Enveloping Shadows

by Lauren D. M. Smith

  Chayn froze for a moment, then growled. He tossed his knife to the other hand and drew another of his darts. He hurled it at Zel then grabbed his other knife and rushed him.

  Zel turned away from the dart, letting it pass him harmlessly to one side. He set himself, making it look like he was going to meet Chayn’s next attack. Instead, just as his opponent got within lunging distance, he darted forward at an angle. He shot his hand out and grabbed the nearer of Chayn’s wrists, turning along his arm so he could stab him in the side and yank upwards.

  Chayn cried out then swung out with his free hand. His knife bit into the base of Zel’s neck before he could jump back. He clamped a hand to the bleeding wound, grateful that it wasn’t deeper. Chayn’s side seeped red in a way that told Zel he hadn’t been quite deep enough. Though with time, it would weaken his opponent.

  He was pretty sure he didn’t have the time. Not with the look Chayn was turning on him, his face contorted, gaze blazing. He moved faster than Zel thought he should be able to with that injury, lashing out not with a slash like he’d anticipated, but with his hilt-filled fist. The blow connected solidly with his face and he was thrown backwards.

  Zel struggled to stay on his feet, eyes not focusing properly for a second. Chayn followed and kicked out in a move that Zel only half blocked. This time he lost his footing and slid a few feet along the stone floor, one knife flying from his hand. He rolled, narrowly avoiding the stab that had all of Chayn’s weight behind it.

  He fought his way into a sitting position, but Chayn was already up and crouched, a knife held tightly in his hand. Zel paled, knowing he wasn’t going to be able to escape this blow, but bringing up the knife he hadn’t lost.

  Then suddenly shadows rose up and covered Chayn. Zel braced himself for the inevitable strike, but when he heard the other man’s curses, realized it wasn’t Chayn’s doing. The shadows were blocking his sight. Zel scrambled to his feet. “Move,” he cried, not calm enough to be able to speak to the shadows normally.

  They dropped away, revealing Chayn, who was swiping at his face with one hand, the other held his knife and was in front of him. Zel didn’t waste the distraction. He pressed the armed hand away and swung inwards with his own knife. He caught Chayn up by where his chin met his neck and cut diagonally across, his blade biting deep.

  Red spray splattered him and filled his nose with the hot, metallic scent of it while Chayn reached ineffectually for the wound. A moment later he dropped into a heap. Blood pooled out around him in a growing crimson stain, the few twitches of his body swiftly stilling.

  Zel stood and stared down at Chayn’s corpse. He panted, the hand holding his knife trembling, his whole body letting him know he’d gone far beyond what he could handle. He was exhausted and his mind was having difficulty accepting what he saw. Four years. Four years of hunting, of picturing this exact moment, of fantasizing about it. He’d thought revenge would help close the ache of his parents’ death. But it did nothing.

  For a moment, he was empty. The only bright thought was that his sister was safe and he’d finally get to see her again. A high-pitched scream ripped through his thoughts. Zel jerked around to face the stairs, face losing colour as he remembered Terrwyn. If that had been her—

  He threw himself into a stumbling run, ignoring his wounds and exhaustion.

  Chapter Twenty-Four: Magic

  Terrwyn jumped to the side, narrowly avoiding the spray of liquid that hit the ground and sizzled in a way that told her she didn’t want to get hit by it. The latest of the witch’s attacks, she seemed to be coming up with more variety the longer they fought. Racing towards Kirja, Terrwyn slammed her sword into the side of the latest bubble, shattering it. She quickly reversed her blade and scored a cut along the witch’s arm.

  Kirja cried out, but finished the last sigil with her uninjured hand. Terrwyn was blown backwards by a sudden wind. She barely kept herself upright and slid backwards several feet before the wind died away. She immediately ran back to where Kirja had started chanting again, injured arm dripping blood but not enough to stop her.

  Both of them were sweating and panting. Terrwyn was bruised and had a long gash up her back from the rock spear she’d not entirely dodged, not to mention a myriad of smaller cuts from the daggers of light the witch had thrown at her. She was only halfway back to Kirja when she shouted some unintelligible word. Terrwyn braced herself for the impact.

