The Shadow Realm

by James Galloway

  "Alright," he said calmly. "Could you get me some clothes?"

  She laughed. "Already the change is apparent. The Tarrin I know now would not have thought twice about getting out of that bed in my presence."

  "Well, that other me sounds a bit shameless," Tarrin said.

  Dolanna smiled fondly at him. "I would not call it shameless. It was more of an indifference," she said to him. "Triana foresaw this, and brought clothes for you."

  The woman reached the door and opened it, and paused within it. Tarrin then saw what had to be one of those Were-cats barge into the room. And he was shocked! She was a very handsome woman, with a strong face that was quite pretty, but her stony expression subdued her attractive features. She had strange tawny fur with slightly darker stripes in it on her arms, and her arms ended in oversized hands with really big fingers. Her feet were oversized too, bare, looking like some kind of cross between a slender human foot and a wide cat's paw. No shoe would have fit those feet. She had a tail, it was lashing behind her, and she had cat's ears poking out of an unruly mane of hair that was the same color as her fur.

  But what made her amazing was how tall she was. The nice queen was a very tall woman, but she didn't even come up to this Were-cat's collarbones! Dolanna could stand beneath the swell of her breasts! Never in his entire life had he seen someone so tall!

  That tall, tall woman took one look in his direction, then started towards him at a very fast walk. He felt rather intimidated as she kept getting bigger and bigger as she neared. When she was at the base of the three steps leading to the bed, her head was on level with his! When she came up those steps, she absolutely towered over him. He looked at her with undisguised awe, feeling a sense about the woman, a sense of absolute power that would make anyone obey her without question. This was a woman that told people what to do, and they did it. This was not a woman to sass.

  "Triana," Dolanna greeted fondly. "As you can see, he is awake and well."

  She sat down on the bed, and that stony mask broke as she gave him a very gentle, very loving smile. She didn't seem half as scary now as she had just a moment ago. She reached out with a hand so huge that both of Tarrin's hands would fit inside it. He felt like a little boy compared to her, still hanging onto his mother's apron strings.

  If her appearance was intimidating, that smile was not. It did show her rather nasty-looking fangs, but he could see her gentle demeanor in the way she looked at him. This had to be the adopted family that that woman had mentioned. He reached out to her timidly and put his hand in her paw, and she closed her hand around it in a gentle grip. "My sweet cub, you look so strange now," she told him in a strong voice, but a very gentle, nearly crooning one. She reached out with her other massive hand and put it on the side of his face. She could have palmed his head, and he had the feeling that those hands were tremendously powerful, but she touched him with an almost incredibly moving tenderness.

  "Y-You're the woman that that queen mentioned?" he asked. "My adopted family?"

  "I'm your bond-mother," she told him with that same smile. "You're my son, cub. As much my son as any of my natural children. What does he know, Dolanna?" she asked.

  "Very little, Triana," she replied. "Kimmie's spell only stirred the vaguest of impressions about what happened. Our Mother told him what he used to be, but little else."

  "She would," the woman Triana grunted. "So, you know you used to be one of us?"

  He nodded.

  "What do you think about that?"

  "I'm not sure what to think," he replied. "I don't remember any of it. But the queen said I was happy. I...I think I remember something about you, my lady," he said hesitantly as a flash of memory touched him, accompanied by a stabbing headache. Her sitting at his bedside, holding his hand--paw--hand, tending to him with great care while he was ill. "Did, did you help me once when I was sick?"

  Triana gave him a loving smile. "It was a while ago," she answered in a very gentle tone. "I think that was when I found I loved you as my own, my cub. You were so young, but there was a strength in you that impressed me very much."

  That flash of memory calmed him considerably. She was someone he did care for, he was certain of that. "Why am I here?" he blurted without really thinking about it. "I mean, what am I doing here? What happened to me?"

  "It's a very, very long story, cub, and I'm still trying to piece all of it together. What happened here, that is," she replied. "But I can tell you much of what happened to you a long time ago, cub. Would you like to hear it?"

  "Yes, I would," he said immediately.

  "Carefully, Triana," Dolanna warned. "Remember, there is much to the story, and not all of it is good. He must understand the whole of it, or it will not make sense and will frighten him."

  "You can fill in anything I leave out, and he can always ask questions, Dolanna," the tall, tall Were-cat said absently. "He asked. If he's ready to ask, then he's ready to hear the answer."

  "And there are other parts of the story, Tarrin," Dolanna told him. Myself and Allia, Dar and Keritanima, we will tell you things that Triana does not know. After all, we have been with you longest. But for now, I think your mother can begin the tale."

