Shadows Past: A Borderlands Novel

by Lorna Freeman

  “Yes,” Jusson said. “For obvious reasons, we didn’t continue to correspond. But I kept the letter and took it out from time to time to reread about Rafe, Hilga, and their fantastically named children. Including the one named Rabbit. And when you showed up Cosdale, training to be a soldier, I thought, Ah, yes. Rafe’s son. I also thought, Let him settle; there’s plenty of time to bring him to court so I can see whether he is like his father. And so there was, until time unexpectedly ran out.”

  “I came to court anyway,” I said. “Your Majesty.”

  “So you did. And still time ran out, and you were away again, this time to the Borderlands. And now you’re back, but still there’s the pressure of time. I’ve learned to make do with what time we’re given, and pray that it’s enough.” Stretching his legs out towards the brazier, he folded his hands over his stomach. “We’re sending out ships tomorrow to the Qarant to let them know what happened to Javes.”

  I paused at the shift in topic. “He wasn’t on Kveta’s ship?” I asked.

  “No,” Jusson said. “And Kveta has decided that she isn’t talking to anyone about anything. However, several of her cohorts among her crew have been more forthcoming, especially when we threatened them with Master Cat’s truth rune.

  “People tend to do that,” I said.

  Jusson’s mouth quirked again. “So they do. Unfortunately they didn’t know much more than we did—only that he had been passed off to another ship that had quietly slipped into the harbor, and then slipped out again bearing him off to parts unknown. You were supposed to join him.”

  “I was?” I asked, startled.

  “The ambush,” Jusson said. “According to one of the crew members, Kveta stalked you when you were searching the forest, and then summoned people to abduct you, and afterwards whisked them away when it went bad.”

  “Then why did she try to kill me?” I asked.

  “The fact that the trees defended you worried her,” Jusson said. “At least that’s what she told her crew. Apparently she kept the part about the Forest Lord to herself and instead blamed it all on Laurel’s meddling.”

  I ran a knuckle over the thin scar on my neck. “If she had told them about the green man, they probably would’ve mutinied,” I said.

  “Most likely,” Jusson agreed. “They were a bit upset when they found out. Though Master Cat wasn’t all that impressed with their distress and displeasure. Said something about lying down with dogs and getting up with fleas.”

  I felt my mouth curve into a smile. It felt familiar and strange at the same time. “So there’s no clue where Captain Javes was taken, Your Majesty?”

  “Actually there is,” Jusson said. “A ghost of an idea but it gives us a place to start.” He reached next to his chair and picked up an empty pouch. “This was found secreted in a compartment in Kveta’s cabin.”

  I stared down at the pouch. It was covered in fluid markings that looked familiar. Very familiar. “Turalian?” I asked.

  “Laurel thinks it held the dragon bones,” Jusson said. He indicated the markings. “This is apparently a containment spell.”

  I gave the king a wide-eyed look. “Kveta got them from Munir?”

  “Munir was emphatic in his denials and I tend to believe him, if only for the fact that he wouldn’t have relinquished items of such power to Kveta.” Jusson placed the pouch back on the rug. “But they did come from someone in Tural—or at least someone in the Empire. Suiden says the dialect is rather archaic though it is used in some of the outlying principalities. And given that there are so many bones—Master Cat says almost the entire dragon—”

  Realizing that my mouth hung open, I closed it with a snap. “And we survived that?”

  “I suppose our collective heads are very hard,” Jusson said. “Given the quantity and quality, Wyln and Laurel both figure Kveta was given the bones by either a highly placed wizard or someone who is close to one, no matter where they’re located. So I am also sending messengers to the amir. Perhaps there’s a connection somewhere in his court or someone there knows a connection. As I said, it’s a starting place.”

  “If the amir isn’t involved himself,” I said.

  “I think His Glory is concerned about other things at present,” Jusson said, “chief being the disposition of the crown prince and heir.”

  That was probably very true.

