Shadow Over Avalon

by C. N Lesley

  “An Outcast, Thor? Found on patrol?” the large man asked.

  “Escorting a wounded messenger,” Thor reported.

  “Wounded—how?” Eyes narrowed, the ruler of Grimes assessed Thor’s find with a swift glance.

  “He says the attack came from this one, but his story didn’t match his appearance, more an excuse to explain negligence on duty, to my mind. This one says it found him already hurt, Sire.”

  “The message?” the King said.

  “Green chevrons with red bars, overlaid with a gold cross hatch, the Outcast says,” Thor reported, still holding Shadow upright.

  “This creature is more than half drunk, nearer legless. Even I can see that. Is the information reliable, or merely what I want to hear?”

  “Tell my King how much you understand of the message,” Thor instructed, nudging Shadow in the ribs to get her attention.

  “High wants trade,” she slurred.

  The fat man relaxed to the extent that even his folds seemed to flow together.

  “It speaks the truth about the messenger?” King Sigurd said, in a more normal tone.

  “Why else would it lead him here when there was a horse waiting to be stolen?”

  “Did you attack to get an easy entrance here?” Sigurd said.

  “Not know of . . . Grimes.” Shadow’s head spun.

  “Take this creature someplace where it can’t create a disturbance. If it speaks truthfully, and there is no attack, I have a use for it. Dismissed, Captain.”

  Thor hauled Shadow along passages, up some stairs, and into a small room where he heaved her into one corner and threw her a blanket from the bed.

  “Sleep there,” he commanded. “Don’t stir. I don’t want my whole room infested with fleas. I’m posting a guard outside, in case you were thinking of sneaking off.”

  Shadow stumbled to the covering, collapsing onto it. She wanted sleep too much to care what he did. Much later she became aware of a return of light and faint noises. A pair of boots thumping by her head and a man’s voice snapped her awake to grab for a sword. Empty sheaths for both sword and belt knife met her hand.

  “Easy, dark one. You slept deeply enough to disarm. Brethren aren’t permitted weapons in Grimes,” the captain said.

  “Not . . . lie.” Shadow struggled with a distinct block in her mind. A sound scrambled pathways in her speech center.

  “No, you didn’t. The priest caught out Erwin when he went for treatment. Seems his horse startled when he forded a river, he didn’t want to admit he fouled up, so he blamed you.” The man paused, watching her for a few moments. “Since you’re here, King Sigurd wants an outrider for a bridal party to High Fort. The trade offered is a horse and your keep from now until arrival.” The captain now had a grim line around his mouth. He looked uncomfortable enough to give Shadow a clue.

  “Mean,” she said.

  “My King knows he has the upper hand. He says you’re welcome to walk away. I tried for clothes, not a chance. Sorry.”

  “Kind . . . why?”

  “Brethren are hardier than fort people, living outside most of the year, I suppose, but having a cloak to keep off the weather is better for work performance. I’ll trade my spare for your services as animal healer during transit since I’ve noticed Brethren are very skilled with their own beasts. Agreed?”

  Shadow nodded. She could pick out stones and make poultices as well as any other, the knowledge was somehow there in her mind, but the trade had no meaning, given her own plans.

  “I’ll throw in that blanket, as I don’t think it will stand a boiling. We’ve just time for breakfast before we leave if we take our kit with us.”

  Leaving now? The high-pitched buzzing noise in her ears ruined concentration. She couldn’t contact Ector, not here. Thor didn’t intend to return her weapons until departure. She couldn’t walk off, not when she had agreed to trade. Backtracking under cover of darkness became an option. Ector would not be pleased that they needed to start again in a different location. She rolled up the blanket, acting out her unwanted role.

  Thor tucked a neat bundle under his arm, slung her weapons belt over his shoulder and headed off at a brisk pace with Shadow following. The soldiers’ mess was crowded with half the men having had a neatly rolled bundle by their feet and a cloak over the back of their chairs. A sudden hush marked her entry. All eyes turned to her in mass loathing mixed with unease. Thor stalked across to a corner table, dumping down his kit.

  “Stay put while I get our food,” he said.

