by Lucas Thorn
The elf's violet eyes shivered in their sockets. “Maybe,” she said. “Chukshene? When I tell you, you reckon you can cast a fireball at the fellers on your left? Try to melt their heads.”
The Grey Jackets on the left blinked. Hesitated. Looked at each other.
“I can't cast easily without my grimoire. But it'll be the biggest fucking fireball I have,” the warlock said through his teeth.
“Then be ready. Smear them against the walls.”
Melganaderna stayed close. “What do you want me to do?”
“Kill that feller there on your right. Try to push him off the edge. Reckon the cleric can't heal him from that far away.”
“Done.”
“And me?” Hemlock shuffled slightly forward.
“What can you do?”
“The only spell I can cast quickly is lightning.”
“It kill?”
The necromancer's voice was grim. “Yes.”
“Hit the archers with everything you've got. Aim for their eyes. Might take a while to heal those back.”
“I will. And while we're doing that, what are you going to do?” Hemlock asked.
The elf's smile was feral and she bared her teeth. Eyes focussed directly onto the soldier hovering in front of her just out of reach. She pointed at him with A Flaw in the Glass. “Him. Gonna pin his fucking brain to the back of his head. Clerics can't heal brains. Probably because they ain't too good at finding any.”
“Just say when.”
The elf could smell apples.
Cold apples taken from a tree leaning out over a swollen river still crusted with ice.
The sweetest apples she'd ever tasted.
Talek had taken her to find the tree. He'd said it was there. They'd climbed a mountain outside of Lostlight, in the shadow of the Bloods. A reluctant journey for her. A joyful one for him.
His parents had taken him there many times, he said. When he was still a child.
His happiness at finding the tree still there was the happiness of a child, and Nysta's mind flashed with the image of his smile. A ridiculous and innocent smile. For a man whose martial skills knew no equal, such a smile didn't belong on his face.
“Wash it in the river,” he told her. “Trust me. It tastes wonderful.”
He was right.
He'd always been right, she thought.
Now, looking at the young Grey Jacket soldiers suddenly filled with apprehension, the elf couldn't stop thinking of apples.
The river, formed by freshly melting snow from the mountain's peak, had led to a waterfall.
Its icy spray left a sour expression on her face. Talek clapped a hand around her shoulders and grinned.
As she grinned now. Teeth pale and white. Sweat gleaming on her brow. Trickling down her arms.
Wriggling worms buzzing down her skin. In her skin?
Inside? Why would she think that?
Threw the thought aside in favour of apples.
Wiped her mouth with the back of her fist. “Only when I tell you,” she said to Melganaderna. “Not before.”
The young woman nodded.
“Trust me,” she said, echoing Talek's ghostly voice as the Grey Jackets inched cautiously slower despite the cleric's howls for them to attack.
Melganaderna took another step, this time slightly sideways to position herself to attack her target. The mail ringlets of her armour clinked softly. Torment glowed with deadly hunger. “I do.”
Hyrax, outrage blackening his features, opened his mouth to shout at his men again.
Hemlock reared to his full height, green lightning lashing at his fists as power built around his frame.
Chukshene mouthed words of power.
Magic filled the air with its toxic stink.
Melganaderna breathed deep inward, filling her lungs.
The soldiers tensed.
And the elf, points of rage bursting in her veins, moved before anyone could think.
She gave no warning.
No quarter. And expected none in return.
Pouncing forward like a leopard, A Flaw in the Glass screamed brightly for blood. In her left, The Weight of Blood shone bright.
She already knew their history. Knew General Storr's army had been made of mostly green soldiers untested by war. Knew they lacked the composure learned by frequent brushes with death.
So, fuelled on fear and expecting her voiced instructions to be followed, they scattered. Dodging attacks which didn't come. Because, like themselves, Nysta's companions also didn't know how to react.
The soldier in front of her let out a horrified squeal and brought his sword up defensively, unconsciously trying to pull his head away from her reach.
