The Nameless Shadow: Darkling Souls 1.5, page 13
His eyes drifted toward the shrine—a nightmarish monument to the evil rooted in this city. He couldn’t free the Mooncursed or stop the priestesses from their dark magic. There were too many, and he didn’t have enough time before Niamh expelled him from of the city. There was only one mercy he could offer those poor souls.
Chaos.
Haunting Melody
Chapter Nineteen
The pyramid illuminated the sleeping city with gutters of burning oil. The nameless one drifted across the ridges of the pyramid, walking where no one had for centuries.
X’era—give me the strength for this one mercy.
The weakened wards flickered, exposing a hole in their protections.
Thank you.
Feeling his magic flare as his death fueled it, he followed the oil channels inside the pyramid, stepping through walls and gliding unnoticed past Mooncursed.
He found the vats quickly. Barrels of oil as tall as two-level buildings made from ancient trees. Perfect for what he planned. His ring warmed on his hand. It had worked to destroy the bowls. Maybe it would work for this too.
He willed the ring to become the staff again, and it snapped open in his hand. He pressed the staff against the barrel until a small trickle of oil seeped out. It seemed that there was more to X’era’s gift than he realized. He traced the oil into a stream leading away from the barrels.
Almost feeling the stone beneath his feet again, he strode slowly through the maze—leading the trail of oil. He closed the loop on the outer maze.
A Mooncursed approached, sniffing the air and glaring at him with yellow eyes. The beast was bent in half under the ceilings that had been well over the spy’s head. The claws on its paws were as long as a man’s arm. It was one of the biggest he’d seen. Its mouth was carved across its face by a blade and rows of fangs peeked out. A growl rumbled in its throat.
The nameless one did not fear it now.
What is already dead can’t be killed again.
Now truly looking, he saw details he’d never noticed before on any of them. Its limp, furry tail dragged along the floor, and it reeked of blood and old meat. Deep crisscrossed scars covered its body. Its limbs were gnarled and knobby, as if they’d been broken and healed time and time again.
You’re all victims, too.
He paused, looking into the Mooncursed’s glowering stare. The glowing yellow eyes were tinged with purple, now that he got this close. And under the bloodthirsty urges was pain.
The nameless one’s heart twinged. He knew their pain. The constant torture of being trapped in a body you had no control over. Except his torture lasted days. Theirs had lasted months or longer. All he wanted in those final moments was to be released. It was all he could offer them now.
“I’m going to free you all, the best I can. You won’t feel pain anymore,” the nameless one said.
He pressed his hand against the beast’s head. He couldn’t feel it, couldn’t really touch it, but he willed understanding through the magic connecting the realms. Hoping the beast would understand. Recalling the memories of his own torture, of Avyllon, of peace, he showed them to the Mooncursed monster.
The Mooncursed’s expression dimmed. It turned its head so the nameless one could see the titan ore collar, its barbed prongs digging deeply into its flesh. Black blood oozed out of the collar.
The nameless one pressed the end of his great staff against the collar. Now that he was in his true form, the full magic of the ring burst to life. The collar popped open, as it was no match for X’era’s gift. The warden’s control vanished. Still a raging, bloodthirsty beast, perhaps it could momentarily direct its rage at its captors. The spy knew he could never release these things into the world, but perhaps he could end their torment.
“I’ll help the others either way,” the nameless one whispered.
He’d freed it from the magic negating collar. Now, it was up to the beast what it would do. It could sound the alarm. It could run off into the night. He wouldn’t blame it for either. But just maybe it would help him.
The Mooncursed threw back its head and howled, long and mournful. The cries echoed through the pyramid’s maze. Then it darted toward the inner chamber with the cages.
It’s going to help.
Even a beast knew better than to run toward danger unless it was protecting its kin. It knew what it was sacrificing, and yet it led the way. The spy knew that this single moment of clarity wouldn’t save the beast. He’d given it a temporary gift, but if it got out into the city—it’d be a massacre.
I still have to do what I came here to do.
The spy finished drawing the lines of oil through the maze, more and more splashing the floors.
The screams tore through the inner chamber. The nameless one slipped into the chamber as the enormous Mooncursed attacked the wardens. They slashed at it with titan ore swords, and it howled in pain at every cut. But it did not stop.
The spy used his staff to pop off the collars, and then he opened the cages. The Mooncursed rushed out, descending on their jailers. The priestesses screamed as they were ripped to pieces.
The spy dragged the oil into a slick circle around the altar. He paused near one of the torches, watching the Mooncursed take their revenge on the wardens and priestesses. Blood sprayed the walls and the floors. Mooncursed died alongside their wardens, locked in lethal battle. The beasts were victims to the real monsters and now sought vengeance.
Over the din, the nameless one locked eyes with the enormous Mooncursed. The Mooncursed held his gaze as people died all around them. Then it looked away.
