The Knife's Edge

Chapter Seven

KAIL'S TREE

Kail was a statue of calm, sitting cross-legged beneath the shelter of a yen tree. The blades of grass leaned away from the wanderer, but the shadows drew nearer.

A tiny speck shot into the night sky like an arrow. It slowed to a stop, as if stuck in the starry web, and then suddenly it burst into golden rain. A chorus of good cheer erupted. Eyes closed, he listened to the sound of laughter as if hearing it for the first time. How long has it been since I’ve felt the warmth of an inn, the taste of wine, or even shared the company of another? Ages, he knew. The chill darkness was his only comfort now.

Shunning the thoughts, he closed his eyes and sought relentlessly. Not with his eyes, but with an entirely different sense. Outside his mind, the shadows from the ground and tree inched closer. The black tendrils reached for his limbs.

As he had done many times, he stalked closer to the nexus within his mind. Others had reached for the flow before and been less than lucky—grasping the power too quickly could incinerate one’s body, like a burning ember to dry tinder. Once he embraced the nexus, he was gone.

His vision flew forward, over the green fields. He raced toward the Eastern Kingdoms. The grass turned to sandy plains, and then to the rocky Crags. It was an impenetrable terrain of rock and towering boulders. In its center was a deep chasm called The Rift where it was said the world split thousands of years ago, before even Kail was alive, and now tiny crag beasts dwelled. Somewhere in that land, the ancient Kingdom of Stone, Dun Varis, still existed. Kail had heard the rumors. A whole city and its people, resurrected from the ashes of the Lieon, but even his eye could not attest to the truth of it.

To the north, the land was just as pitiless. The rocky Crags became the white plains of the Merkal Desert. There, the cruel sun took out its aggression on the sunbaked people, the foul-mouthed traders of the east. Still, there was nothing. No sign of what he sought and time was wearing thin, for he could only hold the vision for so long. Where are you?

Back under the tree where his body sat unaware, the groping shadows turned black as fetid oil. They encircled him.

Within his mind, Kail pushed forward, flying north. His vision swooped down into a wide basin. There sat the jewel of the Eastern Kingdoms, Rimdel. A trader’s paradise.
It was a capital with no central rule, inhabited by only thieves, ruffians, and traders as hard as stone. But where once was a sprawling city, teeming with life, now sat a ruined and ashy pit that sprawled for miles. Far and wide, the land was dyed a soul-sucking black. The Eastern Kingdoms are done. Still it was not what he was looking for. Time was closing around him like a noose.

Back beneath the yen tree, his nails sunk into his palms, creating a thin stream of blood. The oozing black crept up his clothes, sucking in the moon’s sickly yellow glow as it moved. It inched higher up his thick neck, like liquid crawlers, approaching his mouth. It left behind a trail of blood and red bruises. It reached his closed mouth and found his flaring nostrils. Slowly, it seeped inside, stealing his breath. The bulk of the shadow struck, constricting around his torso like a monstrous snake with the power to shatter bones. At the same time, the shadows inside expanded, pressing fine poisonous fangs into the soft skin of his throat.

However, he was far away, unaware that his body was dying. He traveled even faster. The world was a blur beneath him. His head swam, and he felt his mind ripping into two parts from the heat of the power. Finally, he smelled it. Their scent was on the wind—ancient yet new. He followed it and snowy plains coated with blood filled his vision. His eyes caught a trailing fleet of hulking beasts and at their head nine men upon tall deathless steeds. His eyes fell upon one of the dark figures with a huge spike upon his shoulder. The figure twisted, as if looking straight into Kail’s soul. Despite the distance, for a fleeting moment, he saw a flash of red. Then, like a cudgel to the side of his head, the vision shattered.

He sucked in the black liquid as his vision broke and he rushed back to his body like a tempest. His eyes bulged as the last drops of air were expelled from his lungs. With the darkness crushing him from every angle, he slowly rose, and shut his eyes. A maelstrom of wind pulsed out from his center, streaming out of every pore. He crushed the heavy black shadows like the sun’s light on the last vestiges of night.

His shoulders rolled in a stretch. Even while holding my power they came. Which means they are either getting braver, or more desperate. He hoped it was the latter, but knew better. Wind flurries died at his feet and in the moon’s pallid light, he watched the last of the black liquid slink along his hand. He brushed it off without looking. Then, with a touch of his power, he ignited it. The darkness cracked and hissed like water upon hot coals, and then disappeared as if it were never there.

He looked north and east. A cold settled over him that was not from the chill night. He had found them. And they were coming. He felt an all-too familiar regret, eyeing Lakewood.

At his back, he felt the presence of a shrouded forest—the ancient woods whose canopy was too thick for even his vision to penetrate. Kail’s scarlet eyes hardened. His gray cloak emblazoned with crossed swords wavered in the wind. He knew what he had to do. At last he turned, and stalked into the night. Into the Lost Woods. What the boy carries must not fall into their hands, he vowed. He had worked too hard to prevent that —even become the traitor to keep the blade upon its destined path.

And if he failed, Kail knew, Daerval would be the first to fall before the entire world crumbled.