《The Shadow Realm #1: Nysta - Revenge of the Elf》


 Chapter One

    Talek stifled a yawn as he peered out across the snow-spotted valley from the shelter of the porch. He sat with his back to the stone chimney, feeling warmth bleed through his scarred flesh and into his bones. He knew he should go inside before the sun burned too low behind the grey clouds, but he ignored the silent admonishments of his absent wife and chose to enjoy the crisp air for a little longer.


    Winter had descended early on the Deadlands. The scattered pockets of snow left the elf remembering stories of his childhood. How snow was the icy spit of Grim, the Dark Lord of the North.


    Old stories, he thought. Stories being quickly forgotten now that Grim was dead.


    As though aware of the elf''s mind turning toward the fallen god, the shadows behind him shifted and a bitter wind cut across the valley to rake at the small cabin.


    It wasn''t much of a cabin, he allowed. Nothing like the Hold he''d grown up in. But it was comfortable. And the smoke drifting from the chimney at his back hinted at greater warmth were he inclined to shuffle back indoors.


    His wife, Nysta, had chosen the location of their cabin. It was, he thought proudly, a perfect choice.


    Perfect because the nine figures which flickered into view were unable to find an angle of approach with any stealth regardless of their intentions.


    His gaze drifted toward the small ginger cat hunched on the steps. A disheveled ball of mottled orange fur with a crooked tail and no name.


    Where it came from was a mystery. It''d shown up in the middle of the night to mew at the door, and only Talek''s amusement saved it from one of his wife''s many knives.


    She claimed not to like cats, but sometimes he caught her touching the creature''s fur with a haunted expression on her face.


    The cat''s ears flicked toward a small pen of goats beside the cabin. And, as Talek eased himself into a more upright position, it glanced at him with sparkling emerald eyes.


    ¡°Reckon they''re friendly?¡± he asked the cat.


    Talking to the little animal was becoming a habit, he thought with a sardonic smile as it returned its feline gaze to the approaching black shapes. Settling into a patient crouch, the cat¡¯s sharp ears flicked nervously while its crooked tail gave a twitch.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± he sighed. ¡°Me neither.¡±


    He hauled himself painfully off the bench, his withered hand trembling as he steadied himself against the wall. Two of his fingers were reduced to smooth nubs in stark contrast to the gnarled textures of his palm.


    Beneath the simple clothes, his skin was a landscape of horrific scars rippling across his body. Muscle, once tuned to perfection, had been vaporised and the bones beneath felt twisted between brittle joints.


    Every movement was a battle against waves of agony.


    Silently he cursed the spellslinger who''d thrown the fireball at him. Not for throwing it. But for not using enough power. For leaving him alive.


    It would have been easier on Nysta if he''d died, he thought.


    She shouldn''t have to see him in such pain. Shouldn''t have to look at the monstrosity he''d become.


    He¡¯d do anything to spare her the burden of supporting the wreckage he''d become. She was young, he told himself. She could recover. Move on.


    If only he could just end it all himself¡­


    But he couldn''t bring himself to do it.


    Not yet.


    He had one final responsibility.


    Talek ran his twisted hand through the remnants of his hair. Though it grew in patches over his burnt scalp, there was just enough to hide much of the damage to the back of his head.


    His fingertips travelled the grooves in his skull and he no longer noticed as his arm passed through the ghost of a pointed ear melted clean off.


    He kept his eyes on the nine shapes as he hobbled to the edge of the porch. He watched. Waiting. Fingered a slender sword leaning against the rail.


    Wondered if he could still draw the blade.


    Afraid to fail, he hadn''t tried since the mage had devastated his body.


    The nine strangers were elfs. He could make out the thin ears jutting from their heads like sharp spearblades. Could tell their hair hung in a military style of long plaited locks.


    Also saw they were armed to their teeth.


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    He grunted, looking down at the cat bumping against his leg. It wasn''t purring.


    He wondered when Nysta would return. He knew she needed time to herself, and never pressed her to return quickly. It was one of the reasons they were so comfortable together. They were much the same in this way. But right then, he would have given anything to know where she was.


    As they reached the clumsy gate, the strangers paused to peer silently up at where Talek leaned on the rail.


    He gave them no sign of his own intentions, though he doubted whether any of them felt even a brief thrill of fear.


    Coolly, they drifted through the gate, led by a red-haired elf. The others kept a respectful line behind him, one busying himself with stowing a cloak in his pack.


    Feeling uncomfortably fragile, the elf studied their approach with a mix of jealousy and nostalgia.


    Once, a long time ago, he''d strutted with the same calm confidence.


    Their hands remained close to the pommels of their weapons.


    So, it was he, rather than they who felt the first trickle of fear slide over his neck and around his guts like a frozen wyrm. His gaze moved over the valley, half-expecting to see Nysta rising out from behind a rock or twisted tree stump.


    Was disappointed when she didn''t.


    He wished she were near.


    Just having her at his side was enough to make him feel immortal even in his current condition.


    A wave of dizziness licked through him without warning, and he cursed his damaged body. While he''d been crippled long enough to come to terms with the sudden bouts of giddiness, they were still a constant source of frustration.


    The men were soon close enough for him to note the finer details. Three looked to be barely blooded. One so nervous he kept glancing at the red-haired elf for some sign as to what to do next.


    But the rest were veterans. Their weapons functional and with little or no decoration on the hilts. They wore plain grey tabards draped over armor as though trying to hide their squad''s origin.


    Perhaps they were deserters, Talek thought with distaste.


    But this was the Deadlands. There was worse living in the barren wasteland between North and South than soldiers sick of fighting for a few meaningless coins.


    All the same, he couldn''t keep the frown from forming as the red-haired elf halted within speaking range.


    The elfs behind him stopped as one. A well-oiled team despite the few nervous cogs.


    Talek locked gazes with the leader, intrigued by the nagging feeling that he should know him. ¡°Morning, feller,¡± Talek said. ¡°Help you with something?¡±


    The grey eyes of the red-haired elf barely registered emotion as he motioned the others to take another step back. Which they did without hesitation.


    The stranger draped his hand over the hilt of a long dagger at his hip. The kind of dagger Nysta would find irresistible. There was something about the stranger''s manner which reminded Talek of his absent wife.


    He realised it was how the way his palm rested on the hilt of the short blade echoed her. Figured it meant the red-haired elf knew how to use it well enough.


    ¡°Maybe.¡±


    ¡°Well''s out back if you want to bring your horses in. Ain''t got much food so won''t offer you any,¡± Talek said. Licked his lips and eased them back into a rueful smile. ¡°Reckon you ain''t here for that, though.¡±


    ¡°Reckon not,¡± the red-haired elf returned wryly.


    ¡°Fucking cold, Raste,¡± the nervous kid muttered. ¡°We get this over with?¡±


    ¡°Until I ask your opinion, Doket, I reckon it''s best you keep your trap shut. Or I''ll cut your tongue out. Feed it to the cat,¡± Raste said. As he spoke the threat, his voice was dull. Neither warm nor cold. A voice which made the pores under Talek''s arms begin to squeeze droplets of sweat. The red-haired elf hadn''t shifted his unblinking stare from Talek. ¡°She around, Talek?¡±


    He felt like Raste had hit him in the chest with a hammer and knew right then and there that he was going to die. Couldn''t decide how he felt about that, but was suddenly more aware than ever of the invisible ties binding him to his wife.


    He let his hand drop away from the sword, hidden from view.


    Rubbed his shoulder to ease the sudden spikes of pain. Once, he might have rushed them. Even bare-handed he knew he might have killed them all. Because no matter how much he respected their training, he knew he''d been trained by much better.


    When guilded, he''d been Kulsa''Jadean.


    The King''s Guard.


    But that was a long time ago.


    Nowadays he found it difficult just to get out of bed. It was a near impossible task just to dress himself.


    He deliberately turned his back on them, ignoring the sound as they went for their weapons.


    His body shuddered in pain as he limped to the bench. Lowered himself slowly on it, eyes drawn to the cat whose tail swished as it studied the nine strangers. He wondered if it realised the danger they carried and, not for the first time, he envied the animal.


    Turning, he saw Raste was the only one who hadn''t drawn a blade. The red-haired elf studied Talek''s every move, his expression giving nothing away.


    ¡°You know who I am,¡± Talek said eventually.


    It wasn''t a question, but Raste shrugged in reply. ¡°Yeah. Been hunting you for a while. Some folks said you''d headed north. Had about given up on finding you. Can you imagine how surprised I was to find you were out here all along? Right on the path we were headed down to begin with? Hadn''t really believed you''d gone north anyway. Heard you don''t even like Fnords.¡±


    ¡°Nothing against them, really,¡± he said. ¡°Just don''t like their food is all.¡±


    ¡°I''ll ask again. She around? Hiding inside, maybe?¡±


    The scarred elf shook his head, relishing the chimney''s warmth as it spread into his shoulders. Saw no reason to lie. ¡°Went to Highwall. Head back the way you came. You''ll find a crossroads. Take a left. Couple hours, depending how fast you walk. She''ll be at the tavern. Probably deep in her cups by now. From there, good luck to you.¡±


    The nervous kid gave a surprised giggle. ¡°Don''t like her much?¡±


    ¡°Love her more than life,¡± Talek said simply.


    ¡°Can''t love her that much if you''d tell us where she is,¡± the kid sneered. ¡°Know what I''d do to her?¡±


    Talek''s smile lacked warmth. ¡°Know what she''d do to you, is all.¡±


    The kid, eager to impress the group with his bravado, took a half-step forward. Rubbed his crotch as he cooed; ¡°She''d warm my cock all night.¡±


    ¡°Sure would,¡± Talek agreed mildly. ¡°Over a small fire. Probably eat it in the morning if she were hungry.¡±


    The little elf snarled and made to step forward but was blocked by Raste''s firm arm. ¡°Step down, Doket,¡± the red-haired elf growled. ¡°Now.¡±


    ¡°Good kid,¡± Talek commented. ¡°Got him toilet trained, yet?¡±


    Raste''s answering smile was icy and his eyes glittered. ¡°Heard you''ve got a sense of humour, Talek. That''s good. You''re gonna need it. Reckon you should know why we''re here. Here to collect something is all. And I reckon you know what it is. So. How about we skip all the bullshit where you fuck me around and I let my boys do what they do best until you tell me everything I want to know? Make it easy on yourself, Talek. Tell me. You got it on you? Tell me where the box is.¡±


    ¡°You''re in for a disappointing day, Raste,¡± he said, his voice soft. ¡°On account of I ain''t that easy to open up.¡±

 Chapter Two

    The words had barely left his lips when fear bloomed wildly inside him.


    The box.


    He could see it in his mind.


    Big enough to fit snugly in the palm of his hand. Seamless, and with no visible lock. Dark wood gripped by thick metal claws. What it contained was a mystery his family had protected for generations.


    His father told him many stories when he was a child. Family legends guessing at the box''s contents.


    The key to a city of gold.


    The cremated finger of a Vampire Queen.


    The last breath of a dying god.


    Many nights he sat with his father around the family hearth, staring at the box. Mesmerized by the alien runes scorched into the wood. What did they mean?


    When he was young, he''d been desperate to understand them. But now he was older, it didn''t matter. Whatever lay inside wasn''t something he needed to know. All that mattered was it should be kept safe.


    It must never be opened, his father told him.


    Over and over.


    Earnestly repeating what had been passed down from father to son for centuries.


    Never open it.


    Keep it hidden.


    He looked into Raste''s burning eyes and believed in nothing else. ¡°It ain''t here.¡±


    ¡°It better be,¡± Raste said. ¡°Or you''re a dead man.¡±


    Talek laughed. And was momentarily pleased to see it rattled them. The young one, Doket, shuffled on his feet. He''d be easy to rile, Talek thought absently.


    ¡°Dead man?¡± he held up a twisted hand, wriggling the nubs of his fingers. ¡°Open your eyes, you stupid son of a bitch. I''m already deader than a fucking three-day corpse. Just ain''t fallen over yet.¡±


    ¡°We can do worse than kill you,¡± one of the others said coolly. He slid an ugly hooked knife from its sheath and held it up. The blade glinted. ¡°Get my meaning?¡±


    Despite fear peeling apart his insides, Talek grinned. ¡°Boy, you ever tried to piss through a cock that''s been burnt to a little fucking stump? It ain''t easy. And it hurts more than anything you can do to me. Every fucking day.¡±


    ¡°Figure I like that challenge. Bet I can make you scream louder than you ever screamed before.¡±


    ¡°I doubt that,¡± the elf drawled. ¡°But stick around ''til my wife gets home. She''ll teach you all about screaming.¡±


    ¡°Enough!¡± Raste boomed. He charged onto the porch and grabbed Talek by the shirt. ¡°Tell me where it is! If you tell me, I''ll kill you quick. I mean, you¡¯re right. You¡¯re almost dead anyway. I¡¯d be doing you a favour. Come on, Talek. What¡¯s to protect? Jutta? That bastard turned his back on you. With that box, I can make him pay.¡±


    ¡°You think I want revenge?¡± Talek blinked. ¡°For what?¡±


    ¡°Look at you.¡±


    ¡°I''d rather not. I look like shit.¡±


    ¡°They tossed you aside! You stood in front of a Caspiellan spellslinger as he torched the fucking palace to ashes! You stopped him in front of the King himself. Killed him, too. And what¡¯d you get for it? Nothing. They kicked you out on your ear for offending Jutta with your new good looks.¡±


    ¡°So?¡± he shrugged. ¡°I''d have done the same. What good am I to him like this? The palace doesn''t need doorstops.¡±


    ¡°You''re lying.¡±


    And he was. A cold ball of hate rested in his guts. It simmered there every day since he''d left Lostlight.


    They''d used him. Used him until he was no good to them anymore. Then, without even a soldier''s pension, they pushed him aside. Because his scars made the King feel guilty. Guilty for hiding behind the throne like a frightened child.


    Not that Talek blamed him for that. But for afterwards. For avoiding him. For refusing even to look at him.


    None in the palace would offer anything more than muttered regrets before distancing themselves from him for fear of offending the King.


    Only Nysta had stayed by his side.


    Even followed him from the city, forsaking the guild which had given her a life.


    Poor girl.


    His pity for her could never end.


    He sighed. ¡°Maybe. But it ain''t for you, kid. That box was meant to be protected from people just like you. And you can cut me up like a fucking jigsaw all day and I won''t tell you shit.¡±


    Raste shook his head impatiently. ¡°Stubborn bastard,¡± he growled. ¡°Fenis. Doket. Get inside. Tear it apart. Find that box. Rest of you start looking around. Torak, you take the barn.¡±


    The handsome blonde elf looked surprised. ¡°The barn?¡±


    ¡°You gone deaf?¡±


    ¡°But, Raste, I-¡±


    ¡°The fucking barn, Torak! Move! Doket! What the fuck are you waiting for? Get inside!¡±


    Talek threw him an offended look. ¡°I look like a dumb fuck? It ain''t in there.¡±


    ¡°Raste?¡± Doket raised an eyebrow.


    ¡°Get the fuck inside!¡± screamed the red-haired elf.


    Fenis pushed the younger elf into the house without further argument and all but one of the others wandered off with shrugs and low mutters.


    ¡°We can''t do much to you,¡± Raste said calmly, as though the rage had all been an act. ¡°But you think about her, Talek. You think about what we can do to her. Nine of us, Talek. Tubal here, he doesn''t know what gentle even means. And the twins? Well, they cum as a pair, if you get me? Know what they call us? They call us the Bloody Nine. We were at Logen''s Run. Heard of that?¡±


    Talek''s eyes narrowed.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Raste said, curling his lips into a sneer. ¡°You heard of it. Think about what you heard, Talek. And think about what we¡¯ll do to her.¡±


    The Musa''Jadean were mostly a proud and elite guild. They specialized in moving behind enemy lines. Their mobility was legendary, and few guilds could claim to be more expert in the art of killing.


    The fact they were trained by the shadowy assassins of the Jukkala''Jadean guaranteed them a reputation for ruthlessness and efficiency.


    A reputation which was exceeded at Logen''s Run, where stories of a rogue squad of Musa''Jadean had surfaced. Hideous stories of torture and depravity fueled the horror tales and while many grubby thugs in the Deadlands claimed some kind of tie to the infamous squad and its mysterious leader, Talek had no doubts Raste spoke the truth.


    He''d been there.


    ¡°Shame she ain''t here now,¡± Tubal said softly.


    Talek liked this one even less than the others. In his years as a soldier, he''d met all kinds. Tubal¡¯s kind were the worst. They didn''t so much love the killing as the pain they caused.


    They lived to hear the screams which were music to their crazed minds.


    Broad shouldered and taller than Raste, he carried an evil-looking axe like it weighed nothing. He dragged his forearm across his greasy lips and spat in direction of the cat as it crept off the porch to stand looking up at him.


    It watched the spit fall short.


    The soldier''s grin was like cracked glass. ¡°I could do with a whole different kind of pussy.¡±


    ¡°Try over there,¡± Talek jerked his head toward the goats. ¡°They look more your type.¡±


    ¡°Think you''re a funny cunt, don''t you?¡±


    Talek shrugged.


    The axe flashed as it cleaved the little ginger cat in half before burying itself in the hard earth. Tubal jerked the massive axe free and gave it a shake to clean the blade of gore.


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    Hate drilled through Talek''s chest and exploded behind his eyes, but though he could see the sword leaning unnoticed against the rail, he knew he''d have no chance to grab it. Knew he couldn''t move fast enough to catch a snail let alone take two professional soldiers by surprise.


    So, he glared at the large elf and buried hate inside. ¡°Didn''t have to do that.¡±


    ¡°What it gets for getting too close,¡± the large elf smirked. ¡°You know what they say. Curiosity killed the cat, yeah?¡±


    ¡°Quit fucking around,¡± the red-haired elf said. ¡°Go look out back. Check on the others. Make sure they''re lifting every fucking stone.¡±


    ¡°We''re wasting our time. We should be heading south already. Not pissing about over some fucking fairytale trinket.¡±


    ¡°It ain''t a fairytale!¡± Raste hissed. ¡°It''s real. Just do it, Tubal!¡±


    ¡°He probably buried it. It''s what I''d do. We could dig up this whole fucking valley and still won''t find shit. They won''t wait for us, Raste. And if we''re late, it won''t matter what information we''ve got, we''ll never be Accepted. We don''t have time for this.¡±


    ¡°Make time!¡±


    Doket emerged from the house, a disgusted expression on his face. ¡°There ain''t shit in there. It''s fucking empty. Hardly even a fucking spoon. Place reminds me of a cell.¡±


    ¡°Like the goatfucker said,¡± Talek grinned. ¡°You''re wasting your time.¡±


    ¡°Let me cut him,¡± Fenis lifted the hooked knife.


    Raste grabbed hold of Talek''s matted hair and jerked hard. ¡°Where. Is. It?¡±


    Talek forced a grin and matched Raste¡¯s tone. ¡°Up. Your. Ass.¡±


    Raste held the scarred elf''s gaze tightly for a moment before shoving him back. ¡°Fuck!¡± He spun away, bounding off the porch and kicking a few stones. Grunted as he nearly trod in the cat''s remains. ¡°Fuck!¡±


    ¡°Didn''t think this through, did you?¡± Talek asked gently. ¡°Ain''t much you can threaten a cripple like me with.¡±


    Fenis''s tongue flicked out. ¡°Raste?¡±


    ¡°Yeah?¡± he glanced over his shoulder. Caught Fenis''s questioning look. ¡°Yeah. Go on. Whatever. But don''t kill him. I want him to talk first.¡±


    Smirking, the elf pressed his hook blade against Talek''s cheek. ¡°Want you to know something,¡± he breathed. ¡°I ain''t feeling sorry for you. All burned up to a crisp like that. Means you weren''t good enough. You don''t deserve pity. You''re a loser, Talek. Ain''t worth shit in my book. So, I won''t be gentle on you just because a few peasants in Lostlight think you''re some kind of hero.¡±


    The scarred elf held Fenis''s gaze. ¡°Oh, I don''t mind, lad.¡± Jerked his head toward Doket. ¡°I can take it. Besides, I reckon you save being gentle for the kid on those cold nights out under the stars.¡±


    ¡°What he say?¡± Doket frowned.


    The hook knife pressed against Talek''s cheek, drawing a slick ribbon of blood. ¡°Say it again.¡±


    ¡°No need to get all excited. Maybe my first impression was wrong. But you both look like more than just friends, you know? And there ain''t nothing wrong with that. Out here, it''s only natural to feel lonely,¡± Talek''s grin made his scarred face look even more monstrous despite the cheerfulness of his words. ¡°Don''t be ashamed about it, fellers. Each to their own. Free world and all that. Be all you can be, right?¡±


    Fenis struggled with Talek''s seeming lack of fear. ¡°We ain''t-¡±


    ¡°Piece of fucking shit! What you say? Say it again! Say it a-fucking-gain! I''ll pull that fucking tongue out your fucking head!¡± Doket lashed out with his boot at Talek''s knee. The impact made him groan, but he grinned through the pain.


    ¡°Doket!¡± Raste warned. ¡°Back down. I want him alive.¡±


    Scowling down at Talek, Fenis reached an arm out to grab the little elf''s elbow. ¡°He''s just trying to get to you, Doket. Don''t let him.¡±


    Talek let the smirk grease his face. ¡°Take his advice, kid,¡± he wheezed. ¡°Should always listen to your husband.¡±


    ¡°You-¡± Doket roared, his fist slamming hard into Talek''s jaw.


    The damaged elf felt his head crack hard against the chimney. Stars shattered behind his eyes. He arms came up, his body twitching as reflex tried to dominate his actions and shield him from the next blow.


    The second fist exploded into his temple.


    He tasted iron.


    ¡°-Fucker!¡±


    ¡°Doket!¡± Raste leapt up the stairs and threw the little elf away, tossing him down the stairs. Doket landed badly and rolled across the ground before scrambling to his feet in an enraged tangle of limbs. Raste followed fast, stabbing a finger at Doket''s chest. ¡°When I fucking tell you to back down, you back the fuck down! You got me?¡±


    Fenis leaned in close. ¡°You''re gonna pay for what you said.¡±


    ¡°I get it wrong again?¡± he said, blood bubbling over his lips. His voice barely scraped above the sound of the frozen wind curling around the house. ¡°Sorry. I never was a good judge of character. Didn''t mean to offend. Just. He''s just a kid, you know? A little boy. Barely out of his mama''s apron. Must be hardly fifteen. Figured you were the man, Fenis. Thought it was you ramming your dick up his ass. But you the bitch, right? You like the taste of that little boy''s cock? Like it when he slides it into your mouth? Yeah. You look the type. Can see you love the taste of a little boy''s cum on your t-¡±


    The hook knife thudded into his chest.


    Talek grinned in triumph as blood flowered outward over Fenis''s hand. Saw the horrified expression grow in the other elf''s eyes.


    Raste powered up the stairs. ¡°Fenis! What the fuck! What the fuck did you do?¡±


    ¡°Oh shit,¡± Fenis croaked. ¡°I didn''t mean it, Raste. I didn''t! I couldn''t help it. He just said-¡±


    ¡°Fuck! I expect it from Doket! But, you? I thought you had some fucking control. What the fuck''ve you done?¡± He shoved Fenis aside and grabbed hold of Talek''s drooping head. Pulled him close. Pressed at the wound as though trying to push the blood back inside the dying elf. ¡°Talek! Listen to me. Tell me where it is. Where''s the box, Talek? Where is it?¡±


    Feeling his life moving slowly out of his body, he was grateful for the knife still jammed into his chest. A sea of numbness spread outward from the wound. All the pain he''d felt this past year was melting away like melting snow. It seeped outward on thick rivers down his legs and pooled at his feet.


    All that pain, he thought.


    Going away.


    His smile was soft as he thought of Nysta.


    At least she''d be free to move on. She could start again.


    Tears shivered in the corner of his eyes as his mind filled with an image of her. She''d never been very pretty, he allowed, but right then she was the most beautiful thing in the world.


    He saw her in his mind as he''d seen her the first time.


    Holding some shiv she''d made for herself out of an old spoon. Sharpened on the cobblestones for days on end.


    She''d never lost that relentless streak of ruthlessness. Blood on her hands and a look of such intense sorrow that everything inside him had thawed and never froze again.


    Her eyes.


    Yeah, his fragmenting mind thought. Her eyes were glorious.


    And the way she moved¡­


    Like a river.


    A mountain stream.


    Beautiful.


    His head rolled. Blood speckled his lips.


    He wished the arms around him were hers and not this red-haired bastard''s.


    ¡°Called him a faggot,¡± he breathed wetly. ¡°Hardly an insult these days, is it, Raste? Kids, huh? No fucking discipline. I remember when the Musa were tough. Not so easy to rile. Not with words, anyway. Grim''s eyes, Raste. It was hardly a fucking challenge. Gone soft since the Jukkala turned their back on you, eh?¡±


    ¡°Where''s the box, Talek? The box. Where is it?¡± Raste pleaded frantically. ¡°Come on, Talek. Don''t you die. Not yet. You hear me? Not until I fucking say. Tell me, please. Tell me where it is! Tell me where it is, and I''ll make sure she won''t get hurt! I promise, Talek. I''ll do anything. Just tell me!¡±


    ¡°Gonna need help,¡± he murmured, feeling lighter every second. Feeling as though he was being pulled out of his body on a slick elastic line. As the pain pulled away, he felt his mind clear. Memories trickled in like the last drops of water from a canteen. ¡°Gonna need them cold. And hard. Better than this lot. More of them, too. If you want to survive.¡±


    ¡°Survive what?¡±


    ¡°Reckon I know you now, Raste. She won''t spare you. Never talked about you, but she hates you. And there ain''t no room in her heart for forgiveness.¡±


    ¡°Nysta?¡± The red-haired elf set his jaw. ¡°She''d be stupid to come after me. And if she does, I''ll kill her,¡± he snapped his fingers under Talek''s nose. ¡°Easy as that.¡±


    ¡°You seen her lately?¡±


    ¡°We met. Long time ago.¡±


    ¡°Reckon that''s a maybe. Know what she is?¡±


    ¡°A fucking cock-gobbling whore is all she is!¡±


    Talek let out a small whine as a thin needle of pain slid into his spine. It would be the last pain he''d ever feel. ¡°Then you don''t know anything,¡± he whispered. ¡°You don¡¯t know what she is. Almost pity you. Almost.¡±


    ¡°What is she?¡± Fenis asked, taking a step back as Raste shot him a venomous look.


    Talek''s lips cracked into a bloodstained grin.


    He wished he had time to tell them how proud he was of her.


    His words, when they came, were like thunder a great distance away. ¡°You''ll find out.¡±


    And he died.


    It was a quiet thing.


    His body gave a small shudder and he slumped in Raste''s frustrated grip.


    The shadows which seemed to swirl along the wall froze in place for a moment. They quickly began to dance again as the creeping clouds splintered beneath the sun. But try as the rays might, they couldn''t do much to ease the cold.


    The red-haired elf spat a curse and allowed the corpse to slide off the bench and onto the porch. ¡°Well, Fenis. That''s really fucking pissed me off.¡±


    ¡°I''m sorry, Raste. I didn''t-¡±


    ¡°Get the fuck out of my sight. Now! Before I fucking kill you. Go get the horses. Try not to kill any on the way.¡±


    ¡°But they''re miles back!¡±


    ¡°Go fucking get them!¡± Raste roared as the others slowly drifted back. He didn''t have to look at their faces to know he''d failed. The box wouldn''t be found today. He wanted to kick the dead body. Kick it until it fell apart.


    Instead, he stood as still as stone.


    ¡°I''ll come with you,¡± Doket offered, scuttling after Fenis.


    Tubal leaned against the rail further up the porch, picking at his teeth with a stick of straw. ¡°Told you this was a waste of time. Even if there was anything to that old story, Raste, it was a fucking waste of time.¡±


    ¡°It''s not a story,¡± Raste insisted. ¡°My father knew Talek''s old man. In the old days. They were close. He saw the box with his own eyes. Shit! It¡¯s so fucking close I can smell it.¡±


    ¡°All I can smell is goatshit,¡± one of the others muttered. A savage scar ripped across his throat, which explained why they called him Neckless.


    ¡°Sure, Raste,¡± Tubal yawned. ¡°What I know is anyone who knew Talek could''ve told you he wouldn''t say shit no matter what you did, yeah? Bastard was tougher than a wyrm. Look at him. Got hit by a fucking fireball. And lived. I don''t reckon getting fucked up like that changed him much. If anything, it made him tougher.¡±


    ¡°It has to be here,¡± Raste spat. ¡°Maybe in the cabin. Doket couldn''t find shit if it was pouring out his asshole. Maybe I should look around.¡±


    ¡°Maybe. Won''t argue the boy¡¯s next to fucking useless. And you''re welcome to stick around and keep looking.¡± The big elf''s eyes were colder than the snow. ¡°But I won''t stick around with you. We''ve been waiting for this moment, Raste. Waiting years. We''ve trained for it. Bled for it. All that shit we took from the Musa? And the Jukkala? It''s time for us to go south. Maybe get us some payback. So, you can stay here and hunt old fairy tales. Me, I''m heading out.¡±


    ¡°Tubal''s right,¡± two of the soldiers said in one voice. It was an eerie sound, but one which Raste was long used to. Their dark eyes eyed him with an impassiveness that bordered on reptilian. He was used to that, too. ¡°We need to leave.¡±


    ¡°See? Even the Twins are with me,¡± Tubal said. ¡°Your trinket, Raste. It''d make a nice fucking heirloom, but Acceptance is worth a shitload more. Don''t reckon I got time to fuck around looking for a needle in a haystack. Not now.¡±


    ¡°Fuck, Tubal,¡± Raste cast a bitter gaze around the yard with a bitter scowl. ¡°What we could''ve done with that box! You''ve no idea what it is. What it could have made us.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, well. That''s life, I say. Full of disappointments. Move on,¡± he pushed from the rail and looked out across the valley. ¡°Nice place, this. Wouldn''t mind something like it myself. You said you knew his wife?¡±


    Raste dropped his hand over the hilt of his knife. ¡°Long time ago.¡±


    ¡°She anything he made her out to be?¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Seemed to think she''d come after us. Talek was the King''s personal bodyguard. Was Kulsa''Jadean to the bone. They ain''t soft. And if she''s anything like him...¡±


    ¡°He was just fucking with your head,¡± Raste scoffed. ¡°She''s nothing. Nysta¡¯s just a fucking whore. Grew up in the taverns down by the docks. Rest of the time she was in an alley sleeping it off, or selling her ass. No wonder she stuck to Talek like glue. He was her ticket off the streets. If she was gonna follow us, it''d be to beg for fucking change. And I ain''t giving her shit.¡±


    ¡°You sure about that? Doesn''t sound like the same bitch he was talking about.¡±


    ¡°Trust me. She''s nothing.¡±


    ¡°Hope she does follow, then,¡± the broad-shouldered elf drawled. Gave a final suck on the straw before flicking to toward the small pen of goats. ¡°Be the first time I''d be happy to come all this way for fucking nothing.¡±

 Chapter Three

    The elf called Nysta staggered unsteadily down the narrow rocky path leading into the valley. Clumps of snow littered the ground and she spat at a few of them as she passed. ¡°Fucking cold,¡± she muttered darkly, shoving her hands deeper into her jacket pockets.


    She was small for an elf, though tightly muscled. Black hair, once neatly plaited into thick black locks, was knotted with neglect. Woven into the frayed locks were small strips of cloth from many different sources, giving her a ragged appearance.


    When she reluctantly pulled her hand from the warmth of her pocket to push stray hair from her face, she revealed features not quite ugly, but certainly not pretty.


    Mostly due to the angry red scar cutting into her cheek.


    The brutal scar began at the corner of her mouth and ripped upward before jagging out towards her ear from a point just below her eye. It was this scar which injected an element of latent cruelty into her rare smile.


    The elf¡¯s clothing belonged to a dark alley more than the sweeping ruined landscape of the Deadlands.


    Black wyrmskin pants and matching jacket in a style that might''ve once been well-maintained light armor. Now, heavily patched with varying shades of wyrmskin crudely sewn over many rips and holes, it promised little in the way of protection.


    Her dark undershirt was disheveled and stained with beer, spots of vomit, and what could''ve been some kind of gravy.


    Or blood.


    She couldn''t remember.


    Her head beat to a painful rhythm dictated by the headache which had trailed her from Highwall. Sometimes she thought about pulling a knife and shoving it deep into her forehead in an attempt to dig the offending ache out of her head like a tumor.


    The only problem she had with this idea was she couldn''t choose which knife to use.


    Sheaths and pockets covered her battered uniform with surprising excess. Nestled inside most sheaths were an impressive selection of blades which, though they may have appeared decorative, were chosen with function rather than fashion in mind.


    Each blade was known to her by the feel of its handle, and each had a name because she believed names gave them purpose.


    Names gave them life.


    Life they often stole.


    The elf grimaced into the fading light. Heavy clouds dulled the sun¡¯s sharpness, but enough glare punched through to irritate her hungover mind. She knew that, far across the valley, Talek would no doubt be waiting on the porch.


    Probably asleep again.


    When she arrived, she''d find him half-frozen and, despite saving him from frostbite or death, he''d figure he was the one saving her. And he''d give her another talk about her drinking. About spending day after day pressed against the bar, feeding on guilt as much as beer.


    She knew he figured she was repulsed by his scars. That she was unable to love him now the burns had eaten half his body.


    But that wasn''t even close to the truth.


    Truth was that she loved him so much the pain she felt in her chest with each step closer to him burned almost as hot as the magefire which had melted his flesh. And it was this love which filled her with guilt.


    Because every agony he felt was her fault.


    Everything was her fault.


    She jerked a hand from her jacket and rubbed at the puckered scar on her cheek.


    Grunted heavily. It was a useless train of thought, and she knew it. But it was one which ran in circles around her head like a dog hungry for its tail.


    Maybe today, she thought, it¡¯d stop.


    Maybe he''d say something.


    Do something to melt the ice surrounding her heart. Ice which had grown thick enough to stop her heart from breaking.


    Clumps of mummified trees gathered around the trail in secretive groups which made her think they were watching her. Talking about her in breezy whispers.


    A year ago, she¡¯d have spat at them, driving the ghost of her fear away. But today she endured the creeping sensation rolling down her spine as price for her wandering.


    She paused at the edge of a small stream which cut across the path to splash her face with a handful of icy water. Its bite chilled her skin and made her violet eyes glitter brightly.


    Wiping her mouth with the back of her fist, she turned toward the cabin which haunted the horizon.


    Something about it was wrong, but she couldn''t quite place it.


    Her brain was still too fuzzy.


    Whatever it was, she figured the last few shards of light dazzling her sight would soon fade and she''d be able to make out whatever it was that was nudging her mind.


    Rubbing again at the scar, the elf used an old decaying bridge to cross the little stream. As she walked, her mind flushed with the remnants of drink and thoughts of the inevitable disappointment in Talek¡¯s gaze.


    She''d left home before first light the day before, crawling out of their shared bed.


    Had looked back at his shape and listened to him moan softly in his sleep as pain followed him even into his dreams. He slept like a wounded animal. Unable to take the sound any longer, she¡¯d stumbled out the door and into the freezing morning.


    Tears clawed loose from her eyes and scratched down her cheeks like acid.


    Before she¡¯d risen, snow had fallen like a glittering white rash over the valley. The sight of it had been the trigger which left her reeling down the path away from home. A final straw, perhaps, which prompted another pointless attempt to flee her troubles.


    Lifting her head, she could smell more snow on its way. There was a heaviness to the air that spoke of a big fall.


    The goats would need seeing to.


    She''d have to put them in the barn. No way Talek would''ve been able to do that.


    He''d been so strong when they''d met. A soldier rising swiftly through the ranks of the Kulsa''Jadean.


    He was a young man when she¡¯d first met him. Kneeling beside her and looking at her across a dead body.


    How soft his eyes had been and in that crazed instant he seemed to understand why she slipped the blade so easily into a man who wanted something she no longer had the will to give.


    Talek hadn''t reached for her. Had just knelt there, waiting.


    Watching.


    Why he''d bothered to help her, she didn''t know. Even now. But he had. And saw in her more than she ever did. Without him, she''d never have worn the uniform falling apart on her body.


    A uniform she''d once been proud to wear.


    Why she still wore it, she couldn''t say. Only that perhaps it reminded her of how far she''d come. Of how she''d fought so long and hard to reclaim her soul from the ruthless streets.


    No one recognised the uniform out here in the Deadlands.


    Who could?


    With all the patches, it hardly resembled what it had once been. And even if it did, not many alive knew it for what it was.


    She touched her fingers to her hair, feeling the small ribbons of cloth tangled up in her locks. These, too, were part of her path from street to salvation.


    She snorted at the thought. Now they served as reminder of her failures. Her mistakes.


    A suitable burden to bear when faced with Talek¡¯s horrific wounds.


    ¡°Fucking cold,¡± she growled, rubbing her hands together. One of her palms itched and she scratched at it before blowing hot air into her cupped hands.


    She stifled a yawn.


    Then realised what had been nagging her.


    Head snapped up to look sharply toward the cabin.


    The chimney.


    Usually, smoke drifted lazily into the sky.


    But today the sky was empty of that lonely black trail.


    Had he fallen asleep on the porch without keeping the chimney going?


    How long had it been since the fire went out?


    Had he fallen?


    Had he-? She couldn''t bear to think of what he might have done.


    Her heart began to beat faster. She squinted to see even the barest trace of smoke.


    This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    He loved that fire. Said the warmth made him feel more relaxed. That the nerves twisting constantly in his body seemed dulled when pressed against the stone.


    To her, it was a ridiculous thought. How could he enjoy the heat after all that happened?


    ¡°Stupid thing to do,¡± she''d told him many times. ¡°Get away from it. It''s too hot.¡±


    He always smiled, refusing to move. ¡°So? What can it do to me? Burn me? I already got enough scars. What''s a few more?¡±


    She was never able to look at him when he spoke like that. Never saw his sorrow as he noticed her discomfort, but she felt it. Felt the helplessness ooze from him as he couldn''t think of anything comforting to say.


    Now, looking at the cabin, fear prickled the back of her neck.


    The shadows crept across the valley, lapping at the light with their long dark tongues.


    Where was he?


    Sometimes he tried to walk further than the porch. She half expected to see him hobbling along the path toward her.


    Maybe he''d managed to walk further today. Maybe he wasn''t near the house.


    Quickening her pace, the elf chewed hard at her lip. Rising panic drummed in rhythm with the ache in her head.


    And then she saw the first print in the mud.


    Horse.


    She dropped to a crouch, the thrumming in her brain stopping abruptly as her mind kicked into gear.


    More than one.


    Could be a dozen of them.


    Heading toward the cabin.


    Then caught sight of a few bootprints half-hidden by a thin layer of slush.


    The sudden rush of horror enveloped her heart.


    ¡°Talek,¡± she croaked. Began sprinting toward the cabin. ¡°Talek!¡±


    No answer.


    She lurched forward, ignoring the winding path to dash into the fields. She ran like a crazed goblin, dodging ditches and leaping the larger rocks.


    Nearly slipped on a patch of snow but caught her balance and kept running.


    The tight grimace on her face grew harder. Fear swelled in her guts, dragging her onward. Dizziness ate at each step as alcohol surged through her blood.


    She could smell it.


    Not the stale beer. Not the wretched stench of her own body. But the quiet dry stink of death.


    And even before her eyes made out the crumpled shape on the shadow-drenched porch, she knew what she would see.


    ¡°Talek!¡±


    His name was a shriek which pierced the silent cold with violent despair.


    Her throat constricted and her vision blurred as tears clawed from her eyes. Rushing up the stairs, she dived at his corpse. Snatching him into her arms, eyes wide in disbelief as she saw the handle of the knife buried in his chest.


    ¡°What the fuck?¡± Her hand circled the handle, but she couldn''t bring herself to touch it. Couldn''t bear to remove it, as though pulling it out might cause his body to disintegrate in her arms.


    Instead, she let out a soul-cleaving wail and pulled him close. Nostrils filling with the smell of him and the poisonous stink of old blood.


    He was cold.


    Horribly cold.


    She wept freely, squeezing so tight to his body as though trying to absorb him into her. Her sobbing was a river of grief rushing through her.


    ¡°I''m sorry,¡± she whimpered through a curtain of tears. Every sound she uttered felt like she was trying to push her fist through the eye of a needle. ¡°I wasn''t here. I should¡¯ve been here. Again, I failed you. I always failed you. I''m sorry. Talek. So sorry.¡±


    She rocked him in her arms until a small part of her mind clicked into cold hard focus and told her to let him go.


    How long she''d knelt there with him, she couldn''t say. But it felt like days. Was probably only minutes. Her mind, an overwhelming fog inside her skull, acknowledged he was dead. And accepted she needed to move.


    Death was nothing new to her. She''d seen the Old Skeleton''s face and felt the dry breath of the Shadowed Halls blow across her spine many times.


    But this was different.


    This was Talek.


    The back of her hand brushed his cheek, awed by the emptiness which existed within his body.


