Knight and Shadow

by Flint Maxwell

  “Steven, my good man,” Madam Swan responded, “strength is more than muscles. It comes from here and here.” She tapped her breastplate and then her temple.

  Chuckling, Steven shook his head. “Not with this sword, my dear. But if you wish to embarrass yourself, kid, I guess I’ll let you.”

  He stood on a stool and plucked the sword from the wall, grunting as he bore its weight. Isaac’s stomach knotted with fear and anticipation. He figured he would embarrass himself, in front of this warrior woman no less, but it was too late now.

  Steven set the sword on the counter, the surface of which seemed to buckle beneath the weapon’s weight as Isaac stared at it.

  Aside from the revolver in his burlap sack, this sword was one of the most gorgeous weapons he had ever seen. The steel looked soft yet sharp, and sturdy enough to cut through stone without a problem. It shone with the low burning lights on the walls. The hilt was an ebony color, inlaid with rubies, the cross-guard like the sharp wings of a bat.

  Looking at it, Isaac’s fear of embarrassment vanished, and his body began acting on its own volition. He reached out and grabbed the hilt with both hands. With ease, he lifted the sword from the counter and raised the hilt to eye level, taking in the dangerous beauty of it.

  Again his muscles moved on their own as he took a practice swing, as smooth as the metal of the blade.

  Steven’s mouth dropped open. He didn’t speak, instead making a sort of ‘uhhh’ sound. Dolan and Madam Swan grinned.

  If asked to explain how he was able to bear the weight of the weapon, Isaac Bleake would not be able to. The simplest explanation of this newfound strength came from Madam Swan’s lips when Steven was finally able to choke out a single, incredulous word.

  “How?”

  “Sometimes, it is just meant to be.”

  * * *

  “Let me buy it for you, lad,” Dolan said.

  “You don’t have to do that. I have the coin,” Isaac replied. “From selling Carmen…which I guess is your coin.”

  “It is a gift. A parting gift. Please, let me.”

  And though Isaac had dug out his coin purse, Dolan nudged past him and put three gold coins in Steven’s hand. Steven practically salivated at the sight of their glimmer.

  “Business must be good, Dolan,” he said.

  He wiped the corner of his mouth, which had grown shiny with spit. It was just the three of them in the store now. Madam Swan had departed a few minutes prior.

  “But I’ll need more than that.” Steven motioned to the rifle slung over Isaac’s shoulder.

  Isaac shrugged. He wouldn’t need the rifle, not if he was able to get the sword. Somehow, he knew this.

  He gave it to Dolan and the old man looked it over.

  “Apparently not as good as your business is tonight, friend,” Dolan replied, setting the rifle on the counter.

  Steven took it with glee, though why he coveted it so was a mystery to Isaac. It wasn’t much in the way of protection…or hunting.

  The sword now in Isaac’s possession, he examined it closely. It came with a sheath, however it was too big and Isaac too short for it to be worn on his belt. Instead, he wore it on his back. The hilt jutted just over his shoulder, keeping it within easy reach behind him. Steven had laughed as Dolan showed Isaac how to cinch the weapon properly and where to line up the blade along the sheath for the easiest of draws.

  “You’ll never be able to draw it one-handed, kid,” Steven said.

  Isaac replied, “Watch me.”

  With his right hand, he reached over his right shoulder and grabbed the hilt. Though it was heavier than holding it with two hands, he found he didn’t have much of a problem.

  Again, Steven’s lips parted, but his eyes narrowed cautiously. “You’re not a magic user, are you, boy?”

  All Isaac did was smirk.

  He and Dolan left the store soon after.

  “You’ll need more provisions, Isaac,” Dolan told him when they’d found their way back to the street.

  “More?” he repeated, almost unbelievingly.

  “The wide world is not a forgiving place. It will beat you down. The elements alone between here and the Infected Lands will give you many problems. On top of that, there are the bad ones out there. The bandits, the creatures of the night, and the wildlife. I warn you—”

  “Okay, okay, Dolan. The shopping shall continue.”

