Sword and Sorceress XXVII (33 page)

A heartbeat later she found herself
trapped within a ring of fire. The heat made sweat pour off her face and drip down
her neck. Through the roaring flames she glimpsed another burning ring, Lucan
trapped within it.

“That rather hurt,” muttered Kuroz,
spitting out a mouthful of blood. “I should kill you both. Listen to you scream
as I roast the flesh right off your bones.” He lifted his hand, and the light
of madness brightened in his eyes once more. “Or...yes. I’ll make you watch
first. You will see me claim Ravodan’s power for myself. You’ll know that you
failed, Ghosts. And then, and only then, will I kill you.”

He nodded to himself and turned to face
the pulsing column of darkness and crimson light. Caina edged towards the
flames, but the sheer heat drove her back. Kuroz had his back to her, and it
would be so easy to take him down. But first she had to find a way through his
sorcerous ring of fire.

One of the pillars leaned close. Could
she reach up and seize it? No, it was too high, though if she knocked the
pillar over, it might provide a safe path through the flames.

Kuroz began to chant, the column of
light pulsing in time to his spell.

Caina’s frown deepened.

Fire needed fuel. Yet Kuroz’s sorcerous
flames burned upon the barren stone floor nonetheless. Or, more specifically,
upon the stone flagstones covering the floor.

So what would happened if Caina tipped
over one of those flagstones?

She yanked a dagger from its sheath,
knelt, and began to pry up the flagstone. For a moment it did not move as her
muscles trembled with strain. Then it rose up an inch or so. Caina seized the
lip of the flagstone with both hands and stood, trying to bear the load with
her legs. Straining, she forced the stone up, and then pushed it into the
flames.

It landed with a terrific crash, opening
a gap in the fire.

Kuroz spun in surprise as Caina raced
through the gap in the ring of fire. He drew back his hand, flames glimmering
in his fingers, but Caina was faster. She seized his wrist, spun past him, and
planted her boot in the small of his back. Kuroz lurched forward, losing his
balance.

Right into the broken ring of fire.

His ragged clothes ignited at once, and
his scream drowned out even the roar of the flames. Kuroz staggered towards
her, reaching for her with burning arms, but Caina dodged. Her hand closed
around a broken chunk of rock, and she stepped as close as she dared and
hammered it against Kuroz’s head.

The shaman fell, wreathed in flame.

A moment later the rings of fire
disappeared, though the column of crimson light still rose from the heptagon.

Lucan hurried towards her. “Are you
injured?”

Caina let out a deep breath. “I’m fine.”
She looked at Kuroz’s burning corpse. He had gotten the same death he had dealt
out to his victims. He deserved to suffer. He deserved more pain than Caina had
inflicted on him.

He deserved to scream.

The intensity of her hatred unsettled her.

“No. Do not be frightened of it.”

A man’s voice. But not Lucan’s.

Caina turned, a throwing knife in hand.

The man in the hooded cloak stood near
the glowing heptagon. As Caina watched, he reached up and drew back his hood,
revealing a gray-bearded face with deep wrinkles and glittering eyes.

“Who are you?” said Caina. “One of Kuroz’s
disciples? Speak!”

Lucan looked back and forth, frowning.

The cloaked man laughed. “Kuroz was a
fool with no vision. He deserved his fate. “

“Yes,” said Caina.

Lucan’s frown deepened.

“But Kuroz was not the only one,” said
the cloaked man, his eyes reflecting the pulsing column of fiery light. “You’ve
slain so many sorcerers, so many corrupt magi. So many innocents you have
avenged. But there are always more, aren’t there? More magi spilling the blood
of innocents to fuel their power. More sorcerers using their spells to
terrorize and enslave.”

Caina nodded.

“You can’t kill them all,” said the
cloaked man. “You can’t make them burn they way they deserve to burn.”

“I can’t,” said Caina.

“You can’t do what?” said Lucan.

