Shadow and Starlight

by Darcy Sherlen

  “Go! You are not fit to see her this way!” my mother demanded.

  I struggled to cover my mortified face from the argument.

  “What have you done to her?” He shouted, likely attracting the attention of any guards or servants nearby.

  “Me?” she said, shaking her head. “The Doctor is healing her, advancing the Princess' Gift—”

  “Healing? She's being tortured!” He jogged toward me, but she stepped in between us.

  “This is none of your business. You will not interfere with the Throne. Now get out of here before I have you tossed in the Pits and to hell with your promotion.”

  “It's fine, Anten. She would never hurt me.” I bit my tongue and forced out, “I'm safe here.”

  Anten looked to my eyes, seeing straight through the lie. “The King would never allow this.”

  My brood mother laughed. “King Elarik commissioned the Doctor.” The man scowled, leaving the room and slamming the door. “As much as you like him, Princess Elara—he doesn't understand our ways. He's much too young to be Captain of the Guard, despite what his father thinks.”

  I remained silent. Even breathing required tremendous effort to keep from crying. But my brood mother grabbed my back and pushed me into a sitting position. I screamed in pain, and she rolled her eyes.

  “Enough, Princess. The ceremonies begin shortly and I am expected. Drink some more of your medicine, it will make the pain go away.” She forced the glass to my lips and I shook my head. “Drink, it will make you feel better.”

  Lies.

  In her rush, she gave up on the liquid and rushed to grab clothes and helped me change. “Look how fast these new cuts are healing, Princess. The Doctor has really advanced with your condition.”

  I looked in the mirror and only saw all the scars that would never heal. Bloodtide strengthened Bloodburning, and even at its height, I had nothing. A maroon shirt with long sleeves and matching pants covered any evidence that I had been to see the Doctor. Even during the cold season, people never wore this heavy of fabric. Nor covered so much of their skin.

  I picked at the familiar bowl of mushy grain. Though nutritious, it was tasteless and odorless. But nobody in Krev complained about the food. It kept people healthy, never eating more than they needed to. After several thousand bowls, it got old.

  The door opened. I turned to see Anten. He closed it quietly and rushed toward me. “Are you okay? You need to run away,” he whispered. My eyes shot open. Anten's eyes scanned the emptiness surrounding us.

  “What?” I tried to process his words. Run away? It was forbidden. To leave the garden was one thing, but I had never gone further than the coliseum. The world outside was dangerous, more dangerous than a runt like me could understand.

  “You have to get away from here, Princess. I know you do not understand, but you must listen to me. I overheard—You must trust me, Elara.”

  I shook my head, taking in his words. He stood and guided me to the window, his hand stretched out in front of him.

  “See the treeline? Past the Wall?” He pointed to the Wall, made up of bricks larger than me, too tall and sleek to climb over. The smoothness of the tan stone reflected light. “Go there, once you reach the river, wait for me.” His voice was rushed, his eyes darting all around him. “Go now, Princess Elara. It's less than a day's walk. I will get what we need and will be right behind you.” He shoved a small satchel in my hands, laden with a meager amount of food and a waterskin.

  A noise outside the door caused him to jump. He nodded encouragement. But as he slipped out the door, I knew I couldn't leave. Not in my current state.

  3

  The Throne room filled with people below me. High up on a balcony, my stomach pressed against itchy carpet, I watched. Tall tapestries, crimson carpet, and golden light. Runt servants carried trays of drinks and o'dourves to the best, the strongest in the kingdom. Their hair pinned into buns while everyone else's flowed freely. As though it were a shame a runt should have red hair at all.

  Bryony spoke to the General. His ceremonial armor barely covered his muscles. She remained poised as ever, hair oiled and glistening. Skimpy clothes exposed her skin. Everyone tried to wear as little armor as possible, as if to show their invincibility.

  Behind them, the five thrones were occupied. My father sat on the largest of the thrones in the middle. Though I shared his namesake as his firstborn, he would never claim a runt. I was his shame that he and my brood mother had swept under the rug.

