My Shadow’s Keeper Part 1: Winimo (Excerpt)

By Rory Hatchel

***

            Thiala wiped the thin line of blood from her chin and kept circling. Her opponent was clearly faster than her, and if she stayed still for too long, she’d lose. She tried her best to ignore the spectators outside the sand circle, but she knew that Mother was in the crowd today. She needed to focus.

            The young Dark Elf dashed towards her, approaching her left side. Thiala pedaled quickly, twisting her torso to make him come in closer. He fell for it, and she lunged with her right hand to strike him in the solar plexus. Nothing connected as he rolled backwards, laughing as he went.

            “Tricky ghost,” he said as he lifted his fists and went back to circling.

            “You keep going for my left,” said Thiala.

            “You keep leaving it open.”

            “Do I?”

            The cocky look on his face disappeared, but only for the briefest moment. He laughed to himself and lowered his arms slightly, spreading them like he was going to tackle her instead of striking her.

            Her opponent was Lucan Cithreth, a spoiled and obnoxious brat who thought he was either the cleverest, fastest, or strongest boy of any room he walked into. He had dark grey skin and a bald head, one of the traditional cuts of his order. As they circled, Thiala caught sight of his twin sister, Dara. She was like him in color and face, but she had long black hair that covered half of her face. She yawned as she watched her brother fight.

            Lucan went for another lunge to Thiala’s left. She feinted a jab with her left hand, and Lucan practically yelped as he jumped backwards. Thiala laughed. Messime constantly chided her for not practicing more with her left hand, but she enjoyed making Lucan fear her weakness.

            “Am I in your head?” asked Thiala.

            “My mind is clear.”

            “That’s what your tutors say.”

            “Screw you,” spat Lucan.

            “Just not from my left, right?”

            Lucan lunged again, and Thiala bent quickly to the floor, almost falling to her knees. Lucan jumped, thinking she was going for his legs, but she scooped up a handful of sand and made a pathetic attempt at a kick, again with her left.

            Lucan swatted her leg away with his left hand and took the opening to punch her in the thigh with his right. Thiala tried to roll away, but Lucan was too fast. He followed up with two kicks to her ribs. When she cried out in pain, he pulled back his right hand. They glowed with a faint white light before smashing against the side of Thiala’s head. Her left side.

            Thiala raised her left hand in time to create a faint shield of golden light, absorbing the blow. Lucan stepped back, surprised, and Thiala took the chance to rise to her feet and switch the sand to her left hand in one smooth motion. Lucan shook his right hand like he’d punched steel.

            “No fair,” he said. “You can’t use magic.”

            “You started it.”

            Lucan smiled. People considered him attractive, but whenever he smiled, he took on vulpine features and looked arrogant and childish.

            “I figured any advantage available to me would be permissible.”

            “Is that so?” Thiala raised her right hand and shot out a thin line of green energy at her opponent. He gracefully dodged it, laughing as he went. The green beam went past him and disappeared as it left the sand circle.

            “Gloves off?” he asked. “So to speak.”

            “Sure.”

            Lucan disappeared in a puff of smoke. Thiala rolled forward, and sure enough, he appeared behind her. She barely dodged a punch to her kidneys. She reached behind herself and shot another blast of green energy. He dodged again and charged before she could get to her feet, approaching her right this time.

            Thiala summoned a small blade of ice. It coalesced in her hand, still dripping with condensation, as she swiped at Lucan. He jumped backwards, hissing. A thin gash opened up along the forearm.

            “Shit,” he said, looking down at his cut. Thiala took the opportunity to throw the knife at him. He looked up, his hands glowed a soft white, and he plucked the knife out of the air like an apple off a tree. He shifted his weight and pulled back his arm, preparing to throw the knife back. Thiala concentrated, and the knife exploded in his hands. Tiny shards of ice embedded in his hands and arms.

            “Motherfucker!”

            Thiala smiled and took the chance to catch her breath. “I see your vocabulary is as expansive as your intellect.”

            “Get fucked, ghost bitch,” snapped Lucan. He charged towards Thiala, his hands glowing a hot white. Thiala steeled herself to dodge as best as she could. The first two punches went for Thiala’s right, and she evaded each easily enough. The third went for her left, and she shielded against it. Another went for her left, past her shield, and slammed into the side of her head.

