Chapter 2 - The Last Messenger

Chapter 2 – Aael

Aael stopped running and listened for his pursuers. The alley wall, still hot from the day’s heat, burned his back, the cotton of his hooded shirt a useless defense. Every breath felt like inhaling sand. One last time he tried to heal the damage, but the arrow ripped the magic away.

Slumping forward, Aael glared at the arrow. He pressed his lips together and grabbed the shaft, but his hands, slick with sweat, slid as he pushed and pulled. The blood around the wound had solidified and locked the arrow in place. What could do that to his blood?

Voices, kept low, carried down the alley. Aael couldn’t escape now. The streets of Hylt were home to this gang, and Aael only visited a few times a year.

“I see him!”

Aael staggered out of the alley and into the center of the street. The moonlight made it brighter here, its light reaching between the warehouses. His blood-soaked shirt clung to him, so he pulled it over his head and slid it over the arrow. Twisting the shirt, he squeezed out the trapped blood, and it showered the ground like rain. 

Dropping the shirt, Aael faced the alley. He wouldn’t die without a fight.

The gang spilled onto the street, six of them, dressed the same in shorts and weapon straps that crisscrossed their chests. They were all inked, but one had his arms covered in tattoos, proof of the weapons he’d mastered. Impressive for a kid who looked younger than Aael, a kid that probably hadn’t seen the other side of sixteen.

“He’s unmarked!”

Laughter.

The moonlight disguised the hard, painful lesions that made Aael’s skin look lumpy and unhealthy. But it was the absence of scars and ink that made him grotesque here.

The boys circled Aael. Two of them stood close together, and their faces marked them brothers. They carried wooden clubs with nails that protruded like fingers. He turned his back to them. Their weapons wouldn’t penetrate his skin. The boy to his left waved a sword, its shattered tip jagged, the boy on the right, a knife. He ignored them both.

Aael didn’t see their archer, so he focused on the last two attackers, his heartbeat quickening. The one with tattooed arms held a dagger, and his companion held a club, both weapons the color of midnight, the color of despair. They matched the arrow in Aael’s chest. Mageblood weapons.

The group stopped just outside Aael’s reach. This wasn’t their first hunt. They smiled, predators at ease, their prey trapped.

Aael heard steps behind him and turned to see one of the brothers swinging a driftwood club at his head. Aael ducked and smelled brine as the wood passed over his head. He leaned forward and placed his fingers on the ground like he meant to do a handstand.

Aael twisted his body, brought his legs up like scissors, and closed them around his assailant’s neck. The boy jerked away, and Aael amplified the motion with a snap of his waist, forcing the boy to the ground. The attacker’s head made a thump as it hit the packed sand of the street.

Pain savaged Aael’s mind. It started next to his sternum and ended in his back. The arrow! His full weight rested on it, and he fell to his side to relieve the pressure. Aael forced his mind into Moonless Night. His thoughts separated from the pain, and clarity returned. Had he killed that kid? Standing, he glanced at the still form on the ground and pushed his guilt into Moonless Night.
 “Dakki!” the other brother shouted and took a step toward the motionless form.

“Stop!”

“But Raddi, he’s hurt,” the brother pleaded.

Aael turned and brought the leader into view. 

Raddi pointed the mageblood dagger at Aael. “Business first.”

Even injured, Aael knew he could best any of them in a fight. As a pack, though, they might kill him. He didn’t want to hurt anyone, but he didn’t want to die. If he could beat Raddi, maybe they’d let him leave. The mageblood weapons worried him, though. They were expensive and rare. How did they get them?

Aael needed to get into their heads. He smiled, showing his teeth, and lied. “Washer was just complaining, no blood for a decent bath. He’ll be thrilled when I bring him yours.”

The thugs lowered their weapons, concerned. Washer, the reigning champion of the Blood Dance, was not a person you wanted to cross. Aael locked eyes with Raddi.

“He’s a liar,” Raddi said.

Aael stood straight and stepped forward. “Your skin will make a fine scabbard.”

Raddi took a step backward, his dagger now pointing at the ground.

