The Knife's Edge (3 page)

He recognized it as one of the four courtyards of the Neophyte Palace, where female Neophytes trained. The Palace itself loomed nearby.

“I didn’t know there was a transporter there,” he told Ren who stood calmly in the center of the courtyard.

Ren shrugged. “I had to do something. That was quite the move. I doubt I would have evaded it. You moved like the wind.”

“Not fast enough, but I guess I’ll accept the fact that you had to cheat.”

Ren gave a burly chuckle. “Speaking of moving like the wind, for a moment there, I thought you weren’t moving, but shifting. While the transporters were developed by a hundred Reavers using the Link, it is nothing compared to the Ronin’s abilities. The Ronin could teleport at will, and not just to one designated area like a transporter, but anywhere. They called it shifting. Quite the ability.”

Kirin scratched his head. “That’d make sense if I could harness the spark more than a trickle, Ren. A rock has as much natural ability as I do.”

“No. A rock can probably harness more of the spark than you.”

“Thanks.”

“… but you, Kirin, have raw ability.”

“With the sword, maybe,” he replied. The man said nothing. “I’ve been tested, Ren. Dozens of times, remember?”

Ren shrugged. “The tests have been wrong before.”

He narrowed his eyes when he heard a voice call out his name. From the grand arched entry that led into the Palace, Enise, his young friend with a startled fray of white-blond hair, charged down the wide steps.

Enise approached. “Kirin—”

He steadied the girl with a hand. “It’s all right, slow down. What are you doing here? Is something wrong?”

“You haven’t heard?”

“Heard what?”

“Listen!” Enise put a hand to her ear.

The sounds of the bells hit him like a hammer’s blow. “She passed!” He grabbed Enise’s hands and danced in a circle, sending her into a fit of laughter. “I can’t believe it,” he said. “The youngest Reaver in all of history.” And he felt as if those bells chimed for both of them, for he never thought he would live to see this day.

Looking back, he vividly remembered passing through the giant black gates of the Citadel as an orphan. Tired, hungry and on the verge of death, he had entered a world he had always feared. A place rumored to be full of the most powerful wielders of the spark, behind cloud-scraping black walls. He could still remember the feel of his pounding heart as he took in the Citadel. It gleamed like a vast gem of obsidian, the red-robed men and women demanding respect just short of kings. Since then, he had been tested in every way to get to where he stood now, and those chiming bells were a testament to their triumph.

“She wants to see you,” Enise said.

He turned to Ren. “Master, I know I’m training, but…”

The man laughed and waved him away. “I’m done with you for now. The girl is waiting. Go to the Oval Hall and celebrate, and tell her congratulations from me.”

“She’s not in the Oval Hall,” Enise said. “She left.”

“Wait, she’s not staying for the ceremonies?” He knew Vera wasn’t one for fanfare, but this was the Trials! She had been dreaming of this moment since they were big enough to don the smallest of gray robes. “Why?”

Enise shrugged. “All I know is she was headed for her rooms in a hurry.”

“Then to her rooms I go. Rekdala Forhas,” he spoke solemnly.

“Till honor and death my friend,” Ren mirrored.

“Will I see you at the Patriarch’s meeting?”

Ren rubbed his jaw. “You will. He wants me there, as well as the Commander of the Citadel Guard, and all other Captains, though I’m not sure why.” He shook the oddity off. “Until tonight then.”

“Until then.” Kirin ran out of the courtyard and vaulted up the stairs. Halfway up the marble steps, he brushed the shoulder of a girl fast approaching from the other way, and a flush of fear flashed through him. He nearly stumbled with the sudden disturbance to his Ki. A dark feeling pressed against his heart as the midday torches along the walls sputtered. He looked back, but the girl had disappeared.

Ahead, something was coming.

* * *

The Palace was vaulted and filled with skylights that let in shafts of morning light. Women walked quietly among hundreds of shallow pools, weaving through a sea of ivory pillars. Hundreds knelt in prayer.

Kirin turned the corner and a woman stood before him. He was two-hands taller than her, but somehow he felt the shorter of the two. Evalyn’s chest heaved from running. He admitted it was not an unattractive sight in the least. She was well built, with slender shoulders, a slim waist, and a pretty face. The problem was she knew it all too well.

