Night Shadows

by Martin, Shirley

  Drowsy from her aborted slumber of the previous night, she closed her eyes and fell asleep immediately. As her sleep deepened, she dreamed of a deserted well, where a horde of demons crawled out from its depths. The fiends chased after her, brandishing bottles and screaming, "Poison! Poison!" Frightened beyond thought, she ran from them, becoming tangled in weeds and thickets of earthberry bushes. Just when she thought she was safe, another demon menaced her. His long ears extended out from his head, his furry hands ending in talons. She looked up at his face and–Stilo!

  Her heart pounding against her rib cage, she jerked awake and glanced frantically around. Perspiration dampened her dress. At first, she didn't recognize where she was, and feared her dream had become reality. She breathed a long sigh of relief to see she still lay in the cave, Gaderian asleep beside her. Thoughts crammed her head, mostly of Gaderian's offer to have her come live with him. No obligations, he'd said, but she knew she couldn't resist him and wondered if he could resist her. Did he want her only for her body? No matter what, there could be no future for them, a fact painful to accept. She would grow old and gray while he stayed young and handsome. In time, he would want another woman, either vampire or mortal. A man as handsome as Gaderian could attract any woman he wanted. She clenched her hands, never wanting to accept that possibility, but she had no choice. And how could he stay in one place for any length of time? Others would wonder how he remained young while they grew old.

  These problems segued to more immediate ones. What if Moreen failed to obtain the poisons at the apothecary? So many things might go wrong with their plan, rendering the whole scheme a disaster. She had spoken confidently to Gaderian and Moreen about trekking to Magh Eamhainn, but life didn't always go as planned, a hard lesson she'd learned long ago. What if her horse went lame? What if a robber overcame her, despite her denial of that possibility? What if? What if? She sat up straight, then levered herself to her feet, resolved not to think about her journey. In the semi-darkness, she braced herself along the limestone wall, feeling her way carefully to the spot where water dripped from overhead. Catching the water in her cupped hands again and again, she slaked her thirst.

  Needing to exercise muscles sore from lying so long on the hard stone, she stepped within the space lit by the torch, then twisted from side to side. It would be hours before Gaderian awoke again and a long time before Moreen returned. In the meantime, she intended to catch up on her sleep.

  * * *

  Moreen came the following night while Fianna lay dozing. At least it must be night, Fianna surmised as she slowly came awake, but time meant nothing inside the cave, where perpetual darkness prevailed, relieved only by the flickering torch whose range stretched but a few yards. Yet she considered the time spent with Gaderian a blessing, their chance for learning more about each other, for strengthening the love between them. And what will become of our love? she agonized, while her mind struggled with conflicting emotions and desires. If she came to live with him–a possibility that beckoned like a siren song–she would become a woman without a purpose, a piece of driftwood floating on the river of regret. Perhaps the day would come when she welcomed his protection, but for now, she didn't foresee that occurrence

  Gaderian's hand in hers, Fianna was lying next to him when Moreen approached in the cave's dim interior, her face and body a blur in the faint illumination.

  They both looked up as the vampiress sank down next to them. Fianna slowly came awake, then sat up and shimmied into a comfortable position, eager to hear what Moreen had to say.

  "First of all," the vampiress said without preamble, "I got the poisons, the right mixture as Gaderian suggested, combined in a flask. No easy job, that, searching for containers in a strange apothecary, mixing them with a funnel. It's a good thing I have such excellent night vision. So that's done," she said with a satisfied smile.

  "Where is it?" Fianna looked around frantically, not seeing the flask or her satchel, or any evidence that Moreen had succeeded in her mission.

  "Outside the cave." With a toss of her head, Moreen gestured in that direction. "It's a glass flask, of course, so I tucked it in your saddlebag. Which reminds me, it seemed a saddlebag would suit your purpose better than a satchel, easy to carry while riding, so I, uh, procured one for you. Also packed food and clothes for you, everything you'll need for your journey. Compared to that task, it was a simple matter for me to sneak into your room. As for the horse, don't worry," she said in response to Fianna's frown, "no one will steal the horse or your saddlebag. I placed a protective spell around both mares." She took a deep breath. "Now, another thing . . . do you go by the name of Angharad Cullain in the tavern?"

