Knight and Shadow

by Flint Maxwell

  “Farewell,” Isaac said. “I hope we may one day meet again.”

  The Dwellers turned and lined up, Elendar at the head. The sweet, somber music filled the forest once more, and Isaac watched them go, their luminescence slowly consumed by the dark of the forest.

  Chapter 16

  The Fall

  When Isaac got back to camp, nothing had changed. Swan was still sleeping in the same position, on her side with her arm as her pillow, and neither of the horses had moved.

  He thought of waking her and telling her what he had seen out in the forest, but figured she wouldn’t believe him, so he just laid down.

  For a long while, sleep didn’t return to him. His thoughts were filled with his dying mother and the shadow creature and the fires and the Dark Fang Serpent. Combating this were thoughts of Aen and her soft skin against his lips. A large, goofy smile spread on his face.

  As nice as that memory was, eventually the exhaustion won out, and he slept.

  * * *

  He awoke to the smell of cooking meat. Groggily, he sat up and saw Swan roasting some kind of animal over the fire. It looked like rabbit, but in the woods, one couldn’t be sure.

  “Rise and shine,” she said. “Sleep well?”

  “I did.” And it was true. For the first time since his mother was murdered, only days ago, he’d slept without dreams and without waking up in tears.

  “Good. Another long day ahead of us. I’ll come upon my goal near sunset. If you want, you can spend the night there and set out on the morrow. That way you won’t have to camp by yourself. If you keep riding and don’t stop, you should reach Low Town just a few days after you depart me.”

  “I’m not afraid to camp alone,” Isaac said. “I’ll have to do it eventually, won’t I?” He began gathering his belongings.

  Swan smirked. “I never said you were afraid. But the farther west we go, the more dangerous it gets. There’s safety in numbers.”

  “I can defend myself.”

  As she considered his claim, Swan took the meat from the spit and carved off a piece. She lowered it onto a plate she took from her pack, which she handed to Isaac.

  The aroma was mouth-watering, carried on the steam rising from the charred bits. Isaac popped some into his mouth, and the heat burned him almost instantly. He turned his head, trying not to show his pain, but Swan was laughing. Once the pain subsided, he was able to enjoy the food, whatever it was.

  “Out west,” Swan finally responded, “law is virtually nonexistent. You’ll get killed just for looking at someone the wrong way. And the law that does exist is established by power-hungry baddies.”

  Isaac patted the sword at his back. “I’ve got this.”

  “But do you know how to use it?”

  “Well enough,” he answered somewhat defensively.

  “Then spar with me,” Swan challenged.

  He paused with a piece of meat inches from his mouth. “Spar with you?”

  “Correct. It’s good to stay warm and ready. I’ve not used my sword in over a day’s time; that’s much too long.”

  Isaac eyed her warily.

  “What, are you frightened? Scared you’ll lose to a girl?”

  “No—”

  Swan stood up and unsheathed her sword. “Then let’s do it, Isaac.”

  “Fine. If you don’t mind losing, that is,” he replied, then gobbled down the rest of his breakfast.

  Outwardly, he possessed cool, calm confidence, but inside…the fear of failure took hold.

  He stood up and unsheathed his sword, and for the first time since it had found him, the blade seemed far too heavy. Maybe it was because he’d just woken up or because he was sore, but he found he could hardly lift it with one hand.

  Swan stepped back, away from the fire. Both of the horses watched impassively.

  “You know the rules?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  But he didn’t.

  “Let’s begin.”

  Swan came at him with amazing speed and grace. Isaac stumbled backward and almost tripped over his feet, but at the last possible second, raised his weapon and blocked her blow. The clashing sword rang out on the morning air, a satisfying sound to an observer, but a frightening one to Isaac.

  He found his footing, and the next blow, he blocked easier than before, though Swan had come with the same amount of force. His forearm vibrated with the hit.