  The huge doors shut with a loud thud and the ceremony began. King Elarik rose to his feet, his booming voice heard throughout the room.

  “Within Krev, we are the most powerful people in the entire world. We have been gifted with the strongest of the elements. Blood. We are invincible, and united by our strength. For thousands of Tides, we have defended and expanded our borders, defeating every enemy at our doorstep.

  “We cannot allow the weak to slither within our ranks. With no regulations, the population of runts has boomed. An enemy within our own borders.” My head bowed with shame as though he spoke directly to me. “Our food stores have been pilfered by Stalkers. Our security has grown lax. And now these black-haired criminals have made themselves at home. Their crimes grow worse with each passing year. I'd say it's time to show them who their crimes are against!”

  The boom of applause made my heart clench. Krev had expanded its borders as far as they could go. And the people grew weary without war. While our kingdom prospered, they only wanted death.

  “Long ago, we saw what evil came from their people. And we cleaned their filth from the lands. Now, these Stalkers hide with their crimes within the Shadow, only coming out to take what is not theirs. Our scouts search for their demonic kingdom. And when we find it, we will burn the Shadow from the world, and exterminate their evil once and for all!”

  The room erupted in applause. Everyone stood, an energy of excitement buzzing at the prospect of a war.

  “But what of the Prince of Darkness?” Everyone in the room turned to the Doctor. Everyone but me. I refused to look at her. Refused to see the beauty or hear the honey in her voice. Not when I knew the truth.

  “Though he may think himself a god, he is only a man. Just like the rest of them.” The King growled, dismissing the concern.

  “An immortal who stalks the night, aided by the element of Shadow. Able to snuff out entire armies without even alerting our scouts? Is that just a man to you, Your Majesty?” Ligeia spoke boldly. More boldly than anyone else would have dared. But that was because she knew King Elarik's secret. Me. Of course, the evil witch was not above blackmail.

  He narrowed his eyes, gritting his teeth as his authority was threatened. “He will be dealt with, I assure you, Ligeia.” He gave a brief pause, ensuring silence before continuing. “Anten Organon.” My best friend strode to the front of the room down below. He bowed before the King, accepting a small pin on the right side of his chest as he stood. “I pronounce you Captain of the Guard. All your current duties have now ceased. We will need you greatly in the coming months.”

  Relieved of his duties to me. I forced myself not to cry as I watched Anten move next to his father, the General, who beamed with pride. How nice it must be to not be burdened by a runt.

  “Everyone, go and enjoy the celebrations! May we have many victories to come!” King Elarik finished his speech. After a long half hour of niceties and goodbyes, the room emptied. I hit the metal bar as I turned around. A low bong resonated.

  I glanced down, Bryony meeting my eyes. I scurried off, long ready for the sanctuary of my room. I ignored any pain as I jogged through the halls, narrowly avoiding a guard patrol as I turned the corner to enter my room.

  Bryony waited in front of the door, casually spinning her short sword as she met my eyes once more. She pursed her lips. “Wonder where you might have been.” I shook my head, trying to pass her to enter my door. She grabbed my arm, tightening painfully. I cried out. “It's forbidden, runt. You are
to stay hidden. I can't believe you're still here waiting to ruin our family. If you had any honor at all, you would have fallen upon your own sword by now.”

  I bit my cheek to hold back the tears welling up from the pain, unwilling to look feeble or weak in front of her. My tears disappeared, my breath steadying. This pain was nothing.

  Two guards appeared at the commotion, giving a quick bow before Bryony. They weren't regular guards, only the extra security for Bloodtide.

  “Take her to the coliseum,” she said, shoving me at the two guards. They quickly took hold. I howled in pain as they began to move. I tried to keep up with their long strides, but they dragged me along, their hold remaining tight.

  The coliseum. Bryony meant to put me with all the other criminals. From runts to Stalkers alike. Five Champions of each region of Krev would take on the horde of criminals, banishing them to death by a stroke of their sword or a misstep down the Pits.