“Hello to you too, Kirin,” she said with an arrogant twist to her lips.

“Morning,” he said, and turned to the girl tucked behind the woman, “Morning Rosyaln.” Rosyaln was pretty and smart. Sadly, she was Evalyn’s shadow. Rosyaln smiled in return. Evalyn looked behind, and the girl’s smile became a frown. Kirin sighed. “I don’t have time for you this morning, Evalyn. I’d love to stay and chat, but if you’ll excuse me I was just on my way…”

“To see Vera,” Evayln interjected. “I heard there was an accident, do you know what happened?”

“An accident?”

“That’s what I heard. I do hope she is all right,” Evalyn said then lowered her voice to a whisper, “I even heard that someone was desiccated in the process…”

A flush of fear shot through him. “Was it Vera?” Kirin strode forward and gripped Evalyn’s arm.

The girl looked taken aback, her bravado gone. “I’m—I’m not certain. I only heard someone was,” she said, and then winced. “Kirin, you’re hurting me.” He let go and moved around her, sprinting through the halls. He prayed it wasn’t Vera. What would Vera do? She always said she couldn’t live without her power… He knew it wasn’t an idle threat. Reaching his room, his senses flared. He touched the door’s warm handle. It sent a tremor up his arm. Then, as quickly as it came it was gone. Without a second thought, he opened it.

He froze.

Black tentacles hung in the air.

Then he saw her.

Vera knelt in the center of the room, hunched as if hurt. From her back, the darkness expanded, unfurling like black wings. Kirin’s grip tightened on the door’s handle and he moved to free her when his Ki shouted in warning. As the dark feelers slithered over the walls, one of the black tentacles touched a nearby dresser and it snapped like dry tinder.

Kirin’s mind reeled. Suddenly, a frigid numbness shot through his body. He looked to his feet. An inky darkness pooled around his boots. His limbs refused to move as the darkness crawled over him. He pulled, but the darkness only slithered faster. It clawed higher, touching his thigh, reaching out like liquid hands. He opened his mind, picturing the leaf, and as he had been trained, he threw his rising fear into the floating leaf. He took a slow, heavy step. One leg at a time, he pushed forward as the dark hands crawled higher, until he reached Vera.

Her skin was pale. Green and blue veins spidered across her features. More veins pulsed in her slender neck like thick, tangled roots. She’s still alive. He held onto the thought like a drowning man. Quelling his terror, he grabbed Vera. Then he saw it. A blade protruded from her back, buried to its hilt within her stomach. His fingers clenched on her robes, and he gagged as warm blood poured over his hands. He touched the sword and pain shot through his arm, bursting inside his skull. His vision went black. But he held on, pulling the sword from her gut. Vera let out a gurgled cough. At the same time, he felt the darkness reach his torso. His vision cleared and he saw the dark tentacles now engulfed the room.

Voices sounded and the door blew open. Five men entered. Two wore shining plate—palace guards—and the other three wore dark brown leather and black mail. Devari, his brothers. Then he saw Ren. The man stood in the doorway, eyes wide, and sword raised. He realized every blade was directed at him. Glancing to the sword in his own hand, covered in Vera’s blood, he put the two together. “It wasn’t me!” He looked to his master. “Ren, you have to believe me!”

In the air, the tendrils wavered like a black snake waiting to strike.

“I believe you, Kirin, now put down your sword and drop the girl.”

“Ren, please, she’s dying, you have to help!” he pleaded, raising the frail body in his arms. In his hand, the sword seethed, as if eating at the light in the already dark room.

Ren’s expression narrowed. “We will, but first you must drop the sword! Don’t you see? Whatever is attached to you and killing Vera stems from that blade. Drop it and we will save Vera.” But something felt off to Kirin. The words and the world around seemed fuzzy, as if he was seeing it all through another’s eyes, and in his gut, something burned like a fire.

