Gulliver took a deep breath, smelling the crisp autumn air as it filled his lungs. The night was dark, but the moonlight still illuminated his breath like a ghost fading into the night. He pressed forward, following the woodland trail deeper into the forest. He could feel the cloak flowing behind him, shrouding him in the dark of night. To anyone else, he must appear as a spectre, a phantom in the night. To him, it was another day in the office. Despite his hard, determined face, Gulliver’s heart pounded in his chest. Maybe it was one of the harder days in the office. Months of work following leads had led him to this point. He had cashed in favors with the bottom of the proverbial barrel and even promised several favors of his own to that same ilk. All was done to track down an elusive criminal wanted for abduction, presumed murder, and attempting to destabilize governments.
Gulliver was a Steward, a defender of the innocent. A barrier between the forces of darkness and those not equipped to defend themselves, and other cliches for which Gulliver had no time. Though part of the Guild, and technically under the jurisdiction of the Wizen, Gulliver did not bring any of his fellow Stewards with him. Too much work had gone into finding this rendezvous of the worst sort of men Gulliver had ever encountered. He wasn't about to let some brash Steward come in and ruin everything. Admittedly, his partner would have been welcome, if she didn’t always insist on bringing a small army of her trainees.
Not unlike many of those Gulliver spent his time hunting, this particular quarry had long forsaken his birth name and now simply donned the alias “The Shadow.” Gulliver couldn’t help but chuckle to himself. It was subterfuge and dubious dealings in the shadows that brought him to this dense European forest. He was finally within striking distance of his prey.
Though from the United States himself, being a Steward allowed him to move internationally and follow his suspects wherever they went. There were few borders that he wasn’t able to cross. Sure, local law enforcement could take the lead if they knew he was there, but they would have to know he was there first.
He trod slowly, unable to hear his soft leather boots on the moist mulch which was spread across the forest floor. A branch snapped beyond the edge of Gulliver's vision. He tucked himself within the concealing undergrowth of a hulking pine. Two cloaked figures were making their way through the winding trail ahead. They were closer than he thought they would be. Repositioning himself behind a moss strewn stump, he waited.
“I don’t reckon we’ll be seein’ anyone here tonight, so maybe we ought to get with the rest of ‘em,” the larger of the men said. He was British and moved like a lumbering bear on the prowl.
“It doesn’t matter. The Shadow said to keep a lookout, so that’s what we do,” responded his partner, a small weasel-faced man. He had to be American by the sound of him. He walked quickly, bouncing with each step he took.
“Well we can say we did the rounds and get back to it,” argued the larger of the two.
“Look, we’ll do what we’re told. I’m not going to cross The Shadow, and I recommend you don’t either,” the small man retorted.
Gulliver let them pass, holding his breath to avoid giving away his position. Once they were by, Gulliver stalked behind them. The larger man's gait favored his ankle, though the limp was scarce. Gulliver was sure that if given a full head of steam, the lumbering Brit would be difficult to stop. Quickness was of the essence; he would have to disable the big man. Once done with him, Gulliver would focus on the other.
He crouched low then sprang into the air, coming down with a bone snapping kick onto the large man's ankle. Even as the man opened his mouth to cry in pain, Gulliver followed through with a stiff fist to the back of his jaw. The impact spun the Brit’s head with a violent jerk. His great knees buckled, and he fell awkwardly to his side making a deep guttural sound.
The weasel-faced man didn’t miss a beat, brandishing a slender weapon he had pulled from his pocket. If it was what Gulliver suspected, he had to stop the man from using it at all costs. A rapid series of well-placed strikes to the man’s chest winded him. Then Gulliver struck his arm and sent the long thin weapon into a small bush nearby. The little man opened his mouth as if to scream, but a precision blow crushed the man's windpipe and he fell without so much as a gasp.
