The Dark Gate

By Rik Hunik

At the center of the city of Satyrn, where the five Black Roads meet, the Black Tower, an ancient structure of unknown origin, rises high over everything else. Kharl, the most powerful mage in Satyrn, is building his magical matrix in a secret chamber beneath the Black Tower, where it draws on all the mana in the city and, through the Black Roads, the surrounding landscape, and concentrates it for his use. If he can complete his matrix before the night of the full moon he will open a dark gate and let Shigg'rath, the Dweller Beneath, come through. With Shigg'rath behind him he intends to carve out an empire and rule the world.
Kharl is using Sen, a shadow warrior with no memory of his past, as a master thief to acquire essential components for his matrix. Kharl has only four days left and the final, crucial piece, the Eye Of Yog, is secure in Yog's temple, and his need for the Eye is known. The only person who could stop him has been incorporated into his matrix but, unknown to Kharl, that man's daughter, Zorena, has already torn herself away from her normal life and come to Satyrn to take up the fight against him.
Sen struggles to define himself as his loyalties are tested from all sides. He starts to think for himself and agrees to work with Zorena, but Kharl brainwashes him again and uses him to steal the Eye Of Yog from the temple. One of Kharl's men, resenting Sens privileged position, double-crosses Kharl, takes the Eye, and flees from the city, presenting problems for Kharl and opportunities for his opponents, but the matrix has made him so strong he seems unstoppable.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rik Hunik
• Release date: Feb 28, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310562785

Rik Hunik

Rik Hunik was born in Nelson, British Columbia, Canada, in 1957, and has lived his entire life in BC, except for a few summers in Alberta, and a few days in Washington State climbing rocks. He has lived in Ymir, Wells, Quesnel, Prince George, Quesnel, North Vancouver, Quesnel, Burnaby, North Delta, and Quesnel. I live with my wife Jo and a blue-eyed, white cat named Mister. I mostly build houses and shops to earn a living but I'm also a writer, poet, artist, photographer, role playing game designer and independent e-book publisher. I’ve written dozens of stories, including fantasy, horror, sword & sorcery, mystery, humor, erotica, and science fiction, frequently combining genres. Forty have been published in small press magazines and e-zines, from the 200-word "The Hole" in Ascent Aspirations, to the 10,000-word novelette "Levels" in Buzzy Mag, published in May, 2012. Some of them are available now as ebooks at Smashwords. Contact me at: [e-mail]

Book preview

Chapter 1: Diamond Heist

Sen knew he could climb the ten-foot-high brick wall in a couple of seconds, but he also knew that crossing over the top would trigger alarms. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the object his boss, Kharl, had given to him earlier this evening. The size and shape of a hen’s egg, it was flat black in color, and felt slick and warm. When he shook it gently liquid sloshed inside, when he held it up to the gas streetlight it looked like a small blob of solid darkness.

Sen wrinkled his nose at the scent of fresh horse droppings as he glanced up and down the street. Except for himself and a drunken horseman, who had just ridden past without even glancing at Sen, the street was deserted. He stepped back and threw the egg so hard it shattered on the wall, spraying thick liquid on the bricks, liquid that evaporated instantly into a black mist that clung to the wall in a three-foot wide blotch at waist height. Sen approached and extended a tentative hand. It passed into the mist, out of sight up to his elbow. It felt wet but when he withdrew his arm it was dry.

He glanced up and down the street one last time, no one was looking, so he dove through the hole.

A wave of bone-deep cold passed along the entire length of his body, momentarily numbing him. He landed hard, flat on his stomach, on the grass in a front corner of Lady Teela’s yard. He shivered once, convulsively, all over, then sucked in a breath and lay still while he scoped out his situation. He was safely out of sight behind a flower bed, he heard no alarms going off and no one came to investigate. Kharl’s magic had enabled him to easily bypass Teela’s warning system, one of the best in the entire city of Satyrn.

Sen rolled over and looked up into the midnight sky. Only the brighter stars shone through the glare of Satyrn’s many lights and the smoky haze that rose from her thousands of buildings. He didn’t recognize any constellations, but the five brightest stars formed a huge, pentagonal asterism near the zenith. Their twinkle died to a deep, ominous red as a cloud of smoke drifted in front of them.