“I tried to do it,” said the cloaked
man, shaking his head. “I tried to cleanse the world in fire, to transform the
wicked into torches to light the path of the righteous. But I failed. I was not
strong enough.” His eyes, glimmering like coals in the darkness, met Caina’s. “But
you are strong enough. You have the will, the determination. You can hunt down
every last sorcerer, every last necromancer. You can make them burn.”

That sounded so very tempting. But some
part of Caina’s mind screamed warning, and she hesitated.

“Take my hand,” said the cloaked man. “Take
my hand, and I will give you the power. You will burn away the wickedness of
the world, and reforge it strong and new and clean.”

“Yes,” whispered Caina. “They deserve to
burn, don’t they?”

“Caina!”

Lucan’s voice struck her like a splash
of cold water.

“Who the devil are you talking to?” said
Lucan, looking back and forth, sword raised in guard.

Caina blinked, looked at the cloaked
man, and then back at Lucan. “You...you don’t see him?”

“See who?” said Lucan. “There’s no one
here but us.”

Caina frowned. Behind the cloaked man
the column of light stabbed into the sky, darkness writhing in its core.
Darkness that seemed like a portal to elsewhere.

A doorway, perhaps, for something to
enter this world?

The realization struck Caina.

“You,” she said. “You’re Ravodan.”

“Yes,” said the cloaked man. “The Ghosts
did not understand. The world must be cleansed in fire, and the wicked shall be
burn. We shall make them burn. Kuroz, too, was weak. You are far stronger.
Become my host. Our purpose is one. Join with me, and my powers shall be yours.
Together, we will make the wicked burn.”

“No!” said Caina. “I know what you did.
You murdered dozens here. The Ghosts brought you down for it!”

“They did not understand,” said Ravodan’s
shade, beckoning to her. “And we are more alike than you know. Join with me,
now.”

Caina hesitated. Ravodan had been a
murderer, a monster who used his sorcerous power for evil. Yet she had seen so
much suffering, so much death. With Ravodan’s power, could she have prevented
it? Could she prevent more suffering and torment and death?

If she could, didn’t she have an
obligation to take the power?

She wavered, her hand starting to
rise...

“Caina!” Lucan stepped closer. “Whatever
it’s telling you, don’t listen. Remember what Kuroz did. Remember those women
on the pyres!”

Caina flinched, remembering the burned
corpses.

Ravodan’s lips peeled back from his
teeth in a snarl.

“You are mine!” he hissed. “And if you
will not give yourself to me, then I will take you...”

“Go burn,” said Caina.

She flung the knife in her hand,
knocking one of the candles into the heptagon. Ravodan shrieked in sudden
agony, the pillar of bloody light flickering. Caina flung another knife, and
then another, the candles winking out, and the column of light vanished.
Ravodan shuddered once, seeming to ripple and distort, and then disappeared.

And the tingling presence of sorcery
against Caina’s skin vanished.

#

“You were right,” said Caina the next
morning.

They stood outside Mauldron’s house,
watching Caer Belaen’s militia hurry back and forth. Kuroz and his chief
followers were dead, but Caina had located a list of the cult’s members in
Mauldron’s study, and passed it on to the local magistrates. Numerous wealthy
merchants suddenly found themselves under arrest for murder and illicit
sorcery, and would face the headsman’s block soon enough.

It was still a kinder fate than they had
dealt their victims.

“About what?” said Lucan. “The weather,
you mean? It is a lovely morning. Though I expected more clouds, to be
honest...”

“No,” said Caina. “About me. I have been
too ready to deal out pain and death to those I think deserve it.” She took a
deep breath. “And because of that, I listened to Ravodan’s shade.”

“You turned him down,” said Lucan.

“I did,” said Caina. “But I considered
it. His words were sweet. I would like to see the magi burn. I know it was a
mad dream. I know that kind of power would lead only to ruin. But I wanted it
nonetheless.”

