Valley of the Shadow

by Michael Gardner

  “I don’t think so,” said Raven. “As far as I know, only Phylasso knows my true name.”

  “That’s good. Now we take the fight to Acabar.”

  Raven placed the cord around his neck and tucked the stone under his tunic. It was cold against his chest and his body didn’t warm it. “Where shall we start?”

  “Illyria, where Eurynomos’s fortress once stood. The ground is still black there, as though a remnant of the rupture remains. Tak believes it’s the strongest focus of connection to the spirit world. If you can use Solomon’s pendant, Eurynomos’s servants will have nowhere to hide.”

  ~ Chapter 19 ~

  Dalmatia (Croatia under the Roman Empire)

  275 AD

  The world had changed. Despite Windsong’s warnings, Raven was disturbed to discover he had less freedom than before. There were many more people, cities and men bearing arms. The Romans had built stone roads and legionaries were a common sight. Raven and Windsong avoided civilisation as often as possible which hampered their progress as they journeyed from Gallia Aquitania, heading directly as possible towards the country Raven knew as Illyria. He saw that the peace and prosperity brought about by Roman rule was also marred by greed and corruption. Most people were poor, barely scraping together an existence, while the rich locked themselves in grand stone buildings and used their wealth to protect their power. Visigoths, Burgundians and Franks attacked from the north showing little respect for the lives of others. Raven was forced to use his bow more often than he liked. He doubted they could have made the journey if he were still trapped in a boy’s body.

  “I don’t understand,” he said, pulling a shaft from a dead tattooed man with wild matted hair who had come at him with an axe. “We were charged by Phylasso to be guardians of humanity but we can’t stop people from killing one another or indeed, trying to kill us.”

  Windsong leaned on her staff. “How are we to judge who’s right or wrong in war? By what values would you lead? What would you do if some disagreed with your decisions and turned against your rule?”

  He looked at her. She was pale and her demeanour showed weariness. “I’m not saying we should aspire to be kings,” he said.

  “What are you saying, then?”

  “Look around! The Golden Age is over. The time is coming when we will be forced to intervene in mortal affairs. Do you remember what I told you about Acabar and Darius? Let’s not argue about this. Please!”

  She looked at him for a moment, the breeze catching her hair. “I don’t know what the future holds. I see only what’s in front of me. With every year that passes, I’m convinced we ought to be clothed in mist if we are to survive. Remember Phylasso’s warning. We can’t fight a war on two fronts nor against the people we were sworn to protect. That would be playing Eurynomos’s game.”

  * * *

  Raven was absorbed by Solomon’s pendant whenever they were forced from the road by weather, war or the need for rest. He was unable to discern whether it had any power. Its touch on his body was a cold ache like an old wound in the centre of his chest. He remembered Guide saying the Valley of the Shadow was alive and the pendant gave him a sense of this. It wasn’t a tool such as a hammer which could be used for a specific task. It seemed sentient, almost moody; he had to concentrate to interpret its signals. He sat with it, tilting the stone this way and that to catch light at different angles but it was not responsive to sunlight. He looked at the ground, he saw his shadow holding the plaited thong, the two bear claws coming together to form a curved ‘V’ shape but there was nothing between them. The stone didn’t cast a shadow.

  Summer passed into autumn before the end of their journey was in sight. Illyria, now divided into two Roman provinces, Pannonia in the north and Dalmatia in the south, felt familiar but looked different. Raven remembered the lie of the land. The wide flat plains, once barren wastelands, now were fertile farmlands. The rolling hills, once blackened and scorched, now were green with grass and trees. The Adriatic was deep blue and so clear he could see the land falling away below the surface. It had taken a long time, but the land’s wounds had healed. He remembered the way to the ruin of Eurynomos’s fortress but the path had changed and led them past Roman cities, busy roads and farms irrigated by aqueducts.

  They made their way inland, crossing hills and wide grasslands where wild cattle grazed. Raven felt the pendant stir with every step they took towards the place where there had once been a breach between worlds. When he blinked, he saw ghostly shapes both nearby and in the distance. Windsong’s presence was like a swarm of silent bees. He could feel the air around her vibrating. He looked at her often, expecting the disturbance to manifest in some way. The wind tossed her hair and flapped the folds of her cloak. She met his gaze and briefly smiled.

