Shadowglade

by Kay L. Ling

  Eventually, Elias’s breathing became lighter, and he stirred and yawned.

  “I’m awake,” Jules said. “Shall we go check the weather?”

  Elias sat up in bed and consulted the clock. “It’s almost six. Yes, let’s go see what’s happening—or not happening, as the case may be.”

  Jules dressed hastily, not bothering to button his shirt or put on his shoes. Elias put on his usual green robe.

  The early morning sunlight shining through Elias’s woven-branch door formed crosshatches on the floor. Elias jerked the door aside, and they stepped out.

  Bird song greeted them. Insects droned with lazy contentment. Wispy clouds drifted in a pale blue sky, and the breeze smelled like strath and damp soil. The air was humid, but pleasant. Jules smiled, feeling like Noah after forty days of rain.

  “I think it’s over,” Elias said, studying the sky.

  There wasn’t a single dark cloud. “What a relief.”

  “It’s wonderful to see the sun again, but I won’t celebrate until we’ve made it through an entire day without rain.”

  Jules understood Elias’s reluctance to celebrate too soon, but up until now, the sky had been perpetually gray, the sun obscured by dark clouds even when it had stopped raining.

  Elias headed off to the outhouse, and Jules looked around with a critical eye. As far as he could tell, the rain hadn’t done any permanent damage. In a day or two, standing water would seep into the rocky soil. Creeks that until recently had been stony beds would supply water to the gnome and breghlin clans. Parched ground would turn green with all kinds of groundcover, and wildflowers and berry bushes would grow. The whole ecology would change. Shadow would become more like the Fair Lands. In the days before S, both worlds might have been very similar.

  Jules breathed deeply of the fragrant air. Even when strath wasn’t flowering, it gave off a pleasant, spicy scent. He could plant some for Lana at Shadowglade, and it would carpet the bare ground and give Shadowglade a more welcoming appearance. Elias would laugh at the idea of intentionally planting weeds, but some were just as pretty and fragrant as flowers.

  Jules was still daydreaming when Elias came up from behind and said, “A gem for your thoughts.”

  “Just thinking about Shadow and the way it’s changing. What do you think it will be like in a year or two?”

  Elias surveyed the land. “There should be adequate resources for everyone. The gnomes can come out of hiding and raise crops and animals. The nomadic breghlin clans can form permanent settlements, like the rest of their brethren.” He paused and frowned. “It would be wise to divide the land among the gnome and breghlin clans to avoid disputes.”

  “How would you satisfy everyone? The gnomes would argue over the best land, and they’d say the breghlin have no right to any of it.”

  “No doubt. But the breghlin need land of their own, and unless the gnomes want a war, both sides must make concessions. If I were allowed to arbitrate, I’d do my best to be fair to both sides.”

  Until recently, most gnomes hadn’t wanted anything to do with Elias, and even now that they held him in higher regard, they weren’t likely to put him in charge of land distribution. “You’ve barely solved one problem, and you’re worrying about the next,” Jules said. “And this isn’t even our world.”

  A gust of wind caught Elias’s shoulder-length gray hair. He turned to Jules, his gaze intense. “Isn’t it? I’ve spent more years in Shadow than in the Fair Lands, and so have you.”

  Jules didn’t answer. He’d spent his time here as a wolfhound, only sentient during full moons, but he’d done that to protect this world as well as his own. Sheamathan would have involved the gnomes in her conquest of the Fair Lands, enslaving more to mine gems and minerals, and making others fight for her. “I suppose we’ve earned the right to care about what happens here,” he said at last.

  “And I do care, surprisingly,” Elias said, staring moodily off into the distance. The wind whipped his robe around his legs. “Otherwise I would stay in my cave as I did in the old days and let Shadow go to the devil.”

  Jules sighed and nodded. Neither of them really wanted to take on Shadow’s problems, but someone had to rule here. The gnomes wanted no part of a structured government, but without one, Shadow would descend into chaos. Why couldn’t they see that? The clans needed to rebuild Shadow and develop a thriving civilization, and that took organization.

  “Like it or not, we have to rule here until they’re willing to take responsibility,” Elias grumbled.

