The Fragment of Shadow (The Shattered Soul Book 2)

by Ben Hale

  Gendor had begun to struggle but Lorica nodded. “Do it.”

  Mind sheathed his sword and grabbed the man’s shoulder, dragging him to his feet. Gendor sought to flee but Mind pushed him against the boulder and reached to his throat, holding him pinned as he used his other hand to cover his mouth.

  Gendor fought as purple light appeared in his eyes, leaking down his cheeks in large, purple rivulets. The light glistened in the night and fell into the sand, more and more, each drop sizzling on the ground.

  Mind pulled on Gendor’s face like he sought to remove it—the purple light swelling across his features. Gendor screamed as a second face appeared, a mask of purple light that Mind pulled away.

  Lorica retreated a step, her mouth agape as the purple mask was pulled from Gendor’s flesh. Mind released his grip on Gendor’s throat, but the assassin stood frozen, his features bright with horror as the mask was pulled from his skin, and he stared at his reflection.

  Swirls of purple magic spun around Gendor and his reflection, pulling at Lorica’s clothing, the wind whipping across the sand. She raised her palm and squinted at the bright light, but Mind continued to separate Gendor from his mask.

  The Gendor of purple light opened his mouth to scream, but the sound came from Gendor’s throat. In the midst of a cyclone of magic, Mind squeezed on the mirage, crushing it in his grip. More light burst from the mirage’s eyes and mouth, shining as if in agony, until it shattered into sparks of magic.

  The cyclone faded and Gendor dropped to his knees, gasping for breath. In the darkness he looked up to the foursome and retreated like a frightened youth, his eyes rolling in fear. He came to a halt against a boulder and curled up, raising his bound hands.

  “Who are you? Why am I here?”

  “We saved you from the fortress,” Mind said, his voice comforting as he pointed to the burning citadel. “Don’t you remember? You were kidnapped from your farm outside of Herosian and taken here.”

  Gendor shivered and trembled, his eyes wide with unfeigned terror. “Do you mean me harm?”

  “No,” Mind said softly. “We are here to take you home.”

  Chapter 39: Farmer

  Shadow leaned against the tree, watching the man work in the field. He hacked at the weeds with surprising vigor, before pausing to take a drink from the waterskin at his side. He looked to the evening sky and smiled, the expression one of contentment.

  “He looks happy,” Lorica said.

  “You sound annoyed,” Shadow said.

  Shadow watched Lorica. His friend. He was still getting used to the idea of having one but found that he liked it. He would not have any more, of course, but he liked trusting Lorica. And not just because of her lethal occupation.

  “It is not what he deserved,” she said.

  “Sometimes we spare a life to save our own,” Shadow said.

  Lorica glanced his way and raised an eyebrow. “That doesn’t sound like the Shadow I know.”

  Caught, he grinned. “Water likes to say it—an irritating number of times, in fact.”

  “So you think I did the right thing?”

  “I would have killed him,” Shadow said with a shrug. “But as we’ve established, I don’t really care about other people.”

  “You care about me,” Lorica said. “Or you wouldn’t have hidden the truth about Zenif from the other fragments.”

  Shadow recalled the conversation outside Mistkeep. He had indeed avoided speaking of Lorica’s brother, not because Mind wouldn’t know, but because he didn’t want to be the one to share it.

  “It’s your secret,” he said.

  “Thank you,” she said. “For everything.”

  “You helped me kill Relgor,” he said. “I’d say we’re even.”

  “Are you certain he is dead?”

  “Mind found what was left of his body,” he said. “But I do wish I could have seen his end. Unfortunately, a castle exploded and I thought a friend was in danger.”

  “I wasn’t,” she said.

  “As I discovered,” he replied.

  She smiled and turned back to watch Gendor. After leaving Mistkeep, the group had traveled to Herosian, and Gendor had been terrified to silence the entire journey. Without any memories of combat or killing, he only remembered his youth, and the time of living alone on a distant farm, the memories Mind had implanted.

  In truth, the farm was owned by Elenyr, and she occasionally liked to vacation there. Gendor had taken to the soil as if he’d been born to the plow, while Lorica had insisted she stay and watch her former adversary. Shadow thought watching a man toil in a field excessively dull, but Lorica never departed her vantage point.