The moon, only a few days from full, was already climbing the eastern sky, arcing toward the zenith, making his job more difficult. He was already dressed entirely in black, with his sword strapped securely over his shoulder. Now he tied on a black cloth mask to cover the lower part of his face, pulled a tight-fitting hood right down over his forehead and tied it under his chin, leaving only his dark brown eyes exposed.

He surveyed the yard through the flowers. It was illuminated by a gaslight at the front of the house, another at the gate, which was now to his left, and he knew there was one more by the back door. The intensely landscaped yard was a lavish garden full of exotic flowers, bushes and trees. A pair of marble fountains splashed water into a pool and a small stream trickled away over rocks. Brick paths meandered past outlandish trees and shrubs, over ornate bridges, and around boulders and flower beds. Wooden benches hid in secluded spots, watched over by pale statues.

To Sen it was a welcome maze of shadows and hiding places, and the sound of the fountains would cover any noise he might make while moving.

Teela’s house was a long, block-like affair, in the center of her one-acre lot, which was actually two lots together. That she owned so much property in a place as crowded as the Second Circle of the city of Satyrn said much for her wealth and status. Most rich residents of the city had to settle for country estates if they wanted that much space, even if they were born in the First Circle.

Kharl had provided Sen with complete information about the layout of the lot, the plans of the house, and the routine of the guards. There were four guards on duty outside all night, four more inside, and another shift to relieve them and respond to emergencies. Their beat was a a brick path about four feet wide that wound its way all around the house at a distance of fifteen feet. Security was tight everywhere, he’d been told.

One guard was in sight, strolling along, holding his spear casually over his shoulder with one hand. Accompanying him without a leash was a heavyset, short-haired, brown and black dog. Its eyes flashed in the gaslight and its ears twitched as it sniffed the night breeze. Kharl had given Sen an engraved stone amulet the size of his thumbnail, which he said would conceal Sen’s scent. Apparently it worked as Kharl said it would because the dog was directly downwind from Sen and did not react.

Keeping to the densest cover and the darkest shadows Sen made his way down the side of Teela’s property until he was across from the north end of her house, crept unseen through the yard to the guard path and curled into a ball near a clump of boulders, becoming just another black lump in the darkness. As soon as the guard passed on his rounds Sen did a forward roll across the path and disappeared into the shadow of a dense, cone-shaped shrub. The guard marched on, oblivious to the motion behind him, but the next guard was already coming around the corner of the building.

From his concealment in the shadow of the shrub Sen studied the north wall of Teela’s house as well as he could in the dim light. It was nearly forty feet high at the peak, split down the center with one vertical row of tall, narrow windows, and the facade was decorated with geometric patterns of raised and inset bricks. The effect would be striking in brighter light, but he appreciated it less for its aesthetic view than of the proliferation of hand- and footholds it provided.

As soon as the next guard strolled past Sen slipped into the cover provided by a large, leafy tree that grew near the wall, and began climbing. It was almost as easy as climbing a ladder; within seconds he was at the top.

The roof overhung the wall by about a foot. When Sen reached for a hold the roofing tile shifted slightly under his hand and sent a shower of sandy particles onto the grass below.

The sound was barely noticeable but the guard dog perked up its ears, let out a small bark, then ran off the path and sniffed energetically at the ground below Sen. The guard followed, searching the area with his eyes and stabbing his spear into the darkest shadows. The dog circled and whined but smelled nothing. The guard looked up once but failed to see Sen clinging motionless to the wall in the darkest shadow under the eaves.

He called to the dog and they continued their circuit.

Sen traversed a few feet to get past the loose tile, reached up with one hand, hooked a heel on the roof, then pulled himself up and rolled onto the roof. All the nearby houses were shut down for the night, silent and dark except for an occasional yard light. He crawled away from the edge and up to the peak, straddled it, got to his feet and ran soundlessly to the other end of the house. The tiles were smooth but the slope was gentle and his soft-soled shoes gripped well. The guards were too close to the house to see what was on the roof, even if they did look up. Behind his mask, Sen smiled at their naiveness.

