‘Solus. Soillse.’
The salt-filled glyph brightened, throwing up light, dispelling even their own shadows through its radiance.
The priest opened his eyes and looked about. ‘We are safe … for now. We can’t stay here for ever, though. When night falls, we’ll be vulnerable again.’
Lemwich scratched his head. ‘So what do we do?’
Silence. The avatars, the blacksmith and the priest looked from one to another, searching for answers. No one said a word.
‘Give me the boy, and I will let you go.’
The words came from the direction of the well, and as one they turned towards the voice.
A tall man in fluttering grey robes stood within the shadows cast by the well’s roof and waist-high wall. Though it was early afternoon, his clothes absorbed the ambient light, giving him the appearance of standing in the deepest shade.
Oyru, Annev thought, the Shadow Reborn. He really was behind the attack.
As in Banok, the assassin’s face was covered by a black wrap and his eyes were expressionless. He stepped from the shadows cast by the well and moved into the sunlight, blinking fiercely.
He doesn’t like the light, Annev realised, but he can withstand it.
Oyru stepped to the edge of Sodar’s glyph. With one hand shielding his eyes, he leaned forward, inspecting the ward. ‘Give me the boy,’ the assassin repeated, his voice devoid of emotion, ‘and I will let you go.’
Titus tugged on Annev’s cloak. ‘Who is he talking about?’
‘Me.’
Brinden sputtered. ‘Well, go with him then. The least you can do is let us live.’
Fyn smacked his former lackey on the back of the head. ‘Idiot! You think after killing half the village that thing’s going to let the rest of us go?’ He pointed his mace at the shadowy figure. ‘The second he gets Annev, he’ll slaughter the rest of us. Or he’ll wait till it’s dark and send those shadow demons to finish us.’
Brinden lowered his head, cowed by Fyn’s words.
The shadow-garbed assassin eased away and settled himself on a patch of ground fifty feet off. He sat cross-legged, clasped his hands in front of his chest, and closed his eyes.
‘What the hell is he doing?’ Lemwich wondered aloud.
‘He’s meditating,’ Titus whispered in response. ‘At least, that’s what it looks like.’
Annev turned to Sodar. ‘What do we do?’
The priest looked at his pupil then stared across the square at Oyru. ‘I’m not sure.’ He spoke quietly under his breath so that only Annev could hear. ‘I suspect he can cross the glyph, yet he chooses not to. Why? Not because he feels threatened or hesitates to shed blood. No, if he is avoiding a fight, it is because he must.’ Sodar tapped his chin, thinking.
‘Maybe he needs me alive,’ Annev said, remembering his queer conversation with Janak. ‘Maybe he’s not here to kill me. He’s here to … collect me.’
Sodar nodded, his eyes trained on the meditating assassin. ‘That may be it. Oyru is one of Dortafola’s six assassins, so if he wants you, it is because Keos – or Neruacanta acting as Keos – has sent him to claim you.’
The Shadowcaster hunts him. The Shadow God wants him. The Fallen God needs him. The crone’s words haunted Annev.
‘You keep calling him the Shadow Reborn. Why?’
‘Because he died and was resurrected through a pact with Keos. He’s not the most powerful of the Si?nar, nor the most cunning or evil, but he is certainly the most deadly. He was an assassin when he was alive – a shadowcaster who worshipped Dorchnok – and now he is something worse. A ghost, more shadow than flesh, yet not bound by the same laws as the eidolons.’ Sodar broke his gaze from Oyru and looked at Annev. ‘There are tricks to fighting men and shadows, but how do you fight something that is both and neither at the same time?’
Oyru’s eyes sprang open. With his hands still clasped in front of him, the assassin stood. He looked at Sodar, his eyes cold. ‘Give me the boy.’
Sodar pursed his lips and said nothing. Behind him, Sraon shifted his stance and raised his halberd, Lemwich hefted his two-foot smithing hammer, and Titus readied his shield and rapier. Seconds slipped by. Nobody moved, and the assassin’s gaze calmly ranged from person to person before resting on Annev.
‘So be it.’
The Shadow unclasped his hands and whipped spinning stars of black metal at Sodar. The priest dodged the first – aimed at his throat – while the second embedded itself in his leg. He cried out and clutched his wounded thigh.
Oyru flicked his wrists again, whipping star after star at the clustered group within the glyph. One pinged off Titus’s shield while another struck Brinden’s forehead, sending the avatar reeling to the ground. Sraon spun his halberd protectively in front of him, deflected one star, and caught a second in his shoulder.
A volley of metal shot back at the grey-robed assassin as Fyn hurled his throwing daggers. The assassin dodged one then plucked the second out of the air, tossing it back at Fyn. Fyn dodged, but not before throwing a third knife. The heavy-bladed dagger thudded into the assassin, knocking him back a step.
Oyru looked down at the weapon sticking from his chest. He closed his eyes and his body slowly shimmered and faded, becoming as grey and insubstantial as the eidolons. The dagger slowly slid through the assassin’s chest, then passed cleanly through his body and thumped to the ground.
‘Bloody bones,’ Therin swore.
This isn’t working, Annev thought, looking at Sodar and Sraon’s wounds and then at Brinden’s lifeless body. If we stay within the ward we’re open to Oyru’s attack, and he’s impervious to ours.
‘Sraon, can you watch over Sodar?’
The blacksmith nodded. He had pulled the throwing star from his shoulder and was inspecting the wound. ‘Aye. I can still fight if that’s what you’re asking.’
Annev nodded and swung back towards the assassin, who had picked up the dagger that had struck him. He turned the heavy blade in his hands, testing its edge, then tossed it to the ground, indifferent.
There are tricks to fighting men and shadows, but how do you fight something that is both and neither at the same time …
Oyru completely ignored the avatars and prodded his chest, examining the spot where the dagger had struck him. He’s seeing how badly he’s been hurt, Annev thought, which means steel can hurt him … but not while he’s more shadow than flesh. Maybe that’s why he won’t fight within the ward.
The assassin stepped backward into the slight shadow cast by the roof and walls of the well.
The light doesn’t hurt him as much as it does the eidolons, Annev thought, but it makes him vulnerable. He’s planning to wait until the sun is lower before he attacks again … which makes this our best moment to strike.