Sword of Shadows

by Karin Rita Gastreich

  “The same happened to me.” Akmael nodded. “I was deeply troubled. What if the Gods refused my petition? How could I ever hope to wear my father’s crown if I did not wield magic?”

  Eolyn drew an unsteady breath. “Then I saw her, like jewel sailing above the fog.”

  “His shadow passed over me, and I understood.”

  Eolyn searched his face, struck with wonder.

  “Why have we not spoken of this before?” she whispered.

  He brought her fingers to his lips. “Tell me more.”

  They spoke together, phrases intertwining until their memories merged into a single song, a shared dream, an invocation offered to the Gods:

  Her scales shone like crystal

  His were obsidian, tinged with rose

  Reflecting all the colors of the dawn

  As if forged from the heart of the earth

  She shattered the sword you had given me

  He demanded a lock of your hair

  And placed a shard at the heart of my staff

  And wove the silky strands through its crystal head

  Because every heart must have a thread of steel

  Because the roots of power are found in love

  From the beginning, she said

  In the end, he told me

  That a new era would start with this journey

  That my magic would be incomplete without each you.

  Mist clouded Eolyn’s vision.

  Akmael drew her into his arms, and she rested her head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart. Overhead, stars began to glimmer in the darkening firmament.

  “Everything I once called mine I surrender to you.” Akmael’s voice was husky, subdued. “My heart, my magic, this fortress, our people. The Gods may have appointed me steward of Moisehén, but you, dear Eolyn, are the steward of us all.”

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  A Gift

  Guards escorted Corey to the queen’s apartments, a haven of light and color where living plants occupied every available shelf and table.

  Eolyn was seated with a lady appointed to her service, a dark-haired beauty that Corey recognized as one of Herensen’s many nieces. Light from the windows painted a golden sheen around the women as they studied a heavy tome on their laps. At their side, Ghemena stood restless on her feet.

  Eolyn rose to receive him. “Mage Corey. How good it is to see you.”

  “Thank you, my Lady Queen.” Corey bowed low, touching her fingers to his forehead. He would have much preferred the spontaneous embrace they had shared in Rhiemsaven, but such displays were no longer advisable. He turned to acknowledge the others. “Lady Vinelia, Maga Ghemena.”

  Herensen’s lovely niece responded with an elegant curtsey, but Ghemena refused to acknowledge his presence.

  Corey ignored the slight.

  “I have brought something for you, my Lady Queen,” he said, indicating an object covered in blue silk that a servant set on a nearby table. “A wedding gift, of sorts, but I would first…”

  Corey faltered and looked away.

  Eolyn frowned at his hesitation. Then understanding filled her expression. “You would speak with me in private. Of course. Elia, please take Ghemena to the courtyard. Mariel will be having her lessons with Sir Borten at this hour. Perhaps Ghemena can join them. Inform the servants I am not to be disturbed.”

  Lady Vinelia and Ghemena departed, the latter pinning Corey with a baleful stare.

  Eolyn pointed to the book she had been reading with Vinelia, a compendium of the sigils of Moisehén. “I should be teaching magic, not learning politics.”

  “You will have your coven soon enough, safe inside this City,” Corey said. “No one will burn your Aekelahr or scatter your sisters again.”

  “It will be more secure in some respects; less in others.”

  Eolyn’s aura had recovered its strength. The shadow of the Underworld had been replaced by delicate threads of silver, confirming the news Tzetobar and Rezlyn had shared, as well as rumors now running rampant through the city.

  Corey picked up an adornment from a nearby table on the pretense of studying its delicate art. “I would have expected Sir Borten to have departed for Moehn by now. He seemed most anxious to assist his people the last time I spoke with him.”

  “The King favors Sir Borten’s petition, but he has been reluctant to let him go. Akmael wants only the best men assigned to my guard, and there are few he can trust as well as Borten.”

  Corey raised his brow. Invoking a sound ward, he drew close and lowered his voice. “It would be best for you if Borten left.”

