Into the Shadows

by Linda K Hopkins

  Lark woke with a fright and gave a startled cry when she saw a face leaning over her.

  “Pip,” she hissed, “what are you doing?”

  “It’s almost dawn. I thought you wanted an early start. I’ve already been to the stables and had the horses saddled.”

  “Urgh!” Lark sat up, rubbing her eyes. “Fine. I just need a few minutes to get dressed. I’ll meet you downstairs.”

  As Pip left the room she rose from her bed and sleepily began to pull on the clothes that Neta had taken out the night before. The pants were much tighter than she remembered, and the buttons across the bodice strained, gaping across her chest. She grimaced at herself in the mirror, but it was too late to find another outfit, and she doubted that there was even anything suitable to wear. Her calf length boots fitted well, however, with their soft leather, dainty buckles, and two-inch heels. Sitting down at her table, she pulled the brush through her hair and twisted it into a long braid that swung down her back. Her gaze fell on the small celeste earnings that Pip had given her, and she quickly pushed them through her ears, forgoing her other jewelry. Taking her cloak from a hook, she headed to the door. It would be warm later in the day, but for now she would need something to ward off the early morning chill.

  Leaving the room, she made her way down the passage. A guard stood waiting, and she let out a soft sigh; Neta clearly had decided that Lark should not be riding alone. She consoled herself with the fact that the commander remained unaware of her early morning excursion and gave the guard a brief nod. He fell in behind her as she headed down the stairs and made her way to the stables, where a young stable boy stood in the courtyard holding Beauty’s reins. The black jennet had been a gift to Lark when she turned sixteen, as was the chestnut palfrey that Pip held as he chatted to the groom. A third groom held a skittish stallion for the guard, who mounted as one accustomed to spending days in the saddle.

  Pip led the way out of the yard a few minutes later and turned onto the road that led into the city. The horses’ hooves rang loudly against the paving, breaking the morning silence. In the east, the sky was beginning to lighten, a mix of grays and pale pinks.

  “We’ll leave Lenora through the north gate,” Pip said as they reached the bridge that spanned the river. “I’m on good terms with the warden there, and he’ll not make a fuss at opening the gate early.”

  “I’ll take your word for it,” Lark said. Reds were starting to streak across the sky, the colors reflected in the placid waters of the Cambria. In early spring the river was a raging torrent, but at this time of the year it flowed lazily through the city, allowing the citizens of Lenora to play in its shallows. In the distance, the masts of ships stood in stark contrast to the soft light as they lay at anchor on the south side of the city.

  The guard brought up the rear in silence, although a quick glance over her shoulder showed Lark that beneath his helmet, his eyes were wide and alert. He wore leather armor over his chest, and a sword hung at his side. They had passed through the old city when he trotted up beside Lark.

  “How far are you planning to go, my lady?” he asked.

  “We will head out of the city for a little bit,” Lark said. “Allow the horses some free rein. It’s been such a long time since I’ve taken Beauty out.” She leaned forward and stroked her horse’s neck. She had forgotten how much enjoyment riding gave her and was looking forward to feeling the wind against her face. The guard frowned but remained silent as he fell back behind her.

  They reached the gate, where they brought the horses to a stop. Three inches thick and twenty feet high, it was topped with a row of sharp iron points, upon which sat the rotting heads of numerous Rhymer marauders. It was closed against intruders, and they waited as the warden stepped out, pulling up his braces. As Pip called out a greeting, he looked at the three riders then glanced at the lightening sky with a sigh. Rubbing his hand over his face, he pulled from his pocket a large key which he inserted into an equally large iron lock as Pip chatted amiably. The key turned with a grating sound, and the warden pulled open the enormous gate, leaning back with all his weight as it opened one inch at a time. Switching sides, he leaned in and slowly pushed the gate wide. Pip waited until the gate was half open before calling his thanks to the warden and heading through the gap and onto the road beyond. There were already people traveling towards the city despite the early hour, and the trio skirted around carts and pedestrians as they headed against the flow of travelers and vendors.

