The Truth of Shadows

by Jacob Peppers

  “What?” he said, rubbing a hand across his eyes and realizing he’d been half-dozing.

  “Look.”

  He did not like the scared sound of her voice, and as he followed her gaze out into the sparse trees on one side of the road, Rion wasn’t surprised to see shadowy shapes flitting around the thin trunks. “Shit.” He had hoped it would take the creatures longer to find them, had even hoped that, perhaps this far south, they would not bother hunting the roads as so few travelers used them. It had been a vain hope, he knew, but it had been some small help in keeping back the burgeoning terror that threatened to rise in him.

  “What do you want to do?” she asked, her eyes never leaving the shadows of those creatures, and a quick glance to the other side of the road showed that they were gathering there as well, easily keeping pace with the cart’s slow progress.

  “I don’t know,” he said. “I just wish I knew how much more time we had with this damned lantern.”

  “Let me see it.”

  They both turned to see Marta sticking her head out of the wagon’s compartment. Rion shook his head slowly, the image of the girl—who seemed careless and flighty and, quite possibly, insane—dropping the lantern and breaking it, of the nightwalkers surging forward in a tide of fangs and teeth, flashing through his mind. “I think we’d better not.”

  “What, don’t you trust me?” she demanded.

  Rion stared at her. “Why in the name of the gods would I trust you? You’ve lied to us like a half a dozen times since we met.”

  “Yeah, so?” she said, and Rion found that he could think of nothing in response to that. “Look,” she continued after a moment, “I don’t want to get gobbled up anymore than you do, alright? But I know something about lights—my father was a light merchant, you know.”

  “Marta,” Katherine said slowly, “you said you were an orphan.”

  “Oh.” The girl winced. “Right. Fine, that’s a lie—I’ve never met my father. His loss. Or, well, maybe not, I don’t know. Anyhow, I still know something of lights. And what’s the harm?”

  “Look around us,” Rion snapped. “That’s the damned harm.”

  “Just trust me, would you?” she said, and Rion was just opening his mouth to tell the girl what she could do with her trust when Katherine spoke in a quiet, subdued voice.

  “Let her see it.”

  “You can’t be serious,” he said. “Why in the—”

  “Rion,” Katherine interrupted in a soft voice, meeting his eyes, “what difference does it make?”

  He stared at her for a second, then another, waiting for her to realize how foolish she was being. When she didn’t, he grunted. “Fine, but when she fumbles the lantern, and you’re getting chewed on, don’t blame me.”

  He grabbed the lantern then, careful despite his anger and fear, and handed it to the girl who took it with a casual grab that made his stomach lurch. She popped open the small latch and glanced at the reservoir. “Fifteen minutes or so left,” she said. “But the light will start to flicker noticeably in another ten.”

  “Is that right?” Rion said dryly. “Can tell all that from a quick look, can you? I guess it’s from that light merchant father of yours.”

  “Righ—” She cut off, frowning. “I don’t have a light merchant father, okay? I don’t know nothing about fathers or mothers neither. What I do know about though, are lights. And it would have been closer to twenty minutes, if you hadn’t sat here jawing at me for so long.”

  Rion had had enough of the girl. He didn’t have much patience in the best of times, and this was certainly not the best of times. “And just what do you kno—”

  “Marta,” Katherine interrupted. “How do you know that?”

  “About lights?” the girl asked, and Rion wanted to scream, as if there was anything else she might be talking about.

  Katherine nodded, doing what Rion thought was a saintly job of resisting the impulse to strangle the girl—an impulse he was currently battling with himself.

  “Growing up on the streets,” the girl said, her face as somber and serious as Rion had yet to see it, “you learn about lights. About what you can count on and what you can’t. About…monsters.”

  “You just said less than an hour ago that you’d never been close to a nightling,” Rion said, exasperated.

