Paul Crilley - Night of Long Shadows

Not that one presented itself. A wide street opened up below him. The building on the opposite side was over twenty feet away. No way was he making that jump. Cutter cursed himself for not listening to Rowen and buying himself a feather fall charm. She was always saying he would need one.

Cutter pulled out the hammer and turned to face the warforged. It had slowed to a walk and was now only a few arm-lengths in front of Cutter.

“Why are you doing this?” asked Cutter. “What do you want with Rowen?”

“She took something that didn’t belong to her,” said the warforged.

“I’ll find her. She’ll give it back.”

“It is too late for that.” The warforged crossed its arms across its chest, the blades forming a Vunder its chin.

Cutter looked over his shoulder. A skycoach was approaching. Keep him talking, Cutter thought. Maybe there was still a way out of this.

“Who are you?”

“Who am I?” The warforged was silent for a moment, and when it spoke again it was in a soft whisper that caused the hair on the back of Cutter’s neck to rise. “I am the unnamed. I am the fear of darkness. I am the night stalker, the killer of children. I am the will of the Shadow, and I do his bidding.”

Cutter swallowed. The Shadow?

“Enough of this. It is time for you to embrace darkness.”

“Embrace your own darkness.”

Cutter swung his arm with all his might, the hammer coming around in a wide arc. He released the haft, keeping hold of the leather loop. The iron smashed into the warforged’s face, sending it staggering to the side. Without waiting to see what damage he had caused, Cutter turned and leaped into the air, praying that he’d timed this right.

He hadn’t. The skycoach was already drifting past. He stretched out with his free hand and managed to grab hold of the stern as he plummeted through the air. His arm jerked in its socket and the coach lurched downward. He gritted his teeth against the pain, then threw his hammer over the side and grabbed hold of the hull with his other hand. He pulled himself up and flopped over the side, landing on his back. Cutter heard the driver shouting something from up front, but couldn’t hear what he was saying. Nothing complimentary, that was sure.

He pushed himself up against the side of the coach and stared at two young men who were regarding him from their padded seats with looks of irritation.

“Did you see that?”

“I did. No consideration. None at all. He made me spill my wine. You.” One of the men prodded Cutter with his foot-a foot shod in a silk slipper. “How dare you jump into our coach like that. Have you no manners?”

“Of course he doesn’t. Look at him. He’s a brute.”

“Mmm. Quite tasty though, don’t you think?”

“I suppose … in a vulgar kind of way. If that’s your thing.”

“Oh, definitely. If that’s your thing.”

Cutter sat up. “One more word from either of you and you’re over the side.”

“What’s going on back there?” shouted the driver, trying to see over his shoulder and control the coach at the same time.

Cutter ignored him and got to his knees, looking back at the rooftop.

The warforged was dropping through the air straight for him.

Cutter cursed and rolled backward. He pushed the driver aside and grabbed hold of the controls. He yanked them to his chest, pulling the coach into a steep climb.

He almost made it. The warforged slammed into the side of the coach as it climbed upward. The vehicle shuddered, but Cutter managed to hold it steady. He turned and searched frantically for his hammer. It lay at the feet of the two men. Cutter dived for it, but as soon as he released the controls, the warforged’s weight tilted the coach to the side. He rolled with the movement, banging his head against a seat. He saw the driver tumble over the edge of the coach. Cutter hoped he had a feather fall charm on him. His hammer slid along the deck toward his face. His hand shot out to stop it from breaking his nose, and he grabbed hold of the seat to help him to his feet. The warforged was trying to pull itself into the coach, but it had no leverage now that it was listing so far to the side.

The hammer slid along the deck toward Cutter’s face. His hand shot out to stop it from breaking his nose, and he grabbed hold of the seat to pull himself to his feet. The warforged was trying to pull itself into the coach, but it had no leverage with the vehicle listing so far to the side.

Cutter looked frantically for a means of escape. An idea came to him, in the form of the huge tower looming large before him. He took the controls and directed the coach upward, trying to keep it at the same angle so the warforged couldn’t climb in.

Open balconies revealed rooms and shops in the side of the tower, but that wasn’t what he was looking for.

As he rose into the mist, he saw it-a bridge that entered a wide opening in the tower and tunneled inside.

“You!” he called one of the men. “Yes you, you idiot. If you don’t want to die, listen to me carefully. When I jump, grab hold of these controls and hold them tight. Understand?”

“What?” The man looked terrified. “What is that warforged doing?”

Cutter saw glowing white eyes rise over the edge of the coach. Khyber, he swore silently. He had no choice. Now or never.

“Grab the controls!” he shouted. Cutter jumped, kicking the levers forward so the coach dropped nose first into a dive.

The warforged reached out to grab hold of him but was too late. Cutter hit a balcony railing chest first, the breath exploding from his lungs. He couldn’t breathe, let alone hold on. His fingers slipped and he fell backward from the railing.

He closed his eyes, waiting for the back-breaking impact, but it didn’t come. He forced his eyes open, looking to the side. Nothing was moving. He looked the other way and saw a man with a wand pointed at him. He lowered it and Cutter floated gently to the ground.

Cutter staggered to his feet, looking for signs of the war-forged. It was nowhere to be seen. Cutter opened his mouth to thank his rescuer, but only a pained gasp came out. He gave up and simply waved a hand, hurrying along the bridge into the tower.

“Hey!” the man called. “You need to report this to the Watch! I want my reward!”

Cutter ignored him and melted into the safety of the crowds, following the flow of traffic, not knowing or caring where it led him. Just as long as there were people around.

The second day of Long Shadows

Far, the 27th day of Vult, 998

Where did she say it was? I wasn’t paying attention.”

“I noticed. You were too busy watching Savia’s backside.”

“How dare you! I’ll have you know that I value and appreciate Savia as a person.”

“Yes. That must have been why you were trying to see inside her dressing gown every time she bent forward.”

“You saw that, did you? Can you blame me? She’s a fine looking woman. I mean, I know you’re married and a loyal husband, blah-blah-blah, but surely that doesn’t stop you looking. You can still appreciate the form of a beautiful woman. That doesn’t make you unfaithful, does it?”

“Not as such, no.”

“Unless you prefer your females to be the same race as yourself? Although I’ll admit I never thought that of you.”

Torin sighed. “No, Wren. I find females of all races attractive.”

Wren continued as if Torin hadn’t said anything. “I myself find your wife incredibly attractive, and but for the fact that I respect you as a friend, I’d be all over her like a dog in-”

“Here we are!” said Torin loudly, cutting Wren off.