  A few miles past the gate Pip veered from the road onto a dirt track, wide enough to ride two abreast. It led through a wide-open field of long grass, dotted with small purple flowers and edged in the distance by trees. Loosening the reins as she followed the dirt track through the grass, Lark allowed her horse to pick up its pace. She heard the guard speeding up behind her, and she leaned down into the wind, urging Beauty to go faster as Pip kept pace beside her. Her braid slapped across her back and she congratulated herself on her foresight in forgoing the hat that Neta had encouraged her to wear. They slowed as they reached the woods, ducking beneath some low-hanging branches, and followed the path through the trees, turning north. A carpet of green and white covered the forest floor, while birds twittered in the thick canopy of leaves.

  “I think it’s safest if my lady heads back now,” the guard called out behind them.

  “I doubt we’ll run into danger here,” Lark replied. “We’ll continue to the river.”

  “The commander will not be pleased when he learns of this.”

  “You’re right, he will not,” Lark said. She saw relief cross the guard’s face and almost felt guilty for her next words. “However, we’ll keep going up to the Teesbeck.”

  “That far?” The guard looked aghast. “The commander –”

  “Is not here to be concerned,” Lark interrupted firmly. “There are three of us and we are perfectly safe.”

  “You could always go back and fetch some other guards,” Pip suggested helpfully. The guard gave him a narrowed look, then gestured for them to continue.

  The sun had risen fully now, and Lark was grateful for the trees which provided protection from the bright rays as they continued toward the river. The temperature dropped as they neared the water, and after a few more minutes the river came into view, tumbling over rocks that lay in its path. Lark drew Beauty to a halt and breathed in deeply, the smell of the river mingling with the rich scent of the earth. A kingfisher sat on a low branch overhanging the river, and she watched as it dived into the water, missing its quarry and coming up empty. Pip handed Lark and the guard some fruit and cheese that he had stowed in his saddle bag, and Lark accepted them gratefully; she had not realized how hungry she was until that moment.

  They continued along the banks of the river once they were done eating, and it was mid-morning when they reached the place where the Teesbeck joined the Cambria. Lark felt a pang of guilt when she thought of Neta, who would have expected her back hours ago, but she pushed the thought aside. She would deal with the handmaid’s annoyance upon her return, along with whatever reprimand the commander saw fit to give her, although she was not sure what he would be most angry about – that she and Pip had left the city, or that their doing so had necessitated the services of a guard. She looked over at the man riding a few feet behind her. She never paid much attention to the guards who were sent to watch over her – they rarely remained at the post for more than a few days, being constantly shifted in their duties so they did not become complacent. This man looked to be a few years older than her and would probably be relating the escapades of his troublesome charge to some family member at the end of the day.

  “What’s your name?” she asked.

  He looked startled but answered her readily. “Elan, my lady.”

  “Are you joined?”

  “Yes, my lady, just last year.”

  “Any children yet?”

  “A son. Just three weeks old. It’s why I am currently serving
the Palace Guard.”

  “You’re a Crimson Guard?” Pip asked.

  “I was. I hope to remain in the Palace Guard as long as I can.”

  “I’m sure your wife is happy to have you safely at home,” Lark said with a smile.

  “Indeed, especially with all the trouble up north.”

  “So instead of fighting the Rhymers, you have to protect an obstinate lady,” Pip said with a laugh.

  Elan grinned. “I wouldn’t have worded it quite like that, young lord, but yes.”

  “It’s for a good reason,” Lark said. “I’m going to collect herbs that will help Lady Finch.”

  “Help her, how?”

  “She gets terrible headaches. Madam Breena said this might help.”

  He frowned. “Could you not have sent someone to fetch them for you?”

  “That was my intention, but I was not having much success. When Pip suggested that I could do with an adventure, I decided that I agreed.”

  “I see. If you’d stated the purpose for your journey at the start, my lady, I would have been a more willing participant. I am quite happy to be of assistance.”

  “And incur the wrath of the commander?”

  Elan shrugged. “I clearly couldn’t stop you, anyway.”

  “It’s not too much further, and we’ll return directly. We should make it back in time for afternoon tea.”

  “Very well. What exactly are we looking for?”

  “A waterfall,” Pip said. “And I think I hear it.” Sure enough, when Lark listened, she could hear water tumbling over rocks. They rounded some trees, and the waterfall came into view.

