Emperor of Shadows

by Mike Truk

  We were nearly barreled over as Jack and Jeremy ran yelling past us, the thundering of their boots echoing down the hall.

  “No running in the house!” Tamara cried out after them, but both boys merely laughed as they burst out onto the back porch and on down the bank.

  “I thought you were taking them in hand,” I said, keeping my tone bland, trying to hide my amusement.

  Tamara blew a lock of hair out of her face. “Jeremy’s fine when he’s alone. It’s Jack’s wild blood that throws him off.”

  I knew better than to comment on the fact that Jack was Cerys’s boy, and Jeremy her own. Or that Tamara had yet to find fault in her tousled haired three-year-old no matter what he did.

  I followed her past the kitchen, down the hall into the large living room which encompassed the entire front of the house. It had taken us a couple of years to accumulate all the right furniture, buying pieces that were large, old, and exceedingly comfortable. Huge windows looked out at the wrap-around porch, but a glance showed that whoever was approaching hadn’t yet reached the bend in the road visible from inside the house.

  Cerys, however, was dozing in the recliner in the corner where the afternoon sunlight fell in a golden wash across her and Elena. The sight filled me with such tenderness and love that I slowed and stopped, simply admiring the beauty of the vision. Cerys, hair smoldering like coals, with a little bundle in her arms - our baby girl, swaddled and finally sleeping.

  “She’ll still be there when you come back,” said Tamara, pulling me forward, past the massive dining table. “Come on.”

  “Shh,” said Cerys, not cracking open an eye. “It’s taken me an hour to get her to sleep. I’ll literally murder you both if you wake her up.”

  I grinned and pressed a finger to my lips, indicating that I understood. But I couldn’t restrain myself - I pulled my hand free of Tamara’s, and tiptoed over to Cerys’ rocking chair.

  I’d never been so glad for my thieving talents.

  Cerys scowled warningly at me, then relented, lowering Elena just enough so that I could tease back the blanket and see her perfect little face.

  Our fifth child, and first girl.

  But, given her temper, Cerys and I were already feeling sorry for the boys. They wouldn’t stand a chance.

  “You need anything?” I whispered.

  “A kiss,” said Cerys, smirking up at her. “And a foot rub. And a lower back massage. And some fresh melon.”

  “On it,” I said, leaning in to kiss her gently, loving her taste, her smell. “Soon as I see what’s gotten Tamara so worked up.”

  Elena stirred and frowned; we both froze, staring intently at her little face, seized by dread. Then the little girl relaxed, and so did we go.

  Go, mouthed Cerys. Quietly.

  I backed away, avoiding the boards I knew would squeal, and joined Tamara at the front door. Easing outside, I sighed in relief at having escaped without arousing the squall that indicated an infuriated Elena.

  “I don’t recall either of you being so careful with any monster or fiend we ever faced back home,” said Tamara, eyes twinkling.

  “Elena would have given any Gloom Knight a run for their money,” I said, grinning at her, then turned to survey the road once more.

  Yashara was there, her massive ax propped against the wooden fence she was building. A fence that was really more of a palisade, fit enough to rebuff the assault of a score of knights. We’d tried to reason with her but had been unable to convince her a simple fence would do.

  You could take the half-orc out of the war, but you couldn’t take the war out of her.

  At least she’d agreed to not build a guard turret atop the house.

  “What’s going on?” I asked, walking up, just as our eldest boy, Ashrat, rounded the corner with an armful of boards under one arm. Only five years old, he was large enough for a nine-year-old, a greenish cast to his skin like the faintest of jade. His features were ruggedly handsome; his placid, stoic nature had spoiled us all into thinking our every child would be so calm and reasonable.

  Jack, Cerys, and my first child had put those thoughts to bed.

  “One on foot,” said Yashara, leaning over casually to kiss me on the cheek. “Armed.”

  From here I could see around the curve in the road and spot the stranger. Tall and slender, a massive longbow slung across their back, they were otherwise hidden under a voluminous cloak with a low hanging hood.

  “We expecting anybody?” I asked, not expecting an answer.

  “Nobody like that,” said Yashara. “They move well. Trained fighter. Where’s your sword?”

