Valley of the Shadow

by Michael Gardner

  As he looked at her pale body, he wondered how many more Khryseoi would fall to the enemy before the war was decided. He clenched his fists so tight his fingernails cut into his palms, maddened at the thought Solomon had the solution. Dietlinde was gone. He dressed her in simple robes to hide her wounds and laid her in a small boat. He would have carved more elaborate decorations into the boat to show respect but Raven was eager to resume the hunt for dark spirits. The sea rolled in and wet his feet. He took the front of the boat and lifted it on to his shoulder. Behind him, Xi took the rear. They waded into the water. The sea was cold and the current pulled at his legs. When they were waist deep, they set the boat on the waves and pushed it into the departing tide. He said a few words of farewell and splashed water on his face to hide his tears. Xi helped him back to shore. Raven readied a flaming arrow. Oily black smoke wafted from the pitch-fuelled flame. Raven drew his arm back and let the arrow fly in a high arc. It streaked through the air and found its mark in the boat. Klinge hung his head and listened to the roaring flames. It was the custom of Dietlinde’s people to give their dead to the sea. She was also a Khryseoi and he would witness her burn.

  * * *

  Klinge watched Raven meditate with the pendant, sometimes with the black sword in his hand, sometimes without. He couldn’t understand why Raven guarded the blade so jealously. They hadn’t needed it to dispatch the Indos Worm. For that matter, they hadn’t needed him. Raven and Xi had dealt with the dark spirit with Khryseoi efficiency. He was quiet while they all grieved. He nodded and said encouraging words as they planned the next hunt. His mind wandered during their preparation but they didn’t appear to need him for much more than maintaining their weapons and gear. He wasn’t given the black sword to sharpen. He asked to see it but Raven assured him its edge was flawless.

  Raven told them they would be travelling to the province of Oescus on the Danube River, where he said he could sense another dark spirit. He had more urgency in his manner since Dietlinde’s death. He spoke with newfound determination and gave orders. Xi appeared to accept Raven’s leadership. Raven led the way, his black cloak rippling in the breeze, his boots barely disturbing the grass. It was beginning to brown and the wild flowers had bloomed, dotting the plains with yellow and white. Klinge picked up his pace and came alongside. Raven glanced over his shoulder and smiled briefly. Klinge wondered what he was going to say. He felt resolved in his decision to help Solomon but he also wanted someone to dissuade him. He cleared his throat. “Have you given thought to what Xi said about awakening Phylasso?”

  Raven glanced at him again but Klinge couldn’t read his dark eyes. “I’ve had time to think on many subjects.”

  “Are you able to awaken him?”

  Raven’s hand crept to his chest. “I’m vividly aware of you, Xi, Windsong and Tak. If I concentrate, I can feel the other Khryseoi, but not Phylasso. I can also sense dark spirits but not Acabar. I’m still learning to understand the emanations.”

  Klinge ran his fingers through his hair. “If Phylasso were still present, don’t you think Solomon would have tried to contact him? He has the most experience with the pendant.”

  Raven drew a breath through his teeth. “Solomon is tired of immortality. He doesn’t want to see Phylasso return.”

  “What about you?”

  “I wish Phylasso were here with us as much as any of you.” Klinge thought he heard impatience in Raven’s tone. “We’ve struck one blow at the enemy. Let’s continue our work.”

  “Without knowledge of The Unbinding, any victory can be only temporary.”

  Raven’s footfalls sounded heavy. “That’s still better than relentless defeat,” he said.

  * * *

  Klinge couldn’t sleep. He sat by the fire, watching it dwindle to a bed of embers, pulsing with each breath of the midnight breeze. He heard a tent flap open and soft footfalls in the grass. Xi appeared in the last light of the fire, his face outlined in red. “Can’t sleep either?” he said, sitting down.

  Klinge nodded. “What’s bothering you?”

  “Bad dreams. There’s nothing I can do to stop them. Even Tak has run out of ideas. The only time I can sleep is if she’s near.”

  Klinge took a breath. “I’m sorry I laughed at you,” he said.

  “It’s fine. I know she’s real.”

  “Truly... as beautiful as Aphrodite?”

  Xi closed his eyes, savouring a memory. “People talk of having Guardian Angels. Perhaps Khryseoi have them too.”

  “It sounds like you’ve been lucky with yours.”

