Plague of Shadows

by Howard Andrew Jones

  "You want me to protect this fellow?" Kellius asked.

  "Arcil's watching right now," Elyana said. "I can guarantee it. We're done."

  She studied Arcil's apprentice for reaction, but he wisely showed none. Even the hint of a smile might have shattered her composure and prompted violence.

  "Let's go."

  Drelm let out a dissatisfied grunt and turned to leave. Elyana started after, then halted, suddenly curious about a final matter. "What does he really look like these days?"

  The apprentice's mouth opened silently before he spoke. "He's ..."

  As he hesitated, a stream of darkness erupted out of the shadows and snared about the apprentice's torso, coiling like a giant serpent.

  "No, Master!" The man's voice rose plaintively. "I would not have said—"

  Elyana leapt close, blade ready. For all her speed, she was still too slow. The apprentice's voice broke in a scream mingled with the crunching of bones. He fell silent as blood oozed and fluids dripped and spurted from his twitching corpse. The shadow tentacle that had wrapped him dissipated in black smoke. What was left of the body slumped to the ground.

  Kellius leaned over and began to retch.

  Elyana found herself shaking in anger. She raised her head and addressed the empty air. "If you could wield so powerful a spell," she snarled, "you could have teleported him back and slapped him!"

  There was no answer.

  She bent down beside the man. As she'd thought, there was nothing to be done for him. Arcil was as thorough as ever. She dug into the man's bloody robes and found the amulet she'd expected, slipping it over his head. At once Arcil's familiar face became the pockmarked features of a thin man in his early twenties.

  The others looked down at her, even Drelm's face showing surprise. She understood then that Arcil's lesson had not been meant for the poor apprentice, who would never apply its teachings.

  Arcil's power had grown. Tremendously. He had said as much, and she had forgotten to take him at the word he valued so highly. Neither she nor Stelan's household had understood the strength of his power, or the seriousness of his will.

  They could not fail to do so now.

  Interlude

  Conference of Equals

  Don't be so thick, Stelan." Arcil set the faded scroll down on the table and let the paper roll in on itself. Their plates sat on the floor, empty now save for a few chicken bones, which Stelan's hunting dogs cleaned with tail-wagging enthusiasm.

  Elyana swept her fingertips gently along the side of an old goblet in front of her. One small part of her attention was focused on the changing texture of the vessel's surface. The rest gauged Stelan's reaction.

  The new baron had grown used to Arcil's condescension. The young man reached out with one powerful arm and soundly patted the flank of the dog beside Elyana.

  Edak hunched on the bench beside Arcil and gnawed a hunk of bread. He glanced back and forth between wizard and warrior through his tousled hair. Edak was no mental giant, but it took little intellect to sense the tension in the air.

  Still Stelan did not reply; Elyana looked away from Arcil's gaze, now fastened upon her, to watch the dust motes drifting in a sunbeam angled from a high window. The same sunbeam shone upon a single banner, the only decoration Stelan had left in place after his assumption of the keep last week.

  Aside from the four of them and the hounds, the cavernous mead hall was vacant. The place was all but barren, and the fall wind whistled steadily through cracks in the mortar. She did not much care for it.

  "We've a duty," Arcil continued emphatically. "It's not just this one shadow wizard. This letter proves it. There's a whole cabal of them, all in league. They should be stopped."

  "Stelan's a baron now," Edak said. He chewed for a moment, and swallowed before setting the bread aside. "Can't he call on the grand prince and get troops?"

  Arcil was already shaking his head. Edak continued anyway. "The prince should be looking into this problem. We can show him the evidence."

  "The grand prince!" Arcil said with distaste. "The prince didn't lift a finger to help Stelan when his father was killed. He probably never even heard about it, Edak. Every letter to the court goes through a hundred bureaucrats, each of whom needs a bribe. They're not going to be remotely interested in helping us—we're too far from the center of their universe, and lack the wealth to lure their attentions."