  Isaac bought three outfits, a bedroll, some light armor, and a cloak. When they were done, Dolan suggested a pint of ale as another going away present, on his dime, which was a good thing, because Isaac’s coin purse was considerably lighter after their excursion.

  They walked out of the Dark District to the Battling Dragon, where the street lamps burned brightly again, the knights patrolled the walkways, and the sounds of merry laughter and song rolled out anytime the doors opened.

  Isaac wore his cloak. It was a dark green color, the color of the forest. Its hood hid the gems on the sword’s hilt. When the time came, he knew he would be able to use it to defend himself.

  They walked inside, taking a seat at a corner table as a young couple with rosy cheeks got up and left. The place was nearly full, but most hung around the bar or the tables in the middle. An overweight man nearly sweating through his shirt served mugs of frothy ale and pints of dark liquor. Laughter roared, and music played near the back, where a troupe of musicians fingered their instruments with glee. Some clapped them on; others booed and jeered. Regardless, the musicians kept playing.

  A woman came over and took their order. Dolan asked for a draught of Dragon Juice. When it was Isaac’s turn, he hesitated. Dimly, his head still hurt from the previous night’s festivities, and he was sure that if he got drunk again, he’d only postpone heading out another day…and another and another, until it was too late, and the man called Ansen Kane moved on. So he asked for water.

  Dolan slapped the table and said, “Nonsense! He’ll have an ale. Kid size, if you please, dear.”

  The waitress frowned. “They only come in one size.”

  “Then we’ll have that one.”

  Isaac was going to protest, but the woman spun away before he could.

  When she came back with their drinks and he’d had a sip of his ale, he was glad he hadn’t argued. It was bitter and sweet at the same time, much better than the stuff Dolan had at his place.

  “So are you ready, lad?” Dolan asked him.

  “No, but I still have to go.”

  “And there’s honor in that. But don’t be afraid. You are a smart fella. With your weapons and your brain, you will do just fine. There are many enemies on the road, but there are friends too, if you know how to treat someone. All in all, us humans, we are in this together, am I right?”

  Isaac nodded and sipped his ale. Thoughts of shadow creatures and strange goings-on wouldn’t leave his head.

  Later on, people nearby began talking of the man who’d tried to smuggle in the Death Fang Serpent, the sigil of the shadowshah, and Isaac shuddered as that whole ordeal played out in his head again.

  “I heard he had a whole barrel full of ‘em,” said one man, his words slurring. “Meant to loose them all over the city, he did!”

  “Bullshit!” said another man. “It was one snake, and it killed a guard and injured a few more.”

  A third man chimed in. “One serpent is all it takes. That thing could’ve brought down half the city, in the right hands. Good for them knightsmen that they slayed it before it got free.”

  “Strange tidings,” the first man who’d spoken said. “Very strange. If it was up to me, I’d head on over the sea and off this rock. But alas, my Betty’s mom is sick, and we aren’t goin’ nowhere until she passes on or gets better. God rest her soul.”

  “You may be on to something, Myron,” said the second man.

  “Yeah,” the third agreed. “I can feel it in the air…that darkness.”

  Dolan’s hand settled on Isaac’s arm. “Ignore them, lad.”
<
br />   The night went on. They kept drinking. They talked of the good times and made a few friends. Isaac missed his mother, and the thought of moving out on the dark road alone, without a home and a mother to come back to, filled his stomach with unbearable anxiety.

  Dolan got good and drunk, as he was wont to do; Isaac managed to stay only a little buzzed, dreading another headache and hangover come sunrise.

  “One more, one more!” Dolan yelled to the waitress. She rolled her eyes. “Last one, I promise!” he added.

  That was when the front doors opened.

  The place was still pretty full, and the music hadn’t stopped, but when this person stepped inside, the entire bar went quiet.

  Except for Dolan, of course.

  “Madam Swan! Madam Swan! Come over here. Pull up a stool, please!”

  Isaac sank low in his own seat, his cheeks burning with embarrassment.

  “Drinks on me!” Dolan snapped his fingers at the waitress, who now looked like she was about ready to slug him across the face. “Get Madam Swan whatever she desires!”

