The Shadow Warrior (The Aeonians Book 2)

by J. E. Klimov

  Hands on his knees, he heaved and forced the food back down into his stomach. Wiping his mouth with his hand, he spotted guards in his periphery watching him. When he stood back up, the guards corrected their posture and stared ahead. Taking time to catch his breath, he observed the palace columns towering over him. A lion’s paw was engraved in stone at the crest where the building meets the roof. His mother had that tattooed on her arm. His gaze fell to the entrance.

  His legs moved robotically up the marble steps, back indoors, and past the courtyard once more. But instead of returning to the dining hall, he veered the other way, toward the stone road that led to familiar iron gates. His walk transformed into a jog, leaving a trail of dirt behind. Bence stopped short of the three-story house, consumed by weeds and vines. The windows vibrated rhythmically. As he approaching the building, his heart sank. He leaned his head against the stone wall.

  “Tulelo?”

  A whimper seeped through the walls. “You broke your promise.”

  Taking a few steps back, Bence rubbed his arms. A slit eye popped open through the window. He tightened his core as if kicked in the stomach. “I was worked up by that strange old lady. Leaving here would be foolish.”

  “For you. But what about me?”

  “If I marry Maciji, I may have the power to release you. That way, I can stay, and you can have your freedom.” Bence’s voice wavered, but he lifted his head in resolve.

  “Will you? When she finds out you don’t have true royal connections to Deran, I don’t think so.” The eye disappeared and the building shuddered.

  He slammed a fist against the stone wall. Tulelo was right. Maciji would find out sooner or later. But it was a problem he was willing to sweep aside and smoother over later. Survivalism ran in his blood. He had made it this far when he should’ve been dead long ago. And yet, Tulelo’s words swarmed his head like bees.

  “I’ll tell her.”

  Silence.

  “Tulelo. I will tell her. Before we marry. And I’ll prove to you everything will work out alright.”

  Cackling rang in the air. A half dozen men and women walked up the road, led by a curvaceous figure with a glistening head piece. Ki. When she spotted him, she sauntered over.

  “Aw. You’re visiting your pet? How cute!” She picked a Swift Smuggler from her hair and bit into a petal. The white flowers littered her hair like snowflakes.

  “Why is he locked in the building? He was doing just fine outdoors.”

  She giggled as her companions followed along. “He had to be locked up after he scared everyone in town!”

  With a stiff lip, he said, “I took him out of this compound, and he did nothing!”

  “We can’t have that wild thing out in the open.” She paused, lifted her arm and curled it around one of the women’s face. She stroked her plump cheek. “I was just coming from a ceremony of sorts.” Everyone fell into a fit of giggles again. “But now that I’ve run into you, I realize I must have a word with you.”

  With the flick of her wrist, her crowd dispersed in different directions. Some burst into song, while others danced out of tune. Bence narrowed his eyes at Ki as she beckoned him.

  “Say good-bye to your pet and follow me. This is important.” Her tone flipped like a switch to one of repugnance.

  Bence’s head jerked back to Tulelo’s house. “I’m sorry. I’ll visit again.”

  No response. He sighed, rubbed his hand over his face, and followed Ki. When they arrived at the gazebo, Bence held his breath as she opened the door. A puff of particles hit his face. He exhaled. The room still reeked of incense, but he had successfully averted the first wave of it. Ki lay down on her bench, tracing her finger up the slit of her dress. Bence took a seat in the mound of pillows. He stared hard at her.

  Impatience mounted pressure until words blurted from his mouth. “Look, I already know all about consummating a marriage.”

  Ki threw her shoulders back as she exploded with laughter, kicking her legs in the air. Her six-inch heels glittered in the sunlight. “You’re funny. I’m pretty sure at this point, the marriage doesn’t need any consummating,” she said with a sparkle in her eye. Ki slid off the bench and crawled on her hands and knees toward him.

  Shoving his hands into his armpits, Bence sat back. His neck grew hot as she slithered closer. Ki threw her tanned arms around him, clasped his shoulders, and hoisted herself onto his lap. Locks of her hair cascaded in front of her face and around Bence’s head. The overwhelming floral aroma made his head spin.

