Jon Sprunk - Shadow’s Lure

The falcata fell from his hand as thousands of tiny black leaves rained down from the ceiling.

Nine bodies lay on the floor.

Silence reigned in the gloomy chamber. The seven men and two women sprawled across the floor were a medley of soldiers and common folk, but all had met with the same savage violence. A few had bite marks on their faces and necks. He had come too late to find out which side they were on, if any.

The shadows swarmed nearby as Caim walked to an archway on the other side of the chamber, so close he could hear them chittering. The black sword thrummed, warm in his hand like a living thing. The point hovered over the corpses he passed as if sniffing for new foes to battle. The sword craved blood, and while he held it he shared its dreadful lust.

Before he reached the archway, Kit emerged from a wall. Her outfit had changed to a chiton of hunter green belted with a silver sash to match her flowing hair.

“What did you see?”

Her eyes narrowed to purple slits as she floated before him. “There are a few bodies scattered about. It looks as though the people living here went mad and started killing each other.”

He glanced around. Blood was everywhere.

“I think she’s here, Caim. I can’t be sure, but there is something ahead. I can feel it, but I can’t get close.”

Caim started to walk through her, but stopped himself when they were face-to-face. The touch of her nose played like foxfire along his lips.

“Get away, Kit. This is only going to get worse.”

She laughed. It was the most beautiful thing he could imagine right now. “What? And miss the chance for you to finally get what you’ve got coming?”

Same old Kit. Never misses an opportunity to kick me where it hurts.

“You ready for this?”

She drew back to arm’s length. “Are you?”

He strode through her, savoring the sensation as their bodies melded, and passed under the archway. The sword pulled him through the corridors beyond. The shadows crept in his wake. Every so often he would see a flicker of Kit’s luminance ahead of him. He followed, hoping she knew where she was going.

A staircase appeared on his left, spiraling upward into the dark. As he turned toward it, a dark blade slashed at his face. Caim jerked back and swung his sword up to meet the attack. The black blades met and rebounded in a clash of phosphorescent sparks. He riposted… and the shadow warrior was gone.

When the Beast shadow-jumped away during their fight, Caim had been able to see a wispy residue that gave him something to follow. But these fighters just vanished. No, hold on. Looking closer, Caim saw a web of filaments-no wider than strands of hair-shimmering in the dark. They faded before his eyes.

Caim put his foot on the first step and spun around as something disturbed the air behind him. The thrusting black knife got past his sword. Only a quick jerk of his suete kept the point of the curved blade from piercing his chest. As silent as death, the shadow warrior lunged with a second knife. Caim deflected it and counterattacked with a slash to the neck. But the shadow warrior had vanished. Like before, only a handful of gleaming skeins gave any evidence that the shadow fighter had ever been there.

“Kit.”

She appeared beside him. “What? I was trying to find you a way out, but this place is a labyrinth.”

Caim grunted. That was a good word for the warren of corridors running through the palace. It had become evident that the rulers of Liovard had added new passages and chambers to the castle, probably over the course of a couple generations. The result was a royal mess.

“What did you find?”

“The stink of sorcery is thicker on the floor above you,” she answered.

That made sense to him. The great hall would be on the next level, with the residential chambers above that.

“Will these stairs get me there?”

“They’ll get you to the second floor, but you still have a bunch of halls to cross.”

The sword jerked in his hand, in the direction of the staircase. Caim followed the blade’s lead, and Kit followed him up the winding stairs. The steps ended on the next floor, opening into a dark corridor. He turned left. The pressure grew stronger inside him as he moved down the drafty passage. He didn’t fear it anymore. The feeling was a part of him, as familiar as the fit of his clothes or the weight of his knife.

The shadow warriors struck again at the intersection of two hallways. The sword-staff slashed back and forth, lightning-quick, blocking his way. Caim started to meet the attack, but Kit’s sudden cry alerted him to the second threat. He fell to his chest and rolled as twin blades cut the air above him. Caim regained his footing with his back to a wall. Kit floated over his attackers’ cowled heads, then flew up through the ceiling. The shadow warriors came at him side by side, eerie twins in matching suits of black armor. The sword shook in his fist. Yes, I agree.

Caim catapulted himself at his foes. The shadow warriors split apart, smooth as watered silk. Caim feinted at the knife wielder on his right, then pivoted and blocked a thrust from the sword staff. He used his suete to tie up the longer weapon long enough for him to dart underneath. The black sword dipped under the warrior’s breastplate and met ebon mail underneath. Caim shoved harder, extending himself to his full length, knowing he presented a prime target to the foe at his rear. The blade’s point bit into black steel links.

And the staff wielder leaned back, disappearing into a cloud of shadows.

Biting back his disappointment, Caim threw himself forward. Not fast enough. Two lines of blazing fire cut across his lower back. He rolled and came up on his feet and deflected a black knife inches from his throat. The second blade came in low. Caim kicked it away and slashed high. The shadow warrior ducked under with both blades whirling. Just what I would’ve done.

Caim should have retreated and regrouped. He was tiring fast, and defensive actions would only preserve him for so long. Instead, he charged. Black knives cut into his arms and shoulders. He ignored the stinging cuts, hooking his sword arm around the warrior’s wrist and pulling him closer. His suete slashed upward, not at the adamant black armor, but across the eye slit of his enemy’s helmet.

The shadow warrior lurched backward, tearing free of his hold, but Caim jumped after him. As a dark portal opened behind his foe, he lunged. Hardened mail burst open, and his sword bit into flesh. Dark blood bubbled forth. Caim didn’t pull up. He kept pushing and sent both of them stumbling through the gateway together.

Into darkness they went, as the portal snapped shut.

Beams of light swung back and forth as the ground pitched beneath Josey’s feet. Colliding with the tunnel wall, she clung to the stone with both hands as chunks of the ceiling rained down on the men in front of her. Hubert fell against her, his lantern almost bashing her in the head, and they tumbled to the ground. Huddled beneath him, she shook with the fear that threatened to overwhelm her. The cave-in seemed to last for several minutes as cries of pain were cut off by the crash of falling stone, and then…

Silence.

Hubert crawled off her, holding his elbow. Josey coughed as she sat up.

“Are you all right?” she asked.

She glanced at the ceiling, wondering why the river hadn’t deluged the tunnel, but it looked like only a portion of the rock above their heads had fallen. Then she saw the heap of dirt and rubble filling the passageway. Hirsch and Captain Drathan had been walking just a few paces in front of her, along with Sergeant Merts and her guardsmen. Now they were gone. Josey crawled to the rock pile. Shards of stone ran between her fingers as she started to dig. They might still be alive underneath, trapped in a pocket of air.