  “Is this the place?” Elan asked.

  “Madam Breena said the herb grows behind a waterfall on the Teesbeck,” Lark explained, “so this must be it.”

  She pulled Beauty to a stop and slipped from the saddle, flinging her cloak over the horse’s back. “Look.” She pointed to stones that rose like a staircase beside the cascading water. “Those must lead behind the waterfall.”

  “I’ll go,” Elan said. “At least I can protect you from tumbling down the falls, even if I can’t get you to remain within the city!”

  “Be careful,” Lark said. “They don’t look very safe.”

  “I’ve dealt with worse, my lady,” Elan said, taking a knife from his saddle bag.

  “You’re going to need these,” Lark said, handing him a pair of gloves. One of the gardeners had carelessly left them lying around the previous day, and she had quickly claimed them for her errand. “Madam Breena said that the barbs are poisonous.”

  Elan eyed the gloves uneasily. “Poisonous?”

  “Are you nervous?” Pip teased. Elan shot him an annoyed look, and Pip grinned.

  “Just don’t let them touch your skin and you’ll be fine,” Lark said. “Pull the plants up by the roots.”

  Elan pulled on the gloves and tucked the knife into his belt before placing his foot on the first of the rocks. Using his hands to steady himself, he made his way up the boulders as Lark watched. She breathed a sigh of relief when he stepped onto the ledge and disappeared behind the wall of water. He re-emerged a few minutes later grasping a handful of plants by the roots. Cautiously, he picked his way back down the rocks, then turned and held up the plants. “All this way for these?” he asked. Lark had to agree that they did not look like much. She could only trust that Madam Breena knew what she was doing.

  She opened her mouth to reply, then froze when Elan’s gaze shifted to something past her shoulder. An expression she could not interpret crossed his face and he flung the plants to the ground and drew his sword. She spun around as the guard rushed past her, the speed of his movement making her hair flutter. A spray of blood flew through the air and she cried out as Elan stopped midstride and dropped to the ground, his sword slipping from his grasp and onto the forest floor. A blade, wider than a man’s hand, protruded through his back. She stared at the blade in disbelief, then watched as it was yanked out and Elan fell onto his side in the dirt. The fall knocked his helmet from his head, and she could see the blood dribbling from the corner of his lips as his eyes stared unseeing at the trees around them.

  I don’t know the name of his son, she thought as she stared at Elan’s lifeless body. Behind her, Pip cried her name, and she slowly raised her eyes, then drew in a shocked breath that froze in her lungs as she stared at the visage before her.

  Chapter 7

  Death. That was the only thought in Lark’s mind as the creature holding the bloody sword leaped through the air, weapon outstretched. A large, scaly hand held the massive weapon and she stared at it dully, before suddenly being shoved to the side and falling to the ground. Metal rang against metal, and she looked up to see Pip, his sword straining against the attacker’s. The attacker made a move, too fast for her to see, and Pip dropped his sword with a cry as blood began to pour from a gash in his arm.

  “Pip!” Lark cried, ignoring the creature as he sank to the ground. She pulled his head against her chest and turned to look at their attacker. Cat-like eyes stared down at her coldly from a gray scaly face.

  “Why?” she demanded.

  “You’re Cambrian,” he said. “I need no other reassson.” There was a slow, sibilant quality to his voice, and a forked tongue flicked between a pair of fangs, white against his dark gray lips.

  “You’d kill us for no other reason?”

  His eyes roved over her, taking in her gaping bodice, before meeting her gaze. “I need none.” When Pip raised his head he lifted the sword again.

  “Wait,” Pip gasped. “Our father is Commander Stormchaser.”

  The sword hovered in the air for a moment before the creature let out a strange, hissing laugh and allowed the sword to fall to his side. “Valor’sss descendantsss right here, like lambsss to the slaughter! My mistressss will be pleased!”

  “You think you can get away?” Lark asked coldly. “You’ll be hunted down and killed like the animal you are.”

  “Do you know how many Cambriansss have tried to kill me? And yet here I stand, with you at the end of my sword.”

  “You’re a Shadow Warrior,” Pip gasped.

