Shadowborne

by Matthew Callahan

  It was the moment Madigan had been waiting for. With a roar he smashed his head down and forward, slamming into the seneschal’s nose with a sickening crunch. He leapt up and wrapped his legs around the reeling man and twisted hard, sending him spinning and crashing into the flames as the dirk fell from the stunned man’s hand and landed at Will’s feet. The commander barked an order and the surrounding soldiers rushed forward as the seneschal screamed in the flames, scrambling to get out.

  At last, Will managed to get one hand free and he scrambled for the dirk. As soon as his fingers closed around it, he threw it toward his brother. Madigan caught it in his bound hands, snatching it out of the air. Within a heartbeat, he severed his bonds just as the first of the guards passed through the flames. Madigan barreled into him and sent the man crashing down. He rolled to his feet and flung the dirk across the room to intercept the next soldier who fell with a cry of pain, the small blade embedded in his shoulder.

  The guards surrounded Madigan. He clasped his hands together and rapidly produced a brilliant bastard sword from the noctori. The guards drew up, suddenly hesitant. Madigan pressed forward, parrying and deflecting blows as the guards regrouped and attacked with their own weapons. Locked in combat, he battled seven of them at once, constantly spiraling as his feet danced across the rough floor.

  Will managed to free his other hand and shot to his feet. He raced forward to his brother but could see no safe entry into the fray. Plus, miraculously, Madigan seemed to have it well in hand—the guards were having no success. Trusting his brother’s safety to his own prowess, Will turned and started for the commander, who was standing apart and barking orders to his men.

  Will apparently hadn’t been forgotten as a soldier suddenly turned and raced toward him. He reached under his shirt and slid the dragon fang from its hiding place. He moved to meet the soldier, shock plain upon the man’s face at his suddenly armed opponent. As the pair met, Will leapt and tumbled past the soldier’s strike, extending his own blade and feeling it bite into flesh.

  The agonized screams divided the soldiers’ attention. Madigan struck hard and disarmed two guards before knocking them out cold. The group returned their focus to him and rejoined the fight. Their renewed vigor pressed Madigan back. He held them off with skill but they had rounded on him. The fire, now at his back, was growing ever closer as he lost ground.

  Without breaking stride, Will rose to his feet and closed the distance to the commander. The man eyed him with amusement and stepped forward, flourishing his halberd in such a way that a trickle of fear gripped Will. He stopped just out of range of the weapon and spoke as the sounds of battle raged around him.

  “Shifter, right?” Will said, meeting the commander’s eyes. “This has all been a huge misunderstanding. We just want to leave. We’re not whatever you think we are. Please, just let us go.”

  “You really ought not have wandered so far,” Shifter replied. Hearing a cry from Madigan, Will glanced away. His brother was at the edge of the flames, nearly off balance. Will turned back to meet Shifter’s glare as the commander continued to speak. “How unfortunate. But here’s a little tip for you.” In a lightning fast motion, Shifter withdrew and hurled his stiletto. As it pierced the flesh just above his knee, Will cried out and stumbled. Shifter smiled. “Know your place.”

  He spun forward and swung the halberd down. Will dodged out of the way of the blow, wrenching the stiletto from his leg. The pain was nearly unbearable. The limb began to stiffen. He pushed the pain away; he couldn’t afford to lose focus. No sooner had he started to recover, however, than Shifter had rebalanced and re-engaged.

  The reach of Will’s knife was nothing compared to the commander’s weapon and any feint he made was immediately recognized as such. No matter what he tried, Will couldn’t get close. Dancing back and forth, Shifter maneuvered and countered him at every turn, smiling all the while.

  With every step Will’s injured leg grew weaker and weaker. The ground was growing slick with his blood and his feet scrabbled and slipped over the stone. In a desperate effort, he flung the stiletto back at his opponent but the commander easily stepped aside. Shifter pressed the attack and Will lost his footing, landing hard on the knee of his injured leg. The room spun before him. Shifter approached and stood over him.

  “Will,” Madigan’s shout filled the room. “Don’t hold back!”

