Shadowless

by Randall McNally

  Santhom bit her lip. Amrodan was telling her all of this for a reason; he relayed information only on a need-to-know basis. She was just not quite sure what the reason was.

  She looked across the refectory. It was large and airy and groups of monks gathered at different parts of its four long tables to enjoy a warm meal and some light conversation. They spoke in hushed tones and discussed the chores each had been assigned that day.

  ‘What are you going to do?’ she asked, turning back to Amrodan.

  ‘Someone is going to have to go to Wyndgiríth to recover Lórkrond’s arm.’

  ‘There are over a hundred thousand people living in Wyndgiríth. Looking for this thing would be like looking for a needle in a haystack. Who is going to go? You?’

  ‘I’m afraid not; a ghost from my past has appeared in Pinedale. I must travel there and confront it.’

  ‘Then who will go?’

  Amrodan smiled warmly. ‘Your ability to pass through walls would be invaluable for retrieving the arm, Santhom. If it is locked away, who else could get to it without breaking in or killing someone?’

  Santhom shook her head.

  Amrodan leaned across the table. ‘I know in which street the messenger was robbed, and if you can determine…’

  ‘Hold on, hold on.’ She put her hands up. ‘Even if I do go; how am I meant to find out who robbed the messenger, knock on doors?’

  ‘Just watch the thieves operating, from the darkness. When they rob someone, follow them and find out where they store their ill-gotten gains. That is where you will find the arm,’ he insisted, desperation audible in his voice.

  ‘This is a long shot, Amrodan,’ Santhom stressed. ‘I do not like the idea of walking around crime-infested areas of a strange city, late at night, on my own.’

  ‘You will not be on your own.’

  ‘Oh, so who will be accompanying me? Valan? Arpherius?’

  ‘Hello, Santhom. Have you got fatter since the last time we met?’

  Santhom turned to see Pandimonia standing in the doorway, blowing her bright-red hair away from her face.

  ‘You have got to be joking.’

  It was late afternoon and the two women had been travelling since first light. With their horses fed and tied to the low-hanging branches of a sycamore tree, Santhom took the opportunity to get rest. Using her rucksack as a pillow she lay under a tree.

  The Delathorn countryside was awash with colour. Winter had given way to spring and the trees and plants were flowering, breaking up the green with yellows, blues and reds.

  Santhom lay with her hands behind her head, feeling the breeze on her face. Listening to the chirping of small birds and the bubbling of a nearby steam, she smiled at how her life had changed. For over a hundred years, she had mostly known only the stone interior of her den underneath the royal palace in Yavalon, accessible only by tunnels. Whenever she left her lair it had to be when the moon was most prominent. Prowling the city and surrounding areas in the dead of night, Santhom’s world had been one of darkness and shadows; it was one she was not keen to return to.

  Half-asleep, she felt hot breath on her cheek and opened her eyes to see Pandimonia’s face a few inches away from her own. Santhom scrambled away, reaching for her dagger.

  ‘What the hell are you doing?’

  ‘I was only looking at you,’ Pandimonia said, returning to the campfire she was building.

  ‘You scared me half to death,’ Santhom shouted, lying down again.

  ‘You’re so jumpy,’ Pandimonia said, with a smirk.

  ‘I wonder why. Oh, I know, perhaps it is because you have killed scores of us.’

  ‘You’re such a drama queen. It was barely double figures.’

  Santhom shook her head in disbelief. Pandimonia continued to build and then light the fire.

  Until setting out from Rith two weeks ago, Santhom’s interaction with Pandimonia had been minimal. She had brought food to her cell a few times, and had been there when Amrodan had questioned her about her crimes. Santhom did not dislike Pandimonia, as many others of her kind did, although she was angered by the other woman’s past crimes. In truth, Santhom was intrigued by her travelling companion and, as someone guarded and quiet by nature, rather enjoyed Pandimonia’s audacity and brashness. Pandimonia was charismatic – she oozed confidence and epitomised charm, and the disregard she had for authority often came across as flirtation rather than rebelliousness.