    It was just a shell. A container.


    Whatever had been inside to form the man she loved was gone. And it would never return. No matter how much she held him.


    The warmth passing from her body into his did nothing to turn meat into living flesh.


    The elf''s jaw tightened.


    She let him go. Lifted herself to her feet. Rolled her shoulders and entered the cabin.


    Saw the mess but didn''t register it. Found a blanket and took it outside to cover him while she worked.


    Got a shovel from a small locker on the porch.


    Walked a small distance from the house. Near a stone he''d liked to sit on during the summer while she worked the farm. Remembered his eyes following her every movement. Like bees buzzing around her back.


    She''d hated his gaze on her.


    Now, she''d do anything to have him look at her. To feel those eyes staring into her own.


    Just one more time.


    Began to dig.


    The snow sighed around her. Lightly at first, it eventually obscured her vision.


    But she kept digging. Each thrust of the shovel was another thrust to her heart.


    The frozen earth resisted almost every attempt to dig the hole, but even had it been made of steel she would have persisted.


    By the time she was satisfied with the depth, she was surprised to see night had completely consumed the land. She hunted for a small oil lamp which had miraculously survived the ransacking of the cabin and lit it on the porch to bathe the yard with a warm yellow glow.


    Shivering in the cold, she dragged his body as gently as she could to the makeshift grave.


    His boots scraped across the ground, leaving two thin lines.


    Her eyes blurred and she wiped at the rippling tears with her shoulder as she struggled with his weight. Even though the burns had taken much of his muscle, Talek was still large for an elf. Almost as big as a Fnord.


    She rolled him easily into the hole, noting with regret that it wasn''t long enough, and his knees had to bend a little for him to fit. She paused, thinking how fragile he looked. How lost. She draped the blanket over him and stared into the grave.


    She wasn''t just burying her husband, she thought. She was burying herself.


    Her past.


    Her future.


    Everything she''d become was tied to him. She owed him more than she could repay and, as she knelt beside his grave, she wept again. Not for her loss, but for the fact she never had a chance to tell him. Tell him she was to blame.


    To beg for forgiveness.


    The protruding handle poked up through the blanket''s folds. She frowned.


    Reached slowly into the grave and took a tight grip on the knife.


    Tugged.


    It refused to give.


    ¡°I''m sorry,¡± she whispered to his corpse. ¡°I gave you so much pain in your life. But this, I swear, will be the last time.¡±


    And, sobbing with the horror of it, she tore the blade free. The smell of old blood made her gag but, lifting the blade free of the freshly dug grave, she eyed the hook knife with professional curiosity.


    Not the kind of blade a professional would normally use to stab through the sternum. It was too curved for that.


    An amateur, then.


    Or, she thought coldly, Talek had pissed them off enough they''d used the first thing which came to hand.


    She preferred this excuse.


    Pulling herself to her feet, she gazed down at the covered body of her husband and wished for words fitting the moment. But she''d never been much for words. And those words she knew well enough were bitter.


    Instead, she ran her fingers through her ragged hair and allowed a few more tears to fall. Lifted her hand in helpless salute. A poor imitation of the one used by the Kulsa''Jadean he''d loved so much.


    Then, choking back her emotions, shoveled dirt down onto the body. Sweat poured down her face and arms as she worked. Even fresh falling snow melting on her back didn¡¯t cool her down.


    When it was done, she looked around the yard. Saw the goats milling around nervously in their crooked pen.


    Sighing under her breath, the elf headed toward them, shovel in hand. Unhitched the gate and flung it open. ¡°Get the fuck out,¡± she growled. ¡°Go on, you dumb animals. Move. Move! Out!¡±


    Bleating nervously, they skittered through the gate and away. Jogged toward the side of the cabin and danced around each other, keeping her in view as she took a few measured steps into the pen.


    Then brought the shovel down hard. Dug another hole in the centre of the small pen. Ignored the smell of goat shit and piss as she kept digging.


    Deeper.


    Until the shovel¡¯s dented blade hit something with a dull thunk.


    She clawed at the ground to reveal a small chest, which she heaved out of the rancid soil with a grunt. The lock on the side was heavy but broke free after a few good hits with the shovel.


    Inside, a small wooden box lay half-wrapped in oilskin. Beside it, also in oilskin, a large sheathed knife.


    The knife she already knew intimately and felt no need to unwrap it. She tucked it into her belt. The box, she held in her hand.


    It fit snugly into her palm. Her thumb rubbed against the metal ribs and along the alien runes. Something about it had always given her the creeps so it wasn''t hard to accept Talek''s insistence it should remain hidden.


    He told her it was dangerous. Powerful.


    Told her his family had protected it for generations.


    And now he was dead, she was determined to keep it with her. Though she couldn''t explain why, she knew it was the right thing to do.


    Shoving it inside her jacket, she turned back to the skittish goats.


    ¡°Go where you like. Stick around the house for a while until winter moves on. That''s my advice. Take it or leave it.¡± She smiled a wry smile whose humour didn''t touch her haunted eyes. ¡°You ain''t kids no more.¡±


    One of the shaggy goats gave a forlorn bleat, but she was beyond caring for their future. Until she gave an absent count.


    One was missing.


    Cocking her head, she noticed marks close by the small barn. Following the trail, she found blood and what was left of the goat. Figured Talek''s murderers had dragged it into the barn to butcher it. They''d taken the easiest cuts and left the rest.


    She wondered if Talek had been killed over a goat. But if they were so desperate for food, why leave the others? It made no sense.


    Annoyed, the elf knelt beside the bootprints.


    There were at least four sets. One was big. He seemed to have done the deed, judging by where he''d been standing and the angles of blood sprayed over the walls and ground. The cuts in what was left of the carcass suggested an axe.


    Strange choice for butchery, she thought.


    Another pair of boots were about her size.


    The scattered bootprints looked to be pretty much the same make and design and she guessed they were part of a uniform. Something about them looked familiar, though she couldn''t quite place it.


    Maybe soldiers of a new guild she hadn''t encountered. Plenty of guilds cropping up these days as Lostlight''s internal politics made and destroyed ties both old and new.


    Or mercenaries? Lost in the Deadlands?


    She grunted in annoyance. They could be anything. Could be Caspiellans for all she knew.


    Her eyes narrowed as she looked around for something else.


    Anything, really. Any hint. Something helpful.


    Found nothing.


    Why they''d come here if not for the goat was a mystery, and whether Talek''s death was their goal or an effect, she couldn''t tell. Did they get what they wanted? She couldn''t be sure of that, either.


    But she¡¯d find out.


    One of them would talk.


    She had no doubt about that.


    The trail led southward, along the winding track leading out of the valley. Further into the Deadlands. Given the nature of the valley and the lack of decent tracks or towns for them to head for, their decision wasn''t much of a surprise.


    They could only have gone north or south. They''d chosen south, and now so would she.


    Out here, there was only one place they''d likely be heading toward. Grimwood Creek. A large town known for being a hive of mercenaries, smugglers, and worse. And that was just the tavern.


    Before that, maybe two or three small trading towns depending on which trail they took. Spikewrist would be the obvious choice. She¡¯d start there.


    Staring out through the falling snow, the elf spat from the corner of her mouth and headed back into the house. Kicked the door shut behind her.


    They''d killed Talek.


    They were gonna pay with every last drop of blood they had.


    A goat bleated. She heard them scuttle up onto the porch, looking for a place out of the icy wind and snow.


    Their hooves thudded on the wood.


    She settled on the edge of the bed she''d shared with her husband and imagined he was there behind her. Moaning in his sleep.


    Her fists gripped the blanket and knuckles whitened.


    She bit her cheek and tasted blood.


    Exhausted, the elf closed her eyes. Aware she could go nowhere in the snow.


    She was unconcerned with the pace of Talek''s murderers. Reasoned they would also need to hole up somewhere in this weather. Probably in one of the trenches dug along the valley''s lips. Or, if they were further out, an abandoned mine.


    There were enough of them littered across the high plains.


    Both Rule and Grim had needed metal to make swords during the thousand years the gods and their armies had battled back and forth across the Deadlands. The scarred land, product of this war, was now a barren wasteland as cracked and blistered as her husband''s flesh.


    Her expression settled grimly into place.


    Snow was a relentless shushing noise which made her pulse trip and tumble. She rubbed the scar on her cheek and lay back on the bed, listening to the world freeze outside the cabin.


    She hoped by morning the snow would ease. Knew if she didn''t catch Talek''s killers before, then she could make Spikewrist in two days and hopefully they''d still be there.


    Her memories of the town were vague, but enough to remember being unimpressed. It was a slightly bigger town than Highwall, with a few more stores used mostly by Traders heading to the coast.


    Other than that, all she knew was that the tavern watered its beer.


    Good enough reason for her to prefer Trollspit.


    The hook knife lay on the table beside her and she stared at it as she was nudged slowly towards sleep by the dull effects of alcohol and grief. With each passing second, the icy wreath around her heart began to melt. Heated by a ball of rage glowing deep in her belly like a volcano''s heart.


    Thoughts of her belly made her stomach growl and she realised she hadn''t eaten since morning. And that hadn''t been much more than a shred of cheese and bite of bread.


    She recalled the animal Talek''s killers had butchered.


    The meat they''d stolen.


    And, as her eyes closed, thought she muttered; ¡°Now they''ve really got my goat.¡±

 Chapter Four

    Nysta woke to the sound of thudding.


    ¡°Talek,¡± she groaned, clutching her head. ¡°Shut the fuck up.¡±


    Rolled onto her side, feeling several knife handles dig into her side. She''d gone to bed armed.


    Remembered why.


    ¡°Ah, fuck.¡± Covered her eyes with one arm and realised the thudding was the restless goats stuttering back and forth on the porch.


    Her brain felt thick and greasy with the leftovers of grief-induced nightmares still clinging to her brain like a gang of goblins. She could hardly remember them, but most involved watching Talek burn.


    Watching his skin melt.


    Feeling his eyes on her. Accusation burning with despair while he screamed and screamed.


    The floor was cold, so she pulled her boots on quickly. Moved toward a small jug of cold water and splashed her face while looking out the misted window.


    An icy white blanket covered the valley. It looked plush and soft, but the elf wasn''t fooled into thinking it was pleasant.


    It''d be cold. She was bound to hate it.


    Hate it more now Talek''s grave was hidden beneath the frozen sprawl as though his death hadn''t happened.


    She knew if she ever returned here, she''d have a hard time remembering where she''d buried him if it weren''t for that stone. She wished she had time to make a marker.


    But Talek''s killers were moving further away. She couldn''t allow them to escape.


    The elf turned back to a small chest torn open by whoever had ransacked the room. Clothes were strewn across the floor, and she kicked through them to find a thicker undershirt which she swapped with the one she''d been wearing the past few days.


    Caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and noted the ragged appearance of her hair.


    The drawn look on her face.


    The scar burning on her cheek with fierce heat. She rubbed at it and gave her reflection a tight scowl. ¡°You look like shit,¡± she told it, running her fingers through her hair and scrubbing irritably at her scalp.


    Checked her knives next, absently brushing her fingers across the butt of each handle as she worked to regain her patience.


    Finally, drawing the blade still wrapped in oilskin, she placed it on the table beside the hook knife recovered from Talek''s chest.


    Stared at them both for a few moments.


    Then slowly, almost nervously, she unwrapped her knife.


    It was long and wide-bladed. A jagged spine with an evil curving belly that swept up to a vicious point. Of the two blades in front of her, hers was the more sickening to look at.


    Sickening due to the enchantment which gave the knife a venomous green glow around the blade. The kind of glow which made most people feel uneasy just looking at it.


    Talek had bought it for her. Had it made by the Royal Swordsmith, Arit Sugo. It was a work of art and function with the enchantment guaranteeing the blade would never break or need sharpening.


    There were other effects, too, but Talek hadn¡¯t been clear on what they were. Only that if she needed them, they¡¯d trigger.


    The cost of the knife had been high. Even now she was shocked at what he''d done to afford the blade. In part, it''s why they''d had to retreat to the Deadlands to survive instead of heading north to the Fnordic lands beyond the Great Wall. With so little gold to their names, they''d had no choice.


    He''d chosen to bury the box in the goat pen. For safety, he¡¯d said. Who''d want to dig up goatshit?


    She''d laid the knife beside it. ¡°I don''t need it anymore,¡± she''d told him. ¡°It''s not who I am now.¡±


    He understood. Even seemed a little pleased.


    Though he knew she needed the blade before, he''d secretly hoped that moving to such an isolated place might give them both a chance for the peace they''d lacked in Lostlight.


    But Talek had never really recognised the merciless nature of the Deadlands.


    Looking around at their meagre possessions tossed contemptuously across the floor, she realised peace was something she was never going to find.


    She sheathed both blades, giving herself no more time to reflect on the past. Her belly bubbled in need of food, but she ignored it.


    Her body was still throbbing with the lingering effects of alcohol and sorrow. She couldn''t bring herself to eat. Felt it would only make her vomit if she did.


    She hauled Talek''s old cloak from under the bed and wrapped it around herself. The black wyrmskin was lined with wolf fur and would keep her warm enough. Its hood could be drawn up to keep the snow from melting into her hair and dripping down her head and neck.


    Then, giving the interior one last look, she turned her back on it. Stepped out into the bitter morning air.


    A goat made small noises as she emerged onto the porch and she nodded calmly in its direction. Figuring it didn¡¯t matter anymore, she left the door open for them to use the cabin''s interior.


    Stepped off the porch and allowed her eyes the chance to drink in the view one last time.


    It was beautiful here.


    Empty and like a patchwork ocean of white and grey stretching toward the high ribbed walls of the valley.


    Hard to believe that this was where the Godwars were fought. That Rule and Grim had personally wrestled here.


    Or that armies had clashed with such fury that the bones of the fallen had fused with stone and everything as far as she could see had been scorched with magefire.


    She shuddered at the thought of magefire. Wiped her eyes with the back of her forearm and turned south.


    Squinted down the barely visible path. And started walking.


    Snow crunched underfoot and the crisp air made her head feel lighter.


    As she moved further from the house, there was something refreshing about the silence. As though the world was mourning the violent end of her husband.


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    It felt right.


    She glanced back only once, and this as she wondered what''d happened to the cat Talek had seemed fond of. She couldn''t remember seeing it.


    Could''ve been driven off, she thought. Ran away scared.


    She didn''t blame it.


    Mist covered the northern end of the valley and it seemed to be crawling eastward. Thankful to not be walking into it, she aimed herself at the southern end.


    Her ears felt numb, and she wondered if Fnords had the same problem in the cold with their short little ears.


    Shivering, the elf¡¯s hands burrowed further into her pockets and she muttered darkly as she walked.


    The snow had hidden all traces of the men who''d killed Talek. But she''d chosen this valley for the very reason there were only two easy ways out. With Talek''s firm belief someone would one day come looking for the box, she figured having somewhere they could see them coming would be a good thing.


    Building the cabin had been a chore. Talek, unable to lift more than simple tools, could only offer verbal assistance and the process was slow. Painfully slow. Especially as she didn''t have much talent for construction.


    More than once she''d bitten back a curse at his inability to lift anything useful and now those moments of anger sparked fresh waves of grief as she realised she''d never see him again.


    He was gone.


    Meat and bones buried in a frozen hole in the ground.


    She couldn''t believe this was happening.


    It was unreal. A dream, perhaps?


    Maybe she''d wake in a minute. Find him beside her. Maybe if she concentrated real hard, she could open her eyes and everything would be fine. The nightmare would be over.


    ¡°Stupid,¡± she hissed at herself, shaking her head angrily.


    Stomped faster down the winding path.


    Not that she needed the path. Could have cut a straight line across the rippling landscape instead. She knew every inch of the valley. Had made it her first priority to scout the surrounds. Just in case.


    In case of what?


    She lifted her scarred face to the smooth clouds.


    In case of something just like this.


    At the far end, the path lifted into a gentle incline and thin clumps of twisted trees raked the sky. A spear of sunlight shafted into the ground and the elf eyed the crack in the sky as though wanting to break it.


    The world, she thought bitterly, didn''t deserve sunlight today.


    The feeling of loss was something she¡¯d felt in a long time. Not since she¡¯d been shoved out onto the ruthless streets of Lostlight as a child.


    In some ways she wondered if fate had played a hand. Given the number of lives she''d taken since then, it felt like some kind of cosmic balance had shifted against her again.


    Grunting, she told herself she''d given up on a belief in fate years ago. When the Dark Lord Grim was eventually slain by Rule, elfs were left with no god to pray to.


    At thought of the two gods, Nysta eyed the terrain more carefully. There were many trenches dug into the ground. And a few tunnels burrowed under light layers of rock and dirt. One wrong step and she could find herself trapped under collapsing earth.


    Even though she figured she knew where most of the tunnels were, she could never be completely certain there weren¡¯t more.


    She could hear the gurgling creek off to her right and remembered Talek saying local legend was the creek had been formed not by water but by the blood of those who''d fallen.


    Such was the toll.


    Her eyes slid over the inhospitable landscape and she found it hard to disbelieve.


    Further up the incline, the path seemed to press in on itself as rocky walls loomed and trees grew more common. Though they were diseased or inert for winter, they offered a fragile promise of life where the valley had offered only isolation and a sense of despair.


    But, thought the elf miserably, the promise of life was an illusion.


    Life didn''t matter. It didn''t last long enough to mean anything.


    All that mattered was survival.


    And revenge.


    It took most of the morning to make it to the top of the valley. She was following the unkempt path toward Spikewrist when she felt her shoulders and back tighten.


    The narrow path winding through the graveyard of trees made her feel like she was back in the tight alleys of Lostlight. It was why she usually headed to the more open northern side of the valley and the town of Highwall.


    Her eyes skipped over the shadows, peeling them back to expose any sign of threat which might need to be countered. It was a habit she''d learnt quickly in the murderous alleys and one which had been further honed in the years of training afterward.


    And, while those who knew her often remarked that she was paranoid to the point of madness, none would deny she was often the first to spot trouble and deal with it. Her paranoia had saved the lives of many in her former guild.


    Fingering the long thin-bladed throwing knife called Entrance Exam at her hip, the elf narrowed her eyes to slits and considered leaving the path. Of sliding among the shadows between thick trees and ancient brush.


    She stepped into a small clearing.


    Scratched at her palm.


    Paused.


    Said; ¡°Fuck!¡±


    And leapt sideways as a ball of magefire as large as her torso erupted from the trees. It flashed past with a roar of heat and crackle of magic. Exploded as it splashed into another tree behind where she''d been standing. The boom of it echoed like thunder as splinters of flaming wood showered the clearing.


    At the same time, she heard a cry of surprise and caught a glimpse of a human female in a black dress.


    Snarling, Nysta rolled into a ditch out of view of her attacker. Paused long enough to figure the mage had no idea where she''d ended up.


    Took a few sharp breaths.


    Then carefully bellied along the ground, keeping her head aimed at the clearing as she tried to circle the human before the spellslinger could pinpoint her position.


    Why the mage had tried to kill her, she didn''t know. And neither did she care. Perhaps the mage had something to do with Talek''s death. Perhaps not.


    Either way, the elf thought as she drew Entrance Exam, she hated spellslingers of any kind. And their magefire.


    An image of Talek''s burning flesh pierced her mind and she set her jaw.


    Killing this one was going to be a pleasure.


    ¡°Hey! Long-ear?¡± The voice surprised her because it wasn''t a woman''s voice. But a man''s. She wondered for a second if there were two of them. Or more. It seemed unreasonable that up to a dozen men and horses were hiding in the trees, but maybe they were better than she allowed. ¡°Long-ear! I didn''t mean to cast that at you! I thought I was alone out here. Look, we can talk about this, right? Long-ear? Shit. I didn''t kill you, did I?¡±


    Nysta''s lip curled crookedly toward the scar, making her grin seem more cruel. Keeping silent, she moved slowly around to where the voice had come from.


    It wasn''t easy with the brittle remnants of brush hidden under the snow, but she took her time. Padded carefully through the snow, inches at a time.


    Her hands were numb with cold, but the elf kept tight control on her patience despite the ball of hate growing in her belly.


    ¡°Long-ear?¡± the voice sounded nervous. Frightened. Odd for a mage to be afraid, she thought. ¡°We don''t have to kill each other. It was an accident. I swear! I didn''t even know you were there! Please, Long-ear!¡±


    He soon realised he¡¯d get no reply and she heard him moving about behind the trees. The spellslinger had a talent for finding every twig. And he couldn''t step on them without letting out a frustrated curse.


    Circling him proved an elementary task.


    She found him easily and eyed his back, watching as he crouched behind a fallen tree.


    He kept lifting his head to look across the clearing to where he imagined she was still hiding. Kept muttering to himself.


    Opening his grimoire, looking for a spell to cast.


    Closing it with a moan and then opening it again as if he couldn''t decide what to do.


    He was young. Barely out of his white apprentice tunic, she thought. Certainly a Fnord judging by both his skin, which wasn''t as pale as the southern Caspiellans, and the dark purple runes shimmering down the side of his flamboyant robes. The runes were in a language created by Grim himself and no mage in service to Rule would profane himself with them.


    She stifled a bark of laughter at his comical appearance. It was rare for mages to wear robes, and this was why she''d mistaken him for a female. He was obviously trying to look the part but managed only to look like a lunatic with a flair for the melodramatic.


    Her eyes slitted as she studied his boots. She let out a soft grunt as she realised his soles weren¡¯t what she was looking for.


    His hair was black, matted with filth. He looked worse for wear, and she doubted he''d been at the farm when Talek was killed. She had no real proof of this other than his boots, so she allowed he could still be one of them.


    Lifting his head too quickly, he bumped it against a knot in the trunk and spat a curse. Rubbed his head and sat down on his haunches in the snow, his shoulders slumped.


    He looked like a child tired of playing a game he wasn''t much good at playing. She felt her lip twitch again and fought to keep herself focussed.


    ¡°Long-ear!¡± he whined loudly. ¡°Please listen to me. I wasn''t aiming at you. I was just practicing. That''s all. If you''re trying to scare me, I tell you I''m pissing my fucking pants already. If you''re trying to kill me, can you just get it the fuck over with? Please? This silence is killing me. Can you hear me? Come on. You''re creeping me out enough already.¡±


    She slid forward, her soft-soled boots making no sound as she flitted across the snow.


    There was a knack to it. One she''d learnt quickly.


    He didn''t even hear her coming until she pressed her cheek against the back of his head and whipped Entrance Exam around to angle the sharp blade across his throat.


    He froze.


    ¡°I hear you, fuckface,¡± she hissed. ¡°Now, let me give you some sound advice. Don''t move. Or everyone in the Deadlands will hear you scream.¡±


    He shivered in her grip. ¡°How''d you sneak up on me like that?¡±


    ¡°It''s like you said,¡± she curled her lip. ¡°I''m very ear-y.¡±

 Chapter Five

    The spellslinger swallowed slowly. ¡°I''m sorry,¡± he managed to croak. ¡°I didn''t mean it. I was just testing some spells. I didn''t know you were on the path. Didn''t even hear you coming. I swear!¡±


    ¡°You''re lucky I believe you, feller,¡± she said, not moving the blade.


    ¡°So, you won''t kill me, right?¡±


    She tightened her grip on the handle. Thought for a moment she could feel his pulse through the sharp edge of the blade at his throat. Could smell he hadn''t washed for some time.


    There was something fragile about him. Like he couldn''t defend himself. She grit her teeth and reminded herself that he was a spellslinger. A mage. And the fireball he''d just thrown would have reduced her to ashes had it hit.


    ¡°Haven''t decided yet,¡± she said through her teeth. ¡°Any reason I shouldn''t?¡±


    ¡°None from me,¡± he paused. ¡°But my wife? Bree. She might have a few. And my four daughters. Letty, Joan, Jessy and Lissa. Love them all. Lights of my life.¡±


    The elf''s eyes narrowed. ¡°You''re married.¡±


    ¡°Be six years this week. And my youngest turns three. Tiny little thing. Cutest fucking smile you ever saw. I gotta buy her something. A ribbon, maybe? Pink one? Pink''s best, don''t you think? Was hoping to be home by now,¡± he sighed. ¡°But I got lost out here. Anyone ever tell you the Deadlands is a complete shithole? There''s no fucking signs! No maps. Nothing. Shit¡¯s all over the place.¡±


    The elf grunted and leaned closer. Her lips almost touched his ear. When she spoke, her voice was a dry rasp. ¡°Tell you something, spellslinger. I''m having a bad day. Yesterday was worse, but let''s not think it''s gonna get any better tomorrow. Because likely it won''t. See, I''m hunting some fellers and it ain''t gonna be pretty for them. Plainly put, I''m gonna kill them. As painfully as I can. And there ain''t nothing else on my mind right now than that. But don''t go thinking that the only hate I have is theirs. Because you gotta know that if there''s one thing I can''t fucking stand, it''s fucking mages,¡± she angled Entrance Exam so the point tucked sharp under his chin. With a flick of her wrist, used it to turn his head toward the path. ¡°So best you turn around and start walking in the other fucking direction. Better yet, start running. And if I even think you''re about to utter a single fucking word from that book of yours, I''ll cut you into so many pieces if anyone finds you they ain''t gonna know what the fuck you were to begin with. Clear?¡±


    He nodded as much as he could, considering the pressure of the blade under his chin. ¡°Crystal.¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± she shoved him hard, sending him cartwheeling over the fallen trunk. He landed in the snow with a started squeal. ¡°Now. Piss off.¡±


    Muttering darkly to herself about mages and their cursed magefire, the elf stomped angrily through the snow. Sheathing the blade, she spat a thin globule of saliva at a withered tree before rubbing her hands and shoving them deep into her jacket again. Rolled her shoulders.


    Heard him scramble to his feet and snatch his pack.


    Then his boots hit the ground fast as he ran.


    But not in the other direction. Instead, he ran after her. ¡°Wait!¡± he cried. ¡°Long-ear!¡±


    She spun, violet eyes flaring. Stabbed a finger toward him as her other hand ripped Go With My Blessing free. Drew her arm back, ready to throw. Her body quivered with emotions she was getting tired of bottling up and the slightest thing was going to flip her lid. ¡°I told you! Piss off! One more fucking step and I''ll put this through your skull!¡±


    He threw his arms up, shielding his face. ¡°Please!¡± The mage was close to weeping as he dropped to his knees. ¡°I don''t know where I am. This is the middle of fucking nowhere. All these paths, they go in circles. I''m out of food. I can''t go much further. You know the way to the closest town? If you lead me, I can pay you. I''ll give you everything I have. Shit, Long-ear, I''d give you my soul if you could take it. Just to a town. I promise. I won''t fuck with you. I just want to go home. My darling Nataly, Long-ear. She''s waiting for me. Lovely girl. Best wife a man could ask for. Long black hair. Big blue eyes. Please, Long-ear. Please don''t make her a widow.¡±


    ¡°You said her name was Bree.¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡±


    ¡°Your wife.¡±


    ¡°Did I?¡± He looked confused. Then snapped his fingers. ¡°No no no. That was my first wife. Blonde? About this tall? Biggest tits I ever got my hands on. Nataly''s my second. Well. Third, maybe? A fucking goddess, I tell you. Things she can do with her mou-¡±


    The elf powered forward, seizing a fistful of robe and swinging him around as though he weighed nothing. He crashed into a tree with a startled yelp and dropped his book. Instinctively tried to snatch it, but froze when she pushed Go With My Blessing against his cheek, the point so close to his eye she figured it wouldn''t take much to spear into his brain.


    ¡°Please, Long-ear,¡± he tried to smile but it slipped away as she scowled. ¡°Is this gonna be the story of our friendship? You always putting knives in my face? Look. I''m sorry I lied. Okay? Really sorry. But I need to get out of here. This place is driving me fucking batshit crazy, okay? My wife. Hell, all my wives, whatever their fucking names, will thank you for it. I''ll thank you even more. Fuck, I''ll thank your fucking brains out if you want. But, please. Help a guy out?¡±


    ¡°Who are you?¡±


    ¡°Me?¡± He twitched awkwardly in her grasp. ¡°My name''s Chukshene if that''s what you mean. You think you could let me go, now? My grimoire''s getting wet in the snow. And this tree''s pressing so hard into my ass it''s making me think I''ve spent my life in the closet, if you get my meaning?¡±


    ¡°You said you had a wife. You lied to me. Why?¡±


    ¡°Are you fucking mental? We''re in the middle of the Deadlands. You have knives at my throat. You''re pretty much gagging to empty my veins in the snow. Why the fuck would I tell you the truth? Huh? So I lied about having a wife. Thought it''d stop you sawing my head off. Worked, didn''t it?¡±


    ¡°And kids.¡±


    ¡°I said that? Oh. Yeah, and kids. Fuck kids. Never wanted them. All that screaming and shitting and throwing up on my robes. Look at these robes. I fucking studied my ass off for ten fucking years for these robes. Think I want some shitty rugrat vomiting all over them? Look, Long-ear. Whatever I said, I take it all back. But the truth ¨C Grim''s honest truth ¨C is that I just spent six months going around in circles in this place. I''m out of food. I''m out of water. Shit, I''m out of fucking ideas. I need you, Long-ear. You''re the first living thing I''ve seen in weeks and the last one tried to kill me, too. But you can get me out of here, I bet. So, please. Go where you''re going. I won''t stop you. I won''t get in your way. But, please. Let me follow. Just to the next town. Did I tell you I have a mother? She''ll be worrying about me. And she''s old. She needs me. No?¡± He licked his lips. ¡°Not falling for that one, huh? Well. I do have a mother, you know. Just don''t know where she is.¡±


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    The elf stared at him, her eyes drilling into his.


    Her mind turned over his request. Her first thought was to stab him repeatedly and move on. But there was¡­ Something. Something stopping her. Like a whisper from her dead husband who¡¯d always believed in helping those in need.


    And the mage, despite his lies, looked in need.


    Finally she gave a snarl and flung him aside one more time. He scrambled for his grimoire and hugged it tight, brushing snow from its cover.


    ¡°You can follow,¡± she growled. ¡°But only to Spikewrist. Then you''re on your own. And you get in my way, I''ll kill you.¡±


    ¡°Deal!¡± he cried, shoving out his hand.


    She looked at it. Thought about cutting it off. Then turned away and moved quickly down the path.


    He looked down at his hand for a moment and frowned. Spat into his palm and wiped it on his robe. ¡°It''s not that dirty,¡± he muttered. ¡°Hey! Long-ear! Wait up!¡±


    ¡°I didn''t say I''d walk with you,¡± she said. ¡°Just meant I wouldn''t kill you for following. You keep up. Or you fall behind. Your choice.¡±


    Hitching his robe, the mage ran after her. His knees lifted a little too high and he looked like a crippled spider. Stumbled more than once. ¡°Fucking robes,¡± he moaned. ¡°Wear the robes, I thought. Look the part. Get respect. Who the fuck was I kidding? Out here, even the rocks don''t give a shit. The fuck was I thinking? Can''t run in a dress.¡±


    The elf ignored him, still unsure why she didn''t just stab him in the eye and leave it at that.


    She''d never understood humans. Especially Grim''s favourite breed, the Fnords.


    They said a lot of things their brains didn''t think.


    The elf walked for the most part in silence, ignoring the mumbling spellslinger. He attempted to engage her a few times in conversation, but soon gave up when she ignored him completely.


    Instead, she kept a relentless pace, pausing only to kneel beside partial tracks in the ground in hope of picking up the trail of Talek''s killers.


    To her disappointment she found nothing all morning, but comforted herself with the belief the riders had wandered off the path. The way the trees formed cryptic aisles, it often looked like the path forked when it didn''t. They may have taken one such clearing, mistaking it for a path. As the mage behind her had proven, newcomers to the Deadlands could easily get lost.


    She''d managed to ignore him for most of the day, but toward late afternoon, the spellslinger began muttering to himself. A constant background drone which soon made her clench her jaw in annoyance. It seemed the man was unable to keep his thoughts unspoken.


    He rambled on until the sun was a greasy stain leaking through the charcoal clouds on the far horizon and she couldn''t keep quiet any longer. ¡°If you keep flapping your jaw, spellslinger, you''ll talk yourself to death.¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡± he scratched at his stubbled chin. ¡°Never heard of that happening.¡±


    She tapped the hilt of Entrance Exam. ¡°Trust me. It can.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡± He pursed his lips nervously and managed to be silent for about five steps. ¡°You know, you''re not the most comforting of travelling companions. I''ve met more talkative orks. Also met friendlier trolls. Ever spent time with a troll? Sour bastards at the best of times. Travelled with one, once. He said three words to me the whole day, but at least they were helpful. Don''t step there, he said. Saved me getting ogreshit on my boots.¡±


    ¡°We ain''t companions. Of any kind.¡±


    ¡°Well. I won''t call you that again, then,¡± he said. ¡°But it doesn''t hurt to be polite. Like, I told you my name. What about telling me yours?¡±


    ¡°It important?¡±


    ¡°Not really.¡±


    ¡°Then fuck off.¡±


    ¡°Well. That''s a start. But, let''s say it is important. I mean, if I see, for example, a bunch of ruffians hiding behind some bushes up ahead of us, what am I supposed to say? By the time I figured out what to call you, they''d have arrows in our heads. And if a tree falls on you, what will I write on your marker?¡±


    ¡°I wouldn''t need a marker.¡±


    ¡°And I guess I wouldn''t make you one. Probably wouldn''t even bury you to tell the truth. Too much effort. But, in theory, what would I write on it? Scar-Faced Bitch doesn''t quite do you justice no matter how apt it is.¡±


    ¡°You don''t want to make it to town alive, do you?¡±


    ¡°When we get there and I''m introducing you to all my new friends, who do I say you are? Some chick I picked up on the way?¡±


    A part of her flared at the subtle reminder of a way of life she was still trying to forget. ¡°I tell you my name,¡± she growled. ¡°Will you shut the fuck up?¡±


    ¡°Probably not,¡± he shrugged. ¡°See? At least I tell you the truth.¡±


    ¡°Nysta.¡±


    ¡°Nysta?¡±


    ¡°I''m not about to repeat it.¡±


    ¡°That means edge in elfish, isn''t it?¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± she scrubbed at the scar on her cheek. ¡°You got me on that.¡±


    ¡°How far is it to town?¡±


    ¡°Day and a half, maybe.¡±


    ¡°Day and a half,¡± he swirled the idea around thoughtfully. ¡°What did you call this town again?¡±


    ¡°Spikewrist.¡±


    ¡°Spikewrist?¡±


    ¡°You gonna repeat everything I say, Chukshene?¡±


    ¡°Maybe,¡± he said airily. ¡°I''m not a complicated man.¡±


    Nysta dug her hands as far as she could into her pockets. One hand found Talek''s box hidden within, and her fingers explored the texture of the wood. It felt cold to touch. Too cold. Like she was holding a solid block of ice.


    She felt a need to keep it hidden from the spellslinger.


    But another part of her wanted to pull it out. Look at it. Try opening it.


    See what was inside.


    She licked her lips.


    The part of her that won was that which mourned him and refused to do more than carry it for him. She kept it hidden. Kept it close. And did nothing.


    ¡°What''d they do?¡±


    His question ran around inside her head like a goblin in a beer barrel. She blinked, clearing the fog. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°These guys you''re hunting. What''d they do? Steal something? Call you names? Rape your dog?¡±


    ¡°They killed someone.¡±


    ¡°Who?¡±


    The elf looked away, shivering as a ribbon of cold air pushed through her cloak and whispered through her jacket. ¡°My husband.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡± he paused. Frowned. ¡°I mean, you''re married? No offence, but you don''t look the type.¡±


    ¡°Figured you out, Chukshene.¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡±


    ¡°You''re an asshole,¡± she growled, picking up her pace.


    He skipped to catch up. ¡°Might be right,¡± he shrugged. ¡°But to be fair to me, you don''t exactly come off as one of the world''s most loving types. I mean, look at you. Ugly as a chicken''s ass. Smelly black fucking leather, and more knives than the Royal Kitchen. What do you need that many for? Or you just lose all your forks and spoons? You know, I have a knife, too. I use it to cut cheese.¡±


    ¡°Thought you smelled funny,¡± she muttered, scratching at the palm of her hand.


    ¡°Huh? Smelled funny?¡± he sniffed at his armpit. Winced. ¡°So I haven''t washed lately. So what? It''s too fucking cold. Last creek I found was half frozen. Really. Had to chip out a chunk of ice just to wet my mouth. Couldn''t drink more than a sip because it nearly froze my tongue off! You think I''m going to bathe in water that fucking cold? Anyway. That''s my excuse for smelling like a troll''s nutsack. What''s yours?¡±


    The elf ignored him as she noticed a flicker of movement through the trees. Draped her hand lightly over the jutting hilt of Entrance Exam.


    ¡°What is it?¡± he asked softly, his tone quickly switching to something more serious.


    ¡°Not sure, yet.¡±


    Chukshene patted his gut and peered hopefully through the trees. ¡°Hope it''s edible. I haven''t eaten in days. Hey, you don''t have any food in those pouches of yours, do you?¡±


    Her own stomach growled. She fingered the knife''s slim hilt. Ready to jerk it free and send it spinning end over end into flesh. His, she thought, if he didn''t shut the fuck up. ¡°Be quiet, spellslinger.¡±


    ¡°I am being quiet,¡± he hugged his book closer and shifted his pack. He shivered nervously as she led the way through the tangled path. Stopped sharply as she crouched, head cocked. Watched her intently as she listened to sounds he couldn''t hear. Wet his chapped lips with his tongue. ¡°But I should let you know, if I don''t talk I think I''ll piss my pants.¡±


    The elf held up a hand for silence, but not before glancing at him. Her violet eyes glittered in the fading light. ¡°Zip it, Chukshene. This ain''t the time for your wee problems.¡±

 Chapter Six

    The source of the flickering light was a campfire sending shadows dancing through the trees.


    The smell of smoke was an open promise of warmth and she silently berated herself for having traveled so close to the impending darkness. She stepped lightly into the sullen ring of light, deciding to take advantage of the already prepared camp.


    It looked like a good place to spend the night. The looming trees easily sheltered the small clearing from the wind and she could hear a bubbling stream in the distance.


    Only one thing was missing, really.


    The men who''d set the camp.


    A dusty old wagon sat at the back of the narrow clearing, the fire''s light dragging over the canvas sheets drawn across the top for shelter. Its back wheel jutted out at a sharp angle that spoke of damage.


    How the wagoners had managed to maneuver it through the narrow paths surprised the elf, but she thought no more on their skills as the canvas flap twitched sharply.


    ¡°That''s far enough!¡± a brittle voice called from within, and the elf noticed a small slitted hole in the side. A glint of steel suggested an arrow tip.


    ¡°No, it ain''t,¡± she called back. ¡°Fire''s all the way over there.¡±


    ¡°Make your own. You''re in a forest. Plenty of dead wood in this shithole.¡±


    The spellslinger hovered behind her. ¡°Nysta? How about we just go around? There''s still a little light left.¡±


    ¡°Ain''t looking for trouble,¡± the elf called, ignoring the nervous mage. ¡°Just a bit of warmth. And like to know if you''ve seen a bunch of fellers on horseback riding this track?¡±


    ¡°What you want with them?¡±


    ¡°It matter?¡±


    ¡°Not really. But we ain''t in the habit of getting involved in other people¡¯s¡¯ business. It''s a good way to get dead. Know what I mean?¡±


    ¡°Nysta?¡± Chukshene tugged at her sleeve. ¡°I really don''t think-¡±


    ¡°Just want to use the fire,¡± the elf insisted. ¡°I''ll pay.¡±


    A pause. ¡°Pay? With what? You''re too scrawny for much and the spellslinger ain''t our type despite the dress.¡±


    Someone else in the wagon tittered.


    ¡°What did he just say?¡± the mage looked outraged. ¡°Did he say I was wearing a dress? These are clearly robes!¡±


    ¡°Pay with coin,¡± she dug into one of her many pouches and pulled out a small handful of silver.


    ¡°That real silver?¡±


    The elf tossed one toward the wagon, letting it fall short. ¡°Check for yourself.¡±


    She waited, listening to them argue among themselves before a second voice called; ¡°You¡¯ve got a lot of blades on you for an honest traveler, Long-ear. How about you leave them right there?¡±


    ¡°You got a bow. Let''s both keep our weapons. And our fucking distance.¡±


    The discussion within the wagon grew more intense, but the elf could hear the word silver repeated and she moved resolutely toward the campfire, reasonably certain the two men inside would accept the deal.


    ¡°Hey!¡± the second voice cried. ¡°What the fuck you doing?¡±


    ¡°Sitting by the fire while you fellers decide what you wanna do,¡± she growled. ¡°Let me know when you''re ready to earn your pay.¡±


    Chukshene followed cautiously, eyes wide as he stared hard at the hole in the canvas.


