The Knife's Edge

by Matthew Wolf

  Bueler gave a cruel-looking grin. “Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong. This is the last time that swindler will cheat any of us of our hard-earned money. We’re taking back what’s ours out of his hide.”

  “Whatever he owes you, he owes me more,” Gray growled. Ruben stepped forward. As he did, Gray released one hand, reached inside his coat pocket and shook his head.

  Ruben froze, looking down his broken nose at Gray. “That better be more than a pig-sticker you’re hiding, because it’s going to take a lot more than that to stop me.”

  Suddenly what Gray was doing dawned on him. He realized the grip on his collar was only so tight that it looked painful. Hiding a smile, he decided to play along. “I’d do as he says,” Darius told Bueler and the others, as if afraid for them.

  “There’s seven of us, and only one of you—those aren’t good odds, friend,” Bueler stated, though he looked less certain now.

  Gray laughed as if it were a trivial matter. “I’m a reasonable man, so I’ll compromise. You can have him after I’m done, if there’s anything left. But if you attack me now, I swear, I may not take all of you, but I’ll leave my mark deepest on you,” he said, his gaze resting on Bueler.

  There was a long pause as men fingered their concealed blades. Ruben stepped forward, and Bueler put a hand to the man’s chest, “Wait,” he ordered. The big man stopped. Bueler eyed the hand in Gray’s coat. “As long as he gets what’s coming to him,” he said with a twist of his upper lip.

  “Oh, you can be sure of that,” Gray said and turned, throwing Darius ahead of him.

  They rounded the corner into a hallway just out of sight of the Great Hall, and Darius breathed a sigh. He laughed softly, punching Gray good-naturedly in the arm. “Dice, nice going! Where’d you learn that trick?” He looked around. The hallway, lit with several torches in iron sconces, was empty of people.

  “Who says it was a trick?” Gray asked, raising a brow.

  Darius swallowed uncertainly. Gray’s stern features broke and he laughed, jabbing the rogue in the ribs with an elbow. Darius chuckled as well, but this time wondering if his friend was a tad crazed. Perhaps I was safer with Bueler and his big oaf. “Well, thanks either way,” Darius said. “And I’m sorry about leaving you before. I thought they were after me. Imagine my surprise when the guard snagged you.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Gray said, “It wasn’t your fault.”

  “Good, glad that’s settled. What happened to you? It doesn’t look like they roughed you up too much.”

  “No, I’m fine. I was taken to see someone, and a good thing too, they led me to the man I was looking for,” Gray replied.

  “So you found your friend?” Darius asked when he felt a sudden sharp pain on his ear. He wailed, twisting to face his assailant. Blue eyes met his. He blinked in surprise, quickly taking in the pretty face. She had fair skin with a petite nose and a sprinkling of freckles across the bridge. Her looks were nearly enough to dampen the pain. But he knew that face, and as a result, both his attraction and fear immediately fled. “Dice! Let go of my ear, Ayva! What are you doing?”

  “No,” she fumed, “What are you doing? Thinking you can get away from me when you and your pals shattered two of my best casks?”

  “What are you talking about?” Gray asked.

  Ayva, still with a firm hold on his ear, shot a finger around the corner and to the gambler’s table where mead frothed from two big oak casks.

  Darius cursed. “Look, Ayva, it wasn’t my fault.”

  She snorted, yanking his ear higher and he yelped. “I don’t believe that for a second,” she said angrily, and looked to Gray, “And who are you?”

  “Gray, meet Ayva. Ayva, Gray.” Darius said through his teeth. “Now let me go!”

  She nodded curtly in greeting. “Curious friend you have here, and what in the seven hells of Remwar are you two doing over here?”

  “What does it look like?” Darius growled, “And keep your voice down, will ya?”

  “Hiding like a couple of bilge rats, is what it looks like,” Ayva said.

  Gray grabbed Ayva’s arm and pulled her further around the corner, out of the open and away from the attention of the gamblers. Darius took the moment to shirk off her grip. He stepped back, rubbing his ear.

  Ayva brushed off Gray’s hand and glanced around the corner at the men who had settled back into their gambling. “What’s going on? And you two better start speaking soon or I’ll call those men over here—I won’t hesitate,” she warned.