  ‘You have beautiful eyes, Santhom.’

  ‘Oh, you have got to be kidding me,’ Santhom said. ‘Have you been in a cell so long that anyone will do?’

  Pandimonia raised an eyebrow. ‘Don’t flatter yourself.’

  ‘What is it then?’

  ‘It doesn’t matter. If you’re going to scoff, then forget I said anything.’

  Usually, rudeness was not in Santhom’s nature. ‘I did not mean to snap. Say what it was you were going to say.’

  ‘That look you have. I’ve seen it before. A long time ago. Telimar. He had the same piercing green eyes as you.’

  ‘I remember hearing you tell Amrodan what happened. You were with him when he was killed.’

  ‘You remind me of him. The same features… the same mannerisms… always seeing the good in people.’

  ‘I would have liked to have met him,’ Santhom said.

  ‘You think about him every day.’

  ‘How do you know that?’

  ‘You forget what my power is.’

  ‘You have been reading my mind?’ Santhom asked in a stern tone.

  ‘Calm down, there’s not too much going on in there. Besides, what else am I supposed to do? I’ve been locked in that cell for twelve years; I have to amuse myself somehow.’

  Santhom crossed her arms. Pandimonia moved closer and handed over some trail rations.

  ‘What was it like for you? I mean when he died… I’ve heard stories, but I’ve never known anyone that it’s happened to,’ Pandimonia said.

  ‘It was strange,’ Santhom began, nibbling on the food. ‘The sun was about to rise and I was on my way home. I had a vision of an underwater fight. Telimar died and I got struck with a ball of light. I collapsed and began vomiting as my lungs filled with water, then I changed.’

  ‘You got his powers?’

  ‘Amrodan told me that the sphere which hit me contained a fragment of Telimar’s spirit. My body used to be very slight and slender. After the incident it became more muscular. I was stronger and faster, could run for hours, and could breathe at the bottom of the sea like him.’

  Pandimonia stared into space, as though trying to recall a memory.

  ‘And you? Did you love Telimar?’ Santhom inquired.

  ‘I didn’t really know him long enough to love him,’ Pandimonia said, pulling up bits of grass and letting them float away on the breeze. ‘But he did make me think about what I was doing. It was after meeting him that I too began to change. He was a kind person.’

  Santhom nibbled more trail rations. Then, remembering an old saying she had once heard about leopards and spots, she discreetly smelled the food and checked for signs of poison.

  ‘I have changed,’ Pandimonia insisted.

  ‘Just checking,’ Santhom said, smiling.

  For the next month they rode through Delathorn, winding through valleys and gorges, finally cresting the hill that allowed them to look out over the vale where Wyndgiríth lay.

  Wyndgiríth had once been the capital city of Delathorn, and the jewel in its crown. The city had been the envy of the surrounding realms, now bards told tales of woe and sang songs about a city stripped of splendour. Its fall from grace had been as spectacular as it was rapid. Heavy taxation of merchants and corruption by city officials had resulted in a decline in the number of city guard units patrolling the streets. This had led to some of the more unsavoury e
lements of society creeping into parts of the city that they had not dared enter before.

  The pair set up camp in a small coppice on the hill, waiting for night, when Santhom’s powers were at their strongest. As the sun was setting the two slipped into the city and made their way to the eastern part with the help of a map drawn by Amrodan’s messenger. The full moon was hanging low in the sky when the two reached a stable yard.

  ‘This is it,’ Santhom said, looking at the map. ‘Look at the thugs on the street corner.’

  ‘Why the hell did the messenger travel to this area?’

  ‘He probably got lost. More to the point, how are we going to find the thief?’

  Pandimonia expelled a puff of air through her nose.

  ‘Stand back; finding people in a crowded city is my speciality.’

  Leaning against a fence-post, she closed her eyes. Seconds turned to minutes as Santhom watched Pandimonia home in on her target.