  Will risked a glance toward his brother and saw that he had also lost his footing and was struggling to stay upright amidst the flurry of oncoming weapons. Will’s heart wrenched at the sight but he couldn’t do anything, he was failing in his own fight. Despite it all, still his brother was cheering for him. How can he think I’m holding back? How could he—

  His Shade, of course. Will had spent so much effort suppressing it since they were captured that once the fighting started, he was too busy trying to survive to stop. Abandoning the disconnect that his grandfather had instilled in him after years of training, he allowed the rage and fear to fill him.

  As Shifter’s halberd cleaved down to end his life, Will rolled away. His key electric and alive, Will leapt to his feet. Dark tendrils intertwined his legs. Shifter’s eyes widened as Will vanished into the hazy darkness of the room. His mouth opened and Will barely heard him whisper, “Shadowborne…”

  The tinted cloud of smoke within the room became Will’s armor as he moved unseen. Shifter closed his eyes and cocked his head to the side, listening. At a distance, Will thrust forward and the darkness collided into the commander, propelling him backward and slamming him against a wall. Will closed in and the halberd was wrenched from Shifter’s grasp and crunched, folding into a mass of metal.

  Filled with fury, Will hurled the commander across the room again. The battered man pushed himself to his feet, the whites of his wide eyes a stark contrast in the dark haze. Will descended on him and sent him colliding into one of the remaining opponents facing Madigan and they both crashed to the ground.

  Drawing his Shade back to surround him, Will ran forward and wrenched the commander up by the hair as the soldiers fighting Mad halted. Will knelt and surrounded Shifter in his Shade, binding him in a vice-like grip. He held the helpless man close, bound tight, and brought the edge of the dragon fang to the captain’s neck.

  “Now, I’ve been told my anger can have a bit of an edge”—Will pressed the sharp of the blood fang against Shifter’s skin, nearly breaking skin—“but thanks for the tip.”

  A bark of laughter emerged from the wall of darkness. The remaining troops surrounding Madigan stepped back, not lowering their guard but clearly pacified. Mad struggled to his feet, still holding his noctori at the ready. The scorched seneschal and multiple soldiers lay unconscious at his feet. Shifter stopped struggling against Will’s grasp and waited. Silence stretched across the room.

  Light poured through the chamber as if a drawn curtain had been lifted. The dark haze vanished and the room seemed to triple in size. Suddenly, the brothers were surrounded by hundreds of guards with weapons raised and directed toward them. Just beyond the guards sat a dozen men and women in elaborate robes, and at their center, the man who had laughed. He had an unnerving smirk on his face and his eyes bore into the brothers. He leaned forward in his seat to stare intently down, his head almost unnaturally pushed forward.

  “That’s quite enough of that, boys. Lower your weapons, all of you. These two have nothing more to fear here.”

  The guards around them relaxed immediately. Madigan and Will didn’t move. The pain in Will’s leg flared again and he grit his teeth. Shifter loosed an audible sigh, as though bored by the situation. The stooped man continued to eye the brothers, unblinking.

  “Cautious,” he said. “Yes, of course, cautious. That is all very well and good. Be cautious then.”

  Will refused to blink against the glaring light, nervous of missing the slightest thing. His brother coughed and a smattering of blood hit the stone floor. Will took a deep breath and looked toward the new man. “You wil
l release us, unharmed, fully equipped,” he said in hushed tones. “Indeed, you shall send us forth with your blessing and thank us for coming lest you incur my wrath further and I lose patience.”

  Madigan gaped at his brother through swollen eyes. Will didn’t falter, his blade against Shifter’s throat. Madigan slowly lowered his noctori but did not release it. Through panting breaths he spoke.

  “Who are you?”

  “A start,” the man said, his smile stretched tight around his teeth. “Yes, a start. A good start. I am your host, young child of Thorne. You may call me the Crow. Welcome to Undermyre.”

  13

  An Audience with the Crow

  “So, my young guests,” the Crow said. “It appears that you deny the sentence of death?”

  The man at the heart of the room was dressed in black robes, piled high atop his shoulders. His receding black hair was streaked with silver while wild, bushy eyebrows enhanced his piercing, inquisitive eyes. His stooped back added to the impression that he very much resembled a humanized version of his namesake. He turned his focus from Will to Madigan and finally to Shifter.

