Master of Shadows

by E. A. Copen

  Finn felt like he was going to be sick. That made Lucifer Morningstar his grandfather. The grandson of the devil himself. Wasn’t that a legacy? No wonder his mother had hidden him away in a tower.

  Gwen gave Finn a long, appraising look. “If that’s true, you’re not a full-blooded fae either. You’re part...whatever Osric was.”

  “An incubus,” said Adrix raising his cup for another drink. “Though you don’t seem to possess any of his weaknesses, at least as far as we know. You haven’t killed anyone you’ve slept with, have you?”

  Finn shrugged. “I’ve had some killer sex, but not quite like that.”

  “Good.” Adrix downed the rest of his drink and held the stone out to Finn. “Then take it. This rightfully belongs to you.”

  The orb dropped into Finn’s outstretched hands, heavier. Its smooth surface seemed to drink in the light as he turned it over, examining it in hopes the monk had left some instructions. The stone, however, was completely blank. “How does it work?”

  Adrix shook his head. “No one knows. No instructions were left with it other than to pass it to the monk’s descendant when he arrived. You are that descendant. We have protected it, and now we give it to you. Where it goes and what it does after today is as much a mystery to us as it is you, though we had hoped some intuitive or latent powers might awaken when you held it. Do you feel nothing? Nothing at all?”

  Finn turned the orb over in his hands again, frowning. He shook his head. “Nothing, but maybe I need to practice with it or something.” Maybe I need to find someone who actually knows what they’re doing. “So what was all that about being the Master of Shadows?”

  “It was a title held by the monk before he disappeared. They say he was able to bend shadows to his will, to pull them from the air and make them real. To him, a shadow was as good as a weapon or a doorway.”

  “So he could travel through shadows,” Foxglove said and glanced at Finn. “Is this not a common trait of your people?”

  Adrix’s face sobered. “If it were, many more of us would have survived the initial insurgence of the blight on our lands. As it is, I believe we are the last free stronghold in the entire country, and that might not hold once we lose the stone.” He glanced at the stone in Finn’s hands.

  Finn held it back out to him. “Then you should keep it.”

  “Finn!” Gwen pushed his hands away.

  “What?” Finn growled at her. “It’s not like I know how to use it, and it’s actually doing some good here. These people need it more than I do.”

  Her hands closed tighter over his and she gave him a stern look. “All of Faerie needs for you to have this stone, Finn, whether you know how to use it or not. We came all the way out here to put an end to the blight. This stone can do that.”

  “Not if I don’t know how to use it.” Finn shoved it forward.

  “You can learn.” Gwen shoved it back.

  Finn gritted his teeth. “Why is it everyone wants me to be something I’m not? All of you!” He gestured out to the room where all the chatter had stopped. “You think just because I’m someone’s great-great grandson that I can do this. Well, I can’t. I’m a coward and a thief who ran away. I wouldn’t have even come here if she hadn’t made me.” He pointed at Gwen.

  Foxglove stood. “You can’t blame Gwen for this. You didn’t even know her before the morning we left Summer.”

  Finn leveled his gaze at Gwen who gave him a warning glare. She’d be pissed if he revealed who she was to Foxglove, but he didn’t care. All he cared about at that moment was shutting her up and proving his point. “Of course I did, and you do too. She’s not Sir Gwen Nemain. She’s a phony and she’s wearing a glamour that fooled everyone here. Everyone except me.”

  Finn’s hand closed tighter around the stone. Power pulsed from deep inside it, flowing into him. With it, he could strip away the façade, revealing her for who she really was. Why shouldn’t he? All this time, she’d been acting like she was better than him, but she was no different. Remy was a deceiver, and it was time everyone else knew it.

  Black, shadowy tendrils of magic whipped out from his back, first one and then another. They raked through the air toward Remy, prompting Foxglove to draw his sword and the people gathered in the feast hall to scream in terror. Remy raised her hands defensively, but the spell didn’t harm her, at least not directly. It simply robbed her of her precious glamour.

