Time of Shadows (The Saga of the Seven Stars Book 2)

by Dayne Edmondson

  “Can you take anyone else with you?”

  Bridgette frowned. “I have never tried. Despite his power, I believe Garik was afraid of my abilities. He never commanded me to take him or any of his servants into the shadow realm. I suppose that if I envisioned an individual or group of individuals all at once when I shifted, it might work, but I don’t know if my shifting would kill them, leave them stranded or something else.”

  “How long can you remain in the shadow realm?”

  “I think as long as I like. I typically only remain for a few moments, long enough to teleport to the other side of a room, or behind a foe, that sort of thing. I’ve yet to try traveling long distance in the shadow realm.”

  “Hmmm,” Jason said. His mind whirled with the implications and capabilities of such a power. “Does this shifting let you do anything else?”

  “I can partially shift myself, causing projectiles or other weapons to pass through me as if I were not there. I’ve used the ability to reach into lock-boxes and other secure containers and grab things. I shift partially, reach in with my hand, re-materialize my hand and grab the item. Then I shift again and pull the item out. Anything I am touching when I shift can be shifted without my needing to focus on it. But for locked doors and the like, I simply shift and enter. Nothing is a bar to me in the shadow realm.”

  They continued talking late into the night, Jason sharing stories of his time in the United States and Bridgette of hers in the UK. They talked of their dreams prior to coming to Tar Ebon and what they were like before their arrival. Despite how well the night went, Jason felt Bridgette was holding something back.

  Chapter 29 - Grave Tidings

  Boris finished wrapping his arm with a bandage and looked around. Only four gladiators had survived the fight, and Valentin, the former leader of the Helgstad gladiators, had not survived. Boris wasn’t sure what to think of that. He had not hated the man. In fact, he had even respected the fighting prowess of the man. He was told that Valentin had been killed early on, though the details were murky. With Valentin gone, however, it would be time to choose a new leader. Because of his pivotal role in the victory, the other three gladiators had begun to defer to him, electing him as their defacto leader. He didn’t mind that, though it caused Darin’s frown to deepen further whenever he laid eyes upon Boris.

  Clarence lay on his cot, fast asleep, and Boris thought the other two men were off whoring in the servant quarters. Boris did not approve of the behavior, but his authority as leader extended only to martial matters, not to their personal lives, however impersonal they may be.

  How did I survive? Boris wondered. Several times he thought he was going to die, to never return to free the love of his life. He realized it had been that desire - the desire to save the woman he loved - which had driven him to fight on, well past what other men would do. How long that desire would act as a life-saving shield was a question Boris didn’t want to answer.

  The door to the chamber opened and in strode Darin, a wide smile on his face. He headed straight for Boris.

  The hackles on the back of Boris’ neck rose and he sat up straighter. “What do you want, Darin?”

  “Ah, Boris!” Darin exclaimed, as if he had not heard Boris speak. “Just the man I was looking for. Good news, you’ll be fighting in the arena again very soon.”

  “That’s the good news?” Boris asked.

  “Yes.” Darin’s smile grew so wide that Boris could see his yellow, rotting teeth in far more detail than he wanted. “But it’s a special match. You’ll be facing your most difficult opponent yet.”

  “And who would that be?” Boris asked, not really caring. He wouldn’t recognize the name Darin threw out - he seldom even knew the name of his opponents, let alone recognized them - and would fight as he always did, regardless.

  “Your good friend Clarence,” Darin said, pointing toward Clarence’s sleeping form.

  Boris sat back, reeling. Clarence? One of the few men he had called a friend since arriving in this treacherous place, and they were going to try and take him from him? “No,” he heard himself say.

  “No?” Darin asked in an exaggerated manner. “You don’t get a choice, slave. You’ll fight on the morrow. Say your goodbyes tonight.” Not waiting for a rebuttal, he turned and left the room.

  Clarence stirred. Sitting up, he saw the look on Boris’ face and stopped. “Boris, what’s wrong?”

