Jon Sprunk - Shadow's master

She was still smiling. Blood covered her chest, drenching her amulet. The black tower stared up at Caim, the same icon that had been etched into Soloroth's armor. He yanked his knife from her corpse, grabbed their gear, and used the new energy coursing through him to make a proper portal.

Smoke seeped through the seams of the stone walls as Caim emerged from the house. Dray was bent over in the courtyard, coughing. Malig watched the spreading fire with a dull stare. His beard was singed at the bottom.

Caim wiped his hand down his face, and it came away black with soot. His neck and shoulder ached from where Hoek, or whatever he was, had gouged him.

“What happened?” Dray asked when he could breathe.

Malig shook his head. “I had this gods-awful dream. I was lying abed, and someone was talking in my head, but I couldn't move. Then I saw Caim.”

Dray squinted at Caim. “I heard the voice, too. I wanted to kill you.”

Caim saddled his horse. “It's over. Let's move.”

“Where are we going?” Malig asked.

“I've got a plan, of sorts. But you might not like it.”

Malig grunted. “What a sheep-fucking surprise.”

Caim sat by the window of his new room, looking out over the town at the pale cliffs in the distance. After the fire they'd found another boardinghouse, but he hadn't been able to sleep. The influx of energy buzzed inside him.

He flexed his wrists as he watched the dingy gray of twilight slip into full night. His hands had finally stopped shaking, but the feelings inside him remained. He tried not to think about the thing Hoek had turned into and what it meant, or how he would have killed Malig and Dray if his knife-throw hadn't ended Shikari's sorcery. His focus was on the upcoming mission. Kit, if you can hear me, come back. I need you more than ever.

The truth of that had sunk in these past couple days. She was the only person who understood him. She would know what to do, would know if he was just throwing his life away on a hopeless dream. I'll listen to you, Kit. Just please come back.

There was a knock at the door. Dray peered in. “You ready?”

Caim pulled on his cloak and checked his knives. Malig waited in the hallway. Both men carried heavy sacks that smelled of oil and paraffin. Without speaking, they went downstairs and out the back. He'd told them his plan before they retired. Neither of them liked it, but they had as much at stake in this mission as he did. “My brother's shade must be avenged,” Dray had said. Whether it was true or not, he couldn't say no after bringing them this far. They were all damned in this together.

Few people on the street paid them any mind. Caim peered into every nook and shadow, glanced down every alley as they made their way through the maze of stone buildings until they reached the plains. The hills glimmered in the dusk like they were coated in stardust. Caim concentrated on his core, where his powers originated, and suppressed them like he had before. It was more difficult because the new energy inside him wanted to burst free, but he felt better when the sensations subsided. He couldn't say why, except that the citadel unnerved him less with his powers masked.

“Saronna's dugs,” Malig swore when they reached the top of the cliffs. “My da used to tell stories about giants who built castles in the north. I think he must have been right.”

“Keep your mind on the job,” Caim said.

The outer ramparts rose to the sky like a colossal black wave poised over them. Red lanterns shone at the front of the gatehouse. Caim led them east around the curve of the wall, searching for a flaw in the design, but the walls were solid, the massive towers all sloped and positioned to provide enfilading fire. By the time they had hiked nearly a third of the way around the citadel without finding anything they could exploit, Caim halted. Motioning for his crew to stay put, and praying they obeyed for once, he crept forward to a span of the wall where the curvature appeared to form a blind spot where neither of the two nearest towers could view it directly. A quick inspection confirmed his suspicion. Perhaps there had been a gate planned for this section, or an imperfection in the bedrock called for a different configuration. Whatever the reason, he didn't waste time. He hissed for the others to come.

While Dray and Malig uncoiled ropes from their satchels, Caim tied one end to the back of his belt. Then he found his first handholds and started up. The curtain wall was too high for a grapnel, but the gaps between the massive stones were wide enough to provide good purchase. He wedged his fingers into these seams and hoisted himself up, foot by foot. His arms and shoulders began to burn from the exertion, but then he settled into a comfortable rhythm. Scaling the bartizan at the summit was the hardest part. Caim had to dangle by his arms as he searched for the holds around and over the stone projection. He crawled through a crenel and dropped into a crouch on the other side of the battlements. The allure running along the top of the wall was clear in either direction. Caim untied the rope from his belt, secured it around a pointed merlon, and gave a firm tug.

While he waited, Caim studied the citadel from his perch. Erebus was built in three tiers stacked atop each other. The lowest tier-and the broadest-featured long buildings with few windows. The middle ward was divided into neat estates behind low walls. Lofty towers stretched above the walls, straight and smooth, capped with sharp points. All the buildings were built from the same black granite as the slaver town but polished so that every surface gleamed with a silky shine. But he saw no people, no lights in any of the windows, and heard no noise. From his vantage, Caim could have been the only living thing in the citadel.

Wide stairways led to the highest tier. Caim's gaze climbed the smooth, slanting walls of the pyramid that dominated the citadel, and the vision he'd seen in Sybelle's sanctum rushed back to him.

The vantage slowed as it approached a massive structure at the center of the cyclopean city, a pyramidal building of the same black stone. A window yawned in the side of the structure, and Caim's perspective halted before a narrow balcony. A man wrapped in a loose cloak stood looking over the city. Shadows cloaked his face, but his eyes shone with the dark majesty of a new moon. Caim forced himself to meet those haunted eyes without flinching. There was something about him…

Now he was here, gazing upon this place that he had half hoped would turn out to be a figment of a warped imagination. Thoughts rolled through his head, of his father and mother, and the old anger resurfaced.

Caim turned as Dray's head appeared over the battlements. The black-haired Eregoth pulled himself over the top with a sigh, Aemon's spear lashed to his back.

“Fuck me,” Dray said, looking down at the citadel.

When Malig was up, Caim dropped the rope over the inside of the wall and ushered them along. Once they were several fathoms down, Caim started his descent. By the time he reached the ground, Dray and Malig had hidden themselves in the shadow of a building across from the wall. Caim joined them, rolling his shoulders to ease their ache.

“It's damned eerie in here,” Malig grumbled. “Feels like we're in a barrow field.”

“Fucking dark, too,” Dray said.

“We can't risk a light,” Caim said. “So stay close.”

The streets were paved in long bricks of black stone like finely polished onyx, fitted together so closely the seams were almost invisible. It was like walking on a river of glass. There was no refuse in the alleys, no night soil or manure piled in the doorways. Instead of the usual sounds of a city, there was only the mournful howl of the wind through empty streets. Yet as they made their way through the benighted avenues, something lurked on the periphery of Caim's senses. After a few minutes of listening, he heard them. Shadows. Lots of them. But they stayed away.