  “Remy.” Her name escaped Foxglove’s throat in a shocked whisper. His sword clattered to the stone floor. “Gods, what are you doing here?”

  She turned away from him. “I promised I’d send my best fighters on this mission. Declan is the best with a bow, and after you, I’m the best swordsman.”

  Foxglove started to protest, but the long, loud blow of a horn silenced everyone in the room.

  “Fomorians!” Adrix shouted rising from his chair so fast that it toppled over behind him. “Rilvand is under attack! To arms!”

  Finn pocketed the stone. “You’d better hope you’re not wrong about how good you are, Your Highness. If this city falls, it won’t matter whether I know how to use this stupid rock or not. We’ll all be dead, and the Fomorians will have it.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Foxglove followed Adrix to the wall. Men rushed all around, moving barrels, grabbing quivers full of arrows, lighting more torches... The women and children rushed in groups to the feast hall where a secondary ring of torches was planted as a precaution. Adrix seemed sure that the Fomorians couldn’t breach the wall, but he had also been counting on the stone for protection. Now that it was in Finn’s hands...

  No, he thought, pushing past one of the soldiers on the narrow wooden walkway, I can’t think about that. The city must not fall. If the city fell, that would mean Remy would be in the hands of the enemy.

  What was she thinking, coming all the way out there with them? Didn’t she realize the danger? Not only was she at risk of being taken by the Fomorians now and becoming like that family of shadowy beings they’d encountered at the farm the night before, but now the townspeople could die.

  He glanced up and down the line of archers, dipping their arrows in black pitch and setting them alight on the torches. They had no idea that death walked among them, nor did they know that death would be preferable to capture.

  “The fire will slow them down,” Adrix said with his trademark confidence as they reached the highest point of the wall. “But it won’t stop them. Where did Prince Finnegan go?”

  Foxglove glanced around. He was sure Finn and Remy were right behind him moments ago, but there was no sign of them now. “I’m sure they’ll catch up to us soon.” He turned back to Adrix. “What’s your strategy?”

  Adrix gestured out over the wall. “This isn’t the first time they’ve tried to take the city. The archers will hold them back. If they get too close, there are barrels of pitch that can be dropped and set alight. Before, we placed the stone in the tower and the very presence of it seemed to drive them back.” For the first time, a hint of uneasiness crept into the commander’s voice, betraying his uncertainty. He didn’t know for sure that he could hold the wall without the stone.

  Foxglove gripped his shoulder. “I’ll find Finn and make sure he helps.”

  Adrix nodded, though Foxglove’s statement didn’t put him at ease.

  The horn sounded again and Foxglove caught sight of movement at the edge of the light provided by the torches. It was too dark to see their attackers fully, but there was no mistaking the movement of sharp, insectoid legs and weaving scorpion-like tails darting in and out of the light. Red eyes blinked and yellow teeth flashed. There were so many, hundreds. Maybe thousands. Impossible to tell if they were anything like the strange family they’d encountered on the farm and the Nightclaw. One thing was for certain, if the arrows and the pitch failed, Finn would be their last chance to save the city.

  Foxglove turned and rushed back the way he’d come, scanning the wall and the ground below for any sign of F
inn or Remy. Remy would want to fight, arguing they would need her sword, though she’d be safer in the feast hall with the other women and children. Of course, she’d balk at the suggestion, thinking he was treating her like a child again. Remy never saw the danger she put herself or others in, and it was a constant point of frustration both for Foxglove and her other advisors. Why couldn’t she see how important it was that she survive and return to rule Summer? That stubbornness was going to get her killed someday.

  He came down from the wooden wall, narrowly dodging a string of archers headed for the wall. Declan was among them. Foxglove stopped him by gripping his shoulders and pulling him from the line of men ascending the stairs. “Have you seen Finn or Remy?”

  He pointed in the other direction. “They were headed to the south wall.”

  Foxglove barely heard Declan since he was already rushing away in the direction the lad had pointed.