  She met his eyes then, and he thought he could see something of the person she really was, the person that hid behind all the lying and joking and talk. A wounded, scared person, one who had suffered much and expected to suffer more before it was through. “Nightlings aren’t the only monsters the world has,” she said in a quiet, barely audible voice. “And all monsters hate the light. What they do…they like to do it in the shadows.”

  Rion had nothing to say to that, suddenly found himself feeling guilty of all things. As difficult as his life sometimes was, he’d never been forced to live on the streets. He had believed that his trips to the poor district had educated him on such a life, on what it was to live poor. He realized then, gazing at the fragility in her eyes, her face, that he had been only a tourist, some nobleman slumming for the thrill of it who didn’t understand the true dangers lurking in the shadows. He had been a fool, an arrogant fool. And what was worse, he had been naive.

  “I believe you, Marta,” Katherine said. “And…thanks.”

  The girl nodded silently, running a hand across her eyes. “Of course.”

  “Fifteen minutes,” Katherine said, turning to Rion, and he was glad for the excuse to look away from the girl’s face, from the pain he saw there. “Not long.”

  “No.” He glanced back the way they had come, trying to decide how far they had traveled, how long it would take for the townspeople to catch up with them, if they wanted to. He didn’t worry about horses, not anymore. If they’d had spare horses to use, they would have caught up with them already. That meant that, if they were coming, they were walking. And he couldn’t even hope that the nightlings might kill the townspeople, for he had noticed how none of them had carried lights in the town, had seemed at home in the darkness. Rion did not like that thought, not at all. He’d heard stories of the Dark worshipers being able to travel without light before, but he had thought them no more than that—stories. It seemed, now, that they had been true after all. “Shit.”

  Looking around, Rion saw a curve in the road up ahead. They wouldn’t be able to do much to hide a fire from the townspeople if they were in fact following them, but if they could make it around the curve in the road, at least the blaze would be partially concealed. He gave the reins a snap, and the horses started forward again, the lantern light bobbing to and fro.

  “Do you have a plan?” Katherine asked from beside him.

  “Make it to the turn in the path and go around it,” he said.

  “And then?”

  “And then…we’ll see.” They would have to make a fire, that much was certain, but how they would do that without straying far enough in the woods for the nightlings—now crowding the lane on both sides, slinking to keep pace—to pounce on them, he had no idea.

  One thing at a time, he told himself. One thing at a time.

  They were nearly at the curve in the path when something struck the wagon hard. The three of them screamed in surprise, as the cart lurched to the side, the back wheel rising off the ground before slamming down again. Rion spun to see a large nightling, shouldering at the cart, trying to tip it over. He snatched the lantern from where it hung, then twisted and held it aloft, and he caught a brief image of the nightling baring its long, deadly fangs before it let out a hiss of pain and skittered away into the safety of the shadows. “I hope it hurts, you bas—”

  He cut off, giving a grunt of surprise as the wagon was struck on the other side. He turned, and the orange, ruddy glow of the lantern fell on another nightling, which growled and followed its companion back into the darkness. His breath coming in ragged gasps, Rion snapped the reins, urging the weary horses forward, and doing his best to cover
the whole of the wagon in the lantern light. But try as he might, the shadows surged forward as if alive whenever he moved it, and he would drive away one of the nightlings only to have another strike the cart from the darkness.

  Again and again, and the wood creaked warningly, giving a tortured sound. The horses, sharing their riders’ terror, had broken into a gallop despite their exhaustion, and they reached the curve in the road, then passed it. Rion was just beginning to hope they might be able to outrun the creatures when they were struck again. This hit was far harder than any of those that had come before it, and his heart leapt in his throat at the unmistakable sound of wood breaking. He fumbled the lantern, nearly dropping it, as the back-left wheel of the wagon broke loose of its axel. Rion shouted as the wagon tipped, collapsing on that side and dragging across the ground as the horses surged forward, whinnying with terror.

  But terrified or not, the horses could not keep up the pace they’d set, not while dragging the dead weight of the wagon behind them, and they began to slow. Rion was lying nearly on his side now as the wagon continued to lurch, and his free hand clutched the front, the only thing keeping him from falling.

