A Threat of Shadows

by JA Andrews

  Alaric’s attention was caught by a movement of the stick in her hand. What had been nothing more than a sliver of wood swelled to the size of a nut. Ayda’s hands still rolled it unconsciously between her fingers as it lengthened into a thin stick. The stick sprouted branches with tiny green buds.

  “They saved me from being consumed by Mallon’s darkness. I should be grateful.” Ayda’s features hardened. She squeezed the small tree, now clearly a maple, in her fist. “But they left me alone, and yet I’m never actually alone. I carry the weight of them always, every day, no matter where I am.” Her voice rose. “I can’t speak to them, but I also can’t get away from their presence.”

  The little maple tree burst into flames.

  She looked back at Alaric. Her eyes were dark with anguish. “So yes, when this is done, I will sleep. What was my life ended eight years ago.”

  Alaric pulled Beast away a step, looking at her warily. Catching sight of the burning tree, Ayda snorted in irritation and tossed it aside. As it fell, the flames solidified, just like the flame on Alaric’s necklace, and a perfect model of a burning tree fell to the ground. She didn’t even look back as the spot of orange disappeared behind them on the road.

  “There is too much power…” she said. “Too much for one body. It flows out too quickly. It trickles out when I don’t know it. This… person, this… thing that I have become is not a good thing. No one should be able to flatten hills or level a city on a whim.”

  “Like Mallon?” Alaric asked.

  Ayda nodded. “And so I am still with you, and not sleeping yet.” Her face grew pensive again. “I wasn’t there when they began to fight him.”

  Alaric nodded, remembering her racing to the glen. “Would you have made a difference?”

  “No. I was no stronger than the others. Weaker than many. I would have died like the rest. But my people sacrificed our whole race to try to destroy his power. I cannot stop before I have tried to do the same.”

  Ayda fell back into silence. Everything about her made sense now. The effortless way she performed magic, the tortured limbs and faces when she was changing back from a tree. And the fact that she was now part of this group, truly part of it, because she wanted to defeat Mallon. At least that was a goal that Alaric could trust. As long as he was trying to destroy Mallon, Ayda would be with him.

  They rode on next to each other in silence. Alaric mulled over her memory for a long time. Will was right. Ayda did have darkness within her. Whatever blackness Mallon had attacked the glen with, a piece of it was inside her. If it weren’t for the power of the elves, she surely would have been destroyed.

  The only question now was what that darkness had been doing for the last eight years.

  The Scale Mountains drew closer as the day went on, their barren slopes rising like jagged teeth. The lower foothills were carpeted with dark green pines, but the taller slopes were bare rock.

  The western road ran up against the foothills of the Scales before intersecting a narrow dirt track that ran north and south along the edge of the range. They turned south and Douglon took the lead, walking off the road along the base of the slope, looking closely at every nick in the mountains. He stopped them several times while he explored small paths they came across, but came back each time shaking his head.

  “Faster, dwarf,” Ayda chided him. “I thought you’d been here before.”

  “I came from the mountains north of here last time, not from the east like this,” Douglon said, glowering at her. “I only passed this way on the way out, and it was quite dark. But these hills are wrong. These were carved by a glacier. Kordan’s valley was behind a mountain that jutted up from the west.”

  Alaric looked down the range of foothills that ran along the road. They looked like mountains, not carved mountains or jutted mountains, just mountains. But it wasn’t much later when the dwarf gave a satisfied grunt and pulled over next to a barely visible path that ran through the trees toward the roots of the mountains.

  Brandson gave a hoot and clapped Douglon on the shoulder as he rode into it.

  The ground from the lowlands next to them ran smoothly up the front of the next hill. Down the ravine Douglon pointed at, Alaric could see the rocky backside did look like it had been thrust up out of the ground. Jutted fit after all.

  Brandson called out that the trail had disappeared.

  “How sure are you?” Alaric asked.

  “As sure as I am that I’m a better woodsman than the blacksmith,” Douglon said, grinning.

  The trees grew close together, and the path wound into a narrow gap between two hills. The floor of the valley was dotted with large rocks and the thin path wandered slowly through them.