  The wooden wall that surrounded Rilvand must’ve been thirty feet tall and eight feet wide at the top, going all the way around the city. Two gates marked entrances and exits, both of which Adrix had kept manned twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. The south gate overlooked a river in the distance and lots of blackened farmland.

  As Foxglove raced atop the wall, searching for Finn and Remy, he glanced out at the darkness and saw it move as one writhing mass. Black vines tore themselves from the ground and whipped at the city as if they were living arms. One slammed into the wall hard enough to splinter the wood and send two archers flying. Another set grabbed the man right in front of Foxglove and tore him in half. Foxglove ducked under the shower of blood and viscera to grab a man who seemed to be in charge. “Have you seen Finn?”

  Before the man could answer, a rock bashed into the side of his head, leaving Foxglove holding a jerking corpse. He dropped the body and froze as something huge and black tore its way out of the ground just the other side of the wall. It was the size of a house with a single eye and masses of vines attached to its flabby, round body. The vines moved like arms, each one capable of knocking men from the wall four at a time. Two arms shot forward and gripped the wooden beams, pulling them free.

  A few brave men loosed flaming arrows at the creature, but it barely seemed to notice the fire before the flames hissed and went out.

  It’s not enough, Foxglove realized.

  The creature knocked over a whole line of torches with a deafening roar. Three more beams came free and a whole section of the wall tumbled in a cloud of debris. A breach. The battle had barely begun and already the enemy had breached the wall. One of the vine arms grabbed the closest beam. Foxglove vaulted over the side of the wall. He landed on the ground below in a crouch that sent a wave of pain reverberating up his back and legs. He shook it off and staggered forward, desperate to find Finn and Remy and escape the city before it fell. Foxglove knew a losing battle when he saw one.

  But throngs of people were everywhere. Soldiers rushed to replace their comrades at the wall. Other soldiers fled their posts, stampeding over anyone who got in their way. Women screamed and ran, wide-eyed, back and forth as if they couldn’t decide which direction to flee. Here and there, children stood, abandoned and crying for their mothers. Foxglove pushed through them all, shouting Remy’s name. Hopelessness chewed at his heart. In the chaos, how would he find her? They should’ve set up an emergency meeting place, a protocol. Something in case of emergency.

  There! Was that Finn? It looked like him from the back. Foxglove fought his way through the crowd to grab the man and spin him around, only to be disappointed when the face didn’t match. The stranger stumbled away from him, running for his life.

  “Remy!” Foxglove put his hands to his mouth to shout over the screams and the groaning wood of the wall as it came down. “Finn!”

  Someone bumped into him. He turned, drawing his sword, ready to face down whatever monster might’ve made it into the city. Remy stared back at him, teeth gritted, a sword of her own threatening.

  “Remy?” He gripped her shoulders. “Thank the gods. I thought I’d lost you.”

  “Where’s Finn?”

  Foxglove’s heart sank. It shouldn’t have mattered that Finn would be the first person she would ask after instead of whether he was hurt, but somehow it still stung. “I don’t know. I thought he was with you.”

  She shook her head. “We were on our way to the south wall and he bolted.”

  Just like Finn, the coward. He’d run at the first opportunity. Didn’t matter. Foxglove’s primary objective had to be getting Remy to safety, and that meant getting her out of the city. Finn would just have to make it on his own.

  “Come on,” Foxglove said, putting an arm around Remy and ushering her away from the middle of town. “We have to get out of here.”

  She resisted. “But the city! The wall! All these people!”

  “Rilvand is lost. The wall is coming down.”

  “But we can defend them. As long as someone is still standing—”

  Foxglove spun around to confront her. “You don’t get it, do you? These people are dying, Remy. Dying. That wouldn’t be happening if you weren’t here. The best thing you can do for these people is to get as far away from them as possible!”

  Her face changed as if he’d slapped her, eyes widening. Her jaw trembled. Remy blinked and a single tear slid down the side of her face.

  Foxglove tightened an arm around her again to lead her away. Dammit all, he’d been too hard on her again, but it couldn’t be helped. She wasn’t a child any longer. Remy had to realize that her rash actions had dire consequences. She couldn’t just run off and do as she pleased, no matter how much she wanted to.