  “What will you do without your wings?” he asked.

  “I’ll miss flying,” she replied. “But it seems the Angel of Death is gone.”

  “Can you not craft more?” he asked.

  She pointed to Gendor. “I believe he ensured I could not.”

  Shadow glanced into the trees. Through the trunks of the small stand, he spotted a small fire, where the other two fragments waited. Mind had agreed to stay until nightfall, and with the sun setting, Shadow was eager to depart.

  “I’m not going,” Lorica said.

  “How did you know I was going to ask?”

  She motioned to Gendor. “I’m going to watch him for a while. Then I have a few things to do.”

  “Like visit Zenif’s wife?”

  She nodded but did not speak, her jaw tightening with regret. “I need to rebuild the guild. The world needs those that kill for honor.”

  Shadow withdrew a small figurine from his pocket. It resembled a jungle cat, its flanks sleek and dark, its jaws open in a snarl. She accepted the gift with a look of confusion, and then noticed the symbol of shadow magic inscribed on the right flank.

  “It only works at night,” Shadow said. “But if you need me, that will send me a messenger.”

  “And if you need me?” she asked.

  He laughed. “I’ll have no problem finding you.”

  She turned and wrapped her arms around him, the embrace catching him by surprise. When he recovered he hugged her back, the contact warm and close, like returning home after a long journey.

  When they parted she smiled, “Good luck, Shadow. If you haven’t killed Wylyn by the time I’ve gathered my guild, let me know.”

  “I promise,” Shadow said.

  Recognizing it was time to go, Shadow turned and strode away, leaving Lorica to watch the farmer toil in the field. He made his way through the trees, wondering at the touch of sadness that marred his excitement. Relgor was dead, but foes abounded, so why was he sad?

  He reached the campfire to find Mind already on his feet and Fire extinguishing the flames in the ring of stones. The trio turned away and stepped onto the nearby trail, making their way towards Herosian.

  “Ready for more?” Mind asked.

  “Always,” Shadow said, and cast a look back to the trees.

  “You called her your friend,” Mind said.

  “So?”

  “You don’t have friends,” Fire said.

  “I do now. Why is that so strange?”

  Fire and Mind exchanged an amused look, and Mind said. “It’s not. It’s just nice to see.”

  Shadow frowned. “Just tell me about my next assignment. I assume I’m to travel to the Deep?”

  Mind pointed downward. “From what you say, Serak is aware there is an imposter, and Light will be in danger.”

  Shadow smiled at the prospect of traveling to the Deep. Nowhere did he have such power, and the idea of hunting Serak would make it even more fun. He recalled the room of many Gates that he’d found in the Raven’s house. He would wager a fortune that one of them connected to the Order of Ancients in the Deep.

  “And you?” Shadow asked. “I noticed you did not speak of your own travels while Lorica was present.”

  “We are glad she is your friend,” Mind said. “But you cannot trust her completely. She is s
till an assassin.”

  “Of course,” Shadow said, and smiled to hide the lie.

  Mind watched him, but Shadow had far too much practice lying to be caught, even by the fragment of Mind. Fire too, seemed to accept Shadow’s answer, and Shadow wondered if their faith was due to how little Shadow trusted everyone else.

  “We’ve learned much since your departure,” Mind said.

  As Mind described the events at the Stormwall Arena, and the reunion at Cloudy Vale with the fragment of Water, Shadow found himself still thinking of Lorica, and her casual invitation to join the Assassin’s Guild. Then Mind spoke of becoming Draeken, and the battle with Histikor, king of dragonkind.

  “And I missed it?” Shadow lamented.

  “So. Much. Fun,” Fire crowed.

  Shadow reached out and flicked his ear. “You don’t have to gloat.”

  “Why?” Fire said. “You would.”

  Mind swept a hand to Shadow. “It’s true. You would.”

  “Still,” Shadow said. “You got to fight a dragon. How long’s it been since we got to do that?”

  “Too long,” Fire said. “But you’ll just have to wait till the next one.”

