The Darkest Sword

by Samantha Kroese

  The villagers at the edge of town saw Ashiyn and fled with cries of dismay. They either locked themselves into their small hovels or ran down the street screaming warnings.

  He rolled his shoulders and narrowed his eyes. He expected resistance. Especially since he’d come for children. People were always very protective of their children. His memory flashed back many years to when he had watched a woman fight for her children as his master tore them apart. Ashiyn forced those thoughts away. He had tried to save her, and it had cost them both more than it had been worth. If he did not bring the children, his master would still take them, and it would be in a worse way.

  With purpose, he strode into Malk. People scattered from him. He ignored their pleas. Their cries for mercy only disgusted him. Mercy would be destroying them before this world tortured and twisted them. A clean, quick death was the only mercy he still afforded. He used his magic to throw them out of the way as he came to the hut shown to him in Rhadamanthus’s vision. The twins stood there outside the doorway. From behind them, he could hear a woman sobbing and a soft male voice offering comfort. The door was closed, so he could not see inside to confirm his suspicions that the noises came from their parents.

  “We know why you are here.” The twins were almost impossible to tell apart, but this one spoke with a soft feminine voice.

  “We will come with you,” her brother added. Then as one the twins walked away from their home and down the street toward the spot where Illusion waited.

  Ashiyn fought a shudder. He hated the gifted ones. The ones that went willingly to the slaughter bothered him the most, but he had not been able to figure out why. It only made his job easier.

  Not a single villager stepped up to stop them as they made their way out of the village. Ashiyn could feel their gazes on him, and a few glances toward the hovels revealed people glaring at him from their windows, but none was brave enough to try to save these children from their fate. The people were defeated. The bravery and boldness to defy their destiny had been crushed out of them under Rhadamanthus’s rule.

  The girl stopped at Illusion’s face. The stallion snorted and lowered his head so she could pet him and whisper into his ear. The boy just walked over to the winged equine’s side and pulled himself up onto its back with the ease of someone who was used to riding similar animals. By the time Ashiyn got to them, both twins were seated on Illusion’s back staring calmly at him.

  Their calm unnerved him, but he didn’t show it. Illusion was a capricious creature, he normally only let Ashiyn ride, but the winged equine had a weakness for children it seemed. Ashiyn scowled at them and swung up into the saddle behind them. Illusion turned and rose into the stormy sky, and once more without a word from Ashiyn, headed back to the castle.

  Once there, Illusion landed, the three of them dismounted without a word, and the winged equine trotted back into the stable to await his next adventure. Ashiyn closed the stable doors. The twins were already walking toward the castle. Of course, they were.

  He caught up to them and ushered them into the labyrinth that would be their tomb. He wondered if their powers could allow them to navigate his castle. He caught them looking at each other, but they didn’t say another word. Not to each other, and not to him. He had heard some twins were born with the gift to speak telepathically to each other; perhaps they had it. He did not care enough to ask. They were just an irritant and fodder for his master’s power. He did wonder briefly when killing children had become so easy for him.

  They trailed behind him, and he did not even look back at them again until he heard a soft gasp from the girl. They had both stopped. Their pale eyes stared with horror at the ceiling before them.

  Ashiyn looked them over, then followed their gaze. The torchlight flickered off the black stones casting all sorts of shadows that could have been intimidating. The one on the ceiling however didn’t match anything around them. It was the shadow of a terrifying creature from a child’s horrific nightmare.

  Ashiyn recognized that it was just one of his castle’s guardians. His Nthir. If only they had known the creatures before they had changed. This world changed everything to monsters. The beast had smelled innocent flesh and come looking for a meal. Ashiyn waved a gloved hand at it and spoke a command in an ancient language. “Kithsarth.”

  The twins covered their ears and cowered at the horrendous wail that came from the shadow creature as it disappeared into smoke. Ashiyn waved away the sulfuric remains in the air as he continued forward. “My Nthir are hungry, but they will not harm you. I will not allow it. Come along.”

  A glance back at his visitors confirmed that they finally looked like the terrified children they should be instead of the old souls that inhabited them through their magic. They stared at him as though he should care and comfort them. He did not care. “I said move,” he growled at them with narrowed eyes. Now they skittered after him like most threatened children would, jumping at every shadow they came across.

  This time he led them down to the bowels of the castle to the actual doors to his Master’s summoning room. Not just a portal to the creature’s lair as the ones in his sitting room had been, these were the physical world’s manifestation of the room. As Ashiyn reached to open the door, the boy’s hand darted forward and rested on Ashiyn’s arm.

  The jolt of magic was too sudden to be blocked. Ashiyn stumbled back, as his mind reeled from reality and into the boy’s vision. He felt propelled through the labyrinth of his castle at sickening speeds. Thrown into the kitchen where his few servants worked. It was dark and the servants were over-worked and covered in grime. One stood out among them, shining with a bright white aura. In that instant Ashiyn could see the power to destroy his master’s sanctuary. With that gone Ashiyn would be able to destroy Rhadamanthus once and for all. Ashiyn did not recognize the man, but the servant looked up as though he sensed something.