  Time passed and Santhom was walking around the stable yard, trying to get rid of the numbness in her feet, when Pandimonia sprang forward from her trance.

  ‘Got him.’

  The two moved swiftly after their target, never letting him get more than ten yards away. It was not long before he had led them into the heart of the worst part of the city. After shadowing him for a quarter of a mile, they stopped following him and tried to cut him off at the next street. They ran into an alleyway, and hid behind a pile of wooden crates, watching.

  Armed men walked along the pavements while youths snooped round buildings before darting between passageways. Scantily clad women stood on street corners whistling to any man who came close to them.

  ‘What a dive,’ Santhom muttered.

  ‘Does it make you homesick?’ Pandimonia asked.

  Santhom just rolled her eyes.

  The pickpocket who was their target emerged from a sidestreet and scurried towards a tavern – a large two-storey limestone building with a brown-slate roof. Its curtains were drawn and music could be heard coming from within. Outside the tavern, three men stood talking. Heavy-set and gruff, their demeanour suggested they were not the type to get on the wrong side of.

  The pair watched their target shake hands with one of the men then disappear inside.

  ‘We need to get in there,’ Pandimonia said.

  Santhom straightened her tunic before stepping out of the alleyway.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Pandimonia whispered, grabbing at her arm. But too late. Santhom evaded her grasp and marched towards the tavern.

  You can do this, she thought. Be yourself and everything will be fine.

  As Santhom approached the tavern. The men stopped talking. The largest man stepped forward, the scars on his face and neck advertised the fact that he was no stranger to violence.

  ‘Where do you think you are going?’ he said in a hoarse voice.

  ‘I am just meeting a friend inside for a drink,’ she said, attempting to enter the tavern.

  Two of the men stepped in front of the door, blocking her path.

  ‘Sorry, darlin’. Regulars only tonight.’

  Right, Santhom; time to use your feminine wiles.

  ‘Would any of you gentlemen like to have sex with me?’ she blurted.

  Two of the men burst out laughing and soon tears were rolling down their cheeks. While the largest man shook his head in disbelief. ‘I think you’d better go home, sweetie,’ he remarked.

  Santhom felt her face going red. She slunk back to the alleyway.

  ‘Slick, Santhom,’ she muttered. ‘Really slick.’

  ‘What happened?’ Pandimonia demanded, as Santhom hunkered down beside her.

  ‘Do not ask.’

  ‘I am bloody well asking, because if you’ve alerted them to the real reason we’re here then I need to know.’

  ‘I did not alert them to anything,’ Santhom snapped.

  Pandimonia stared at her.

  ‘All right… I tried to get into the tavern by propositioning them.’

  ‘You did what? And how did that go?’

  ‘Well it appears not to have worked, doesn’t it?’ she snarled.

  ‘Poor Santhom. Did the boys not find you pretty?’

  Pandimonia got to her feet and smoothed her leather trousers down. She undid the top buttons on her leather jerkin and shirt, exposing her cleavage. Bending over she untied her hair and riffled through it with her fingers, then flicked it back. Her mass of thick red hair spread out like a fiery mane.

  She tucked her sheathed fighting knife into her jerkin.

  ‘Watch this,’ she said.

  Head up, her shoulders back, and swinging her hips, Pandimonia strutted along the pavement and walked up to the tavern, her boots clicking on the paving stones. She sashayed, in an exaggerated manner, causing the lower half of her body to gyrate.

  How the hell does she get her hips to move like that? Santhom thought.

  Pandimonia passed the men, who again stopped talking. One of them called out, causing her to stop and turn. Her hair whipped round, partially covering her face when it came to rest. She approached the men and began talking to them, flicking her hair and touching their arms. Soon, Pandimonia was ushered inside the tavern by the largest of the men.

  Unbelievable, Santhom thought. What a bitch.

  The tavern was crowded, mostly with men, and a thick noxious-smelling smoke, which caught in the back of her throat, hung in the air.

