Umbral Rune: Chapter 40 - Dark Confrontation

  Pointed claws sprung for the exposed artery in Niles' throat. Blood would've surely stained the dark soil underfoot.

  Sparks flew first. Claws screeched across the blade Niles slid over his neck at the final second, but with its other hand the husk swiped for the swordsman's eyes. Niles' kick came slightly quicker to drive the rotting monster backwards just as another husk and skeleton rushed past it to renew the assault.

  As I watched from afar, eyes creeping from behind the peak of the overlooking mound, my mind was in a similarly hectic place. Its very first thought?

  Help him.

  I drove a fist into the earth. Did you have a second wave of amnesia!? He betrayed you! Besides, you're out of mana! What difference can you make?

  No… I'm not lending him a hand. He doesn't deserve it, I told myself.

  Even as I set feet to move at a moment's notice.

  Fanning out, the undead lunged at Niles. Anyone would struggle to guard both their flanks simultaneously. Especially if they were as winded as Niles - judging by his panting and the several mangled undead bodies around him. I cursed. He was in more danger than I realized.

  As the undead closed in, he pointed his blade directly behind him and held it tensely. He looked troubled.

  But not afraid.

  His sword exuded an ethereal aura. Claw and bone reached closer. The blade thrummed with power. Distance shrunk from feet to inches. Then I caught the hint of a grin.

  "Whirligig!" The swordsman released his primed blade. Except he didn't perform any ordinary slash.

  Ordinary slashes, far as I'm concerned, don't fly three-hundred and sixty degrees.

  Niles' body whirled like a top with his sword blurring along for the ride. Several near-instant rotations formed a continuous razor-sharp radius around him that split anything it touched - the husk and skeleton included.

  When he quit spinning, they quit standing, the bisected halves flying back and falling to the dirt in tandem.

  My body relaxed. Just to immediately turn rigid again.

  Zigzagged footsteps and unfocused eyes led the swordsman to stumble around unsteadily. Dizziness, I clocked, thanks to the rapid spinning knocking him off balance. But the final husk wouldn't overlook this opening. A feral gait sped it closer to a Niles that saw stars. Jaws opened to make way for hungry fangs.

  I rose, choking my weapons like I could squeeze blood from metal. Shade, why am I like this? He should be dead to me… but I can't stand by and let that become literal. Just hope I make it in tim-

  "Thunder Hawk!" echoed a shout in the distance. Below the mound and across the broad field of dead crops dashed a familiar young man with tufts of white hair pulled back into a ponytail. Beside him soared a bird that resembled no bird I'd ever seen. Edges of its body formed the vague shape of a hawk, but yellow and unstable and immaterial, like it was made of raw lightning. Wide wings cut through the heavy air, each flap crackling with a trail of electricity.

  The man sprinted fast, but his construct flew much quicker toward the husk. They didn't care to be quiet, and noticing new company, the husk spun to meet them.

  A thunderous caw and the hawk was before the undead in seconds. The husk swung for its beak. I expected it to dodge.

  It didn't.

  Nails plunged into the hawk's electric form like five knives into flesh. Sudden veins of yellow lightning came surging back down its arm. Violent convulsions rocked the husk in an instant, electricity coursing through and around its body. The undead finally dropped when the art petered out - smoke stemming from every electrocuted orifice.

  By now the white-haired man caught up to the scene… just as I'd slipped back behind the mound. "Are you quite all right, man?"

  "Yep…" Niles massaged his forehead, "just landed myself in a pickle is all. I appreciate the helping hand, mate."

  "Delighted to assist. I'd be undeserving of a relation to House Montblanc were I to leave a good man in the - rather literal - jaws of danger."

  Niles' face blanked. "Your house has a name?"

  Despite the ruined landscape around him, the young man looked remarkably clean and collected and upbeat. Especially after he laughed. "It is the name of the family from which I hail from. A noble house, you see?"

  The swordsman nodded along. He didn't grasp the concept.

  By then, I was tired of lurking in the shadows. Niles was there, close enough to lob a stone at. There was so much anger forming behind my lips I didn't know where to start or when it would end. I just wanted to step in front of him and put him in his shading place. Except, that couldn't happen so long as there was another.

  Danger from the undead had passed, thanks to the noble's timely support. But as long as he was there, what should've been a very simple situation would've run the risk of becoming unnecessarily complicated.

  Survival comes first. Just wait and watch. Judging by their points, an opportunity should come soon…

  The noble adjusted his blue-gold jacket. "But enough about such distant matters; it appears that much like myself, you're without a partner. Has the worst befallen him?"

