Shadowbane

He tensed, then sprang over the ledge.

The butcher’s shop was not a tall building, but twenty feet gave Kalen enough momentum that when he landed on the nearest Dead Rat, the hapless man took the brunt and went down with a crumpled moan. He rolled off and used his momentum to bowl the legs out from under a second gang member. Kalen leaped on the third man like a pouncing spider and slammed his face with the pommel of his dagger.

In the space of a heartbeat, the last Dead Rat-the one Kalen had tripped-found himself on the ground, unarmed, his head aching, and alone against two opponents.

“Flee,” Kalen said.

The Dead Rat turned and ran.

Kalen turned to the man he’d saved. He knew him in an instant. “You.”

“Huh-hail,” said the boy from the Cliffside Cranny-the guard who’d stopped trusty Carmael from shooting him. “You-I didn’t-gods.” He marveled up at the roof, then looked back at Kalen. He held out his hand. “Saer Shadowbane, I’m Rhetegast Hawkwinter-Rhett.”

“Hmm,” Kalen said.

The thug he’d landed on was moaning and trying to get to his feet. Kalen kicked him in the midsection. This act had a profound effect on the half-elf lad, who straightened as though Kalen had kicked him instead.

“Why did you follow me?” Kalen asked.

“I didn’t. I mean, not specifically, I-”

“Why?” Kalen took one long step toward him.

“Right.” The lad swallowed, took a breath to compose himself, then spoke anew. “Right, I did follow you. It’s just-well, it was that or report to the magistrate back in Waterdeep for aiding a proscribed criminal.”

“Proscribed.” Kalen must have been quite a thorn in the sides of the Masked Lords if they were offering a bounty on him, alive or dead. “Did you come to collect?”

“What? No. Of course not! I came-” His expression suddenly nervous, Rhett ran his hand through his red hair. “I want to become your squire.”

Kalen spoke without hesitation. “No.”

“No?” Rhett looked startled. “But I thought-”

“You were wrong.” Kalen’s eye fell to Vindicator, to the way the light split in two haphazardly along its length. The sword lay on the other side of the young man. “Go now. Get out of this city while you can.”

“Well.” Rhett looked to the weapon. “Well, I can at least give this back.” He strode to where Vindicator lay gleaming. “I brought the scabbard, too. Thought you might-”

“Wait-” Kalen started, but too late. The boy had already reached for the sword.

Rhett picked up the blade and held it out to Kalen. “What?”

Kalen, who had been staring with wide eyes, drew back. “It doesn’t burn you.”

“Burn me?” Rhett set the light dancing along the surface of the silvery blade-pure and beautiful but for the single flaw that ran down its length. “No. Why would it?”

Abruptly, silver fire bloomed in Vindicator’s depths, rising to shroud the sharpened steel in a plume. Rhett’s eyes grew huge and his mouth fell open. He caught up the sword in both hands, holding it steady. “By Torm!”

“No,” Kalen said, his voice soft. “Not Torm alone.”

Rhett looked up in wonder. “What does this mean?”

“It’s chosen you,” Kalen said. “It-”

He couldn’t see Rhett standing there with the sword. Instead, he saw …

Not again, Eye of Justice, he prayed silently. Not again.

It was then he realized they were not alone.

There, silhouetted in the flames of Vindicator, stood a black figure. The firelight flickered around her-and it was a woman, of that Kalen was certain-as though skirting the edge of a hole in reality. He knew her from Ebbius’s description. She was no drow, no human, but a demon of another world-a creature of the void.

Sithe.

“Boy,” Kalen whispered.

Rhett still gazed with frank astonishment at the burning sword in his hands.

In one hand, Sithe held a long-hafted axe, if axe it could be called. The pitted shard of black metal at the end barely resembled a blade. It was not so much an axe as the purpose of an axe- gruesome, rending doom. She raised her other hand-revealing a gleaming silver vambrace on her arm-and pointed one long finger toward Kalen. He felt the cold weight of infinite hatred descend upon his shoulders. For an instant, nothing in the world existed aside from him, her axe, and his coming death at its edge.

“Boy,” Kalen said, raising his daggers slowly. “Get behind me.”

Rhett looked up at him, confused, then turned his gaze. He hadn’t noticed Sithe until now, just in time to see her lunge toward them, her axe raised high. “Gods!”

Kalen slammed into Rhett and sent them both toppling. The axe chopped down, rending the air itself asunder, and missed his leg by a hair. It tore through his cloak, sending scraps of gray fabric drifting to the ground. Seemingly without effort, Sithe reversed the path of her axe, and Kalen fell back as it tore across an inch over his face. She then whipped the axe upward with both hands and towered over them.

Kalen let himself fall and lashed out with his feet, catching Sithe in the midsection. As she staggered back, he leaped to his feet. He brandished his daggers as she whirled the axe over her head. Her eyes might have been polished obsidian for all they revealed.

“Stay back, boy,” Kalen said. “This one is far beyond you.”

The black eyes shot over Kalen’s shoulder then, drawn to a silver brand of flame.

Rhett stepped to Kalen’s side, his shield ready, Vindicator burning in one hand. “Perhaps she’s beyond me,” he said. “But she’s none too pleased to see the sword.”

Kalen looked again at Sithe, whose eyes indeed seemed to be locked on Vindicator. “That isn’t fear,” he said. “It’s hunger.”

“You’re sure?” Rhett took half a step back. “I was hoping for hesitation, at least.”

Sithe spun the axe behind her head and held it with both hands over her shoulders. In Vindicator’s light, she was slim-petite, even. She couldn’t possibly be strong enough to sweep that axe around so quickly. Indeed, her fighting style was less about strength and skill and more about intuitive flow-she simply knew how and when to move. And there was not the slightest shred of doubt in her empty eyes. Indeed, there was nothing in them.

“What are you waiting for?” Rhett stepped forward, his sword held high.

“Wait-” Kalen said.

Rhett slashed down at Sithe, who vanished as though she had ceased to exist. The air sucked inward where she had been standing, making Rhett stagger. He glanced around quickly, but she was gone.

“Is that all?” Rhett looked down at Vindicator. “That’s some kind of sword.”

“Steel ready.” Kalen looked all around but could not see her in the twilight. He cast his blades about, waiting until-

— Sithe reappeared, right behind him, her axe sweeping down.

Kalen dodged, but the axe slammed into one of his daggers, knocking it skittering down the alley. The woman stepped after him, whipping her axe across in a blow that would have taken his head from his shoulders had he not ducked.

“Have at you!” Rhett lunged, but she stepped past him as though his attack had never happened. Vindicator passed within an inch of her head. Unhindered-Sithe came toward Kalen.

He had no chance to block her axe, so he danced back, but not far enough to dodge entirely. The axe swept across his leather hauberk, trailing a wake of blood. He could feel the pain, which meant that the chest cut was a wicked blow that should have put him down. Sithe’s eyes fixed on Kalen as if to assure him that the next strike would.

“Unlikely.” Kalen lunged into Sithe’s reach and caught hold of the axe. She twisted the haft of the axe out of his hands and wove a circle between them.

He aimed a thrust at her face, but his remaining dagger clanged loudly off Sithe’s axe and bounced off down the alley. The blade had been a feint, anyway. With his free hand, Kalen tossed a vial of alchemist’s fire from his belt toward her. It shattered against the spinning axe, sending a wave of flame through her defense.