The Knife in the Dark

by D. W. Hawkins

  “Nothing that seemed important, you fool!” Lilliane hissed.

  “You shut up!” Torins snarled, pressing the point of his knife into the fat of her throat. “Just be quiet!”

  “It’s alright, Torins,” Lacelle said, trying to keep her tone even. “You’re free of him, now. It doesn’t matter if he tells anyone now.”

  “It’s not just the Lirium anymore,” Torins said, grimacing. “I just…I can’t let you leave. I can’t.”

  “You must!”

  “I can’t.”

  Bethany’s eyes went again to Shawna. The woman cut down creatures whenever they got too close, and kept them at bay by dancing out of their range and changing direction. It was a losing game, though. Three of them were after her, and more were in the shadows beyond. Bethany clenched her teeth.

  “Torins, look around you—this isn’t Victus’s work! This is necromancy! You’re not privy to all the information, you don’t know everything! Think!” Lacelle said, desperation in her voice.

  “I just can’t let you leave,” Torins said. “He wouldn’t excuse it. He wouldn’t. He would do something…something terrible.”

  “We’re all going to be ripped apart, you stupid bastard!” Lilliane screamed.

  “We have to go back,” Torins said, shaking Lilliane to shut her up. “We’re going to turn around now. We’re going back!”

  “That’s not going to happen,” Lacelle said, holding up her hands for peace. “Why don’t you just let Lilliane go, and you can leave, you can go back. Alright? Just let her go.”

  “I can’t!” Torins growled. “I just can’t! If you don’t come now, I’ll kill her. I’ll cut her throat right here.”

  “Torins!” Lacelle hissed. “Torins, I don’t want to have to hurt you!”

  “You’ve got three seconds,” Torins replied. He pressed the knife into Lilliane’s throat, making the girl stand on the tips of her toes. “Three seconds, then she dies. I’m sorry.”

  “Torins!”

  “One!”

  “Torins!”

  “Two!”

  Bethany had had enough.

  She reached out with her magic, and gripped Torins the same way she had gripped the rock in Gameritus. The man gave a surprised cry of pain as she clamped down on him, and both Lacelle and Lilliane started back in surprise. Bethany took a deep breath, trying to still the wild fright that fueled her spell, and turned her eyes in Shawna’s direction.

  Three more corpses lay dead around her, and she was in process of killing two more. Three others were running in her direction from farther down the walkway. Bethany judged the distance, gritted her teeth.

  “Pirate-Queen of the Seas!” she growled.

  Then, she tossed Torins out of the safety of the ward, and sent him flying into the group of corpses pursuing Shawna. His body slammed into them with bone-crushing force, bringing the whole group to a chaotic, tumbling halt. Apparently the ward could only keep things out, because Torins had passed through from this side like a knife through hot butter. Shawna took the head off the last corpse able to pursue her, and turned to sprint for the safety of Lacelle’s ward.

  “Let her in!” Bethany said. For the tenth time, already!

  Lacelle gestured at the ward, and Bethany heard the woman’s song play a sharp melody. The blue light parted, and Shawna came through the hole an instant later, skidding to a halt near the center. The noblewoman was covered in gore, and gasping for breath from the effort of the fight. The light reformed around them, and a moment of tense silence passed.

  “What…what happened in here?” Shawna asked between gasps of breath.

  Lilliane and Lacelle glanced at each other, then regarded Bethany with stunned gazes.

  “Flying Rock,” Bethany shrugged.

  Torins started screaming then, and everyone turned their gazes in his direction. Shawna tried to catch her breath, but reached out to squeeze Bethany’s shoulder. Bethany patted her hand, and decided not to make a big deal about saving her life.

  Pirate-Queen of the bloody Seas!

  **

  By the time Dormael turned back to Jev, it was already too late.

  Three of the things had him on the ground, pounding him into the stone with bloodthirsty abandon. Jev screamed in wild terror, but his screams soon turned to gurgles as the things cracked his head open with their berserk attack. They ripped the little man apart, and in complete silence.

