Shattered by Shadows: The Innocence Cycle, Book 1

by J D Abbas

  “I don’t—” He stopped himself. Elbrion was right, and it was disingenuous to argue with him. He dipped his chin.

  Elbrion gave a bright smile and trotted ahead.

  Celdorn noticed the girl beginning to stir. When he looked down, she was eyeing him through the opening in the cloak, her face so swollen and distorted that her left eye was only a slit, and yet there was such innocence and vulnerability in her expression.

  “We’ll take care of you,” he whispered.

  While he was still gazing at her, the girl grew smaller in his arms. His breath caught. A flawless face appeared, staring back at him from wide, icy blue eyes. This child was younger than the injured one he’d seen in the rocks above the Farak camp, not more than four. She surprised him by boldly placing her hand, which he could have sworn was no bigger than a few inches, over his heart. A strange warmth blossomed in his chest causing tears to immediately well, yet he was troubled by this confusing, impossible sight.

  When Malak moved, the girl winced. “I’m sorry, little one. There’s no way to do this without causing you more discomfort. It’s not far to Kelach, and I’ll choose as smooth a path as possible. How I wish I could take away your pain.”

  The tiny girl looked up at him again, studying his face as if searching for something. A tear slid over her chubby cheek. She lowered her gaze and snuggled into his chest. Celdorn was so moved, he tenderly kissed the top of her head.

  “All will be well, little one; all will be well. You are safe now.”

  As they rode on, Celdorn struggled with his anger and the images of what he’d seen in the last hours. “This isn’t supposed to happen here. Not here,” he muttered to himself.

  The Farak were more primitive than some of the other races in the realm, living in caves in the remote mountains, but they were still bound by the Qarhelon, the law of light, as well they knew. The Guardians at the fortress in Dussendor should have been enforcing that law. But, he argued with himself, there were always rogue groups. That was why the five protectorates were in place and the Guardians patrolled the realm on a regular basis.

  Hopefully, this was the end of it—but the scars on the girl’s body told him that might be a futile hope. He wondered again how she’d ended up with the Farak, how long she’d been held captive, and from whence she came. Never, in over thirty years as a Guardian, had he felt so justified in the use of his sword.

  He was angered too that the woods of Alsimion were now tainted. It seemed the beloved music was discordant, the invigorating scent putrefied, and the dancing effulgence shadowed.

  Something inside Celdorn had darkened as well.

  Chapter 6

  “Elena,” a voice whispered above her. Startled awake, Giara looked up. It was the large warlord speaking to her. She was on a horse this time, cradled in his arms, his muscles bulging beneath her neck.

  “This is Kelach, our southernmost fortress.”

  Through a gap in the cloak covering her, she watched his stern face break into a smile, his eyes focused to the side. She moved the cloak so she could follow his gaze.

  The forest was gone, replaced by open sky and rolling hills that led to the snow-covered, granite peaks of the Mongar Mountains. Giara’s stomach flipped when she saw the elaborate stone castle built into the side of the mountain—a castle she'd only seen from a great distance.

  It was a Morah stronghold.

  And they were taking her there.

  The road followed a formidable wall that rose to thirty feet. A wide stream flowed between it and the road. Moments later, they crossed a broad, wooden bridge and came to a series of iron gates set between massive stone towers with guards posted inside each set.

  When the sentries saw them approaching, they fell in line. One stepped forward to open the outermost gate. “Welcome back, Lord Protector,” he called and dropped to one knee, bowing his head, fist to heart. The rest did likewise.

  Giara couldn’t breathe. Celdorn was the Lord Protector of the realm? This man who held her was the head of the Morah? The ruthless, unforgiving leader of the fiercest warriors on Qabara? She’d been told he once flayed the skin from an enemy in front of his entire army while the man was still alive and that he carried a pouch on his belt with the eyes of his slain opponents—a large pouch. He was said to travel with a malevolent specter who could tear out a man’s heart without touching his flesh. Giara glanced toward Elbrion and swallowed hard. If Celdorn really was the Lord Protector, then this grand castle was only one of the many he owned. Giara felt her gorge rise as she gazed up at him.

