me, little thing. You will touch me then.
As he moved. Jack drew nearer and nearer 'to the mottled, pink surface of the thing. It seemed to grow larger with each step, and the pale light it shed became more and more diffuse. No single point that he regarded seemed to possess luminescence of its own; the glow seemed an effect of the total surface.
Back to the front and within spitting distance ...
Moving around to the side now, so close that he could almost reach out and touch it ...
He transferred his blade to his left hand and struck out with it, gashing the mossy surface. A liquid appeared in the mark he had made.
You cannot hurt me that way. You cannot hurt me at all.
The skeletons came into view again, and he was very close to that surface which looked like cancerous flesh. He could feel it hungering for him, and he was kicking bones aside and hearing them crunch beneath his boots as he moved to the rear. He saw what he wanted and forced himself to go another three steps to reach it, though it was like walking against a hurricane He was just inches from that deadly surface now.
He threw himself toward the knapsacks. He raked them toward him-using both his blade and his hand-and he snatched also at the rotted cloaks and jackets that lay about him.
Then came an irresistible pull, and he fell himself moving backward until his shoulder touched the lichen-covered stone.
He tried to drag himself away, knowing in advance that he would fail.
For a moment he felt nothing. Then an icy sensation began at the point of contact. This quickly faded and was gone. There was no pain. He realized then that the shoulder had grown completely numb.
It is not as terrible as you feared, is it?
Then, like a man who has been sitting for hours and rises too quickly, a wave of dark dizziness rushed through his head. This passed, but when it did he became aware of a new sensation. It was as though a plug had been pulled in his shoulder. He felt his strength draining away. With each heartbeat it became more difficult to think clearly. The numbness began to spread across his back and down his arm. It was difficult to raise his right hand and grope for the bag at his belt. He fumbled with it for what seemed to be ages.
Resisting a strong impulse to close his eyes and lower his head to his chest, he heaped the rags he had gathered into a mound before him. With his left hand aching upon its hilt, he moved his blade beside the pile and struck it with the flint. The sparks danced upon the dry cloth, and he continued to strike them even after the smoldering had begun.
When the first flame arose, he used it to light the candle stub some dead man had carried.
He held it before him and there were shadows.
He set it upon the ground, and he knew that his shadow lay upon the boulder now.
What are you doing, dinner?
Jack rested in his gray realm, his head clear once more, the old, familiar tingle beginning in his fingertips and toes.
I am the stone who gets blood from men! Answer me! What are you doing?
The candle flickered, the shadows caressed him. He placed his right hand upon his left shoulder and the tingling entered there and the numbness departed. Then, wrapping himself in shadows, he rose to his feet.
"Doing?" he said. "No. Done. You have been my guest. Now I feel it only fair that you reciprocate."
He moved away from the boulder and turned to face it. It reached out for him as it had before, but this time he moved his arms and the shadows played upon its surface. He extended his being into the twisting kaleidoscopic pattern he had created.
Where are you?
"Everywhere," he said. "Nowhere."
Then he sheathed his blade and returned to the boulder. As the candle was but a stub, he knew that he must act quickly. He placed the palms of his hands upon the spongy surface.
"Here I am," he said.
Unlike the other darkside Lords, whose places of power were fixed geographical localities where they reigned supreme, Jack's was more a tenuous one,
As he moved. Jack drew nearer and nearer 'to the mottled, pink surface of the thing. It seemed to grow larger with each step, and the pale light it shed became more and more diffuse. No single point that he regarded seemed to possess luminescence of its own; the glow seemed an effect of the total surface.
Back to the front and within spitting distance ...
Moving around to the side now, so close that he could almost reach out and touch it ...
He transferred his blade to his left hand and struck out with it, gashing the mossy surface. A liquid appeared in the mark he had made.
You cannot hurt me that way. You cannot hurt me at all.
The skeletons came into view again, and he was very close to that surface which looked like cancerous flesh. He could feel it hungering for him, and he was kicking bones aside and hearing them crunch beneath his boots as he moved to the rear. He saw what he wanted and forced himself to go another three steps to reach it, though it was like walking against a hurricane He was just inches from that deadly surface now.
He threw himself toward the knapsacks. He raked them toward him-using both his blade and his hand-and he snatched also at the rotted cloaks and jackets that lay about him.
Then came an irresistible pull, and he fell himself moving backward until his shoulder touched the lichen-covered stone.
He tried to drag himself away, knowing in advance that he would fail.
For a moment he felt nothing. Then an icy sensation began at the point of contact. This quickly faded and was gone. There was no pain. He realized then that the shoulder had grown completely numb.
It is not as terrible as you feared, is it?
Then, like a man who has been sitting for hours and rises too quickly, a wave of dark dizziness rushed through his head. This passed, but when it did he became aware of a new sensation. It was as though a plug had been pulled in his shoulder. He felt his strength draining away. With each heartbeat it became more difficult to think clearly. The numbness began to spread across his back and down his arm. It was difficult to raise his right hand and grope for the bag at his belt. He fumbled with it for what seemed to be ages.
Resisting a strong impulse to close his eyes and lower his head to his chest, he heaped the rags he had gathered into a mound before him. With his left hand aching upon its hilt, he moved his blade beside the pile and struck it with the flint. The sparks danced upon the dry cloth, and he continued to strike them even after the smoldering had begun.
When the first flame arose, he used it to light the candle stub some dead man had carried.
He held it before him and there were shadows.
He set it upon the ground, and he knew that his shadow lay upon the boulder now.
What are you doing, dinner?
Jack rested in his gray realm, his head clear once more, the old, familiar tingle beginning in his fingertips and toes.
I am the stone who gets blood from men! Answer me! What are you doing?
The candle flickered, the shadows caressed him. He placed his right hand upon his left shoulder and the tingling entered there and the numbness departed. Then, wrapping himself in shadows, he rose to his feet.
"Doing?" he said. "No. Done. You have been my guest. Now I feel it only fair that you reciprocate."
He moved away from the boulder and turned to face it. It reached out for him as it had before, but this time he moved his arms and the shadows played upon its surface. He extended his being into the twisting kaleidoscopic pattern he had created.
Where are you?
"Everywhere," he said. "Nowhere."
Then he sheathed his blade and returned to the boulder. As the candle was but a stub, he knew that he must act quickly. He placed the palms of his hands upon the spongy surface.
"Here I am," he said.
Unlike the other darkside Lords, whose places of power were fixed geographical localities where they reigned supreme, Jack's was more a tenuous one,
Similar Books
The Edge of the Fall
Kate Williams
Algernon Blackwood
A Prisoner in Fairyland
Shadows in the Silence
Courtney Allison Moulton
Escaping Christmas (Contemporary Romance)
Charlotte Ashwood
King Hall
Scarlett Dawn
Left for Dead
J.A. Jance
Fear Drive My Feet
Peter Ryan
The Edge of Justice
Clinton McKinzie
Nicademus: The Wild Ones
Sienna Mynx
A Lion Among Men
Gregory Maguire