The Shadow Rises: A Morgan Rook Supernatural Thriller (The Order of Shadows Book 5)

by Kit Hallows

  “Block!” I swung the sword, and the fireball shattered across its blade, the strength of my weapon dissipating his power while the pommel thrummed in my hand with such force I almost dropped it.

  Emeric strode toward me, his eyes locked on mine, the years of resentment and hatred fueling his advance. He swung double-handed. I met the call and staggered back.

  He swung again and our blades crashed like waves on a rocky, desolate shore. He moved in close, head butted me in the face and stepped back, grinning in delight as blood spilled from my broken nose. It hurt like hell but I did my damnedest not to show it.

  “Is it just the three of you?” Emeric asked, “the order of shadows?”

  “I guess you’ll have to wait and see.” I glanced away as a crowd of mages gathered in the light of the burning tents, and there, at their center, Stroud. “Hello, father,” I called.

  He raised his hands to his sides, drawing in shadows.

  “No,” Emeric said, his voice urgent. “He’s mine.”

  “So be it.” Stroud’s gaze roved impatiently over mine. “Just be quick, we’ve many things to settle before dawn.”

  “Am I of no importance to you?” I asked, my voice full of mocking.

  “What do you think?” Stroud asked. “You’re-”

  Another boom rumbled the air. Stroud barely registered it as he nodded to Emeric. I hoped Astrid was close, that she’d be in and out before the bastard knew his ghostly throat had been cut.

  Emeric’s shadow shifted across the ground and I glanced back as he swung his sword once more. I ducked, and it passed in an arc over my head, almost cleaving my scalp off.

  I strode forward and punched him in the face, feeling his cheekbone shatter below my fist. He winced as he brought his sword back down, but I parried it and half stumbled away, drawing laughter from the crowd, but not from my father.

  Emeric attacked again. Our swords clashed over and over, the green fire of his blade a torrent that dwarfed the orange and red fire of mine. Block, parry! Thoughts tumbled through my mind as he launched strike after strike, driving me back. He had a height and strength advantage, dead or not. Me, I was but a shadow below his might and he knew it.

  I was losing fast. I strode from his reach and focused the magic Astrid and Samuel had given me. If I used it, there was a chance he’d match it with his own, and mine was finite. But what choice was there?

  A lithe figure moved in the gloom beyond a burning tent. I glanced at the mages and Stroud; if it was Astrid, I’d need to buy her time.

  I focused hard, summoning magic to shield me as I ran at Emeric and rained blow after blow on him. He was on the defensive until my foot sunk into the ground and I tripped.

  A sallow-faced mage laughed and magic shimmered around his outstretched fingers. Clearly he’d cast the hole and was proud of it. Then the tiny woman beside him muttered and an invisible force crashed into me, hurling me onto my back. Heavy pain hit me in waves that sharpened with each breath.

  “I said I’d end him!” Emeric growled.

  He stepped toward them and they backed away. All except Stroud, who tilted his head at an angle that conveyed distant boredom. “If you’re going to end him,” he said, “then get it done. I’ve already witnessed enough of this pantomime.”

  I pulled myself up and charged Emeric. My sword gashed his chest and he stared out as his shirt fluttered open, exposing pale skin and the scar… Grimacing, he put a hand to the wound, his eyes burning into mine.

  Another explosion shook the air. It was close. I glanced in its direction and saw Samuel’s silhouette against the glow. He was surrounded. The restless, twenty, maybe more had hemmed him in. He’d caught Emeric’s attention too and I used the distraction to pile into him and strike him under the jaw.

  Emeric went down hard, sprawling into the dirt. As he threw a hand toward his sword, I kicked it away and placed the tip of my own at his throat. “Let it go,” I whispered, “give up and I’ll spare you. I only want him.”

  He thrust his head up, until the sword punctured his throat. “Never!”

  55

  I pulled the sword back from Emeric’s throat. I didn’t want to kill him, I wanted a means to remove him from the fight, but before I could act he climbed to his feet and staggered for his weapon. I had a clear shot at his back, but we both knew I wouldn’t take it. He spun around, sword in hand and charged.