There were several skylights on the roof, evenly spaced on both sides, all dark except the last one at the back, Teela’s room. Son of a bitch, Sen muttered under his breath. He had been warned that Teela would most likely have company tonight and stay up late but he didn’t have to like it. It complicated his task but he could not delay.

He dropped to his stomach beside the skylight and peered inside. A single gas lamp was turned down low. Fifteen feet below him Sen saw the bed, eight feet in diameter, screened by a cone of sheer curtains. A wooden frame around the bed caused the curtains to fall vertically for the last six feet. It was hard to make out through the curtains in the dim light but whatever was moving on the bed was too large to be just one person. Sounds of heavy breathing and moans of passion came faintly through the heavy glass.

Sen examined the skylight with his eyes and fingers. It was sealed tight, never made to open. The rich citizens of Satyrn knew better than to leave such an avenue for thieves. He crept around the skylight looking over the rest of the room, searching for the most likely hiding place for the jewel Kharl wanted. Against one wall a table in front of a mirror held a scattering of gem-studded, gold and silver jewelry, but Kharl didn’t care about such commonplace items.

There were other shelves and cabinets around the room, and some ornate boxes and drawers that might contain jewelry, but what caught Sen’s attention was a small table standing where the bed curved around against the wall. The top drawer, within reach of someone on the bed, had been left open half an inch.

A pair of heavy wooden doors, bolted on the inside, led to the central corridor. A smaller door in the side wall could lead to a closet or an adjoining room. He shifted his view and saw window drapes float up on a gust of wind. The balcony door had been left open to let in the cool night air after the unseasonal warmth of the day.

On his stomach Sen crawled to the edge of the roof and looked down on the balcony, cluttered with outdoor furniture and tall potted plants. As soon as the guard passed by on the trial below Sen slid off the edge and dropped silently into the dark space between a potted shrub and a statue of a nude man gazing up at the sky.

As he watched the next guard through the wrought iron railing Sen quickly uncoiled a thin, knotted rope from around his waist. The rope was dyed black and one end had a single-pronged grappling hook, which he attached to the balcony railing as soon as the guard was past. He positioned the rope so it could be sent down with a quick kick, and took several seconds to memorize the layout of the yard and plot a few potential escape routes to the back wall.

He crawled on his stomach to the door, which was wide open, but the drapes were drawn. When they billowed in on the wind he slipped inside underneath them.

He had seen most of the room from above but now he had the opposite perspective. Beside the skylight, supported by a single rope hanging from a rafter, was a wooden ring. All the curtains around the bed were fastened to that ring.

Springs squeaked as the rhythm on the bed got faster. A man panted heavily, desperate for air, but he did not stop. Oh no, he gasped.

Oh yes, the woman moaned.

Sen, a shadow impersonating a snake, slithered across the floor. The commotion on the bed ended as he crept around the base of the bed to the table by the wall.

Bedding rustled and the woman demanded, Now, Azeem, I want to see it now. Then in a softer, wheedling tone, You promised me you would bring it tonight. You teased me with the little ones but if you ever want me to play with you again you better give me the big one now.

Sen barely suppressed a snicker. What had Azeem just been giving her?

Azeem was still breathing too hard to reply. The woman spoke again, a sharp edge of suspicion tingeing her voice. You did bring it, didn’t you?

Azeem, though still winded, replied quickly. Yes, yes, Teela my love. Of course I brought it for you. He had a thin, wet voice, made more so by his conciliatory whining. It arrived by special courier this very afternoon. Springs squeaked in protest as he moved. Azeem’s pudgy arm, sagging with loose fat, poked through a gap in the bedside curtain. His hand groped in the drawer and lifted out a box made of polished, black wood, accented with silver clasps, hinges, and corners.

Sen silently cursed his luck as he watched his target disappear through the curtain less than two feet from his face. All the same, he was glad Azeem had not looked down.

Azeem said, Let me show you how much I love you, my precious one. Sen heard him snap open the case and Teela gasped, obviously very impressed.