  "Nah, probably not," Niles flicked his chin aside. "We took off in different directions to take out skeletons that seemed alone. Then a whole pack of husks came outta the woodwork and split us up. But he's a Wildfolk. Got good senses. I'd be shocked if they got the best of hi-"

  A spark caught his eye, along with the noble's and mine. His bangle. The ninth pip lit up.

  "Another point?" The swordsman chuckled. "Whelp, that's definitely his doing."

  "Ah, I suppose it could only be," smiled the noble, before extending a manicured hand. "I'm Cirian. It's a blessing to find another in high spirits in a place as wretched as this."

  "Niles Hawthorne," he snatched up Cirian's hand and shook it with a lack of decorum that only seemed to intrigue the noble. "And if that's not the truth, I can't tell you what is!"

  Seriously? Surrounded by bodies and death, and you're still making friends?

  "But," said Niles, "how come you called me a good man?"

  "Because it is a simple statement of fact, brother. I imagine most were too busy with the towering task before them in the preliminaries, but I saw what you did."

  A subtle wince passed over his eyes. "What I did?"

  "Of course! That fair maiden, I watched her down the side of the cliff in freefall. Your vine caught her and gave the woman a second lease at Templarhood. Chivalry at its finest!"

  "Oh," Niles' always-tapping foot slowed. "You mean that girl with the funny glasses? Chivalry's a little much, but yeah, when I think about it, I guess I did do her a good turn, eh?"

  My fingers stabbed the soft mound that hid my presence. And what about the guy you shoved off that same tower?

  "I would assert as much. But, ah, I apologize," he threw up a ringed palm, "this isn't the ideal place for prolonged conversation. As it seems, that fanged menace had the final two points I needed to move on to the Second Ordeal. And of great relief that is," he took measure of our lifeless surroundings. "It's little wonder my partner rushed for his button at the first monster we encountered…"

  "Right, right - I forgot I still need one more point. But I'll make short work of that! And after, we should meet up in the commons, get to know one another. I could use a pal in these crazy Ordeals."

  My teeth grinded so hard I almost thought they'd hear me. I didn't care.

  "Then you shall have one!" the noble beamed courteously as he raised his bangle. "Farewell, brother. Sun's blessings be upon you!"

  "Same to you, mate!" Niles tossed up a wave.

  Cirian's fingers moved to push his button. And with a composed breath of relief, he floated off the ground, was enveloped in the whitest of whites, then in a bright flash, teleported away from the malevolence of The Dross.

  …And then there were two. Niles and me. No one else to stand in my way.

  "All right," he shifted back and forth, finding a plan in the middle as he so often liked to do. "All I need to do is crush one dumb old skeleton, and-"

  "Hawthorne!" I appeared at the peak of the mound, staring down at him like a deity of unbridled wrath.

  The swordsman jolted at the voice that ripped through the darkness, snapping toward me with a familiar expression - the look of someone who faced several emotions at once and wasn't sure which to latch onto.

  "Don't look so shocked to see me," I slid down the mound's curvature, meeting him on even ground. "I still made it to the peak of the Tower of Stone. I still passed. And I'm still hanging on. Even when scum like you try to knock me down."

  I kept going. My mouth had a mind of its own and I refused to censor it. "You're a snake, Niles. A venom-spitting bastard. And the worst part of it all… I don't even know why. I thought we'd beat the Ordeals together. You told me we were friends."

  Anger arrived to wash away his alarm; anger solidified into assuredness. "We were." He became uncharacteristically still. "Until you showed your true colors. You know full well why things are the way they are."

  "No. I don't."

  Shadows clung under his frown. "Dark magic is a poison; it destroys everything that gets close, you know it's true. And that magic, what it can do, it all comes from you."

  "What are you talking about? I don't-"

  Penelle's shattered body flashed to mind. Velora's devastated arm, sloughing off in spoiling layers. The destruction left behind when I chased that thief through the city. And what I told Karthwyn. About letting the blackest thoughts fuel my magic: jealousy, loathing, resentment - the sorts of things you're taught to be above, I exercised to suit my ends.

  For a moment, I wondered if he had a point.

  I shut those thoughts out and didn't look back.

  "You're hesitating," he pointed. "See? You know it as much as I do-"

  "Wrong!" I cut a hand through the air. "Remember when you faced a decade in prison? The only reason you're not looking at bars right now is because I cast Shadow Form to get you that armament license! Dark magic rescued you - how can it be this ultimate evil?"

  "…One good turn is just that: one. Medicine can be used to hurt, can't it? Doesn't make it wrong. Helping me doesn't make you right."

