The Shade

The alley was warmer and brighter than the others. Despite the hour, several windows still glowed with warm candlelight. Children’s toys and workers’ tools had been left on doorsteps, seemingly without concern for theft. Perhaps Rufus’ luck for choosing random alleys had improved? The smell of wood fires reminded him of home, and the sound of muffled conversations in shuttered houses brought some comfort in the silence of the city. Yet, he trudged on in a foul mood.

The arrow sticking through his arm was a problem. His left hand was mostly numb now, the rest of the arm becoming stiff and weak, and every time he bumped the arrow, fresh pain shot through his entire arm. At least he could address that last problem now.

Kneeling under the light of an open window, Rufus took off his pack and set to work on his wound. Not the first time he’d had an arrow in him, but the first time one had gone clean through his forearm. He cut the arrow short, close to the skin, and wrapped it in some clean bandages from his pack. It wasn’t much, but it offered some minor relief for now, until he could get back to the inn. Rufus was familiar with pain, but the numbness in his fingers gave him some concern. Losing the use of his hand would make him a lot less effective as a fighter — and that was about the only thing he was good at. Hopefully, the doctor could do something about it. But he’d need to get home to find out.

From where he knelt, Rufus looked both ways down the alley. The trick to finding the inn, in his experience, was to find familiar signs in unfamiliar places. Others said it was to become “truly hopelessly lost”. Either way, Rufus was usually quite good at it — especially in the city. But tonight the inn eluded him, and that was grating on his nerves. He might have some choice words for this rotted inn if he could ever find it again.

As if hearing his gripe, a soft blue light blinked into being at the end of the alley. Rufus’ shoulders relaxed and his bitterness quickly faded at the sight of the familiar beacon. Standing and shouldering his pack again, he stepped toward the welcoming glow. A sharp pain split the back of his head. His vision clashed, and his ears rang. He stumbled to one knee and, looking back toward his assailant, was greeted by the broadside of a shovel closing in on his face. Again, his vision flashed and his ears rang as he was laid flat on his back.

Rufus lay still on the cobblestones and for a quiet moment simply looked up at the night sky. It was a clear night; the moon and stars were bright. He thought he could see the constellation of the Bear - his family's sign. Then a weight pressed onto his chest, and cold steel touched his throat, interrupting his moment of peace. His view of the stars was blocked out by an angry face with fierce eyes, and a curtain of loose hair cascading down to separate him from the rest of the world.

“You’ve ruined everything!” she hissed. “Years of work, planning, waiting…” Her eyes bore into Rufus, and the flat side of her knife pressed hard into his throat.

The woman from the alley. Looking up at this would-be assassin, Rufus felt a rush of conflicting emotions. Fear, rage, compassion. What was it about this woman? At least if she took his life now, he would die a little easier knowing he’d killed one fewer person than he’d believed moments ago.

“You’re alive” is all he could think to say, as moisture ran down the side of his face.

The woman’s hand trembled on the knife, and her harsh expression wavered as she fought back emotion.

“I need to get out,” she said shakily. “I had… there was a plan… you…” she stammered, and her eyes softened. She took a deep, shaky breath and, in barely a whispered said, “Help me.”

In the tense silence, Rufus looked into the woman’s pleading eyes and his heart ached. A simple quest to identify a shade had become more complicated than he could have imagined. What was she running from? Was it the same thing that compelled these assassins to haunt the night and torment their own people? How could the warrior who nearly bested him melt into this terrified woman?

Curse him, an oaf and a fool, but he was going to help her. Maybe he saw this as an opportunity for his redemption. Maybe helping people was just who Rufus was. Or perhaps this was the effect of being hit over the head very hard. But looking into her eyes, something moved in Rufus.

“I will,” he said, and he grasped her arm, causing her to start. “I will help you,” he said again.

The woman looked unsure, but she eased the pressure on her knife as she examined his face. She appeared as if about to speak when an icy chill touched Rufus’ spine and the hairs on his skin stood on end. Perhaps feeling it as well, the woman sat up abruptly, and her eyes darted around the alley. Rufus took hold of her waist and easily tossed the woman off of his chest. She thumped hard to the ground before recovering gracefully — cursing something about a lumbering brute as she did.

Rufus stood, and his sword cast the alley in a dim light as he drew it. The blade seemed brighter now; it was a hotter shade of yellow. Did that mean something? A concern for another time. Rufus brandished his sword, moved to the centre of the alley, and peered into the surrounding darkness. The woman joined him with her daggers drawn, standing back to back in the light of his sword.

Rufus’ eyes darted between the shadows as he listened. His own heart beat loudly. He could hear muffled laughter inside a nearby house, the soft sounds of nocturnal birds and insects, and wind blowing across rooftops. Then, it all fell away. An oppressive silence descended upon the alley. A wall of utter darkness rushed toward them like a crashing wave, blinking out even the moon and stars, until it broke upon the edge light cast by his sword. Rufus shivered and reset his stance.

“A true shade,” the woman whispered behind him. Her back pressed against his as she recoiled from what she saw. Sensing her panic, Rufus turned quickly just as a sickly thin man with deathly pale skin stepped into the circle of light. The creature fixed its hollow black eyes on the woman, and she recoiled, pressing harder into Rufus’ chest. In a blink, the shade stood before them, jagged black sword swooping down like a splitting axe. Rufus caught the sword with his own, blocking high overhead.

