A Realm of Shadows

by Morgan Rice

  There came a distant rumble, and Kyle looked up, bracing himself as he examined the sky. On the horizon he spotted the faint remnants of the flock of dragons, flying away, presumably south, for Andros. They must have assumed everyone was dead.

  Kyle stood, knowing he was lucky to be alive, shocked the dragons had reached Escalon. He closed his eyes, as he did when summoning his powers, and tried to use them to show him where to go, what his purpose was now. Kyra was somewhere, he did not know where, far away, Escalon was in ruin, and the Tower of Ur was destroyed. What purpose did life hold for him?

  Kyle closed his eyes and focused, and as he did, a driving sense of purpose came to him. It commanded him to look up, to search the skies. Kyle did so, and he suddenly saw something fly overhead, just a flash, racing by, in and out of the clouds. A dragon. Yet it flew in the opposite direction of the flock. It was unlike the others. It was a baby. And it flew alone.

  And on its back, Kyle felt a chill to realize, was someone he knew. Someone he loved.

  Kyra.

  Kyle was overcome as he watched the dragon disappear on the horizon. Kyra was flying north. But where? Why? At least that explained why she and Leo and Andor became separated.

  Kyle closed his eyes and tuned in, summoning his powers, wondering. None of it seemed to make any sense.

  And then it came to him.

  Marda.

  A chill ran up his arms as he saw Kyra’s future. He saw her enveloped by blackness, saw the evil awaiting her, the death surrounding her. He saw, most of all, that she would never return.

  Flooded by a new sense of purpose, Kyle broke into a sprint, running north through the fields, faster and faster. Leo and Andor ran by his side, joining him, yet he was even faster than they. He was as fast as a bird, as fast as a dragon, covering so much ground so fast, that soon, he would reach the Flames. He would enter the land of Marda, do whatever it took to find and saved the girl he loved.

  Wait, Kyra, he urged. Wait for me.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Aidan stood in the cave amongst all his father’s soldiers, his father in the center, hundreds of men crowding him in a semicircle, all intently looking at their commander with love and respect—and Aidan felt a rush of pride. Beside him stood Anvin and Motley and Cassandra, White at his feet, and Aidan was elated to be here, to be included amongst all these great men, and most of all, to be reunited with his father again. No matter what should happen, for now at least, all was right in the world again.

  It was a jubilant scene, all these warriors clearly happy to be reunited, all embracing and talking, discussing their predicament as they had for hours, ever since Kyra had dropped them here in this remote cave. They all knew the situation was dire. They needed an urgent plan, and they debated a course of action heatedly, all professional warriors, all with varying opinions. His father stood in the middle of it all, listening, judging, weighing their opinions.

  “We must return and storm the capital!” Bramthos exclaimed to a group of men. “We must attack while they are distracted, while the dragons attack them. We can exploit their weakness.”

  “And what of the dragons?” Kavos called out. “Shall they not kill us, too?”

  “We can attack them fast, and then take shelter,” Bramthos countered.

  The others shook their heads.

  “Reckless,” Seavig replied. “More of us will die by the dragons’ breath than by the Pandesians’ sword.”

  “Then what would you have us do? Remain here, hiding in this cave?” Arthfael countered.

  Kavos shook his head.

  “No,” Kavos replied. “Yet we cannot return to Andros. Nor can we risk confronting them head on.”

  “The Pandesians must be attacked,” Bramthos insisted. “If we wait for them to pursue us—and pursue us they shall—then we shall be attacked on their terms. Andros now sits in disarray, yet soon those dragons will retreat. Shall we then confront a million men in the open field?”

  “Who’s to say the dragons will retreat?” Seavig argued. “Maybe they will burn Andros until there is nothing left.”

  “Why have they come to begin with?” called out another.

  The cave broke into heated debate, men talking over each other, arguing, none agreeing and all agitated.

  Duncan stood in the midst of it all, his fist on his chin, deep in thought. Aidan could tell from the familiar look on his face that he was agitated, mulling it all over. He rubbed his beard, and Aidan knew that to be a sign he was coming close to a decision.