            Her vision flashed white. She spun in the air, twisting around the point of impact, and fell flat on her stomach onto the sand. The crowd fell silent, and Thiala imagined Lucan raising his fists in triumph.

            “Thiala, do you yield?” asked Messime from outside the ring.

            “Of course not,” said Thiala. She lifted her head and spat out blood.

            “You like that?” asked Lucan. He was doing a small shuffle dance around the sand circle, celebrating the victory he hadn’t earned yet. “See, I figured you out. Your left is your weak side.”

            “Yes,” said Thiala. “We all yield to your sister’s superior intellect.”

            Lucan stopped dancing. “What’d you say?”

            Thiala sat up. She turned to face Dara Cithreth in the audience. “Next time fight me yourself. I’d like a real opponent.”

            Dara nodded, and Thiala turned her attention back to Lucan. He was upset but trying his best to remain calm. “She didn’t tell me anything,” he said.

            “Right,” said Thiala. “You figured it out all by yourself.” She took advantage of his distraction to rise to her feet. “I’m sure Daddy is so proud.”

            “Fuck you,” spat Lucan, and he charged again, this time to Thiala’s left. She feinted with her right to counterattack, then threw the sand in her left hand at his eyes. Lucan roared as he was blinded. Thiala moved in quickly, summoning another ice knife in her right hand and stabbing it down into his left shoulder. She used the meat of his flesh as leverage to swing with her left foot and kick him in the groin.

            Lucan shrieked and fell to the ground, disabled. Thiala let the knife in his back harmlessly melt while she stood over him, a new knife in her hand and at his throat.

            “Do you yield?” she asked.

            “Fuck you.”

            Thiala quickly slashed his right cheek with her blade, leaving a deep line along his face. “That scar will remind you of the cost of pride,” she said. “Do you yield?”

            “You cheated,” he said. “You fucking cheated.”

            “I figured any advantage available to me would be permissible.”

            “Fuck you.”

            “Do you yield? Or do you need a matching one?” Thiala raised the blade to the opposite cheek.

            “I’m going to kill you,” he said. “As soon as I get the chance, I’m going to kill your pale ass, you fucking ghost, you fucking blood traitor.”

            Thiala’s smile wilted. She rose up over him and let her knife turn into mist. She looked at the edge of his form and caught the faint hint of his shadow. She focused on it and pulled with both her hands, balling them into fists. As she did, Lucan’s eyes widened, and his body stiffened. She had him paralyzed, but that was not enough. She pulled up, and the crowd around the ring gasped as they saw Lucan’s shadow change direction, rising up from the ground towards Thiala’s hands. She smiled, looking for Mother’s eyes in the crowd. Mother wouldn’t be impressed with her out maneuvering the monk; that much was to be expected. But she hadn’t seen Thiala do this. No one had seen Thiala do this, not even Messime.

            “Thiala,” said a voice from behind her, but she ignored it. She pulled, and the shadow came from Lucan’s mouth, from his eyes. His essence was a shadow. She could feel it. All of that confidence and bravado masking the insecurity. All that desire for his father’s approval. Yes, he was nothing. Whenever she consumed a shadow, she discovered how many creatures were weak in this world. All of them were driven by their fear, but not Thiala. She would never be afraid.

            “He yields,” said someone else. “Thiala, he yields.”

            Thiala’s smile widened. She could hear the fear in the room. All of them were afraid of her now, afraid of what she could do to Lucan and afraid of what she could do to them. She couldn’t take them all out at once, but that was the beauty of fear: it let her hunt them down one by one.

            “Please,” said a small voice. Thiala turned and saw Dara Cithreth at the edge of the ring, banging on the invisible wall that separated them. “Please,” she repeated. “He’ll never bother you again, I promise.”

            Thiala pulled on his shadow hard. Lucan’s body jerked up with it, rising into the air and then falling back to the sand. “If I take it, he won’t bother me ever again,” she said to Dara. “I promise.”

            “Thiala,” said another voice, this one stern and elderly. It was Messime. “Let him go. He yields.” Her mentor was banging on the wall, clearly disappointed in her, but more importantly, afraid of her.

            Scanning the room, she looked for Mother’s eyes but could not find them. Slowly, she released her hands, easing Lucan’s shadow back to the ground. The judge stepped into the ring and checked on Lucan immediately as Thiala stepped out. There was no applause for her.

***