  “For the love of the Gods, Corey! I am not such a fool. I know what is expected of a queen. Sir Borten poses no threat in that regard. Besides, the longer he delays, the more opportunity the girls have to consider—”

  “Staying with you? That cannot happen, either. You must send Mariel and Ghemena away.”

  “Are you mad?”

  “Mariel was a witness to your romance.”

  “As were you.”

  “Yes, but I know how to hold my tongue.”

  “Do you?” She pinned him with a sharp gaze. “In my experience, Mage Corey, you always say whatever serves you in the moment it serves you best.”

  “It would not serve me to cast doubt on the paternity of your child.”

  “How do you know I’m—?” She waved away her surprise. “You may put your fears to rest, Mage Corey. Sir Borten and I never had the opportunity to consummate our affection, thanks to your untimely appearance.”

  “My timely appearance, you mean. You should be grateful to me for that.”

  Eolyn shrugged, annoyance plain upon her face. “I thought you came here today to share with me the fate of Adiana. If your only purpose is to keep watch over my friendship with Sir Borten, then I can assure you it is unnecessary. You may go.”

  Chastened, Corey decided to let the matter rest. For the moment. He cleared his throat. “Of course, my Lady Queen. My apologies. I have something I would like to show you.”

  He retreated to the table where the servant had left his package and removed the silk cloth, revealing a large gilded cage. Inside fluttered a cream-colored sparrow with dark wings and a burgundy streak over her eyes. On her breast a golden mark, like a drop of pure sunlight.

  “This is a Tenolin sparrow,” Corey said. “It is a bird of special significance for me, one of the very few varieties in which the female also sings. They nest during the summer in the forests of East Selen.”

  Eolyn approached and laid her fingers on the cage. “She is beautiful, Mage Corey, but you have chosen a strange gift. A creature of the wild should never be caged. I am bound as a maga to set it free.”

  “That is my hope, but the breeding season is too far advanced. If we were to let her go now, she would have no mate or family, no one to show her the way south in autumn. So, we must keep her alive during the winter and set her free in the spring. I thought, given your gift with animals, I could ask you to watch over her until the snows melt.”

  “Of course, I would be most happy to help. But how did you come to find her this far west?”

  Corey’s heart constricted. “I did not find her, my Lady Queen. I made her.”

  The color drained from Eolyn’s face. She covered her mouth and stumbled away, knocking a small table and sending its crystal adornments crashing to the floor.

  “This is Adiana?”

  “Was.” Corey frowned, unable to meet her eyes. “Is still, in some sense. I suppose.”

  “Why would you do such a thing?” Her voice shook like leaves on an autumn wind. “Scatter Adiana’s spirit to the wind?”

  “There was no other way. I had to transform her or she would have been torn apart by Naether Demons. I thought…” Corey shook his head. I thought myself powerful beyond reason.

  Curse his pride. Curse the price she would pay for it.

  “I thought, given the time Adiana had spent with you, she would b
e more prepared.”

  “She wasn’t a maga! Music was her magic. Music and friendship.”

  “I know. But she had strength, a resilience of a sort one rarely sees. I never expected her spirit to slip out of reach so quickly. I tried to bring her back, Eolyn. I used every spell at my disposal, but it was no use. It was as if…” Corey stopped. It was as if Adiana had not wanted to return, but he would not say this to Eolyn.

  “She was my true sister, my friend in magic, and now I will never be with her again. Not here, not in the Afterlife.” Eolyn sank to the floor, shoulders bent in defeat. “I should have gone back.”

  “There was nothing you could have done.”

  “I abandoned her. I abandoned all of them. Look at what they suffered, what she’s become because of me.”

  Corey knelt beside her. “This was not your fault. You, too, would have been lost, or worse, had you tried to go after them. Your sacrifice—their sacrifice—has saved us all.”

  “No!” Her words came choked between anger and grief. “You are wrong, Corey! I failed. Just as Briana failed her Clan, just as Renate failed her sisters. And now their punishment will be mine. I am alone. Always in the end, alone.”

