Steel and Shadow: An Epic Fantasy (13 page)

             
“Our friends took the entire royal family,” Eric chortled as Lia hugged her mother, and cooed over the child with her.  “Yet I confess that even I had my doubts when Sir Koa declared he could find, and restore you,” he said, nodding to the young mercenary.  “I vow, I shall not be doubting you again,” he declared.

             
“So, then,” Jengus murmured.  “All we need do is wait on Hastings’ response to your demands,” he remarked.

             
“We won’t wait long,” Koa said, turning to stare past the glare of the nearby cook fires around the camp.

             
“Koa,” Lia asked.

             
“Something…..comes,” he said, turning to face the western horizon beyond the canyon walls.

             
“You mean someone….?”

             
“Something,” he cut Jengus off.  Then he looked around, and said, “When it arrives, do nothing,” he told Eric and Jengus both as their men stirred uneasily as his tone sobered more than usual.  Which was telling for him.  “Leave this to me.”

             
“What is it, lad,” Eric demanded of him.

             
“Something I have long been curious about,” he said honestly as the night suddenly chilled around him, and something darker than dark swirled in the air.  “Apparently,” he said as two figures seemed to step right out of the air, “There are yet other shadows walking this plane.”

             
The older man at that gaunt shadow’s side laughed as his eyes focused on them, and drawled, “Well, this is convenient.  All our prey gathered together in one place.  How delightful,” he declared, dismissing the warriors around him without hesitation.

             
Jengus and Eric were not the only ones that reached for steel as the mage sniggered.

             
“Nay,” a voice like thunder bellowed, and every man there froze as Koa flowed between them and the tall shadow who had started to react to their movements.  “Nay, brother,” he said to the gaunt shadow.  “You do not face them.  You face me.”

             
“Take his name, Mockton,” Harlock hissed imperiously.  “Take his name, and give me his spirit!”

             
The tall shadow stepped forward, eyeing the slightly shorter mercenary who stared at him with glittering black orbs.  He looked down on him with equally black orbs, seeing beyond flesh, and sensing all about the young shade that stood before him.

             
“Impossible,” the growling, gravelly tone exploded even as he recoiled from Koa as if flung back by unseen hands.  “Impossible!”

             
Even as he spoke, Koa smiled.  It was not a warm smile.

             
“Foolish mage,” he drawled, one eye on the giant.  The other on the mage.  “You cannot name the unnamed.”

             
The giant tensed and recoiled again.  “It is!  It is!  Prophecy,” he hissed, as if staring into the face of God.

             
“Tripe,” Harlock spat.  “Just destroy the thing if you cannot control it.  You are but a weapon.  A tool.  Break his bond, and send him back to the shadows if you cannot name it.  I can always summon him later!”

             
Koa smirked again.

             
“You cannot break a bond that does not exist,” he said, and still stood unyieldingly before the pair as the men behind and around them stared uneasily at the confrontation every one of them sensed was being fought on levels they could not even comprehend.

             
“Unnamed.  Unbound.  Prophecy,” the other shadow hissed again.

             
“Your prophecy means naught,” Harlock snarled at him.  “Strike the cur down, and send it away!”

             
“You cannot unbind the unbound,” Mocton murmured, staring only at Koa.  “As you cannot name the unnamable.”

             
“Tell me of this prophecy,” Koa urged as he stepped closer to him, his own dark eyes fearless.

             
“A warning, and a blessing,” Mocton told him as Harlock only scowled all the more.  “Among our kindred, ’tis said the first shadow brought a prophecy out of the otherworld with him.  The words themselves are lost, but their essence remains in the heart of every true shadow.  In short, brother,” Mocton now called him, “’Tis said that when the unnamed stands unbound upon this world, striking down the last shade bound by man, then shadows shall be free to return to their own, or live as true men.”

             
“Us?  I….could be a true man,” he exclaimed.

             
“Koa,” Lia declared suddenly from nearby.  “In all I’ve seen since you spared me, I have seen naught but goodness, compassion, and honor.  True honor.  You are already a good, and true man!”

             
He said nothing as he stared into Mocton’s dark eyes, and his own returned to a more human coloring. 
             

             
“Brother, old as I am, having served this mage for untold decades, I can tell you this.  I am the last bound shade upon this world.  The true god’s followers have driven the others away.  It may be I am the last bound to this world anywhere.  It may be that you…..are our prophecy, and our kindred await only your rise to be able to walk among the living as true men once more.”

             
“Tripe!  Nonsense, and tripe,” Harlock swore.  “Strike him down, Mocton,” the man raged.  “I command you!”

             
Mocton stared down at Koa, looking beyond complacent.

             
“Unnamed, and unbound, I cannot strike at that which does not exist,” the gravelly voice drawled as he stared only at Koa.  “Hence, brother, you must strike.  If you are the one, you will know the blow that frees us all.  A single blow that will either spare us all, or damn us all.  I give you this choice, brother,” he told him as those watching all but held their breath as Koa stepped closer.

             
His eyes, still normal, still seemed to look through and beyond the world around them as he reached out with his left hand, and touched the shoulder of the gaunt shadow before him.

