The Darkest Sword

by Samantha Kroese

  He stumbled into the room and sank to his knees next to her. He stayed there, for what seemed like an eternity, numb from the shock. Then he reached over to gently close her unseeing eyes. “I hope they were there in the afterlife waiting for you,” he mumbled to her. “Please take care of our son. I will never see him now.” At least Annalysa had hung onto the belief that her family waited for her in the afterlife. If there was an afterlife, he would never see it. He was immortal, bound to this world for eternity. Ashiyn sat there until his rage boiled over. Until nothing but wrath remained. He would grieve later. Vengeance would be his.

  Kill. The blade whispered through his mind.

  Ashiyn stood up and drew the blade from his back. Turning his back on Annalysa, he stalked back to the doorway where Sark hung. He would not take Annalysa from her family now. But Ashiyn would not allow Rhadamanthus to take everything.

  Ashiyn narrowed his eyes and drew on the well of magic within him, as he held out a hand to Sark. “Come, Sark. Serve me in death as you served me in life. Rise and be reborn as my Nthir, my hand of vengeance. Know no more pain, no more weakness. Only power.”

  Sark’s body jerked like a macabre puppet as the magic tore into it. Then little wisps of what had been the lizardman’s essence slowly coalesced. First like smoke, then turning into solidified shadow. Every tiny piece made another creature until Ashiyn was surrounded by them. Horrifying lizard-like shadows with razor teeth and claws. Once Ashiyn lowered his hand and withdrew his magic the creatures all screamed as one at him, enraged.

  Kill. Kill. Kill.

  Ashiyn could not tell if it was his own rage demanding blood or the blade in his hands, but either way he would feed it. Ashiyn turned and started down the hall. He hefted the blade in his hand, shifting its weight until he found the perfect balance for it. He brutally killed all who had the misfortune of crossing his path on the way to the throne room where he knew Rhadamanthus waited. Soldiers, servants, even a few dignitaries died in the most gruesome bloody ways he could manage. Blood bathed him and christened his blade, waking its power. He could feel the magic in the sword grow with every death. His wrath grew with every step. Screams followed in his wake and echoed down the halls before him. He wanted Rhadamanthus to know he was coming.

  Rhadamanthus sat sprawled across his throne, looking quite bored as he spun his blade around in his hand. He was still covered with blood and gore. Their blood. “Having a bit of a tantrum, are you?”

  Ashiyn stopped in the doorway, trembling from the magic flowing through him and the wrath that drove all thoughts from his mind. He wanted more blood, even though he could feel it dripping down to splatter on the floor beneath him. He was covered, head to toe, his blood-soaked hair sticking to his face.

  Rhadamanthus stood up and whirled his blade around to an attack position. “I will allow you bedslaves, boy. I will not allow you to breed an immortal army of offspring. Be grateful your wretched spawn had not inherited your immortality yet due to the frailty of its mother.”

  Ashiyn saw red. He roared and charged across the room to attack, his new blade a dervish in his hands, blinding in its speed.

  Rhadamanthus grunted but parried the attack with ease. “Your rage makes you weak, boy. Caring makes you weak. She was a slave, and you would risk all for her? You could have a thousand women better than she was.” Rhadamanthus locked blades with Ashiyn and yanked him close, his black eyes full of anger as well and his hot foul breath in Ashiyn’s face. “Do you understand now, boy? I will take anything you care for until I burn that weakness from you. Then you will be untouchable. Then you might have the strength to defeat me. But now, you are still weak.”

  Ashiyn growled and ripped his sword away to start another attack. The sword’s magic flowed through him, strengthening him, enhancing him. But, he knew it was not enough yet. Rhadamanthus still fought him off easily. Every time Rhadamanthus broke the attack and threw Ashiyn, Ashiyn stubbornly rose and attacked again. He hit a pillar hard enough to shatter it, feeling his bones snap under the impact.

  Stop. Stop. Stop.

  Ashiyn gasped for breath on the floor, confused by the sword’s voice trying to break through his pain. No. He would not stop. Not until Rhadamanthus killed him.