The nameless one stifled a sob and knocked the torch off the wall with his staff. It hit the oil and the trail flared. Blazing fires licked the walls, burning the tools with the flesh. Inky tears flowed down his face.
This is a mercy. And it’s the evilest thing I’ve ever seen.
Mooncursed railed against their cages as they burned. Wardens cooked inside their armor. The freed beasts tried to run. The spy backed out of the room as even the mortar between the stones melted. Stone blocks fell, crushing burning cages and the victims within.
A priestess, covered in flames, ran screaming across the chamber before a Mooncursed swiped her with its claws. The air filled with burnt hair and flesh.
And then the oil barrels ignited. Explosions rocked the pyramid. Stones crumbled. The screaming never stopped as the occupants were cooked alive.
The nameless one floated into the sky, watching the pyramid burn. The wretched workshop inside was destroyed. Most of the Mooncursed army was gone. They’d rebuild eventually, but it would take time. Time that Avyllon could use to overthrow the emperor.
Death howls filled the air. Lights in the city turned on as the grating, mournful sound woke the city that was not already awake from the destruction of the offering bowls. The howls of those burning alive were the most tragic sound the nameless one had ever heard.
Each one broke his heart into smaller and smaller pieces. Long after the howls stopped, he could still hear them echoing in his mind. A melody he’d carry with him forever.
“I’m sorry. I did what I could for you,” he murmured.
Soul after soul raced into the afterlife. The Mooncursed were now free of the unending pain and torment. The wardens, though, their souls were ripped apart by those they tormented. Those who managed to reach the death god, Dhagaos, were subjected to a far worse fate. He could see it all in those spaces where the realm of the living and the dead collided.
The Mooncursed spirits, now the people they once were, watched him from between the veils of the worlds. He wasn’t sure if they were grateful or angry. Sad or confused. Whether they would thank or attack him.
“I will avenge every one of you. And I will help your loved ones. I swear it,” he vowed.
The spirits departed, leaving him to his dark work as the phantom howls echoed.
Free
Chapter Twenty
Alone, Mei lingered atop the city walls overlooking the golden road that stretched to every end of the continent. The spy watched her, gathering the strength he’d need to say goodbye. He sensed Niamh’s power growing, the wards tightening and brightening. They’d soon push him out for good.
Tears dripped down Mei’s chin as wind whipped the hem of her gray mottled cloak. Her eyes were red and puffy, and she clutched her curved dagger to her chest.
The shadow appeared beside her, sitting on the edge of the wall overlooking the deadly drop, unafraid.
He said, “Spies don’t cry.”
She jumped and spun, pointing her dagger at him. He stepped forward, allowing the dagger to pass through his formless body. His features flickered in and out of view, sometimes a picture of who he used to be. More often, he was no more than a swirling wraith, a collection of shadows forming the outline of a man.
“It’s you?” she asked, eyes widening.
“Yes,” he said.
“But how?” she breathed.
“The night we burned the map I fell between worlds. The goddess X’era found me and saved me. Ever since, I had the ability to shadowstep. The more I did it, the more I lost myself. My body. Time. Finally, I gave it up completely to escape the emperor.”
It was her fault. After trusting her when he’d never trusted anyone, she’d betrayed him. He knew she had no choice. He knew she’d have done anything else. And he even knew she was drowning under the guilt. But it didn’t change the sting he felt when he remembered her face as the guards dragged him away to be tortured.
The cut was so fresh. So deep. He couldn’t blame her, but he couldn’t trust her either. There was no use saying any of these things.
She knew.
“I sense they kept their promise to heal you.”
Mei sank to the ground. “I’m so sorry. I’ve been searching for you. Trying to find a way to free you. I’m sorry. Know that I will carry this burden for the rest of my life. Did they…”
“Yes,” he replied. “It was worse than I’d imagined. You would do well to avoid getting caught. They ensure that death is the only escape. I lost much of who I was. I forgot my name if you’d believe it.”
Tears spilled down her cheeks. “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be.” He wanted to reach out and touch her face, but his fingers would slip right through. “You didn’t have a choice, and if you could go back in time, you’d have to do it all over again. It’s a risk we all take as spies. We know that death awaits. The only question is how you die. I died with my honor and my name.”
Mei lifted her chin. “I want to become nameless.”
She dropped the hood from her head, revealing that her hair had been chopped to her ears and bleached white. Her expression was now the same as his had been—utterly forgettable. And with a quick twist of the wrist, her hair was black, and face smudged with ash. The cloak was gone, replaced by a laundress’s uniform. She twirled and the uniform was replaced with a noble woman’s gown, face clean and hair back to white. In a flash, her cloak appeared again.
She said quietly, “From this moment on, I shall no longer have a name. Mei is dead. I am a nameless one.”
Pride filled him, along with regret, and feelings of betrayal that he couldn’t shake no matter what.
“Teach me to shadowstep. Pull me through the world between worlds,” she said. “I want this power.”