  “And whose fault will it be when we make mistakes?”

  “That’s a good question,” Elias said. “Theirs, I think. And I will endeavor to keep that in mind when things go wrong despite our best efforts.”

  Jules was proud of Elias, but he didn’t dare say so since it would sound condescending. Long ago, Elias had been obsessed with gem powers and had ignored the gnomes’ troubles, but he was willing to help them now, despite increasing difficulties. Elias often praised Jules for the bargain with S and called him a hero, but Jules didn’t see it that way. His sacrifice had been worthless. He hadn’t been able to outsmart S, break his enchantment, and free the gnomes until generations had passed. In the meantime, he had lost his family—his father and sisters. What had become of them? Had his sisters married and raised families? Had Father remarried? Most likely they had all lived happy, prosperous lives while he remained here. Well, there was no use thinking such gloomy thoughts. The enchantment had kept him young, and with any luck, happier days lay ahead.

  Like Jules, Elias stood in reflective silence, and he seemed at peace with himself, enjoying the warmth of the sun and the absence of rain. The few remaining wisps of clouds were moving off, leaving behind a perfectly clear sky. The sun felt warm on Jules’s upturned face, and as he closed his eyes and emptied his mind of everything except the feel of the sun and the breeze, his mood began to lift.

  Elias broke in on his thoughts. “I’m ready for a pot of coffee and whatever we can find for breakfast.”

  “I’ll help you. Afterward, I’d like to borrow a spade.”

  “A spade? What gardening project do you have in mind?”

  “I plan to dig up S’s garden and replace it with strath.” He waited for Elias to laugh and say they didn’t have time for such nonsense. In fact, he was already planning his defense: strath would prevent soil erosion, its pleasant smell would mask the moat’s unpleasant odor, and the maraku could graze on it once it spread.

  “That’s a clever idea,” Elias said, taking him by surprise. “It’s an invasive species, and we have a lot of bare ground.”

  “Someday we can plant trees and shrubs so Shadowglade doesn’t look so forbidding. Strath is just the start.”

  Elias chuckled. “I know I disparage strath, but it is pretty. I understand why Lana likes it.” He clapped Jules on the back. “Won’t S be furious when she hears you’re digging up her poisonous plants!”

  Jules grinned. “That’s another good reason for doing it.”

  When Jules and Elias returned, Shadowglade was a hive of activity. The barn doors were open, and Jules could smell the pungent odor of animal dung as breghlin cleaned out the stalls. Two breghlin outside were replacing a rear wheel on a cart.

  As Jules and Elias stepped onto the rear stoop, the door flew open, and two guards greeted them enthusiastically.

  “You ended the rain!” said the younger.

  “We had no doubt of you,” said the other as Elias and Jules brushed past him.

  Parcune, a muscular gnome with graying hair and a long, bushy beard, routinely stood guard here. His cheerful expression shifted to a look of concern.

  “If I could have a moment, there are several things I need to tell you.”

  Elias nodded for him to continue.

  “The group you sent to Six Wells to control the breghlin miners . . . a few showed up this morning with news. Franklin took them to the terrace. They’re waiting for you there.”

 
Jules had nearly forgotten about the gnomes who had gone to Six Wells—without enough weapons.

  “And a few breghlin arrived,” Parcune said with evident disapproval. “They mentioned something about the Ministry of Breghlin Affairs.” He frowned. “I told them you wouldn’t be able to see them for a while, but they said they’d wait. They’re in the library.”

  Jules said to Elias, “As much as I’d like to attend the meeting with the gnomes, you don’t need me. I can see to the breghlin.”

  “Thank you. That would be a great help.”

  Jules was about to leave when Parcune raised a hand to detain him. “There are other more important folks waiting—gnome dignitaries—clan leaders. Three of them came accompanied by armed guards, and they’re clans I’ve never heard of, so they’ve come from a distance.”

  Jules and Elias exchanged surprised glances. “Where are they now?” Jules asked. “I’ll see what they want.”

  “I took them to Gem Master Elias’s office, for lack of a better place, and their guards are having a look around the grounds.”

