Night of Long Shadows

CHAPTER 22

The third day of Long Shadows

Sar, the 28th day of Vult, 998

Cutter leaned over the low wall and tried to calm his beating heart. The moment was here. He would finally get his revenge on the bastard who took Rowen from him.

The gardens of the Golden Tear rolled gently into the distance and merged invisibly with Cloudpool Park. Lightning stabbed out of the black clouds. A warm wind, rich with the smell of the coming storm, blew against his face, made his eyes water. He blinked and focused on the ground.

Bren was walking along the pathway. He stopped at a carriage with two hippogriffs harnessed to the front. He spoke to the driver, then climbed inside. Where was it he said he was going? Tain Manor? Cutter wondered what he was going there for.

No matter. Bren had said that Tiel would be leaving about the same time he did. That meant the halfling was probably on his way up to the rooftop. Cutter had chosen this place carefully to stage his attack. It was one of the most secluded areas in the park. All the guards were stationed at ground level. Nobody thought to place them up where the coaches were parked.

Col turned and rested his elbows against the wall. One of the trees that had been planted in a deep well of earth around the rooftop shielded him from the sight of anyone stepping out of the hotel. The rising wind soughed through the branches, rustling the leaves and causing the treetop to sway back and forth.

The door opened. Cutter tensed, ready to move, but it was a dwarf couple walking arm in arm. They climbed inside an expensive skycoach, then it rose gently into the air, turning gracefully and heading in the direction of Cloudpool Park.

Cutter forced himself to relax. Getting tense now would only tire him later, and he’d need all his energy for the fight ahead. He knew Tiel wouldn’t be a pushover. He’d seen what the halfling could do when he got worked up.

The door opened again. Cutter was half expecting more guests, so his mind stalled for a moment before registering that it was Tiel he was looking at.

The halfling walked toward a two-man skycoach parked close to the door.

Cutter pushed himself away from the wall and hurried across the roof, pulling out the Khutai blades. This was it. Rowen would finally get her rest.

He approached the skycoach. Tiel leaned over the side, rummaging around for something. Cutter took a deep breath, let it out slowly, then took another.

He stopped a few feet away.

“You going somewhere?” he asked.

Tiel froze, then looked over his shoulder. He frowned in annoyance. “Khyber’s ghost, don’t you ever die?”

“Afraid not.”

Tiel rummaged around some more, then straightened up, turning to face Cutter. He held two short swords in his hands, crossed before him. “Guess I’ll have to take care of you myself.”

“No, see, that’s not how it works. How it works is, I break your legs. Then I make you bleed.”

“Then what?” sneered Tiel. “You make me say sorry for killing your woman?”

“No. Then I watch you die.”

“Fascinating. But that doesn’t work for me. I have things to do.”

“Then you’ll have to cancel your appointments. You’re not going anywhere.”

Tiel sighed. “Much as I enjoy all this manly posturing-and don’t get me wrong, you’re very good at it-can we just skip to the end?”

“Which end is that?”

“The one where I slit your throat the same way I slit Rowen’s.”

Tiel charged, his blades a whirling circle of steel. Cutter moved backward, surprised at the speed of his attack. The points of Tiel’s swords flicked in and out, darting at Cutter like striking snakes. He moved his knives into defensive angles, blocking with the edges along his forearms. But he was pushed back by the sheer ferocity of Tiel’s attack.

It seemed he had underestimated the halfling. His swordplay was as fast as any Cutter had seen.

They moved across the rooftop, Tiel on the attack, Cutter on the defensive. He needed to turn this around. This wasn’t how it was meant to play out.

He let Tiel get closer, then jammed one of his blades down at an angle between the halfling’s arms. It caught the two swords for only an instant, just long enough for him to lean in and hit Tiel in the cheek with the hilt of the other knife. He wanted to use the blade, but couldn’t turn it around in time.

It did the job, though. It broke Tiel’s attack and sent him staggering to one side. The halfling threw his arm out behind him, pointing it at Cutter to keep him at bay. Cutter kicked it aside and stabbed down with his blade. He was too far back to cause a severe wound, but the point dug into Tiel’s upper arm and opened a deep gash. Tiel turned to face Cutter again, but Cutter was already pressing the attack, using the technique he preferred-coming in low with one hand and high with the other. It left him open to a strike in the stomach, but he considered himself quick enough that the low blade could double as defense.