  “Beside my bed,” I said.

  “What good is it doing us there?” grumbled Yashara. She’d still not given up on trying to convince us to go about armed at all times.

  “Why do I need a sword?” I asked. “I’ve got you and your ax.”

  “And my club,” said Ashrat, dropping his pile of wood by the section of fence Yashara had been working on, and taking up a solid stick.

  “And Ashrat’s club,” I agreed. “I might as well go lie down.”

  Yashara snorted, clasped her large wood ax, and raised it to her shoulder. “Men. Why is it that the more children we have, the less you seem to think you need to do?”

  I went to protest, but my attention was snagged by something familiar about the rapidly approaching figure.

  “Wait a second,” I said, moving forward. “That… is that…?”

  The stranger reached up with ashen grey hands to pull her cowl back, revealing purple hair so dark it was nearly black.

  A cry of joy erupted from my lips.

  Netherys.

  The first we’d seen of her in five years.

  I broke into a run, and her alien face cracked into a wry smile as she strode forward to meet me.

  “Kellik,” she began. “I’d begun to fear -”

  I swept her into my arms and kissed her, kissed her hard, squeezing her to my chest. Holding her so she’d never slip away again, would never disappear and leave us. She stood in shock for a moment, then melted into my arms with a sensual mmm, kissing me back eagerly. Her lips parted, tongue snaking forth in a manner that was intoxicating in how familiar it felt, how much I’d longed for just this moment.

  “Fuck, I’ve missed you,” I said, breathing raggedly as I broke the kiss. I searched her face, drinking in her haunting, cruel beauty. “You’re back? To stay?”

  “I’m back,” she said, “but I’m not sure for how long.”

  “Oh?” I pulled a little farther back, trying not to let my hope be utterly crushed. “You have to leave?”

  “I’m not sure,” she said again, tugging her cloak into place, expression turning bitter. “Mother Magrathaar has me on a short leash.”

  “Netherys!” Tamara came rushing up and enveloped her in a hug, getting white flour all over the dark elf’s somber cloak. “You’re back! Where have you been? What have you been up to? Actually, don’t tell me, I’m sure I don’t want to know.”

  “You’re right about that,” said the dark elf with a smile.

  Yashara strode up, hand on Ashrat’s shoulder, and gave the dark elf a respectful nod. “You’re still alive.”

  “As are you,” said Netherys, and then frowned at our boy. “And this is…?”

  “My son,” I said. “One of them. Ashrat.”

  “Ashrat. As in…?”

  “Yes,” said Yashara. “The full-blood berserker that fought with us when we first met. I honor my son by giving him such an honorable name.”

  Ashrat was looking at Netherys with something akin to wonder and awe. “It’s good to meet you, Miss Netherys. I’ve, ah, heard much about your, ah, adventures with my parents.”

  Netherys’s smile grew complicated. I saw regret in her expression, fondness, bitterness, all swirled into one. “I doubt you’ve heard the half of it. I’ll tell you all the details they left out later.”

  “No,” said Yashara. “You won’t.”
/>
  “But Mom,” protested Ashrat. “I want to hear -”

  “In time,” said Yashara firmly, using the same tone of voice that had once commanded entire regiments of Khansalon’s finest mercenaries.

  “Aw,” said Ashrat, shoulders slumping.

  “Come on, let’s go around the back,” said Tamara. “We don’t want to wake up Elena.”

  “Elena?” asked Netherys, tone dubious as we all began to circle the farmhouse. “Another spawn?”

  “She’s gorgeous,” I said, unable to restrain a grin. “The second Cerys and I have had. But… yeah. Let’s not risk waking her.”

  “Ashrat!” Little Pogo came stomping out of the undergrowth, a wiggling snake clutched in one hand. “Ashrat, look! Look what I found!”

  Yashara checked the impulse to burst forward, seeing as I did that it was just a harmless grass snake. “Pogo! I told you not to pick up snakes!”

  Little Pogo paused, blinking owlishly up at us. Only two years old, he was already strong enough to push Jeremy around. “But issa green snake.”

  I stepped forward, crouched before the little boy, and took the snake carefully from his hands. “Yes, but you said the last one was only a red, black, and yellow snake, and when we nearly lost you when it died.”

