The Darkest Sword

by Samantha Kroese

  Just as he started to reach for it, his hand stung with pain, and he withdrew it with a hiss. Rhadamanthus stood between him and the sword. Luckily, it had only been the flat of his Master’s blade that rang against the bones in his hand. He hated having to grow new fingers.

  “Fool of a boy,” Rhadamanthus chided, as he examined the sword with narrowed eyes. “If you had touched that thing you would have become its mindless slave.” With a fierce kick, Rhadamanthus shattered the blade where it met the stone, and it flew to the ground. The spell broken, the magic faded from the air and the land around them. Rhadamanthus started to walk around and disturb the runes in the circles and Ashiyn joined him. “What was it?” Ashiyn asked. Now the whispers had faded and blade looked dull and rusted as it lay in the dust.

  “A weapon forged from the essence of a powerful enemy,” Rhadamanthus drew magic and started to set the impaled villagers on fire. “The heroes of this world, mostly those cursed celestials, created swords as prisons. There they trapped the immortal creatures of darkness that they could not kill. But, they misjudged how tempting a talking sword with cosmic power would be. Now they are the most common way people summon apocalyptic magic. The swords promise power to their bearers and most do not have the strength of will to resist it.”

  Ashiyn glanced at the blade that Rhadamanthus carried. It was also made of black metal with similar runes and, now that he thought about it, black lightning periodically chased over it and through Rhadamanthus’s hands. “You carry one.”

  “Now you notice?” Rhadamanthus snorted and waved the blade lazily in Ashiyn’s direction. “This is Sangli, the Lightreaver. It is the second to last blade the celestials made before their kind perished from this world.”

  “What happened to them?” Ashiyn asked. He had heard of the mythical creatures known as the celestials, but he had never seen one. They were said to be humans born with powerful magic and gossamer wings, said to be granted cosmic power by the gods of light. As Ashiyn looked over the barren land around them, he doubted the existence of any gods, much less benevolent ones.

  “They were all sacrificed to create the final blade prison. In it is housed the only creature more powerful than the one in mine. Sihtaar, the hell-bender,” Rhadamanthus said casually, but even the name of the creature seemed to pass a shadow over the sun.

  Ashiyn narrowed his eyes. He had learned two very important things during this trip. His Master’s insanely strong magic came from him feeding off a dark immortal trapped in his blade. And there was another blade that was stronger.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  “You shouldn’t be here,” Soryn mumbled as he hurried through the dim corridor of the tower.

  Ashiyn followed behind him, unconcerned. He had more important things on his mind than Rurik. “This place is a massive library. Rurik studies all sorts of magic, does he not? He has to have something that tells where this blade is.”

  “I need you to go. Come back later,” Soryn grumbled as he scurried around, gathering items. A bag of dust there, legs of a bird next. When he had a hand full of items and had turned to hurry out past Ashiyn again, he yelped as Ashiyn blocked him, moving into his space and backing him against the wall.

  Ashiyn leaned on an arm across the doorway, his eyes narrowed. “Do you understand, Soryn? If I can get this blade, I can kill Rhadamanthus.”

  “You don’t understand that if I don’t get these ritual ingredients to Rurik, I’ll be the next one he sacrifices, and then I’ll be no help to you, my Prince,” Soryn hissed as he ducked under Ashiyn’s arm and hurried away. “Go home. Come back tonight.”

  Ashiyn watched Soryn disappear around a corner with a scowl. He could go back to Rhadamanthus’s castle and come back later as requested. Or he could just have a quick look around himself. If Rurik was busy with some ritual and Soryn was with him, it should be safe enough if he was quick. He looked both ways down the hall, then followed it in the opposite direction. Rurik lived in a massive spiral tower known as a Magus tower. It was designed to improve the flow of magic and aid in ritual magic. Ashiyn had only been here a few times with Rhadamanthus, but he vaguely remembered a room full of books.

