Shades Of Justice

by Justin Sloan

  As if she were inhaling, she pulled the light from the man, draining him of his life force. Then, with more energy flowing through her, she pushed and spears of light and shadow pierced her attackers—not enough to kill them, but enough to cause them unthinkable amounts of pain.

  Her laugh was maniacal now as she strode amongst them, completely nude as they writhed in pain.

  “We live in a new world, gentlemen. One where you don’t get to waltz into a woman’s private time and have your way. One that isn’t separated into tiny fiefdoms all fighting for their freedom or squabbling over the right to eat the other’s harvest, or whatever the hell it is you idiots fight over. No, all of that will vanish in the darkness, and when a new light arises,” she let her skin glow blindingly gold, “all else shall be forgotten. I shall walk among the cities of this world, and all will have forgotten the carnage that brought us there. All they will know is my beauty and the grace with which I rule. The benevolence, the—”

  “You’re full of shite, lady,” one of the men said between grunts of pain. He threw himself at the sword nearby, hand outstretched, and she stomped on it, adding light energy to the motion so that her foot landed with extra strength and speed.

  The man let out a new wave of curses and whimpers, both of which she’d tired of, so she swiped with the shadow and watched his head fly off.

  A glance showed the rest staring at her in terror. A look that, right now, was killing her buzz.

  She thrust her hands out and then pulled back, removing the last of their light and leaving them as bloodied corpses.

  “You all let me down.”

  Bare chest heaving, slick with blood, she just breathed for a moment, composing herself, and then turned to the young man. He was in the corner, legs curled up and arms wrapped around his knees, staring at it all in horror.

  “Come,” she said, holding a hand out for him. “We aren’t finished.”

  He let out something that sounded like a whimper, but managed to push himself up and stagger over to her.

  “Don’t worry,” she said, running a bloodied hand through his hair. “Soon this will all be over, and you will rise above the rest. You have a great purpose here, trust me.”

  She used her shadow magic to swipe the bodies from the bed, then placed her hands on his chest and threw him backward before leaping onto him.

  “Soon enough, you’ll see. Soon enough.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Alastar stood in the waters, his light fairy dancing ahead of him. It didn’t make sense—what was to the north? To the northeast was the Kaldfell peninsula, where Lars and the others had gone, and northwest were the Barskall lands.

  So why was the fairy indicating the waters directly north of him?

  “Did we get turned around?” he asked his sister.

  No answer came as she took a glance to double-check. She was behind him on dry land and he took a moment to consider how much she had changed. When they had set out from the castle of the Order of Rodrick she had been an innocent young woman who wore only dresses. Now she had the look of a warrior to her, with her leather bracers. Her hair wasn’t tied back now but wild, its red highlighted by the setting sun.

  “Best I can figure,” she finally replied, “we’re where we are supposed to be, but what do I know? I’ve never been up here.”

  “We need a boat,” he finally stated. “The only way we’ll find out what’s going on is if we get a boat.”

  They turned to see the others approaching, all of them looking quite exhausted.

  “We need a place to stay,” Alastar said. “And while we’re there… We need a boat.”

  Estair frowned, likely having flashbacks to the last time they’d taken a boat. They had been up against paladins and remnant then. Who knew what awaited them this time, or if there was land out there at all.

  “And the rest of the army?” Donnon asked. “We’re going to sail off without them?”

  Alastar turned back to the lands behind them. Field upon field lay before high hills of green, with swampy lands beyond that. To reach this point, the army would likely have to march twelve hours a day for a week straight.

  “We can’t wait for them,” he proclaimed. “They will continue to clear out our enemy here, ensuring that the clans are safe and our lands are cleansed of anything to do with Lady Mowain. We have to ensure she’s stopped, and I mean now.”

  He had expected them to protest, but none of them did. Soon they were on their way east to where Donnon told them one of the clans lived. He wasn’t sure if they would be friendly, but they would have boats for sure. Many of the clans up here survived by fishing. Fishing, and being strong enough to fight off the Storm Raiders.

  Meaning that if there was a problem, they might have a challenge ahead of them.

  There was a good deal more walking and hurting before they came across the coastal village. The good thing about being on the coast in this flat region was that even if Donnon had been wrong, they would have likely come across some village eventually.

  At first they kept their distance, assessing the village to see if there were any signs of the enemy among them.

  “What would we be looking for, exactly?” Donnon asked. “I mean, it’s not like there would be ice spears and whatnot flying through the sky, right?”

  “Maybe weirdos in hooded cloaks?” Rhona offered, causing Kia to laugh.

  “I have an idea,” Estair said with a shrug. “We walk in there. If they attack us, we know what side they’re on.”

  “And then we’ll kick their arses.” Rhona started walking. “Works for me.”

  Faces appeared from the fields, but nobody stopped them from approaching. As they were walking past the small huts in the village, an old man accompanied by two women and two other men came toward them.

  “Are you the leader of this village?” Alastar asked when they were close enough to make him nervous. He couldn’t ignore the fact that they had strapped on swords. In a place like this, that meant something.