  Instead she heard a scream. She looked up and saw Kirja, robes torn and bloody in more than a few spots, the remnants of what appeared to be shards of ice around her, several stained red. A spell that had been obviously meant for Terrwyn, and not the first misstep by the witch. Not about to waste the advantage, she took off running again.

  Kirja heard her and began the rapid chant and sigils that Terrwyn recognized as the shield spell. She tried to sprint faster but the shimmering bubble reappeared. She rapidly hammered at it while the witch drew something else, but her voice was hoarse now, the movements of her arms slower.

  Which was good, because Terrwyn was tiring herself. She had to dodge spells and never knew what was coming next. It was far more wearing than an upfront martial battle would have been, both physically and mentally. But she couldn’t afford to falter, not with Aricia standing against the far wall, and the demon watching them.

  The shield fractured under another well-placed blow. Terrwyn continued the swing upwards, the tip just slicing through the edge of Kirja’s neck where it met her shoulder. Blood welled, but the wound was shallow. Terrwyn darted to one side, trying to circle around the back of the witch, but she kept turning, chants continuing to pour from her lips.

  Terrwyn was slowing, even her sword felt heavy in her hands. She feinted towards the witch, but Kirja backed up, keeping her distance. She pursued, though her legs felt like she had been sparring in full plate for hours. But she kept moving. To stop was to invite her death in with open arms.

  Kirja slashed her hand in Terrwyn’s direction as she finished with some word that was almost painful to hear. The stone underneath her bucked her upwards, rising like a wave. Terrwyn was thrown up and back. Her arms windmilled as the ground fell back down and she was left to follow.

  Her breath exploded out from her lips and the back of her head smashed into the unforgiving rock. Light burst in front of her eyes as she fought for air. She gasped, body feeling like it had been tied down and molten lead poured over her. The whole of her was too heavy to move. She still tried, struggling to do something, anything. Her sword arm shifted, the tip scraping the ground.

  Stumbling footsteps announced the arrival of Kirja. Red eyes bright with emotion, one arm held close to her side as it bled sluggishly, her elaborate robes in tatters, she didn’t look like the haughty queen she had previously. “Prepare to die,” she hissed as she began another chant.

  Terrwyn tried to summon the strength to move, to do anything, but she was exhausted. Now she was down, her body refused to let her get back up. This was the end. She’d failed in her duty once again.

  “Get up!” Aricia screamed, both hands balled into fists, face white.

  Kirja pointed a finger in her direction, eyes briefly burning at the princess, before she looked back at Terrwyn. Aricia. If she died, if she failed, then their kingdom would be destroyed. Aricia would die. Zel would die. Everyone she knew, everyone she loved, everything she held dear would disappear.

  No. It wasn’t a word, it was an emotion, one that filled Terrwyn up. No! She wouldn’t let Aricia die, wouldn’t let Zel, wouldn’t let anyone die. Anyone except Kirja. She screamed and fought her body into moving.

  Years of training, of forcing herself to her limits and beyond, gave her the willpower to lunge upright, sword first. Terrwyn plunged her blade into the witch’s stomach on an angle. It went up, not stopping until it struck the inside of Kirja’s ribcage.

  The witch gasped, t
rying to inhale, but only pink and red foam bubbled up from her lips. Terrwyn twisted further and yanked her sword out, dropping it almost immediately. She fell backwards while Kirja’s body mirrored hers. The audible thud of the witch hitting the ground was a relief to Terrwyn, as was the choked-off gasp that told her she was finished.

  Then Kirja was screaming and Terrwyn turned to look. The demon was over her already, face lit with an expression of unholy joy that made her shiver. He reached out and grabbed what looked like a slight shimmer to the air above the witch just before her body went limp. There was a crack as the shimmer was removed, the sound mental rather than physical. With laughter like shrieks of agony mixed with the crackle of fire, he nodded at Terrwyn then disappeared in a burst of flame.

