Shadow War

by Deborah Chester

  “You want the complete destruction of everything,” Caelan said slowly. “You want everything pulled down. You are working against everyone in the imperial family.”

  A smile spread across Sien’s face. “Perhaps I have given you a small piece of myself in our joining,” he said in approval. “Your perception has improved.”

  “It isn’t hard to fit the pieces together,” Caelan said angrily.

  “No, it isn’t. Especially when I make it easy for you.”

  A soft moan from the empress kept Caelan from retorting. He turned and knelt beside her as she stirred.

  Moaning again, she lifted one hand to her brow and opened her eyes. She seemed lost and confused for a moment; then comprehension flooded her gaze and her eyes filled with tears.

  She sat up, choking, and Caelan wished he could gather her tightly in his arms and hold her.

  But she was the empress, and he was no one with the right to offer her such comfort.

  “You are safe, Majesty,” Caelan said quickly, putting reassurance in his voice. As he spoke, he glanced up at Sien standing apart from them in the gloom, and hoped he told the truth. “We are beneath the temple.”

  She glanced at Caelan fearfully and brushed back a strand of hair from her face. “The shadow—”

  “It is gone,” Caelan reassured her.

  She groped for the embroidered pouch that hung around her neck, gripping it so hard her knuckles turned white. “Did you destroy the creature?”

  He had a sudden fear that she might reveal to Sien the magical jewel she carried. “The shadow is gone,” Caelan said firmly.

  Her eyes met his, and she seemed to see the warning in his gaze. Frowning, she looked away and swallowed. Her shoulders were trembling, and she drew up her knees, trying weakly to stand up. “It will return.”

  “Not down here, Majesty,” Sien said with an unctuous bow.

  At the sound of his voice, she gasped and stiffened. Caelan put a large hand on her shoulder and squeezed gently.

  Sien stepped closer to them. “Nor can the Madruns break through our safeguards for a short time yet. Your guardsman has spoken the truth when he said you are safe. Are you ready to join the emperor?”

  Elandra ignored the priest and looked at Caelan. “Assist me to my feet,” she said.

  Although her voice was sharp and imperious, he could see how frightened she really was. In silence, he obeyed her and steadied her when she swayed. Then she squared her shoulders and lifted her chin regally, looking every inch an empress. Only her pallor and her tight grip on Caelan’s fingers betrayed her.

  “Lord Sien,” she said unsteadily, “are you saying my husband is nearby?”

  “Yes, Majesty.”

  “Is he—is he alive or dead?”

  Sien’s eyes widened. “Why, alive. Your Majesty need not fear.”

  A reverberating crash from overhead made all of them look up.

  Caelan’s throat tightened, and he reached for the hilt of his dagger. “The Madruns have broken through. Go on. Majesty. I will try to hold them as long as possible—”

  “You fool!” Sien said sharply before Elandra could respond. “There are sufficient safeguards in their path that will hold the barbarians better than even you can. Let us go forward, however. The emperor cannot wait much longer.”

  As he spoke, he gestured at the shadowy corridor stretching ahead of them. Caelan moved to take the lead, all his senses alert, his dagger in his hand. He had the edgy, uneasy feeling that they were walking into a trap. Sien could not be trusted, whether he helped them or not. The priest was far more dangerous than he appeared, and his dark powers made him formidable. As Caelan strode along with Elandra and the priest following, he glanced often at the dagger in his hand. Could mere steel, even if thrown swift and true, destroy this minion of the shadow god? Caelan had the feeling that at any moment he might have to find out. Sweating, he tried to stay calm and ready for anything.

  “Stop,” Sien said.

  Caelan obeyed so quickly Elandra nearly bumped into him from behind. He stepped aside with a murmured apology to her. Inclining her head, she flashed her eyes to his, then looked away.

  Caelan faced the priest. “What now?” he asked suspiciously.

  Sien smiled, his yellow eyes glittering. He gestured. “Open the door.”

  Caelan had seen no door, but now as he spun around in surprise, a carved wooden barrier blocked the corridor where none had been before. Astonished and more wary than ever, Caelan stared at it. He could not tell if it was real or imagined. He dared not touch it to find out.

