by Jay Swanson
Silvers swung straight down at its head but the shade stepped to the side, turning as if to watch the captain fly by. This was not going well at all. Silvers put his heels down in an effort to stop and swung his blade around in a wild arc as if to ward off the Shade. It simply stepped back, allowing the tip of the blade to whistle by harmlessly.
Silvers held his sword up with both hands, breathing heavily and wondering what was going on. Why didn't it respond? The figure was backing away from him slowly; its hands remained hidden from view as it attempted to make its exit. Khrone's Ghosts were closing; escape wouldn't be quite so simple in a moment. Guns weren't going to be any use here, their initial chance of catching the Shade off guard was lost. Their only hope rested on overwhelming it in a fight and surviving long enough to land a blow.
This was exactly what Silvers had feared it would come to. He was about to lose half of his men, if any of them survived.
The captain lunged forward again, bringing his sword down on the creature's neck but missing as it stepped back again. Silvers pulled back up on his sword, bringing it to bear on the creature's left flank and missing again as it twisted to the side. He heard a yell as one of the Hunters reached them, throwing himself into the fray.
There was a flash of light as the sun reflected on the Hunter's blade and was met with an even longer, curved sword extended from a black-gloved hand. There was a pause as the Shade held its opponent's blade at bay; its hidden gaze never left Silvers.
The creature's right hand made its appearance as it slowly pulled its hood back. Sunlight glistened gently off long silver hair that framed the Shadow King's stern face. His gray eyes were humorless, his mouth a straight slit as he stared hard into the captain's eyes. The message was clear: it didn't have to happen this way.
Silvers wasn't about to turn to diplomacy; the rest of his men were closing in. He swung hard at the creature's chest, the blade passing straight through as the section of torso seemed to waver and disappear momentarily. The other Hunters began to join the fight as well as they could, while the Shadow King's sword rang out against their attacks.
Their blows seemed to miss their mark no matter how accurate they were, but the Shade remained in the fight. Suddenly it went on the offensive. Kneeling under a wide blow, it brought its long blade curving upwards across the chest and into the chin of one of the hunters. There was an explosion of blood before the Shade whipped around and slashed through the knees of the man behind him.
Other soldiers took their place as the Shade rolled out of the quarrel, spinning as it stood and slashing clean through the right arm of the nearest Hunter. The man screamed as he was knocked to the ground, his captain leaping overhead towards the Shadow King. Silvers gave out a yell as he brought his sword down across the Shade's chest and grunted at the impact of the creature's block. He swung his sword around his head as he lined up another shot at the Shade's left arm but was greeted with a blow from the hilt of its sword to the chin.
Lights exploded in Silvers' head as his feet kicked out from under him, his men rushing past to engage the Shade. The clash rung like a hammer pounding an anvil, interrupted only by the sounds of tearing flesh and screaming men.
Silvers' sight returned slowly, his vision still clouded by tears as the electric pain in his jaw started to subside. Two of his men continued to fight. He picked himself up and rushed at the Shade. Leveling his sword at its midsection he darted forward screaming. The Shade sliced through the throat of a Hunter with the flick of a wrist and brought its sword around to block the others attack before it realized Silvers was bearing down on it. He had caught the creature off guard; it was exactly the opportunity he needed.
The Shade managed to dematerialize where Silvers' blade attempted to penetrate, but instead of pulling back Silvers lowered his shoulder and knocked the creature over the side of the bridge. The two figures were entangled for a moment as they were enveloped by the stream.
Silvers jumped to his feet as quickly as he could, twisting his blade towards his enemy as he stood and feeling it bite. He backed away slowly, moving upstream. The Shade rose, drenched cloak cascading over its shoulders as water rolled off the edges. The sun glared over the distant peaks as the small bridge stood solemnly behind.
The Shade stared hard at Silvers and unclasped its cloak. The creature dropped the cloth into the water flowing past its knees where it slowly floated away and under the bridge. White flesh was exposed in a tear through the thick leather that covered the creature's right shoulder. Dark, almost black blood oozed out of a gash in the center. The Shade looked at its shoulder, placing a finger on the gash. The wounded area wavered for a moment, as if the shoulder was merely a mirage, then returned whole. Even the tear in the leather was gone.
It smiled as it made eye contact with Silvers, and advanced through the water towards him.
Silvers breathed heavily, his wet, black hair matted against his face. Bringing his sword in front of him he held on with both hands as the world grew quiet around him. Fear drove his heart, his heart drove adrenaline, and all he could see was his opponent.
Then, flying off the bridge came the one remaining Hunter. Screaming like a cat thrown from a high story window the soldier's blade clashed with that of the Shadow King as it whipped around to defend itself. The weight of its assailant flung the Shade backwards. Silvers threw his whole body forward, thrusting his sword towards the back of its defenseless head.
It struck. The blade slid between the spine and the base of the creature's skull, cracking through bone and cartilage until it erupted out from between the Shade's eyes. Silvers held on tightly as it slid to the ground lifeless. It lay there, its body half in the stream as the rest was held out by its head, skewered on Silvers' sword.