It also had the advantage of drawing an opponent’s attack to what was considered a vulnerable spot.

Which was exactly what Tiel did. He saw the opening and aimed a thrust at Cutter’s midsection. Cutter let him come, then sliced upward with the low knife. He expected to take Tiel’s hand off, or at the very least slice open his wrist, but he’d played into the halfling’s plan. As he moved the blade upward, Tiel brought his other sword around in a sideways swing that caught Cutter in the thigh. His leather trousers absorbed the brunt of the attack. Even so, the sword sliced through and cut deep into his leg.

Cutter staggered back. Tiel had been onto him the whole time. He’d seen what Cutter planned and had been thinking two steps ahead.

Tiel grinned at him. “You didn’t think I was much of a swordsman, did you? Just because you’ve never seen me wield one doesn’t mean I’m no good.”

The halfling lunged forward and released a flurry of swings. Cutter blocked them all, the clash of metal on metal loud in his ears. He acted on instinct now. He couldn’t even see all the moves Tiel was making.

“See,” said Tiel, stepping back. “You’ve made the mistake many people make when they meet me. They think I’m bad-tempered, rash, quick to anger. And that’s all true. But I also know when to bide my time. I mean, do you have any idea how long it took for Rowen to die? And she still didn’t tell me where the shard was.”

Cutter screamed in anger and ran forward. Tiel’s face showed an instant of surprise, then short sword slammed against knife, raining sparks around them with the ferocity of the impacts. They shuffled around the rooftop, sometimes defending, sometimes attacking. Each had scores of cuts and slashes over their arms and chest, but neither could press the attack long enough to land a fatal blow.

Sweat poured into Cutter’s eyes, into his wounds. The pain screamed at him, slicing his mind with the sting, trying to distract him from the fight. The only consolation was that Tiel seemed to be suffering just as much. Sweat poured down the halfling’s face, and blood from a wound above his eyebrow trickled around his eye. Cutter kept a close watch on it, hoping the blood would drip into Tiel’s eye and give the instant of advantage the human so desperately needed.

Cutter felt something bump against his back and realized Tiel had maneuvered him against one of the trees along the wall. The trunk pressed into his spine, limiting his swing.

Tiel suddenly switched tactics, flipping both swords in his grip and swinging them around in a sideways arc. Cutter ducked as the blades cut into the trunk. He lunged forward and slammed into Tiel. They both tumbled over, Tiel’s blades left quivering in the tree.

Cutter landed on top of Tiel, his arms trapped under the halfling’s body. Tiel punched furiously at Cutter’s face. Cutter jerked a hand out from under the halfling and raised his arm to ward off the blows. They kept coming, Tiel trying his hardest to incapacitate him. Cutter dropped his guard so he could land his own blows. He felt his fist connect with Tiel’s nose, heard the crack of bone breaking. He thought he was gaining the advantage, then Tiel landed a fist straight into his throat. Cutter arched up, his hands instinctively moving up to prevent another punch, and Tiel smacked him in the stomach. Cutter’s breath burst from his lungs and Tiel shoved him away.

Cutter landed on his back, but rolled immediately to the side. Tiel’s heel slammed into the spot where his head had been. Cutter kept rolling, trying to keep out of Tiel’s way while he fought to get his breath back.

Tiel gave him no respite. He ran after him, kicking out as Cutter tried to stay out of his way. Cutter couldn’t move fast enough and the halfling connected with his ribs.

Cutter decided to try the trick he’d used on Jana. He grabbed hold of Tiel’s foot as it came flying at his head and wrenched it to the side. To his surprise, Tiel didn’t react as Jana had. He heard the ankle pop and Tiel screamed in pain. Cutter kept hold of the ankle as he tried to get to his feet, but Tiel was hopping backward, trying to pull his foot away. Cutter knew he wouldn’t be able to hold onto it, so he yanked upward with all his might, watching as Tiel flew through the air and landed on the ground, groaning at the pain.

