Dark City (The Order of Shadows Book 1)

by Hallows,Kit

  The sound of static left my mind and I found myself back in the here and now.

  "Maybe you'll stick to the path now? Like I told you to. Yes?"

  I nodded, trying not to glance back towards the porthole. I had no idea what the being behind the glass had intended, but it definitely felt malevolent and I was certain it had almost fractured my mind. I shrugged, determined not to show my distress, but Hellwyn's mocking grin said she'd seen it well enough.

  A blast of cold air whistled along the tunnel and I caught the scent of wood smoke. Flickering fires gleamed in the distance and every now and then silhouetted figures flitted in front of them.

  "Who are they?"

  Hellwyn ignored my question, pulled a round silver object from her pocket and flipped it open. It looked like some kind of compass, its needle glowing radioactive green. I stumbled along behind her as she walked. Then she stopped and flashed her light across the floor. Faint chalk-like markings covered a section of stone, strange symbols that seemed to be drawn from some alien alphabet.

  I took a step back as Hellwyn reached up and placed her hand against my forehead. My skin tingled, it felt like something had passed between us, some kind of unseen spell. "What was that?" I asked.

  "Permission for you to follow. An arcane guest pass if you will. Now let's go, and don't tarry." Hellwyn reached toward the shadows and nodded to me as she stepped into the darkness. It swallowed her whole.

  I froze, my heart pounding hard, then I gazed down the long black corridor to the flickering light from the distant bonfires. Another figure flitted by, it was tall, crane-like but almost human in form with a narrow, elongated head and a full distended belly. The sight of it filled me with dread and indecision.

  "Rook!"

  I flinched as a hand reached from the shadows, grabbed my wrist and pulled me into the darkness.

  27

  I found myself in a small room lit by a hanging lantern and a couple of oil lamps resting on top of an old crate. The walls were rough pitted stone and the place was barely warmer than the drafty passage beyond.

  A makeshift camp bed rested alongside a rickety wooden chair. The opposite wall was obscured by a large wardrobe and in the middle of the floor in front of it sat an oversized wooden chest, the kind you'd see in a pirate movie. I wondered if it had once belonged to Argyle Screed.

  I caught a flash of steel as Hellwyn opened the wardrobe. One side was taken up with weapons. Swords, daggers and lethal-looking implements I couldn't name. The other side was filled with simple black garments.

  Hellwyn swapped the sword from her belt for a new weapon. Light shimmered across the new blade and vanished as she slid it into her sheath.

  "I've got a spare gun," I offered. "If you fancy joining me in the twenty-first century."

  "A gun is next to useless in the Hinterlands. You'll need silver, steel or iron, especially when it's time to get up close."

  I reached into my shoulder bag. "I've got other stuff besides guns."

  Hellwyn ignored me and pulled a bottle of gin from the wardrobe, along with a battered tin cup. She splashed out a large measure, closed her eyes and drank it down. Then she poured another shot and offered it to me. "It will ground you."

  It was dry and had a sharp aftertaste that lingered after the burn that scorched its way down my throat. Gin wasn't my drink at the best of times, but this stuff was particularly vile. "What's in it? That wasn't straight booze."

  "Essence of hazeldim, a berry that grows in the wilds here. That's the part that'll help ground you...gin just gets you drunk, but it's the best way to make the infusion." Hellwyn grabbed the cup from me, filled it, and took another hefty sip.

  A warm buzz clouded my head, it was almost enough to take the edge off the recent events. I sat on the chair and leaned back, enjoying the rush of blood to my head. "You said the assassin isn't a man. So what is it?"

  "Unexpected." Hellwyn's eyes darted over me in a strange, appraising way. She looked like she was trying to reach a decision, and then she gave a low, resigned sigh. "It's called a Hexling. Think of it as a golem, but faster and fleeter. I haven't seen one in...in a very long time."

  "Why's it after you?"

  "I don't know." The ice in her eyes melted. Just a little. "Someone's sent it to murder me, just like Tom and the others."

  "Others?"

