In the courtyard, Alster felt the cool night air fill his lungs, crisp and invigorating. He guessed there were still several hours before dawn, and the estate was predictably, and thankfully, silent. The yard was free of servants bustling from one building to another, and even the animals were quiet.
As Alster hobbled toward the stables, he found his right hand wandering toward the hilt of the dagger tucked into his belt. Almost no light found its way to the courtyard, but the crescent moon hanging overhead put him on edge. “The shades are supposed to be dead,” he told himself, though he couldn’t rationalize what he had seen in the darkness of the archive.
“Hurry,” Elsey whispered from the side of the stables when he came into view. She had two cloth sacks full of food at her feet and held a lantern in her hands, though it was not lit.
Alster was nearly exhausted when he finally reached her. “Did you see anyone?” he asked, eager to be under the stable’s roof and out of the dull moonlight.
Elsey shook her head. She pushed a lock of her hair from her eyes and lifted the two bags of food. “Follow me,” she said. “The horses get fed at dawn, but we can rest in one of the stalls for a few hours.”
Alster was thankful for the utter darkness of the stable. He felt safer without any light, despite being unsure of his footing.
“Should I take a horse?” Alster wondered as they passed a stall with a huge red mare. Palos loved hunting on horseback, and the stables were almost always full to capacity with prized steeds. “I don’t think anyone would notice a single horse missing,” he said.
Elsey laughed in front of him. “Each horse has a different exercise schedule depending on its age and needs,” she explained. “All of it is recorded every day. The stablemaster would certainly notice.”
Alster felt stupid for asking such an obvious question. He had only ridden a horse a handful of times when he was younger, and he didn’t even know how to properly take care of such an animal.
“Although,” Elsey began, “I might have an idea.” She led Alster through the darkness of the stables to a small room cramped with parchment scrolls and two wooden chairs. Elsey set her bags of food down outside the room and produced a tinder box from a pocket in her leather pants.
“What are you going to do?” Alster asked. He leaned against the wall and placed his stick next to him, thankful to finally give his weary legs a rest.
“They’ll probably use the horses to look for us, right?” she said. “Whether the stablemaster knows a horse is missing or not probably isn’t important. The horse will give us a chance. I’ll take the records for the horse we steal. It might slow them down if they think someone has the horse on purpose, but it won’t last long.”
“Wait, you’re coming with me?” Alster asked. “You don’t have to.”
Elsey turned to him with her firesteel in hand. “Sure,” she said happily. One of the horses whinnied nearby. She held the firesteel to the lantern’s wick and struck it, igniting the oil and illuminating the room at once.
Alster nearly fell to the ground. The shade from the archive, or whatever it truly was, stood in the doorway to the record room, a towering, black menace of twisting shadows.
A host of incomprehensible screams poured from Elsey’s mouth as she tried to scramble away. Her feet tangled as she jumped, and she hit the ground hard, but the lantern did not go out. The closest horse kicked at its stall door, rousing some of the other creatures from their sleep.
The shade moved directly over Elsey, filling up almost every inch of the darkness between the lantern’s partial light.
Suddenly exploding in a flurry of action, Alster did the only thing he could think to do. He ripped Alistair’s dagger from his belt and lunged, losing his balance completely. In the small hallway of the stable, his accuracy with the blade was irrelevant. As he fell, Alster gripped the dagger as tightly as he could and simply held it above his head, letting his momentum do the work for him.
Alster didn’t fully understand what he heard when he crashed into the ground. The shade yelled, the voice a mix of shock and pain, and then evaporated, leaving behind a cool cloud of mist. The fact that the shade possessed a voice, that it could speak somehow, had Alster’s mind reeling with a mixture of awe and confusion.
As quickly as it had begun, the stable was once again calm, though the horse behind Alster seemed intent on breaking out of its stall to escape.