The captain stared at his fallen foe, disbelieving his luck as the tip of his sword rested on a rock under the water. The moaning of his wounded men finally reached his ears, causing him to look around. He wondered if even half of them would live.
Silvers ordered the Hunter in the stream to check on his comrades. Turning back to his enemy, the captain rolled it over and placed a boot on its back. He heaved on his sword. It came free, but with it came a dark cloud that poured out ominously and flew off like a raven from captivity. Taken aback by the violence of the thing Silvers stumbled backwards and fell, landing on the muddy shore of the stream. He stared up off into the clouds as the thing slowly came back around a cloud, paused, and then dove straight for him. Nothing like this had ever happened at the death of a Shade.
He got up and turned to run, but slipped as his boot failed to find purchase on the bank. He caught himself with his hands, letting his sword fall to the side.
Troy Silvers tried to run again but the thing was upon him before he took three steps. The captain heard himself scream as the world turned to shadow and fog.
EIGHT
THE RUBBLE AROUND the Cave sat smoldering as the sun rose the next morning. Birds could be heard chirping in the forest beyond, but few animals dared come close to the clearing where so much death had been dealt the night before. A tall man dressed head to toe in black leather armor stood in the east wing of what used to be the Witch's Cave. His long silver hair flowed down his back over a cape that rippled gently in the wind.
The boy that lay before him slept soundly in the only clear patch of floor left. He looked the same as he had in Charsi's clutches, but his presence felt different. Probably the result of whatever torture she had poured into him. Either way it was a surprise that he had survived at all.
The Shadow King felt a moment of pity for the boy, fleeting as it was. He found it strange that Charsi would effectively sacrifice herself to protect the boy from the blast. It would have taken most of her considerable strength to do so. He turned to leave the crumbled compound, kneeling at the ruptured base of one of the capsules to retrieve the ceremonial knife he had entered with. It was completely unscathed.
He stood and stepped over piles of rubble as he made his way do
wn into the valley. The clearing was untouched up to the fence line. From there, broken and burned bodies littered the ground. The silence was broken by a choking sound coming from a recess in the ground to his left. The Shadow King walked towards the sound, the long hilt of his famed sword peeking out from the top of his cape and swaying with his movement.
Under the large burned body of a man with a cigar still propped in his mouth, lay the colonel. The gaunt man coughed as he tried to shove the corpse off his chest but was found his strength lacking. Burned patches of skin stretched across his grimace as he made another effort to free himself. A shadow crossed the colonel's face as the toe of a black boot appeared on top of the corpse. He could feel the pressure increase as a silhouetted face came into view.
“Damnit,” he coughed again. “Would you get this oaf off of me?”
He peered up at the face, unable to make it out. Wispy silver hair formed a halo around its head in the early morning light.
“It's rather unlike you to curse in front of your superiors, Colonel.” A familiar voice floated down to him.
“Sir?” The colonel tried weakly to block more light out with his hand. “Is that you, Silvers?”
“What happened, Colonel?”
The voice was Silvers', deeper and more detached if that were possible, but Silvers nonetheless.
“Brutus' apes took over, sir.” He wheezed, trying to breathe under the weight of the corpse. The rasping in his throat worried the colonel a bit. “They said they had orders from the top to take care of things if you lost control.” He coughed. “They claimed you'd been killed inside by the Witch.”
“She did her damage, certainly.” The silhouette appeared to look back up towards the compound for a moment. “But killed? A slight exaggeration.”
Its dark gaze returned to the colonel. “And what, my good friend, did you do to stop this insubordination?”
“Sir,” the colonel coughed again. “This ugly brute shoved a gun in my face with one hand and an executive order with the other. Wasn't much I could do, sir.”
He put his hands back on the corpse as if to roll it off. “Could you help me up, sir?”
The silhouette didn't respond; it seemed lost in thought. The colonel's eyes began to adjust; he was barely able to make out the lines of the face above him. It looked similar to the general, but was harder somehow. Like Silvers, only carved from stone and given life.
“Where'd you get the cape, sir?”
“I'm sorry, Colonel.” The stony Silvers ignored his question. “But as you well know, I can't abide sedition.”
“What? Sir! I–”
“Did nothing to stop the attempted murder of your commander. Far from becoming of an officer.”
He drew a long, gently curving blade off his back, its scabbard scraping against it dully as its full length came into view.
“Besides, Colonel.” He paused momentarily as his left hand joined the right on the hilt of his sword. “My true allegiances are returning.”
The colonel's protests were cut short by curved steel as it swept down and split his face open diagonally. A whimper gurgled past dry lips as the soldier's last breath deserted him. His head turned to the side and he lay silent.
The Shadow King turned and walked down the valley. His plan lay in ruins, not unlike those he left behind, and now his hand had been forced as far as his identity was concerned. Things weren't beyond repair, however. He could still find the girl and the First Mage across the sea. He could still regain control.
Farther on he could see scouts along the walls of the valley, observing his movements. Signals went out to warn the companies beyond of his approach.