  “Those men accused Darius of cheating,” Gray began.

  “Bueler was acting like a downright fool!” Darius added.

  The two shot him a fierce look. He fell silent, grumbling under his breath as Gray continued, “Before anything too bad happened, I pulled Darius away by reassuring them that he was mine first.”

  “I could have told her that,” he snorted.

  “Well, I see why you’re hiding. And that’s either pretty brave, or pretty foolish of you,” Ayva said to Gray. “Bueler is an old fool like Darius said, but a dangerous one at that, and he’s the guard captain’s uncle.” She looked to Darius, raising a brow. “Accused of cheating? Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

  Darius scoffed. “I never cheat.”

  She waved it off with a hand. “Well, I don’t want trouble any more than the next person, but as I see it, I’m still down two barrels, and it’s at least partly your fault,” she said with a hard eye in his direction.

  “No it isn’t!” he replied, “Like I said, I did nothing but…”

  Gray clamped a hand over Darius’ mouth. “What he means to say is we’ll gladly replace the cost of the barrels, seeing as we were a part of the incident.” He let his hand go and Darius wanted to protest. There’s no reason why we should pay, but judging by the look in Gray’s eyes, he didn’t think he’d win this fight.

  Ayva watched Darius, and he flashed a toothy grin in reply. “I couldn’t have said it better myself,” he lied.

  She bit her lip. It was normally an attractive feature of hers, but right now it only annoyed him. “I suppose that will suffice” she said and she ticked off numbers on her fingers, “Let see, two barrels of Redsmead, and the weight of each was somewhere around ten stone… that’s around ten silvers, give or take.”

  “How about take! Are you kidding?” He exclaimed.

  Again, Gray shot him a withering look. Darius sighed and fell back against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest. Gray answered, “Sadly, Darius is right. I don’t think either of us has anything near ten silvers.”

  “Maybe if we were kings,” he mumbled to himself.

  Ayva smoothed her white apron and smiled. “I figured as much. In that case, perhaps you two can help me get some new barrels from the inn since you destroyed those. These men are rowdy as is, but without drink? Soon the scuffle you prevented will seem a mere drop in the bucket.”

  “We’d be glad to help,” Gray said before Darius could object.

  Darius looked between the two, arms crossed. “Oh, delighted,” he replied mockingly.

  “Great! Than follow me, the Golden Horn is my father’s inn. It’s not far away.”

  “Come on,” Gray said, grabbing his arm.

  Grumbling, he followed and together they took to the side hallway, avoiding the gamblers and moving out of the Great Hall. He watched Gray pull up the hood of his cloak, and glance from right to left as if stalked by something much greater than the thugs in the hall. Watching him made even Darius jumpy, and he found himself looking deeper into the shadows as well.

  Nameless

  WITH AYVA AND DARIUS AT GRAY’S side, they reached the inn by way of a back alley. He noticed the cobbled street was rutted with two well-worn tracks from the use of many carts. A merchant’s lane, Gray suspected.

  “You two stay here,” Ayva ordered. “I’ll be back with the horse and cart from the stable.” The alley was narrow and the stone walls were lined with big oak barrels stac
ked high. A door on the far wall led into the inn. All of it was lit by the ripe moon.

  Darius shuffled next to him, looking guilty with his hands stuffed in his pockets.

  Gray glanced up when he heard the clopping of hooves on stone. Ayva returned leading a horse and cart. With her instruction, he started to load the heavy casks. The rogue begrudgingly helped. Soon the cart sank under the weight.

  “You two can handle the last two. I’ll be back in a moment. I’m just going to explain the situation to my father,” Ayva said and then bit her lip. “Wish me luck.”

  “Good luck,” Gray said.

  Ayva smiled and disappeared through the inn’s door.

  He turned to Darius, and then glanced to the last barrels. “Shall we?”

  Darius grumbled under his breath. Together, they picked up the oak and iron-strapped barrel. Gray’s muscles strained. “These are heavy,” Darius groaned. “Why are we doing this again? I feel like I’m a part of some sort of charity.”

  Gray replied with a wry laugh. “I think someone had the brilliant idea to get in a fight.”