  “Open it,” Sien said softly. “The emperor is just on the other side in the cavern.”

  Elandra’s face lit up. “He’s been waiting for me?”

  “Yes,” Sien said. “Twice his officers have had to dissuade him from going back to search for your Majesty. His distress has been great. But naturally he could not be allowed to jeopardize himself. If the enemy manages to break through my special defenses within the temple and get this far, it is possible they will be able to follow him even through the secret ways.”

  “I must join Kostimon,” Elandra said. New strength filled her voice. She stood tall and queenly, her grace and confidence returned.

  Caelan gazed at her, glad she so readily believed the priest’s smooth lies. He met Sien’s gaze, and the truth flickered between them for just an instant. In the initial confusion of tonight’s attack, Caelan had seen the emperor refuse to send guardsmen to rescue Elandra, claiming he could not afford to split his meager forces unnecessarily. Caelan knew the emperor had not waited for her, had thought only of his own safety, had abandoned her with his concubines and his staff. It was better she did not know. Caelan himself would not give her such hurt for the world.

  Gathering up her skirts, Elandra stepped right up to the door and stopped there. She glanced at Caelan over her shoulder. “Open it.”

  He hesitated just long enough to bring a frown to her eyes; then he stepped forward to obey. It was hinged to swing toward them.

  Cautiously, not trusting what might perhaps really await them on the other side, Caelan gestured for the empress to stand back.

  She did so, and he reached for the latch.

  Before his fingers actually touched it, however, it opened itself. The door swung inward on its own.

  Caelan flinched back from it, then crouched with his dagger ready.

  Past the doorway stood a spacious cavern filled with men and milling horses. The area hummed with frenzied activity. On the opposite side of the cavern, the emperor’s banner hung limply from a staff, and the guardsmen themselves were men Caelan recognized as loyal. Relief swelled in his throat.

  He stood aside to let Elandra precede him.

  On the threshold, however, she seemed to bump into something unseen.

  Gasping, she recoiled and backed away quickly.

  Cursing himself, Caelan reached her side immediately. “Is your Majesty hurt?” he demanded.

  She shook her head. Her eyes were still wide with fear. “What in Gault’s name is it?” she whispered, clutching her jewel bag.

  Caelan returned to the doorway. When he reached out, his hand struck an invisible barrier that was as firm as a stone wall. It was neither cold nor hot to his touch. It was simply impassable.

  Gazing through it in mounting frustration, he could see the guardsmen saddling horses and loading provisions, but he could not step through to join them.

  No one in the cavern glanced his way. Caelan decided they could not see him. The thought stirred fresh worry inside him. Were the guardsmen really out there, or was this all an illusion?

  He turned around to face Sien. Inside him, rage and resignation were building. He’d known all along the priest was going to pull some trickery. Now it had to be dealt with.

  “Careful, warrior,” Sien said softly. “Do not make a mistake you will regret.”

  Caelan bared his teeth as he brandished his dagger. “Did you not ask me to strike y
ou down just a few minutes ago? Your memory is short, priest.”

  “On the contrary,” Sien replied, “my memory is excellent. I recall asking you what price you would pay for the lady’s recovery.”

  Elandra’s head whipped around sharply. “What?”

  Caelan felt a slow rage heating inside him, molten in his loins, burning hotter and hotter in his chest, rising through his neck, his cheeks, his eyes. He glared at the priest, in no mood for games.

  “You didn’t cure her,” he said hoarsely.

  Sien smiled with pity, and Caelan suddenly understood that the priest meant Elandra’s return to the side of the emperor. It was a cold drenching of comprehension that left him standing there stricken and silent.

  “No,” Elandra said softly, horror in her voice. She looked from one man to the other. “No.”

  Caelan ignored her. His gaze was only for the priest, whose eyes were now rapacious and gleaming. Sien licked his lips, and something in the air smelled burned.

  “Dark magic!” Elandra cried in warning. She stumbled against Caelan, perhaps to push him to safety or perhaps to grip him for reassurance.