Aael took another step. “Who will be first? I will –”

Pain exploded in Aael’s leg. It overwhelmed the dam in his mind and flooded his thoughts. He looked down at another mageblood arrow, delivered with such force his femur had cracked. The black feathers of the arrow’s fletching still vibrated from the impact, “Gods be –”

The mageblood club shattered Aael’s jaw. He collapsed and curled into a ball. The club connected again and fractured the ribs that protected his good lung.

A hand like a vice grabbed the back of Aael’s neck and yanked him upward. Raddi held him half off the ground like a broken puppet. The boys were close now, and Aael saw their tattoos were crude and lacked the quality required for the Blood Dance. Scars covered them, most self-inflicted designs, and they all had a small triangle branded on their chest. Their teeth were stained yellow by gochoo leaves, used to soften the pain of an empty stomach.

Raddi screamed, but Aael’s ears still rang from the blow that had broken his jaw, and he didn’t understand the words. Raddi threw Aael to the ground, and the gang kicked him, but the pain felt distant. His entire body had gone numb. He tried to formulate a plan, but he couldn’t focus, and his vision blurred. 

The blows stopped, and after a few seconds, Aael chanced a look to see why.

A figure strode out of the alley, indistinct, the body outline softened. Aael felt a surge of excitement. He blinked the blood out of his eyes. Could it be? He’d never seen one up close. They were always in groups and never in the city.

The figure approached Aael, and the attackers gave the newcomer space. 

For the first time, Aael saw a Shade up close.

The Shade stood head and shoulders above these boys, maybe even as tall as Aael. The Shade’s garb is what made him frightening, though.

Strips of cloth wrapped the Shade from head to foot, completely hiding the person underneath. The Shades Aael had seen from a distance had nightmarish portraits painted where their faces should be, but this Shade was all one color, sand brown.

The Shade lowered its head and studied Aael.

“His crime?” the Shade asked in a deep voice.

“Get lost, demon, or we’ll teach you a lesson too,” Raddi said as he shifted from one foot to the other.

The gang surrounded the Shade.

“A lesson? It looked like you were killing him,” the Shade said.

“Leave before we see what’s under that blanket,” Raddi said.

A chorus of tense laughter.

“None of you follow the old ways?” the Shade asked.

“Those stories? We’re not babies,” Raddi said.

Aael knew they weren’t stories, and these kids were in trouble. A verse from the Wandering Demon popped into his head.

fear the Shade who walks alone

twice ringed in darkness and death

Raln’s silent reaper circles

to devour your last breath

Warning this gang wouldn’t help. Some lessons you only learned with pain.

Raddi flicked his hand at the Shade, dismissing him, but the Shade didn’t move. A wave of coldness passed through Aael like someone had drenched him in seawater.

Movement on the rooftop behind the Shade drew Aael’s attention. A young woman, her face serious as she pulled an arrow to her ear, aimed at the Shade back. Aael yelled a warning, but only a wheeze escaped.

The girl eased the shaft off her cheek and released it, the arrow flying directly at the Shade.

Aael knew death must be near, his mind hallucinating, because he watched the arrow slow, and then stop. The Shade turned and grabbed the black arrow as it hung motionless in the air. The Shade followed the trajectory and looked up to the roof.

“You don’t belong here. Let me take you to your kind,” the Shade said to the girl.

Raddi used the distraction and ran at the Shade’s back, dagger extended. Without turning, the Shade stepped to the side, and Raddi missed him. The Shade placed his heel on Raddi’s front foot and pushed him as the boy passed. The gang leader hit the ground hard, and his body went limp.

Why did that look familiar?

The remaining thugs rushed forward. The Shade waded through them with gentle circular movements, and the destruction he caused seemed almost casual, a side effect of some beautiful dance.

Aael tried one last time to heal himself, but the arrows were like windstorms and snatched the energy away. It felt like they welcomed the power, hungered for it.

The Shade knelt and gripped the arrow in Aael’s chest. Intense cold enveloped him, and he knew death had finally caught him. He closed his eyes and surrendered to the pain and exhaustion.