  Do not be a fool. Wait. We are not strong enough yet. Die now and he will take me from you. Wait and I will help you destroy him.

  “Are you finished, boy?” Rhadamanthus taunted. “Or will you not be satisfied until you are destroyed as well? You are angry. Good. That is what I want. Hate me. Rage. It fuels your violence.”

  Ashiyn trembled as he rose to his feet. He glared at Rhadamanthus as he lifted his blade again. But then he slid it back onto his back and bowed to Rhadamanthus, even though it killed him on the inside to do so.

  Rhadamanthus eyed him with a look of smug satisfaction. “Good. Perhaps you are finally learning. Go clean yourself up. We have a city to conquer tonight.”

  Ashiyn obediently turned and stalked out of the room. The wakened blade whispered promises of vengeance as soon as they were stronger.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Ashiyn spent the next several days throwing himself into whatever the army was after. Blood. Death. Letting the blade drink deeply of the blood of his enemies. Nothing calmed the fire burning in his chest, the ache that made him breathless. Annalysa was gone. His child murdered before it even had a chance to live. His chambers were lonely and quiet. Sark had been replaced, and the fact that he still existed in the Nthir comforted Ashiyn a little, but nothing eased the pain of Annalysa’s absence. He avoided sexual contact even though Rhadamanthus continued to throw women his way. He was lost.

  Eventually no rest caught up to him. Rhadamanthus sent him home under orders to sleep and recover and stop making a fool of himself being clumsy on the battlefield. Reluctantly, Ashiyn obeyed and retreated to his chambers. He could not stand the silence. He focused his magic to find Soryn. When he sensed his friend was alone, he opened the shadows and yanked Soryn through.

  Soryn yelped and he stood there, dripping water onto Ashiyn’s floor, completely nude and soaked. When he saw Ashiyn lounging in the chair before him he blushed and wrung out his dark hair. “New trick? You could have waited until I was finished with my bath.”

  Ashiyn let his gaze travel over Soryn’s body slowly. He had not minded their little tryst so much and now he did not want to be alone. Soryn was his only friend.

  “What happened?” Soryn asked, suddenly still.

  “Many things,” Ashiyn said listlessly as he sipped a cup of wine.

  “You are stronger,” Soryn muttered and shuddered when he saw the massive blade lying in the glass case nearby. He unconsciously stepped away from it, eyes wide. “You got the blade?”

  “I did, yes. It is quite wonderful,” Ashiyn agreed, looking at the sword. A pleased lick of black lightning traveled over it before it grew quiet again.

  “Rhadamanthus is not dead,” Soryn observed quietly. “Why?”

  Ashiyn closed his eyes. “I am not strong enough. The blade is not strong enough. I tried. It was still not enough.”

  Soryn shook his head then took the initiative to go into Ashiyn’s washroom and grab a towel, then returned, drying himself then wiping up the puddle on the floor. Then he wrapped the towel around his waist, suddenly self-conscious. “What else happened, Ashiyn? Something broke you. You’re not yourself.” Soryn walked over to sit on the floor in front of Ashiyn, resting on Ashiyn’s knees. “Tell me.”

  “I got Annalysa pregnant,” Ashiyn stumbled over the words. He swallowed the lump in his throat and narrowed his eyes against the sting. No, he was stronger than this.

  Soryn tilted his head. “Not that surprising, Ashiyn. She’s in your bed every night.”

  “Was,” Ashiyn corrected and his voice broke so he covered it with a growl and pushed Soryn away so he could get up. He started to pace the room. “Rhadamanthus killed her. Sark tried to protect her, so Rhadamanthus killed him as well.”

  Sory
n sucked in a breath and held it for a moment. Then he got up to come up behind Ashiyn, rubbing his back and stopping his pacing. “You fell for her,” Soryn whispered. It was an observation, not an accusation.

  “I let her fill my head with stupid things. Impossible things,” Ashiyn muttered.