Oh, Azeem, you’ve brought me fantastic jewels before but this one is extra special. Bedding rustled again and there was a loud smack as she kissed him. It’s so beautiful. How did you get it?

Azeem was breathing hard again. It wasn’t easy. I had to outbid everybody at the jewel auction in Kathgar, and I can assure you there were some stubborn bidders. On top of that I paid a fortune in guard fees to make sure it got back with me. Large gems are scarce around Satyrn recently, and hard to keep.

So I’ve heard. Why is that?

I’ve heard rumors of a black demon stealing them all, a demon with no face, just a pair of gleaming, yellow eyes.

A demon, she scoffed, stealing jewels?

I don’t know that it’s really a demon. People will call anything they don’t understand a demon, but they say this one can become invisible and pass through walls to steal anything it wants. It can climb like a spider and it’s touch is death. No human could do such things. Some people suggest that it eats the gemstones to stay alive.

Is that so? Her tone remained skeptical. Well, it can’t get in here, past all my spells and guards.

Sen took that as his cue and stood up. A silver chain dangled from Azeem’s fat fingers, a gleaming silver spider hung from the chain as though from a web, its eight legs clasping an eyeball-sized diamond that, even in this dim light, burned with a pale blue, inner fire. Mesmerized, Teela reached for it.

Sen parted the curtains with his sword, jumped through the opening onto the bed and smashed the hilt of his sword down on Azeem’s head. As Azeem flopped onto the pillows Sen snatched the chain from his nerveless fingers.

Despite himself Sen was distracted by the sight of Teela’s full, naked breasts, the nipples still hard and erect. Up close like this Sen could see the wrinkles around her eyes and her breasts sagged a little, but other than those signs of age she was still shapely and quite beautiful. While he paused Teela grabbed the chain and tried to pull it out of his hand but he jerked it away. The chain tore into her soft fingers before it broke. Ow she screeched and put her bleeding hand to her mouth.

Sen retreated through the gap in the curtains, stashed the gem in a secure inner pocket, then drew a throwing star from a pouch tied at his waist. Azeem struggled to a sitting position, shaking his head to clear it. Teela’s eyes burned with hatred as she stared past the point of Sen’s sword into his eyes. She made no attempt to cover herself as she removed her hand from her mouth and asked, How did you get in here?

Azeem’s eyes focused, then oriented on Sen. Kharl sent you, didn’t he?

Sen answered neither of them; he had already wasted too much time. He stepped back two paces and threw the star left-handed. It flashed up and sliced through the rope supporting the the wooden ring that held up the curtains. While layers of gauzy cloth billowed down he sheathed his sword and sprinted to the balcony.

Teela screamed, Guards! again and again. The door to the corridor thumped as heavy bodies pounded it.

Sen kicked his rope over the edge, scrambled over the railing and slid down. A guard on the ground threw his spear but Sen dropped the last several feet to the ground and the spear bounced off the wall above him. He caught it when it fell, deftly spun it around and drove the head deep into the chest of the dog that was springing at his throat. It died in mid snarl and he let the spear fall with it.

He dipped his left hand into his pouch and passed throwing stars in quick succession to his right hand. The guard’s sword flashed up to deflect the first star away from his face, then dipped low, but not fast enough to stop the second star, which cut into the side of his thigh as it sped past. The third star bit into his neck and he lost interest in the fight. As Sen threw his last star underhanded and backwards at the guard approaching him from behind he saw more guards were already emerging from the back door.

Stop him, Azeem shouted from the balcony, one chubby hand holding his hastily donned robe closed. Kill him. Don’t let him get away.

Sen held his arms together in front of himself, palms to wrists, while each hand extracted a pellet from the opposite cuff. With a single, quick motion he flung them both at the ground, closing his own eyes at the moment of impact. One pellet exploded with a brilliant flash that shone red even through his eyelids and the other created a dense cloud of smoke. He dashed out of the smoke, dodged around a shrub, jumped a flower bed and accelerated across a stretch of open lawn.

There he is, heading for the back wall, Azeem shouted. He must have missed the flash and retained his night vision.

