The Orphans' Promise

by Pierre Grimbert

  A shadow soared through the night. It could have immediately arrived at its destination, but enjoyed prolonging the trip. It hadn’t tasted such freedom for too long. It flew along the Median Sea’s waves, plunging under the water at times, never slowing its speed, never making a ripple. The shadow had not yet taken a physical form. It was only a spirit.

  The shadow was incapable of appreciating the stunning spectacle of the waves that extended to the horizon. To the shadow, it was simply a new surrounding. Stranger than ones it had seen before, but not more beautiful. To the shadow everything was ugly and sad; there was no other way of seeing. There may have been a time when it could have seen more—colors, beauty—but that was before, in some distant past. That time was no more.

  The shadow glided above the dark sea, cleaving the night sky with a breathtaking speed. Already, the surroundings were changing. It was nearing its target. The horizon rose and became solid earth. The shadow slowed down to relish the time. It flew over human constructions, and in an instant it heard the thoughts of thousands of mortals, and then scornfully rejected them. They were responsible. Masters and slaves at the same time. The shadow hated them all.

  It flew over forests and mountains, trails and rivers, villages and cities. As a game, it followed the contours of the hills, descending and climbing without ever touching the ground. It flew over a troop of wild aurochs, as if they didn’t exist. The shadow didn’t know anything about wild aurochs, and cared even less. Even from twenty leagues away, it could still hear the beasts’ distraught whimpering following its visit. Irritating. So as it flew away, it killed them all with a single thought.

  The shadow felt surprised, a strange feeling. These efforts tired it. Its power diminished; its flight became more difficult. It had not imagined that it was so fragile and now redoubled its efforts. It had to hurry to finish its mission, to return to its friend.

  The spirit then transported directly to its destination, hoping to save strength. This was faulty thinking. It was tired, and now sleep was calling. Fortunately, it would soon be finished with its mission. It listened to a few human spirits, drawing enough strength from them to stay awake.

  It went through a two-foot-thick wall without difficulty, leaving no trace of its passing. It crossed three, five, nine other walls, and finally reached the best part of its mission.

  The shadow hated all humans. It leaned over one who was sleeping.

  It knew that it didn’t have enough strength to kill them all with a thought, so it materialized, choosing a shape that was small enough to fit in the human-sized building yet strong enough to defeat them. It chose the first shape that came to mind.

  Reality brutally imposed its limits. The new shape groaned loudly at the vile human world, leaned over the sleeping body, and broke its neck with a single swipe. The human had not woken, and never would.

  The shape took a heavy step toward the door and ripped it off its hinges. A human standing behind it screamed in terror. It wasn’t one of its targets, one who didn’t need to be killed tonight, but the shape attacked him anyway, crushing his head between its eight clawed fingers. The man’s fear and suffering gave the shadow strength, and it celebrated with a satisfied gurgle in its throat.

  Other humans soon appeared. Some were the enemies, but there were others too. They cried out and fled. The shape had to kill them all. Tonight would be a true banquet of fear and suffering.

  Something smacked it in the back. The shape turned toward it, spinning its claws in the air. But the claws didn’t find their mark. The human assailing it had dodged the blows and launched another attack. This time cutting off the shape’s hand. But the shape instantly grew it back and then added a third arm.

  All this effort tired the shadow, and it became dreary. The human hit it twice more before it could react and push back with a violent kick. Other humans were attacking now, this time from behind. The shadow wished it had chosen another form, and added another eye to the back of its head, and a tail sprang from its back. But now it didn’t have enough energy to repair itself and keep the humans at bay at the same time.

  It was tired. It needed to sleep. These humans were a nuisance.

  It dematerialized and fled back to the sea. It hadn’t rested enough for this mission. It would return. Each day that went by strengthened it. It would return.

  Corenn didn’t let Léti out of the room until the sounds of battle had died away. But those cries of terror were replaced by others that were just as cruel, just as sad: “The queen is dead! The queen is dead!”