  A spurt of alarm jolted Fianna. Fear tingled along her spine and down her legs. "Yes, but why–"

  "A man has been asking for you, giving that name. Wouldn't give the tavern owner his own name, but I heard some of the tavern patrons talking about you. Everyone has been asking about you. I fear it's only a matter of time before the tavern owner and everyone else discovers your real name. The tavern owner–Cedric?–told them you went to stay with a sick friend. The truth. Too bad I didn't get the name of the man who's been asking about you."

  "Angus Kendall!" Fianna pressed her hand to her mouth. A myriad of troubles coiled inside her, painful and intense.

  Gaderian squeezed her arm, a trace of urgency in his voice. "The man who wants to marry you?"

  "The same. But I won't marry him." She tried not to think of this new development, a dilemma she'd tried to convince herself would never happen. Yet the very real possibility that Angus would come for her had always lurked in the back of her mind, like a nightmare waiting to burst free.

  Moreen waved her hand. "We will have to let this problem of your would-be lover go for another time. As important as it is, we have more pressing things to undertake. Or rather, you do," she said with a smile.

  "Yes," Fianna agreed, putting a brave face on her predicament, refusing to deal with it now. "Never mind Angus. I'd better be on my way." She leaned toward Gaderian while Moreen turned aside.

  Fianna kissed him long and passionately, striving to hold back the tears, convincing herself he would be recovered by the time she returned. Despite her efforts, tears trickled down her cheeks and fell on his hand.

  "Don't cry, sweetheart." He brushed her tears away with one finger. "I will be better when you return. This I promise you."

  "Oh, yes!" She had to believe him.

  He clasped her hand one last time. "Take care of yourself. May the Goddess watch over you." He eased her closer. "I love you," he whispered.

  She murmured in his ear. "And I love you." After one last embrace, she stood and took Moreen's hand, her linen cloth in her other hand. They left the cave together, Gaderian's whispered words echoing in her ear. I love you. Her eyes brimmed, and she fought to suppress her tears. Now was not the time to break down and cry.

  As they emerged from the cave, Moreen gave her a frank look. "Gaderian will be recovered by the time you return. Recall when I said other forces were at work here?" At Fianna's nod, she continued. "Knowing that you care for him makes so much difference."

  Suppressing her tears, Fianna merely nodded again. Overhead, a plethora of stars flickered in a cobalt sky, a full moon casting a glow on the ground. Slightly cooler weather had settled over the land, a strong wind rustling bushes and tree branches. Her hair blew across her face, and she tucked the locks behind her ears.

  "Well," Moreen said briskly, "we'd better see you on your way." She patted the saddlebag. "Packed your things in this bag." She opened it and brought out the leather belt with the sheathed dagger. "Put this on now, and I have your vest that will conceal the dagger as long as you keep the vest closed. Clothes and food for you here, too." She held up a leather bag and shook it with a jingling sound. "Money, if you should need it for any reason. And the flask," she said, emphasizing the last word. "Guard it with your life."

  "Believe me, I will." Fianna wrapped and secured the
belt around her, then drew on the vest. She fastened the frogs on the vest, then slipped the cloak around her shoulders and fastened it with a silver brooch. She looked around, as if there was more she wanted to say. "That's it, then. Best I leave now." While Moreen held the reins, Fianna hitched up her dress and placed her foot in the stirrup, then swung around to ride astride. It would be a lonely ride, for there were no inns along the way.

  She bent low to clasp Moreen's hand. A tremendous swell of affection for the other woman rose inside her, this vampiress she had known for such a short time. "Moreen, I can't thank you enough for procuring all the necessities for me."