When Alster pushed himself up to his knees, he felt something tingle inside his stolen gauntlets. Whatever the sensation was, it felt warm and somewhat comforting, and Alster found himself grinning from ear to ear. With one hand against the doorframe for balance, Alster stood up fully and brushed the dirt from his clothes.
Mixing with the flickering lantern light, a soft glow emanated from the design on Alster’s gauntlets. He turned his hands over in wonder, half of his mind expecting some dazzling display of magic, and the other half not believing his own eyes.
“Did you see that?” Alster whispered.
Elsey collected herself and righted the lantern, though her body still shook with fear.
“I think I killed the shade,” Alster said, never taking his eyes from the gauntlets. After a few more seconds, the red light faded, and the gauntlets returned to their dormant state.
Deep in Alster’s chest, he felt something begin to stir. He felt stronger. He felt more alive than he ever had before. His grip on the dagger tightened, and the newfound energy pulsed within his very bones.
“I,” Alster began, but he didn’t know how to describe what took place within his ribcage. “I think I… consumed the shade?” he said after a moment.
“What?”
“I think I drank it,” Alster said. “You know the feeling when it’s cold so you drink something warm, and the heat spreads from your chest through your whole body?”
Elsey nodded, her eyes wide with an emotion Alster could not pinpoint.
“The dagger killed the shade,” Alster continued. He slid the weapon back into his belt and unclenched his hand, relaxing the muscles of his arm. “When the shade died, I drank it,” he concluded.
“On purpose?”
“I don’t know,” Alster replied. “It all happened so quickly.” His voice drifted as he stared at the bulging muscles in his forearms. “I’m not sure I had a choice.”
“Are you alright?” Elsey asked. She placed a hand on Alster’s shoulder, and it was unnaturally warm beneath her fingers.
“I feel incredible,” he mused.
The horse nearest them continued to kick, splintering some of the wood on its stall. Other horses in the stable joined in the commotion, panicked by what they had seen and heard.
“Forget the ledger,” Elsey said as she grabbed a shovel from a nearby hook. “They’ll think something spooked this one and might not suspect it was us.” She swung the shovel down hard on the stall’s hinges several times, pounding the metal bolts from the splintered wood.
Finally, after nearly a dozen swings of the shovel, the gate clattered to the ground. Elsey, an experienced stablehand, tried to soothe the creature with a series of gentle pats, keeping it from running away without them.
“I’ll help you up,” Elsey said after she returned the shovel to its hook. “I’m supposed to be the one sleeping here tonight. I don’t think anyone heard, but we can’t waste time.”
Alster sensed the lingering power within his chest and willed it toward his twisted legs. His gauntlets shimmered red ever so faintly, and he felt a hint of power flow through his extremities. Ignoring Elsey’s offered hand, he crouched, focused on the strength he had stolen from the shade, and jumped. With one hand on the horse’s blonde mane, he pulled himself easily onto the creature’s back and sat upright.
“Wow,” Elsey said.
Alster smiled. He felt the strength immediately diminish from his legs. His crippled limbs began to throb once more, but he didn’t care. “I did drink the shade,” he said. “I need more.” His voice drifted off as he imagined the strength he
would feel if he could consume dozens of the creatures, or even hundreds!
Elsey handed the sacks of food up to Alster one at a time. In the dim light, the boy appeared somehow transformed. She had seen what confidence could do to bolster the men who rode the horses she cared for, and she saw it again in Alster. His talk of killing shades frightened her. “I’d rather not run into any more shades, if you don’t mind,” she said.
With her lantern in hand, Elsey placed one foot on the side of the stall and used it to propel herself upward. It was a fluid motion she had practiced hundreds of time while living in the stables, and she landed gracefully in front of Alster on the mare’s back.
She took a deep breath. The full implications of leaving the estate, the only home she had never known, began to set in and test her resolve. She knew she could never return, but that notion didn’t bother her much. Since her father had died, she had always dreamed of moving to one of Vecnos’ grand cities. She longed to see the ocean, to climb mountains, and to make a name for herself among the Vecnos elite.
