Into the Shadows

by Linda K Hopkins

  “No, sir.”

  “Good. Then if that’s all, I have serious matters to attend to.”

  “Yes, sir.” Lark rose as the commander turned back to his papers. She was disappointed in his response, but not particularly surprised. The commander’s only love in life was the Crimson Guard and the force that they represented. She considered his suggestion of seeking Val’s help; while she doubted that he would be interested in assisting her, his secretary might be willing to find someone who could complete the errand. His office was in the same direction as her chambers, and she decided to seek him out immediately.

  She had just stepped into the passage when her brother came careening around a corner.

  “Pip,” she called. She hastened her step when he turned. “I’m so glad to see you! I need to speak to you.”

  “What are you doing in the east wing?”

  “I had a request to make of the commander. But I really need to speak with you.”

  “Lark, I have –”

  “Please?”

  He quirked an eyebrow. “My sister, the future queen, is begging me,” he teased. “Very well, let’s find a private place where we can talk.”

  He led her back to the central hall and down a side passage to a small sitting room where she sat down with relief. It was warm in the palace, and she could feel the perspiration gathering on her brow. Pip sat down across from her, and she studied him for a moment. At seventeen he was a gangly youth, without the brawn of his older brothers. But where they had brawn, he had brain, and from the time he was little, he had been filled with an insatiable curiosity. As soon as he could walk, he would disappear for hours at a time, exploring the palace, making friends with the guards, and discovering long-forgotten tunnels and hidey-holes. By the time he was a teenager, his explorations had expanded to take in the city, and when he could sneak out undetected, the countryside beyond. There was not a place in Lenora that was unfamiliar to him, and everywhere he went, he was greeted like an old friend.

  “Did you find out anything about the magic maker?” she asked as she leaned into the cushions behind her.

  “No. He’s vanished like a puff of smoke. He told no-one that he was leaving, and his neighbors assure me that he had no friends or family beyond the walls of Lenora.”

  “Did you ask the gate wardens if they saw him leave?”

  “I did. The warden at the north gate thinks he remembers a man leaving during the night with a cart sometime last week, but he couldn’t be sure. And even if he did, do you know how many roads lead from the north gate? He could have gone anywhere.”

  “Well, there must be others like him, practicing magic secretly.”

  “I’m sure there are. The trouble is finding them.”

  “If anyone can find them, Pip, it’s you.”

  “I’ve already started making some discreet enquiries, Lark, but it won’t be easy. Especially with all the fighting up north.”

  “I know. But I’ll do whatever it takes to get these wretched things removed.” She looked down balefully at the cuffs, then shoved her hands behind her back, hiding the reminder of her humiliation. “Lieutenant Rill said that the Rhymers have new allies.”

  “He told you that? What else did he say?”

  “Nothing. Who are these allies, Pip?”

  “All I know is what I’ve heard on the streets.”

  “Which is?”

  “They’re called Shadow Warriors.”

  “Where do they come from?”

  Pip shrugged. “No-one knows, not even the commander. It’s why the information is being kept so secret.”

  “So, what do you know?”

  “They’re like shadows,” Pip said, “creeping up on our guards and killing them before they even know they’re in danger.”

  “And they fight with the Rhymers. Why?” Lark’s tone was incredulous. “They’re just a bunch of looters and thieves.”

  “Again, no-one knows.”

  “What’s your theory?” Lark asked.

  “Who says I have one?”

  “You always have a theory!”

  Pip grinned appreciatively before answering. “I think they’re linked in some way to the Ancient.”

  “The Ancient? Why?”

  “Well, think about it. The first time the Shadow Warriors were seen, it was in the north near Arach’s Gate. That’s where the Ancients lived before, and it makes sense that the one who returned lives there now.”

  Lark considered for a moment. “But the Ancient returned at least ten years ago. More even. And that doesn’t explain where these Shadow Warriors come from.”

  “We don’t know what the Ancient is capable of. Besides, the Shadow Warriors are said to be hideous creatures, and the Ancient’s not exactly pretty.”

  “That doesn’t prove anything!” Lark said with a laugh.

  “I don’t know. All the evidence points to the Ancient having something to do with this.”

  “Okay, but why? What would the Ancient gain from creating an army? And why would it want to help the Rhymers?”

  “Maybe it hates us for killing its brethren.”

  “The Ancients started the war, remember?”

  “That doesn’t mean much when your entire clan is dead.”

  “You think this Ancient was around during the war and escaped somehow?”

  “Do you have another explanation?”

  “No, but I do wonder why the Ancient returned.”

  He was silent a moment. “You know,” he said slowly, “I did hear something else about the Shadow Warriors.”

  “You always hear interesting things,” Lark said with a grin. “What did you hear?”

  “They’re searching for something.”

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe –” The door opened and Neta entered the room.

  “There you are, my lady,” she said.

  “No escaping Neta,” Pip said in amusement.

  Neta sent him a sharp look, then turned back to Lark. “You need to get ready for your lunch.”

  “Let me know if you discover anything useful,” Lark said to Pip before rising and exiting the room, Neta on her heels.

