by K. C. M.
He nudged her back the way she’d come. She took two steps and then turned, watching him, the worried line between her brows even more pronounced. He offered her a small smile and then turned, continuing on his way. He pushed all thoughts of her away. It was time to focus on the task at hand.
He covered ground quickly. Adrenaline and determination lent him speed and endurance despite his weariness. It only took him a few hours to return to the lake and in that time, he hadn’t seen a single sign of his former teacher. Nor had he felt anything stirring in the darkness.
He stopped to take a quick drink. Not from the lake, which was tainted by fey magic, but from one of the many nearby creeks that fed it. Although fey magic wasn’t likely to affect him too seriously, he didn’t want to take the chance.
He needed his wits about him.
Connor wiped his mouth, but remained crouching by the creek. His mind whirred with possibilities.
No sign of Sirus was a bad sign.
But Sirus had to be near. Connor had felt his presence not far behind when he’d fought the werebeast. What’s more, Connor knew that Sirus would confront him before killing him. Sirus may let the werebeasts maim and injure Connor but he would certainly strike the deathblow himself.
Connor understood that all too well. It wasn’t that long ago that he’d been sent out to finish off loose ends.
He rubbed his fingers agitatedly over the hilt of his knife.
There were several possibilities for why he hadn’t run into Sirus yet…but there was one that made his heart rate speed up.
He filled his flask and turned back the way he had come. He’d covered the distance quickly before. He covered it even faster now. His long strides ran up and over hills. He took the time to make one detour. He darted through Holly’s small copse of trees with the stone fey ring. “Holly’s in trouble.” He spat out and then he was gone, not waiting to see if anyone listened or if anyone answered. He comforted himself that they would…the fey didn’t love mortals, but they also wouldn’t give up a commodity and asset easily. After the deal she’d struck, Holly had become a very valuable asset.
Or would the fey prove themselves to be just as volatile now as they had been thousands of years ago?
12 Two is Better than One
Holly watched as Connor disappeared over the top of the next hill.
She was probably just being foolish, but she had a horrible feeling that he shouldn’t go by himself. Or perhaps it was just that she didn’t want to be left by herself? Was she just scared?
Her muscles tensed.
I am not scared to be by myself, she thought forcefully.
So, why did she suddenly feel so abandoned and bereft?
Holly took a breath.
Connor was the one who was in danger, but he would probably be fine. He’d once told her that he was the most dangerous creature in the magic forest. Although the werebeast had been horrifying and ferocious, it was Connor who came out on top. Sort of…
Her stomach twisted into knots as she remembered his pale complexion after he was poisoned. The image of the deep cuts and black, poisoned skin swam before her eyes.
She gritted her teeth. It’s not unusual for people to face their problems by themselves. It’s called independence. She spent a few minutes lecturing herself, convincing herself that it was alright for Connor to run off by himself.
Still absorbed in her own thoughts, she turned to head back to their camp.
Connor didn’t want her help, which meant there was nothing she could do but wait.
She clambered over one of the large boulders and dropped down by the ashes of last night’s fire.
It was cussed cold again.
Holly blew out a forceful breath.
It wouldn’t hurt to make a fire, she decided.
As she turned away from their makeshift camp, a shadow fell across her path.
She didn’t even have time to feel fear.
Someone had wrapped an arm around her waist and pressed a wet cloth over her mouth and nose.
Shadows and light…life and death…Holly’s mind careened at a suddenly sporadic pace before suddenly simply stopping.
She didn’t even see the face of her attacker, just felt his lethal shadow leap up to catch her as she collapsed.
Smoke.
Connor slowed and sniffed the air.
Yes, smoke…and it was thick, certainly much thicker than if it was just a campfire. It also wasn’t just wood that was burning. There was a foul edge to the stinging stench.
Games…it had always been mind games with Sirus. Manipulation, deceit, twisted promises, shaming, and assumptions were all tools that Sirus had in his arsenal. He was the ultimate narcissistic psychopath. On top of that, he was extremely powerful. He was the only elf to have rivaled Connor in combat. Though Connor might have the advantage in physical combat, Sirus was the strongest shadow master the Den had seen in many years.
Once Connor had finally left the Den, once he’d escaped his past life, he had realized just how evil Sirus was.
And now, Connor had played right into Sirus’s hands. Even worse, he’d dragged Holly down with him.
Connor sprinted, his dagger drawn, hand clenched so tightly around the handle that the design was pressed into the skin of his palm.
He had never traveled with much, but what he did have was strewn about in small piles of smoldering ashes.
The cold seeped through his skin and into his body.
He walked slowly through the campsite, towards the largest fire.
A small knife was stabbed into the ground before the fire. It pinned a small scrap of cloth to the ground. Neutral, stained cloth with a strikingly blue insignia: a fish.