  The steel returned to her voice. "Don't take me for a fool. You know about the other victims, and I know more about you than you realize."

  "Like what?"

  "Like the fact that you're a one-eyed man in the kingdom of the blind. A man who earns his pennies working for a hidden outfit that serves ruthlessly ambitious bureaucrats."

  "Look-"

  "Are you denying it?"

  "There's worse things to be paid for than taking out dangerous shitheels. Or would you prefer having rogue vampires running round the city feeding on people? Or shifters raping and pillaging? Or demons-"

  "I don't deny the Organization has its time and place, just don't fool yourself when it comes to who's pulling the strings." Her eyes flitted over me again. "You're human, right?"

  "As far as I know." It was a lame attempt at humor, but the truth was, some pretty odd memories had been resurfacing and I had no real certainty of what I was. Or where in the hell I belonged. "Look, I didn't come here for insults, I came to help."

  "Help? In the same way you helped Tom? You have his blood on your hands."

  My bewilderment turned to rage. "Why in the hell would you say that?"

  "He told me about you." Hellwyn poured another generous measure of gin and drained it in a single gulp. "He spent years watching out for you, and he never stopped, not even after you were able to look after yourself. Tell me, did you ever think that maybe you should look out for him too?"

  I remained silent and fought to control the anger blazing inside me.

  Hellwyn opened the wooden chest, pulled something out and tossed it to me.

  Tom's old raincoat. It smelled of age but it looked like it had been well kept. The cloth was clean and the cut was vintage; a well made garment from bygone era. She reached back into the chest and threw a short, sheathed sword onto the bed beside me.

  "How did you get them?"

  "Tom and I had a bond. I could feel his distress at the end, even though I was far away. His terror, his resignation, and the darkness surrounding him. Everything felt charged, like the air before a storm. By the time I got to him, it was too late. I took his effects and got out of there before the police arrived. He wanted you to have them. And now you do."

  "I don't know why. I barely knew him."

  Hellwyn's eyes misted over as she glanced at the coat. She wiped them, and they became as hard as flint once more. "Just put it on."

  I did as she asked. The coat was long, its fabric thin, but somehow it felt solid. Strong almost. A faint shimmer ran across it and the cuffs began to shorten to fit my wrists. I looked down to see the coat's length adjust itself to reach just below my knees. "What is this thing?"

  "Armor. It goes with the sword."

  "Armor?"

  Hellwyn pulled her sword from its scabbard and swung it towards me. I barely had time to flinch as it cleaved towards my chest. Sparks ran along the blade and it bounced off with a clang. As if the coat was made of stone.

  "Like I said," Hellwyn lowered her sword. "Armor. The enchantment is very powerful. Not that it helped Tom. But nothing can save a man who believes his time has come."

  "Why did he believe that?"

  "Guilt." Hellwyn slopped more gin into her cup. She drank half and passed me the remainder.

  The thought of drinking the muck wasn't a welcome one, but I forced it down. Its bite was no less strong the second time round. "Guilt for what?"

  "Something that happened a long time ago in a place far from here. Another time, another world." A bittersweet smile played across her lips. "He had nothing to be guilty for. We simply had a job to do and we did it. Tell me, do you ever feel a sc
rap of remorse for the lives you snuff out?"

  "Now and then. But I have to remind myself of the people I'm protecting. Sometimes you have to take lives to save lives. "

  Hellwyn nodded. "Sadly, Tom didn't see things that way." She tipped the bottle over the cup. A few drops splashed into the tin. "Damn it. Have you got anything worthwhile in that bag of yours?"

  "Booze? No."

  "Why am I not surprised? You're more of a hindrance than a help."

  I'd had enough of the snide remarks. If she didn't want my help, why continue to hang around? This was a waste of precious time. I walked back to the wall and prepared to step through.

  "Leaving?" Hellwyn asked.

  "Clearly I'm not welcome here."

  I reached for the wall but faltered as she spoke once more. This time there was a scrap of humility in her voice. "I'm sorry."

