Lawrence Watt-Evans - In the Empire of Shadow

Perhaps, Raven thought later, as he settled to sleep, they should have brought Marks’ body back with them, should have buried the poor man’s remains and returned his flesh to the Goddess as well as his soul-but no one had suggested it, no one had argued, and the rain had begun anew.

Scores of men had lain unburied in the war against Shadow; one more would matter not.

And Raven knew that on the morrow, he might well be yet another.

“That’s it, isn’t it?” Amy asked, pointing.

Raven nodded wearily. “Indeed, ’twould seem to be. Understand you, I’ve not been here until now, I’ve never seen Shadow’s keep ere this, but in truth, that we see before us fits every tale I’ve heard.”

Amy had somehow assumed that Raven must have seen Shadow’s fortress, but of course, there was no reason he should have. She stared, trying to make out more details.

The rain that had fallen off and on for the past two days seemed to have finally stopped for good, but the air was still thick and damp and hazy. She saw a heavy gray structure built around a central tower that rose in uneven steps, with odd jogs and turrets here and there; it resembled a storybook castle rather more than Stormcrack Keep or Castle Regisvert had, but broader and uglier; no one would ever call this thing “soaring” or “graceful.”

She couldn’t make out windows or doors with any certainty, nor those things like teeth that ran along the tops of castle walls; that made it very hard to get a clear idea of the size of the fortress.

“How much farther is it, then?” she asked, glancing down at her aching feet.

“Probably farther than it looks,” Pel said.

Amy, remembering a few long walks through American cities toward buildings that were visible but distant, nodded as she looked around.

This was no city, though; the gray mass of Shadow’s fortress rose from a broad marshy plain that looked almost equally gray. The highway was literally a high way here, a band of yellowish earth built up about two feet above the surrounding reeds and grasses; it was bare, lifeless dirt, no grass or weeds along the verge.

The marshes to either side looked dead, Amy thought; she supposed that was an illusion, that the reeds just weren’t as green as the ones she was used to. The dull light that seeped through the thick overcast didn’t help at all; it seemed to leach the color out of everything. The place reeked of brine and decay, smothering in the warm, dense air.

To the north she could see wooded hills, and perhaps the clouds were thinner there, because the forests were green enough. Looking back, the higher, drier plain behind them wasn’t as drab, either-the trees and the farmers’ fields were green, and even the thatched roofs of the scattered houses, and of the last village they had passed through, were brighter than what lay ahead.

The marsh really was that sick, flat color, she decided, and she remembered how, back on the Downs, Pel had argued that the countryside didn’t look like it was ruled by evil magic.

She didn’t remember even the mud flats of New Jersey being as ugly as this, though-though they did smell worse. “Is this more what you had in mind?” she asked Pel.

“What?” Pel started, and looked puzzled.

“I mean this place-is this the sort of place you’d expect an evil wizard to live?”

Pel glanced at the distant shape of Shadow’s fortress, at the miles of dun marshland.

“Yeah,” he said. “I guess it is.”

It certainly seemed to fit the part to Amy. Maybe most of the rest of the bizarre things that had happened since Captain Cahn’s spaceship fell in her back yard hadn’t fit the stereotypes, but Shadow’s fortress looked just fine as an evil wizard’s castle, even if it wasn’t built in the shape of a skull or anything as silly as that.

“What’s that on the road?” Singer asked, pointing with his good hand.

Amy dropped her gaze from the fortress to the highway, and saw what Singer meant-something dark lay on the road ahead, not moving.

“Someone dropped a pack, maybe,” she suggested.

“Raven?” Susan asked.

The nobleman turned up his palms. “I know no more than do you,” he said.

They trudged onward, but all of them were now moving more cautiously, watching the dark mass on the highway. Amy couldn’t decide if it was black or a very dark gray; the poor light didn’t make it easy to distinguish.

And its color didn’t really matter, anyway.

The thing was about three feet long, she judged, and almost featureless; it looked a little like a huge empty boot, or an irregularly-shaped stovepipe. She had no idea what it was, or what it was doing there-until, when they were perhaps ten feet away, it moved.

It lifted one end and swung it to point at the approaching travelers; the end split open, revealing long rows of sharp white teeth. Amy could still see no eyes, no nostrils, no other features, but the mouth and the teeth were unmistakable. The thing was alive, and hostile.

“A Shadow thing,” Pel said.

“Kill it,” Sawyer said, drawing his blaster.

Raven’s hand dropped to his empty belt; Singer hesitated, hands clutching; Susan shifted her purse but did not reach in.

Valadrakul raised a hand, then paused.

“No magic,” Raven warned him. “Not when Shadow’s keep looms before us.”

Sawyer clicked the trigger of his blaster a couple of times, then turned to stare helplessly at the others.

“Save wizardry, we are unarmed, my lord,” Valadrakul pointed out.

That wasn’t literally true, Amy thought, remembering the pistol in Susan’s purse, but she didn’t correct him; it was close enough to the truth.

Instead, she asked, “Do you think that’s the one that got poor Marks last night?”

“No,” Singer said flatly. He didn’t explain, and after a moment’s hesitation, Amy decided that she didn’t want him to.

For a moment, the nine of them stood in silent confusion; then Ted-Ted Deranian, of all people-marched forward.

“This is stupid,” he said. “It looks like I’m not going to wake up until I get through this whole stupid thing, right up to the showdown, so let’s get on with it. I’m not going to let some stupid refugee from ‘Aliens’ stretch it out.” He walked up to the monster and kicked at it.

“Go on, get out of here,” he said. “You’re in the way.”

The creature twitched away from Ted’s foot, then seemed to hesitate, open jaws wavering.

Then it closed its mouth and slithered away, off the highway and down into the marsh.

“Come on,” Ted said. “Let’s get this over with!” He stamped onward, toward the fortress.

The others, by unspoken common consent, hung back.

“We’re unarmed,” Pel said. “We’re walking into Shadow’s fortress unarmed and out in the open.”

“’Twas your own proposal,” Raven pointed out.

“I know,” Pel said, “and you told me at the time it was a stupid idea, and you were right.” He hesitated, as if trying to gather the will to turn back.

That was too much for Amy. She wanted to get this all over with. If she was going to die, then she would die, and maybe it would serve her right for sending Beth to the gallows, but she wasn’t going to turn back the way Bill Marks had, she wanted to at least face whatever they were up against. “What else are we going to do?” she demanded angrily. “Even if it lets us? Do you want to go back and live in some village where they hang children, Pel? Where no one talks to us? Or go back to Raven’s friends, who don’t have the nerve to work a spell to send us home?” Unconsciously, she rested one hand on her faintly-bulging abdomen.