  “Block!” The sword of intention glowed bright in the gloom as I deflected his blow. “Cut!” It sliced through the air, opening the stitches on his chest. His cry might well have been my own. It was a sickening sound, drenched in agony.

  His eyes narrowed as he summoned another ball of flames and hurled it at me. It dissipated almost as soon as it struck the magical shield I’d swiftly conjured. He looked almost as surprised as I was. Either the magic Astrid and Samuel had given me was stronger than his, or his power was diminishing. It felt like the latter.

  “Fuck you,” Emeric said as he lifted his sword and staggered toward me.

  “Cut!” The sword of intention slashed through his arm, and he dropped his weapon.

  He gazed down as his arm hung limply at his side, and then to my sword. “You have the advantage now. Use it.”

  He sounded tired, like he wanted it all to end. I knew how he felt. “Give it up,” I said before nodding to our watchful father. “I told you, I came for him, not you.”

  Emeric pulled a dagger from a sheath under his cloak. It was short, but sharp and deadly, even in his disabled state.

  “Back off.” I held the sword between us. If he came, I’d do my best to-

  He charged again, and before I could step back, the sword of intention plunged through his side, and emerged glistening on the other side. “I’ll take death before your mercy,” he spluttered as he sank to his knees. Sluggish liquid spilled from the wound and his face grew paler. His eyes flitted from me to the gloom and then to Stroud as he stormed out from the throng of dark magicians.

  Stroud hurled a blast of shadows that knocked me to the ground beside Emeric. “Pathetic!” he said. “Absolutely pathetic! To think you’re my flesh and blood.” At first I thought he was talking to me, but then I saw his eyes were on Emeric. “I’ll finish him for you,” Stroud said, “you can watch, as you bleed out.” Black fire crackled around his fingertips and the air around him shimmered.

  “No!” Emeric reached out and seized my wrist. Magic erupted in a torrent from his fingers into my skin, my veins and my very soul.

  I tried to wrench my arm away. “I don’t want it!” I cried, and I didn’t. If I was to die, it would be as me, not him.

  “Not my magic,” Emeric said, his voice hoarse. “Your magic. I took it all.” His fingers burned, but as Stroud unleashed a torrent of black fire, it hit the shield surrounding us and discharged like a thunderbolt. The magic streaming into my veins shook my entire being. So much of it seemed to be his and it carried the indelible marks of his persona, but amongst it was the magic he’d been obscuring from me since who knew when.

  “I don’t want it!” I said again, as I waited to feel his corruption, sadism and evil, but his malevolence fizzled away as the power seeped through me.

  “I’m returning what I took,” Emeric said, “and now you… you must do with it what you will.” He grabbed my hand. “Do what I should have done years ago.” Tears gleamed in his eyes and for a moment, I saw him again as the boy we’d once been; the lonely child terrified by his father’s erratic moods and his deathly fixation with darkness.

  I glanced up as another volley of magic hit the shield and turned to find Stroud standing over us, his face contorted in disgust.

  Emeric squeezed my wrist and his gaze bore into mine as a final, rattling breath left his twice dead body.

  I held onto the magic, the power that was ours. It felt like coming home, like I’d found something long forgotten. I gazed up at Stroud and smiled. It struck a little of the hatred from his contemptuous glare, and replaced it with a flicke
r of apprehension.

  “That’s right,” I said as I stood, and the magic thrummed through me. “I’ve got back what was taken.”

  Stroud threw a blast, but my coat deflected it. He threw another and I lifted my hand, wrenched the spell from the air, and hurled it into the ground. The magic, both mine and Emeric’s, coupled with the power Astrid and Samuel had given me, raged in a torrent. For how long, I had no idea, but in that moment I felt like a God, ancient, furious and vengeful.

  Stroud lowered his hands and glanced back. His acolytes drew around him, but I sensed their trepidation as they looked from Emeric to me, and then to their master. I glanced out at the world beyond them.

  The night was dark in between the ebbing glow of the tents. No more thunderseeds had been launched, and there was no sign of Astrid. All I could see were the restless, hundreds upon hundreds of them, all watching, their corpse-blue eyes glowing in the endless gloom.

