Shadow's Arc

Chapter 5 of 8

Shadow and Emma walked north together. The trees here twisted into black knots. Mist hung between the trunks like old cloth. Somewhere ahead, their father waited in his stone hall. Shadow kept his breath slow. The green orb on his staff stayed dull, just as he wanted. He was calm now. But a cold thought sat under the calm, and it would not leave. "I can't beat him like this," Shadow said. Emma stopped. "You're clear. That's what we needed." "Clear isn't strong." He lifted the staff. The orb barely glowed. "This thing only burns when I'm angry. Father's magic will crush a quiet man. I've felt his power before. I need more than this to match it." Emma frowned. She understood the trap now. Rage fed the staff. Rage also fed their father's leash. Shadow could be powerful and doomed, or calm and weak. He could not be both. He reached for the anger anyway. He pictured the flowers at the tavern, the message, his mother's face. The old fury climbed up his throat. The orb flared bright green. Red magic crackled at his fingers. "Stop," Emma said. She gripped his arm. "Look at you. You're shaking again. That's him pulling you back." "Then how do I fight?" Shadow shouted. The orb blazed. Twisted branches above them shuddered. Emma didn't flinch. She drew her axe and set the blade against the staff's shaft. "You don't fight with his weapon," she said. "You fight with mine." Shadow stared at her. "The staff wants your rage. So does he. Two hooks in the same fish." She tapped the axe. "This wants nothing. It just cuts. Mother taught you to breathe before you swing. She taught me to swing." Shadow looked at the burning orb. It was a gift and a trap in one hand. It could never make him strong without making him stupid. He saw that plainly now. He let the anger go. The red faded. The orb dimmed to nothing. Then he knelt and drove the staff's point into the black soil, between two gnarled roots. He pushed it deep. He let go. "What are you doing?" Emma asked. "Refusing his game." Shadow stood. His hands felt light and empty. "The staff and my father want the same thing. I won't carry either." He held out his hand. Emma unslung a second axe from her back and pressed it into his palm. The handle was worn smooth. It felt honest. It asked nothing of his heart. Behind them, the abandoned staff glowed faint green in the mist, then went dark for good. "He's built a trap for a mage with rage," Shadow said. "I'm coming as neither." He tested the axe's weight. "He won't know what walks through his door." Emma smiled. "Now let's go teach him." They walked into the twisted trees, two axes and no fury between them.