Shadowborn

Chapter Sixty: Camp Busting

Chapter Sixty: Camp Busting

The tears burned at the backs of her eyes, but Fourteen refused to let even a single one fall. She hadn’t shed a single one in years, and she didn’t plan to start now. Even if today was the worst day of her life so far. It was the closest she’d come since she’d taken her first life—another Dark Elf girl her age who’d begged while the collar forced the knife down—when she’d been just fifteen. Five years without a single tear shed, and the loss of her best friend damn near broke her.

But she knew better than to show any vulnerability around men like this. That was a quick way to invite the horrors she’d so far been relatively spared from thanks to a thin figure and a class that made people forget she existed. Even now, relief and guilt tore at her in equal measures.

Nine was gone. Only two of the grunts who’d set out on the last mission returned alive. Whoever they’d attacked had been a far bigger threat than Feng realized, and Fourteen’s friend had paid the price. For the last hour, Fourteen had wondered if whoever had killed Nine would come to finish off the scum that inhabited the camp around her.

On one hand, she was glad her friend wouldn’t have to suffer. Of all the girls who’d survived the trials, Nine had been both the strongest and the kindest. The things the collar had made her do...Fourteen was glad Nine wouldn’t have to do any more, wherever her soul was now. Maybe she’d get some peace, even if a part of Fourteen wanted to be so fucking angry that she was alone now.

She’d been relatively forgotten in the chaos that had consumed the camp since Bertrand had come back with his tail between his legs, whimpering about some monster that had cleaved through the entire group single-handedly. Feng was preparing a group to go after them, and Fourteen knew it was only a matter of time before he remembered his favorite knife and came to collect her.

[Sixth Sense] pinged, and she went stiff. A second later, the camp seemed to grow still. Fourteen stood, scanning the treeline that marked the area Feng’s slaves had cleared out. When she saw him, chills raced through her.

He wasn’t as tall as Nine, but then again nobody ever was. He was still taller than most humans—taller than her by about half a foot—but his physique wasn’t overly intimidating. The bloodsoaked clothes covered in cuts and the deathly calm expression on his face caused her skin to pebble, but that wasn’t what had set off her skill. No, for some strange reason, she felt no threat coming from him.

The evil fucking sword on his back? That was a different story.

A two hander too long to carry at his waist, the crimson gem at the crossguard seemed to stare at her. Into her. The scabbard was metal, which meant it must have been heavy as shit, but he walked as lightly as if he wasn’t wearing it. Then, looking over all the men in camp with a scarily passive expression, he reached behind him.

With a flick of his thumb, he opened a metal clasp that kept the sword in place. He slid it out an inch, and [Sixth Sense] drove Fourteen to her knees. Waves of inky, crimson tinted darkness poured from the scabbard while he slid the blood red blade free of its sheathe. The shadows fell around him like a cloak, writhing and twisting as if caressing him. Wrapping him in their embrace. The more shadow that pooled out, the harder it became to make out his form. Through the flickering shadows, Fourteen could just make out glimpses of some kind of black and red armor, there one moment and gone the next.

The camp exploded into action. More than one man turned and fled from the sight, even their basic instincts telling them that this fight was a fucking bad one to pick. Four grunts charged the newcomer—four of the dumber ones, admittedly—but he cut through them with a near-contemptuous ease. No fancy sword work, no flourish, just four killing strikes that left behind four corpses dead before they hit the ground.

Fourteen’s ears were ringing. Her heart pounded so loud she almost didn’t notice [Sixth Sense] activate a second time, but she did her best to ignore it. This must have been the man who killed the ambush team. The one who had killed Nine. She wanted to hate him, but after seeing what he was capable of?

If anyone could have given her a quick death, it was this man.

She focused every sense on him. He was the biggest threat in the forest, and if she thought it hard enough then the collar would agree. All Feng’s men were rushing towards that side of the camp, hoping numbers would help them turn the tide even as another handful disappeared into the trees. Fourteen sat there, just waiting on the command to come. This man would surely kill her, so the collar hadn’t made her move yet. It’s self preservation was something she’d tested well, and she knew it wouldn’t force her into a fight she knew she couldn’t win. A direct command was the only thing that could supersede that.

She watched his every move. Tracked each tendril that lashed out from the cloak of shadows that surrounded him, the reddish ones cutting into Feng’s men as easily as his sword, though without the same devastating effect. A cut from that crimson blade left the men screaming in pain, angry red veins visible spreading from the wounds it left behind. She knew a lot of poisons, and that wasn’t one.