“I understand better than you think,”
said Lucan. “I told you the magi slew my wife, years ago.” He looked away for a
moment. “And for a long time, I wanted to kill them all. I still fight them.
But that kind of hatred will devour you. You cannot live on vengeance alone.”

“That’s all I’ve known for so long,”
said Caina. “What else is there?”

He hesitated, and then took her hand.

“Love, perhaps?” said Lucan.

Caina hesitated, and then took his other
hand.

“Yes,” she said. “I think so.”

Jack in Black

by
Linda A. B. Davis

People can do
things on Halloween that they can’t do the rest of the year. Unfortunately, so
can other things.

Linda
A. B. Davis lives in Pensacola, Florida, just ten miles from the Alabama line,
where she spends much of her time swatting mosquitoes and dodging hurricanes.
Her house is crazy full with a husband, three dogs, three cats, and her
daughter and son-in-law who hang out a lot with their own cat. She prefers it
that way and isn’t sure she can write under any other circumstances.

Linda
holds a master’s degree in Communication Arts from the University of West
Florida. She’s discovered that she enjoys writing fiction as well, but
specifically science fiction and fantasy. Her speculative fiction as been
published in two DAW Books anthologies and other genre venues. This is her
first sale to the SWORD & SORCERESS series, and she’s quite stoked about
her work appearing with the wonderful stories included here.

Linda
also markets individual stories digitally, and you can read more about them at
www.lindaabdavis.com. You may read a free story there, too.

****

The Halloween night sky dripped magic.
It covered Kiki with an almost invisible sheen of bugaboo induced anticipation.
The clouds crossed the black above in shades of gray, sometimes allowing a
flicker of moonlight through. A crisp breeze cut through the stillness with
abandon.

Kiki sniffed the air with purpose. The
scent of dark magic slammed her, sending a shot of adrenaline through her
system. She shivered once before getting a hold on the immediate sense of
dread.

She didn’t understand it. The Halloween
magic of previous years had possessed a carefree air about it and spread easily
so as to add to the fun. Everyone loved that magic.

This darker magic was different. Kiki
felt the malice riding the winds. She shivered again, realizing it was taking
advantage of the one day it claimed free access to the world above. Her world.

Kiki gathered herself and stepped back
into her tiny kitchen to see her daughter, Bennita, talking to her best friend,
Jaz. They were both already dressed for Halloween. Bennita had put together an
adorable pirate princess costume, and Jaz was a neon clown, quite bright.

“She might,” Jaz said.

“I’ll try, but I bet not.”

“Might what?” Kiki asked. “What might I
do?”

Bennita huffed. “Let us go trick or
treating without you.”

“You were right. Not, it is. Sorry,
girls. We don’t know everyone who lives here and we might only think we know
the others.”

“We’re ten years old, Mom. That’s plenty
old enough to go in this neighborhood. And we’ll be with the other kids,”
Bennita said. “The kids who get to go by themselves.”

Kiki looked at Bennita, knowing she was
right. Lots of kids their age went by themselves, but those other mothers didn’t
know of the black magic whipping about their own suburban neighborhood at this
very moment.

Jaz jumped in. “My mom said it was okay
with her if it was okay with you. You can call her at work if you want.”

“No, I don’t want to bother her.” Jaz’s
mom was a single mother and needed her job.

“Our friends will just make fun of us
tomorrow for being such babies.” Bennita sat down with a deflated plop.

Kiki was quiet for a moment. She studied
Bennita, whom she knew was desperate to fit in. Some of her friends were
already starting to snub her, knowing she was different somehow. Her rich
golden eyes stood out against her soft brown skin and her crow-colored hair
which curled just the slightest bit. Being kids, they assumed it was just her
beauty that set her apart, not knowing enough to pay more attention.

They couldn’t know what lived just below
Bennita’s skin, but Kiki could smell it. It was magic, just like the sort that
lived within her. That magic would take over Bennita’s life one day, throwing
her into a maelstrom of confusion until she learned to fit her special ability
into the everyday routine of life.