  Celdorn nodded to the guards but didn’t pause. The dozens of warriors that lined the way gawked at her, though she was tucked in so well they couldn’t have seen much.

  Giara heard the screech of metal and looked up to see enormous iron teeth perched menacingly above her. As they passed beneath, she was sure they would snap down and devour her. She closed her eyes and held her breath, using every ounce of energy not to wet herself.

  When seconds passed and nothing happened, she peeked out. The metal monster was gone. Instead, she was captivated by the gorgeous grassy area that lay beyond the metal monster where a dozen different kinds of wildflowers grew in an expansive field, reminding her of a favored place in her dreams. Men and horses trampled this treasure without a thought. She wanted to scream at them to stop.

  A brilliant flash of light drew her attention to the left.

  At the far end of the field, amongst the flowers, stood a dazzling white creature, much too large to be an ordinary horse. If he’d had a horn, she would have thought him a unicorn, or wings, he might have been a descendant of Khazamir. While he did look as if he belonged to the ancient gods, there were no such strange appendages. What this massive creature did have, however, was a pulsating light coursing through his large frame, much like the man called Elbrion. Rather than being frightened by this extraordinary stallion, she was strangely drawn to him.

  With another sudden, sharp burst of light, he was gone. Giara blinked and rubbed her swollen eyes, wondering if she'd only imagined him. When she saw no further evidence of his presence, her gaze drifted to the lofty walls that continued on both sides of this magnificent, colorful meadow until connecting with the castle at the far end.

  As they neared the arched entrance to the keep, Elbrion rode ahead and dismounted. Celdorn lowered her into Elbrion’s waiting arms, and the world broke into a tumult of movement and noise. Giara went rigid. Eyes stared at her from every direction. Fierce eyes, set in giant, dark faces. Orders were barked out behind her as men came to take the horses and help with the travel gear.

  Giara’s eyes darted, trying to track the movements, expecting guards to snatch her away at any moment and drag her to the dungeon. She curled into Elbrion’s chest, wanting to be invisible again and silently begging to be allowed to stay with him. He seemed kind and gentle, in spite of the stories she’d heard.

  “Celdorn, the cloak,” Elbrion said, nodding toward her.

  Celdorn dismounted and wrapped the extra mantel around her, his face a scowl of frustration. She took a quick glance at his belt. No pouch. She let out a slow breath just as a blur of color and pounding paws barreled down the corridor, headed straight for them.

  Two of the biggest dogs Giara had ever seen—as tall as the ponies on their farm—lunged at Celdorn, barking with excitement and almost tackling him. Their deep barks echoed in the stone hallway and sent a shiver through Giara. Celdorn squatted down and embraced the dogs as they unceremoniously licked his cheeks. “How are my girls?” One nipped and tugged at his beard, and he let out a hearty laugh. “I know, I know, it’s a little scruffy after our travels.”

  Three men dressed in brown trousers and loose-fitting shirts followed the dogs. Though garbed in casual attire, they were clearly warriors; their size, the way they walked said they were leaders in the castle.

  “Silothani, Lord Celdorn,” they said in unison, bowing slightly.

  “You are most welcome,” the larges
t one added, extending his left hand to clasp wrists with Celdorn, his right fist against his heart, before pulling him into an embrace. An odd greeting for warriors.

  The dogs’ tails whacked Giara’s legs as they circled Elbrion. A pair of cold noses burrowed through the cloak and found her feet, alternately snuffling and licking them.

  “Sasha, Bria, come,” called the largest man. When they didn’t respond, he pulled them back by the scruffs of their necks and forced them to sit, though their bottoms bounced on the stone floor as their tales continued to wag. “I beg your pardon, Celdorn. It’s difficult to keep them under control when you return.”

  “No need.” Celdorn smiled down at the massive beasts as he patted their heads. “I’ve missed them too.” Then he turned his attention back to the men. “Silvandir and Mikaelin, I want you to prepare a place for our guest. Put her in the room across from Elbrion’s.”

