The Orphan and the Shadow Walker

by Graeme Bourke

  He heard the bolt rattle in the door. “Quickly, inside,” said Rose as she opened the door and shut it firmly behind them.

  “There is fighting in the streets,” he said as he peered across at the two children cowering in the corner.

  “He warned me to keep the doors locked.”

  “The stranger, the one riding the black stallion and covering his face, I presume it was he?”

  Rose turned from him and went to sit with her children. “He offered us money, more money than we have seen in a long time. These are hard times. We would have been lucky to survive the winter without it.”

  “I need to get back into the palace. I believe there is a way.”

  “I know nothing of what you talk about.”

  “Madam, you and your children have nothing to fear from me. If I don’t get back into the castle a lot of innocent people may die. You must help me stop this.”

  “And if I do?”

  “It will be our secret, I will tell no one.”

  Rose wanted to believe this young man, but she was fearful of what might happen to herself and the children. It was Tarran who spoke up.

  “I’ll show you,” he said, standing up and making his way to the back door.

  “You are a brave lad, what’s your name?”

  “Tarran,” he said as he slid the bolt back on the door, opened it ever so slightly and peered outside. “There’s no one around.”

  Rose closed the door behind them.

  They ran to the barn and made their way inside.

  “Over here,” said Tarran, hurrying to the far corner of the stables. He kicked the yellow straw aside with his scuffed and well-worn boots to reveal some smooth stone pavers. “This one,” he said, pointing to the paver in front of him.

  Aaron knelt down, slid his dagger into the crack between the pavers and levered it, the paver came up very easily. He slid his fingers under it and shifted it sideways. It was a square hole, dropping down about four feet.

  “It opens up once you get inside,” said Tarran. “You will need a candle, sir.”

  Tarran retrieved a candle that was lying on the window ledge along with a tinderbox. He lit the candle and gave it to Aaron. “You must cover this up again,” he said as he dropped down into the hole.

  Bending over he pushed the candle out in front of him and stepped into the tunnel proper, it did indeed open up. He heard the grating sound of the paver being pushed back into place. Someone had built this many years ago. In places there were timber posts but as he went deeper it turned to solid stone. The walls glistened with a reflective dampness. The floor beneath him was wet and muddy. He came to a set of stone steps that began to wind upwards in a spiral. Then he came to a dead end, a blank wall made of timber. He lifted the candle higher and looked around the cavern wall. Off to one side was a wooden lever; he pulled it down and slowly the wall began to move. It opened enough for him to step through. He was in the study of the palace! He pushed the partition and it slid shut on its own weight. He looked down at his muddy tracks on the stone floor. This was going to be his secret. One day he might need to use this tunnel again. Sneaking through to the dining room he found a cloth, returned and wiped away his tracks.

  Making his way through to the kitchen he ran into Matilda, the pretty young servant girl his mother had tried to get rid of. She was one of the reasons he came to the kitchen to eat, his eyes secretly admired her although he dared not show it. His mother would be aghast if she knew how he truly felt about this young woman.

  “Where is everyone, Matilda? What’s going on?”

  “It’s your father. He has taken fifty people from the city and intends to slay them. All the servants have been ordered into the courtyard to witness the slayings.”

  “Why aren’t you there?”

  “I came looking for you, you must stop this. It’s sheer madness.”

  “Yes, you are right, the people are already starting to revolt,” said Aaron, putting a protective arm around her and steering her to the door.

  Matilda felt her skin burning at his touch, he had never done that before, never touched her. She had dreamt of it many times, of him reaching for her, taking her in his arms. Her mother had warned of the sins of men, of their desires of the flesh, but she knew if Aaron wanted her in that way, she would not hinder him, would welcome him regardless of the consequences. She took his arm away as they went out into the corridor, it would not look well for him to be holding onto a servant girl. She followed him down the stairs and into the courtyard.

  His father stood in the middle of the cobblestoned yard, to one side was a huddled group of cowering peasants surrounded by armed soldiers, behind him stood the servants and his mother.