Gulliver slipped off the path then picked up the object the weasel-faced man dropped. “You’ll have to be faster than that,” he mumbled to himself wryly. Taking the wand in both hands, he gently snapped it in half, then discarded the vitiated remains into the bush. They were magicians. Users of magic. Enchanters, Bewitchers, Wizards, and all manner of spellcasters. Luckily, so was Gulliver.
He drew his own wand and held it in front of him like a rapier. He had inherited this wand from his father after his father's death. It was tradition in the magical community to pass it along to the first born, so Gulliver used it in lieu of his own.
The tip began to glow faintly, and he whipped it through the air leaving a streak of light in its wake. The streak of light didn’t fade though. It merely hung above him. This was magic. He slashed his wand across the streak of light, spreading it across the nothing on which it floated. He twisted it with his wand, then stretched it. He pulled some light towards him, and pushed some away, giving it three dimensions. A gentle nudge here, a small pull there. To anyone else, it would appear a convoluted mess, yet to Gulliver, it was beauty. And it was magic of his own creation. Finally, a pure white illumination rose gracefully, leaving the tip of his wand. The illumination was a sphere with a bright aura around it, though the orb itself was translucent and dark.
Gulliver turned to the two downed men. A flick of his wand popped open the crushed windpipe of the weasel faced man, who took a long, shuttering gulp of air. Another flick and both men were bound by invisible cords and dragged out of sight.
Returning to the trail, Gulliver pressed forward. After several minutes of walking, the illumination changed to a pale blue and shone brighter in the direction he was traveling.
Maneuvering through the trees, it sped into the night. Finally, it stopped, revealing beneath it the silhouette of a man. The illumination began to glow a deep blood red, then split into two identical copies, both of which faded back to blue. After the mitotic division, the two daughter illuminations drifted apart momentarily. While one remained over the man, the other shot like an arrow through the trees until it also hovered silently above another now illuminated silhouette.
The two wispy illuminations glowed the same shade of red and again divided, the copies of each pair shooting off into the night. Gulliver smiled to himself; his well-placed duplication charm coupled with a ward for tracking, ensured that all magical beings would be illuminated in a blue light only Gulliver could see. If this wasn’t a masterpiece, he didn’t know what was.
After several minutes of watching the red and blue dance of illuminations, the night went still. Now there were between twenty and thirty blue spheres all through the forest, most obscured by some foliage or another. The nearest light was about a hundred paces away. It glowed gently, though what it revealed could not be seen through the trees.
The nearest sphere was so far away that Gulliver could afford to move quickly and make a little noise. With a modicum of haste, Gulliver traversed the forest floor, searching as he went. Finally, he found what he was looking for, an unusually large conifer less than thirty paces away. With just the branches on this side, he could quickly climb his way to the top. The bigger branches were thicker than his chest, the least, more the size of his thigh.
Clenching his wand between his teeth, Gulliver began to climb. Reaching branches wasn’t too tricky for the 6-foot tall man. Gulliver pulled himself up onto a branch when suddenly it snapped. A loud crack echoed through the trees and Gulliver fell onto a branch below. He had dropped a good ten paces.
“Who’s up there?” a gruff voice yelled from below. “I heard ya!” Gulliver wrapped himself in the dark folds of his cloak, his mind racing. Damn! He’d been discovered before he was even able to see The Shadow. Slowly, looking back through a crack in his cloak Gulliver saw a large man standing twenty paces from the base of the tree. A short fat woman was standing next to him.
The woman brandished her wand, and a flood of light hit the tree from where Gulliver had fallen. As though holding a spotlight, the woman began to scan the tree.
An owl hooted higher up in the tree, and the light shot up. The giant bird erupted from the tree and flew off into the night.
“Ha ha ha ha ha!” the woman cackled. “It was a bird you moron!” She wheezed with laughter then shot a spell into the sky, and a bright green firework exploded. The pair of them turned and walked the way they came, illuminations bobbing over their heads.