  “Bah, I was merely the victim of circumstance.”

  “A victim of greed, more like,” Gray mumbled beneath his breath.

  Darius snorted, “Don’t blame me for being clever at dice.”

  He shook his head, figuring that arguing with the rogue was futile.

  “If someone sees me right now, there goes my hard earned reputation,” Darius griped. “I’ve got an idea. If someone does see us and asks, we’re stealing these, and not helping, agreed?”

  “I’m not aiding your ill-famed reputation. I’m sure you’re good enough at that on your own,” he said as they picked up the last barrel. Darius slipped, nearly dropping the cask. “Watch it!” He said, struggling with the bulk of the weight. The rogue picked up his slack, but still his eyes were riveted to the roofs around them.

  “Did you hear that?” Darius whispered.

  “I didn’t hear anything. What was it?”

  “I’m not sure,” the rogue said, shaking his head. “Must be my imagination.”

  “Too much ale?”

  Darius chuckled, but something in his face still looked troubled.

  They threw the last barrel in, closing the latch on the cart to prevent the load from rolling out, and as they did, something brushed his shoulder. His muscles tensed. In the corner of his eye he saw the look on Darius’ face and he nodded. “I felt that,” he whispered.

  “Maybe it’s just the wind,” the rogue replied, backing up.

  Gray reached for his blade and realized it wasn’t there. “I don’t think so,” he said. From a hidden pocket, Darius extracted a broad arrowhead dagger. Together they watched the shifting shadows. “Stay close,” Gray commanded.

  Silence filled the alley.

  “I think it’s gone,” Darius said with a breath of relief.

  As he spoke, a black mist formed in the air on the nearby rooftop. Then, in a flash, the dark mist vanished. They twisted as it reappeared on the black-tiled roof to their right, then again to their left, too fast for the eye to follow.

  “Dice, what in the seven hells is that thing?” Darius whispered.

  He knew exactly what it was. A Nameless. He backed up against the stone wall of the alley, pulling the rogue with him. “Stay against the wall.” The thing continued to move, faster than light, flashing from the rooftops to the ground, circling them. Gray looked to the door. It wasn’t far, but something told him they wouldn’t get to it in time.

  The carthorse whinnied in fear. In a flash of black, the sound was cut short. A gruesome noise rent the air, like claw or teeth ripping tender flesh. A gurgling scream from the horse cut through the night.

  Darius trembled. “Gray…”

  The sight was obscured by the cart, but he saw flashes of dark cloth, moving furiously, as if ravaging the animal.

  “We must run.” He grabbed the rogue by his tunic, and lunged for the door. A rush of wind threw them against the wall, halting their advance. Gray twisted.

  The Nameless perched upon the cart. Its cloak wavered in the night, black strips of cloth dancing in the wind. It was nearly invisible in the alley’s shadows. All save for its gaze. Stark white pupils held him, glowing inside its black shroud.

  “What is that thing?” Darius whispered.

  “A Nameless.” As he uttered its name, it leapt from the cart, landing lightly upon the ground. It raised its arm. In its hand, mist formed taking the shape of a blade. The edge gleamed in the full moon. Frantically, he looked for a way out, but there was none. The door was too far. The only way out of the alley was around the Nameless. He leaned towards Darius and spoke, so low he could barely hear his own voice. “Be ready to move when I say.”

  Darius’ eyes were wide, watching the creature. “What in the dice are you thinking?”

  “There’s no time, just listen. The Nameless moves in the shadows. If I can fight it in the light, I should be safe.” At least long for enough for you to get help, he thought. “When I say so, stay in the light and don’t stop running.”

  “Like hell I’m running while you stay and fight,” Darius snapped, and gripped his dagger tighter. “You just tell me what to do.”

  He was glad for the rogue’s stubbornness.

  “I am here for only you,” the Nameless said, pointing its blade at Gray. “But I sssuppose you can both die.” Its voice sounded like dry rasping leaves. A black tongue ran across sharp, bloodied teeth and it lifted its phantom blade.

  “Not another step!” the rogue threatened, waving his shiv, a blade a third the size of the Nameless’ sword. “The next one will be your last,” he warned.

  The Nameless gripped its dark blade tighter, knuckles cracking. “Do you even know what I am, human?”