  Exhausted and unable to move, Terrwyn couldn’t feel anything. She should be happy. Against all odds, against her own belief, she’d survived. More than survived, she’d killed the witch. Aricia was safe. The kingdom was safe. Everything was as it should be again. Slowly, she closed her eyes.

  * * *

  Aricia ran to Terrwyn, dropping to her knees beside her. Terrwyn’s eyes were closed, but she was still breathing. Aricia hugged herself as tremors ran through her. She was still alive. Terrwyn was alive and Kirja was dead. Tears welled up as she realized she could go home, could put this all behind her eventually.

  She reached out to check Terrwyn’s wounds when Aricia heard running footsteps. Her head snapped up and she stared at the strange man in torn black clothing. It wasn’t Chayn, but his colouring was similar enough to have her back up. Aricia grabbed Terrwyn’s fallen sword in both hands, the weight of it surprising her, and moved so she stood between the fallen knight and the stranger.

  “Who are you? What do you want?” She hoped he didn’t notice the way her arms trembled. “If you want Terrwyn, you’ll have to go through me!”

  Bleeding in places and with the beginnings of a bruise on his face, he looked injured enough that she might even have a chance against him if he proved to be dangerous. His words made her freeze as he paced slowly towards them. “You must be the princess.”

  “Stay where you are! And how do you know I’m a princess?”

  “It’s all right,” Terrwyn croaked from beside her. Aricia glanced down at her, not liking how pale she was. “Zel’s with me. With us.”

  She lowered the sword then, but didn’t drop it. The man, Zel, continued over, gaze flickering briefly to her and Kirja’s body before resting on Terrwyn. He sat down beside her with a wince. “I see you won.”

  Terrwyn turned her head, a faint smile on her lips. “I assume so did you.”

  He chuckled then grimaced. “Yeah, though it was far closer than I like.”

  Aricia frowned, then put two and two together. This man had taken out Chayn. Her estimation of him rose, already higher than normal for having been able to make Terrwyn smile. Something about the way they were looking at each other made her think that maybe...

  “I didn’t think I’d survive. I’m happy to be alive, though I’ll be honest, I don’t think I’ll be able to fight anything any time soon. I’m not sure I’ll be able to move for a while.” Terrwyn sighed. “I’m going to need your help to even leave this place.”

  He smiled gently. “Happy to give it.”

  “Give me a few minutes, then we should get the horses and get out of these lands. I don’t like the idea of being here any longer than we have to. This place was dangerous even before they moved in.”

  Aricia couldn’t help the shiver that ran through her. The whole Tower felt wrong and had since she’d first stepped into it. She was all for getting out as soon as they could. But she wouldn’t leave without Terrwyn.

  Zel nodded slowly with a quick look around. “Then rest, and we’ll hobble out together.”

  Seeing the smile on Terrwyn’s face, Aricia could only assume her friend felt the same as she did. Together sounded wonderful.

  Chapter Twenty-Five: The Palace

  Birdsong and butterflies surrounded them as they strolled through the palace gardens, Zel looking around at the riot of colour far more than she was. Terrwyn had to smile as she gave him a sidelong glance. Dressed in his finest, an outfit she recognized from the ball, Zel cleaned up better than most of the men at court. Then again, she was prejudiced.

  With only some prodding from Aricia, Terrwyn had dressed better than she typically did. Out of her formal uniform, she had refused a dress as she still wasn’t certain someone wouldn’t come popping out of the shadows, no matter what Zel said. But the wide-legged pants and matching shirt under her embroidered vest were almost as good. Even Aricia had admitted that.

  And given where they’d come from, Terrwyn had felt better wearing something nicer than her usual. That thought had her grinning at him. “How does it feel to be Sir Zelek now?”

  He wrinkled his nose. “About the same as it did before. And I’m not sure I like the title. I much prefer just being Zel.”

  She chuckled. “The king was ready to make you a noble, if you’d wanted. Really, I think he’d have offered you Aricia’s hand if you’d shown even the slightest interest.” The fact that she was glad neither Zel nor Aricia had shown any interest in each other outside of friendship she kept to herself. Bad enough the princess couldn’t stop grinning every time she saw them together, but Zel was still laughing over some of the faces and reactions they’d gotten when everyone had found out he was staying in her rooms.