  Suddenly, Anvin stepped forward.

  “Duncan is our commander,” he yelled above the din of the crowd. “He has always led us brilliantly. I defer to his opinion.”

  The rowdy group of men finally fell silent as all eyes turned to Duncan.

  Duncan sighed. He slowly stepped forward, stood to his full height, and addressed the group of warriors.

  “First, I cannot express to you my gratitude,” he said, his deep, authoritative voice echoing off the walls. “You returned to Andros for me. You saved my life, against every chance. I owe you my life.”

  They all looked back at him with respect and appreciation.

  “I had made a foolish decision,” Duncan continued, “to trust them, to negotiate, and it is a mistake I shall not make again.”

  “We will follow you anywhere, Duncan,” Seavig called out, while the others cheered.

  “Just tell us where to go next,” Arthfael called. “Shall we return to the capital?”

  Aidan felt his heart pounding as the silence thickened and he wondered what his father might say.

  “No,” Duncan finally said.

  His single word was filled with such confidence, it left no room for another choice.

  “We would catch them off guard, true,” he said. “Yet we would lose too many of us. And we would be fighting in their territory, against their defenses, and on their terms. The chaos would serve us, but it could also work against us.”

  He rubbed his beard.

  “No,” he added. “We shall lead them to us.”

  They all stared back, looking surprised.

  “Bring them here?” Bramthos asked.

  Duncan shook his head.

  “No,” he replied. “We shall lure them to a place where we will have the advantage, where they will be sure to lose. A place that takes advantage of our knowledge of our homeland. A place where we own the land.”

  “And where is that, my commander?” Arthfael asked.

  Duncan drew his sword, the sound echoing off the walls. He stepped forward, reached out, and slowly etched a long line in the sand. At its end, he drew a circle, and he pointed the sword’s tip right in the center.

  They all crowded around, close.

  Duncan looked up and met their eyes with deadly seriousness.

  “Baris,” he finally said.

  Silence fell over the room as the men closed in and craned their necks.

  “Baris?” Bramthos asked, surprised. “Lure them to a canyon? That would give us the low ground.”

  “It is also hostile ground,” Seavig added. “Teeming with Baris’s men.”

  Duncan grinned for the first time.

  “Exactly,” he replied.

  The group fell silent, clearly baffled. Anvin, though, nodded.

  “I see what you see,” Anvin said. “Vengeance against Baris—and at the same time, a chance to kill the Pandesians.”

  Duncan nodded back.

  “Bant will not anticipate our attack,” Duncan replied.

  “But why kill our countrymen first when we must face the Pandesian army?” Bramthos called out.

  “We must first and foremost kill those men who betrayed us, who betrayed their homeland,” Duncan replied. “Who lay at our flank. Otherwise, we will never be safe. Then, with Bant’s men dead, we can lure the Pandesians to us.”

  “Yet they will have the high ground,” Seavig said.

  “Which is why we will lure them down, inside the canyon,” Du
ncan replied.

  They all seemed baffled.

  “And then what?” Bramthos asked.

  Duncan looked back, cold and hard.

  “Flood it,” Duncan replied.

  They all stared back in shock.

  “Flood it?” Seavig finally asked. “How?”

  Duncan raised his sword and continued drawing his line in the sand, until finally he drew three short marks.

  “Everfall,” he stated. “We will redirect the falls. Its waters will flow north, and flood the canyon.”

  He stared at the men, who looked down, shocked.

  “A few hundred of us cannot kill Pandesia’s thousands,” he replied. “Yet nature can.”

  A long silence fell over the men as they looked at Duncan, all rubbing their beards, all deep in thought.

  “Risky,” Kavos finally said. “It is a long stretch between here and Baris. Anything could happen.”

  “And the canyon has never been flooded before,” Seavig added. “What if it doesn’t work?”

  “And if we lose against Baris?” Bramthos asked. “That itself could be a deadly battle.”