  He came to a fork where the stairs went both up and down. His magic indicated that Rurik was above him, so he took the stairs swiftly to the lower level. As he entered the room he smirked. That had been easy. Bookshelves full of all manner of books lined this circular room. Discarded volumes lay scattered around the floor, the tables, chairs. How did anyone know where anything was in this disorganized mess? Ashiyn slowed to peruse the titles on the nearest shelf.

  “Excuse me? I don’t believe you belong here.”

  Ashiyn jumped and whirled around, eyes narrowed and one hand moving toward drawing his blade. At first, he didn’t see anyone. Was he hearing things? “Who is there?”

  The air seemed to solidify in front of him and the misted appearance of a bespectacled man in heavy robes became apparent. “I am. Sia, the chronicler. Master of this library.” The spirit adjusted his ghostly glasses and squinted from habit. “You are the Prince.”

  “Ah, you have heard of me,” Ashiyn smirked. “If you’re the Master of this library, you can find anything here?”

  Sia shook himself, looking offended. “Of course. It is my library. Well organized. Everything in its place.”

  “I see that,” Ashiyn grumbled as he nearly tripped over a stack of books. “I hate to trouble you, so I’ll just tell you what I need and be on my way,” Ashiyn started then paused to add, “What my Master needs, I mean. You wouldn’t want to disappoint Rhadamanthus I’m sure.”

  Sia gave him a sour look and floated over to a desk. The books moved to and fro at the waving of the ghost’s hands. “What does that creature want now? He should know better than to ask favors of me. I serve his brother, not him. And I only serve Rurik because I must.”

  “You know of the celestial blades?” Ashiyn asked, trying to sound casual as he picked up a book.

  Sia immediately appeared next to him and yanked the book out of his hands with shocking force for an incorporeal being. “Do not manhandle my tomes. And everyone knows of the celestial blades. Be more specific. Stop wasting my time.”

  Ashiyn bit back a retort about the man’s ghostly state and how it would likely last throughout eternity. “I want to know about Sihta--”

  “NO! Do not say its name,” Sia warned as the lights in the building flickered. Then he gave Ashiyn an incredulous look. “Do you not know the magics practiced in this building, or the power here? Watch your tongue!”

  Ashiyn crossed his arms, scowling. “Do you have a book about it or not?”

  Instead of answering Sia turned in mid-air and hovered, staring at the doorway. Then he bowed low to the floor.

  Ashiyn felt a chill work down his spine. Rurik had caught him. His mind tried to come up with a thousand excuses why he would be there, but Rurik would be wiser than this ghost and harder to fool.

  “Well, it seems my brother has misplaced his pet,” Rurik said as he strolled into sight.

  “He sent me…” Ashiyn started but the words died when he met Rurik’s dark eyes. He could see his reflection in those black shining depths, and he looked like a frightened child caught doing something naughty. He stepped backward, away from the priest.

  “Do not lie to me, child,” Rurik chided. “Sia, begone. I wish to have a private audience with the Prince.”

  Sia made a disgruntled noise, then vanished with an audible pop. The room grew noticeably warmer when the ghost was gone.

  Rurik smirked a little and walked closer to Ashiyn. “You play with things you do not understand, child. Your immortality makes you reckless and bold. My brother’s lessons only fuel your arrogance. Perhaps I should teach you humility.”

  Ashiyn was unaccustomed to feeling the absolute terror that wracked his mind. Every one of his Master’s rants about Rurik’s perversions came flooding back. “I should return to my Master. He will be displeased.”

&nb
sp; Rurik cornered Ashiyn so close that Ashiyn stumbled back into a bookcase, spilling tomes onto the floor. “My brother is never pleased. Do you think I care? You came unbidden into my tower and sought to steal secrets. My brother understands punishment.” Rurik reached to trail a talon down Ashiyn’s cheek. “You’ve grown into something quite marvelous, young Prince. My brother may not appreciate your beauty, but I do.”

