Spellbreaker

by S A McClure

  Her hand lingered on the latch. The knocking ceased, as if the person on the other side could sense she was there. She gulped. Her hands shaking, she clutched the iron bar and pulled back.

  The door burst open with a gust of blistering wind. Emmaleigh screamed as she scurried across the room. She grabbed a fire poker from the hook by the hearth and aimed it at the door.

  “Who’s there?” she asked the dark figure silhouetted from behind the sun. Her voice shook, as did her hands. “Reveal yourself!”

  There was no answer. She flicked her eyes towards the hidden door, praying to the Light that Grandmother Rel had heard her scream. It didn’t seem that she had.

  Snow drifted in through the open door. Emmaleigh knew she needed a better weapon, but Darkness, she didn’t want to cross in front of the open door. Several quivers dangled from hooks by the entryway and three of her bows hung from a rack. She’d been so cocky, believing that having weapons by the front door was the best way to protect themselves. She made a mental note to leave a set closer to the hearth as a safety precaution in the future.

  Cursing beneath her breath, she rolled her shoulders before plunging forward. She got to about the middle of the room before a shadow moved into the doorframe. She froze. It was massive. Its shape filled the entire space of the door. It was hard to determine what kind of creature it was; it kept morphing into different shapes.

  “Zara, Mother of Dreams!” she swore as the shadow extended into the house. A blob about the size of Emma’s head formed from the shadow and began sniffing the air.

  Emma held her breath as she clutched the fire poker to her chest. Without warning it bounded into the cottage. She didn’t have time to process her next move. She lunged forward, her poker stretched out before her.

  Sliding on her knees, she jabbed the metal rod straight through the shadow’s chest and sliced it down its middle. Plumes of black smoke billowed from the wound before the shadow knit back together.

  This can’t be happening. She’d never encountered a creature that could heal that quickly before.

  Distracted by the monster, Emma collided with the wall. She smacked her head hard against the wood and fell backwards. She had a moment of dizziness as she sat up. She clutched one of her bows tightly in her hand.

  The shadow was now entirely inside the cottage. Ridges formed on its back. All the candles in the room snuffed out as the shadow turned to face her. Now it had an elongated snout, like a wolf, and eyes that glowed deep red in the darkness.

  It stared at her, its eyes swirling with hatred as Emmaleigh notched an arrow and drew back the string. Her muscles screamed and her head ached as she tried to calm her breathing. She may only have one shot and she did not want to waste it.

  The creature sniffed at her. It foamed at the mouth as it howled. The sound pierced her ears and she nearly dropped her bow. Pain erupted in her head. She loosed her arrow as the creature howled again.

  Emma shot an arrow. It arched across the room, piercing the creature’s left shoulder. The monster barely seemed to notice as the arrow passed through it and clattered to the floor. Smoke billowed from its shoulder instead of blood.

  Emmaleigh didn’t wait to see what the creature would do. She reached for another arrow and loosed it straight at the creature’s right eye as it lunged for her.

  The arrow struck true. Emmaleigh watched as it glided through the creature’s eye and plunked into the wall behind it. She reached for another arrow, knowing it would most likely be too late for her.

  A snarl filled the room. Just as the shadow’s maw was about to envelop her head, something heavy slammed into its side. Emmaleigh pressed herself against the wall as the shadow fell to the floor beside her. It snapped at her with a loud clicking sound. She attempted to whack the shadow with her bow, but it too passed through the shadow’s head with little effect.

  The shadow jerked towards her before being whipped back. Emmaleigh couldn’t see what was attacking it and she didn’t really care. She bolted towards the secret door as the sounds of animals fighting filled the room behind her. Pressing her hand against the door, she waited for Grandmother Rel’s magic to work.

  A howl of pain drew her attention. It reminded her of the way many of the deer she’d shot sounded as she finished them off. It squealed and cried. The door ground against the stone floor as it slid backwards. She could escape.

  Glancing behind her, she saw the shadow rearing up, ready to finish off whatever had saved her. Cool air from the passage beyond ruffled her hair. She could be safe. Still, she lingered in the doorway. She knew she should run, that she should take this chance to get away, but she couldn’t let her rescuer die in her stead.