It only took a minute to lead the anxious mare out of the stables and into the dark courtyard.
“Last chance to hop off,” she said over her shoulder, though she did not slow the horse’s pace.
Enveloped in his thoughts, Alster slipped his metal-clad hands around Elsey’s waist and did not respond.
HUNTING
The only time Elsey had ever left the estate had been when she was young and had accompanied her father on a trip to Velnwood to receive a shipment of iron. She had no memory of how to get back to the town she had once visited, but she knew it was east, so she steered the horse in that direction and hoped for the best.
Alster didn’t pay much attention to the path Elsey chose. His own knowledge of geography was relatively good, but he had no sense of direction outside of his father’s estate. He knew where his home was located on a map and could draw a map of Vecnos from memory somewhat accurately, but he didn’t know what the roads looked like or where to spot the landmarks which could have guided their path.
As the two rode toward the rising sun, Elsey tried to formulate a plan. They would need supplies, and that meant possibly trading their horse for food and shelter, but entering Velnwood was not without its own risks. No one would recognize them, of that Elsey was positive. Strangers would, however, be suspicious of two young vagabonds riding a well-bred mare which would presumably be worth thousands of gold pieces.
Near dawn, Elsey figured their horse needed to rest. She steered the animal off the road and into the forest, hoping to find water and not be seen. She didn’t need to search long to find what she sought. The area around Palos’ estate was mostly wooded, with hundreds of streams and creeks winding their way through the forest toward the ocean on Vecnos’ western coast. Farther west of the estate the smaller streams joined to become the Serpent River, so named for the winding path it carved through the continent.
As their horse drank from a small brook some hundred yards from the dirt road, Elsey took a small piece of bread from one of her sacks and handed half of it to Alster.
“Where should we go?” she asked, hoping he had thought beyond their simple escape.
For the first time in hours, Alster seemed to break from his reverie and take in his new surroundings. Everything was so different from the bleak halls of the estate. The trees, leafless in late autumn, reached up to the heavens, and the forest felt alive and filled with unknown noises, scents, and colors.
The sun began to filter through the trees and cast long shadows over the mossy ground, instantly setting Alster on edge again. “I don’t know,” he said quickly, barely thinking about the question.
“Velnwood isn’t very far away,” Elsey told him. “We could go there.”
“No,” Alster replied casually. “Velnwood is the closest town to the estate. My father will search there for me first.”
“So where should we go?” Elsey asked again. The sun was warm against her skin, and she liked the feeling of her newfound freedom. Making decisions for her own future was exhilarating.
“The streams around here all come from a lake east of Velnwood,” Alster finally said. “We can follow this stream until we get to the lake. By then we should be far enough away that no one will be looking for us.”
Elsey nodded. She knew it wasn’t the most well-conceived plan, but it was better than doing nothing.
The two were back on their horse after a few minutes, and Alster kept one gauntleted hand wrapped firmly around the hilt of his dagger. In the dappled light of the forest, there were shadows everywhere. Alster wasn’t sure how strong a shade could be in such sporadic rays of dawn, but he was determined to kill any he saw, just as he imagined Alistair the Fourth had hundreds of years ago.
Sometime past noon the forest thinned, giving way to a multitude of rambling springs and small creeks, which meant they were getting close to the lake. “We’ve passed Velnwood,” Alster said. “I don’t think my father will spend the time looking this far out. We should be safe for now, at least.”
“We need a place to stay,” Elsey replied, taking more food from her bag. As the horse trotted slowly eastward, the pair ate chunks of bread and cheese in silence. Eventually, after several more miles, the trees ended, and the two found themselves in front of a small lake with a rocky, sandy shore. On the far side, a solitary cottage stood.
“What do you think?” Elsey asked. She dropped from the horse’s back and helped Alster do the same. “There isn’t any smoke coming from the chimney of that house. Maybe it is empty and we can stay there tonight.”
