Shadows Past: A Borderlands Novel

by Lorna Freeman

  The missing King’s Own, soldiers, and royal servants were in the king’s chambers. But instead of being awake, alert, and engaged in their various duties, they were sprawled or curled up on the floor, the guards and soldiers’ weapons scattered about as they dropped them—except for one guard. He was in full regalia, including his plumed helm with his visor down, hiding his face, his unsheathed sword resting across his knees, sitting in the crown chair at the fireplace, which was turned to face the door. Jusson came to an abrupt halt, his own face blank as he stared, the rest of us piling up behind him.

  “God protect us,” an aristo said softly, making a warding sign.

  “We searched for Captain Javes and Master Laurel, sirs, but couldn’t find them,” Ryson said to Thadro and Suiden. “So Groskin took some of the lads who were at the fair and went to the barracks, just in case the captain took it into his head to wander back down there and Master Laurel followed after to fetch him back.”

  As Ryson spoke, Thadro, Suiden, and Wyln edged around the king, Wyln and Thadro stepping carefully over those on the floor to enter Javes’ room while Suiden went to the closest trooper and laid his hand on the soldier’s wrist, then his neck. I remained with the king, feeling as though I’d been punched in the gut as I looked upon former troop mates and current fellow guards sprawled about, still and unmoving.

  “He’s alive,” Suiden said. He walked to the guard in the crowned chair and did the same. “This one also.”

  “Yes, sir,” Ryson said. “First thing we checked. It seems like they’re asleep. But we couldn’t wake them for nothing.”

  Ryson was right. They all did look fast asleep with faint color in their faces and their chests moving slowly as they breathed, their breaths puffing out small clouds in the surprisingly chilly air. Conscious of the cold, I started to again shiver and I reached up to undo my sodden cloak.

  “The butterflies are gone,” Jeff said from the fireplace.

  Forgetting about my cloak, I looked at the fireplace. It was dark, its flames out, the ashes gray, and no conspicuous bits of color on its mantelpiece basking in its rising warmth. I hurried over and ran my hand over the mantelpiece just to make sure the butterflies hadn’t turned invisible, but closer observation only proved that they were truly gone. As I stepped away from the cold hearth, Jusson turned his blank stare, first at Jeff and me and then at the empty fireplace, and his brows snapped together. Turning on his heel, he strode through the minihall to his quarters, shouting, “Cais! Cais!”

  “Ah, hell,” Ryson said softly. “We didn’t think to look for Master Cais or Finn.”

  At Jusson’s shouts, Wyln and Thadro popped out of Javes’ room and Suiden abruptly straightened from where he was checking another soldier. Thadro hurried after the king, as did Suiden. Wyln, however, returned to the minihall. Terrified for my diminutive servant, I started to join Jusson, but the enchanter stopped me.

  “Finn,” I said.

  “If he’s here, he will keep for the moment,” Wyln said. “If he’s not, then a moment won’t matter.”

  “What happened, Lord Wyln?” Arlis asked. “Are all the magicals gone?”

  “No,” Wyln said, a line between his own winged brows. “Except for Javes Wolf’son, just the ones who were capable of fighting back against something like this.”

  “Then why carry off Captain Javes?” I asked.

  “That’s one question,” Wyln said, his frown deepening. “But an even more worrisome question is how whoever did this managed to overcome not only Cais and Finn, but also Laurel and Queen Mab’s courtiers—”

  “What dark wizardry is this?”

  Wyln, Jeff, Arlis, and I all turned to see Munir standing in the doorway, taking in the sleeping guards, soldiers, and servants. The Own, surprised, also turned, blocking the Turalian wizard. But Munir proved just as nimble as Wyln, Thadro, and Suiden in stepping around them. Behind him was Lord Idwal, who followed the wizard into the room, his eyes wide as he stared about. Sidestepped, the Own looked at me, but I figured the last thing we needed was a diplomatic incident on top of everything else, and I gave a small shake of my head.

  “Not wizardry,” Wyln said. He saw the glance Idwal shot me. “Nor is it magecraft.”