    ¡°Keep back! I''m warning you!¡± The arrowhead poked further out through the hole and the mage gave a yelp, skidding backward. ¡°I''ll put one through your fucking eye!¡±


    ¡°What the fuck, Oliver?¡± the first voice sounded disgusted. ¡°Put it away. She ain''t impressed and you can''t hit a barn door with that thing. Long-ear? We''re coming out now. Reckon we can take it easy from here in?¡±


    The elf shrugged, slumping down on a log which had been dragged into position beside the fire. Rubbed her hands together and held them out, feeling the warmth breathe through her fingers.


    Chukshene crouched beside her, still hugging his book like a child with a stuffed toy.


    The first to emerge had a long hawkish nose and piercing blue eyes. His ragged rust-coloured hair was wild and a little too long. He had a short hatchet slung awkwardly at his hip. ¡°Name''s Carter,¡± he said. ¡°Carter Holl. This is my driver, Oliver Kween. Call him Ollie if you like. I do. Coming up from Firelash. We''re traders, Ollie and I. Part of a merchant group. Got left behind when we busted a wheel. Soon have it fixed, though.¡±


    ¡°Don''t gotta tell our life story,¡± Ollie grunted, leaping down behind the shorter man. His face was sharper. Eyes a little too narrow. Fnordic like his companion, his short-cropped beard wiped drily over his chin and cheeks. Heavier in build, he may have been good looking, she thought. If it weren''t for the veiled look of disgust he directed at her. A look she''d seen a few times before in men who figured they had reason to hate elfs.


    His gaze flashed with malice before sliding sourly away. ¡°You said you had silver.¡±


    ¡°Never mind him,¡± Carter sighed. ¡°He''s just pissed we''re falling behind the others. And this is the Deadlands. So, he''s seeing draugs in every shadow.¡±


    ¡°It''s kept us alive so far!¡±


    ¡°Certainly keeps my bladder empty,¡± countered the smaller man. Let an apologetic smile twitch across his face. ¡°You''re both welcome to spend the night. Share the fire. Pay what you think is fair. At this stage, it''s a bonus, I reckon.¡±


    ¡°Carter-¡±


    ¡°Enough, Ollie! I''ve decided.¡±


    Oliver looked ready to argue. He held the other man''s eyes for a moment before letting his breath whoosh out of his lungs. ¡°For fuck sakes,¡± he growled. ¡°We''re never gonna make up for lost days if you keep giving shit away.¡±


    ¡°I prefer to do business my way. You know that.¡±


    The elf kept her gaze on the fire, apparently disinterested. After glancing at her, Chukshene chewed his bottom lip thoughtfully before speaking. ¡°Hey,¡± he called amiably to the wagoner. ¡°Don''t suppose you have any food you can spare, do you? Doesn''t have to be cooked. I''d eat it still kicking if I had to.¡±


    ¡°It''ll cost you,¡± Oliver snapped. ¡°I''ll bend the rules on the fire. Maybe on letting you sleep close to the wagon. But not on the food. Anything happens out here and we get stranded longer than we think, then we¡¯d be fucked. There''s fuck all to eat but dirt and old bones out here. You know that.¡±


    Carter nodded reluctantly. ¡°We can spare a little,¡± he told the mage. ¡°But Ollie''s right. We''ve wasted a day trying to fix the wheel. The silver will ease his mind, I think.¡±


    ¡°Sure,¡± Chukshene grinned as Oliver shouldered his bow. Rubbing his hands together happily, he cast a hopeful glance at the elf. ¡°We''ll pay. Well. She will. Lend me a few coins, Long-ear? I''m fucking starved.¡±


    Ignoring the mage, the elf leaned toward the wagoner. ¡°You''ve seen the fellers I was asking about?¡±


    The two Fnords looked at each other and something passed unspoken between them before Carter nodded. The elf felt a grin tug at the corner of her mouth as she guessed their decision right enough.


    Oliver threw up his hands in resignation. ¡°Yeah, just give everything away for free. Let''s become monks while we''re fucking at it. And why bother trading in Lostlight? Let''s just give it all away to beggars along the way. Ah, fuck this. I''ll see to the horses. Do what you like.¡±


    Grumbling darkly to himself, Oliver stomped off behind the wagon and could be heard muttering to the horses as he led them further from the camp. Carter spread his hands apologetically and sat on the second log to the elf''s right.


    She thought he looked birdlike in the flickering light as he lifted a small pack from where it had been resting beside the fire. Dug around inside before tossing a small package to the spellslinger. ¡°Here,¡± he said. ¡°It ain''t much, but we don''t have a lot left. Hoping to make Highwall in a few days, though. Resupply there.¡±


    Chukshene tore at the wrapping and gave a small satisfied gasp as he pulled out a chunk of cheese and dried strips of meat. Offered some to the elf who gave a quick shake of her head and kept her violet eyes firmly on the hawk-nosed man. ¡°When did you see them?¡± she asked.


    ¡°Yesterday. Late evening just before the snow hit hard. Were nine of them.¡±


    ¡°Nine?¡± She had expected around that number, but hearing it made her feel slightly overwhelmed. Though she wouldn''t stop chasing them until they were all dead, the thought of going against nine possibly well-trained soldiers was a daunting one. She felt a thin trickle of doubt slide down the back of her neck and wondered if she was doing the right thing.


    Talek always said she was stubborn.


    Told her it would kill her, too. One day.


    ¡°Yeah. They rode by easy enough. Ollie kept an arrow on them all the way and to tell the truth, Long-ear, I wouldn''t have stopped him shooting them. They looked mean. Meaner than you.¡±


    If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    ¡°You don''t know me all that well,¡± the elf said, her lip twisting crookedly up toward the scar.


    ¡°Still,¡± the wagoner shrugged. ¡°I''d leave them be if I were you. Don''t poke a snake''s nest. You''ll only get bit.¡±


    ¡°Good advice,¡± Chukshene allowed.


    ¡°If you''re set on it, then maybe you should know they didn''t give a shit about Ollie''s bow,¡± Carter said. ¡°In fact, the biggest one kind of smiled as though it was nothing. Big bastard with an axe. Looked like he wanted to kill us both just for the fuck of it. I think that''s why Ollie was so sore when you came along. He''s still feeling rubbed up the wrong way. He wanted to be a soldier, you know. Long time ago. His old dad was one. When he sees men like that, he gets pissed off he didn''t get what they got. Still. They moved on. Maybe figured he wasn''t so green they could take a chance on losing a few of their number.¡±


    ¡°Maybe figured his arrows were green, too,¡± the elf drawled. ¡°Which way were they headed?¡±


    ¡°South. Heard one say something about Grimwood Creek. They looked like they were in a hurry. And you really shouldn''t joke about Ollie like that. He''s not as green as you think. He''s worked this trail with me for five years. The Deadlands isn''t a place for those who can''t defend themselves. We''ve been through a lot together.¡±


    ¡°Grimwood Creek?¡± Chukshene frowned. ¡°That''s right on the border. So they''re Caspiellans? You didn''t tell me you were hunting Caspiellans.¡±


    Carter barked a laugh. ¡°Caspiellans? I doubt it. Not unless she''s one. Or Rule''s decided that elf blood ain''t Tainted anymore,¡± he grinned at the mage''s confused expression. ¡°And there''s fat chance of that, right? No, mage. They were Long-ears. Like her. You ain''t together I take it?¡±


    ¡°No. Just headed in the same direction.¡±


    ¡°Wanna be careful, then,¡± Carter said ominously. ¡°Ought to know who you''re travelling with. That lets you know what kinds of trouble you might find, if you get me?¡±


    Nysta ignored him and stared hard into the fire, her hands twisted together in a knot.


    She''d figured they''d been elfs by their boots. Didn''t feel too much surprise at the revelation. All the same, it disappointed her that Talek would fall to his own kind. She''d always thought if he had to die violently in the Deadlands, it¡¯d be to a renegade band of humans. An ork, maybe, or a pack of goblins. Or some kind of magic-twisted monstrosity created during the Godwars. Anything.


    But not elfs.


    She felt the stab of disappointment in her heart and sighed. ¡°What they look like?¡±


    ¡°They were elfs,¡± Carter shrugged dismissively. ¡°No offence, but you all look the same to me. I guess one was bigger than the others, like I said. Two looked identical. Could''ve been brothers? Another had a cut along his throat like someone''d tried opening him up and didn''t do a good job. Not for lack of trying, I''d say. Awful looking thing. Worse scar than yours. Their leader, though. Come to think of it. He had red hair. That looked pretty strange. Don''t see many elfs with red hair. Others looked just like I said. Normal bunch of Long-ears.¡±


    The elf frowned. There were plenty of elfs in the Deadlands. Lostlight was decaying under the constant threat of attack from the southern kingdoms. The city slowly eating itself with fanged mouths of fear and mistrust as the guilds struggled to retain their sliding grip on power. With Grim no longer holding the combined peoples of the north together, old feuds had reignited.


    Even King Jutta seemed unable to distance himself from the growing rifts.


    Some of the smaller guilds had even quit the city. Headed north to beyond the Great Wall. Fewer still had been reluctant to leave the city and so came to the Deadlands to hide from their more powerful new enemies. Hoping to rebuild their flagging strength and return triumphant one day.


    Something else, though, tugged at her thoughts and she looked up at the wagoner as suspicion gnawed behind her eyes. ¡°Red hair? You sure? How red? Red like rust, or red like blood?¡±


    The wagoner ran his hand over his stubbled cheek. ¡°Blood, I guess. He stood out like an ork in a Ruleist church. I didn''t like him. His eyes were too pale, you know? Like they were dead. They wore grey tabards, too, if that helps any.¡±


    Her eyes thinned to slits. ¡°Grey? Any insignia on them?¡±


    ¡°None I could see. But seemed to me they were covering something up. I don''t know. Just the impression I got.¡±


    ¡°But there were nine of them? You''re sure about that?¡±


    ¡°I''m sure. I counted twice because I didn''t think Ollie''d have enough arrows.¡± He glanced over his shoulder before whispering. ¡°Or that he''d shoot fast enough to cut them down before they got to us.¡±


    ¡°Got anything to drink?¡± Chukshene cut in. He tossed his wrapping onto the fire where it flared intensely for a moment before curling into a tight wadded ball of black.


    ¡°Stream over there,¡± Carter jerked his thumb over his shoulder to where Ollie had taken the horses.


    ¡°Oh?¡± The spellslinger peered into the gloom at the trees. Their twisted trunks creaked at him and the sun, groping blindly at the edge of the world, shone its pale light through their scattered branches. The effect made him think a thousand eyes were watching him.


    Waiting for him.


    The spellslinger sucked on his teeth. Scratched his chin nervously and wrapped both arms around his book. ¡°Well. I guess I''ll be fine. It can wait ''til morning.¡±


    ¡°The others say his name?¡± Nysta asked quietly.


    ¡°Huh?¡±


    ¡°The red-haired elf. They give him a name?¡±


    The wagoner shook his head. ¡°Not that I recall, no. He didn''t speak much. Just told the others to keep moving. They did like he said. Seemed to be in charge. Sorry, Long-ear. I can''t help you much. They were just a bunch of mean bastards who rode past. Were there for less than a few minutes and didn''t come back.¡±


    Her mind raced over this information and an image of a face rose out of the murkiness of her memory. ¡°Raste,¡± she muttered.


    ¡°Sorry?¡±


    ¡°Raste. If it''s him, and of course it fucking would be, then the nine are the Bloody Nine.¡± She scowled. ¡°Fuck.¡±


    ¡°Bloody Nine?¡± Carter frowned.


    ¡°That don''t sound friendly,¡± Chukshene said drily.


    ¡°It ain''t.¡±


    A shivering wind sucked at her cheeks and she suddenly felt so tired. The tension pulling at her face and shoulders as she struggled to push her ballooning sorrow and rage down into the dark pit of her heart was getting too much to bear.


    She wanted to get up and run screaming through the trees.


    Wanted to shout at the sky.


    Spit curses to all the gods.


    To close her eyes and weep herself to sleep.


    Raste.


    It was him. Raste had killed Talek. She had no doubt of it.


    ¡°Nysta?¡± the spellslinger was looking at her oddly. ¡°You okay?¡±


    ¡°Fine, Chukshene,¡± she growled. ¡°Just life has a funny way of reaching round and biting you on the ass sometimes.¡±


    Struggling to hold everything inside, the elf turned her face away and tore the image in her mind apart. Raste''s face shattered. There was nothing she could do right now, she told herself.


    But when she had him in her fists...


    She felt her lips tug into a cruel smirk.


    He was gonna bleed.


    And bleed.


    A second wave of exhaustion nudged her shoulders, carried on the sullen warmth from the fire. She''d walked a great distance today, even burdened by the mage. Her gaze flicked over to him as she suddenly realised he''d kept her pace all day despite his moaning.


    He looked like shit. His eyes were drooping now that food filled his belly, and already he was swaying gently as though about ready to topple over.


    Pursing her lips, she dug into one of the many pouches lining her jacket and pulled out a few more coins. Tossed them at the wagoner. ¡°For the fire. And food.¡±


    ¡°You didn''t have any,¡± Carter observed.


    ¡°Ain''t hungry,¡± she said. And even though it was a lie, the rising bitterness tugging at her mind made everything feel tense. So tense she didn''t think she could face eating right now.


    He scooped the coins and dropped them into a purse at his waist. He hesitated for a moment. ¡°Generous of you to pay for the spellslinger. Especially as you''re both strangers. Don''t see that kind of generosity in the Deadlands much.¡±


    The elf grunted in reply.


    ¡°Well,¡± the wagoner stood and looked around, dusting himself off. ¡°I better find Ollie. Then I reckon we''ll get some sleep. Like an early start. The rest of our team is up ahead and they won''t wait for us. Our leader, Kalel, is always trying to prove something. He''s a competitive prick. We''d like to prove him wrong and catch him before he makes the Stonefist.¡±


    ¡°Bit harsh though, isn''t it?¡± Chukshene asked over a yawn. ¡°Leaving you out here in the Deadlands all alone? This place isn''t known for being friendly.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± the wagoner nodded. ¡°It isn''t. But we made a deal with Kalel. And I''ll honour it even if he doesn''t. Matter of pride. I''d like to think we''re better than him. Besides, we''ve travelled this way before. Nothing here we can''t handle. And Ollie ain''t as bad with his bow as you think.¡±


    ¡°Seemed a bit of a straight-shooter,¡± the elf allowed gently.


    Carter threw her a puzzled look before touching his forelock in salute. ¡°Right, then. I''ll leave you both to it. There isn''t much room in the wagon and Ollie''d never allow you to share it with us anyway. But the fire will keep you warm. Sleep well, Long-ear. Mage.¡±


    Chukshene nodded politely and watched the wagoner as he headed off into the dark, calling for Oliver. Turning back to the elf, he tapped the edge of his grimoire thoughtfully. Rested his head on it and eyed her steadily for a moment before speaking. ¡°I''m sorry.¡±


    ¡°What for?¡±


    ¡°Your loss.¡±


    The elf waited, thinking he was about to say something more, but he left it at that and allowed the silence to stretch.


    A log popped in the flame and she rubbed the scar on her cheek absently. ¡°Thanks.¡±


    ¡°Can I ask you something?¡± He kept tapping the grimoire.


    ¡°If you have to.¡±


    ¡°Why''d you let me come with you? You could''ve left me. Could''ve stuck one of your toys into my eye. Or worse places. I don''t understand. I mean, I don''t know you. But I can see you''re not the type to do things out of the goodness of your heart. So why''d you do it? Why let me live? Not because you like me. I can see that. Don''t understand, of course. I mean, what''s not to like?¡±


    ¡°It important, Chukshene?¡±


    ¡°To me. Like the little guy said. It makes sense to know who you travel with.¡±


    She rolled her shoulders, feeling the knots loosen as she listened to the sound of his breathing mingle with the crackle of the fire.


    Deep in the dark, a horse gave a low whinny.


    The voices of Oliver and Carter crept through the night and the elf closed her eyes, but couldn''t make out any words. The tone, however, was clear.


    She sighed, scratching at the palm of her hand.


    Opening her violet eyes, the elf looked hard at the spellslinger. ¡°My husband was murdered yesterday,¡± she said. ¡°Shouldn''t have happened, but it did. Two years ago, I''d have come home to find a bunch of corpses in the sun and Talek whistling while he dug their graves. But not this year. Yesterday, I buried him instead. Took the knife that killed him from his chest. Keep it right here at my hip. I mean to give it back to the feller who left it behind. Only right to return a man''s belongings. What''s worse right now is I think I know the man who owns it. And if it''s him, I should''ve killed him a long time ago. A moment''s weakness. That''s all. A moment''s weakness and this is my reward for letting him live. Why''d I let you come with me, spellslinger? Because you piss me off. And while you''re pissing me off, I can stop thinking how this is all my fault.¡±


    ¡°Your fault?¡± he leaned forward. ¡°How is it your fau-¡±


    ¡°Freeze!¡± Oliver screamed, leaping into the clearing. His bow quivered in his hand, the arrow''s tip glinting wickedly in the firelight.


    His face was sharp and demonic as he struggled with the urge to let the arrow fly into her body and the last fragment of humanity which baulked at the thought of cold-blooded murder. The elf noticed the struggle and wondered if there had ever been a time when she herself had fought that struggle.


    Behind him, Carter had his hatchet in one hand and a small dagger in the other. Though he looked reluctant to fight, there was a resignation in the way he carried himself beside the archer.


    She didn''t doubt the wagoners'' determination and ability to kill.


    Her eyes slid over them, slowly. ¡°Cold word to use by a fire as warm as this one. You sure you want to do this?¡± The elf¡¯s eyes glinted. ¡°Just the two of you? Without your team?¡±


    The archer bared his teeth. The bow creaked dangerously in his fist. ¡°I can kill you just fine on my own, Long-ear.¡±


    ¡°Don''t reckon you can,¡± she said, ignoring Chukshene''s hiss of shock as she rose to her feet like a leviathan from the sea.


    ¡°Sit the fuck down!¡± Oliver shrieked, jerking his aim between the elf and the mage. ¡°I''m warning you, you fucking Tainted bitch! I''ll fucking kill you! I will!¡±


    ¡°Please,¡± the hawk-nosed Carter whined. ¡°Do what he says. We don''t want to kill you. Just want the rest of your silver. We need it to get to Lostlight. Our wagon''s ruined. When I said we''d repaired the wheel, I lied. Look at it. It can''t be repaired. We''ve been trying for the past two days and there''s no hope. We''re going to leave it. And our stock. We''ll be ruined if we go as we are. But with your silver, we might make out. Please. Don''t make this harder than it needs to be.¡±


    The elf let her hand drop to the hilt of A Flaw in the Glass. The other drifted above Entrance Exam. She let her mouth curl into a twisted smile that left the archer in no doubt as to where to keep his arrow aimed. Ignoring the threat, the elf took a half-step closer. ¡°You fellers should know two things, first.¡±


    The archer''s tongue flicked over his upper lip. ¡°What''s that?¡±


    Two blades leapt into her fists like flashes of silver. A Flaw in the Glass flared venomously as her voice cut smoothly through the night. ¡°I''m super pissed. And you''re out of your league.¡±

 Chapter Seven

    Streaking to her left, her eyes clamped onto the released arrowhead like magnets to iron. It buzzed through the air and drove hard into the log on which she''d been sitting with a frustrated thunk.


    ¡°Bitch!¡± the archer spat. He threw his bow aside as she whirled into range, sliding a brutal-looking knife from his hip and spinning it in his hand. ¡°Come on then, Tainted slut! You don''t frighten me! I cut up your kind plenty of times before.¡±


    The elf circled slowly as the threat of the bow was removed. She wasn''t eager to die, so kept her eyes on the knife, aware of Carter standing back. The hawk-nosed man wasn''t a fighter and looked unable to decide what to do.


    Dismissing both the confused wagoner and the stunned spellslinger behind her, she focussed completely on the archer.


    Could see how much he wanted to sink the blade into her guts. Could smell the hate radiating off him in waves as he revelled in thoughts of tearing the skin from her body. That he''d called her Tainted showed his sympathies, and the boiling hatred he nurtured meant the slender strand of humanity he¡¯d possessed was being strangled with each passing second.


    Soon, he¡¯d feel only a thin razor-sharp determination to kill. Hesitation would cease to exist and reflex would take over.


    She knew this, because she possessed the reflexes of a killer and virtually none of the hesitation. She''d been trained for it both as an urchin on the streets of Lostlight and, later, in service to the King.


    So, she watched him. And kept her patience.


    Searching.


    For an opening.


    ¡°Cut up my kind, huh?¡± she grinned cruelly, knowing the hate would flare in him. Knowing that hate would fuel impatience. ¡°You ain¡¯t got no fucking idea what kind I am.¡±


    ¡°Don''t matter,¡± the archer sneered. ¡°You''ll soon be the best kind of Long-ear there is. On account of being the dead kind.¡±


    She let him make the first move. A choice which nearly got her killed, because he was faster than she''d expected.


    Most humans moved slower than elfs, but Ollie was quick enough that the dagger sliced across her rib. She had to fling herself awkwardly to avoid taking the full force of the blade.


    Saved from bleeding only by the tough wyrmskin, the elf snarled a curse as her boot slipped on a stone hidden beneath snow and nearly twisted her ankle. She stumbled, arms wheeling as she tried to catch her balance.


    He gave a yelp of pleasure at seeing her tumble and rushed in, sensing an advantage. His fist screamed toward her jaw.


    But the advantage he''d sensed, wasn''t really there.


    Recovering fast, she countered his attack with one of her own. Powered into him, her shoulder smashing hard into his ribs, spinning him around. Driving him back with a series of sweeping kicks, she grinned tightly as the dance of violence pumped her body full of adrenaline.


    Ollie bit back a curse as her boot smashed against his thigh. Rocked to a staggering halt, he tried gaining momentum by swinging his arm at her, his fist thirsting for blood as it blurred toward her face.


    It was the worst move he could make.


    Entrance Exam flashed. The blade''s belly tore smoothly into his incoming fist, entering between the two middle knuckles and carving up along the bones of his fingers as though cutting through cheese.


    Then stopped as it chopped into the bones of his wrist.


    His arm shuddered to a halt inches from her face and she felt his weight press against her. For a moment, their eyes met and she saw the triumph in his eyes die at the sight of blood pumping from his hand.


    With a savage jerk, she ripped the blade free in a downward motion. Blood spattered at their feet and she spun ruthlessly on her heel.


    Agony travelled up the nerves of his wounded hand to slam into his brain like a sledge. He screamed, then screamed again as the elf swatted his wounded arm aside so she could charge into him, ramming her shoulder hard into his chest to send him staggering back on failing legs.


    Realising he''d underestimated the elf, he twisted awkwardly. Tried to run. Managed to half-turn away before the flash of A Flaw in the Glass lit up the campsite with its ravenous glow.


    The elf''s face was a mask of rage held tight over a core of joy as she attacked. The need to kill chased her soul like a starving wolf. She struck, a brutal blow that squeezed every ounce of strength from her arm. A Flaw in the Glass buried itself to the hilt in his chest.


    Gently, she pressed her face against his, smelling his unwashed skin. Feeling a gasp of rancid breath rush against her cheek. ¡°Tried to tell you,¡± she said calmly, holding A Flaw in the Glass as still as she could. ¡°I ain''t any kind of kind.¡±


    Then ripped the blade upward, ignoring ribs to shear through his collarbone and explode free with a powerful spray of blood. Pulled a scream out from somewhere so deep inside him that it sounded to her ears as though his soul itself was screaming.


    Nysta paused above the body, her cold gaze scanning the bloodied chest. The gaping wound drew no new emotions from her and she wondered when it was that she''d lost the power to feel anything at all when faced with the awful sight of a man with his chest opened up.


    Then thought of Talek, and her heart tightened as though a fist clenched around the beating muscle.


    Carter dropped his hatchet and knife. Vomited heavily on the cold earth, his body heaving as he fought waves of horror and revulsion.


    Slowly, she turned toward him.


    ¡°Carter Holl,¡± she said, her voice sounding hollow in her ears. ¡°You tried to kill me. I gotta tell you, that kind of thing pisses me off.¡±


    ¡°Please, Long-ear,¡± he whimpered, clawing at the sodden ground. ¡°Don''t kill me. Please. I''ll go. You won''t ever see me again. I swear it! But, please, don''t kill me!¡±


    ¡°Nysta,¡± Chukshene wiped his mouth and gripped the grimoire so tight she thought he might break it in two. ¡°Please. No more. That¡¯s enough.¡±


    ¡°I''ll give you your coin back!¡± The wagoner struggled to pull the coins from his purse. They scattered out of his shaking hands and glinted in flickering firelight. ¡°Here! Have it all! Have it. Just let me live!¡±


    ¡°Money can buy anything,¡± the elf said, her words coming slow and soft like a silk ribbon.


    Chukshene sucked a quick breath.


    The wagoner looked up, hope spreading over his face. Smiled weakly. ¡°Thankyo-¡±


    And got no further. Entrance Exam flashed like a steel hummingbird. The slender blade flew from her fingers in a steely blur. Then splashed into his eye and drilled into his brain with brutal efficiency.


    A puff of red mist burst from the wound.


    He dropped without a sound, his body giving a single violent spasm before death wrenched all sign of life away.


    ¡°But it won''t buy me,¡± she finished coldly.


    ¡°Son of a fucking bitch,¡± Chukshene croaked, his mouth hanging slack.


    She turned towards the spellslinger, A Flaw in the Glass glowing in her fist. The aftermath of violence made her quiver and her violet eyes glittered dangerously in his direction.


    He scrambled backward, bringing up his grimoire like a shield. ¡°Grim''s withered cock! I didn''t mean anything! Nysta, listen to me, I''m not-¡±


    ¡°Relax, mage,¡± she hissed through her teeth. ¡°I know what you fucking are.¡±


    Working deliberately, the elf knelt to wipe the gore from her enchanted blade on Ollie''s cloak. Slid the blade into its sheath before taking the dead archer''s knife in her hand and looking at it with a critical eye.


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    It was a practical weapon but with a jagged saw-toothed spine which seemed to be chopped into the steel for no reason other than to cause more pain. The handle was overly smooth wood and would need binding with leather if she didn''t want to lose it when her fingers were slick.


    The edge was dull through lack of care. She figured the archer spent more time on his bow. But otherwise, it was in good condition.


    She spun it lightly in her fingers to test its weight. Decided it was worth keeping.


    With a callous smirk, the elf sheathed the freshly named Kindness in a sheath inside her boot. Lifted her gaze and flexed her wrists before checking the body of Carter Holl. Snatched Entrance Exam and pulled it free with an awful sucking sound that made the spellslinger flinch.


    She felt his gaze on her as she moved.


    Knew he was still worried she''d turn on him at any moment, but the rage which had chewed through her self control had already eased. It left behind a hollow sense of despair sliding around her heart like a worm.


    The elf crouched low over the dead wagoner, her eyes drifting over the shadowy treeline. She could make out the sound of the small creek bubbling in the distance. A horse gave a low snort. Other than that, the land was steeped in icy silence.


    ¡°Are you okay?¡± he asked nervously. ¡°Not going to slit my throat or anything?¡±


    ¡°If I were, spellslinger, I''d have done it by now.¡±


    He turned her words over in his head a few times before letting out a sigh. ¡°Guess you would have at that. Anyone ever tell you, Nysta, that you''re more than just a little bit fucked up?¡± He scrubbed his fingers through his greasy hair before adding quickly; ¡°No offence.¡±


    The elf gave no reply. Instead grabbed hold of Carter''s lifeless shoulders and began dragging the corpse away from the camp. He was heavy, but once she made the tree line, she kicked the body so it rolled out of view before returning for Ollie.


    Found the mage picking his way over the bloodied ground, holding his robe high above his ankles. He had one hand wrapped delicately around one of the dead archer''s boots and was hauling the body as though afraid of getting blood on his fingers.


    With each step, his face twisted in distaste.


    ¡°This is awful,¡± he complained. ¡°Fuck. The stink. You ever thought there were cleaner ways to kill a man?¡±


    She cocked her head at him and rubbed the scar on her cheek. ¡°Ain''t no clean ways to kill, spellslinger.¡±


    ¡°I guess not. But there''s gotta be less messy ways. You didn''t have to open him up like a fish. I used to live near the docks, you know. In Doom''s Reach. Used to stink of fishguts. This is worse. Much fucking worse.¡±


    The elf headed to the wagon and leaned inside. Poked around until she found a scrap of cloth. Using it to wipe her hands free of blood, the elf craned her neck toward where she thought the stream was. Squinted into the gloom. ¡°Reckon water''s that way.¡±


    ¡°Fucked if I know,¡± Chukshene gagged, nudging the body with his boot to roll it up against the other wagoner''s corpse. ¡°Grim''s balls, this is crazy. Ah, shit. I think I trod in something gross. Fuck. Nysta? Where you going? Hey! Long-ear?¡±


    The stream''s water was almost frozen.


    Crisp flakes of ice drifted along the surface and collected along the pebbled bank. She watched the water flow through her fingers, taking a cloud of red away as though no blood had ever stained her hands. It was almost too easy to kill, she thought.


    She heard a soft hushing sound and looked up.


    Snow.


    Delicate wafers drifting downward to bring more cold to the land. The elf grunted. Like it needed more.


    A single flake brushed against her forearm. She watched it shrivel as it melted against the bracer hung loose from her arm. She lifted her hand and the droplet of water slid gently down the wyrmskin to seep into the crook of her arm before dripping off her elbow.


    The drop seemed to hang in the air before plunging into the stream to be carried away.


    Like blood.


    Heading north toward the cabin she''d left behind.


    A pinpoint of warmth stung the corner of her eye and she rubbed the tear angrily. She didn''t have time for this.


    Scooping a small handful of water, she splashed her open mouth. Felt the freezing water numb her lips. Gave a grunt as she wiped her hands on her pants and returned to the small camp.


    Ignoring the dark patches on the ground and the long drag marks stained with blood, the elf dropped heavily beside the fire and peered deep into the fiery maw as though it could burn her memories away.


    ¡°Snow''s coming again,¡± the spellslinger moaned. He blew into his hands, rubbing them together and holding them out toward the heat. ¡°I fucking hate snow. It''s fucking cold. You know, I think my balls are trying to roll up into my throat.¡±


    ¡°Talek,¡± she said.


    The mage glanced at her, confused. ¡°Huh?¡±


    ¡°You asked if anyone ever told me I was fucked up. Talek did. Said I was fucked up. Told me all the time.¡±


    ¡°He was right.¡±


    ¡°Maybe. He was a good judge of character. Had to be in his position.¡±


    ¡°Why? What was he?¡±


    ¡°Kulsa''Jadean.¡±


    Chukshene frowned. ¡°My elfish is mostly shit. And you Lostlighters aren''t exactly normal elfs. Kulsa what?¡±


    ¡°Jadean. A guild. The Kulsa''Jadean are the King''s personal guards.¡±


    ¡°That means he was good, right?¡±


    ¡°The best. He stood at Jutta''s right side.¡±


    ¡°And you? You were a guard, too?¡±


    ¡°Me?¡± Nysta snorted. ¡°You see me guarding anything?¡±


    ¡°I guess not.¡±


    ¡°I was just a raghead. Not important, really. Especially now. Seems a long time ago,¡± she brushed the tattered jacket. The right arm felt loose at the shoulder and she wasn''t sure she could be bothered mending it again. ¡°Was proud of it, once. That was a long time ago.¡±


    ¡°A raghead? That some kind of thug? You look like a thug. Again, no offence. I''m just saying...¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± she said bitterly. ¡°It''s something like that.¡±


    ¡°So that thing you''ve got going in your hair? All those bits of cloth? That''s part of the uniform? Why tie all that shit in there anyway? What''s it for? Patch your clothes? Looks like you need more of them.¡±


    ¡°Snow''s gonna fall heavy tonight,¡± she said, ending that line of talk. She felt surprised she''d even spoken about it in the first place. She hardly knew the man and, even if she did, sharing her past wasn''t something which came naturally to her. Absently, she fingered one of the scraps of cloth in her hair. ¡°Best we use the wagon for shelter. I''ll see to the horses. You put out the fire.¡±


    ¡°Put it out? What the fuck? It''s all that''s keeping me from turning into an icicle.¡±


    ¡°Leave it lit and we''ll most likely burn in the night. Too much wood around, spellslinger. Even if most of it''s wet, let''s not take the chance.¡±


    ¡°Freeze, or burn?¡± He thumbed his nose. ¡°Fuck. I don''t know which I''d prefer.¡±


    The elf shuddered, remembering the day Talek had been hit by magefire. How he''d screamed and screamed until she couldn''t stand it anymore.


    ¡°Freezing is better,¡± she said. ¡°Trust me on that.¡±


    She slapped her thighs as she stood, brushing dirt and ignoring wet spots of fresh blood. Looked through the trees to where she figured the horses were tethered and headed in their direction.


    Behind her, Chukshene started kicking earth onto the fire. ¡°Glad I don''t have tits,¡± he growled. ¡°They''d have frozen off by now. Hey, Long-ear? You think there''s wolves out here? I''ve heard they love nights like this. I hate wolves. I ever tell you that? Fucking animals. Evil balls of fur with fangs. Worse than cats. I hate cats, too. Make me sneeze. You know, up near Icereach, they get wolves the size of horses. Horses! Imagine that. Makes me want to puke just thinking about it.¡±


    Nysta clicked her tongue as she neared the horses, ignoring the muttering mage. Approaching cautiously, she allowed them the chance to get used to her before she stepped too close.


    ¡°Take it easy,¡± she cooed softly. ¡°You oversized lumps of shit.¡±


    The closest let her touch its shoulder and she checked the tethers before accepting Ollie probably knew his job much better than she did. Admitted she didn''t know much more about horses than how to tie them off and kick them in the ribs to get them to move faster.


    The first horse she''d ridden had bitten her.


    Only once.


    The punch she''d aimed at its head ensured it didn''t bite again. All the same, she didn''t trust horses, and pretty much every one since had sensed her distrust.


    The horse''s eyes were glass orbs and the elf expected it to roll its head at any second and try to take out a chunk of her outstretched hand.


    She inched her hand back slowly.


    ¡°Evil fuckers,¡± Chukshene said morosely, approaching from behind. ¡°Horses, I mean.¡±


    The elf grunted in agreement and pushed past him toward the wagon. The horses could die for all she cared. Told herself she could walk faster than they would anyway. ¡°You look around?¡±


    ¡°What for?¡±


    ¡°Out here, you never can tell. We found an imp on our porch, once. Took a day to die and three goats with it. Out here they grow big. It had a mouth so big it could bite off your fucking arm. And claws bigger than swords. Sneaky fuckers, too. You don''t hear them until they''re gnawing through your skull. And there''s worse than imps out here, I''ll tell you that much.¡±


    ¡°Don''t say that,¡± he whined. ¡°I want to sleep tonight.¡±


    She vaulted lightly into the wagon and waited for her eyes to adjust to the darkness.


    Aware the mage would have trouble with his human sight, she drew A Flaw in the Glass and allowed the green enchanted glow to fill the inner cavern of the canvas-clad wagon.


    It was filled almost to the brim with crates. The heavy metallic smell hinted the wagoners were probably smuggling weapons. Many smugglers worked the Deadlands, and it would explain their reaction and subsequent attempt to rob them. Greed pulled their wagons as much as the horses.


    She held the blade close to one of the crates, but the size suggested they contained swords rather than anything she''d find interesting. With a grunt, she looked around and found a small chest which appeared to hold more personal belongings.


    ¡°That''s a novel way to use an enchanted blade,¡± the mage mused as he climbed in. ¡°Does it do any other tricks?¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± she pulled a few blankets from inside the chest. Tossed him one and wrapped the other around her shoulders. ¡°It silences mages.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡±


    The elf mimed dragging A Flaw in the Glass over her throat. ¡°Really.¡±


    ¡°Ah. Funny.¡± He settled his back against the side of one of the crates and shivered under the blanket. ¡°You know, I think you missed your calling, Nysta. You could have been an entertainer. Performed at inns. Why, with your skill, you could''ve done palaces. Ah, the coin they would have thrown you. More often at you. In fact, lend me some and I''ll do it myself. Doesn''t have to be coin if you don''t want. How about rocks? Want a rock in the face?¡±


    ¡°Go to sleep, spellslinger. Before your tongue kills you.¡±


    Chukshene chewed his bottom lip. Slowly rested his head against the grimoire. ¡°Fine, Long-ear. But first, can we make an agreement?¡±


    ¡°Regards to what?¡±


    ¡°I''m just not sure I trust you, Nysta. Actually, I''m pretty fucking sure I don''t. And why should I? You''ve got more knives than I''ve got hairs on my nuts. Worse, you''ve got the look of someone dying to use them. I don''t want to worry about waking in the middle of the night with my throat gushing blood, if you get my drift?¡± He eyed her warily as she casually spun A Flaw in the Glass in her fingers. The green light flickered eerily and he shuddered before continuing. ¡°So, I''d like to make a truce. You don''t try opening my veins, and I won''t melt your face off. The thing is, I want to sleep easy for one night without having to keep hold of my magic just in case. And I''m sure you don''t need any more practice after what you did to those two out there. So, what do you say, Long-ear? Think we can agree to be polite?¡±


    ¡°Sure, Chukshene,¡± the elf said, sheathing the blade and plunging the wagon''s interior into darkness. ¡°I reckon we can mind our manas for a bit.¡±

 Chapter Eight

    Nysta woke with a start from a dream of burnt flesh buried in a frozen hole in the ground. Ringing in her ears was the malicious laughter of a Caspiellan mage and she blinked rapidly to clear the remnants of her nightmare.


    Her mouth felt dry enough for her teeth to crack.


    Outside the wagon, the world was comatose beneath a blanket of new snow. A sharp breeze fingered through small holes in the canvas and the elf shivered, drawing the blanket up under her chin. Though she was anxious to leave, she wanted to cling to the warmth for just a few more minutes.


    She stifled a yawn, watching the spellslinger snore gently near her feet.


    Wondered again why she''d brought him along. He seemed useless. A child in a world of cutthroats and mercenaries. Should have left him where she''d found him. Preferably with his guts dangling from a hole in his belly.


    Could still leave him, she reminded herself.


    Slipping past him wouldn''t be difficult. She could even cut his throat on the way out and he''d never notice.


    She thought of the reason she''d given him. That he distracted her from her guilt. There was a grain of truth to the excuse, she thought with a grimace.


    But blaming herself wasn''t doing any good. She knew that. It was making her feel weak. Making her doubt herself.


    And, with the Bloody Nine to kill, the elf figured she didn''t need doubts right now.


    Chukshene was a spellslinger, though. A mage. The thought coiled around her brain. A mage had crippled Talek. Destroyed their chance at happiness.


    The elf licked her lips, thinking again how easy it would be to kill him.


    Further thoughts down that road were cut off as her fingers found the small wooden box in her jacket. Suddenly remembering it, she frowned, and drew it out for a closer look.


    She studied it carefully, amazed by the near seamlessness of it.


    Only a few times over the years had Talek shown it to her. It had seemed insignificant at the time. A family trinket. An amusing tale she presumed was mostly fiction. As an object, it meant little to her other than something he cared for.


    ¡°It''s powerful,¡± he''d told her.


    ¡°How? Don''t reckon there''s much you can do with it, except maybe bash some feller''s brains out with it.¡±


    ¡°There''s more power in the world than just your arm, Nysta.¡±


    His words echoed in her mind as she rolled it between her fingers. It felt cold to touch. But, the elf thought, so did everything at this time of year.


    The indecipherable runes looked like spiders dancing. Something about them disturbed her, though she couldn''t say what. Her fingers ran the length of them, tracing the arcane design and sliding along the metal braces which bound the box shut.


    There was no lock.


    No seal to show how to open it.


    And, as far as she could tell, it wasn''t meant to be opened anyway.


    Puzzled, she began to look for an opening. A mechanism. Something which gave a clue as to how to open it.


    She turned it in her hand, feeling the wood between her fingers.


    And then her eyes widened.


    Talek''s box wasn''t just cold. It was frozen. As though she was holding a block of ice. The cold spread eagerly into her hands, creeping up her wrists like ice crystals on glass.


    The runes on the side of the box looked darker. Like they weren''t just seared into the wood but were formed from the void of space. They also looked as though they were poised to crawl over her hands, or yawn open to swallow the world.


    She leaned closer. Exhaled a cold fog of air.


    Eyes widening.


    There was something...


    ¡°What''s that?¡±


    The elf''s head snapped up to see the spellslinger looking at Talek''s box with an odd expression. There was something in his eyes she didn''t like. Scowling, she shoved it deep into her pocket again, feeling the box''s frozen temperature abruptly return to normal. ¡°None of your fucking business.¡±


    Her hand stayed wrapped around it in her jacket, and she decided the change of temperature was her imagination. She was tired enough, she thought, to imagine anything.


    The mage yawned. ¡°Whatever. Keep your secrets. I don''t care. I''ve got plenty of my own and I''m sure they''re better than yours. Found anything to eat?¡±


    The elf''s stomach bubbled at thoughts of food and she tossed the blanket aside. Shivered as the cold air rudely stole her warmth. It would be a bitterly cold day if the temperature inside the wagon was any indication. Cursed softly under her breath and rummaged through the small chests beside the crates.


