Shadow Knight

by O. J. Lowe

  I took the bradoomn though. Not a chance I was leaving that thing behind, it could be useful. For a building like this though, one to have seen so much death and despair, so much blood though, perhaps better to let it just fade away into memory, for people to forget it were here. Idly I considered burning it all down, letting the ashes salt the ground for the next hundred years, but I couldn’t do that. Not in the middle of a forest. That’d be the one thing to draw people out here if they wondered who had started the fire and why. No, far better to forget. What the eye couldn’t see, the mind couldn’t dwell upon.

  As I walked back through the mansion towards the door, I realised I’d been right. All the previous signs of struggle, they’d vanished, mundane rooms greeted me, no monsters, no magical traps, just a simple straight shoot towards the doors where we’d encountered the Judge for the first time. We… Did part of me regret that Moulton had died? I didn’t owe him anything, I didn’t like what he’d stood for in the past. After seeing the way he’d smothered his mother, I couldn’t necessarily like him for that either.

  Regardless, he’d been someone who in another life, I could have considered a peer. He’d been put in an impossible situation, had a scenario thrust upon him by a parent who considered him little more than a tool, coerced him into doing things he might not have under his own steam. That, I realised, was the true legacy of High Hall, one of corruption and violence, screwing with mortals until they didn’t know which way was up and which was down. Moulton had forgotten that to his cost. He’d thought just because Mab had been his mother, that she had his best interests at heart, that any shred of love would conquer old regrets.

  Age doesn’t always come with wisdom. And sometimes our hearts can blind us to what our minds know to be true. Anyone else, I like to believe Moulton wouldn’t have fallen for it. Because it was his mother…

  Ah, love.

  “So, he’s dead?”

  Finding myself back before Queen Clare De Lune, I bowed my head respectfully and confirmed it. “He is, your majesty. The Judge is no longer amongst the undead.” I nearly said the living, caught myself in time. It wouldn’t do to make such a faux pas. Some of those who were, shall we say, mortally challenged could get so touchy about that state of existence.

  “Did you kill him?” she demanded.

  I’d tried. Again, I didn’t think the truth would do me any favours there. Instead, I settled for another type of truth. “I did not kill him.”

  “Could you have saved him?”

  Another question tricky to answer. Could I have? If I’d really wanted to? I didn’t know for sure, but I got the feeling he’d been too far gone, driven mad by solitude and the seed Moulton had ripped from his chest. “I believe the damage was done by the time I arrived,” I answered. I took the vial containing the seed from my pocket, held it up to the light. “This was the only thing left, it had embedded itself inside him, made him something more than a vampire.”

  She leaned forward, studied it with interest. “It doesn’t look like much.”

  “The most dangerous items never do,” I replied. “He’d been killing your emissaries, yours and Vressiere’s. With what this seed made him capable of, he planned to overthrow the both of you, make the vampire nation bend before him.”

  “Fascinating,” she said. “It’s an old dream, it won’t happen in any of our lifetimes.”

  “An interesting choice of word for an immortal,” I mused.

  “Then you see how unlikely it is to happen,” she smiled. “Still, I’m satisfied. You performed adequately. You earned your keep today. My own sevo. No other queen has ever had one of you in her pocket.”

  That stung a little. More than a little.

  “I do what I do for love,” I said. “Not because I love you. But because you can benefit me. I advise you to forget that. If you wish to formalise our arrangement, I have some terms.”

  She raised a thin eyebrow. “Do you now?”

  “Even with your blood, my wife will not live forever. Sooner or later, she’ll pass on. She’s mortal. It happens. I can live with that. A natural end, a painless end, it’s all we want.”

  “I don’t,” Clare interrupted.

  “Well, that’s up to you,” I replied. “But regardless, until the day she dies, you continue to provide her with the blood to force away Merlehaun’s Syndrome from her body. That’s my price. Even if I die while in your service, that’s still the nature of my bargain. And you or yours cannot touch her, cannot end her to prematurely nullify our agreement.”

  “Do you really think so little of me?” She looked hurt; I didn’t buy it for a second.

  “I want to trust,” I said. “But it’s better not to.”

  “You would have made a fine vampire in another life.”

  “I don’t know whether to take that as compliment or insult,” I said. “Regardless, for as long as you honour our agreement, I’m yours.”

  “Do you have any other restrictions you’d like to throw in there?”

  “No,” I said with a smile. “You know what I am, you know what I do. I believe that you’re going to afford discretion when it comes to utilising my services.”

  “Do you now?” Her voice went decidedly arctic. “And what makes you so sure of that?”

  “Well,” I replied with a grin. “My position is that of a sevo in the Vigilant. One of the most high-ranking law enforcement officers in the Novisarium.”

  “Yes, yes, I’m aware. What of it?”