  Ripping one of the torches from the passageway out of its sconce, Emmaleigh rushed towards the shadow. She brandished the torch at it, screaming profanities as she went on the attack.

  Its back was towards her, and the multiple ridges of its spine undulated as it readied itself to pounce on her rescuer. She thrust the torch into the shadow. It was the only thing she could think to do.

  It screamed in pain as flames began rippling through its spine. Emmaleigh leapt back and went to retrieve two more torches from the passageway. The shadow writhed as it turned on her. Black, oily substance seeped from the hole she’d made when she’d thrust the first torch into its back. It snarled at her, more drool dripping from its mouth.

  Emmaleigh rushed towards it. Just as she was about to collide with the shadow, she dropped to her knees and slid across the floor. She plunged the twin torches into the shadow’s underbelly. Oily goo dropped onto her head as she passed beneath it.

  She didn’t pause. She rolled away from it and leapt to her feet. Grabbing the flint and a fire starter from atop the hearth, she struck the flint. Sparks flew in the air before vanishing with a gust of wind.

  “Curses!” she shouted as she struck the flint again. Still nothing. Her hands shook. She hurriedly attempted to spark fire into life once more.

  She glanced over her shoulder at the shadow. Flames swirled through its underside. Slowly, they guttered and died. More black oil slopped onto the floor. The shadow left a trail behind it as it moved across the room towards her.

  “Come on, come on, come on!” she said as she struck the flint over and over again.

  Her hands quaked. Finally, a spark caught on the fire starter. Flames burst to life as she dropped it into the hearth.

  The shadow shrieked. It lingered, half-way across the room. Emmaleigh grabbed one of the wooden chairs Grandmother Rel used to do her spinning in and smashed it against the stones of the hearth. It splintered, but did not break. She smashed it again. This time, one of the legs split in half and a chunk fell to the floor.

  She clutched it from the ground and plunged it into the fire. It instantly sprang to life. Flames danced as she hurled the bit of burning wood at the shadow. Her aim was true and the wooden shard pierced the creature’s chest. It reared back, snapping and yelping.

  Emmaleigh beat the chair against the stones again. She split it until she had over twenty pieces of wood ready to be lit and used to fight the shadow.

  She took the longest bit of wood, probably the runner, and lit its tip. It was shaped similarly to a sword. Lunging forward, she thrust the burning wood into the creature. She pierced first one of its fiery red eyes and then its mouth.

  Smoke and oily blood burst from the wounds and the shadow screamed. If it hadn’t just been trying to kill her, she might have felt sorry for the thing. As it was, she didn’t care.

  Using her other hand, she lit the other runner and began poking the shadow in different places along its massive body. Each time she successfully punctured it, smoke and black oil streamed from it.

  “Would you please just die?” she hissed as she slammed yet another piece of blazing wood into the creature.

  She was down to the remnants of the runners along with four other pieces of wood. Although the creature continued to loom, it appeared smaller than it had when
it’d arrived.

  She scanned the room, searching for any sign of whoever, or whatever, had helped her. There was nothing there.

  The shadow lashed her across the face with one of its clawed feet. Her head whipped backwards, and a trail of blood sprayed from her lip. She coughed and more blood spilled out of her mouth. Dazed, she held the fragments of the runners before her like a cross guard. They were little more than smoldering rods about to disintegrate, but she had nothing else.

  The shadow yelped and turned its back to her. Oil splattered against the wall. She caught a glimpse of what looked like a wolf—though it was much larger than the average one—latched onto the shadow’s flank. The shadow shook violently. It morphed into different shapes, clearly trying to dislodge the wolf from its back.

  Emmaleigh didn’t waste the opportunity the wolf had given her. She stabbed the shadow through the back with the remaining runners. They crumbled as they punctured the shadow’s mass, but she paid little heed.

