Song of Shadow

by Natalya Capello

  The cries of agony are replaced with shouts of triumph as the serpent makes its descent.

  With that last image, the Shadow took control.

  5

  The next morning, while the citizens of Nearon gathered for a special Mass given by the Apostle, Lorelei trekked with Vaana to the outskirts of Nearon where the city pooled over into Winderward.

  Most of the buildings were shoddy wooden shacks that looked like they would fall over with a strong enough wind. They had no doors, only scraps of cloth, old blankets, or even ship sails draped in front. A few people squatted outside the dwelling, watching as she and Vaana walked by. Vaana paid no attention to them. Lorelei kept her hand near the pommel of her new sword, just in case.

  Vaana had dressed in black leather pants and a tunic that came to mid-thigh and was slit up the sides to her waist. The backpack she wore sagged as if it was mostly empty. Strapped to her leg was a sheath that held a short, thin sword. She’d bought similar clothes for Lorelei, though Lorelei had opted for a leather skirt rather than the pants. Vaana had raised an eyebrow and shrugged, stating Lorelei would regret it once they entered the swamp. Maybe Vaana was right, but Lorelei found pants to be too confining. Vaana had given Lorelei her worn backpack full of supplies before leaving.

  As they passed by, an old hob female peered up at them with squinting eyes. Her generous mouth worked into a frown. “Ya’ll not going into that cursed city, are ya?”

  Vaana paused and glanced down at the hob with her nose wrinkled. “What business is it of yours?”

  “None, milady.” The hob shrank closer to the dwelling she sat against.

  Lorelei took a deep breath and stepped forward. “We are. We’re looking for the Menhir Du Moura. Is there any information you can give us?”

  The hob peered at her with wide eyes and opened her mouth in a toothless smile. “The Dark Lord has returned. He’s been wandering the Marsh. Ya should steer clear of him. And of the Mourner’s Hill. Something wicked is callin’ people there.”

  Lorelei raised an eyebrow. “What is the Dark Lord?”

  “He’s a dangerous thang,” the female said. “Some folk say he takes littles. Others say girls. Never saw him myself.”

  Lorelei glanced at Vaana. “You ever heard of the Dark Lord. Or Mourner’s Hill?”

  “Mourner’s Hill I have. Supposed to be a hill filled with graves. We shouldn’t have to pass through there. As for this Dark Lord.” She patted the pommel of her knife on her belt. “You shouldn’t worry too much. With this and the Empress on our side, we can deal with anything there.”

  “Thank you.” Lorelei pulled out a small loaf of bread from her backpack and handed it to the female. It wasn’t much, but it was what she could spare since she didn’t know how long she would be in Winderward.

  The hob’s smile reached her eyes as she tucked the bread into the layers of her clothing. “Blessings of the Empress upon you, milady.”

  “And you,” Lorelei said.

  Vaana gave a small hiss and stalked down the street. Lorelei rushed to catch up to her.

  “You could be nicer to people,” Lorelei said. “A little honey attracts flies.”

  “I don’t want to attract flies. They are pests,” Vaana said. “And you should be more careful of what you tell others. That could have been a trap.”

  Lorelei blinked. “Why would I need to keep where we are going a secret? I’m sure others have passed through here to visit the Menhir.”

  Vaana stopped at a crumbling wall and shot her a withering look. “These people probably know the best places to ambush and rob us. We don’t need to make it easier for them by telling them where we are going.”

  Lorelei crossed her arms and stared past the wall. There were no wooden shacks on the other side and the road all but disappeared, leaving only patches of cobblestone mixed in with mud and tufts of grass. A short distance away, copses of weeping willows stood among pools of murky water.

  “That’s it?” Lorelei asked, her stomach fluttering. “That’s the beginning of Winderward?”

  “Welcome to the Weeping Willow Marsh.” Vaana stepped through a large hole in the wall. “It’s a short trek through here to get to the Menhir.”

  “Let’s go then.” Lorelei surged forward, moving ahead of Vaana.