  Shadow sat with her back to the wall, watching him join a long line in a room heavy with the greasy scent of fried bacon and a tang of peat fuel on the fire. The atmosphere thickened with tension, the hostile stares grew hard . . . assessing. They had seen one of the Brethren they thought they could take, one without weapons, and undersized. Three men at the next table stopped their game of dice to mutter and glare in her direction.

  The sound of hawking and a gobbet of spit landing on her boot from the opposite side made her turn. These men were ready for light entertainment. Chairs scraping back brought her about. The gamblers stood in a semicircle to her front. They looked set to fight. Shadow sighed, rocking her chair back against the wall, bringing her feet up to the table, braced.

  The leader stood in the center, a typical braggart by his swaggering posture. At his left lurked a lowbrow follower, waiting for a signal. The third darted glances at that lineup in case Thor looked over.

  “This little worm hasn’t got backup, lads. Shall we settle a few scores?” the leader said. He glanced at his followers for approval, and then leapt.

  Shadow pushed back from the wall, kicking over the table to meet his chest with her feet high, rolling clear when he fell winded. A kick dropped the nervous one in hissing agony, clutching at his groin. The brutish one kept coming, too stupid to stop at the sight of his fallen comrades.

  All those lessons in unarmed combat with Ector clicked into place. She circled, waiting for his nerve to crack. Shadow judged the man would lead with his right fist. A second later he did. She dodged enough to let it whistle over her shoulder, landing one of her own straight to the jaw with her replacement hand. The brute crumpled, senseless.

  “Very neat,” Thor stepped over casualties, flipped the table upright with his foot and deposited the laden tray. Conversation dropped to a low buzz, with many stares in her direction.

  “Didn’t start . . . this,” Shadow said.

  “Certainly finished it though, or I’d have intervened. For a little one, that was an impressive fighting display. I had placed you on the rearguard, but I think those instant reactions will serve better at trail breaking. You’ll ride right flank, with me.” Thor attacked a plate of ham and eggs with enthusiasm, his rank apparently assuring him of a better selection of food for them.

  Shadow followed his example, ignoring the removal of former enemies by their frozen-faced companions. She returned to her greatest problem, since she could not see a way to get free before nightfall when Ector would be listening. She needed to be alert. A bridal party meant a cart, which could not move fast.

  Parties of soldiers filtered out with their kits over their shoulders. Thor stood up, collected his gear, booting the last remaining prone thug in the head as an afterthought.

  “Coming, dark one?” he said.

  Chapter 13

  Earth Date 3874

  Milling people, horses and carts thronged inside the dusty compound where mounted soldiers edged into a formation. Thor took the reins of his horse, turning when a groom led a coal-black stallion to Shadow.

  “That’s Thunder! You’ve made a mistake, man.”

  “No, Captain. This is the mount released with his brand crosshatched for the Outcast.” The groom jerked off his feet when the animal reared.

  This horse was not wanted, he hated people. Shadow stood in his path where he could see her.

  “Be careful,” Thor called. “He’s an ill-tempered derelict we kept for breedi
ng. His mouth is ruined.”

  She let those words slide over her consciousness. Outside the oppressive interior of Grimes, she had enough concentration to soothe the animal. He stopped fighting, whiffing at her curiously. When his head lowered, Shadow blew into his nostrils.

  “Will you look at that,” the groom said. “One animal sensing another!”

  Shadow put a hand to the saddle, vaulting onto a now docile mount. She kept a light mental contact with the beast to overcome giving directions to that hardened mouth.

  A procession emerged from the stairwell. King Sigurd led a lady encased in light veils: a scene resembling a man directing a gigantic cocoon. Two Silver Band ladies followed behind, while a tall, trim version of Sigurd with a neatly trimmed beard backed the party.

  A sudden shaft of remembered pain kicked Shadow’s mind to a higher level of awareness, where she floated, soul-freed, looking down on a similar scene: this bride was not swathed away from sight, and she lacked attendants. She appeared dazed, as a man carried her to a horse. Shadow knew that face from mirrors – her own. The man sharing his horse looked angry, yet his anger seemed directed inward from his expression. Interesting . . . was this Boy’s sire? How could she see from above? Whose eyes recorded this?

