Shadowborne

by Matthew Callahan

Morella scowled and stormed past him into the passage and out of sight.

  Mad’s brow furrowed. “Lover’s quarrel?”

  “I have no idea.” Will shook his head as he stared in the direction Morella had gone.

  Madigan’s mouth was a thin line. “Best not let her get too far ahead,” he said. “Let’s go.”

  Morella didn’t acknowledge either of them when they caught up with her. She walked at the edge of Madigan’s Shade, taking it upon herself to lead. Will’s key continued its hum as they moved but she walked with such determination that he was not about to question or contradict her. The key soon began to pop with electricity again, small sparks that sent his heart racing, but he kept his mouth closed.

  As the passages twisted and wound, the ground began to slope downward. They passed through a large stairwell in the middle of a huge, darkened room lined with columns. Down and down their path took them and slowly, ever so slowly, signs of recent inhabitation began to appear. A trace of smoke on the air. A door left ajar which, when Madigan risked opening it fully, led to a storeroom. But they neither heard nor saw any other soldiers. It had been more than an hour since their arrival and they had nothing to show for it.

  Suddenly, Morella cursed and backed up against the wall. Ahead of them in the long hall, walking away from the party, was one of the Shale. She whirled on Will and Madigan. “This is ridiculous,” she spat, and Will was again taken aback. “We wander and hope to find him? This is your brilliant plan to save the world?”

  “Do you have a better one?” Madigan said coolly as he met her glare with one of his own.

  “We ask someone,” she said venomously.

  Madigan snickered. “You want to politely ask one of those, those things if they wouldn’t mind terribly giving us directions to something they wish to keep secret?” He rolled his eyes. “Oh yes, sounds brilliant.”

  “Mad.” Will raised a hand to placate him. “Maybe she’s right, we can’t just wander forever.”

  “And how, pray tell, do you suggest we go about such a thing, Morella?”

  She glared at Madigan and Will caught the hint of a smile in her expression. “We carve it out of them.”

  “Whoa, what?” Will turned his attention back to Morella. “We what?”

  “We can’t leave them alive afterwards, regardless.” Her expression was hard and she gave a noncommittal shrug. Her knife appeared rapidly, twirling between her fingers. “First we ensure our information is correct and then we dispose of them.”

  “You can’t be serious,” Madigan said with a disgusted sneer. “That’s not—no, that isn’t how it’s done. Will, back me up here.”

  Will was about to agree with his brother when Morella’s face changed for a brief moment. She looked at him with such earnest hope and fire that, for a moment, she was once again the laughing, dancing girl in the bar. She was the girl who breathed life and passion. Who pulled him close to her, regardless of the world around her. She looked at Will and something inside his throat seemed to drop and fall into his gut.

  “Maybe she’s right, Mad,” Will said. The words were strained. He wasn’t sure if he believed them, but he said them.

  Madigan stared incredulously at Will before turning back to Morella. The shock faded. His face grew passive, disappointed. He shook his head and stepped back. “This one’s on you.”

  Will felt sick. Morella slipped out from the shadows and moved forward with her blade poised to strike. She stalked the Shale in silence. The way she moved was completely foreign to Will, as if a veil of cruelty covered her entire form. The woman before him was a killer; there was no joy in her heart, no love in her soul. She was a bringer of death and ruin. He gave his brother a pleading glance and then set off after her. Madigan cursed and followed.

  Morella was outside the reach of Madigan’s Shade but it didn’t matter, the Shale was unaware. It descended another long flight of stairs and Will quickened his pace when Morella disappeared from his sight. He reached the stair and started down just as she set off through a low-ceilinged passage. At the end of the passage was a large double door with light peering through from the other side.

  Will’s key began to pop and crackle, hot against his skin. A wave of sudden dread swelled up over him and he sprinted down the stairs, taking them two, three at a time. At the landing he saw Morella right behind the Shale, blade in hand, preparing to strike. The warrior shoved open the door and light flooded into the corridor.

  Will ran for Morella.