Cutter staggered to his feet and stumbled over to pick up his blades. He took a deep breath and turned around-

To find Tiel standing up, pulling off his gloves. He threw them aside and raised his hands in the air.

Cutter initially thought he was going to beg for his life.

Then he noticed that Tiel’s hands had started to glow. A faint orange haze surrounded them. As he watched, tiny flames flickered over his skin.

The halfling advanced on Cutter, his hands held out before him. Cutter backed up until he bumped into another tree. He was about to dart around it when Tiel lurched forward and grabbed hold of Cutter’s wrists.

Cutter screamed in pain as heat surged through his arms. He tried to pull away, but Tiel held his wrists in a tight grip. Cutter’s skin blistered, smoke curling upward and attacking his nostrils with the smell of charred flesh. He could see Tiel’s veins through his skin. They looked like tiny rivers of glowing lava.

He dropped the Khutai blades, sagging to his knees as the pain increased, his entire arms feeling like he had thrust them into red-hot coals. Still, the halfling didn’t let go. Tiel grinned. “Didn’t know I could do that, did you? I could say something about having a fiery temper, but that would be too obvious, and I do so hate being obvious.”

He released Cutter’s wrists and made a grab for his throat. Cutter saw him coming and dodged to the side. Tiel lunged and grabbed hold of the tree by mistake. His hands were glowing white hot. The tree trunk burst into flame, the fire crackling up to the lower branches.

Cutter pushed himself to his feet and staggered away. The halfling stared up at the tree, keeping his hands on the trunk as the foliage caught fire. The humid breeze fanned the flames. They rose higher and spread to another tree.

“See that? That’s what I’m going to do to you.” Tiel turned to look for him, saw him trying to get away. “Where are you going?” asked the halfling, releasing the tree and limping after him.

There was nowhere for Cutter to go. He stopped and faced Tiel. His skin was raw and bleeding, thin layers of flesh hanging from his wrists. He could see bone through the blackened skin. He couldn’t move his fingers. The pain was excruciating, a pulsing, throbbing bloom of torment. He staggered, almost passing out. He managed to keep himself awake, but fell to his knees. Tiel grinned as he approached.

“That’s right. That’s where you belong. Cowering at my feet.” The halfling held out his hands. Cutter could see the distortions of the hot haze wavering above them. He could feel the uncontrolled heat on his face. It dried his eyes out, forcing him to blink furiously and raise his arms to protect himself.

Tiel stepped closer.

Bren reached the Tain manor in only a few moments. Tiel had wanted their hotel room to be close by, just in case anything went wrong. But Bren had no idea what the halfling had in mind if things didn’t go according to plan. Maybe run in and stab Saidan himself? Bren smiled at the picture this conjured in his head. For someone who had wanted his father’s approval for so long, Tiel had made the leap to assassinating him and taking over the business with remarkable ease. But Bren couldn’t blame him. He hadn’t been with Tiel very long, but he knew that over the years, Tiel had repeatedly gone to his father to beg acknowledgement. All he wanted was to be accepted as a Boromar. Saidan had always refused.

Did that mean Tiel was delusional? That he wasn’t really Saidan’s son? Bren had no idea, although there was a resemblance between the two of them. Bren reckoned that Tiel simply got tired of being rejected, had decided to take matters into his own hands. Bren didn’t really care. It would probably mean a pay raise for him.

That was, if Cutter failed in his plan. Bren frowned. He didn’t truly know why he had given Cutter the information. Because Tiel deserved what was coming to him? When had that ever been an issue? No. He’d given Cutter a chance. A small chance, because he knew what Tiel was capable of when he took off those gloves. But at least Cutter could die with some self-respect.

And what if he succeeded? Bren reached into his pocket and touched the dragonshard. If Cutter succeeded in killing Tiel, then what Bren was doing would be for nothing. He thought about it for a moment, then shrugged the thought away. No one would mourn the loss of Saidan Boromar. In fact, he’d probably be doing the world a favor.

The carriage came to a stop at the end of the long driveway. Bren climbed out and looked around. Immaculately groomed lawns spread out around him. A footpath, flanked on both sides by marble statues, led from the drive and up to the huge house. Bren had a close look at the statues and was amused to find out that they were statues of past members of the Tain family. Somebody certainly thought a lot of themselves.