  “Dark one? Are you ill?” Thor rode close, breaking her train of thought.

  Shadow smiled in negation, sad for a loss she could not explain.

  “The lady is Princess Elfreida, and King Sigurd you already know. The man following is Prince Lief, Sigurd’s heir,” Thor explained. “Elfreida is to wed Daved, Alsar’s heir, a significant elevation for Grimes.”

  Shadow looked at that light gray cocoon, blindly climbing into her covered cart, and wondered if being responsible for a ‘significant elevation’ inspired the frightened child. Alsar would not let his heir near this distant outpost to pay court. They would meet as strangers, poor young people. Insight told Shadow such a lifestyle would not have suited one like her. Had she killed the dark man she had seen? Did she wear the blackened band for this reason?

  “Am I speaking to myself?” Thor demanded.

  “I hear. I think.”

  “Some would dispute that. Does a dark sister envy our princess?”

  A prickle of shock ran through Shadow. She had imagined that with her short hair, and male clothing, she could pass as a boy, given how fort people tried not to look directly at Outcasts. How many others saw through her disguise?

  “Hit a raw spot, did I? Boys don’t come that pretty, nor would a man show compassion for a wounded traveler.” Thor wore an easy smile. “Why else do you imagine I let you best those scum? Either you are Brethren entire, or you’re not. Every man riding with us now knows dark sisters are just as lethal, even if we never see another one after you. We won’t have any unwelcome incidents.”

  “My brothers . . . don’t forgive,” Shadow agreed, hoping this was true. She had no recollection of female Outcasts.

  “And I suspect at least a dozen of them know where you are,” Thor said.

  Shadow smiled again. The oppressive sensation around her diminished by degrees.

  “All the answer I suppose I’m going to get.” Thor looked around. “They’re ready. Ride right flank with me.”

  Four riders pushed through the melee. Two turned left off the trail while Shadow followed Thor to the right. All morning they circled, made wide sweeps, and then backtracked, keeping the main party in sight. Shadow spotted carrion birds circling to the west and signaled to Thor.

  “Well sighted. We turn south before that point, but it’s worth a mention when we stop to rest the horses.”

  Midday brought a halt for food and an order from the King. His daughter and her companions needed a female guard for necessary functions. Shadow escorted the twittering trio into a thicket.

  The ladies seemed so young and so relieved to be free for this short time from the hot confines of their cart. What should have been an essential excursion turned into a happy flower picking party. The princess threw back her face veils, clearly relieved to be free from the gaze of men, her pert countenance dusted with pollen from a large bunch of mauve asters she gathered. The heady scent from a late honeysuckle enchanted her even more. She reached for a branch of the overhanging vine.

  Small birds took to panicked flight. The noise the girls made had not upset them a moment before . . . “Back now,” Shadow ordered.

  “Silence, Outcast. I command here.” The princess was so sure of her authority she had not raised her voice.

  A movement flickered in the leafy canopy over Elfreida’s head. Shadow reached for her belt knife, an instant action from the mechanical arm, to aim and throw in one blurred movement. A squirrel-sized corpse slammed into a tree bole, an elongated tree creeper with a mottled pelt. It had a venomous bite, producing instant paralysis, so it could suck blood in peace.

  “Back now!”

  Screaming, they ran back to camp as she climbed to retrieve her knife. Heavy thuds of armed men sounded from behind. Thor burst through the bushes with Prince Lief at his side. Both had their swords drawn.

  “Why’s my sister splattered with blood? What . . . ?” Lief’s jaw dropped at the sight of the tree creeper in Shadow’s hand.

  She landed, catlike. “Wouldn’t return when told. Not like to see death.”

  The prince measured the distance between the lowest branch and a bloodstain. He took up an approximate position, drew his knife, repeating the throw. It struck a knot, falling to the ground.

  “Too slow,” he said. “Show me your speed.”

  “Dogs bark to order. Brethren bite at need.” Shadow looked him square in the eyes.