  Behind the double door was a grand hall, impossibly large for being far underground. Within the hall sat what seemed to be the entirety of the Shale army. When the doors swung open and the lone soldier stepped through, Morella was completely and utterly exposed in front of all of them, frozen. For the space of a blink she was laid bare, plain for all to see, weapon in hand.

  Then Will was upon her, shielding her in the soothing darkness of his Shade and ripping her back from the light.

  The two of them crashed to the ground as the door eased itself shut. Morella’s eyes were wide and white. No sound came from the army, no footfalls on ground or cries to arms. They had escaped unseen.

  27

  The Prisoner of Shale

  The hazy fog of darkness around them dissipated. Will removed his hand from where he had inadvertently cupped it over Morella’s mouth. “Are you okay?”

  “How did you do that?” Morella stared wide-eyed, her skin nearly ghost white.

  “I…I…” Will stammered.

  “He didn’t do anything,” a groaning voice at their back said. Will turned and saw Madigan, doubled over and leaning against the wall with his noctori in hand. “I, apparently, overextended.”

  Trepidation gave way to relief as Will listened. It was a farce, of course. Madigan had seen what Will had done and was covering for him. My brother, ever the hero. He gave Mad a quick, appreciative nod and rose to his feet. Morella, shaking, did the same.

  “Are you two okay?” Madigan asked. They both nodded. Morella looked stricken.

  “There were so many of them,” she said in disbelief. “An impossible number.”

  “I’ve changed my mind.” Will’s voice was shaky. His brother and Morella both gave him furtive glances. “I think I’d prefer to wander aimlessly over dealing with any of them.”

  Morella wrapped her arms around herself and nodded, eyes downcast.

  Madigan pushed himself away from the wall, apparently recovered from his charade. But Will could see that there was, in fact, something off about his coloring. Something sickly. “There was a door back there at the bottom of the stairs,” Madigan said, slightly out of breath. “Let’s try that and see where we get.”

  They doubled back then and moved with even greater caution. The close encounter had shown Will just how many warriors of Shale there were, and he had no intention of allowing them to become aware of their presence. Nothing could stand against so many.

  Madigan moved with his noctori drawn. He encircled them tightly with his Shade, bathing them in darkness. Still, Will felt exposed. Naked. Before long it became apparent that perhaps the Shade alone wouldn’t be enough to keep them concealed. He wanted nothing more than to help, to wrap them in his own Shade for protection. But it would have revealed everything to Morella. She believed Madigan about the rescue and Will thought it best to follow his brother’s lead.

  The maze of corridors continued deeper underground. The air grew thin, electric, sending the hairs on the back of his neck standing. Far from normal static though, there was something different about the energy. It was power, raw and primal. The lower they went, the more Will felt it bite at his skin. Like the key at his chest, the air itself was vibrant and alive with magic.

  He glanced at Madigan. A thin sheen of sweat was on his brother’s forehead and he periodically rolled his shoulder back and forth. Morella, too, had adopted a strange twitch at the corner of her eye. She glanced around constantly, scanning the low roof above them and every curve of the wal
l with a harsh intensity.

  “I need to stop,” Madigan said finally, slouching against the wall. “I can’t… whatever this energy is, it’s too much.”

  “Something’s wrong,” Morella agreed. “This isn’t right.”

  Will glanced around. The light of hall made the darkness of the Shade stand out. “Mad, release your Shade. It’s a strain and it isn’t helping right now.”

  Madigan glanced at Morella. She nodded quickly and the hint of darkness around the trio vanished. Now, they truly were exposed. Madigan collapsed breathless against the wall and slid down to a crouch, placing his head between his knees and allowing the noctori to fizzle out. Morella fidgeted back and forth, flicking her fingers open and closed and shaking her head.

  “This is wrong,” she said again.

  “What do you mean?” Will asked as he stepped over to check on Madigan. His brother waved him away and pushed himself back to his feet.

  “Valmont was Shadowborne,” she continued. “Practically his whole army was made up of Shadowborne. If his forces were in control of the Shale there wouldn’t be the slightest hint of Radiance here, his minions wouldn’t be able to stomach it. But somehow it’s as if this entire place is flooded in it.”