  “Then what is it?” Lord Idwal asked, his breath misting out as he spoke. “And why the hell did it happen in my House?”

  “Perhaps Laurel had a working that had gone astray,” Kveta suggested, limping into the room.

  My shivering having started up again, I once more began to undo my sodden cloak, but stopped at Kveta’s appearance. “I thought you were staying downstairs, Kveta,” I said.

  “She refused,” Berenice said, entering with the wolf. She came to a halt, her hands coming up to rub her arms. “God save us,” she whispered, staring down at the servant sprawled at her feet.

  “No, it’s not a ‘working’ of Laurel—or any other earth master—honored Kveta,” Wyln said. Walking over to the guard slumped in the crown chair, he lifted an unresponsive hand. Pulling off the glove, he turned the guard’s hand over and studied the palm.

  “What is it, then?” Idwal repeated, his voice patient.

  “Some sort of enchantment, Eorl Idwal,” Wyln said, setting the guard’s hand back on the arm of the chair. “Cast by someone with a wicked sense of humor.”

  “Or someone very, very angry,” Jeff said softly.

  “Yes,” Wyln said. “Or both.”

  “It looks like a pantomime gone awry,” Idwal said.

  “Yes, my lord,” I agreed. I too had seen my share of children’s pantomimes where the princess and her castle’s occupants were cast under a spell that made them sleep until the handsome prince awakened the sleeping beauty with a kiss. Onstage, the scene of mass slumber was always one of innocence and charm, the good folks portrayed as if they’d just settled down for an afternoon nap. Here, however, the guards, soldiers, and servants looked as though they’d been overwhelmed, collapsing where they stood. Once more aware of my shivering, I pulled off my cloak and started to drop it on an unoccupied part of the floor. Before I could, it was taken out of my hand by Bertram. He draped the cloak on an empty chair, then knelt before the cold hearth and began to expertly lay wood and kindling.

  “Enchantment,” Munir repeated. It was his turn to give a sideways glance. “You’re an enchanter, Sro Wyln.”

  “So I am,” Wyln said. “But not a spellcaster. My talents lie in a different branch of the field.” He motioned to me. “Help me move the guard out of the king’s chair, Two Trees’son.”

  “Good Lord, yes,” an aristo said, shaking himself. “Should’ve done that straightaway.” He and a couple of other aristos joined Wyln and me in lifting the guard out of the chair. Having no other place to put him, we laid him carefully on the floor, my spheres shifting about me as we did. I lifted his helm from his head and something unknotted in my spine when I saw that his face was like the others, slack with sleep. Sighing, I set the helm on the table.

  “Kyrie capen, why is it so cold in here?” Princess Rajya said as she entered the minihall, her breath misting out before her and her guards walking in behind her.

  Munir frowned at her. “You will go to your rooms, Your Highness. Now.”

  I, Lord Idwal, and several others blinked at the wizard and then at Princess Rajya, Bertram pausing in his fire-making efforts to stare over his shoulder. However, Her Highness didn’t acknowledge us. She didn’t argue either. She turned on a slippered heel and left, her guards once more trailing behind her.

  “What the hell?” Jeff whispered.

  “And so royalty obeys a court wizard, Adeptus?” Wyln asked over Jeff. “Be glad that Prince Suiden was not here to see you command his daughter.”

  It was Munir’s turn to blink, a disconcerted expression crossing his face. Then it was gone and he was once more his urbane self. “Her Highness’ safety is my concern, Sro Wyln. I would not want to answer to His Glory or, worse, to His Highness himself if something were to happen to her—�
�

  Munir broke off as footsteps sounded and we all turned to see Jusson, Thadro, and Suiden walking quickly to us. Thadro and Suiden were still in their wet clothes, but Jusson had taken the time to change into his battle armor, his battle helm on his head, his sword strapped to his side.

  “Cais and Finn, Your Majesty?” I asked.

  “Not here,” Jusson said. “Gather the remaining soldiers, guards, and armsmen, Thadro. We’ll meet in the hall.”

  “Sire?” Idwal asked.