  “No, Ashiyn. Don’t bury what she woke. It’s not wrong to love,” Soryn said quickly, taking Ashiyn’s face in his hands. Soryn’s dark eyes filled with unspent tears as he spoke, “Don’t you dare let him take this from you.”

  “It is pain, Soryn. Nothing but pain, suffering. I can’t breathe. I can’t sleep. I can’t stand the silence. I can’t stand being alone! This has broken me! What good is it?” Ashiyn hissed as he pulled back. Then, noticing the pain reflected in Soryn’s dark eyes he stilled. “That is what you feel for me?”

  Soryn looked away, staring at the floor as though the intricate patterns in the carpeting were serpents ready to eat him. “I have loved you since the first time I met you, Ashiyn.”

  Ashiyn turned away and stalked across the room, leaning hard on the case with the sword, watching the black lightning lick over the dark bejeweled metal of the scabbard. “I will be the death of you, Soryn. He will take everything.”

  “He wouldn’t dare take me,” Soryn crossed his arms. “I am his brother’s high priest and favorite. If he took me, he knows Rurik would take you.”

  Ashiyn cringed at the idea and glared at Soryn. “You’re not helping.”

  “Sorry, but it’s true enough,” Soryn mumbled then he sighed. “How can I help you, Ashiyn? I would do anything for you. Ask me and I will follow you anywhere. Tell you that you need me, and I will defy my master to be at your side until I take my last breath. I die a little every moment we’re apart. Now you understand.”

  Ashiyn looked up at Soryn, faltering at his friend’s words. “What if I can never love you that way, Soryn?”

  “It doesn’t matter. My love is unconditional. I will follow you, serve you, in any way you desire. Even if you never love me. Even if you never touch me again. Just promise me you will not let him kill this part of you that you have just discovered,” Soryn whispered as he walked closer.

  Ashiyn closed his eyes when Soryn’s soft touch caressed his cheek. “I don’t want to be alone right now, Soryn.”

  “I know. You never want to be alone, Ashiyn. You’re just now realizing that,” Soryn said softly as he pressed closer. “Tell me what you want. I’m here. How can I help you?”

  “Make me forget,” Ashiyn whispered.

  Soryn tilted his head then took Ashiyn’s hands in his and led Ashiyn back to the bed. “Let me take care of you.”

  Ashiyn relented and let Soryn help him forget. Afterward they lay together the rest of the day, Soryn cuddled against Ashiyn’s side. It was different than Annalysa, different than a woman. That comforted him.

  As night approached Soryn sighed and pulled away. He got up from the bed. “You need to send me back, Ashiyn. He’ll miss me if I’m not there soon, and I need time to clean up.”

  Ashiyn scowled, jealousy racing through him. He didn’t want to share Soryn with that disgusting priest.

  “Ashiyn, send me back for now. You can come and see me any time I’m not with him, but for now you need to let me go, or both our masters will find out and it will end badly. You know that. I’m not immortal like you,” Soryn said with a frown.

  Ashiyn reluctantly pulled open the shadows with his magic, not even rising from the bed. Listless again. “Stay safe, Soryn.”

  “I am more worried about you. I know how to stay safe. Don’t worry,” Soryn smiled at him. “You are the strongest person I have ever known. Remember that.”

  Ashiyn closed the shadows again once Soryn had passed safely through them. Then he rose and went to clean up. He still hurt, but he well enough to function. For now. Once clean and dressed, he grabbed the blade from its glass case. It was thirsty for blood, and so was he.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Ashiyn walked through the shadows to Rurik’s tower. He didn’t bother to check and see where Soryn was first. He ended up just barely behind Soryn and Rurik as they walked up a set of stairs toward the top of the tower. Ashiyn cursed mentally and pulled the shadows closer around himself. He should leave before Rurik sensed him, but curiosity overtook him as usual, and he followed instead.

  “You know that you are my most favored, Soryn,” Rurik started, a frown on his face as he clacked his long talons together.

