The Shadow Watch

by S. A. Klopfenstein

  He turned to Valeria. “You have to lead them out!”

  “What about you?”

  “I’ve got to find the Gallows Girl.”

  They locked eyes for a brief moment. She squeezed his hand. “Make it out alive, Redvar.”

  Darien could not speak. He squeezed her hand back and left. He found Zamel and shouted amidst the madness.

  “Hold them off a few more minutes!” Darien said, holding up the firebomb. “Then fall back, and we’ll blow them all to the Abyss!”

  Darien did not wait for an answer. He left the bomb with Zamel, transformed to his Morph form, and took flight, soaring over the domed chamber, where only an hour before they had been making camp like any other night.

  There were four entrances into the chamber. Most of the Nosferati had poured through the same entrance. The creatures that had come this way had come later in the battle, and Darien thought he knew why. It was only a guess, but it was his only shot. It was the chamber farthest away from the soldier uprising before the Nosferati attacked. If Merri had wanted to try to get the Gallows Girl out, that would have been her window of opportunity.

  Darien flew through the entrance and morphed back to his human form, landing in a sprint. He raced down the corridor, counting the time before the firebomb would blow.

  His instinct proved true. There was a reason the Nosferati had come back from this cavern. A short distance back, Darien reached a dead end. Rubble filled the passage. There was no way past. During the chaos, he had not even felt the explosion. Merri had blown up the cave with the second firebomb.

  A single Nosferati knelt at the edge of the rubble. Darien held his saber out before him. The creature’s eyes glowed. Its skin was dead, but to his amazement, Darien recognized the face.

  “C-Commander Scelero?”

  The creature rose at the name and looked at him strangely. And then it shot to its feet. Darien dropped to the ground, reaching out with his saber, but the creature that had once been Commander Scelero leapt over him and disappeared down the passage.

  Darien was about to leave, but he saw an arm protruding at the edge of the rubble, where Scelero had been kneeling. He rushed over, pulling away debris with mad determination.

  Ol’ Merri lay buried beneath the crumbled cavern. As Darien heaved the rocks from her head, she stirred, moaning terribly. Darien forgot his anger for her treachery. He forgot his rank, and even the chancellor. He took hold of the woman’s frail fingers. They were pocked with bite marks. Fighting back tears, he whispered, “It’s all right, Merri. I’m here. It’s Darien.”

  “Darien?”

  “What happened? Where’s Tori?”

  “Tori…” It was faint, the weight of the rubble crushing her voice. Darien had to put his ear right up to her face to hear. “The creatures came. Reckon I… held ’em back… didn’t I?”

  “Scelero?” he asked, his hands running over the lacerations on her hands. How was it that his old master had appeared here in this demon form?

  “Nah. He was trying ter get me out. Reckon he came back, didn’t he?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Back from that cursed world ter get his revenge on—” Merri broke into a fit of violent coughs.

  Darien hated to see her this way. He gripped her hand, but her fingers were weak. She was fading. “Merri, where’s Tori?”

  “Safe… the other side…” Her eyes drifted, as though they saw nothing. Her grip tightened on his for a moment. “I never turned dark, Darien… I kept strong…”

  “It’s all right, Merri. I’m going to get you out of here. Quit talking. You got to save your strength.”

  “Nah…” whispered Merri. “This is it for me… Get yourself safe before…” Her voice faded, and her hand went limp in Darien’s grasp.

  Her eyes were still open, but stared emptily. She blinked one last time. “Tori still believes in you, Darien… an’ so do I…”

  37

  It took nearly a minute after Ol’ Merri’s last breath, and he knew he might not make it back before the explosion, but Darien waited until the end. Tears streaked his world like falling stars, and he waited. Waited until Merri’s skin turned ash grey and her breath returned—a horrid, frantic wheeze that made his skin prick with violent shivers. He took his dagger and thrust it deep into Merri’s skull. It pained him more than anything he’d ever done, but he would not let Merri become a monster.

