Shadow Countess: A Fantasy Adventure Romance

by M D Baker

  With the battle concluded, my attention was immediately drawn to the moans of pain coming from our injured. While a cloak was draped over the single man we’d lost during the fighting, I inspected the wounds of another soldier lying propped against a nearby tree. A deep gash ran down the side of her torso, spilling a steady stream of blood upon the forest floor. She’d soon succumb to the injury without my aid, but as I knelt on the cool ground, I wondered if I had enough energy left to save her.

  I nearly faltered as I cast Heal, but not from the draw of energy. Somehow, during the heat of combat, I’d finally mastered Lady Korrine’s first lesson and knew exactly how much of the precious resource I had left. The battle had been brutal but short, and even after casting so many spells, my reserves were nearly full. As the magic knitted together the soldier’s ragged wound, I realized that the days I’d spent practicing in the library hadn’t been quite as wasted as I’d feared. The rapid-fire use of so much power provided me with the insight that the subtle draining of energy failed to reveal. While I’d grasped the concept, I’d needed to draw more heavily on myself before the distinctions finally became clear.

  My sense of joy was overshadowed by more pressing matters, however. While only one soldier had been killed, many others had been injured and were in need of my attention. Those who could be brought to me were carried across the small battlefield as I hurried to tend to those who’d been more grievously wounded. Closely monitoring my own circumstances, I made sure to use only the barest amount of energy required to complete each healing, sparing myself from any further embarrassment while ensuring that all of our people were tended to.

  Once the last wounded soldier was healed, I dropped to the ground in exhaustion. The rush of battle had yielded to the overwhelming need to save lives for a time, but with both tasks at an end, I could no longer ignore the heavy toll of my efforts. Although I wasn’t in the same state as I’d been after healing Abby, there was no way I’d be moving again until after I’d rested for a while.

  Delaying for a moment, I paused to brush aside a stray lock of hair before looking over the bodies scattered across the small clearing. The dead certainly looked like the bandits they’d intended to portray, right down to the ragged clothes and patchwork armor, but I’d learned to look past such thin disguises. Beneath their shabby clothes, the fallen were clean-shaven and neatly groomed, almost to a fault. The precise lines of their campsite and willingness to die for whatever cause they’d fought for were not traits common to raiders and brigands—these were soldiers, not criminals. While that much was clear, there was a more important question left to be answered.

  Which side were they fighting for?

  Farren was the obvious answer, of course. Hating Cyndhar came almost as naturally as breathing to us, so it made perfect sense, but I’d learned that duplicity could never be easily dismissed. We were in no position to wage war, something our military understood clearly, even if the population remained ignorant of that fact. Cyndhar could very well be attacking its own people in hopes of stirring up enough resentment to take advantage of our weakness. A prisoner might have solved that particular riddle, but combat didn’t always provide such opportunities.

  My musings ended with Tayson’s tentative inquiry.

  “Are you well, Countess?”

  “Just tired.” I exhaled my frustrations in response, glancing up to find not only him but both Griff and sergeant Reynold watching over me while I’d been resting.

  “We’ll return home once you’ve recovered,” he pronounced, couching his statement as one of concern before leaving to help his people search the camp for any clues.

  The inspection found nothing, just as I’d suspected, and once everything had been looked over, we began the long journey back to the Keep. Sitting in the saddle with nothing else to do gave me time to reflect on my actions and the lives that I’d so willingly ended. It was possible—likely even—that those had been my own people I’d slaughtered, yet I couldn’t bring myself to care. It didn’t matter what side of the Stillwater they’d called home; after massacring innocent villagers, they deserved far worse than the paltry bit of justice I’d delivered.

  “You’ve earned those robes today.” Griff easily deciphered the meaning behind my prolonged silence. “Both during and after the fighting.”

  He followed up his comment with an innocent-sounding inquiry. “Where did you find them?”

  “Hanging in Valda’s closet.” I shrugged, hedging my answer in light of the soldiers surrounding us.

  “I’m surprised,” he grumbled in return. “I didn’t think she kept anything that belonged to your mother.”

  Willing myself to calmness, I returned Griff’s probing stare with a look of disinterest, as if I’d known all along whose garments I’d been wearing. Although he said nothing further, I caught the old Guard-Captain’s occasional glances, each of them giving away his suspicion over the half-truths I’d told.

  With enemies potentially all around me, there was no way I was going to relinquish a single secret to anyone. Not even him. As uncomfortable as the thought was, there was no one I could trust but myself. The moment we were within the safety of Blackwood Keep, I slid off my horse, passing the reins to Griff before he could object as I dashed upstairs to my rooms.

  Since leaving the battlefield, my mind had been plagued by incomplete thoughts and disjointed notions that I couldn’t quite fit into place. Images of death and destruction plagued me during the entire trip home as I tried to piece together the mystery behind our foe’s real purpose. Without understanding how I knew it to be true, I realized that I’d murdered my own people that day. The bandit mob we’d come across had been at least partially made up of soldiers from Farren, of that I was certain. The chilling thought that came to mind after that was even more startling.