  For a moment I caught a glimpse of the woman below the frosty exterior. Fierce pride still shone in her eyes, but it was softening now. I nodded. Holding a grudge seemed pretty foolish. "Don't worry about it."

  "You really want to help?" This time there was no scorn in her voice.

  "Yes. I want to see the murderous piece of shit who killed Tom dead."

  "Then we'll have to work together. There are two enemies. The Hexling and whoever's controlling it."

  "How do we find them?"

  "I don't know. But there's still some of the Order left. At least I hope there is. Maybe someone will have an answer."

  "What Order?"

  Hellwyn shook her head. "It doesn't matter, not now. I'll tell you more when I'm certain you're capable of helping."

  "Look, I don't have my resume handy, but-"

  "Stop the flippancy, I need you to listen."

  "I am listening."

  "The Hexling isn't going to be like anything you've ever fought. Guns, magic tricks...they won't work against it, you need steel and cold purpose. Which is another reason I followed Tom's wishes and gave you his sword. It's sharp. Very sharp, but only if its wielder uses their full intent."

  "I've got plenty of intent. Mostly revenge."

  "Killing's not the only intent you'll need when you fight the Hexling. It's fast, fleet and utterly deadly. You'll need to parry, block and divert as well as strike." She touched the side of her head. "We have one thing it doesn't - minds of our own. And yours needs to be razor sharp."

  "It's probably a good thing we ran out of gin then."

  She almost smiled. "I suppose." Hellwyn lifted her sword and nodded for me to do the same. "Now block me."

  She sprang forward, her sword flashing through the air. I pulled Tom's sword up to block it, and barely stopped her blade from slashing the side of my face.

  Hellwyn lowered her sword. "I could have cleaved your head off if I'd intended to. Let's try again. This time focus, use your intention to stop my attack."

  The sword flashed again as it swung towards me.

  Stop.

  My hand tingled as the blade came up to meet hers. I braced myself and allowed the energy flowing through the pommel to strengthen my resolve and block the attack. The blades clashed and I pushed her back.

  "Better." Hellwyn lowered her blade. For a moment I thought it was over, then she swung again.

  Her sword whistled through the air. I brought my own up.

  Back.

  The blades clashed with a scrape of steel and a charge of electric-blue light. I focused my strength, it ran through the blade and pushed her away, and then I twisted the blade, almost wrenching hers from her hand.

  "You've done this before." She almost sounded impressed.

  "No. Not that I recall."

  "You might not consciously remember but you're definitely utilizing muscle memory. Maybe you'll survive this after all."

  "You're filling me with confidence. So you think we'll be able to stop the assassin?"

  "There's a chance."

  "So, if we do, how will we find whoever's been controlling it?"

  "I don't know," she said. But the look in her eyes said otherwise.

  "You know more than you're telling me. I can't work blind, Hellwyn."

  "I don't know anything, but I suspect plenty. Not that any of it makes much sense. But it bears all the hallmarks of someone we once dealt with..." Hellwyn shook her head, "but he's dead. Long dead."

  "Who was he?"

  "It's irrelevant. History. It belongs in the past."

  "Not if it's affecting the present."

  "It doesn't, it can't. It would be impossible. We'll find out more when we defeat the Hexling. Once it's down we'll examine it and hopefully find some indications of who's sent it."

  "Right. Let's go then."

  "No, not until I know you're strong enough to fight it. There's no way I'm going into combat with one arm tied behind my back."

  I sighed. This was getting old. "So how are you going to know I'm worthy?"

  A sinking feeling passed through me as her lips twisted into a semblance of a smile. "I'll know if you survive."

  "Survive what?" The sinking feeling grew even heavier.

  "You seem to think you're some sort of hero, Morgan Rook. So let's put you to the test."

  "How?"

  "By doing what all heroes do. By facing the beast."

  28

  "What beast?" I asked, even though I wasn't sure I really wanted to know.

  "This part of the Hinterlands is relatively safe, with the exception of the Gloaming Ghasts that lurk within the walls. But they're easily avoided...by anyone with half a brain, at least."