  Moreen stared at her wide-eyed. "It is I who must thank you. Gaderian and I and all of the undead. You are doing us a great favor." She was silent for a moment, her forehead creased in thought. "If you return at night, meet me here. I'll be looking for you. If it's during the day when you come back, I'll meet you later at the tavern and bring you here. After it's dark," she said with a knowing smile.

  Now that Fianna was mounted and ready to ride, doubts buffeted her. Could she really carry this off? She assumed a stalwart face, never once wanting to reveal her misgivings. She bade Moreen goodbye, then trotted the horse down the rocky cliff. She followed a narrow path that bordered a stream, heading away from Moytura and south toward Magh Eamhainn. Mindful it would take her at least two days–probably more–to reach the deserted hamlet, she decided to keep at a steady pace, allowing enough time for her and the horse to rest.

  After a few twists and turns of the dirt path, she joined up with the Royal South Road, a wider and more heavily-used throughway, but still a dirt road. The night remained quiet, the horse's hooves pounding on the ground the only sound as she gradually increased her speed to a gallop. Her cloak billowed behind her, and her hair streamed in the wind. The moon hung low in the west, a sign of the approaching dawn. The land became hillier the farther south she rode, elevations the horse took in its stride, slowing down to clamber up the rocky cliffs. Then onto level ground again, once more following the stream that meandered southward. She passed isolated huts, and a few large farmhouses, grandiose even in the darkness, adding a note of charm to the countryside. She caught the aromas of wheat and ripened crops and reminded herself to stop at one of the farmhouses later to buy a few apples or carrots for the horse. Bouncing in her saddle, she tried to catch the horse's rhythm, for she had a great distance to cover.

  Miles later, she stopped to rest the horse, give her sore muscles a rest, too. Her thighs and legs burned, her back aching from being in the saddle for so long. She walked the mare for a few minutes to let it cool down, then dismounted and led it to the stream to drink. While the horse eased its thirst and cropped on the grass, she walked back and forth, stretching her muscles, twisting from side to side. Dust and thirst plagued her parched throat, and she knelt by the stream, scooping handfuls of water to slake her thirst, then brushing the drops from her mouth. Her stomach's growling reminded her how hungry she was. She opened the bag of food that Moreen had packed, cheese and bread to last her throughout her journey. Included with her repast were several measans, a cross between an apple and a peach, an expensive fruit and one she hadn't tasted since she'd come to Moytura. Honey cakes, too, she noted as she held the cloth bag open and stared inside.

  When she got back to the capital, she'd rent a horse whenever her savings permitted, and ride as much as possible. Another wave of nostalgia gripped her, as it had many times recently, for she missed her horse, Tillie, and the great times they'd had, riding together. Brushing her hands off, she sat in silent recollection, reliving happy days at home, before her father had died, before her mother had remarried. Her mother. When would she see her again? She swallowed as a wave of nostalgia swept over her, memories of her mother and brother, her real father, all the happy times they'd shared.

  Enough reminiscing, she mused as she pushed herself to her feet. So far, she had seen no other riders this late at night, or early in the morning, she thought as a bluish-gray hue tinted the western horizon. She went behind an earthberry bush to relieve herself, then mounted the mare again. A rosy glow now tinted the land, then gradually faint sunlight revealed maples and hickories, their leaves changing color. She rode on, and within minutes, bright sunlight gilded the countryside, showing wooded hills and valleys, all the beauty and glory of Avador. Fianna breathed in deeply, catching she scent of honeysuckle. She rode past more farms where cows mooed and pigs squealed. In the distance, several horses socialized and bounded within a large, fenced in tract, their manes waving in the breeze.

  She looked far ahead and turned wary eyes behind her, seeing no other horseman on the road. That situation was bound to change soon, she fretted, for this was a busy road. She'd spoken bravely enough to Gaderian and Moreen, but if a robber–or worse–several brigands ambushed her, she doubted that her dagger would do much good. She kept to the middle of the road, where she would be less likely to suffer an ambush.