  “Should you order me into situations where that position could become threatened, it’d be to your own detriment,” I smiled. “So, I think it’s in your benefit to consider what you ask of me very carefully before you do anything.”

  “Oh, you do, do you?” She glared at me, slashed a finger across her palm. “Fine. I want that seed as well.”

  I considered that, considered what was at stake. Carla or the seed. I’d keep one or the other and I knew which I’d rather have. It might be irresponsible, but at least if Clare had it, I knew where it was. And if I was sticking close to her, I could keep an eye on her, act if it threatened to consume her like it had the Judge. “I advise you not to use it.”

  “Do you know how one keeps a throne?” she asked with a smile. “One seeks to utilise every advantage one can find. A last resort, in the event of trouble. And that’s the thing about seeds. They sprout when you least expect them to, when carefully managed they can bear remarkable fruit.”

  “The only fruit they grow will be bitter and destructive,” I replied. “I urge you not to use it.”

  “Bitter and destructive sounds exactly what I’d need,” she smiled. Blood seeped from her palm, she offered it to me. “A sign of your loyalty, a forming of a bond if you like. A test of devotion. You belong to me, Sevo John Carlos de Souca, from this moment on, we have compact. Taste my blood and speak the words to solidify our bond. Any words will do, as long as you mean them, any sign of devotion.”

  I hesitated only for a moment, approached her and put her hand to my mouth, her skin cold like something from a meat locker, her blood even colder, thick and cloying on my tongue. I fought the urge to grimace, to spit it out before I swallowed, raised my eyes the meet the two violet orbs in her face, each of them grinning with malice. The blood sat unpleasantly on my stomach, made my muscles tense up, my jaw twitch and contort.

  “I’ll be there for you,” I said, despite my tongue being unwilling to cooperate. “These five words I’ll swear to you.”

  She smiled, showed me her teeth as she bent down and kissed me twice, once on each cheek. “Then arise, blood knight,” she said. “Rise and remember that for as long as you live, you are now mine!”

  I might have handed over the seed, but I never stopped looking into the nature of them, right up until the day I died. What they were, where they came from, even who had fashioned them, yet I was to be sorely disappointed on all counts. When the end of my life did come, not finding out was pretty damn far from the regrets I felt. No doub
t those answers would come to the Novisarium one day soon, but they were not to be my great riddle. What Clare did with her seed; it was not for me to know.

  As I died, my thoughts were with my wife, with my most recent apprentice who’d lost any need to that title long since, he’d outstrip me soon. Mark Halston had the potential to be outstanding, if only he’d believe it himself. All I knew was that I’d laid the path for the event of my death well, when it came, answers would be given.

  Because after all, seeds always sprout in the end. We are the culmination of our choices, those choices sprout branches, spread off in every direction and where we end up is a result of those choices. We’re but fruit on the branches of a tree of our own making.

  My name is John Carlos de Souca, Sevo of the Vigilant. Blood Knight to Queen Clare De Lune. Wizard. Warrior. Slayer. Husband. Master. Father. In the end, I knew who I was, I had a good life, I like to think I made the lives better of those I came into contact with. Some might not understand my choices, but that’s their problem.

  I did it my way. Always.

  Epilogue.

  Clare knows how hard it is to get some time to herself these nights, especially since she became queen. It’s like everyone wants a piece of her, everyone wants a moment of her time and there aren’t enough hours to give everyone what they want. Credit Zarah, she’s at least become skilled at keeping away those whose whining she has no desire to hear. Her family took Zarah’s family’s throne. Not that they’ve held a grudge over it, for that she is grateful. For all the years she’s known Zarah, she’s never given the impression she desired the throne.

  Still, even Zarah does not know what lies in the dungeons beneath Lumiere, even beneath her throne room. These rooms have been a long secret, the sort perpetuated over a long damn time.

  Sometimes she comes here, uses them as a meeting place, a warning to those who might cross her. Nothing like seeing the damned, she thinks, to try and keep those who might betray her in line. The main chamber is nothing special, a circular room fashioned into the stone with half a dozen cells surrounding it, only one of them occupied. She doesn’t pay the figure inside any attention, ignores the way her hair shines in the dull light, the way she lies there like the corpse she is.

  Not an enemy, per se, but her presence is always going to cause a problem should she wake up, should she try to escape. It’s the man stood in the middle of the room she’s come to see, the seed in her hand. Her new blood knight is going to be trouble, she can tell that, can feel him through the bond. There was magic in his words, he meant them, she knows he’s going to follow through on the vow, even if it is all for someone else. Still, he’ll be useful. And a man like de Souca is not going to be long for this world. Someone will kill him eventually.

  “The Judge is dead,” she says to the man, distinguished-looking with grey hair. “My condolences.”

  “Ah, it had to come,” the man replies, running a hand through his hair. “He was a relic, a symbol of an older time. He had no place in what the Novisarium has become.”