  “With the time of storms beginning, I reckon we have twelve to fourteen weeks before we receive a response,” Jusson said. “From any of the messengers.”

  I frowned over that. “Surely, it won’t take that long for a return message to Iversly, Your Majesty—”

  “I am holding winter court here,” Jusson said.

  The tea in my cup splashed lukewarm droplets on my hand. “You are?”

  Jusson gave a razor-sharp smile. “Don’t worry, Cousin. Mearden is not so easily bankrupted. Though, to quiet those bent on finding fault, I will bear part of the cost of hosting us.”

  “That’s … wise, Your Majesty,” I offered.

  “We’ll see if it is,” Jusson said. “I’ve notified Patriarch Pietr about Berenice and Lord Brynach. I figure there we’ll have less time before someone from His Holiness’ See appears.”

  “You’re probably correct, Your Majesty,” I said, my voice faint.

  There was a soft rolling of thunder. “Though the rains may slow them down, which will hopefully allow me to mend what has been broken,” Jusson said. “With Mearden, such as it is. And with you.”

  I said nothing, my gaze drawn by the reflection of the brazier flames dancing on the surface of my tea. Jusson gave a soft sigh.

  “You know, contrary to what was said at the time, we didn’t come here to explore a match between you and Lady Berenice.”

  I nodded. “I realized that, Your Majesty, after your and Idwal’s … discussion in Lady Margriet’s stillroom. Figured you used his demand for redress to see what he was up to.”

  “I won’t deny that I was curious, especially about his desire to join his daughter to one of Rafe’s sons, but that also wasn’t the reason why we came here,” Jusson said. “It was for you.”

  The rest of my tea spilled on the rug as I turned quickly in my chair. “Me?”

  Jusson grinned. “That got your attention.”

  The strangeness faded as all my indignation flooded in. “This was the last effing place I wanted to be,” I said. “Your Majesty.”

  “I know,” Jusson said. His grin disappeared. “After the demon attack, you retreated, Rabbit.”

  I opened my mouth, then shut it again.

  “Yes, very understandable,” Jusson said. “But it had us worried. There were days when you weren’t tracking. Days when you weren’t present at all. You shut us out, shut everything out, and we thought that Idwal’s demand would shock you into opening up again. And it did. You started interacting with people, with the world. It was even better when we arrived. You were yourself again.”

  “And whether or not I wanted to marry had nothing to do with it?” I asked, my voice low.

  “If you had wanted to wed Berenice, then you would have,” Jusson said. “It wouldn’t have been a bad match, her father notwithstanding.” His expression turned feral. “And Idwal would’ve discovered that having me in his House would’ve been no sinecure.”

  “And if I hadn’t wanted to marry her?” I asked.

  “Then I would’ve said no and we would’ve left,” Jusson said.

  “So all of this was for my own good,” I said.

  “Yes, well.” Jusson ran a hand over his face. “As Wyln mentioned a couple days ago about hell and good intentions. And in our—in my zeal to do what I thought best, I created a place for you to be wounded again.”

  Jusson paused, waiting, but I was silent. Not because I didn’t have anything to say nor because I didn’t want to say it to Jusson. The words stuck in my throat, causing it to ache. I tried again.

  “I think Kveta would’ve done what she did regardless of where we w
ere, Your Majesty,” I finally got out.

  “Perhaps,” Jusson said. “But Kveta wasn’t the only one.”

  I shrugged even though my throat remained tight.

  “Berenice’s actions didn’t bother me all that much—”

  “Perhaps not,” Jusson said. “But what about Suiden?”

  I again fell silent.

  “And then there’s me,” Jusson said. “I’ve not had to apologize much during my reign, mostly because I took care not to have anything to apologize for.” His mouth quirked again, this time without much humor. “Which may be why the kingdom is facing certain issues. In any case, here I do need to apologize, if only because I treated you less than you are worth.”

  “Wyln said that we both need to get used to each other, Your Majesty—”

  “Always ‘Your Majesty’ now,” Jusson remarked.

