Shade Cursed: A Druidverse Urban Fantasy Novel (The Shadow Changeling Series Book 1)

by M. D. Massey

  I slowed my pace as I neared the end of the tunnel, tamping down an array of emotions as the old sights and smells of my childhood hit me. The scene before me was one with which I was quite familiar—a forest made not of trees, but of tall, fantastic-looking mushrooms, equal in size to any oak tree on Earth. Each of these large mushrooms had its own unique colors and hues, with no two being quite alike. Some were shades of purples and reds, others greens and blues, and still others yellows and oranges. Every color in the spectrum was represented, as if some insane deity had swallowed an entire palette of paint and then vomited all over their creation.

  No matter how striking the terrain and flora appeared, everything in Underhill was deadly, especially the plant life. While garishly beautiful, the mushroom trees were often highly poisonous and could even kill a person at a distance through the release of spores and gasses. Much of the fauna that lived in forests such as these were predators as well, and more than willing to attack any humanoid that crossed their path. Although I was no easy meal, I took all due care as I exited the tunnel.

  The coast seemed clear as I strode forth from the mouth of the cave. There was no sense in hiding, since my shadow magic would not conceal me in the full light of Underhill’s magical sun. Besides, the tunnel exit was fully exposed on the side of a low, grassy hill that bordered the forest ahead. My best bet was to be on my guard and hope I could deal with whatever might await me outside.

  I held my magic at the ready as I left the cavern, crouching low as I scanned all around for any sign of danger. Once I decided that I was alone, I began to search the ground for traces of any humanoid’s passing. I hoped to pick up a trail that I could follow, perhaps human or fae footprints, or signs left by some beast of burden. But when I scanned the surface of the ground, I saw no cart tracks, no hoof prints, not even a pathway that would indicate humans had marched through this area.

  Just as the hackles on my neck began to rise at the lack of evidence of foot traffic, I was hit from all sides by a bright, blinding light. Being a shadow mage, the light had the effect of negating my ability to use my primary magical weapons. Moreover, it blinded me, disabling my mundane sight and mage sight both. Hearing movement, I lashed out with a hastily cast fireball spell in that direction.

  As the spell detonated, I heard a cry of pain, which meant I had struck something—but it was too little, too late. Before I could ready another spell, I was lassoed by ropes from multiple directions. These were no mundane lengths of cordage, but instead magical ropes woven by fae crafters, enchanted not only to hold the most powerful creatures in Underhill, but also to completely nullify magical abilities.

  I struggled against my bonds, but to no avail. Soon my attackers had me lashed hand and foot on the ground, and they were not gentle in their treatment of me. I was just beginning to blink the bright spots from my eyes when I heard the wizard’s voice, taunting me from nearby.

  “Well, that was easy. I honestly expected Fuamnach’s Hound to put up more of a fight,” he said as he chuckled to himself, the self-satisfaction dripping from his voice. “I guess not everyone lives up to their reputation.”

  “Cut me loose from these bonds, mutt,” I said in a low, menacing tone. “Then you’ll know this Hound has teeth to spare.”

  “Please,” the wizard said with a chuckle. “I’m being paid good money to arrange a Fuamnach family reunion. From what I understand, your mother is very upset that you haven’t visited lately. I can only imagine what she has in store for her prodigal son. Gives me chills just thinking about it.”

  I scowled at his cavalier attitude. “I assure you, whatever you’re being paid in exchange for these endeavors, eventually you will end up on the short end of the bargain. You may have some fae blood in you, but you know as well as I that the pure bloods have little respect for those of us with human blood in our veins. Someday they’ll decide you’re no longer of use to them, and you’ll be discarded like so much trash.”

  “Oh, save it, Crowley. You’re preaching to the choir. My whole purpose in life is to get everything I can from these bastards, then I’m going to retire somewhere warm and sunny, with nothing but sand between my toes and a cool drink in my hand. Trust me, I’ll be long gone before they decide to turn on me.”