  “What are you saying?” Madigan still sounded breathless.

  “You should be feeling empowered,” she said. “Instead, you’re faltering.”

  Will snapped his attention away from his brother and back to Morella. “Mind elaborating?” he said as he glanced past her and back down the corridor.

  “That’s why the air is affecting Madigan so much. This whole place is fighting against everything he is.” She gestured to the area and shifted uncomfortably. “The static. The stifling heat. Radiant energy is coursing through the entire prison and it’s only getting stronger the farther down we go. Shadow and Radiance don’t coexist well.”

  “That’s not a bad thing,” Madigan said through clenched teeth. He strained to push forward again. “It just means Valmont’s forces aren’t in control.”

  Will’s mind suddenly raced. “But if it was to control a prisoner, if a Shadowborne could be subdued by this much Radiant energy…”

  “Then the Shale could be guarding a Shadowborne.” Madigan picked up his brother’s train of thought. “Putting them into a weakened state.”

  “Morella,” Will said, thrilled and terrified simultaneously, “what were you saying about Valmont being alive?”

  Morella’s face dropped as realization dawned on her. “Gods above and below,” she cursed, shaking her head. “This just got even more dangerous than I imagined.”

  “And if it is him,” Madigan said with a hint of strength returning to his voice, “then he’ll be weakened just like me.”

  Wait, no, Will suddenly realized. That can’t be right.

  The truth was, he would have loved to believe it. But if Radiance affected Shadowborne the way Morella said, Will would have been just as incapacitated as his brother. But he wasn’t. He was fine. Plus, it wouldn’t explain why Morella was exhibiting signs of discomfort. Something’s wrong here, something we’re not seeing.

  Morella shook her head and straightened up a bit. “No, I don’t think it works like that. Nothing I’ve read suggests that is a possibility.”

  Will shook his head. We need to move. Whatever’s wrong, we won’t find out what it is by sitting here. “Well, there’s only one way to figure it out. We press on and do what we came here to do.”

  “Valmont or no,” Madigan said, “Will’s right, we need to figure out what the hell is going on.”

  They set off. The air pulsed and more than once Madigan had to pause for a break. Progress slowed even more the farther they descended. Will cast anxious glances at his brother, who was looking worse and worse. After Madigan stumbled three times in a short number of steps, Will had had enough. They approached a fork in the corridors and Madigan slumped against one of the walls for support before lurching toward the left passage. Without waiting, Will gripped the hilt of his fang and guided the restorative power toward his brother. Color flooded back into his brother’s cheeks in a sudden rush.

  Then, the power was gone. The weapon’s stores had run dry.

  “Will,” he gasped as Morella groaned. “What have you done?”

  “You’re our muscle in here, Mad,” Will responded sharper than intended. “You’re the Shadowborne trained in weaponry by Jervin Thorne himself. We need you primed for whatever may come.”

  “And if what comes involves the need of your fangs, we’re just out of luck now?” Morella said, her snark laid bare as she glared.

  “Yes,” Will said. Back and forth and back and forth with that one, ever since we got in here. “Up until recently we did just fine without their power. If we play it smart, we’ll keep being just fine.”

  Madigan’s face bristled with frustration but he threw up his hands and pushed past his brother. “There’s nothing for it now. Let’s move.”

  “At least you seem to be feeling better,” Will quipped after him. Madigan turned and glared. Will smiled back at him, trying desperately to come off with more nonchalance than he actually felt. We’ll be fine, he tried to say through the look, I’m still your ace in the hole. His brother growled and spun away, somehow managing to move silently as he went storming down the halls.

  The air began to change again. The thickness disappeared and instead the atmosphere grew impossibly dry. Disconcerted, Will scanned the area. There was no dust floating in the air, as though the air itself was oppressively preventing it. Always something with the damn dust.

  They each threw off the hoods of their cloaks but before long they were all sweating. This just keeps getting better and better. It was not until he removed his hood that Will realized he couldn’t recall how long it had been since they had passed a door. Thinking back, there hadn’t been any junctions since Madigan stumbled. Wherever the path was taking them, it was isolated from the majority of the prison and kept deep underground. The perfect location for containing a murderous psychopath.