  “Take down your shield,” Stroud said. Black magic continued to fizzle along his palms. “Do it now, and the end will come quick.” His voice was even, measured, but it seemed he was festering on the way his favored son had fallen. But the truth was I’d already defeated Emeric, in that race in the astral realm, and he’d been living on borrowed time ever since. He’d known it, as had I.

  “And why would I give up now?” I asked. The dagger Astrid had armed me with felt heavy in its sheath. Did he know it was there? Could he sense it?

  “You’ll do it to spare your friends. Guards,” Stroud called into the darkness. Within moments two Hexlings appeared. One clutched Samuel, its iron grip at his throat, the other held Astrid, its hand clamped over her mouth. The mages drew in around them, cackling and taunting, then one sniffed Astrid’s hair and widened his eyes in mock desire.

  “Let them go,” I said. The power still raged through me and I was determined to use it to make all of these animals howl in pain before I was done. But first, Stroud. “Release them now, so you and I can settle this,” I said. “They’re of no consequence to you. Once I’m dead this rebellion is over.”

  “Why should I fight?” Stroud said, “You’ve already lost. I have what matters to you, while you,” he glanced to Emeric, “have nothing.”

  “Why should I have expected anything less from you? You’re a coward who uses Hexlings to go after his enemies, and casts craven attacks from the darkness. No wonder facing a half man whose lived most his life amongst the blinkereds is too much of a challenge for you.” I nodded to the mages, “Your master’s weak and scared. You should leave while you can. The throat of the snake’s already been severed.”

  Stroud smiled. “Nicely done, prodding my ego to try and goad me to fight. I will oblige you, but not for pride. I’ll fight for the simple pleasure of choking the life out of you. But before we begin, you might wish to consider how you propose to win? I’m spirit after all, and you’re made of flesh.”

  I reached into my pocket for the herbs I’d taken from De’ Nix. “By dying, of course.” I took a pinch and chewed them. They tasted of ancient ash, scented with death as they slithered down my throat.

  “What’s that?” Stroud’s voice flowed like oil as it echoed through my spinning mind. The night grew blacker, and the crowd before me receded into columns of darkness. My chest became as hard as stone and my lungs were stilled as a deep sweat stole across by body.

  It was nearly over.

  There was no turning back.

  56

  The world lost all color as my heart began to stop and I felt myself slipping into a deathly state. My body lay sprawled below me and I watched as Astrid wriggled in the grips of the Hexling, tears streaming down her face. Samuel stared at me, crestfallen. Fiery auras glowed around them, the mages too and they seemed almost solemn as they gazed at my dimming corpse.

  I turned my intentions toward untethering my spirit from its anchor, my body. It was a race against time as a deep torpidity stole over me, urging me to submit. No! I tore myself loose and dived down, reaching for the spirit knife.

  Stroud stood among the mages, snatching his head this way and that as he scoured for me in the shifting gray, lifeless plane that was slightly removed from the land of the living. Then he saw me, and nodded to my withering body. “All I need to do is cut your throat while you’re prone, Morgan. Just as my Hexling slashed Tom’s throat, and he mine.”

  “I’ve already cut ties with my body,” I said, “end it if you wish, I’ll still be here waiting for you.” I held up the spirit knife.

  Stroud raised his hand and drew in the shadows from the spectral plane. They became black in his palms and morphed into long tentacle-like appendages, bristling with magic. “We’ve been here once before,” he said. He looked pensive, as if trying to figure out my next move.

  “Yeah, we have. And as I recall, I destroyed your assassin, and you fled.” I concentrated my magic within my palm and a ball of crackling flames appeared. They were no longer black but whitish blue. This wasn’t the demonic magic of old, it was something new and light. I forced a nonchalance I didn’t feel and smiled at him.

  Stroud made no remark as he launched his torrent of shadows.

  There was no time to block it. The blast struck me hard and my chest rippled with darkness as the impact sent me crashing to the ground. I skidded back and came to a halt before a horde of restless, but they were blind to me.