  Léti dashed into the hallway as soon as her aunt unlocked the door. She wasn’t going to forgive her aunt anytime soon. Corenn had intentionally bolted the door and refused to open it for her niece, while in the hall, sounds of clashing steel, shouts, and beastly growls had filled the air. Yan, Grigán, and the others could have been fighting for their lives, but Corenn had imprisoned her in that room.

  What she saw in the hallway only confirmed her fears. Grigán was standing in front of the queen’s bedroom door, half-dressed, his curved blade in hand. He was holding his left arm, moaning in pain, but there was no blood. A broken arm!

  Bowbaq was there, too. Morbidly fascinated, he was contemplating the corpse of one of the queen’s guards whose head had been… crushed. Léti turned away before she gagged.

  Yan arrived on the scene almost at the same time as Léti. He first checked on the room she was sharing with her aunt to make sure they were alive. Corenn and Maz Lana arrived soon after him.

  Rey came last, well after the others. He had been in the handmaidens’ wing, and the news of Séhane’s death was slow to reach that part of the castle.

  The heirs studied the scene dejectedly, both terrified of the attack and relieved to be mourning only one death. Intendants, chamberlains, and all sorts of castle servants crowded in front of Séhane’s bedroom. They briefly entered one by one. All exited to tears. Corenn was the only heir brave enough to see the queen. After leaving her chambers, the heirs saw the Mother weep for the first time.

  “What the hell happened here?” Rey asked, approaching the guard’s body.

  Grigán and Bowbaq, the only heirs who had witnessed the fight, stared at each other silently. Other guards had fought the… thing. They were now lost in the crowd, or perhaps they had gone mad.

  “Let’s get out of here,” the warrior said, still clutching his pained arm. “Things are going to get complicated. We’ll explain later. When I’ve had time to understand it better myself.”

  The heirs went straight to their rooms and got their packs together. No one misunderstood Grigán’s order. His meaning was clear: Let’s get out of Junine.

  Lana was the only one who stayed behind, standing in front of the queen’s bedroom. No one doubted that this murder was related to the history of Ji. So, Lana thought, this is what’s in store for me someday? My neck snapped in my sleep? Wise Eurydis, why so much suffering? Why keep on fighting, relentlessly, when death always wins in the end?

  “Hurry, Lana,” a voice called out. “If you’re late, Grigán will make you row the boat all the way to Great Island.”

  She turned, and smiled at Rey. He could still find strength to joke around in a time like this. Or perhaps he felt he had to.

  The actor had come back to get her. He cared about her fate. Maybe that’s all there was to life. The affection of others.

  “I’m right behind you,” she said.

  Right up until he had asked, she was undecided if she would flee with them. But then the words came out of her without even thinking. Her decision was final: She had just tied her fate to the heirs’ quest.

  Confusion reigned at the Broken Castle, and the heirs were able to leave without any trouble. Their escape went against all logic. All the exits should have been blocked, all the rooms searched, everyone’s identity checked—but the Junians succumbed to their pain and let chaos rule.

  The guards gathered here and there in the hallways, in the mess halls, in the tower
s, to hear accounts from the rare few who had actually seen it. Rumors gathered steam in the dark corridors. Junine didn’t need more footmen tonight; they needed exorcists and sorcerer-hunters.

  The heirs hardly spoke. Back at the castle, the horns sounded to announce the queen’s death. The Junians left their homes and began to crowd the streets, wearing their sadness and curiosity on their faces. No one seemed to know anything. Old age had finally killed her, they figured. Soon, that’s what everyone would be saying in the rest of the Baronies, and then in the Lower Kingdoms, until the word would spread to all the known kingdoms. Only two or three guards would go on telling their strange story, which no one would believe until a century later, when the story finally became a legend.

  Once again, confusion in the streets helped the heirs to make their escape. Getting to the harbor seemed to go quickly. A few Junians thought it strange that this small group was rushing away from the castle, carrying weapons and baggage. But the townspeople let them pass—if these people were guilty of some crime, someone would have already stopped them, they figured. The heirs sped away into the night.