  Edak brushed hair away from his brow.

  Stelan pushed back his arms and stretched his back, then looked across the table at the wizard. "Arcil, you nearly died when those hounds came at us. It's enough that you risked your life for me once."

  Elyana loved the sound of that voice. It was not so much the alto timbre, though that was pleasing—it was his clear, honest delivery. Stelan was incapable of dissembling about even the simplest things, and she loved him for it.

  "Stelan ..." Arcil drummed his fingers against the table's edge. Elyana could practically see him working on a new line of attack. "I don't think these wizards will just let this go. They'll probably come after you when they hear what we've done."

  "They're wizards," Stelan countered. "They'll be more interested in hiding than in vengeance. They've books to read."

  Arcil shook his head. "You don't really believe that, do you?" He looked to the elf for support. "Elyana? You're being awfully quiet."

  All three men turned to her.

  Elyana slid her hand away from the edge of the mug. This was Stelan's choice, not theirs, and she could tell he was reluctant. She would not gainsay him. "We've already accomplished all we set out to do," she pointed out. "The baron here has recovered his ancestral lands." She used the new title as a light joke, but no one laughed. "His people are safe."

  Stelan nodded slowly. Arcil's frown deepened, but he waited, for it was clear from Elyana's tone that she had more to say.

  She turned her eyes to Stelan. "But I can't help thinking you don't know what to do with yourself."

  Stelan turned up his hands. Elyana knew he was overwhelmed with the mundane responsibilities that were suddenly in his lap. Allying with a dark wizard was the least of his uncle's crimes. Everything was depleted: gold, animals, mineral resources ...even timber.

  "The coffers are almost empty," Elyana continued. "If we do as Arcil suggests, they can be filled."

  "I never thought you worried about money," Edak said.

  Elyana faced him. "Stelan's a baron now. And he's going to need gold if he wants to take care of anything."

  Stelan sighed. He knocked once on the wood. "If I'm killed, who will rule after me? There's no one. Things would be even worse. I'm not sure I can do that to Adrast. They need ...someone."

  "Appoint the headman, then," Arcil suggested. "He's no dullard. You heard him yesterday. He knows exactly what's needed."

  "He does," Stelan agreed, nodding. "But he needs money."

  "There you go, then," Arcil said. "A good baron would get him some."

  Stelan reached down to scratch behind the ear of one of the dogs loitering nearby in the hope more food would fall.

  Elyana recalled a moment the week before when Stelan had leaned against the hearth beside her, his breastplate dented, face smeared in gore and blood. He had been drained and exhausted and pale.

  Today he looked worse.

  Stelan looked up from the animal and spoke slowly. "I swore to my mother that I would restore my family's lands and save my people. With your help, I've done that. But it's not as simple as I thought. I'll give what you've said careful consideration."

  "The longer you give it," Arcil said irritably, "the longer these wizards will have to prepare. The furthest ones out might not even have heard yet."

  "Don't rush him," Edak urged, prompting a frown from Arcil. But the wizard fell silent.

  "We'
ll talk again over supper," Stelan said, rising. He nodded once and pushed out from the bench, then rose and strode slowly off.

  Arcil caught Elyana's eye and tipped his head toward Stelan, as if she did not already plan to follow him. He and Edak stood and walked for the exit, their boot heels echoing on the flagstones. Elyana trailed after her lover.

  She was glad to see that Stelan did not return to the cold stone room in the tower above; he strode instead for the tightly wound stairs of the musicians' gallery. Judging from the dust, it had not been much used under his uncle's reign. Stelan glanced out over the banquet hall, then stepped away from the balcony and out through the archway, where he could look down on the courtyard from a narrow window.

  Elyana joined him. She crossed her arms to help shield against the wind, then watched the smooth, strong curve of his shoulders rise and fall as he breathed. Below, two men were dragging a two-wheeled cart over to the stables. She wondered why they had not bothered with a horse. The people of Adrast were strange to her.