She watched his every move, committing each one to memory, wondering which one took Nine from this world. She let everything else fade away, just staring at the way he fought. She’d never seen someone fight quite like him, without any real form or visible technique. He was a force of nature, constantly in motion, every strike bleeding into the next. No two attacks were exactly the same. He dodged skills like he knew they were coming long before they were cast. She watched it all, because if she stayed focused on him, then—

The blade was an inch from her ribs when the collar finally forced her into action.

Mana was ripped from her pool and [Sublimate] was cast. She faded into smoke, twisting and reappearing a few feet away from the rusty haired Nekomata, already leaping back. She’d been almost completely undetectable in her approach, but Fourteen’s skills were stronger than the girl’s.

Fourteen tried not to be disappointed that she was still breathing. The Neko girl had gotten closer than anyone had in a long time to sneaking up on her, even if she’d been using the shadow-wrapped man to distract the collar as long as she could. Resigning herself to having to take another life before the shadowy man could kill her, she cast [Conjure Dagger] before the collar could force her to. It was inevitable now, and she hated the feeling of the collar ripping her mana out.

Two long, curved daggers slid into her hands as if falling from her sleeves, though she knew they hadn’t existed a moment ago. “I’m sorry,” Fourteen whispered. The Nekomata girl’s ears twitched, but she didn’t respond. Fourteen threw a dagger that the girl barely dodged, then the collar forced her to [Blink] and close the distance between them in a fraction of a second.

Her blade was lashing out towards the Nekomata’s jugular when she was forced to twist, slicing an arrow out of the air that would have pierced the wrist of the arm still holding a dagger. In the time it took her to spot the human girl with a bow in hand and a cowl pulled low over her face, she’d had to block or dodge four more arrows, shot so impossibly close together that Fourteen could only search for the second archer.

But, too late for the collar to force her to redirect, she realized she’d been baited. The five initial arrows hadn’t been the attack, the sixth arrow shot in the space she’d been forced to dodge to was. It sunk into her thigh, and she’d barely even registered the pain before the collar had her shear the shaft off.

The arrow hurt like a motherfucker, but the collar didn’t give a shit about pain. Still, she could work with this. She assessed the fight and decided that the Neko was relatively harmless and the archer was the threat. Predictably, the collar forced her on the offensive, and her feet carried her towards the archer.

She’d only made it a few painful steps when she felt the presence behind her and the collar hurled her to the side. Whether she had a teleporting skill or a presence hiding skill, the Neko had gotten close enough to leave a shallow cut on her lower back.

Fourteen rolled to her feet, still convinced the archer was the real threat. She loosed a barrage of arrows in the time it took Fourteen to close the rest of the distance, but Fourteen was too quick for any of them to find purchase. A [Blink] closed the distance and she lunged in, ready to take advantage of the small window where archers always tried to scramble for their blades...

...and was completely caught off guard when the archer’s bow cracked across her jaw. The second strike from the other end of the bow hit her nose, causing her head to jerk back. Pain erupted in her side, and she staggered back to see that the archer had plunged her next arrow into Fourteen’s side. It was a spot that wouldn’t kill her, but it hurt like hell.

In the time it took Fourteen to stagger back a single step, the archer already had another arrow nocked and aimed. The collar forced her to [Sublimate] again just as the arrow began to pierce her chest. She reformed a few feet back, rubbing the fresh cut on her chest and snapping off the arrow at her side.

“That was fucking awesome,” Fourteen said. If she hadn’t been wearing a slave collar, she’d really want to be this girl’s friend.

The archer smirked, and the collar yanked Fourteen away from another perfectly executed sneak attack from the Neko. But when her legs moved a hair too slow and the Neko’s blade caught Fourteen’s bicep, she realized what was happening.

“Don’t rely on the poison on your weapons,” she said before the collar could stop her, “I’m trained to be resistant to—” The words died in her throat, but it was enough. Neither of her opponents reacted, but she had to hope they would take what she’d said into account.

She focused on the archer and the Neko faded away again. Her stealth skill was a powerful one, it seemed. Fourteen and the archer faced off, both waiting for the other to make the first move. Fourteen clocked the four arrows still in the woman’s quiver. She hadn’t drawn one, but she’d more than proven she could draw, aim, and shoot in the time it took even a decently skilled archer to nock an arrow. Whatever was going to happen, it would be quick.

The Neko’s blade passed so close to Fourteen’s neck that it severed a few hairs at her nape and the archer unleashed her arrows. Fourteen rolled as soon as the fourth one had been loosed and was met with a flash of silver as soon as she’d found her feet.

The thick throwing knife would have caught her dead center in the chest, but [Sublimate] activated for a third and final time. She felt the collar’s orders shift the second she reformed and knew she was about to flee. A part of her was glad the archer and the Neko would live, though she wished they might have taken her down. Without Nine, she wasn’t sure how much longer she would last in this life.

But before she could take a single step, the archer shouted, “Rhallani, now!”

