Free Best Laid Plans by D.P. Prior

torso. Her spectacles kept slipping down her nose, causing her to tut and shove them back up. Shader felt his mouth curling into a tired smile—it was like Sisyphus pushing his boulder up the hill only to have it roll back down again. The smile turned to a frown as he remembered it was Aristodeus who had told him the story. The philosopher claimed it came from his homeland of Graecia millennia before the Reckoning.
    Maldark mooched beneath the eaves, his chin resting on the stone head of his war-hammer. His eyes widened slightly at the sight of Shader and he almost smiled.
    Rhiannon had an open Liber in her lap, her lips moving silently to the words of a prayer. Shader thought how drab the white clerical vestments made her look, and for a moment entertained the image of tearing the garments from her and unleashing her great raven tousles. The image startled him. It was the first indication that all was not pure and uncomplicated since his return to life. Rhiannon looked up abruptly, as if she’d read his thoughts. The colour fled her face and her mouth hung open.
    ‘You’re dead,’ she said. ‘Gaston saw…’
    Shader shook his head and moved to make way for the priests coming up the ladder behind him.
    Gaston waved Velda away and pulled on his surcoat, leaving his armour heaped on the floor.
    ‘I-I-I wasn’t lying.’ He shot a look at Rhiannon before rising and to examine Shader. ‘It was Shadrak—the assassin who m-m-murdered my dad.’
    ‘The lad speaks sooth,’ Maldark said. ‘He pushed past me on the stairway to the crypt. Brave or foolish, ¼tis hard to say, but in any case, he was too late.’
    ‘The little shogger s-s-stabbed you,’ Gaston said. ‘Right…here.’
    Shader batted his hand away. ‘I know. I felt it, and then the demon rolled over me.’
    ‘Aye,’ Maldark said, ‘’Twas then I grabbed Gaston and fled, though I see it is to my shame.’
    ‘My spirit was parted from my body,’ Shader said. He couldn’t blame any of them. They’d already shown more courage than he could imagine staying as long as they did. ‘I thought I was in Araboth, walking amongst the Luminaries.’
    Ioana folded her arms and cocked her head. ‘You were dreaming?’
    Shader sat on a beam and pulled his hat off, running a hand through his sweat-drenched hair. He flicked a look at Rhiannon. Her lips were working, her eyes moist, her fingers clenching and unclenching. He couldn’t tell if she was relived, confused, or angry. It was easier just to look away and answer Ioana. ‘I wish I had been.’
    There was a hushed expectancy, as if nothing could surprise them anymore. Shader was starting to feel that his was the only world view to be turned on its head.
    ‘The Statue of Eingana and the Sword of the Archon combined to drive off the creature. When it was cast back into the Abyss I fell with it.’
    He took a deep breath and hurried on, not wishing to dwell on the images of the Luminaries warping and melting, twisting into creatures of nightmare.
    Maldark was watching him through narrowed eyes. ‘I have passed through the Abyss,’ the dwarf said. ‘There are few who come out again. How didst thou manage it?’
    ‘I had help,’ Shader said. ‘The Archon bought me some time…’
    Ioana touched her forehead. ‘The Archon? But he’s…’
    ‘Real,’ Shader said. ‘As are so many of the myths. The sword really is his gift to Aeterna. I’d always thought it a fraud. He couldn’t free me, though. The Abyss seems inimical to him.’
    Ioana nodded, her focus far away. ‘It is the abode of his brother. The two are like oil and water, it is said. Light and darkness.’
    Shader became aware of the tightening of his stomach. He doubled over on his perch and grimaced. ‘Do you have any food? It feels like I’ve not eaten for days.’
    Cadris scurried about the attic as the others seated themselves in a semi-circle about Shader like children awaiting a ghost-story.
    Shader looked up and fixed his eyes on