Unfettered III

by Shawn Speakman (ed)

  After nothing happened, Shinobu straightened and started across the chamber. The runes adorning the walls were sharp-edged and looked as though they could cut him just by looking at them.

  As soon as he reached the sword, he noticed that the hilt, while unremarkable, looked especially plain. No ergonomic craftsmanship had gone into it. It was simply a straight silver hilt. The blade was a different matter. Despite any number of conditions in this underground chamber that should have dirtied the naked steel, it glimmered as though sunlight touched it. An unfamiliar purple material composed the middle of the blade from hilt to tip.

  Shinobu glanced over his shoulder then leaned in closer to inspect the purple section. As he did so, it pulsated.

  He hopped back, then laughed at himself. What did he think it would do, attack him?

  “You are a beautiful sword.” He stepped in front of it again. Tip downward, the blade was about as wide as his arm, straight, and double-edged. “Why would anyone carve out a recess in the wall and put something so valuable in it?” he thought aloud.

  Shinobu’s instincts screamed at him not to lay so much as a finger on it. He should leave this chamber behind and forget the sword even existed. Or perhaps he should return home and research the history of this cavern—if any—and its mysterious weapon.

  Aika. Hironobu.

  Pick up the sword.

  Shinobu blinked. Those four words felt like a compulsion. Had it been his own, or an outside thought? He glanced around again.

  The chamber hadn’t changed. Same stale, underground smell, same green light mist illuminating the space, same foreign runes populating every wall.

  With one last thought of his siblings, the strider shrugged off his instincts and reached out. He slid a finger over the hilt, then wrapped his hand around it. The hilt’s rectangular shape would make it uncomfortable to wield. He grunted in disappointment and started to let go.

  The hilt suddenly shifted form. Shinobu snatched his hand away and took a step back. He stared wide-eyed as the hilt shifted back to its original shape.

  You are worthy to wield me, and I am worthy of your skill.

  “Hearing voices inside my head,” Shinobu said dryly. “Either I’ve lost my mind or something’s in here.”

  Only the worthy could find me. Only the worthy can wield me. There is no other.

  “Yes, losing my mind.” In a gesture of sarcasm, he bowed to the sword and turned to leave.

  I am condemned to eternity in this cave, for there is no other capable of wielding me. I am wasted.

  Shinobu stopped, arrogance and better judgment warring inside him. He thought about the rigorous training to become a farstrider. In his last ten years he’d not met an adversary he couldn’t beat, and his strider clan was home to the most lethal of warriors. What could be worse than that? “I can always put it back,” he said with a shrug.

  He returned to the sword and wrapped his fingers around the hilt. He flinched when it started to change shape again, but held on. Despite the bizarre nature of the sensation, it felt good, as though the hilt had been crafted to fit perfectly in his hand.

  Shinobu took a deep breath and removed the sword from its home in the wall. He took a step back and held the blade in front of his face, turning it this way and that. The blade looked sharp enough to cut the gods themselves.

  “You are not made of steel,” he thought aloud as he inspected the perfectly honed blade. He took a practice swipe. SHIIING.

  Shinobu nearly dropped the weapon. He swung it again and again. SHING. SHING. SHIIING. “Amazing,” he breathed. The strider launched himself into a series of swipes and blocks, counters and parries, as he fought multiple imaginary opponents. The sword felt too light to have any sort of durability, yet he had the feeling it could cut through almost anything.

  As he practiced, the blade began to fade and waver, as though he looked at it submerged in water. “What . . .” Shinobu held the sword away from him and looked back to the recess. A scabbard rested where the sword had been. How hadn’t he noticed it?

  The naked blade had fully transformed into some ethereal thing now, waving in the air like a long purple flame. He took a hesitant swipe. ZNNG. ZNNG.

  Shinobu’s eyes lit up. “What can this thing do?”