  They passed out of the trees and into a sprawling village. Homes and farmland stretched for miles, with more cows than humans. The sun crept below the horizon, the light reminding Shadow of being trapped in Serak’s cage.

  “Serak will be prepared for the loss of Mistkeep,” Shadow said. “He’s as tactical as you.” He pointed to Mind.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Fire said. “You and the assassin dealt him a blow, and the loss of Relgor will infuriate Wylyn.”

  “True,” Shadow said, imagining the woman’s face when she found out her son was dead.

  “I’m not so sure,” Mind mused. “From what I’ve seen, the krey look at family more like partners in commerce than true kindred. I suspect she will be more angry than heartbroken. The greater question is Tardoq. He really abandoned Relgor?”

  “He did,” Shadow said.

  “May I witness?”

  Shadow shrugged and opened his thoughts to Mind while imagining the moment. He felt a tug, like a fishhook caught in a tunic, and then Mind frowned, his eyes distant as he recalled the memory that was now his.

  “Tardoq could have killed the scaled reaver,” Mind said.

  “I doubt that,” Shadow said. “The reaver killed the other dakorians with ease.”

  “Tardoq is a Bloodwall,” Fire said. “And he’s lived for many lifetimes, just like us.”

  Shadow recalled Tardoq’s departure, the look of disgust on his features, disgust for Relgor. He hadn’t fled out of fear, he’d abandoned the krey because Relgor had ignored his warning. Mind came to a halt.

  “Can you show me more?”

  “More than the memory?” Shadow asked, confused. Mind had never asked such a thing before.

  “Please,” Mind asked.

  Shadow glanced to the setting sun and gauged the light. His magic would be greatly weakened, but he could depict the moment. Shrugging, he drew on the long shadows from a nearby field of corn, and in the road he shaped the trees and swamp.

  Trunks of shadow rose around them, while brush and bodies appeared at their feet. The reaver stood frozen a short distance away, while Tardoq and Relgor stood in the center. When the image was complete, Mind stepped forward and reached up, adding a touch of purple magic to the shadows, enhancing their features until both Relgor and Tardoq looked real.

  Relgor’s eyes were wide in fear and fury, his face flushed. Tardoq looked down on him, his lip curled in disgust. He stood with his hammer in hand, but the look in his eye suggested he would rather use it on the krey.

  “Do you see it?” Mind asked.

  “See what?” Shadow asked.

  “Oh,” Fire said, stepping in and looking into Tardoq’s eyes.

  “It’s doubt,” Mind said.

  “He doubted his master,” Shadow said. “That’s why he left.”

  “No,” Mind said. “That is not the look of one abandoning a person. It is the look of one abandoning a cause.”

  “No,” Fire said, jerking his head. “As you said, Tardoq is a Bloodwall, Wylyn’s sworn protector, so loyal that she gave him the gift of a perfect body. He is ageless because he has proven his fealty.”

  “Perhaps he just doubted Relgor,” Shadow said.

  Mind extinguished his magic, and Shadow did the same. “Perhaps,” Mind said.

  Shadow heard the doubt in his brother’s voice, and realized Mind wondered if Tardoq could be turned to their side. But Shadow had seen him fight, and from what they had said, Tardoq was a born killer, like Gendor if he lived thousands of years and killed millions.

  “Tardoq will not betray Wylyn,” Shadow said.

  Mind scratched his chin. “I’ve looked into the minds of commoners and kings, thieves, knights, and even dragons. Do you know what they all have in common?”

  Shadow glanced to Fire, but he was just as confused.

  “Everyone has a point of pressure,” Mind said. “And they all have the potential to break.”

  “You think that applies to the dakorians?”

  “Everyone,” Mind said. “Including us.”

  Darkness settled around them, and Shadow considered the prospect. The idea of turning Tardoq against Wylyn sounded amusing, but would it work? Ultimately, he realized it was worth the attempt.

  “I guess we shall see,” he said, “But before I leave, I need a favor.”

  “What sort of favor?” Mind asked.

  Shadow described what he wanted, careful to keep his thoughts from revealing the truth. Mind shrugged and cast the requisite charm, a shard of purple magic that would link an object to one’s consciousness.