  A howl from the darkness around them, and another nightling hurled toward them, striking the wagon near the horses with such force that Rion’s grip was knocked loose. He was aware of the lantern slipping from his sweating fingers. Then, the next thing he knew, he was tumbling across the hard-packed trail, striking the ground and rolling end over end until finally coming to a groaning stop. Gasping for air, Rion looked up to see the horses breaking free of their harnesses and, in seconds, they were loose and sprinting into the woods, their eyes wild with terror.

  He noticed what he at first took to be the flame of the lantern sitting a short distance away then realized with a thrill of fear that the wick had somehow been jarred loose in the crash. What he’d taken to be the lantern was only the wick, lying on the ground, its poor light flickering, ready to go out at any moment. The lantern housing—including the reservoir containing what little oil they had left—lay on its side a few feet away.

  Rion stumbled to his feet, all too aware of the shadowy forms closing, surrounding him. He nearly tripped as his ankle threatened to give way beneath him, and he realized for the first time that he must have sprained it in the fall. He ignored the pain as best he could, staggering forward. By the time he reached the lantern and scooped it up, Katherine had appeared near him. She held the girl, Marta, in her arms, obviously straining under the effort.

  The girl herself was unconscious, one side of her face coated in blood from a wound on her head she must have received in the crash. But Rion had no time to worry about her, for in seconds the flame of the wick would go out and the creatures would waste no time tearing him and the others limb from limb. He shuffled toward the lantern, opened the reservoir, and his breath caught in his throat at the diminished oil inside it. Some of it must have spilled from the lantern when they’d been knocked over.

  He carried the housing to where the wick lay, Katherine following behind.

  Damnit, Rion thought. The creatures were closing in on all sides of them now, a hungry tide of darkness, and he could see the glint of fangs and teeth in the poor light. No time to make a fire, no time to grab firewood or tinder. No time at all. He opened the reservoir, saying a silent prayer that the grass was not too wet from dew, then poured some of the oil on the open flame of the wick. It immediately blazed brighter, and there were hisses and grunts of pain from the nearest creatures as they shied away.

  “What are you doi—”

  “The only thing I can do,” Rion snapped. He poured more of the oil out, doing his best to space it evenly as he traced a circle around them. The flame caught and, in seconds, they were surrounded by a ring of fire, so close that he felt the uncomfortable heat of it against his skin.

  There was not enough room to lay the girl down, but Rion helped Katherine set her on her feet, and they each draped one of her arms across their shoulders. “That won’t last long,” Katherine said in a quiet voice, glancing at the flames.

  “No,” Rion agreed.

  They stood there in silence then, and in minutes the flames surrounding them began to gutter and weaken. Some of the creatures, eager for their meal, moved forward toward the light, testing it, only to give angry howls and hisses before retreating into the shadows once more. Rion struggled to think of some solution, some way out of this, but there was nothing. They were going to die here, in the darkness, and there was nothing he could do about it.

  “Rion.” He turned to find Katherine studying him, the truth of the thing in her eyes. “Thank you.”

  “Thank me?” he said, nonplussed. “For what?”

  She gave him a small smile. “For trying.”

  Rion found himself having to look away from the genuine gratitude in her gaze. Damn you, Alesh, he thought. Where are you when we need you? Off slinking through the darkness like some monster, but if you were here, we might be saved, we might…But there was no point. The man wasn’t here, that was all, and there was no way of knowing if he was even still alive. And if he was? Would he wield flames like Amedan, the God of Fire himself, would he strike these hungry, foul things down with swords made of fire and light? It was ridiculous. Stupid. But, of course, the man had done it before—Rion had seen it.

  Only, he did not think Alesh was the same man he had been then, thought that there was a darkness in him now, one to rival even that found in the hungry, lustful hearts of those creatures that surrounded them. One that might, in truth, be greater. Anyway, he thought, I hope you live, Alesh. And I hope you save the girl. Yes, he decided. Perhaps they would survive. It would be good to think so. After all, someone should.