  She covered her face with shaking hands and began to weep.

  “Eolyn.” Corey took her into his arms, uncertain whether she could hear him inside that well of anguish. “You are not alone. From the moment you first stepped into my tent, you have never been alone. And I swear to you, dear maga, as long as the blood of East Selen runs through my veins, you will never be alone again.”

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Dawn Chorus

  Eolyn had not returned to East Selen since the days of her brother’s rebellion. She remembered its rolling landscape well, and the slow climb into far reaches of the province, where the Clan of the East had thrived for generations until the War of the Magas culminated in their annihilation. The trees whispered with their lost voices; the wind spun ancient spells over hills painted with the first colors of spring.

  As they drew closer to Corey’s estate, dense woodlands replaced open pastures. Eolyn welcomed the shade of the towering firs, the sweet perfume released as their horses trod upon a damp carpet of fallen needles.

  Long ago, she had walked through these woods with Adiana; danced and sang with her at festivals of Winter Solstice and Eostar. Those had been times of paralyzing fear and constant hiding, yet looking back, Eolyn could only see the light and laughter of her closest friend.

  Corey’s manor looked just as she remembered, a rambling semicircular construction with thick timber supports and thatched roofs. At the center stood an ancient fir planted by the first mages and magas to settle the area.

  Eolyn was given a spacious set of apartments that befit her status. These she shared with her newborn son Eoghan, Mariel, Ghemena, and the Princess Eliasara.

  The morning after they arrived, Mage Corey, Eolyn, and the girls left the manor together on foot, Adiana’s cage strapped to Corey’s back. The sun had not yet risen over the trees when they reached a woodland meadow. Corey spread his cloak on the fragrant grass and assisted Eolyn as she settled with the Prince.

  The girls ran off in search of mushrooms and winter berries. Young Eliasara waddled after them, her gurgles and laughter floating freely over the tall grass. It warmed Eolyn’s heart to hear the child laugh, for she was on the whole a very serious girl.

  “I don’t understand why Akmael kept the Princess with us,” she said to Corey. “He shows her so little affection. It saddens me.”

  Taesara’s distress at learning her daughter would not be allowed to leave Moisehén had been terrible to witness. She had thrown herself at Akmael’s feet and begged him to reconsider, but her entreaties were not heeded.

  “The King’s decision was not made out of fatherly love.” Corey began to secure the cage to a low-hanging branch with a piece of twine. “Eliasara is a hostage against the interests of her mother’s family. Akmael is wise not to become attached to her, as would be you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “What I mean, Maga Eolyn, is this: the one disadvantage of holding a card is that someday you may be forced to play it. That is something for you to remember, now that you are Queen.”

  “Are you suggesting Akmael would use his own daughter as a pawn?”

  “Akmael, perhaps not.” Corey tightened the knot and checked that it would hold the weight of the cage. “The Mage King, however, will do whatever is necessary to prevent Roenfyn from raising an army against us.”

  Corey withdrew the cloth that had covered the cage. Adiana fluttered and sat still, peering at her surroundings with curiosity.

  “This is their last opportunity to say good-bye.” Corey nodded toward the path the girls had taken. “Are you certain you do not wish to tell Mariel and Ghemena the truth?”

  Eolyn shook her head. “It is better this way; better for them to believe they will see her in the Afterlife.”

  Prince Eoghan began to fuss, and Eolyn loosened her bodice, coddling the baby as she offered her breast to nurse him.

  “That is scandalous behavior, you know,” Corey said. “Didn’t anyone tell you that you should have a wet nurse?”

  “I’ve enough silly rules to obey now,” Eolyn retorted. “That one is too ridiculous not to break.”

  “Right you are.” Corey sat on a nearby log and glanced around the meadow. The forest was tranquil, filled with the delicate dawn chorus that characterized these northern hills.

  “What do we do now?” Eolyn asked.

  The mage drew a breath and shrugged. “We wait.”

  The sun rose slowly behind the misty trees.