  Even if I told them I was the Princess, they would never believe me. They had been given a direct order by the Princess. The real Princess that everyone in Krev knew and loved. I was only Princess Runt. A burden on the royal family. A threat. The power of the family's Blood could never be called into question.

  I couldn't hold back the tears. I had been tossed away by my own family. It had been many Tides since I was close with my sister. Childhood long passed. While she would spend her days training, I was locked away in my room.

  “Wait!” Anten called out from behind us. The guards stopped hesitantly, glancing between themselves and Anten. We were nearly out of the palace. “Give me a moment to speak to her,” he said as he reached us, gesturing for some privacy. They nodded, glancing to the new shiny pin on his chest before leaving the two of us. They waited down the hallway, still in sight.

  “Bryony has told these guards to send me to the coliseum. You need to get my brood mother,” I told him.

  Anten looked me over, a frown crossing his face. “I told you to run away, Elara,” he whispered, shaking his head. The guards glanced to us. “You should have left.”

  My heart sank as I realized what he was saying. What could he do? I had been exposed. Even if someone could save me, why would they?

  “Thank you for your friendship over the past years.” My chest tightened as I restrained my emotions. “I could not have asked for a more kind guard.” Upon gazing into his eyes, I fell to the floor, tears escaping full force. “Why have I been cursed! Why must I be weak and flimsy while others are blessed with great strength—”

  “Shh!” Anten said over me, pulling me from the floor roughly. His eyes scoured the corridor, where the guards inched toward us. Anten held up a finger and they paused. We didn't have long. “Stop it, Elara. Get a hold of yourself.” His voice held no sympathy, such a tantrum was unheard of in Krev. “You can still win. I trained you to fight. You may not be as strong as the Champions, but they won't be treating you like a formidable opponent.”

  I shook my head, knowing the impossibility. The Champions were the best warriors from every region of Krev.

  “When you enter the coliseum, get the best weapon you can, a shield if there is one. Fight for your life, Elara, and you may keep it.”

  My sobs silenced, trapped in my throat while Anten looked deep into my eyes. I couldn't read his emotions, but he leaned forward, his lips closing in. I closed my eyes, my breath frozen in my lungs in anticipation.

  “I have to go,” he whispered, his breath on my cheek. Though personal touch was not forbidden, it was looked down upon. A sign of weakness to show affection. And when I opened my eyes, he was gone. The guards were back.

  I had lost everything. I had not even been able to say goodbye to my mother. But deep down, I knew she was as ashamed of me as Bryony and my father.

  We exited the palace into the red light of Bloodtide. The moon burned almost as brightly as the sun and the hot air was suffocating. The city was dipped in the crimson glow, camouflaging the buildings into a blanket of red.

  I struggled to keep up with the guard's brisk pace. I felt each of my new scabs threatening to open with each step. My dragging feet kicked up dust, attracting the attention of the crowd entering the coliseum. They speculated who I was or what I'd done in loud whispers on the side of the road. As though they meant me to hear. But that's how Bryony wanted it. Nobody could know I'd been a Princess.

  The farmlands sprawled for miles. A collection of huts used the old territory marker as a wall of their own home. The runts lived there, tucked away at the edge of the city so the rest of the citizens wouldn't have to look at them. At us.

  For a hundred miles in every direction there was desert, cliffs, and nothingness. There was no escape for runts. The only way was to work.

  Everything bustled with life from Bloodtide, as though the day never ended. The light of morning had begun to peak over the horizon as we entered the coliseum. I was shoved to the ground and the guards left me with others to be corralled into the arena like cattle.

  Some runts stood around as well, despite suntanned muscles from the work of the recent harvest. I knew it was a method to keep the runts in line. To keep them living in fear, wondering if they were next. Stalkers huddled close to each other, like spiders caught in the light. Us runts kept far away from them.

  “Stalkers,” a woman said next to me, putrid disgust leaking from her tone. There was only one thing worse than a runt.