  As she passed through the tree line, the sounds of the city disappeared and the chirping of insects and frogs filled her ears. Walking became more difficult. Most of the ground was muddy, and they had to pick their way through the pools of water that surrounded the weeping willows. The trees drooped with long chains of leaves dripping from their black branches like a stream of tears. Moss draped across the wizened trunks. The air smelled strongly of lilies, which was strange because Lorelei hadn’t seen a lily at all.

  “So, out of curiosity.” Lorelei ducked under a branch and glanced back at Vaana. “Isn’t the Elemental Order about helping the downtrodden?”

  Vaana smirked. “You really don’t know much about it, do you?”

  “A little,” Lorelei said. “I know that the Miasma almost wiped out our entire race and the Empress was the one to save us. She was able to heal the afflicted and turn iron to emerald.”

  “That’s how the stories go,” Vaana said. “But the Empress is more than that. She was the reincarnation of the True Goddess. It is by her grace that we exist and we all must learn our place in her order. For some, their place is below others.”

  “That doesn’t mean they have to starve,” Lorelei said.

  “Oh, they don’t have to starve,” Vaana said. “They can go to any church and ask for aid. However, my place isn’t to stop and offer aid to every downtrodden person I come across.”

  “So, what is your place?”

  “We’re not that close for that personal of a question.” Vaana pushed past Lorelei and threaded through a dense set of trees.

  “Maybe. But you could at least tell me what Tradition you follow. Most priests aren’t secretive about that.” Lorelei hopped over a large root. “Are you with Fire, like Apostle Evangeline?”

  “No,” Vaana said. “I was assigned to the Apostle of Fire by the Voice of Wisdom.”

  “Really? Does that make you special? Like you’re from the Tradition of Aether?”

  “There are certain individuals who are talented enough to earn a place under the Voice of Wisdom.”

  “And you’re one of them?”

  Vaana stopped, panting, and scanned the swamp. “Like I said, you and I aren’t close enough for you to know my life story.”

  “This isn’t really a life story.” Lorelei leaned against a weeping willow, pulled a small waterskin from her bag, and took a drink of water. “So, whatever your duties are, they have to do with the Menhir? What are you looking to retrieve?”

  “You’ll have to see when we get there.” Vaana continued on, leaving Lorelei behind.

  Lorelei capped her water, returned it to her bag, and rushed forward to catch up to Vaana. Somewhere in the distance, a bird cried a mournful hymn, and a shiver wiggled down Lorelei’s spine. Something was off about the marsh. It appeared like many others, but something heavier than moisture hung in the air.

  Vaana kept her swift hike. She seemed determined to get to the Menhir as soon as possible. An ill feeling settled in the pit of her stomach. What did Vaana want with the Menhir. Lorelei had been caught up in her chance at gaining her freedom and what she would do beyond that, she never bothered to ask.

  “You know, you’re being really secretive about your goal at the Menhir,” Lorelei said when she caught up to Vaana. “What if you are the one to betray me?”

  “I suppose you have to ask yourself if it is worth the risk for your freedom.” Vaana pointed to a small hill rising up from the trees surrounding it.

  Lorelei let out a small gasp. At the top of the hill stood a group of standing stones.

  They’d arrived at the Menhir Du Moura.

  Lorelei panted as she reached the top of the hill.

  The ora
nges and pinks of the setting sun had faded to dark purple as the light began to wane from the world. Even in the gloom, the Menhir took Lorelei’s breath away. The circle of stones towered above her so that she would have to stand on someone’s shoulders just to touch the tops.

  She ran her hand along one of them, her fingers pressing into the intricate inscribing. It ran from the top down the bottom on all sides. In the center of the circle was a stone disk encased in the earth. Pictures along with words spiraled towards the center. The first picture depicted a female with her finger pointed in the direction she looked and energy beams extending from the back of her head. Before her, masses of creatures, their bodies twisted, cowered.

  “That has to be the Empress.” Lorelei kneeled for a closer look.

  The pictures spiraled on to a male and female facing off with each other. Something like lightning was depicted between the two. The female’s hair was carved with intricate flowers woven through it, and the male had a strong face with high cheekbones. The story continued as the two fought by the side of the Empress, and then together later on.