  Boris closed his eyes. Memories of Veronica assailed him - of her body lying on the ground, blood pooling beneath her, of the lifeless look she adopted as the last breath left her. None of the other deaths had bothered him like hers, and he couldn’t bear to think of losing another friend. Sitting up straighter, he took a deep breath, opened his eyes and addressed Clarence. “Darin has commanded that I fight you - to the death.”

  Clarence’s eyes opened wide, then he averted his gaze. “In a way, I expected it. Don’t worry, I’ll let you kill me tomorrow.”

  “Don’t say that,” Boris said. “We’ll find another way out of this. We’ll escape tonight, or during the fight, or-”

  Clarence held up his hand, meeting Boris’ eyes. “You know that will only result in us both being killed. We’d never make it out alive.”

  “It’s worth a try. I won’t just stand there and watch you die!”

  “I’m old, Boris. I’ve lived my life and, although I regret many things, being your friend is not one of them.” He smiled. “Besides, you’ve got a woman to get back to - mine died long ago. I’ve got no one to return to.”

  Boris remained silent. What other options did he have? If he tried to run, there was a good chance he and Clarence would be caught. Runaway slaves found few allies in the Empire, due to the harsh punishment dealt to those who aided them. If they tried to fight their way out of the match tomorrow, they would be surrounded and slain.

  His thoughts went to Alexandra, and his resolve stiffened. He would do anything to see Alexandra again; even kill a good friend. “You will be missed, friend,” he said at last.

  “And I will surely miss you as well, should the Founders see fit to raise me up.”

  Chapter 30 - Meeting the King

  John looked around in wonder as Dawyn led them through the winding halls of the Celestial Palace. The polished floors reflected vast tapestries that made their home on the white stone walls. Orbs of light sat in sconces along the walls, reminding John of light bulbs from back home. The Tower was populated by similar light sources, and John guessed they were remnants of the Founders, signifying the level of technology they had achieved before coming to Tar Ebon.

  Servants stopped and bowed respectfully as the group passed. Several Shadow Watch Guards saluted Dawyn, which made sense to John, considering Dawyn had once been their commander. The group headed straight toward the main throne room.

  Passing through the massive wooden doors, John’s eyes grew even wider as he stared at the large stone pillars of the throne room. Ornate decorations hung from each pillar, while tapestries many times larger than the tapestries in the hallways outside hung from the ceiling to the floor, depicting epic battles or other monumental moments in history. One such tapestry caught his eye. It depicted glowing orbs - ships, John realized - descending from the sky. Seven of them were displayed, and they appeared to be dispersing. That must depict the Founding, John thought. Dawyn had explained in-depth the time known as the Founding and what the legends said of that time. No one now living remembered that time, but extensive records lay in the archives beneath the Tower and the palace, describing recollections from those first settlers.

  As they walked down the long red carpet toward the throne, John turned his eyes to the figure seated there. The king seemed larger than life, towering over the group despite being seated. He wore a simple yet elegant set of robes, with a crown atop his head. From such a distance, it was difficult to make out many more details. To the king’s left was a smaller, though no less elaborate, throne which was reserved for the queen. To the right of
the queen’s throne was another, less elaborate than the other two, in which a younger woman sat.

  The woman’s raven black hair ran to her shoulders where it gave way to a black uniform, tunic, trousers and boots, akin to those of the Shadow Watch Guards. She wore no helmet, and as the group neared, her green eyes struck John as hiding a great intellect.

  “Dawyn!” the king exclaimed, standing and stepping down the stairs to embrace him.

  Dawyn returned the embrace. “It is good to see you, my king.” Stepping back, he swept out a hand, indicating Anwyn, John and Ashley. “Your majesty, it is my pleasure to introduce you to my companions.”

  The king greeted each of the three in turn, kissing the back of Anwyn and Ashley’s hands. His grip was firm and his eyes warm as he shook hands with John. “A pleasure to meet you all. What brings you here today?”

