Shadow Dancer

by Macie Cage

  Ellen’s form flickered and became almost transparent. “Be sure you aren’t followed,” was all she said before she disappeared.

  Evander looked around, throwing his hands in the air with frustration when she was nowhere to be found.

  “So, to the coast?” Caiden asked slowly.

  Evander turned to look at him, finding that while he was the one suggesting it, Caiden looked more queasy than anything else at the idea.

  Evander chuckled and held out his hand. “That way, right?” he asked, pointing.

  “Yep.”

  --†--

  By the time they arrived at the mountainous, coastal villa, both of them were exhausted. It hadn’t taken them long, a matter of hours rather than days, even with the multiple stops that they had to take to rest. However, it took its toll on their bodies. Caiden practically had to carry Evander to the door.

  “I thought… this place was… abandoned,” Evander slurred, resting his forehead against the back of Caiden’s shoulder. His head was pounding and his limbs were completely useless with fatigue.

  “I thought so too. Most of the royal palaces and villas were torn down or abandoned when my great grandfather took the throne. He deemed them ‘unnecessary excess’.”

  “Mm. Wasn’t that after several generations of rulers wanted their own palaces designed to their liking?”

  “That’s true, so I suppose he was right.” Caiden sighed and shifted, keeping Evander firmly on his back while he walked up to the main doors and pulled the bell string.

  It was quiet for a few minutes. Evander lifted his head and squinted up at the building. It was a simple yet beautiful structure nestled just in the mountains on the cliffside, with a clear view of the sea and the port city sprawled at its base. Large windows ensured constant sunlight during the day, but it was small with only two floors. The lower was typically used for entertaining guests and the upper was for bedrooms, at least as far as Evander’s knowledge went. It was the same design as the villa where the Queen spent most of her time.

  Finally, a voice could be heard on the other side of the thick wood, bolts and chains clanking together as it was unlocked.

  “Ellen, for the love of all that is holy in this world, I told you not to go getting involved with—!” An older man in his upper sixties or early seventies opened the door and stared at them. He was tall, solidly built but lean. His hair, tied back in a low tail at his nape, was black streaked heavily with gray and his eyes were amber brown. Malik Vladimir glared at them. “Were you followed?”

  “Uh, I don’t think that’s possible,” Caiden said slowly as he let Evander down.

  “Good. Then, however you got here, do the same to get back to wherever you came from. I am not getting involved.”

  They both stared as the man slammed the door and relocked it. Then they heard the chains rattle again and the door swung open with seemingly no one attending it.

  “Ignore him. Come inside before you freeze.” Ellen’s voice was a soft whisper though she was nowhere to be seen.

  “Um, thanks?” Caiden stepped inside, having to support most of Evander’s weight. The door closed, and the chains and bolts were struck home by invisible hands.

  “I don’t think I will ever get used to that,” Caiden muttered airily.

  The entry of the house was beautifully crafted. The mahogany staircase that wound upwards from the side, leading to the upper balcony, was carved with painstaking detail. Straight back were the kitchens and the room to the right seemed to be some sort of drawing room, judging by the desk. To the left was a large dining room. Evander couldn’t see the interior very well; the only light was coming from a few candles in the entryway, kitchen, and the archway that led to the room farther down on the right.

  Voices could be heard from that room and both men shared a questioning glance before moving towards it.

  “Malik, who was that? You know we rarely get visitors!”

  “Your Highness, it was no one of importance. I’ve already sent them away.”

  “Preposterous! Rude! Malik, you should know better. I’m bored, damn you!”

  “Stop throwing a tantrum before you throw out your back again!” Malik’s voice snapped.

  Evander and Caiden both paused to peek around the corner of the archway, seeing that whatever the room had been before, it was now converted into a bedroom. A large fire was roaring in the fireplace, a bed had been set up to the side, and tapestries, rugs, and furs were spread over the floors and walls to retain the heat. A pair of cushioned chairs sat in front of the fireplace, one of which held a frail old man, his hair thin and gray.