  Dormael was so shocked by the sight of it that it took him a moment to recover.

  “What are those gods-damned things?” Allen asked through clenched teeth.

  “No idea,” Dormael said, still stunned at the brutality of the attack. With a start, he realized that the things had risen from Jev’s broken corpse, and were running in Dormael and Allen’s direction.

  “They’re coming this way!” Allen said. He hefted his long, curving saber and pulled a spiked buckler into place on his forearm. “I’m not dying like that! Not like that!”

  “Nor I,” Dormael growled, readying his magic. “Watch your eyes!”

  “My eyes?” Allen asked, but it was too late.

  Dormael cracked out with his magic, sending a white-hot bolt of lightning at the three silent men. Two of them were blown off the walkway, flying into the shadows below without a sound. The third was lifted from its feet and tossed back toward the two creatures who still crouched in the doorway. Smoke rose from its chest, and Dormael readied a spell for the two creatures behind it.

  He nearly fell on his arse when the thing got up.

  Nothing should have been able to survive that, he thought. He watched in horror as it climbed to its feet, eyes still locked on Dormael and his brother. Smoke was still rising from it—and, in fact, a small fire was burning over its clothing—but the thing didn’t even notice.

  “What, in the name of the gods, is that thing?” Allen asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Isn’t this supposed to be your sphere?” Allen said. “You’re supposed to know these things.”

  “Not these things,” Dormael said. “Nor those things behind it. I’ve never seen their like.”

  “Beautiful,” Allen grumbled. “Bloody beautiful.”

  Dormael reached out and gripped the burning creature in his Kai, bringing it up from the stone of the walkway. Even suspended in the air, it fought to get to him, kicking its legs in a vain attempt to struggle in his direction. Dormael twisted the thing into a wrecked ball of flesh, and tossed it into the shadows.

  The two creatures stared at Dormael and Allen, swaying like a pair of poisonous snakes entranced by a charmer’s song. The other things—the silent berserkers—had disappeared into the shadows around them. The swaying creatures let out a strange series of kettle-like noises, and then crouched like cats on the prowl.

  “I think they’re coming this way,” Allen said. “They look hungry.”

  “Let’s see if they’re like the other things,” Dormael said. “Watch—”

  “—my eyes? Got it.”

  Dormael lashed out with his magic, sending a searing bolt of energy cracking across the distance. The smaller of the two was struck, and it uttered a strange cry in what Dormael thought was pain. He could feel, though, an odd sensation. His magic wanted to slide away from the creatures, like oil over the surface of water. His lightning had hit the thing, but the power of the strike was toothless, diminished. The strange creature shook itself as the electricity arced around it in the wake of the bolt, and continued to prowl toward them.

  “Evmir’s bloody hammer,” Allen said. “Can we even kill these things?”

  “We have to try!” Dormael said, hefting his spear.

  The first of the creatures—the largest—broke into a lithe, liquid sprint. It had long, thin claws on its hands that made scraping noises across the stone. It uttered a cry, like a hound on the hunt. Allen held up the buckler—which seemed a pitifully small shield in the face of the large, hellish creature—and held his long saber aloft. He crouch
ed, ready to meet the thing’s charge.

  The second one also tore down the walkway in their direction, vaulting Jev’s corpse without looking down. Dormael readied his spear, crouching as if he was about to meet the charge of a wild boar, and clenched his teeth. He reached deep into his being and pulled more power from his Kai, bringing his magic to a single, powerful point.

  As the thing rushed him, he lashed out with his magic, trying to knock it from the walkway. He hit it with enough force to have shattered a boulder, but his magic again slid mostly away—however, he had poured enough power into the attack to have some effect. The creature tumbled away into the darkness to their left, though it didn’t go as far as it should have.

  So it does work, though not as well as it should.

  Allen screamed in fury and rushed the last few links toward the other creature, meeting its charge head on. His saber whipped out in vicious arcs as he advanced, forcing the creature to duck away. Allen scored a slash on its long, distended forearm, and the monster hissed in rage as it rolled away from him. It came back up to a fighting crouch, and shot its glowing eyes between Dormael and Allen.