  "It needs shingles," Stelan said, and it took a moment for Elyana to realize he referred to the gaps in the stable roof. It needed much more than shingles. What had Stelan's uncle been spending all the area's resources on?

  "By holy Abadar, Elyana, this is no life for me." Stelan spoke softly, without looking at her. "I know fighting best—it's what I want to do. But if I leave—if I die, what will happen?"

  She did not answer.

  He turned to meet her eyes. "I want to go—is it wrong of me? Am I just abandoning the responsibilities I don't like?"

  "You pledged to your mother that you would set things right," she reminded him.

  Those bright eyes of his fell, as if she were chastising him.

  She stepped forward and put a hand on his shoulder, and felt the warmth of his skin through the shirt fabric. "Your people need more than this shell of a home that is left them, Stelan."

  Hope shone on his face then, and he looked momentarily like a child suddenly granted permission to consume candies. "You think I should go?"

  "You should decide, not I."

  His expression evened. He did not speak for a moment. "What about what Arcil said?" he asked finally. "Do you think the wizards will seek vengeance?"

  "Arcil's a wizard. Perhaps he understands better."

  "But you don't think they will."

  She sighed. "I don't. But if there is darkness elsewhere as we found it here, and we have the strength to destroy it ..." her voice trailed off.

  Stelan nodded once, and then again, more vigorously. "You're right, Elyana. It's not just about us."

  Chapter Five

  Last Wishes

  The pounding of hooves and the jingle of tack took Elyana back to days long past as the trio rode hard up the dirt road toward the keep. For six years, she and Stelan and the others had maintained their makeshift campaign. At first they strove just against the shadow wizards, but when they saw firsthand the plight of the Galtans across whose land they sometimes rode, they could not help but become involved with their affairs as well.

  Those days had ended long ago, and in the years since Elyana had ridden back and forth to the keep so many times that it did not normally make her think of journeys at the side of her old traveling companions. Yet this night she did. Perhaps it was because she once more rode with a wizard and a warrior after a battle, or because she had spoken with Arcil.

  The perfectly ordinary eleventh bell of the night rang as they halted their foaming horses in front of the stable doors. Elyana whispered an apology to Persaily and instructed the stableboy to take special care with her, knowing even as she did so that it was unnecessary. He bowed, and as he straightened she patted the boy on the shoulder. He meant well, and loved the horses almost as much as she did.

  Still, she was tired, and frustrated, and her temper was short. She ordered Kellius to place magical wards in Stelan's chamber, and Drelm followed them both up into the tower. The cleric was still there, sitting beside the baron. The chests lay open, contents strewn about the floor. The table was overturned, and if the cleric had not risen to give her a polite bow, she would have assumed foul play.

  "What's happened?" she asked.

  "The baroness and the young lord have searched the keep for the statue," he said.

  "Have they found it?"

  "Not that I have heard. Was your own mission successful?"

  Elyana said nothing. From behind came the sound of running footsteps on the keep stairs, racing toward them in the hall, and then Renar burst in, holding a sheet of paper. The young man's face fell at sight of them. His expressions were even easier to read than his father's.

  Elyana shook her head, and he frowned dejectedly.

  Lenelle arrived a few moments later. She had donned a shawl. She favored Elyana with an accusing stare, then stepped over to the hearth and the fire, which was flickering low and doing little to stave off the chill in the air.

  "Pardon, baroness," Kellius said, brushing past her to the middle of the room and drawing forth a scroll from his robe.

  "What are you doing?" she demanded.

  "Elyana told me to place protective wards upon the room."

  Lenelle glared. "That's a little late, isn't it?"

  "I believe Arcil can listen to us from afar," Elyana told her.

  "I see that you did not find him," the noblewoman observed icily.

  It was Drelm who spoke in her defense. "We found much, Baroness," he told her. "A wizard and a band of rogues waited in a ruined tower."

