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The pain across Silas’s body quickly faded into insignificance. Smoke rose from the black carcasses of the cottages, burnt corpses laying twisted inside many of them. He hadn’t been able to ride the horse hard, it hurt too much. Hurt too much? How can I compare my pain to the lives of these people? Bodies lay scattered across the track that ran through Vespen, most beaten to death, others with wounds that looked to have been caused by the farming tools that some of the dead still held in their hands.
Silas approached the tavern, one of a few buildings still standing. A woman stumbled around, black with soot. She stopped and stared at Silas, then dropped to her knees. “Dead, they’re all dead,” she wailed, then tipped forward onto her forearms and sobbed.
He didn’t know what to say. The white horse twitched beneath him. It must be as uncomfortable here as I am. There was no use staying here any longer. What could he do? Offer kind words? Not that he knew much about that.
Sadrick lay dead over his anvil, a lump of skull missing. Killed with his own hammer. Silas
got off the horse, tied it to a hitching post, and approached Sadrick’s body. The heat from the forge was soft, nowhere near working temperature. A good man. Funny man. Not that any of it means anything now.
Pain flashed along Silas’s ribs as he reached to pull out the string around Sadrick’s neck, then cut the key off with the king’s guard’s blade. “Thank you, Sadrick, master blacksmith.” He used the key to open the chest inside Sadrick’s hut and took the single Vespen blade from inside. No better blade to spill the blood of a demon.
Worry and doubt dominated Silas’s thoughts. What if I can’t do it? He was weak, the weakest he’d ever been. Mara was young, fit, and lightning-fast. Silas would have to rely on luck to some extent. What am I thinking? He’s a boy with very little experience. He couldn’t fool himself though, no matter how many times he tried. He knew Mara was something else entirely, and he had no idea how he’d kill him. What’s to say I could kill him even if I had the chance?
He still couldn’t explain the feelings he had for Mara. Silas hated Mara for all the pain and suffering he’d inflicted, but there was still that strange feeling deep within him, the obsession. That part of him wanted to talk Mara round, make him stop. On top of it all, he thought of all the times in the last few weeks that he could or should have died, even killed himself. Death would be so much easier.
17
Mara picked at his scabby hands as the horse walked slowly underneath the black clouds. A few of the remaining flies from the Blood Plain feasted on his sores, but he wasn’t bothered by them anymore. The horse twitched as if it didn’t want to be here. Just as he hadn’t when he came the first time.
In the distance, three Shadows on horseback stood at the edge of the forest. They’ve come to meet me, maybe it’s the Master. Nothing could save whoever it was. He was here to kill whoever got in his way. It would just make things a lot easier if it was the Master. Everyone else could live that way. Mara would kill him and be gone.
Closer, Mara studied the Shadows, no way of telling if one was the Master. Closer still, the Shadows dismounted their horses and stepped forward, but not enough to give the Master’s walk away.
Mara knew the horse he’d taken from Vespen would run away as soon as he got down, not that he cared. The Shadows had brought three more horses to choose from.
The horse bolted. There is nothing for you back there. You should have stayed with me. Mara turned from watching the horse and approached the Shadows. “Is it you under there?” Mara asked.
None of them answered, only spread out, all three drawing Vespen blades.
“Fine,” Mara said, and called on the Beast.
The Beast stepped behind the Shadow on the right and swept its spiked hand across the back of its shoulders. You can watch me kill the other two. Mara slowed time. He moved toward the Shadow on the left, first stabbing it in the chest, then in the side of the neck. The middle Shadow turned toward him as Mara passed behind it, slashing the backs of its legs, then slit its throat. It was all too easy now.
Mara let time go back to normal. “On its knees.”
The Beast placed its hand on the Shadow’s shoulder. The Shadow knelt, dropping its blade.
Mara walked to the Shadow and grabbed the bottom of the mask. “Let’s see what’s underneath.”
“No,” the Shadow whispered, its voice sounding like someone strangled it.
Mara’s body warmed with excitement. His stomach fluttered. Finally, he could see. He flipped the mask up and off.
He was both confused and disappointed at once. The Shadow’s face, if he could call it that, wasn’t one. Only a pale head, blotched with veins and nothing else. No ears, eyes, nose, or mouth. “What the fuck are you?” Mara asked.
The Shadow said nothing.
Mara removed the masks of the two dead Shadows. Both were the same. “Are you all the same? Is the Master like this too?”
He felt stupid. How was it supposed to answer without a mouth? It spoke before I took off the mask. They need the mask to talk?
Mara pulled the mask back on the Shadow’s head. “Talk.”
“You will die, demon,” the Shadow whispered.
“You will die,” Mara shouted. “You will all die.” He swept his blade across the Shadow’s neck. Dark red blood sprayed, then poured, covering Mara’s hands and clothes. He turned to the forest. Show me the way.
The Beast walked in front of Mara, its feet making no footprints in the powder. The mist thickened as they walked, and he hoped a Shadow would appear from behind a tree. So did the whispers. They wanted blood.