Before when she’d asked, he hadn’t known what to do or how to teach it. Now he did, and he couldn’t stand the thought of her forsaking everything. Not yet.
“Perhaps, one day, when there is no other choice, I will show you,” he said. “I was a spy for a long time, and there is much that can be done as a nameless one. Before you give away your ability to feel human touch, to love, to have a family—try everything else first.”
She paled, still clutching the dagger against her middle. “Oh.”
“If you ever ask me again, I will explain it to you. I hope you don’t. Once the transformation begins, there is no stopping it. It will overtake you. It is not magic you can dabble in. One shadowstep, and eventually it’ll devour you.”
He gazed over Rexila’s towering temples, reaching spires, and menacing pyramids. Blinking lights from hundreds of thousands of homes fought for survival under the heavy cloud of a tyrant. The golden road stretched across the conquered continent, begging, railing for freedom.
“Are you… going to help us?” she asked quietly.
“Yes.” His voice was smooth as oil on polished glass. “But I can’t help from here. Not now that Niamh searches for me and wards the entire city. Only Avyllon’s High Seer has the power to defeat the emperor and his false goddess. There is nothing else I can do here.”
Tears slipped down her face. “Will I see you again?”
He hoped so, one day when the betrayal hurt less. When he might trust her, and she’d discovered the costs of this life. Maybe they’d have missions and adventures together. They’d laugh and joke as easily as breathing. That day wasn’t today and might never come. Even if he could stay, even if there was work to be done here, he wouldn’t have worked with her. Not yet.
“Only X’era knows,” he said.
I trusted you and you betrayed me, and nothing will be the same.
The unspoken words lingered between them.
I’m sorry.
I know.
“Don’t stop fighting. Demorra needs you, nameless one,” he said. “I hope we meet again.”
There would be no hug, no handshake, no kiss on the cheek. No point to the long goodbyes. She was grieving her choice, and he was hurting from it. And there was work to be done. He floated down the wall, away from his once-partner. It was strange to miss someone other than his mother. Leaving other missions, he’d missed places. Never people.
This is what it feels like to have something to lose.
“I’ll fight ‘til Demorra is free or until I’m dead,” she said to the skies. “And I will ask you to teach me shadowstepping. I don’t care what it costs.” Her expression mirrored titan ore—cold, hard, with bright glints, though hers were furious.
His response was a whisper on the wind. “If you ask, I won’t deny you.”
The nameless one drifted away from her and lingered in the dark skies, saying farewell to his homeland.
He’d once thought he had no reason to save them, but his grandfather had been wrong. Maybe they weren’t worth saving fifty years ago, but they were now. They were ready to try for better. To do better. And they needed his help.
“I’m going to save you,” he whispered to all Demorra.
Distant, phantom howls replied.
His father and grandfather had always warned him to never step into a shadow atop dark, still water when the moon was gone, or he might lose his soul. It was that exact misstep that might have been what saved his soul by giving him purpose. He would help defeat the emperor and his cruel goddess for the rest of the world. He’d defeat the Mooncursed. Monsters would win this war, and now he’d become one of them.
“You can’t defeat a shadow,” he whispered.
Nothing more than a nameless shade, he stepped into a shadow and vanished, vowing to one day exact his revenge.
Epilogue
Emperor Jhames Rexil knelt in the dungeons with his palm against the dank, stone floor. The spy had been right there, and then simply gone. He’d been over it again and again, replaying those last moments, and there was no trick. Some magic allowed the unnamed one to slip through his fingers, and when he thought he’d been so close to breaking the man.
Jhames grimaced.
He took no pleasure in the crushing of a spirit, the breaking of the body. These distasteful acts were necessary for him to achieve the great purpose laid out for him. If the spy had just given him the information, he wouldn’t have had to do any of it. Wistful thinking, he knew. Nothing worth achieving would come easy, but he was determined to push through every obstacle, every resistance.
The scars on the back of his hand were a reminder of why he had to do this. Growing up in one of the war-torn tribes, he’d been raised in bloodshed and savagery with parents gone far too soon.
Jhames remembered the nights he’d spent crying as a young boy, gnawing on frozen roots to mollify his hunger pangs. He could still feel the sting of training blades and punishing whips upon his flesh. The sight of his lost comrades, the maimed innocents, the burned villages never left him. Every night, he dreamed of a land of peace without the fighting or the greed.
The godsdamned raids and pointless fighting that never accomplished anything brought cruelty, waste, and pain. Now, he had the power to put an end to it forever. He’d made a deal with Niamh. She’d give him the magic and power to achieve lasting peace, and he’d help her return to this realm fully. The cost was great, but the reward was far greater. So far, she’d kept up her end of their bargain, so he had to keep his.
Nothing—not the seer or elf, not their growing company of monsters, not even this shadow-walking spy would stand in his way.
Afterword
Thank you for reading!
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Alex Bree is a fantasy author and attorney living in Meridian, Idaho, with her husband, children, and dogs.
Acknowledgments