  “Moura and Essus.” Lorelei’s voice sounded like a sigh even to herself.

  How long had she known of this story? How long had she dreamed of a love like theirs? She thought she had found it in Arryn. What they had was supposed to last forever.

  Her heart squeezed tight until she had to stop and take a deep breath. Their parents had thought differently. Arryn’s had found a better match with her sister. After all, Freya was the eldest, while Lorelei was the mere second daughter.

  Vaana made her way up the hill, then leaned against a waist-high rock and crossed her arms as she caught her breath.

  She stared at Lorelei and gave a soft, silent laugh, just the exhalation of air. “Enjoying yourself?”

  Lorelei barely spared her a glance as she stood and made her way to another one of the tall stones. Her fingers ran over the embossment of Essus holding a dying Moura in his arms. She frowned in thought. Perhaps her love with Arryn was more like the legend than she wanted it to be. After all, Essus and Moura had been separated by his jealous wife.

  The cracking of branches shook her from her reverie. Vaana stood and pulled her sword. Lorelei was on her feet and over to the side of the hill in a moment. The marsh loomed below, its shadows growing heavy at the loss of the light.

  She unsheathed her own sword, gripping the pommel as she scanned the trees.

  Who knew what kind of monsters roamed this area at night? Wild creatures or even Fomorians. Lorelei shuddered at the thought of those twisted creatures, victims of the Miasma that had spread millennia ago. Whatever it was, she was prepared to face it. Her father had taught her the basics of defending herself until her mother had deemed it enough. They hadn’t known that Lorelei had snuck off to learn actual sword fighting alongside Arryn. It had been one of their many secrets.

  A smile came to Lorelei’s lips as she remembered lying back in the tall grass of the meadows that surrounded her town and planning to escape into a life of adventure with Arryn. They would take a ship and set sail for the Star Islands of the West, or perhaps for the deserts of the South.

  The rattle of rocks sounded from behind her. Lorelei spun around with a gasp, her sword raised. The figure shuffled forward, blocking the dying light, and Lorelei’s chest constricted.

  It loomed, standing nearly as tall as the stones themselves, dressed in a black flowing cloak with black clothing underneath. The oddest thing was the globe it possessed for a head. The thing seemed to glow with an eerie yellow light.

  Lorelei’s sword shook in her sweaty palm and she took a step backwards.

  Why was she so frightened? She was a Moura, and Mouras were fearless.

  A dark, stifling atmosphere emanated from the being, reaching out as if the aura itself wanted to strangle the life from Lorelei one gasp at a time. Whatever this thing was, it didn’t mean them any goodwill. It had come to devour their souls. Or they had tread upon its territory, and it had come to get rid of whoever had trespassed.

  They were going to have to fight the thing off.

  Vaana must have felt the same way. She nodded at the creature and pointed to her knife before crouching and disappearing behind the closest standing stone. Did she want Lorelei to attack it while she snuck behind it?

  Lorelei hoped that is what she meant. She stepped forward, taking a fighting stance with her sword pointed at the creature. The figure drew closer and stopped, as if seeing her for the first time. It turned her direction and the weight of its regard weighed upon Lorelei even though it had no real face.

  She felt rooted to the spot. She tried to make her legs move, for her body to attack it, but her feet wouldn’t obey her silent commands. She had to do something, anything.

  But what could she do? This creature was something greater than she and it was displeased at her presence. She could feel its ire washing over her like a dark flood. She swallowed hard, her dry throat contracting. Soon it would do away with her and she couldn’t even move.

  Sing, Lorelei, a voice whispered in her mind.

  She closed her eyes and sent her voice forth. At first, it trembled at the task of performing for such a fearsome audience, but it grew stronger with each passing word.

  “The shadow of the moon hides my sorrow. For the whisper of your name is a thousand voices.”

  She sang the song that had taken hold of her heart for months. She’d written it after she’d arrived at the Morningtide Priory, when all her feelings for Arryn had been swirling around in her mind.

