Eric De Bie - Shadowbane

“A darkness,” Myrin murmured. “A darkness where there is only me …”

Kalen recognized his own mantra. She must have heard him utter it-or seen it in his memory. Looking at her now, he thought he had never before met Myrin-not truly.

Blood dripped from her nose and muck caked her blue hair. Myrin groped for her wand and her fingers caught at the tip of it.

A heavy boot fell on the wand and snapped it with a great crack. Startled, Myrin peered up at Eden, who promptly kicked her in the face. Blood and spittle flew. Myrin rolled onto her back, coughing and wheezing.

“See what becomes of the Lady’s enemies!” Eden cried to her followers in the common hall. “The power of the goddess is mine alone, now and forever!”

The assembled zealots raised their hands in salute and cried out her name.

Blades or no, Kalen was going in there. He stepped forward, but Sithe stayed him with a hand on his arm. “Wait,” she said.

“Eden’s going to kill her,” Kalen hissed.

“That woman is stronger than either of us,” Sithe said. “Wait.”

Sure enough, the blue-haired wizard was getting to her knees. Her runes were diminished, her hair tangled, and her clothes ruined, but her eyes burned.

Eden strode forward and kicked her in the belly, putting her back down.

“Ha,” Myrin said, coughing-and laughing. “Is that all? Ha ha!”

“You laugh?” Eden bent low. “Can you even stand , you useless chit of a girl?”

“Nay.” Myrin spat blood. “But I’ve fought you and hurt you badly. And if a useless chit of a girl can do it, how long do you think you’ll last, Queen Eden?”

She reached up and her fingers trailed across Eden’s brow. They lit, Kalen saw, with blue runes. Eden looked momentarily dazed, then shook it away.

“Longer than you, at least.” Eden stood and raised her flail.

Gold light burst in the air between them and the priestess faltered in her killing strike. The gathered thugs drew back, awe written on their faces.

“What?” Eden asked. “No. It’s not-no!”

Gold light swirled around Myrin’s limbs, soothing her aches, erasing her bruises, and closing her wounds. This power was not arcane but divine: Tymora’s power.

“ I am your daughter, not her,” Eden said, her eyes wide. “Not her, goddess!”

When it was ended, Myrin stood once more, the marks of battle gone, as though they had never been. Her eyes opened and she smiled like Tymora herself. “I have a demon to kill,” she said to Eden. “Go rule your little city.”

The priestess backed away, her lip trembling. The flail fell from her limp hand. She uttered a strangled cry and fled. Faces uncertain, her men poured out behind her.

Myrin stood alone, tingling with golden light, rocking on her feet. Kalen dashed forward and caught her before she could sway over and fall.

“Thanks,” Myrin said, pressing her face into his chest. “I’m just glad that worked. I don’t think I could manage to take any more of that godsburned flail.”

“That-that was-”

“What?” Myrin looked up at him-for approval or challenge. “What was it?”

Finally, seeing Sithe watching, Kalen could collect his thoughts.

“That was utterly stupid, ” Kalen said. “That was your plan? Defeating her by letting her beat you almost to death? Amazingly stupid.”

“Oh, was it?” Myrin pulled away and crossed her arms. She gave him a pointed and defiant look. “I learned from the best, you know.”

“That’s an exaggeration.”

“ ‘Oh, no-danger!’ ” she said, imitating his voice with surprising accuracy. “ ‘Don’t worry, Myrin-I’ll block it with my face !’ ”

Kalen scowled, though he couldn’t dispute the truth behind her words. He would suffer any wound to save her from the same. “Regardless,” he said. “I’m glad you won.”

“Close.” She paused. “How about ‘Thanks for saving our lives again , Myrin’? Eh?”

“That too.”

“Well.” Looking content, Myrin laid her head on his shoulder. Her golden aura dimmed. “If it’s all the same to you, I’ll let you take the beating next time. That was quite painful.”

Kalen’s mouth worked, but he could utter no words. Not while Myrin’s warm body leaned on him for support. Finally, he gave in to the silence and put his arm around her.

Sithe cleared her throat, interrupting their moment. “And now?”

“Kill Scour.” Kalen nodded grimly. “Assuming we can find that damned elf.”

“So.” Lilten stood among them once more, quite as though he’d been there the whole time. His very presence illuminated the room in soft light. “That was exciting, wasn’t it?”

“You.” All of Kalen’s contentment drained away and he reached for the sun elf, but Sithe stepped in the way. He shot a glare at Lilten. “You led us into a trap.”

“Perhaps he did, perhaps he did not,” Sithe said. “Either way, we need him.”

“The lady makes a fine point,” Lilten said. “And recall, I need you to slay Scour for me. You can’t very well do that if you’re dead at the point of a Tymoran heretic’s sword. Speaking of which-” He picked up one of the fallen blades and turned it over in his hands. He sang a brief melody and it lit with seeking magic. He nodded. “As I thought.” The magic dimmed and the blade turned to dust in his hand. “Eden and her flunkies will trouble us no more. Are we ready to-ah.”

Sithe scythed her axe toward his throat, stopping only a thumb’s breadth away. “We need you,” Sithe said. “But not intact.”

Lilten’s smile remained. “I see we’re to have a conversation,” he said.

“We’ll move on, but not before answers,” Kalen said. “If you did not bring Eden, how did she find us? Who are you and what is this game you play?”

“As to the first, well, you don’t think you’re particularly subtle, do you? I suspect Eden’s been watching you since the market. As to the second and third”-Lilten shrugged-“would you settle for my healing your wounds as a show of good faith?”

“How does that prove anything?” Kalen asked.

“Every ounce of your strength makes it just that much harder for me to kill you?”

Kalen might have protested, but Myrin put a hand on his arm. He saw the gash across her brow from Eden’s shield-it hadn’t healed fully-and he nodded.

“Very well,” Kalen said. “But I will be watching.”

“Promises, promises.” With a sly wink, Lilten turned to Myrin. “My lady, you acquitted yourself quite well, but you seem to be short a weapon, no?”

Sadly, Myrin looked at the broken halves of her wand on the floor.

“Perhaps you’ll consider carrying this. I should be very honored.”

His hand opened to reveal a crystal ball that glowed with an inner blue mist. It was sized exactly for Myrin’s hand.

“What-what is that?” Myrin reached for the orb, seemingly without thinking.

“A weapon,” Lilten said. “It belonged to a great wizard for whom I once did a service. As I have no use for it, I thought I should pass it to one who is worthy.”

“We don’t want anything from you,” Kalen said.

“Kalen!” Myrin nudged him in the ribs. “I am honored, sir.”

Lilten gave it to her and she gazed into its depths, blinking only after a long time.

“May it do better service to you than me,” he said. “Now, healing, yes?”

He sang sweet chords and the magic in his words caused their wounds to heal and their weariness to vanish. Kalen had felt only a gnawing ache from the arrow, but now even that vanished. If he listened hard, he could almost make out the words of Lilten’s song-something lyrical and Elvish and deeply sad.