    A few neatly folded packets nestled in the second chest and she tossed one to the spellslinger. Took another for herself.


    ¡°Thanks,¡± he caught it with clumsy hands, almost dropping it.


    ¡°We''ll leave as soon as you''ve eaten,¡± she said with a curt jerk of her head.


    ¡°What''s the rush?¡±


    ¡°Some fellers out there are breathing when they shouldn''t be,¡± she said. Snapped her teeth into a strip of dried fruit and sniffed at a chunk of dried meat before tossing it over her shoulder.


    She chewed quickly and swallowed, barely tasting anything and unsure what kind of fruit it was she was even eating.


    As she ate, her mind drifted in a distracted manner, tumbling over fragments of memories and thoughts of Talek''s killers dying violently in her hands. Felt her lip curl slightly up toward the scar on her cheek.


    At the same time, she found herself wondering what she was really doing out here.


    Talek was dead. He would never return from the Shadowed Halls no matter what she did, so what was there to gain from the deaths of those who murdered him?


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    What if they weren''t heading toward Spikewrist?


    What if they doubled back? What if she was to wander aimlessly for the rest of her life searching for elusive ghosts?


    Too many questions riddled her mind like holes in a tattered banner.


    Submerged in her doubts, Nysta''s expression remained impassive but her eyes slid curiously around the interior of the wagon. The texture of the wood. The soft ripple of canvas. Her nostrils flared as she caught the scent of fresh snow. The hollow sound of silence frayed at the edges of her hearing.


    Little fragments of detail that made her wonder about that mystical thing called life. Life she was thinking of taking. And life she might be close to losing.


    Was vengeance really what she wanted?


    Was it really their blood on her blades that she sought?


    Or something else?


    Her heart quivered as she swallowed. Quickly stuffed the rest of the dried fruit into her mouth and chewed hard. The wagon suddenly felt stifling, and she wanted to get outside as fast as she could.


    To move on before the doubts gnawing at her brain made her pause too long.


    ¡°Can I ask a question?¡± the spellslinger asked, chewing fast as he tried hard to keep pace with her. ¡°How far is it to the next town?¡±


    ¡°Spikewrist? Be there by mid-afternoon on horseback. Quicker if we push them.¡±


    ¡°Mid-afternoon. Do you think it will snow again today?¡±


    The elf shrugged. ¡°Probably. Was pretty heavy last night. Figure it''ll come and go for the next few days.¡±


    ¡°Shit. I was hoping you''d say no,¡± Chukshene arched his back and stretched like a cat. The runes glittered on his robe. ¡°I hate the snow. It''s fucking cold. And when it melts down the back of your neck? Well, it drives me fucking crazy.¡±


    ¡°Pull your hood up.¡±


    ¡°I can''t. I don''t have one.¡±


    ¡°Should''ve planned better, then,¡± she smirked.


    ¡°Thanks for the sympathy.¡±


    ¡°You want sympathy, you came to the wrong place. This is the Deadlands. We''re all out of sympathy around here.¡±


    ¡°So I''m finding out,¡± he sighed, wriggling under his blanket, trying to cling to the fading warmth. ¡°You got any good news this morning?¡±


    ¡°Good news? Well. I ain''t killed you, yet. That good enough for you?¡±


    ¡°Anyone ever tell you you''re an absolute joy to be with? That you light up the fucking room just by being in it?¡± he shook his head. ¡°No, I bet they didn''t. Just gloom, doom and mass-fucking-depression. That''s you. For me, I can blame the snow. I mean, who doesn''t get down when it''s so cold you can''t piss for the frost on your cock? But you? An emotional cripple. Guess that''s a good attitude for a punk in an alley. Maybe you needed it to survive. But for a real person out here in the real fucking world, I gotta say it''s a shit one. Tell me, Nysta, what do you do during Spring? I bet you don''t even notice it happen if it weren''t for the deathpriests and their crazed dances in the streets.¡±


    ¡°Ain''t much for the Rites of Spring,¡± she allowed cryptically. Patted A Flaw in the Glass jutting from her hip. ¡°Only straight edges I got are here.¡±


    ¡°I don''t get it,¡± he muttered. ¡°That some kind of joke? If it was, it wasn''t funny.¡±


    For answer, the elf rolled to a crouch and crossed him to get to the rear of the wagon. Threw open the canvas to look out at the pale snow-crusted trees.


    Other than the two lumps in the snow, all sign of the previous night''s violence had been obliterated.


    Not far away, the two horses gave a snort at the sudden movement and she glanced at them.


    They didn''t seem bothered by the cold and, for a moment, she felt a pang of jealousy. The air was brittle on her skin and every breath was a misty exhale that turned her lips to glass.


    She looked down at the spellslinger, who was staring out with distaste.


    ¡°Come on, spellslinger,¡± she said. ¡°Time to go.¡±


    ¡°Can''t we stay inside a bit more? There''s some cracks in the clouds. Maybe the sun will shine on through. It might warm up soon. It''s freezing, Nysta.¡±


    ¡°Stay if you like,¡± she said. ¡°But I''m leaving.¡±


    ¡°But won''t the snow have covered the trail? It''s a fucking maze out there. You could take a left when there''s no left to take.¡±


    Her eyes glittered as they swept over the white and grey landscape. The twisted trees writhed in the icy wind and she admitted he was right. The trail through this part of the Deadlands was narrow and as knotted as the trees themselves.


    With the dark clouds still fuming overhead, it was hard to pinpoint where the sun was, and the mountains to the north which might have given her a bearing were lost from view behind veils of mist and distant snow.


    Unless she wanted to climb one of the cursed trees for a better look. She spat sourly out of the wagon at the thought of touching the blistered bark.


    It was a tough road to take, but the only other choice was to turn around. Head back north. Maybe swing around to the east. But that would take days. Days she didn''t have. Talek''s killers were moving further away with every minute, and in her mind she felt the gap yawning wider every minute.


    She had to catch them.


    Had to make them pay.


    Her fingers tightened around the canvas. ¡°I know what I''m doing,¡± she growled, more for herself than for him. Just saying it gave her a sense of assuredness.


    For about a second. Then the doubts whispered softly at the edge of her mind once more.


    ¡°Alright alright,¡± he grumbled, reluctantly easing out from under the blanket. He clung to his grimoire as though afraid it would leap from his hands. Let out a misty sigh.


    The elf dropped lightly to the snow and felt the cold immediately penetrate her boots to numb her toes. The wyrmskin leather wasn''t made for tramping across the blasted landscape of the Deadlands. They were city boots. Soft-soled and used to creep across rooftops and through the violent shadows of Lostlight''s many alleys.


    Her skin rippled as the cold snaked through the loosely tied bracer on her arm and she thought of tightening it, but she''d never felt comfortable with her right arm bound as snug as her left. Couldn''t say why.


    Talek''s cloak provided some warmth, and the elf tried not to be swept away on the echo of his scent which clung to the fur. But it was a difficult struggle. Her knees felt weaker and her eyes threatened to let loose a torrent of tears as she approached the horses.


    She needed to control herself, she thought. Not let her emotions twist her thoughts.


    Hold onto the thought of vengeance, she told herself firmly. Onto the anticipation of hearing their screams.


    Every scream, she told herself, would help fill the void left by Talek''s absence.


    But, for that to happen, she''d have to be tough. Harder than steel and colder than ice.


    Clamping her jaw firmly, the elf went through the process of freeing the animals from where they''d been tethered against an old log with old lengths of rope around their necks. They were compliant and didn''t seem bothered by the sudden change of ownership.


    While there were no saddles, she found a pair of quilted blankets tucked inside a small compartment under the wagon and she tossed one over each back. She had nothing to use for reins, so figured she''d leave the tethers around their neck and haul on that if need be.


    Taking the bay mare, she swung up onto the horse and immediately felt out of her element.


    Horses weren''t her preferred mode of travel. In her life, she''d only used them maybe a dozen times, and each time she resented it more. She would have preferred to walk, but in the freezing weather she figured anything which helped to catch up with Talek''s killers was tolerable, if not a good thing.


    The horse quivered beneath her. It wasn''t used to a rider but seemed docile enough to accept her presence. She allowed it a few moments to adjust to her weight and used the time to button up her jacket and tie the cloak tightly around her chest.


    Chukshene emerged like a mole, squinting and shivering. He''d wrapped the blanket around his shoulders and over his head. Her first instinct was to flash him a wry grin. He looked like an old lady in his robes and old blanket worn like a shawl.


    He tiptoed over the snow as if each step burnt his feet. ¡°Grim''s moldy balls,¡± he pulled the blanket tighter. ¡°I thought Doom''s Reach was cold. But this is fucking evil! Cold goes right through your clothes and bites your skin. It¡¯s sharp like glass on my bones.¡±


    ¡°It''s the Deadlands,¡± shrugged the elf. ¡°Live with it. Or die in it.¡±


    ¡°Still full of cheer, aren''t you?¡± He rubbed at his face, trying to push some warmth into his cheeks. Then his eyes widened as she clicked her tongue to send the horse wheeling in direction of the path to Spikewrist. ¡°Hey! Wait for me!¡±


    ¡°Then move it, spellslinger,¡± she called back, not slowing.


    She heard him struggle to mount the smaller horse. He muttered about the lack of a saddle and gave a grunt of frustration as he tried to haul himself over the horse''s back. The animal snickered as it tested him by skipping in a semi-circle and then refusing to go where he wanted.


    Finally, he managed to assert control over what was, essentially, a rather docile gelding. Or, more likely, the animal was simply used to being beside the mare and decided to follow on its own. All the same, Chukshene was grinning triumphantly as the horse trotted eagerly after the elf.


    ¡°It''s not so hard,¡± he bellowed into a sudden gust of wind. ¡°I''m good with animals, you know. There''s a knack to it. A method. You''ve just got to let it know who''s boss!¡±


    He tugged on the tether, trying to nudge the gelding to the left of the elf, but it ignored the spellslinger. Flattening its ears, it headed right, obviously more used to being on the right side of the mare.


    Giving up, the mage tossed the tether aside in disgust and instead wrapped his arms around his chest to keep warm. The rope dangled uselessly from the horse''s long neck and eventually the knot tugged itself loose and fell away.


    ¡°Fuck you, then,¡± he said sourly, blowing into his fingers. ¡°Piece of shit horse. Lucky I don''t fireball your head off. I could, you know. Melt it clean off.¡±


    ¡°That''s the way, spellslinger,¡± she said with a lopsided smirk. ¡°Make its day.¡±

 Chapter Nine

    The path to Spikewrist was as knotted and gnarled as the blackened trees which pressed against it.


    While she welcomed the thickening wall of dormant vegetation for blocking much of the cold wind, there was an oppressiveness about it that made her stomach clench. As though they still carried the bitterness of having been scorched by the fierce magics unleashed in the Godwars.


    Speckled with ice and their trunks cracked or ripped open, the trees evoked thoughts of death and the elf soon found herself struggling to keep her feelings bottled as she constantly thought about how eerily similar Talek¡¯s life had been to theirs. How he¡¯d ended it with a gaping wound and burning scars.


    Shivering, Nysta nudged her horse forward despite its nervous whinny. She kept her gaze firmly on the path ahead as she searched for any sign of Talek''s killers, fully aware that snow had likely concealed their passing.


    The Deadlands was a place where the only law to be had was that of survival. It was for this reason that the elf kept a steady, but easy pace. She had no doubt the men she was pursuing would do the same.


    She figured they''d believe they had nothing to fear of retribution, so they wouldn''t be expecting anyone to follow. No law out here would hunt them down for the murder of a cripple.


    Her eyes narrowed to slits and her knuckles whitened around the horse''s tether as she fought the urge to push the beast into a gallop.


    ¡°The trees are creepy as shit,¡± the spellslinger said suddenly. His voice shocked her for a moment, and she realised she''d almost forgotten he was there. ¡°You kind of expect them to come alive and start eating you. They''re so twisted and evil looking. Worse than trolls. I hate trolls. You ever see a troll?¡±


    ¡°Magic,¡± Nysta said. She kneaded her eyes with her knuckles to ease the tension behind them. ¡°Wasn''t just Rule and Grim who fought here. Rule''s clerics and Grim''s deathpriests fought here, too. This is what happens when you unleash your magic. You fuck everything up.¡±


    He whistled through his teeth. ¡°Must have been a cunt of a fight,¡± he said. Paused, frowning at her back. ¡°You don''t like mages, do you?¡±


    ¡°Any reason I should?¡±


    ¡°I guess not. We''re not the most adorable types, I guess. And I''ve gone through villages which would happily stone me if they thought they could get away with it. But you still sound more bitter than most. It sounds personal.¡±


    She rolled her shoulders and rubbed at the scar on her cheek. It felt like it was burning up and the elf wanted to tear at it with her nails and make it bleed.


    Instead, she forced herself to drop her hand to her thigh and kept her gaze sweeping across the path ahead. Felt numb as the memories returned from where they lay in a shallow pool under the surface of her mind.


    ¡°Was a few years ago. We heard rumours,¡± she said dully. ¡°Teams of Grey Jackets had infiltrated the Inner City.¡±


    The spellslinger raised an eyebrow. ¡°Grey Jackets? Sorry, I haven¡¯t heard of those. What are they?¡±


    The elf grunted. ¡°An army of Ruleist fanatics from the kingdom of Leibersland. More like cultists than soldiers, but better equipped than most Caspiellan elite forces.¡± She glanced over her shoulder at him. ¡°They mostly work in infiltration and sabotage.¡±


    ¡°And they got into your Inner City? They must be good. It''s hard enough for a Fnord like me to get into the city, let alone a Caspiellan.¡±


    ¡°Lostlight has changed, spellslinger,¡± she spat into the sluggish wind again. Thought her spit may have turned to ice before it touched earth. ¡°With Grim fallen, the guilds have gotten more political. Everyone wants to rule. Some have even begun to openly eye the crown. They''re like ferrets in a sack these days. Some have it in their thick heads that Rule can give them what they want. Add to that, the Grey Jackets are recruiting. And they''re promising forgiveness.¡±


    ¡°Forgiveness?¡± Chukshene snorted. ¡°Forgiveness for what?¡±


    ¡°For being Tainted. Seems Rule might overlook the fact we''re not human, if we''re willing to submit. There''s more to it, of course. But we never found out what. Only that the Grey Jackets are preaching, and even some orks are listening.¡±


    ¡°Orks?¡± his voice rose incredulously. ¡°That''s got to be bullshit. Who''d believe anything Rule promised? He killed Grim. His own brother!¡±


    ¡°And his sister,¡± she reminded him.


    At mention of the goddess who''d fallen centuries before Grim, the mage shrugged. The goddess Veil had always been closer to the elfs than the other races. It was her closeness to the elfs which Rule used as an excuse to kill her. That she herself was Tainted.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± he said. ¡°I always forget her.¡±


    ¡°Lostlight was her city. It¡¯s said she designed it herself down to the last brick in every sewer. It''s why we never retreated beyond the Great Wall. Too much pride? Or too fucking stupid to let things go? Doesn''t matter much now, I guess. Not many remember her name anymore outside an inn. And the tales they tell are usually of her lost armies. What happened to them when she fell. The story of The Seven Lords of Endless Dark. Gaket and the Lichspawn. The Man Called Mercy. How, one day, they''ll rise again and save us all from Rule. Just legends. Stories for children and drunks. In other words, bullshit. Doesn''t take a genius to see it''s too late now.¡±


    ¡°Especially after Grim fell,¡± he murmured.


    ¡°Grim''s fall had nothing to do with it. Lostlight was lost a long time ago. We never cared as much about the Dark Lord. What did he ever give to us? He''s a Fnordic god. Besides, Grim and Rule always hated each other. One of them was bound to die in the end,¡± she said. ¡°Only way it could go. I figure if Grim could have, he''d have killed Rule first. But that ain''t how it ended up. Now Rule wants to see us destroyed. It ain''t easy to fight a god. Some say we shouldn''t even try. But others say we have to because he promised the world to humans. To your kind. Far as I''m concerned, I don''t give a shit one way or the other.¡±


    ¡°My kind?¡± Chukshene growled. ¡°Humans around these parts are hardly my kind. This far south, most of them are Caspiellans anyway. At best, they''re halfbreeds and bound to hold sympathies in a Ruleist direction. Like that guy back there whose chest you ripped open. But you come north, Long-ear. You come north and see what the Fnords think of Rule''s promise. Better still, write it on a fucking wall and watch us piss on it. We''ll never bend to Rule, no matter what forgiveness he offers. He''ll have to kill us all. And even then, we''ll keep fighting him.¡±


    ¡°If you say so, spellslinger,¡± she ducked under an overhanging branch and waved a hand dismissively. ¡°Any case, we heard the Tolmek''Jadean had made a deal. Didn''t believe it at first. Who''d think any guild would try assassinating the King himself? We could have gone in, of course. Taken out the Tolmek. Maybe got a few Grey Jackets as dessert. But Jutta''s a greedy old fuck. He wanted them all. So we let them in. Let them make it as far as the palace. Then, in one swoop, the Musa''Jadean took the Tolmek while we took the rest. Was a simple plan. Bound to fuck up when you think about it.¡±


    ¡°What went wrong?¡±


    ¡°The Grey Jackets split up. There''s three roads leading to the palace. Most of them took the middle, but they were just fodder. Bunch of cultists playing at soldier. Figuring their faith could make them invincible, they died quickly. But I was on the east wall. I saw the fifteen soldiers heading up the left path. And the mage forking off to the right. The soldiers were armed to the teeth. More mail than a dwarf stronghold. They''d dropped their cloaks to show off their colours. They knew they were going to their death, but they''d sworn to take Jutta with them. Reckon they were some of the best the Jackets had, so they had an even chance of doing it. There I was, up on the wall. A choice to make. Take the soldiers. Or the spellslinger. I had a choice. The easy or the hard,¡± she felt the shame bubbling in the back of her neck. Felt his eyes on her, but kept her face against the freezing wind scraping the heat from her cheeks. ¡°I took the easy path.¡±


    This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    ¡°I wouldn''t agree. Attacking a mage is no easy thing.¡±


    ¡°That''s why I took the soldiers.¡±


    He nearly fell off his horse. ¡°You what? On your own? Fifteen?¡±


    ¡°Was a tough fight,¡± she admitted grimly. Rubbed at the scar again, unable to leave it alone. ¡°It''s where I got this. Last one stuck his sword in my face. Guess I was lucky. Nearly took my eye. I¡¯d signalled he was there and figured someone else would deal with him. Didn''t count on him getting all the way to the throne room. He must''ve been good. He went through four of Jutta''s mages and a deathpriest. Hardly broke a sweat.¡±


    ¡°Shit.¡±


    ¡°Talek was right there. Always at the King''s side. He stood in front of Jutta and faced the spellslinger. Was hit three times by magefire. But he ignored the pain and charged. Killed the bastard. Split him right up the middle.¡±


    ¡°Fuck,¡± Chukshene''s fingers were white as he clutched his grimoire. ¡°Three times? Grim''s balls, he must have been one tough son of a bitch.¡±


    She nodded. The pride she felt for her husband was tempered by the shame she felt for her failures. Her eyes burned but she clenched her jaw and felt her teeth grip each other hard. When she spoke, her voice was through tight lips. ¡°When it was over, the mage was dead. Talek was horribly burned. I heard his screams from the other side of the palace. If I''d chosen to take the spellslinger as I should''ve...¡±


    ¡°That''s stupid,¡± he said. ¡°You did more than your fair part by the sound of it. And Talek was a guard. That''s his job. To protect the King. And he did it. Well, by your account. What could be more honorable than that? If you''d gone after the mage, there''s nothing saying he wouldn''t have melted your ass off and you''d have died and the same fucking thing would''ve happened to Talek anyway. Blaming yourself for it is ridiculous.¡±


    ¡°It''s the truth,¡± she said simply. ¡°I could have prevented it.¡±


    ¡°How?¡±


    ¡°I don''t know. But I know the reason I didn''t try.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    The elf looked at him. ¡°I was afraid.¡±


    The words were colder in her ears than the breath of Winter whipping through the trees. She could feel echoed of the fear which had riveted her to the spot those years ago. Left her struggling to decide which path to take. And which, finally, led her away from the sight of the white-robed mage wading up the right path, his hands glowing brightly with power.


    ¡°Afraid? Of a Ruleist mage and more than a dozen troops?¡± Chukshene swatted a few thin twigs hanging low as he passed, though his gaze firmly held hers. ¡°Who the fuck wouldn''t be? If it were me, I''d have shat myself and run in the other fucking direction!¡±


    ¡°But I''m not you,¡± she said, brushing her fingers against a few of the knotted rags in her hair. ¡°I should''ve chewed that fucking spellslinger up and spat his fucking bones out on the courtyard for the dogs to fight over. It''s what I was trained to do.¡±


    ¡°You''re being too hard on yourself,¡± the spellslinger said. His shoulders slumped a little and he tapped his grimoire a few times before speaking again. ¡°We''ve all had to make choices in the grip of fear. Me, I was at Ghostfear Keep nine years ago when the Great Wall was breached. If you think I look stupid now, you should''ve seen me then. A pimple-faced apprentice clinging to my master''s dick like it was a fucking lifeline. The Dark Lord had fallen only a month before. Everyone was running in every which fucking direction. No one knew who to fight, or whether we should even try. The Black Blades broke through Doomgate and tried taking the Keep. We were surrounded for five days until orks from Brokebone arrived and took back the gate. Pushed them back through the wall. So, it ended okay. But we didn''t know at the time reinforcements were on their way. Didn''t know if we even had a reason for fighting other than survival. I guess, when it comes down to it, there aren''t many other reasons to fight. No reasons worth shit anyway. The Black Blades had three mages and a cleric. All we had were my master and me. And what good was I? I was still struggling to read a spell, let alone cast one. And there I was, the only fucking thing between three Ruleist mages and the men who depended on us.¡±


    ¡°It''s not the same,¡± Nysta insisted. ¡°You didn''t have to make a choice.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± he agreed. ¡°I didn''t. I had to make a million. Every fucking day. Choice after choice. Do I bother to put up a fucking ward here, or there? Or, because I''m too fucking tired, do I just forget one of them? And guess what, Long-ear? I forgot more than one. I forgot seventeen of the fuckers. I remember that exact number because every time I forgot, they cut through the walls and killed dozens of men. Others were horribly mutilated. The lucky ones died later. So, you could say I''m responsible for more than a few hundred deaths in one way or another. But I don''t sit around snivelling about it. Know why?¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°Because I did my fucking best. And that''s that. I''m not Grim. I''m not a fucking god. I did my best, and no amount of fucking crying in the wind is going to bring those soldiers back. They died, Long-ear. But without me, many more would have died. You reckon choosing to attack the soldiers was the weaker choice? Well, for me, it''s fucking impressive. Fifteen armed men? In armour? Fuck that shit. Even now, with what I know, they''d still probably cut me to ribbons. And I''m sure it wasn''t as easy as you make it sound,¡± he rubbed his hands together and struggled to keep his blanket from falling to the ground.


    She toyed with one of the strips of cloth in her hair. Looked at it. The fragment had a small spot of blood on the corner. She remembered the feel of the sword ripping into her cheek.


    At the time it went in, she thought she was dead.


    Thought the blade had gone through her mouth and into her brain.


    But she was lucky. He''d slipped in a sodden patch of gore and died hard, choking on A Flaw in the Glass. The joy she''d felt coursing cleanly through her veins as his life fled was swiftly erased when she heard the first scream.


    Talek''s scream.


    And she''d run. So fast. But she couldn''t run fast enough. Leaping the small courtyard wall. Sliding through the shattered remains of the palace''s gates.


    Seeing the bodies of Talek''s men sprawled like roasted pigs.


    Blood everywhere.


    Stepping on something wet. Looking down in horror at strips of melted flesh flayed from his body.


    Talek. Writhing as magefire consumed him.


    Still screaming.


    And at his feet, the mage she''d figured someone else would kill. Well, now they''d killed him. Only, the wounds left would scar not only her husband, but her soul.


    Time and time again she dreamt the dream of running that race. Running until she woke, lungs seared and throat raw from screaming.


    Angrily, the elf scrubbed at the fresh tears threatening to burn the corners of her eyes. ¡°You don''t know shit,¡± she growled.


    ¡°Actually,¡± he leaned back, balancing lazily on the horse. ¡°I know shit when I smell it. And it smells pretty fucking bad coming from you. You''re feeling sorry for yourself. Now, I understand you feeling like shit because your husband was cut down by a bunch of assholes. Understand you want revenge and all that. But this self pity? I don''t get it. It isn''t you. Or is it? I misjudge you, Long-ear? That tough exterior of yours, is it all for show? You actually all gooey in the middle? A whining emotional ¨C dare I say it? - little girl pretending to be something she''s not?¡±


    Her hand trembled in fury, hovering over Go With My Blessing. An inch away from tearing it free and sending the blade streaking through the air to ventilate his head.


    ¡°Reckon you should quit flapping your mouth now,¡± she said, her voice dropping through the air like chips of glass.


    ¡°You do, do you?¡± the spellslinger sat straighter, grabbing a fistful of mane to keep from falling. ¡°Truth is always hard to swallow, right? You thought you''d get pity from me? Maybe I''d see you as a damaged little waif just trying to make her way? Well. I''ve got news for you, Long-ear. You''re not the only one who had a shit life and got fucked for it. You''re not the only one who lost someone. But seems to me you''ve two choices in life. You can either swallow that self pity, or keep spitting at yourself in the mirror. Which one are you going to do?¡±


    Go With My Blessing was cool in her hand as her fingers squeezed around the handle. The snarl in the back of her throat, however, died quickly as she fought for and won control.


    Her eyes flashed in his direction before she shot her gaze back to the path twisting through the army of lifeless trees. Caught the smell of something sour on the wind and wrinkled her nose. Her fingers loosened their grip on the tether.


    ¡°Might be right,¡± she allowed through tight lips. ¡°But you want to be careful, spellslinger. I ain''t in the mood for any kind of intervention. So shut it, uh?¡±


    ¡°That''s it, girl,¡± he sighed. ¡°Keep spitting. But it''s your face you''re getting wet. And all that venom''s likely to eat through it quicker than a fireball. Might be a bright side, though. At least you''d have an excuse for being ugly. Although, you''ll have to wear a mask to stop frightening children. If you don''t wear one already.¡±


    The elf scratched the palm of her hand and allowed the corner of her lip to curl dangerously up toward the scar.


    An emotion she couldn''t identify, but which was akin to both fear and excitement, sliced neatly up her guts before drilling warmly into her skull.


    ¡°I got no regrets,¡± she said. ¡°Now, if you''ve finished playing with words, spellslinger, you might like to open that book of yours to reveal a different kind of truth, if you get me?¡±


    ¡°What? Nysta, I was only joking,¡± he paled, awkwardly fumbling with his grimoire and nearly dropping it into the snow.


    Realising he''d mistaken her meaning, the elf shook her head. Gave him a firm glance. ¡°Mean it''s time for a duet, not a duel. You could be right. Maybe I ate it all and spat it out. But we got no time to chew on doubts right now. So you keep your advice for the fellers in Doom''s Reach and summon up some of that old black magic,¡± she spat as she powered off the horse to hit the ground running. Slapped her hand to Entrance Exam and sent the slim blade screaming through the trees with an efficient underarm throw. ¡°Because out here, we do it my way.¡±

 Chapter Ten

    A yelp of pain exploded from the shadows behind the trees as the blade found flesh.


    In the echo of its flight, the elf was a blur of movement. She vaulted over a fallen branch without slowing. Spun around the trunk of one tree, dislodging ice, and hissed as she filled her fists with A Flaw in the Glass and Fulci''s Last Joke.


    ¡°Wait!¡± a voice shouted. A big voice. Heavy and booming, but echoing with pain. ¡°Stop! I don''t want to fight.¡±


    ¡°Get out here, then,¡± the elf said through her teeth. ¡°And keep your hands where I can see them.¡±


    ¡°You''ve fucking killed me!¡±


    ¡°At best, I tickled your shoulder. At worst, I put a hole in it. And, ten seconds from now I''ll be using your skull for a beer mug if you don''t get the fuck out here right now!¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve got beer?¡±


    She ignored Chukshene¡¯s soft query as a figure lumbered tentatively out of the shadows, looming over her like a massive gorilla. Chukshene sucked air as he caught sight of the ork, and even Nysta felt a thrill of fear.


    He was bigger than any ork she''d ever seen. Each arm looked thicker than her torso and with one swipe he could break one of the horses in half.


    The muscle rippling over his body made him look heavily armored. As though nothing could hurt him. His face couldn''t have gotten uglier if he fell on it, and with the heavy jaw and swollen brow he looked like the meanest creature in the whole of the Deadlands.


    The jutting dagger embedded in his bicep looked no more life-threatening than a splinter, but he inched forward with the look of someone about to fall over and die. The thin trickle of blood dribbled down his arms and dusted the snow with red.


    The elf shook her head, amazed that such a creature could look so brutal, yet so cowardly at the same time.


    ¡°What''d you do that for?¡± he moaned. ¡°I didn''t fucking do anything!¡±


    ¡°Anyone else hidden back there?¡± The elf lifted her enchanted blade, keeping the point aimed at his eye.


    He sniffed. ¡°I look like someone who likes company?¡±


    ¡°Then what were you doing?¡±


    ¡°Waiting for you to go the fuck past! What else? Why''d you stick me? Grim''s fucking eyes, this hurts. Is it poisoned? Have you poisoned me, elf? It feels poisoned. I can feel it burning!¡±


    She kept his wounded gaze for a moment, before deciding he was probably a lot more harmless than he looked. ¡°Let me see,¡± she stepped forward, suddenly bold.


    Slid her blades back into their sheaths and reached up. Had to stand on her toes to reach. Grabbed the jutting handle and jerked it free.


    A quick spray of warm blood arced across the ground with a dull splatter.


    ¡°What the fuck?¡± the ork howled, dancing back in pain. He looked like he couldn''t decide whether to run at her, or away. But seemed to prefer backing away. ¡°Fuck! Why''d you do that for?¡±


    She ran the knife through the snow to clean it before sliding it into its sheath. Shrugging, she moved back to her horse. ¡°I wanted it back.¡±


    ¡°Poor fucker,¡± Chukshene sighed. ¡°You going to apologise to him?¡±


    ¡°What for?¡±


    ¡°You just put a knife in his arm.¡±


    ¡°So? He shouldn''t have been skulking around the fucking path, should he?¡±


    Climbing onto the horse, she ignored its nervous whinny and urged it forward. Stamping the snow, the horse trotted forward, eager to be away from the fresh scene of violence.


    The ork tore a strip of cloth from his shirt, muttering as he wrapped his wound. He looked up as they slowly moved past. ¡°Hey!¡± he called. ¡°You heading to Spikewrist?¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Chukshene had to twist around to face him. ¡°Is it far from here? Please tell me we¡¯ll get there for lunch time. I¡¯m starved.¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± he tugged at the ragged mop of reddish hair. ¡°Kinda. But I wouldn''t go there if I were you. Not if you paid me a thousand gold pieces. Place is haunted.¡±


    The elf wheeled her horse. ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°You know,¡± the ork scowled at her and gently patted his wound. ¡°I ain''t so sure I wanna tell you shit.¡±


    ¡°I''m sure I wanna pin your other fucking arm, though,¡± she countered.


    ¡°Alright, alright,¡± he lifted his good arm in defense. ¡°No need to be so fucking hostile. Shit, Long-ear. Even for someone out here, you rile easy.¡±


    The spellslinger shot her a disgusted look and held his hand out in a peaceful gesture to the morose-looking ork. ¡°Let''s start again, shall we? I''m Chukshene, and this foul-tempered excuse for an elf is Nysta. She''s having a hard week. Her husband was murdered and she''s chasing his killers. It made her a bit tetchy. I¡¯m sure you understand. Also, she doesn''t look to be much of a morning person.¡±


    ¡°Killed her mate, huh? Well. Guess that''d piss most people off,¡± the ork said as he squatted in the snow. Crossed his massive arms over his knees. Though he spoke to the mage, he kept his gaze cautiously trained on the nonchalant elf. ¡°Name''s Rockjaw. Folks at Spikewrist named me that. Had a name before, but I don''t want it no more.¡±


    ¡°What was it?¡±


    ¡°You ain''t from the Deadlands, are you, spellchucker?¡± The ork grunted, scratching his scalp.


    Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    ¡°No. Here by accident. Well. Maybe not by accident. It''s hard to explain.¡±


    ¡°Sure. That¡¯s the same for all of us. And ain¡¯t no one uses their real name in these parts. Only folks out here are smugglers, thieves and fugitives. Fugitives from the law. Or from life? It don''t matter. Criminals, all. Lowest of the low. This is why they call it the Deadlands. We''re all dead. That right, ain''t it, elf? Just don''t got the sense to lie down. Look around, spellchucker. This place is just a big fucking graveyard.¡±


    ¡°It''s not that bad.¡±


    ¡°Ain''t that bad?¡± the ork barked a bitter laugh. ¡°You blind as well as fucked in the head? Grim and Rule warred for a thousand years. The ground ain''t sand, spellchucker. It''s the ashes of the dead. Too many soldiers fought here. Too many died. Always it''s the soldiers who die. Couldn''t bury them all, so they burned their bodies to keep the ground flat enough to keep fighting on. That''s officer thinking, right there. But if you look closely, you can sometimes see teeth. And worse. Don''t believe me? Look to the trees, spellchucker. Look to the trees and weep if you got feelings.¡±


    Chukshene cast his gaze around, but slowly began to suspect the ork was mad. He glanced at the elf, expecting to see a grin on her face, but her glittering violet eyes were locked on Rockjaw.


    ¡°I don''t get it,¡± the spellslinger said. ¡°I''m missing something, aren''t I?¡±


    The ork slapped a meaty hand against a tree close at hand. The twisted branches shuddered and snow powdered down. ¡°Look closer!¡±


    And Chukshene saw it.


    Hanging from the high branches, a skeleton covered in rot. Dusted lightly in snow, it blended perfectly with the blistered branches. It was like seeing a puzzle''s solution for the first time. His eyes widened.


    There were bodies everywhere, caught in the trees. Their limbs, broken or hanging loose. Scraps of clothing and rusted armor clung to their bones.


    The scars of a once beautiful forest were a grotesque testament to death.


    ¡°Oh, fuck,¡± he gagged.


    ¡°They''re everywhere,¡± the ork sighed. The sadness in his voice was heavy, and the elf wondered if he''d been a soldier himself. ¡°Welcome to the Deadlands. The biggest graveyard in the world. This forest stretches for days to the west. The soldiers were dusted, spellchucker. By magefire. But the important ones. Emperors, kings, dukes and all their fucking merry men. Too good for dusting, weren''t they? Good enough for soldiers to be dusted. They''re just fucking commoners. Forgotten folks. Nothing. But ain''t right to dust an officer, right? But there weren''t the space nor the time to build tombs. So they dangled them from trees to keep watch on the armies. The smell must have been awful. Nothing new there. Officers all smell bad. All the shit they speak.¡±


    ¡°You said Spikewrist ain''t safe,¡± the elf interrupted. ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°When were you there last?¡±


    She shrugged. ¡°Five, six months. Place is a shithole.¡±


    ¡°Won''t argue that. But it''s worse now. At least when it was a shithole, it was a town. With people in it,¡± he shivered, though probably not from the cold. ¡°Things live in it now. Evil things. Don''t get me wrong, the people there weren''t always the friendliest. But whatever''s in there now is evil.¡±


    Chukshene tore his gaze away from the trees. ¡°Bandits?¡±


    ¡°We''re all bandits around here,¡± the ork said with a grim smile. ¡°But it weren''t bandits, no. I was lucky to get out alive.¡±


    ¡°What happened?¡± the elf asked, rubbing at the scar on her cheek. She lifted one leg and crossed it over the horse''s back to lean laconically toward the ork.


    ¡°Front gates were open. Should''ve noticed that. Didn''t,¡± he shifted his weight uncomfortably. ¡°Hollered for the guard. He didn''t come. Got close enough to see the windows, though. They were black. So black, I thought they''d come alive, you know? Gave me the fucking creeps so bad. I was gonna leave. Right then. But then I saw him. This feller was standing on the porch. Didn''t notice him before. He was looking right at me, though. And, I swear to you, Long ear, that man was a demon straight from the deepest chasms of the Shadowed Halls.¡±


    ¡°What''d he do?¡± Chukshene licked his dry lips.


    ¡°Nothing.¡±


    The spellslinger sat back in surprise. Threw Nysta a glance before frowning at the ork. ¡°Nothing? That''s it? No flames spitting from his mouth? No fireballs from his fists? Just stood there? And you ran from that?¡±


    The ork spat a thin stream of spit into the snow. Looked up at the mage and shook his head. ¡°Ain''t no right way I can explain it, spellchucker. But that weren''t it. Wish it were. I was all froze up at the gates and then they started coming out of the houses. Slowly. So slow it was like watching the fog roll in. But it weren''t fog. Were creatures. Creatures who looked like people, but they ain''t. Coming out of the houses like the dead from their graves. Worse than the local Draugs. I tell you, you can get used to Draugs. So long as they don''t get close. But this. Never. This was the fucking worst. Their eyes were empty pits. I turned then. And I ran like Rule and a horde of clerics was on my ass. Kept running until I heard you. Then I hid. You could''ve been one of them, for all I knew.¡±


    His eyes grew more haunted as he spoke, and the elf felt a small pang of regret at drilling his arm. She looked away, her eyes skimming the trees.


    ¡°You see a bunch of fellers?¡± she asked slowly. ¡°Probably nine of them. Elfs. On horseback. Bastard at the front has red hair.¡±


    The ork shook his head. ¡°Nope. Ain''t seen shit since.¡±


    ¡°And you kept the trail out from Spikewrist?¡±


    The ork clicked his tongue and gave his head another shake. ¡°Came through Hadrian Falls. Was the quickest route out of town. Only got back onto the trail an hour ago.¡±


    ¡°Obliged,¡± the elf said, running her fingers through her hair. Then added, reluctantly; ¡°Sorry about the arm.¡±


    He shrugged. ¡°It''ll heal.¡±


    She accepted the graciousness of the ork with a nod of her head and kicked her heels into the horse to send it forward down the path without another word.


    Chukshene scratched his head and followed.


    ¡°Hey!¡± the ork called. ¡°You''re not still going there? Didn''t you listen to me, you fools? It ain''t fucking safe!¡±


    Ignoring the ork''s shouts, the elf rolled her shoulders.


    Chukshene looked back nervously, but kept pace with the elf. He brought his horse up close beside her.


    The ork watched, an incredulous look on his face, then threw his hands into the air in resignation. Spat in their direction and stomped off into the trees, muttering to himself.


    The spellslinger studied her determined expression. ¡°Can''t talk you out of this, can I?¡±


    ¡°Don''t reckon so,¡± she said. ¡°Trail forks soon. One heads east toward Locktooth on the coast. Ain''t much, but a few traders use it. You can get a ride with one to Lostlight. Ain''t hard to get to the Wall from there. Up to you where you go after that. I don''t give a shit.¡±


    ¡°Thanks,¡± he said, picking at his grimoire. ¡°But I''ll stick with you.¡±


    ¡°Any reason, spellslinger?¡±


    ¡°Just that. I''m a, uh, mage. If there''s something going on in this town like Rockjaw said, then I want to see it. I didn''t become what I am because I had nothing to do. I had this disease called curiosity. Can''t help it,¡± he sounded tired all of a sudden. ¡°I''m just not sure I''ll be much help to you.¡±


    ¡°You''ll be fine,¡± she said, unsure why she was saying it. ¡°Just be ready to melt heads.¡±


    ¡°That''s the bit that worries me. Closest I ever got to melting anyone''s head was yesterday when I nearly took yours off. And that was an accident. I''m not a good mage, Nysta. You could say my skills lie in other areas.¡± He licked his lips, obviously reluctant to say more. ¡°But I''ll do my best with what I know.¡±


    ¡°Best you study while there''s still light, then,¡± she looked up at the dark clouds boiling overhead. It would be getting colder soon, she thought. If it was possible for the air to be more merciless. Even the frozen flakes of snow shivered as they started to fall. ¡°I reckon it''s gonna be an exciting night out.¡±


    He pulled his blanket close and blew into his hands. The steam puffed out through his fingers and he winced. ¡°Doesn''t sound like my idea of a party, though.¡±


    With a grunt of agreement, the elf slid a small stone from her belt and began sliding it along the cold edge of Entrance Exam. Over the next few hours she planned to do the same to all her blades. Her mind cleared as she started to work, though her eyes still skipped actively over the ash-coloured ground.


    The sound of the sharpening stone along the razor edge made the spellslinger shudder. ¡°You have to do that?¡±


    ¡°Relax, Chukshene,¡± she said. ¡°Tonight, the town''s gonna be painted red. Best we have our tools ready so we''re the ones brushing them all aside.¡±


    ¡°I get the picture,¡± he said drily.