  Ashiyn shuddered at the touch, his terror only escalating. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t use his magic. His heart thudded so loud in his chest he thought it might explode. The presence of the priest was overwhelming, it drove away all sense. It made him want to submit, if only to appease this monster, so he could flee.

  Rurik leaned close to Ashiyn’s ear, his voice a perverse hiss, “Go back to your Master, little rabbit. If I catch you in my tower again, I will thoroughly enjoy teaching you terror and humiliation you cannot even imagine.”

  Ashiyn cringed as the monster’s hands traced over him. Then the oppressive magic lifted, and he immediately launched himself through the shadows back to Rhadamanthus’s castle. Once he closed the pathway with his magic and he was back in the safety of his chambers, he fell to his hands and knees and vomited from the terror and the implications of what could have happened. He would have been powerless to stop it.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Ashiyn spent the next several days quiet and sullen. He’d learned nothing about the blade that could help him kill Rhadamanthus. And he could still feel Rurik’s touch and the beast’s hot, foul breath. It did not improve how he felt about Soryn being stuck there, but he dared not ask Rhadamanthus for Soryn. And he dared not go and try to steal him. He wanted to go visit, but he was terrified of being caught by the priest again. And what if Rurik told Rhadamanthus that Ashiyn had been there and asked his brother’s permission to punish him? Would Rhadamanthus allow it? Ashiyn did not think so, but he was uncertain now.

  He stood mulling those things over in the hallway outside of his chambers when his elderly servant, Sark, limped up to him. Ashiyn narrowed his eyes. “What is it?”

  “Master, the slave woman. She refuses to eat,” the servant mumbled, shaking in terror and bowing low even though the movement pained him. “She won’t tell us why.”

  Ashiyn waved the servant away, rubbing his head. He could feel a headache coming on. The last thing he wanted to deal now with was this stubborn woman. Maybe he should just kill her. He pulled open the door to her cell and scowled at her from the hallway. “How long will you test my patience?”

  Annalysa gasped and scrambled back on the bed, her eyes wide with terror. “You died. I saw him kill you!”

  Ashiyn rolled his eyes. He really wasn’t in the mood for that reaction either. “I’m an immortal, you silly woman. I die, I come back. It is a normal day around here. Please tell me you weren’t starving yourself because I nobly sacrificed myself for your honor or some such foolishness.”

  Annalysa’s gaze softened with pity. “He kills you like that every day?”

  Ashiyn walked into the cell and slammed the door shut behind him then glared at her. “I don’t want your pity, slave.”

  “Seems to me you’re a slave as well, my Prince,” Annalysa muttered, crossing her arms. “You have to do what he says, or he kills you.”

  Ashiyn drew his sword and narrowed his eyes. “I no longer have the patience to deal with you.”

  “Why? Because I’m defiant like you? I thought you said you liked that,” Annalysa said, her eyes locked on the blade. “I don’t fear death, Prince. That will only send me to my family. This is going poorly, though. I should thank you for not doing as he said, especially with the high price you pay for defiance.”

  Ashiyn rested the tip of his blade on the floor and leaned heavily on it. “I told you I would not take you against your will. I am not my Master. And I have no need to take what others freely give. I could go outside and down to the court and a dozen women would throw themselves at my feet begging me to take them to bed.”

  “Not at all humble, are you?” Annalysa snorted. “Why would you be then? Your life is unusual, my Prince. Most men have to seek a woman’s favor before she’ll jump into his bed.” She sobered and looked to the door. “He’ll come back, won’t he?”

  “Yes. Until I have properly learned my lesson,” Ashiyn shrugged.

  “If I submit to being your bed slave, he will leave us alone?” Annalysa asked as she rose from the bed. “I think I would much prefer you over him.”

  “Most certainly you would,” Ashiyn snorted. “He would tear you apart as he used you.”

  Annalysa grimaced, then walked closer to Ashiyn. “I don’t want to die that way. I have changed my mind. I will do as you say until such time as you tire of me and give me my freedom.”