  Her plump lips parted. “Unless, you want to practice on me.”

  Bence shoved her away. “What the hell are you doing?” His breath became shallow and his heart beat at lightning speed.

  Tilting her head, she brought a finger to her lips. “Why not? Maciji and I are sisters. We’re allowed to share. In fact, we share all the time.”

  “I can see that,” he muttered. “Is this really what you wanted to ‘talk’ about?”

  Ki clasped her hands. Multiple bangles jingled as they slid down her wrist, exposing a thumb-sized tattoo of the lion’s paw. “No,” she uttered. Her eyes clouded. Her knees shook. After taking a deep breath, she said, “As you already know, in old Irellian practice, it was common to sell the youth into slavery, especially to Dunyas, who in turn would sell them for a profit. Most were young women.”

  Her eyes flickered up. Bence remained still, refusing to display emotion.

  She tucked a tuft of hair behind her ear, exposing a large orb hanging from her earlobe. A thin chain trailed down her neck, across her chest, and disappeared up the other side of her face. “Our parents were the ones in this province to fight this practice. They won, but at a cost of their lives. Maciji took the chair when she became of age, and she fought like a lion every day to gain the respect of the people. However, Irelle has taken such a terrible economic downturn, one we haven’t seen in decades. Our weaponry sales are falling short of our competitors. Raw materials seem to be the only thing selling. If Maciji cannot keep this balance, I fear the people will resort to the old ways. But by marrying you, there is hope.”

  Bence gripped the pillows until his knuckles turned white.

  “But rest assured, I’m sure you two will fall in love in time. You both are beautiful creatures. Unless, you are already in love?”

  Bence shook his head. “Love just isn’t built into my being.”

  Ki blinked her heavily coated lashes rapidly. “You truly are like a shadow. A flat, empty existence.”

  “Watch it,” he growled. “Who needs love? I’ve gone my whole life without it, and I’m doing just fine.”

  When Bence shifted his weight, Ki stood. “You poor soul.”

  “Is that it? Is that all you wanted me to talk about? Great. Thanks.” Pushing past her, Bence headed toward the gazebo’s exit.

  Ki’s finger grazed his low back. Bence grasped his dagger and snatched her hair. Pulling her head back, he inched the blade closer. “Unless you have anything else to say, I recommend you leave me alone.”

  Her fingers scratched at her neck as she gagged. “You have such a strong reaction to the word.”

  Bence released her. After he sheathed his weapon, he adjusted his tunic and backed away slowly. Ki stood, hair disheveled, hands at her sides.

  “Love is not lust or romance. Love embodies any soul on this planet you would lay your life down for. Love is an unspoken promise to be each other’s pillar. It is never asked for or offered. It just is.”

  “Sounds like a fool’s prayer,” he spat.

  Bence slammed the door and headed for the palace exit. He needed some fresh air to clear his head.

  CHAPTER

  27

  Emerging from the woods, Isabel crossed long grassy plains. Fuad River sparkled in the distance. It flowed smoothly, not a ripple in sight. It was a half-mile wide, and Isabel knew it was deep. Leaning forward, Isabel whispered to her horse, “Okay, don’t falter on me.” She flicked the reins and clicked her tongue
. When they were within feet of the river bank, she shouted, “Jump!”

  When the horse leapt, Isabel summoned the wind, and an invisible forced pushed them up. Her muscles strained as she tried to command enough force to carry them both. The horse kicked its legs, but they continued to fly across the width of the river. Her belly did a somersault as they descended. Land was still a few feet away, but the wind dissipated.

  “Shoot!”

  She squeezed her eyes shut and braced for impact. Hooves slammed against rock, followed by a splash. Isabel jerked forward as her horse pulled its lower half from the water. Isabel blurted out a laugh. Her horse snuffed back.

  “I won’t do that again, I promise,” she said, patting its head. “Now, let’s go. We are only an hour away from Zeyland!”

  As Isabel rode along, she wondered what the city would look like. The whole country had been too busy rebuilding their own cities, she hadn’t had the chance to pay her respects to Jabin.