  “Not to mention, Leptus controls the falls,” Anvin added. “We’d need to enlist their help if we stand any chance.”

  Duncan nodded to him.

  “Precisely, my friend,” he replied. “And that is why I am dispatching you at once.”

  Anvin’s eyes widened as he looked back with surprise and pride.

  “Leave at once for Leptus,” Duncan added, “and enlist them in our plan.”

  A long silence filled the air, the men on the fence, until finally Kavos stepped forward. All the others looked at him with respect, and Aidan knew that whatever he said would mean their agreement or not.

  “A daring plan,” Kavos said. “A risky plan, a bold plan. A plan that will most likely fail. Yet one which is valorous. And foolhardy. I like it. I am with Duncan.”

  One at a time all the men looked up and shouted in agreement, raising their swords.

  “I AM WITH DUNCAN!” they all cried out.

  And Aidan’s heart soared with pride.

  *

  Aidan walked beside Duncan, his father’s strong hand on his shoulder, their boots crunching gravel as they crossed the cave, past all the warriors donning armor, sharpening swords, preparing for their next battle. Aidan had never felt more proud than at this moment. His father, owning the respect of all the men in this cave after his stirring speech, had come not to join his commanders, but to Aidan, all eyes on them. He had pulled Aidan aside and walked with him, alone. As all the men watched them, Aidan took it as a great sign of respect; he hadn’t even realized his father was aware of him amongst all these men, let alone at this critical time.

  They walked in silence, Aidan waiting, eager to hear what his father had to say.

  “I never forget,” his father said, as they finally crossed out of earshot of the other men. He stopped and looked at Aidan meaningfully, and Aidan stared back, his heart pounding. “I know what you did back there. You came for me, all the way from Volis. You trekked alone, all the way to the capital, a dangerous journey even for a hard warrior. You survived, and you even managed to find men to help you.”

  His father grinned, and Aidan, welling with pride, smiled back.

  “You managed to make your way into the dungeons,” his father continued, “in a city occupied, and to help free me in my bleakest hour. If it weren’t for you, I would still be chained there—if not already at the executioner’s hand. I owe you my life, son,” he said, and Aidan felt his eyes well. “You have proved on this day that you are not only a valued son, but a fine, budding warrior. One day you will take over my command.”

  Aidan’s eyes lit up at his father’s words. It was the first time his father had ever talked to him this way, with this tone, looked at him with such respect. They were words he’d always longed to hear from his father, words that made everything in the world right, that made everything he had suffered worth it.

  “There was nothing else I could even think of doing,” Aidan replied. “I love you, Father. There has never been anything else I’ve wanted to do but help your cause.”

  Duncan nodded back, and this time his eyes welled with tears.

  “I know that, son.”

  Aidan felt his heart pounding as he summoned the courage to make a request.

  “I wish to accompany Aidan on his trip to Leptus.”

  Duncan stared back, eyes widening in surprise.

  “I wish to be of service, real service,” Aidan continued in a rush, “and I long to take the journey. I will be of little service here, with all your warriors, attacking the canyon. But I can be of great service in helping Anvin make his way across the countryside, reach Leptus, and persuade them to join our cause. Please, Father. It would be a noble mission.”

  Duncan stroked his beard, seemingly lost in thought. But then, to Aidan’s disappointment, he finally shook his head.

  “The journey to Leptus is a long and treacherous one,” he said, his voice heavy. “One even Anvin may not survive. Aside from the hostile landscape, dragons still circle and packs of Pandesian soldiers roam. You may even face a hostile reception in Leptus—they are separatists, don’t forget.”

  Aidan did not hesitate.

  “I know all this, Father. And none of that deters me.”

  His father slowly shook his head, as he fell silent, a stubborn look that Aidan knew meant No. Aidan summoned more resolve.