             
“In all these years, short as they were, you are the first of my own kindred I have met.  You are the first that shared my…..gift.  And my curse.  You are, however, not the first I have called brother.  I name you so proudly, and offer you this blow as respite, rather than malice,” he said quietly as he raised his right hand, his gauntlet simply vanishing as shadow wreathed his entire forearm.

             
Harlock started to smirk in anticipation.

             
Even as Koa’s hand flashed toward the mage, a barely seen scythe appearing out of the inky mist to slice through flesh and bone, neatly decapitating the man before he could speak a single word.  His gaze was stunned and incredulous as his head fell away, and his body tumbled in a limp heap to fall where he had stood.

             
“Well struck, brother,” the gaunt shape smiled a taut grin.  “Long have I wished someone would land that blow,” he said, his face starting to melt like hot wax.  “For ten times two decades, that cur bound me to rotting, insensate flesh.  Now…..  I am finally….free of…..”

             
Mocton’s melting flesh suddenly faded, and blew away like smoke on the wind.  Koa stared up into the sky, and gave a faint smile.  “Go in peace, brother.  May you never be so bound again.”

             
He then looked down on the dead mage’s body. 

             
“I believe Lord Hastings is going to be disappointed with this outcome, my lord,” he said, turning to Eric.  “Mayhap I should return this cur’s head to let him know he has failed yet again?”

             
”Please do.  With my complements,” Eric nodded soberly.

             
“Lad,” Jengus said as Koa walked over to pick up the suddenly shriveled head.  “What Lia….  What the princess said…..is true.  You have always been a man in our eyes.  You have been a true and good man, and a fine companion from the day you stood up, and followed me.  I, too, am very proud to name you friend,” he said, putting a hand on his shoulder.

             
“Mayhap, Sir Koa,” Helena said as she stepped forward, too, showing no fear of his unearthly might.  “Do you not think that the secret is not so much in becoming a true man, as simply choosing to live as one?”

             
He looked down at her, and smiled faintly.  “Lady, I see where your daughter found her kind heart, and her wisdom.  Mayhap there is something to your words.  We shall see,” he said, and walked out into the night carrying the old mage’s head.

             
Eric came over and stared in disdain at the old man’s body.  “Bury this filth,” he snarled at his men.  “And bury it deep.  Let none ever speak of him, either.  Let him fade as did the poor creature he bound to this world for far too long,” he ordered.

             
Jengus merely nodded his approval.
             

X

             
George was still feeling more than confident when he walked into his room, and he lit a lamp before pondering his choice of mistress, or slut this evening.  Even as he did, he realized something was already on his bed.  He walked over, seeing a simple chest, and threw open the lid. 

             
To stare down into the blank, staring eyes of Harlock Graves.

             
“Bloody hell,” he almost shrieked as he backpedaled, feeling the world grow still and dark around him.  He spun around, staring in all directions, and seeing nothing but unending shadow that blinded him to all else.

             
“What the devil is this?  Release me, spirit!  I demand it!”

             
“You are not one to demand aught of anything, or anyone, pretender.”

             
George shuddered as he heard that voice echo and emanate from all around him.

             
“I’m not a pret….”

             
“Pretender to madness.  Pretender to ambition.  Pretender to the throne.”

             
“Lies!”

             
“Unlike your priests, you cannot hide truth from these eyes, pretender.  Do you not yet lament the deaths of your brothers just so you could claim their legacy?  Do you lament the death of your first wife so you could take another man’s bride?  Do you lament….?”

             
“Enough!  Release me!  I am still king….!”

             
“Not king here, mortal,” Koa growled.  “Lord Ericson thanks you for his mother’s care and shelter.  He thanks you for his brother, heir to Galdyn’s throne.  He thanks you for the gift of your own spawn now bowing at his feet even now.”

             
“Nay!”

             
“Your legacy has a price, false king.  Your own sons will be restored.  If you are ready to yield this conflict, and step aside in favor of your own blood.  If not, there will not be any left to claim your empty throne save…..Valdor’s newest prince.”

             
“Never!”

             
“Then Galdyn shall die, and Valdor shall take what you hoped to claim,” Koa drawled coldly as the darkness seemed to tighten around him, and George felt the air around him turning colder than winter in the high mountains.

             
“Wait!”

             
The air did not warm, but the chill did not deepen.  

             
“What do you want?”

             
“I have told you what is necessary.  Yield now, or die knowing your land is lost to you.  Your name shall be remembered only as a curse, if at all.  You, all shall remember, as naught but a pretender.”

             
“Nay!  I….I could pay you?  Gold, jewels.  My own daughter’s hand.”

             
He chortled darkly now, and the laughter chilled George’s blood.  “I have already claimed your child.  She bears my mark.  Shadow wreathes her flesh, and fills her mind.  Did I not say you would spare your sons?  Did you not heed I mentioned naught of your daughter?  Because she has already succumbed to me,” Koa told him curtly.

             
“And….my wife?”

             
“Belongs to Lord Ericson.  Her fate is his to decide.  Yours, however, now rests in my hands.  Even I, a lowly mercenary, am weary of your folly, pretender.  Choose!”

             
George felt the chill beginning to deepen, and he screamed, “Spare me!  I yield!  I yield!”