He looked down as Vera’s breathing slowed and then stopped. “No…” Something came over him. It flowed from the sword and into him, dark and powerful, plying him with promises. A dark mantle fell upon him, and when he looked up, rage consumed his vision. “Why didn’t you help her?” The sword tightened in his grip, and he felt the dark tentacles. He rose to his full height, holding Vera in one arm. The black tendrils that filled the room now sprouted from his back like dark wings.

Upon the ground, the darkness slithered. It neared a guard’s boot. Kirin tried to open his mouth, to yell in warning, but nothing came out. The guard shrieked and fell to his knees. The other palace guard watched, torn between his friend’s cries and the sword directed at him. His wild eyes settled on Kirin. The man charged with a fierce cry. The darkness was faster. The dark wings from his back lunged like lightning, perforating the man’s head with a fist-sized hole. Then it lifted the guard from the ground like a sack of flour, and flung him to the wall with a sickening thud.

Ren stepped forward, ignoring the pooling darkness. Kirin flinched, something begged the man to stop, to go no further, but his voice was robbed from his throat. “Stop this madness, Kirin!” Ren called. “I know you’re in there!”

Kirin railed, hearing the man’s voice. Ren took another step, and the dark feelers lifted, coiling. Ren raised his sword and Kirin cried out, but his voice was swallowed—it was no use.

He was lost.

* * *

The other palace guard let loose a chilling cry behind Ren.

Ren pivoted. A dark pool had gathered at the man’s feet, crawling over his legs and torso, dragging him down. Forgha grabbed the man’s outstretched arm, the only thing not seething in liquid darkness. Ren watched, but knew already. The darkness had the man. The guard’s grip tightened, screaming for Forgha to hold on, and Ren watched as Forgha strained, groaning as his muscles bunched and knotted, but soon the crawling darkness spread over the arm. Forgha snapped his hand away and just in time, as the darkness encased the guard’s head, snuffing his cries. A deathly quiet returned to the room once more. Ren gave a shiver as he turned his attention to the threat before them.

He spoke softly, “This thing, whatever it is, cannot be fought.” Ren saw no other way, and he could barely say the words. “We must kill the source.”

“How do we get to it?” Mearus asked, sizing the creature that was Kirin.

“You two must distract it. Do not endanger yourselves—merely pull its attention. I will get inside.”

“I’ll go left,” Forgha stated.

Mearus nodded, grip tightening on his curved sword.

“Get to the farthest sides of the room,” Ren instructed, “it will buy you time. Go. Now!”

At his command, the two men moved like stalking wolves, strafing to Kirin’s flanks, all the while watching the living, moving feelers that were suspended in the air, crawling over the stone and consuming the room.

Abruptly, the heavy glass window behind Kirin burst. Instantly, the wing-like feelers on Kirin’s right burst forward with astonishing speed, diving for Mearus. The man dodged, rolling to the left, and the arms smashed through a pile of furniture, raising a shower of splinters. At the same time, more tentacles shot towards Forgha’s head. He lashed at the darkened limb, cutting it in two. The two halves fell and Ren watched as they writhed upon the ground. Confidence stirred in him.

But then Forgha, all muscle and sinew, let loose a chilling scream. The man’s dark brown eyes bulged inside his skull. Ren watched horrified as the dark liquid poured down the man’s sword, burning like acid, flowing over his muscled arms and turning them to mutilated stumps. Another feeler shot out, ending Forgha’s bloody screams.

Mearus unleashed a fierce cry, diving towards Forgha.

Ren cried out, “Mearus! No!” But it was too late. He cringed as two more feelers bolted towards the man, cutting off his leg above the knee while the other punched a hole through his chest. The man gurgled blood, his eyes turning to Ren in disbelief as he fell to the ground.

Ren looked up, grip tightening on the haft of his sword. “Kirin…” he seethed, eyeing the boy he once knew. “I know this isn’t you. Wake up damn it!” This isn’t you, he repeated the words, wanting to believe them. In the heat of battle, Ren held a tight rein, his emotions locked behind a steel door, but now he felt it all spiraling beyond his control. His arm shook, sword rattling, though not in fear. He knew what he needed to do. If he could avoid the lightening quick feelers he could do it. He just needed to get in range…