Kiki planned on telling Bennita
everything in a couple of years, before the onset of puberty, but after she’d
been afforded a childhood. She would help her daughter navigate that time with
knowledge and training, something she hadn’t received.

Kiki and her American parents knew
nothing about the origin of her ability. They’d adopted her out of Haiti when
she was five after she’d been orphaned in an earthquake.  Kiki had been too afraid
to tell them what she could do, afraid they’d be sorry for taking her in. She
now realized the fault in her logic, but after thirty years, it was too late.
It was best kept to herself and her husband, Jerome.

Kiki took a breath and leaned against the
table, knowing she would somehow, certainly, be sorry for what she was about to
do. She comforted herself with the knowledge that at least she could be present
to keep them safe. The girls would never know she was there.

“Fine,” Kiki said. “You’re right. You
guys are getting older, and it’s time for you to start taking care of
yourselves some.”

The girls grinned and jumped up,
immediately ready to go. Bennita kissed Kiki on her cheek. “Thanks, Mom. We’ll
be safe.”

“Yeah, Miss Kiki,” Jaz said. “All we’ll
get tonight is candy.” She grabbed their little pumpkin bags, both pristine now
but guaranteed to be grubby and torn upon return.

Kiki hugged each one and sent them on
their way. She stood still for a moment, centering herself. She went to the
kitchen and drank a full glass of orange juice. She’d found that some serious
sugar before a shift made it easier. Liquid was the fastest way to get it.

She then went to a closet, grabbed a
twin-sized sheet, and cut it in half with a couple of holes for eyes. It was cliché,
but what else was she going to do on short notice? She had to hurry.

Kiki stripped and lay on her bed. She
drew in deep breaths, filling her lungs and then slowly blowing the air out.
This was the best way to do it. She could start the shift without preparations,
but the side effects were more intense. Kiki preferred to avoid the pain.

A small, yellow glow appeared in the
middle of the blotchy shadows behind her eyelids. She kept its growth to her
own comfortable schedule. Only sometimes, during times of stress, did she lose
control and pay the price with an uncontrolled shift. The blinding and
enveloping light, accompanied by an internal shrill, screaming sound, brought
on a mother of a migraine. It usually put her down for several hours. By taking
her time, she just needed a few moments afterwards to gather her wits.

Kiki envisioned herself at age ten. She
couldn’t go forward, but she could choose any age that she’d already been. She
wanted to be about the size of the girls so she could blend in. The sheet would
hide her face, and her voice would change with her age.

Kiki had read fantasy stories about
shifters having great pain during their shifts. Her biggest discomfort during a
controlled shift was when her body felt like rubber. She could feel her
muscles, tissues, bones and skin stretch to the breaking point and then
resettle when everything slipped back into place.

When done, Kiki sat up and held her head
in her hands, regaining her equilibrium. She stood up and studied her
reflection in the mirror. Yep, it was her at ten—skinny, plaited hair, and
slightly crooked teeth. Her eyes were the only caveat as they never changed. It
didn’t cause her many problems, but every now and again, someone remarked how
much older she seemed to be when shifted young.

Kiki grabbed underclothes, jeans and a
shirt that she kept in a special drawer with girls’ clothes of various sizes.
She shimmied into them hastily, slipped her feet into some tennis shoes, and
threw the sheet over her head. She wiggled the sheet around until the holes
aligned with her eyes.

Kiki glanced at the clock. Bennita and
Jaz had fifteen minutes’ head start on her. That probably accounted for a few
houses, a checking of the bags for goodies, and talking with their friends.

She stepped outside and lifted her face
to the moon again. The bad magic was still there, laying heavily over the
Halloween magic. And there. Kiki caught a whiff of Bennita’s magic. She hurried
on.

Children charged through the streets
shouting in their excitement. Kiki visually sorted through fairies, cowboys,
superheroes, ballerinas and so many truly original costumes. Her favorite had
to be the zombie majorette, shiny baton and all.