  Ahead of her, she saw other riders, two men and two women, all of them well-dressed, their fine horses additional evidence of their wealth, she could tell as the riders closed the distance between them. No danger there, she hoped. She greeted them as they passed each other, then coughed in a cloud of dust as she heard their retreating hoofbeats.

  The miles sped past, prompting occasional rests for both her and the horse. During these respites, she practiced drawing her dagger from the sheath and throwing the weapon at a target. Speed was essential, if she had to protect herself . . . and prayed that the occasion wouldn't arise. A forest stretched ahead of her, its woodsy scent borne on a wind that had picked up within the last hour or so. Thoughts of Gaderian helped ease the loneliness of her journey, his kisses and caresses fresh in her mind, warming her body. And his last words. I love you.

  Nearing the forest, the sound of hoofbeats behind her jerked her attention. She turned in her saddle to see a lone rider. A flash of alarm gripped her, her fingers clenching the reins so hard her nails dug into her skin. Her heart thudded against her chest, her mouth gone dry. Something told her this man posed a threat. He might be harmless, another rider on a mission, but she didn't dare take a chance. He was fast closing the distance between them, and she spurred her horse on, pressing her thighs against its flanks. A hill loomed ahead, a bad place to outride him, even though he would hold the same disadvantage. Goddess, help me!

  On impulse, she veered off from the highway and urged her horse into the woods, weaving among a thick abundance of hemlocks and chestnuts. The horse neighed its displeasure at this unfamiliar murk, but she had no choice but to ride on. A sea of treetops rose above her, a thick gloom abetted by an overhead curtain of wild grapevines, which climbed from branch to branch and tangled together at the tops of trees. She could barely see a thing! The sound of hoofbeats behind her sent her heart pounding faster, faster, her mouth parched. She rode from instinct, not knowing where she was going, only knowing she must escape. The man spoke not a word, no need to speak.

  Gradually, her eyes became accustomed to the dark, but that did little good. She pushed tree branches out of the way, taking the curves and angles of the trees. Her breath came in gasps, sweat pouring down her face, drenching her clothes. She'd never escape, never get out of this forest alive. Her heart thudded so hard, she felt every pulse in her body. She wanted to cry, both for herself and her mission. She had failed. Talmora, she should have stayed on the road. Goddess, help me, help me. Tears of fright and despair streamed down her face.

  A roar reverberated behind her. Her heart jumped, and she turned in her saddle as a bear rushed out from a bush with a heavy rustle of leaves. She screamed and the horse neighed, all but throwing her off. She strained and fought to stay in the saddle. Her body shook, every bone, every muscle. In spite of her fear, she patted the horse, an instinctive gesture she'd learned long ago.

  The bear spooked the vagabond's horse, throwing the man to the ground. "Ahhh!" He fell and lay still, but only for a moment. Roaring
with anger, the bear savaged the fallen horseman, batting him with his claws. The man's screams cut the silence, mingling with the bear's bellows.

  Get out of here! Get out of here! Her horse raised its forelegs, its eyes wild with terror. It took all her skill to bring the mare under control, while the man's screams echoed in her ears, then faded away. He won't get out of here alive. She hoped his horse would.

  Fianna rode past trees and bushes as limbs swatted at her scratched face. Her arms ached from her grip on the reins. She had to get out of the forest, but where was the road? She dared not take the same route she'd followed when she'd entered the woods for fear she'd encounter the bear again. Darkness surrounded her, the trees and bushes all the same. She stopped for a few moments to calm her fast-beating heart. Everything looked the same! She'd heard of people lost in the woods for days, blundering their way from one tree to another. The very thing she was doing, now! Her breath sounded like thunder in her ears, her back and arms aching, every muscle tense. She looked around from side to side, ahead of her and behind her. She'd never get out of this Goddess-damned forest.

  Doggedly, she trotted on, always looking for a glimmer of light that showed where the forest met the road. She pressed her aching hand to her eyes, afraid for her horse, too. It was not the mare's fault that she had blundered into this forest. She might die here. Her body might be found months or years from now, dead and rotting. The horse's body, too.