  He went back to the recess and grabbed the scabbard. He looked at it and the waving blade, wondering how he would get such a thing back into the scabbard, which obviously had been crafted for the blade in solid form. He pointed the tip to the opening in the scabbard and brought them close. The wavy blade slimmed to fit the space. Seeing this, Shinobu sheathed the blade, then pulled it out just enough to see that it was solid again.

  “What are you?”

  The runes in the walls flared to life.

  2

  “Gratitude to the human mortal who frees the key. Behold the khazira.”

  Shinobu sprinted for the chamber’s only exit. Gratitude? The words came from the very air itself. He didn’t like the way they felt, and he certainly didn’t like the sound of whatever this “khazira” was.

  “I’m not ‘beholding’ anything,” he muttered as he neared the exit.

  Thud. Thud. THUD.

  Shinobu skidded to a stop just in front of the threshold and backpedaled.

  His speed and reflexes saved his life. A long white tentacle swung around the corner and crashed into the wall. Debris exploded from the crumbling stone. Shinobu shielded his eyes from flying rock while still running backward. He stopped on the other side of the cavern and drew his own sword.

  The ground vibrated with each step of a great hulking humanoid beast that rounded the corner. It had to bend low to get through, then straightened to its full height, easily double Shinobu’s.

  “Gods,” he breathed. “I’ve done it this time.”

  The khazira stared pure red-eyed malice at the strider. Its arms and legs were as big as Shinobu’s body, its massive heaving chest expanding and retracting. It flexed its fists, and when it opened its hands, the fingers elongated into tentacles, then retracted into long-nailed fingers again.

  Parts of its body drifted apart and attached to other areas in a state of perpetual shifting, while the general humanoid shape remained constant.

  “I don’t suppose you’ll just let me put your sword back?” Shinobu asked. “I didn’t mean to steal anything.”

  “Gratitude for freeing the key,” the disembodied voice said.

  Shinobu waited for the rest. That thing didn’t look like it was just going to take the sword and leave.

  “ . . . and knowledge of it will be erased.”

  “I’m not going to like this, am I?” he said to the weapon, hoping and not hoping for an answer.

  The khazira executes her will. It will never let you pass.

  The fact that the weapon had actually responded to him was almost as unnerving as the idea that this hulking monster actually served something else.

  “Wys wyrp ssshyeern zzzzyyyerrk.” The khazira’s shoulders heaved as it regarded Shinobu. It held its massive arms out at its sides, claws flexing, fingers continually elongating into tentacles and back to fingers again.

  “I’m sure I don’t want to know what that thing just said,” Shinobu muttered to himself. His back was almost against the far wall opposite the beast, but he kept from touching it. No telling what would happen if he touched one of those green glowing runes.

  “Ysh yyyyrrrop ggeeernn yyyyyrrrrick zzzzzeeeert yyyyyrop.”

  “What in the five hells are you saying?” Shinobu lowered himself into a defensive stance. The thing was obviously stronger than him, but he might be faster. He’d yet to meet anyone nearly as fast as he, but of course, he’d only fought humans.

  It speaks in the tongue of the khazira.

  “Obviously.” Shinobu didn’t like the sword speaking into his mind, but he’d take the deal if it increased his chances of survival. “There’s no way to understand it?”

  Not in this world.

  “Fabulous.�
� Shinobu carefully strapped the mysterious sword across his back and held his own sword defensively in front of him.

  Your weapon can do nothing to the khazira. You will die. When the khazira has decided you’ve died enough, it will send you to her.

  “Her?” That set the strider’s mind racing. “Who’s her?”

  All of your fantasies and nightmares combined. Your chance to survive lies with me.

  The khazira never moved. It didn’t need to. The only exit from the chamber sat right behind it.

  Shinobu wasn’t sure he trusted the sword. Why hadn’t it told him about this thing? And why the mysterious “her”? Why not just say what it meant? He took a step forward. The khazira didn’t move. He took another step. No response. The beast stood there, feet wide apart, arms flexing out at its sides, massive chest heaving. Small bits of its body continued to detach and float about to reattach in different places. Those red eyes bore into him like pinpricks of fire.

