The Shattered Land_ The Dreaming Dark - Keith Baker [8]
The stranger laughed, musical notes scattered across the dark wind. “Not quite, but you might say that we’re sisters.” She tossed back her head, and her hood fell back from her face. Like Lakashtai, her delicate features had an inhuman perfection, as if crafted by an artist who sought beauty with no sense of realism or compassion, but her skin was even paler than that of Lakashtai. Her hair was pure white, bound into a thick braid and wound about her neck; it seemed to glow with an inner light. “I am Tashana, little Daine, and your mind is mine to do with as I will.”
“We’ll see about that.”
She wasn’t armed, but her confidence suggested unseen powers, and Daine wasn’t about to take chances. He walked forward slowly, ready to launch into a swift lunge as soon as he was close enough. Glass or not, he should be able to pierce her skin.
“So we shall.”
The pale woman raised a hand. Tendrils of shadow rose from the pool and twined around her arm. The darkness flowed along her skin, and in seconds she was encased in a shield of shadows.
Daine shivered. There was something deeply wrong with this situation, and he felt the fear that only comes in a nightmare—the certain knowledge that as bad as things were, they could get even worse in the blink of an eye, with no limits on what terrors could appear. He fought the urge to turn and flee, running back to the safety of the camp, but he forced himself to seize hold of his emotions, to quiet his fears and hold his ground. If this was only a dream, nothing could truly harm him here.
“It’s not only a dream.”
Even as she spoke, the mists surrounding the woman rippled and reformed, creating a monstrous silhouette. Two muscular arms were tipped with massive pincers, and a dozen smaller tendrils writhed around the headless torso. There were no clear legs on the shadowform, just a long, powerful tail tipped with a fearsome stinger.
Daine had seen worse sights in the Mournland, but the lingering fears remained. Though he tried to silence his doubts, he could feel his heart racing.
I’m dreaming. None of this is real, not even my fear.
He brought his blade into the fourth guard position, presenting his right side and placing the point between him and the creature. Pushing away his doubts, he studied the monster. As disturbing as it was, it was a thing of mist and shadow; he could almost see the woman within. It’s a trick, some sort of magic—a disguise, nothing more.
“Allow me to prove otherwise.”
The shadowbeast charged forward. A huge pincer lanced out to crush Daine’s head, but he slid to one knee, dropping beneath the blow as he slashed up with his sword.
It was a perfect stroke and would have crippled a creature of flesh and blood, but this was like striking the wind, and the blade passed through the dark form with no effect whatsoever. For a moment, Daine let his guard drop. It’s just a shadow, after all. Then the creature caught him with a backhanded blow. The pincer slammed into his chest with the force of a sledgehammer, throwing him backwards and onto the ground. He rolled to the side just in time to keep the dark stinger from piercing his heart; instead it caught the edge of his chest, tugging against his chainmail.
Rising to his feet, he did his best to dodge the lashing claws. For a few moments he spun around the monstrosity, backing away and fighting to stay a step ahead of the dark horror. It can hit me. I can’t hurt it. A memory was lingering on the edge of his thoughts, and even as he ducked beneath another blow, it came to him: Pierce’s flail passing harmlessly through the insect swarm. Perhaps physical force wasn’t the answer. Heat might not hurt this thing, but light just might.
As the creature swung at him again, Daine stepped to the side and dove forward, rolling beneath the blow and toward the wreckage of the stormship. Dropping his useless sword, he grabbed a chunk of burning wood from the ground.
He flung the spar with all of his might, aiming directly