  Ashrat nodded firmly. “It’s not enough to just say the color, Pogo. You have to know which is which. No more snakes.”

  Little Pogo scowled at us. “I like snakes.”

  “Little Pogo?” Netherys moved over to crouch beside me. “How delightful. If you like snakes, I’ll send for an Ebon Sidewinder. We keep them as pets back in Aglorond. Ride them into war as well, when the need arises.”

  Little Pogo’s face lit up in hope. “Can I? Dad, can I please? I wanna ride a snake!”

  “Maybe next year,” I said, having learned ages ago that it was better to deflect than simply deny. I gave Netherys a stiff smile. “Thanks, Auntie Netherys. We’ll be hearing about that for the rest of the year now.”

  Netherys laughed and rose to her feet. “My pleasure. I think I’m going to make a wonderful aunt.”

  “Doubtful,” rumbled Yashara.

  “The dark, beautiful, mysterious aunt,” continued Netherys. “Who arrives at the stroke of midnight, dispenses vials of poisons, pet spiders, and cursed blades to all her nieces and nephews, and then disappears at dawn -”

  “Veto,” said Tamara firmly.

  I chuckled, kissed Little Pogo’s brow, and rose to slide an arm around Netherys’s slender waist. “I like the sentiment. But we can work on the details.”

  “Oh, don’t tell me you’ve all forgotten how to have fun,” grumbled Netherys as we resumed circling to the back.

  “Not at all!” I protested. “Last night we stayed up till - what was it, Tamara?”

  “Had to be almost nine in the evening.”

  “Nine in the evening. I even managed a glass of wine before collapsing.”

  “And I,” said Tamara, “managed to darn three sets of socks before seeing double.”

  “Yashara,” implored Netherys. “Please tell me you’ve retained some of your fighting spirit.”

  “Of course,” said Yashara, unable to restrain the slightest of smirks. “I’m not soft like these humans. I’ve built myself a new suite of rooms with the world’s greatest bathtub in the center. I put it to very good use.”

  Netherys rolled her eyes.

  We stepped up onto the rear porch, where Tamara excused herself to go get some refreshments, dragging Ashrat along with her to help. Little Pogo waddled off down the bank to the creek where Jack and Jeremy were doing their best to damn it up with boards and heavy rocks, their cries of excitement filling the afternoon air.

  “I’ll go kill a deer,” said Yashara, taking her hunting bow from the stand and stringing it with ease. “We’ll have a feast tonight to celebrate your arrival.”

  “Now we’re talking,” said Netherys, settling down in one of the wooden chairs.

  “Tell Ashrat to get the firepit going.” Yashara took up her quiver of yard-long, black-fletched arrows. “I’ll be back in an hour. I want a bed of coals three inches deep.”

  “Yes ma’am,” I said, sitting down with a contented sigh.

  “Hmm.” Yashara stared at me with that look all my wives gave me the moment it looked like I was relaxing. Then she slid her gaze over to Netherys, nodded her head once more, and set off down the bank to where the children were starting to argue.

  Their angry voices died the moment Yashara’s shadow loomed over them.

  “What of Pony?” asked Netherys. “He still around?”

  I nearly cackled. “Pony? The poor guy’s in real trouble.”

  “How so?” asked Netherys, leaning forward in concern.

  “Got himself a troll wife. A day’s march up the mountains from here. Had to fight off a dozen other suitors, then realized he was left alone with her. I never realized how large a female mountain troll was. Poor Pony.”

  “So… he’s up there right now…?” asked Netherys.

  “Doing his duty. It’s been two weeks. I think he has another week left before she tries to kill him. But I don’t think she’s ever tangled with a war troll before. If he survives that long, I’m sure he’ll come crawling back down here having sworn off the idea of troll mates for life.”

  “I’m not so sure,” said Netherys, sitting back with a sniff. “Men. They will gladly break all oaths at the first scent of a wet cunt.”

  I reached out and took her hand in my own. “You always did have a way with words.”

  We sat there in the afternoon sunshine, listening to the children play down by the brook, enjoying the silence.

  “This is nice,” said Netherys at last. “This what your days are like?”

