Shadow's Son

by Jon Sprunk

  Another initiative coming out of the palace was the disbanding of the Sacred Brotherhood and the stripping of lands from wealthy priests. In the aftermath of the People's Revolt, as it was being called, the remaining hierarchs of the True Church had convened to elect a new prelate, one favorably disposed toward the restored imperium. Fresh proclamations of friendship and mutual assistance flowed from Castle DiVecci daily. To all appearances, it was the beginning of a new era in Nimea. For the first time in a long time, the future on the horizon looked brighter than the fading glories of the past.

  Kit leaned on Caim's shoulder while he watched the proceedings.

  “Isn't this all a bit much?” she asked. “I mean, it's not like most of these people actually gave two figs about you when you were alive.”

  “Yes. Well, people have to have their pretenses.” Caim snapped off a twig from a tree branch and dropped it to the ground. A leather pack sat at his feet, beside a pair of wrapped bundles the length of his arm. Some victuals and a couple bottles liberated from the palace wine cellars, his bow, and his father's sword. Along with the clothes on his back and his knives, they were everything he owned in the world. The thought was oddly liberating.

  “You think anyone will fall for this?” Kit asked.

  “Why not? After the murders and the riots, everyone just wants to get back to some semblance of normalcy. If the burial of one poor thug is enough to satisfy them, isn't that a small price to pay?”

  As the last notes of the dirge died away, the guests began to file away from the gravesite. Hubert offered his good arm to Josey, but she declined with a shake of her head. Caim couldn't suppress a chuckle, appreciating this new side to the girl he had risked his life to protect. Her performance was flawless as well-wishers offered their condolences. By now the story was known throughout the city, how a lowborn man had saved the long-lost princess from traitors in the True Church and made the ultimate sacrifice in her service. If whispers arose of how attached the young empress had become to her rescuer during their escapades, none could reproach her. Indeed, they served to make her more accessible to her new subjects. After all, weren't such romantic notions the stuff of bard's songs?

  With a gesture for her attendants to remain behind, Josey wandered among the headstones, head bent in quiet contemplation. As if by chance, she entered the grove and stopped a few paces away from him.

  He took her in and attempted to penetrate the layers of pomp and regalia to find the young woman he had come to know. It wasn't easy. She had already become the symbol of her office, the mother of a nation.

  Then, her mouth contorted into a frown. The Josey he knew was back.

  “You shouldn't be out of bed so soon. The doctors said it would be weeks before you'd be well enough to move about.”

  Caim pressed a hand against his stomach. A dull ache pulled at his muscles there, but something stronger pulled at his spirit. “I'm just here to say good-bye.”

  Her bottom lip disappeared into her mouth. “You don't have to leave. Hubert has an idea to change your identity. We could put you into some better clothes, change your hair, and not even your grandmother would recognize you.”

  “That would be curious, as I've never met either of my grandmothers.”

  Josey twisted her fingers, heedless of the fortune in sapphires festooning them. Her gaze had dropped to his chest, as if she couldn't bring herself to look him in the eye anymore.

  “I would be dead, if not for you.”

  “As I remember it, you were the one who saved me.”

  She shook her head. “When I was hanging in the dark, I couldn't see anything. My hands were numb. My heart was numb. I started to give up. Then I remembered the way you fought, how you never gave up—no matter the odds. That gave me the strength to pull myself up.”

  She looked up with a new light shining in her eyes, a glorious flame of pride. “Whatever comes now, I know I can face it. You did more than save my life, Caim. What I'm saying is you could have a family here. You and I…we could be…”

  He shook his head. She started to reach out, and he caught her hand in a gentle grasp. Her nails had been cleaned of gutter filth and polished with a bright indigo lacquer. Her perfume filled his head, weakening his resistance.

  “I can't stay. I've made a lot of enemies in this town. Anyway, it wouldn't be proper for an empress to be seen in the company of assassins, even if they're wearing silks and pomades.”

  He took her chin in his other hand. She moved closer until the hem of her wide skirt brushed his boots. Their lips came together in a kiss. The sweetness of her taste lingered in his mouth for a long time after he pulled away.

  “I could come with you.” Her eyes were cloudy with emotion. “Wherever you're going. I don't care.”

  Pulling away from her was the hardest thing he'd ever done. Only the knowledge of what he was sparing her kept him from toppling back into her arms.

  “You have a lot of work to do here, Josey. Othir needs her empress. Our paths lead in different directions. For now.”

  Her hands started to rise, but then dropped back to her sides. Moisture glistened in her eyes. He smiled with care, afraid even the smallest gesture would crack the armor he had erected around his heart. He wanted her badly, wanted to stay and protect her, serve her, whatever she desired just for the chance to be with her. But they were as different as the sun and moon. Forever bound together, forever apart.

  “Where will you go?” she asked.

  He turned his gaze northward. Somewhere beyond the trees of the grove and the city walls lay the land of his birth. He didn't know what he would find once he got there, but the need to know about his past throbbed in him like a second heartbeat.

  “I have questions that need answering and a long road to travel before I reach my destination.”

  “What if the answers you want aren't there?”

  “Then I'll keep searching.”

  Josey reached into a fur muff dangling from her sleeve and pulled out a bundle of papers wrapped in black cord. “Take this. There's a writ of safe passage inside, although I don't know how far that will extend. There's been no news out of the northern provinces for weeks. I intend to send a military detachment up there as soon as I can find the resources.”

  “You're starting to sound like an empress already.” He accepted the package. Nestled among the documents was a thin book, like a diary. He started to pull it out. “And this?”

  She put her hands over his. “Read it later, after you've left the city environs. There might be information in there you can use. And, Caim, if you don't find what you're looking for, promise me you'll come back.”

  Caim pressed his lips to her fingers. “I promise, my lady.”

  Then he turned and left before the trembling in his legs could betray him. A breeze swirled through the trees and ruffled his hair as he trod across the carpet of fallen leaves. The sky was deepening to purple twilight. Kit danced before him in the failing light, her hair flowing free like a silver banner. He touched the golden talisman hung by a simple leather cord around his neck. He wanted to look back and catch one last glimpse of the woman he loved, of Othir's gleaming towers, of the life he was leaving behind.

  But he kept walking, through the gates and into the gathering shadows beyond.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  JON SPRUNK lives in central Pennsylvania with his wife and son. Between his day job as a juvenile detention specialist and time spent with his family, he is hard at work on the sequel to Shadow's Son. For more on his life and works, visit www.jonsprunk.com.

 

 

 
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