James Maxey - Greatshadow

Except, alas, it wasn’t.

“As much as I hate to ruin this moment, the world might come to a fiery end if we don’t go kill Greatshadow’s spirit,” I whispered.

“The world can wait,” she replied, as she placed her hand in my tangled hair and drew my mouth to hers once more.

Fortunately, she’d left the bone-handled knife in the dragon’s blood. For the events which followed, it was useful to be in full, unmuted possession of all my senses, and to have a heart free to pump blood to wherever it was needed.

As we kissed, her gentle fingers slowly pulled away the damaged rags that had once been my shirt. My own fingers slipped into the strained seams of her gown and completed the tearing, freeing her from her silken confinement.

And then…

And then…

And then…

Shall I tell you how she looked, bare beneath me, the body of an angel wearing the grin of a devil, hungry for pleasure? Shall I tell you of the noises that came from deep within her, the guttural growls, the sibilant songs, the barely-voiced moans as my mouth fell against her skin? Shall I tell you how she tasted, all sweetness and salt, of the wine that was her sweat and spit and tears? Or how she smelled, like earth, like ocean, like sunlight, a symphony of aromas where every scent note built to a perfect crescendo?

And shall I tell you how she felt? Do I even possess the vocabulary to describe the smooth, slick landscape of her body, the warm terrain so full of curves and creases, the silken softness overlaying muscle and bone of breathtaking artfulness? Can I possibly find the vocabulary to describe the magic of feeling her heart beating as I pressed my lips against her throat, the steady thump, thump, thump a drum beating out a single message of life, life, life, so elegant and simple it moved me to tears?

No. No, I don’t believe I can tell you of these things, and I don’t believe that I should.

But they happened all the same.

Since I cannot tell you about the unspeaking wonder of the moments that followed my reunion with Infidel, allow me to fill you in on what was occurring back in the real world with Relic and Zetetic. While I wasn’t personally witness to these events, I have since learned enough to reconstruct the moment: Zetetic and Relic had freed the Gloryhammer from where it was partially trapped beneath freshly cooling lava. I had wondered if the Gloryhammer would vanish like Tower’s armor, but apparently it was a far older creation, an enchanted weapon with a history dating back centuries, and Zetetic recounted this history to Relic with his usual enthusiasm for obscure magical lore.

As they spoke, Zetetic and Relic retreated to a perch atop Greatshadow’s skull, which rose like a little island from the lava plane. They amused themselves for a time by pulling possessions out of Tower’s sketchbook, including the Immaculate Attire, which Zetetic used as a seat on the still-hot skull. Several more slices of cake in various flavors were also retrieved, which they devoured with gusto.

As daylight faded they passed the time speculating as to what was happening elsewhere. For instance, Zetetic put forth the theory the fire Greatshadow had started in the monastery must have been brought under control, even though the last bolts from Tower’s armor had finally faded away. Some monks had survived, Zetetic argued, since his heart was still beating.

Relic chuckled lowly in response and said, “You never died.”

“I was hanged,” said Zetetic.

“Yes. But your neck didn’t break. You suffocated, and merely passed out.”

“My neck was pure agony for a week after,” said Zetetic. “It certainly felt broken.”

“No doubt you’d injured some ligaments,” said Relic. “But Father Ver knew the truth. When they hung you, the noose was designed to suffocate you without severing your spine. You passed out from asphyxiation, feeling as if you were dying. When you woke up, you were told of your death, though it had never occurred. No monks have ever had to pray to keep you alive. I snatched the truth from Ivory Blade’s mind.”

“Oh,” said Zetetic, then burst out into raucous laughter.

“You’re relieved you need not fear imminent death?”

Zetetic wiped a tear from his eye. “There’s that. But I also appreciate the irony. How appropriate that I should be ensnared with a simple lie.”

They both sat quietly for a while, listening to the crackle of the stone cooling around them, until Zetetic asked, “How are we going to know if Stagger succeeds?”

“We shall know when the world doesn’t end,” said Relic.

“It’s not ending right now.”

“That we know of,” said Relic.

Zetetic nodded, pondering this. Then he said, “Do you think Stagger ever found the she-dragon or the princess?”

“Let us hope not,” said Relic.

“Why?”

“Because the princess would distract him. He would probably try to protect her from danger, which means he might not do what is needed to slay Greatshadow.”

“But maybe he’ll find the she-dragon,” said Zetetic.

Relic sighed. “In that case, the creature is probably chewing his flesh right now.”

And, in a way, he was right, since as my reunion with Infidel unfolded, I became increasingly decorated with bite marks.

But I’m not telling you of such things, am I?

Once we were too exhausted to continue the more athletic portion of our reunion, we wrapped our tenderized bodies in the red cloak, our limbs entangled as we slipped into a dreamy haze in which time lost all grip upon us. Infidel’s face was pressed up against my chest, listening to my heartbeat. She was so still and quiet I thought she’d gone to sleep, until she whispered, “You smell nice.”

I chuckled. “Innocent didn’t think so.”

“Innocent didn’t know what was good for her. You, Stagger, are good for me. I was so lucky to know you.”

“Why are you speaking in the past tense?” I asked.

“You’re still dead, right? That wasn’t just some bad dream?”

My mouth went dry. “It wasn’t a dream,” I whispered. “I am dead. But I never left you; I’ve been with you every moment, haunting the bone-handled knife. And now we can be together forever.”

“Can we?” she asked, sounding skeptical.

“Can’t we?” I asked. “I guess, honestly, I don’t know. I don’t understand how things work here in the spirit world. Maybe there will never be any ending here.”

“But I don’t belong here,” she said. “I’m still alive. At least, I think I am. There’s this… tug… inside me. I feel like my time here is limited. Eventually, I’ll be drawn back to the real world.”

“I understand,” I said. “I wish I could come with you.”

“I don’t see why you can’t, if I can take the knife back. Haunting the blade that killed you. That’s kind of weird.”

“This coming from a woman with a belly full of dragon’s blood.”

Infidel sat up, frowning as she noticed the tangled green ribbons in her long hair. As she worked to unknot them, she said, “The first time I swallowed Verdant’s blood, it was dried up and concentrated. I could feel the power surging through my body. This time, it turned me back to my correct age, but I don’t feel super-strong.” She ran her fingers along a line of hickeys on her neck. “And I’m definitely not invulnerable.”

“Maybe things work differently here. Hopefully you’ll be back to your arm-ripping self when you get home.”

She looked up the slope toward the caldera. “I wish I knew how to get home. The only path I can think of leads straight through Greatshadow. The dragon must know how to travel between the spirit world and the material world, or Zetetic wouldn’t be worried.”

“We still have the Jagged Heart,” I said. “Even with just normal strength, we can take him.”