  Giara noticed the larger man scrutinizing her from the moment he walked up. He didn’t look at all pleased by what he saw, and she was glad her face was covered. At Celdorn’s words, he glanced from his lord back to her. “You wish to house her in the keep?” he whispered, leaning into Celdorn, his brow knit in clear disapproval.

  “Yes, Silvandir.” Celdorn kept his voice low, but it was slow and emphatic. “She’s in need of medical attention, and we don't know her circumstances as yet. We also haven’t determined if she’s safe from further harm; therefore, she will remain under our protection and care until such a time as we can make it so. Am I clear?” His eyes flashed, and she curled in tighter to Elbrion, expecting a fight to break out.

  She was surprised when the younger man backed down. “Yes, sir,” he replied, his eyes averted, though it was still clear he thought it a mistake. The dogs’ ears perked up as if sensing something wrong. The bluish-black one licked Silvandir’s hand, and he absently patted her head.

  “Also, arrange food for those traveling with us. Have it brought to my chambers.”

  The somber man of the three studied Giara from behind Silvandir. He absently massaged the ears of the spotted dog as he listened to the conversation. When he saw Giara peeking out through the opening in the cloak, he frowned. She felt an odd chill run through her and was startled when he shivered. The dog glanced up at him and nuzzled his hand, which had stopped kneading her ears.

  “Do you have a question as well, Mikaelin?” Celdorn asked, irritation in his voice.

  The young warrior’s gaze snapped back to his lord. He dropped the dog’s ears and straightened, cheeks flushing. “No, Celdorn.” His reply was stiff, his voice deeper than she’d expected. “We’ll see to the room and the food.”

  Though he moved back and turned his attention away from her, she still sensed a strange disquiet. She stared at him from beneath the shelter of the cloak, confused by what she felt.

  To the third man, Celdorn said, “Shatur, establish a guard for all stairs and entrances to my floor. No one is to come or go without my leave, except those you see here. When you're done, I want the three of you to join us in my chambers.”

  “Yes, Celdorn,” he replied with a smile and a dip of his chin. “Glad to have you back, sir.” The three left to carry out their duties. When they turned away, she noticed that Shatur’s left arm ended in a twisted stump. Maybe he was a reformed thief.

  Celdorn turned to those who’d traveled with him. “After you get settled, come to my room; we’ll eat and decide what we must do.” Then he looked at Elbrion. “Let’s go upstairs and see what we can find out about our Elena.”

  Giara stiffened and wondered if they used torture when they interrogated people.

  Chapter 7

  Carrying Giara, Elbrion followed Celdorn into the northern wing of the keep. The dogs, who had headed off in the opposite direction with Silvandir, suddenly turned and lumbered past them and straight for Celdorn, nails clicking and sliding on the flagstone floor. Silvandir called for them as they pranced around Celdorn, nearly knocking him over in their enthusiasm.

  “It’s all right, Silvandir. They can go with us,” Celdorn called down the hall, laughing as he patted the dogs and tried to calm them. Then he addressed them in a more stern tone. “Bria, sit.” He held the spotted dog’s face. “You have to teach the pup, how to behave.” Giara almost laughed as he nodded toward the blue-black one. Pup? How big would she get? With a quiet command Giara didn’t understand, Celdorn got the dogs under control, and they moved on.

  When they rounded a corner, a breeze tugged at the cloak that enwrapped Giara and pulled her attention to her surroundings. She’d never been inside a castle before, never even seen one up close, except for drawings in a book. A musty, earthen odor invaded her nose as soon as they entered the dank corridor. The walls were constructed of massive stones between which small plants had taken root, giving some sense of life to the gloomy rocks. The lofty ceiling made even her captors seem small. The drafts that swept through the structure caused the torches lining the walls to fluctuate, creating shadows that danced eerily about them—not like the dancing specters in Alsimion; these were menacing, as if waiting to snatch her away into perpetual torment. She grabbed hold of Elbrion’s tunic and hung on.

  Elbrion glanced down at her and started to sing in his soothing baritone. He hurried through the long hall and turned to the left. A wide staircase, with a turn halfway up, led to another level. Elbrion carried her up the steps with ease, as if she were no more than a small sack of grain. The dogs leaped up the stairs in a playful race, passing Celdorn at the midpoint.