  He led her toward the north wall, which had yet to fall, but hesitated when it came into sight. Once they reached the wall, then what? They couldn’t go out of the city, not without running into the Fomorian army. Even with her magic, Remy couldn’t get them through. They needed Finn for that, and he was still missing.

  Green light flashed off to Foxglove’s left. He turned, expecting to see one of the monsters climbing over the wall. Instead, he spotted Finn standing alone on a section of the wall, one hand raised, clutching the glowing stone. Light danced around him in a hazy green fog, illuminating arms of black magic extending from his back like wings. Another one of the round vine monsters slapped at him with its viney arms, but each time it struck the glowing green miasma around Finn, its arms caught fire and it had to retreat. Finn thrust his arm and the stone forward, sending a flashing pulse of green and purple magic into the creature. It pierced the creature’s flesh like an arrow. A moment later, the vine monster exploded, sending a shower of black ichor down on everything.

  “I thought he said he didn’t know how to use that thing,” Foxglove said, dumbfounded.

  “Look!” Remy pointed to a Nightclaw that had just jumped over the wall, its attention focused solely on Finn. Another followed. “We have to help.”

  That was all the push Foxglove needed to run for the wall. He reached it just as the first Nightclaw swung its razor-sharp claws at Finn. Foxglove’s sword came down on the creature’s fingers and bounced off as if the Nightclaw were made of stone with a resounding crack. It hissed in Foxglove’s face with putrid breath. Remy drove the pommel of her sword into the monster’s head, momentarily distracting it. That was all they could do since no weapon could harm the Fomorians.

  “Finn!” Foxglove shouted, hoping for an assist.

  Finn turned away from the wall and reached out. His fist closed around Foxglove’s sword and he squeezed until red blood flowed freely down the blade.

  Foxglove stared at the blood dripping from Finn’s fist. “What are you doing?”

  There was no time to answer. The second Nightclaw was upon them, snapping knife-like teeth. Foxglove raised his sword on instinct when it slashed at his face, but instead of simply bouncing off the monster’s skin, the sword severed three of the Nightclaw’s fingers.

  The creature howled in rage and leapt from
the wall in search of an easier target.

  His blood? Foxglove gaped at the crimson smear on his blade. Was that really all it took to hurt them? Why? How?

  Remy fell to the ground with a frustrated scream, barely managing to get her sword up in front of her to keep the Nightclaw from tearing open her throat.

  Foxglove leaped down from the wall and landed on the creature’s back to drive his sword into its neck. It let out a low gurgling sound and fell to its knees, thrashing for a moment, before slumping to the side, dead.

  Remy stared at him, stunned. “How?”

  Foxglove kicked the Nightclaw, just to make sure, and nodded to Finn who stood on the wall, sending out more bolts of explosive power. “He did something to my sword. I don’t know what.”

  “We still need to get him and get out of here, Foxglove.”

  Above, Finn suddenly teetered. He took a step back from the wall, then fell like dead weight. Foxglove and Remy both rushed to catch him before he hit the ground, but Declan got there first. He seemed to come out of nowhere, arriving just in time to catch Finn by the shoulders.

  Foxglove caught one arm and Remy grabbed both legs. At least his head didn’t hit the rocky ground, but his eyes were closed as if he’d simply lost consciousness.

  Foxglove shifted Finn’s weight to put a hand over his nose and mouth. “He’s breathing.”

  “Can you carry him?” Remy asked.

  He looked out over the city. It was swarming with Nightclaws and other dark creatures bearing scorpion tails, tentacles, and dozens of eyes. Finding a way through the invading army to safety would be even more difficult without Finn’s help, but perhaps not impossible.

  “Stay with me,” Foxglove said, handing Remy his sword. “If anything gets too close, kill it with that. Declan, shoot anything that looks our way. Whatever you do, don’t fall behind.” He shifted Finn’s weight onto his shoulder with a grunt and the two of them headed for the closest, emptiest breach in the wall they could find.