  “Let me guess,” the old man said. “You’re them. Rhona and Alastar?”

  Alastar nodded, seeing no point in denying it.

  “We have orders to kill you.”

  “Oh?”

  The old man shrugged. “Aye, we do. On pain of death. Or…just pain and torture.”

  “And yet you aren’t attacking,” Rhona noted.

  “And yet we’re not.”

  “Is there a reason for that?” Alastar had his hand on the hilt of his sword, ready, but had a feeling it wouldn’t be necessary. “If you wanted to attack us you would’ve done so on our way into town, catching us off-guard.”

  The woman next to the old man smiled, tossing her braid over her shoulder. All the women were dressed the same way, wearing dark blue plaid similar to the men’s, with their hair in single long braids.

  “Maybe we have more reason to see you succeed than fail,” she offered.

  The old man nodded. “Just because our lives have been threatened doesn’t mean we’re going to bend over and take it. We’ve seen Her power, but if She’s afraid enough of you to threaten us over it, then the way we figure it, you must be damn powerful too. Maybe you even have a shot of taking Her down.”

  “So you’re a gambling man,” Estair observed.

  “We’re a gambling town,” the woman said. “No one lives here, fighting Storm Raiders over the years, without learning how to be gamblers. How to look for the angles when it comes to survival. Right now you’re our only angle.”

  “Survival doesn’t mean being the slaves of some self-proclaimed goddess,” the old man said. “That evil witch can go jump off a cliff. Better yet, you can shove Her off, with that pretty sword of yours stuck in Her gut.”

  Alastar smiled. “Gladly. I like you people already.”

  “What do you need from us?” the man asked.

  “Just a boat.”

  Someone cleared her throat behind him. He turned to see Estair patting the satchel at her side.<
br />
  “Ah, and maybe some spare water and food, if you can manage that.” Alastar’s eyes moved across the rest of his party. “Any other requests?”

  “If we’re marching off to our possible death,” Estair replied, “I don’t think a last meal is such a big ask.”

  The old man laughed and waved them over. “Come, join us for a quick meal, then we’ll send you on your way. You understand we have our livelihood to consider here, but we can spare a rowboat.”

  “A rowboat?” Donnon scrunched his face. “Don’t you know exactly where this goddess resides?”

  The old man pointed to the water. “All we know is they come from that direction. There are islands out there, though we haven’t explored them much. We’ve talked to people who did so long ago, mostly adventurers passing by, but they didn’t tell us much to speak of. If they’ve settled down in those islands, you might have some searching to do.”

  “We’ll take care of that part,” Alastar replied, thinking of his light fairy. They didn’t need to know all the details.

  They joined the group in the old man’s house and his wife shared some recently caught fish and mead, which Alastar wasn’t sure about trying. In the end, he decided the rules of hospitality won out. It was smooth going down and he drank half a cup before reminding himself that he not only wasn't a drinker, but he didn’t handle his liquor very well.

  “Did you want to stay the night? Rest before heading out?” the old man asked, though it was clear he didn’t want them to do that in the least.

  Alastar laughed, waving the question off. “As much as I would love to,” he gestured to the let-down expressions of his group as he said this, “we need to move on. The sooner we deal with Lady Mowain, the less chance of her bringing more pain to the world.”

  “And…the children?” the old man asked. “Maybe they would be better off staying here.”

  “Maybe you’d be better off minding your own business,” Kia retorted.

  “Kia!” Donnon shook his head. “Mind your manners.” He turned to the old man and shrugged. “You see the fight in her? That’s only half of it.”

  The old man eyed her suspiciously, then nodded. “You know your business better than I. But…be careful.”

  “Trust me, you’re not the only one who’s worried.”

  “We’ll be fine,” Kia stated, her lower jaw jutting.

  “In that case,” the old man said, standing. “Let’s get you to your boat and send you on your way.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Sails billowed as the three ships rounded the northwest tip of Roneland, all three moving into a line that would allow them to sail up the great river that had formed long ago. It might have been a creek once, but legends had it that massive earthquakes had torn the northern lands apart, creating this wide river that cut through most of the land.

  Larick stood beside Laird Summers in the foremost ship, eyes alert and mind focused on the hills as they passed. He could sense a presence, but when asked if there were clans and villages nearby he shook his head.

  “More of the wild men and women, like those who attacked with Lady Mowain. They won’t be joining our side anytime soon.”

  “Agreed,” Laird Summers replied, and so they kept sailing.

  They would see what they could do about these northern clans, root out any of the enemy they could find, and then make their way south to meet up with the king’s army. Then it would be one large army marching on any enemies who remained—if such survived.

  “This Arcadia you come from,” Laird Summers started, leaning back against the railing. “What’s it like?”

  “Heaven, compared to this place,” Larick replied, then covered his mouth. “No offense meant by that.”

  Laird Summers laughed. “All you’ve seen is strife since you arrived, I’ll give you that. But when this land is at peace—or relative peace—it’s the most beautiful place in the world.”

  “You know this from experience?”