  ‘So what do you want to drink, Pandemonium?’ one of the ruffians who had spoken to her outside the tavern asked.

  ‘It’s Pandimonia, and you can buy me a goblet of wine,’ she said with a smile.

  They approached the bar and the man ordered a goblet of wine and a tankard of ale.

  Pandimonia looked at her drink. The glass was three-quarters full.

  ‘I said a goblet, not a half-goblet.’

  The man behind the bar glanced at Pandimonia’s companion, who nodded. He filled the goblet up to the top. The man lifted his tankard of ale, smiling at Pandimonia.

  ‘A toast to your good health.’

  Pandimonia downed the wine. She set the goblet down and licked her lips.

  ‘You really needed that,’ the man said, a surprised look on his face.

  ‘You have no idea. So, why don’t you show me your room?’

  The ruffian set down his drink, and taking Pandimonia by the hand, he led her past couples kissing on the stairs and a group of men smoking evil-smelling pipes in the corridor.

  Reaching a door, the man took out a key and unlocked it. He entered the room and beckoned Pandimonia inside.

  The chamber contained a bed, a table and a stand with an oil-lamp on it, and nothing else.

  ‘I hope you’re as good as you say,’ the man said, taking a handful of Pandimonia’s hair and smelling it as she walked past him.

  ‘You’ll find I’m full of surprises,’ she said, winking.

  Pandimonia scanned the room for escape routes and dangers.

  That window faces the front of the tavern, she thought; if I need to, I should be able to climb out.

  The man slapped her backside. ‘Let’s see what you’ve got.’

  ‘You first,’ she insisted, curling her hair with her fingers.

  The man smiled and took off his boots. Then he turned away and unbuckled his belt letting his trousers slide to the floor.

  Pandimonia came up behind him and put the blade of her fighting knife by his scrotum, covering his mouth with her other hand.

  ‘You’re so close to becoming a eunuch,’ she whispered. ‘I’m going to ask you questions and for each wrong answer, I’m going to cut a piece of you off. Nod if you understand.’

  ‘What do you think you’re playing at?’ he said, his muffled voice barely comprehendible.

  Pandimonia p
ressed the blade against the man’s genitals.

  He made a nervous noise and nodded frantically.

  ‘I know that your gang operates out of this tavern, and I’m guessing you’re responsible for most of the crime in the area. Is that right?’

  The ruffian nodded.

  ‘A man passed through here recently and was robbed. He had an item in his possession: a stone arm. Do you know the item?’

  The man did not respond. Once more, Pandimonia pressed the knife against his genitals, drawing blood. He nodded furiously.

  ‘I’m going to remove my hand from your mouth and you’re going to tell me where this item is, and if you scream I’m going to cut off everything down here,’ she said.

  She took her hand from the man’s mouth, sliding the blade across his skin.

  ‘It’s in the cellar,’ he muttered.

  ‘Good boy. Now, get on the bed.’

  Pandimonia tied the man to the bed, gagging him with his socks, and then drew the curtains back a little way. There were still two men outside the front door of the tavern.

  She locked the door from the inside and lifted the oil-lamp, grinning at the man.

  He began to panic; pulling at his restraints and trying to shout.

  ‘There was a time when I’d have set you on fire without a thought,’ she said, swirling the oil in the lamp. ‘Now, I’m a better person so I’m going to give you a fighting chance.’

  She threw the lamp at the door. The lamp smashed and set the wood ablaze. The oil poured underneath it and into the corridor, and she could hear a commotion quickly follow.

  As the fire spread around the bedroom, Pandimonia opened the window. She saw the two men disappear inside. Climbing out of the window she dropped onto the pavement.

  Santhom was running up the street.

  ‘What did you do, Pandimonia?’ she asked, panting.

  ‘I’ll tell you later,’ she said, grabbing Santhom by the arm and pulling her around the corner to the side of the tavern. There, Pandimonia found the outside door to the cellar and tried it.

  ‘Locked. Right, the arm’s in this cellar. Do your thing and get it open.’