  Several times, Bowbaq froze in the street to look down some shadowed alley. He would then turn to Grigán, who would invariably respond, “It’s nothing. It’s gone.” The giant would then keep walking as cautiously as possible. Yan noticed that he hadn’t put down his mace since leaving Séhane’s room. The fact that this profoundly pacifist man felt such a need to protect himself scared the Kaulien to his bones.

  The Othenor was still at the dock. During their stay at the Broken Castle, they had taken care to inspect it regularly and ensure that it was stocked with freshwater and supplies. The sloop was ready to leave at any moment.

  The fishy smell reminded Léti of how hopeful they were when they arrived in Junine—too hopeful, it now appeared. Though their group had added a new member, their enemy had once again killed another heir.

  He would pay for it this time.

  Léti swore, by Eurydis, by all the gods who would hear her words, that she would find a way to punish the man who had sent the Züu after them. The man who had taken Séhane from them.

  Suddenly she remembered the canvas the queen had given her. She had left it at the castle. It didn’t matter now, she thought. She would retrieve it once she had fulfilled her vow, after Séhane had been avenged.

  Rey detached the mooring lines and jumped onto the deck, and the sloop slowly drifted away from the dock. Yan had already hoisted the sails and maneuvered the boat to leave the harbor as quickly as possible. The relative comfort and security of the Broken Castle was over, he thought. Once again they were on the run.

  Darkness closed in around the Othenor as they sailed farther out into Lake Junine. Bowbaq wanted to light some lanterns, but Grigán wouldn’t allow it so long as they could be spotted from Junine. The giant paled in anguish.

  Rey said to him, a bit harshly, “You are already scared of water and crowds. You’re not also scared of the dark, are you?”

  “You would be, too, if you had seen it,” the giant responded flatly.

  “Bowbaq was very courageous,” Grigán confirmed. “If he hadn’t showed up to help me…”

  “But what actually happened?”

  Grigán stared out into the shadows for a long time before responding.

  “I prefer that we wait until dawn to talk about it. I would appreciate it if everyone stayed awake tonight. I doubt any of us will find sleep tonight anyhow. Stay in groups too. In fact, it’s best if we all just stay on the deck.”

  They kept their questions to themselves and tried to get comfortable. The night was painted in stars, and the river murmured gently. The air was mild and the wind light. Nature completely ignored their tragedy.

  The warrior approached Lana, self-conscious about what he was going to ask. “Uh, Lana… you are a Maz, right? If you could say a prayer for us all, something to protect us from demons, or I don’t know what… now’s the time.”

  She slowly nodded her head, frightened by Grigán’s worried tone. Then she fervently prayed to Eurydis.

  She also asked the Goddess to lead Séhane’s spirit to her, to a magnificent valley, full of laughing children.

  “It was a Mog’lur,” Bowbaq said for the second time. “A demon warrior. I saw a Mog’lur!” he repeated, incredulous.

  “Not only that, but you attacked it,” Grigán reminded him, amused. “Haphazardly, without thinking, but you attacked.”

  “All right already,” Léti interrupted. “Are you finally going to tell us what it looked like?”

  The warrior and the giant looked at one another, questioningly. It was light out now, but the memory was still just as frightening in the day as it was the night before. The Othenor had been sailing downriver all night and into the second deciday. It left Galen in its wake and was now pointed toward the northwest heading toward the Manive Strait, where it would then sail for the Land of Beauty. Any danger seemed far away. The heirs were now asking for answers, more detailed than the ones they had been imagining all night, but which Bowbaq and Grigán couldn’t provide.

  “It was big, very big. And strong too.”

  “Completely black. Not just dark-colored. Totally black.”

  “It was naked too. But it was sexless. Its skin… wasn’t really skin. It didn’t have any hair, or feathers. It was… something else.”

  “Fish scales?” Rey laughed, before Lana’s shocked expression silenced him.

  “But what was it?” Léti insisted. “A man or a beast?”

