Erik de Bie: Downshadow

"Move, citizens!" he cried. "Waterdhavian Guard! Stand aside!"

That might not have been the best cry, for several lumbering forms-stirred by anger against that very organization-moved to block his path.

"Damn." Kalen bent his aching legs and sprang up.

His boots carried him up and over the intervening figures, following Rath. He landed badly and stumbled to the cavern floor, face first. Vindicator slipped free, but he recovered it in a roll to his feet. He charged after Rath, who was heading along the corridors toward the Grim Statue. Not attacking-just fleeing. Luring him.

Gods, Kalen thought-was he going toward the place where he'd hidden Fayne and Myrin?

Kalen burst into the plaza just as the statue's hands started glowing. He saw Rath standing before the statue, smiling. The dwarf sheathed his sword and spread his hands.

Whatever Downshadowers had been chasing them stopped at the edge of the cursed plaza, loathe to run into a trap.

With a grunt, Kalen charged.

The first lightning bolt was easy enough to dodge by rolling, but the second came too quickly. He tried to deflect it with Vindicator as before. Fortunately, the blast was at a sharp angle, and the bolt bounced from the enchanted steel into the ground, there to be absorbed harmlessly. The force drove Kalen to his knees, and he threw himself behind a boulder, panting.

"Come, then." Rath stood atop the headless statue. "I wonder if you'll be in time."

Rath leaped up, and Kalen watched as he vanished into the air, as though entering a pocket in the darkness above the statue's head. He saw the shadows wavering, and knew the dwarf had found a portal of some kind. But where did it lead, and how long would it stay open?

Though he knew it was a trap, he had no choice.

Kalen darted out from behind cover. He dodged a lightning bolt with a roll, then leaped over a second blast to grasp the statue's wrist. The figure's heat caused his hairs to rise as lightning gathered, but his eyes stayed on the unseen portal above its head.

He jumped and prayed it was yet open.

Lightning flashed.

Raien felt a sense of incredible space, as though he had been trapped somewhere cramped and now floated in the open sky. His mind reeled and he wavered on his feet.

Something hit him while he was dazed from his journey. He felt it coming only an instant before it struck and grasped the nearby wall by instinct.

Two feet collided with his face like the lance of a charging jouster. The force sent him arching back, and pain stabbed through his arm as he foughr to retain his hold. His helm shrieked as it tore free of his head and flew off, out into the Waterdeep night.

Rain lashed him as he hung weightless over empty space. He saw the lights of Waterdeep far below, and what could only be the palace roof. He realized the portal had led to the small chamber at the top of the Timehands, the great clock tower.

The temptation rose in him to let go-to sail off into the night and fall like an angel with broken wings. He was tired and beaten, choking with spellplague. The strength it lent him was fading, and soon, he would die. Why not let go? If he hung on, he would hurt more.

He hung on.

He swung into the tower, both feet leading, and kicked only air. He landed on his back with a crack that sent Shockwaves through his insides, below his numbed flesh. Broken and bruised bones, he could feel.

He lay there and listened to the loud, deliberate clicks of the clock mechanisms working all around him. Without his helmet, the noise was so loud he could barely think. His heart beat countless times between each click. He vaguely saw an open stairwell, where candlelight filtered up.

Up, he thought-up. Up.

He spat blood onto the floor and hefted himself to a sitting position. He looked everywhere for his assailant, but Rath must have vanished into the shadows. Waiting.

Kalen expected the dwarf to strike at any instant, but nothing happened. He climbed to his knees, ignoring the complaints from every ounce of his flesh, aching for him to lie down.

"Why don't you come?" he murmured. "Here I am. Waiting."

But he knew the answer. The dwarf didn't want to kill him on his knees.

Up-up.

Kalen swung one foot flat onto the floor. He could feel nothing in his body. His arms and legs were dead wood to him and moved only accidentally. He had nothing left.

"Kalen?" said a voice, cutting through the chamber. Myrin. "Kalen, can you hear me?"

He murmured something that might have been "aye."

"I'm here! Please! Come-" Then Myrin seemed to realize, and he heard her strangled gasp. "No! No-go away! Leave me here! Begone!"

Kalen paused, thinking perhaps Rath had seized her, but then he saw the girl. Tiny blue runes glowed like candles on her skin. He pushed Vindicator in her direction and saw that she was alone, curled up against a corner of the clock room. Runes glowed beneath her eyes, which glittered in the swordlight. He stood and limped to her, fighting to move every pace.

Myrin shook her head, pleading with her eyes that he turn away. He kept coming, though it would kill him. When she saw he would not stop, she sobbed incoherently.

He reached her side and set Vindicator on the floor. He wrapped his dead arms around her and rested his bloody chin on her shoulder. She was shivering.

"Peace," he whispered, shocked at how hoarse his voice sounded.

"It was Fayne!" Myrin moaned. "She said-she said such horrible, horrible things." She shivered. "Oh, gods, Kalen! I'm-gods, all those people!"

"Peace."

"But you don't understand. I'm sick! I'm carrying something that-Fayne said-"

"Stop." Kalen put his fingers across her lips. "Fayne lied."

Myrin stared at him, dumbstruck and frightened and wrathful all at once. Her eyes pooled with tears, and Kalen could see blue flames deep within them.

"Truly?" Myrin asked. "Oh, Kalen-truly?"

Even as Shadowbane, Kalen Dren had never lied. Deceived, yes. Left words unspoken, yes. But flatly lied? Would he be lying to Myrin in that moment? He did not know.

"Yes," he said.

Myrin turned in his arms-held him as tightly as her thin limbs could-and kissed him.

To Kalen, she felt like fire-a wrenching, sucking fire that drained his body. He gagged, breaking the kiss, knowing he would die in that instant. Myrin just held him, weeping.

Then, something returned to him. Life, vitality, strength-it was like healing magic, but painful, and it was pain he could truly feel. He couldn't speak-couldn't think-just held Myrin as she held him, weeping and sobbing. Everything else faded, leaving them the only beings in an empty world.

Then it was over, and they were just holding one another, alone in a tiny chamber at the top of the grandest city in the world. A great sense of space spiraled around them, and Kalen felt weak and vulnerable and very small indeed. But he was strong enough for Myrin.

Kalen pressed her head against his chest, holding her as she sobbed, and fancied that he could feel her hot tears soaking through his clothes. Or was that only phantom feeling?

"How touching." Rath appeared around the clock apparatus. He held his thin sword wide. "And now that you're on your feet, I can kill you."

Kalen let go of Myrin and directed her back to the wall. She didn't move. "Myrin," he said. He could barely manage a whisper. "No," she said and rose to her feet. "You're not hurting him."

Rath shrugged. He pulled something from his belt. A grayish white stick of wood. "I told you I would not kill you, girl," he said. "But there would be consequences to your-"

Myrin thrust out her hand and the wand wrenched itself from Rath's grasp. It flew between her fingers and crackled with magic. "Begone!" she cried.