  And she knows that to be true, they were both there at the beginning and hopefully, they’ll both be there come the end. “We’re not supposed to change,” she said. “But we have.”

  The older vampire smiles, baring his teeth. “Change is as natural to the course of existence. That which does not evolve inevitably becomes dead, my dear. You should know that by now. You should. It’s a lesson your mother never entirely learned.”

  Clare ignores the insult. Cassandra wasn’t her mother, not really, but she was the one who’d made her. That counts for a lot where she’s concerned. “My new knight said he took this seed from the Judge.” She holds it out, the older vampire takes it from her and studies it.

  “My, my, oh my. An interesting little relic you have here.” There’s awe in his voice, even a little fear and that scares her. Anything that frightens her guest is something to be considered of utmost danger.

  “What is it?”

  “A bitter seed,” he says, “a relic of another world, an older more primordial world. There are other worlds than this, you know, some live and some die, but always there are remnants which can force their way into another reality. Once they find a foothold, they sprout, they take a little piece of the old and it can live again.”

  “Are they dangerous?”

  He flashes his teeth. “Absolutely. These things, they need a sentient host, the effect on them can be… Drastic.”

  “Do you think there are more in the Novisarium?” she asks.

  “All lost things wind up here eventually,” the older vampire smiles. “It’s not impossible. Too many of these in one place at any one time, you’re asking for trouble. Because every seed will sprout when nourished. And an invader to an ecosystem unprepared for it will always flourish.”

  “So, what do we do?” Clare asks.

  “We?” Xarence replies, giving her a grin. She still wouldn’t mind knowing how he did it, how he survived his duel with Libby Tombs, but that’s a story he’s yet to share with her, to share with anyone. “We do nothing, my dear. It’s not our concern. When the time comes, perhaps we will be forced into action, but for now, lock it away in the deepest, darkest hole you have and forget about it.”

  She hesitates, knows that there’s power in that little seed and part of her doesn’t want to let it go. Reluctantly though, she knows Xarence is right.

  He’s always right.

  The End.

  A Note from the Author.

  Thank you for the time spent reading this book, taking the time to spend your days in this world I created. I hope that you enjoyed reading it just as much as I did when I wrote it. Just a quick note, if you did, please, please, please leave a review on Amazon for me. Even if it’s just two words, it can make a lot of difference for an independent author like me.

  Eternal thanks in advance. If you enjoyed this one, why not check out other books I’ve written available at Amazon.

  If you wish to be notified about upcoming works, and even get a free short story from the Spirit Callers Saga starring Wade and Ruud some twenty-five years ago, sign up to my mailing list at http://eepurl.com/dDQEDn

  Thanks again. Without readers, writers are nothing. You guys are incredible.

  OJ.

  Just another quick note. Special thanks to everyone involved in helping put this book in front of you from my cover designer to beta readers to the people who tolerate me on Twitter and Facebook.

  Also, by the Author.

  The Spirit Callers Saga.

  Wild Card. – Out Now

  Outlaw Complex. – Out Now

  Revolution’s Fire. – Out Now

  Innocence Lost. – Out Now

  Divine Born. – Out Now

  Paradise Shattered. – Out Now

  Silent Hunt. – Out Now.

  Tales of the Spirit Callers Saga.

  Appropriate Force. – Out Now.

  Kjarn Plague. – Out Now

  The Novisarium.

  The Savage Ophelia Kiselevska. (A Novisarium Series)

  God of Lions – Out Now

  Queen of Lions – Coming Soon.

  The Mercurial Paul Levitt. (A Novisarium Series)

  Blessed Bullets – Out Now.

  The Magical Mark Halston. (A Novisarium Series)

  Spirit and Stone – Coming Soon

  The Unstoppable Libby Tombs. (A Novisarium Series).

  Family Tradition – Out Now

  Memory Lane – Out Now

  Shadow Knight – Out Now.

  Novisarium Reading Order.

  Family Tradition. (Libby 1)

  God of Lions. (Ophelia 1)

  Memory Lane. (Libby 2)

  Blessed Bullets. (Paul 1)

  Shadow Knight.

  Spirit and Stone. (Mark 1)

  Queen of Lions. (Ophelia 2)

  Control Over Chaos. (Champions 1)

  About the Author.

  Born in 1990 in Wakefield, OJ Lowe always knew that one da
y he’d want to become a writer. He tried lots of other things, including being a student, being unemployed, being a salesman and working in the fashion industry. None of them really replaced that urge in his heart, so a writer he became and after several false starts, The Great Game was published although it has recently been re-released as three smaller books, Wild Card, Outlaw Complex and Revolution’s Fire, now officially the first three books in the Spirit Callers Saga, a planned epic of some sixteen books. He remains to be found typing away at a laptop in Yorkshire, moving closer every day to making childhood dreams a reality.

  He can be found on Twitter at @OJLowe_Author.