  “There’s nothing to be worried about,” he said. “I feel the pendant awakening, but not Acabar.”

  She pointed towards the hills and told him they had arranged to meet Tak, Xi and Klinge there. Raven closed his eyes, picturing the plains stretching away to the hills and the ragged snow-dusted mountains beyond. Even though his companions were still a league distant, Raven felt the warmth of the epiphaneia. Tak’s presence was as strong as ripples of heat rising from a bonfire. Klinge and Xi were slow-burning coals, their heat hidden from plain sight, but Raven sensed they were both troubled. He gasped and opened his eyes. Windsong touched his arm lightly. “Raven?”

  “I felt the epiphaneia. It was different, intense. Let’s pick up our pace.”

  By late afternoon, they crested a hill dotted with pine trees and saw the Khryseoi camp; three rustic travellers’ tents surrounding a smouldering fire. Raven spread his arms and fell into Tak’s embrace. He extended his arm to Xi and felt the Greek warrior’s hand close tightly around his wrist. Klinge emerged at their back. He wrapped one arm over Windsong’s shoulder and shook Raven’s hand with the other. Raven was at a loss for words.

  Tak’s gaze pierced him. Set your burdens aside for a time, Raven. Raven put his pack on the ground. Tak smiled briefly and shook his head.

  * * *

  Raven pitched his tent. He watched his companions going about their business as if no time had passed since they’d last met. Tak sat alone, roasting a whole pig on a spit. The skin was crackling and turning golden brown. Raven’s mouth watered. By sunset, he had a plate of tender, juicy pork. “I have missed you all,” he said, “and not just for your cooking!”

  “Time for gifts,” said Xi, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. He went to his tent and returned with a bow, the one Raven had forged during his time at The Watcher’s Tower. The wood had aged a deeper shade of brown and the buck’s horns had been polished. Raven took it with a deep breath. “Thank you! I’m amazed to see it in good condition after all these years!”

  Xi gave him a small nod. “You owe your thanks to Windsong. I have been its keeper for only a few years.”

  “Thank you,” said Raven, turning to Windsong.

  She shrugged. “It didn’t fit in the box.”

  Raven was suddenly aware that Klinge had been staring at his hip. Klinge cleared his throat. “Raven, would you lend me Acabar’s sword? I can learn a great deal from that weapon if I have a chance to study it.”

  Xi let out an exasperated sigh. “That’s all he has talked about since I found him: swords, swords, swords!” He slapped Klinge on the thigh. “You need a new hobby!”

  The pendant turned icy against Raven’s chest. He clutched it in the folds of his cloak before it burned. “Perhaps later,” he said. “For the moment, I require the black blade.” Klinge looked away, his expression lost in the shadows. Raven saw he had Xi’s interest too. Xi chewed a slice of pork with a lopsided grin. “Well, come on! Let’s see what we gained by braving Solomon’s mountain. I think we all deserve a look at it.”

  Raven drew the pendant from his tunic and let it hang over his fingers. At night it looked like a grey pebble.

  Xi’s eyes glinted in the firelight. “We will have made
an enemy of Solomon.”

  Raven tucked the pendant into his cloak. “Solomon believes Phylasso has abandoned us, that he has lost his way and become a danger to all Khryseoi.”

  “He may have a point,” said Klinge. “Where is Phylasso now?”

  Raven squinted at him. “You had no time for Solomon before the mountain. What altered your mind?”

  “This isn’t about Solomon,” said Klinge. “Phylasso sits at the heart of all our questions and he wasn’t good at answering them even when he was present.”

  Xi cleared his throat. “Then I have good news. I’m told he’s slumbering. We must wake him up!”

  “Well, you’re both full of surprises tonight!” said Raven. “Would you care to enlighten us?”

  Xi straightened his shoulders. “You’ll remember I’ve been plagued by nightmares. They were getting steadily worse, but during my childhood this time I met a spirit who could soothe my mind.”

  Raven saw Tak’s smooth head flash in the firelight.

  Who was this spirit?

  “She appeared at night. I asked for her name but she didn’t give it to me.”

