Stormcaller (Book 1) by Everet Martins

every strike! Noah would have loved this.”
    Juzo sat on the floor, transfixed by Blackout. “Juzo! Anyone in there?” shouted Walter.
    “Huh? What – yes, yes, I’m here. What kind of question is that?” Juzo said. He looked tired, as though he’d aged five years in the last day.
    “You really need to get some rest, you look terrible. Would you put that away and get your bag so we can get going?”
    “Yes sir!” Juzo said mockingly.
    He reluctantly sheathed Blackout and mounted it to his belt. They cautiously exited through the illusory dead end of the tunnel. It yielded once again to their passage. Juzo seemed to have regained his vigor, no longer favoring his injured leg. Maybe his new sword has lifted his spirits, and hopefully his attitude ,Walter thought.
    Walter detected a shift in his consciousness. The dancing ball of flame he’d come upon in Warrior’s Focus within Mar’s camp now seemed to be within reach, beckoning to be used. He wrapped an imaginary hand around it, testing its existence. He felt an intrinsic bond forming with his new weapon, almost as though it were an appendage. He looked down to its shining steel, mentally commanding the swirling tendrils to vanish, they did. He ordered them to materialize and vanish in rapid succession, testing it. It’s like blinking a new set of eyes.
    “This is fantastic. I think, oddly enough, that I can use the fireball again, the one that I used to slay the Cerumal at that bastard Mar’s,” said Walter.
    “Really? Well, that’s lovely, it must be nice to be you,” Juzo said, muttering. He tapped his fingers on the ornate sword’s slate hilt, and then tightly grasped it to draw. Walter narrowed his eyes, not missing the gesture.
    “Something bothering you, friend?” Walter asked, subtly closing the gap between them. Juzo released the sword’s handle. He slumped back against the undulating tunnel wall. Was he really going to draw on me?
    “No, I think the stress of this journey has been wearing on me. What I wouldn’t give for a warm bath and a cup of brandy right now,” smiled Juzo. Walter nodded solemnly.
    A hiss burst from behind them and the bulbous pincushion opened its vicious mouth expectantly, cornering them once again. “I remember, it’s a Shiv Fang!” Juzo yelled, unsheathing Blackout. The blade swallowed the dim light emanating from the nearby trap. Juzo stepped toward the creature, expertly piercing its gaping maw. Greenish blood dripped from the withdrawn sword, and was promptly absorbed as if by dry sand. The Shiv Fang’s hisses became gurgles.
    Juzo looked to the sword with mania in his eyes. As the Shiv Fang collapsed, a blue swirl of wispy smoke rose from its corpse. The waving smoke formed the silhouette of the once-living Shiv Fang. It hung in the air for a second, and was then sucked into Blackout with lightning speed. The blade shimmered a pale gray, illuminating a tiny image of the Shiv Fang trapped within, biting and raking at the blade’s interior. It then darkened, and seemed to swallow more light than before.
    “Well, that’s not something you see too often,” Walter said.
    Juzo marveled at the blade, turning it in his grasp, smiling broadly. “I knew this sword was powerful, but by the Dragon, that felt—” Juzo stopped.
    A bright blue line of light split the air with a bone-vibrating hum. The line was a little taller than a man and razor thin. From each end-point, smaller lines simultaneously moved in clockwise and counterclockwise directions, manifesting the form of a perfect circle ahead of them. The bright light of the circular plane waned, unveiling within a dark, gritty stone wall. The hum grew in force.
    “What is this?” yelled Juzo.
    “I think it’s some sort of doorway,” Walter said.
    Along the wall were two human bodies, hanging from what appeared to be meathooks. There was a nude, pale-skinned woman crying out in pain, strapped to a table with rollers stretching her body. A man sat writhing