  Xi let out a slow sigh and spread his palms on his knees. “I’m a fighting man. I don’t pretend to understand any of this but I’m content to follow Raven as long as we’re winning.”

  “What happens if we start to lose?”

  Xi cricked his neck, stretched and stood up. “I’ll keep on fighting... but I’ll do it my way.” He yawned. “Thanks, Klinge, I think I’ll try to sleep again.” He drifted into the darkness.

  “Well, I’m not a fighting man,” said Klinge, under his breath. “Farewell, Xi. Don’t lose your sword. There won’t be another.” He came to his feet, allowing his eyes to adjust to the dark. Finding Raven’s tent, he crouched on one knee and lifted the flap. There was just enough light from the fire to see Raven, curled in a ball, with his hands clasped to his chest. Klinge expected Raven’s eyes to flash open, alert in an instant, for him to ask what was wrong. Raven had always been a light sleeper, a condition common to Khryseoi, but now he was snoring softly and didn’t stir. Klinge saw the black blade beside Raven. He reached out, readied himself for its weight and took it without making a sound. His heart was beating rapidly as the tent flap closed. Finding his bearings by the stars, he headed north-west. As soon as he was clear of the camp, he broke into a steady run. He had six hours until dawn, a head start, if they decided to come after him. He felt certain Raven could track him, with or without the aid of Solomon’s pendant. He ran on into the night, keeping a steady pace, but it was hard to move fast with only the dim light of the moon and stars to guide his way. If he rolled on an ankle, all would be lost, including the trust of his companions. He stopped, breathing hard, filled with self-doubt. The darkness drew close and he struggled to fill his lungs. He bent over with his hands against his thighs. The black sword was heavy at his hip. As he was readying himself to run again, he was struck by the epiphaneia. Klinge fell to his knees, his ears ringing as if he’d taken a heavy blow to the head. There was a presence in the darkness ahead and he heard the soft crunch of footsteps in the drying grass. He drew the black blade. It made a curious sound, a sustained metallic whine.

  “The blade recognises its master,” said a gravelly, deep voice from the darkness.

  Klinge struggled to place the speaker. His head throbbed. He wiped his forehead on his sleeve and raised the sword. His palms were sweaty and he struggled with his grip. “Who are you? Show yourself!”

  A man appeared, wreathed in red flame. Klinge could make out the features of a face behind the flame but not enough to know him. The man drew a sword and the crimson flames leaped up its blade, hiding its attributes. “You know who I am,” he said as he approached, his footsteps scorching the grass in a trail of bright orange sparks. Klinge didn’t know if he should stand his ground, call for help or run as fast as his legs could carry him. “Acabar! How long have you been tracking us?”

  “I came for you and my sword, not to talk.” He raised his blade.

  Klinge’s stomach tightened. He spread his legs and raised the black blade to guard. At least he hoped he could acquit himself well enough to survive this encounter. Every sword that had come into contact with the black blade had broken. Klinge wasn’t a fighting man but he still had the advantage. Acabar came at him swift and hard, his blade flashing in fiery arcs. As Klinge blocked each stroke, the clash of steel rang in his ears. Acabar’s blade didn’t break and Klinge felt each blow jar his arm. He tried to counter-attack but Acabar was relentless. Retrea
ting, he was bemused by the flaming sword dancing in the darkness. He felt Acabar bind him in a hold and a sharp pain as the black blade was torn away from his hand. The tip of Acabar’s sword pierced Klinge’s chest with a sting worse than any burn he could remember. Backing away, he caught his boot on a rock and fell on his backside.

  “I’m not afraid of you,” he said, suddenly feeling shame at the weakness in his voice.

  “You should be!” said Acabar, as if he were sucking the words from the air.

  Klinge fumbled for his belt. He closed his hand around his knife, drew it and held it out in front of him. Acabar tossed his sword aside and retrieved the black blade; the whine now deepened to a soft hum. He approached Klinge and began to chant in an unknown language. The words sounded harsh and guttural. Klinge felt a pulling sensation throughout his body, as if Acabar had the power to turn him inside-out. He gripped his knife and plunged the short blade into the soft flesh under his jaw. There was a bright flash of pain and then blissful escape.

  * * *

  Acabar lowered his sword, stepped forward and pressed his fingers to Klinge’s neck. “Next time... Erfinder,” he said.