  “Did you not just say I have proven myself?” Aidan pressed. “I have crossed Escalon alone for you. Let me cross the wasteland. Let me show you your faith in me is not misplaced. I need this, Father. I need my own mission. I need to feel like I, too, am a man. And I shall never be a man hiding here under your wings.”

  Duncan stared back for a long time, and Aidan could see the thoughts turning in his head, as his heart pounded, awaiting the response.

  Finally, his father sighed, reached out and squeezed his shoulder.

  “You are an even braver warrior than I thought,” he said, “and a more loyal son. You are right—I have underestimated you. And it is not for a father to hold back a son hoping to become a man.”

  He grinned and nodded.

  “Go with Anvin. Serve our cause and serve it well.”

  Aidan beamed as his heart filled with pride and gratitude.

  A group of soldiers appeared and interrupted, leading Duncan away on other business, while at the same time, Motley came over to Aidan’s side, along with Cassandra and White.

  Aidan saw Motley looking down at him with concern.

  “Do you really think that wise?” Motley asked.

  Aidan looked at him with surprise.

  “Were you eavesdropping?” Aidan asked.

  Motley grinned.

  “I’m an actor. Eavesdropping is my trade. Keep no secrets from me, boy. Not after what we’ve been through.”

  Aidan sighed, realizing Motley was who he was.

  “Yes,” he admitted. “I am going. And yes, it was wise.”

  White barked at his feet and jumped up and licked his palm, and Aidan laughed.

  “I guess you want to come, too.”

  White wagged his tail wildly, clearly answering him, and Aidan liked the idea of having the companionship.

  “A foolish errand, boy,” Motley scoffed. “You may not survive it. What is it with you and valor? Have you not yet learned your lesson?”

  Aidan smiled, undeterred.

  “I have not even begun to learn my lesson,” he replied. “And why should it concern you?”

  “Why should it concern me?” Motley asked, offended. “I risked my hide a dozen times to keep you alive. Does that mean nothing? Do you think I wish to see you dead? I care for you, boy. God knows why—I shouldn’t—but I do. Maybe it’s your foolish recklessness. Maybe it’s your naivete, your optimism. In any case, stop this. Go tell your father you made a mistake and stay here with me and the rest of the men. There’s saf
ety in numbers. You will die out there alone.”

  Aidan shook his head.

  “You just don’t understand me,” he said. “That is not who I am. There is more danger in trying to save your life than in being willing to lose it.”

  Motley scoffed.

  “That sounds like something from one of those old books of yours. I told you to stop reading about the past. Those warriors are all dead now. Where did all their valor get them?”

  Aidan frowned.

  “Their valor made their lives worth living, and it is the only reason we even remember their names today,” Aidan replied.

  “And what then is so great about being remembered?” Motley countered. “Will you really even care if you are remembered once you are dead?”

  Aidan went to respond, but Motley raised a hand.

  “I see there’s no sense that can be talked into you, boy,” Motley added. “But I will tell you there is a danger in being a warrior before your time. It is not yet your time.”

  “Then when is my time?” Aidan rebuffed angrily. “When I’m old and gray? Your time comes when it chooses you—not when you choose it.”

  Motley sighed long and hard.

  “I was afraid you’d say something like that. Something bold and foolish. Very well, then. Since there’s no changing your mind, at least take this.”

  Aidan looked down and was surprised as Motley reached out and placed something in his hand. He examined it, baffled, turning it over in his palm. It looked like a piece of curved ivory.

  “What is it?” Aidan asked.

  Motley reached out and grabbed the two ends of the ivory and separated them, and to Aidan’s shock, a concealed blade appeared, gleaming.

  “A dagger,” Aidan breathed, in awe.

  Motley nodded with pride.

  “As sharp as you’ll find in the kingdom, and as well hidden.”

  He reached up and clasped Aidan’s shoulder.

  “Just be sure to return it to me. I don’t like to see my weapons lost. Especially stage weapons. They’re hard to come by, you know.”

  Aidan’s eyes welled with gratitude as he realized Motley’s concern for him. He stepped forward and hugged Motley, and Motley hugged him back.