  Already, sweat had begun trickling down his face. Meanwhile, Swan looked as cheery as Dolan did when deep in his cups. She spun and swiped near his feet with the broadside of her blade. Isaac saw it coming and jumped before her weapon could make contact.

  For the first time in the fight, he made his own move—a haymaker, with both hands firmly on the hilt.

  Swan parried the blow easily enough, driving him backward. The smile on her face vanished, changing to a twisted half grin. She came at him now with amazing speed, her sword a gray blur, moving so fast, the morning sun could not even glint off of it for long.

  Isaac was near the tree line, doing his best to block what he could. He mistimed a parry, though, and the flat of her blade smacked him in the ribs with enough force to make his breath escape his lungs all in one gush. He dropped his sword and fell to his knees, clutching his burning side.

  When he looked up, he was staring at the point of Swan’s sword.

  “Again?” she asked with that same almost grin.

  Isaac, grimacing, shook his head. “Best not. For my ribs’ sake, that is.”

  “Aw.” Swan extended a hand and helped him rise.

  He thought he’d permanently be leaned to the side, crippled by the amazing blow.

  “You did pretty well,” she told him. “For a farm boy, at least. I’ve never seen someone your size handle such a weapon.”

  “Thank you,” Isaac replied in a wheezy voice.

  Together, the two of them limped back to the fire. He sat down heavily on his bedroll. Lightning chuffed at him.

  “Yeah, yeah, I know,” he told the horse, “I lost. Thanks for rubbing that in.”

  Lightning’s lips peeled back, showing his teeth, almost like a smile.

  “I see potential in you,” Swan said. “You’re a little rough around the edges, but it’s nothing you can’t work out with practice. Of course, you’ll never find a more challenging sparring partner than I, but,” she shrugged, “that’s okay.”

  “Thanks again, but I don’t know if sparring with you is my thing.”

  “The things you face on the road will at least be difficult, Isaac. Not as difficult as me, mind you, but difficult nonetheless. Sparring is good preparation.”

  “But it’s not good on my joints. I’m going to be one big bruise tomorrow.”

  Swan laughed.

  They began packing up the camp and saddling their horses. Lightning seemed eager to be off, but Isaac wasn’t; he knew that another day of hard riding lay before him. It would take some time before he was used to life on the road.

  About an hour later, they were out of the trees and back on the forest’s track, heading toward Meister Village.

  After two hours of hard riding, they emerged from the forest. A great plain lay before them, and in the distance, the Farthing Mountains loomed closer.

  “We’re going just below there,” Swan said, pointing. “The mountain pass. We can rest for a few and have our lunch now.”

  “Rest. Gods that sounds good,” Isaac replied.

  He hitched Lightning to a tree and sat on a fallen log. The forest behind them rippled with the sounds of wildlife and rustling leaves. From her pack, Swan brought the rest of the rabbit meat, which she had salted heavily to help it keep, and a few pieces of fruit. Isaac gobbled up the food, hardly chewing.

  The day seemed much brighter now that they were out of the thick of the forest. Wind blew softly, ruffling Isaac’s hair and cooling the sweat on his brow. He looked out to the mountains, contemplating their sheer awesomeness.

  Swan followed his gaze fr
om where she sat cross-legged to the left of him.

  “Beautiful, isn’t it?” she asked. “I love the country. I love the fresh air and the quiet peacefulness. It’s much better than Track City.”

  “Yes,” Isaac said.

  It was all he could think to say.

  After a few moments of silence, he spoke again. “So what will you do in Meister Village if you’re outmatched?”

  Swan patted him on the shoulder. “Isaac Bleake, I am never outmatched. Elsewise, they wouldn’t pay me. If the rustlers have gotten word of my impending arrival already, they are doing one of two things: either fleeing the town, or preparing to die.”

  “I wish I had your confidence.”

  “Perhaps one day you will,” she replied. She stood. “Come on, we should get going.”

  They were off again.