Fourteen sought out the Neko at the same time [Sixth Sense] alerted her to a new threat from behind. She whirled, still off balance from the weakened effects of the poisons, expecting a third attacker. She was right, in a way, but otherwise completely unprepared for the sight flying at her.

“WHAT THE FUCK!?” she screamed, raw fear forcing her muscles to lock up in spite of the collar’s commands.

A snake. A fucking snake was launching at her. Not just any snake, either. One that was far longer than she was tall and as thick around as one of Nine’s thighs. Fangs longer than some of the blades she’d used in her time sank into her shoulder and she screamed, partly in pain and partly in terror.

She hit the ground and the weight of the snake rolled her. The next thing she knew, it was wrapped tightly around her body and squeezing so hard she could barely breathe. The collar made her fight, but her arms were pinned solidly to her side. Worse—or better, depending on her point of view—she could feel the venom being injected into her.Visitt for the latest updates

She expected pain or death, but what she got instead was...numbness. A warm, pleasant nothingness that started from the bite until the only thing she could feel was a pleasant buzz from her toes to her fingertips. Her head lolled as an Arelim stepped into view, sweat beading on her forehead.

“Hurry, it takes a lot of mana to use poison with my summons,” she said through grit teeth.

The Nekomata held her head up while the archer fished in a pouch. Fourteen forced herself to focus on the archer’s hard gaze. “You knew...” she slurred. “You knew I could only [Sublimate] three times. How did...how did you...”

I walked right up to the edge, and the man who’d been shoving papers into his back straightened. He had the air of a bandit leader, only cemented by his arrogant sneer. I smirked. “You’ve spent so long looking for me, surely you aren’t going to go running off so soon,” I said, raising the sword.

His sneer soured. “They didn’t say you’d be able to use it. That might as well be a breach of contract in my books.”

I arched a brow. “This doesn’t have to end in your death. Throw down your arms, answer some questions, and I’ll hand you over to Anford’s guard alive.”

He scoffed. “I’m no fool. I do that and I’ll hang.” He paused. “I tell you everything you want to know, and you let us walk away.”

A humorless laugh slipped from my throat. “Not a chance. You aren’t leaving the camp alive. You’re either walking out in chains or not at all. Your choice.”

He shook his head. “I can see why they’d want the sword, but they can come get it their damn selves.”

“Who hired you?”

“Like I’d tell you.” He shook his head. “Fucking kids sticking their noses where they don’t belong. You’ve stepped into something a lot bigger than your idiot brain can comprehend.”

I briefly wondered how his tune would change if he realized he was talking to the Zaren Nocht, slayer of Zagrith Grimsbane. I sighed. “So be it.”

I raised the blade and touched it to the edge of the barrier. The mage smirked, but his expression went slack quickly. The shadows burrowed into the perfect blue surface, unraveling the magic at a core level and ripping it apart before devouring it. The previously impenetrable shield crumbled, and the shadows raced across them and into the outstretched hand of the mage who’d held the shield up until that point. They tore into him, searching for more magic to unravel, and he screamed.

Angry red veins ripped through his flesh and an unexpected rush of pleasure came from the blade while it quite literally ripped the magic from the man’s blood. It took some effort, but I finally managed to rein them in before they fully killed the man.

He fell to the ground with a pained whimper, cradling his damaged arm that hung limp. “What the hell did you do?”

I winced. “Sorry, still getting used to certain aspects of this thing. You should probably know there’s a small chance you’ll never be able to channel mana through that arm again. I’d feel bad if not for all the killing, kidnapping, and enslavement you’ve been up to.”

The men all shot me horrified looks. The man in the center took one look at the mage and dropped his weapon, raising his hands. Feng snarled at him before launching at me with a rapier drawn. I internally cursed since his lighter, smaller weapon would have the upper hand in such close quarters. The second our blades crossed, I felt my Primal surge worryingly. This guy was of a considerably higher level than me.

He was fast and skilled, and we’d barely traded blows for more than a few seconds before he’d slipped my guard and his blade scraped along my ribcage. Rather than knocking him away, I curled my blade around his and dragged it across my body, catching his grip in a bind and forcing him to choose between losing his sword or breaking his wrist.

He chose to lose the sword, and I twisted my body to send it spinning away. Before I could press my advantage, he was coming at me with two thick daggers, staying inside the reach of my sword. My shadows lashed out at him, but an amulet at his neck flared violet and the shadows bounced off.

He struck out with the daggers, and to my eyes it was as if he’d split into multiples, all coming at me from different directions. My shadows only reacted to one, so I chose to strike at that one. My sword caught something solid and he jerked back with a surprised grunt, but that amulet glowed brighter and kept the magic of my sword from taking root.