  “I don’t know. Both at once. Depending when you looked.”

  “It was always changing form. It grew eyes and arms like mushrooms. It stood like a man, but moved like a wild animal.”

  “A Mog’lur,” Bowbaq confidently concluded.

  Classifying the strange apparition within Ark mythology helped the giant to better accept it. It was just as dreadful, but less distressing.

  Corenn asked, “Have you ever heard of a Mog’lur, Lana?”

  “No,” the Maz admitted. “But The Book of the Wise One doesn’t mention many demons. I don’t mean to offend you, Bowbaq, but I think Mog’lurs are unique to legends from Arkary.”

  “And the Broken Castle,” Rey added, cynically.

  “Bowbaq, I’m happy that you could help Grigán,” Léti congratulated him, disappointed that she wasn’t able to do the same.

  “I was so scared,” the giant said, his tone barely above a whisper. “I saw the demon knock him over. I ran and struck it as hard as I could. Séhane’s guards came to help, but the monster’s wounds healed up after every blow. It didn’t bleed. Then it grew another eye. I thought we were doomed. Then suddenly, it was simply gone.”

  “Maybe you killed it?”

  “No,” the giant and the warrior answered in unison.

  “In my opinion, we couldn’t kill it,” Grigán added.

  Bowbaq moved in close to examine the warrior’s arm, hanging in a sling. It wasn’t broken, but it was terribly bruised. It was the first time the giant had seen Grigán injured. It was hardly a reassuring sight.

  “The Züu could never cross the glacier that stands between them and my family,” he announced. “But the Mog’lur… it… it can go anywhere. We must find our enemy very soon.” It was a plea. Everyone hoped it wasn’t already too late for Bowbaq’s wife and children.

  Corenn stood and paced about, thinking.

  “It’s possible that Séhane’s death is in no way related to Ji,” Yan pointed out. Despite the possibility, even Yan didn’t believe this idea.

  “After the warning at the assembly of barons, I’d be surprised if it were a coincidence. And it fits with our theories about the portals and the other world.”

  The heirs looked at each other, wide-eyed. Corenn had just spoken, out loud, about Ji’s mysteries in front of Lana, and without any ambiguity. She had betrayed her promise.

  “Our ancestors abandoned this orphan promise long ago,” the Mother reminded them, as
if reading their minds. “And I think the circumstances are grave enough to allow an exception. Lana is just as mixed up in all this as we are now. It’s best that she knows why we’re in peril.”

  They all agreed, and with her heart racing, the Maz prepared herself to hear their secrets. She imagined they would be interesting, though they were more troubling than she had hoped.

  “I would have liked to have seen that,” she murmured, when Corenn had finished the story.

  “It was magnificent,” Rey admitted. “Truly breathtaking. But somehow we all walked away… saddened.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s a mystery. The feeling of a lost paradise, something like that. Frustration at not being able to go inside.”

  “What do you think is behind the portal?” Grigán asked the Maz.

  “I don’t know. The Book of the Wise One mentions lots of marvelous places that fit the description. There are a few more legends found in the appendices, but I’ve hardly studied them. They don’t have much to do with the Moral.”

  “A shame. Do you recall a few of the legends?”

  “They won’t help us much, I’m afraid. I think one of them was about cursed children, imprisoned in a marvelous country… another confirmed the existence of an ancient people, hidden away in the mountains and protected by gods… yet another was about spirits that were reincarnated as children. But please, don’t trust my memory.”

  “You don’t know any legends about a land of demons?” asked Bowbaq.

  The Maz’s eyes widened in fear. The question made her realize the true danger they might be in. How had she not thought of it sooner?

  “The Jal’karu,” she stated, pointedly. “The land from where the black gods are born and nurtured. It’s in The Book.”

  It was one of the heirs’ worst fears. But it would remain only a theory so long as they hadn’t read Maz Achem’s journal.

  “Jal’karu, that’s not an Ithare name,” Yan commented. “It sounds kind of like Bowbaq’s Mog’lur.”