  He swept her aside with his free arm and moved toward Sien slowly on the balls of his feet. In his temple his pulse throbbed with the desire to kill this bald old viper, but he kept his emotions in check. He must use his wits here, not his brawn. Physical attack was not the answer; if Sien used magic to defend himself, Caelan knew he would not stand much chance against the priest.

  “I ask again,” Sien said. “What price will you pay?”

  “What price do you ask?” Caelan countered.

  “No!” Elandra said. “Caelan, I forbid this. Do not bargain with this traitor.”

  Caelan frowned, wishing she would be quiet. She was distracting him. He narrowed his gaze on the priest, wondering how he could make the man drop the spell on the doorway. “You wanted answers from me, and you took those. What is your price now?”

  Sien laughed, a horrible gloating sound. “If I could give you a way to go back and save the life of your father, would you take it?”

  Caelan froze in revulsion. His fingers clenched knuckle-white on his dagger. Don’t listen, a voice in the back of his head warned him.

  “If I could give you a way to go back and change your decisions?” Sien continued, his voice insinuating and soft. “What is the child’s name? Lea? Do you want to know exactly how she died in the forest?”

  Caelan shut his eyes. “Be quiet.”

  “But if I let you go back to save her, would you go?”

  The never-healed wound broke open afresh, welling raw hurt. Caelan clenched his eyes shut harder, and tears stung against his eyelids. If only he had stayed with her. If only he had remembered his responsibility was to protect her. If only he hadn’t thought he could make a difference at the hold.

  “I was just a boy,” he whispered aloud. “I did my best.”

  “You made a mistake,” Sien said. “Undo it. Go back and save your sister. Forget this woman who stands here. Think of Lea. She loved you so much, Caelan. She trusted you. And you promised to return for her. Why not keep that promise now? I can send you back to her.”

  Caelan shivered. Inside, he felt as though he were breaking in half. It hurt, and it would always hurt. To be able to undo his mistakes. To be able to change the course of his life ... but such longing was only a belief in falsehood. Change was not possible.

  “It is possible,” Sien whispered. “Trust me.”

  Caelan forced open his eyes. Tears spilled hot down his cheeks, and he turned his back on the priest. Inside, he struggled away from temptation and tried to harden himself against the priest’s lies. He understood what Sien wanted now. Sien wanted him to abandon Elandra in these corridors, to leave her able to see her husband and his soldiers yet barred from reaching them until the Madruns eventually found her.

  He could save Elandra, or he could believe this lying priest possessed the ability to manipulate the past enough for Lea to be saved.

  Caelan clenched his free hand at his side until his powerful body trembled. Either way, the price was too high. How could he make such a choice?

  “Caelan.” Elandra whispered his name.

  He turned his head toward her. The way she stood before him would be forever etched in his memory. Her ivory skin, the flawless beauty of her face, the burnished glints of candlelight in her auburn hair. Caelan felt emotions stir and awaken in him, a force fiery and hard to control. It was as though he were suddenly dipped in heat, his ears on fire and roaring, his eyes burning in their sockets, his breath seared in his lungs. He stood suspended in the spell of her luminous eyes, helpless in his new knowledge of himself and her.

  Her eyes glistened as she gazed back at him with understanding and compassion. A tear brimmed over and fell down her cheek. Still meeting his gaze, she shook her head. “Don’t—”

  “Caelan.”

  A different voice uttered his name this time. The sound of it gave him a profound shock. His gaze snapped away from Elandra, and he saw Lea kneeling on the ground less than two strides away.

  The child crouched there, hugging herself beneath her scarlet cloak and shivering violently. Her golden curls straggled from the edge of her hood, as bright and pretty as ever, but her face was pinched and gray; her lips were bloodless with cold. Dark smudges lay under her eyes, which were dull with suffering. She was starving to death, freezing to death. He could feel the icy blast of wind off the glacier. Its force was brutal, merciless.