I might be able to defeat him, but not quickly. He was too skilled, and if he’d been sent for the sword then I’d bet money that the amulet he was wearing had been designed for that purpose. I felt a sense of frustration coming from the blade alongside a sense of familiarity of the magic in that violet glow that only cemented my theory.

My Soul Essence was dipping more than I was comfortable with, which meant it was time for me to enact my last ditch plan that had gotten me out of more than a few sticky situations. I risked a glance to make sure I wasn’t going to make things worse, but Serena had already tied up the mage and the man who’d thrown his sword down while the fourth man was on the ground with Noelle’s axe at his throat and Tiana rifling through his pockets, pulling more than a few blades out and throwing them behind her.

Sorry about this, I thought to the blade, just before I flipped it over in my hand an tossed it to the man in front of me hilt first. Surprised, he did the only thing that came naturally. He dropped one of his daggers out of the air and snatched the blade.

Big mistake.

The connection between me and the sword severed, but not before I felt a rush of emotion. Indignation. Fury. Rage. I got a glimpse into the man in front of me and felt the echoes of the pain he’d caused. But what I felt was only a fraction of what the blade seemed to feel, and it was not happy with the man who was holding it.

He screamed shrilly as shadows erupted from the blade and tore into his arm. The amulet at his neck glowed brighter and brighter until it cracked. The flesh began to shrivel, first darkening to the burn I’d carried for over a week, then progressing until the flesh started to shrivel and crack. He screamed louder and louder until I took mercy and slammed my fist across his face and extracted the sword from his grip.

His breath heaved and his body trembled. He tried to crawl away, but his arm was blackened and curled against his chest. The blade did its equivalent of screaming at me in anger through whatever connection we had, and I winced.

“Sorry, I guess that’s probably not so pleasant for you, huh?” When the man looked up at me incredulously, I waved a hand. “Not you. Now, we’ve got two options here. You tell me what I need to know and I give you over to those guards we just freed, or I see how much of the blade’s magic you can handle before you start to sing.”

“Fuck you,” he spat.

I dug the tip of my blade into the dirt and glanced at the man under Noelle’s axe whose eyes were fixed on me. “The real question is how much your second in command can answer.” I looked back to the leader. “Might not need you alive after all if he knows enough.”

There was hatred in the man’s glare, but I was rather unbothered by it. “What do you want to know?” he seethed.

I hovered the tip of my sword over his chest. “Who hired you?”

I could hear his teeth grinding, but it was the second who spoke up. “Everard Bryce!” he barked. When I raised a brow, he couldn’t talk fast enough. “He’s a councilman from Amesseria! He contracted us to find the sword and provided the amulet and the compass.”

“Shut the fuck up!” the leader screamed.

“He also hired us to cause chaos. Taught us how to use Nekomata blood to lure things like blighwolves and gnolls around. Provided that collared gnoll, too, to take over the pack.”

“Danik, if you say one more word—”

“He also paid us to collect demi-human females! Young ones! We got a bonus for really low levels and an even bigger one for any rare classes we could find. He never told us why, and we didn’t ask because that was the job, but he didn’t pay us nearly enough to deal with whatever the fuck that sword just did to Feng.”

I looked to the man I figured was Feng. “Well, I like him. He’s really making me question why I’ve left you alive this long. Who hired you to attack our caravan? You didn’t know I had the sword until I pulled it out, so I know that wasn’t the reason.”

Feng seethed. “Fel Vossen hired me to teach you and the blond a lesson, but he neglected to mention the blade to me.”

Well, it was a damn good thing I hadn’t told him about it then. Seemed Sola was right about him being more than a little upset by me pissing him off. “How were you supposed to deliver the demi-humans?”

“Dead drop. Leave them at a location then walk away,” the second offered helpfully. “They did something that drew a bunch of wealthy Patrons back towards the capital, so we were hired to be a net and snag as many as we could.”

I slid the sword back into its scabbard, doing my best to hide my relief as I clicked the latch back into place. My head was starting to pound already, and standing here with the blade out was going to do more harm than good. “Well aren’t you just a font of information.” I looked back to Serena. “Tie them up, we’ll hand them over.” Then to Tiana. “Grab anything that looks important, guys like him usually have a little black book full of dirt on the people they work for just in case. I’d like to find that.”

I turned my attention back to Feng and the oh-so-helpful-second. “I’ll turn you over, and if you want me to even suggest to the guards that you deserve anything other than the gallows, you might want to think up some more interesting information.”

They’d given me a fucking gold mine, but I wasn’t about to let them know that. I looked around the room one final time before the hair on the back of my neck rose. Someone was outside, their shadow being cast against the canvas of the tent, and I couldn't shake the feeling that the cosmic turd had finally landed.