  “Do you remember the day the Ancient was first seen over Lenora?” she asked Neta as they walked.

  “The Ancient? Why in the dragon’s name are you thinking about the Ancient? You’ve managed to muss your hair and it’ll have to be fixed before your lunch with the princess.”

  Lark was silent. She remembered the day the Ancient returned as clearly as if it had been yesterday. She had been outside, tagging behind Val and her brothers and begging them to allow her to join in their game, when the Ancient had flown overhead, slowly circling above the city. People had begun screaming, running for shelter, while she and the boys had just stared up in shock, their jaws hanging open. Iron had been the first to recover. “Get the arrows,” he’d shouted, but the Ancient was already turning away, leaving the city and heading north. For the next few weeks there had been reports of dragon sightings around the ruins of Citadel, but then it had headed to the mountains, and it had seldom been seen since. Slowly the event had faded from people’s minds, and as sightings became fewer and farther between, people had stopped thinking about the creature altogether.

  Lark thought through her discussion with Pip; his theory held a kernel of sense. But if the Ancient had created an army of Shadow Warriors, what exactly was it up to?

  Chapter 4

  Lark was descending the grand staircase the following morning when she saw Val coming up, his hair slightly mussed and his shirt hanging loose. He stopped when he saw her and gave her a shallow bow.

  “Ah, the Ice Queen. You’re up early.”

  She gave him a slow perusal. “And so are you, your highness. Attending to matters of importance, are you?”

  “Yes, since they are regarding my own state of contentment.”

  “Of course. Then d
on’t let me you delay you.”

  “You’re not. Why don’t you join me for breakfast?”

  “I have a breakfast engagement.”

  “A cup of tea, perhaps?”

  “Another time, Val.”

  “Are you going to hold those cuffs against me forever?”

  “I’m sure I will forgive you in due course, if you remove the magic.”

  “I’m not going to do that.”

  “Then I suppose I will hold it against you forever. Now if you’ll excuse me, I must be off.”

  He held out a hand to stop her. “Where are you going?”

  “If you must know, I’m looking for a footman to deliver a note.”

  “You do have a handmaid, do you not?”

  “Yes, well, she was otherwise occupied.” In fact, Lark had decided it was easier to pass the note along herself than endure Neta’s disapproval of her task of finding someone to collect the herbs. “I’m on my way out anyway, so it seemed a simple enough thing for me to pass along the note myself.”

  “I see. And who is this note for?”

  “I don’t see that it is any of your concern, Val.”

  She began to step past him, but as she did, he plucked the note from her hand, his eyes narrowing as he read the name on the envelope. “Why are you sending letters to Lieutenant Rill?”

  She snatched it back angrily. “Because he is a friend and I need his help.”

  “His help for what?” He leaned closer. “Do not forget that you have been claimed.”

  She stared at him icily. “As if I can forget. I need Rill’s help to retrieve some herbs for my mother.”

  He took a step back and smiled. “Indeed? You could ask me, you know. I am to be your husband.”

  “Since when did you ever lift a finger to help anyone but yourself?”

  “Come now, you know how fond I am of Lady Finch. She was like a mother to me when my own passed away.”

  “You’ll find someone to retrieve the herbs for Mother?” she asked, suspiciously.

  “I will. And in return, you’ll give me a kiss.”

  She looked at him incredulously. “Give you a kiss? Why would I do that?”

  “To thank me. It shouldn’t be too hard, Lark. Other women find it quite easy to kiss me, and soon we will be sharing far more than a kiss.”

  She raised her forearms. “Do you shackle those other women to get them to do what you want, or is that privilege reserved for me?”

  “You know, Lark, those cuffs are my way of protecting you. People will know who you are and will avoid doing anything to hurt you.”

  “You don’t really believe that, do you?”

  “You need to stop doubting me, Lark. I only ever want what’s best for you. But enough of this. Give me a kiss and I’ll find someone to retrieve the plants for you.”

  Stepping closer, he took her by the arm and drew her into an alcove. Placing his hand beneath her chin, he raised her face as he lowered his lips and slanted his mouth across hers; he pulled away a moment later, his eyes glinting as he looked at her.

  “The idea is for you to kiss me back,” he said. “I might as well be kissing a statue!”

  “I realize you’re used to far more willing participants,” she said, “but I am not one of the city whores.”

  “Dammit, Lark, do you have to be so difficult? You’re to be my wife!”

  “You keep telling me that I’m to be your wife, but you treat me like a common prisoner by putting cuffs on me! Take them off, and you’ll get your kiss!”

  He stepped back and crossed his arms over his chest. “You agreed before hundreds of people that you would accept my claiming token. How can I respect you when you won’t even honor your vow?”

  She stared at him in astonishment, then turned to leave. “Let me know when you have the herbs,” she said as she stepped out from the alcove and headed back down the stairs.