  Now it was Zel who was looking at her, a thoughtful expression slowly spreading across his face. “I hadn’t thought of that. Being king wouldn’t be so bad...”

  He must have noticed her stricken expression because he stopped and caught her chin, smiling softly. “I’m only kidding. Your princess is a lovely person, but not to my taste. You of all people should know that.”

  Terrwyn couldn’t help blushing. How he could say those things with a straight face, she had no idea. He chuckled, as he always did when he succeeded in making her turn red. He seemed to be going out of his way to do it these days. Not that she could blame him, not when they were all still suffering the effects of the Wild Lands.

  She repressed a shiver at the thought of how close they’d come to dying. The return journey had been both better and worse. Better, because they knew they were getting closer to safety and they’d survived. Worse, because she and Zel hadn’t been in nearly as good of shape to defend themselves and Aricia. They’d had to rely on Zel’s shadows to get them around more than one encounter.

  The relief when they’d finally reached the kingdom had been an almost physical feeling, like being able to take full plate off after a week straight of wearing it. But none of them had completely relaxed until they’d gotten to the palace. And Terrwyn hadn’t even then, not until she and Zel had gone over the safety protocols, guard formations, and overhauled their whole guarding system. And that after what had already been done in their absence.

  Even now, Aricia, and the rest of her family, had two guards who had strict orders not to be out of reach of them at any time. That in addition to the six surrounding them. Four to secure a small perimeter, two to keep moving and checking. They weren’t taking any more chances.

  But that was work, and for right now, neither of them was on duty. Zel released her face but grabbed her hand, intertwining his fingers with hers as they started walking again. She kept pace with him, just enjoying his company. They’d had precious little of that of late.

  They were heroes, the ones who’d gone into the legendary Wild Lands and snatched the princess back from the hands of a demon witch and her male counterpart. They’d come back from the Lonely Tower when no one ever had. Not sane at least.

  Zel got more of the attention, not that Terrwyn minded. She was familiar and female, he was an exotic foreigner. For her job it was better she was ignored. Better she faded into the background e
xcept when needed. Not to mention she’d seen the same hungry looks people turned on Aricia thrown in Zel’s direction. She was happy enough to stay out of that. She’d never been much good at politics and posturing, and both still gave her a headache.

  The thought of headaches brought back the memories of meeting Sir Michme’s widow. It’d been hard to see her, to tell her that her husband had died doing what was right, to see the barely hidden wish in her eyes that it had been Terrwyn who had died and not Michme. She knew she’d be carrying his death on her shoulders for a long time if not for the rest of her life. No matter what Zel said, she felt responsible.

  Guilt might also explain why Jeriel was hiding on his family’s lands. She’d only told the king that Jeriel had left when asked, and the expression of King Stavros’s had spoken volumes. While not yet formally stripped of his knighthood, it was only a matter of time. Terrwyn agreed with the idea, though on the other side of things, she felt she had a better understanding of where Michme had been coming from.

  She sighed, drawing Zel’s focus away from one of the flowering bushes that had the air heavily perfumed. He squeezed her hand. “If you have enough time to be worrying and regretting, you have enough time to think about clothing for tonight’s ball.”

  That made her smile then grimace. “Please don’t remind me. And Aricia has already presented me with three options and made it clear those are my only options.”

  Zel tossed his head in an uncanny imitation of one of the haughtier women at court. “I was talking about my clothing,” he said, nose in air briefly, before he grinned at her. “I can hardly wear what I am now as I understand it. And this is the best clothing I have with me. You don’t know where a poor, foreign knight would go about finding clothing for an event like this, do you?”

  Terrwyn had to laugh. “I doubt any of mine would fit, or I’d offer you some of them. If you don’t mind the fussing and being told what to do, Aricia may be able to help. She’s perfectly willing to raid anyone’s closets for clothes. And that’s if hers fails to deliver.”