  “Either kill him or be done with him,” the Crow said with an edge. “You’ve nothing left to fear here, but I grow impatient when people are indecisive.”

  Will glanced at his brother who gave him a brief nod. Will lowered the blade and released the commander from the dark embrace of his Shade. Grunting a bit, Shifter stretched his neck before giving Will a sidelong glance and a quick smirk.

  Is he smiling? There was definitely a turn in his mouth that could only be interpreted as a smile.

  Shifter turned his back to the brothers and stepped up the dais and toward the Crow. As the commander approached, the Crow nodded toward the moaning seneschal. “Have your men see him to the infirmary, Commander. I would have words with him later.”

  The room seemed to grow colder at his words, but Shifter, unfazed, ordered his men toward the seneschal. Madigan stepped back as they dragged the injured man away and saw to their unconscious comrades. Will relaxed his grip on his blade and rolled his wrist out. Then, after the briefest consideration, retreated his Shade to a mere whisper of its former self without releasing it. A murmur went through the crowd before a gesture from the Crow silenced them all.

  “I see you have inherited your father’s propensity for silence,” he said, easing himself back in his seat. He motioned for the boys to step forward. “Tell me, where is the Blademaster and why does he not accompany you?”

  “I’m assuming you’re referring to Jervin,” Madigan said, his tone neutral but, nevertheless, it echoed throughout the bright hall. He glanced at his brother who shook his head, willing Mad to hold back.

  “Yes, yes, Jervin Thorne.” The Crow leaned forward again. “He is your father, yes? A blood relative, to be certain. But yes, Jervin.”

  “Davis,” said Madigan. “Jervin Davis.”

  The Crow chuckled and waved a dismissive hand. “Yes,” he said. “Jervin Davis, of course.”

  “He was our grandfather,” Madigan said.

  “Was?” The Crow raised a bushy eyebrow.

  “He’s dead.”

  The Crow’s eyes became stone and his brow furrowed as the chamber erupted in whispers. The murmuring grew throughout the hall and Will noticed a few people turn and race through the doors. Shifter rolled his shoulders back and adjusted his grip on his halberd. The whole room was awash in nervous energy.

  “So, the Keeper is dead then.” The room quieted as the black figure spoke again. “How?”

  Mad shook his head at that. “No, Crow. You get nothing else from either of us until you answer our questions.”

  Again the room erupted into murmurs and nervous laughter. The guards tensed and Will saw more than one ready his weapon. Madigan had done something wrong, that much was obvious. Will spun his blade in his fingers and relaxed his knees though it made his injured leg scream. It didn’t matter, he was prepared to strike at whomever approached. Madigan stood square-shouldered and tall, maintaining a level gaze at the Crow. Will heard the sound of a blade being drawn somewhere and spun into a low crouch, his Shade erupting forth in an instant.

  The crowd hushed again. No weapon emerged from the masses as darkness swirled around Will, purple and black in the harsh light. Maybe I can find a way to keep it in this half-state all the time?

  Madigan hadn’t moved, his noctori still active but lowered by his side. The silence stretched around them, the tension its own tangible presence. The Crow and Madigan both stared, Madigan in defiance, the Crow with seeming amusement. Not a sound was to be heard.

  “Very well, young Davis,” the Crow said. “Ask your questions.”

  Will smiled in relief and relaxed a bit at that but realized quickly that, if anything, the tension in the room had increased. Every single eye was on the two brothers. Mouths were agape at Madigan’s apparent indiscretion, his impertinence, the impudence of daring to defy the Crow. Madigan himself was still cold and featureless, his stance revealing nothing of his intent. Even Will, knowing his brother’s mannerisms so well, could glean little from him. Like everyone else, Will waited for him to make his mind known.

  After another moment’s contemplation, Madigan spoke. “Will your man survive?”

  Will was as taken aback by the question as everyone else. The seneschal had been cruel, condescending, and close-minded at every turn, even threatening them with death. Yet, before all else, Madigan inquired after him?

  The Crow’s bushy eyebrows rose and the hint of a smile tugged at the edges of his face. “The wounds you inflicted upon him will not kill him,” he said. “As far as you are concerned, yes. He will survive.”

  Madigan nodded. His posture relaxed a bit and he let the noctori vanish. “Do you mean any harm to my brother or me?”