  ~ Chapter 21 ~

  Illyricum (Serbia under the Roman Empire)

  275 AD

  Xi blinked in the dawn light, stretched his shoulders and took a deep breath. Raven, Windsong and Tak sat around the rekindled campfire. Windsong was heating a pot of broth and thickening it with barley. He sat down, rubbed his eyes and allowed the savoury aroma to stimulate his appetite. “Where’s Klinge?” he said, yawning.

  “Asleep,” Windsong replied. “Perhaps you should wake him.”

  “Don’t blame me for his foul mood then,” said Xi, with a huff. “He was up late.” He trod to Klinge’s tent, pulled back the flap and let it fall closed again. “He’s not there,” he said, returning to the fire.

  “Where is he then?” said Raven.

  “I don’t know,” said Xi. “Maybe he needed to pass water, go for a walk, or find some eggs for breakfast. You know how excited he gets over boiled eggs.”

  Raven nodded. “Perhaps you could look for him?”

  Xi folded his arms. “You’re the one with the magic pendant.”

  Raven wrapped his hand over the pendant and closed his eyes. They snapped wide open again. “He’s gone...”

  “Where?” said Xi.

  Raven stood, pivoted in a half-circle and back again. He stretched out a finger to the north-west and broke into a run. Xi’s sleepiness was gone in a heartbeat. He leapt from his rock and ran after Raven. Not far behind, he heard Windsong and Tak’s footfalls. They ran for two hours. Raven was the fastest of the four and sped ahead. Xi saw him come to a stop and crouch with his head bowed. He caught up, breathing hard. Klinge lay in the long grass, pale as marble, staring at the sky. His dagger was buried in his throat, his tunic had been ripped open, and ‘Erfinder’ had been carved into his chest with the tip of a blade.

  Tak and Windsong arrived. She embraced Raven where he stood and he buried his face in her shoulder. Still catching his breath, Tak wrapped his hands around Klinge’s head, closed his eyes and arched his face skyward. Xi chewed his lip. He opened his mouth to speak but had nothing to say. After a moment, Tak opened his eyes. He placed one hand over his heart and gently closed Klinge’s eyelids with the other. He’s still with us, asleep in the Valley.

  Xi let out his breath, not realising he’d been holding it in. “Who has done this?”

  Raven raised his head to the sky, his face streaked with tears. “This is Acabar’s mark.”

  Xi felt a sudden burst of anger boil in his stomach. “Your plan isn’t working!”

  “I’m sorry,” said Raven.

  “Sorry isn’t good enough!”

  “This isn’t the time,” said Windsong, coming between them.

  Quiet, all of you! Look at this. Tak pointed to places where scorched footprints showed in the grass. Raven knelt down, traced one with his finger and smelled the ash. He shook his head. “This is a swordsman’s dance, the to and fro of his footwork during a duel. When I met Acabar, he was a man. I don’t understand what could have burned the grass.”

  “Let’s get Klinge back to camp and build a pyre. We need to take stock,” said Windsong.

  Xi stepped forward with his hand raised. “I’ll carry him.” He hoisted Klinge’s cold body over his shoulder and began the slow march back to camp.

  * * *

  The funeral pyre burned hot. Xi stood back to avoid singeing his skin. The flames crackled and roared and a column of smoke rose till it was out of sight. The smell of burning hair filled the air. Xi hated that smell. They waited till the pyre was smouldering embers.

  “The black sword is missing,” said Raven, ending the vigil. “Klinge had been asking me for it. He must have taken it. It must now be in Acabar’s hands.”

  “Oh, so this is Klinge’s fault?” said Xi. “You led us on this path.” He looked at Windsong and Tak. “Speak up! We’re all a part of this.”

  They stood motionless and silent.

  Xi shook his head and kicked the dirt where he stood.

  “This is unfortunate, however I believe we should carry on with the plan,” said Raven. “If Acabar is close, we can end this. Are you with me?”

  “No, you’ve had your turn at playing the leader,” said Xi. “Acabar is mocking us. I’m not taking orders from you any more. We need Phylasso and we need him now!” The wind rose and fell, howling briefly as it crossed the plains. “Let’s vote on it,” said Xi. “Who’s in favour of using Solomon’s pendant to wake Phylasso?” He raised his hand. “Obviously, I am.”