  "Well, cub? Do you think you're ready to hear it? I warn you now, I don't honey-coat things. You'll get the truth from me, and not everything in your past is all sweetness and light. You may actually be shocked at some of the things that happened, and some of the things you did. So, knowing that, do you want to hear the story?"

  Tarrin looked at her. If she was right, then it didn't sound like all his time as a Were-cat was as happy as it sounded he had been lately. He heard the stories from his father, who understood the true nature of the Were-kin alot better than the wild rumor-flinging villagers. He wasn't sure which to believe, his father or the villagers, but he did always keep an open mind about those kinds of things. He wasn't the type to discount a version of a tale when there was no way it could be proved one way or another. He already had an idea that they were going to tell him about how he did mean things to people, and he thought he could accept that.

  Besides, it sounded like a fascinating tale. Danger, magic, and excitement. Those had been the ingredients of many a childhood fantasy for a young boy who dreamed of being a Knight, dreams of riding his charger with his armor shining in the sun, facing hordes of dark, evil enemies and vanquishing them. Where the hero always won and things always turned out right. This didn't sound like one of those kinds of stories, but he couldn't help but be enthralled by the idea of hearing what he was like, a forgotten version of himself, who had lived two years into his own future. And now the younger version of himself had the chance to look through that window and see himself after two years of living an interesting life, as the queen woman put it, a life of danger, magic, and excitement. He wondered what he had seen in that time, who he had met, where he had been. What wonders he had seen, what dangers he had faced. And what he had been doing that whole time. From the sounds of things, he was on some kind of mission or journey. The queen woman said he'd performed up to her every expectation, and the sense of it he got was that he was out here doing something specific. Since he was going to the Tower, maybe that meant that the Tower was the one that sent him on this task. Was the queen woman the Keeper? Was he in Suld now? The Keeper was supposed to be a very strong Sorceress...maybe the magic did that to her hair and eyes. And Dolanna certainly was obedient to her.

  Danger, magic, and excitement. Whether he was ready to know what had happened to him, the allure of hearing a tale with those three most interesting elements was just too much of a temptation for a dreamer like him to ignore.

  He drew up his knees and looked up at her, leaning his head on his hand. "I'd like to hear it," he said enthusastically.

  "Even if you won't like what you hear?"

  "Life can't always be what you want to hear, Lady Triana. Besides, if I was happy at the end, does it matter what happened in the middle?"

  "He is different," Triana
said to Dolanna. "But he's still the cub I remember. This, it's the side of himself he never showed to anyone else."

  "Now you understand, Triana," Dolanna said with a gentle smile. "Now you understand."

  "Right then. The story. And cub, call me mother. Don't call me Lady Triana. It sounds too weird."

  "I--alright, uh, mother," he said.

  His hand still in this strange Were-cat woman's oversized hand, he listened with rapt attention as she started at the very beginning. It was going to be a very long story, told to him by more than one person, but he was looking forward to it. He wondered what it was he was doing. He wondered what dark obstacles had been in his path. He wondered who he had met, what he had seen, the places he had gone, the dangers he had faced. He wondered how it all ended, he wondered if the end had truly come at all. In any case, with a little patience, he was sure he would find out.

  After all, it was the story of his life. A life he couldn't remember, but his life all the same.

  A life of danger, magic, and excitement. What more could a dream-filled boy from a rural village want?

  "I guess it all started the night you met Jesmind, cub. She's my oldest daughter. I wasn't there, but from what I understand, she was sent to your room...."

  Epilogue

  It was the only man-made construction within a thousand leagues.

  It was summer now, the so brief summer that was gone almost as soon as it arrived, bringing the temperatures up to an actually comfortable level during the day, but it was still quite cold at night. The tundra was in its summer glory, a vast moor of greens and grays, and the large black pyramid and the virtual city of tents and soldiers that had formed around it clashed with the beauty of the plains around them. It was a flat land covered with short-lived grass between stones covered with moss and lichen, where vast herds of caribou had migrated from their southern ranges to take advantage of the bounty the tundra provided. The local wildlife had grown accustomed to these human and Goblinoid invaders over the monts, learning to stay well clear of their encampment, learned to avoid the hunting parties that fanned out each day to find food for the ten thousand or so creatures that had gathered around the old stone pyramid.