  “No,” Darius replied, “but I don’t need to know how to make a sword, to know it will cut. And if you take another step I’ll show you.”

  “Fool,” it laughed, “no mortal blade can kill me.”

  Gray realized the rogue was buying him time, and he searched for another way. Behind the Nameless he saw the cart, filled with its barrels. He eyed the latch that held the barrels in. If only he could reach it. Gray pulled with his mind, wishing he was close enough, but even if he lunged, it was too far.

  The Nameless drew closer. “Enough talk. Time to dieee.” In a blur it reappeared, striking at Darius. The rogue raised his dagger in a flash. The two blades collided. Immediately, Darius cried out in pain, gripping his hand and falling to the ground. Calmly, the Nameless turned to him. His jaw clenched, as he pressed further against the wall. He looked past the creature to the cart. He pulled with his mind, again, desperately reaching out. If he could only…

  Suddenly, the latch clicked and the heavy barrels tumbled out. The Nameless twisted in surprise, but the weight and speed of the barrels were too much. They collided with the creature. Gray dove out of the way as the casks crashed into the wall and exploded. Wine sprayed through the air and soaked the ground a dark red. Gray looked up. The Nameless was nowhere to be seen. He ran to Darius, and the rogue groaned. “Are you all right?” he asked.

  Darius stood shakily. “I feel as if I just ran headlong into a wall, but I’m all right.”

  The Nameless misted in front of them. Before they could move, it backhanded Darius. The rogue hit the wall with a thud. At the same time, the creature swung his phantom blade at Gray. He rolled to the side, but the Nameless strode forth. He saw a thick strap of iron from a broken cask. He leapt for it, gripping it as the Nameless drew near. And with all his might, he swung at the approaching creature. The Nameless moved lightning fast and grabbed the iron. A smirk twisted its dark mask. Gray strained. He held the iron with every ounce of strength. The iron bent and steam hissed, rising from it as if the creature’s grip was acid. Gray’s hands burned, and he let go in a rush.

  In the corner of his vision, he saw Darius move. He looked back, holding the creature’s attention. The rogue neared, bra
ndishing his arrow shiv. Gray smiled. The Nameless’ eyes widened in curiosity, and Darius cried out as he stabbed the creature in the back.

  The Nameless’ body convulsed and it disappeared in a rush.

  “Did we get him?” the rogue asked as he sagged. As soon as Darius spoke there was a sound like the hiss of steam. It filled the night, sounding from everywhere. Laughter, Gray realized.

  “Arroganccce,” the Nameless hissed, echoing in the air. Gray twisted, searching for the origin of the voice.

  Darius tensed at his side, pressing against the wall fearfully. “The blade went in, how in the seven hells is it not dead?”

  “The arroganccce of your kind amuses me. Two thousand yearsss I have roamed this arid heap and still you dare to ssspit your pitiful ignoranccce at me.”

  Gray moved to the center of the street. He stood in the light of the moon. Puddles of dark wine pooled around his feet, staining the stone like blood. “Come out!” he shouted.

  “What are you doing?” Darius replied in a fierce whisper, beckoning him back. “We cannot fight this thing!”

  “We can’t escape either,” he answered quietly. “When I say so, run and get help.” He looked back to the dark rooftops, still hearing the horrid laughter. “Show yourself!” Fear pounded in his veins.

  Abruptly, the Nameless’ laughter cut short. In the silence, Gray heard blood pump in his ears. “Run!” he shouted and was glad to see the rogue sprint away. At least he’s safe.

  A mist suddenly appeared before his face and a blade arced, jutting from the black vapor, crashing down. He dove, but he was too slow. Something sparked in his mind. It cut through the thick barrier and as it did a bright gold light burst. Gray saw forked lightning shoot forth. It connected, blowing the Nameless back, and the creature slammed against the wall. His mind churned. What had he done?

  The Nameless lay in a heap against the wall, its black rags singed. Smoke rose from its still form. The lightning crackled and vanished. As random and sudden as it had appeared, it was now gone. The alley was dark again. Gray staggered, catching his breath as he looked at his hands. He looked up. Against the wall, the Nameless twitched. It’s still alive.