  “I felt it was important for them to make your acquaintance, your majesty. John and Ashley have been training hard at the Tower under Alivia.”

  “Oh yes, Alivia, the mage who accompanied you on your journey to stop Lord Garik. How is she?”

  “She is well, and has been raised to the rank of master and afforded great acclaim for her heroics.”

  “That is good to hear,” the king replied. His eyes turned to Anwyn. “This must be the druid you rescued previously?”

  “Aye. This is Anwyn, my companion. She is a druid from the eastern woodlands.”

  “You travel with powerful companions, Dawyn. That is good. Welcome to the Celestial Palace. You are welcome here. Any ally of Dawyn is a friend of the crown.” He turned and gestured to the woman seated to his left. “Allow me to introduce my daughter, Coryn.”

  The young woman stood up and marched down the stairs. She saluted to Dawyn. “Dawyn, it’s good to see you again.”

  Dawyn returned the salute, smiling. “I am no longer in a position where you should salute me, Coryn. You are a princess and I am a commoner now.”

  “You are anything but common, Dawyn.” She nodded to his friends in turn, having heard the introductions offered to her father. “Welcome.”

  “Coryn is my eldest child, and thus poised to ascend the throne upon my death,” the king explained to John, Ashley and Anwyn.

  “Father,” Coryn chided. “You speak as if your death is upon you. I will not ascend for many years yet.”

  “Regardless,” her father continued. “You are the heir to the throne. Please come back to my chambers, you four. Let us talk over an evening meal. If you have time?” The king arched his eyebrow while asking. As if they could refuse an invitation from the king.

  “We would be honored, your majesty,” Dawyn said with a bow.

  Together the group of six exited the main throne room through a side door and traveled through a tunnel to the king’s antechamber. There, they enjoyed a multi-course meal of duck, boar and a strange, spiced dish that John was told came from Imperial lands across the sea. His mouth burned after the first bite, and the sweet wine did little to quench it.

  The group kept the conversation light, with the king asking innocuous questions of the others - questions related to their likes, dislikes and origins. John and Ashley gave vague answers as not to reveal their origin. The group asked similar questions in return about the realm and the royal family.

  Coryn, it turned out, had a keen interest in martial matters. From a young age she had defied conventional wisdom that said women could not be fighters or trained to fight. She was proficient with sword, axe, bow, spear and mace, and trained each day for several hours. John thought her a fitting commander-in-chief to take over for her father one day. She was less interested in domestic matters, as she made clear during the conversations. Her head was filled with battle strategies and logistical knowledge such as the movement of troops and supplies, rather than bookkeeping and the administrative task of running the kingdom.

  The king explained he had three other children. His son, Theodore, only three summers younger than Coryn, despised fighting and preferred to bury his head in books in the library or pore over the accounts for the royal coffers. The youngest daughter, Emily, had seen ten summers and followed in her sisters footsteps, adventuring throughout the palace, much to the chagrin of her mother. The king’s second son, George, was the youngest, having seen seven summers, and followed Emily around the palace grounds, much to the chagrin of his father.

  The queen was not present during the meal. The king explained that she was visiting a neighboring lord and lady’s manor with the other three children. There was talk of a marriage alliance between Theodore and Lord Alliston’s daughter, Daedra, and the queen had left to begin negotiations. Such traditions struck John as barbarous, reminding him that for all the scattered modern remnants from the time of the Founding, the social atmosphere of Tar Ebon had not advanced much.

  “How are Jason and Bridgette faring?” the king asked. It had been several weeks since his encounter with them, but John found it no surprise that the king would yet remember them.

  “They are well,” Ashley said. “Honestly, they haven’t talked much, with Bridgette running off to bring Lord Garik to justice. But they are working on coping with the link.”

  The king nodded. “Yes, it can take some adjustment. The queen and I spent months learning to communicate to one another through the link. It felt strange having another person privy to my deepest thoughts and desires.”

  Dawyn cleared his throat. “Your majesty, that brings up a question I had. Why them? Why did you choose them to be linked?”