  They hadn’t been alone.

  With magic often came a certain sense of insight; sorceress’ intuition, some had called it. Absorbing the energy of the world around us left our minds open to receiving its subtle messages. The currents could be difficult to unravel, and I had no way of proving what I knew to be true, but that took nothing away from my sudden epiphany: people within both Cyndhar and Farren were working together to provoke another war.

  Chapter 18

  Why anyone in Farren considered that a good idea was beyond me. Perhaps they thought to take advantage of the situation or stood to gain something from our inevitable defeat; whatever the reason was didn’t matter. Cyndhar might win the conflict, but it was a war that neither of us could afford to wage.

  Unfortunately, unless the raiders were stopped, war was exactly what we were going to get. Cyndhar had always teetered on the edge of famine, and only their conquest of the river delta held it at bay. The continued pillaging would cut deeply into that razor-thin margin, eventually forcing Cyndhar’s King to either act or watch his subjects slowly die of starvation. Of course, he could be part of the conspiracy…

  If that were the case, there wasn’t a damn thing I could do to stave off the conflict. Cyndhar would get its war and probably a great deal of Farren’s land, though neither realm would endure the calamity that followed for long. Farren would crumble in its weakened state, and even Cyndhar’s might wouldn’t be enough to protect its expanded borders. Raska and Hamar would pounce on both kingdoms, snatching up however much territory they could in the ensuing chaos. The outcome was so obvious that I wondered how any fool could’ve overlooked it, but then again, intelligence and authority seldom walked hand in hand.

  Knowing the truth left me more determined than ever to further unravel its mysteries, but without a prisoner to question, all I could do was wait for word of yet another attack. How many more would have to be slaughtered before the conspiracy was laid bare, and would I be allowed to survive long enough to see it exposed? Whoever was pulling the strings had to at least suspect we might uncover their plot and was certain to take steps to prevent its discovery. Would their response come in the form of a knife
in the dark, or perhaps a dash of poison once again? All I could do was wait and hope that I’d be ready when they finally chose to act.

  Well, maybe that wasn’t the only thing I could do.

  I still had two more potent lessons to learn from my mother’s spell journal, either of which might be enough to spare my life. Following her path, I moved on to exploring her methods of increasing my magical reserves. I knew the amount of energy I already held was uncommon, a trait I’d inherited from Lady Korrine. Adding to that would make me one of the most powerful sorceresses alive. Yet it was her final riddle, the one she’d left unsolved, that was most intriguing.

  Valda taught me that weaving together different forms of magic was inherently dangerous—the combinations were unstable, at best. Nothing could be done with the incompatible energies, and the prior efforts to blend them had all ended in catastrophic failures. Although the potential was obvious, and its temptation had drawn many over the years, few had survived the attempt. Lady Korrine’s scribbled notes left an intriguing trail of breadcrumbs to follow, however, hinting at some secret she’d discovered. From what she’d written, it was obvious that her efforts had met with some initial success, and I was determined to perfect my mother’s experiment.

  But it seemed clear that the path that led to her revelation was one that needed to be closely followed, so I set aside the notion of delving into spell weaving in favor of unshackling myself from the limits of my magical reserves. The magic I already had at my disposal was deadly enough, and considering the odds stacked against me, the greater threat by far was running out of energy before my supply of enemies was exhausted.

  According to my mother’s journal, this was a matter of inner discovery, just like understanding how to measure the depths of my reserves had been. While that might have been the case for her, recalling how that had actually occurred for me led to a different conclusion. We might’ve shared some similar traits, but my method of learning was clearly very different from hers, so I began casting spells as quickly as possible while focusing on my magical energy.

  Most of my advanced magic came from the spellbook Valda had given me, but that was dominated by combat magic. Unleashing those forces within the confines of my room would be a bit more destructive than was necessary, leaving me with fewer options than I might’ve had elsewhere. Still, casting Seal on all the doors, lighting each and every candle with Spark, and repeatedly raising and lowering my defenses with Shield created tremendous fluctuations in my energy, allowing me to truly observe its ebb and flow for the first time.

  Although there were no sudden breakthroughs, after a few hours, the experience left me with a much better understanding of my reserves. The previously vague sense of the power I held slowly yielded to a much more refined understanding, allowing me to measure myself with greater accuracy than before. Clearly, these lessons were not distinct; there was a great deal of overlap between the two disciplines. With each degree of mastery I gained over one, I’d see some increase in the other. At least I thought I would once I unlocked the secret of expanding my magical pool.

  The small bit of progress I’d made was enough for one day—I had my fill of conspiracies and mystical conundrums. But spellwork was second nature to me, and I found myself absently juggling a pair of small wooden carvings with Push even as I laid down and rested my head against the soft pillow.