  Darien felt her second life shudder. Merri’s muscles spasmed, her heart fluttered, and then she was gone. He let the blood run over his hands. It was cold. Darien had never felt anything like it. Darien made himself experience every moment, every tremor of her passing. He owed her that much. When it was finished, he retched across the floor. Then he closed Merri’s dead eyes, and he ran.

  Darien hoped Zamel would give him enough time. How long had it been since he’d left the main chamber? All concept of time escaped Darien in battle, and he could only hope it escaped Zamel as well.

  Darien reached the domed chamber where so recently a camp had been set up—now, it was a mess of shredded tents and bodies. But not nearly enough bodies.

  The horde of grey-skinned demons was filled with dozens of Legion uniforms. Darien wished he could slay them all, spare his soldiers this wretched end. The shrieking creatures stormed madly at the wall of Shadows blocking the entrance. By some miracle, Zamel’s dwindling troops still managed to hold the Nosferati at bay.

  Darien morphed and soared on black wings over the devastation.

  “Ready the bomb!” Zamel shouted.

  Darien flew over the wall, narrowly missing the jutting teeth of the cave roof. He morphed to his human form as he descended. Vaguely, he heard Zamel cry for the Legions to fall back.

  And then, the explosion—

  The force catapulted him forward—

  Darien landed sprawled on his face—

  A plume of smoke rushed through the cave like a great serpent, and Darien held his breath for fear of suffocating. The cavern shook as though it were a living thing, its seizing heart raging against an inexorable death. Darien lay still, his arms covering his head as debris cascaded around him. The entire mountain trembled as though it might give way and plunge into the depths of the world. And as he faced the end, Darien prayed.

  He had never believed in gods, but still the prayers sprung from him unbidden. He had faced so much death, yet never once had he cried out to the old gods. Never, until now.

  The catacombs trembled one last time. It was the shudder of death Darien knew too well. The mountain’s breath faded. The great smoke serpent slithered away through the tunnels. The air thinned.

  And finally, Darien could breathe. He gasped violently for several inhalations, and then he lay still, panting in the stillness.

  The cavern around him was utterly silent. Darien prayed again. That no Nosferati had made it through. That Zamel and the Shadows had made it out alive. That Valeria had led the Watchers to safety. Even that Tori, wherever she was, had not been injured in the quaking of the mountains.

  All at once, as though at the press of a lever, the caves filled with the coughs of the living, gasping for precious breath. Somewhere, a torch lit up the passage. A hand reached out and helped Darien to his feet, brushing away the chalky debris from his uniform. “Thank the gods!” whispered Valeria, pulling him close, her hand touching his face.

  They embraced, and Darien did not care that there was a host of soldiers around him to witness the affection. They had survived a nightmare, and that was all that mattered.

  All told, there were two hundred Shadows, eleven Morphs, and four Watchers lost. Most of the slain now haunted the catacombs beneath the Crooked Teeth, save those who’d had the mercy of being eaten alive in the first wave of the horrific attack.

  Exhausted, wounded, and never more shaken in their harsh soldiers’ lives, the Legions pressed on, marching through the night. They reached the end of the catacombs by daybreak and fell out of the opening onto
late summer grass in the warm light of the rising sun.

  Darien had never fully appreciated the beauty of the true light of the sun, never longed more for the sting of the cool Oshan wind, and never been less pleased to see the towering White Citadel plunging into the sky in the valley below.

  He had failed his master. The Gallows Girl had escaped. How had it all happened? Where had those monsters come from?

  They were a legend of the Old World. There was no record of a true Nosferati attack in the New World, ever. Just as there had never been a Rulaq sighting. And Commander Scelero had been among them?

  It made no sense.

  A train of horsemen escorted the chancellor from the city to greet them at the edge of the mountains, ready to parade his conquered Watchers before the people of Osha. Darien’s heart was an abandoned well in his chest. The chancellor would not have the capstone of his parade.