  My vision had almost fully returned, and I could finally make out my captors. Interestingly, they were a menagerie of different supernatural races. Three fae assassins, a lycanthrope, and a pair of vampires. I took a moment to size them up, noting which would give me the most trouble should I attempt an escape. My gaze slid back to Griff where he squatted a few feet in front of me, a mocking grin on his face.

  “Bet you’re wondering how I knew you were coming. My familiar sees heat, not light, and you stood out like a sore thumb up on that ridge. So, I disguised one of your mother’s peons to look like me and sent him out of the cave. Still can’t believe you fell for that shit, though.”

  I ignored his jibes, as I already knew my haste had caused me to overlook the obvious. “You keep interesting company, wizard. It makes me wonder, did you hire these people, or is there a greater mystery afoot?”

  “You’ll never know, will you?” He pointed to the lycanthrope and one of the fae. “Keep a close eye on him, because he’s a hell of a lot craftier than you think. Fuamnach’s people will be along shortly to gather him up, so don’t fuck this up—I want my payday. Do a good job, and there’ll be a bonus in it for you too.”

  “By all means, do make this a challenge for me,” I added.

  The wizard gave me a mocking wave of his hand as he headed back to the cavern entrance. “See you never, you creepy ass bastard.”

  “And I’ll see you sooner than you may think,” I replied softly.

  The vampire and the werewolf kept an eye on me, making sure I did not escape from my bonds before my mother’s thugs arrived. And arrive they did, several hours after Griff’s departure. A bevy of zombies marched along behind them, hitched to a cart with an iron cage on the back.

  Griff had proven himself to be crafty, I’d give him that. He’d obviously had the trap prepared for some time, likely since shortly after I’d stumbled across his safe house in Austin. After our initial altercation, I’d dismissed him as a threat—a mistake I would not make a second time.

  Now, I found myself in dire straits. My mother’s thugs were not known to be gentle, and many of them held grudges against me for past insults. All Mother’s foot soldiers were flunkies of no special stature in fae society. The four who arrived were lesser fae of various unseelie varieties, including a dwarf, a buggane, and two bauchans who looked like higher fae but were not.

  That was the thing about the aes sídhe—it didn’t matter what you looked like, as only lineage mattered where status was concerned. And that’s where Griff was so sorely mistaken in working with the higher fae. As I had warned him, they were bound to turn on him eventually. Not that he wouldn’t be getting everything he deserved, but still, it pained me to see anyone suffering at their hands. Even a scoundrel like Griff.

  My mother’s thugs kept me bound hand and foot, throwing me in the back of the cart’s cage. On closer inspection, the cage had been inscribed with runes in my mother’s own hand, specifically designed to negate my magic. As soon as the cage door closed, the wards activated, and I found my connection with my shade cut off completely.

  I couldn’t recall a time when I was not in contact with the entity inside me. Curious about the implications of this development, I spent several minutes in meditation, seeking some trace of our bond and finding none. It was like the shade was just… gone. While the respite was welcomed, I found the silence in my mind to be unsettling.

  “Hey, Hound—you still alive in there?” the dwarf asked as he poked me with a spear.

  I opened my eyes, giving him a hard look and deciding he was the first one I’d kill. “I’m pleased to see that you are so concerned about my welfare,” I deadpanned. “Tell me, dwarf—what could Mother possibly be paying to keep you i
n her employ?”

  “I like the taste of human flesh,” the dwarf said with a shrug. “Hard to get down here in Underhill. Not unless you’re connected, right? She feeds us well and gives me gold. What more could a dwarf want?”

  “Charming. It seems you found your calling as a cannibal and a thug. Your parents must be so proud.”

  He flipped the spear around and struck me in the jaw with the butt, hard enough to rattle my teeth. “Shut your mouth, you filthy human. I don’t want to hear another peep out of you until we get back to the keep. Then we’ll see how long that smart-alecky attitude lasts.”

  Once left to my own designs, it took but a few minutes to free my hands and feet. When one of the bauchans brought this to the attention of the dwarf, he shrugged, pointing at the runes etched into the cage bars. After inspecting the cage thoroughly, I soon understood the dwarf’s lack of concern.