Sen put on a burst of speed and used his momentum to run his feet up the wall, leaning forward to grab the top before his feet pushed him away. As he pulled himself up onto the wall a dog he hadn’t seen coming jumped and snapped at his feet. Laying flat atop the wall for an instant he glanced back at the house. Azeem was leaning on the balcony rail shaking his fist and Teela, stark naked, stood bristling in the doorway. Sen rolled off the wall, landed lightly on his feet in the alley and sprinted toward the street. From inside the yard he heard a dog bark and an amazed guard said, He ran right through the bloody wall.

Another said, No he jumped over it like it was two feet high.

Azeem’s exasperated shout carried down the alley. Just catch him.

Around the corner Sen slowed to a walk. Some of the guards would be through that gate and out of the alley only seconds behind him, but that was enough time for him to alter his appearance. He removed his sword belt, pocketed his mask, slipped off his black jacket and turned it inside out with one quick shake as he removed his arms from the sleeves. It was now a dark orange, with black trim. He put it on, belted his sword around his waist in the more conventional manner, then topped it all off with a floppy brown hat with a narrow brim, a hat selected to make him look goofy. As a final touch he took out a small vial and splashed whiskey on himself, then tossed the vial over a wall into somebody’s yard.

Sen was walking back toward the mouth of the alley when a pair of Teela’s guards came charging out. One of them had a dog on a leash. The other guard stopped right in front of Sen, panted a few times, then said between breaths, Did anybody pass you just a few seconds ago? Have you seen anybody on the street?" He tipped back his helmet and wiped sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand.

Sen stood, swaying slightly, his breath raspy. He spit on the sidewalk just a few inches from the man’s boot and said, Yes, yes I did. A man in black ran past me just now like he had devils on his tail. He almost knocked me off my feet.

Wouldn’t take much, muttered the guard with the dog, catching a whiff of the cheap whiskey Sen had splashed on himself. The dog sniffed at Sen’s leg and whined in confusion. The guard pulled on the leash and asked, Which way did he go?

He disappeared that way. Sen pointed over his shoulder with a thumb. I didn’t see where he got to.

Thanks. The guards pounded away in pursuit of their phantom.

Sen continued the direction he was going, turned onto the next avenue and broke into a quick, efficient run toward the center of the city.

Chapter 2: Watcher

In the Second Circle of the city of Satyrn a round tower, built of brick, faced with blackstone, rose seven stories above Magic Street. Taller than most buildings in the city, it was still dwarfed by the Black Tower, a mile and a half away on Palace Hill. Inside the domed roof, hanging dead center on a silver chain, a round cage of silver bars, curving together at the top like a huge bird cage, held a plank floor supporting a round table, draped in black silk, and a chair, covered with the same cloth.

Zorena, seated in the chair, wore a dress of black silk, with a hood pulled over her head. On the table cloth, stitched in shiny brass wire, was a map of Satyrn’s main roads. The radial streets and concentric avenues always reminded Zorena of a spider’s web, with the black tower sitting in the center like a giant, malignant spider.

A blue spark moved slowly down the radial line that was Magic Street. The spark was an image generated by a large diamond with powerful magical properties as it reacted with the field created by the constant flow of mana along the blackstone roads to the Black Tower. The diamond was one of a set of five identical gems cut from a single stone. Kharl already had four of them. A month ago in Kathgar, far to the south, the fifth one had surfaced from obscurity. Zorena was using all her power to prevent him from getting it, and not succeeding.

Zorena’s father, Jurden, one of the most powerful mages in Satyrn, had called her down from her teaching position at the hidden University of Magic to the north. She had protested about the importance of her work but he told her it was time to quit being an academic recluse, that his assignment for her was by far more important than anything at the university. With minimal explanation and maximum insistence he sent her to obtain the jewel any way she could.

The assignment had proven to be more difficult than she had anticipated. She had failed to procure the gem because Azeem’s agent had shown up with unexpected bidding power and determination to match. He put on a big show of guarding his caravan but Zorena was tracking the diamond itself, which was smuggled out of the city and sent on its way to Satyrn with a party of select, highly skilled mercenaries. She harassed them the entire trip, trying to get the diamond, but they were far better than any fighters she could find to send against them and they had powerful protection against magic.