  Stroud threw another column of shadows. I pulled my spirit coat around me but I wasn’t his target, the ground was. It shook and wobbled, like a thin skin stretched over a tumultuous ocean.

  “You wanted to play a game, you wanted my attention. Now you have it. There are other worlds lurking below this phantasmic limbo,” Stroud said, “horrific places, and I’ll show you them all before I finish you.”

  I climbed to my feet. The unsteady ground felt like it was going to give way any moment. I clutched the knife in my hand. I had to find a way to get closer…

  Stroud summoned another blast of shadows. I summoned my own, its blueish light tame compared to his dark grey knot of power. He launched his assault, and I launched mine. The spells raced toward each other.

  Hssssshhhhhh!

  They collided and erupted like fireworks, sending embers of magic tumbling down upon the drab, dead ground.

  Stroud threw a tendril of power and I countered with my own. It seized his, its light color slowing dispersing his energy. He looked surprised, angry, and then his face turned blank. The magic my other had relinquished, along with what Astrid and Samuel had given me still fizzled within me, but it wasn’t going to last much longer. I was going to run dry.

  “Tut tut.” Stroud shook his head. “You really should conserve your magic, Morgan. Use it wisely. It flows and ebbs and you have to ride the currents with it. You’d have known this if you’d had an aptitude for the arcane arts, but you never did.”

  Fury got the better of him as I threw another blast. He deflected it, but it was close and I saw his unease. It seemed anger tempered his powers. I threw another bolt. This one missed his blocking spell and struck his face. His cry sounded more shocked than hurt as the filaments of my magic faded and were absorbed by his spirit form.

  Stroud shot forward and threw out both hands, unleashing a huge wave of magic. I backed up and began to raise a counter spell but his magic wasn’t intended for me, but the ground where I stood. It struck violently, sending a jolt through the ghostly plane, then the membrane gave way and I fell.

  I tumbled down through a crimson sky, its clouds like bloody gauze. I soared through them toward a black world of shifting mountains, pools and forests of slowly creeping trees. I hit the ground hard, but my spirit incurred no damage. I crawled to my feet and glanced up as Stroud descended, gliding down toward me, with his hands raised. I rolled aside as his spell struck the unearthly ground, turning it red with embers and summoned my response, but as I glanced back, he was gone.

  The land around me was black but for the faint yellow glow of a crooked moon. Creatures s
hifted in the withered trees. They were tall, hunched predators with glowing eyes, their limbs spindly and jagged, their bellies swollen, their heads long and wolf-like.

  “They once lived in the blinkered world,” Stroud said. He was standing on a rock above me, gazing down at the creatures. “and were revered, until they were cast away. Erased from the past by priests and the men who write false histories. Since then they’ve hungered for astral flesh. It’s said the pain their quarry feels as they feed is without measure, and they’re slow to consume their catch, despite their ravenous hunger.”

  I watched as one of the creatures began to stalk toward me through the trees.

  “It’s trying to stay hidden,” Stroud said, “not from you, from the others. It wants to feast alone. Enjoy its meal. Draw it out, to ensure it finds every succulent morsel of your spirit flesh.”

  As it crept from its cover, the creature’s shadow fell over the softly glowing, arid ground. It towered over me and began to pant, its sharp pointed teeth glistened, and its long fingers splayed apart, revealing claws.

  The magic inside me was but a trickle. The ebb…

  Eldritch green light shone as Stroud summoned another spell and threw it hard. I raised power to counter his strike, but the curse hit me in the chest.

  My cry cut off as I tried to raise myself. The pain was agonizing and seemed to blaze in every part of my being. A terrible tearing sensation, one of dissolution, rumbled through my spirit.

  I’d have come apart, if not for the magic Astrid and Samuel had lent me, but I knew it still wasn’t enough to save me.

  Stroud hit me again. I buckled as his magic began to heal me. “I want you to be fully lucid when you experience this next torment, Morgan, because I despise you, more than I can begin to describe.”

  “Because I’m a part of you,” I managed to shout as another wave of agony passed through the very core of my being.