David Dalglish - A Dance of Shadows

“Don’t cry, Nathan,” Stephen said, a second bolt readied in the crossbow and aimed straight at him. “I know you’re young, but you’re a bright child, a wise child. I think you’re ready for this, ready to see the ugly truth behind the lies of this world.”

A tear ran down Alyssa’s face. She could see her son crouched on his bed, struggling not to cry. His entire body quivered with fear. A fresh wave of seething hatred flushed through Alyssa, and she tried to stand, to move her disobedient limbs. Still nothing.

“Don’t hurt her,” she heard her son whimper.

“Shush now,” Stephen said, lowering the crossbow. Odd as it was, it seemed as if he meant the comforting words he spoke. “I didn’t say this would be easy. But this must be done. It must . Do you love your grandmother, Nathan?”

Nathaniel glanced at her, their eyes meeting. The terror there was so deep, but he was still fighting, still trying to think of what to do and what to say. She’d never felt more proud, and her heart ached with the thought that she’d never see what type of man he’d become.

“Yes,” he said.

“I love her too,” Stephen said. He straddled Alyssa’s waist while on his knees. The crossbow he placed beside him, and from his pocket he pulled out a slender knife. He leaned close to Alyssa, peering down at her with heavily painted eyes. The wig hung loose from his head, and at such a close distance, she could see flakes of dead flesh.

“I love her more than your mother does,” he continued. “More than anyone ever has. Yet do you know what your grandfather did? Do you know what he put her through?”

Alyssa thought of the story she’d been told, of Maynard giving Melody over to Leon’s gentle touchers. She tried to make the connection, to understand.

“You don’t know,” Stephen whispered, leaning closer so that their noses touched. “You’re trying, but you don’t know. Leon loved her, just like I loved her, but he couldn’t do anything. How’d you put it? Your father would have killed my father if he’d found out? Such a sick man. Sick! And do you know what’s worse, Nathan?”

He glanced at her son.

“Your grandfather paid for your grandmother to be tortured. Paid like she was just another common whore needing to be put in her place. Do you know how much he paid?”

Alyssa’s terror deepened. She knew the amount, knew it before the words even left Stephen’s lips.

“Two gold, and two silver.”

The knife slipped closer, pressing against the underside of her left eye. Panic flushed her mind, but she couldn’t move, couldn’t move…

She looked to her son, knew it was the last time she’d ever see him.

The knife pushed in, twisted, cut. The pain was white-hot, and she felt tears and blood pour down her face. With a plop the eye came free, and Stephen held it in his soft, delicate hand. Nathaniel let out a cry, and Stephen whirled on him with a fury.

“You watch!” he cried. “Damn you, you little child, you watch! They left me in darkness when I was your age, just like they left her. I had to listen to her screams as they tortured her, sticking her with their pins like it was all a game.”

“Mom,” Nathaniel said, face red, nose and eyes running. She wanted to go to him, wanted to hold him. But Stephen was not yet done.

“Darkness,” he said, turning back. He was speaking to her now, not her son. He twisted the bolt back and forth in her chest, just to make sure it still hurt. “Years and years in darkness, always alone but for Melody’s beautiful songs. You don’t deserve her, not now, not ever. She’ll be mine, just mine.”

In went the knife. Her vision swirled with a brief rainbow of colors that slowly drained away, becoming nothing but black streaked with orange and red that throbbed with the beating of her heart and the horrible spikes of pain. Drool spread down her lips as she struggled to speak, to say anything, as she heard Nathaniel’s sobs.

Hot breath blew against her ear.

“I should leave you like this,” Stephen whispered. “Put you in my dungeon to rot. I still have my gentle touchers. They could spend years on you, years without running out of new ways to…”

Alyssa heard a gasp, followed by a heavy thud.

“You bastard!” Stephen cried.

It was too horrible, not knowing what was happening. Had Nathaniel attacked Stephen? She heard a sharp intake of air, and then something hit a wall.

“How dare you strike me?” Stephen asked. Her son had defended her, it had to be.

“Don’t,” she pleaded. The words came out a slurred moan, but it seemed to steal Stephen’s attention back to her.

“Don’t?” he asked. “Don’t what? Your son struck me, woman. Blessed as he is, I think he needs to learn his place.”

“I’ll scream,” she heard Nathaniel say.

“Scream, and I cut your throat to silence it. Your choice.”

If Lord Gandrem heard, or Melody, what would happen? Would he kill them, or would they talk him down? Alyssa didn’t know, didn’t want to know, but it seemed her son was braver than that. He let out a single bloodcurdling scream, at such a high pitch and volume that it pierced the night like a siren.

“Damn it, stop!” Stephen said. She waited for the killing blow, but before it came, something heavy blasted open the door, and then Stephen let out a cry. An object, perhaps a body, slammed against a wall. She heard the sound of metal, then a cracking of a bone.

“How dare you?” she heard Zusa ask. “Where is Laerek? Where is your master hiding?”

Stephen let out a moan, and it ended abruptly with a wet smack.

“Where!”

“He… he’s waiting for me by Eddleton’s.”

“What street?”

“Songbird!” Stephen cried.

Alyssa heard crying, and then she felt a soft hand take hers. It trembled. Despite the poison, she gently curled her fingers about it, the weakest support she could offer. Nathaniel’s face pressed against her chest, then lifted back, no doubt as he realized how close he was to the arrow still embedded there.

With an abruptness that startled her, Stephen’s cries came to a halt.

“Alyssa,” she heard Zusa say, and then wrapped hands touched her face. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I never should have left you.”

“Zusa,” Alyssa managed to say, but that was it.

Lips kissed hers, and then out came the arrow. Her scream was a pathetic whisper of air exiting her lungs.

More movement at the door, plus a surprised gasp.

“What insanity is this?” asked John’s booming voice. “Oh gods… Alyssa! Stephen!”

“You’re safe now,” Zusa whispered hurriedly into her ear. “He’s dead, but one monster still runs loose. I have to find him. Please understand, I have to.”

Zusa left her. More voices, more people, cries for a priest or a healer. Nathaniel stayed pressed against her through it all. At some point Melody arrived, her sharp feminine cry easily discernible.

“Stephen!” she heard Melody say. “Alyssa! Oh you dear, you poor dear…”

Nathaniel clutched her tighter. Despite the soothing words, and her mother’s hand brushing against her forehead while she whispered comfort, all Alyssa could think of was Zusa’s absence, and how it had been Stephen’s name Melody cried first upon seeing the bloody carnage, not hers.

Haern dragged the unconscious Bloodcraft through the alleys, knowing it would only be a matter of time before the city guard arrived to investigate the noise and chaos that had been their battle. And despite his trust in Antonil, Haern didn’t want the city guard to be the ones to discover the name he sought. No, he wanted that for himself. Whoever it was had made things personal in attacking the Eschaton, and he’d deal with them personally in return.