  “Am I going to regret this?” Mind asked.

  “Of course,” Shadow said with a chuckle. He pocketed the piece of magic and gathered the shadows around him to form his dragon.

  “Be safe in the Deep,” Mind said.

  “I never am.”

  Fire burst into a laugh. “Fun is not safe.”

  “Indeed,” Shadow said. “I’ll see you after we finish in the Deep.”

  He gathered his wings and launched himself skyward. A farmwoman nearby was on her porch, tossing out the bath water. She screamed as Shadow passed above the house, but for once he was not inclined for mischief. Still, he found a smile on his face as he thought of Lorica. He had a friend, and if he could evolve, perhaps the other fragments could as well.

  Flying north, he considered how the change in him would affect Draeken. From what Mind had described, Water and Lira were becoming close, and their attachment had changed Draeken. Shadow wondered if his newfound friendship with Lorica would help Draeken be whole? Or cause damage? He tossed his head, dismissing the thought. Instead he recalled what Mind had said.

  Everyone has a breaking point. Even us.

  But what would break Draeken?

  Chapter 40: Finding Serak

  Elenyr watched Mind and Fire depart, hoping they would reach Shadow in time. Shadow had never requested aid, not in such a fashion, and at the last moment she’d decided it would be best for Mind to go as well. She didn’t say that she had an ulterior motive.

  “You think Shadow will be well?” Water asked.

  “It’s Shadow,” Elenyr said, hiding her worry behind a smile. “He has a way of getting out of conflict.”

  “That’s true,” Water said with a laugh.

  “Still,” Lira said, her eyes on Mind and Fire down the trail. “You did send two fragments.”

  “Better to be sure,” Elenyr said. “But it’s time for you to depart as well. Wylyn’s forces are weakening, but the Order is much stronger than we could have imagined. We must prepare for the possibility that they succeed in opening a Gate.”

  “If that happens, we will not survive,” Lira said.

  “Perhaps,” Elenyr said. “But it’s important that we prepare, and if the rock trolls will come, the other ki
ngdoms will as well.”

  Lira shook her head. “I’m here to find and kill Wylyn, not negotiate with kings.”

  “This is an assignment that you are best suited to complete,” Elenyr said, “for the current king is not a king, but a queen, one that doesn’t care for men acting like they know more.”

  “And you think she will listen to me?” Lira asked.

  “That is my hope,” Elenyr said. “When you return, go to Herosian and find Light and Shadow. They should be back by then.”

  “What about King Numen?” Water asked. “Will you search for him?”

  “I have a more pressing concern,” she said. “I will return to Cloudy Vale, and see if I can learn more of Serak.”

  Lira appeared uncertain, but in a testament to how much she’d come to trust Elenyr, the woman nodded, and Water cast his traveling wheel, widening it so it was large enough for both him and Lira. They said their farewells and then the wheel sped away, kicking up mud as it rounded a curve in the trail.

  Alone, Elenyr turned away from the departing fragments and made her way south. Her gait slowed by the weight of her thoughts, she brooded on the revelations about Serak, and his anonymity since the Age of Oracles.

  For a man to stay hidden for so long seemed unthinkable, yet when a powerful guardian was involved, she’d learned that anything was possible. She scowled when she thought of Guildmaster Elsin, the head of the guild of Verinai. She’d craved power and pushed the boundaries of magic as none had before. Serak must have been present during that time, although Elenyr had not known of him.

  The leaves of the forest had turned to fall, the green fading into gold and brown, floating down when the breeze picked up. She glanced to the sky and saw the impending storm, and picked up the pace, her need to understand propelling her forward.

  Lightning crackled above, and the clouds blackened, thunder rumbling across the rolling forest. Elenyr picked up the pace and turned ethereal, rushing through trees and brush, willing herself to fly across the earth.

  The trees thinned when the ground proved too rocky, and Elenyr climbed the slope. Just as she reached the entrance, the storm broke, and rain poured upon her. Still ethereal, she leapt through the stone wall and then willed herself upward, toward Cloudy Vale.