Jack Of Shadows (3 page)

He lay upon his back and studied the dark globe that occluded stars at midheaven. It was the focus of the Shield forces-that sphere held perpetually away from dayside's light-and someone should be seeing to its maintenance Where were the seven Powers of the listing in the Book of Ells, whose turn it would be to run Shield duty? Surely, whatever the internecine warfare of the moment, no Power would fail to observe a Shield truce when the fate of the entire world depended on it. Jack himself had run it countless times-even in league with the Lord of Bats on two occasions.

He longed to essay the spell which would give him sight of the current page of the Book of Ells, to see whose names were recorded there It occurred to him that one of them might be his own. But he had not heard his name spoken since his awakening in the Dung Pits. No, it must be another, he decided.

Opening his being, he could feel the terrible cold of the outer darkness as it seeped about the edges of the orb at the Shield's apex. It was only an initial leakage, but the longer they waited the more difficult the sealing would be. It was too important to take chances with. The spell-wrought Shield kept the darkside from freezing into All-winter as surely as their force screens prevented the daysiders from frying in the merciless glare of the sun. Jack closed his being to the inner chill.

Later, he succeeded in slaying a small, dark-furred creature as it dozed atop a rock. He skinned it and cleaned it with his blade, and as he had not come across any kindling he ate the meat raw. He cracked its bones with his teeth and sucked the marrow from them. He detested such rude living, although there were those among his acquaintances who preferred it to the more civilized. He was pleased that there were none to witness his repast.

As he walked on, there came a tingling within his ears.

Jack of Shadows, and....

That was all.

Whoever had spoken had had a shadow fall across his lips at that moment. It had been all too brief, however.

Jack turned his head slowly and knew the direction. It had been far ahead and to his right. Over a hundred leagues, he guessed. Possibly even in another kingdom.

He gnashed his teeth. If only he knew his present location, he could at least guess as to the source. As it was, he could have heard anything from a fragment of a tavern tale to a piece of a plot by someone already aware of his return. The possibility of the latter occupied his mind for a long while.

He increased his pace and did not rest at the time he had planned. He decided that this hastened his good fortune, when he discovered a rainpool. He found it free of surveillance, approached it and drank his fill.

He could not quite make out his reflection in the dark waters, so he strained his eyes until his features became faintly discernible: dark face, thin, faint lights for eyes, silhouette of a man with stars at his back.

"Ah, Jack! You've become a shadow your self!" he muttered. "Wasting away in a cruel land. All because you promised the Colonel Who Never Died that cursed bauble! Never thought it would come to this, did you? Was the attempt worth the price of failure?" Then he laughed, for the first time since his resurrection. "Are you laughing, too, shadow of a shadow?" he finally asked his reflection. "Probably," he decided. "But you are being polite about it because you are my reflection, and you know I'll go after the bloody jewel again, as soon as I know where it lies. She's worth it."

For a moment he forgot his hatred and smiled, the flames that burned at the back of his mind died down and were replaced by the image of the girl.

She had a pale face, with eyes the green of the edges of old mirrors. Her short upper lip touched the lower moistly in a faint pout. Her chin fit within the circle of his thumb and forefinger, and copper, catenary bangs flowed over matching brows like the wings of a hovering bird. Evene was her name and she stood up to his shoulder in height. She wore green velvet to a narrow waist. Her neck was like the bark-stripped base of a lovely tree. Her fingers moved like dancers on the strings of the palmyrin. This was Evene of the Fortress Holding.

Born of one of those rare unions between darkness and light, the Colonel Who Never Died was her father and a mortal woman named Loret her mother. Could that be a part of the fascination? he wondered once more. Since she's part of light, does she possess a soul? That must be it, he decided. He could not picture her as a darkside power, moving as he moved, emerging from the Dung Pits of Glyve. No! He banished the thought immediately.