Breathing deeply, Gulliver rolled over on the thick branch that had caught him. “Thank God for that bird!” he murmured. He started his climb again, but this time he kept a mindful eye on his wards. He wouldn’t be snuck up on again.
Finally, Gulliver reached a height that pleased him. The view revealed a compound nestled into a large clearing in the forest. It was made more than just an outline by the pale moonlight from above and his many illuminations within. It was comprised of three smaller buildings surrounding a large central building. There was a high razor wire fence wrapping around the perimeter with a guard post on each corner. No roads were approaching the complex with no gates in the continuous fence. There was only one way in: magic.
Gulliver dived face first from the tree. Some meters above the treeline, his cloak shot out to the sides like the wings of a giant bat. It caught the inertia from his dive and transferred the energy into an upward glide soaring high above the forest ceiling.
Aiming himself to the roof of the center building, Gulliver glided over the fence and the dark magicians below. He came down in a swoop and landed lightly on the roof. Gulliver noted all the nearby illuminations as he worked his way to the edge.
There were patrols throughout the compound, going one way or another. The building on which he was perched had a second story balcony with a pair of doors leading inside. Gulliver dropped down, crouching by the doors. He tried the doorknob, and to his surprise, it was unlocked. They obviously didn’t expect anyone to get up that high. He slowly opened it, letting a small ray of light pierce the darkness in which he hid.
“Noctus,” he mumbled, vaguely flicking his wand. A barrier of darkness appeared and tinted the light from the door, concealing him in shadow. Cracking the door further, Gulliver peered inside. The entrance was a service door, directly below a lattice of beams which ran the length of the chamber.
A series of massive ceiling candelabras, level with where Gulliver was standing, was supported by the latticework. Though somewhat below the beams, one leap placed him atop them.
Far beneath, magicians had already begun to occupy the hall. There had to be over fifty already here, with more filing through the doors in small spates. Moving along one of the cross beams, Gulliver made his way to the side of the chamber where he could see both ends clearly. The crowd seemed to be jostling toward one end, gathering as tightly as they could around a small podium.
There was a small door at the back of the room, that must be where The Shadow would enter. It seemed Gulliver would get to enjoy a speech given by the very man he was there to apprehend. All that was left now was the waiting.
A small tingling sensation on Gulliver’s left breast startled him, stealing his attention. Cursing under his breath, Gulliver folded the opening of his cloak back. Pinned to his shirt was the “badge” of the stewards. The silver wings gave an indignant little ruffle, pointed to the south-west, then sat motionless on his chest. Another pulse hit the wings, this one somewhat stronger. The feathers on the wings pointed vaguely to the south-east then rested flat again.
Damn! What was that mad woman thinking? He told her he would be unreachable this weekend, not to come looking for him after the first day. His partner had a set of wings attached to her breast, which she seemed to be using to triangulate his position. If he knew her, and he did, she had a small army at her back. He was further away from headquarters than he typically would have been, he had to have at least an hour before she came in, guns blazing.
He took the tip of his wand and pressed it firmly to the silver wings, “Good luck now Andromeda.” he muttered in less than a whisper. The wings flapped rapidly and then froze in place. Tucking them back into the folds of his cloak, Gulliver waited.
After several minutes of waiting, the chamber was all but full, and a commotion started near the podium. These were thugs, people who learned a few curses, then wreaked havoc with them. Fights were bound to break out. A large man with a shaved head and tattooed face had lifted a smaller man into the air with his left hand and proceeded to pummel him with his right. It only lasted a few moments before the magicians around them separated them.
Gulliver couldn’t help but feel that if this group of magicians was left unattended much longer, The Shadow wouldn’t have a gathering left. The lights began to flicker, starting from the candelabras nearest the podium. It seemed The Shadow shared his sentiment. Slowly, the room darkened, and a hushed silence fell over the raucous group.