  Mother had obviously spent considerable time preparing this mobile cell, and I could find no flaw in the negation spell’s construction. That left me no other option but to bide my time and wait. Eventually one of the guards would falter in some manner, dropping their guard and giving me an opportunity to make my escape.

  And if not? In that case, I’d end up in Mother’s dungeons, and not for the first time. However, something told me this visit could very well be my last.

  21

  As the zombies pulled the cart toward my mother’s keep, I did my best to be a thorn in my captors’ sides. I spent a great deal of time grousing and complaining about the sad conditions of the interior of the cart, I complained about the dirty straw, the splinters in the floorboards, the fact that the bars were arranged in such a way as to give a poor view of the passing countryside, and of course, about the fact that I was imprisoned in the first place.

  Of course, this was all an attempt to trick my captors into nearing the cart, so I might grab one of them and pull them close enough to get a weapon, or perhaps a key. Unfortunately, my captors were not falling for it. The more I complained, the more they ignored me. Undeterred, I carried on for several hours until, finally, the dwarf had enough.

  “For the sake of Donn’s dark heart, shut your stinkin’ trap!” the dwarf growled at me from a safe distance of ten feet away.

  “Perhaps I might, if you were to provide me with a bit of sustenance. At this pace, the trip will be a long one. You wouldn’t want to deliver me in poor condition to my mother, would you?”

  “I’d sooner piss on you than give you water or food, Hound. As far as I’m concerned, you’re just another human who oughta’ end up in my belly. So quit your yammering before I decide to cut that smart tongue of yours out. Pretty sure the sorceress could put it back, after she’s done with you.”

  “So be it, then. But remember, dwarf—you had the opportunity to show kindness. Perhaps when the tables are turned, this lack of favor will determine your demise.”

  The dwarf barked a laugh, then he walked off toward the front of the cart, where the buggane and the two bauchans were having difficulty goading along the zombies. It was fortunate they were distracted by their task. While talking to the dwarf, I’d noticed that someone or something was following us—a large, fleeting shadow, showing itself momentarily here and there in the forest along the road. Considering that the cart was nigh impossible for me to open from the inside, I had high hopes that the individual or entity following us was an ally. Thus, I continued to grouse, biding my time until my potential ally revealed himself.

  While the dwarf argued with the two fae about the best way to motivate the undead, I heard movement in the undergrowth on either side of the road. Raising my voice to hopefully conceal the noise, I kept my eyes on my captors to gauge their reactions. Despite my best efforts at distraction, the fae had also heard the noise, and each swiveled their heads back and forth in an attempt to spot the persons or creatures who approached.

  “Show yourself,” the dwarf said as he fingered the hilt of the short sword at his waist. “Else I might decide to run you through, and ask questions later.”

  One of the bauchans was apparently a magic-user, albeit of doubtful provenance. That said, he managed to conjure a sizable fireball that hovered over his open palm as he eyed the bushes along the road. After several seconds, the two hellhounds that Hemi had charmed loped out of the underbrush.

  “Eh, it’s just those dopey mutts,” the magic-user said.

  “What the hell are they doing out here?” the dwarf asked as he stroked his beard. He whistled at the hounds, slapping his thigh as he beckoned them to approach. “Heel!”

  Instead of obeying his command, the dogs backed away a step. Each growled at the dwarf with teeth bared, their ears pinned back to their heads. While the hounds provided a distraction, a large shadow flitted through the woods down the road, closing on our location. Whoever it was, they were obviously attempting to flank Mother’s thugs while they were occupied with the hellhounds.

  “What’s gotten into them?” one of the bauchans asked.

  “No idea, and I don’t like it,” the dwarf replied as he pulled a long, cruel-looking barbed whip from his belt. He snapped it in the air, the loud crack reverberating as it echoed between the tall tree-like mushrooms on either side of the road. “Enough of that shit—I said heel!”

  The hellhounds were having none of it, and both continued to snarl and growl, now inching closer to the cluster of fae and zombies who stood at the front of the cart.

