James West - Shadow and Steel

Adham’s father, Kian Valera, had seldom spoken of the abilities he had briefly held after being exposed to the shattered Well of Creation-but then, how often did a man need to hear the tale of bringing the dead back to life, before it stuck fast in his mind? Somehow Adu’lin, and maybe others, had gained the same ability for healing, despite being half a world away from the Qaharadin Marshes and that forgotten temple, which had protected a secret never meant for humankind to uncover.

A mystery of which I’ll never learn the truth , Adham thought now, raising his head to look at his companions. All the remaining Brothers were bound and blindfolded, unlike himself. He guessed Adu’lin wanted to torture him with the illusion that, if he tried hard enough, freedom might be attainable. The presence of armed Fauthians ensured that if he tried to escape, however, he would not get far.

I have lived a good and long life , Adham told himself. If it ends here and now, I am ready . He eyed Adu’lin standing beyond the ring of pillars, speaking in a quiet voice to some of his men, and vowed he would not die alone.

Adu’lin approached. “My men have caught those you freed.”

“You are a poor liar,” Adham scoffed. “Had you captured them, they would be here, with the rest of us.”

“Had they not fought,” Adu’lin countered, “you would be correct. But fight they did, bravely, ruthlessly … futilely . A pity none survived.”

At this, a few of the trussed Brothers gasped.

“You lie,” Adham said again, but with less conviction.

He had hoped Ulmek and the others would get to their weapons, and then return to teach these spawn of serpents a brutal lesson in the arts of war. But some hours had passed with no sound of fighting, and no alarms raised. He imagined Ulmek’s stony features gone slack in death, and his throat clenched.

“Believe what you will,” Adu’lin said. “The truth will become known to you soon enough, after I finish what I began this night. I think you will find it-”

At that moment, a guard glided near and spoke urgently into Adu’lin’s ear. The Fauthian leader’s face contorted for the barest instant, then smoothed to its usual bored indifference. No matter what mask he wore, Adham knew something troubled him deeply.

Adu’lin spun away, taking the guard with him, and signaling others to join him. Adham strained to hear, but could only make out some concern about a throat, or some such. Adham hoped the throat they were speaking of was a Fauthian’s, and that it had been cut.

Adu’lin sent his men off with a word, and moved deeper into the shadows. He spread his arms and bowed his head, like a priest of old honoring a god, and began muttering under his breath. Adham felt the hairs on the back of his neck stir, and a breath of damp ice teased over his flesh, as the words became clear.

From the darkness between the stars,

Came He, the Lord of Light,

To deliver peace and safety upon all lands.

Praise the Faceless One,

He who suffers the unworthy.

Praise the Faceless One,

He who blesses the contemptible.

Bow to His wisdom,

Bow to His righteous judgment.

Praise be to the Merciful One,

Praise be to the Lord of Light and Shadow.

After a few moments, Adu’lin ceased his supplications, and returned. He grinned down at Adham, revealing a malevolence that Adham had never before seen on the man’s face. From a leather purse hanging at his hip, he produced a handful of cords. From each hung a stone of protection. “As I was saying, Izutarian, I think you will find what I have in store for you and your companions enlightening .”

With the Faceless One’s cruel laughter hounding him, Leitos rushed across the plane, its surface erupting with fire and crawling with demonic spirits. He ran as hard and fast as he had ever run in his life.

As in coming, he seemed to travel no distance at all, though he could make out the archway where he had left Belina, and that azure glow guided him. And then he saw a feminine silhouette emerge from the light, and come straight for him.

“Go back!” he cried, waving his arms. She did not heed him.

He cut off when a great arc of twisting flame rose between them. From its highest point, some steaming, pestilent liquid began raining down.

Leitos slid to a halt, searching for a way around, but in every direction leaped roiling flames, and from those fires oozed terrible creatures of mist and shadow.

Seeing no other way, he ducked his head and ran into the ghastly deluge. Hot drops splattered over him, reeking of sickness. He gagged, bent over and retched a thin drool of spittle, but never did he cease going forward.

The tacky rain fell harder, forcing Leitos to squint. Where that fluid touched bare skin, a burning itch spread outward, until it seemed that he had been flayed from head to toe with stinging nettles. The stench intensified, stealing his breath, blurring his vision. And still he ran, a slogging shamble where every step seemed to stick to the ground, before pulling free.

Without warning, he burst through the other side of the rain, staggering, his skin afire. He swiped a hand across his eyes, fearing he would go blind if even one drop of that damnable wetness dripped in them.

Suddenly remembering Belina, he cast about. Instead of Belina, came the last woman he had ever expected to see. He told himself that her presence was impossible, but in this place of infinity, the domain of the Faceless One, who could say what laws could be bent, or shattered entirely? It struck him that none of this was real, and that she was but an apparition, a memory plucked from his dreams and placed here, in this realm of nightmares. A single thing bound all those ideas together, and that was the guilt he felt, now and forever, for killing her.

She loomed closer, green eyes ablaze with unforgiving malice, her face as beautiful as he remembered.

“Zera,” he gasped, “I am sorry.”

Her sword, rising to strike, paused, and a look of shock crawled over her features. “Dare not speak that name,” she hissed, the tone of her voice different than he remembered.

Leitos snapped his eyes shut, then opened them. This young woman before him resembled his first and only love, but she was not Zera. She had not her years, and by her garb and the long bow slung across her back, she was Yatoan. A mingling of disappointment and relief flooded him. “We have to get out of here,” he said.

The girl smiled darkly. “Only one of us will leave.”

“What?” Leitos said, alarmed. He took a careful step back, glanced over his shoulder to find Mahk’lar gathering like a great knot of entwined serpents, growing more numerous within that arc of fire and venomous rain.

“If we do not flee,” he said urgently, looking back at her, “we will die. We can deal with your concerns later, once we are free.”

“You are my sole concern, Leitos,” she said. “And by that, I mean your death is all that matters to me.”

One moment she stood rigid, the tip of her sword aimed at his heart, the next she swept in for the kill, her flashing blade alight with a thousand flames, her grace making Ulmek’s poise and skill seem clumsy by comparison.

Her first strike slashed toward his neck, and he leaned out of reach, barely. The tip nicked the skin of his throat. She reversed her swing with a flourish, and again her blade cut him, leaving a shallow scratch along his raised forearm.

“Where is Belina?” Leitos demanded, thinking to distract the crazed girl with what must be a familiar name.