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  Were I not powerless, I would've slugged him across the face then and there. I still might've. The ingrate deserved every knuckle. But the only smart way to quell my pent-up rage then, was to speak my mind.

  "Abyss, Niles - you're delusional! Sure, dark arts are channeled through negative emotions, but I decide how they're used!"

  "Negative emotions?" A puzzled expression leapt to his face. "That's not-"

  "And how are you so sure, anyway?" I interrogated, Penelle's words echoing in my memory. "Is this something you really believe? Or is it the crap someone else fed you?"

  Flames lit in his eyes to scorch away the confusion. "My thoughts are my own! I don't say what I say because it sounds right to my ear, or because someone told me to believe it. I…" the swordman's eyes flickered to his gloves. "I say the truth because I've seen it up close."

  I stopped. "Up close? You-"

  "Oy! Dark mage!" a voice called in the distance.

  My bones turned ice cold. Because those words came from one of the last people I wanted to hear, racing toward me with a grudge in his gaze:

  Ra'Kol.

  "What are you doing with my teammate?" he caught up to Niles' side, digging into me with a scowl as I took cautious steps backward. The tip of his spear - a wooden pole adorned at the end with the jagged tooth of some beast - was drenched in black blood. He didn't seem to consider stowing it away.

  "Ra'Kol," the swordsman's grave expression betrayed his welcoming voice. "Knew you'd find your way out of that mess. But how'd you find me?"

  "Sniffed you out. Your scent's one o' the few that don't smell like rank death. But that don't matter now. Dark mage," he shot to me, "I asked a question. Talk."

  "We were having a conversation," I masked my unease with a spiteful glare. "The kind that doesn't involve a third party."

  As I spoke, my mind ran in desperate circles. Niles was one thing - at the very least, I didn't see him as willing to go so far as to murder me, and anything less I was too angry to care about. But Ra'Kol? He was already fully prepared to throw me out of the Ordeals with his own hands. And after I bloodied his nose, well…

  The fur on the Ratfolk's back puffed into spikes, even as he kept an acidic smile. "You might be onto somethin'. There's much bigger business to stick my nose into. Like the fact that your lowlife hide is still in the Ordeals! And that you're holding a weapon that ain't yours'…"

  …Shade.

  "Had you pegged as a problem," he continued, "the moment you cast that disgustin' magic! But this?" He pointed his spear at my heart. "What'd you do to the girl?"

  "Wh-what!?" Niles blurted at the accusation. Apparently he hadn't even considered the idea 'til Ra'Kol spoke it.

  The lid blew off my white-hot fury. "I did nothing to her!"

  "Liar!" Ra'Kol countered. "Anyone can tell what happened with one look. A necromancer, holding his partner's snazzy weapon."

  Necromancer?

  Ra'Kol went on. "You killed her and stole it for yourself. Not like anyone would've seen it happen. The sword would sell for a pretty copper, wouldn't it? Not a bad plan. If not for me."

  My boot stomped down to cross the gap between us. Sense barely tied it in place.

  "What?" his face turned smug. "Got you figured out, don't I?"

  "…It's called an épée."

  And I wanted to stab him with it. And I would've, death be damned. If not for a realization.

  He made some sorta taunt. I ignored it. Exhaustion from the day's events had worn me, not physically, but mentally. Even still, I swatted through cobwebs and dust and snatched ahold of my mind to force it to invent a way out of this mess. And ironically enough, Ra'Kol presented me the first step on a silver platter.

  "Here's what's gonna happen," he stated. "Me and my partner are gonna beat you bloody for what you've done. Then we'll let the Order deal with you. It'll be our first score as Templars. Ha, who knows? Maybe they'll get a kick out of our moxie, start us with higher pay than everyone else, eh Niles?"

  Niles' face soured. "Do you really think this is a good idea?"

  Ra'Kol was a pure idiot. Not a rational idiot, like Hyland, or a clever idiot, like Niles. That ignorance, I could use.

  "Course' I do," he replied. "Don't say you're wimping out on me Niles. You know what he is, right? Because I do. I've dealt with necromancy before - it's sick. The freaks who use that magic need to go down. So are you pitching in or not?"

  "Actually, I wouldn't act so fast if I were you," I faked a cocky grin. "You do realize where we are, right?"

  He paused. Then chose to take a few looks around. "A dingy-lookin' field. So what?"

  "Exactly what a layman would see," I sniped. "What do I see? The lair of hundreds of undead. Even a rookie necromancer would feel like a kid in a candy shop, here. So imagine what I can do with so many at my fingertips."