  Lenelle's eyebrows rose in weary hope.

  "There was nothing to be learned from them." Elyana shook her head. "It was all misdirection, devised by Arcil. He sent an apprentice who looked like him to wait for us, then killed the man."

  "We found these," Renar said, and for the first time Elyana took greater stock of the paper held in Renar's hand, creased into three sharp horizontal lines where it had been carefully folded before its opening. Another lay open on the fireplace lintel. Lenelle lifted a parchment that lay beside it: a letter with a red wax seal.

  "My husband's will and letters addressed to each of us," Lenelle said softly, indicating Renar as well with her eyes.

  Elyana received her letter with great care. She took in the tactical sensation of the paper beneath her fingers and studied the seal of Stelan's house, a rearing horse on a flat plain under a radiant sun, pressed there in wax with his own hand. The seal appeared to have been broken and then restamped. She said nothing, for it would be impolite to mention she noticed Lenelle's tampering. She looked up at Kellius. "Are those wards up?"

  "Yes," Kellius said. "I've placed a protective barrier about the room. It will prevent scrying for only a short while, though."

  "Then we will speak quickly," Elyana said. "Baroness, what does your letter say?"

  "It is advice on how to manage the property, and to see to the raising of our son ...it is not especially recent. I think yours is, Elyana. It looks as though he has broken and then resealed it."

  Though Elyana felt a momentary stab of guilt for again assuming the worst about Lenelle, her face remained untroubled. She glanced over at Renar. "What was the subject of yours?"

  "I ...father ..." Renar collected himself and stood almost at attention. "It was advice, from a father to a son, on how best to be a man." His voice broke but he soldiered on. "I shall cherish it."

  Elyana looked away before she too choked up. She steadied herself, then broke the seal.

  She found two letters within. The first began with: "My dear Elyana—if you are reading this, I must be dead ..." She placed it under the second. He was not dead yet. Would not be. Not now.

  The second paper was of a lighter stock. That same steady hand, with its artful flourishes that Arcil had tried so hard to emulate, had composed a less
formal note, dated earlier that week.

  My dear friend,

  If Arcil has slain me, then my family is in danger. He seeks that ugly statuette from the shadow wizard's lair. You'll recall that Vallyn full expected me to scrape the silver off the thing—enough to buy a small pony, or half a horse, he said.

  The statuette is hollow, and something lies within. The enchanted visor on my helm showed me what I believe to be a scroll inside, or a map. If it were a spell, I did not wish Arcil to have it, because I no longer trusted him, and if it were a map, I did not want him involved in the finding of anything treasured by a shadow wizard. In later years I was tempted sometimes to break the statuette myself, but there was land to care for and a son to raise. I had no need for another map. We had earned treasure enough. I let it stand against my better judgment, unshattered and unburned, thinking sometimes that when Renar was grown, perhaps you and Vallyn and I might ride out on one last venture.

  I still cannot quite bear to destroy the statue while there's a chance of salvaging the situation, but if you hold this page, then my foolishness has doomed me. Arcil wants the thing, and whatever it is, he must not have it. In a holding spot within the hearth I have secreted the statuette. Just below the worn stone under the far right side of the lintel is another of average size and color. Pinch midway upon its edge. When the statuette stands revealed, I want you to smash it and burn the paper within. I must ask you a final time to stand with my blood, and protect my family from Arcil's rage.

  Your dear friend,

  Stelan

  Elyana lowered the papers and folded them crisply. All of them, even the cleric, eyed her expectantly.

  No, not all, she corrected, for Stelan lay ...no, he did not lay still as death, he lay quietly. That's all it was. Quietly.

  She did nothing to relieve the watching humans. Instead, she stepped to the fireplace, her eyes sweeping over the stones. She placed her hand on that unremarkable light gray stone, nearly encompassing it with spread fingers. And then she pinched its edge. The thing swung soundlessly out.