It was Holly’s.
Sirus had taken Holly.
Connor’s blood ran cold and his mind reeled. He could imagine all too well the horrors that Sirus could inflict on Holly. Holly, with her green-rimmed eyes…Connor’s horror multiplied. If Sirus realized that Holly was fey tainted, he would murder her on the spot.
Connor freed the knife and caught the inn’s blue insignia. He rubbed it between thumb and forefinger as he eyed the ground. Sirus hadn’t bothered to cover his tracks. That meant he was waiting for Connor, intentionally trying to draw Connor out.
Connor put the scrap of material into a pouch at his belt. He put the knife in his boot, promising himself as he did so that he would give it back to Holly when he freed her. She had to be alive.
Why had he let her travel with him, when he’d always know he was being stalked by danger and death?
His anger and fear sharpened his mind. He would not let Sirus win this battle, especially now that it wasn’t just about Connor.
He readjusted his belt, methodically drawing the knives to check the sharpness of their blades and checking the powders and poisons hanging from his belt. He undid his cloak and let it fall to the ground. Cloaks were well and good while traveling, but during a battle like this, it would only be a nuisance.
He slowed his breathing. His mind felt stretched from trying to hold onto all the slips of shadows that he’d been drawing on. Sirus would rely on shadow magic. Connor was only barely a master of magic. He’d never felt a desire to take it beyond the basics. It was a means to the end. Sirus had loved magic. There was no telling what he’d learned to do with shadows in the year since Connor had left the Den.
Connor sifted through the shadows in his control. He wouldn’t need all of them to fight Sirus. He released a few of the weaker ones.
Sirus knew he couldn’t win in physical combat. It was one of the many reasons he’d sent the werebeast. Sirus was also powerful enough to create and control multiple werebeasts. That meant he would likely let the werebeasts attack and wear down Connor. Shadow magic wouldn’t harm the beasts, at least not in the limited knowledge that Connor had.
He would need to take the beasts down quickly, so he was still strong enough to meet Sirus in battle.
He dipped his curved knife in one
of the pouches. It held white powder, the same powder that the Forest Elves had used back in the forest. It was an old concoction from before the War of the Races and the leaving of the Fairies. It’s origins started sometime during the Elvin Wars. The fairies had always been strong in magic, dangerously so. The story claimed that during the Elvin Wars, a group of Light Elves had disarmed a Dark Elf assassin named Daemori. Surrounded, he’d fled and found a hidden entrance to one of the many fairy courts. He’d hidden from the fey. Knowing that the fairies poisoned their food and water to make it dangerous to mortals, the dark elf grabbed one of the many platters of food. He ground the food into a fine powder. When he left the court, the Light Elves were waiting for him. He’d thrown the powder at them and it had acted as a paralysis agent.
Since then, the Dark Elves had taken every opportunity to steal fairy food and grind it into powder.
Even after the fairies left this land, the elves had horded their poisonous powder. The Dark Elves in particular still kept stashes of it. They called it Templa en’Tessa.
Even though the Dark Elves slowly poisoned their own children to build up immunity, no such precaution could be taken with the shadow creatures. Were-animals of all kinds held no resistance to the potent substance. What’s more, anything fey touched was potentially dangerous to shadow creatures. The fairies dealt only in naturally occurring phenomena. Werebeasts were created by unnatural means.
Connor reattached the pouch and held his dagger carefully in his right hand.
If Holly could be saved, he would do it.
13 Sirus
Holly woke slowly, blearily. Her limbs felt like lead and she didn’t seem to have the strength to move them. Oh blazes…her stomach lurched and her body was rudely jerked with the force. She rolled onto her side and heaved, shaking violently. Luckily her stomach was mostly empty and there wasn’t much that she could throw up. As the tremors slowed, she lay back on her back. With some disgust she realized that her hair was wet, having trailed through her vomit.
Hair…last time she’d felt this ill was from the poison the Forest Elves had hit her with. That time, Connor had been there to hold her hair back.
“Connor,” She croaked, blearily trying to remember what had happened.
He’d left…but something, a shadow, had come back with her…for her…something had happened at the camp.
Her head ached violently.
“Is that the name that he goes by now?”
Holly blinked and squinted. A dark shadow loomed over her. The shadow was in the form of a man (or elf, she supposed), but where there should have been eyes were two endless black pits. She blinked. The man might have had similar features to Connor once, but those features had decayed into something of a monster. He was much skinnier. The skin of his face was stretched too tight, except for under his eyes where it sagged like he hadn’t slept in…years, really. His lips were pulled back, revealing yellow, decaying teeth. His hair was dark and stringy, the blackness of it faded to a dark, steel grey.
Holly closed her eyes.
A part of her was horrified. There was only one person this could be; Sirus, the teacher that Connor had specifically said he hoped she never met.