  Myra saw Aaron come from the palace, behind him was that wisp of a girl from the kitchen. Had she run to him to tell him what was going on? Of course she had. She would have to try and get rid of that girl. She and Aaron were becoming too close. It would not do for him to marry a commoner.

  “What in the hell do you think you’re doing?” said Aaron as he confronted his father who was dressed in military attire; a breastplate armour and the purple plumed silver helmet, denoting his superior rank. He held his sword in his right hand.

  “I’m going to make an example of these people, I would like to kill more, but fifty will do for now.” Benjamin signaled his soldiers to bring the first struggling man foreword.

  He was an older man, thin and pale, dressed in the drab brown clothes of the poor. “Sir, have pity on me, I have a wife and five children. They will not survive without me.”

  Too bad,” said Benjamin as the soldiers pushed the trembling man onto his knees. His hands were locked together in front of him as if in prayer.

  Aaron stepped in front of his father. “I’ll not let you do this.”

  “Step aside, you might be the only heir left, but it is not your time yet.”

  “Don’t be a fool, Father. The people are already rioting in the streets and killing the soldiers. They have us surrounded. They will outnumber you ten to one if they rise together. If you do this they will storm the palace and kill us all, then there will be nothing, no heirs, absolutely nothing. It was the Shadow Walker who killed Luther and Craig, not these people,” said Aaron, waving his hand in the direction of the recoiling group of peasants.

  Aaron sensed the indecision in his father. Then his mother approached them on her sandaled feet, staring at Aaron. She said nothing as she stood beside husband. She just touched him gently on the arm. It was a silent signal between them. His father looked at the peasants, glared at Aaron and dropped his sword tip to the ground.

  “Let these people go and order the soldiers back to the barracks,” said Aaron, softly, pleadingly.

  Myra’s grip tightened on her husband’s arm.

  “Open the gates,” yelled Benjamin. “Let the people go. Have all the soldiers in the town return to the barracks.”

  “You will not regret this, Father.”

  “I am already regretting it,” he scowled, swinging on his heels and re-sheathing his sword.

  He strode back into the palace with Myra by his side. He did not look at anybody. His eyes were fixed onto something in front of him that no one else could see – his own future. He feared that this was the beginning of the end. The Shadow Walker had succeeded. He had taken two of his sons and left him to wallow in his own descent.

  “It is a pity you did not kill Benjamin Simms,” said Brannigan, “after all, you have been waiting fifteen years.”

  “There are many ways to take your revenge, the loss of his sons; especially Luther, will severely dent his confidence and hurt him deeply. The younger son will challenge him now, will take over. It will be a peaceful transition and one that I believe will save many lives. Benjamin Simms is finished. He’ll always wonder about the Shadow Walker, wonder about Edmond Harland. It will be a curse in itself that will eventually destroy his mind. He will suffer a long, slow, lingering death. It is far better this way.�
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  “I hope you are right about this.”

  “I am Brannigan, trust me,” said the Shadow Walker as he pulled back the hood on his cape and unwound the red-silk scarf from his face. “I’m not known in Treeland.”

  Brannigan looked at the strong, handsome, clean-shaven face. His dark wavy hair rested on his broad shoulders, his blue eyes, stern and commanding peered into the distance toward Darfor.

  “Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to lead a simple life, Master, to have some land, a woman to cook for you and keep you bedded, and children of course.”

  “There may be a future for you in Darfor, Brannigan, but there is nothing there for me. I have to look to a different future, a future not without some uncertainty, I might add. But there’s something I might look forward to, Brannigan, something delightful.”

  Brannigan knew he was hinting at the young woman, Mica.

  “Do you think you will see her again, Master?”

  He turned and smiled at Brannigan.

  “Yes,” he said pulling at the reins of his horse.

  THE END

  Note: Read book two and three to find out how the destiny of the Shadow Walker and the orphan are further intertwined.