  Isaac raised a hand and mumbled a “Sorry,” to the server. She only rolled her eyes once more and got to fetching the drinks. Isaac would make sure to tip her greatly.

  Slowly, the noise of the bar picked up once more. The music played on, upbeat and happy, and the conversation rolled over them.

  Madam Swan was no longer in her armor. She wore a pretty red velvet dress that came down just past her knees and high leather boots. Clasped near her neck was a red brooch. Her blonde hair, short to begin with, was brushed back from her brow, and her skin radiated.

  Surprisingly, perhaps out of obligation, Madam Swan pulled up a chair at their table.

  “Hello,” said Isaac.

  She nodded at him as the waitress brought another Dragon Juice for Dolan and a mug of ale for Madam Swan.

  “I’m so glad to see you,” Dolan slurred. “Not too many familiar faces in this tavern—at least none that aren’t doubling and tripling right now. You’ve met Isaac, haven’t you?” He pointed to Isaac, who was shaking his head at the man’s obvious drunkenness.

  “Yes, Dolan, we’ve met. Lords, how much have you had to drank?” Madam Swan asked.

  “Too much,” Isaac answered. “Far too much. I’m cutting him off after this.”

  “I fear it’s too late,” Madam Swan said, and Dolan laughed heartily at that, causing Madam Swan to smile.

  She had the most beautiful smile Isaac had seen.

  She looked at him now, almost as if she were studying him. Butterflies floated around his stomach, making their way up to his chest, drawn by his rapidly beating heart. He felt his cheeks burn again. Luckily for him, the lighting of the pub wasn’t much, so he doubted she would notice—well, hoped she wouldn’t notice.

  “You’re a curious boy, aren’t you?” Madam Swan said.

  “What do you mean, Madam Swan?” he replied.

  “Please, just call me Swan. I hate that Madam business. My father’s to thank for that.” She lifted her ale, gulped it. “But I mean that there is more to you than meets the eye, isn’t there? You hold secrets.”

  “You got that right!” Dolan chimed in.

  He was starting to sound like the men who’d been talking of the Death Fang incident earlier.

  “No, I don’t hold secrets,” Isaac said.

  Dolan said, “He’s going to save the world! Him and a gun—”

  Isaac lunged across the table and slapped Dolan’s glass. It was mostly empty of Dragon Juice, but the little still inside spilled in Dolan’s lap.

  “Drats!” Dolan shouted, quickly lifting his shirt to his mouth and sucking on the fabric. “This is expensive, Isaac!”

  “Sorry. Sorry.”

  Swan leaned forward and spoke in a low voice. “A gun knight? Is that what he was going to say?”

  “No…” Isaac replied. “Don’t listen to him. He’s drunk.”

  “They say alcohol is quite the truth serum.” Swan looked at Dolan. “And I’ve known Dolan many years.”

  If Isaac’s face had felt hot before, it was now nearing the melting point.

  “Oh, I know!” Dolan said, raising a finger. “Madam Swan can accompany you on your quest!”

  Swan arched an eyebrow. “Quest?”

  “Don’t listen to him…” Isaac said again.

  He was about to excuse himself from the table and head back to Dolan’s; the old man could find his own way home, if he was going to spill Isaac’s secrets.

  “She can protect you, Isaac!” Dolan said. “And she knows the way.”

  “I don’t work for free,” Swan interjected. “And I have business elsewhere on the morrow. They’re paying eight gold bars for my help.”

  “Where are you going?” Dolan asked.

  “Meister Village.”

  “Out past the Farthings?”

  Swan nodded. “That’s the place.”

  “Perfect!” Dolan said. “That’s on the way. Will you allow Isaac to accompany you that far?” He leaned forward and lowered his voice to a harsh whisper that Isaac could obviously hear. “Between you and me, I fear for the boy. He is still quite green behind the ears. He’s had his losses and skirmishes, but the road is a nasty place, and darkness gathers across the land.”

  Swan caught Isaac’s eye. He was shaking his head, his arms folded over his chest.