    ¡°That''s enough,¡± the elf drawled. ¡°Don''t draw it out.¡±

 Chapter Eleven

    Nysta kept her troubled thoughts to herself as they rode the knotted paths toward Spikewrist. The lifeless trees huddled in thick walls on either side and she was often reminded of the tight alleys of Lostlight.


    The familiar dead and claustrophobia made the space between her shoulders itch. Enough so that, despite her thirst to catch Raste and his men, she forced herself to slow her pace further.


    There was a chance she would lose them if they passed the town before she did. Also a chance they''d fall to whatever evil had taken residence there which would rob her of her revenge.


    But the elf wasn¡¯t crazed enough to rush into a nest of unfamiliar demons without some caution.


    In the Deadlands, encounters with demons were expected. There was no doubt in her mind that the ork had seen one or two in his time. Demons were drawn here by the decaying energies left by the magics unleashed by the warring gods.


    It was thought they fed on it.


    But something about the breed which infested Spikewrist had unsettled the ork. And she knew from experience that not much unsettled an ork.


    To hear an entire town might have fallen to demons wasn''t something she would take lightly, but it still seemed unlikely. Demons preferred to hunt alone. They were savage by nature, and unwilling to share their kill. Whatever could force them to congregate would have to be powerful.


    Or it could be that whatever waited in Spikewrist was something else.


    And anything else was always bound to end up being worse.


    She turned her mind back to Raste, summoning an image of him in her mind. His youthful face and red hair. Arrogant strut. His clothes of the finest make. While she¡¯d lived alone on the streets, he¡¯d lived a life of luxury.


    Her teeth ground hard against each other and her fist absently gripped the hilt of A Flaw in the Glass.


    Why had he come all this way to kill Talek?


    Spite?


    She wouldn''t put it past him.


    The fact there were nine of them made sense and she wondered if the stories were true. Snarled at the small flicker of fear which uncoiled inside her as she thought of their reputation. Knew it would be well-deserved, too.


    The Bloody Nine.


    A violent splinter in the ass of the Musa''Jadean. Trained by the most lethal assassins ever known, the Jukkala''Jadean.


    She knew he''d risen in their ranks years ago. It figured. He always was a slippery motherfucker, she thought. His name, too, made it easy for him to climb greasy poles and she had no doubt it had been his intention to rise to the top of the Musa''Jadean.


    Nysta found herself gnawing more and more on the skin inside her cheek as they squeezed along the cramped path. While not as efficient as the Jukkala, the Nine had earned a reputation for brutal combat.


    Grudgingly, she admitted to the rumours he was supposed to be good with a knife.


    His viciousness was a reputation Raste had taken one step further with the massacre at Logen''s Run. A massacre where unspeakable and perverse acts had horrified even the most depraved of Lostlight¡¯s elite.


    In the resulting scandal, the Musa''Jadean had tried hiding his name. A favour to his father, no doubt. But she''d always known it was him.


    She wondered, for the first time, if she shouldn''t just turn back.


    Let it go.


    Talek would understand. He might even consider it a positive sign of her growth.


    ¡°You sure you want to go there at night?¡± the spellslinger asked suddenly, breaking her thoughts.


    ¡°Demons are hunters of men,¡± she said with a light nod of her head. ¡°Means they''re only active when their prey is. Usually not awake much at night no matter what old wives say.¡±


    The spellslinger threw her an odd look. ¡°Usually? That''s quite a fucking leap of faith,¡± he said carefully. ¡°I can tell you know fuck all about demons. That they sleep at night like everyone else? That''s your hope?¡±


    ¡°It''s what I''m going with,¡± she confirmed. ¡°Unless you got a better idea? Always willing to learn.¡±


    For a moment, he looked like he wanted to say something. Then shrugged instead. ¡°I ain''t got shit.¡±


    ¡°Guess there''s nothing in your book that''ll help, either?¡±


    ¡°Here and there,¡± he said. He was being evasive, she thought. But in the Deadlands that didn¡¯t mean much. Everyone was evasive. ¡°Question is more how much time I get to cast. Some spells take time. More time than I think I''ll get. I''m still not fast enough to cast like a master. Sorry.¡±


    The elf said nothing. Uncomfortable as she was with mages, she pushed her feelings aside to save for when she''d need them. For now, she was willing to accept she might need him and, unproven as he was, he was all she had. Grimly, she set her jaw and told herself that to kill Raste, she''d use Rule himself.


    The trees suddenly gave way as though a line had been drawn in the land. Chukshene breathed a sigh, relieved to be free of the ghastly embrace of the forest. The horses, too, seemed less skittish and took to the widening path with lighter steps.


    ¡°Glad to be out of that,¡± Chukshene said, rolling his shoulders to ease the tension.


    ¡°Keep your eyes open, spellslinger,¡± she said softly. ¡°Ain''t much in the trees could hurt you, but out here, there''s plenty.¡±


    ¡°Thanks,¡± he winced. ¡°Just what I need. More shit to be afraid of. Like I didn''t have enough.¡±


    ¡°You''re welcome.¡±


    They rode over a steep, but small hill shaped like a squatting spider. The path zigzagged over its back and angled sharply down onto a wide plain where only a few splintered trunks remained to show it had once been a forest as thick as the one they abruptly emerged from.


    Slapped down into the middle of the plain, the town of Spikewrist was little more than a scattering of small buildings huddled together for warmth inside a tall stone wall.


    A few small farms dotted the land around it, though they looked deserted.


    A wide gatehouse swallowed the path and the elf could see even from this distance that the gates were open.


    Not a good sign.


    Uneven and littered with steep hills and gullies, the ground was the same ashen colour as much of the Deadlands. Snow sprawled in ghostly clumps across the plain. Dry twigs stuck up from between many rocks but if there had ever been anything alive out here, it''d long since died and turned to dust.


    There were, she figured, many places to hide in the trenches carved into the plain. Like scars criss-crossing an already wounded face, the narrow channels had been dug by armies long since dead and each line closer to the old ruined fort which formed the bones of the town had no doubt been carved at great cost in blood.


    Scanning them with narrow eyes, the elf could almost feel the ghosts which surely haunted this place and wondered if perhaps they had tired of huddling in the damp ditches and sought the relative warmth of the town.


    Wondered, too, if anything alive was waiting for them to pass. She half expected an army to rise up from the trenches and charge toward them.


    Quickly dismissed the thought as a fear-driven fancy, confidant that whatever waited for them was inside the walls rather than hidden in the treacherous landscape surrounding them.


    Her eyes swept further across the gloom-drenched land, searching for proof of the nine she was hunting, but saw no signs of life.


    No tracks. No trees.


    Just grey stone, dark mud, and white snow as far as she could see.


    ¡°Doesn''t look inviting,¡± the spellslinger said. ¡°You know, even if I hadn''t been told demons were running amok inside that place, I still wouldn''t want to go there. Looks like a trollish whorehouse. Can''t we go around? You really think those bastards you''re chasing are stupid enough to go inside? And who are they, anyway? What did you mean when you called them the Bloody Nine? Is that some kind of gang name? We get gangs in Doom''s Reach, too.¡±


    ¡°Ain¡¯t a gang. Were a Jadean. Musa''Jadean. A guild of warriors. The Bloody Nine are led by a feller named Raste. He took them to fame, fortune, and the King''s favour. All that bullshit. But favours change, and all it takes is one mistake. The Nine made theirs when they butchered a town down to the last child in ways even the Jukkala were revolted by. Town wasn''t even Caspiellan. Some of the kids were elfs. The Musa''Jadean expelled them. Jutta would''ve put a price on their heads. But Raste''s family is powerful. Reckon that''s why the king settled on exile instead. It was a long time ago,¡± she spat irritably at a skull half-buried in the ground. ¡°Figured they''d gone their own way. Disappeared up north or something. Seems they stayed together. Or, could be Raste just kept the name. Likes to make an impression, does Raste.¡±


    ¡°If not soldiers, then what are they now? Or don''t I want to know?¡±


    The elf shrugged. ¡°Bandits? Mercenaries? Who gives a fuck? Just another pack of vicious bastards roaming the Deadlands. Plenty more fellers like them out here. They''re nothing special.¡±


    ¡°Nothing special,¡± he echoed, obviously not believing her words any more than she believed herself. ¡°Since when do a bunch of mean bastards responsible for a massacre translate into nothing special?¡±


    ¡°Relax, Chukshene,¡± she said tightly, kicking the mare forward. It responded with a sullen lurch. ¡°I''m a whole lot meaner.¡±


    They rode side by side down the path. While she didn''t believe the Bloody Nine would be stupid enough to enter the town, there was enough of a possibility they had.


    They''d need fresh supplies. That they''d taken one of her goats was sign of how low they must have been. And, out here, there wasn''t much else to eat unless you figured on eating each other.


    Reluctantly, she admitted to herself it was also very possible they hadn''t survived. That they were already dead. If not by whatever haunted the town, then by any number of savage creatures which roamed the land. A group of nine could attract all kinds of hungry evil out here.


    Rage trickled through her veins like mercury through water at the thought of being cheated of her vengeance. She would have to live her life feeling she''d failed Talek.


    Again.


    Her jaw steeled. If they''d entered the town and whatever was in it had killed Raste and his band of murderers, then she swore she''d kill every last demon in the place.


    Kill everything in the Deadlands.


    Still smouldering in hate, she didn''t notice the mage growing more and more disturbed until he started muttering to himself and flicking through the pages of his grimoire. She glanced at him as he held his hand up toward the town, feeling it out.


    She''d seen enough of magecraft to know what he was doing. Scrying, they called it. Tasting the air.


    An acrid smell wafted on the frozen wind and the elf wrinkled her nose. The smell of magic. Her guts twisted as the stench of it made her think of Talek''s shattered body and she fought her instinct to pull a knife. Wrench his head back and slit his throat.


    The spray of blood, she snarled inwardly, would be most satisfying.


    Tearing her gaze away, the elf returned to staring at the town drifting closer. Its walls were blackened as though smeared with smoke. But she couldn''t see any evidence of a fire. It was as if the walls were stained with something darker than shadows.


    She didn''t like it.


    Her fingers dug deep into her pocket and wrapped around Talek''s box. She was getting used to the feel of it nestled in the warmth of her jacket and there was something vaguely comforting in its presence. As though Talek was with her in some small way.


    The icy coldness of it felt strange between her fingertips, but it didn''t feel the same as the icy coldness of the wind gnashing at her cheeks. It was more fresh. Somehow a little more crisp.


    One fingertip found a light groove in the wood. The alien runes. She traced them absently, her mind drifting like the snow peppering the air.


    Her thumb pressed against one of the iron straps.


    Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    Softly, almost tentatively, Talek''s box pulsed.


    Shocked, the elf froze and her horse breathed a soft whinny as it felt her sudden shift in mood. Her heart raced as she remembered how the box had felt before. And now, in her fingers, it was growing colder again. Colder than ice. Perhaps cold enough to burn her skin.


    It pulsed one more time.


    Possessed with the sudden urge to pull it free and break it open, she scrambled to drag it free from her pocket. Her mouth opened and her brain, though it screamed at her to leave the box where it was, fumbled for an explanation as to what was happening.


    ¡°There''s something wrong,¡± Chukshene said sharply, shattering everything.


    The elf froze, her heart stopping. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°The town,¡± he jerked his head toward the stained walls. ¡°I''m not sure, but there''s something wrong. Very wrong. It doesn''t feel right.¡±


    Shaking her head to clear the fog from her mind, the elf let go of the box and slid her hand from her pocket and rested it on her thigh. ¡°Yeah, well. It wouldn''t feel right. It''s full of demons. They ain''t known for feeling right.¡±


    ¡°That''s just it,¡± he said quietly. ¡°I have to tell you something, Long-ear. I''ve been lying my ass off to you since we met. Told you I''m not much of a mage. That''s true. I''m shit at it. I came out here to study, and I don''t mean fireballs. That was an accident. See? You do get a little truth from me sometimes. I came here because it''s said this place is cursed. That there''s more demons here than anywhere else in the world. So, who''d notice if someone summoned a few more, right?¡±


    She halted her mount and glared at him. Her mouth was dry and a suspicion spiralled between her shoulders like a length of razorwire. ¡°What the fuck are you talking about, Chukshene?¡±


    ¡°What do you know about magic?¡±


    ¡°Enough to know spellslingers are liars, assholes, and worse.¡±


    ¡°True enough,¡± he allowed. ¡°But there are many schools of magic. Magecraft, of course, is commonly accepted. And who''d argue with someone who could melt your face off? Among the Fnords, there''s more mages than anything else. They''re the majority of spellcasters, if you like. They''re more powerful than most. They''re the cream. Caspiellans have more clerics than mages. Maybe a few wizards. We don''t get many clerics because magic is god-aspected for the most part, and Grim was never much for healing. Our Dark Lord was always more cheerful around death. So we got Deathpriests instead.¡±


    The elf shuddered at the thought of Deathpriests. She''d met one when she was young and had no wish to meet another. ¡°What are you trying to say, Chukshene? You ain''t a Deathpriest,¡± she said firmly. ¡°I know that much.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± he shook his head. ¡°I''m not. My skin''s too pretty for starters. But there''s other schools, too. Not so well-liked. In fact, we''re hated. Even the Dark Lord hunted us down and killed us. Our magic is considered so foul that it''s the only thing Grim and Rule ever agreed on. To be honest, it scares the fucking shit out of me. I''m a warlock, Nysta. Demon-aspected. So, while I know fuck all about magefire, I know about demons. And that town out there? Nysta, Rockjaw said there were demons in it. Well, I''m telling you there aren''t any in there at all. There''s none around for fucking days. Hardly any left in the Deadlands right now. I should know. I''ve hunted three of them already. Left the last one spread halfway up a mountain.¡±


    Her eyes drilled into his. ¡°This the truth, Chukshene? Or are you fucking with me again?¡±


    ¡°It''s the truth,¡± he said. ¡°And maybe you can see why I didn''t tell you. If just one wrong person knows what I am, I can look forward to being burnt on a fucking stake somewhere.¡±


    ¡°Not a good way to die,¡± the elf allowed, her nostrils remembering the smell of Talek''s burning flesh.


    ¡°No, it''s not.¡± He turned toward the town and shook his head anxiously. ¡°Whatever''s in there, it''s bad. I can feel that much. I mean, the hairs on my ass are standing up and my balls are shaking. But it''s not a demon. I don''t know what it is. And not knowing is making me want to piss my pants.¡±


    ¡°This warlock thing? It make you more dangerous than you look?¡±


    His lips parted into a grim smile. ¡°I know what I look like, Long-ear. I can guess what you think of me, too. But there''s more to magic than magefire and there''s a reason the gods didn''t like us much.¡±


    ¡°There better be,¡± she snorted, leading them forward again. ¡°I ain''t carrying your ass.¡±


    The spellslinger lifted his hand and spoke a word of power. Light flared. A bright pale orb with a sickly yellow glow. It hovered at his shoulder and he beckoned it closer so it hung over his book. ¡°I can look after myself,¡± he said. ¡°I might not know my way around these parts, but I''ve been around. And I''m still alive. Just didn''t want to do anything in case you knew enough about magic to know I wasn''t a normal mage. In case you knew I was a warlock and figured you''d prefer to cut my throat than let me live.¡±


    ¡°It could still happen,¡± she said lightly, her lip curling crookedly up toward the scar.


    The elf allowed his revelation to sink in as she led the way up the crooked path. As far as she was concerned, she''d never much thought about the differences between spellslingers. Cleric or mage, they were all the same in her mind.


    Still unsure if she could trust anything he said, she was prepared to accept he was what he said he was and, oddly, it settled a little more comfortably on her shoulders.


    Now he seemed less like the Caspiellan mage who''d waded through the palace kicking up death and spewing fireballs into Talek''s screaming body. She rubbed at her scar, feeling the rough edge of it. Could almost taste the steel which had stuck clean through her cheek.


    As they rode, she listened to the buzz of Chukshene''s mumbling as he flipped through his grimoire. What he was looking for, she didn''t know. Glancing at him, she admitted the man who seemed so clumsy and useless suddenly looked capable of something more.


    It was an odd moment, and she crossed her arms over her thighs as she leaned across the mare''s neck to peer into the scratchings of light across the horizon.


    Long shadows poured from the town like ghostly fingers. Night was fast approaching and she felt a buzz of disappointment at the thought. The day had gone by too quickly with no sign of Raste.


    Unable to visually penetrate the shadows of the town, the elf wondered what really lay inside. Whatever it was, she didn''t feel it was going to be pleasant.


    It would be mean. It would have to be mean to live in the Deadlands.


    And tough.


    Again, she glanced at the spellslinger. Frowned. A quicksilver part of her had been screaming to kill him since they''d met. She''d almost been hoping he''d give her an excuse.


    But now he was like her. An outcast among his own kind. Something which didn''t fit into the world any more than she did.


    The impulsive need to kill him had retreated to a dull hum.


    She wasn¡¯t sure if trusting him was a good thing. Also wasn¡¯t sure she had much choice.


    She grunted, turning her gaze back to the haunted town in hope it would suddenly reveal its secrets.


    The warlock looked up from his grimoire. His expression suddenly curious. ¡°You know, I expected more,¡± he said. ¡°I''ve only told a handful of people before. And they all looked like they wanted to run away. Frankly, I''m a bit fucking disappointed. And a little worried.¡±


    ¡°Worried?¡±


    ¡°Maybe you''re waiting for me to turn my back? Maybe then you''ll shove a blade between my shoulders?¡±


    ¡°I ain''t afraid of you,¡± she snorted. ¡°If I was going to kill you, Chukshene, I''d stab you in the eye to see your expression. Spit in your face, too.¡±


    ¡°Thanks,¡± he said drily. ¡°I appreciate that.¡±


    ¡°You''re welcome,¡± the elf yawned. Ran her fingers through her hair, feeling the knotted scraps of cloth brush against her palm. ¡°You like the Deadlands, Chukshene?¡±


    ¡°Like it? How could I? Fucking place is a shithole.¡±


    ¡°I like it,¡± she said. ¡°Know why?¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°My father was one of Jutta''s advisors. Maybe not the most important, but big enough so I had everything I ever wanted when I was a kid. I still remember this dress I had. Red. With peaches on it. Might surprise you, but when I was that young, I thought a lot about dresses. But everything eventually falls to shit, right? My world fell to shit when my mother died. Was a convenient time for my father. Maybe too convenient, I''m thinking. One of Jutta''s cousins had reached an age, and the King was looking for someone to marry her off to. He felt sorry for my father. Figured a nice young bride would cheer him up. Did, too. Know why, ''lock?¡±


    He gave a start at being called ''lock, but let it pass. ¡°I don''t think you mean what I''d be thinking, so not really. I suspect you''re talking politics, and I don''t know much about that. If I did, I wouldn''t be out here gutting demons to see how they work. I''d be back in Doom''s Reach whispering into some nobleman''s empty head and fucking his daughter. Daughters, if I''m lucky.¡±


    ¡°Means he was a bigger shit than the shit he was before. Wormed his way into the King''s Inner Council. Became a Duke. Got his own Hold. Talked about starting his own guild. Big things,¡± she spat bitterly. ¡°But his new wife didn''t like me much. Feeling was mutual. So, my father found a solution. Easy one, too. One night, he tossed me out onto the street.¡±


    ¡°Bullshit,¡± the spellslinger blinked. ¡°How old were you?¡±


    ¡°I was seven. In human years, that''s young. In elf years, I''d barely been born. But my father had a reputation for ruthlessness,¡± her eyes glazed as she remembered the coldness of the streets. ¡°Earned it, too. Let me keep my dress, though. Which is maybe why I didn''t die that first night. Snowed more that night than it had in fifteen years, they say.¡±


    ¡°No wonder you''re fucked up.¡±


    ¡°Grew up on the streets of Lostlight, ''lock. Where a lot of people knew me. Knew my name. Knew where I came from. What I was forced to become. Some men liked that,¡± she drew her lips back into a disgusted grimace as Chukshene tried to comprehend the weight of her words. ¡°Yeah, ''lock. I survived by doing what I had to do. It wasn''t pleasant, but the streets of Lostlight aren''t known for being pleasant. Fact is, they''d make a goblin''s pisshole look clean and pure.¡±


    ¡°We all do things we despise ourselves for,¡± Chukshene said slowly. ¡°Things we have to do. To survive. There''s no shame in that.¡±


    ¡°Maybe not. But it got to me. And all the hate I had for him. My father. It boiled and boiled for years. And then, one night, I was kneeling in an alley with a nobleman''s cock in my mouth and I realised what it was I wanted.¡±


    The warlock blinked, shifting on his horse as he tried to picture her as a back alley whore and just couldn''t do it. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Wanted to let it out. All the hate. The rage. Just let it out. And it was easy. So fucking easy. I had a knife. Well. Not so much a knife as a shiv. Just a street urchin''s tool. Hardly good for cutting paper, let alone skin. But it cut him. Cut him deep, the fucker. The gutters of that alley ran red. He bled so much, I couldn''t believe it. I can still feel the slickness of his blood,¡± she held up her fist, squeezing as she remembered. Could almost hear the wet sound of it pushing out through her fingers. ¡°And it felt good. So good just to let it out. He begged me to stop. But I didn''t. Kept stabbing him until there was no more blood left in him. Why should I stop? No one ever stopped when I asked them to. Talek found me there. At first he thought to kill me. I''d just killed a nobleman. A minor Baron, as it turned out. By law, I deserved death. And I accepted that as a fair price to pay. It was Talek''s duty to end my life. But he recognised me. Knew me. Said later he pitied me and wanted to give me a chance at something more. So he took me to some friends of his. And they taught me to let that hate run like a fucking river.¡±


    ¡°It sounds more like he used you,¡± Chukshene said cautiously. ¡°I''ve seen it before. Take you from a bad situation and train you up into something they can use. A tool.¡±


    Her eyes burned and her heart clenched fiercely. ¡°Used me?¡± The elf twisted her mouth hard up toward the scar. ¡°Of course he did! Why wouldn''t he? But that was the first lesson I''d learnt on the street, ''lock. That there''s fuck all in this world that''s free. Somehow, everyone gets used. That''s the price, and I gladly paid it because I was the richer. I got what I wanted.¡±


    ¡°A home?¡±


    ¡°To be free. Free of the names they called me. The spit they spat on me. The cum they shovelled into me. I was free, ''lock. You don''t have any idea how that felt. For years I''d hidden in alleys. Snuck around taverns hoping to get lost in the shadows. Lost all shame. All pride. Swallowed it up in a river of fear and self-disgust. Talek set me free. More than that, he saw me as something more than just a place to wet his cock,¡± she closed her eyes, allowing the horse to lead itself. ¡°He did his best to help me forget what I''d done on the streets. But no matter how high you rise, you can''t run from what you are. In Lostlight, I was never completely free of my past. Many men who''d bought me worked in the highest offices of the King. I was always afraid they would recognise me if I lowered my hood. Afraid of what they would say. Words, ''lock. I was afraid of words!¡±


    ¡°I''m a mage, of sorts,¡± he said softly. ¡°I know the power of words.¡±


    ¡°That is different,¡± Nysta''s said with an angry shake of her head. ¡°I ain''t so fragile their words could hurt me. Didn''t much give a shit what they said to me. But for him. For Talek. It would''ve hurt him, though he''d never admit it. They''d have judged him because of me. Because I weren''t good enough. But no one judges you out here. They wouldn''t dare. Here, I am unleashed. Ain''t nothing to be afraid of. No need to hold my tongue. No need to keep my blades sheathed for fear of offending one of the guilds. I''m fucking free! I love it here, Chukshene. Finally, I''m home.¡±


    ¡°It''s never that easy, though,¡± the spellslinger said, refusing to meet her gaze. He picked his words carefully, and she wondered what he was afraid of. Guessed he didn''t want to risk offending her for fear of getting a knife to the throat. He touched his lips with his tongue before continuing. ¡°I tried that, too. Running away. Looking for trouble to ease the pain. But you''ll wear out all your blades right up to their handles and still never find the release you''re looking for. Know why?¡±


    ¡°Guess you''re gonna tell me,¡± she said, feeling the rush of emotion slide away like sludge down a waterpipe.


    ¡°Because you''ve got a river inside you, like you said. A river of hate. And you''ll never be able to hold it back no matter how hard you force yourself to become. You''ve got to take control, Nysta. Turn the river. Direct it where you want it to go. Don''t let it lead you,¡± his voice sounded awkward, as though he wasn''t used to motivating anyone. She wanted to tell him to shut his face, but her protests shriveled in her throat. ¡°There''s a whole world outside the Deadlands. A world which is changing. Grim has fallen. His body sealed in the core of the world by Rule, who even now prepares his armies to sweep across the Wall and into the north to wipe us out. He''ll drive us all, Fnords, Orks and Elfs, right up to the icy wastes. He''ll break us on the glaciers. All who refuse to bow will be destroyed. And the Dark Lord is no longer here to stop him. We are alone. We face the wrath of a god. You understand what that means, Nysta?¡±


    She struggled to see what he was getting at. ¡°What''s that?¡±


    ¡°Means there''s still so many people out there who need you. The Grey Jackets. Black Blades. Starswords. Mages. Clerics. Even a few Green Arms. Every last motherfucking Caspiellan in the world. Who knows? Even a King? Or four. All of them. They need you more than ever. Right now.¡±


    Shooting him a suspicious look, her hand fisted around A Flaw in the Glass. ¡°Should tell you, Chukshene. If you''re recruiting for Rule, I''ll kill you slow. There ain''t a fucking thing in this world I''d do for a Caspiellan short of ventilating them with a blade.¡±


    ¡°For them?¡± he grinned, and surprised her with the nastiness of the expression. ¡°Not for them, you fool. To them! Imagine that, Long-ear. Hundreds. Thousands. Maybe millions of Caspiellans. All needing you to kill them. Think of the crime you commit by denying them the honour of falling beneath your blades while you wallow in self-pity out here in the fucking Deadlands. You could do so much more. Be so much more.¡±


    A chill swept down her spine as he spoke and her violet eyes glinted. There was a note of urgency in his voice which disturbed her. ¡°Why are you telling me this?¡±


    ¡°Why do you think I''m here? To piss all over this blasted place? I''m here to practice. To master my art. So I can kill Capiellans. The Dark Lord may have protected us from them. But he''s not here anymore. We need everything if we''re going to survive. We can''t fall apart. Not now. Lostlight won''t last forever. There''s still time.¡±


    The elf waved a hand dismissively. ¡°Lostlight has already fallen. Weren''t no need for Rule to lift a finger. The clans fight among themselves like ferrets in a beer barrel. And if it''s happening here, then it''s happening all over the land. Fnords will fight Fnords for power to fill the hole left by the Dark Lord. And Rule will sit back and laugh at us.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps. It''s true it''ll take a strong hand to unite the north again. A hand almost as strong as Grim''s. And that hand will need help. Think about it, Nysta. You could spend your life sucking on shit out here in the middle of nowhere, or maybe you could do something a bit fucking useful. Think of it as a chance. And take it,¡± he finally met her gaze. ¡°Or leave it and die pointlessly. Your choice.¡±


    ¡°I''m sick of being used,¡± she growled. ¡°By anyone. That time is past. I ain''t out here looking to find a cause, ''lock. Just to kill the Bloody Nine.¡±


    ¡°And then what?¡±


    ¡°I ain''t a fortune teller.¡±


    ¡°Then think about it. Because when that last bastard dies on your knife, you''re gonna feel empty. Vengeance isn''t very filling, no matter what they say. And I think you know that already. It''ll leave you hungry. Hungry for something else to fill the void. Think about what I''m offeri-¡± He broke off suddenly as a black shape tumbled through the gates of Spikewrist. It moved awkwardly and was followed by a handful of equally graceless shapes. ¡°What the fuck is that?¡±


    The elf''s eyes narrowed to slits and she lifted her head, peering through the evening light and slender curtains of snow.


    Could see it was a man, big and round. So big he was almost rolling down the road rather than running. Could tell he wasn''t going to make it very far if he kept running as he was.


    Fear was all that was keeping him going, but it wouldn''t count for much if his own body couldn''t keep up with his horror.


    He looked over his shoulder and screamed, visibly pushing himself desperately up the road.


    His pursuers moved in a jerky manner, but looked determined to catch him. She couldn''t make out anything of their features except their eyes. Large black circles which looked to suck in the light and spit out the shadows.


    ¡°Guess it looks like something you were about to offer me,¡± she told the spellslinger, kicking her heels to send her horse lurching forward. Her fingers itched and her heart thudded in expectation of explosive violence.


    He screwed his face up, trying to make out her meaning. ¡°Huh?¡±


    Glancing over her shoulder, the elf drawled; ¡°A fat chance.¡±

 Chapter Twelve

    The fat man stumbled, kicking up mud and snow. His round face was purple with the effort of keeping alive and his hair was pasted to his head in rivers of sweat. The choking sob torn from his mouth reached the elf''s ears over the thunder of hooves.


    Behind him, a half dozen creatures moaned as one in a voice which drew her lips back in a tight grimace. Once, they may have been men. But now, they were something else.


    Their faces were gaunt. Beneath stinking rags, their skin ravaged by cold. It peeled off the bone in flaking scabs. Where their eyes should have been, cold skeletal pits of black focused on the fat man fleeing their grasping hands.


    Clawed fingers clenched and unclenched.


    Mouths hung slack.


    As he angled away from the path like a crippled bear, the fat man''s head snapped up and he stared wild-eyed at the approaching elf. ¡°Help me!¡± he shrieked. ¡°Please, help me!¡±


    Her mount gave a sudden jerk and vaulted a half-buried log. She had to snatch hard on the mare''s mane and cursed not having a saddle. Snow erupted as the beast landed heavily, bearing down on the figures slowly surrounding the fat man.


    ¡°Get outta the fucking way!¡± she roared at him, tugging violently on the mane. The horse reared with a scream and she rolled smoothly from its back. Ended in a sprawled crouch, a dagger in each fist.


    Stand and Deliver left her hand with a cruel buzz to sink into the darkly glowing eye of the closest creature. Inky black blood exploded from the wound and gushed down its chest like grave slime.


    Behind her, Chukshene''s words of magic made the snow ripple and her ears felt stuffed with wool as magic built itself into a powerful ball of chaos begging to be unleashed. Not daring to turn, the elf''s back shivered and her heart skipped a beat.


    She skidded in the slick mud.


    Swiveled on her heel.


    Had no time to reflect on the magic roaring to a peak behind her. Had time only to send Heading Toward Entropy screaming into the throat of another pale-skinned creature before two more staggered close enough to rake at her face and ribs with glittering claws.


    She let loose an explosive curse and threw herself sideways. Felt the barest tip of one claw slit the skin of her cheek. Figured any wounds to her face couldn''t ruin it any more than it was already and spat hard as she threw herself forward, A Flaw in the Glass and Token Goblin Fighter spinning in her hands. Punched A Flaw in the Glass into the chest of the closest with all her strength. Felt bone shatter as it howled through flesh and dug deep into the shadow-tainted heart.


    Black blood poured thick over her hand and the foul stink of rotten meat filled her nostrils. It was an almost welcome change from the acrid stench of magic Chukshene was summoning behind her.


    She shouldered the creature squirming on her knife. The dying thing sprawled in the snow as it slid off the glowing blade.


    Her violet eyes narrowed to slits and she swung toward another of the pale-skinned creatures. Saw a few more edging up the path. Made to move forward, her blades glinting coldly in her fists.


    Then let out an involuntary scream as her neck snapped back hard. Unseen, one of the creatures had circled behind and snatched at her locks with one fist while pounding at her with the other. It pulled hard, trying to drag her to the ground.


    The first few blows landed cleanly against her ribs and she choked back a cry before hauling herself sideways in an attempt to pull it off balance.


    Roaring, the creature jerked her toward its swinging claws. The elf grit her teeth in agony as her ribs protested the sudden movement needed to block the powerful swipe of its claws with her forearm. Though the loosely-bound bracer prevented its claws from finding skin, the impact sent a shudder of pain up the bones of her wrist.


    It lunged at her throat, jaws opening impossibly wide. Splintered fangs glittered like broken glass.


    Biting her panic, she pivotted hard on her heel.


    Kicked with every ounce of strength she could summon. Caught it in the guts, angling up toward its ribs. Felt something crack. It didn''t even make a sound as it reeled away on its unsteady feet.


    Her eyes glittering with hate, she stalked the staggering creature. The eldritch smell of it wafted toward her on the frozen wind.


    The elf wiped her mouth with the back of her fist.


    Spat at its feet. ¡°Ain''t from Two Rivers,¡± she scowled. ¡°So this is for tugging my fucking braids.¡±


    Token Goblin Fighter punched hungrily into corrupted flesh to drill a hole in its heart. She followed through with several merciless thrusts to its shoulder and neck.


    It toppled to the ground, empty eyes pouring an ocean of sorrow into hers so that, for a moment, she felt sorry for it.


    The sudden wash of feeling puzzled her and her gaze was caught by the sight of its claws clicking together as it died. Like an insect struggling against death. She wondered why it hadn''t used those claws to tear out her throat when it''d pulled her head back.


    It''s what she would have done.


    ¡°Nysta!¡± Chukshene cried, blowing her thoughts away like papers in the wind. ¡°Down!¡±


    The sharp boiling smell of magic made her stomach lurch and the elf threw herself down without even thinking about it.


    The fat man screamed shrilly as a shaft of thick yellow light shot over her head, melting the air to encircle the remaining creatures within a ring of diseased light.


    The light pulsed slowly and the elf''s ears filled with the echo of ghostly whispers which seemed to come from all around. Catching only a few fragments, the elf shuddered and hairs rose sharply on the back of her neck at the grotesque nature of the words.


    Only fear of what would happen if she closed her eyes kept them open.


    The pale-skinned monstrosities moaned as one while the oily rope of light wove around their torsos and licked their skin with an awful rasping tongue.


    Then detonated in a violent burst that made the ground spasm beneath her. Black blood fell in gruesome puddles and the elf gagged as a large chunk of corrupted meat thumped down in front of her face.


    She stared at the trembling flesh for a moment before tearing her gaze away and scrambling to her feet. Her ears rang with the echo of the explosion and she rounded on the warlock, slumped across his horse.


    His fist glowed with energy and he groaned as he released it.


    Heart hammering in her chest at the thought of magic being used around her, she spat hard to get the bad taste of it out of her mouth. Shuddered again as the ghostly whispers faded with a faint giggle on the wind.


    ¡°Are they dead?¡± the fat man''s eyes were wide and he backed away from the shimmering black shards of meat.


    ¡°Resting in pieces,¡± the elf muttered, jogging toward her horse. The animal seemed unwilling to move, riveted in fear. ¡°Come here, you stupid fuck.¡±


    ¡°Who?¡± Chukshene blinked, a dazed expression sliding across his face. ¡°I-¡±


    ¡°Not you, ''lock. The fucking horse.¡± Her eyes caught movement and she saw more figures shambling through the town gates. ¡°Hey! Fat man! Get the fuck over here. Move!¡±


    He hurried over, glancing toward the gates in horror. ¡°Oh shit,¡± he sobbed. ¡°Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit!¡±


    ¡°Get up,¡± she scowled, shoving him toward the horse. ¡°Come on, you fat prick!¡±


    Chukshene clutched his head and wheeled his horse. ¡°What are you doing? You can''t stay here!¡±


    ¡°Not gonna,¡± the elf grunted, watching the fat man fumble his way onto the horse. Pushed him up with a shake of her head. ¡°But I can run faster than you short-eared fuckers. Lift! We don''t have all fucking night!¡±


    ¡°I''m trying,¡± he whined.


    ¡°Try harder!¡±


    The pale creatures were fast approaching. Eventually the wheezing man managed to get himself mostly over the horse''s back so when she smacked the flank, he didn''t fall off as the mare bolted.


    The horse was smart enough to avoid the trenches clawed into the earth and angled swiftly toward a casual incline that seemed smoother than much of the land.


    Chukshene threw her a curt nod and kicked his heels into his horse as she rushed back to the bodies for her blades. Keeping her eye on the approaching creatures, she gathered them with a cursory wipe through snow before sheathing on the run.


    The moans which followed her flight made her look back and she was surprised to see the creatures kneeling in the snow, consuming the ghastly remains. There was a tenderness to the way way they lifted the raw flesh to their mouths that made the elf''s hair stand on end.


    Suppressing horror, she sprinted after the horses. Caught them with an ease which made the warlock''s eyes bulge, then led them away from the town without slowing.


    ¡°Where are we going?¡± the spellslinger called.


    ¡°Away from those fellers,¡± the elf replied. ¡°Like to know what the fat man saw before I go back.¡±


    ¡°You''re actually thinking of going back?¡± Chukshene''s jaw nearly dropped to the ground. ¡°Are you mad?¡±


    ¡°Nope,¡± she ran faster, relishing the adrenaline kicking through her veins. Each pumping of her heart was loud in her ears and her muscles felt like clay. ¡°Worse than mad. I''m fucking pissed.¡±


    ¡°You know what I mean, you Grim-cursed elf! It''s crazy to go back there! Do you even know what they are?¡±


    ¡°No. Do you?¡±


    ¡°Well, no. But I don''t think that''s the fucking point! They''re not demons. They have shadows for eyes. Black shit for meat. And I''ve never heard of them. That right there''s enough to know they''re more fucking dangerous than you realise and should probably be left a-fucking-lone!¡±


    Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.


    ¡°I know they die,¡± she skipped over a large rock. ¡°About all I don''t know is how many there are. And the fat man''s gonna tell me the answer to that. Anything else is a bonus.¡±


    ¡°You''re insane,¡± he shot a look over his shoulder at the retreating town. ¡°That place is fucking cursed. I haven''t seen anything more cursed than that since my sister reached puberty. Had a face like boiled fucking meat and tits like old pine cones.¡±


    When she was satisfied they''d left the town far enough behind, the elf eased back until she was running neck and neck with her horse. Snaked her hand up to grab a fistful of mane and brought her weight down to bring the animal to a shuddering halt. Pawing the earth, it reared its head in irritation and she knew immediately what it was thinking.


    ¡°You bite me, and I''ll fucking cut your heart out and feed it to you,¡± the elf hissed.


    The horse flattened its ears as she touched a hand to Entrance Exam, then shook its head and looked somewhere else.


    ¡°What are you doing?¡± the fat man panted. He dug his heels into the horse, but the elf''s firm grip kept it still. ¡°We can''t stop here. We can''t! We have to keep going! Let go! We must get away!¡±


    He snatched at her hand to loosen her grip but the elf moved faster. Her fingers wrapped around his wrist. Tugged hard.


    Screaming, the fat man landed with such an awkward thump that the spellslinger clicked his tongue in sympathy. ¡°Making more friends, Nysta?¡±


    Rolling like an overgrown maggot, the man looked up at her with an enraged expression. ¡°What the fuck you do that for?¡±


    Entrance Exam pressed sharply against his cheek, just under his eye. ¡°It''s my horse,¡± she said evenly. ¡°You just got to borrow it for a while is all. Don''t forget that.¡±


    ¡°Alright, alright,¡± he tried to bat the knife away, but froze when she stomped her boot onto his chest to pin him to the ground.


    ¡°Listen to me, and listen good,¡± her voice spilled through the air like glass shattering across stone. ¡°I aim to find nine men. Dressed in grey. Riding horses. Led by a piece of shit with red hair who answers to the name of Raste. Nothing else matters to me. Nothing at all. Not my life. Not your life. So, you answer me and answer me fast. They go inside?¡±


    He shook his head and licked his purple lips. ¡°You fucking kidding me?¡±


    ¡°I look like a joker?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± his eyeballs rolled in his skull as he tried to focus on the blade. He let out a nervous giggle. ¡°I guess not. But you gotta admit. Don''t usually see a woman with as many knives as you got. Not outside the kitchen.¡±


    ¡°Don''t see many men with their guts wrapped around their throat and their brains oozing out their nose,¡± she countered. ¡°But you keep that shit up, and we might.¡±


    The fat man showed a glimmer of intelligence by wiping the grin off his face. His gaze slid away from hers and he gave a short nod. ¡°I didn''t mean nothing by it,¡± he said carefully. ¡°Was just saying, is all.¡±


    ¡°Forget it, then. Go back to my first question. Or I''ll start with your eye and work my way down to your toes. Might take a while given how much you''re carrying, but I reckon I can help you lose weight. Get me?¡±


    Despite the cold, sweat glistened on the fat man''s brow. Single drops squeezed through his pores and quickly ran down his cheeks. ¡°That ain''t nice. I can''t help being what I am.¡±


    ¡°What you are is talking youtself to death,¡± she said evenly. ¡°What''s more important right now is what I am.¡±


    ¡°What''s that?¡±


    ¡°Impatient. So, I guess things should be looking pretty bad to you, Fatman. Could get a lot worse. And if you want it all to be jake, you''d better spill everything you got before I spill it for you.¡±


    He stared up at her in terror.


