Eric De Bie - Shadowbane

Kalen spoke without hesitation. “No.”

“No?” Rhett looked startled. “But I thought-”

“You were wrong.” Kalen’s eye fell to Vindicator, to the way the light split in two haphazardly along its length. The sword lay on the other side of the young man. “Go now. Get out of this city while you can.”

“Well.” Rhett looked to the weapon. “Well, I can at least give this back.” He strode to where Vindicator lay gleaming. “I brought the scabbard, too. Thought you might-”

“Wait-” Kalen started, but too late. The boy had already reached for the sword.

Rhett picked up the blade and held it out to Kalen. “What?”

Kalen, who had been staring with wide eyes, drew back. “It doesn’t burn you.”

“Burn me?” Rhett set the light dancing along the surface of the silvery blade-pure and beautiful but for the single flaw that ran down its length. “No. Why would it?”

Abruptly, silver fire bloomed in Vindicator’s depths, rising to shroud the sharpened steel in a plume. Rhett’s eyes grew huge and his mouth fell open. He caught up the sword in both hands, holding it steady. “By Torm!”

“No,” Kalen said, his voice soft. “Not Torm alone.”

Rhett looked up in wonder. “What does this mean?”

“It’s chosen you,” Kalen said. “It-”

He couldn’t see Rhett standing there with the sword. Instead, he saw …

Not again, Eye of Justice , he prayed silently. Not again .

It was then he realized they were not alone.

There, silhouetted in the flames of Vindicator, stood a black figure. The firelight flickered around her-and it was a woman, of that Kalen was certain-as though skirting the edge of a hole in reality. He knew her from Ebbius’s description. She was no drow, no human, but a demon of another world-a creature of the void.

Sithe .

“Boy,” Kalen whispered.

Rhett still gazed with frank astonishment at the burning sword in his hands.

In one hand, Sithe held a long-hafted axe, if axe it could be called. The pitted shard of black metal at the end barely resembled a blade. It was not so much an axe as the purpose of an axe-gruesome, rending doom. She raised her other hand-revealing a gleaming silver vambrace on her arm-and pointed one long finger toward Kalen. He felt the cold weight of infinite hatred descend upon his shoulders. For an instant, nothing in the world existed aside from him, her axe, and his coming death at its edge.

“Boy,” Kalen said, raising his daggers slowly. “Get behind me.”

Rhett looked up at him, confused, then turned his gaze. He hadn’t noticed Sithe until now, just in time to see her lunge toward them, her axe raised high. “Gods!”

Kalen slammed into Rhett and sent them both toppling. The axe chopped down, rending the air itself asunder, and missed his leg by a hair. It tore through his cloak, sending scraps of gray fabric drifting to the ground. Seemingly without effort, Sithe reversed the path of her axe, and Kalen fell back as it tore across an inch over his face. She then whipped the axe upward with both hands and towered over them.

Kalen let himself fall and lashed out with his feet, catching Sithe in the midsection. As she staggered back, he leaped to his feet. He brandished his daggers as she whirled the axe over her head. Her eyes might have been polished obsidian for all they revealed.

“Stay back, boy,” Kalen said. “This one is far beyond you.”

The black eyes shot over Kalen’s shoulder then, drawn to a silver brand of flame.

Rhett stepped to Kalen’s side, his shield ready, Vindicator burning in one hand. “Perhaps she’s beyond me,” he said. “But she’s none too pleased to see the sword.”

Kalen looked again at Sithe, whose eyes indeed seemed to be locked on Vindicator. “That isn’t fear,” he said. “It’s hunger.”

“You’re sure?” Rhett took half a step back. “I was hoping for hesitation, at least.”

Sithe spun the axe behind her head and held it with both hands over her shoulders. In Vindicator’s light, she was slim-petite, even. She couldn’t possibly be strong enough to sweep that axe around so quickly. Indeed, her fighting style was less about strength and skill and more about intuitive flow-she simply knew how and when to move. And there was not the slightest shred of doubt in her empty eyes. Indeed, there was nothing in them.

“What are you waiting for?” Rhett stepped forward, his sword held high.

“Wait-” Kalen said.

Rhett slashed down at Sithe, who vanished as though she had ceased to exist. The air sucked inward where she had been standing, making Rhett stagger. He glanced around quickly, but she was gone.

“Is that all?” Rhett looked down at Vindicator. “That’s some kind of sword.”

“Steel ready.” Kalen looked all around but could not see her in the twilight. He cast his blades about, waiting until-

— Sithe reappeared, right behind him, her axe sweeping down.

Kalen dodged, but the axe slammed into one of his daggers, knocking it skittering down the alley. The woman stepped after him, whipping her axe across in a blow that would have taken his head from his shoulders had he not ducked.

“Have at you!” Rhett lunged, but she stepped past him as though his attack had never happened. Vindicator passed within an inch of her head. Unhindered-Sithe came toward Kalen.

He had no chance to block her axe, so he danced back, but not far enough to dodge entirely. The axe swept across his leather hauberk, trailing a wake of blood. He could feel the pain, which meant that the chest cut was a wicked blow that should have put him down. Sithe’s eyes fixed on Kalen as if to assure him that the next strike would.

“Unlikely.” Kalen lunged into Sithe’s reach and caught hold of the axe. She twisted the haft of the axe out of his hands and wove a circle between them.

He aimed a thrust at her face, but his remaining dagger clanged loudly off Sithe’s axe and bounced off down the alley. The blade had been a feint, anyway. With his free hand, Kalen tossed a vial of alchemist’s fire from his belt toward her. It shattered against the spinning axe, sending a wave of flame through her defense.

Sithe staggered back, the flames illumining her wiry body wrapped in loose black silks. It might have been a human body, but for the black skin and pulsing lines of darkness that traced her flesh like runes. The fire set these lines sparkling and glinted off a medallion that hung around her neck-a round onyx medallion encircled in a purple ring.

Gods. The emblem of Shar , goddess of darkness and of loss.

Kalen lunged forward and grasped the smoking axe haft. He meant to wrench it away, but she held it firmly. “What are you?” he asked.

Sithe gazed into his eyes but did not react. They stood there, both trying to wrest the axe from the other. They were matched in strength.

“Fight me, damn it!” Rhett said.

Vindicator swept through the air, but the silver blade skipped off a wave of darkness that manifested around Sithe like a shield. The woman swayed aside as though her dodge was how she had meant to move in the first place. If anything, Rhett’s strike put her in a better position and the distraction cost Kalen his inside advantage.

“Boy, I said get back !”

Rhett stepped between them, interposing his shield and the silver flame of Vindicator. “Torm burn you, Daughter of Darkness,” he said. “You will fight me or-”

Flame flared from the sword toward Sithe and encircled her-a halo of divine radiance. The dark woman took a step back, inspecting the holy magic. She looked as though she understood it better than Rhett did.

Rhett pointed the sword at Sithe. “Torm shall smite you, Scion of Demons!”