  The laird furrowed his brow and shook his head, but then gestured to the tall cliffs and green hills. “How could anything compare to this? It’s just common sense, really.”

  “It’s a beautiful land,” Larick admitted. “If only its people could pull their heads out of their asses and stop fighting.”

  “The paladins never made that easy, but now that Sir Gildon is out of the picture, who knows?”

  “The way I understand it, there was much fighting among the clans as well,” Larick argued. “To blame it on any one group…”

  Laird Summers grunted, but didn’t argue that. After watching the water go by for a time, shielding his eyes against the sunlight glimmering off the water, he pulled his cloak around him and nodded.

  “One can hope,” he said, “that this whole experience has pulled us together. We rallied around the king of Gulanri, and we stand united against a great evil. Will the lands return to fighting? Maybe someday, but we have pushed aside our differences for now. I for one will do my part to ensure we never return to the old ways.”

  Larick patted him on the shoulder. “You’re a good man.”

  “I’m trying to become one.”

  As they moved between an island and the mainland Larick focused on reaching out with his mind, and this time he found something. There wasn’t only a group of people out there, as touching various minds showed him, but also someone else. He tried to sense the person, to reach out and test them to see what side they were on.

  All he got back was fright, and what felt like a wall to him. A mental wall, meaning…someone with magic like his own. Another twisted version of a mystic, perhaps? They had come across two already and killed both.

  But this one wasn’t attacking him, simply blocking his attempt to read his thoughts.

  “What is it?” the laird asked, apparently sensing that something was off.

  “It’s time to make landfall,” Larick replied.

  Laird Summers stood tall, eager to get to the action, and signaled his captain. The other ships were notified and soon all three made their way toward shore, searching for a place among the cliffs where the land met the sea. From there they could move inland and find whatever it was they would find.

  Stay away. It’s too dangerous, a voice said in Larick’s head, but just like that it was gone again, the mind blocking his attempt to enter or even reply.

  “Be prepared for a trap,” Larick advised the laird as they disembarked on a rocky beach.

  Laird Summers gave him a broad smile. “Everything’s a trap.”

  “Everything?”

  “When your significant other tells you she loves you, it’s a trap. You don’t say it back, you’re in for an arse-kicking.” Laird Summers moved across the rocks, allowing one of his soldiers to spot him in case he lost his balance. “You have to pay your soldiers, but pay them too much and they begin to overvalue themselves. Think that maybe they’re your equals, that they can take your place. Pay them too little, they will definitely rise against you. So you see, everything’s a trap.”

  A glance at the soldier’s irritated expression made Larick laugh. “Even this conversation, since you’ve fallen into the trap of irritating the man you are relying on to catch you.”

  “I rest my case,” Laird Summers stated, then turned to the man next to him. “An extra helping of mead every night for a week when we return, and we forget I said anything.”

  “Aye, Laird,” the soldier responded, but Larick saw into the reply.

  “Make it a month,” he whispered into the laird’s ear.

  “A month, then,” Laird Summers grumbled, but the soldier visibly perked up.

  They reached a point where they could walk up a rocky hill, not too steep but not easy either. It was damp from the ocean mist, so they had to move slowly to avoid slipping. At more than one point Larick noticed people watching from the cliffs, but they vanished each time he turned to them. When he reached out with his mind, that same wall as before blocked him.

  “Someone
’s here who doesn’t want to be found,” Larick stated.

  “If it’s the goddess…”

  “No, not her. At least I don’t think so.” Larick had to move his robes aside as he climbed the last bit to avoid them catching on roots and jagged stones. They had come to a point where they could see grass ahead. While rocks still jutted out around them, creating hills and more, ahead there was a slight descent. It led to an old wall of bricks, behind which were barely visible huts surrounding an ancient building that must’ve been one of the churches, judging by the cross on the ground next to it and the spot at its peak where that cross might have once been mounted.

  As they approached he saw headstones sprouting from the grassy hill to its west, and farther south the same pattern but with simple sticks and piles of rubble. He imagined that the headstones marked an old graveyard, while the rest were from more recent deaths.

  “I’ve never traveled so far north,” Laird Summers admitted. “Always wanted to, but with the conflicts I couldn’t make it work.”

  “And now you arrive with a small army at your back.” Larick glanced around to see the others still trickling up. The ones who had already reached them were forming a line that could in no way be interpreted as anything other than offensive.

  Faces began to appear from the huts, and the lookouts on the rocks behind them had stopped hiding themselves.

  “Maybe it’s best if just a small number of us go in at first,” Larick advised.

  “Are they not hostile?”

  Larick considered this question. “It’s…complicated.”

  “Complicated enough to risk my men?”

  “I don’t think it will be a risk. We go in armed, and have the soldiers at the ready should there be trouble. With your magic and mine, I can’t see them being able to overcome us.”

  “Ah, hubris. And don’t forget our little chat about everything being a trap.”

  Larick nodded, then said, “Are you coming?”

  With a hearty laugh, the laird put a hand on his sword hilt and picked out two soldiers to follow him. The four of them made their way down to the huts.