  “Can’t stay here forever.” Shinobu started walking. As soon as he took a final step placing him within fifteen feet of the beast, it struck.

  The khazira drew back and lashed its tentacled fingers down like a whip. The attack came so fast, Shinobu barely reacted in time to avoid being blasted into nothing.

  He leaped aside half a breath before five tentacles hammered into the ground in an eruption of stone.

  The khazira struck with its other hand. Left, right, left, right, it pounded great thick tentacles into the ground. The sheer ferocity of the attack set the cavern shaking.

  “Shimatta!” he cursed in his home-tongue as he ducked and dived, leaped and ran. As fast as Shinobu moved, he could barely get ahead of the savagery of the khazira long enough to think of attacking.

  Five finger-tentacles crashed into the ground right beside him. The force of the impact lifted Shinobu into the air. The tentacles from its other hand came swinging toward him even as he was still airborne.

  Shinobu twisted about and slashed his sword at the incoming appendages. The sword struck true, but the appendages kept coming. They wrapped around his body and pressed the back of the blade against his chest.

  “Wrrrryyyraah!” The khazira swung the arm that held Shinobu as it released him.

  He knew what was coming. As soon as the beast let go, Shinobu tucked himself into a ball. He turned his body as he flew toward the wall and “landed” with his feet. His intention had been to kick off the wall back toward the beast with a counterattack, but the thing had thrown him with too much force. He quickly bent his legs to keep from breaking them, and actually rolled upward before tumbling back to the ground.

  Ignoring what felt like hundreds of scrapes and bruises all over his body, Shinobu flipped back to his feet, leaped forward, and slashed the monster’s leg. The strider launched into a flurry, swiping his sword left, right, diagonal, horizontal. Any normal enemy would have been reduced to bloody ribbons. This monster wasn’t normal. He might as well have been shouting curses at the beast, for all the effect it had.

  The khazira swatted at him again, lashing its ten tentacled fingers at the ground, the walls, every direction the strider fled.

  Shinobu kept on the move, using every bit of speed and dexterity in his repertoire to simply not be pounded to a pulp.

  A tentacle wrapped around his waist and lifted him in the air. The other four wrapped around the rest of his body, holding him fast like a spider spinning its catch in silk. Through some bit of luck, Shinobu had managed to keep his sword hand free. He tried stabbing and slicing at the appendages, but it was no more effective than if he were hacking at a tree.

  No weapon can destroy the khazira, but I can save you. Trust in me.

  A sword just implored him to trust in it. Shinobu shoved the question of his sanity to the back of his mind, just in case he survived this. The khazira’s other hand was coming in, reaching straight for him. It would rip him apart if that hand got hold. With no time to think twice, Shinobu dropped his sword and drew the sentient one.

  To his astonishment, the blade somehow came out of the sheath sideways, as though passing through the hard covering. It also sheared cleanly through the tentacles holding him.

  Shinobu fell through the severed appendages and hit the ground in a crouch. He started to reach for his other sword but the khazira had gone into such a rage, he retreated. While fleeing the swinging appendages and flying debris, Shinobu was still struck with awe at the magnitude of the monster’s rage-fueled frenzy. The severed tentacles melted away in the air, but the stumps regrew.

  That did nothing to quell the khazira’s fury. It swung its tentacles in every direction, blasting holes in the walls and ceiling, tearing streaks in the stone wall, shattering whole sections of the chamber. “WwrrryyAAAARRRR!”

  The khazira’s enraged cry shook the chamber so violently Shinobu was certain it would bring the entire mountain down on them.

  You are the first to have hurt it, the sword said into his mind. Flee now while it is blinded by its anger.

  Shinobu thought “anger” might be putting it mildly. He sheathed the sword and sprinted for the exit, or tried to. The ground quaked under his feet. More than once, he took a step that simply wasn’t there, only to have the ground rise to meet him again as he stumbled.

