the wisdom of Tardoq, a foolish—
The earth rocked from an explosion at Mistkeep, and Shadow clung to the tree branches as heated air washed over him. He hurried to the canopy, clearing the leaves in time to see a giant ball of fire rising above the fortress, illuminating the night. Smoke billowed, darkening the mist as it curled skyward.
“Blast,” Shadow said, annoyed. “I missed it.” Then he thought of Lorica and leapt forward.
Chapter 37: Lorica’s Vengeance
The wings absorbed the brunt of the blow, saving Lorica’s life. She screamed as her skin split, her wings tearing and tumbled away. Sparks burst from the break, and Gendor slashed again and again, obliterating the wings in a fury.
On the ground, Lorica heard the death of her wings and knew she was next. Gritting her teeth against the fire on her back, she pulled her knees under her, willing her body to stand, to fight. She sucked air through her teeth as sparks from her wings rained down on the shore of the lake, and grabbed a section of rock at her side, using it to rise.
She turned, and found Gendor watching her, his tattered wings partially flared, his spined dagger low and ready. Lorica’s bright wings lay scattered at his feet, still sparking, a section struggling to flap.
“You were never a match for me,” Gendor said, his voice muffled through the ringing in her ears.
“Why did you kill him?” she mumbled, her thoughts spinning too fast to control.
He circled her position. “You do not ask about your sister?”
“My brother,” she said.
“I killed your brother?” Gendor asked, a trace of surprise in his voice, followed by recognition. “That’s why you hated me.”
Lorica spotted the oathsword nearby and eased towards it, the motion igniting the cut along her back. She could move, indicating it was shallow, but it ran from shoulder to hip. She grimaced and slid another step, working her way along the boulders of the shoreline.
“I didn’t know it was you,” she said, grateful
her ears were beginning to recover. “Not at first.”
“What was his name?”
“Zenif,” she said.
“Target?”
She shook her head and took another step. “He was a simple weaver, in a corridor when you escaped a kill.”
“A tall man,” Gendor said slowly. “I remember he stepped into my path, refused to let me leave. Even unarmed, he barred the way.”
“Sounds like him.” She managed a pained laugh. “The heart of a warrior, the hands of a weaver. He made my cloak, before Sentara made me fly.”
She took another step and agony lanced across her back. She slumped to her knees, groaning, and found her hand on a section of the wing. The fine thread touched her fingers, soft and bright, woven with traces of mithral thread, the texture reminding her of her conversation with Zenif.
“I’ll never need mithral in my cloak,” she’d said, irritated at the expense.
“Let a big brother take care of his little sister,” he replied. “I may not have a blade, but I can build you armor.”
Tears escaped her eyes and dropped onto the wing. Even in death, her brother had saved her life, yet she’d failed to avenge him, or Lyn. Gendor had slain her entire family, all because they’d been in his way.
The fire on her back seemed to sink into her bones, burning with a heat that compelled action. She reached for the hilt of her sword and rose, turning to face her adversary. Gendor stood, watching her with the soberest expression she’d ever seen.
“I didn’t want to kill him,” he said softly.
“Every action has a price,” she said.
The fire in her bones mounted, burning into her limbs. She embraced the pain of her wounds. They brought clarity, and she fixed her gaze on Gendor, not with hatred or rage, but the steel of one willing to die.
She began to walk forward, and Gendor looked up from the fragments of her wings. He raised his dagger and deflected her sweeping strike. He lunged, driving for a quick kill, as if eager to end the fight, to walk away.