  He turned stock-still. In truth, I wasn't even sure a real one could command so many undead - or Abyss, even how necromancy worked. Neither did Ra'Kol. I could tell by how he carelessly slung the word at me. Every necromancer was a dark mage, but not every dark mage practiced necromancy. The Ratfolk was unaware of, or didn't care to know, the difference. He also didn't know I was tapped out of mana.

  And the last thing I'd do was clue him in.

  Noticing his own alarm, he rushed to regain dominance. "Like they'll get here before my spear finds your gut. There isn't an undead in sight that'll save you from me."

  I drew out a laugh to buy myself more time to think. "That's because you don't know where to look. You think the Order found and collared every undead down here? Right now, I feel the presence of dozens beneath the dirt - ready to burst out at the word 'go'."

  Walking around the two - keeping a wide berth - I continued. "You'll feel their presence too. All over you. Clawing and chewing and tearing and ripping. You'll scream 'til your throat dries out and all you have to wet it is the blood you choke on. And I'll savor every second."

  Somewhere along the way, I'd lost my fear. The racing thoughts that charted a path of escape from this conflict… dropped. Deep inside, I knew I was helpless. But Abyss, I was tired. Tired of fighting. Tired of being seen as something I wasn't. Tired of resisting the worst of what everyone thought of me. And the one person who might've seen something else in me? Other than a monster, or a tool, or entertainment?

  I was accused of killing her.

  That was the nail in the coffin. Everywhere I turned, I found those who stood on their lofty perches, looking down on me like I was lesser. Like I was filth. Why go through the trouble of proving them wrong? Nothing would change. I was still the lone dark mage. So I stopped fighting. I quit caring.

  And showed them just how revolting I could really be.

  "Unless…" I continued, "you stay out of my way. I've got more important things to do than killing two more applicants. No points in it, you see? But that'll change on a whim. If you let it."

  The two, against expectations, backed away from me, building a sizable gap.

  "W-wait," the color drained from Niles' face, "you actually…?"

  Ra'Kol shut his trap for once, visibly weighting his options. Like Niles, he seemed spent from earlier combat, and a legion of uncollared undead could almost be seen marching in his eyes. I'd never felt stronger - like an army actually stood behind me - and it showed. Maybe he had his doubts. But he wouldn't push his luck.

  "F-fine, scurry off if it makes you feel more like a man!" he barked. "But you're not makin' it to the end of the Ordeals! A sick killer like you won't be allowed. I know how screwed in the head you are. Everyone else will, too."

  "You're gonna tattle?" I rounded my eyes, just to narrow them. "Do it."

  One look at her and the Templars will know what happened. Not even Karthwyn could spin it to being my doing. And the applicants, they can believe what they want. They already do.

  My mind took a step back to her injuries.

  …Need to hurry back. No more dawdling.

  Ahead of my escape path lied the body of the skeleton Niles severed at the waist and flung away, its spine pressed against the dirt and its head pointed away from the applicants. After I passed it, I figured I was as good as gone.

  Just a little closer. Then I can find my last point away from these two.

  That was the plan, at least. 'Til I noticed the dim lights in the skeleton's eyes still glowed.

  It wasn't dead yet.

  I never knew I could smile so wide.

  Change of plan! No chasing another point; the point's right here! This is perfect! That husk might be dead, but I should've known a skeleton wouldn't go down so easy. Maybe we're fragile, but we're a pain to kill - and Niles didn't go for the head. Big mistake.

  "That… doesn't make any sense," Niles muttered, as if he'd finally chosen to say something he wasn't sure should've been voiced. "Necromancy doesn't work that way."

  I almost froze in my tracks.

  "Necromancers," he went on, "can only puppet the undead they make themselves. Hard to say when or where these undead came from, but you definitely didn't raise them."

  Internally, I felt my perfect plan start to catch alight.

  He's talking like he's completely certain - much more than I am anyway. And he obviously isn't lying. But how? No, wait. Think.

  My eyes flicked ahead. Can't make a break for it. Ra'Kol will realize I'm bluffing and run me down. But if I walk, play it casual…

  "Oh, is that right?" said the Ratfolk, his wide shoulders rising higher. "Well, necromancer, how's about it? Sounds like you aren't much a threat after all."

  Abyss, he's more correct than he realizes. Not too much further before I'm standing over the skeleton. Just gotta buy time!

  My grip tightened on Penelle's épée. "Don't believe everything you hear, Ra'Kol. Shouldn't you be more focused on why your partner knows so much about necromancy?"

  Suspicion bloomed in his eyes, as I hoped, for more than just me. "G-guy wants to be a Templar," he justified, "makes sense he'd hit the books-"

  "Don't you dare, Skell!" Niles roared, stunning me and even Ra'Kol. His normally easy-going face warped into an expression crackling with rage. "I'd never touch that magic - not in a million years!"