A huge ogre stood at the front door, checking invitations as the guests arrived. A valet approached the carriage, but Bren waved him away and told his driver not leave. Bren wandered off the path and into the gardens. Guests strolled across the lawns, sipping wine from crystal glasses while they waited for the dinner to begin.

Bren sauntered around to the rear of the house. He found a secluded area where the servants came and went, walled off from the rest of the grounds. Bren took off the expensive jacket Tiel had insisted he wear, and dropped it on a stone table. He took one last look around. The black clouds overhead were limned with gold as they slowly enveloped the sun. Thunder rumbled in the distance. He took a deep breath, smelling the dampness in the air, hoping he would be finished before the storm hit-not because he didn’t want to get wet, but because he wanted to watch it.

He passed through a gate into the rear courtyard. As he’d suspected, servants scurried around like headless chickens in preparation for the night’s supper. No one even gave him a second look.

The back door of the house led straight into the first of four kitchens. Each kitchen had five brick ovens lining the back wall, and each oven had three sweating chefs tending to the food. They shouted and cursed each other as they tried to organize their courses, fighting over space inside the ovens. Bren smelled spiced meat and roasting vegetables. He smelled something else-a fragrance that reminded him of mulled wine in winter. He looked around and saw a chef making a red wine sauce. He watched as the chef poured wine into the pot, then some into his mouth.

Pity no one would get a chance to eat all this before things started going bad.

He left the kitchen, pushing his way through a group of men and women complaining about being forced to work in the kitchens while wearing their most formal serving clothes. They feared ruining them before the dinner started.

The chaos of the kitchens faded behind Bren, and he located the door Tiel had told him about. It opened onto a set of stairs descending into pitch darkness. He closed the door behind him and felt his way gingerly down the steps. When he reached the bottom, he knelt and fumbled around behind the bottom step. The everbright lantern was exactly where Tiel had said it would be. He picked it up and opened the shutter, the squeak of metal on metal sounding abnormally loud in his ears. White light blossomed through the darkness, revealing a narrow corridor stretching ahead of him. He started walking, then swore loudly as he stubbed his toe against something. He lowered the lantern and saw that the floor was made of old, chipped flagstones. Some of them had risen from their bedding.

The passage stretched the length of the house. Smaller corridors opened off either side, tunneling beneath other portions of the mansion.

The corridor he sought was close to the end of the main passage. It opened into a large basement room. Bren held up the lantern to look at the beams of the low ceiling. This was it. The dining hall was directly above him.

Bren lowered the light and shone it about the room. Crates and boxes lined the walls. Old trestle tables were piled into a corner. Tiel had told him to look just inside the door to his right.

He swiveled around and saw a square crate. He placed the lantern on the floor at his feet. The box wasn’t big-the same length and height as his arm.

Tiel had been very specific. Don’t try to open it. Just lift it up.

Bren did so, raising the crate into the air and placing it aside. The box had no bottom. Bren got down on his knees and stared at what he revealed.

It was some kind of machine, made from brass and copper and a few other metals he couldn’t identify. It squatted on the floor in a way he found slightly disconcerting. A hole gaped in the front, a black circle shaped to look like a screaming mouth.

Bren stood up and listened. He heard voices above him. Tiel had told him to wait until he was sure everyone was seated before inserting the dragonshard into the machine.

He wouldn’t have long to wait.

Wren stood up in his seat as Col guided the skycoach through the thickening clouds.

“Will you sit down? Khyber, you’re worse than a child.”

“I’m just trying to see.”

“See what? Skyway’s a big place. How do you think you’re going to find him?”

As he uttered these words, the skycoach slipped out of the clouds and Wren saw Skyway spread below him, everything lit a strange, apocalyptic yellow color as the sun tried to filter through the heavy clouds.

The first thing he saw was smoke rising above a distant building. He peered closer and saw that something on the roof was on fire. He was too far away to see it, but he reckoned he’d found what he was looking for.

“Aim for that!” he yelled, pointing. “I’ll lay odds it’s Cutter.”