  Tori…

  Valeria squeezed his hand, and Darien hobbled out to meet his master. His right leg was bruised and stiff from the explosion, but if that was his only suffering, he counted himself desperately fortunate. It was strange to think what a curse the Morgathian firebombs had seemed a short month ago in Goran’El. Now they were a blessing from the gods, the only reason that any of them were still alive.

  The chancellor neared, and Darien filled with dread. To his amazement, the deathly pale sorceress, Medea, rode at the chancellor’s side. Her wild gaze flitted about the valley. She survived the Rulaq attack!

  Though Darien was relieved at this, he also feared the worst. He imagined himself being tortured, the way Kirra had been in Vlyanii, for his failure.

  The chancellor’s smile turned sour as he rode to them, noting the absence of the Gallows Girl from the huddle of Watcher prisoners. Nevertheless, the chancellor dismounted and greeted the captain of his Morphs. Darien knelt before him, but the chancellor gestured for him to rise.

  Darien felt bile rise in his throat, but he stood tall and did not let his voice quaver as he spoke. “I am sorry, milord. I’ve failed you.”

  Cyrus Maro paused, his eyes studying Darien as though he were one of the priceless Old World sculptures held in the library of the White Citadel. His eyes seemed to bore through to view Darien’s true self. His gaze held for an eternity. Darien readied himself for punishment. Maybe even execution, right here before his comrades.

  Finally, the chancellor spoke. “You have much need for sorrow, Captain Redvar. But not on my account. You brought us all through a nightmare. I am indebted to you, as are many others. Tell me, how many of our sorcerers were lost?”

  Darien gulped. “Four, milord. Two who were to join the Sky Guard. A Fieri named Mischa. As well as the Gallows Girl. Tori was… lost in the madness. It is likely she was slain by the devils. But… it is possible she escaped in the chaos.”

  The chancellor was silent for some time. “Only four lost?” he said finally. “Then, I must thank you for your service, Captain. You have done very well.”

  Darien had not expected such understanding. He had failed miserably, and yet his master was proud? The dread drifted away, and relief swept over him.

  The chancellor motioned for a horse. “Ride with me, Captain, as I lead the Watchers before the people. We have much to celebrate.”

  “But, milord, the Gallows Girl…”

  “Is still alive, Captain. Medea can sense it well. And once we’ve recovered, we will hunt Astoria down and bring her back to Osha.”

  “Milord, how did Medea survive?”

  “It’s a miracle.” The chancellor smiled at this. “Medea led a company of survivors through the mountains after the Rulaqs left the Watchtower. While we traveled underground, they traveled above. She arrived in Maro’El shortly before Vashti and I arrived using the stones. All is far from lost, Captain.”

  “But milord… what happened? Where did those… monsters come from? The Nosferati?”

  The chancellor shook his head. “From where you think they came from, Captain. Somehow, it seems the Gallows Girl released them from the Old World. And I fear the Nosferati may not be the only ones. I expect there will be more terrors rising, soon enough. The Old World is colliding with our own once more.”

  A hollow dread tugged at Darien’s gut. What did this mean for him? For Osha? For the New World? How could Tori have done this?

  “The Gallows Girl…” Darien murmured.

  “She is more dangerous than I ever imagined. But for now, we have cause to celebrate. The Watchers are ours, and we are alive. And if worlds are colliding, then the New World has need of our power more than ever before, and we will be the saviors they need.”

  “We?” said Darien.

  “A third age is coming to our world, Darien. It is time we revealed magic to Osha once more. Not as their mythical guardians sent by the gods. We will be the gods of this Third World. We have many new recruits for my Sky Guard, and I am in need of a commander.”

  “M-me?”

  The chancellor reached out and clasped Darien upon the shoulder, like his father once had in the mountains of Klavash so many years ago. Darien flushed with pride. “Come, Darien. Let’s usher in a new world, together.”