“Where will we go tomorrow?” Alster asked.
Elsey smiled. “Wherever we want!” she said happily. “We can go to the next town, or the town after that, or we can keep going. As long as we aren’t found tonight, I don’t think we will be found at all.”
Alster loved Elsey’s optimism. It gave him hope, despite his multitude of fears and reservations. “Let’s check out the cottage,” he said, finally releasing his hold on the dagger at his waist.
They led their horse slowly around the outskirts of the lake, stopping often for Alster to rest his crippled legs. When they were close enough to the cottage to make out its details, Elsey used the only rope she had to tie their horse to a tree.
“Should we just walk up?” Alster asked skeptically.
To his surprise, Elsey did just that. The house was small, only a single room, but looked sturdy. The roof appeared in good shape, and the door was flush with the frame, something common only to houses owned by the rich. Elsey went straight to the house’s only window, a small square of dirty glass to the left of the door, and peered inside.
She screamed when an arrow thudded into the door a few feet from her head.
Palos awoke at dawn as he always did. Exiting the grand chamber which housed his bed with a customary flurry, he shouted for a servant to prepare his morning meal. He had killed a boy the previous night, and killing always made him hungry.
Of course, Palos’ breakfast was already waiting on the table in the reception hall when he entered. The estate ran like a well-oiled cog in a complex system—everything was in its place exactly when it should be, without exception.
As it was every day, Palos’ breakfast consisted of four boiled eggs, half a loaf of dark rye, two filets of roasted fish, and a pitcher of dark beer. He ate his breakfast quickly and in silence.
When he had finished his meal, Palos replaced his warm slippers with a pair of leather riding boots and donned a red tunic with a matching cloak. Standing in front of a mirror in his reception hall, Palos felt like the king he had always aspired to be. He was a descendant of Alistair the Fourth, one of the most famed military generals in Vecnos’ history, and he had married above his station—a move entirely calculated to bring him closer to the throne.
As a member of the high court, Palos served as an advisor to King Gottfried when the court met twice every year. Palos loved his month-long trips to Karrheim
each summer and winter. He felt important when he strolled through the streets of the capital, his finest silks flowing behind him as he went. In stark contrast, walking through the halls of the estate he had inherited from his wife often brought anger to his thoughts which he could rarely control.
Geography was typically the most frustrating thing Palos faced every day. His estate was well respected and marvelously large, but it was some hundred miles from Karrheim. Further adding to Palos’ aggravations, the estate was close to the coast, but not on the coast, so he was not in any position to leverage any power over maritime trade routes which other nobles did to great advantage.
With fate seemingly stacked against him, Palos had counted on his sons to bring him closer to political glory and the throne. Jarix, his first son, was a fine specimen from the moment he was born. Palos had high hopes for Jarix as a military commander, and those hopes seemed to be coming to fruition nicely.
When Palos thought of his second son, Alster, he felt his fury rising up again in his chest. He didn’t think he hated the boy, but he was beyond disappointed with him. Alster was supposed to be a politician, a courtier, and a nobleman well-versed in the inner workings of Vecnos’ closed-door deals.
Alas, Alster had proven himself proficient in nothing. Even before he had been crippled, he wasn’t strong like his brother, he wasn’t sharp like his mother had been, and he had none of Palos’ knack for decorum. Alster had been a failure in almost every single way.
“Sir,” one of Palos’ servants called, disrupting his thoughts. “Jarix has awakened,” the man said before bowing.
Palos nodded and left for his son’s room near the estate’s armory. He expected the boy to make a full recovery, but he was concerned about the lasting effects of the spear wound and Jarix’s future in the militia unit.
“Father,” Jarix said when Palos entered the room. His voice was raspy, but he sounded stronger than the day before. The smell of blood still lingered in the air. “When will I be able to return to my training?” he asked.
Shadowlith (Umbral Blade Book 1) Page 5