With mild surprise, Gulliver realized that the dimming of light only extended to the ground floor. Small wisps of darkness shrouded each candelabra. It was said The Shadow could suck the light out of a room, but it was nothing more than theatrics. A curtain he put up himself, all to give the appearance of light being sucked from the room. Gulliver couldn’t help but feel it was a damn fine show though. The amount of control required to do this was on a very high level. Gulliver was impressed.
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A dense fog rolled in from under the door behind the podium. Could he be more cliche? A loud bang hit the door and the magicians below were captivated. A second, louder bang sounded. If he comes in on the third bang...who does that? Simply open the door and enter. A third bang sounded, louder than the first two, and the door slowly creaked open. Gulliver shook his head in disappointment. A silhouette hung picturesque in the door frame. Gulliver reached into a leather pouch on his belt and pulled out several different marbles. He picked one that was clear with a blue gas inside.
He touched the marble with the tip of his wand and it liquified, absorbing itself into the wand. He pointed his wand at the dark silhouette now taking long strides up to the podium. The blue marble streaked out and stopped directly in front of The Shadow’s face. It burst open and created a small illumination only Gulliver could see. It shone its white light on The Shadow, revealing a broad, muscular black man.
He smiled to himself; all this seemingly inherent darkness around this man was nothing more than enchantments and illusions. The Shadow strode to the podium, the congregation now completely silent. He gripped it, and a fraction of the darkness surrounding him spun like a saw and ripped loudly through the base, breaking it from the floor. The Shadow threw it to the side with a crash and stepped where it had rested moments before.
Gulliver pulled several small brown marbles out of his pouch and absorbed them into his wand, then proceeded to make his way to the back of the hall, opposite The Shadow. Looking back, Gulliver could see what seemed to be fragments of darkness churning around The Shadow. They were tearing his illumination apart. The aura around the man was becoming more violent. With a leap Gulliver dropped silently down to ground level behind the entranced mob, his enchanted cloak slowing his fall.
“Each of you is here for a particular purpose,” a booming voice said. Gulliver turned and saw The Shadow gesticulating as he spoke. “You have been chosen to fight for a greater cause than petty crime.” The crowd began to stir and murmur.
“You’ve lost your grip ya have!” a squeaky-voiced magician yelled from somewhere in the crowd.
“You’s an old dumb gaffer!” yelled another.
The Shadow looked around, bearing his teeth. The illumination began to fizzle, then faded as the shadow’s energy tore holes through it. His face fell from Gulliver’s view. It seemed this man wasn’t much of an orator, and to think, Gulliver had been excited to hear his speech!
With a loud crack, two giant hands shot from The Shadow, and gripped the men and lifted them into the air. “I chose you. Will you choose death by opposing me?” The Shadow said. The enormous shadow hands engulfed the men, obscuring them from view. After what seemed like ages, the hands faded. The men were gone. Worry pricked Gulliver, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if Andromeda showed after all.
Gulliver made his way towards the front of the mob, pressing past men and women alike. Some seemed completely terrified while others looked skeptical, and some downright hostile. He had to diffuse this situation before it combusted in on itself. He needed to take down The Shadow.
As Gulliver pressed past a small, wizened looking man in a thick, velvet overcoat, Gulliver's pair of Steward wings let out a powerful electric jolt. The power surged through his chest and arm, making his heart skip a beat. It passed into the old man who handled it even worse. He dropped to the floor unconscious. Gulliver, still shrouded within the folds of his cloaks, pressed forward. The Shadow was arguing now, and if the wings let out a shock like that after he froze them, it meant his partner was close, and she didn’t appreciate him trying to keep her unaware. Gulliver had to hurry.
The crowd had grown nigh tempestuous. A pair of magicians were pushing into each other. Gulliver threw a hard elbow into the ribs of one. Flinching away from the pain, the man made a path for Gulliver. He was no more than fifty paces from The Shadow now.