  Malik stood behind the other chair, clearly at ease bantering with the man. Evander found himself staring at the scene. It was such a simple thing, so natural. Malik leaned against the chair, smiling at the elderly man, patiently listening to his griping. Then Caiden stepped out and Evander could see the training kick in as Malik turned to assess the ‘threat’.

  He frowned when he saw it was Caiden, and it was only then that Evander realized he’d activated his ability without thinking about it. He let go of the shadows that he’d gathered as he stepped out beside the Prince. “I thought I locked the door.”

  “You did.” Ellen’s voice was a clear challenge, daring him to refute her decision to let them in.

  The man rolled his eyes, “Did you get stuck again?” There was no reply and he sighed.

  The old King, on the other hand, was struggling to look around. “Malik, I thought you said we didn’t have guests?”

  “They’ve decided to invite themselves in. Well?” He glared at them and gestured for them to come forward. “Introduce yourselves to your host.”

  “Malik, stop being rude. I almost forgot you used to run my court.”

  “Apologies, Your Highness. However, I dislike intruders.”

  “Nonsense, they are guests now. Is that wee little Caiden I see?” The old man laughed and beckoned the Prince forward. “My, you’ve grown, I haven’t seen you since you were only to my knee. You look just like your father.”

  Caiden swallowed, and Evander could see the sudden strain on the man. He realized he hadn’t talked much about Caiden’s family since the day he woke up. Caiden had been mourning silently and alone, or perhaps he hadn’t come to terms with it at all.

  Malik watched the exchange with unhidden suspicion as Caiden came within the old man’s reach. Wrinkled hands welcomed him, and Caiden smiled as the elder insisted on giving him a hug.

  “It must have been hard. It’s alright now. They won’t find you here.”

  Malik frowned. “Your Highness, what are you—?”

  “I’m old, Malik. I may be sick, but I’m not deaf. I heard the bells, just as you did.” The man sighed as Malik made a noise of frustration. “Really, I’m no child. You didn’t have to protect me from the news.”

  “I was going to tell you.”

  “I know. But now you owe me a boon.” The old man grinned, and Malik visibly recoiled from the idea.

  “What do you want?”

  “The key to the Music Room.”

  “Your Highness…”

  “It’s not just for my sake, Malik. I will return it when they leave, I promise.”

  Malik sighed and slowly pulled a chain from around his neck, a simple key glinting in the firelight. Instead of handing it to the old King, he held it out to Caiden. “Don’t let him get lost in there, and please be careful.” Caiden slowly took the key with a slight frown. “It’s the second door on the left upstairs.” Malik provided. “Oh, and since my darling wife decided to steal one, kindly return it to its shelf. It should be labeled.”

  Evander and Malik watched as Caiden looped the key around his neck and helped his grandfather out of the chair he’d been sitting in. Evander tilted his head as they came into view.

  The old man’s right leg was crippled. Not by any war injury, but his joints were stiff and swollen by illness. Rockjoint was not a kind disease by any means, and it
explained why a man who was no more than sixty-seven years of age would appear so much older.

  Evander stepped out of the way as they walked past, about to follow after them. A pointed look from Malik kept him still. They waited in silence until they heard the royalty reach the top of the stairs, the telltale sound of a door opening, and the voices becoming muffled as they entered the new room.

  “Do you have any idea the risk you’ve taken, bringing him here?” Malik growled.

  Evander stared at him, feeling his temper rise at the hostile tone. His head was pounding to the point he could barely see, his side was damp and cold where his blood had pasted his shirt to his skin, and he felt as though it was taking all of his effort just to keep standing. Even so, he straightened, looked the man dead in the eye, and with a cheery, off-handed tone, replied, “I’ll have you know that I was invited.”

  Malik stared at him for a moment before finally deflating, chuckling under his breath as he walked past him. “Gods, you really do take after me.”