  The Crow maintained his unblinking stare, the foreign smile sending unused muscles quivering. “No.”

  “I would have your word on it,” Madigan said.

  Again, hushed whispers and nervous shifting rippled through the room as the Crow’s smile broke into a toothy grin. It was not, however, reflected in his eyes—they were chiseled and cold and altogether unamused. “Young brothers Davis,” he said as he rose, “it is the word and will of the Crow that you shall walk safely within the walls of Undermyre, free from harassment by any under my charge, for thirteen months, thirteen days, and thirteen hours from this moment.” He paused. “Intentional violation of this oath by any will result in the casting of the culprit. By the Hesperawn, old and new, this is my decree.”

  Will had no idea what he meant when he said casting but knew the Hesperawn from his grandfather’s stories. From the faces surrounding him, he could tell it was a serious oath that none of them would break. Following Madigan’s example with the noctori, he allowed his Shade to dissipate completely. He returned his blade to the tattered remnants of his shirt where it sat cool and calm against his skin.

  Madigan nodded to the Crow again and clasped his hands behind his back. “Very well, Crow,” he said. “I appreciate your hospitality and I swear by the Hesperawn, old and new, that my brother and I will strive to abide by your laws, as we learn them, and to practice safety within the borders of Undermyre for thirteen months, thirteen days, and thirteen hours from this moment.”

  Will stared at his brother, aghast. What the hell did he just say? Madigan had sounded so confident, so proper and formal. But neither of us have any idea what he just swore by.

  Whatever it was, it seemed to have the desired effect. The crowd nodded in approval and the Crow returned to his seat. Madigan glanced Will’s way and gave the briefest of shrugs before turning his gaze back to the dais. Will nearly burst out laughing at the absurdity of it all. Madigan was flying by the seat of his pants when their very lives could be in the balance and was doing it all as brazenly as one could imagine.

  “You will need accommodation, of course,” the Crow said as he gestured passively toward one of the subordinates at his
side. “Will you be staying in Undermyre long, then?”

  “As long as it takes, thank you,” said Madigan.

  The Crow smiled again at that, the dark, eerie, too-long-teeth smile that stretched his face. “Ah, as long as what, pray tell, takes, hmm?”

  Madigan remained quiet and glanced in his brother’s direction. Will stared back, embarrassed by the blank expression on his face. Madigan turned back to the Crow and spoke. “As long as—”

  “Perhaps, Crow,” Will found himself interrupting, “we could better discuss these matters in private? It is a matter of some delicacy.”

  The Crow’s sharp eyes darted to Will as soon as the words began to form in his throat, the force of the gaze threatening to drive him to his knees. Why did I speak up? What the hell was I thinking? At least the relief on Madigan’s face was welcome.

  “Wise words from such a young mind,” the Crow said. He still hadn’t blinked. “I do believe you are correct at that. Come. Follow and we shall discuss these…delicate matters.”

  He stood and turned sharply, retreating from the brightly lit room. Everyone separated to make a path so Will and Madigan could pass through the crowd of onlookers. Shifter smirked and turned on his heel, disappearing from sight into the throng. A moment passed. Finally, Madigan stepped close, giving his brother an appreciative nod. Together, battered and bloodied, the pair followed the Crow into the darkness.

  Will’s eyes struggled with the adjustment of moving from the brilliant light into a dim room. The edges on everything seemed to be all askew, the colors of the room flowing together, twisting and playing tricks on his brain. The Crow stood before a large chest and poured an amber liquid from a decanter into a small glass. He gestured to the brothers and motioned them forward.

  “When did you last eat?” the Crow said.

  Will suddenly realized how starving he was. “Too long ago.”

  “As I expected.” The man chuckled as he filled two more of the small glasses. Madigan crossed the room slowly while Will took stock of their surroundings. The room was not terribly large but definitely far from small. It was filled with ledgers and leather-bound books. Maps covered the walls and small, scribbled drawings were tacked up at random intervals. A large desk sat in a corner of the room, tidily maintained and angled toward the overly large chair that sat in the middle, its back turned to the door. Near the desk were multiple other, smaller, chairs, and a bench with a cushion placed atop.