  “Your armsmen, also, Idwal,” Jusson said. Carefully stepping over the sleeping folk, he headed for the door. “And all other able-bodied people. We are going to search the castle and then the grounds and surrounding forest and even the town if necessary until we find our missing.”

  The bemused look on Idwal’s face disappeared at Jusson’s commandeering of his castle and resources and he shifted to fill the doorway. “We’ve already had yon wolf poking into every crack and crevice for those damn bottles of rum, Your Majesty,” he said, indicating Kveta standing silently on three paws. “I’m sure if they were anywhere in the castle or its grounds, they would’ve been found.”

  “That was before they went missing,” Jusson said. “So we will search again.”

  “You don’t know that, Your Majesty,” Idwal began.

  “Everybody was in their proper place when your steward and I searched in here earlier, honored Mearden,” Kveta put in.

  Idwal didn’t miss a beat. “And if we don’t find them, Your Majesty?” he asked, not moving from the doorway. “What then? Will you tear my House down, brick by brick?”

  Jusson’s black eyes flashed gold. “If necessary,” he said, his voice mild.

  Idwal’s expression grew very dark, but before he could respond, Wyln moved away from the recumbent guard and stood between him and Jusson.

  “I’m sure Eorl Mearden will afford us all that we need, Iver’son,” Wyln said. “But before we go on this great hunt, you should allow your guards, soldiers, and eorls time to get out of their wet clothes.”

  Jusson turned his gold gaze on Wyln as the enchanter spoke, then moved it to where I, Jeff, Arlis, and most of the aristos stood next to the fireplace. Bertram had gotten the fire started, and we were all clumped in front of it, trying to garner its meager warmth.

  “Yes, of course,” Jusson said, the gold fading somewhat. “Down in the hall, quarter hour.” He turned to motion Thadro and Suiden to follow him and stopped as he took in their bedraggled appearance. He let out a sigh. “We will wait until you’re ready.”

  Bowing quickly, both the lord commander and the captain double-stepped it to their rooms, Jeff, Arlis, and I right behind. Judging by the sound of hurrying footsteps, I figured the aristos and remaining guards and soldiers were doing the same. Pulling off the rest of my wet clothes, I entered my chambers—and stopped short at the sight of Bertram at the fireplace, tending the fire. I stared at him and then back over my shoulder towards the fireplace in the main hall, but Jeff gave me a tiny shove.

  “We’ve no time to be effing about, Rabbit.”

  That was certainly true. Turning back to my bedroom, I quickly finished undressing, though I did cast Bertram a side glance as he poured hot water into the washbasin from a kettle that had been hanging from the fireplace hobb and then produced warmed towels to dry us off. A very short time later, wearing dry clothes and my hair combed and once more braided, I and the others trotted out to the where Jusson and Wyln waited. Idwal and Munir had left, but to my surprise Beatrice was still there. She stood in front of the autumn hunt tapestry, her brows knitted together as she stared at it. I stopped also, hoping against hope that everything was in its place. It was—sort of. The shadows under the trees seemed to have shifted and I could see the second set of antlers. I could also definitely see that it wasn’t another stag; not only the height, but the shape of the head was all wrong—

  Berenice put a hand on my arm. “His Majesty and Lord Wyln are waiting for us, Lord Rabbit.”

  Oh, yeah. Forgetting the shadows, I turned and hurried to the king and the enchanter. “You’re not going to change clothes?” I asked as we once more stepped around the sleepers.

  Berenice shook her head. While her clothes had dried some, they were damp enough to cling, revealing a shapely body. And though her snood had miraculously stayed in place during the brief cyclone, enough tendrils of her hair had escaped to curl about her face and nape, emphasizing the graceful curve of her neck and her expressive eyes. I stared, momentarily startled out of my worry, as I wondered how I had ever found her plain and unattractive. She remained unaware of my scrutiny, bobbing a quick curtsey when we reached Jusson.

  “I have the keys, Your Majesty, and will help you search the castle.”

  “Good,” Jusson said. “Lead the way.”

  As we followed the king and the daughter of the House down the winding stairs, I fell in beside Wyln, who frowned at me.