  Evander blinked at the change of temperament, belatedly following him into the kitchen.

  “I will say I was surprised to hear you were chosen to be the heir’s counterpart. You were always such a small, skittish thing. When did your ability manifest? None of my reports were clear on that.” Malik began rifling through cabinets.

  “I was almost eleven,” Evander replied, watching a bowl, pestle, and bandages appear.

  Malik gave a low whistle. “Here I thought I was a late bloomer. Mine came when I was seven. So, what can you do, ‘Shadow Dancer’?” He was pulling out jars, quickly creating some sort of paste.

  “I’m sorry?”

  “I’m asking what you can do. I have reports —take off your shirt and take a seat— but every single one of them says the same thing. That you’ve been deemed useless, worthless to the Clan. Yet here you stand, still very much alive despite my dear apprentice’s best efforts.” The man snorted his contempt as he finished his concoction and turned towards him.

  Evander had followed his order, sitting on a nearby stool. He watched him curiously as he examined the wound, still ranting.

  “That narcissism of his was always his downfall. Unfortunately, he was always a quick study. He always completed what he said he would and was never proven wrong.”

  Evander winced as the paste was slathered on the cut. “Who was your contact?” he asked, though he already had a sneaking suspicion.

  “Soul Swap.” he replied, eyeing the wound, “How did you get this cut?”

  “That would explain her fallout with Ansom if she was keeping in contact with you. We ran into Ansom’s elites, his favorites. One was an overconfident idiot.”

  “He had poison on his blade then.” There was a note of concern in his voice and it made him relax.

  “If I’m still not feeling it then it’s a type that I’m immune to.”

  Malik hummed as he wrapped the bandage around his waist. “There. Wash the gunk off tomorrow and let it scab over. It’s not deep so you shouldn’t have any problems once it’s no longer open.” He began washing out his supplies and putting them away. “You never answered my question. What can you do?”

  “Nothing much. I just manipulate shadows. I can… teleport between them.” He shrugged, rubbing at his face.

  Malik examined him with a critical eye. “Come with me.”

  It was a command and Evander willingly followed the man to what he thought was a drawing room. Much like the room next to it, it had been converted into a bedroom though it was much more simplistic. Malik walked over to the fireplace and threw a few logs in, starting a flame with practiced ease.

  “Sleep. I refuse to test you when you’re practically falling over.” He left without another word and Evander sat heavily on the bed. He knew he was safe, but that didn’t stop the paranoia. Even so, he was exhausted and his body moved sluggishly as he crawled into the blankets.

  Nine

  Month of the Maiden 17, 421 HE

  Evander woke in a daze. Sunlight and salt air drifted through the broad windows, the sound of waves and sea birds a gentle call. There was warm and steady breathing against his back, something he had grown accustomed to after spending so long sharing a space with Caiden.

  The Prince didn’t wake when he moved, and he was sure to keep the blanket over the man so the cold wouldn’t get to him.

  The house was quiet. He silently padded barefoot to the kitchen and slowly unwound the bandage. He took his time cleaning the wound, doing his best to wash off the worst of the grime from his skin. He hadn’t realized the condition they were in. Fighting, rolling about in the dirt, running; they had to be filthy.

  “Let that air out.”

  Evander jumped, his dagger in his hand before he realized that it was Malik who’d entered the room. The man was looking around the suddenly dark kitchen with a sense of curiosity, and Evander sighed as he released his ability.

  “Sorry,” he muttered, returning to his task of patting his skin dry.

  “Nothing to be sorry for.” Malik hummed, stirring up the kitchen fire and placing a kettle over the flames. He began pulling out the tools and ingredients he needed to make breakfast. “There is a new shirt for you in that room. I was surprised to find you awake. The injured should rest.”

  “There’s no such thing as rest in our work,” Evander replied. “Besides, I’ve always been a light sleeper.”

  “Another fault of Ansom’s. He sleeps sparingly, especially if he is focused on something.”

