My ring pulsed in warning. I dove to the side a moment before I heard the familiar
Of course it had to be Aber. And of course he had just fired it at my back.
Faster than I had ever moved before, I whirled and threw my sword at Aber. It struck his right shoulder and pinned him to the tree. He screamed in agony.
Unfortunately, that left me unarmed.
Grinning through his pain, my double stalked forward, sword ready. Quickly I drew a knife. Then I began to back up.
“Kneel,” he said to me. “Raise your head. I'll make it quick—a single blow. You fought well. You deserve that much.”
“Look behind you,” I said, focusing my attention over his shoulder. “You haven't won yet.”
He hesitated. There wasn't anything behind him, of course—but he had been behind me when Aber uttered those same words. Could he take the chance?
He knew he had me outmatched. It only took a second to check. When he glanced over his shoulder, I threw my knife at his head. He batted the knife away with his sword, but in that instant, with his arm up and out of position, I closed with him. So close, a sword would do him no good.
I drove him back with my fists. He fell, helmet flying off, and I landed on top. Then I hit him in the face as hard as I could, again and again. He did not scream, and he only flailed for a minute as I pounded. I stopped when the shattered bits of his skull began to shred my knuckles.
Panting, I rose unsteadily to my feet. I felt exhausted suddenly, like I'd been fighting for hours. Slowly, I turned.
Aber had managed to get the sword out of the tree and his shoulder. He couldn't hold it, though, much as he tried. It fell as his fingers spasmed open.
Standing there sullenly, dripping blood, a gaping wound in his shoulder, it struck me how pathetic he truly was. He had never matched our father's expectations. He had murdered King Uthor. And I knew now, without a doubt, that he had sent assassins after me at least twice.
And, despite all that, I still liked him. It wasn't a spell. I actually
He fell to his knees and grinned his slightly lopsided grin. “I suppose it's too late to explain?”
“Yes,” I said. I picked up my double's sword.
“I can still be useful,” he said. “You need me, Oberon.”
“What happened to Fenn?” I asked.
“The other Oberon was… a little rough in his questioning. Didn't believe Fenn's story about a slow poison.”
“He's dead, then.”
“Yes. See? I can be useful. You
“And Isadora? Leona? Davin?”
“I don't know. I can find out, though. If anyone can, it's me.”
“You're right,” I said slowly. “I do need you.”
He sighed with relief. “Good.”
“Unfortunately,” I went on, “I need to stay alive a lot more.”
With a single quick, clean blow, I parted my brother's head from his shoulders. His body flopped and lay still. The head rolled a few feet before coming to a stop facing me. The eyes blinked several times, then went glassy.
I sagged under the oak tree and wept. Of all my family, I had loved him the most. I would miss him. Not the traitorous Aber, but the Aber who had befriended me in Juniper. The Aber who had made me feel like part of the family. The Aber whom I had trusted and in whom I had believed… even if it had been due to a charm-spell.
Finally, after I finished mourning, I buried him in that unnamed Shadow, in an unmarked grave, alongside my double. Hopefully they would both find peace now.
Rising, finding new strength, I went to see what had become of my father, my brother Conner, and all the Shadows I was destined to rule.
THE END
About The Author
JOHN GREGORY BETANCOURT is an editor, publisher, and bestselling author of science fiction and fantasy novels and short stories. He has had 37 books published, including the bestselling Star Trek novel,
ROGER ZELAZNY authored many science fiction and fantasy classics, and won three Nebula Awards and six Hugo Awards over the course of his long and distinguished career. While he is best known for his ten-volume