  A small knot of anxiety formed in Alaric’s chest as they drew closer to Kordan’s valley. Kordan had walked down paths similar to Alaric’s and had left the Keepers to begin a life here. What sorts of things had he created? Had Kordan built something better than the Stronghold?

  A shout rang out from beside the path, and a man lunged at Brandson. Milly screamed as the smith was knocked off his horse, with his attacker landing on top of him.

  Two more men attacked Douglon, one leaping off a large boulder to knock him from his horse.

  Douglon shoved him off, then slid to the ground, loosing his axe. The men before him crouched down, spreading out and leveling swords at the dwarf. Their clothes were worn, and they had the wild look of brigands. Douglon swung his axe smoothly before him, keeping the men at bay.

  Alaric reached toward the man who was straddling Brandson, choking the smith.

  “Dormio,” Alaric directed the burst of energy toward him. The man fell limp and collapsed on Brandson.

  Swearing, the blacksmith shoved the body off him. He stood up, pointing his knife at the man.

  “He’s asleep,” Alaric called out, sliding down off of Beast.

  Brandson ran back toward Douglon. The dwarf had knocked the sword out of one man’s hand and was facing the other. The weaponless man grabbed at Douglon from behind until Brandson ran up and pulled him off. The smith pinned the man’s arms behind him, easily overpowering the thin brigand. Brandson pulled out his knife and thumped the man on the head, knocking him out.

  Ayda had stopped up ahead on the path, watching a campsite. More men were tumbling out of the camp and rushing toward them. Alaric ran up next to her, lifting his hand to help. Ayda ignored him, smiling slightly and flicking her fingers at the bandits.

  One man yanked to a stop when tiny roots shot out of the ground and wrapped around his feet. Another stumbled to his knees, blinked foolishly at them, then stood and wandered off into the trees. A third stopped, spun around, and started to grab at his companions, calling for them to stop fighting.

  Ayda giggled, and Alaric let his arms fall as he watched her take care of them, one after another.

  There was a howl and a thud, and they turned to find that Douglon had knocked out the last man who had attacked him and was turning, axe raised, to survey the area. The area had quieted, the bandits escaping off into the forest. Brandson went to help Milly dismount from her horse. Douglon glanced around, then walked back toward Alaric and Ayda, surveying the trees.

  Brandson joined them, looking into the clearing and giving them all a grin. “Here’s a group of bandits who won’t be bothering anyone for a wh—”

  Douglon shouted and lunged forward, shoving Alaric out of the way and back against a boulder. The dwarf dove in front of Ayda.

  Brandson pointed up a tree, shouted a warning, and threw his knife up into the branches.

  There was a soft umphing noise, and Douglon staggered. He spun slowly around, and Alaric felt his stomach drop as he saw the fletching of an arrow sticking through the dwarf’s beard.

  There was a series of crashes, and a body dropped lifelessly out of a nearby tree, Brandson’s knife in his chest. The bandit’s bow fell after him.

  Ayda stood and stared at Douglon. The dwarf stumbled a step toward her then sank to h
is knees.

  “Douglon!” Brandson yelled, rushing to grab the dwarf’s shoulders and lay him gingerly on the ground.

  Alaric knelt closer to look. The arrow was sitting in the center of the dwarf’s chest. It quivered with each beat of the dwarf’s heart.

  Milly squeezed her lips together and held Douglon’s hand. Brandson knelt next to her, alternately reaching a hand forward, then pulling it back.

  Alaric’s mind raced. He had to stop the bleeding, had to do something. He reached out, gathering energy from the forest around him. He felt it build in him, pressing against him like a flood.

  Douglon’s breath came in gasps, his skin was frighteningly white. With every breath, the arrow shuddered. Milly began to cry.

  There was so much blood. Too much blood. Douglon was losing more life than Alaric could replace. If he tried, if he began, the dwarf would pull too much energy through him. More than Alaric could handle. And once the magic burned Alaric out, once the energy drained all the life out of himself and into the dwarf, Douglon would probably still die.

  Alaric’s mind spun helplessly. There was nothing to be done.

  Douglon looked down at the arrow and let out a ragged breath. It ended in a gurgle.