There! She spotted the neon green of Jaz’s
clown hair half a street down. She ran to catch up, cinching her sheet with her
hand so it didn’t get tangled in her legs. They were with a loosely grouped
bunch of other kids going from house to house.

“Did you see the Muellers’ house?” she
heard Jaz ask Bennita. “They had a cauldron full of candy that their mom was
stirring. She looked disgusting in her witch outfit.”

“Yeah,” Bennita responded. “We’ll hit
that one on the way back up. I heard the Porters are giving away doughnuts this
year.”

“Maybe chocolate glazed, huh?”

Kiki tried to lag behind them to stay
unnoticed. She didn’t need to be part of the group, but she wanted to stay
close.  The stench of a rot drifted by every few seconds, and she knew the
source was somewhere nigh.

The kids ran to a house and Kiki started
up the steps until she realized she’d forgotten a bag. Crap! Well, she’d just
have to hide her arms so people would assume she had one under the sheet. She
hung back on the street and watched the shadows while the kids collected their
mini-Snickers and Tootsie Rolls.

Kiki wrinkled her nose. She let her eyes
wander lazily over the surrounding homes, trusting her subconscious to tell her
what was wrong. Her gaze rested on some bushes at the corner of the Johnston
house. She sidled over while everyone was busy, and confirmed her suspicions.
This was the source of the dark magic invading her neighborhood, endangering
them all.

The thing was black, blacker than any
black Kiki had ever seen. A chill seeped from it to permeate quite a distance
beyond its reach. It had a defined edge to its shape which quivered slightly as
she neared. What truly scared her though was to find herself feeling evaluated,
appraised, assessed.

“What are you?” she asked.

It’s Halloween. What do you think?

The words came to her covered in oil.
And her magic told her what it was. It might manifest itself in many different
forms, but this was evil in its truest, visible form. This is what powered the
monsters of the world. Lucifer. Jack. Adolf. Pol.

And it was in her world, her
neighborhood. “What do you want?” she asked.

Be honest now. You really want to know
how to get rid of me. You can’t. Not until I’ve gotten what I came for. Tasty,
little morsels of magic. Your magic.

“You can’t have it,” Kiki said.

And you can’t stop me.

A vision of red, a tiny Valentine’s Day
heart, bumped her as it ran by. “Sorry, Ghost!”

Of course, their magic is tempting, too.
The magic of youth. Sweet, like the treats they collect.

Kiki glanced back and saw Bennita’s
group headed this way, taking a shortcut through the bushes to the Dos Santos
house. She jumped in front of them, waving her arms and “wooing” like a ghost. “Go
around. Go to the street,” she said in a spooky voice, hoping they would be
amused and move on.

“What’s this kid’s deal?” asked a
pimply, massacre victim drenched in pretend blood.

“Just go around him,” another voice
said.

“Move him,” said another.

Kiki could feel the darkness tense,
tempted to spring. She needed to get these kids gone before it lost patience.

“Fine,” Kiki said to Blood-Is-Us. “Step
in the dog poop. It’s all over in the bushes there. You don’t smell it?”

Bennita spoke up. “I do, guys. It reeks.”

She must be yours. Her magic has the
same flavor. Nibble, nibble.

Kiki put her hands on her hips. There
was no way this thing was getting its hands on Bennita.

“Just go around,” she said to the trick
or treaters.

“God, you’re weird,” said a blonde,
little elf girl. “Who are you anyway?”

“Who cares?” said Blood-Is-Us. “Let’s
go.”

They began walking around her, except
for Bennita, who was lagging behind and stepped too close to the darkness. The
monster shot out an oily tendril and grabbed her leg. She froze.

It was rather a blur to Kiki after that,
but this
thing
had her daughter. In immediate response, she called a
shift. The shift itself wasn’t important, but the light that came with it was
tantamount. Jerome always talked about how bright the shifting light was on the
outside, too. The presence was darkness incarnate, and darkness abhorred light.