    ¡°Colourful, isn''t she?¡± Chukshene put in. He slid unsteadily off his horse, which looked almost relieved to be rid of him. ¡°I''d tell her what she wants or she''ll go on for days.¡±


    Ignoring the warlock, she kept her violet eyes firmly fixed on the shivering man beneath her boot. ¡°Are they in Spikewrist?¡±


    ¡°I''m telling you honest, Long-ear. I ain''t seen anyone but those white pieces of shit for days. Last person I saw who wasn''t one of them was Ellie Sparklight, and even then only through the window,¡± he slumped back, looking up to the grey sky tumbling overhead. ¡°I don''t even know if that poor kid''s alive.¡±


    The elf grunted, snapped Entrance Exam back into its sheath and looked out over the empty plain toward the town. It squatted like a guard dog in the distance. Ready to bite.


    ¡°Hey, ''lock?¡± her voice was soft.


    ¡°Yeah?¡±


    ¡°You make a fire?¡±


    ¡°What do you think I am? A tinder-fucking-box?¡±


    ¡°Just do it, Chukshene. I ain''t liking it any more than you, believe me. But there''s fuck all wood around, so magefire will have to do. Or whatever fire your kind use.¡±


    Shaking his head, the spellslinger chewed his lip. ¡°You know, you''d be a hit at the Frozen Tower. They''d love you. My master would find it most refreshing to have you bully him around. Come to think of it, I''d pay to see it.¡±


    The corner of her mouth twitched. ¡°You trying to buy me, Chukshene?¡±


    ¡°Fuck no!¡± he held his arms out. ¡°I was just saying is all. Speculating. You know? A joke? It wasn''t a serious proposal. Fuck, Nysta. Do you have to be so fucking sensitive?¡±


    ¡°The fire, Chukshene.¡±


    ¡°Don''t you think that''s a bad idea? Those things might come after us. Light out here will draw them like a fucking beacon.¡±


    ¡°I don''t reckon they''ll go far from the town,¡± she said. She wasn''t sure why she believed it, but as she said it she knew it felt right. ¡°Whatever they are, I figure they''re happy where they''re at. Or they''d have come after us. What do you think, Fatman?¡±


    ¡°The name ain''t Fatman. It''s McCabe,¡± he said dully. ¡°And I wouldn''t know shit about those sons of bitches except what they eat.¡±


    ¡°What''s that?¡± Chukshene asked.


    ¡°Us.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡±


    ¡°You had to ask,¡± the elf said wryly.


    ¡°Reflex action,¡± he countered.


    ¡°Reflex mouth, more like.¡±


    ¡°Funny,¡± he grunted, beckoning the yellow globe of light over his book. He shuffled through it for the right spell. ¡°A real fucking barrel of laughs.¡±


    She moved toward a swollen rock shivering up through the snow and sat with a sigh.


    Grunted as she realised how punished she felt after running so far. It''d been a while since she''d really pushed herself and began to regret not having kept as fit as she''d been during her training years. If any members from her former guild saw her now, they''d think her weak.


    They''d want to cut her hair. Make her grow it again.


    Her fingers brushed against a ragged strip of cloth wound into her hair. Blue. Edged with yellow.


    Impassively, she watched the fat man mutter to himself as he dusted himself dry. His nervous glance flicked between her and the town before settling on the spellslinger.


    ¡°You sure they won''t come out here?¡± he asked. ¡°They looked hungry.¡±


    Chukshene shrugged. ¡°Nysta?¡±


    Digging her hand into her pocket, the elf¡¯s fingers teased the cold wooden box as she spoke. ¡°They ain''t coming. I''ll hear the bastards long before you see them. So, relax. I''ll tell you when to piss yourself.¡±


    The air suddenly smelled sharp, like iron filings, and the elf bared her teeth as the warlock murmured words of power.


    Her stomach curled and she felt her muscles tighten like coiled springs. Forced herself to remain still as he spat the final word which made the ground between them flare.


    Deep red flame and bubbles of molten rock spewed forth from the earth like a miniature volcano.


    Despite the fear of magic rushing through her brain, the elf was impressed as warmth bathed her face. His control over the small volcanic rupture in the ground was surprising. And welcome. She smiled into the heat and allowed her muscles to relax.


    ¡°Not so bad after all, am I?¡± he said, as if reading her thoughts.


    ¡°Could almost warm to you.¡±


    The spellslinger snorted. ¡°Anything warms that frozen core of yours, it''d be a fucking miracle.¡± He nodded at the fire. ¡°It won''t last long. An hour, maybe.¡±


    ¡°If we need it any longer, you can cast it again,¡± she told him.


    ¡°Sure,¡± he said blandly. ¡°Who could refuse such a polite request? I''ll cast it until my ears bleed, if you like. I don''t need my mind. Must be half out of it already to keep following you anyway. I mean, you''ve nearly killed me, pissed me off, slaughtered a couple of wagoners, attacked a fucking ork, and now you want to jump into a town filled with undead cannibals. What next? March into Rule''s Chapel and steal his cups?¡±


    McCabe dragged himself closer to the fire despite the suspicious look on his face. ¡°This magefire?¡± he asked. ¡°It don''t look like magefire. You a proper mage? I don¡¯t go for Demonraisers.¡±


    The spellslinger''s mouth opened, but it was Nysta who snapped at him. ¡°And what the fuck would you know about magefire? Or Demonraisers?¡± Her eyes glinted dangerously. ¡°Whatever kind it is, it''ll keep you from freezing your ass off. So sit the fuck down. I don''t want to hear shit from you except answers to my fucking questions.¡±


    He sat, futility taking over. All the same, he made a barely heard prayer to Grim for protection as the spellslinger shot the elf a glance which showed he couldn''t decide if he was puzzled or grateful for her intervention.


    ¡°They ain''t undead,¡± McCabe offered dully after a few seconds. He rubbed his knees as he spoke. ¡°Don''t know what they are. But they ain''t people neither. They''re something else. Ah, fuck. What am I doing out here in this cursed place? I should''ve stayed on Cobtooth''s ranch. Those piece of shit cows don''t seem so bad right now.¡±


    ¡°Well, they''re not demons,¡± the warlock said.


    ¡°Like I said, I don''t know what the fuck they are. Just know I won''t be going back. Not on your fucking life,¡± he hugged himself and shivered. ¡°And I feel bad for them folks left behind. But I can''t save them. I ain''t a killer like you, Long-ear. Nor a spellslinger like you. I''m just an old cowhand turned honest trader.¡±


    ¡°There such a thing?¡± she asked with a sardonic twist of her mouth. She found it hard to believe he''d ever worked a hard day in his life. ¡°An honest trader?¡±


    McCabe scowled, then slumped again. He was too tired to keep any amount of outrage in his body. The terror which had been consuming him seemed to have gutted him.


    The elf had seen it before in soldiers who spent too long behind enemy lines. Chances were if the fat man did survive the night, he''d be a shell of the person he was before. Her threats had worked to get his mind off the creatures in the town, but she doubted they''d hold him together for long.


    Unless his mind was stronger than she gave him credit for.


    She watched as he worked his jaw before he said slowly; ¡°No more than a wise elf, I''d say.¡±


    ¡°He got you there, Nysta,¡± chortled the spellslinger.


    ¡°I can get him back any time I want,¡± the elf said, tucking her thumb behind a knife handle.


    A ripple of wind cut off any further retort from the shivering man. It danced around the small campsite, bringing a hollow moan. She glanced in direction of the town, but figured the noise was further away than it sounded and had little to do with whatever haunted the town.


    ¡°They coming?¡± McCabe swallowed hard, his eyes wide and bright with fear. ¡°They''re coming, ain''t they?¡±


    ¡°Nope. More things out here than them,¡± she rubbed at the scar on her cheek. ¡°Sit down, Fatman.¡±


    ¡°Told you before. My name''s McCabe,¡± he said with a sullen scowl. ¡°And if you want anything from me, Long-ear, it''d be good you remember it.¡±


    ¡°Name''s Nysta,¡± she countered. ¡°And you''ll talk, McCabe. Or you''ll bleed and then talk. Your choice. I don''t much give a shit either way, but I''m getting sick of making threats. Happy to follow through on one just to break the monotony.¡±


    Whatever roamed far out across the valley gave a last undulating howl as a trickle of snow dusted down from the heavy clouds.


    ¡°Ah, shit,¡± Chukshene spat. ¡°Just what we need. More fucking snow. No shelter out here at all. If we don''t insult each other to death, we''ll die of cold.¡±


    ¡°Plenty of shelter around,¡± the elf said grimly.


    ¡°Where?¡±


    ¡°In town.¡±


    ¡°I just knew you were going to say that,¡± he muttered. Cocked his head and chewed nervously at the corner of his finger.


    ¡°Then why''d you ask?¡±


    He spat a splinter of nail. ¡°Habit.¡±


    ¡°You got a few of those,¡± she observed. ¡°Mostly bad.¡±


    ¡°Fuck you, Long-ear,¡± he said calmly.


    ¡°Careful what you say, Chukshene,¡± she returned. ¡°I''ll take it the wrong way and you''ll have your cock in your teeth instead of your fingers, wishing you''d kept your stupid mouth shut.¡±


    ¡°Nysta, please,¡± he winced. ¡°Don''t talk about my dick like that. Gives me the fucking creeps. You any idea what a threat like that does to a man?¡±


    The elf shrugged. ¡°When I find one, I''ll ask him.¡±


    ¡°Funny,¡± he groaned. ¡°Very fucking funny.¡±


    She faced the shivering man, whose haunted gaze was still trapped by the town far in the distance.


    The speck of buildings on the horizon seemed to be accumulating shadows as the sun set completely behind the brutish shadows. There was hardly anything to suggest the town was there at all. She had the impression the town was being slowly swallowed by a fog of writhing shadows.


    Whatever infested its infected streets, she thought, clearly loved the dark.


    Leaning forward, she rested her head on her fist. Ignored the stiffness of her lower back and legs as they tried to recover from the effort of sprinting after the horses. ¡°Alright,¡± she said. ¡°Figure you''ve calmed down a little by now. So let''s quit the friendly banter. Reckon you feel like telling us what''s going on?¡±


    McCabe looked almost ready to shoot to his feet and bolt into the night like a frightened rabbit. But despite the fear, or perhaps because of it, his eyes showed a flicker of cunning. ¡°I tell you what I know, will you give me a horse?¡±


    Chukshene''s hissed. ¡°A horse? Are you crazy?¡±


    ¡°After what I seen? Of course I''m fucking crazy! But I ain''t crazy enough to hang around. I want out of here, mage. Those nags of yours don''t look like they could get me away fast enough. But they''ll be faster than me. Look at me. I got more weight than both of them put together. I can''t run. I''ll fucking die. Horse might get me far enough away to make it count.¡±


    ¡°Lostlight?¡±


    ¡°Fuck Lostlight. Rule''ll take that pissbowl soon enough. Nope. I''m going past the Wall. All the way up to Icespring, maybe.¡±


    ¡°And get eaten by a kraken,¡± the warlock grunted.


    ¡°Better than being eaten by them,¡± the man''s flesh rippled as he shuddered.


    ¡°I''ll give you the horse,¡± Nysta said, drawing another hiss from the warlock.


    ¡°What? You can''t give it to him!¡±


    The elf shrugged. ¡°I don''t want it. I can''t fucking stand horses.¡±


    ¡°Yeah? Well, neither can I, but you don''t see me giving mine away.¡±


    ¡°I ain''t giving it,¡± she spat into the fire, which snapped at the globule with a sizzle. ¡°I''m trading it. Right, McCabe?¡±


    ¡°Ain''t sure I trust you, Long-ear,¡± the man said slowly. ¡°Know enough about your kind to know you''re slipperier than a bucket of greased weasels. How can I know you''ll give me the horse?¡±


    She allowed the corner of her mouth to curl up into a cruel smile. Slowly, drew A Flaw in the Glass. Spun the viciously curved blade in her fingers to send shivers of venomous green light dancing off his eyes. ¡°Can''t count on it, for sure,¡± she said evenly. ¡°But you can count on not leaving this place alive if you don''t tell me what I want. See, I''m a lot like that horse over there, standing outside in the snow like it is.¡±


    The man paled, his gaze locked on the blade. ¡°I don¡¯t understand¡­¡±


    The elf''s violet eyes were like chips of violet glass as she held his gaze and drawled; ¡°I ain''t in a stable condition.¡±

 Chapter Thirteen

    ¡°Began almost a week ago,¡± the terrified man said. ¡°This feller, he just appears out of the Deadlands. From the west. And nothing comes from the west, you know?¡±


    ¡°Why''s that?¡± Chukshene asked.


    ¡°Nothing out there but mountains. Bigger than the Wyrm''s Teeth up north. True that. I''ve seen both. After that, desert. Beyond that? More desert. Some say it''s the path to the Shadowed Halls. Maybe it is. Maybe it ain''t. But even the gods didn''t want nothing to do with it. Nothing lives out there. But this feller, he came out of the mountains. And there was something wrong with him.¡±


    The spellslinger leaned forward. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Well. Dunno, really. Can''t put my finger on it. But he didn''t walk right. Or maybe he just didn''t look proper human. I can''t explain it. He just weren''t right.¡±


    The elf yawned and slid off the rock. Leaned back on it and held her boots out to the fire to warm her feet. She''d learnt to take rest whenever she could, and though her ears listened intently to McCabe''s every word, outwardly she looked calm and uninterested, causing McCabe to aim his words to the warlock.


    ¡°He wasn''t a troll?¡± Chukshene asked. ¡°I''ve seen some funny looking trolls in my time. One I saw, he looked like a ten foot stick of celery with a head like a freshly shat dog turd and arms straight off a kraken. They can be pretty fucked up sometimes. Some even look pretty much like us. Maybe a nose like a horse''s cock, but otherwise just like us.¡±


    ¡°Weren''t no troll,¡± he said, his voice dull. ¡°And we get some strange ones here, too. This feller had pale skin. And his eyes. Couldn''t see them at all. It was like the shadows swallowed them up. Just looking at him made me want to throw up. Or shit my pants. Or both.¡±


    The spellslinger tapped his book thoughtfully. ¡°Cave troll? They can be pale.¡±


    ¡°It weren''t no fucking troll,¡± McCabe insisted more firmly.


    ¡°''Lock?¡± Nysta rolled her head lazily in his direction. ¡°Shut your mouth or I¡¯ll kick it in. What next, McCabe?¡±


    McCabe shot the warlock a dismissive glance. ¡°Well, he walked up to the gate like he owned the fucking thing. Wanted to come inside. Thing is, at night, Captain Galen closes the gates. Never opened them at night. Not since a demon waltzed right in and started killing folks. Three years ago that was. I remember. Never thought anything could be worse than that night. Wrong about that, wasn''t I? Should''ve left back then, but didn''t. Figured it was a one time thing, you know? And the Captain said he''d keep the gates shut at night. All kinds of shit roams the plains at night. Goblins. Draug. Fucking frost giant walked right past us, once. Lucky it didn''t step on a wall.¡±


    ¡°A frost giant?¡± Chukshene blinked. ¡°This far south?¡±


    ¡°Seen them a few times,¡± McCabe shrugged. ¡°Usually just passing. But with them, you never know when they¡¯ll feel like gnawing on your roof, do you?¡±


    ¡°Fuck,¡± the spellslinger shuddered. ¡°I hate frost giants.¡±


    ¡°You hate everything,¡± Nysta told him.


    ¡°Yeah? So? What''s your point?¡±


    The elf held up the knife. ¡°This. Any more stupid questions?¡±


    ¡°That''s good enough,¡± he said tightly.


    ¡°Good. Then, shut the fuck up. Again.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, well,¡± McCabe licked his lips nervously as the elf nodded for him to continue. ¡°When he got to the gate, the Captain wasn''t wanting to open up. Didn''t fancy the stranger any more than I did. I was on the wall at the time. Just shootin'' the shit with Logjam. He is ¨C was ¨C one of the orks. Was glad the Captain told the feller to move along or wait ''til morning. But the stranger didn''t like it. Not at all. Got real mad. Yelled up to the Captain that he''d be sorry if he didn''t just open up. That was enough for the Captain. He told the stranger to go fuck himself. Logjam laughed hard at that. But the stranger, he just looked up at us like we were nothing. I tell you, looking down at him there, I never felt colder in all my life. He took a few steps back like he was gonna leave. Then began howling. Like a fucking animal. No words. Just a long howl.¡±


    ¡°Like a wolf?¡± Chukshene interrupted, ignoring the elf''s groan. ¡°I fucking hate wolves almost as much as frost giants.¡±


    ¡°No, not a wolf. It was awful. I can''t describe it. But it chilled me to the fucking bone. And it was like the night suddenly got darker. There weren''t many clouds that night. You could see the stars, but when he howled, I swear they stopped shining,¡± he looked down at his hands, which were shaking. ¡°Have you got anything to drink? I could use a drink.¡±


    ¡°You think if we did, I''d still be sober?¡± Chukshene dropped his pack and rummaged around inside. Pulled out one of the small packets he''d taken from the wagoners and tossed it over. ¡°Here. Food''s all I got.¡±


    The trader sighed. ¡°Not food I need,¡± he said, holding the packet as though unsure what to do with it. He dropped it in his lap and turned his gaze to the fire. ¡°Thanks anyway.¡±


    ¡°Suit yourself. Long-ear?¡± the warlock held out another. She shook her head and he shrugged before stuffing some dried fruit into his mouth. ¡°Fine. I''ll eat it all. I don''t mind.¡±


    A vision of the pale creatures eating the flesh of their own flickered into her mind and she pushed it away with a grimace. To take her mind off the revolting memory, she began spinning A Flaw in the Glass in her hand, enjoying the mechanical motion. Looked at the trader as another thought came to mind. ¡°He say anything?¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Feller at the gate. When he was done howling. He say anything?¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± McCabe put his hands on his knees and squeezed. ¡°And when he spoke, it got even colder than an icewitch''s tit. Said: The darkness will fight again.¡±


    Nysta frowned. Something about the phrase tugged at her memory, but she couldn''t put her finger on it. ¡°That it?¡±


    ¡°Then those things¡­ They came. They rose outta the ground. Like a herd of dead things rising from their graves. The stranger, he moved to the gate. Put his hand on it. And those gates, they were made of dwarven steel more than five inches thick. Leftovers from the war. Used to be one of Grim''s forts, so it was built strong. They don''t make gates like that anymore, for sure. Not since the dwarves fucked off. Armies tried getting through that wall, Long-ear. Last year, we had fifteen trolls trying to break through. They couldn''t even scratch it. But this thing, he just fucking touched it. That''s all. One little push and they buckled and twisted like they was made of paper.¡±


    ¡°Magic?¡± Chukshene asked.


    McCabe shook his head. ¡°Nope. Didn''t do shit. Just touched it. Then those creatures, they came into the town. Killed everybody they could find. Galen was first. Worst thing I ever saw. I mean, I seen people die before. Ain''t the first bad thing I''ve seen. This is the Deadlands, right? I''ve seen draugs. And what they do. But these things, they were cold. No fucking emotion. Just tore him apart. Almost like they wanted to see what he was made of. So cold. Like spiders. It was fucked up,¡± he shivered violently. ¡°Real fucked up.¡±


    The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    ¡°But you survived,¡± her eyes narrowed. ¡°How''d you do that?¡±


    McCabe snorted. ¡°Survived? I didn''t survive. They just didn''t want me, yet. Lot of us managed to hide. Could hear each other, sometimes. I hid in widow Kuper''s shack for a while. We didn''t know what to do,¡± he screwed up his face, closing his eyes. ¡°She tried to make a run for it. Poor Alys. Didn''t make it. Ripped her to pieces right in front of the gates. Grim''s eyes, you should''ve heard her scream. Had my fingers in my ears and I could still hear her. Do you know what that''s like, Long-ear? To hear someone begging to die, but you can''t do anything?¡±


    She thought of Talek. ¡°Welcome to my nightmare,¡± she muttered.


    He nodded. ¡°Ain¡¯t slept properly since. Keep seeing her,¡± he tapped his temple. ¡°Right in here. Her eyes. They''ll haunt me ''til I die. And there was so much blood.¡±


    ¡°Wasn''t your fault,¡± the warlock said softly.


    ¡°Maybe not. But it feels like it was.¡±


    Chukshene eyed her with an unreadable expression. ¡°Sure you want to go in there, Nysta?¡±


    ¡°You killed a bunch back there, ''lock. So did I. Reckon we''ve learnt a thing or two from that.¡±


    ¡°Like what?¡±


    She spat into the fire again and allowed the corner of her mouth to curl crookedly toward the scar. ¡°They bleed.¡±


    ¡°These people you''re chasing, though. They''d bleed, too?¡±


    ¡°I''m counting on it.¡±


    ¡°So, if they went in there, they''re likely to be dead, right?¡±


    ¡°Anyone stupid enough to go into that Rule-blighted town is dead,¡± McCabe said in a dull tone. ¡°Those things have got the streets.¡±


    ¡°You got out,¡± the elf said. ¡°So they could get in. And you hid out for, what, days? So maybe they can hole up?¡±


    ¡°Maybe,¡± he allowed reluctantly. ¡°But why''d they wanna do that? Anyone with enough sense would see there was something wrong and get the fuck outta there long before they got inside. Those things are all over that gate like the pox. You know, I told you I used to be in the cow trade?¡±


    ¡°What''s that got to do with it?¡±


    ¡°Maybe something. Maybe not. A few years ago, I ran a herd outside Mistfall. One time, I got caught in a stampede. Bull took a shine to my horse. Ever tried to stop an angry bull? Good luck with that. The whole herd, you know, it''s bearing down on us. Bull charged into my horse like she was nothing. We went down. I rolled out. Managed to avoid getting my leg crushed. Figured I was a goner for sure. But then the herd just split in two. Went right around me. It was the weirdest thing. Usually, they go right over you, you know? I''ve seen it, and it ain''t pretty. Not at all. But there I was, kneeling in the dirt and hearing them thunder past. Had my hands to my head and I ain¡¯t ashamed to say I shit my pants right there. I should''ve been dead, spellslinger.¡±


    The elf shook her head at him. ¡°This story going anywhere, or you just talking bullshit?¡±


    ¡°I thought I was dead,¡± he said, lost in his memories. ¡°But I lived. And then I left to come here. Wanted as far from cows as I could get. Heard there was money out here trading shit if you''ve got the head for it. Figured I''d do alright. Didn''t do too bad in the end. Was almost ready to take my stake north again. Maybe get to Doom''s Reach. Buy an inn. Always thought not getting run over by a herd of cows was the luckiest moment of my life. But even though I''m standing here with fuck all but my shirt and shoes, it turns out that was nothing compared to today. This, right here, is the luckiest fucking day of my life. It''s my third chance. Maybe I''ll get it right this time. That''s if I can get out of here with my skin still on my bones. What I''m saying, Long-ear, is someone''s got to be real fucking unlucky to get in there. And real fucking lucky to get out.¡±


    On impulse, the elf shoved her hand into her pocket and her fingers immediately found the odd contours of Talek''s box. It didn''t feel so cold as it had been. If anything, it felt warmer.


    She frowned, thinking of the Nine holed up in some shack in the town. ¡°I have to know if they''re there,¡± she said, aware of Chukshene''s eyes on her, an unspoken question hovering between them. She gripped the box harder, feeling the metal ribs scrape beneath her nails. ¡°I have to.¡±


    ¡°Fine,¡± the warlock sighed. ¡°But don''t blame me when they''re sucking your brains out through your eyes.¡±


    ¡°The Darkness will fight again,¡± she quoted suddenly. Pressed her fingers to her temples and picked at her memory. ¡°I know that from somewhere. It means something.¡±


    ¡°I''d be real happy if you didn''t say it again,¡± McCabe said as he rocked back and forth on his haunches. Fearful memories spread a look of anguish across his face. ¡°Mean no offence, Long-ear. Can see you''re mighty touchy, so won''t say it''s a demand or anything. But, really¡­ Please? Those things kept saying it over and over. They''d crawl through the streets on their hands and fucking knees like a plague of undead roaches. Moaning it constantly until you thought it was the wind speaking through the alleys. Whatever it means, it ain''t friendly.¡±


    ¡°''Lock?¡± the elf looked over at the spellslinger, who was still stuffing his face. He opened another package and looked perfectly content.


    ¡°Huh?¡±


    ¡°You know what it means?¡±


    ¡°Don''t think so,¡± he said thoughtfully. ¡°Sounds like something the Dark Lord might''ve said. When he was pissed. Grim ranted a lot of shit when he was drunk. Deathpriests recorded it all. I used to sneak into the old records and read them. You know, just for a laugh? One time, he ran through the streets of Mistfall, telling everyone that the fort at Doom Forge was a worm farm. That the mage there was collecting worms from the bodies of heroes he''d killed. I mean, really. Worms? And another time, he pulled a kraken out of its cavern, dumped it on the beach near Icespring and demanded someone make it into some kind of fucking fried noodle thing. The poor bastard with that job went mad trying. And did I mention what he said about the Emperor''s daughter? It''s hardly repeatable in polite company, but many a man has looked at her and wondered if it was true before wrestling his raging hard-on back into his pants in case she noticed and had one of her guards cut it off. You think you''re tough, Nysta? Well. You''re nothing compared to Asa. That woman''s a total fucking bitch. But if you believe Grim, she might be worth knowing...¡±


    ¡°I had to fucking ask,¡± she muttered as the warlock leered into the fire. ¡°McCabe? How many of them are there?¡±


    He gave a startled twitch at his name. ¡°How many? Fuck. How should I know? Dozen? Twenty. Fucking hundred and twenty. I don''t know. They all look the same. All sound the same. All creep around like fucking roaches, crawling all over everything and shit. Spikewrist''s now a fucking meatshop for them. An evil place. All I know is, no matter where you go, there they are.¡±


    ¡°Sounds more like a holy shrine than a butcher''s lair,¡± the elf said with a sardonic grin.


    ¡°You''ve got a strange mind, even for an elf,¡± he said quietly.


    ¡°Thinks she''s funny is all,¡± the warlock offered.


    ¡°She don''t sound funny,¡± McCabe¡¯s squinted gaze drifted over the jutting handles pressing against her body. ¡°Don''t look very fucking funny, neither. I don''t see much to laugh at, Long-ear. That''s my home back there. Some good friends of mine just got fucking eaten by fuck knows what. Be obliged if you didn''t make a joke of it. They was good people, mostly.¡±


    ¡°You might be right,¡± the elf said, spitting out through the corner of her mouth. ¡°Might be a diabolic time to be playing games. You see the bastard in charge again? After he went in?¡±


    ¡°Not so much. He passed through the street like a ghost sometimes, but I never really saw him straight up. When I did, thse things were following him like he was a god and he hardly seemed to notice they were there. Reminded me of cows following a bull, you know?¡±


    ¡°I look like someone who knows about cows?¡±


    ¡°Won''t tell you what I think you look like.¡±


    ¡°Wise choice,¡± Chukshene said.


    ¡°I¡¯m scared out of my head, but I ain''t stupid. You know, I can''t stop thinking about his eyes when he was at the gate. There was something about them. Something old. And alien. I don''t know. Like he knew too much about the world. If I ever saw him again, I''d run so fast you wouldn''t see me for dust. But his eyes. They''d follow me, I know. I won''t ever stop dreaming about them now. It''s like he knew what I was thinking. But there was something else. Something I can''t put into words,¡± McCabe¡¯s face was taut and even the sweat glistening on his cheeks looked frozen in rising horror. ¡°Stay away from that town, Long-ear. Turn around. These fellers of yours? They ain''t worth what you''ll find in there. I don''t like you, Long-ear. Ain''t ever gonna like you no matter what excuses your spellslinger makes for you being a cold-hearted bitch. But I wouldn''t wish what''ll happen to you if you go in there on anybody. Whatever he is, demon or not, that evil son of a bitch don''t need no prodding. Leave him be. He''s one bull who won''t let his herd go around you. They''ll roll right over you. Eat you alive.¡±


    The warlock looked impressed. ¡°Well, I''m fucked if I''ve ever heard anything like it. And I''ve heard a lot. If I hadn''t seen them with my own eyes, I''d say you were full of shit. Or been drinking too much. Long-ear?¡±


    She nodded in agreement. ¡°Figure McCabe¡¯s an expert on herds. Reckon that means he''d know a few things about canny bulls.¡±

 Chapter Fourteen

    She watched McCabe nibble unconsciously on some of the dried meat Chukshene had given him. Nothing he''d said about the town had changed her mind about going in. She had to. Even with her back to it, the town¡¯s walls tugged at her as though promising the Bloody Nine holed up inside.


    And there was something else, too.


    The box in her pocket was getting colder.


    The freeze of it threatened to burn her fingers and her palm felt numb up to her wrist. Her head ached every time she thought about pulling it out to look at it. She struggled against the impulse, remembering Talek¡¯s rules.


    Rules he''d tried to drum into her. Had she been more interested in it then, maybe she would have remembered them.


    One of the most obvious ones was to keep it hidden. But more important than that, was one he repeated over and over whenever he was moving it from one hiding place to another.


    ¡°Don''t touch it,¡± he''d said.


    She started as his voice sounded strongly in her ears. He¡¯d always worn gloves when handling it. The cold bit into her skin like snow-covered fangs.


    Grunting, she slid her hand reluctantly from her pocket. Her ears still rang with the fading echo of her husband''s voice. It was a smooth voice. Gentle.


    A voice she''d loved listening to, though she''d never told him.


    And now had no chance to.


    Whether it was the sudden scowl springing to her face, or the snap of her spit splashing into the fire, McCabe flinched fearfully and looked ready to run.


    ¡°I don''t know what else to tell you,¡± he whined. ¡°The town is cursed. What more do you want to know?¡±


    ¡°I want to know what to expect,¡± she said through her teeth, feeling her rage boil to the surface. But under the slick coating of kerosene, the elf kept a tight grip on herself. She needed to push him. Needed to break him. Needed to be sure he¡¯d told her everything. ¡°I want to know what they''ll do when I go in. I want to know if there''s somewhere they don''t go. If there''s a place they gather more often than others. I want to know if there''s a back way in, or if I can scale the wall. I want to know what those fucking things are. Because I want the bastards who rode out of my home with my husband''s blood on their fucking hands and there¡¯s a chance they¡¯re in that town right now. And I want to bury my knife in their hearts! So right now, you cowardly sack of shit, if they''re in there, then you''re the only one who might be able to tell me how to get in there and where the fuck they might be hiding.¡±


    The fat man cowered in fear as she towered over him, A Flaw in the Glass quivering in her fist. The venomous glow flared wicked in the firelight.


    ¡°I don''t know! I don''t know! I ain''t seen them! I spent these last fucking days hiding in a fucking hole in a fucking wall until I couldn''t take it any more! Until I couldn''t get out of my head the sight of Alys bolting past me and out the door, screaming her tits off. She couldn''t take it either. I heard her scream. I fucking hear her screams all the time now! Oh, I tried not to care. Not to think about it. But I can''t. I knew her! And they ate her alive. Stripped the meat from her bones. And I let her run. I let her go out there. Let them eat her. I hid inside that hole and tried to shut my ears, but you can''t keep screams like that out of your ears. You just can''t. They go through the walls. Through the bones of your hands. I only ran because I couldn''t take it. Couldn''t live any more knowing I let her go out alone. That I refused to go with her because I was afraid. Because you¡¯re right. I''m a fucking coward. You might think you''re tough. You might be right. But you can''t fight them. You can''t. There''s too many of them. And there''s nothing I can tell you to make it any easier. The Shadowed Halls have opened, Long-ear, and they opened right in the middle of that cursed town. You can''t fight the Shadowed Halls. So, if that''s not enough for you, then you go ahead. You cut me down. You cut out my fucking yellow heart and you go on and eat it if you want. I deserve it. Grim knows, I deserve it. I liked that woman. I really did. Loved her, maybe. But I let her go. Let her die in the worst fucking way. And I''ll always be wondering now, if I went with her, maybe we would''ve made it. Maybe...¡± He slumped, head falling onto his chest as snot and tears poured in equal measure down his chin. ¡°I got nothing left for you, Long-ear. You see, I ain¡¯t got nothing left for me.¡±


    Looming over him, the elf felt the weight behind her eyes which was born from the hate surging through her veins.


    Hate aimed, not at him, but the nine she trailed.


    She could feel every point of rage as they bloomed and though she knew the fat man had no ties to them, she wanted to vent it so desperately she could think of nothing except stabbing him over and over until his blood turned the snow pink around them.


    She could almost feel his blood pumping over her fist. Squeezing between her fingers.


    She caught her breath and her lips bared back into an animal grimace. ¡°Fuck,¡± she snarled. Staggered backward with a guttural shout of anger, slamming A Flaw in the Glass back into its sheath.


    She aimed a kick at his head, but missed, sending powdered snow spraying over his shaking torso.


    He cringed back like a frightened dog and gave a whimper as he rolled into a sobbing ball.


    The lava flowing through the elf''s veins cooled abruptly.


    Her fingers touched one of the knots of rag in her hair and she let her breath escape in ragged clouds of mist. Each breath pushed the hate further and further into her belly.


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.


    Bottling it up.


    Tightening the lid.


    Her eyes burned.


    ¡°Had enough?¡± the spellslinger asked quietly. ¡°If you want to maybe poke him with some hot irons, I might have something in my pack you can borrow if you like.¡±


    Sucking air, the elf spun on him. He held her glare with a calm expression that irritated her even more.


    ¡°Good idea,¡± she hissed. ¡°Hand it over. I can shove it up your ass. Maybe it''d stop that shit coming out your mouth.¡±


    ¡°All that rage. All that anger. You can hardly control yourself, can you?¡± He held out his hands to the fire and rubbed them together. Slowly. Aware she was on a razor''s edge but determined to have his say. ¡°My guess is you''re still in that alley, Nysta. A frightened little girl trying hard to convince herself she''s not afraid anymore. That she''s strong. In control. But no matter how many pretty little knives you cover yourself with, they''re not much for armour. Won''t stop the fear from taking over. All your hate. It''s not helping, is it? You want revenge? Sure. I get that. But even though you seem to have someone to chase, you can''t help looking around for more. Look at him. He''s a pathetic ant.¡±


    ¡°Thanks,¡± McCabe sniffed, sitting up. He scrubbed at his eyes with his forearm. ¡°Makes me feel a whole lot better.¡±


    ¡°You''re welcome,¡± the spellslinger grinned, his gaze still on the elf. ¡°And there you are, Nysta. Bullying him. What for? For information you already know. The town''s full of creatures who eat people. Wow. Big news. We got that just spending five seconds at the fucking gate. You knew that already. And they''re hungry. Got that there, too. All you''re really looking for is a reason to cut him to ribbons. That''s all. And you want to know something? That''s what I find most interesting about you. First, you don''t just do it. No one out here will see, and if they did, they wouldn''t care. But you need a reason. A reason you can justify your actions with. Second, that you let me live. I still don''t get that. That excuse of yours about me distracting you was just bullshit. With all the poison filling you so much you''re close to choking on it, I don''t know why you didn''t. Killed those wagoners quicker than blinking. So now you''re looking to kill McCabe here. What is it? What''s stopping you?¡±


    She stood rigid in the fire''s suddenly chilling glow.


    McCabe¡¯s terrifed stare was fixed on her face as she shifted between outrage and defiance before settling into an impassive mask rendering it impossible to wonder at the thoughts rushing turbulently through her head.


    ¡°You might be right, Chukshene,¡± she said. ¡°Maybe I''m afraid. Maybe fear locks me up so much I need hate to keep moving. And you''re right I want to kill this piece of shit. And I want to kill you, too. And every time you open your mouth, I want to kill you more. Why don''t I? To tell the truth, I ain''t so fucking sure myself.¡±


    The spellslinger nodded, suddenly wary as the elf slowly lifted her fingers to her face and began rubbing at the vicious scar.


    ¡°Are you going to kill me?¡± McCabe¡¯s voice was a thin sound, like he expected to die and was almost at the point where it didn''t matter to him anymore.


    ¡°Horse on the left,¡± she said. ¡°The mare.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Get on it and fuck off before I change my mind.¡±


    McCabe blinked.


    Glanced at the warlock, who gave a sharp nod. With a relieved moan, he scampered through the snow toward the horse.


    Surprised by the fat man''s sudden approach, the mare gave a low snort and pranced sideways until the fat man managed to haul himself awkwardly onto the docile beast''s back.


    Taking a fistful of mane, he cast one last glance at the elf and licked his lips.


    ¡°Long-ear?¡± His voice was a croak in the brittle wind. ¡°Want you to know I think you''re the meanest fucking bitch I ever saw. And you got some bad shit running through your head. I ain''t stupid enough to hang around with you. But¡­ thank you. You saved my life. We meet again, I won''t forget that. I owe you. Spellslinger? Ain''t sure you''re a clean mage, if you get me. But I don''t much give a shit. You did right by me. Oughtta know I reckon you should fuck off, too, though. Before she gets you killed. Or kills you herself.¡±


    And with that, he wheeled the horse sharply and kicked his heels to send it springing out into the darkness.


    They waited around the fire in silence, listening to the thudding hooves fading quickly into the distance.


    The gelding snickered, stamping its hoof uncertainly as the mare disappeared.


    ¡°Fucker''ll probably follow them soon,¡± the spellslinger sighed. ¡°I got nothing to tie it down with.¡±


    ¡°We don''t need it,¡± shrugged the elf.


    ¡°Says you,¡± he snorted. ¡°My feet hurt.¡±


    ¡°Shouldn''t keep putting them into your mouth then.¡±


    ¡°Funny. Now what?¡±


    She turned toward the town, feeling its magnetic pull.


    The gelding gave another nervous snort and trotted tentatively into the dark after the mare.


    ¡°You can do what you like, Chukshene. Me? I''m going into Spikewrist to see if they''re there. Kill them if they are. Kill anything that gets in my way.¡±


    ¡°Guessed you would,¡± he sighed, watching the horse leave. ¡°Can''t wait until morning, I suppose? Whatever''s in there is probably stronger at night no matter what you think.¡±


    ¡°So am I.¡±


    ¡°Great. But I can''t see shit. And now I have to walk. I have blisters, you know. These boots are fucking killing me.¡±


    ¡°Then stay here. I didn¡¯t ask you to follow me.¡±


    ¡°And if you get yourself killed, what am I going to do?¡±


    ¡°I don''t much give a shit, ''lock. Sit around here forever for all I care. Or head north.¡±


    ¡°Do I look like a human fucking compass?¡±


    ¡°You could follow the fat man. Move quick and you can catch your horse before it gets far.¡±


    ¡°If that fucker makes it out of the Deadlands alive, I''ll eat my fucking robes. I''ll stick with you for now. You''re the meanest piece of shit I''ve seen since I got here. No offence. But if anyone''s getting me out of here, it''s you.¡±


    ¡°Told you I''d take you to Spikewrist,¡± she said, waving a hand toward the ghostly town. ¡°And there it is. Who said anything about leaving the Deadlands? This is my home. ''lock. Why would I want to leave this shithole?¡±


    ¡°Because it''s the way of the world, Nysta,¡± the spellslinger said in a tone that made her eyes narrow to glittering slits. ¡°Things change. People move on.¡±


    She slipped her hands into her pockets as a fresh gust of wind billowed around them. Immediately found her fingers wrapping around Talek''s box. It was as cold as a block of ice and for a moment, she thought it was pulsing slowly in her palm.


    She needed to see it. Just a glance.


    Surely a glance wasn''t against Talek''s rules?


    Her fingers squeezed tighter around the metal ribs.


    ¡°Right, then. Coming? It was your idea, remember?¡± The spellslinger gathered his pack and stretched his arms before starting toward the inky black blob on the horizon. He gave a negligent wave of his hand and the fire behind him flared once before snuffing itself out like the flame from a blown candle. Added, almost cheerfully; ¡°Oh. By the way. If we die, I''ll haunt you forever.¡±


    ¡°That''s the spirit,¡± she muttered, watching his back. Her emotions swirled unsteadily as she battled a burning desire to pull Talek''s box from her pocket and an almost manic sense of suspicion as the warlock''s cryptic words rolled around her skull.


    He looked over his shoulder. ¡°Hey, you like riddles? Want to hear one?¡±


    The elf grunted sourly as his words cut her indecision. She slid after him, draping her palms over the handles at her hip. ¡°Just shut your flaphole and keep walking, ''lock,¡± the elf growled. ¡°What''s in my pockets ain''t your business.¡±

 Chapter Fifteen

    After directing a hurt look at the elf, Chukshene lapsed into determined silence. He broke it only once as she shoved past to take the lead, and this just to clear his throat.


    It was easy for the elf to ignore the warlock''s response to her lack of social skills.


    She''d faced worse and lived through it. Few had endured her sharp mix of temper and sarcasm for long, and only one ever figured there was anything worth knowing under the thin layer of bitterness.


    And he was dead.


    At thought of Talek, she remembered not his face, but the crisp feel of the earth as she dug his grave in the frozen soil.


    The impact of the shovel.


    The sharp chopping sound had made her wince with every swing. A solid, yet clean sound. As though she''d been hacking through the bones of the earth.


    Her eyes scanned the terrain as they moved cautiously across the thickening layer of snow. It''d begun to fall heavier since they left their brief camp.