  Instead, she fell back and gripped one of the logs burning in the hearth. Ignoring the pain of fire licking her skin, she swung the heavy log towards the cranial area of the shadow. Flames caught and danced along the shadow. She swung again, this time straight into the chest. The shadow lurched backwards, fire bursting from the hole she left behind.

  The heat was nearly unbearable. Blisters coated her hands as she swung the log towards the shadow once more. She shoved it through the creature, sweat dripping down her brow. She swore she could smell the stench of her own hair sizzling off her brow as the flames licked at her.

  The wolf sank its teeth into the shadow’s throat, sending oil splattering across Emmaleigh’s face. She coughed, wiping the thick liquid from her skin. The oily substance burned at her throat, making it difficult for her to breath. The shadow squirmed, trying to free itself from the wolf’s bite, but failing.

  Emma fell to her knees and crawled backwards. A few logs remained in the hearth. If she could just reach them, she might be able to shove another one into the shadow. It might be enough. Her hands were covered in blisters that opened each time she applied pressure to them. It was pure agony as she slowly pulled herself towards their supply of wood.

  There was a loud pop, a flash of blinding light, and then darkness. Emmaleigh’s head swam as she peered about the room. Her vision, bleary from her head being struck by the shadow, only revealed vague shapes in the background. She moaned as she continued to pull herself towards the fire.

  Her back struck the ledge of the hearth and she breathed in deeply. The fire had gone out. She was sure of it. There was no warmth at her back, no smoke stinging her eyes.

  She looked back towards where the shadow would have fallen but saw nothing. She pressed herself into the corner between the hearth and the wall and pulled her knees to her chest.

  A rough tongue licked her hand followed by a strange, wet panting sound.

  Emmaleigh jerked her hand away.

  “Who are you?” she asked, her words trembling as they left her.

  “What, in the name of the Creators, happened in here?” Grandmother Rel’s voice cut through the room like a knife.

  Emma stiffened as she looked past the wolf and straight into the glittering, golden eyes of the old hag. She almost had the gumption to curse her. Almost.

  The wolf, bleeding from several spots, turned to face Grandmother Rel. It bared its teeth at her and snarled. At least it has some sense, Emmaleigh thought weakly as her head lolled to one side.

  The wolf’s hackles were raised and several puncture wounds along its back gushed blood. She attempted to rip off a strip of cloth from her tunic, but her blistered hands did not want to cooperate.

  “Emmaleigh?” Iris called out frantically.

  Emmaleigh couldn’t see her sister. She could barely see anything at all beyond the wolf.

  “Emmaleigh, I’m coming,” her sister said.

  The wolf growled. Emma shushed it, placing a limp hand on its hindquarters to calm it. It whimpered when her fingers grazed one its wounds.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

  Iris cooed to the wolf as she slowly knelt before it. Emmaleigh gave her sister a cocky half-smile as she said, “I thought you’d never show up.”

  “I thought you’d learn some sense after yesterday,” Iris chided.

  “You know me,” Emmaleigh retorted, “I’m always up for a challenge.”

  “Nonsense,” Iris said as she trailed her fingers over Emmaleigh’s burnt flesh. She motioned for Grandmother Rel to come forward.

  “The shadow—” Emmaleigh began.

  “Grandmother took care of it,” Iris said. She sounded so anxious.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t know how to stop it. And it just kept coming. What was that thing?”

  “Shh,” Iris whispered as she cradled Emma in her arms.

  The wolf nudged her with its nose. Emmaleigh turned her gaze towards it. Its eyes were dark hazel with a ring of golden brown around the center. They were nothing like the eyes of the other wolves in the forest. They contained a sadness in them that she had not been expecting. And, an understanding.

  Chapter Six

  Iris

  Wind rushed through the open cottage door, sending a chill down Iris’s spine as she cradled Emmaleigh’s head in her lap. The strange wolf who’d come to her sister’s rescue rested its head on Emmaleigh’s arm as Iris waited for Grandmother to bring a cool wrap with which to bind Emmaleigh’s wounds. She kept glancing at the wolf, wondering why it didn’t attack them. It was certainly capable enough to do so. It just looked at Emmaleigh, its hazel eyes mournful.