Which suited her fine.
She thrust her shoulder under his raised weapon and into his chest, sending him crashing into the man next to him. Who gave a shriek of his own when he was sent toppling off the ledge and into the unwelcome darkness below.
And saw the sudden fear in Hyrax's eyes as he realised it'd all been a ruse. A ruse to force the Grey Jackets to open their rank and allow her to spear inside, knife aimed at the cleric's heart.
The glowing web flickered and died as he tried to counter with magic.
Failed.
The Weight of Blood drilled into his flesh. But he was already casting, his words screamed in agony as he tried to heal himself. Twisting his body to pull himself from the blade's steely hold.
The elf didn't stop.
She powered into him. Let out a hate-filled roar as she shoved him hard across the edge of the path, aiming to send him tumbling to his death on the rocks far below.
He cartwheeled, arms lashing out like tentacles. Lost his footing.
Dropped.
One hand finding her ankle as he fell.
Dragging her off balance.
She let out a yelp and dropped The Weight of Blood. Managed to snatch hold of the rocky edge and hung by one hand. Dangling above the ground in near-weightless dance. Swayed in place, shoulder aching. Glanced down.
Saw the cleric still wrapped around her leg.
Kicked at his face, but he kept holding on. “You kill me,” he sneered, suddenly triumphant as he sensed his salvation. Blood wet on his chest, but the wound already closed. “And you kill yourself. I'll take you with me, you Tainted whore. Take you with me to Hell!”
Melganaderna tore through the remaining soldiers. Torment howling as it hewed flesh and bone. The last of the Grey Jackets knelt at the edge, sword aimed down at the elf's throat. “Keep back!” He shouted at the axewoman. His eyes were hard, mouth a jagged line. “You try for me, and I'll kill her!”
“Then you'll kill your cleric,” Chukshene countered drily. “I don't think he'd like that.”
“Fucking right I wouldn't,” Hyrax muttered, trying to move his head away from another of the elf's kicks.
“I'll still kill her,” the Grey Jacket said. “So get back.”
Melganaderna tugged Torment free of her last kill. Held the massive axe in a choking grip, fist high up the long shaft and close to its blades.
The elf could see Chukshene, further up the path, leaning out to get a good look at her situation. He grimaced as he saw Hyrax on her leg.
“Uh, Nysta,” he said. “What now?”
“You're a spellslinger, Chukshene,” she said, arm unable to take the burden of the cleric much longer. Her fingers slipped on the rock. Knuckles were numb. Face pressed against the rocky ledge. “Reckon you know what happens next.”
And, when he frowned, she split her mouth into a crooked grin. Tasted blood.
Used her free leg to launch herself back into space. And, above Hyrax's scream, shouted; “Fly, you fool!”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Gul'Se's manic laugh made the walls of the cavern shake as Nysta and Hyrax, still clutching at her leg, plunged toward the ground. It amazed the elf, in that brief moment between jetting herself away from the ledge and the impact below, how time could slow to a crawl whe
n the Old Skeleton was close.
She could see the ground rushing up to meet her.
The lurid green river winding through the cavern, sliding around Urak's Keep like a venomous serpent waiting to taste her. Its glow seeming to shiver as it slavered in preparation.
Rush of wind in the elf's ears. Tugging at her hair.
Slight whistle of air.
Maybe the cries of Chukshene spewed down after her. Her mind didn't have the time to think about that. No time to wonder at the glittering points of light from the torches on the walls which marked the path's way around the edge of the cavern. Had only time to snatch a few conscious breaths.
Time to twist her body and try to angle it.
Time for her eyes to bulge as terror clawed her heart and the Shadowed Halls raked her soul. The laugh of the Vampire Queen vibrated through her body. Filled her with a chorus of hideous madness.
The flood of sensation as an uncountable legion of worms wound around her bones. Wrapped around her flesh.
Holding collective breaths.
Preparing for impact.
The crazed grin still wide on her face as she sucked one last deep breath and held it.