  Darien mounted his horse and rode tall at the chancellor’s side as they led the Watchers through the streets of Maro’El, all the way to the White Citadel. There was a great ceremony. Magic returned to the world with cheers. Watchers pledged their loyalty to the empire. And Darien was raised to yet a higher station—commander of the Sky Guard. A lowly Klavash boy, now the commander of the first magic army in the New World.

  But something nagged at Darien. He should have felt proud. He should have been relieved, honored by the chancellor’s promotion. But in the deep caverns of his mind, Darien could not stop thinking of the words Merri had spoken before she died. He kept thinking of the prayers he’d muttered in the explosion. His thoughts lingered on Tori, wondering where she was, somewhere out in the Crooked Teeth, surviving. Was she freezing to death? Being stalked by Rulaqs? Had she made it through, like Medea and the company of survivors from the Watchtower? Had Tori really brought Scelero and the Nosferati back from the Old World, as the chancellor claimed?

  And these thoughts—these doubts—filled Darien with a gut-wrenching guilt, as though, any moment now, the chancellor might see into his heart and sense the war raging inside him.

  That night, Darien ascended the long steps to his chambers at Commander Scelero’s estate—now his own estate as the chancellor’s new commander of the Sky Guard. He lay in his old master’s feather bed, but he could not sleep.

  Darien suspected Scelero himself had once lain in this bed, tossing sleeplessly, in the nights before his great betrayal. Before he freed the Gallows Girl. Before he was cast into the abyss of the Old World, only to come out the other side a monster. A monster that had helped Tori escape once more.

  Darien was no longer sure what he believed, nor where his true loyalties lay. And this scared him more than any terror he’d experienced in his young life.

  Part XIII

  The Fate Of The Gallows Girl

  From the ashes of the Old World,

  From the depths of the New,

  From the Great White plains of the North,

  She rises.

  Against the beasts of the Old World,

  Against the monsters of the New,

  Against the Great White shadows of the North,

  She rises.

  For the lost of the Old World,

  For the downtrodden of the New,

  For the Great White peoples of the North,

  She rises.

  —from “The Gallows Girl Rises”

  a folk song of the peoples of the North

  38

  The tears would not stop flowing. Tori simply could not believe Merri was gone. One moment, they were hurrying down the winding passages of the catacombs to escape the Legions unnoticed, and then horrific shrieks echoed up through the caverns. And in an instant, the world changed forever. />
  The first creature came at them like a storm from nowhere. Tori was too weak to use her Conjuri power. Before she knew what was happening, Merri was shoving Tori and Mischa away, and leaping out with her blade. The grey creature shrieked as it flew through the air. Merri was quick with her Legion skill and severed the monster’s head in one swift stroke, but not before it had landed a bite on the back of her hand.

  Blood coated the cave floor. Shrieks rushed from the depths of the caverns beyond, the echoes building to cacophony; the terrifying sounds stole Tori’s breath, as though she’d been struck by an invisible force. Without a word, Merri Kyrsted removed a heavy sack from her pack—the firebomb. Merri screamed for them to run. Tori was dazed with shock, but she held onto her old friend’s arm. “No, Merri! Come with us! We’ll help you.”

  Merri glanced at her bitten hand, a strange smile teasing her lips. The wound sent strange grey lines up her arms like veins. “Nah, this is what I been fighting for all this time. I’m so proud o’ you, child!”

  “Merri, no! Don’t!”

  Merri shoved Tori away. “Keep fighting, girl! Keep believing there’s good left. In Darien, and in all this world! Now, run!”

  Those were the last words Merri said before she brought the cave down on herself, just as a wave of Nosferati bore down upon her. But before the end, Tori saw the face of the first grey-skinned creature. It was leading the horde, and it was the only one that stopped. The others shot at Merri with demonic fury, but not this one. It looked as though it’d been struck still by some spell. Even in its monstrous skeletal form, Tori recognized the face.

  Commander Scelero?

  Before Tori could react, the roof fell. The caverns went dark. The tunnel was engulfed with smoke. And Tori knew Merri was gone forever.