  The door creaking open jarred him from the vision, and before he could react, the two children were sucked screaming into the room and the doors slammed shut in his face. Their wails as they were torn asunder echoed behind him as he turned and strode away. His thoughts were not with them. He barely registered the feel of the power flowing through his body as his master feasted on them.

  He had bigger things to worry about now. The seer boy had shown him the way to his freedom. The key lurked under his nose, here within the castle. Ashiyn stalked the path he had been shown. He had to find that servant before Rhadamanthus got any hint of what Ashiyn had seen.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Soryn paused to wipe the sweat from his brow. He sat back on his haunches and threw the cloth in the bucket next to him, the floor finally spotless. His aching back reminded him that he should probably let the younger servants do this job. They did not do it right though. This was Ashiyn’s castle and Ashiyn expected it spotless. Though it was so dark, the servants often wondered why it mattered. Would Ashiyn miss one speck of dirt?

  “He’s coming!” a servant girl whispered as she fled with a few others down the nearby hall. Soryn’s heart started to pound. Ashiyn? Here? He rarely came to the servant quarters. Had someone displeased him? There were so few of them left. At this rate, the only ones that would be left would be Soryn and the Nthir. As it was, Ashiyn kept himself away from the servants as much as possible. Because of the Nthir. Because of what they had been. Ashiyn had learned that lesson too well. He did not get attached to anything or anyone now. Much to Soryn’s dismay. The return journey to Ashiyn’s castle had taken years. He had hoped by getting close and becoming Ashiyn’s servant, he could restore their relationship, if not Ashiyn’s memories but Ashiyn remained aloof and guarded. Soryn rarely saw him.

  Soryn rose to his feet and crept to the doorway to peer into the hall. The Nthir climbed along the walls and ceilings. Soryn was the only one of the servants who knew what they were and did not fear them. They remembered him, even if their master did not. The halls were so dark and Ashiyn’s black armor blended into it so
well, that he was not visible until he was close enough for the torchlight to reflect on his pale hair and set his golden eyes on fire.

  Soryn caught his breath. Ashiyn was breathtaking. He always had been, but he had matured into an extremely handsome man. Powerful and dangerous. As if to remind Soryn of that, Ashiyn lashed out, lightning-fast, eyes narrowed, and lifted a nearby servant by the shirt.

  “There is a servant, dark-haired older man. Where is he?” Ashiyn demanded of the shivering servant in his grip.

  Soryn nearly choked on the lump in his throat. Ashiyn was looking for him? Why? A million scenarios raced through his mind, but he shoved them away. The poor servant in Ashiyn’s grip was squealing for mercy. Ashiyn would kill them soon. Soryn would not let them die for him. “I am here, Master.” Soryn wanted nothing more than to stare into those terrifying golden eyes, search for recognition, for memory. However, he knew he would find none, so he knelt low to the ground as Ashiyn expected. “How may I serve you?”

  Ashiyn dropped the other servant and the terrified man scrambled away. Ashiyn did not say a word as he stalked closer, heavy boots slapping the stone beneath him, magic dripping from him like water.

  Soryn closed his eyes, willing fear away. He had not done anything to displease Ashiyn. He was not in danger. He would not fear Ashiyn. He waited, silent, reverent. “Come,” Ashiyn commanded then immediately turned and walked the other way. Soryn scrambled to his feet and followed obediently.

  He would follow Ashiyn anywhere, even to his own death. He forced away the guilt. He should be out saving their world, tending to the wounded, healing the land. Not here, scrubbing the floors of the creator of the apocalypse. But Soryn had helped turn Ashiyn into this monster; he would not abandon Ashiyn to his fate. If he could save Ashiyn, he could save their world. He had to be careful though. Ashiyn was not the young man that Soryn had loved before. That man still had a conscience. He was now iron and steel, diamond-hard, ruthless, and deadly. The years had crushed the good in him, and most thought there was none left. Soryn did not want to believe that.

  They walked for some time and Soryn had not keep track of the way back to the servant’s chambers. The castle was a maze. Oh well, the Nthir liked him. They would show him the way back. If he survived. When the doorway before them opened and he realized he was in Ashiyn’s private chambers for the first time in over three thousand years, Soryn balked at the doorway.

  Ashiyn sent him a scowl as he turned to face Soryn. He crossed his arms, displeasure on his face. “You are a powerful magus. Why are you scrubbing my floors?”

  Soryn swallowed, remembering to keep his gaze lowered. He scooted inside the room and the doors slammed shut behind him, making him jump. “Always so dramatic, Ashiyn,” he thought. At least some things about his friend had not changed. His mouth went dry and he scrambled for an excuse. Finally, he decided sticking as closely to the truth as possible was probably best. He was a horrible liar anyway. “I came here to serve you, Master. In the hopes, you would one day notice me so that I could serve you better.”

  Ashiyn looked suspicious at that but tilted his head, curious. “My master hides in a plane between worlds. I cannot destroy him as long as he can retreat there.”

  Soryn’s breath caught again. Finally, Ashiyn was going to kill Rhadamanthus? His heart started beating so hard it was nearly impossible to hear anything else. “I can destroy where he hides, Master. I have the magic to walk between planes.”