    Not enough for her to bother raising the hood of her cloak, though. If Talek were here, she thought, he''d be calling her stupid for walking into the obvious makings of a blizzard.


    The elf''s jaw tightened and her teeth pressed so hard against each other she thought her jaw might lock permanently.


    She hadn''t put up a marker.


    It kept bothering her. No stone circle to mark his passing.


    No name.


    ¡°Raste,¡± she muttered darkly under her breath. ¡°I''ll have your head for his marker. I swear.¡±


    The wind scraped its frozen fangs across her face with a sudden howl and she knew enough about the weather in the Deadlands to know that, while it was not often as cold as this Winter was turning out to be, there was a certain viciousness to the storms here that seemed like echoes of the chaos which tormented the land for so long. As though the past presence of two raging gods damaged the climate and gifted it with spite.


    Each step closer to the town made her boots sink deeper into the snow and she snarled a curse as her foot sunk deep enough she had to jerk her leg free. She heard a muffled snort, and she flashed the warlock a warning look which he took with a twist of his lips.


    He said nothing, though. Plainly, he wanted to keep his silence.


    Which suited her.


    Her training had prepared her for stretched periods of silence. It wasn''t uncommon for members of her teams to speak only in hand gestures for lengths of time which lasted weeks. Sometimes as much as a month.


    At thought of her training, the elf ran her fingers through her ragged hair. Felt the bumps of cloth and wondered what her life would have been like if Talek hadn''t irritated her into marrying him. Their marriage, while unconventional, was always a comfortable one. He¡¯d liked to talk and took her silence for listening.


    The odd sharp comments she tossed into the stream of bullshit seemed only to fuel his need to chatter.


    Her mouth parted slightly as she realised his words seldom penetrated her mind and she couldn''t recall much of what he''d spoken about. It all seemed to pass like breezy nothingness. A constant buzzing in her ears.


    Yet, far from being irritating, she''d been calmed by his voice. His presence.


    Given her past, it was a miraculous thing. Made more miraculous by how effortlessly he made her forget what she''d been.


    But now, it felt like she''d betrayed him even more. Just the simple act of not having paid attention to his attempts to connect with her brought a flush of red to her cold cheeks. A flush which rode the tightening of her face.


    The guilt was getting too much to bear. It was like sliding down a rope. A rope which was tearing the flesh from her hands.


    Soon, she¡¯d lose her grip and fall.


    But she couldn''t blame herself completely.


    No. They were responsible, too. The Bloody Nine.


    And they¡¯d pay.


    Pay screaming.


    Muscles knotted between her shoulders and she ground her teeth hard.


    ¡°Nysta,¡± the spellslinger broke his silence with a reluctant gasp. ¡°Please slow down. I know you¡¯re in a hurry, but it''s not easy walking through this slush. Especially in robes.¡±


    She bit back a snarled retort as she realised the sudden rush of rage pumping through her veins had quickened her steps. She motioned for him to pause beside a shattered tree, which he did with a grateful sigh.


    But, squatting in the snow, she told herself it wasn''t for his benefit. It was simply to get a better look at the town which appeared more solid behind the curling wall of fog and dusty speckled snow. She could make out a few buildings built higher than the walls. One had a large pitched roof and a small glow of light bruised the darkness from within.


    The inn, she recalled. It lay in the centre of the town.


    ¡°Can you see anything?¡± His breath forming heavy clouds of mist as he spoke. ¡°They coming?¡±


    ¡°Not yet.¡±


    ¡°Thank Grim.¡±


    ¡°Dead gods can''t help you here,¡± Nysta said softly.


    ¡°Well, the alternative is thanking Rule, and the only thing I''d thank that bastard for is if he slit his own throat so I could shit down his neck.¡±


    She nodded absently.


    The Gods never played much role in her upbringing, so she''d never given them much thought after her first tear-stained prayers went unanswered. Before his fall, the Dark Lord wasn''t known for protecting street urchins. That role belonged to his sister, the enigmatic Veil. But she''d fallen to Rule centuries before the battle at Godsfall.


    Mostly forgotten to the elfs now.


    A few of her temples still remained in Lostlight. She''d trained in one.


    But it¡¯d been just a building. No longer a place of worship or miracles. No mysterious aura of holiness remained. Just a sullen emptiness that defied absent moments of faith.


    All she could count on, reasoned the elf, was her blades.


    The closest thing she''d had to a religious experience was watching the life drain from her most challenging enemies.


    Just thinking about the last really good fight she''d fought made the elf chew hard on her bottom lip as she raised a coffee-coloured hand to the plaited ropes of her hair. Her fingers touched a ragged piece of cloth and the smile curled crookedly across her face like a crack in glass.


    ¡°Not sure if I like what you''re thinking,¡± the warlock shivered.


    She let the smile fade from her mouth and nodded at the town. Said; ¡°They know we''re coming.¡±


    ¡°Why would you say that?¡± He hugged his book so tight she thought it would burst apart at the spine. ¡°Even if it''s true, don¡¯t you know you shouldn¡¯t actually say it?¡±


    Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    ¡°See the biggest roof there?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. So?¡±


    ¡°What''s the light, Chukshene?¡±


    ¡°I don''t fucking know,¡± he said through chattering teeth. ¡°Not much of a light, though. Small fire? Who can blame them? It''s getting colder, Long-ear. We''re going to freeze to death out here. Not much choice, is it? Freeze, or get eaten? Fucked if I know what''s worse.¡±


    ¡°Why light a fire, ''lock? They''re creatures of the night. If they feel anything at all, you¡¯d think they¡¯d love the cold as much as the dark.¡±


    ¡°Warmth? Cooking? Either idea sounds pretty fucking hot to me right now,¡± he said, then giggled. There was a strained note of desperation in his voice as though he was trying to suppress his rising fear by clutching at any chance of humour. ¡°Hot. Get it?¡±


    Shook her head. ¡°It''s a beacon.¡±


    ¡°A beacon to what?¡±


    ¡°Us.¡±


    ¡°Ah, shit. No way. Get fucked, Long-ear. No, don''t say it.¡± He aimed a sour look at her. ¡°It''s too fucking cold to tell, but if I haven''t already, then I''m gonna piss my pants if you keep that up.¡±


    ¡°Come on.¡± She pushed herself to her feet, wiping an icy drop of water from her cheek with the back of her fist.


    ¡°Nysta? Are you sure this is a good idea? I mean, if this Nine of yours aren''t there, then you''re wasting your time. Why chase trouble? Just skip the town, yeah? We can maybe look at it again in daylight. When whatever''s in there isn''t so active. I mean, a beacon? If it''s true, then you''re not asking for trouble. You''re begging for it.¡±


    ¡°You can move or freeze, ''lock. All the same to me.¡±


    ¡°Maybe it''s not too late to go back,¡± he grumbled, is eyes darting from the town to the trees beyond. ¡°Horse couldn''t have gotten far. Could it?¡±


    A guttural howl tore through the wind, making them both glance around in shock. The source of the sound was behind them rather than from the town.


    Chukshene cursed and raised his hand, his fist glowing with arcane energy and the first words of power tumbling over his lips before he paused to glance at the impassive expression on the elf as she spat forcefully in the snow before turning back to the town¡¯s walls.


    The acrid smell of magic faded as the warlock let the spell die.


    ¡°Nysta?¡± he stumbled after her, lifting his robes. ¡°What was that? You know what it was, don¡¯t you? It didn''t sound like one of those things from the town.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± she agreed. ¡°Was probably a Draug.¡±


    ¡°A Draug? Are you sure? It sounded fucking close. It wasn''t close, was it? Draugs. Fuck. That''s all we need.¡±


    ¡°Relax, ''lock,¡± she said with a humourless grin. ¡°Reckon they''re not coming this way.¡±


    ¡°How do you reckon that?¡±


    ¡°Draugs yell like that only when they''ve killed something.¡±


    ¡°Oh, shit.¡± His eyes widened at her words. ¡°McCabe.¡±


    ¡°Could be.¡±


    ¡°Poor motherfucker.¡± The warlock rubbed at his temples. ¡°First those Lich things, and now Draugs. I think he was wrong, you know. It''s not his lucky day.¡±


    A ripple of dread slashed through her brain like a bolt of lightning, peeling her memory like an onion to expose an idea which horrified her to think about. ¡°What did you just say? Lich?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, well,¡± he shrugged. ¡°I''ve been thinking about it and I remember reading somewhere that some Liches have no eyes. That their sockets hold the darkness cast from the Shadowed Halls. So, they could be Liches. Bit rare, but they happen. Plenty of Graveborn creatures in the Deadlands, so it makes sense. It would explain why I can''t feel them as demons. Not sure if I''m right, but it sounds true. Dozens in one place is odd, though. Still. You got a better idea?¡±


    ¡°Lich,¡± she muttered. ¡°You sure they don''t normally get together?¡±


    ¡°Never heard of it happening before,¡± he said. ¡°They''re solitary. Loners. Sometimes in pairs. They''re too powerful to like each other''s company. Usually found haunting old ruins. I''ve got no fucking idea why they''d be out here. More I think about it, the more I don''t know what they could be.¡±


    Nysta¡¯s mind raced as old stories surfaced from the depths of her memory. ¡°Fuck. No way. Can''t be.¡± She shook her head. ¡°It can''t be Gaket''s Lichspawn.¡±


    ¡°Lichspawn?¡±


    ¡°The darkness will fight again. That''s what they said, right?¡±


    ¡°McCabe thought so. You remember where you heard it from now?¡±


    ¡°There''s an old story. Legend, more like. That, during the Godwars, Veil made an army out of scraps of darkness and flesh. But the army was mindless. It needed a leader. So, she found a soldier. Just a simple soldier. She imbued his body with shadow and made him strong. It''s said he became like the shadows himself and could slide through darkness like a fish through water.¡± She rubbed at the scar on her cheek and frowned deeply. ¡°She used the Lichspawn to kill the Five Kings. Even got past Rule himself to take out the High King. Alfred Direwulf I think it was. I forget their names. It broke the southern Kingdoms for many years and shattered their alliance. Rule had to abandon the front lines to wrestle the Five Kingdoms back into submission. Had to take the role of High King himself. Since then, the High King''s throne has been empty. The Caspiellans have their own prophecies on that. They reckon a High King will come one day and lead them to the Great Wall. And beyond. You know. Typical end times shit.¡±


    ¡°Gaket, uh?¡± The warlock looked skeptical. ¡°I''ve never heard that tale. Heard of the Empty Throne, though. But our stories say Grim killed the High King.¡±


    ¡°He would say that,¡± Nysta snorted. ¡°He was an asshole. When Veil fell, he tried to take everything of hers. It''s why Lostlight never returned beyond the wall. She¡¯d built the city, and no one wanted to forget that. In any case, when Rule killed Veil, the Lichspawn disappeared. Probably died with her. No one knows how many there were, but it''s said there was an army of them.¡±


    ¡°It fits.¡±


    ¡°Too well for my liking.¡±


    ¡°You don''t sound convinced.¡±


    The elf scowled. ¡°The legend of Gaket is old! It''s just a story. Who knows how much of it is true? It''s just a tale to make us feel proud. Proud of our heritage as Veil''s chosen people. Most of it''s probably bullshit.¡±


    ¡°I''ve spent a lot of years poking around old tomes,¡± the spellslinger said. ¡°And I''ve learnt that every story, no matter how strange, always has an element of truth to it. But I still don''t see how you can connect that old story to what''s in the town, though. We still don''t know if they''re Liches. Or any kind of Graveborn.¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± she admitted. ¡°But it''s one fucking big coincidence. See, there''s another story. More a joke, really. Tells of how the Dark Lord found the Lichspawn near Worldscar after Veil fell. He demanded they join him and fight Rule. They refused. Pissed him off. He tried to fight them, but Gaket slipped away into the shadows. But before he disappeared, Gaket told Grim he was too tired to fight any more wars. But that, one day, the darkness will fight again. Those words are engraved above the gates to Veil''s Temple of the North. Her priestesses abandoned it some time after she fell. These days, the Jukkala use it as a training ground. I fucking knew I''d heard those words somewhere.¡±


    ¡°Well, if it is these Lichspawn of yours, then why are they killing townies? Why here in Spikewrist? There''s nothing worth killing for in this wasteland.¡±


    The elf shrugged. ¡°Maybe it''s the day they fight again.¡±


    ¡°Picked a cold one.¡±


    She looked up at the snow shivering down toward her. ¡°Look on the bright side, ''lock. Fighting warms your blood.¡±


    ¡°Not when it''s spilling out into the snow.¡±


    She glanced at him, nearly pulling her mouth into a crooked grin before her eyes caught sight of something in the snow.


    Hissing, she lunged off the path and rushed past him with a suddenness that sent him into a spin. He corkscrewed around, catching himself in his robe and tumbling into the snow with a cry of alarm.


    Skidding to a halt, she fell to her knees and her eyes blazed with fury. She reached out and touched the fresh imprints.


    ¡°Horses,¡± she spat. ¡°Fucking horses. More than a few. Could be nine. Yeah. It''s them. Has to be. I can feel it. They¡¯re in there. In the town!¡±


    ¡°Horses?¡± The spellslinger scrambled back to his feet, dusting snow from his hair and face. He wore a disgusted expression. ¡°You shove me into the snow, just for some fucking tracks? Look at me! I''m fucking cold enough, you long-eared lunatic! This shit''s fucking ice! It''s freezing!¡±


    He stomped over to where she was glaring down the path toward the ruined gates of Spikewrist.


    ¡°They''re in there, Chukshene,¡± she growled. ¡°I know they are.¡±


    ¡°Great. Then they''re dead,¡± he sighed. ¡°Those things have eaten them. Good riddance. Can we go now?¡±


    The visceral howl of rage began as a low moan before it swept her to her feet and powered her toward the gate as if on the screaming wind. A Flaw in the Glass and Fulci''s Last Joke leapt into her hands as she kicked up snow.


    ¡°Nysta!¡± the warlock shouted. ¡°Stop! You''re not thinking properly! Nysta, wait! You fucking Long-eared idiot! Shit!¡±


    But her veins were charged with hatred and the elf couldn''t have stopped herself charging forward even if she wanted to. The gates loomed out of the darkness and the single light glowing in the town called to her like the moon to a moth.


    She was so close.


    So close she could feel their throats between her teeth and their blood on her tongue.


    ¡°Raste!¡±


    A lone Lichspawn stood between the shattered gates, its back bent crookedly. The elf pounced, spinning in the air.


    Her booted foot snapped out. Fragmented the bones of the creature''s cheek.


    It reeled under the impact, though whether it felt pain or not, she couldn''t tell. She was too swept up in the sheer insanity of killing it to care.


    A Flaw in the Glass ripped its throat open with a vivid spray of black blood which splattered sickly to the ground. She rolled around its torso, quicker than a weasel, raking flesh with both blades. Burrowed under its arms and spun the gore-drenched blades in her fists.


    Swinging madly, the Lichspawn opened its mouth in a silent snarl as the pommel of her fist smashed between its eyes and snapped the misshapen head back. The creature landed in the sodden earth with a crunch. Tried to roll to its knees, but was forced back as the roaring elf leapt onto its chest.


    She caught her breath.


    Lifted Fulci''s Last Joke high above its head. Grinned.


    Spat in its face.


    The blade plunged into the Lichspawn''s black eye with the sickening song of metal piercing bone and brain.


    Victory''s lavish thrill punched her in the chest before draining quickly from her blood as her gaze drifted toward the town''s poisoned heart to see a tide of Lichspawn crawling like insects from the shadows.


    They had, she knew, come to feed on her flesh.


    Her violet eyes blazed in anticipation of violence and her lip curled cruelly. Tasting iron and the bitter threads of fear, she tore the blade free of her latest victim''s eye socket and bared her teeth at the incoming creatures.


    There seemed no end to their number.


    ¡°Now I''ve done it,¡± she mused. ¡°Opened the Gates to Hell.¡±


    ¡°The darkness will fight again.¡± Their voices merged into one. The menace in their voice reminded her of a murder of crows.


    ¡°Come on, then, you pit-eyed motherfuckers,¡± she grimaced. Her heart pounded heavily in her throat. Fulci''s Last Joke caught a stray splinter of moonlight and glittered eagerly. ¡°Fight. Let''s see who''s the real nasty around here.¡±

 Chapter Sixteen

    The Lichspawn opened their mouths as one, thick black drool dripping, and surged like a school of sharks toward wounded prey. Their claws clicked and clacked as they charged and their howl filled her head with the sound of a hundred tormented souls burning with insatiable need.


    There were too many of them.


    She couldn''t hope to kill more than one or two before they overwhelmed her. Before they dragged her down and tore her apart.


    But she was blind to this. Blind to the shattered odds and the absolute certainty she was staring her own death in the face. Even though the Shadowed Halls loomed in the darkness of their eyes, all she could see was the blindfold of hate drawn across her sight.


    The Bloody Nine were here.


    In Spikewrist.


    If they weren''t dead, then they drew breath. And she wanted to ensure they drew no more.


    So, legs splayed and arms akimbo, the elf stood her ground disconnected from her fear of the Lichspawn. Her fists tightened around her knives and her mouth drew back in a determined grimace.


    Her eyes flicked over them, picking at their inhuman features illuminated in the sharp edges of light spilling from the surprised windows of the nearby inn.


    Stealing a quick breath, the elf charged.


    The guilt of Talek''s fate which gnawed at her heart now exploded into fiery rage and the roar torn from her throat rose high above the howling Lichspawn. A Flaw in the Glass erupted into life, the green venomous glow lashing out from the blade and encircling her wrist.


    The first Lichspawn to make it within reach had its neck almost completely severed as the enchanted blade slashed deep. Black blood sprayed over her arms, but she was oblivious to the sickly wetness.


    She spun into a second, Fulci''s Last Joke driving hard into its abdomen and tearing upward. She managed to keep grip on the slippery handle and wrenched it free amid flowers of gore.


    Then choked back a scream as claws raked across her back. Speckled red snow beneath her feet told of fresh cuts.


    Reacting on instinct and training, the elf wheeled and put all her power into a kick which sent her attacker flying into the charging path of a fresh wave of pale-skinned creatures.


    They tumbled in an ungainly heap.


    Still unaware of the futility of fighting, the elf struck hard and fast. Moving with murderous grace, she seemed to dance among them, their grasping hands unable to find her.


    But not once did her grace appear nimble. There was too much power in her attacks. She chopped as though wielding axes, leaving a grotesque display of dismembered bodyparts in her wake.


    She moved with glittering-eyed brutality and a vacant coldness that would have frozen them in fear if only they could feel such an emotion.


    As it was, it wasn''t until she pounced onto the back of one foul creature that she realised they weren''t charging her anymore.


    They were fleeing.


    A Flaw in the Glass bit hard into the back of the Lichspawn''s scrawny neck. She tore the glowing blade free. Screamed; ¡°Talek! For Talek, you cursed motherfuckers!¡±


    Stabbed the corpse again between the shoulders.


    And again.


    Tasted foul blood on her lips.


    Her thoughts were a fragmented mess, and she forced herself to gather them quickly.


    Wrenched her tear-stained face toward the retreating creatures and quivered to her feet as she caught sight of the black figure gliding through the chaotic scramble of bodies. Hooded and with a dark sword held low in its massive fist, the figure paused at their edge and eyed the grim remains strewn behind her.


    ¡°Impressive,¡± he said. His voice was so smooth her stomach turned at the sound. ¡°You fight well, Child of Veil. Truly, you are everything she promised you would be.¡±


    The elf''s frown deepened as she wiped her blood-spattered face with the back of her wrist. Her gaze took in the tight line of Lichspawn gathering at his back. Their empty eyes studied her in the same way a wyrm might study a bug.


    With disinterest.


    Nonetheless, she felt frozen in place as their numbers increased. She directed her gaze toward the hooded man. ¡°Where are they?¡±


    ¡°They?¡±


    ¡°Raste and his Bloody Nine motherfuckers of soon-to-be-fucking-dead. They came in here. I saw their tracks.¡±


    The figure cocked its head and seemed to listen intently to something she couldn''t hear. Nodded. ¡°Ah, yes. You mean the riders. Is that why you entered the gates? You are pursuing these men?¡±


    ¡°I sure as fuck didn''t come here for the beer,¡± she growled.


    ¡°Then you won''t have long to wait. My friends will bring them this way for you.¡±


    ¡°Why would you do that?¡±


    ¡°Because it amuses me,¡± he took another step forward, the sword almost forgotten in his hand. Yet, there was something in the way he held it that said if he remembered it, he could kill her with it. That all her training would mean nothing.


    Despite the seeming ease with which she''d fended off the Lichspawn, she had no doubt this one was different.


    A trickle of sweat slid down her brow and hovered on the edge of her vision. She didn''t move. Her voice, when it came, was a dry rasp. ¡°What do you want?¡±


    The Lichspawn snapped their heads toward her as one and their voice froze the air. ¡°The Darkness will fight again.¡±


    The figure watched her take a step backward and looked to be smiling under his hood. ¡°As my friends say,¡± he waved an arm toward them. ¡°The Darkness must fight. It has not been at war for so long. Too long.¡±


    She licked her lips. Wondered where the spellslinger had gotten to. Maybe he''d run off. She couldn''t blame him for that. ¡°Fuck it, then,¡± she spat, shifting into a crouch. ¡°You want a fight? Fine. Let''s fight.¡±


    ¡°They come,¡± the figure said, unmoved by her stance.


    And hooves thundered as nine horsemen burst into the street from a narrow alley. Their horses screamed as they wheeled to a panicked halt between the dark figure and the elf, their path blocked in every direction.


    ¡°Raste,¡± she hissed. ¡°You red-haired cocksucker! I should''ve killed you years ago!¡±


    ¡°You!¡± His eyes widened in shock. He took in her appearance and shook his head.


    ¡°A raghead,¡± Fenis choked out. ¡°She''s a fucking raghead!¡±


    ¡°Shit, Raste,¡± Neckless scowled, shifting in his saddle. ¡°You said they wouldn''t send anyone.¡±


    Raste worked his jaw before gasping through his disbelief; ¡°Nysta? No way. No fucking way. They''d never take you! Never!¡±


    ¡°That''s her?¡± Fenis paled. ¡°That''s the bitch he was talking about? You said she was just a whore!¡±


    ¡°It''s a trick, I tell you,¡± Raste tugged hard on his restless mount. ¡°Can¡¯t you see? A fucking trick meant to scare us! Well, I ain¡¯t scared of you! You hear me?¡±


    ¡°These demons. They with you, raghead?¡± Tubal asked, his gaze skipping over the Lichspawn. Of them all, he was the only one who seemed to take her appearance in stride. ¡°You make a pact with devils?¡±


    She shook her head, her splintered gaze never leaving Raste¡¯s face. ¡°They ain''t with me. But I''ll kill them too, if I have to. Just want you fellers. You owe me your painful screaming deaths. Wouldn''t want you to be in debt to me too long. So I aim to make you pay up. Right now.¡±


    ¡°Raste?¡± Doket struggled with his horse, the fear in his voice making it shrill. ¡°What do we do?¡±


    ¡°We can''t fight all of them,¡± Torak kept his eyes on the ring of Lichspawn. His sword glittered darkly. ¡°Grim''s asshole, there''s got to be hundreds of the bastards.¡±


    Nysta was the first to move.


    Determined, she walked toward the Bloody Nine, back rigid and head high. A Flaw in the Glass hummed in her hand. She''d known she''d catch them eventually, but in truth she''d not expected to find them so soon.


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    Revenge was so close she felt she would burst.


    It seemed too good to be true.


    A thin cord strummed down her spine, chilling her to the core. There were nine of them. And a hundred Lichspawn. There was no hope.


    She was going to fail.


    The fear flooded her mind before shrieks of defiance melted it in waves which carried Talek''s soft eyes. Staring at her.


    Filling her with strength.


    ¡°For you, Talek,¡± she breathed. ¡°I¡¯ll kill them all for you.¡±


    And every step was easier than the last as she walked into the mouth of what she figured was her certain death.


    ¡°She''s coming!¡± Doket shrieked. ¡°Raste! She¡¯s coming!¡±


    ¡°Shut the fuck up!¡± the red-haired elf lashed out with his sword. The flat of the blade slapped against the young elf''s chest. Doket gave a cry and cringed back in his saddle as Raste turned his gaze back to her. ¡°Nysta! Look around. You''re trapped in here with us. These demons won''t let you go either.¡±


    ¡°Don''t care,¡± she said. ¡°Just want you dead, Raste. Don''t much give a shit if I live or die after that. You already killed the one thing I lived for, remember?¡±


    Tubal looked eager to fight and rose in his saddle. ¡°Only one of her, Raste. Reckon I can take her if you can keep the devils off my ass.¡±


    ¡°Don''t be stupid,¡± Raste scowled. ¡°There¡¯s too many. We can¡¯t fight them all.¡±


    The Twins shared the same confused expression, their voices mingling as they spoke as one. ¡°What''s stopping them now? Maybe they''re not interested in us?¡±


    ¡°You are nothing to us,¡± the hooded figure confirmed easily.


    ¡°It''s her they want,¡± Doket blurted. Hope made him grin madly. ¡°Look at them! They''re not even looking our way! They want her!¡±


    Nysta paused in her stride and saw it was true. The eyes of every Lichspawn tracked her with an eeriness that made her skin crawl. But she felt no malice in their attention.


    Only a cold sense of expectation.


    She chewed her lip thoughtfully. The hooded man''s stance was easy. Almost casual. He gave the impression they wouldn''t stop her achieving her goal. Why, she couldn''t say, but whatever his reasons were, she figured he''d keep the creatures off her back for the time it would take to kill Raste.


    At least, it''s what her gut told her.


    She watched the red-hared elf as he studied the ring of black-eyed beings. Slowly, his expression eased, but there was still enough wariness in his mind to keep him looking cautious.


    ¡°Could be,¡± he said at last. ¡°What do you reckon, Nysta? Reckon they¡¯ll even try to stop us leaving?¡±


    She took another step toward him.


    No one else moved.


    She took another.


    ¡°Stop,¡± Raste said. ¡°Stay where you are. Listen to me. Just for a fucking second, listen. Looks to me these demons are after you, not us. Looks like we''re in a position to help you. If it''s worth our while. Or we could just ride right past you and out the gate. Leave you here. Fact, that''s what I''m thinking we should do. I''ll wager these bastards couldn''t stop our horses. They couldn''t pull us off before, so I don''t reckon they''ll pull us off here. We got mounts trained to go through armies bigger than this. And we¡¯re better equipped. So, we know we can ride right over them. Wouldn''t slow us for more than a second. Only thing that stops me from leaving you here right now is we didn''t want to kill Talek. Didn''t mean to. Want you to know that.¡±


    ¡°Liar.¡± She bared her teeth and felt the handles of her blades dig into the palms of her hands. Her eyes felt hot.


    ¡°Believe what you like,¡± the red-haired elf said with a shrug. ¡°I told you what I wanted to. So, now what? Maybe you can kill one of us on our way out. Maybe two, if you''re good. Which I don''t reckon you are. But the rest of us will be out of here like a shot and you''ll be stuck behind as demon food. Think about it. Use that fucking brain and think for once in your pathetic life. We can make a deal.¡±


    ¡°If I might interrupt?¡± The dark figure sounded amused. ¡°I said you were nothing to us. Not that my friends wouldn''t kill you. You will die here, Children of Veil. All of you. My friends will tear you apart. They hunger. You will feed them.¡±


    ¡°Shit!¡± Doket shrieked, his eyes nearly bursting from their sockets. His horse jostled against Raste''s, unsettled by the Lichspawn and its rider''s fear. ¡°Raste!¡±


    ¡°Let''s get the fuck out of here,¡± Torak hefted his sword. Panic made his voice shrill. ¡°Come on, Raste. We''ll run right over them. It''ll be just like the Gates of Anders Hove!¡±


    ¡°Ain''t no full moon tonight,¡± Nysta waved A Flaw in the Glass at the Lichspawn. ¡°Reckon these subspecies won''t be as much of a pushover as they¡¯re acting.¡±


    Raste''s eyes were pinned by hers. ¡°Please, Nysta. This ain''t the place. Or the time.¡±


    ¡°You''re wrong, Raste. Wrong about everything.¡± She rolled her shoulders and prepared to make her move. ¡°This is the place. And the time.¡±


    ¡°Then die, you fucking whore! Die like the alley slut you are.¡± He kicked his heels viciously into the horse''s ribs. ¡°Bloody Nine! We ride!¡±


    ¡°We ride!¡± Their voices chorused as one and acted like a switch any fear they¡¯d felt to grim determination.


    The hooded figure made a small motion with his sword and the Lichspawn swarmed the riders like an army of rats. Their claws clicked and clacked. Their mouths drew back into savage snarls.


    Eyes blacker than the darkest corners of the Shadowed Halls, the Lichspawn sought the comfort of fresh meat.


    ¡°They''re coming!¡± Doket screamed.


    As he was closest, Torak screamed as Fulci''s Last Joke spun swift through the air and plunged into his left eye.


    The angle had been difficult.


    Made more difficult by his sudden attempt to wheel his horse toward the gates. The blade punched into his eye and glanced outward, the point smashing out through the side of his skull rather than spitting into his brain as she''d hoped.


    Flecks of bone mingled unseen with his blood on the ground.


    One of the Twins wrestled with Torak''s horse to bring it under control.


    The other sent a wrathful glance at her.


    But she''d already moved and was desperately trying to squeeze through the narrowing spaces between swarming Lichspawn, brutally cutting down those unfortunate enough to jostle in front of her.


    Tubal, eager at first to charge her, found himself struggling to keep a wave of Lichspawn from overwhelming his steed. His massive axe responded in glittering arcs.


    Heads rolled in near-comical excess with each sweeping strike and black blood sprayed thickly to the street. He wore a manic expression, his gaze constantly seeking her out and his mouth constantly spilled curses like a swarm of bees.


    Snorting, his horse struck out with its forelegs, obeying instincts weathered by years of training and experience in battle.


    Her gaze nailed to Raste, Nysta stabbed through a surge of Lichspawn who appeared to ignore her presence. Bamboo Bones left her hand like a steel wasp. Aimed at Raste''s torso, the blade sheared through air in search of the red-haired elf''s blood.


    Triumph scorched her heart as the blade left her fingers. She felt its accuracy to be true and could almost taste the sodden impact as it burrowed home.


    But Fenis, forced to kick his heels hard into his mount to avoid being cornered, was sent lurching through the raking claws of a dozen Lichspawn. He swung a heavy mace, tearing the face clean off one creature even as his mount bounded forward with a terrified squeal.


    The young elf barely registered the glittering steel as he crossed its path.


    The small blade should have skimmed off the dwarfen mail he wore loosely under his vest, but the angle of his arm as he eagerly raised the mace for another shot at a snapping head exposed his armpit and it was there that Bamboo Bones buried itself.


    He choked a cry and doubled over in his saddle, clutching the gushing wound.


    Nysta bit a curse at missing her target and leapt onto the back of a wounded Lichspawn, using it as a springboard to launch herself into the air at Raste''s horse.


    He lashed out with his sword, hatred burning in his eyes.


    The sword chewed into the light wyrmskin of her jacket. The cut was shallow, but even were it mortal, she still wouldn''t have changed her attack. As it was, she didn''t feel it.


    She snatched at his shirt, trying to drag him off the horse.


    Tried to slash him with A Flaw in the Glass.


    Missed.


    He reared high in the saddle with a snarl. His elbow smashed into her cheek and he raised his sword. With no room to swing the blade, he used the pommel and pain exploded across her shoulder.


    Suddenly desperate, he pounded at her again and again, his free hand shoving her in the face. ¡°Get the fuck off me, you fucking whore!¡±


    Wearing the blows, the elf swung her hips, trying to lift one leg high enough to jam her foot between his ankle and stirrup. What she wanted was enough leverage to make an effective attack.


    Her boot scraped against the horse''s ribs.


    She felt another impact, this time glancing off bone. Wincing, she realised she couldn''t hold much longer and made one last attempt to stab him.


    The blade lunged at his guts.


    Might have cut him open, too.


    But from behind, Neckless aimed a kick at her head. His heel connected hard and sent her lunge veering past his belly and striking air. The shock of impact made her arch her back in pain. The fingers holding his shirt slipped.


    She tasted blood.


    Neckless kicked her again, a giggle rippling over his lips.


    Raste''s shirt ripped, the sound clear in her ears. In fact, it seemed the only thing she heard. And with it, her heart ripped in her chest.


    The elf screamed as she her lost her battle to cling to him. It was a scream torn from the depths of her soul, clawing at the air as desperately as she clawed at Raste.


    At his saddle.


    The stirrup.


    And then the earth.


    She tumbled among the mindless Lichspawn. Their bare feet were all around her. Could smell their rancid bodies and felt the thud of a hoof pounding into the snow only an inch from her head.


    Out of breath, her head snapped up. Eyes narrowed to slits. Speckled red spots danced across her vision like falling stars. Wished the surging rage which was eating her like acid could be spat at the fleeing horsemen. She rolled.


    Coughed.


    Shot to her feet despite knowing they were out of reach for now. Knife clenched in her fist so hard she could feel the war between her knuckles and the handle to see which would crack first.


    ¡°I''ll find you!¡± she spat, her voice rising to a shriek. ¡°Raste! You hear me? I swear to you. If I have to chase you to the gates of the Shadowed Halls, I''ll have your head! Your fucking head!¡±


    ¡°Then I''ll see you at the Halls, you stubborn bitch,¡± Raste called back over his shoulder as the Nine swept through the line of Lichspawn and galloped madly toward the gate. ¡°But I reckon you''ll get there first, so enjoy the long fucking wait!¡±


    Blood ran thick down the back of her neck and she wobbled drunkenly before steadying her gait. As their mounts carried the Bloody Nine beyond the gates, she staggered after them with a determined set of her jaw.


    An echo of their shared laughter remained as they left her to her grim fate.


    The Lichspawn stopped their chase at the gate and watched the fleeing horsemen for a few heartbeats. There was a tiredness about the way they moved, as though exhaustion crept through their corrupted bodies.


    If they cared that the Bloody Nine had escaped them, it didn''t show.


    Slowly, an ocean of black eyes turned toward her.


    Feeling the sickening taste of defeat freeze the boiling rage in her belly into a sharp ball of ice, she faced the impassive gaze of the assembled Lichspawn blocking her escape from the cursed town.


    ¡°Reckon you should know I ain''t on the menu,¡± she hissed. The emotions blitzing through her body were unable to split the fine line where rage and fear were separated. Her voice emerged through dry mouth like chips of a shattered blade. ¡°So, get the fuck out of my way.¡±


    ¡°The men you sought have escaped you,¡± the dark figure said softly. ¡°Forget them, Child of Veil. They are nothing to you now.¡±


    A Flaw in the Glass flashed. The closest creature dropped, a hole in its ribs spurting black blood. The others watched silently as another shuffled in to fill the breach.


    It''d been a futile gesture on her part and she knew it. But frustration crackled across her shoulders like electricity. ¡°Out of my fucking way, I said!¡±


    The Lichspawn didn''t move.


    The hooded figure slid up behind her as a cold wind coiled around her heart like a frozen wyrm.


    Then her nose wrinkled as an awful stench quickly filled the air. Thick and acidic, it burned her nostrils.


    The elf''s eyes flared brightly.


    The Lichspawn lifted their heads to the air as though listening to a distant tune.


    She cocked her head and spoke to the hooded figure without glancing back at him. ¡°You know what they say? You can''t stand the heat, get out of the kitchen. Seems the Bloody Nine thought it was too hot in here. Maybe they figure they''ve escaped my blades. But they won''t get far. Reckon it''s too late for you fellers, though,¡± she threw herself to the ground as a thick wall of purple flame blasted through the gates, consuming all Lichspawn in its path.


    Looked up, her eyes reflecting the dancing flame. Spitting dirt, she felt the roar of magefire as it rolled like a volcanic wave to crash against a nearby home. Her lips formed a cruel smile. ¡°''Cause now we''re cookin''.¡±

 Chapter Seventeen

    Chukshene emerged from the thick smoke, clearly exhausted. Limp hair plastered to his face, he stared in wide-eyed triumph at the devastation.


    ¡°Well?¡± he called, choking on smoke. ¡°Are you gonna lay about all fucking day, or you gonna get your skinny ass out of here?¡±


    ¡°What fucking kept you?¡± she hissed.


    ¡°Would a little fucking gratitude kill you?¡± He covered his mouth and coughed. ¡°I told you it takes time. And it wasn¡¯t enough to stop them all. So, move it, Long-ear!¡±


    She didn''t dare look behind to see if the hooded figure was there. The crawling feeling that he was standing right behind her made her want to turn around, but didn''t. Instead, she sprinted hard toward the gates, her breath loud in her ears. ¡°Which way''d they go?¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡±


    ¡°The Bloody fucking Nine! Which way?¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± he waved an arm southward. ¡°They went that way somewhere. I didn''t see. I was too busy trying to save your ass. You won''t catch them now. I don''t give a fuck how fast you can run, their horses are running faster. We''ve got to get out of here first. There''s more coming. We¡¯ll figure out what to do when we¡¯re clear, alright?¡±


    The elf snarled, but accepted the truth of his words.


    She would follow them, of course, but now they knew she would be on her trail they would ride as fast and far as they could.


    Nysta bared her teeth and her eyes glittered. It would just take more time, is all.


    Why they were heading south was a mystery to her. They''d have to know she''d follow them to Grimwood Creek. Beyond that, they couldn''t go much further south before reaching the border. And only the Jukkala were skilled enough to journey deep into the southern kingdoms. It was too hard to hide the ears of an elf and the Caspiellans would kill them on sight.


    There had to be something else, then. They''d have to have good reason for going to Grimwood Creek.


    Maybe they were meeting someone?


    But that puzzle could wait.


    She skipped over several smoking corpses and made to follow the spellslinger out the gate. Nearly lost her footing as the ground gave a sudden violent lurch. ¡°What the fuck?¡±


    Weak from casting, Chukshene couldn''t keep his balance through the trembling of the earth, and tumbled down onto his ass. He squeaked an outraged curse and rolled quickly onto his side in an effort to snatch the grimoire from where it had fallen. This was more difficult than it should have been thanks to the pale-skinned arms erupting up from the ground to snatch at his robe. They dragged him back down easily, pinning him to the ground.


    ¡°Nysta!¡± he shrieked, still trying to grab his spellbook. ¡°Help me!¡±


    The elf grunted as several arms drove up between her feet and wrapped cold hands around her ankles. Fear burst in her veins. ¡°Sorry, ''lock. I can¡¯t help,¡± she called as she used A Flaw in the Glass to saw through flesh and bone. Black blood spurted over the already stained ground. She stabbed rapidly at the sodden earth, sickened as chunks of meat and bone were savagely torn free. ¡°But I reckon they all want to lend a hand.¡±


    ¡°Why do you struggle, Child of Veil?¡± The hooded figure''s voice curled around her ears as he emerged from the shadows. With a shiver, the mutilated arms she''d been fighting sank into the earth like wilting flowers. ¡°Surely you feel the tug of the Lady¡¯s touch upon your soul?¡±


    ¡°Nysta?¡± the spellslinger gasped. ¡°This doesn''t look so great.¡±


    She glanced at him. He''d given up struggling and was staring aghast at the figure looming before them.


    ¡°Reckon you''re right, Chukshene,¡± she allowed with a calm she didn''t feel.


    Turning slowly on her heels, she loped towards the hooded figure.


    He lowered the hood to expose features long withered with time. Deep cracks traveled down his cheeks like ancient scars and his eyes were deep pits of black like the Lichspawn.


    But he was clearly something different.


    Long dark hair hung in twisted ribbons from his dry scalp and a strip of flesh down the side of his jaw had torn away, exposing clean white bone.


    She''d seen Deathpriests up close before. Seen the effects immortality had on their flesh, but this went beyond even that. She had the feeling his body could wither away to dust and still he would live.


    Shuddering, she studied the expression on his face. Achingly sad. It was as if the dry parchment skin had been weathered more by sorrow than time and once more she felt a pang of pity, though she couldn''t say why.


    ¡°Asked you once,¡± she breathed, struggling to push the slow trickle of compassion for the tormented creature from her heart. ¡°You didn''t give me a decent answer. Ask you again. What do you want?¡±


    The Lichspawn gathering slowly behind him, lifted their heads as one and their eyes drilled into her as their mingled voices crawled across the street. ¡°The Darkness,¡± they intoned like twittering bats. ¡°Will fight again.¡±


    ¡°My friends speak true,¡± he said. ¡°The Darkness will fight again. It must.¡±


    ¡°That''s not an answer! What is it you want?¡±


    He cocked his head, considering her words. When he replied, his brow creased with a crackling of dry skin. ¡°We fought many wars. Slew many heroes. The blood of kings has passed our lips and tainted this blade.¡± He lifted the sword as though only just remembering it. ¡°But our Lady is gone. Fallen. No more.¡±


    ¡°No more,¡± the Lichspawn echoed, bowing their heads. The elf took a hesitant step backward at the sudden emotion in their voice. An emotion she was still freshly acquainted with.