  Evander looked over at the man, storing the information. “How are we supposed to beat him?” he asked quietly.

  “Well, first I’d like to see what you can do. Follow me.” Malik set down the eggs in his hand and gestured for him to follow.

  Evander did as he was asked, ducking into the room he’d borrowed to grab the shirt and pull it over his head. Malik was broader than he was, but it was a close enough fit. He then wandered into what he had originally thought was a dining room.

  It was possibly the largest room in the building but, save for weapon racks and a few other pieces of equipment, it was completely empty. He instinctively caught the practice dagger that was thrown at him.

  “What is this?” Evander asked cautiously as he came to stand in front of the older man.

  “A test. I want to see what you can do.” Malik wielded his own pair of daggers, though his had a sharper curve than the ones given to Evander.

  “You want me to fight you?” Evander asked incredulously.

  Malik smirked and gave a single nod. “I can’t tell you how to defeat someone of Ansom’s caliber without knowing how you fight.”

  Evander sighed, settling into a fighting stance, letting his feet roam. Malik mirrored him. It quickly became apparent that Malik was not going to make the first move but just as Evander was about to launch into the offensive, Malik darted forward.

  Only, the man weaved like a snake, able to throw his weight against a step so his body moved one way while his momentum carried him in the other. Evander saw where he would strike only a moment before it happened.

  He braced against the blow, hardly having time to absorb the impact before he had to force himself to block the second dagger that came close to catching his side. The man may have been over twice his age, but he was still strong and just as fast.

  They remained locked each trying to figure out how to disengage without provoking a follow-up attack. Finally, Evander activated his ability, pushed until Malik’s back was to the windows and his shadow fell upon him, and let it absorb him.

  He put himself a few paces away from the man but kept the shadows that he’d pulled. Malik grinned, coming at him again, so Evander began to dance. Wrapped in darkness, he easily evaded the man but couldn’t quite land a hit.

  Something was wrong. It was a sudden chill down his spine and the whisper of motion that bade him to move.

  Evander twisted, barely avoiding a stab to the back, as Ellen joined the fight. Her
blows came from thin air as she remained invisible with her ability active. Between her and Malik, he was finding himself pushed to the limit just trying to avoid the blows.

  He had to rely on the speed of his reactions, his ability to twist and manipulate his body to avoid getting hit. It was reaching the point where he could barely keep track of them, split second decisions and instinct serving him better than thinking.

  Finally, he allowed one of the unseen blows to fall and grabbed for the wielder. Ellen flickered into view, her face a mask of surprise as he practically threw her into Malik. He made use of the distraction, sinking into a shadow and rising just to the side of Malik where his shadow had been splintered off by the lighting.

  He was met by a hard smack of the wooden dagger hitting his head. He sat, rubbing the spot and staring up at the pair. Malik didn’t say anything, only offering a hand.

  “Sorry.” Evander looked towards Ellen who was examining and flexing her wrist.

  “Oh, this is nothing, dear. Actually, I’m impressed you thought to do that.”

  “Tell me,” Malik drew his attention again, “why did you choose to come up there?” He gestured to the spot Evander had appeared from.

  Evander frowned. “Because it would be too obvious if I came up directly behind you.”

  “I know.” Malik gave him a patient smile, waiting for him to understand.

  Then it clicked. The knife that sailed over his head, the one that was only a few inches off, the order to ostracize him. Ansom had ordered that. Why? Why would Impeccable Aim miss? Why would there be an order to kill him?

  The answer was simple. Because if he used his ability, Ansom wouldn't be able to hit him.

  “Ansom’s ability doesn’t track a target. It only hits where he specifies.” He looked to Malik for confirmation and the man nodded.

  “And Ansom’s greatest talent has always been predicting his enemy’s movements. I knew you were going to be beside me because you think too much. Because you know that I know better. Ansom thinks the same way.”

  Ellen’s form began to waver again. “He’s telling you to go with your instincts,” she clarified before disappearing.