  Part of it was also guilt. Zeyland once belonged to the Dunya, and the fact that she failed to save them dwelled in the bottom of her heart as a permanent dull ache. But it also provided her with more drive─she wouldn’t fail the Zingaris like she had with the Dunya.

  A rumble echoed in the distance. Mountains decorated with rain clouds stood proudly in the distance. Isabel smiled. Rain had finally returned to Zeyland. The drought had plagued this side of the country for three years, and she was relieved to see that the rainy season had started.

  Which means snow in the north!

  Seeing some form of normalcy pumped hope through Isabel. Wooden poles strung together like soldiers protected the entrance to the city. As she neared the front gates, she smiled. The walls were covered in colorful murals of the Dunya. They were playing music, dancing, and eating─things the Dunya did best. The rain completely soaked her clothing, but she couldn’t help but stop her horse and admire the tribute to the extinct race.

  Mustering as much courage as she could, Isabel trotted to the entrance. The gigantic fifty-foot-high gate was replaced by modest human-sized double doors. She dismounted her horse and scanned the gates. There weren’t any Zingaris keeping watch. Fighting back anxiety nipping her heels, she told herself they were nomads before the war, and the thought of watch guards hadn’t crossed their minds. Zingaris were such a carefree and trusting kind.

  She knocked on the door. A slow-paced melody oozed through the cracks. Isabel knocked again, eager to find out what was going on. With a creek, the door opened and a white snout stuck out. It sniffed around and finally emerged.

  “Queen Isabel!” he barked. The canine-like creature wagged his two tails. “You’re finally here. I thought you wouldn’t make it.”

  “What are you talking about?” Her fleeting optimism sank.

  “We sent word for you.” He whined, slit pupils fixed on her.

  Resting her hands on her hips, Isabel said, “Erm. I’m just going to head in…”

  “Of course.”

  She blinked rain drops from her lashes. When she entered the city, a stone statue of a Dunya towered over her. At the base sat hundreds of Zingaris, sporting black fur. They swayed left and right, some of them howling. Opening her mouth, she turned to her escort. He shook his whole body as his color transformed to black as well.

  “Why does everyone have black fur today?”

  “How do you not know? Three personally went to Deran to notify you.”

  “Notify me of what?” She whipped her head around. One Zingari stood on his hind legs, playing a small instrument. Her breath caught in her throat. Jabin’s whistle.

  Isabel broke into a sprint. Pushing past scores of Zingaris, she prayed it was a nightmare. One lousy nightmare. When she reached the musician, he stopped. The instrument fell from his paws. A pear-colored whistle clacked onto the ground and rolled to Isabel’s feet. The crowd murmured, but she tuned them out. She bent down and scooped up the whistle.

  Familiarity crept up her fingers. This instrument had saved her life on many occasions. This instrument was played at her wedding and at a soldiers’ funeral. Her head jerked up to find a polished oak coffin.

  Isabel’s feet gave out, and she crashed onto the ground. Tears clouded her vision into a gray and brown blur. She wanted to scream, but the broken shards of her heart filled her throat. The memory of their first encounter seemed like yesterday. He had saved her life and escorted her to Buryan. Jabin became a dear friend. Her ally. And now, one of her last hopes was dead.

  A splash. “Queen Isabel, we were afraid you weren’t going to make it. We’re honored that you’ve come to pay your respects.”

  She turned to the voice. It was the one playing the whistle. Even though she moved her mouth, no words escaped. Blinking away the tears, she stared at the Zingari. His fur clung to him, making him look like a large, wet rat. He released a slow, mournful howl. The rest of the Zingari followed suit, sending goose bumps up her arms. The melody brought her to the present, and she shivered at the cold.

  “Can I see his body?”

  The Zingari musician stopped and shook his muzzle. “As a shape shifting species, we never gaze upon the form of the diseased.”

  “Huh. Why?” Isabel shook her head as her blood began to simmer. “That’s not important.” She got onto her feet. She faced the crowd and shouted, “I want to know… Where is Three?”

  Rage thrashed within Isabel and heated her armlet. “I want to know where Three is! Immediately! He is responsible for Jabin’s death!”