  Dormael reached out and tried to grip the thing in his Kai, but it again resisted his power. His magic flowed away from it, as if its skin was anathema to its touch. It rose from the walkway for the space of a small moment, struggling against Dormael’s magic with its arms and legs. Allen moved in and made a swipe at the thing, but its claws deflected his saber with a tense, metallic note. Dormael made a few quick thrusts at its face with his spear, but its claws flicked his attacks aside as well, and he had to let his spell go as a waste.

  Allen moved in as the thing’s feet hit the walkway, driving it back with cuts aimed at its glowing eyes. Dormael moved in to support him on the other side, threatening it with his spear when it tried to slip aside from his brother. For a brief, glorious moment Dormael thought they had the thing pinned down, and it would soon be carved to pieces.

  The creature, though, went on the offensive.

  It swiped Allen’s saber aside with the flick of one of its claws, and wrapped the other around his buckler. Allen gave a cry of rage as the creature jerked him aside by the shield, flinging him down the walkway. He tumbled away, his weapons clinking on the stone. Dormael stabbed the thing through the side with his spear when it turned its attention away, but the creature paid the wound little mind as it turned back to him. It swiped a long set of claws at Dormael’s face, and the only thing that saved him from being maimed was the fact that his heel had slipped on the stone, and he was already falling.

  The creature jerked his spear out of its side and dropped it on the stone. It made an odd screeching noise, and reached down to wrap a hand around Dormael’s throat. Dormael felt a spike of fear stab into his heart, and he kicked at the creatures knees, trying to scramble away. His feet connected, bringing the cloth-wrapped thing down on top of him.

  It smelled like an open grave.

  Dormael reached to his side and whipped a stiletto from his belt, punching it into the thing’s ribs as he tried to scramble free. The creature gave little physical reaction as the knife sank in. It raised itself from Dormael’s body and looked down at him, shining red pin-points narrowing. It turned its head to the side and sniffled, like a dog about to chomp down on a meal. The hand around his throat tightened, and Dormael was filled with the sudden, sickening fear that he was going to be eaten.

  Allen’s saber chopped down into its shoulder with a fleshy thump, and the creature uttered a kettle-like screech of pain. It arched its back, trying to reach behind and pull the saber out of its collarbone. Allen let out another scream of rage, and chopped through the creature’s leg with one of his short swords, having abandoned the saber in the creature’s shoulder. It squealed in rage as it buckled to the stone, and Dormael thought he saw black mist leak from the severed stump. When the leg hit the walkway, it crackled, hissed, and changed into something that looked like salt.

  What are these gods-damned things?!

  Dormael scrambled out of the way and lashed out with his magic, putting every bit of power he could muster against the creature that was even now trying to rise. He held it to the stone, though it struggled to get up and attack him. Dormael felt his magic sliding away from the thing, threatening to give way at any moment.

  “Get it!” Dormael screamed. “Kill the fucking thing!”

  Allen obliged him. He chopped down with his thick-bladed short sword, severing the creature’s head in a series of brutal cuts. It screamed with every blow, clawed hands pawing at the air, but unable to block. Once the head came off, its body crackled and disintegrated—just as the leg had.

  A mournful croon came from the shadows under the kettles.

  “I forgot about the other one,” Allen said, grimacing as he wiped the salty substance from his hand. He reached down and helped Dormael to his feet, and then retrieved his weapons. Dormael picked up his spear, and shoved the stiletto back into its sheath.

  “We need a better way to do this,” Dormael said, eyes darting through the darkness. The creature hadn’t shown itself. “That one almost got me.”

  “You’re welcome, by the way,” Allen said. “If I hadn’t been there, you’d have been skewered.”

  “My magic doesn’t work on them,” Dormael said. “At least, not as well as it should.”

  “I noticed,” Allen said. “Maybe if we—”

  A loud, metallic clang cut off Allen’s words, and the brothers turned to see the second, smaller creature leaping down on them from one of the bronze globes. Dormael moved away from his brother, just as Allen leapt in the other direction, and the monster landed on the walkway where they had been standing, claws digging furrows into the stone as it slid to a stop. It keened in rage.