The crowd was turning against itself, about half in support of The Shadow, and half against him. The magicians were shouting threats. Wands, staves, and other fulcra began to make appearances.
“How about I tear you apart?” A tremendously fat magician yelled at a lanky man.
“He won’t do nuthin’!” a woman next to the lanky man yelled. “Skewer him, Larry!”
Ducking a jab from the long man to the fat face of his fellow, Gulliver moved forward. The small pair of silver wings on his chest grew faintly warm and sent a strong feeling of reassurance through his body. She was here, Gulliver’s partner was arriving at the compound.
A loud explosion rang from outside, sending the mob into a frenzy. Gulliver had his wand out in a flash and with a flick of his wrist created a line between him and The Shadow.
“Flagellum Laqueum!” bellowed Gulliver. An electric blue whip shot out of his wand, snaring The Shadow’s shoulder before he could escape. The Shadow cried out in pain, and Gulliver pulled as hard as he could in a two-handed jerk, lurching The Shadow back towards him.
Rounding on Gulliver, now a mere ten paces from him, The Shadow snarled, “You Dare?”
“I’m Gulliver Higginbotham, steward of peace. And you’re all under arrest!” The mob ignited at this announcement, and spells began flying in every direction, snapping loudly as the magicians all attempted to make a break for it.
“You’ve made a grievous mistake coming here steward!” spat The Shadow. “Your last mistake!” The Shadow created a blade of darkness in his right hand and severed Gulliver’s whip charm with ease. Gilliver shot three quick bangs from his wand, and the three wards he had loaded it with earlier flew out and began to circle above him. The Shadow’s blade dissociated and he held his arms out to the side, summoning more of what appeared to be fluid darkness from thin air. Light restored naturally to the room as all the darkness The Shadow had spread now converged, creating a sphere in front of him.
Magic without a fulcrum? Gulliver could control wards without his wand if he created them but this? That was something Gulliver had no training in whatsoever. The level of control The Shadow was exhibiting was astounding to Gulliver. Magic without a fulcrum usually ended up leaving the wielder in a broken down heap.
With determination strewn across his face, The Shadow lunged forward and pressed his hands into the sphere. Dark energy shot from the side opposite his hands, directly at Gulliver. It sounded like raging wind. Gulliver barely had time to cast a shield spell, erecting a transparent barrier of magic around him.
It stopped The Shadow’s attack less than a foot away from his head. And with just one hit, the shield was on the verge of collapse. Gulliver was forced to continually channel his will to keep it from breaking. He heaved his shoulders, pushing his strength into his weakening arms. His magically enhanced boots slipped, slowly, inch by inch. Looking past the shield, past the wave of dark energy, he could see consternation now painting the The Shadow’s face. The man's eyes widened, mouth agape. Magic without a fulcrum was supposed to be vastly more powerful, yet this man was able to channel barely more than Gulliver himself.
By pure power of will, Gulliver summoned one of his wards circling high above him, it shot down rapidly into the beam of dark energy. A sound like a gunshot went off as the ward exploded, pushing back The Shadow and briefly interrupting his stream of darkness. In that moment, Gulliver took several quick steps forward, slamming his shield spell hard into the renewed flow of energy.
Pulling down another ward Gulliver rushed again, gaining several more feet. The Shadow’s sphere was now less than half its original size, with the top stretching towards Gulliver. The Shadow’s eyes were wide with terror. He looked around rapidly as though searching for an escape. A thunderous crash from behind Gulliver stole The Shadow’s attention. It sounded as though a portion of the wall had collapsed.
Gulliver willed the last ward into the energy stream, and a last loud crack sounded, this one throwing The Shadow onto the flat of his back. His dark sphere faded into a thin black whisp that disappeared inside the man.
Not missing a beat, Gulliver stalked towards his fallen prey. One of The Shadow’s guards entered from the door behind his fallen master. The man looked down at The Shadow, then back up at Gulliver.