  “—sire,” I said. “But we haven’t had the time.”

  “Yes,” Jusson said. “Time.”

  Both Jusson and I fell silent, Jusson again brooding into the brazier fire while I returned my gaze to the hunt tapestry. Overhead, the drumming of the rain continued, once more filling our silence, while the wind whispered of a ship safely making port just ahead of a greater storm blowing in from the sea. Jusson shifted in his chair.

  “How are you doing, Rabbit?”

  I thought about it for a moment. “I don’t know,” I said. “It feels strange.”

  “I suppose it would take a while to get used to being corporal again,” Jusson said, giving me a sideways look.

  “Yes,” I said. I gave a faint smile that felt more natural. “Time.”

  Jusson laughed. “Time indeed. So we will take time, to plan a wedding, mount a rescue, allow Suiden to get used to his new command, do the diplomatic dance with the Qarant, the Borderlands, and Tural, host His Holiness, and fend off the more conservative doyens. And perhaps, if we’re really fortunate, we will be able to mend what was broken—”

  He broke off, turning towards the tent opening, and a moment later I heard footsteps over the rain. Someone—several someones were approaching. Jusson rose to his feet and I followed, taking up my staff. As I did, the tent flapped opened and Cais and Thadro walked in, along with several King’s Own.

  “I beg pardon, sire,” Thadro said, bowing, “but Master Laurel said he was ready.”

  “All right,” Jusson said as Cais disappeared into the small chamber. He quickly reappeared carrying a couple of greatcoats, scarves, gloves, and furled umbrellas. In short order, both Jusson and I were bundled up and led out to another, much larger clearing. It seemed that everyone from the castle was there, along with many folks from the town, all pressing against a roped-off area in which Laurel crouched in the middle. Off to the side was Kveta, guarded and bound by so many wards that she was surrounded by a green and white haze. As soon as I stepped into the clearing, she turned, and I could see that someone had placed a patch over her injured eye and put a splint on her leg. She wore the same expression that she had had when I last saw her, her good eye wide, her ears pressed against her skull.

  “We are making arrangements to send her back,” Jusson said, seeing the direction of my gaze. “Laurel and Wyln will accompany her to make nothing untoward happens.”

  I was distracted from the twinge over being separated from my teachers in the talent by catching sight of Idwal and Lady Margriet. Even though several aristos walked over to greet the king and give me the once-over, the lord and lady of Mearden remained where they were, and I vaguely thought that some things could never be mended. Next to them were Lord Brynach and Berenice, the Forest Lord in his antlered guise and Berenice wearing the same bemused expression I last saw her with a couple of days ago in the great hall. I couldn’t tell if she was wearing one of her ugly-arsed gowns, but the cloak that covered her had nothing of the drab about it. Cherry red, it turned her eyes dark and made her shapely mouth stand out against her glowing skin. She looked my way and a faint blush swept her face, causing her fading bruise to darken. She then looked away, tucking the cloak about her as she stepped a little closer to her betrothed.

  Apparently she had becomed reconciled to being the Forest Lord’s wife. Or maybe she’d taken the time to read the contracts and found out what exactly would happen if they didn’t marry.

  Opposite them stood Captain Suiden with Princess Rajya and Captain Jasry from the Turalian ship, surrounded by a mixture of Turalian soldiers and sailors, and Freston Patrollers, both Javes’ and his command. Suiden also looked my way, his gaze just as searching as Cais’ had been earlier. But I again was distracted, this time by Arlis lingering nearby, in his Royal Army uniform.

  “I decided that it was best that he remained where he was for the time being,” Jusson said, once more deciphering the direction of my gaze.

  “Yes, Your Majesty,” I said, continuing to scan the crowd. I caught sight of Munir standing in his own knot of soldiers. He too was heavily warded by thin lines of flame. The crowd shifted again and I saw Wyln standing next to him, his face gently amused as his eyes met mine.