  The few hours between appointments were taken up with dress fittings and discussions about the floral arrangements, both of which interested Lark little, although she did acknowledge that her dress was beautiful and flattering. Made from silver chiffon, it had narrow jewel-crusted straps and a deep V neckline which accentuated her bust. A wide jeweled belt wrapped around her waist, while the soft fabric fell in gentle folds to her feet, hiding the plump rolls that she wished would simply melt away. The dress was finished with a train that hung from her shoulders and trailed along the floor. The fabric swayed gently around her feet as she moved, but try as she might, she could not muster up excitement for the beautiful garment.

  It was three days after her discussion with Val that Lark finally had a few hours to herself. She had been waiting for an opportunity to visit Master Clem, Lenora’s chief archivist, and she sat impatiently as Neta fussed around her. When Lark was little, the old man would invite her into his office and allow her to peruse his books of Cambrian folklore. He was an expert on Valorian history, noted for his wide-ranging knowledge of all things Valorian, but it was the history of magic that most interested her today.

  Her route to the library took her through the old city, where those who had survived the War of the Ancients had resettled after leaving the ruins of Citadel. Located along the banks of the Cambria, the first buildings had been humble dwellings of wood, but these had vanished as bigger, grander buildings of mountain stone took their place along the river. If the stories were to be believed, however, they were nothing like the buildings of Citadel, the greatest of Valoria’s cities, built during the golden age of magic. Instead, the people arriving in Lenora had to depend on their own strength and skill to raise the new city.

  The carriage lurched to a sudden halt, and Lark grabbed the carriage handle to prevent herself sliding from the seat. Shouts reached her from the street and she pulled aside the curtain to see a man standing in the road, gripping the shoulder of a young boy. The boy’s dark hair and tan skin announced him as Rhymer, and Lark dropped the curtain and leaned back in the seat. The boy had obviously been caught stealing, a common activity for Rhymer youth who sneaked into the city. She heard her driver instruct the man to move out of the way, and a few moments later the carriage swung back into motion.

  They drew to a stop a short while later outside the city library. From the outside, the building was very ordinary – plain white walls with functional doors and windows – but the dull façade hid a glorious interior where the annals of history had been preserved for hundreds of years. Stepping through the doors, Lark paused to take in the scene that spread out before her. In the middle of an enormous room stood a raised dais – the holy ground of the archives. Here, dozens of scholars worked in silence at desks that stood in neat rows, while waiting around the edges, pages dressed in white stood in readiness to dash off and retrieve a book or manuscript when needed by the scholars. A glass dome, hundreds of feet high, allowed light to filter into the center of the room, while all along the outer walls, row upon row of books and manuscripts stood on thick wooden shelves. The building was four storeys high, and from where she stood, Lark could see the balconies that ran around each level, overlooking the central hall. Spiral staircases rose in each corner, allowing access to the levels above, and it was to one of these that Lark headed, walking as quietly as she was able so as not to disturb the silence that reigned over the hall.

  Clem’s office was on the fourth floor, and twice she stopped to catch her breath as she made her way slowly to the top. Turning to the left, she headed along the worn carpet and came to a stop outside a scuffed wooden door. Rapping firmly, she waited as the murmur of voices came from within. It took a few moments before footsteps were heard and the door was opened to reveal a young man. He frowned as he took her in.

  “I’m sorry, Master Clem is too busy to see anyone,” he said, closing the door in her face. She put out a hand to stop it.

  “Master Clem will wish to see me,” she said firmly. “You can tell him Lady –”

  “
He is not to be disturbed,” the young man interrupted with a scowl, pushing against the door once more.

  “Who’s there, Heath?” a voice called from within. “Is that Lady Snowlark? Let her in!”

  “But, Master,” he began, “you have –”

  “I always have time for Lady Lark! Now don’t keep her standing there! Open the door!”

  “My apologies, my lady,” Heath said, stiffly, “it’s just that Master Clem’s very busy.”

  “Of course,” Lark said. “I won’t take much of his time. Now put on the kettle and make us some tea, before leaving us to some private conversation.”

  “Better do as she says, lad,” Clem said, moving around a cluttered desk and heading to where she stood. “Lady Lark is to be your queen one day.”

  “Of course, Master,” Heath said with a slight bow. His gaze darted to Lark for a brief moment, his expression shrewd, before he turned and headed from the room. The sound of a kettle being filled reached their ears as Clem indicated a chair for Lark to sit.

  “Who is that?” Lark asked. “He wasn’t here the last time I visited.”

  “It’s been a while since you visited,” Clem chided gently. “He started working for me about six months ago.”

  “Where did he come from?”

  “Somewhere up north. Sorafen, perhaps. Definitely somewhere in Eldora. He’s very thoughtful and methodical, which are useful traits when dealing with all the documents we have here. I find myself relying on him more each day.” He leaned back in his chair as Heath returned with a tray of tea things and carefully placed it on the table between them. Clem’s spectacles had slipped partway down his nose, and his gray hair was in disarray, but Lark knew that behind the humble exterior lay a sharp mind. He handed her a cup of tea as Heath left the room. “I’m delighted to see you, my dear, but hearing how busy you’ve been of late, I think you must have a very particular reason for coming here today.”

  “Perhaps I just wanted to visit with an old friend,” she said.