  “Why should we be near them? They steal our food stores,” a man said loudly, riling the group toward the Stalkers. As if killing them would gain them any honor. “Filth.” There were less Stalkers in the mix than runts and they bunched closer together at the rallying mob.

  “You'll die at the ends of the same swords as they will. You're not better than them,” someone said, turning the crowd on the speaker.

  Before anything could happen, the sun rose, and a loud voice announced:

  “The five Champions will take on these criminals in fair combat. By tradition, each region has put forth their best warrior. From Ruyn, Gregor, Slayer of Behemoth!”

  The crowd roared, screaming excitement as a man in full armor entered the coliseum. He threw his arms up into the air and they cheered louder still. He carried a long sword and a shield as tall as me.

  “Get over here and get your weapon!” A guard said to us, dumping a barrel of rusty short swords to the ground. They offered no shields, a true showing of the contempt we were held in. Your shield carried you to the afterlife. I glanced to the Pits nearby and my heart fell. There was no escape. No honor. Only slaughter.

  They continued to announce the champions while I fought for a decent sword. I exited the sweaty pile, clinging to my sword for dear life. If I lost it, I wouldn't stand a chance.

  On rare occasions, criminals could redeem themselves through combat. Earning their place in the army. I almost laughed at myself for having such a hope to defeat a Champion.

  “Bryony, Princess of Akeldama.” The name brought me back to reality. She'd never let me win. She planned to bury me and our family's shame. I held the sword tighter, knowing I fought for my life.

  Drums sounded, signaling the beginning. Everyone clustered together as the five Champions approached from all directions. I hid in the masses, hoping my turn would never come. They wore full armor, moving through everyone like a scythe through the crop.

  I whacked my sword against one pointed at me, mere inches from my face. A sleek metal sword, already covered in blood. I looked to the Champion, already knowing who I was facing. Bryony. She was the only Champion without a helmet. Maybe her confidence would get her killed. Her lips curled upward as our eyes met. She swung again, and I ducked, kicking my foot out and tripping her.

  She rose with a new vigor and I almost regretted not just giving in and letting her kill me as I backed away. My foot stumbled and I looked back with terror. I had been backed into the Pits.

  Very few others stood now. The champions had already won. Any with courage were already dead.

&
nbsp; On either side of me, huge gaping holes. Maddened by the embarrassment I caused her, Bryony took another step forward. Her sword pressed against my throat, eyes locked with mine.

  “For the family. For the Fifth Throne.”

  I tried to nudge my way around the blade, but Bryony narrowed her eyes, blocking my only way out.

  I showed my cowardice as I dropped the sword, begging her silently for mercy.

  Something tugged at my ankle and I glanced down, seeing the Shadow twist around my leg. The ground beneath me crumbled, the edge of a Pit growing wider as though it raced toward me. I fell backward, My scream echoed all around me. My stomach dropped with me, grasping at the darkness all around.

  4

  My fingernails scraped at the dank walls, the moisture encouraging me to keep falling. My hands slipped and roots snapped as I desperately clung to my life. I grasped a vine, sliding down what felt like another thousand feet before finally coming to a stop.

  I looked up, knowing that there was no way to climb out. A pinhole of sky above. If the biggest, burliest Bloodburners couldn't climb out, I certainly couldn't. My arms were already tiring, my head woozy from the long fall.

  I looked down. I thought I could see lights, but as they moved, I realized it was only my dizzy head. There was nothing to be seen but darkness. Did it really lead to the fiery underworld? I hung there, unsure what to do. My hands leaked sweat, turning the dirt into mud. The root snapped and I fell into the darkness.

  A short drop. With jelly-legs, I forced myself to my feet, scanning around me, unable to see anything, not even my own body. I gave a long exhale, feeling my way forward—or what I hoped was forward—through the darkness. I glimpsed up, looking for the pinprick of sky above, but I could no longer see it. Juiciness crunched beneath my feet, releasing the scent of decayed earth. Noises came from every direction, and with no recognition of the sounds, my skin crawled. A murmur of a thousand voices.