  The king became solemn. “When I saw your sister, I saw the darkness battling the light within her. I knew, somehow, that she was trapped, like a small candle surrounded by darkness. Then I looked at Jason and saw nothing but pure light within him, like the sun. I thought that to set her free from the darkness, it was necessary to bind her to another. In a way, I chained her to the light in order to free her from the darkness.”

  Dawyn nodded as if he understood. John was confused, however, and spoke up. “You saw the darkness and the light? Like physically? Are you a mage?”

  The king chuckled. “No, I am no mage, but it is a gift, passed down in the royal family since the days of the Founding. Legend says that each king has possessed the ability to peer into the soul of those who come before him, judging the truth of their words and their character.”

  The conversation slowed and the meal came to an end with Dawyn and his companions departing the castle and heading back to the Dancing Mare.

  Chapter 31 - The Shadow Falls

  Gaspar leaned against one of the stone parapets atop the ramparts of the Haguesfort, his chin resting on his fist. He huddled against the bitter north wind, for even in the midst of summer, the north knew how to make men shiver. He sighed. Watch duty - one of the most boring jobs around the fortress. No, wait, all of the jobs were boring. Standing watch during the day was merely the most boring of them all. Nothing happened during the day, except crows and other birds attempted to defecate on him. At night though, things could get interesting. The northmen might try to scale the walls - a feat they were seldom successful at, or the howling of wolves in the distance could provide a distraction.

  He had been sent to the Haguesfort after receiving low marks on his training tests. Rather than discharge him from the army, they sent him to the “majestic” fortress as far north as you could go and still be within the kingdom of Tar Ebon. Here he manned the walls, mucked the stables, cleaned the mess hall and swept the halls in the name of the kingdom. His counterparts included the likes of old retired soldiers, who were old when the last war began, and other misfits like himself with no place to go.

  Gaspar closed his eyes against his will - the boredom and lack of sleep, from the night before playing dice games were taking their toll on him. He snapped them open, however, when he heard a warning horn bellow. There, in the distance, was a swarm of dark creatures. Like a swarm of insects, the creatures covered the landscape. They’re heading for the bridge, Gaspar reali
zed. Standing up straight, he looked around. Other men along the wall were staring toward the enemy, shouting in alarm, while in the courtyard below, men stepped out of the barracks to inquire as to what the alarm was all about.

  One man among the crowd strode toward the wall. Commander Laroche was an older man, but the spring in his step had never left him over the years. He bounded up the stairs and stood looking out one of the crenels, only a few feet from Gaspar. “Bloody hell,” he heard the commander say. Turning, the man shouted to the courtyard below, “sound the alarm! Possible enemy forces incoming. Get some archers up here!”

  Alarm bells began to clank, the horns echoing them like a broken chorus. Men rushed inside to don armor and ready their weapons.

  “You, boy,” the commander snapped, “come here.”

  Gaspar jumped, for he had not realized that Commander Laroche was addressing him. He shuffled toward the commander. “Yes, sir?” he asked, focusing on the first button of the mans uniform.

  “Do you know where the ravens are?”

  “Yes sir, I do,” Gaspar replied.

  “And do you know how to write?”

  “A little. I haven’t done it in a while.”

  “It’ll have to do. Listen well, boy, and be prepared to write it in the aviary. ‘Your majesty, the Haguesfort is under attack by an unknown enemy. They possess great numbers and speed. Please send aid. We will hold as long as possible.’ Did you get all that, boy?”

  Gaspar bristled at being called “boy”, but nodded. “I got it, sir.”

  “Go then, and send the message.” The commander turned to survey the oncoming siege engines.

  Gaspar cast one last glance toward the oncoming swarm, then headed for the aviary. The aviary smelled of bird excrement and held ravens cawing for freedom. The man in charge of the aviary, Lieutenant Vespin, stood at the balcony, looking toward the north. “Lieutenant,” Gaspar called out, “I have a message to send.”