Chapter 8 The End Of The Line

The world faded for Kael as the point of Darius’s blade crept toward his throat. His blood roamed; the body was breaking down; each second had hurt more than the last. He had put everything he could into it, every scrap of strength he possessed, but it all seemed for naught. His sight began to dim, and for a moment he almost embraced it. But then Selis’s voice pierced the fog, weak but urgent. "Kael!" Kael felt his heart thump against his chest when the sound of her intake of breath broke into the night, snapping his eyes open. Selis's haphazard corpse slumped against the alley wall, still alive. And for one instant, the thought set his insides on fire. A glimmer of defiance. A reason to keep going. Kael was inches from death, but he executed his pose anyway because Darius’s blade was against his neck, and the bastard enjoyed it, watching him squirm. “I’ve always been waiting for you to snap, Kael,” Darius said, breathing the words, ice cold and venomous. “This is the tribute you get for trying to escape. For trying to escape." Kael sucked in air in sharp gulps as he struggled back to his feet, each one an agony. Blood poured out of his side, out of his shoulder, and then his head sounded like a drum. But his eyes, they were fire. "You think I’m broken?" Kael spat, his voice hoarse. “You don’t really know shit about me.” Some kind of dark mirth danced in Darius’s gold-flecked eyes, and he chuckled a little. "I know enough. I know you’re going to die like the rest of them. A worthless failure." Kael gripped the hilt of his sword so tightly that his fingers were beginning to slip away. His vision started to fog up again, and the ground grew blurry because of the exertion. But he hadn't finished. Not yet. Kael yelled as he jumped, his sword swinging in a wide arc. Kael's body rippled with the shock of the blow, and Darius barely managed to bring his own blade up to parry it. It was like a sword going through his whole body, yet he didn't care. And adrenaline kicked in, muffling the pain and propelling him forward. Darius sneered. "You're an idiot, Kael. You always were." They crashed again, the screech of their blades against one another a high-pitched scream, each clash sending sparks flying into the night. Kael’s vision was all smeared with the blood that was running down his face, but he could see Darius just fine—his horrible grin, his shining eyes, his disgusting self-confidence. It made Kael want to vomit. "Is this it?" His blade drew a line across Kael’s chest. Darius sneered. It was a superficial blow, yet it made Kael stagger backward. “Is this your grand rebellion, then?” Pathetic." Kael rubbed his eyes, blood staining his fingertips. "I’m not done yet, brother." Darius backed up, raising his hand before Kael could strike again. "Finish them," he ordered. The sound of the wet earth being slapped underfoot sent a chill down Kael’s spine. He didn’t need to see to know that several Shadowborne had circled around him. The sound of their footfalls echoed around him like the death march of the inevitable. They had him surrounded. Selis’s voice crackled back in, weak but fiery. "Kael, run. Get out of here. I’ll slow them down." Kael stared at her, and blood darkened the cobbles at her feet. Her wounds were fatal. He could tell, even if she would not admit it. “No,” said Kael, low and dangerous. "I’m not leaving you." She smirked through lacerated lips as she gripped her dagger with lacerated hands. "You don’t have a choice." A Shadowborn assassin stepped out from the shadows, his sword shimmering at the edge of the moonlight. They wrapped Kael’s heart and stent in a scalpel that sat off to the side. The fight wasn't over. Not yet. But then the noise of a blade parting flesh, loud and cruel, was unmistakable. The assassin’s body pitched forward to the ground in a crumpled heap, his features set in a mask of terror. Kael whipped around, sword aloft again, but it was too late. But what he went through chilled his blood. A shape was ascending out of the dark, dimmer, thicker than the murders around him. It was as if a veil of shadow clung to him. Worse than the first thing that met his eyes: burning red like an ancient ember. His motion was not of nature, but unnatural and quick as a breaking storm. Darius froze, eyebrows knitted in equal parts shock and disbelief. "What is this?" The figure stepped within earshot, his voice low, gravely. “This is the end for you, Darius. Kael's heart skipped a beat. Whoever this dude… whatever his name was… he wasn’t an assassin. He wasn't even human. Darius sneered. "Another fucking rogue, then. I don't have time for this." The figure’s hand was too quick for Kael to track. There was a flash of steel, and Darius’ sword was torn from his hands, flying through the air. “No,” Darius rasped, his eyes flitting from the stranger to Kael. "You don't get to finish me." The figure didn't respond. He was in motion again, a blur, and before Kael could react, he had pinned Darius to the ground, a blade hovering at his throat. “Your time is up,” the stranger said, his voice flat, almost spectral. Darius’s eyes bulged in disbelief, but he didn’t have time to scream. With one smooth motion, the figure drew his blade to the man’s neck and cut through it with grotesque precision. But he gaped as Darius pitched forward, his golden eyes forever wide with terror. The person was facing away from Kael, most of his face buried into darkness. “You are not over the hill just yet,” he said. “There are going to be other people who will come.” Now, his body trembled; his heart raced. "Who are you?" He didn't answer. Rather, he stepped under his robe and pulled out a tiny vial. “Check this out,” he said, and he tossed it to Kael. “It’ll get you through long enough to escape.” Kael seized the vial in one trembling hand. “And what the hell are you doing to help me?” The person didn’t respond, his eyes going to Selis’s dead body. "You don't have much time. Take it." Kael could have been unclearheaded, but instincts set him free. He uncorked the vial and drank the glowing liquid. His body came alive with energy, the world tipping. His wounds, however, healed at an actor's rate of expectancy, the pain dulling like a soft, throbbing thrum. His mind, too, became razor-sharp, and he sensed a power coursing through him. The figure blended back into the darkness, vanishing with the same abruptness of his arrival. Kael was alone once more. "Fuck," Kael said to himself. And then a darkness closed in around him, and then came footsteps approaching, the scent unmistakable. More were coming. And this time, Kael wasn’t certain that the stranger’s gift would protect him this time. It had only just begun.