  * * *

  The ride across the plain was far easier than going through the forest. Lightning galloped with renewed vigor and glee, and Isaac found he could finally relax in the saddle without having to worry about holes in the road or fallen logs. Eventually he started to doze, but would snap awake every few minutes. Luckily, Lightning was a smart creature and never lost sight of Swan. The naps felt good and did wonders for the soreness all over Isaac’s body, the worst of which was at his ribs.

  Once they made it across the plain and reached the foot of the Farthing Mountains, the idea of sleep completely fled from Isaac.

  He looked up at the mountains that seemed to stretch for miles, and he thought he had never felt so small in his lifetime. He also felt like he had never seen true beauty before looking along the rising granite peaks and carpet of lush, green trees. It was almost as if these mountains came from another place and time, like they didn’t belong in this world—at least, not the world Isaac had known in his seventeen years.

  “We’re close now. We can rest when we get there,” Swan said, but Isaac only heard her dimly.

  The sun had begun to set, and the mountains blocked most of its light, casting shadows across the land they had left behind.

  Swan took hold of her reins and spurred her horse onward. Isaac followed.

  As they climbed the land at a steady rise, the mountains seemed to whisper, speaking in an alien language of ancient time and history. Birds took wing at the sound of their horses’ hooves, wind whipped all around them, and the air grew colder as they ascended.

  They eventually stopped on an outcropping of rock overlooking the valley below. It was then that they saw the dark smoke coiling into the sky above, visible without the mountains blocking them.

  “Is that—” Isaac began, but he knew the answer.

  He saw the buildings and the roads and homesteads. They were all burning.

  “We’re too late,” Swan said. Her voice shook, and Isaac saw her gloved hands grip the reins tightly.

  “Maybe not,” he said. “C’mon, let’s look.”

  “It may not be a good idea.”

  “Probably not, but it’s the right thing to do. Maybe we can still help someone.”

  Swan sighed. “This world is not one for a good heart, Isaac.”

  “Maybe, but I think there’s enough bad out there already. Come on.”

  He spurred Lightning forward. The horse was reluctant to go down in the valley, and Isaac had to stroke his mane and tell him it was all right before he could get the horse going at a steady pace.

  When he looked back, Swan was shaking her head. But she followed.

  Chapter 17

  Shadows

  They searched the town to no avail. All they found were corpses and ruined buildings, charred bodies and wood. Some of the bodies looked odd, almost inhuman. Their skin had been devoid of color, making them look ancient, rather than freshly murdered.

  Isaac knelt and held his shaking hands together to quell their nervous movement as he peered at a dark face looking up at the sky, half-buried beneath rubble.

  “You think your outlaws did this?” he asked Swan.

  For the first time since he’d met her, she looked unsure, and a little fearful.

  “I-I don’t know,” she answered. “I doubt it. This seems to be the handiwork of someone else. Outlaws are like leeches; they wouldn’t torch a place they were feeding off of. They’d grow fat off the land and then move on.”

  Isaac stood. The most intact building was made of heavy logs and sat at the end of the main road, its back to the mountains.

  He pointed in that direction, and the two of them walked toward it, passing the smoldering bodies of man, woman, child, and horse. The road was littered with debris: glass, wood, doors, an upturned wagon. The smell of death hung thickly in the air, and Isaac found himself bringing his cloak up over his mouth and nose. It was a scent he would never get used to.

  They kept the horses with them as they advanced. Isaac’s sword remained sheathed on his back, and the bag containing the revolver hung from Lightning’s saddle. Once close enough, they hitched their mounts to a crooked post outside of what was once a mail office so they wouldn’t run off.

  “We should look inside,” Isaac said. “If there was a place for survivors to get out of the elements, it’s this place.”

  He drew his sword. Swan drew hers as well. Together, they crept onward. Before they had gotten three steps, a shadow burst out from behind a pile of rubble, as fast as a bolt of lighting.