  He turned his yellow gaze to Pip. “Isss that what we’re called?”

  “You’re not supposed to be so close to Lenora!”

  “Your commander hasss no idea where we are unlessss we choose to show him. If he knew the extent of our reach, he’d be even more terrified than he currently isss.” He lifted his sword again.

  “Wait!” Lark pushed Pip from her lap and rose to face the creature. “He’s just a boy. Let him go.”

  “Let him go?” he hissed. “Why would I do that?”

  “Because his death will be of no value to you. Mine, on the other hand, will.”

  “Lark!” Pip gasped, but the creature ignored him as he cocked his head and studied her.

  “You want to negotiate for the life of your brother? Why?”

  “His life means something to me. And my death will mean something to you.”

  “I fail to see why your death would mean anything to me.”

  “I am the commander’s only daughter, so he will be more distraught by my death.” It was a lie she hoped Pip would overlook. “I am also the future queen of Valoria.”

  “A queen isss worthless. If you were to be king, that might be a different matter.”

  “You will be striking a blow against the future king.”

  “Because he lovesss you so dearly?” he sneered. His gaze dropped to the cuffs on her wrists, and she ignored the sudden itch it caused. “And how would saving the boy benefit me?”

  “He can report back to the commander and the prince what happened to me. Just think how they will feel, knowing you have struck such a close blow.”

  The Shadow Warrior cocked his head for a moment, then gave a slow nod. “Very well. I accept your termsss.”

  “No, Lark! You can’t do this,” Pip cried, stumbling
to his feet as the creature lifted its sword.

  “Not in front of him,” Lark pleaded, turning to Pip and grabbing him by the arms. “There’s no point in us both dying,” she whispered, “and I have nothing to live for. You do!”

  “You have lots to live for,” he gulped.

  “A useless queen, shackled to Val for the rest of my days? That’s no life, Pip. Now go, please. I’m begging you. Before he changes his mind!” She pulled herself free and stepped back. “Go!”

  “No!” Pip shouted. He wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her shoulder. “I can’t leave you to die.”

  “You must,” she said.

  A scaled hand fell roughly on Pip’s shoulder and pulled him away. “Go, boy!” the creature said, and Lark felt a fleeting moment of gratitude. He pushed Pip towards the trees, causing him to stumble wildly as he stared at Lark.

  “Go,” she urged, and after one more moment of hesitation, he turned and fled. The horses were long gone, and she watched as he lurched through the trees, fighting back tears as he disappeared from sight. Her arm was roughly grabbed, and the creature spun her around, then reaching for her skirt, tore off a strip of fabric. She gasped and stumbled back, but he grabbed her by the wrists and yanked them together. He stared down at the cuffs for a moment, then turned her wrists with his clawed hands and studied the invisible seam, sealed with magic. The cuffs hummed at his touch, and her eyes flew to his face. He lifted his head and flicked his forked tongue, tasting the air as he watched her, his fangs gleaming whitely.

  “You’ve been well and truly claimed,” he said sardonically as he wrapped the strips of fabric around her wrists below the cuffs.

  “Why don’t you just get it over and done with?” she asked bitterly.

  “Not here. Your blood will taint the water.” He tightened the knot, leaving a length of the fabric strip trailing to the ground. Her cloak lay in a heap on the ground where it had fallen off Beauty as she fled; he scooped it up and threw it at her, and she caught it awkwardly. Slinging his sword into the sheath across his back, the creature took the end of makeshift rope and began walking, heading away from the water and into the forest, jerking the rope and forcing Lark to follow him. She glanced down at Elan, her chest tightening at the sight of his lifeless body. Dragging away her gaze, she lifted her eyes to her executioner. He wore a pair of trousers, and thick, heavy boots, but his torso was bare of clothing. A ridge of spikes ran from his shoulders down his arms, ending in clawed hands. His back and arms were covered in the same scaly gray skin as his face. Strange black markings twisted across his back and around to his front, but she could not make them out between the myriad of weapons that were slung around him. In addition to the broadsword across his back, he also had a bow and arrows, an axe at his side, a collection of small, metal discs, and numerous daggers in his belt.