Hyrax, screaming as he fell, words of power tripping from his mouth.
But he was unable to slow his fall and they hit the eerie river as one.
Hit it hard.
Nysta's world was obliterated as her body smashed into the thick green surface. It wasn't water. Wasn't quite slime. It was something else.
Something like the thick black fluid from the tunnel far above.
Not that her brain was capable of thinking about it. It was absorbed by its own darkness.
So she didn't notice her body being dragged along the current. Didn't feel Hyrax pull away from her. Didn't see the dark shadows slithering through the glowing green sludge.
Or feel them nudge at her flesh like fish before tugging at her arms. Pulling her further down the river.
Driving her toward the bank.
She didn't see the shadows cringe away from the cleric. Couldn't see the amulet around his throat flare with white heat. Nor hear his shouted curses as he struggled to pull himself free of the river's clutching embrace. His body glowing with magic as his wounds healed quickly.
The last remnants of the Grey Jacket soldiers lined the banks.
Willem, his scarred face devoid of emotion, watched as Hyrax dragged himself onto the shore. The cleric scowled at the elf, not bothering to disguise the pure hatred he held for him.
“You could've helped me,” Hyrax said, spitting green fluid. He breathed heavily, struggling to even sit up.
“Is she dead?”
The cleric looked back at the river. Couldn't see Nysta's body carried under the swirling surface. Shrugged. “I survived because I could heal myself. I don't think that Rule-cursed bitch had that kind of power. Do you?”
Willem's gaze didn't leave the surface. He searched for any sign of the elf's body. “With her kind, who can tell?”
“Tainted whore.” The cleric rolled onto his back and looked up. Could just make out Chukshene and Hemlock poised on the edge of the path. Tiny figures only visible because of Torment's purple glow. “They're still up there.”
“Yeah,” Willem didn't sound surprised. “Of course they are. I let you talk me into taking some men with you. Men we couldn't afford to spare. Your arrogance, combined with their stupidity, got them killed.”
“Fuck you, you T-” He cut himself off sharply as Willem's lethal gaze travelled toward him.
“I've told you before, Hyrax. The Lord of Light is with me now. And He commands respect. If you cannot respect His choices, then you will be unbound to Him.”
Despite the hatred surging in his veins, Hyrax paled. His hand reached up to clutch the amulet around his throat. “You can't do that. You don't have that authority! He'd never give that to you.”
Willem's disfigured face drew its cracked lips back into a sneer. “Our Lord Rule has given me many gifts, cleric. Test me again, and you may discover some of them. I promise you, you won't enjoy the experience.”
He waited until he was sure the cleric would keep his silence, then turned away from the river. Took in his remaining few men with a look which bordered on contempt and began moving toward the broken entrance which led into Urak's Keep. He was quickly followed by the youngest of the remaining soldiers, who tripped along behind the elf with something akin to worship.
Willem himself looked back only once, eyes impassive as he watched Hyrax climb to his feet. “I wanted to kill her myself.”
Hyrax spat into the river, lank hair plastered to his head. “Too late for that.”
“Yeah.” Willem kept walking. “So it would seem.”
One of the soldiers moved to help the cleric to his feet, but drew back when he was faced with a furious scowl.
Snarling, Hyrax stomped his feet to loosen the slime from his boots. “Why is that Tainted bastard still alive? While I was gone, you were meant to kill him. And that traitorous dog who shits at his heels.”
“He knew what we were planning,” a grizzled old soldier said, looking only a little ashamed. “Told us so when you left. Also told us if we tried, we'd be dead. I believed him.”
“Shit.” The cleric's mind raced. “We'll have to wait until we're done here. When we meet up again with the others. Then we can finally be rid of him. Gifts from Rule? Bullshit. Fucking bullshit. Tainted bastard will never be Accepted as long as I live. Never.”
They moved away, Hyrax muttering darkly as he went.
Never looking back as the river swirled contentedly in the sullen torchlight.