  “Who are you, Mr. Wolf?” Iris whispered, stroking a strand of Emmaleigh’s auburn hair behind her ear. Her sister’s eyes were closed and a look of pain spread across her face.

  The wolf, of course, didn’t answer. Iris huffed. She knew she shouldn’t have expected the wolf to be able to respond. She chided herself for even hoping he would be able to in the first place.

  “You have to stop letting yourself get into these binds, Emmaleigh. I know you don’t like it when I tell you to be more cautious, but I can’t keep doing this. I just… can’t.” Tears welled in her eyes as she stared down at her sister’s pained face.

  “She shouldn’t have opened the door in the first place,” Grandmother scolded as she stepped back into the main room. She carried several rolls of bandages with her.

  Iris didn’t respond to Grandmother’s reprimand. She knew it would get her nowhere and, after all the bizarre things that had happened over the past two days, she wasn’t sure she wanted to get into another row with the witch.

  Despite all her faults and her insistence that she had only taken them in for personal gain, Grandmother had still saved them that day. She had still cared for them over all these years. It was a debt Iris wasn’t sure they would ever be able to repay.

  “Your sister is more trouble than she’s worth,” Grandmother said as she handed Iris the roll of bandages. Her knees creaked as she stepped over Emmaleigh’s body to rekindle the smoldering fire. “Stupid girl,” she muttered as she added several logs to the fire. She didn’t bother using the flint. She simply waved her hand and flames burst to life.

  Iris wrapped Emmaleigh’s wounds as carefully as she could. Thankfully none of them were that deep. She suspected the reason her sister had passed out was due to the head injury, not any of her scrapes. A bruise spread half-way across Emmaleigh’s forehead. It was a nasty shade of purple and blue. Emmaleigh groaned in pain.

  “What are you doing here?” Grandmother asked, her voice brittle.

  Iris snapped to attention as Grandmother rounded on the wolf.

  “I know who you are,” she said as she circled the wolf. “I know who your master is, and I say begone with you. Shoo!” She waved her hands towards the door.

  “Grandmother,” Iris whispered. “You do realize you’re talking to a wolf, right?”

  “Of course,
I know who I’m talking to, you stupid girl. I’m old, not blind or dumb.”

  “I don’t think—” Iris began, but Grandmother shot her a glare. She gulped, but forced herself to continue. She needed to be bold, like Emmaleigh, if she was going to get anywhere in life. “I just don’t think the wolf understands what you’re saying.”

  Grandmother burst into a fit of laughter. It was so robust, in fact, that she doubled over, her hands on her knees. In between bouts of laughter, she said, “You really are a stupid child if you honestly believe that wolf is only a wolf.”

  Iris’s hands stilled as she looked down at the beast. It still rested its head on Emmaleigh’s arm, its eyes were closed, and its lips curled in one of those smiles a dog makes when it’s about to receive a treat.

  “Well, then what is it?” she asked, looking up at Grandmother, her hands busy tightening a bandage.

  “He is Balkeen’s property.” She tapped one jagged nail on her cheek as she spoke. “I’m sure he will want you back,” she continued, staring at the wolf like he could understand.

  The wolf glanced at Grandmother, a distinctively concerned expression on its face.

  “Oh?” Grandmother mocked as she stared down at the beast.

  He didn’t look like the other wolves Iris had seen around the woods. This one had a pelt as dark as night and those hazel eyes with a ring of gold around the center. They were intelligent eyes.

  “Is he a pet then?” Iris asked.

  The wolf growled.

  “Not a pet then,” Iris said as she gently laid Emmaleigh’s head on a pillow. She reached over to inspect the wolf’s wounds. “What was that thing, anyway?” she asked as she looked over at the oily, black heap still lying on the floor.

  It didn’t look like the creature had any bones—or teeth. It was nothing more than a pile of goo on the floor. Still, she could have sworn she’d seen its teeth and claws before Grandmother had forced a surge of power over the creature.

  “That,” Grandmother replied, her voice a mixture of condescension and worry, “is one of what we call the Inkwells.”