“Don’t,” Gulliver warned, but the man had already begun raising his wand. Gulliver was too fast for him though, and shot a spell that sent the man flying hard into the wall behind him. Once there the wall came to life, wrapping itself around the man, holding him terrified in position.
In the seconds' distraction, The Shadow regained his feet and dashed out the door and out of sight. Gulliver sprinted to the door and found what appeared to be a small war ensuing outside; explosions of light and spells streaked through the night. His many illuminations had divided again, floating above the heads of those fleeing the center building and a force of men and women who had created a loose perimeter around the compound.
There was, however, a peculiarity. The more advanced illuminations were blue over the head of a magician, and yellow over the head of someone who was not magical; a sort of caution Gulliver had installed to make him more aware of innocent bystanders. The illumination streaking along above the head of The Shadow was a vibrant yellow instead of the typical blue.
At a sprint, Gulliver ran through the chaos on the trail of The Shadow. He saw other stewards, glowing with an almost golden light provided by the silver wings fastened to their chests. They would see him as a steward as well. The magic of the wings was the source of inspiration for his illumination ward. The Shadow, however, seemed to be utterly invisible to his fellow stewards. If it weren’t for his illumination hovering above the criminal’s head, Gulliver realized he probably wouldn’t have been able to track his aura in the dark of night either.
With all his speed Gulliver wasn't making much ground on The Shadow. He dashed past a pair of stewards who looked confused that he was running away from the fray. The Shadow lept over part of a downed razor-wire fence and streaked into the cover of the forest. Gulliver gripped his wand hard with both hands then pointed it high into the sky and shouted “Rebus!”
With a rush of wind, Gulliver launched upward, high above the trees; his cloak whipping behind him. At the pinnacle of his trajectory, his cloak shot out, gliding him high above the treetops. He tracked The Shadow as a bird stalks its prey, soaring high above him. The yellow of Gulliver’s illumination could be seen in glimpses through the canopy of trees. Far below, the war surrounding the compound was slowly dying out.
The wings on Gulliver’s chest began to flap around silently. His partner was tracking him. Surveying the ground below, Gulliver saw a small golden figure flanked by two larger ones. They pointed up at him, then entered the woods in pursuit. His partner, Andromeda, or Andy as he called her, was hot on his trail once again.
Redirecting his attention back down to The Shadow, Gulliver glided, snaking back and forth above him. The trajectory was as clear as Gulliver thought it would be. He shot down towards The Shadow. Steering between larger branches, breaking a few of the smaller, he crashed through the canopy. The Shadow turned around just in time for Gulliver to crash into him, smashing them both onto the forest floor.
Gulliver's shoulder popped out of place on impact. He gritted his teeth and held on to the man as they slid from the momentum. As they slowed, they slipped over a steep edge. He pushed away from The Shadow, still falling. With another crunch, Gulliver hit the slope. He grasped at foliage trying to stop his fall, but it was no use. Finally, Gulliver hit flat ground, getting the wind knocked out of him.
Gasping for breath, he rolled to his side. His head was spinning as he struggled to clamber to his feet. He stumbled against a tree as his feet slipped precariously on a wet stone. Gulliver checked himself for injuries and became aware of what must be a sprained ankle. Andy was a terrific healer, she could remedy that in an instant. A sharp stab in his side told him his ribs were cracked at the very least. He found his wand, which luckily was still intact.
He heard someone getting up a few paces from him and stumbled toward the sound. His illumination was gone, that shouldn’t have happened. Gulliver pointed his wand at the man trying to regain his feet. The Shadow’s magic must be completely depleted, as now he was just a man, no aura surrounding him at all.
“Insidiator Ori,” Gulliver said, somewhat out of breath. Nothing happened. Magical chords were supposed to leap from his wand and tie up The Shadow, but nothing. Had he hit his head that hard? Did he mispronounce the spell? Magic was based more on intent than annunciation. That shouldn’t stop it.