  "You mean the giant creature at the window? You want me to go after it?" I didn't know how I was going to react if she said yes.

  Thankfully, she shook her head. "It's tempting, but it wouldn't be a fair battle. No, I want you to fight a very different kind of beast. As I said, the Hinterlands are passages between worlds. Some use it like a corridor, they cross from one world to another. But others choose the Hinterlands as a destination, a sanctuary, a place to disappear off the grid so to speak."

  "Like the people around the campfires?"

  "No. And they're not people, you should stay away from them. You need to locate a human family. Once you find them, you'll find the beast. I'm certain of it."

  "Are they humans from my world?"

  Hellwyn gave me a curious look, and shook her head. "I don't think so. Actually, I have no idea where they came from, but there are five of them. Or there were. A father, a mother, and three toddlers. They entered the tunnels within the last week and that was the last anyone saw of them."

  "Maybe they were looking for some quiet time."

  "Well, if they were, they didn't find it. My associate told me he'd heard screams echoing up from the deep levels. Terrible cries of pain and suffering. I was called to investigate, but now that you're here...."

  "What are the tunnels? And what is this place?"

  "A city whose name is long forgotten. Ruins for the most part. Beyond it are the Hinterlands proper, but you're not going there. You're headed down, into the deeps."

  "Right." The sinking feeling in my stomach was stronger than ever, but I did my best not to show it. "So what kind of beast am I looking for? I need to know what I'm dealing with."

  "I wish I could tell you, but no one who's seen it has lived to tell the tale."

  This was getting better and better. I checked through my bag.

  "You need to leave your bag here. And your gun."

  "Are you serious?"

  "Perfectly. This is your test."

  "But-"

  "Your bag's just full of props. You don't need them. Not like you think you do."

  "I need the crystals. For magic. I'm not a natural like you."

  "Do you trust me?" Hellwyn asked.

  Hell no. But I knew she was my best hope for finding Tom's killer and the only hope for finding my way out of here. "I guess."

  "You have armor," she waved a hand towards Tom's coat, "and your sword. Follow the passage tow
ard the fires. There's a turn just before you reach the main chamber, take the stairs down to the lower levels. Simple. Now go and do what needs to be done."

  "How do I find my way back? If I..."

  "Take this." Hellwyn pulled a silver chain from around her neck. A charm hung from it, an arrowhead made of amber. Then she held out to her hand and showed me the amber ring on her index finger. "They were carved from the same stone and they're a pair, therefore they belong together." She handed me the necklace. "As soon as they're apart they'll start glowing, and they'll get dimmer and dimmer the further you go. Which means, on your way back, the closer you are the brighter it'll get."

  "I should try to get something similar for my house keys."

  "Do you always make lame jokes when you're scared?"

  "Yeah, pretty much. Well, I'll see you soon then. Hopefully." I didn't wait for her response, I stepped through the wall and emerged into the darkness.

  The only light came from the distant glimmer of the bonfires and the sudden glow of Hellwyn's pendant. I slipped it below my shirt and started down the tunnel, my attention focused on the figures in the chamber ahead.

  My hand strayed toward the strap of my bag and closed on nothing. It was just me, a raincoat and an ancient sword.

  A cold draft blew down the corridor and I walked quietly among the smell of damp and decay and edged towards the tunnel's end.

  Thud.

  The hair on the back of my neck prickled as I turned to find a porthole in the shadowy wall behind me. A huge pale face looked out. I glanced away from its gaze and hurried on, my skin crawling as I felt those cavernous eyes follow me.

  Sounds drifted through the chamber, whispers, the crackle and spit of flames, and heavy footfalls. The figures huddled around the fires reminded me of the people in the homeless camp where I'd finally found Tom. But these weren't people. They were too tall, or too short, their heads long ovals, their eyes bright yellow flashes of light.

  One of them froze and cocked its head, its eyes narrowing as it stared into the darkness toward me.

  I remained still and waited until finally it turned its attention back to the fire.