  Jules blew out a nervous breath. If it weren’t for the schizophrenic spell book, the office would be an ideal place for them to wait. “Did you offer them refreshments?”

  “Yes. After I escorted them to the office, I sent a gnome to wait on them. No telling what they’d do if a breghlin walked in!”

  “Anyone else we should know about?” Elias asked.

  “Well, no one requiring your immediate attention,” Parcune said.

  “Who else is here?” Elias asked irritably.

  “Two more of Tyla’s family—folks with gem powers. They’ll help in the library.”

  “They won’t be any trouble at all,” the younger guard said. “We got them settled last night, and Tyla will look after them. I expect they’re all in the library now.”

  Jules’s mind had drifted. “Should I send for Raenihel? Whatever the clan leaders want, it might be wise to have a fellow clan leader here.”

  Elias nodded. “That’s an excellent idea. Send a cart for Raenihel. Even if you don’t need his help, I’m sure they’d like to meet one another.”

  “I’ll take care of it,” the young guard said and left for the maraku barn.

  “Thank goodness Franklin is here.” Jules rubbed the back of his neck and frowned. “How can so much happen during our short absence?”

  “We may be getting more visitors as time goes by. I suspect the more distant clans are just learning of S’s defeat,” Elias said thoughtfully.

  Traveling to Shadowglade would be a long, perilous trip for most of the clans. S’s ecological destruction limited how far they could Walk With The Wind. They would have to leave the protection of the trees and hike across barren wastelands, braving S’s monsters as well as roving bands of breghlin.

  “Parcune, tell the breghlin I’ll see them as soon as possible, and in the meantime, if they’d like anything to eat or drink, have a server take care of them.” Jules had anticipated the affronted look Parcune gave him and said sternly, “Look, they’re here on important business, at our request, and we need to treat them accordingly.”

  The gnome’s eyes slid from Jules’s face. His tone was less than enthusiastic. “I’ll see to it, Gem Master Jules.” Gnome-breghlin relations had improved since the brontskeller ordeal, but gnomes still considered breghlin inferior, and that wasn’t likely to change.

  Elias laid a hand on Jules’s arm. “I’m off to the terrace. Give my regards to the gnome clan leaders. Tell them I’m in a meeting and I’ll come as soon as I can.”

  “I will,” Jules said, wishing he could go with Elias. He wanted to know whether there had been any gnome casualties and whether breghlin miners had returned to work. He’d settle for attending part of the meeting, but there was no chance of that now. First, he had to meet with the clan leaders, then the breghlin.

  “Anything I can do to help?” Parcune asked when Jules lingered.

  Jules shook his head. “No. But thanks for seeing to our guests and making them comfortable.”

  “Glad to help,” Parcune said, his chest swelling with pride.

  Jules started off to Elias’s office. It was unfortunate that the gnomes had arrived while he and Elias were away, and now Elias had another meeting. They hadn’t gotten a proper reception, but at least Parcune had offered them refreshments, and with any luck, the spell book was behaving.

  The door to Elias’s office stood partially open. Someone had brought in an extra chair, and the clan leaders sat with their backs to the door, speaking quietly. A tray with tea service, fruit, cheese, and dark bread sat on the desk. The closed spell book, resting on the storage cabinet, was silent.

  Jules felt a moment of panic as he prepared to enter the room. How should he address the gnomes? Aside from being clan leaders, did they have titles? If not, what respectful term should he use? “Gentlemen” wouldn’t do since they weren’t men and might not be familiar with the word. The same was true of “sir.” Most of his dealings with gnomes had involved Raenihel’s clan who were very easygoing. And though it seemed boastful to mention it, he was the one with the title—the gnomes’ legendary Challenger. Did these clan leaders know who he was? Should he even bring it up?

  Squaring his shoulders, he strode into the office and paused by their chairs, giving them a slight bow. “Good day. I’m Jules DeLauretin.”

  The gnomes rose. Two looked older than Raenihel, with white hair and beards. The taller of the two had a high forehead and deep pouches under his eyes, and the shorter had a ruddy complexion and enormous, bushy eyebrows. The third was a stern, black-haired fellow. Only the laugh lines around his eyes suggested he was capable of humor. None of the gnomes bowed or smiled. They merely stared.