Tiel lowered his hands to his sides. The white-hot glow faded. Cutter looked up in puzzlement.

Tiel lashed out with a fist. The blow hit Cutter in the eye, sending him sprawling to the ground.

“You didn’t think I was just going to kill you, surely?”

He kicked Cutter in the ribs. A sharp pain told him that one of them snapped. He doubled over in pain-

And brought his face directly into Tiel’s swinging foot. The halfling’s boot caught him full on, snapping his head back and nearly breaking his neck. His cheek burst open. An eye ruptured, the white filling with blood.

The pain was worse than anything he’d experienced. He couldn’t take it any more. His body shut down, trying to save him from the agony.

He dreamed of Rowen, seeing her lying in her room beneath the sheet. Only she wasn’t dead. She was shaking her head in disappointment.

“You said you would avenge me. You promised.”

“I tried.”

“You failed.”

Then he was standing in the crypt, laying her on the slab of stone. He turned away and he remembered his thoughts as he tried to bury the pain of her death.

Fight it, he had told himself.

Hide it.

Push the pain away until you need it.

You couldn’t tame the beast. You could only chain it. And you knew. Knew that one day that chain would break and it would rise up and devour you, grown and fattened by the energy you’ve pumped into it in your attempt to keep the shackles strong.

But that day was far away.

Cutter’s eyes opened.

That day was now.

Tiel had wrapped his hands around the human’s neck. Cutter felt the heat in the halfling’s fingers as they tightened around his throat, the pain flaring through his skin.

Cutter surged to his knees with a roar. Tiel kept a grip on his throat so that the halfling was pulled to his feet. The heat intensified, Tiel realizing he had to finish the job. Cutter fumbled in his pocket, ignoring the excruciating pain.

He found what he was looking for. Exactly where he had deposited it during his fight with Jana. He pulled it out and flicked it open. The blade of the razor flashed orange as it reflected the glow from Tiel’s hands.

Cutter tightened his grip on the bone handle, screaming at the agony shooting down his arms, and slashed out. Tiel released one hand from Cutter’s neck and grabbed hold of his wrist. Cutter screamed in pain as the heat flared into his raw skin, Tiel’s fingers sinking into his flesh until he touched bone. Blood sizzled and spat as Tiel tried to force the razor into Cutter’s face.

Cutter thought of Rowen and pushed everything he had into his arm, forcing it away from himself and toward Tiel. The halfling’s eyes widened. Cutter grabbed hold of the halfling’s arm with his free hand and slowly pried the fingers away. One by one they loosened, until Cutter held the halfling’s arm out of the way.

Then he slashed out with the razor.

Blood sprayed into the air. Tiel looked confused. The heat faded from Cutter’s neck, the halfling’s grip weakening. Cutter staggered backward, breaking the contact.

Blood pulsed rhythmically from Tiel’s neck. The halfling lifted a hand into the red spray, almost as if he were feeling for rain. He studied his hand, then looked at Cutter. His eyes went to the cutthroat razor Cutter held.

“That’s my razor,” he said in a gurgling voice. Dropping to his knees, the halfling locked eyes with Cutter. The blood slowed its pumping, slackening to a trickle that soaked his chest. He stood dazed for a few moments, then gravity took over and he hit the ground.

Cutter collapsed onto his back and stared up at the sky. The smoke from the fires in the trees drifted up into the storm clouds. He watched the smoke whisked about by the wind, then he heard a voice shouting something, but he couldn’t make out the words. He strained his ears.

Don’t… don’t do something. Don’t… don’t kill him. That was it. Don’t kill him.

He turned his head and stared into Tiel’s lifeless eyes. Too late. Sorry.

He looked to the sky again and saw the underside of a skycoach. A face peered over the side. Looked familiar. He knew that face.

Then it hit him. The half-elf. Wren.

Cutter smiled, then closed his eyes.

Bren listened to the growing hubbub above him, the sounds of laughter and talking. The clink of glasses and the rattle of cutlery. He reckoned all the guests had arrived by now.

He withdrew the shard from his pocket and lowered it into the machine. It pulled away from his fingers and sank deep inside.

After a faint click, the machine started to hum.