  The second floor corridor, lined with large, wooden doors on both sides, was dimly lit by only a few torches. Halfway down the hall, Celdorn opened a door on the left, and the dogs charged inside.

  When Giara looked through the doorway, she let out a loud gasp before she could stop herself. Inside was the largest room she’d ever seen, with an ornate, vaulted ceiling. Two sets of double doors had been cut in the outer wall opposite them, each full of windows and taller than two of these men, filling the room with the late afternoon light. Beyond them she could see an elaborate terrace and what looked like a courtyard below, cradled by the mountains. She might be able to escape in that direction when able to walk again.

  Built into the wall to their right was a fireplace. Two oversized, cushioned chairs faced the hearth looking warm and inviting. She shivered, suddenly realizing how cold she was. Nearer to them on the right was a door, which led to a smaller room. To the left was a long, rectangular table and at least a dozen beautifully carved chairs, probably a place for meetings.

  “You may lay her on my bed,” Celdorn said.

  Giara closed her eyes and gave a jaded sigh of resignation. So they really were no different than other men. Even in her bloody condition, they were going to get what use they could out of her. She knew better than to trust a man’s words, but she'd hoped for a little reprieve. A futile hope, as always.

  She hadn’t noticed the bed, or perhaps she had intentionally ignored it. Set on a large platform between the terrace doors, the bed had elaborately carved posts and some sort of canopy and curtains all around. The dogs jumped onto it, circling and whining.

  “Down,” Celdorn called to them. The black and white one obeyed immediately, the other lay down and turned her belly up.

  With a laugh, Elbrion laid Elena on the side of the bed not occupied by dog, carefully straightening her left leg then propping her shoulders with pillows so she was only partially reclined. He removed the cloaks and tossed them to the side. Lifting two blankets from a chest at the foot of the bed, he placed one around her shoulders, the other across her legs, while Celdorn pulled the curtains back on two sides.

  It was the biggest bed she’d ever seen and certainly the softest.

  If I'm going to have to service their needs, then it's better to be lying on cushioned silk than compacted dirt.

  Giara reddened, startled by the acrid, cynical voice in her head and mortified when she felt her mouth twist into a calloused sneer.
r />   Celdorn smiled when he saw her expression. He looked almost...relieved. Apparently, he hadn’t noticed the sneer.

  Elbrion, on the other hand, gazed at her with an odd expression, and she wondered if he’d heard the voice too.

  “Sasha, down,” Celdorn tried again, looking at the bluish dog with a stern frown. Sasha crawled on her belly toward Elena, until she was stretched out by her side. The dog was longer than Elena when she lay like that. With big, dark eyes focused on Celdorn, she laid her head in Elena’s lap.

  “Sasha,” Celdorn said with exasperation, “leave the girl alone.” But the dog refused to budge, giving a pitiable whimper. “All right, all right.” He threw his hands up and looked at Elena. “If she annoys you, feel free to send her to her own bed.”

  Celdorn stepped back, unlaced his leather jerkin, and tossed it on the chest at the end of the bed. “Well, little one, it’s time for you to talk.” He pulled up two chairs, and he and Elbrion sat. Bria immediately laid her massive head in his lap as if she’d missed him and didn’t want to waste one moment. “Let’s start with your name.”

  It's a trap. Anakh’s testing you.

  Giara’s heart thumped so hard she could hear its pulse in her ears. She studied one man then the other, but didn’t speak. She’d rather they take her body.

  Celdorn was much darker and broader than the one he called Elbrion. Beyond his reputation, there was something else frightening about him. Maybe that he dressed in black, travel-worn wool and leathers that, along with his dark hair and skin, seemed to enshroud him in shadow. Or maybe that he was more than a foot taller than the men she knew with hands as large as her head that could easily snap her neck like a twig. Or maybe it was that when he looked at her, his eyes pierced through to the depths of her soul, stirring the already troubled waters, and commanded response.

  “We won’t hurt you,” he assured her, scratching Bria’s head. “We want to be of assistance but need information in order to do so, such as where do you come from and how did you come to be in that camp with the Farak?”