  “Well, kind of.” I watched as Little Pogo raised a surprisingly large rock and held it over his head with a mock roar. “It’s islands of bliss interrupted by constant moments of panic and screaming, all of it overlaid with a constant sense of exhaustion and bone-deep happiness.”

  Netherys was eyeing me as if I were speaking nonsense.

  “I guess you’d have to experience it to understand,” I said, playing with her fingers. “It makes more sense from the inside.”

  “I don’t know,” said Netherys. “Back home, we deliver our babes to creches where they are raised by Spider Wives. We don’t see them until they come of age, at which point they must undergo the Quickening or be fed to the Maw.”

  “That’s adorable,” I said. “No wonder you dark elves turn out so lovable.”

  She snorted and pushed my hand away.

  “Here we go,” said Tamara, emerging with a large tray which she set down on the table before us. “Pear juice cordial from the orchard, Ashrat’s first attempt at making cheddar, a loaf of this morning’s seed bread, butter, cream, and honey, and slices of cured pork from last fall’s harvest.”

  “You grow pigs on trees?” asked Netherys, half-teasing as she leaned forward to peel a rasher of smoked meat from the plate.

  Tamara stuck her tongue out at the dark elf and sat back with a contented sigh, a glass of pale green juice in hand. “What don’t we grow? Sometimes it’s easier to keep track that way.”

  “Well, I’m impressed,” said Netherys, taking another delicate bite of the meat. “You’ve all done very well for yourselves. Kept your children alive, grown real food, kept the roof from falling. Rivals with any accomplishment you earned in Port Gloom.”

  “Ain’t that the truth,” I said. “Sometimes I feel like killing a Gloom Knight was child’s play compared to raising kids.”

  Tamara sipped her cordial. “How long are you staying for, Netherys?”

  “I can’t say.”

  “Can’t, or won’t?” asked Tamara.

  “Can’t. It’s been… a long five years.” Netherys’s tone turned contemplative. “I’ve regained Mother Magrathaar’s favor in spades. Traveled. Fought. Sacrificed. Mostly others, but some sacrifices of my own. Am I any cl
oser to compensating her for Aurora’s loss? I don’t know. But I’ve earned a respite, hence my coming to visit. For how long it will last, however, I cannot say. No doubt someday soon Mother Magrathaar will demand I set forth once more to work evil upon the land, and I will be forced to do her bidding.”

  “So it could be days,” I said.

  She nodded.

  “Or weeks.”

  Her nod was less sure.

  “Or years?”

  “Unlikely,” she said with a smile. “But I can tell you this - I will always return when I can.”

  “You’d better,” said Tamara. “This house has been overwhelmingly positive and harmonious in your absence.”

  Netherys grinned. “I can work on that.”

  “Work on what?” asked Cerys, appearing in the doorway sans Elena. When she caught my glance, she nodded back toward the bedrooms. “She’s passed out. Didn’t even fuss when I put her in her crib.”

  “Work on livening things up around here,” said Netherys, rising to her feet. “My, my, Cerys. How motherhood has changed you.”

  “Oh?” Cerys placed her hands on her hips and gave the dark elf a dangerous smile. “Pray tell.”

  “Those broad hips, the full, heavy breasts, that look of self-satisfied contentment - I’d never recognize you for a Crimson Noose assassin.”

  “That so?” Before anyone could react, Cerys stepped forward with liquid smoothness to place a curved blade at Netherys’s throat. “How about now?”

  Netherys carefully leaned back. “Ah, there it is. I see the resemblance after all.”

  Cerys leaned in to plant a kiss on Netherys’s cheek as she drew the blade back. “It’s good to see you again, you black-hearted degenerate.”

  “Good to see you, too,” said Netherys with a silken voice. “You pendulous, milk-bearing cow.”

  “Ladies,” I said warningly, as Cerys’ eyebrows rose.

  “They’re just playing,” said Tamara.

  “All fun and games till she crosses the line,” said Cerys, rubbing the ball of her thumb across the edge of her blade. “Keep talking, you wizened old crone, and let’s see how close you can get.”

  Netherys’s grin widened, and she was about to respond when we were saved by Elena’s wail.