As the blades struck, the light blinked out, then surged again, and resolved back to the steady yellow glow. The force of the blow rattled Rufus’ bones. His arm shook with effort as the true shade continued to press its blade down into his sword as if intending to cut clean through it.

The red-haired woman’s demeanour had broken before the true shade - like a troublesome child when their father returned home. She cowered under the locked swords, trembling as she pressed hard against Rufus’ chest, as if thinking to push through him to the other side.

Painfully, Rufus lifted his injured arm to brace the blade with whatever strength it could add. Still, the shade pressed down against his block. Why did it not withdraw for another strike? Rufus glanced down at the woman, then back to the shade, and a wave of dread hit him as the shade’s eyes were now fixed on him.

“So, Rufus the barbarian thinks he can claim one of my pets as his own” the shade’s voice sounded like harsh wind and crumbling stone. The word barbarian echoed in Rufus’ mind as he fought to uphold the barrier within him. He was not a monster. The trembling woman pressed against him, stilled, and her breathing steadied.

“Since you broke it,” the shade continued, “you might have at least had the courtesy to dispose of - ” the creature’s monologue cut short as two blades pierced its abdomen.

With a desperate roar, the red-haired woman ripped her daggers free and stabbed again and again until the true shade reeled back, withdrawing its sword. Rufus stepped to press the attack, but the creature screamed, and the sound cut at his mind like knives. His sword clattered to the cobblestones as he doubled over in pain, covering his ears. But the woman gritted her teeth and forced herself to stand. She was done with cowering before monsters. Though her eyes watered and her hands shook, she stared down the shade until its screaming stopped.

“I am nobody’s pet,” she growled, then leapt at the true shade, daggers flashing. The shade side-stepped casually, and she stumbled. Trying to break her momentum, she fell to her hands and lost hold of her daggers. The shade kicked her hard in the stomach, throwing her into the outer darkness beyond Rufus’ light. With menacing slowness, the shade followed her. The tip of its sword dragging across the cobblestone as it went, the grating scream of steel on stone announced death had come.

…

Alone in the dark.

The woman sat on cold hard stone in utter darkness. Hugging her knees to her chest, she shivered violently, as much from shock as from the frigid air that bit at her. She’d been a thrall for nearly her entire life. Taken as a child, stripped of everything that made her a person, bound by oath to serve. Her dreams of escaping seemed so stupid now. She really was just a shade’s thrall - a weapon to bring fear and carry out death. What was she now that she’d failed and broken her oath? Disposable. She fought back emotion, forcing herself to be calm and focused.

She could hear steel scraping on stone, like bones grinding to dust. It grew louder. Deafening. The only sense in the darkness besides cold and pain. Then it stopped. All was silent but her own pulse and the raspy breath of the true shade standing over her. From the surrounding blackness, a dozen voices gradually rose into a whispering, scattered chorus, taunting: oath-breaker. She waited for the killing blow to fall, and each second seemed like an eternity. Looking up into the darkness, she screamed at the shade.

“Do it already!”

A bright light, white as hot fire, outlined the shade before her. She could see its sickly thin form and the blade lifted, to be brought down on her like a butcher’s cleaver. The white aura surged brighter, both beautiful and terrifying. She resigned herself to death and braced for the feeling of cold steel. But it didn’t come. The shade’s head lolled to one side, then fell from its shoulders, thudding to the ground before her. A beam of white light burst through the shade’s chest, and she could see the tip of a bright blade. The light surged, and she buried her face in her knees to protect her eyes.

A moment passed... Two… She felt a warm touch on her shoulder, and sound came flooding back. A mourning dove, gentle wind over rooftops, footsteps, a low soft voice.

“Please be alive,” he said.

Am I alive? She cautiously lifted her head and opened her eyes. The alley was dark, but infinitely brighter than it had been moments before. A large bearded man was looking at her with concern in his big brown eyes. She knew this man. Rufus. She was supposed to kill him, but she didn’t think she wanted to anymore. She smiled weakly, and his face lit up. Were those tears in his eyes? He stood abruptly and turned to step away.

“Good, you’re alive,” Rufus said, his tone indifferent but cracking slightly.

The red-haired woman sat on the ground looking up at the giant of a man who had ruined all of her plans. Who was he? Glancing around the alley, she found her daggers lying on the cobblestone. A puddle of black ichor marked the death of the true shade. Relief washed over her like cool rain on a hot day. Was she free? Not yet. There were others still. Even so, she felt a little lighter, and the world felt a little warmer.

“You killed it,” she whispered

“I hope so,” Rufus replied. “I cut off its head, but the head and body turned to ash and floated away. Is that what’s supposed to happen?” He turned to face the woman, and she was standing holding her two long daggers again. Surely she wouldn’t?… The woman met his gaze and, without a word, she twirled the blades and they disappeared somewhere in her attire. Rufus sighed in relief. Then, the woman did the last thing he expected; she smiled.

The woman rushed at Rufus, and he tensed but was too slow to respond before she wrapped her arms around his torso. He stood frozen, eyes wide in shock. She squeezed him tightly, with surprising strength for her size.

“Thank you,” she said; her voice muffled in his fur mantle. “I’m so sorry… It wasn’t my choice, I…” she quieted as Rufus returned the hug, apprehensively. After a moment, she spoke again.

“You need to get me out of this city, Rufus.”

Rufus looked down at the woman as she pulled away to look up at him, and a question occurred to him.

“What is your name?”