The Knife's Edge

Chapter Fourteen

THE SHADOW'S HAND

Gray’s legs burned as he followed the hermit’s cloak through the night. The tree limbs seemed to reach out, lashing at him as a roar cracked through the woods. The forest was a blur as he ran. He skidded to a halt, nearly crashing into Mura. They stood in a small clearing. To his left was a sheer cliff with a view of the vast canopy of the lower woods, far below.

He slumped against a tree, catching his breath. “What’s happening? Those things were vergs weren’t they?” He shivered at even saying the name. Vergs were monstrous creatures, myths rumored to have lived during the Lieon, but no more than that.

Mura didn’t seem to be listening. He moved as if searching for something. “It was here! It has to be,” he muttered. He set down a strange scimitar that Gray hadn’t seen until now with brown sheath and obsidian-like handle. The hermit’s hands grazed the trunk of a silveroot. He tore into the brush at the base of the tree, ripping away clumps of tanglevine. Gray watched in confusion as the hermit’s fingers pried into the tree’s base, pulling away a perfectly square hunk of wood from the trunk and unveiling a dark cubbyhole.

He stepped forward. “How did you know that was there?”

“Because I created it, a long time ago, and have kept it concealed for a much needed time.” Reaching in, Mura extracted a brown bag. “I will answer all, lad, but this is not the time. Now come forth.”

Mura grabbed a handful of the forest floor, and then rubbed the soil between his palms. He then put a hand to Gray’s head. The warmth of the man’s palm against his temple was comforting. He opened his mouth when a bright light bloomed. It grew as Mura chanted in Elvish. A chill coursed through his body. “What did you do?” he asked. “That was...”

“Magic,” said Mura. “It’s not much, but it will hide your scent for five days, and buy you time to leave the woods.”

“But where will I go?”

“North and stop for nothing. Follow the Silvas River. It will lead you out of the woods and to safety. Once out, get to the town of Lakewood, and I will find you there. I swear it. But you must go now.” He picked up the bag and pressed it to Gray’s chest. “Here, take this.”

“What’s this?”

“Some of the answers to your past,” said the hermit, “Now, go! There isn’t much time.” The howls grew louder, emphasizing his words.

He unsheathed Morrowil from his back. “I won’t let you fight them alone. I can help.”

Abruptly, the woods darkened, and even the silver light from his sword dimmed. “Go!” Mura shoved him, withdrawing his blade.

Gray startled at sound like rushing air. A black mist appeared, and then vanished.

“What is that?”

“A creature not from this world,” Mura said.

Like dark lightning, the black mist leapt from one tree to another and a voice hissed from everywhere at once, “Handle them. Kill the boy and take the sssword.”

A figure stepped out from the shadows, head scraping the belly of the bent boughs.

Despite uneven shadows, Gray saw teeth like hand-length daggers jutting from a wide mouth.

“Run, boy! Now!”

Gray took a step backwards.

The verg gave a throaty laugh. “You should listen to your master,” it said, guttural voice rasping like a saw, as if it were not meant for speech.

“Flee!” Mura yelled.

Something flashed within the dark slits of trees. The shadows materialized, leaping towards him. He dove to the ground, pitching beneath a set of glistening fangs. His sword tip caught the dirt and was ripped from his grip. He turned to see a large black wolf. It turned its massive head, eyeing him with burnished red eyes. Gray’s heart hammered as he grasped for his sword. It was nowhere to be seen. He twisted, and in the pocket of his vision he glimpsed the blade. It was several feet behind him, teetering on the cliff’s edge.

Slowly, he edged towards it. In the corner of his vision, Mura leapt over the verg’s massive swipe, moving with incredible speed. As he looked back, the wolf lunged. Gray reached for his sword. As he gripped the handle, sharp teeth snatched his arm scraping against bare bone. He screamed in pain. Still, he gripped the sword and kicked at the beast, slamming his heel into its muzzle. The wolf didn’t budge, its teeth like iron pincers. It snarled and shook, ripping at his flesh. Gray gasped, pain blotting his vision when he saw trunk-like legs pounding towards him.

“No!” Mura cried out.

The verg’s huge hand seized Gray’s arm and heaved him into the air. He cried out, stretched between the wolf’s snarling jaws and the verg’s brutish grip. Mura dove, lashing at the verg, lacerating its trunk-like legs with his sword. The verg gave a bestial roar. The earth shuddered as its fist cracked the ground and shards of dirt flew. Gray’s body whipped like a wet rag. Through his agony, he felt the wolf’s teeth slip. He heard a loud pop and his vision clouded in pain, voice too hoarse to scream.

When his sight cleared, he saw Mura. The hermit was slumped against a cracked tree trunk. The verg eyed the hermit like a child playing with a broken doll. It turned its massive head. Gray closed his eyes, feigning unconsciousness. “The boy is ours,” the verg rumbled.

Suddenly, something pressed against his back, digging into the root of his spine. His dagger .

“No, he belongs to her,” a voice replied, darker but far less booming than the verg. “She is his keeper.” Gray opened his eyes a fraction and saw the wolf. Its pale lips moved, snarling each word. The wolf speaks...

“She does not command us, beast,” the verg growled. “We answer only to the Rehass. We are the Shadow’s Hand. Flee to your mistress before I crush your bones where you stand.”

The wolf’s red eyes gleamed. “Perhaps I will bite off your flapping tongue and deliver that instead. Along with the boy’s body,” the wolf snapped, its snarl rising in intensity. “Give him to me.”

“Never,” the verg said, its deep growl shaking the ground. Gray’s heart slammed inside his own chest. His left hand dangled, painstakingly he inched it closer to his concealed dagger.

“The boy’s alive!” the wolf snarled and lunged for his leg.

Gray reached for his dagger, but the verg moved quicker. The beast swiped at the wolf, protecting its bounty. Struck by the mighty fist, the wolf yelped, skidding to the cliff’s edge. At the same time, Gray unleashed a cry of rage. Ignoring the stunning shards of pain, he grabbed his hidden dagger. He whipped it around and slammed it into the verg’s fist, piercing its thick hide. The verg howled in rage, then flailed. But Gray held on. He sliced down, cutting bone and tendon. The beast roared. With its free hand, the verg gripped him around the waist, and threw him with a grunt.

Gray was ripped from the dagger and he catapulted through the air. He hit the ground, skidding towards the cliff like a pebble across water. His fingers clawed the ground, but it was useless. The last thing he saw was Mura’s horrified face as he slipped over the edge and beyond, falling towards a sea of trees.