  Lea whimpered. Shivering so hard her teeth chattered, she knelt there for what seemed like an eternity, while he watched helplessly, his grief like a stone in his chest. Finally she struggled to her feet and walked on, bent nearly double against the howling wind.

  Caelan opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He could smell the crisp scent of the pines. He could smell the sickly sweet scent of the child’s skin, and knew it signified starvation. How long had she been walking in the snowy woods? Her boots were ragged and worn through. She staggered in a zigzag pattern, floundering in the deep snow, and fell.

  “Caelan!” she cried, lifting her face to the heavens. “Help me!”

  Her plea tore his heart. With a wordless moan, Caelan ran to her and reached out.

  The vision of Lea vanished as though she had never been there. Anguished, he dropped to his knees and wept for her.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m sorry.”

  “What good are apologies?” Sien asked from behind him. “You and I can walk around time and go back to that fateful day in the snowy forests of Trau, when you abandoned the only person you loved. Save her, Caelan. You seem to have a strong urge to save people, like an overgrown dog. You could save the empress by turning on me and striking me down. My spell on the doorway would end, and she could go through. But why not save the one person who really mattered to you? Why not save the one person who needed you ? Who depended on you? Lea. A pretty name. A pretty, precious child. Lea.”

  Caelan gulped, his throat working. “Don’t say her name.”

  “Lea.”

  He jumped to his feet and whirled on the priest with insane fury, striking the man with his fist and sending Sien reeling against the wall. “Don’t say her name!”

  The invisible barrier across the doorway suddenly shimmered into a tangible rainbow of color, like a bubbled pane of mouth-blown glass. The guardsmen on the other side blurred and nearly faded from sight.

  Dabbing at the trickle of blood running from the corner of his mouth, Sien nodded. “Anger is a good step. Take another. Embrace the rage, Caelan.”

  Caelan glared at him through a murderous haze, the dagger pulsing as though alive in his fist. He felt the tug at his emotions, felt the seduction calling to him from Sien. The need for completion, for sevaisin, stirred within him. It would be so easy to surrender to it, so easy ...

  He severed, going deep into the coldness as though he plunged himself into a glacial lake. This time he did not care
if he severed so far he could never return. All he wanted was an end to the hurting, an end to the memories, an end to the guilty attempts to serve others in atonement. He would put himself where Sien could never reach him.

  A wall of ice appeared before him. He saw how it separated him from the priest. Through its transparent sides he could see the priest gesturing, could see Sien’s lips moving. But he heard no more insidious urgings, no more vile persuasions. He felt no more temptations. He could not see Elandra at all. There was only the void and the compelling coldness that made him brittle, calm, and unapproachable.

  In the very great distance, far, far beyond the wall of ice, he saw a column of icy mist that eventually transformed itself into the vague figure of a man.

  The figure beckoned to him.

  Caelan recognized Beva, and his heart grew even colder. He did not want his father’s approval. He had not come into this place to earn that.

  Turning his back on both his father and the priest, Caelan set his face into a bitter wind and trudged away. He would go deep into the void, never to return. He would vanish. He would cease to exist. He would escape all responsibility forever.

  But before him stretched the threads of life, a shining network of iridescent strands stretching into the sky and vanishing out of sight in the gray clouds. Frowning, Caelan stopped and looked back.

  He saw Sien’s silhouette against the icy mist, a dark shadow standing near the entrance to a cavern. One of Sien’s hands was outstretched. From each of his fingers stretched multiple threads, and the black strands were woven across the mouth of the cavern.

  Caelan hesitated only a moment, knowing that severance was his last true secret kept from the priest. If he used it, Sien would seek him out again to wrest the gift from him or turn it into something evil.

  But there was no other way. He could not vanish into the void. Escape was not possible, for even here in severance he carried himself with him. All his guilt and feelings journeyed with him, as though in a basket he could not drop on the wayside.

  Gathering his strength, Caelan advanced on Sien. He severed the threads of the spell. Fire exploded in the mouth of the cavern, sending him reeling back; then reality snapped around him, and he found himself stumbling into the corridor wall. Gasping, he pressed his hands to the wall and struggled to regain his equilibrium.