The elf's body slid under the bridge, unaware of Willem walking above her.
Carried around the side of the Keep, she took no breaths. Gave no sign of life.
Until she brushed against a submerged boulder and her left leg gave a twitch.
Then the dark shadows which had been nudging her body, gave a harder push and she rolled, with the river's momentum, onto a small bank. Her legs, still immersed in the green sludge, floated like lifeless weeds. Dark shadows lapped at exposed skin.
Unseen by the elf, and unfelt, the skin across her chest and shoulders had turned black. The kind of black which existed only in the deepest reaches of the night sky.
It pulsed.
Once.
Twice.
And began to fade as she let out a gasp, her mouth vomiting slime and her eyes rolling in their sockets as she fought to breathe.
Agony streamed along her nerves, shooting up her spine. It blasted into her brain and left her writhing on the bank. Gurgling moans forced between clenched teeth. Spitting out more of the rancid green fluid than she thought her lungs could have held.
Miraculously, she'd kept hold of A Flaw in the Glass. The blade flickered, almost despondently as she let it fall from her fingers. The elf curled up on her side and clutched at her ribs. Everything hurt.
Everything.
She lay there, unable to move. Unable to think. How long, she couldn't tell, but long enough for the pain to begin to ebb and then the comfort of sleep drove her swinging into a second round of darkness. A round that wasn't as empty as the one before.
Instead, her brain was peppered with fragments of memory.
Memory torn from hidden folds in her mind and stripped bare.
Laid out before her to soak up fear like a sponge.
Her first kill.
The handmade shiv in her fist. Blood between her fingers. A choking sound in her victim's throat as the small blade cut his ties to this world.
The smell of apples moments before Talek had taken her hand and together they'd jumped off the waterfall. Dropped to the uncertain foam below. Fought the whitewash until she found herself tumbling among the rocks.
And Talek, just behind her. Laughter choking loose between gasping breaths.
That feeling of being alive.
Taste of apple in her mouth. Skin a field of goosepimples in t
he icy water.
Scowling at him, but the hairs on her neck prickled in excitement.
Overwhelmed, the elf groaned in her sleep. Unaware of the green slime brushing curiously against her legs. The shadows, perhaps tiring of her, moved back into the sullen depths. Away from even the faintest light on the surface.
Gul'Se's crooning voice whispered to her sleeping body.
“I see you there. You cannot hide from me, Child of Veil. It tries to bring you to me. It hopes you will set it free. But you won't. It is ours. It was always ours by right. His chains will bind it here forever.”
Inside her dreams, the world was silent. Stifling. Dark.
She reached up, hands tearing through dirt. Clawing at the darkness. Pulling free. Her arm shot out, breaching the endless black. Dawn's pale light bathed her eyes. Snow dropped down onto her face, but she kept climbing upward.
Hauling herself from the ground.
Screaming to the wind.
Words in an alien tongue.
Her skin. From the tips of her fingers, all down her arms.
Black.
Blacker than the shadows from which she'd crawled.
She screamed again.
And again. Screams of sheer insane hatred which gutted her of all other emotion as she aimed her face at the sky.
Rage fragmented everything as the elf's eyes snapped open and she flew to her feet. Hands unconsciously snatched A Flaw in the Glass and she spun around and round on the slippery bank, eyes searching for the source of her pain as she kicked up mud.
Then, finding herself alone, she dropped to her knees. Wearily sheathing the blade at her hip.
“Fuck,” she breathed, throat raw from screaming. Ran her fingers through her hair. Looked down at the river's sludge and winced.
She remained there for a long time, fingers exploring parts of her body which still felt swollen and sore. Wondered how she'd managed to land without breaking every bone in her body. And also how she'd found the shore.
It must be a miracle, she thought with a twist of her lip.
Or a curse.
At the thought, she felt the rage bubble in her guts again. Even hotter as she found herself wondering what had happened to Chukshene and the two Caspiellans.