  Chapter 40

  Alaric sank back on his heels.

  Douglon looked at him, and his head jerked forward in a quick nod. The dwarf knew it was pointless. Milly held Douglon’s hand with tears streaming down her face.

  Ayda shoved Alaric out of the way. “Why did you do that?” she demanded of Douglon.

  “Ayda!” Milly said aghast.

  Douglon tried to scowl, but coughed, and his face crumpled in pain.

  Ayda glared at him. “I didn’t ask you to do that.”

  The pool of dark blood seeped into the ground beneath Douglon. The arrow moved less with each breath.

  “Ayda, there isn’t much time,” Milly whispered.

  Ayda waved away Milly’s words impatiently. “Why?” she demanded again.

  “Why?” Douglon’s voice came out in a gasp. “Because you weren’t paying attention.” A spasm of coughing wracked his body. “You are never paying attention,” he whispered.

  Ayda stared at him uncomprehendingly. “But why did you do it?”

  Douglon groaned. “Any of us would have.”

  She glared at the rest of them. “That’s not true.”

  “Of course we would, Ayda,” Brandson said.

  “I would want to,” Milly said. “I’m not sure I would be brave enough.”

  Ayda spun to look at Alaric.

  “But you wouldn’t,” she said to Alaric. “You have… a lot of things to do.”

  Ayda was genuinely confused. The anger was back in her eyes, and she was leaning toward Alaric with the look that said if he didn’t answer her soon, she was going to step into his mind and rip out the answer.

  “I think any of us would try to save each other, Ayda,” Alaric said, stepping back.

  “Ayda,” Milly said, watching Douglon’s face grow pale, “I think the time is almost up.”

  Ayda dropped to her knees and leaned close to Douglon. She was so slight next to him. A sliver of bright copper next to the stocky dwarf. She reached out and turned his face toward her, her hand small and pale against his red beard. “But why?”

  Douglon looked at her directly. “I would die for you a hundred times without regret.”

  She drew back slightly and her eyes widened. Milly and Brandson froze. Alaric felt suddenly intrusive, but he couldn’t bear to move back, couldn’t look away. Douglon lifted a hand toward her, but it fell back to the earth.

  “But I didn’t ask you to,” she said helplessly.

  Douglon rolled his eyes. “Never mind, I regret even doing it once.”

  “It might be time to thank him,” Milly said softly as Douglon’s eyes began to close.

  Ayda shot Milly an annoyed look. “Stop it, Milly,” she snapped. “He’s not going to die.” With that she reached forward and yanked the arrow from Douglon’s chest.

  Douglon’s body lurched up off the ground, and a cry ripped out of him.

  Alaric’s whole body clenched. Brandson cried out and Milly fell back. Ayda ignored them all and pushed her hand against the dwarf’s chest. She looked off into the distance for a moment, then lifted her hand. Looking distastefully at the blood on her palm, she wiped it on Douglon’s shirt, then stood and stalked away.

  From the ground, Alaric heard a cough. Milly scrambled back to Douglon’s side.

  Douglon coughed again, then struggled to sit up. He pushed his beard over and pulled apart the hole in his shirt from the arrow. The shirt was soaked with blood, but the skin beneath it was whole. A jagged scar sat in the center of his chest.

  “What is wrong with that elf?” Douglon demanded.

  “Douglon?” Milly asked, reaching timidly for his shoulder. “Are you… okay?”

  Douglon took a deep breath. It sounded clear. The color had returned to his face. “I’m fine,” he said, staring after Ayda.

  Alaric shook his head. The ground where Douglon had lay was saturated with blood. There was no way the dwarf should be alive. What had Ayda done?

  Douglon was glaring after the elf. He began to swear colorfully, then added in a few dwarfish terms, some of which Alaric didn’t understand.

  Milly still had her hand on Douglon’s shoulder. “She saved your life,” she pointed out.

  “She let me lie on the ground bleeding and then tore an arrow out of my chest!” Douglon shuddered. “Do you have any idea what that felt like?”

  “Well, n-no,” Milly said. “But she did save your life.”

  Douglon let out a growl and continued to glare after Ayda.