  Morella suddenly reached out and grabbed Madigan’s shoulder and stopped him. All three of them froze as, voice barely audible, she spoke. “Movement at the end of the corridor. There, up ahead of us.”

  How she had managed to see it was beyond Will. Far ahead of them the corridor curved slightly and came to an end at a large, arched doorway. Within whatever lay beyond were the faintest flickers of motion, hardly distinguishable from half the distance.

  “Well.” Madigan rolled his shoulders and drew his noctori. “Looks like we’ve arrived.”

  Morella withdrew her own dagger and a wicked-looking stiletto Will hadn’t seen before. It reminded him of the one used by Commander Shifter, but this blade was a strange blend of red and purple, like the skin of a plum. “Let’s end this,” she said, a dark smile spreading across her fair features.

  Will suddenly realized how dry his mouth had become. He flicked his fingers and shook his wrists before drawing his saber. It was still pristine, untested. He was so nervous that he stifled a laugh. Mad and Morella both glanced back at him and he put on what he hoped was a dashing smile.

  “Let’s go say hello, shall we?”

  The group closed the distance to the end of the path quickly. A hum filled the air. The room before them was an entryway to a larger chamber spread over three levels connected by ancient rafters and scaffolding. The motion they had seen was the distant flickering of the shadows of four Shale. They were on the platform below them and they maneuvered around a collection of bizarre machines unlike any Will had ever seen.

  In the center of the bottommost level was a clear box with a rack inside it. A piece of a man was strapped to it. No, multiple pieces of a man. An arm and the upper part of a chest appeared to be there but then, a moment later, it looked to be his other arm or perhaps a leg. The more Will stared, the more the pieces seemed to fade in and out of existence, fluctuating before his eyes.

  “Valmont.” Madigan’s
whisper was filled with a cruel hunger. “It’s really him.”

  “It’s him,” Morella said through gritted teeth, her voice filled with a growling rage.

  Will couldn’t take his eyes off the body. “Why does he seem to be…”

  “Gods, he’s phased,” Morella whispered. Will glanced at her and raised an eyebrow. “Just like the Shale prison phases between worlds. Somehow they’ve managed to do it to a prisoner.”

  “You’re saying that he’s here but not here?” Mad asked, unable to take his eyes off the distorted mass of flickering human flesh.

  “That’s what I’m saying,” Morella said. “They must have managed to suppress his powers by splicing him between worlds.”

  “That’s horrifying.” Will shook his head as the pieces of the man twitched and strained against their bonds.

  “No less than what he deserves,” Madigan said.

  Morella shot him a harsh look and then crept forward, risking a glance. “We should take out the controllers first. Get him solid and whole back in this plane.”

  “Wait, won’t that make him stronger?” Will asked. I can’t believe we’re actually doing this. “And whatever happened to gathering intel?”

  “Damn intel,” Madigan growled.

  Morella nodded back to Will. “Yes, ultimately it will make him stronger. But I can only imagine the strain and torture his mind is under now, being ripped apart like that. He’ll be weak.”

  “And we don’t know if we could do anything to him with him phased like that,” Madigan agreed. “She’s right, we can’t leave any room for doubt.” His voice had hardened, adopting an impassive timbre that Will didn’t recognize. He didn’t like it.

  “Four Shale and Dorian Valmont,” Will said. He felt like he was on the deck of a sailboat that suddenly lurched. His head swam, but he drew his face into a mask of a smirk that was filled with far more confidence than he felt. “Right. This should be easy.”

  Without another word, Madigan shrouded them in darkness. In silence, they crept forward to the stone ladder carved from the wall and considered. Will risked a glance over the ledge. The drop to the lower level was not much more than eight feet, easily made, but could they make it in silence? There was only one way to find out. Replacing his weapon, Will crouched and gripped his hands on the ledge before him as Morella followed suit. Madigan remained by the ladder, noctori gripped firmly in one hand, the other clasping the rail embedded in the wall. They watched the Shale below for a moment—none had the slightest idea of what was about to befall them.