  Ashiyn slid his blade back into place on his back before she could get close enough to touch it, not trusting her. After all, he had seen her cut down the guards with their own weapons. “Maybe I don’t want it any longer. You are a nuisance. I should just kill you and be done with you.”

  Annalysa slowly undid the buttons of her shirt, revealing her chest. “You are a man of strong needs, my Prince. That is clear. I could sate them well as often as you desired. Have you ever had one woman you could return to every night? Or have you only had ones who used you as you used them?” She walked over, her shirt falling to the floor.

  Ashiyn did not respond to her question, letting his gaze roam over her bare skin. His body ached for her, but he refused to allow her to seduce him. He scowled at her. “I told you I would not give you that unless you begged me for it.”

  Annalysa’s lips pursed and fire flashed in her eyes. For a moment he thought she would try to grab his weapon after all. Instead, she took a deep breath and knelt before him, hands trailing down him. “I beg of you, Prince. Take me to your bed. It is my greatest desire to serve you.”

  “No,” Ashiyn said, then turned and stalked out, slamming the door behind him. He ran directly into Rhadamanthus’s chest. Great. He tensed and looked up to see the displeased look on his master’s face. “Master, did you need something?”

  “I came to see if your slave was obeying you yet,” Rhadamanthus said coolly as he uncrossed his arms. “I am disappointed in you, boy. Go back in there and take her.”

  “Surely there are more profitable women you could watch me have sex with if that’s what you desire, Master,” Ashiyn snapped before he could think about it. Rhadamanthus clearly was not in the mood for insolence today and Ashiyn got quite the beating for his retort. Luckily, Rhadamanthus’s servant rushed in with an urgent matter and saved Ashiyn from death, this time. He laid there until he no longer heard Rhadamanthus’s boots retreating then he stumbled to his feet.

  “Master, someone waits in your chambers,” Sark mumbled as Ashiyn dragged himself down the hallway toward his room.

  Ashiyn stopped to look at the lizardman, scowling. His mind was clouded with pain, and he just wanted to collapse and sleep until his body healed. At least he had not died all the way this time. He furrowed his brow in confusion. He knew from what he’d heard of the report that Rhadamanthus had left the castle. “Who?”

  “I do not know him, Master,” Sark said, writhing his scaley thin hands with his nervousness. “He does not seem dangerous. He said you would know him and that it would be okay, so I let him in.”

  “It’s not my Master’s brother is it? Or a ghost?” Ashiyn grumbled. His head hurt. He reached up and wiped blood away from the gash in his forehead.

  “No, Master. Not those. Want me to chase away?” Sark asked, his reptilian eyes eager to help.

  Ashiyn just waved Sark away and continued to his chamber. He was too exhausted to even draw his blade. He’d just turn whoever it was inside out with his magic if he had to. He pushed open the heavy door, walked inside, then closed it again and turned to face the room. Whatever he had been expecting, it was not Soryn lying on his bed. “Soryn?”

  Soryn glanced up, then scrambled up and
rushed over, concern on his face. “Ashiyn, you’re bleeding.”

  “The servants will wipe it up,” Ashiyn muttered. His injured brain was stuck on trying to figure out how Soryn had gotten here. Then it got even more stuck on the realization that Soryn was not wearing his normal heavy robes that covered everything. In fact, quite a lot of Soryn was visible today. Ashiyn blinked, trying to clear his thoughts. “You’re not in your robes today.”

  “Would you just sit down before you fall over? You’re too heavy for me to pick up,” Soryn mumbled as he guided Ashiyn over to the bed. “You just lie there. I’ll find something to help stop the bleeding.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Ashiyn slurred as he stretched out on the bed. He hated when his brain was injured, but he wasn’t dead. Nothing made sense. But Soryn wasn’t a threat, so he just relaxed and closed his eyes. He jerked away at the feel of something cold and wet on his forehead.