The Shade continued down the path as it widened and neared the bend that would bring him to the main road. Two sergeants and their squads cautiously followed a lieutenant as they approached what appeared to be their general.
“Sir?” the lieutenant called out, stopping twenty yards or so short of his superior and signaling his men to do likewise.
“What's going on up there sir? We thought everyone was dead,” he might as well have telegraphed uncertainty and fear from his eyes.
“You wouldn't have been incorrect in your assumption, Lieutenant.”
“Sir, you look different sir. Where did you get those clothes?”
“Why are you still here, Lieutenant?”
“I... we didn't know what to do sir,” he began to turn sideways, hiding his holstered pistol from the general's view. “What the hell is going on sir?”
“Did you radio in?”
“What would we tell them, sir? This is supposed to be a classified mission and the whole thing is shot to shit.”
“Well, Lieutenant.” The figure of the general before them drew a hyperbolically long sword off his back. “I'm pleased to tell you that your services are no longer needed. Nor are those of your men.”
The lieutenant placed his hand on the grip of his pistol, silently unclasping the strap that kept it in place. “You mean we can go home now sir?”
The men around him began flicking off the safeties on their weapons.
“In a manner of speaking, Lieutenant” the Shadow King spat the last word as he sprinted forward, clearing the twenty yards and slicing the officer up the middle before his pistol ever left its holster. Gunshots mixed with screams as they echoed and drifted through the valley.
GOLDEN RAYS OF sunlight illuminated Ardin's face as he lay in the midst of what had been Charsi's prison. The trees did their best to keep his body shaded, but they eventually lost to the persistence of the waxing sun. He woke slowly, like a drunk in the gutter awakened to a hangover by morning traffic.
Protecting his eyes from bright intrusion with his arm, Ardin straightened himself out and sat up slowly, propping up on his other elbow. It felt like it had been weeks since he had last been awake, and he honestly couldn't tell if that was the truth of the matter.
The boy clenched his eyelids shut and shook his head. The buzz in his ears came and went but he couldn't seem to rid himself of it. He was covered in dust. The whole compound had turned a dull gray as it sat under the stuff. Ardin coughed lightly as he moved to stand. He caught himself as his legs buckled under his weight. Pausing for a moment, he moved to stand again. The blood was flowing a bit more freely now; his limbs were loosening up.
He looked around the rest of the compound over the low rubble that had obstructed much of his view from the ground. The whole place was eerily silent, not a sound could be heard save the scraping of his shoes on gravel underneath. Even the wind remained still, as if the whole world was holding its breath in awe of something fantastic.
He shook his clothes out, creating a small cloud of dust. Unable to escape it himself, Ardin coughed as he covered his mouth and moved onwards. Crossing one of the larger piles of debris, his left foot slid as it strode out in front, causing him to do the splits awkwardly as he came to a halt half-way down the small slope. He grimaced as he tried to leverage his weight to his side, to no real avail at first. He'd caught himself pretty good.
Ardin's right foot, tucked up under and behind him, had snagged on something and wasn't letting go. He grunted as he placed his palms on the rubble and pushed up, twisting his weight to the left enough to drag his left leg over and back up towards the other as he rolled to his side.
Ardin lay there for a while until his breathing slowed and his palms no longer burned from impressions left by the rubble. Still caught, he pushed up the slope backwards until he could put his left foot down and balance on his right knee. He reached down and felt something smooth caught up in his laces, and for all the trouble it was giving him it came free easily enough when pulled straight up.
He pulled it free and discovered it was the broken hilt of his father's saber. Part of the blade was still intact and had somehow lodged itself firmly between two large chunks of concrete.
He sat down, hands cradling the ruined metal as tears broke loose and streamed silently down his cheeks.
“What's wrong boy?”
Ardin looked up quickly, it sounded like a woman was standing directly in front of him. No one was there.
“I said what's wrong boy?” the voice turned distinctly masculine and filled his head. “Or are you deaf?”
“Who are you?”
“It's rude to answer a question with a question,” the voice began to solidify again, drawing together until it came from in front of him. “You haven't answered mine, nor will I answer yours.”
“I'm...” Ardin stuttered, then collected himself. “I don't know where to go... what to do.”
“That's no reason to cry, is it boy?”
“I don't have a home!” Ardin yelled, “I've lost everything! I don't even know why I'm alive...”
“My my,” the voice began to materialize as an imposingly dark figure took form in the grass twenty feet beyond Ardin. “What a host of problems you seem to have.”
“Who are you?”
“Who do you think I am?” The figure crossed its arms, it appeared solid now, dressed in military garb, but remained somewhat indistinct. “This shouldn't be so hard to figure out.”
“I thought you said it was rude to answer questions with questions,” Ardin replied as he ran his sleeve across his wet cheeks.
“Touché.” The figure unfolded its arms and took a bow. “I am the man you came here to kill, in order to avenge your family.”
Ardin sat up straight, eyes clearing as his neck tightened.
“General Troy Silvers, at your service.”
“You... you killed my family?”