  Bumblebees hovered over the field.

  Eolyn and Corey fell into conversation, remembering with fondness the days of the Circle, the vivacious character and enchanting music of their friend from Selkynsen.

  Little Eoghan nursed, dozed, and nursed again. He was a strong boy, healthy and whole, and Eolyn’s heart swelled with gratitude every time she set eyes upon him. He had inherited his father’s dark hair, but his eyes, an amorphous gray-blue, had not yet settled into their color. Eolyn wondered whether they would be silver-green like his grandmother’s or dark like his father’s.

  At irregular intervals, the girls appeared and dumped treasures of the forest into Eolyn’s lap. She and Corey interpreted each object according to their knowledge and training: A feather of the dwarf owl could grant protection from the hunger of the Lost Souls; that shard of glassy stone could dissolve a miscast spell; dew collected from the web of this spider could be used for diseases of the eye. The list went on and on, and Eolyn learned much from Corey, who knew these northern forests far better than she.

  When Mariel appeared alone with a wreath of purple aethne, a cloud was cast over Eolyn’s mood. The girl proffered the flowers to Mage Corey and said, “I made this for you. If it pleases you, that is. It is a gift from me and from the forest.”

  Corey accepted the fragrant blossoms and regarded her with a gaze that was more than kind. “It pleases me very much, Mariel. Thank you.”

  Mariel let go a short laugh and ran off, leaving Corey to suffer under Eolyn’s withering stare.

  “What?” he said. “They are only flowers.”

  “Don’t play innocent, Corey. You know very well what that means. Bel-Aethne is just around the bend, and Mariel has her eye on you. She has ever since she came back from Moehn.”

  “It is her decision. Who am I to refuse if she chooses me?”

  “I will not allow you to jest about this.”

  “I do not speak in jest. Mariel is old enough to become a woman in magic. This is her year, to petition for a staff and to participate as she pleases in the first rites of Bel’Aethne. You cannot take that away from her.”

  “I do not intend to. But you…” Eolyn stumbled over the unexpected muddle of her thoughts.

  “I what?” Corey asked crisply.

  “I don’t know! It’s just not ri
ght, somehow.”

  “Better a mage—no, better this mage, in whom you can trust—than some torpid fool who has no hope of understanding how sacred and important this will be for her.”

  Eolyn groaned. “I want what is best for her, Corey. I only ask that you consider—”

  Adiana startled them both by bursting into song, a long sweet trill followed by a series of short pulsing notes.

  Corey lifted his hand for silence.

  Eolyn bristled at his assumption that she needed the signal.

  From the edge of the meadow came the male’s response, lilting high as if in challenge, then fading into its own slow staccato.

  “There he is,” Corey whispered.

  Eolyn saw a rustle of leaves, followed by a flash of color between bushes. A lump settled in her throat. She rose and entrusted her sleeping baby to Corey.

  Adiana was fluttering restlessly inside her cage, lifting her voice in that beautiful song every time she paused on a perch. Eolyn’s fingers lingered on the latch. Desolation crept into her spirit.

  “Ah hah! Look, Eolyn.” Mage Corey spoke like a proud father on his daughter’s wedding day. “Now there’s a handsome fellow.”

  The male perched on a neighboring tree. He watched Eolyn and her prisoner with great intensity. His coloring was similar to Adiana’s, save for the rust-colored cap that hooded his black eyes.

  Eolyn undid the latch and reached inside the cage, catching the sparrow with a gentle hand. Sustaining the bird’s legs between her fingers, she smoothed its soft feathers. Adiana trembled in her grasp.

  “This is not the marriage I envisioned for you, my friend,” Eolyn murmured. In truth, she had never envisioned marriage for Adiana, but only the Gods knew what might have happened if their coven had been allowed to remain in the highlands of Moehn.

  Perhaps Adiana would have found a good man, someone to temper her cynicism and nurture her heart. She and Adiana could have raised their children together, travelling every spring to enjoy the sun-speckled shade of the South Woods.