Jon Sprunk - Shadow’s Lure

She slid down from the throne as a figure appeared in the window. Her lord and father, seated on his basalt throne. His stern voice seized hold of her heart.

“Sybelle. You have not made contact in days. Tell me why.”

She let out a shuddering breath. “Great lord, my son, Soloroth-your grandson-is dead.”

The image blurred, and Sybelle realized she was crying, something she hadn’t done since she was a child. It was a strange sensation, almost like rage but wrapped around a core of hopelessness.

“Compose yourself and tell me whom you allowed to slay your progeny.”

“The scion, Lord.”

There was a long silence before he spoke. “Why have you not told me of him before? I am disappointed in you, Sybelle.”

She bowed her head, fighting back a sob. “I had no choice. I knew your lordship would intervene.”

“You were correct. I would have taken steps. Perhaps I could have prevented this. But now I leave it to you. Eliminate this threat to our plans, Sybelle.” His face loomed larger, his refined features daubed in shadow and starlight. “Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, my lord.”

As the aperture darkened, the pressure lifted from her chest, but the intoxicating tang of sorcery remained in the air. The shadows continued to spin, extending outward with dark tentacles until they formed a circle of darkness ten paces across. Sybelle stepped back as figures emerged from the gateway, six warriors encased in suits of dark armor. She knew them on sight. The Talons were her father’s personal cadre of assassins. Said to feel no pain and no emotion, they were completely loyal to the Lord of Shadow. The last time she had been in their presence was nearly two decades ago, when a squad had accompanied her and Levictus on the night they retrieved her sister from the mud-lord’s estate.

Sybelle trembled as the portal snapped shut, and the mordant wind of its closure ruffled her hair. The Talons watched her, their eyes impenetrable behind black steely masks. One came forward. He did not bow or acknowledge her, but merely held her gaze. She frowned, but he could have been carved from obsidian for all he reacted.

“What are your orders?” she asked.

“To serve the daughter of House Tenebrae.”

A warm sensation ebbed in her stomach as she considered the one desire that lay tantamount in her mind: to track down and kill the scion.

The lead Talon turned his head to the side. “Intruders have entered this structure.”

Sybelle stretched out her senses through the stone walls. At the entrance she tasted coppery blood and the sweet savor of death. With a smile, she flicked her fingers. The Talons melded into the darkness, leaving her once again alone. Soon her son’s murderer would pay for his crimes. And then there would be nothing and no one to stop her.

Smiling, Sybelle sauntered back to her lover.

Twenty-fourth day of Circept, 1143

Levictus has been absent these last three nights since I sent him to Ostergoth. Although I am confident he will perform the tasks I have laid out for him with his usual precision, I find myself less willing to trust him. These past weeks and months he has become at turns more sullen and secretive. I do not know what I will do if this pattern of volatility continues.

The pact into which I entered with the Power in the north has been costly, both here and abroad, and produced little in the way of results, but it is too late for regrets. I have sown my crop, as they say, and I will abide by its harvest. Still I cannot keep from wondering if this was not a miscalculation.

C aim leaned closer to the flames burning in the large brick hearth as he turned the page. The wind moaned through the gaps in the conservatory’s tall windows. The timbers of the old mansion creaked in protest with every gale.

Coming down from the hills, they had taken shelter in the outlaw rendezvous to await nightfall. While the others kept watch, Caim sat inside by himself and perused Vassili’s journal. The flames of the funeral pyres burned in his memory. Liana in a borrowed dress, her copper hair brushed out in waves around her face. She looked like an angel on the verge of waking, forever young and beautiful. Beside her lay her father, a cudgel of oak by his side. Caim could only watch in silence as Keegan spoke the words of passage into Arugul’s realm. Too late, they both understood what the old man had been trying to them tell them, that in this conflict there would be no victory, no satisfaction. Only devastation.

Blinking from the sting of the hearth’s smoke, Caim turned the page, and a square of parchment fell out. Its stamped golden seal glimmered at him from the floor.

“You miss her.”

He didn’t answer as Kit passed through him and appeared in the fireplace. Yes, he missed Josey, but it was like missing a dream, only half there to begin with and nothing but mist come the morning. She was back in Othir, and he was here. He threw the parchment into the fire without opening it and watched it burn. He followed it with the journal.

“I missed you, too.”

Kit seemed different after her travails in the Barrier, more reserved. He wasn’t sure how to take that.

“People are coming,” she said with an impish smile.

That didn’t surprise him. He was ready. He just had to do this thing, and then he’d be free. Free to do what?

Kit blew him a kiss as Keegan entered the room.

“We’ve got-”

“People coming.” Caim stood up. “I know.”

“It looks like Ramon and his crew. And they’ve brought friends.”

Caim wanted to sigh, but he held it in. He had enough enemies already, but anyone who got in his way tonight might not live to regret it.

“Pull in the outer sentries and make sure everyone is ready to go.”

Keegan returned with two men in damp cloaks. Ramon was more bedraggled than the last time they met, face caked with sweaty dirt, his white fur mantle muddied and stained. The other man was built like a young bull, though he hardly came up to Ramon’s shoulder. He had a harsh, unforgiving face with eyes harder than cold steel, and a glistening shaved head. He, too, wore a white mantle under his cloak.

“-hear me, boy?” the smaller man was saying as Keegan led them into the room. “Watch your mouth or there ain’t nothing to stop me from stringing you up by the yarbles and bleeding you like a harvest lamb!”

Caim tugged on his gloves. “There’s me.”

The shaved man glared across the room. “And who the fuck are you?”

A little chill went through Caim as he spoke his full name aloud, something he hadn’t done in longer than he could remember. But it was time to own up to his past.

The grizzled warrior walked across the room. “I’m Angus, thane of the Allastars since Jevick’s murder. I’ve been hearing your name of late.” He jerked his head back toward Ramon. “From them. They say you’re some kind of warlock. I came to see for myself.”

Angus had a dirk sheathed on his left hip and a waraxe on the other side, but he made no move toward them.

Caim stepped to within arm’s length of the man. “I’m worse than that. I killed the Beast and left his body to freeze in the snow. I’ve got more blood on my hands than you and all your clan together. And tonight I’m going after the duke.”

Angus nodded slowly, and a crooked smile broke open his face. “I like that. My boys and I have come to help.”

Caim looked to Ramon. “You heard what happened at the castle?”

“We were holed up with the Allastars when the news reached us. We came as fast as we could.”

“How many warriors did you bring?”

“Almost sixty, most of them blooded fighters.”

“Where’s Grendt? I don’t see him lurking behind you.”