  Knowing my boundaries meant I no longer needed to cast useless magic in fear of burning out, yet I realized that if I ceased the practice, someone would eventually take notice. Despite my revelation, I’d have to continue wasting energy in order to keep up appearances or risk drawing unwanted attention from the very same forces that were trying to plunge our two kingdoms into a senseless war. It was a wasteful inconvenience, but one I could easily manage, and a far better option than risking an assassin’s blade. Casting Push or some other minor spell in the presence of watchful eyes should be enough to maintain the illusion, covering up my discoveries for however long might be necessary.

  After breakfast the next morning, I wandered down to the library once more, surprised to not find Griff waiting outside my door. My need for privacy outweighed any concerns over safety, however, so I looked upon his absence as a stroke of good fortune.

  I’d read through my mother’s notes so many times that I no longer needed to constantly refer back to the pages of her journal, but I could only hide away in seclusion for so long. Once I’d taken some time to do a little research, I’d have to make an appearance, perhaps turning the obligation into something else by checking up on Abby and her newborn baby.

  The library was even more susceptible to damage than the chambers above, so I cast my spells with great care, using Push to repeatedly yank books from the shelves while keeping my defenses in place at all times. A night of contemplation had only made me feel the ominous threats looming over me more keenly, and I dared not lower my Shield for even a single moment. It wasn’t a step I would’ve taken the day before, but with the knowledge I’d gained, I knew the effort wouldn’t leave me starved for energy. In fact, I was drawing more from my surroundings than the spell’s upkeep required.

  The repetition of training left me bored out of my mind, so I wound up venturing outside onto the Keep’s grounds long before noon. Retracing the path Reynold had led me on, I managed to find Abby’s home mostly on my own. My soft knock on the worn wooden door was quickly answered by the nursemaid who’d been holding Abby’s infant while I’d tended her, and the woman greeted me with a warm smile of recognition as she invited me inside.

  “How are they?” I inquired as we crossed the small space leading to the bedroom in the back of the home.

  “Thanks to you, mother and daughter are fine, my Lady,” she replied, opening the door for me.

  Both appeared to be sleeping peacefully; just a hint of pink skin peeked out from the bundle of swaddled blankets resting comfortably in the crook of Abby’s elbow as she lay propped against a pile of pillows at her back. I turned to leave them to their rest, something Abby would likely see little of during the days and weeks that followed, but she stirred before I could depart.

  “Is that you, Mara?” she called out groggily.

  “Hello, Abby,” I replied, easing myself onto the edge of the bed beside her. “I won’t stay long. I only wanted to make sure you were well.”

  “I should hurt.” She glanced at me with half-lidded eyes. “But I don’t feel any pain. I’m just so… tired all the time.”

  “It’s the healing magic,” I explained, brushing aside a few wayward strands of hair from her face. “Not all the energy came from me; you had to do your part as well. It shouldn’t last much longer than another day or so.”

  Her eyes focused in recognition as I spoke. Although she’d called me by name, it was only then that Abby finally realized who she was talking to.

  “My Lady, umm, Countess?” she fumbled as she tried to blink away the sleepiness.

  “Mara will do for now,” I reassured her with a smile.

  She was clearly flustered by my casual manner. “Forgive me. When we spoke the other day, I had no idea you were the sorceress or that you’d been raised to such a high station.”

  “The clothes are nicer,” I replied, waving off her concern. “But it’s still me wearing them.”

  “Can I see her?” I prompted when Abby didn’t respond.

  “Of course.” She beamed, angling her body to let me peer at the sleeping baby in her arms. Her tiny face stuck out amid the blankets, perfectly angelic as she slept in her mother’s comforting embrace.

  “Her name is Inath,” Abby informed me, still grinning broadly.

  My heart skipped several beats when her little hand latched on to one of Abby’s fingers, the gesture recalling the slaughter I’d witnessed the day before. A sense of dread and foreboding fell over me when I couldn’t tear my eyes from Inath’s hand and the uncomfortable image of her charred body buried beneath a pile of ashes. The omen left me badly shaken, and I bid A
bby a hasty farewell, making up an excuse about some appointment I needed to keep.

  The future was constantly in motion, and the currents of magic were no fortunetellers, but I couldn’t shake the disquieting thoughts as I fled inside the refuge of the fortress. What I’d seen was no prediction set in stone, but it was one of the more likely possibilities should events continue on their current course. Being forced to bear witness to the slaughter of one innocent child was more than I could bear. No one was going to murder Inath while I still had a breath left to draw.

  Chapter 19

  I ran myself ragged over the following days, endlessly seeking to learn the secrets of my mother’s hidden knowledge. Tantalizing hints of it came and went, urging me onward until I finally had to admit that it wasn’t going to be quite as simple as I’d thought. It was a process, not a revelation, and my single-minded efforts hadn’t been hurrying it along. In fact, they might’ve been hampering things.

  Between hiding away in my chambers and spending endless hours in the library, I hadn’t seen anyone save Griff and Rianne the entire time. While he stood guard outside, I tried to engage the young woman in conversation, but a sense of caution had come over her, and she was reluctant to exchange anything beyond a few bland pleasantries.