  Then tell me what she looked like.

  “I couldn’t say for certain, but judging by what I saw of her in the moonlight, she was as beautiful as Aphrodite,” said Xi.

  Klinge laughed. “What did this Goddess-vision tell you about Phylasso?”

  “She said if I brought her Solomon’s pendant, she would show me how to awaken him. Then you’ll have your answers, we’ll have our leader back and we can deal with Acabar,” said Xi, slapping his fist into his palm.

  Although I know nothing about this spirit you’ve seen, I’m intrigued. We should explore all avenues, even those we don’t understand.

  Raven’s attention was drawn to the fire. The hissing and popping of the burning wood was loud in the silence. His eyes watered from the brightness of the sparks.

  “Our most pressing concern is to discover our enemy’s strength,” said Windsong.

  Raven stood. “None of this will be enough. We must take the fight to Acabar! We start tomorrow!”

  * * *

  As dawn broke, they packed up camp and having decided to travel light, stowed their unwanted equipment in a rocky outcropping. Raven kept his eyes fixed on the distance, watching ghostly shapes flit and vanish; transparent golden echoes of the Khryseoi who had once patrolled the land. He wondered if he were having a vision of the past or if the spirits of the fallen had manifested to guide him. As they reached the top of a small rise, Raven stopped and drew a sharp breath.

  “What is it?” said Windsong, taking his arm.

  “Can you see them? Our brothers and sisters from long ago?”

  She looked about. “I see grass and feel the sun and the wind on my face, but that’s all.”

  “This is the hill where Wolf and I watched the war come to an end, as we believed at the time,” he said. “I told him I was neither excited nor sad, just numb.”

  She leaned into his line of sight, trying to see what he saw. “How do you feel now?”

  “Determined to stop Acabar before he finds a way to release his master. Let’s keep moving.”

  After two days, they reached a vast field surrounded by steep forested hills; the place the Khryseoi had named the Riven Plains. The long grass was turning brown and wild flowers sprang up here and there. In the distance, Raven heard slow-moving water and a restless wind but there wasn’t a river anywhere and the weather was calm. They came to the valley where Eurynomos’s fortress had stood. The ragged black circle marred the still lifeless earth. The grass bunched at the edges as though there were an invisible barrier halting its growth.

  I wonder if the earth will ever heal, signed Tak.

  Raven dropped his belongings and marched on to the corrupted ground. He drew the black sword, stuck it in the earth and knelt down. Gripping the hilt in one hand, he reached inside his cloak with the other and closed it over Solomon’s pendant. As he closed his eyes he felt space expand, collapse and spin all at once. He heard a deep, sustained humming sound issue from his companions and felt their presences as the force of a strong wind. With his eyes still closed he found he could see, but the world was different. The land rose and fell, the seasons changed or ran in reverse, and the sun circled the sky changing from pure white to molten red. Raven felt the presence and absence of countless lives. He wanted to laugh and cry. One by one, he began to see the Khryseoi who remained in the world and those sleeping in the next. They were spread across the land and over the sea. Although he had travelled a great deal, Raven was astonished to see the true size of the world. There were great distant lands beyond expanses of ocean. Somehow, many of his brothers and sisters had found their way there.

  He focused on the past, casting his mind back two thousand years to feel for the breach. He saw the cut made between worlds, a seething blue-black mass of lightning-laden storm clouds. Bound there was a half-eaten man. His mouth was open wide, his chest rose and fell but his screams never passed his lips. Although Raven had never seen this man, he knew him to be Theophilos the Tormented, set there by Eurynomos to witness his own folly for eternity. Raven directed a thought at Theophilos. Show me our enemy! Theophilos blinked and looked at Raven. Raven’s head swam as his consciousness broadened to embrace the scope of the world. He saw it was filled with life as diverse as the stars in the sky and every individual danced to a different song. The servants of Eurynomos existed as murmurs dressed in shadows, on the fringes of awareness, not wanting to be seen. There were fewer dark spirits than Khryseoi, but they were growing in strength as they took mortal form. Raven felt one as a sharp pain in his head. It was close. Beside it was the candle flame of a Khryseoi soul, struggling to stay alight. The restless wind in the Valley of the Shadow whispered a greeting to it. Raven’s eyes snapped open, he stood up and drew the sword from the earth. “One of our own is in trouble,” he said. “Hurry!”