  Allen attacked it from behind, saber cutting quick, circular arcs through the air. The creature slipped aside, moving like an eel as it dodged around the saber in a contemptuous dance. Dormael wasn’t sure if the things had intelligence—Hells, he didn’t even know what the things were—but it almost looked as if it was taunting his brother.

  Dormael moved in with his spear, threatening the creature as it tried to dodge his brother’s swipes with the curved sword. He choked out on the haft and slashed at the monster’s legs with the blade, trying his best to trip the thing up. It was too damned fast.

  The thing moved with an alien, unnatural grace. Allen’s saber cut a deadly arc at its eyes, while Dormael’s spear descended on an ankle. The creature swayed just out of reach of the saber, while slipping its leg wide of Dormael’s spear simultaneously. No matter what they did, it stayed one step ahead of them—a breath away from being cut, but dancing along that edge with a cold, contemptuous air.

  It snatched the haft of Dormael’s spear, moving so fast that he had no time to react. It jerked the weapon out of his hands and shoved it back into his chest cross-wise, knocking the breath from Dormael’s chest. Dormael felt his feet leave the stone as he flew backwards, spear tumbling through the air with him. His head struck the walkway enough to jam his teeth down on his tongue. He tasted blood in his mouth, and stars appeared before his eyes.

  Another huddled, stinking form appeared above him, and hands clamped around his throat. He had a bare moment to notice the dead, glazed eyes that regarded him, and the pallid flesh that had long since begun to rot. Dormael tossed his arm up in an instinctual motion, throwing his shoulder over the thing’s arm and rolling away. He was able to break its choke, but the thing continued to come at him, clawing at his clothing for purchase. Dormael scrambled away from it in terror, swatting away its hands as he tried to scoot to his feet.

  Two more sets of hands grabbed him by the shoulders of his mesavai, dragging him back to the stone. More hands, ripping at his right arm. Dormael kicked his feet, panic rising in his chest. The sight of Jev came once again to his memory, ripped apart by those creatures.

  Corpses, he realized. Animated corpses!

  Screaming, he lashed out w
ith his Kai. A wave of violent force swept out from him, pushing everything away. Dormael scrambled to his feet and summoned a ball of flame, super-heating the air with a muted thump. The light illuminated the slack faces of corpses all around him, the ones on their feet running toward him at full speed.

  Dormael swept out with the flame, pouring magic out in wide, sweeping arcs. The liquid fire stuck to every corpse it touched, burning through flesh, bone, and cloth with supernatural speed. Those who made it close enough were crushed to the walkway, Dormael’s magic coming down on them like the heel of a giant boot. He yelled something unintelligible, rage and fear powering his magic as he laid about with the fire. Before long, all the corpses he could see were burning.

  Dormael gestured, bringing his spear back to his hands, and turned back to help his brother.

  Allen was spinning with the red-eyed creature, dancing an intricate, brutal series of steps. Claws slashed at the air, drawing sparks from Allen’s saber as he turned them aside. Allen knocked other swipes away from him with his buckler, staying just ahead of the thing’s claws at every turn. Dormael would never have been able to move that fast. His brother couldn’t keep it up forever, though—of that, Dormael was sure.

  He hefted his spear and sprinted back toward the action, splitting his consciousness as he ran. He reached the fight and waded in, scoring a glancing slice on the creature’s shoulder while its back was turned. It uttered a high-pitched growl and made to slash at him, but was forced to turn and defend itself from Allen instead. The creature prowled aside from them, disengaging to regard them both with its head cocked to the side. Allen took the opportunity to abandon his buckler.

  “Damned thing was getting in my way,” he growled, holding his saber out at the prowling, swaying creature. “Any idea how to kill this thing?”

  “I need you stick something in it,” Dormael said, coming to a realization.

  “That’s the way you kill lots of things, brother,” Allen said. “I was hoping for more.”