  The Zingari gasped in unison. The musician barked. “That cannot be possible. Where’s the proof?”

  “Where is he?” She asked again, teeth clenched.

  His tails drooped. “We haven’t seen him since he left to notify you of Jabin’s death.”

  Isabel bit her tongue. “Jabin was my friend. Unless Three shows up with proof of innocence, I’m calling for his arrest!”

  A yelp silenced everyone. Isabel’s gaze shot toward the Zingari that had escorted her. Half his body stuck out the door and his tails whipped back and forth furiously. He growled and barked.

  Still fresh with anger, she used it to propel her to the entrance at lightning speed. She ripped the double doors wide open.

  A mass of bodies draped in rusty armor swept down the grasslands, toward Zeyland.

  “Oh my god.”

  The rush of people continued to pour from the horizon as if spawned from thin air. They washed over the earth like a gigantic shadow. She trained her eyes, but all she could see was that they were human in appearance, and they all wielded swords, clubs, or axes. Even though it made no logical sense; she only had minutes to act.

  Turning to the Zingari next to her, she said, “Gather any willing and able Zingari and meet me outside the city walls. We can’t let them infiltrate Zeyland!”

  “We don’t have weapons,” he said. He whined and paced back and forth. “All that we ever possessed had been broken during the war or borrowed.”

  The ground tremored as the assailants drew near. “You are shape-shifters. Transform into something!” An idea struck Isabel like lightning. “Dunya! You all interacted with them. They were a large, formidable species with a tough hide. Let’s go!”

  Drawing her sai, she darted past the gates until she was about five hundred feet from the city border. She dug her heels into the ground and locked her knees. Paralyzing fear worked its way up her body, but Isabel channeled the energy into her armlet. When she crossed her two sai in front of her, Tuuli’s Opal flashed.

  Winds as strong as a hurricane erupted in front of her sai and barreled across the plain, stirring up a curtain of dirt. The gale expanded as she stretched her arms apart, forming a T-shape with her body. Isabel welcomed the burning in her muscles as she completed her mile-wide barrier. The sai weighed like she was holding a boulder in each hand.

  Bodies collided into the invisible barrier. Many of them were sent flying into the air. Isabel could feel every push and shove this army made to break pas
t. She sunk deeper into the ground, but she refused to budge. The men that had been caught up in the hurricane barrier slammed into the earth. Isabel smiled and continued to channel adrenaline through her armlet.

  The lumps of flesh stirred. She blinked her eyes, reassuring herself it was her vision. The men who fell to their death pushed themselves up and wobbled onto their feet. Without hesitation, they sprinted toward the barrier once more. Isabel’s momentary high crumbled as panic stung her.

  Her arms wavered. One man broke through. Then another. Soldiers slipped in certain pockets of the barrier. Isabel was losing control. Her energy drained as if someone pulled an invisible plug on her. “No, no, no,” she cried to herself. Collapsing to her knees, Isabel struggled to keep her head up. The wall was only a temporary solution, and her options were limited. She couldn’t bury an army this large into the ground without turning Zeyland into a large sinkhole.

  Clanking of armor shattered her thoughts. A burly man with a gaunt face gained distance and drew his sword at Isabel. Patches of his brown hair were missing, as were some of his teeth when he produced a devilish grin.

  “Who sent you?” Isabel shouted. The sound waves from her voice knocked the shield from his hand.

  “The King has instituted martial law until the suspicious activities are remedied. Release the barrier or you will be arrested for treason!”

  “I am the Queen. You can’t arrest me. I wasn’t part of this decision. This is illegal!” She gasped for breath. Her lungs burned as she struggled to release each word. Tuuli’s Opal flickered. Please, no. Hang in there!

  “Marshall law has been executed,” the soldier repeated. He lifted the sword above his head.

  “If it’s just martial law, why are you charging in like it’s a battle?”

  Isabel’s arms gave out. They fell, numb, to her sides, and the wind barrier dissipated. A roar of voices filled the air. She prayed to awaken Foti’s Ruby, and the talisman flickered. It died out instantly.