  “Gem Master Elias is involved in an urgent meeting, but he’ll join us shortly,” Jules said in what he hoped was a pleasant yet official tone. “Please accept my apologies on his behalf.”

  “Jules DeLauretin,” repeated the black-haired gnome thoughtfully. “We know that name . . . the Challenger.”

  Jules smiled, motioning for them to sit, and was about to take Elias’s chair when the short old gnome said irritably, “Also known as the woodspirit’s wolfhound, we discovered recently.”

  Jules’s smile faded. The first gnome had said “the Challenger” with a note of respect, and Jules had felt like an acceptable stand-in for Elias, but this one’s animosity did not bode well.

  “Hush,” hissed the dark-haired gnome, glaring at his ill-tempered companion. “This man broke the woodspirit’s enchantment, and furthermore, he overcame her.”

  “Yes, with the help of that old reprobate, Folio, whom they call Elias. Assuming any of the story we heard is true.”

  Jules’s heart sank. The clan leaders hadn’t as much as introduced themselves, and already the meeting had turned confrontational. Ironically, he had worried about standing in for Elias, but they didn’t like Elias, either. Why were they here? Anger welled up inside him. This was a fine thank you for freeing them from Sheamathan’s control.

  He sank into Elias’s chair, trying to hide his emotions. The gnomes took their seats again. If he opened his mouth he wasn’t sure what would come out, so he simply folded his hands and looked at them.

  The black-haired gnome finally broke the uncomfortable silence. “I’m Vegmir of the Nafaren clan.” He gestured first toward the more agreeable of the two white-haired gnomes. “Kerosten from the Ranopi clan.” And then to the other. “Morodin of the Zihaddan clan.” He paused and cleared his throat. “Please forgive Morodin who came despite protests from his clan. The news of Sheamathan’s defeat has grown in the telling, and we don’t know how much of it is true.”

  Jules said, “I don’t know what you heard, but if you’re here, you must believe Sheamathan is powerless.”

  Morodin smiled indulgently. “We don’t know what to believe. This could be a trick.”

  “A trick?” What did he mean? When gnomes came anywhere near S, her power
sapped their strength and dulled their wits. Jules leaned forward. “If Sheamathan hadn’t been defeated, you would have known it as soon as you reached Shadowglade. You’d be weak. Your mind would be fuzzy.” Its natural state, apparently.

  “Not necessarily,” Morodin said, brushing off Jules’s logic. “You and Folio could be in league with her, and this could all be a trap.”

  “Why, and for that matter, how would we do that?”

  Morodin squinted at Jules suspiciously, his eyes all but swallowed up by his ridiculous eyebrows. “If you were her wolfhound, how did you become a man again . . . unless she turned you back?”

  “Elias and a woman from the Fair Lands found a way to break my enchantment, using my knife—the Challenger’s blade.” He removed the sheathed knife from his belt and placed it on the desk. Hopefully they knew a little about the knife and its powers.

  “See? It’s just as we told you, Morodin,” Kerosten said. “After all these years, someone with Fair Lands gem powers came to Shadow, and that’s what it took to break his curse.”

  Morodin still looked skeptical. He scowled at his companions. “You’re quick to believe everything you hear. All these years we thought the Challenger was a powerful gem master. We didn’t know what had become of him, but no one suspected Sheamathan had turned him into a wolfhound. The woodspirit is a skillful liar. For all you know, she and the wolfhound made a bargain and then invented the story about the woman from the Fair Lands.”

  Jules was dumbfounded. “Even if you think I’d bargain with her to regain my human form, what possible motivation would Sheamathan have to become a giant beetle? Or is that part of her deception too?”

  Vegmir said, “Morodin, don’t you see how foolish your suspicions sound?”

  The old gnome’s face turned scarlet. “Sheamathan has tormented us for generations. I put nothing past her! Nothing!”

  Two guards appeared in the doorway. Had they been standing guard or were they simply eavesdropping? Jules didn’t care. “Bring the cage. Our visitors need to see that Sheamathan is harmless.”