The gem had arrived at Councilor Azeem’s residence in the middle of the night and stayed there all day under heavy guard. Zorena had arrived at Jurden’s tower a few hours later but Jurden was not there, the staff hadn’t seen him for days and they didn’t know where he had gone.

She caught a few hours of sleep, then spent the rest of the day preparing spells for tonight and wondering where her father was as she read through his notes. Teaching magic was one thing, but she discovered that actually working major spells for the first time in a long while exhilarated her. Her initial reluctance to get involved was being replaced by determination. She felt ready for anything.

It might have been possible to assemble a small army of mercenaries, back them up with magic, and make an assault on Azeem’s residence, but even if she was successful she would have the entire army of Satyrn, including a squad of lesser magicians, coming after her, but she didn’t need to do that, she knew where the diamond would be going. That fat fool Azeem still thought his affair with Teela was a secret.

Zorena was certain that Kharl also knew where it would be and would make a move for it, so she had monitored it’s position closely. It’s movement now indicated that Teela’s security had been insufficient so she had to intercept it. The spark reached the line representing the wide boulevard outside the First Wall and turned left, soon coming to a halt at a spot Zorena knew, from her father’s notes, was an innocent-looking row house that was owned by Kharl under a false name.

It was time. She slipped off the chair, lifted a trapdoor in the floor and quickly descended the rope ladder hanging there. The floor was completely cleared of all obstacles. She would need the space. She stood in the center of the room, closed her eyes, slowed her breathing, relaxed all her muscles, then recited a string of guttural, throat-wrenching syllables. The deadman spell had been prepared earlier and now it required only this trigger spell to a activate it.

She slipped into a trance, there was the brief rush of transfer, then a chill as she entered the cold flesh of the corpse, reminding Zorena yet again how much she hated using this spell, but it had its uses and this situation was urgent enough to call for it.

She pried his eyes open. The darkness was complete.

She moved his right arm. It was stiff and clumsy, even though she had limbered him up when she brought him to this basement barely an hour ago, soon after he was killed by thieves in a nearby alley. A deadman never lasted more than five hours and using it became increasingly distasteful. She shook his hands to loosen them up, then flexed and stretched all the major muscles in the body. She had more sensation in his fingers but she still felt more with her own flesh and she was, as always, reluctant to let go that last little bit necessary for optimum control of the deadman. She raised his club and readied the ambush.

Footsteps on the floor above approached the basement stairs.

Chapter 3: Deadman

All five gates in the First Wall were shut at night, and would remain so until morning, as they had been since the barbarian tribes in the Forest of Roslin started raiding closer to the city. Sen considered it paranoia, an overreaction to a distant threat, but there were other ways to get from the Second Circle into the First Circle. Sen entered Kharl’s safe house, a weathered building in a long, crowded row of similar, three-story buildings that faced the high, blackstone wall across the boulevard. He would have preferred to wait here until morning and simply strolled in with the regular traffic, but Kharl had stressed the importance of hurrying back tonight. Among other things, Sen didn’t understand why he couldn’t simply have started earlier, but he always followed Kharl’s orders to the letter, even his most peculiar ones.

Thick drapes covered all the windows. Sen found a wax candle in its familiar place on a shelf by the door. He held his thumb and forefinger about a quarter inch apart with the wick halfway between them and concentrated as the old man had taught him.

He couldn’t remember the old man’s name.

He repositioned his fingers and regained his concentration. Magic permeated the city of Satyrn, especially mana-rich Magic Street, and ever more so nearer the center, allowing many people, Sen included, who were not magicians, to perform a few simple spells. Using magic felt unnatural to him but that didn’t stop him from using it; in his trade he couldn’t let a few qualms hinder him.

Soon a red glow appeared and the wick caught fire.

He went to the kitchen for a drink of water, then headed down a narrow, steep flight of stairs into the basement, a single, large room with a row of posts down the middle. It was cluttered with shelves and stacks of boxes piled high. The floor was of blackstone, the ubiquitous, ultra-hard stone upon which much of Satyrn was built.