Another part of her was too horrified to comprehend what was happening. That part of her stated quite frankly, “I hope Connor doesn’t age like you do.”
The old elf laughed, but it was a cold, hollow sound. “Caranthir will not live to age beyond this day.”
“You should hope you don’t age beyond this day.” Holly said snidely, pushing herself up into a sitting position.
Quicker than she could anticipate, the elf struck a blow across her face that sent her sprawling back to the ground. “You are going to die.”
She knew that just by looking at his face. His black, empty eyes were boring into hers, reading her soul and finding her very lacking. She swallowed and tasted blood. “So are you.”
His yellow teeth showed as he smiled slowly. “You think that Caranthir can best me?”
“Yes.” She whispered.
The man reached out and stroked her face where he’d hit her. She flinched and his smile widened. “There is a small chance that Caranthir could best me, but I promise you that even if he does, he will not kill me. His judgment has always been too malleable. That is why he needs my guiding hand to point him at the right victims. I am the knight who guides the sword.”
“He’s not a weapon. He’s a person.” She tried to scoot away from him, but his knee was suddenly painfully in her stomach, pinning her where she was. She gagged as pain forced bile up her throat.
“You think you know him so well? He is what I have made him, girl. He has killed more people than you can possibly imagine. He is death’s hand. He is nothing more than a shadow.” He leaned over, his face so close that spit from his words flew into her face. His knee dug so painfully deep into her stomach that she couldn’t breathe.
With a sneer, the elf suddenly rose. “You deserve to learn a lesson or two, girl. So, I think it would only be fair that Caranthir kill you himself.”
Holly didn’t respond. She couldn’t. She just tried to tune the old man out and focus on breathing. Her body hurt, but she could move easier now. Whatever he’d done to knock her out must be wearing off.
She blinked up at the sky when a hideous, antlered face suddenly interrupted her vision. She nearly screamed, but caught it just before it left her mouth. A werebeast.
“Pick up the girl. Don’t kill her.” The old man spat.
Long arms with unnatural fingers reached for Holly. Holly closed her eyes. The creature was bone and muscle and blood, all bound together with darkness. It was unnatural and terrifying. It tossed her over its shoulder and she was nearly speared by the massive antlers on its head.
Connor had been right. His old teacher was controlling the werebeasts.
Holly was never really sure what happened next. For several long, lumbering steps, she was uncomfortably held over the creature’s shoulder. The next thing she knew, it was screaming out an unnatural sound and falling to its knees. She was jolted, but she didn’t have time to scramble away. Its clawed hands fastened tightly around her legs, piercing through cloth and skin. Then it tumbled sideways and its antlered head landed on top of her.
She froze and it took a second for her to orient herself. One of the sharp antler points was digging painfully into her back. She reached back and shoved, hardly able to move the creature’s heavy head at her angle.
As she crawled out from under the beast, she cast a glance over her shoulder.
Three more werebeasts had appeared, but a tall figure was already on them, moving faster than she could even see. All she caught a glimpse of was dark hair.
Connor had come.
The three beasts closed in on him. She scrambled back, out of the way, pressing against an old tree. Her gaze swung around quickly. Before she had time to really wonder where he was, Sirus appeared right next to her. She stared at him, at his dark eyes for a moment. The fading light of the sun should have reflected off of them, but instead the black pits seemed to suck in the light and destroy it.
The thin skin of his face stretched in an eerie smile.
“You are going to die.” He said softly.
Her blood pounded through her veins and Holly believed him with an utter certainty that terrified her. Desperately, she whispered, “Not today.”
He laughed a soft sound. “He will kill you. It’s who he is.”
She glanced over her shoulder at Connor.
“Yes, look at him. See him as I see him.” Sirus whispered.
His voice was quiet and calm, almost lulling her, but there was an edge to it that made her heart hammer and sharpened her senses.
She saw the flash of silver out of the corner of her eye. Instinct, or perhaps her short time training with Connor, sent her into motion. She knocked the blade away with her forearm, feeling the sharp slice of it through her skin. Ignoring the pain, she kicked at Sirus.
/> He knocked her foot aside and then swiped out her other leg.
“How pathetic you humans are.” He whispered, his eyes half closed as he regarded her. “Your race has never stood chance. They should have been eliminated a long time ago.”
Before she could even shiver at the malice in his voice, he suddenly stomped down.
Holly screamed. The pain in her leg was so intense, she couldn’t seem to breathe to scream again. Her entire body tensed and curled in on itself, desperate to contain the pain, to feel no more.
Sirus towered over her and as she watched, he reached out and plucked at a shadow. It willingly left it’s place and become something more then a shadow, something strong and deadly. He held it easily in his hand. “No more screaming, human. You’re distracting Caranthir.”