  The figure stiffened and the sphere-like head tilted slightly. The pressure in Lorelei’s chest eased and a shiver ran down her spine.

  “The moon herself cries tears of silver since you have left my arms.” Her voice echoed off of the stones and filled the night.

  The figure raised its hands to the globe and it staggered back to rest against one of the great stones for the Menhir. Was that a ragged gasp she’d heard between her verses? The stones themselves gave off a soft blue glow.

  “The moon mourns our love in my place, for my heart now lies with you.”

  Lorelei let the song fade with the last verse. The stones continued to glow around her. She stood and placed a hand on the closest one. The light held a sparkle that danced around her fingertips.

  She stared at the figure, panting in a mixture of anxiety and exhilaration of the song. The being raised its glowing globe in her direction and she stiffened. The look wasn’t stifling this time. She let out a breath of relief and straightened up with her sword relaxed at her side.

  “Why have you come?” A strong male tenor echoed from the globe. It sounded muffled, like something blocked it.

  Was that a helmet?

  “I came to see the Menhir.” Lorelei kept her voice steady. The anxiety that had overtaken her was dissipating now. “Is this your territory?”

  The figure bobbed its sphere in a nod. “It is.”

  “Winderward doesn’t belong to anyone.” Vaana’s voice rang out from behind him. She stepped out of the darkness with her sword still drawn.

  “On the contrary, many stake claims of different areas in Winderward.” The figure leaned forward and removed the globe from his head, revealing a cascade of black hair and the face of a sidhe. “In this case, it is under the protection of House Essus. I am Lord Vandermere.”

  “Lady Lorelei ap Moura.” Lorelei nodded to Vaana. “This is Lady Vaana…”

  “Of the Elemental Order.” Vaana continued to watch him with narrowed eyes.

  “A pleasure to finally meet you,” Vandermere said.

  “Finally? How do you know me? And what just happened?” Lorelei pointed to the globe. “And what is that thing?”

  “I suppose it’s true that all of House Essus are mad.” He ambled up to the stones and inspected them with narrowed eyes. “Interesting.”

  “So, this was all your madness? And you still haven’t answered how you know me?” Lorelei snapped her finge
rs as she glanced around. “Wait, are you this Dark Lord the people of Nearon are talking about?”

  “Unfortunately. It’s a rumor that has come from my bouts of madness.” He let out a loud breath and held up the globe. “I’d hoped this might stave them off, but alas you found me in a poor state. As for knowing of you…well. House Essus are prophets as well.”

  Lorelei’s eyes widened. She’d heard the stories, but to be a part of some vision... A shiver raced down her spine. “You were here because you saw it?”

  “Our meeting? Not here exactly. As I said, this is my territory,” Vandermere said. “I’m tasked with watching over it until a certain time.”

  “What time?” Lorelei asked.

  He smiled and looked to Vaana, who was still walking around the stones, running her hands over the glowing carvings. With a soft groan, he sat on a rock, set the globe down, and rubbed the back of his neck. He closed his eyes.

  Lorelei sheathed her sword and turned back to the stones and bit her lip. “Do they do this often?”

  “What?”

  “Do the stones glow often? Is that a trick of the stones or Winderward?”

  He chuckled. “Oh, no. I believe that was your doing. Your singing.”

  “Great.” It had been a long time since her magic had done something unexpected. She’d sacrificed much to have it fixed. She didn’t need that kind of thing happening in Winderward.

  “You don’t sound happy about that,” Vanna said. “Surely, you had some training as a Lyrist at the Aimsir?”

  Lorelei averted her gaze. “Not enough.”

  “Pity, you have a natural talent. More than I’ve seen from even the most skilled bards.”

  Lorelei’s shoulders stiffened. “Does that mean you are going to arrest me as a heretic?”

  “Maybe. Are you consorting with spirits or Sluagh?”

  Lorelei snorted and shook her head.

  “Are you sure? It would explain your singing.”

  “No.”

  “Good. Then we have no problems,” Vaana said.

  She stepped in the middle of the stones to inspect the inscribed disc with a furrowed brow.