Near the far corner Sen squatted, dug with his fingers and pulled up the flat, iron ring that had been set flush into the trap door in the floor. A whisper of rubbed cloth, the sound of something swishing through the air, or just pure instinct, warned him. He pushed off with his hand and rolled to the side.

The tip of a heavy club brushed the back of his shoulder in passing and bashed a hole through the wooden trap door.

The candle rolled several feet across the floor but continued to burn. In the flickering light Sen saw that his attacker was a large man, rather fat, very pale, dressed in black tunic and trousers. He held the club in a left-handed grip. Candlelight reflected from a round, silver pendant on a silver chain around his neck.

From his prone position Sen kicked at the side of the man’s knee, trying to break it. The man stumbled a bit but other than that he seemed not to notice. The club swished down. Sen rolled out of the way and scrambled to his feet behind the man as the hardwood club hit the blackstone floor wit a musical bonk and rebounded so hard it threw the man off balance.

Sen unleashed a flurry of punches to the big man’s kidneys but it was like hitting wet clay and it had as much effect. The big man turned, swinging his club around in a rib-crushing, horizontal arc but Sen saw it coming and ducked under it, then stood up and shoved at the man’s elbow, adding to his momentum, spinning him right off balance. He crashed into some shelves but managed to stay on his feet.

Sen backed up a couple of steps as he slipped a paper packet out of a pocket, broke it open as the man turned, then threw the contents into his face. The mixture of sand, pepper, iron filings and lye should have blinded anybody but this man didn’t even blink and the club didn’t alter its course. Sen felt the wind on his face as the club swooshed past.

The club reversed and came at Sen again with startling speed, forcing him to backpedal several steps while he drew his sword. It was time to quit fooling around.

The big man advanced, swinging the heavy club like a stick. Now that Sen was on his feet and had a bit of distance he easily dodged the somewhat clumsy attack and the club smashed into a wooden shelf, shattering boards and sending splinters flying. Sen lunged forward and drove his sword through the man’s heart.

The man turned without missing a beat, tearing the sword out of Sen’s grasp. Startled by the ineffectiveness of his lethal strike, Sen reacted a split second too late; instead of evading the club, he only had time to deflect it with his forearm to save his head. The force of the blow drove him down to one knee and only his superb conditioning saved him from a broken arm.

The candle, laying on its side, had melted into a pool, exposing more wick, and burned with a brighter flame.

As his opponent raised his club for a killing blow Sen saw that no blood was leaking from the wound, and when he looked up at the expressionless face, the dull black eyes, he saw no gleam or spark of life in them, yet they remained fixed on him as the club swooshed down.

Sen dodged to the right and scrambled to his feet. The man raised his club again and turned, faster now, not as clumsy as before. Sen evaded the club again and again, and those eyes followed his every move. Something behind them was watching him. He figured he could avoid being struck for a while but he knew he would eventually tire, while he suspected that his opponent would not. Sen’s arm hurt like hell; one more blow like that could finish him.

Instead of retreating Sen ducked forward under the next swing and came up fast, driving his hand hard to the underside of the man’s elbow. There was a loud crack as the joint bent backwards but the tenacious grip on the club did not loosen. Sen dropped to a low crouch under the back swing, spun around, whipped out a leg and swept the man’s feet from under him. The man crashed hard on his back and Sen jumped on him, driving his knees into the man’s chest. There was no breath to be knocked out of him but he seemed disoriented, as though he didn’t realize he had fallen and was now in a horizontal position.

Sen grabbed the thick end of the club with both hands and wrenched as hard as he could, this way, that way, pushing, pulling, twisting. Finally he tore it free from the man’s grip. He jumped to his feet, reversed his hold on the club and bashed the man on the head, caving in the top of his skull. He evaded the grasping hands and struck repeatedly, smashing the eyes and pulverizing the rest of the skull but the man kept grabbing for Sen’s legs as though he could still see them. Sen kept swinging, cracking ribs and shattering joints, but short of cutting him to bits there seemed to be no way to stop the big man.

Sen tossed the club into a dark corner, grabbed the hilt of his sword and tugged, but