“Involvent!” he said, confusion reaching his voice. It should wrap The Shadow in compressed air, holding him precisely as he was, but he continued to rise. Could he not use magic at all? His boot had slipped, so his enchantment didn’t seem to be working.
“No magic for you either?” asked a deep voice from the rising man. “I guess it’s just you and me then,” he added, chuckling to himself. “Before I kill you, steward, I must ask, why? Why such an effort for me?”
“You’re wanted for abduction, presumed murder, and attempting to overthrow both magical and non-magical governments,” Gulliver said. He had studied The Shadow’s rap sheet; he knew everything they had on him.
“No no no, the way Stewards fight, it’s like a bee’s nest that has been disturbed. You didn’t come with your swarm. Why? You have such passion, throwing yourself at me like a spear.” His rich voice was almost melodious. He took a step to his left, which Gulliver matched.
“You have information, I need it,” Gulliver responded simply.
“Information? No!” yelled The Shadow. “I am not just information! I am the grand finale!” He lunged quickly towards Gulliver. Gulliver tried to react, but his injured ankle slid to the side unnaturally, it was more than just a sprain. As he fell, The Shadow grabbed him and threw him back over his head like a rag doll. Gulliver came down with a crash, and The Shadow was on him before he could regain his bearings. He was hoisted up by The Shadow and tried to support some of his weight with his uninjured leg.
“You have no idea what’s in store for you, for the world!” The Shadow raged. Gulliver instinctively grabbed one of The Shadow’s arms and twisted, but without footing, he wasn’t able to overpower the larger man. A fist to the side of Gulliver’s face sent him hard to the ground. The pain was sharp, and he was vaguely aware of someone walking around him. The Shadow was stalking him. Gulliver had become the prey. All his careful planning, and for what?
“We both know that you’re not the top of the food chain,” Gulliver said, stalling for time. “You know where he is. The Courtier? Is that what they’re calling him?”
“If I thought you could do anything to him I’d gladly tell you everything. You’re as powerless as I am, so instead of using you, I’m afraid I have to dispose of you.”
The Shadow pounced, but Gulliver was ready. He grabbed a handful of dirt and threw it into The Shadow’s eyes. The Shadow’s momentum carried him into a stiff kick from Gulliver's good leg; the solid man’s abdomen giving way beneath his foot. Gulliver grabbed a grapefruit-sized stone from the ground and cracked it into The Shadow’s jaw.
The man went completely limp, falling on top of Gulliver with a snap. Gulliver could feel his cracked ribs on his right side collapse inward, tearing into his lung. He let out a pained wheeze and rolled The Shadow off of him. Gulliver used his left arm to drag himself across the forest floor. He could hear The Shadow stirring behind him.
A pained, scared moan emitted from The Shadow, and he slowly rose to his knees, hands cradling his face. He looked at Gulliver who gasped, coughing up a small splash of blood. The Shadow became frenzied, crawling quickly at Gulliver, jaw loose and broken. He clambered on top of the fallen steward and began striking him again and again.
Gulliver felt his nose break, sending blood down the back of his throat. Did he see a silhouette behind The Shadow, or perhaps more than one profile? He couldn’t tell, but a crack sounded. This time the source of the bone-crunching noise wasn’t Gulliver. It was somewhere distant. Or was it? And then The Shadow fell limply to the side. Gulliver was vaguely aware of time passing, blood from his nose filling his throat, only to be coughed out by more blood from his punctured lung.
He saw the smooth face of a man, his skin seeming to glow in the moonlight. The man’s eyes were crystal blue, framed by long white hair, and an equally long white beard. He smiled a friendly smile that made his eyes sparkle. His face blurred, along with the forest around him. The twinkle in those bright blue eyes seemed to pierce Gulliver. They remained as everything else faded. Then, slowly, they disappeared too as Gulliver felt himself drift into unconsciousness.