The Shade

[PepsiWhirda]

Whirda and Van Helsing stood back to back. The holy fire on their weapons formed a protective bubble, fending off the wriggling shadow appendages. Hundreds of them now poked and prodded forward, retreating only when the light caused them to smolder and crinkle. Whirda marveled at the efficacy of Lady Tyrande's enchantment. Without it, she and Nyx would have perished a dozen times over at the hands of the undead.

In the utter darkness, Ahn Thrix's seething blue eyes narrowed, then disappeared.

"Keep your wits about you, dear girl," Van Helsing whispered. "Not all that you see will be real."

The holy fire danced and sputtered, warping their shadows into twisted, monstrous things. Whirda nodded, searching the darkness for any sign of the shade. Adrenaline and wire-taut fatigue honed her senses. She could smell the lingering oil from the extinguished lanterns, taste the bitter pungency of residual sorcery.

Hear the scuff of feet on stone, approaching from the left.

Ahn Thrix flashed into view, his dagger trailing a haze of opaque ash. Shadow serpents writhed all around him.

Whirda twisted at the waist, positioning her feet and rocking her weight back on her heels. She crossed her kukris as the dagger swept in. Metal clashed with metal, the force of the attack driving Whirda back. The shade loomed over her, grinning maniacally. She could smell his putrid breath as she disengaged, side-stepping as Van Helsing came across, his longsword sweeping down in an overhead chop.

Instead of overbalancing and succumbing to the coordinated assault, Ahn Thrix vanished with a cackle, leaving only a cloud of ash in his wake.

Whirda and Van Helsing reformed their back to back stance. "He's fast," Whirda said. "Too fast."

"Never that," Van Helsing replied. "Focus!"

From everywhere in the cavern came Ahn Thrix's booming voice. "Yes, Whirda Windstrom. Focus." That serpentine laughter filled her ears. The children, silenced before by the descending darkness, started screaming again.

Whirda clenched her teeth to block out some of the noise. This time, she wouldn't be able to hear the shade coming. Her lips quirked in a wry grin. Focus, indeed.

Long seconds bled past them in the dark. Whirda held her kukris out wide, maximizing how far she could see. She thought about Nyx—and, apparently, Dobson!—, alone in the dark. The blood mage had proven herself resilient, certainly, but not powerful. Whatever the creatures were that Ahn Thrix sent after them, she had to hope Nyx could handle herself.

"Right!" Van Helsing cried.

"Left!" Whirda called.

Indeed, the shade was approaching, it seemed, from both sides. Two pairs of electric eyes blazed out of the darkness. Two gaping mouths. Two daggers, leaking ash that clotted in the air and hung fast.

Whirda and the professor spun, so each of them was facing an attacker. "Professor, down!" Whirda hissed. As Van Helsing dropped to the ground, a gust of wind hurled Whirda high above the scene. The shades, taken aback by the shift in tactics, almost collided into each other. One of them disappeared with a crack, but the other remained.

As one, Van Helsing rose, his sword impaling the shade through the chest, and Whirda landed catlike upon his shoulders, her kukris diving through shoulder blade and scoring off bone. The professor's sword emerged from Ahn Thrix's back with a spray of black, pausing just inches in front of Whirda's stomach.

For a long moment, everything stood still.

"Well done," Ahn Thrix's voice boomed. "Now, to make things interesting!"

The shade closest to them exploded into thick ropes of shadow. Whirda was thrown free, somersaulting through the air. She steadied herself with a second gust and landed, tucking into a roll to absorb her momentum. The shadow serpents were on her in seconds, wrapping around her legs, her arms, tangling in her hair. For a moment, she couldn't see, couldn't breathe, could hardly think. Across the way, the professor's cursing told a similar story.

Whirda brought her kukri across, slicing through the serpents on her face. The holy fire devoured them along their length, spreading down her arms and across her chest. In seconds she was free, stumbling forward, throwing her weapons in the air to try to catch sight of the real Ahn Thrix.

From behind, two skeletal hands grasped her wrists and twisted.

Whirda screamed, her kukris skittering across the ground.

Ahn Thrix lifted her up, her wrists bending painfully, that grip, in spite of the shade's emaciated frame, as tight as iron manacles. She kicked and wriggled for purchase, her boots scoring off the shade's chest. She couldn't move him an inch.

Van Helsing rolled free of the serpents, tossing his sword aside and lifting his crossbow. He couldn't find a shot that wouldn't risk hurting Whirda, who Ahn Thrix used as a human shield. "Put her down, shade!" he roared.

"Very well," Ahn Thrix boomed. "But first..."

In her periphery, Whirda saw a flash of blue, followed by the screech of metal on stone. Directly in front of her, the floor beneath the hanging cages was sliding aside. Whirda's discarded weapons glowed fiercely, but could not penetrate the darkness in the shafts. "What... are... you doing?" she grunted, twisting and kicking for effort.

"This," Ahn Thrix said simply. Another flash of blue, and the cages snapped free of their chains. Amidst the screams of the children, and Van Helsing's strangled cry, the cages plunged into the inky blackness of the shafts. A moment later, Whirda heard a splash. Water and foam shot high above the openings in the ground, and the cries were cut immediately short.

"You have a choice, professor!" The shade cackled with all the lunacy he could muster. "Save the girl, or save the children you are sworn to protect!"

Van Helsing looked desperately from Whirda to the shaft. For the first time since she'd met him, the professor looked lost. Defeated. Resigned to losing something he cared about in this pointless battle.

Whirda caught his eye, and winked. "Save them," she said, with all the conviction she could muster.

The professor jerked, trying somehow to nod and shake his head simultaneously. He snatched his sword from the ground and bolted for the closest shaft, diving into the darkness. A second splash told Whirda he had made it into the water. No tricks from the shade, it seemed.

"Now, it is you and me, Whirda Windstrom," Ahn Thrix rumbled. "Such is my—"

The shade would have continued his mindless prattling, had a cyclonic prison not caught him and spun him around. Even at his size, Ahn Thrix was buffeted by the winds, relinquishing his hold on Whirda's wrists. She fell to her knees, diving forward and scooping up her weapons. She came to a stop, thrusting the light high, just as the shade stumbled free of the cyclone and vanished.

"Very good!" he boomed from somewhere else entirely. "But how will you fare without your darling professor?"

Whirda ignored him and ran to the second shaft. Before she could dive inside, it slammed shut. She landed on solid stone, bracing the fall with the palm of her hand and spinning to her feet.

The holy fire sputtered in the darkness, and for the first time since arriving in the Tangled Green, Whirda was hopelessly, utterly alone.