  A burning sensation rippled up Isaac’s arm as he fell down, bashed his face on a loose piece of wood, and landed hard on the dirt road. When he hit, the sword in his hands fell out of reach. Blood rolled down his cheeks in rivulets. It was a miracle that his eyes were still open and he was conscious.

  “Swan?” he called out, but there was no answer.

  Raising his head, he saw her sprawled out in the road, unmoving.

  A shadow creature stood over her.

  Its face was indiscernible, featureless but for a large, gaping mouth full of black teeth. No eye sockets, no nose, no hair, and no ears. Truly, it was a creature of the Undervoid, lost among the living.

  It bent down and cocked its head at Swan inquisitively. Then its mouth opened wide, its jaw unhinged, and its teeth protruded farther.

  It meant to devour her.

  Isaac’s body was wracked with pain, but he couldn’t let that happen. He forced himself to his knees and looked for his sword. He didn’t see it. It had been knocked far away, and there was no time for him to go traipsing along the road looking for it.

  Lightning tugged at his tied reins, the wood groaning under the force of his strength, and that was when Isaac remembered the revolver in the burlap sack looped through Lightning’s saddle.

  Now the shadow creature curled its claws under Swan’s form. At its touch, her skin drained of all color, turning a squeamish gray; even her lips and nose lost their bright hue.

  Isaac stumbled toward the horse, his heart beating. He didn’t bother trying to be quiet; that was too hard, given his circumstances. Besides, the shadow creature was not focused on him. All it seemed to care about at that moment was draining Swan of her life-force.

  The creature made a dastardly sound, a screeching tone mixed with the roar of an all-consuming fire. That sound brought Isaac painfully back to the night of his birthday, to the burning barn, to his mother’s death, and his head filled with a mixture of rage, hatred, and sadness—a potent recipe for destruction. It gave him the strength he needed to keep going.

  He stumbled to Lightning, grabbed his bag from the saddle, and took out the box containing the revolver. He didn’t think of the shield the creature had raised in the barn on that fateful night, or the bandit getting his head blown off when he used the weapon; even if he did, it wouldn’t have stopped him. He couldn’t let Swan die.

  The creature whirled toward him and screeched, its mouth somehow getting bigger still. The shield went up. To the untrained eye, it looked no different than thin air, but Isaac had seen it before. He noticed the way the atmosphere around the creature shimmered and grew darker,
as if a fog was coming.

  The monster turned back to its prey now, and Isaac slipped the revolver from the box, feeling the immense power in his hands. He screamed, yelling words he did not know the meaning of—if they were words at all—and cocked the hammer back.

  And pulled the trigger.

  There was a split second in which he thought the gun would buck in his hands, turn inward on him so he would shoot himself in the head, like the bandit had done, but a screeching noise from the creature told him otherwise.

  The first slug blasted the shield away. The noise the shot made was immense, but the sound the shattering forcefield made was bigger still. Isaac felt his ears prickle with pain, and something warm ran out of them, streaming down the side of his face. Blood.

  He pulled the hammer back with his thumb, amazed at how easily the weapon performed, and then, aiming at the monster’s open maw, he pulled the trigger again.

  The screeching was cut off by the second slug. It sliced through the shadow’s head like an arrow through an apple. But there was no blood or mess.

  The thing seemed to deflate, inwardly shrinking on itself, then, with a clap of air, it winked from existence, and the creature was gone in a spray of dark mist.

  Isaac, breathing heavily, dropped the gun like it was a hot coal. It thudded on the road and kicked up a plume of dust. He looked at it unbelievingly and shivered.

  “Isaac?”

  He brought his gaze up from the weapon and looked at Swan.

  “Was that…was that what I think it was?” she asked, looking where the shadow monster had been.

  Isaac, gulping, nodded. “It is…and it’s not the first one I’ve seen.” After a long silence, he added, “And it won’t be the last.”

  “And the gun?”

  “It’s a long story…” Isaac said. “I could tell you, but I don’t think you’d believe me.”