The Hellflame was the bride-price her father had set, and he vowed to go after it again. First, of course, came the vengeance... But Evene would understand. She knew of his honor, his pride. She would wait. She had said that she would wait forever, that day he had departed for Igles and the Hellgames there. Being her father's daughter, time would mean little to her. She would outlive mortal women in youth, beauty and grace. She would wait.

"Yes, shadow of a shadow," he said to his other self within the pool. "She's worth it."

Hurrying through the darkness, wishing his feet were wheels, Jack heard the sound of hooves once more. Again he hid himself, and again they passed. Only this time they passed much nearer.

He did not hear his name spoken again, but he wondered whether there was any connection between the words he had heard and the riders who had come near.

The temperature did not decrease, not did it rise again. A constant chill was with him always, and whenever he opened his being he could feel the slow, steady leakage in the Shield above him. It would be most noticeable in this land, he reasoned, since the Dung Pits of Glyve lay directly beneath the Shield's apex, the sphere. Perhaps the effects had not yet been felt farther east.

He travelled on and he slept, and there were no further sounds which could be taken as pursuit. Heartened, he rested more frequently and occasionally deviated from the route he had set by the stars to investigate formations which might hold rainpools or animal life. On two such occasions he located water, but he found nothing that would provide nourishment.

On one such excursion he was attracted by a pale red glow coming through a cleft in the rock to his right. Had he been moving more quickly, he would have passed it unnoticed, so feeble was the light that emerged. As it was, he was picking his way up a slope, over gravel and loose stones.

When he saw it, he paused and wondered. Fire? If something was burning, there would be shadows. And if there were shadows...

He drew his blade and turned sidewise. Sword arm first, he entered the cleft. He eased himself along the narrow passage, resting his back against the stone between steps.

Looking upward, he estimated the top of the rocky mass at four times his own height. A river of stars flowed through the greater blackness of the stone.

The passage gradually turned to the left: then terminated abruptly, opening onto a wide ledge that stood perhaps three feet above the valley's floor. He stood there and considered the place.

It was closed on all sides by high and seemingly natural walls of stone. Black shrubbery grew along the bases of these walls, and dark weeds and grasses grew at a greater distance from them. All vegetation ceased, however, at the perimeter of a circle.

It lay at the far end of the valley, and its diameter was perhaps eighty feet. It was perfectly circumscribed and there were no signs of life within it. A huge mossy boulder stood at its center, glowing faintly.

Jack felt uneasy, though he could not say why. He surveyed the pinnacles and escarpments that hedged the valley. He glanced at the stars.

Was it his imagination, or did the light flicker once while his eyes were elsewhere?

He stepped down from the ledge. Then, cautiously, keeping close to the lefthand wall, he advanced.

The moss covered the boulder entirely. It was pinkish in color, and it seemed to be the source of the glow. As he neared it, Jack noted that it was not nearly as cold in the valley as it was outside it. Perhaps the walls provided some insulation.

Blade in hand, Jack entered the circle and advanced. Whatever the cause of the strangeness of this place, he reasoned that it might be a thing he could turn to his advantage.

But he had taken scarcely half a dozen steps within the circle, when he felt a psychic stirring like something bumping, nuzzling against his mind.

Fresh marrow! I cannot be contained! came the thought.

Jack halted.

"Who are you? Where are you?" he asked.

I lie before you, little one. Come to me

. "I see just a moldy rock."

Soon you will see more. Come to me!

"No thank you," said Jack, feeling a growing sinister intent behind the aroused consciousness which had addressed him.

It is not an invitation. It is a command that I place upon you.

He felt a strong force come into him, and with it a compulsion to move forward. He resisted mightily and asked, "What are you?"

I am that which you see before you. Come now!

"The rock or the fungus?" he inquired; struggling to remain where he stood and feeling that he was losing the contest. Once he took one step, he knew the second would come more easily. His will would be broken and the rock thing would have its way with him.

Say that I am both, although we are really one.- You are stubborn, creature. This is good. Now, however, you can no longer resist me.