  Tak pursed his lips, sighed and raised his hand. Windsong shook her head. Xi turned to Raven.

  “It seems you have all the power. In the absence of Klinge, yours is the casting vote.”

  Raven locked his eyes on Xi, reached into his tunic, took the pendant from his neck and offered it up.

  Xi shook his head. “I thought you’d refuse.”

  Raven shrugged. “What would become of us if I did?”

  Xi took the pendant. It was surprisingly cold to the touch and he shivered. “I won’t keep it long,” he said.

  * * *

  Xi spent the day plucking up the courage to wear the pendant against his bare flesh. It remained as cold as Solomon’s mountain. He gazed at it and wondered what the Valley of the Shadow must be like if he found one of its pebbles unnerving. He screwed up his face and hung it next to his body, keeping one hand ready to rip it off again. He felt nothing beyond its icy presence. He stood up, drew his sword and practised a few swings. He felt the others watching him, so he sat down again, with his back to them and polished his shield. Klinge had made both. They were light, well-balanced and strong. He wondered when he would see Klinge again, how long he would sleep between lifetimes. Xi hoped Phylasso would be able to awaken Klinge immediately, as he had done with all the Khryseoi during the war.

  Night fell; they ate a meal and said little. Tak, Windsong and Raven retired to their tents. Xi sat by the fire, unable to sleep. A chill breeze stirred and he pulled his tunic close around his neck. He watched the moon, hanging in the sky and thought its face looked more scarred than usual. He fed the fire and hoped it would drive the wintry sting from the air. Raven’s tent flap rustled and he emerged.

  “I can’t sleep,” he said, sitting down. “I’ll keep watch.”

  “There’s no need,” said Xi. “The nightmares return as soon as I close my eyes, so it might as well be me.”

  “Acabar won’t attack us while we’re together. He would have done so already.”

  Xi nodded. “Yes, I suppose you’re right. Poor Klinge! What drove him to take the sword and run off into the night?”

  Raven warmed his hands near the fire. “I don’t know. Perhaps the same question that nags at us all: to know if there’s more to life than finding food and shelter, to know for certain what happens when we die. I saw his fear after we found the Indos Worm. We h
ave to make more effort to take care of one another.”

  Xi drew a sharp breath. “Look, Raven, about what was said between us earlier—”

  “There’s no need.”

  They watched the fire for a while. Raven added more wood. “Has your spirit maiden come to you yet?”

  “So you believe me now?”

  Raven twisted his beard between his thumb and forefinger. “I never doubted you. I’ve had more strange and wondrous experiences than I believed were possible in one lifetime, let alone many.”

  “She appears only when I’m alone,” said Xi.

  “Then we’d better find a suitable place for her to appear; not out here in the wild! We need a defensible position, especially as Acabar is close.”

  “Agreed! There are abandoned settlements to the north, plague villages. Most have been burned to the ground. We won’t be troubled there.”

  Raven nodded and extended his arm. “First light...?”

  Xi took Raven’s wrist and felt him grip his own.

  “Try to rest,” said Raven. “You’ll need it.”

  Xi left him by the fire, slid into his tent and fell into a dreamless sleep.

  * * *

  He woke to the gentle patter of rain on his tent. Lifting the dripping flap, he saw thick grey clouds. He dismantled his tent, rolled up the sodden canvas and tied it to his pack. With his head bowed, he set off, watching heavy raindrops gather on and fall from the edge of his hood. Xi looked at each of his companions and remembered the moment he had become Khryseoi; it felt as if he’d seen their souls for the first time. Raven walked ahead, as he always did, finding firm ground between the forming puddles. Every step seemed purposeful, as if he were marching to meet his destiny. Windsong followed close behind, using her staff as a walking stick. She looked so innocent, with her delicate frame seeming to need support. She had learnt to veil her true nature. Tak’s big boots squelched in the mud. He hadn’t raised his hood and smiled as the water ran down his face. Xi felt himself smile at the sight. Tak looked blissful, at peace with himself, a harmless mute. Yet he was also a mystery and deserved to be feared. Xi had seen Tak pull on his caesti, his iron filled boxing gloves, and knew him to be the match of any man with a sword. Xi fell back without losing sight of his companions as they strode on ahead. He felt the pendant against his chest, no longer cold. He heard a woman’s voice, whispering beyond the irregular beat of the rain.