  Five finger-tentacles pounded the ground just in front of the exit, less than ten feet in front of the fleeing strider. Shinobu skidded to a stop just as the khazira leaped into the air and landed in front of the opening with a resounding crash. The ground crumbled under its great weight. It stood with feet widely apart, claws balled into fists.

  Shinobu backstepped again. He thought he could feel the weight of its hatred wafting off of the monster. Its shoulders rose and fell, chest heaving as it leveled its baleful red glare over him. This close, Shinobu saw that it had no mouth.

  For the first time in his life, the strider knew he stood before an adversary he could not defeat. “This is how it ends. His mind flashed back to his training to become a member of the obscure class of elite warriors, the striders. Faster than anyone he encountered, more precise than even the masters who taught him, Shinobu had risen to the top of his clan. Never had he given ground in a fight.

  He thought of the times with his older sister and brother. Aika. Hironobu. Deep down he’d been confident that if he ever discovered his siblings lived, he’d find and free them. Knowing he would die without saving them filled Shinobu with cold despair.

  Fool, my wielder. I tell you again, trust in me. Draw me from my home and survive!

  The khazira threw its arms back and lashed down with tentacles as large around as tree trunks.

  Shinobu drew the sword.

  3

  The khazira faded away.

  Shinobu’s mouth fell open and he looked around in alarm. He stood in the same chamber as before, only now, instead of a green light drifting in the air like mist, the entire surroundings were bathed in it. The ominous green light came from everywhere and nowhere.

  The chamber walls were undamaged, as were the ground and ceiling. The recess where Shinobu had found the sword stared back at him, unblemished as well. “What is this? Where am I, and where did that thing go?”

  I have brought you to Imphetos. The spectral realm.

  “Imphetos?” Shinobu whispered. “What is this, spectral realm? I’ve not heard of such a thing.”

  This realm mirrors your own, only different.

  Shinobu frowned. “A mirror image that’s different?” It was then that he finally looked down at the sword in his hand. The blade waved in the air like a slithering snake, and he could feel power pulsating through it. He raised the insubstantial sword in front of him, but before he could analyze it further, the hulking form of the khazira materialized.

  He cried out in surprise and jumped back. The transparent form faded, then appeared again, then faded.

  “What’s happening?” he asked, willing his hammering heart to calm. “What’s it doing?”

  None native to th
is plane or yours can enter the other without me, for I am the key.

  Shinobu thought the sword sounded like something akin to surprise or confusion.

  The khazira struggles to enter Imphetos.

  The strider didn’t waste another moment. He sprinted for the exit to the chamber just as the brute materialized in front of him again. Shinobu gritted his teeth and hoped it didn’t take solid form as he ran straight into it. His luck held, and he passed through it as the monster faded away again. He exited the chamber and turned left, retracing his steps as best he could in the semi-familiar surroundings.

  The khazira is not native to either plane, the sword said into his mind. It was created by her. That must be the answer.

  To Shinobu, it sounded like the sword was actually thinking the situation through. How could that be possible? “Her?” he thought in response. “Do I even want to know?”

  You do not.

  Fantastic.

  He ran down a corridor that only mildly resembled the one he’d previously traversed. Where the original stone passageway had been flat and lined with torch sconces Shinobu had lit, there were only bare walls. The ground rippled out before him as though trapped in stasis during a tremor.

  “What in the five hells is this place? Am I in one of the five hells?”

  Not one of the five hells, the sword replied. Imphetos.

  “You said that,” Shinobu snapped. “But it means nothing to . . .” he finally looked at the sword in his hand, or what was supposed to be a sword. The blade was neither its solid form or the wavy manifestation when he’d kept it unsheathed. It was fully insubstantial, like a dark blue flame attached to the hilt.

  Shinobu almost dropped the weapon. “What is this thing?”

  I am the key.

  The sword had read his thoughts again. Shinobu’s first instinct was to cast it aside and hope the khazira would find it and leave him alone. He disregarded that notion immediately. The sword had told him more than once that it was the key. Shinobu’s very presence in this strange dimension proved that fact. He’d need the sword to get out.