  “This one won’t waste energy to satisfy curiosity, Lief. I’ve seen it in action, fast, efficient, and lethal. It downed three soldiers in one fight, without using weapons.”

  “So I heard. I need to see this speed for myself. Fight to first blood, Outcast!” Lief drew his sword, advancing.

  “No, Lief,” Thor pushed between the two antagonists.

  “Stand aside.”

  “I not hurt him much.” Shadow drew her weapon.

  “Go join the ladies, or watch your pet getting thrashed.” Lief raised the point of his sword to Thor’s neck. “Back off.”

  Shadow glanced over the ground for possible obstructions. She had it all in one blink, mostly leaf litter, and one fallen branch. Lief charged into attack – she parried. He was a good swordsman with his blows well-planned, and not so hard to leave him overbalanced to block a counterstrike. Lief switched to a two-handed grip, giving Shadow the second of inattention she wanted. Her blade snaked up, twitching around his to jerk down hard before his hands had a firm grip. The weapon wrenched out of his reach.

  “Want cut, or concede?”

  “Concede,” Lief said. He looked uncomfortable standing weaponless.

  “My ‘pet’ took your sword. Don’t play any more games with dangerous toys.” Thor’s hand settled on his sword hilt, his eyes fixed on her.

  Lief grinned. “Outcast, name your trade for personal guard duties at High. I think I’d like to know who my enemies were.”

  “High Fort has the same weapons rule as us,” Thor said.

  “This one doesn’t need weapons. True?” Lief looked at Shadow, still smiling.

  “Dead, not dropped?” Shadow asked.

  “I’d want the ultimate threat dead, unless he will come to a truce.”

  “Maybe. Ask again at High.” Shadow didn’t want more trades. A half-promise would do.

  “You have a previous bargain? I’ll double any other offer.” Lief now edged to his sword.

  “Not hired to kill, or you dead here. Think about offer,” Shadow said. She sheathed her weapon.

  “Thor, work on the dark one. I offended the Dragon Duke this summer, Harvesters know why. Moody bastard picks fights just for the fun of it.”

  Shadow headed back to the main group. Something itched around the edge of memory, something concerning the fight. It would co
me, or not, as fate willed. Sigurd stood in the middle of the hysterical women, easily avoided. Others stepped back. The sadness and the fight, what about it? Shadow tried to stop picking at the problem when Thor came running up behind her.

  “Dark one, don’t judge Lief by his father. He’ll give whatever you name if it’s within his gift. We need him at Grimes, please take his offer.”

  Shadow didn’t answer. She mounted up, heading off to the right of the trail. Thor, with the better horse, soon caught up. He held his thoughts to himself for the remainder of the day.

  All evening Shadow remained conscious of Thor hovering near her while others set up camp in a glade. Several campfires filled the air with wood smoke and the scent of cooking. Thor sat beside her to eat after a quartermaster and his assistant came round with trays of bread and meat. All others about them settled into groups at a subtle distance.

  “Dark one, I had a full brother once. Now there is only Lief, as my father, King Sigurd, will not acknowledge me. Lief’s a good man and my friend, as far as he’s allowed to be with a Silver Band. I’ll stand a living shield for him before I’ll see you take him down. That’s the plan, isn’t it? Take him at High Fort when everybody is celebrating.”

  “No plan of mine.”

  “Another’s then?”

  Shadow shook her head. She wished Thor to the seven hells for not leaving her alone. Ector waited for the second night.

  Thor stood up, held out his hand for her empty cup, and then wandered off to the mess area. Shadow waited to be sure he was not about to return. Her mount was picketed with the others and must be left. She strolled across to a small stand of trees a way back from the campsite, melting into the undergrowth. Now her steps became purposeful until a shape suddenly detached from a large tree in her path.

  “Going somewhere, dark sister?” Lief asked, quiet-voiced in the dark.

  “I hunt alone,” Shadow said, furious that she had been caught.

  “Not me, I think. What other prey do the Brethren stalk this far East? Thor’s patrol spotted a lone track not far from Erwin’s last camp, so who runs for cover?”