  “Where’s your feather, Two Trees’son?” he asked, his gaze resting on my rebraiding hair.

  My hand went up to the empty spot on my nape. “It was swept off in the storm, honored cyhn,” I said, feeling rather naked.

  “I see,” Wyln said. “That is rather worrisome, especially everything else that’s been happening.”

  “I don’t think it was done on purpose,” I began, thinking on the inept Svlet weathercrafter.

  “Perhaps,” Wyln said. “And perhaps not. But why ever it was done, the feather’s gone.” He stared at the back of Jusson’s head. “I don’t like it and I don’t like this place, even with the Lady’s Consort plastered all over it. I shall be glad when we leave.”

  I said nothing; while part of me was surprised at my cyhn’s peevish tone, another part was very much wanting to join in. And judging by the expressions of those around us, we weren’t the only ones. But it wasn’t just the events at the castle that had me on edge; I was very much aware of the aspects hovering about me and the fact that I hadn’t resummoned fire, earth, or air, and hadn’t summoned water at all. I turned my head to look at the spheres. They were over both shoulders, fire casting welcome warmth on my chilled face. But it and the rest were mostly silent, their only sound a quiet hum.

  “I don’t like it here either, my lord,” Ryson said. He looked surprised that he had spoken, then shrugged. “Even before everybody went missing and enchanted and everything, it felt … I don’t know. Remember, Rabbit, when we rode into the big ambush last fall—?”

  “Yeah,” one of the troopers muttered. “You probably knew all about it before it happened.”

  Ryson stopped in his tracks. I reached over to grab his sleeve, but he evaded my hand, allowing those following behind us to swallow him up. Continuing down the winding stairs, I scowled at the trooper, who scowled right back.

  “He tried to kill you, Rabbit,” he said. “You may have forgotten; we haven’t.”

  “Rabbit seems to forget all sorts of things,” Jeff said with a pointed glance at Arlis. Arlis stared back, making a covert rude gesture.

  I moved between. “I haven’t forgotten anything,” I said. That was the problem. “Ryson didn’t try to kill me, Slevoic did. Ryson’s crime was that he was stupid enough to get involved with the Vicious—like many others in the garrison. He’s trying to change—”

  “He’s trying to suck up,” another trooper said.

  “And Groskin?” I asked. “Is he also a suck-up?”

  “He didn’t try to kill you,” the first trooper said.

  “Ryson didn’t try to kill me!” At least not on purpose. Maybe. There was the kidnapping attempt at Dornel, though it wasn’t certain that Ryson had been involved in that. However, he had been very much involved in the weakened sword he and Slevoic had planted on me—and which had subsequently shattered when I’d been attacked by assassins set on me by the Vicious’ kinsman, Lord Gherat of Dru. And he was also involved in gathering the extremely venomous Pale Deaths that he and the Vicious had later let loose in my and Jeff’s r
oom in the Border Embassy last spring, though he later said he hadn’t realized that the spiders were so deadly.

  And there were rumors and lies he and the Vicious had spread among my troopmates and commanding officers to hopefully hasten my downfall and at least figurative destruction.

  Suddenly feeling unsure of my ground, I shifted attack.

  “And anyway, I didn’t see any of you leaping up to my defense when Slevoic made my life a living hell at Freston—”

  “Two Trees’son,” Wyln said.

  I turned my scowl on Wyln and realized that we’d arrived in the main hall. I glanced around to see if anyone noticed me shouting, but everyone seemed busy with organizing the search, including Idwal and Munir, who’d also taken the brief quarter hour allotted by Jusson to change into dry clothes. The king and the Lord of Mearden must’ve smoothed over the rough edges, for Idwal’s face showed nothing but goodwill and desire to serve his king. He was efficiency itself in helping the search teams form, each one made up of a hodgepodge of servants, troopers, royal guards, and aristos and their armsmen. Not to be outdone, Munir offered crew members and soldiers to help. However, his offer was turned down.

  “I would’ve thought you of all people would want to avail yourself all possible resources so as to find your missing as soon as possible, Lord Idwal,” Munir said.

  “I do,” Idwal began.