  The bandit Alaric had put to sleep began to stir.

  Douglon turned his scowl toward the bandits’ camp. “Why are there bandits this low in the mountains? They never come this low.”

  Alaric knelt down next to the bandit “What’s your name. What are you doing here?”

  The man blinked up at Alaric and grabbed for his sword lying nearby. Brandson kicked it away and stood beside Alaric, glaring down at the man.

  “Name’s Elrich, sir,” the bandit said, shrinking away from them. “And we’re here because we ain’t got no other choice. We had a village of sorts farther up th’ hills. But the nomads have been creepin’ closer and closer. Simmon went scoutin’, and he says there was thousands of them. They were filling all the valleys below the Pass, with more arriving every day. ‘Twasn’t a safe place for us to stay, you understand.”

  “And you’re very concerned with safety,” Douglon growled.

  “Oh yes. We always tries to eat healthy and keep a double watch on the camp at night,” he said earnestly to Douglon. “You never know what dangers are out there.” Elrich’s gaze flicked to the sky.

  Douglon just stared at the man.

  Alaric glanced up to the sky, too. “Elrich, are there dangers in the sky?”

  Elrich chewed on his lip, then said quietly. “We saw a dragon.”

  “When?”

  Elrich looked surprised at being believed. “Couple hours ago. Well, I see’d it, but no one else did, and they din’t believe me.”

  “What time?”

  “A bit after lunch. I was tendin’ to the horses and glad I din’t have the job of hunting because the forest had grown quiet—unnat’rally quiet. The horses was all spooky-like, too. While I was brushing down my own dear brown mare, she got so skittish she almost kicked me! Been together three years, and almost kicked me while gettin’ her brushin’!

  “That’s when I sawed a flash of somethin’ in the sky.” He leaned forward conspiratorially. “Somethin’ red.”

  Alaric nodded. “A dragon.”

  “‘Twas, indeed, sir. I ain’t never seen a dragon before, but that’s what this was. Sure as my mama loves me, ‘twas a dragon.”

  “Did you see it again?”

  “No, sir, just for that moment, flying deeper into th
e mountains. But I reckon that’s why the woods was so quiet. Ain’t no creature done want to be near a dragon.”

  Alaric nodded. “Thank you, Elrich. You can sleep again,” and he raised his hand toward the man.

  “And Elrich,” Brandson said, looking down at the man. “When you wake up, it’s time to stop being a bandit. The next group you try to rob might not just put you to sleep.” Elrich shifted uncomfortably. “Go do something useful with your life.”

  Milly had walked up next to Brandson.

  “Like what?” Elrich asked. “I dunno anything but stealing.”

  Milly gave the man a disapproving look. “Then it’s long past time you learned something else.”

  Douglon heaved himself to his feet and rolled his shoulders, stretching out his chest. He stepped over to the top of Elrich’s head and scowled down at him. “Did you know dwarves patrol these hills? I’m going to let them know that you attacked me. Your group here is going to wake up one night just in time to see the axes fall.”

  Elrich paled and shrank away from the dwarf.

  “I think that’s enough,” Alaric said. He set his hand on Elrich’s forehead. “Dormio.”

  The bandit sank back asleep.

  “Let’s keep moving,” Alaric said. He looked at Douglon. “Are you okay to ride?”

  Douglon nodded, stretching again. “I feel fine. Better than fine, really. Whatever Ayda did, it worked,” he said, rubbing his chest.

  “Does anyone know where she is?” Milly asked.

  Alaric looked around but saw no sign of her.

  “She’s over there.” Douglon retrieved his axe from the ground and motioned to the trees. “She’s up in that big, strong oak.”

  Alaric’s eyebrow rose. “The big, strong one?”

  “I don’t see her,” Milly said.

  “Well, she’s there,” Douglon said. “The oak is all excited about it.”

  Milly and Brandson turned to Douglon, too.

  “It is?” Brandson asked.

  Douglon turned slowly to look at them, the color draining from his face. “Good Grayven’s Beard! What did that elf do to me?” He looked around at the forest, his eyes growing wilder. “I can feel them!” he whispered. “I can feel the trees!”