Terror of the Shadow

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

"Let it be known to Ura-chan and throughout all of Malkuth that this boy, Laban, has blasphemed against Those Above and defiled their sacred name. He has not followed the tenets of our religion and seeks to place himself in power above that of the Elders of this tribe, which elders were divinely appointed by our Protectors. By the power vested in this council by Those Above, we unanimously and formally denounce the actions of this man and excommunicate him from our faith. He is cut off from the heavens, condemned to an eternity of torment as he can never return to the bosom of our Creators.

"May the spirit of Those Above be with us all in this time of darkness, and all of those who may have been tempted by the words of this heretic. We will bow our heads and pray, giving thanks to Those Above that, on this Sabbath day, we have been rid of this traitor in our midst, and that we have gained victory over our enemies the War'acks."

A crowd that normally congregated to hear the elders preach and teach of Those Above now gathered to hear Laban's final sentence. He had been placed on top of their high pulpit and bound to the pole from which the flag of Ura-chan waved. When the elder finally spoke the final, condemning words: "Banished from Ura-chan for the duration of his life," Laban almost wished that they had just taken an axe to his neck and been done with it. He knew, and certainly the elders knew that banishment was very nearly a death sentence.

And yet, Aristarchus had survived. Laban wondered, as he struggled against the ropes that burned and cut at his wrists, if similar words had been spoken against him, all those years ago when he had been banished from his own city.

Laban's gaze drifted over the congregation, whose focus had now, thankfully, shifted from him to the preacher, who was reading an excerpt from one of their holy books. Ura-chan was not a large city; he recognized most of their faces. These were people he had eaten with and lived with and hunted with for more than a year. He didn't know all of their names, but there was a good number that he did.

His heart sank when he imagined that many of them may not live to see tomorrow.

A shadow will fall over this city. The specter's words would not stop playing back over and over in his mind. His knees began to quiver. Though the heat of the sun beat down on him, he felt cold. The anxiety only increased with every second that passed. It felt like he was watching the dark clouds of a sandstorm on the horizon, swiftly approaching. He was just waiting for it to wash over him.

Something evil was in the air, and it was getting closer.

Laban's heart pounded to keep up with his rapid breathing. Each time he blinked, his mind flashed with images of blood and fire. The smiling mask of the Shadow Man stood over all of it. Soon, it became too much to bear.

"Stop!" Laban shouted.

The preacher turned, fury burning in his eyes.

"You would dare interrupt the sacred—" the elder started to say.

"You all need to get out of here!" Laban cried into the congregation. "It is not safe here! The Shadow Man is coming! He is going to kill us all!"

A murmur ran through the crowd. They whispered to one another, wondering what Laban could have meant. They listened for more.

"Get onto the Kannebore! Take the hovercraft or the zoomer bikes! Run if you have to! Just get out of the city! This is your last chance!"

The elder threw the back of his hand against Laban's face.

"Silence, child! I will not have you blaspheme—"

"Listen!" someone in the crowd interrupted. "Something's coming!"