  Wondering if I should go to my cyhn, I had started to turn to Jusson when I heard a step behind me. I continued turning to see Jeff, also in his King’s Own uniform, had joined us, and I relaxed. Before I could say anything, though, there was another, lighter step and I looked down to see Bertram glowing up at me—and I found myself grinning even as I bowed.

  “Thank you,” I said.

  Bertram smiled and bowed back before going to my side.

  “He’s been moping since you’ve been gone,” Jusson said. “He actually stopped baking—”

  Laurel suddenly stood up and Jusson broke off. “Are you almost done, Master Cat?” he asked, walking to the rope.

  I followed behind the king and nearly caused Jeff and the other guards to crash into me as I came to a complete stop. Jusson had told me that Kveta had damn near an entire dragon, but it was different hearing it versus seeing it for myself. There were hundreds upon hundreds of bones, ranging from tiny slivers to ones the size and length of very large knitting needles, all placed in a spiraling pattern on the wet grass. They glistened in the rain, the runes and symbols carved on them shimmering in the gray afternoon light. Laurel, with help from Wyln and the Forest Lord, had drawn strong lines of containment around them, but even so, I could feel their power humming and I took an instinctive step back.

  “One more, honored king,” Laurel said. Unlike the crowd around him, he had no rain gear. In fact, all he wore were his rain-darkened beads and feathers. But his winter’s coat had come in thick and full, and the rain merely beaded on top, giving his fur a silver sheen. Stooping down, he gently placed the last sliver of bone in the center of the spiral, then stood up and quickly padded over to the ropes, away from the spiral of bones. I could feel the humming increase, the pressure building in my ears. It suddenly ceased and for a long moment, nothing happened. Then there was a loud crack and a blinding flash as from a lightning strike, reversing black and white, the symbols on my hand turning hot with a heat that exploded through my body. I closed my eyes, until the afterimages left. When I opened them again, the dragon bones were gone and in their place was a dragon.

  A murmur swept the crowd, many not knowing whether to ward themselves or cheer. Some did both, pressing against the rope. Others, though, moved far back, while the Turalian contingent fell to their knees, heedless of the wet grass.

  Idwal was one of those who moved back, taking his wife with him. (Berenice stayed with the Forest Lord.) “Is it supposed to do that?” Idwal asked.

  “There are olden tales, Eorl Idwal, though I’ve never seen it happen myself,” Wyln said, all amusement gone as he stared up at the dragon. He then slid a look at Munir. “Something to look forward to, wizard?”

  Munir said nothing, his eyes narrowed, his face set as he too stared at the dragon.

  “Fiat,” Laurel rumbled, his own amber eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “The Lady’s will be done.”

&nbs
p; “That’s going to go over well with His Holiness the Patriarch,” Jusson said.

  There was a big booming crash of a wave and what sounded like an echo of Laurel’s fiat, but deeper, stronger—and I wondered if this was because of Lady Gaia’s will or if someone else had decided to take a hand. Laurel twitched, then turned, staring first in the direction of the ocean, then at me. I shrugged.

  “It’s alive,” Jeff said softly behind me. “Not a ghost.”

  Jeff was right. Unlike honored Moraina’s son, Gwyyn, the dragon—no, the dragoness—was very alive. Shades of purple with amethyst eyes, she crouched there for a moment, her head lifted towards the sky as if relishing the feel of rain falling on her face. She then swept the crowd with her gaze before settling on Kveta, smoke curling up from her mouth. She unfurled her wings, bright against the dark trees, and stretched her neck towards the wolf.

  The Forest Lord moved to stand in front of the dragoness. “She will face justice,” he said. “Your bonds have been severed. Be free.”

  There was another silent moment; then the dragoness raised her head again and gave a roar that shook the rain from the branches. Spreading her wings, she took to the sky.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Lorna Freeman started reading fairy tales at an early age in reaction to an ordinary life. Though not a true native, she has lived most of her life in Southern California, the land of sunshine and earthquakes.