  I pressed further. "What libraries have info on necromancy? None in Selem. So tell me how you know!"

  By then, I was both stalling and genuinely seeking an answer. Any literature on the practice was banned outside the Citadel. Either Niles had a connection to the Templars, or…

  "Skell!" Niles forced through gritted teeth, veins rushing down his sword arm. "One more word and I'll do something I'm going to regret!"

  Never had I seen Niles so furious. Except once: atop the Tower of Stone.

  I hesitated; more prodding might've incited him to the same violence Ra'Kol insisted on, and a Vine Cling would snatch me away from the skeleton faster than I could kill it. Not that another word was necessary in the first place. I'd made it. The undead laid weak at my feet.

  Fingers tensed around the épée. The staff wouldn't do enough damage without my full strength behind it. But Penelle's weapon? I wagered that'd pierce through and haul out my final point in one lethal move.

  Their eyes told me they realized something was wrong before their lips even parted. My sudden stop at the skeleton. The weapon I held with intent. The nine pips glowing on my bangle. And the slight grin digging into my cheek. Even they could put the pieces together. A shame it was too late.

  I lifted the épée high.

  Surprise passed quickly. Niles' eyes thinned to slits. Ra'Kol arched his back to pounce.

  And I came down with the weapon's point.

  Yet what I most hoped wouldn't happen, did. The point tore deep. But not deep enough. Even the épée lost its edge when wielded with my sapped strength - the weapon standing on end inside the undead's skull.

  An eternity spanned that next silent moment. Gazes flicked to others. Minds caught up. Horror scraped down my back like a fork against glass.

  Ra'Kol made the first move, taking to all-fours to blaze toward me. "Fraud! Get over here!"

  My puny attempt at killing the weakest undead said all it needed to: I had no great power. Not then.

  And Niles? He didn't join Ra'Kol. He didn't stop him either.

  I yanked my mind to the present. The gap between death and I closed quickly. My eyes snapped to the rising épée and in a race of moments I looked to the one weapon I still held. An idea hit me. One spawned from the narrow sliver between madness and genius.

  Ask me anything about artistry, and I'd return you a shrug. I barely knew anything about it. But I did know about chisels. A force multiplier; what you used to remove large sections of durable material with barely a love tap. But the narrow tool couldn't achieve that alone.

  No… a second item was crucial to apply the strength to devastate stone. A mallet. Of course, I didn't carry either tool.

  But I did carry the two next best things.

  Both hands latched onto my staff and I slung it over my shoulder like I meant to trigger the bell of a high striker. Ra'Kol didn't slow.

  Sorry, Niles. This kill is mine.

  All the force I could muster slammed down onto the épée's handle. Feeble force amplified and exploded into the skull, blowing a crater into the rounded bone.

  Glinting at the edge of my gaze flew Ra'Kol's outstretched spear. I didn't stop to glance at my bangle. One hand snatched up the épée, the other - wearing the bangle - pressed against my chest. As I pulled it back into view, I saw a sight that sent shivers through my body.

  Ten pips.

  Then Ra'Kol's spear plunged into my gut.

  And I felt… nothing.

  Sheer white already spread across the bulk of my body. Including my stomach. That's why I felt no pain even as it poked out my back.

  "Wha- how!?" Ra'Kol twisted the spear to no effect. His protruding face dropped when he realized I was intangible. Completely untouchable.

  "You slimy necromancer!" he thundered as my feet hovered off the dirt. "You're gonna lose these Ordeals, you hear me!? Your kind isn't meant for this! Isn't made for this!"

  On a different day, I would've left him a sly remark. Half-caustic, half-smug, all petty. But my eyes weren't on him. They rose past him.

  To Niles in the distance, his face - once an open book - now unreadable. Not because he suddenly became a master of his emotions.

  But because he wore just about all of them.

  …To the Abyss with him.

  My eyes rose higher. To Penelle, up above. I held her weapon close.

  And all became white.

  Character Profile: Ra'Kol (Tribe of the Rat)

  Height: 6'8"

  Age: 28

  Eye Color: Black

  Hair Color: Dark Brown

  Signature Characteristic: His stubborn refusal to wear shirts. It isn't a Wildfolk thing; it's just a him thing.

  Likes: Sunflower Seeds, Golden Rounds, Fitting In, Gambling

  Dislikes: Swindlers, Dark Chocolate, The Word "No", Strong Odors

  Odd Talent: Can follow any scent with his nose, directly to the source. And he knows when you've skipped a shower.