Shadow's master

Caim gave ground as the swordsman came at him again. One of his parries arrived a hair late, and a black point slashed in front of his eyes, close enough to make him blink. Caim embraced the pain again and stepped back into the appearing void. This time he split the portal into two paths, each exiting on opposite sides of his adversary, but once again the black sword was waiting for him. Caim twisted away in a violent turn and evaded a cut that would have disemboweled him. The swordsman pressed forward with subsequent attacks that kept him on the defensive.

Fuck this. Instead of retreating, Caim stepped forward to meet his foe. He kept his knives in close, blocking the barrage of attacks in a furious defense. He and the swordsman were only a pace apart, close enough that Caim could reach his opponent with a long lunge, but he didn't have a moment's pause to go on the offense. Yet. He shuffled forward. It was like stepping into the face of a steel hurricane. The staccato of clashing blades pulsed in his ears. His wrists went numb from the pounding. Most fighters would have retreated at this point, wanting the security of more space where their longer weapon would have the advantage, but the swordsman advanced a half step as well. Caim concentrated on his breathing. This was what he had been hoping for, to bring them close enough that the advantage switched to his knives. Caim anticipated a thrust with an early parry and used the extra fraction of a heartbeat of time to swipe the tip of his seax past his opponent's face. The swordsman didn't flinch. He didn't react at all.

Caim pushed himself to the edge, until his arms and legs ached and his breath whistled between clenched teeth. After every second or third parry, he launched an attack of his own. They weren't complex and none connected, but with every passing heartbeat he felt the momentum of the fight turning. Then a black cloud fell over his eyes. Caim winced as ice-cold tendrils dug into his face. He slashed in front of him with the suete knife and jumped back. He scraped at the shadow with the back of his hand, causing frigid pains to erupt across his face, and the shadow slipped away.

Blinking to clear his eyes of the motes that danced in his vision, Caim reached for his powers to open another portal. He was heading farther away, to the other side of the plaza, where he could regroup and maybe come up with a plan. But as he stepped back, a terrible pain speared through the center of his breastbone. It was worse than the time he'd been shot with a crossbow. For an agonizing moment, he couldn't move. Every muscle was locked in a rigid paralysis. When sensation returned, he almost collapsed. But no portal appeared.

The swordsman rushed across the snow. Caim raised his knives, fighting through the pain. Images of his battle with Soloroth flashed through his head, that same hopelessness he'd felt facing the armored giant crashing over him now. Before the black sword landed, a brilliant flash of light burst around the shadow warrior. Caim braced himself for some new attack, but the swordsman was turning away from him, his cloak awash in flames.

Caim lunged, but his knives encountered only swirling air as the swordsman disappeared into nothingness.

The giant stranger stood behind the spot where the swordsman had been standing, an empty brazier dangling in his hands.

Caim had seen his share of death. Not just marks and competitors, but friends, too. Mathias, Oak, Liana, Hagan, Caedman. And now Aemon. The world wasn't a fair place. If it were, I'd have been dead a long time ago, and they would still be alive.

Dray stood over his brother's body at the plaza center. Malig and Egil remained behind him, each holding a flaming brand. There was no sign of the shadow creature or the swordsman. Silence draped over the ruins, broken only by the sigh of the wind and crackling torches.

Caim put away his knives and checked his injuries. The cut down his arm had stopped bleeding, but his leg burned something fierce. He tried not to limp as he went over to the others. Malig had put a hand on Dray's shoulder, but Dray shook it off. With a turn of his head, Caim sent Malig over to help Egil get the mounts together. He stood beside Dray.

Caim hadn't gotten a clear view of what happened to Aemon, and now he wished he hadn't looked. The blond Eregoth lay in a ruin of burst organs and tissue, torn open from crotch to throat, his blood making a pool of red slush in the snow. His empty eyes stared up at the ebon sky.

“I'm sorry,” Caim said, then shut his mouth. What good were words? He recalled the night they had infiltrated the duke's keep in Liovard, how Aemon had been hurt and Dray refused to leave his brother's side.

“I'm fine. Let's get out of here.” Dray picked up his brother's spear. “But we're taking Aemon with us.”

Caim frowned. The shadow warrior could return at any time, maybe with reinforcements. “Mal. Egil. Get a rope and help him.”

As they rolled Aemon's body in a blanket and carried it to the animals, the stranger stepped around the pit, the empty brazier still dangling in his hands from a chain. He was taller than Malig and massively proportioned through the shoulders and chest. His shirt and pants were made from undyed wool, his boots battered and worn. Caim supposed the man deserved some gratitude for helping them, but he was too damned tired and sore to offer much beyond, “Thank you.”

Footsteps crunching in the ice made Caim reach for his knives again, but he stayed his hand when he saw who it was. She looked like a lost waif wrapped up in a cloak. While the man had a pale complexion, her skin was the deep olive of the Southlands. With her chestnut hair and deep brown eyes, he pegged her as a Michaian, or maybe even Arnossi. Wherever she came from, she was a long way from home.

“We thank the gods you found us.” Her breath puffed in small clouds of steam as she stopped beside the giant. She was even shorter than Caim had thought at first glance. Standing beside him, she looked like a child.

Caim kept his hands by his sides, but his nerves were jumpy. “Where did he go?”

“If you mean that man you fought, we do not know. I am Shikari.” She placed a hand on her companion's arm. “And this is Hoek. We were taking shelter in that building when we heard noises.”

A short, braying cry rose, only to be cut short. Egil knelt beside the injured horse, now put out of its misery, while Dray and Malig loaded Aemon's corpse onto another steed.

Caim considered the strangers. “You don't look like Northmen. What were you hiding from?”

The woman, Shikari, pulled her cloak tighter around her slim shoulders. “Our masters.”

“You're slaves?”

She nodded. “I am from Illmyn. Hoek comes from a village in Einar, to the south and east.”

“I know where Einar is.” Caim eyed the man. “He doesn't talk much, does he?”

“Not at all, in fact. He's mute.”

The big man gazed impassively at Caim and said nothing, as if to prove her statement.

“How did you come to be a slave up in these parts?”

Her full lips, chapped from the cold, turned up in a fetching smile. “We were both taken from our lands and brought here by the barbarians. When Hoek escaped, I came with him. I thought anything would be better than to live another day in bondage, but we don't know the land, so we stopped when we found this place. Now that you know about us, who are you?”

Caim introduced himself and gave the names of the others. “I suppose we should thank you, but I'm curious. How did you know to use fire against the shadow?”

Shikari was staring at him, hard enough that it might have made him uncomfortable in other circumstances. “I was not sure, but when Hoek took the coals from our fire it seemed like a good idea. Creatures of night must surely fear the light, no?”

Caim regarded the duo. Something about them bothered him. Two slaves out here alone, just happening to be in the right place to lend a hand when he and his crew were attacked. He didn't like it. “We have to go. I suggest you take yourselves someplace else. That warrior could return anytime, and like as not he'll bring friends.”

Egil came over, his knife back in its sheath. “You want I should butcher this animal? It's a shame to leave all that meat to waste.”

The thought of eating anything killed by the shadows turned Caim's stomach. “No, we don't have time. Find us a trail out of here.”

As Caim turned to leave, Shikari reached out a hand like she wanted to snag his sleeve. “We should like to go with you, if you will permit. There is safety in staying together, I think.”

“We're going north. If you want to escape this land, that's the wrong direction.”

“We are willing to take that risk,” she replied. “I do not know how much longer we can survive out here