It was true, His right leg was attempting to move of its own accord, and he realized that in a moment it would. So he compromised.

Turning his body, he yielded to the pressure, but the step that he took was more to the right than straight ahead.

Then his left foot began inching its way in the direction of the rock. Struggling while submitting, he moved to the side as well as ahead.

Very well. Though you will not come to me in a straight line, yet will you come to me.

The perspiration appeared on Jack's brow as step by step he fought; and step by step he advanced in a counterclockwise spiral toward that which summoned him. He was uncertain as to how long it was that he struggled. He forgot everything: his hatred, his hunger, his thirst, his love. There were only two things in the universe, himself and the pink boulder. The tension between them filled the air like a steady note which goes unheard after a time because of its constancy, which makes it a normal part of things. It was as if the struggle between Jack and the other had been going on forever.

Then something else entered the tight little universe of their conflict.

Forty or fifty painful steps-he had lost count-brought Jack into a position where he could see the far side of the boulder. It was then that his concentration almost gave way to a quick blazing of emotion and nearly allowed him to succumb to the tugging of that other will.

He staggered as he beheld the heap of skeletons that were lying behind the glowing stone.

Yes. I must position them there so that newcomers to this place will not grow fearful and avoid the circle of my influence. It is there that you, too, will lie, bloody one.

Recovering his self-control. Jack continued the duel, the piles of bones adding tangible incentive to the effort. He passed behind the boulder in his slow, circling motion, passed the bones and continued on. Soon he stood before it as he had done earlier, only now he was about ten feet nearer. The spiral continued and he found himself approaching the back side once again.

I must say that you are taking longer than any of the others. But then you are the first who thought to circle as you resigned yourself to me.

Jack did not reply, but as he rounded to the rear he studied the grisly remains. During his passage, he noted that swords and daggers, metal buckles and harness straps lay there intact; garments and other items of fabric appeared, for the most part, half-rotted. The spillage from several knapsacks lay upon the ground, but he could not positively identify all the small items by starlight. Still, if indeed he had seen what he thought he saw lying there among the bones, then a meager measure of hope, he decided, was allowable.

Once more around and you will come to me, little thing. You will touch me then.

As he moved. Jack drew nearer and nearer 'to the mottled, pink surface of the thing. It seemed to grow larger with each step, and the pale light it shed became more and more diffuse. No single point that he regarded seemed to possess luminescence of its own; the glow seemed an effect of the total surface.

Back to the front and within spitting distance ...

Moving around to the side now, so close that he could almost reach out and touch it ...

He transferred his blade to his left hand and struck out with it, gashing the mossy surface. A liquid appeared in the mark he had made.

You cannot hurt me that way. You cannot hurt me at all.

The skeletons came into view again, and he was very close to that surface which looked like cancerous flesh. He could feel it hungering for him, and he was kicking bones aside and hearing them crunch beneath his boots as he moved to the rear. He saw what he wanted and forced himself to go another three steps to reach it, though it was like walking against a hurricane He was just inches from that deadly surface now.

He threw himself toward the knapsacks. He raked them toward him-using both his blade and his hand-and he snatched also at the rotted cloaks and jackets that lay about him.

Then came an irresistible pull, and he fell himself moving backward until his shoulder touched the lichen-covered stone.

He tried to drag himself away, knowing in advance that he would fail.

For a moment he felt nothing. Then an icy sensation began at the point of contact. This quickly faded and was gone. There was no pain. He realized then that the shoulder had grown completely numb.

It is not as terrible as you feared, is it?

Then, like a man who has been sitting for hours and rises too quickly, a wave of dark dizziness rushed through his head. This passed, but when it did he became aware of a new sensation. It was as though a plug had been pulled in his shoulder. He felt his strength draining away. With each heartbeat it became more difficult to think clearly. The numbness began to spread across his back and down his arm. It was difficult to raise his right hand and grope for the bag at his belt. He fumbled with it for what seemed to be ages.