  “If you succeed, I will reward you. If you fail, the fate you suffer will be far worse than even my Master would think of for you,” Ashiyn threatened.

  Soryn could hardly breathe. If they killed Rhadamanthus, the reward would be far greater than even Ashiyn could comprehend. Ashiyn would remember him. Remember everything. The monster’s control over Ashiyn would be broken. Soryn could influence him; maybe divert him and the world from their current course to oblivion. But most of all, he might have a chance to be with Ashiyn again. “I will not fail you, Master. I would never fail you.”

  “Do you need time to prepare?” Ashiyn asked, his brows furrowed. He was puzzled.

  “No, Master. Whenever you are ready,” Soryn whispered, not trusting his voice. He’d been preparing for this for millennia. He knew he was ready. Was Ashiyn? He risked a glance up again, his breath stolen again by the sight of Ashiyn. Here, in the brighter room, Ashiyn was devastating to look at. Soryn felt his knees go weak.

  “Now, then,” Ashiyn drew his blade. Sihtaar seemed to stir in recognition, tendrils of dark magic reaching toward Soryn.

  Soryn stepped out of their reach. No. He would not let the blade ruin his surprise. He didn’t trust Sihtaar any more than he did Rhadamanthus. The wicked spirit in the blade had driven Ashiyn further into darkness. It consumed celestials. He would not let it know what or who he was until Ashiyn could protect him. With renewed determination, he spoke, “Lure him from that place and I will destroy the path. He will not be able to return.”

  “Wait here. I will empower Sihtaar and return. Then we will destroy my master,” Ashiyn said, then stalked out of the room.

  Soryn took a deep breath and sank onto a chair to wait, emotions threatening to choke him. Soon they would be free.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Red. Ashiyn’s sight, his armor, the ground. He never felt as alive as he did when he was covered in blood. He heard a groan on the ground behind him and whirled around. A poor fool tried to crawl away from him. With one swift movement his blade whistled through the air and drove through the man’s back. He left it there to drink of the man’s blood, black lightning crackling from the blade like an electrical storm.

  Ashiyn walked down the silent, blood-stained path, stepping over the bodies of his victims. He had seen something during his killing spree that might be worth another look.

  He ducked into the hovel, too tall to avoid hitting his head otherwise. The building stank of death and human waste. The owner of the house, a magus, hung from the wall, impaled by the very spikes of metal he had summoned to attack Ashiyn.

  Ashiyn ignored the corpse and walked instead to the small desk in the corner. Scattered over it lay the normal paraphernalia of magic use in this world. Herbs and animal bits for spell reagents, vials of animal blood, books of scribbled notes. He picked up one of the books and scowled at the spidery text. Magus always had horrendous handwriting. He wondered if even the man who had written it could read it. He snorted and tossed the book over his shoulder where it landed with a thud on the dirt floor.

  He was drawn to a spark of light and reached out to carefully loop a leather string over his gloved finger and cautiously raised the attached pendant from its home on the desk. A curious blue magic swirled within the crystal. Ashiyn had never seen blue magic. The Magus had attacked him with a common metal spell. Perhaps the Magus had not yet unlocked the pendant’s secrets.

  Ashiyn took a special black pouch from his belt and slipped the pendant into the magic-resistant cloth. He would study that later. He rooted around in the magus’s meager home for anything else useful.

  They come.

  Sihtaar’s warning made him scowl, but he stalked out to the street. He stretched his hand out toward where he had left the blade and it flew to him as the knights on horses charged down the road toward him. It never ceased to amaze him. No matter how many of them he killed, they still managed to recruit more fools to face him down in the name of justice.

  Justice. As if they knew the meaning of the word. He swung his blade back and forth as he waited for them to ride up to him.

  “Halt! King Ashiyn, you are wanted…”

  “I am wanted for crimes against all lands and the entire world. King or Queen whatever-their-names have sent you to bring me to justice.” Ashiyn rolled his eyes as he cut off the knight’s speech. “You bore me.” He stretched out his hand, yanked the knight off his horse, and speared him with his blade. He could hear the entity within the blade laughing with glee as it feasted on the righteous blood.
r />   The other knights pulled back, exchanging the same paranoid looks as they always did, while their comrade choked and died.

  Ashiyn shook the corpse off his blade and took bold steps toward the other knights, drawing golden magic to flow over his left hand as black lightning flew off his blade in his right. “Well? Attack me or flee back to whomever sent you and tell them I cannot be stopped. Tell them I am tired of their games and the next time I will finish what they start.”

  The Knights looked at each other and chose to abandon their oaths. They turned their mounts and fled like the cowards they were.

  Kill them, too!

  Ashiyn looked down at his blade and raised a brow. “Have you not feasted enough for one day?”

  The sword responded with a negative feeling, almost grumpy. The righteous are the most delicious.

  “Save some for next time. There will be a next time,” Ashiyn promised and sheathed the blade. Sated, he strode to where Illusion waited. He returned to the castle and retreated to his chambers. The servant still sat there waiting for him, though the man scrambled to his feet and bowed when Ashiyn entered the room. Ashiyn gave him an irritated look. “Do you have a name?”