    Loss.


    The figure nodded. ¡°Yet, the Darkness will fight again.¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± she said carefully, edging slowly to her left. He didn''t seem to mind her movement, or notice her fingers grip the blade in her fist harder. ¡°You said that. Reckon I''ve heard of you, you know. You''re Gaket. That right?¡±


    For what seemed an eternity, he didn''t move.


    Didn''t even breathe.


    She wondered if he even needed to, and instantly doubted it.


    ¡°Gaket,¡± he said, as though tasting the word for the first time. ¡°That is . . . an old name.¡±


    ¡°Well, you ain''t exactly looking too fresh.¡±


    Gaket stared down at his undead body as though seeing it for the first time. The rip of bone sticking up through his thigh to show where his leg had been broken and would never heal. The rough, nearly skeletal hands. Desiccated flesh.


    He nodded slowly. ¡°That name was lost on the day I accepted the Lady¡¯s blessing.¡±


    ¡°What do I call you, then?¡±


    ¡°We have no names. None are needed, Child of Veil.¡±


    ¡°You keep calling me that,¡± she said, twisting her lip. ¡°But Veil''s dead. You said it yourself. Fallen to Rule. She was dead before I was even born. I''m no child of hers.¡±


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    ¡°You are Elfblood. You are her creation. Even in death, she owns you.¡± His lips cracked as they parted to reveal splintered teeth. Thick black ooze glistened between the cracks and the stench of the grave was overpowering. ¡°You fight well. You are a gift to us. She said you would be.¡±


    Fighting the impulse to gag, her blood froze at his words and she shivered. ¡°Don''t reckon I like the sound of that,¡± she said. A Flaw in the Glass flickered nervously in her fist. ¡°You want to fight me? Is that it? I''ll tell you something. I won''t die easy.¡±


    ¡°All things die easy in the end,¡± he said. ¡°But we are not here to fight you, Child of Veil.¡±


    ¡°Then what is it? Why haven''t you killed me, Gaket? You''ve slaughtered a whole town here. Yet, you let me live. What do you want? Reckon it''s not because of this Elfblood shit. Or the Child of Veil crap. You¡¯re spitting riddles, but it all amounts to the same thing. You want something. And I''m not gonna like it, am I?¡±


    ¡°We need you.¡± He took a step closer, his boot nudging the burnt skull of one of the Lichspawn. He didn''t notice. ¡°You will save us.¡±


    ¡°Save you?¡± She shot him an incredulous look. ¡°You''re immortal. You chew through armies. You''ve killed kings under Rule''s very fucking nose. It''s been said you could kill Rule himself if you wanted to. And you need me to save you? What could I possibly do that you can''t?¡±


    ¡°The Darkness will fight again.¡±


    The elf made a disgusted sound in the back of her throat. ¡°But what the fuck does that mean?¡±


    ¡°The Darkness will fight again,¡± he repeated, injecting some urgency into his voice. It was this urgency which scared her more than the Lichspawn shuffling closer behind him.


    ¡°You keep saying that,¡± she scowled. ¡°Over and over, like it might make sense. But it doesn''t. So, you want to fight again. But you don''t want to fight me? And you won''t let me leave. It''s not making any fucking sense, Gaket. What are we doing here? Are we gonna kick each other''s ass or what? I''m losing my patience for this. Every second I spend standing here in this fuckhole town is another second Raste and his assholes are breathing air I don''t want them to breathe. So, make sense, you undead piece of shit. Fight like the soldier you were or get the fuck out of my way.¡±


    ¡°Gaket! Listen to me!¡± Chukshene choked as he struggled in the pale arms pinning him to the dirt. His heels kicked, but he was held too tight to wriggle free. ¡°Gaket! I got a fight for you. You can fight Rule. Fight the one who murdered your goddess! And who killed the Dark Lord himself! Fight him, Gaket! For vengeance. For honour, if you believe in it still. Grim''s scrotum, fight him for the fuck of it. After a life as long as yours, that''s gotta be reason enough, isn''t it?¡±


    ¡°Your Dark Lord offered us this choice. It was a long time ago. We remember. The sky was very blue that day. And the Worldgate burned green. It''s what drew us there. He asked us to fight.¡± He closed his eyes. The elf glanced at the mage, who stared back helplessly, his grimoire tantalizingly close. Gaket sighed, and the sound was like a door scraping over gravel. ¡°For a moment, we were tempted. But though she foresaw her fall, she could not foresee what would happen to us when she was no more. That, without her, our mortal memories would haunt us. That we would begin to remember. And to wonder. Then, finally, to feel.¡±


    The Lichspawn nodded their heads as one in a manner the elf thought was almost gentle.


    Behind them the buildings burned brighter as magefire spread like a disease, tearing at rooftops. Licking her lips, the elf wondered how long before the flames engulfed the town.


    Not long, she thought.


    ¡°We fought too many battles,¡± Gaket continued. ¡°We are empty. We no longer feel the thrill of the hunt. We have withered, Child of Veil. We are weary. Do you understand this?¡±


    She nodded, thinking of Talek. ¡°Seen it happen. You get your fill of killing. But there ain''t much else you''re good at. So, you don''t know what to do,¡± she said. ¡°That what this is about, Gaket? You''re bored? Well, get a fucking hobby. Try pottery. Make cups.¡±


    ¡°She knew you would come.¡± He drew his lips back and the elf was horrified as she realised he was smiling. ¡°Knew you would be in this place. At this time. We have waited for you for hundreds of years, Child of Veil. At last, the Darkness will fight again.¡±


    ¡°Then get on with it!¡± she snapped, all the fear shattering as frustration exploded through the thin veneer. ¡°Fight! Come at me. So you''re sick of the world. Want to die? That it? Then, come on! What are you waiting for? Maybe I pity you, Gaket. Not because you''ve been alive this long filled with Veil''s curse, or blessing or whatever the fuck. Not that. But because you''ve lost your balls. Lost them somewhere along the way. Now you drag your feet across the world, crying in your fucking scabbard because you''re too weak to end your own life. You''re a coward, Gaket. A useless fucking coward. She would be ashamed of you. Ashamed because you sit there weeping over what you''ve lost. You had both the chance and the power to do something. To avenge her death if you wanted. But you chose instead to cry in the dark, hiding from Rule. You don''t have the guts to go to him. To stand before him. And spit in his fucking face! You''ve waited for me? Whatever bullshit that''s about, you can keep. You can bottle it up and drink it on those cold winter fucking nights. Now, I''m leaving. Right now. You can try to stop me. And if you do, I''ll finish your fucking whining faster than you can fucking blink.¡±


    As she spoke, the elf''s face mottled red with rage and shame. Part of her realised she was enraged by how similar she was to him. How the seething anger burning through her body was disguising the crippling guilt she felt at Talek''s fate.


    How she felt so helpless and alone.


    But, she reminded herself, instead of weeping on Talek''s grave, at least she was doing something.


    At least she was hunting his killers.


    Her teeth clenched tight as she glared into his empty eyes.


    Gaket stood unmoving, his sword''s notched tip pressing lightly into the snow.


    And then that awful smile cut into his face again as he said; ¡°You are everything she promised you would be, Child of Veil. You are hot-blooded. Your passion will serve you well. We will gladly stand in your shadow.¡±


    A terrifying thought trickled into her brain. ¡°I don''t think I''d like that much.¡±


    ¡°It does not matter. You serve her. You always have. You always will. It is the nature of things.¡±


    ¡°Nysta?¡± the spellslinger''s voice was tight. ¡°If you''re finished playing with the scary thing, I think now would be the perfect time to cut me free and get us out of here?¡±


    She took a step away from Gaket, whose smile kept growing wider as his eyes burned darker. Behind him, the Lichspawn knelt as one.


    Shadows tugged themselves out of the ground and began sliding gracefully through their ranks like wisps of smoke. Her guts tightened at the sight of them.


    ¡°Reckon you might be right, ''lock,¡± she breathed, a cold ripple of dread creeping up her spine and into her brain.


    ¡°We are tired, Child of Veil,¡± Gaket rasped. ¡°Our time has passed. The gift I have carried so long must be passed on. I would have passed it long ago, but she forbade it. She told me to wait. To wait for you. Well, you have come. And it is time. Accept it. Accept her gift.¡±


    The shadows darkened as they approached. They intertwined like rope to form thick wires of pure darkness. The kind of darkness that spoke of nightmares become real.


    She could hear them whispering to each other as they glided toward her in voices low and alien.


    Hypnotised by the bubbling sound, the elf felt her mind shiver but couldn''t stop trying to make out the words. Couldn''t keep from listening.


    Her eyes were heavy. A Flaw in the Glass suddenly weighed too much.


    She wanted to open her hand.


    Let it drop to the ground.


    Sleep.


    ¡°Nysta!¡± Chukshene''s shrill voice sheared through her reverie. ¡°Snap out of it! We''ve got to get out of here! Now!¡±


    Flashing violet eyes open, the elf snarled and her body moved without thought. Gaket hissed as she drew, aimed and threw All Tore Up. The slim blade thudded into his face, just above his nose. His head snapped back and black blood spurted like a swarm of bees before splashing to the ground.


    He staggered backward, clutching at the handle jutting from his head. She knew the blade hadn''t killed him but hoped it would slow him down.


    The first cord snapped at her like a snake, wrapping tight around her wrist. Gasping in pain, the elf realised it was trying to chew on her flesh. And, unlike the mouth of a leech, she doubted it was trying to suck her blood. Rather, it was trying to get inside.


    Panicked, she tugged hard. The cord refused to give.


    A Flaw in the Glass sliced easily through the thin black wire. As the blade cut through, the cord hovered still for a moment before dropping to the ground and shattering like glass. Dusty splinters glittered around her boots.


    The Lichspawn howled as one and the elf spun away with a gasp, throwing herself beside the spellslinger. A Flaw in the Glass hummed, biting through the arms holding him down with sickening ease.


    He gave her a sharp nod of thanks and snatched his grimoire.


    They rolled to their feet together, the elf slashing at the grasping cords of black, and sprinted toward the gates.


    ¡°Shit!¡± The warlock nearly tripped over his robe and struggled to open the grimoire while he ran.


    Bursting through the gates, they were pursued by Gaket''s howls and the shadowy cords snapping at her heels. Her terror threatened to make her scream, but the elf bit stubbornly down on her lip. Tasted fresh blood.


    ¡°You cannot escape your fate, Child of Veil!¡± Gaket roared after them. ¡°Her blessing will be yours. The Darkness will fight again! Fight, Child of Veil. Fight! Vengeance. Vengeance for her! Bring the Dark Queen back to the world! It is your destiny! You hear me? She foresaw this moment! It is your destiny!¡±


    ¡°Fuck you,¡± the elf panted, her legs pumping hard. She snatched at the warlock, trying to drag him faster down the path.


    But one of the cords slapped at her knee and she stumbled, nearly taking the spellslinger down with her. Cursing, she pivoted, A Flaw in the Glass gleaming. The blade chopped through the offending cord. Following her momentum, she landed awkwardly on her stomach, nearly opening her head on a jutting rock.


    She snatched breaths.


    Scrambled onto her side and kicked out as something grabbed her boot.


    Felt it let go.


    A Lichspawn, quicker than the others, reared up out of the snow and its wide mouth opened as it made to clamp its tainted jaws down on her forearm.


    That acrid stench again. Chukshene''s words of power roared in her ears. Her stomach churned.


    Magefire vomited from the spellslinger''s palm and tore the creature''s head clean off.


    She tumbled away, avoiding the gush of blood and more cords whipping toward her head.


    ¡°Move!¡± he snapped at her, his face pale. Clearly the casting was draining him quickly. ¡°I thought elfs could run faster than this.¡±


    She spat into the snow. Sprinted after him. ¡°Focus on yourself, Chukshene,¡± the elf growled. ¡°This ain''t a race issue.¡±

 Chapter Eighteen

    They barreled through the snow, pursued by flicking shadows and the relentless Lichspawn.


    Chukshene glanced over his shoulder, panting hard. ¡°They''re still coming.¡±


    The elf grunted in reply, drawing The Bustin Maestro and spinning the broad-bladed throwing knife in her fingers. The fear buzzing in her belly mingled with frustration as she realised she was running in the opposite direction to the Bloody Nine.


    She wanted to turn around so much she could taste it in her mouth like iron filings and splintered glass. But the thought of the dark wires touching her instinctively horrified her more than anything else in the world.


    Catching up to the spellslinger, the elf grabbed a fistful of his robe and dragged him off the path, heading toward a small clutter of ditches curled up around a slight hill.


    He gave a strangled gasp and nearly lost his footing. ¡°What the fuck?¡±


    ¡°This way,¡± she growled.


    ¡°What for?¡±


    ¡°The hill. It''s the only fucking advantage we''re gonna get out here.¡±


    ¡°You want to stop? We can''t stop! They''ll be on us like fucking beggars on a dead rat! Grim''s eyes, I fucking hate beggars.¡±


    ¡°You think they''re gonna give up? Think they''re gonna run out of fucking breath and just let us go?¡± she pointed The Bustin Maestro over her shoulder. ¡°They ain''t gonna stop, Chukshene. Best we can do is find a spot that gives us a chance.¡±


    They leapt one of the deeper trenches and the elf landed awkwardly on the side of her boot, but her ankle held. Chukshene wasn''t so lucky. His foot slid in the snow and he fell forward, flat on his face. ¡°Ah, fuck,¡± he flailed about, searching for the grimoire.


    Nysta kicked the heavy book toward him with her toe and spun quickly to see the cords of black shadow fast on their heels. Dragged him to his feet. ¡°Come on, ''lock,¡± she snarled. ¡°This ain''t time to be learning how to slide.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Push on, you cross-dressing fuck!¡±


    ¡°I''m not-¡±


    She shoved him in the back, sending him cartwheeling toward the hill as she rounded on the swarm, throwing The Bustin Maestro into the buzzing mass of cords with all her strength. Splinters of black shadow rained to the ground as the wide blade carved elegantly through them.


    She watched the blade ricochet off a few rocks before being lost in the snow beyond them and regretted not being able to retrieve it. She hated losing knives, and The Bustin Maestro had been a good one.


    When she''d bought it, Talek told her it was too broad. Too unbalanced to be thrown. The metal too thin.


    That it would break on impact with anything harder than milk.


    He''d been wrong.


    The sound of snow whipped up by the flurry of cords broke her train of thought and she sprinted away, scratching at her palm. ¡°I''m getting fucking board of this,¡± she spat.


    The frozen wind felt like it could cut holes in her skin and, for a moment, she welcomed it. The smell was clean and fresh, wiping away the stench of rot wrapped around the town.


    Wasting no time as he reached the top of the hill, the warlock dropped to his knees and began rifling through the pages of his grimoire. Didn''t even look up as Nysta launched herself over the top while cords of black glided into view behind her.


    A few Lichspawn managed to keep a good pace and clawed their way up the uneven slope. The elf''s eyes glittered as she studied their progress, but she didn''t move. Preserving her strength, she slowed her breathing as the cords slithered closer.


    ¡°Haven''t you killed them all, yet?¡± Chukshene scowled, feeling the pressure and unable to find what he was looking for in the old pages.


    She wet her lips with the tip of her tongue. Her heart drummed steadily in her ears.


    A tingling sensation rippled down her shoulders and arms and she realised she hadn''t felt this alive in so long. With the crisp smell of fresh snow filling her lungs and the residue of adrenaline needling her veins in anticipation of another blistering flood, she couldn''t stop the smile spreading across her face.


    Could almost hear a clank of chains falling from her body. She felt light. Released.


    Ready.


    Rolled her shoulders. Pumped her fists around the handles of her blades. Realised she''d run out of time.


    Pulled her mouth into a mirthless grin.


    Said; ¡°I''m working on it.¡±


    And moved with a speed that stunned the warlock. Love Me Deeply in one fist, A Flaw in the Glass humming in the other, she whirled through the long snaking cords, cutting and slashing.


    The ground was soon dark with the shattered remains and her boots crushed them mercilessly with each dancing step. The sound echoed in her ears and served to keep hope burning through the fear.


    But they kept coming.


    The first of the Lichspawn made the top of the hill and Love Me Deeply splashed into its face. It fell in a fountain of blood as the elf tore the lightly curved blade free and stomped hard on its chest to spring onto the next pale-skinned attacker.


    Her leg snapped out, the heel of her boot crunching nose. A satisfying feeling which vibrated up her thigh and was reflected in the cruelty of her smile.


    The second creature dropped quicker than the first, A Flaw in the Glass choking its final breath as it shredded its throat.


    But they kept coming.


    She tunneled through their ranks, blades flashing until the snow was stained with foul blood. She relied on short sharp attacks to tear ragged holes in flesh. Wounds which, while they weren''t gaping, were enough to bleed them out.


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    They died passionless deaths, writhing quietly in the snow as their life swept out of their bodies in thick black strings. It was as though they held no attachment to their lives, so losing them meant little.


    Had she the time to wonder at it, the elf might have shuddered at the awfulness of their final moments.


    But time was something she didn''t have.


    All she had was the frenzied need to stay alive. And this need overwhelmed all other thoughts as their hands battered at her, clawed at her. She pushed through on a tide of rage and determination.


    Stabbed anything that ventured close enough.


    Sliced anything that grabbed her.


    Felt a surge of horror as it seemed they just kept coming.


    And coming.


    Black cords weaved between the flow of violence, whipping her wrists and knotting themselves around her arms. Chewing at her skin.


    She cut through these and nearly fell beneath a charging Lichspawn.


    Only at the last second did A Flaw in the Glass plunge into the gaping maw. Rammed through the back of its mouth, and cleaved its brain. She felt the fanged mouth close over her knuckles but it had lost all power to break skin.


    The elf twisted the blade and wrenched it free. Cursed as the creature dropped on top of her, its dead weight forcing her onto her back. Sprawled beneath its weight, she strained to push it off. Or to roll out from under it.


    Failed.


    Saw more cords sniffing the edge of the hill, snaking forward. Her blood ran cold as she tried to bring her legs up between herself and the corpse.


    Air squeezed from its rotten lungs and black fluid dribbled out of its mouth to splash onto her neck and shoulder. The cold rancid stench made her dry retch.


    But she found the strength of desperation to lift her knees up.


    Snarling, she used them to roll the body off.


    It flopped onto its side, dead eyes staring at her.


    Nysta powered to her knees, shaking off the awful gore on her shoulder as another wire-thin cord darted in and looped around her neck like a garrote. It jerked hard and she lost her footing, falling backward.


    Gasping for air, she tried to cut the thin cord of black, but it had taken her from behind and kept thrashing to avoid her blade. Panicked, she swiped blindly, searching, but couldn''t find it.


    It squeezed tighter and she felt it burn into the skin of her neck. Her face purpled as she lost all ability to breathe. Panic shot showers of sparks into her mind.


    ¡°Chuk-¡± she managed to choke out.


    Ignorant of her plight, Chukshene fended off a Lichspawn with his grimoire, pounding it in the face until it staggered backward and fell.


    Lifting himself to his full height, eyes glowing bright with magic, he held his hand out toward the struggling elf. Fingers splayed. Magic bubbled from his palm as words of power tumbled across his lips like distant thunder.


    The air around the warlock rippled and bent.


    Then, with a loud groan, the ground heaved as though a wounded dragon writhed beneath their feet. Fathomless cracks webbed outward from the warlock''s feet. Green fire roared from the depths the ground was ripped open wide enough to swallow many of the approaching Lichspawn.


    Those who kept their footing tried to dance out of the way, but scaled demonic arms clawed up through the fire to snatch with evil scything claws and dragged them down into the demonic heart of the warlock''s spell. The gruesome sound of shredding meat and snapping bones filled the elf''s ears.


    It lasted for only six heartbeats, but it was long enough to leave only a few Lichspawn and a few strangled cords weaving unsteadily in their wake.


    As the wounds in the earth closed with an awful grinding sound, green light flickered in the thinning cracks. One of the cracks, inches from the elf''s face, spat sparks at her.


    The final crunch of rock and earth slamming shut made the hill shudder and dark blood and clumps of tainted flesh gushed with a finality that made the warlock wince.


    He exhaled heavily, spinning on his heels. The strength of the spell had drained him, and he wanted to throw up. He shuddered violently.


    And then squealed as something bumped him.


    He spun grimoire held high, to find the elf grabbing hold of his robe. Her face was covered in thick black gore and a dark bruise was spreading quickly over her scarred cheek. Her own blood smeared across her brow.


    She snagged the last remnant of a shadowy tendril from around her neck and tossed it to the ground.


    And the look on her face as she stamped on it with her boot was one of bloodlust and joy.


    ¡°Oh, fuck,¡± he whimpered. ¡°You''re loving this, aren''t you?¡±


    The elf blinked, her expression twitching into impassiveness. Turning away from him, she watched a few quiet cords of black cautiously nose through the devastation as the remaining Lichspawn picked carefully up the hill.


    They looked lost and confused. She wondered what kept them going. What drove them. Their desire to share their darkness with her must be powerful if it drove their hunger for flesh away.


    Nysta shuddered. ¡°Got any ideas, ''lock?¡±


    ¡°Give me a minute,¡± he said. Then shook his head. ¡°Nope. None. You?¡±


    ¡°Kill them, I guess.¡±


    ¡°How? They keep coming.¡±


    ¡°Fucked if I know,¡± she shrugged and gave a weary grin. In the distance, she thought she could see more, dragging themselves from the cursed town. Wondered if Gaket was able to summon an endless number of them. ¡°But we''ve whittled them down this far. Be a shame not to make something of it now.¡±


    He sucked at air. ¡°I can''t believe it. The chances of so many Lich in one place were a million to one,¡± he said, echoing her thoughts. ¡°But still, they come.¡±


    ¡°Ain''t a war of the worlds, Chukshene,¡± she said cryptically while studying a bleeding wound on her wrist. It wasn''t deep, but her forearm felt numb. Had one of them bitten her? ¡°Whatever the chances are of them being here, the chances of us staying alive are probably less. That''s still better than no chance at all, right?¡±


    ¡°Ever the optimist,¡± he muttered. ¡°But there''s one thing I don''t get.¡±


    ¡°What''s that?¡±


    ¡°You said they were tough.¡±


    She shrugged. ¡°That''s the legend.¡±


    ¡°Yet they die so easily? I mean, they''re so slow. So weak. Why don''t they just mob us? Why come one or two at a time? We should be dead. You know it. I know it. What are they doing?¡±


    The elf rubbed at the scar on her cheek. The same thought had been rummaging around her head, too. She thought of the expression on their faces when they died. ¡°I reckon they were made for only one thing,¡± she said slowly. ¡°To kill. But they don''t want to kill me. Look at them, Chukshene. They''re mindless. Only Gaket has the power to think, and he controls them in the same way the Fatman controlled his cows. Just points them in a direction and tells them to eat. It''s limited because they might as well be puppets on knotted strings. But this time, the order ain''t to kill. It''s to capture. So, they''re all fighting the instinct to kill and it makes them confused. I figure they''re also tired. They''re older than we can imagine. And they''ve had enough. Every single one of them wants to die. But first, they want to pass their darkness on.¡±


    ¡°I don''t think that would be good for you.¡±


    ¡°Reckon you''re right, ''lock.¡±


    ¡°We''ll have to kill them all, then.¡±


    ¡°Right again. Two for two. Bit of a record for you. But it''s my skin they seem to want to be in. And I don''t reckon that suit''s me. So I''d be real grateful to you if you killed a few more of them.¡±


    ¡°I''ll see what I can do,¡± he said, though his voice was shallow as he opened the grimoire in his hands. It looked heavier and the elf wondered if the spellslinger had anything more to give.


    She doubted it.


    But she didn''t doubt he''d done what he could and accepted he''d done more than his share.


    Without a word, she leapt at the Lichspawn hauling itself over the rise. Love Me Deeply ripped into its bare back and A Flaw in the Glass followed with a vicious rush of enchanted steel.


    The creature gave a wretched twitch and collapsed in the snow.


    Tugging the blades free, she cut herself free from two grasping cords gripping her leg.


    Rolled to one side.


    And was thrown down by a second Lichspawn pouncing on her like a mountain cat. Caught off guard, the elf slammed hard to the ground, her shoulder absorbing most of the impact.


    Pain exploded across her back and shoulder and, for a moment, she thought her arm had shattered under the impact. Bruises were growing over the top of other bruises, she thought grimly. If she survived, she was going to feel like shit for days.


    Sucking air in pain, the elf shook her head to clear the stunned fog and batted at the clawed hand wrapping around a fistful of her jacket.


    Shakily, she made it to her knees in time to get a fist smashed hard into her forehead. The impact snapped her head back. Her blood spattered over the creature''s chest and it let out a thin hoot of triumph.


    With her arms moving as though made of rubber, the elf wriggled desperately in the creature''s impassive grip.


    It pulled her close, its wide mouth filled with rotten teeth. Its eyes swirled with shadows as it rasped; ¡°Why do you struggle? The Darkness will fight again. It must fight again. You are her chosen vessel. Submit to her will!¡±


    ¡°Only just lost my husband,¡± she squeezed out through her teeth. ¡°I ain¡¯t ready for another marry time¡­¡±

 Chapter Nineteen

    The ghostly white face lunged at her, black pitiful eyes burning with desperate need. Thick stained drool poured from its snapping jaws.


    Horrified, she worked on instinct to throw herself into its attack. She wrestled with it as the creature used its implacable strength to try slamming her to the ground once more for the circling black cords to savage.


    And she felt it happen before it did.


    Could see it as though gifted with the prophetic powers of a direwitch.


    Her jacket tore.


    And Talek''s box, freed from its hiding place, flew into the air under the force of the violent rip of wyrmskin.


    The box bounced once in the bloodstained snow.


    Twice.


    And was still.


    Letting out an anguished cry, she struggled to escape the Lichspawn''s unrelenting grasp. A thick cord of black chose that moment to snap around her waist and clamp tight.


    Her eyes squeezed tight as she tried to focus. When they flashed open only a second later, they burned with hate.


    A Flaw in the Glass stabbed upward, penetrating the Lichspawn''s lower jaw before angling savagely into its brain with a steely hiss. The venomous green glow flared bright enough to light up the flesh beneath its skin.


    It writhed on the blade and the elf answered the creature''s howl with one of her own.


    Tearing the blade free shattered the jaw and half the creature''s awful face slid off its skull like a wet mask as she kicked herself free.


    Love Me Deeply sliced brutally through the cord around her waist, the cord fragmenting before it could drill more than a half-inch into her flesh. Spots of blood followed the shards to the ground.


    Heedless of her new wounds, she dove toward Talek''s box with her heart so loud in her ears she could hear nothing else.


    Not even the Lichspawn which seemed to appear from nowhere to swipe at her leg and drag her down into the snow.


    Her hand shot out, fumbling desperately across the ground.


    Talek''s box was too far away.


    Almost sobbing in frustration, she looked down at her leg and saw the Lichspawn wrapped around her boot. Its misshapen head stared up at her with darkly burning eyes and the elf was struck by the sorrow she felt buried inside its gaze. As though the weariness of living so long had engraved its pupils with a sadness which was almost palpable.


    She thought briefly of what she''d told the warlock, and her heart skipped a beat.


    But any sympathy she may have felt was quickly lost as she realised it was trying to keep her pinned while the cords of black circled like sharks searching for an opening.


    Grunting, she kicked out with her free leg, caving in half its cheek with her heel. Bone fragments and black rot dribbled down its chin.


    But it held fast.


    Her eyes sought out the warlock. Couldn''t find him. Her voice came out in a choked gasp; ¡°Chuk-¡±


    She kicked it again.


    It refused to let go, its empty gaze only reinforcing its determination. It made a coughing noise as it spat blood and broken teeth. It yanked her leg to pull her toward it, away from the box.


    A drumming sound bubbled in her ears. She couldn''t identify it.


    Suddenly frantic, the elf twisted and clawed at the earth, trying to get away from the stubborn grip. Lost Love Me Deeply in the process. Her fingers slapped at the ground, trying to locate the handle, but the blade skittered out of reach.


    ¡°-shene. Where the fuck are you?¡±


    He didn''t answer.


    She couldn¡¯t see Talek''s box.


    Panic skewered her spine and she was overcome with the fear of failure. That she was about to lose everything.


    That the Bloody Nine would escape.


    That the black cords would worm their way inside her and fill her with their dark curse.


    That Talek''s box would be lost.


    And losing it was the one thing she couldn''t bear most of all. The box was the only thing she had left to remind her of how much Talek trusted her.


    How much he loved her.


    His smile filled her mind and the icy ball of fear spinning in her guts was so cold it was like glass. Sharp. She could feel it cutting through her belly and shredding her insides until she couldn''t take it anymore.


    ¡°No!¡± she twisted in its grasp. Kicked it over and over in the face while she raked at the ground to get loose. Snow drank greedily from the fresh wounds as her fingertips were torn open.


    But the Lichspawn was strong. Slowly, but certainly, it dragged her back toward the waiting cords gathering at the lip of the hill.


    She kicked again. Its nose evaporated, smearing across its cheeks like black mould. She half expected maggots to squirm from the tainted flesh.


    The ball of icy terror spun like a dice in her guts.


    Again, she kicked.


    Its jaw shattered completely under the heel of her boot. Ripped clean off, the chunk of teeth and bone took its tongue with it to the ground between them. Its shredded face horribly disfigured, the creature might have screamed. But all she heard was a bubbling gurgle from the back of its throat as it vomited gore.


    The ice in her guts shattered. In its place, rage ignited, burning her heart and filling her mind with a cry of defiance.


    ¡°Let me the fuck go!¡±


    Raised her leg and brought it down with all her strength. Her heel disintegrated what was left of the Lichspawn''s skull and pulverised its brain. The strong stench of rotten meat filled her nostrils but her veins were boiling with molten hate so she felt only a triumphant thrill of satisfaction as she jerked her trapped leg free.


    With a barely audible moan, the creature let go and sank almost gratefully into the snow. The elf struggled not to vomit as its brains slid off her ankle.


    Bellying along the ground, she scrambled toward where the box had been.


    Heard something swish beside her.


    Saw the cord of shadow snaking through the air toward her face. The elf slashed with A Flaw in the Glass, but it reared out of the blade''s savage arc and whipped toward her throat like an adder for the kill.


    Magic crawled around her, turning the air into a shimmering curtain of heat. Realising only then that the drumming in her ears had been the warlock''s voice as he chanted, she gagged on the stench of magic as Chukshene shouted one last word of power.This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    And then there was silence.


    Silence so thick she thought if she even breathed, it would shatter the world.


    The tendril of shadow, too, froze in mid-air as it sensed something was coming.


    ¡°Oh, shit,¡± she heard him mutter into the silence. ¡°It didn''t fucking work, did it?¡±


    The explosion tore her world apart.


    Fire erupted from the earth with such force that the elf shrieked in terror. Chunks of rock speared out of the ground in staccato bursts before thick clods of mud rained down to pelt the snow.


    It was over in an instant.


    And when the bright spots cleared from her eyes, she could see only scorched earth in all directions as everything living around the hill had been destroyed by fire. Chunks of flesh smoked among the debris, emitting a foul stench which lingered long after the acrid smell of magic had faded.


    Her ears drummed dully as her hearing gradually returned, though the ringing continued for some time.


    ¡°Nysta?¡± the warlock limped his way carefully toward her. ¡°You okay?¡±


    Stunned by the blast, her mouth hung slack and she stared up at him, unable to process what he was saying. His voice was muted, drained of emotion.


    She coughed hard. Spat a mouthful of dirt and shook her head.


    Fear and adrenaline mixed inside her blood, surging through her body and making everything feel so much more alive.


    Her thoughts scattered and struggled to reform.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± he smirked, dropping down beside her. His face was completely drained of colour as exhaustion took his energy away. ¡°Big, wasn''t it? I''ll bet the bugs round here got fried as well. Good thing, too. I hate bugs. And spiders. I ever tell you that? Fuck, I hate spiders more than anything. Especially black ones. I hear you can get spiders as big as dogs in some places. Can you believe that? Fuck, I hate dogs.¡±


    But the elf had forgotten him as her dazed mind remembered Talek''s box.


    Ignoring her protesting ribs, she rolled painfully. Inched weakly over the ground toward the small box now sitting seemingly undamaged by the explosive blast.


    Reached out.


    Couldn''t quite touch it.


    Wincing in pain, she used her toes to push herself closer.


    Arm stretched as far as she could.


    Her fingertip brushed the edge of the box.


    ¡°What''s that?¡± the warlock asked suddenly.


    Her gaze slid slowly up the bracer tied loose to her forearm and across the lengths of her trembling fingers. Along the top of Talek''s box. And at the glistening cord of black hovering with menacing ease only half a foot from her fingertip.


    Her breath caught in her throat.


    Groaning, the spellslinger hauled himself to his feet. ¡°Come on. More will come soon. Run. We¡¯ve gotta run.¡±


    He took a few ragged steps before noticing she hadn''t moved.


    ¡°Nysta?¡± he called urgently. ¡°Come on!¡±


    Gritting her teeth, the elf glared at the thin black wire.


    Her arms ached.


    Everything ached, really.


    She doubted she could move fast enough to cut the cord before it touched her. Doubted she had the energy to even lift A Flaw in the Glass.


    And if she could fight this one off, there might be more coming.


    A breath of mist rose from dark alien runes on the side of the box.


    She licked her upper lip. ¡°Go,¡± she breathed. ¡°Go, Chukshene. Get away.¡±


    ¡°What the fuck do you think you''re doing? Leave it!¡±


    ¡°I can''t. It belonged to him.¡±


    ¡°What? Don''t be an idiot!¡±


    ¡°It''s Talek''s,¡± she said firmly, her eyes narrowing as the cord slithered closer. It angled this way and that, unwilling to get too close to the small container. Her eyes narrowed. ¡°He guarded it for his whole fucking life. I won''t leave it behind. Not now. Not here. I''ve been asking myself this past few days: What the fuck am I doing? There are nine of them, Chukshene. Told myself the chances are I won''t be able to kill them all. That they''ll kill me first. So, I just couldn''t figure why I came all this way. Began to think it was just because I didn''t know what else to do. But it ain''t that, is it? It''s because of him. Because I failed him over and over. Just once I want to do what is right. And what''s right is I protect that box for him. And then I find Raste. And his Bloody Nine. Nothing''s going to stop me trying. If I fail him this time, ''lock, it''s because I''m dead. Ain''t no other way. Not now. Not ever again.¡±


    ¡°Don''t be a fool, Long-ear,¡± he hissed. There was something in his voice she couldn''t recognise. ¡°You don''t know what you''re fucking with. Leave it!¡±


    ¡°Told you. Ain¡¯t gonna do that, ¡®lock.¡±


    ¡°It''s not worth your stupid life!¡±


    The cord reared like a hunting snake. If it had a mouth, it¡¯d be gaping open. Fangs would drip venom.


    Its tongue would lick the air, tasting her.


    She felt a thousand jumbled wordless thoughts roar through her brain, each one riding a glacier of fear. Couldn''t pick them apart or make sense of them, so let her mind empty and held onto her fear.


    She could trust fear.


    Fear would keep her alert.


    Maybe even alive.


    The cord drifted sideways, searching for an angle of attack. Then froze. Tense.


    Poised.


    ¡°Shit,¡± she breathed, knowing it was about to strike.


    ¡°Leave it, Nysta. Please. If that thing touches you. If it gets inside you...¡±


    ¡°It won''t,¡± she said. Her voice sounded calm to her ears, but her heart was tearing a hole in her chest as she tasted the lie on her lips. ¡°I''m quicker.¡±


    ¡°You''re stupider!¡± He almost howled in frustration. ¡°He wouldn''t want this, Nysta! If he loved you, he wouldn''t want this. He''d want you to live!¡±


    ¡°And I couldn''t live knowing I''ve failed him again,¡± she hissed. ¡°It''s mine now. And nothing will take that from me!¡±


    Her fingertips were so close to its frozen edge. A thin line of black suddenly smiled along the side of its lid as it cracked open by a hair. The air released by the slit was icy cold.


    Like the breath of a wyrm.


    It should have awed her to see it opening, but the fear in her mind was dimming the elf''s thoughts. The world around her danced in a dizzying spiral of sight and sound and nothing made any sense.


    Except getting that box.


    Holding it tight. Never letting it go.


    ¡°Nysta,¡± Chukshene''s voice was a strangled gasp. ¡°Don''t do that. Whatever you''re doing, don''t. Stop. Stop it! Get away from it right now!¡±


    Unable to tell if he was talking about Talek''s box, or the cord, she ignored him.


    Breathed in.


    Breathed out.


    In.


    Held.


    Then, moving with lightning speed, her hand flashed forward and fisted around the grinning box. Without hesitation, she snatched her arm back as fast as she could.


    But not fast enough.


    The cord struck.


    Like a rattlesnake, it slashed through the air. Rapped hard across her knuckles and sank invisible fangs into her flesh.


    As though realising this was its final chance, the cord drilled faster than the others. It squirmed against her skin, chewing desperately as it coiled tight around her wrist.


    Biting.


    Burning.


    Screaming, Nysta wrenched her hand back, clutching at her forearm.


    She heard a sound like something tearing. And then a heavy metallic thunk like an anchor dropping onto the rocky ocean floor.


    One brief moment of silence.


    A breath of stillness as even the cord around her wrist froze.


    And then the box flipped open with a loud crack that echoed across the hill.


    A shriek of air blew past her head, the stink of magic so strong she thought her brain would burn. A roar, like the sound of a million screaming voices, punched into her brain through the front of her face. But it wasn''t a scream of pain.


    It was a scream of triumph. A howling scream of joy.


    And it made every hair on her body rise up in horror.


    Simultaneously, the cord wrapped around her wrist like a python. Its long length slapped her free hand away as it coiled up her arm on a lattice of pain. It felt like a sharp wire wrapped in acid.


    She writhed in agony, screaming as the warlock burst into view and desperately tried to tear the box from her fingers or at least close the lid.


    He was shouting, but she couldn''t hear him through her own screams.


    Terror flooded her mind.


    One of her greatest fears had always been that of being eaten alive. Of worms squirming into her flesh while she screamed and screamed again.


    So, as the cord burrowed beneath her skin, her mind exploded in fireworks of fear. ¡°Get it out!¡± she screamed at him. ¡°Get it the fuck out!¡±


    ¡°I''m trying!¡± he shouted, hands glowing brightly as magic burst from his fists. He gave up trying to slap the box from her grip and started tearing at the bracer to jerk it free and get to the cord. She let out another shriek of agony and her body arched so sharply she thought her back might break.


    And then Talek''s box pulsed in her palm.


    The roaring in her brain stopped suddenly as the thud of its pulse washed through her like a shockwave.


    Nysta froze, eyes wide and mouth hanging slack as she stared down at the open box in her hand. Mist surrounded it and she found it easy to imagine a pair of ancient eyes opening to peer into the darkest corners of her soul.


    It pulsed again.


    Her ears felt like they were stuffed with wool. Everything was far away. Except the pain.


    Shuddering, and still reeling in agony as the cord convulsed inside her, she could do nothing but watch in disbelief as the dark mist drifted from the box and over the bleeding hole in her arm where the last few inches of cord was wriggling desperately into her flesh.


    Chukshene gasped and snatched his hands away from her, terrified at thought of the mist touching him. A string of curses spat loose from his lips, but they were distant. Subdued.


    A wave of iciness spread from the mist and into the wound in her arm. It moved slowly, gently. Like anaesthetic. Freezing the pain as it followed the trail left by the thin black cord.


    As it swam into her flesh, it numbed her hand.


    Wrist.


    Her forearm.


    Then there was a moment when the two breeds of darkness touched. Her heart froze in her chest and it felt like two armies had paused inches from each other and were studying their ranks.


    Neither moved.


    She saw in her mind a thin cord of darkness faced with an unending ocean of shadows. And, from far away, she heard Gaket scream as the contents of Talek''s box gave a low growl and stormed up her arm with the relentlessness of a tsunami. It consumed the cord and turned her skin as black as the night sky.


    It felt like a river of squirming shadows poured into her veins.


    A river of worms from the heart of the Void.


    Her stomach heaved. She wanted to scream until her throat disintegrated, but paralysis stole even that from her. Her body was cold. Colder than she''d ever been.


    This, she thought, is what it is to be poisoned. Expecting a slow death, the elf''s eyes squeezed fresh tears and her mind raced between the fear of dying and the regret of not having avenged Talek''s death.


    The warlock watched helplessly, and the words of power died on his lips as awe shattered his concentration. Never in his life had he seen such powerful magic. He looked at her with impossibly wide eyes and shook his head. ¡°I''m sorry, Nysta. I can''t stop it. Not now it''s open. Fuck. I can''t do anything for you. Nothing will stop it. I''m sorry. I really am.¡±


    She fell back into the warlock''s arms, drained of energy as lassitude and horror swallowed her final dregs of energy.


    And, as she slipped away, her last thought was firmly spoken if not through her lips then in her mind; ¡°Ain''t for you to dole out apologies, ''lock. I''m the one about to be idle.¡±