  * * *

  Raven saw suspicion on the face of every Dalmatian villager. He imagined this was the same way they greeted Roman legionaries. He heard them talking in their native language. They had no love for Romans or for any outsiders bearing arms. Raven glanced at his companions. He would have thought the same if he had seen five armed strangers with tangled hair and clothing wet with sweat. “We’ll need to be swift, if we’re to avoid involving these villagers,” he said, holding his bow before him. They trod quickly down the main road: a strip of dry, packed earth. The dwellings were basic, wood huts with thatched roofs. The people were farmers, tending small plots and a few animals, but there was one hiding amongst them that devoured more than mutton and vegetables. Raven had felt the epiphaneia a mile away, as a painful twist in his stomach. It was different from the feeling of meeting Acabar, but equally unpleasant.

  From the edge of his vision he saw the farmers gathering, their faces stony, eyes cold. Many held pitchforks, hoes, or crooks for herding animals. All were adequate weapons in capable hands. The women and children disappeared behind barred doors. One door was thrown open. A short dark-haired man appeared. His skin was so pale that the blood dripping from his chin was a shocking red. He took one look at the five Khryseoi and broke into a run away from them. There were gasps and cries of fear from the villagers. Xi drew his sword and ran in pursuit. Tak and Windsong rushed into his hut.

  “Keep back!” yelled Klinge, raising his hands. “We’re here for that man only!”

  Raven brought the notch of an arrow to the bowstring and drew it taut. He watched the man run, timing the rhythm of his footfalls, feeling the movement of muscles stretching and loosening with each stride. He loosed the arrow. It struck as the man’s legs crossed, pinning his calves together. He crashed to the ground. Xi was on him in moments, pressing the edge of his sword to the man’s throat. The villagers closed, keeping watch.

  “It’s too late,” the man said, with a gargling voice. “It’s too late for you all!”

  Raven approached, drawing and setting a
second arrow. The man looked at him with wide eyes and the air caught in his throat. “You!” he said.

  Raven’s forefingers tightened against the bowstring, uncertain what the man meant. “Tell your master to expect the return of his subjects.”

  The man loosed a strangled laugh. “My Lord Eurynomos has a special plan for you, fool!”

  Raven nodded. Xi swept the man’s head off with a single stroke.

  Klinge raised his hands again, addressing the villagers. “Keep back! We’ll be gone soon.”

  Raven scowled as he tasted bile. The presence of a dark spirit was still strong. He nudged the body with the tip of his boot. From the bloodied neck stump appeared a pair of black pincers, then a white chitinous worm, glistening and as thick as his arm. He took two steps backward. The worm coiled on its tail and raised its pincered head into the air. “Amyntas...” it said, in a thin, wet voice. Xi flicked his sword and split the worm in two. The halves fell to the earth, a puddle of oily white sludge.

  “An Indos Worm,” said Klinge. “Foul creatures! I’d hoped never to see one again. Eurynomos’s army is awakening.” He looked at Raven without blinking. “It will return.”

  Raven’s shoulders were knotted tight. “Burn the remains anyway.” He turned and saw Windsong in the doorway of the hut with Tak behind her. They both wept. He closed his hand over Solomon’s pendant but felt no spirit emanate from the third Khryseoi in the hut. He bowed his head and whispered a prayer for their lost comrade.

  ~ Chapter 20 ~

  Dalmatia (Croatia under the Roman Empire)

  275 AD

  Her name had been Dietlinde when she’d been chosen by Phylasso to become a Khryseoi. Her name meant ‘soft and tender’ but Klinge remembered her as quite the opposite. In life, she had been taller than most men and her appetite for war had been as great as her love for roasted meat and wine. Klinge had been drawn to her from the moment he had met her. Her tribe lived further north than his but they were kindred folk. Klinge felt sickened at the thought of the Indos Worm, half disgorged from the throat of its human host, eating her alive. His chest ached at the thought of her spirit trapped in Tartarus suffering Eurynomos’s torments.