  “I’m…sorry,” he said, his voice quiet.

  “For what?”

  He hesitated, staring at the flickering flames, the only barrier between them and certain death, beginning to die down in earnest now. “I…I don’t know. For being an ass, I guess.”

  “It’s okay,” she said, putting her free hand on his shoulder. “Someone has to be, don’t they?”

  Rion was about to answer, but something caught his eye in the darkness off to their left, in the woods. An orange flicker. No, he told himself. No, it’s just your imagination, that’s all. No sane person would be out here. Why would they be? They wouldn’t, that was the truth. He turned away to stare at the creatures in front of him, drawing a dagger from the inside of his tunic. “I’ll be taking one of you bastards with me—that much I can promise you,” he said.

  The creature he was eyeing seemed to meet his gaze, baring its teeth in response, as if it understood his words. “You’ll do,” Rion said, raising the knife. In seconds, the flames would go out. He would have to be fast, would have to be lucky, but he thought he could make sure that one, at least, never killed anyone again. It wasn’t much—it wasn’t enough, not really. But it was all he had.

  He bared his own teeth in a silent snarl, then just when he was preparing to charge out over the tiny flames, a ball of fire flew out of the woods, landing amongst the creatures. Screams of rage and pain, as they scattered, then another ball of fire, and another followed. In the space the creatures made to get away from the agony of the light, Rion saw that they were torches. But how—

  A second later, there was a shout, and he turned to see someone charging into the creatures from one end of the path, carrying two torches raised high. At first, he couldn’t make the man out then, as the creatures fled before the flames, making a path through which the figure charged, Rion realized it was the Ferinan.

  Darl wore no shirt, and his muscled, dark torso shone with sweat and blood in the light of the torches. But if whatever wounds had caused the blood pained him, he showed no sign as he rushed forward, and in seconds, he reached them.

  “Oh, by the gods, Darl,” Katherine breathed, “I thought you were dead.”

  “Not yet,” the Ferinan said, grinning widely.

  Looking closer
at him, Rion saw that the man had several lengths of wood strapped at his side, pieces of what had been his shirt wrapped around them to create makeshift torches. Rion, who had expected to be being digested right about then, laughed. “Damnit, man, but it’s good to see you.”

  The Ferinan winked. “Ah, I knew you would warm up to me sooner or later, friend Rion.”

  “Warm up? Gods, man, I’m tempted to kiss you right now.”

  “How about instead of that, you show your gratitude by taking one of these torches?” Darl said. “My left arm is…not working well at the moment.”

  Rion saw then that the blood on the man was from a long gash down his left bicep, and he quickly took the offered torch. “It looks bad,” he said. “You going to be okay?”

  “Better than you were getting ready to be, I think,” Darl said.

  “Darl,” Katherine said, moving forward to examine the wound, “we need to bandage this as soon as pos—”

  “In a few minutes,” the Ferinan interrupted. “For now, we should each take a torch—those flames will keep the creatures back, but they will not last long. We need to gather firewood and quickly. Then, we will see to my arm. And who is this?” he said, indicating the unconscious girl.

  “Later,” Rion said, “I’ll introduce the two of you. Though, I doubt you’ll thank me for it.”

  Darl asked no more questions, and he and Rion set about gathering firewood while Katherine watched over the girl in the ring of light the torch provided. It was an unenvious job, gathering wood with creatures hungry for his blood surrounded him, hissing and growling from the shadows, but Rion figured it was a lot less of a pain than getting torn into pieces would have been, so he went about it without complaint.

  He carted what wood he could find back, making several trips, until finally Darl said that they had enough and instead of making one large blaze—as Rion had expected—the Ferinan set about crafting several smaller campfires in a ring around them. “This way,” he explained, seeing Rion watching him thoughtfully, “if one goes out, we still have others to protect us.”