  They were the ki'zadun, a dark organization with designs to conquer the entire world. For ten years they had been working laboriously towards reviving their fallen god, Val, who had been imprisoned within his godly icon nearly five thousand years ago by the Aleax, a mortal of boundless power known to most history as Spyder. Using the power of the gods, this mortal struck down their god, limited his power and imprisoned within the icon that gave him the power to affect the mortal world. For ten years they had planned, plotted, moved silenty, and everything had gone according to that plan.

  At least until the accursed Were-cat appeared. He was the one, the Mi'Shara, the one mortal who had the best chance of taking the Firestaff, a mystical artifact that could restore their god to his former glory. For ten years they planned to acquire that priceless relic, but the Were-cat interfered with them again and again, destroying their base of power in Suld, rooting out their spies, ruining their attempts to secure the Book of Ages, and then, in the final insult, almost single-handedly raising an army that turned back their final stroke in the plan, the attempt to take Suld and banish the Goddess of the Sorcerers from the world. All by himself, one mortal had destroyed centuries of patient waiting, ruined dozens of carefully laid out plans, and had destroyed or killed some of their best operatives. The Were-cat was responsible for the banishment of Sha'Baket the Marilith, the death of Kravon, the death of Irvon and the turning of Jula back to her old comrades.

  But this, this was the final straw. Everyone in the army knew that the Master was very displeased. They all moved carefully under the eyes of the Wizards, who had been meting out very harsh punishments in the days since the sky lit up, and some of the soldiers whispered that the Age of Power had returned. The Wizards all seemed flushed with power now, and their spells were much stronger. But where that increase of power shoudl have made them happy, they were instead all very distressed, and the soldiers could hear the raging of Val, their god, from inside the black pyramid which housed his icon.

  Within that fortress of black stone, in a chamber so dark that its walls and ceilings were hidden in the gloom, that icon stood on a raised are in the very center of the pyramid. Flanking it were two braziers casting what light was within the dimensionless chamber, as well as four writing desks where six ki'zadun secretaries sat, reading reports or writing out the orders they received from the voice that emanated from within the icon. Pacing before that icon was a rather pretty woman of medium height and voluptuous dimensions, her hands behind the back of her high-necked black silk dress as she swished to and fro, to and fro, her dark brows furrowed and her pouting lips pursed into a thin line. Her name was Lyselle, and she was a woman of almost cold passion. She was much like Kravon, those around her had noted, with the same cool demeanor and cold cruelty. But she was a woman that did show some emotion, unlike the stony Kravon, and was notoriously called the Black Widow by many of the Wizards in the pyramid. She had a taste for handsome men, men who never came out the door of her chamber after they were led inside. Nobody even speculated what happened to those men, most of them handsome slaves, but they all knew that their demise had to be the ultimate conclusion of it. There was that, and there were the screams....

  Lyselle paused to read a dispatch placed into her hands by a nervous servant, who bowed deeply to her and backed away. She read it again, then again, then once again, and then she smiled. It was a cold smile, malicious, and it would make any man's blood run cold.

  "It is done, Master," she called.

  Report.

  "The Firestaff has been claimed. The Were-cat has done it."

  It was expected. Are you prepared?

  "Yes, my Master," she replied. "My people are already in place. The child of the short one cannot be found, Master, because not even we can get into the Frontier. But the other one, the one by the redhead, she is in the Tower. We already have men in position to take her."

  Excellent. Remember that she has power as great as the Were-cat, Lyselle. Any attempt to take her will lead to failure unless care is taken.

  "I have already taken steps, Master," she said confidently. "She will lose her powers for a time if she crosses over. We will wait for that to happen, and then take her while she is defenseless. Our spies report that it can't be very far off. Her power is amazing everyone in the Tower, and she can't progress much further without crossing over. And if she doesn't before we need her, well, we can provoke it by attacking her. I've set expendables in the Tower to handle that should it be necessary."

  A sensible plan. When she is taken, I want her brought here.

  "Master? Is that wise?"

  Do not question me, Lyselle, or you will suffer Kravon's fate. I want to see the Were-cat die before me. When we take his child, he will bring the Firestaff here. I want to watch him die with my own eyes.

  "As you command, my Master," Lyselle said with a bow. "I will make the arrangements."

  Proceed. I am pleased with your performance thus far, Lyselle.

  "Your approval is all the reward I need, my Master," she said with an eloquent nod.

  As it should be.

  Lyselle swished off to do her master's bidding. Soon now, very soon. The Were-cat had recovere dthe Firestaff for them. Now they just had to make him hand it over to them.

  And there was nothing he would not do to protect his children.

 

 

 
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