  “It is a mostly free country, is it not?” she said. “But I will not go out of my way to protect him.”

  “Safety in numbers, there is,” Dolan said, nodding. He reached for Isaac’s ale and drank.

  “Hey, now! No more for you, old man,” Isaac said.

  Dolan gulped. “Too late.” Then he smiled wide. Looking at Swan, he asked, “So we have a deal?”

  “I don’t see why not. To where are you going, boy?”

  Dolan began, but Isaac cut him off. “I can speak for myself, Dolan. No offense.” He was worried the stabler would give too much away. “I am going west, toward the Teeth.”

  “I sure hope you know your geography, Isaac Bleake. The Infected Lands lay before those mountains. It is rough country out there. There are hardly any crops, and the skies are full of harsh, poisonous storms,” Swan said.

  “I know. But I made a promise.”

  “You keep your secrets, boy. It would be best that I don’t know them.” Swan stood up and drained the last of her ale faster than most alcoholic men thrice her size could. “We ride out at first light. I expect you to be well rested and sober.”

  She left.

  Isaac found he couldn’t speak. The idea of being on the road alone with this woman who both frightened and filled him with attraction was almost too much to handle.

  “She is a good gal, Isaac. She’ll protect you.” Dolan raised a hand to call the waitress over again, but Isaac grabbed his arm and put it down to the table. “See, you’re a smart one, lad,” Dolan told him. “You know when we’ve had enough. Too bad you can’t stay.”

  Isaac was thinking of first light, of the road ahead of him, and of the beautiful warrior called Swan. He smiled sheepishly.

  “Yes, too bad,” he said.

  They left the pub only moments later. Isaac tipped the waitress a good amount. She seemed to soften when the coin was in her palm. He thanked her and the bartender for their hospitality and guided Dolan outside as he tried to jig and jive to the band’s music.

  The sky was no longer dark. In the east, the first signs of sunrise touched the world’s edge. Isaac knew he would have no sleep this night.

  Together, the two men ambled down the street.

  Isaac tried to savor it, the good cheer and the happiness, because once he passed out of Track City, he was sure all of that would vanish. Perhaps for good.

  Chapter 14

  The Future

  A few days had passed, and no agents of the crown had come to Low Town. Jensen Watts was growing restless.

  He had been avoiding the sheriff’s office since locking up the traitor. The
re was something behind Kane’s eyes that Watts didn’t like, almost as if the man was somehow still in control, when he was so clearly not, being behind bars.

  The reanimated were standing guard over the gun knight, however, and Watts didn’t think Kane would try anything with them there. They had started to smell pretty badly, their rotting flesh and failed organs stinking up the entirety of the sheriff’s office—another reason Watts had been avoiding it. Instead, he spent most of his time in the Proudpost, buying drinks for the few patrons that were brave enough to be in the room with him.

  He sat there now, at the same corner table that Ansen Kane had sat in three nights before when he had dispatched two bounty hunters from Aendvar Point. In Watts’s pocket was the crystal ball he had taken off the lead bounty hunter, the one missing most of the lower half of his face, thanks to one of Kane’s bullets. The crystal ball weighed heavily both in his pocket and on his mind. He had some experience with dark magic, growing up in the Barrens as a youth, but crystal balls were foreign to him.

  Still…just one peek.

  The agents of the crown were already late. He thought they would’ve surely gotten his raven by now. It wouldn’t hurt to use the ball to look into why Goroth had not sent a million men here already. He could only keep Kane locked up for so long; a gun knight, according to legend, was very resourceful. Keeping him in that cage was like keeping a stick of unstable dynamite in your pocket. The longer Kane was in there, still breathing, the more unnerved Watts became.

  Watts’s hand was in his coat, already feeling the cool glass. He pulled it out and crossed the point of no return. Once his eyes bored into it, he could see nothing else but the contents of the crystal ball. The bar melted away. The dusty day outside, through the batwings, vanished.

  Beneath the glass, a barrage of colors swirled. Blue, green, yellow, red, and violet, and they swirled and swirled like the sand in a radiation storm, until they made up a picture as clear as day.