  “Yes, Master. I am grateful,” Soryn replied, though his tone held confusion, as they entered the top of the tower where a bloodied altar sat in the middle. Soryn balked and that gave Ashiyn time to step through the shadows deeper into the room before Rurik slammed the door shut.

  Soryn backed away from Rurik, horror on his face. “Master, surely I’ve done nothing to displease you!”

  “It has nothing to do with that, Soryn. Loathe as I am to admit it, the time has come for you to fulfill your duty,” Rurik summoned dark magic, and with a wave of his hand it washed over Soryn.

  Soryn’s plain appearance dropped and massive gossamer wings appeared behind him. He seemed to glow with powerful light magic. Tears started to fall down his face. “Master, please. I will do whatever you ask-“

  “Yes, you will,” Rurik agreed and pointed to the altar. “You will lie there as a willing sacrifice while your celestial blood stops the apocalypse. Look outside, child. See how the darkness churns the sky? Only your death can stop this.”

  Ashiyn walked around the room, still hidden, until he was positioned behind Rurik. He dare not strike yet, though. Perhaps Soryn would talk his way out of this. If Ashiyn killed Rurik, there would be all sorts of consequences. He looked at his friend anew. He’d never seen this form of Soryn. The light magic was almost painful to look at as it shined through his friend’s pale skin and the massive wings were tucked behind him in a terrified position. All that magic! Why didn’t Soryn use it to destroy Rurik? Ashiyn sensed that he could.

  But then he realized something about them both. Each had the power to destroy his master, they had simply been tricked into thinking they couldn’t. Ashiyn fought a growl, once again focusing on the scene before him.

  “I don’t want to die, Master,” Soryn wept, managing to resist even when Rurik summoned chains of darkness to drag him toward the altar.

  “Soryn, do not make me torture you this way. Come here. I will ease your suffering. You will feel nothing, I promise you. And your life will save this world. That is what you want, yes? You have always wanted to save others.” Rurik said, his words laced with magic, his tone hypnotic.

  Soryn swayed under the power of the magic and stumbled toward the altar. Rurik managed to push him to lay on the altar, and Soryn fell limply in place, tears rolling down his cheeks.

  Soryn was aware, but unable to do anything against the magic binding him now. Ashiyn slowly drew his blade from his back, letting his magic flow through it to awaken the weapon. He couldn’t afford to fail to make a killing strike as the first blow. Rurik was too powerful. Only stealth would give Ashiyn the edge.

  Ashiyn stepped closer to Rurik, wincing at the first deep cut across Soryn’s wrist drew crimson blood that splashed down the side of the altar to fill the runes beneath it. Not yet. As much as he wanted to rush to Soryn’s defense, he had to wait until Rurik was lost in his spell.

  Dark magic started to fill the room, swirling around it like smoke, as Rurik chanted and flourished the bloodied dagger in the air. Ashiyn stayed still until Rurik closed his eyes, then he stepped out of the shadows and rammed his blade up through Rurik’s exposed back and through his heart.

  Rurik lurched then collapsed, blood pouring from his mouth even as he sputtered. “N-no, fool!”

  Ashiyn growled and hoisted the monster in the air on the blade and swung, throwing Rurik across the room to crumple against the wall. Then he held Soryn in his arms and used magic to heal Soryn’s wound, turning to point his blade at Rurik in case the pri
est had somehow survived.

  “Soryn,” Rurik gasped with difficulty. “you were supposed to stop him. Not create him,” With one last coughing breath, Rurik fell lifeless.

  With Rurik’s death, the spell on Soryn was lifted and Soryn shifted in Ashiyn’s arms to look at him, horrified. “Ashiyn, what have you done?”

  Ashiyn sat Soryn down on the floor as he closed his eyes. The darkness roiling in the room was power, and he wanted it. He roared and pulled it into himself, ignoring the searing pain as it fought him like a wild serpent. Once he had consumed all of it, he let out a deep breath and looked back at Soryn. “I saved you,” he said, matter-of-factly as he sheathed his blade and helped Soryn up.

  Outside the sky began to bleed fire, and the darkness covered the land.