  “We don’t have time for this,” the magic-user said. “If I blast one of them, do you think the sorceress would be mad?”

  “Oh no, not at all,” the dwarf said. “It’s not like it didn’t take years to train these cur. Hell, she’d probably give you a promotion for culling her pack.”

  “You think?” The magic-user said, without a hint of irony in his voice.

  “No, dipshit. She’ll fucking skin you if you kill her damned hounds. But hell if I’m going to let one eat me,” the dwarf replied.

  “Things seem to be getting interesting out there,” I called through the bars of my cage. “Are you certain you don’t want my assistance?”

  “Shut it, Hound,” the dwarf snarled, keeping his eyes on the more immediate threat. He cracked his whip at the pair of Cŵn Annwn again. “I said heel, dammit, or I swear I’ll cut you mutts down and skin you myself.”

  Again, the hellhounds failed to obey. They continued their slow advance on my captors, who now had weapons drawn and magic ready to bear. Up the road, I saw a very tall, bulky shadow detach itself from the tree line no more than twenty feet away. The shadow figure began to shift and change as it sprinted toward us, breaking out in strange patterns of blue light all over its upper body and face as the dark mists that concealed him vanished.

  The Maori. It’s about damned time.

  Before the fae knew what was happening, Hemi was in their midst spinning a short, paddle-shaped club in dizzying patterns. Attacking from a position of surprise, he struck the magic-user from behind. Blood sprayed in a fine mist as the edge of the club sank deep into the skull of the hapless fae. The bauchan fell instantly, eyes rolled back as he slumped to the ground, white bone and gray matter exposed where the mere had done its grisly work.

  The dogs attacked at that moment—one going for the buggane and the other leaping at the dwarf. Bugganes were known to be dull, dimwitted creatures, but they were dangerous combatants. This one sidestepped and cuffed the hound across its snout, spinning as it struck the rear haunch of the hound with a thick wooden club. The hellhound yelped and skittered away, just quick enough to evade the buggane’s follow-up attack.

  The dwarf proved to be a craftier fighter, diving under the other hellhound’s leap, which caused it to miss and land on a zombie. As the 600-pound bulk of the hellhound fell full on the undead thing, the sound of bones cracking echoed loudly. The zombie moaned as it attempted to fight back, only to be silenced as the hound ripped its head off. But with the beast now distracted, the dwarf had a clean shot at the hellh
ound’s back.

  Unfortunately, he did not count for the Maori. Hemi grabbed a tennis ball-sized rock from the ground, spinning before releasing it at the dwarf’s head with blinding speed. The projectile flew like a rocket, hitting the fae on the back of his skull with a sickening crack. The dwarf slumped bonelessly to the ground, only to be pounced on by the very hellhound he meant to slay.

  Two left.

  Hemi glanced back and forth between the buggane and the other fae, who was now bouncing lightly on his toes with a long poniard in one hand and a rapier in the other. The Maori warrior sneered at the bauchan’s weapons, then he turned and struck the buggane on the side of his neck with the jade club.

  This had some effect, but likely not what Hemi had expected. The buggane staggered and quickly recovered, spinning to face this new attacker. As the large, hairy creature did so, the hound that it had struck dove forward, latching on to its lower left leg and shaking it like a bone. The buggane roared in pain and fury, but he maintained his composure, as they were hardy creatures. It swung its club at the hound’s head, but failed to achieve more than a glancing blow as the hound continued to jockey for position, pulling the buggane off balance.

  Hemi took that opportunity to leap forward, punching the buggane in the throat with his free hand. This attack proved much more effective, causing the great hairy beast to clutch at its neck, eyes bugging out as it struggled to breathe. Hemi spun the jade club on its lanyard, twirling it like a helicopter blade before striking the buggane three times in rapid succession around its face and head. By the time he was finished, the monster’s facial features were a bloodied, pulped mass. It fell to the ground, at which point the hell hound leapt at its neck, finishing the job.

  “Look out!” I cried from my helpless position inside the cage.