Shadow Borne

by Angie West

  "Ready?"

  No. "Yes." I gave a brief, terse nod and concentrated on remaining upright without swaying.

  Aranu backed up a pace and reclaimed the long, smooth stick he'd been using for most of our training session. I was fast beginning to hate that stick, even if it was extraordinarily beautiful. Exquisite blackened symbols had been carved into the ends of the five foot long weapon and the wood had been polished and lacquered until it shone like molten honey in the bright high-noon sun that spilled over the surrounding trees and into the clearing. The brilliant light caught the spun gold veins of the leaves in the forest around us and the woods looked glittery, alive.

  Breath. In. Out. Steady. The burn in my arms and legs and back began to ease into a dull, persistent ache and I lowered my body into a slight crouch, feet apart, arms going loose and limber. I was prepared, or at least, as ready as I was going to get. Bring it on, I thought, pulling energy from some hidden place deep within and locking my eyes on Aranu.

  His own stance shifted and instinctively I tensed, despite Aranu's previously repeated instructions to remain fluid and limber. A second later, he sprang into action, swinging wide and low this time, toward my legs, his face settling into a grim mask when I didn't quite manage to jump completely out of the way. The side of the weapon clipped my knee and I stumbled, but managed to stay on my feet this time.

  "You're freezing up, Ari, move, move!" Aranu growled, advancing on me and lifting his arm to strike again.

  I moved. Feigning right, I twisted my body left at the last second, avoiding the stick on the downswing this time.

  "Come on, Ari, you're a nymph–you can jump higher than that. Get up in the trees!" His voice lashed at me as he jabbed the stick forward, the polished wood coming precariously close to my midsection.

  The trees. He was right. I could jump much higher. I could swing across the trees so fast it was nearly flight. Why hadn't I thought of that before now? Oh well, it didn't matter, not really, because I was too sore and tired to get up into the trees that rimmed the meadow. Still, I couldn't help but glance longingly at the leafy green canopy. That was a mistake. The blow wasn't a glancing one this time, but a jarring impact on my left shoulder. With a broken, hoarse cry, I dropped to the ground, this time going down on one knee instead of sprawling flat.

  The stick thudded into the dirt. Out of the corner of one eye, I saw it bounce and then roll to land carelessly against a short, orange blossom laden bush. When he reached me, Aranu exhaled sharply before crouching to my level and lifting my head with one finger placed beneath my chin. His eyes searched my face and his fingers moved over my shoulder in a cool, light touch before he nodded and stood, pulling me up with him. Without a word, he lifted me carefully into his arms and carried me out of the meadow, heading west, toward camp.

  Training was over for the day. I winced, not even thinking of demanding that Aranu put me down. Well, at least I hadn't ended the day by falling on my ass. Progress...

  ***

  I woke to the sound of muffled laughter. Silence. And then the girlish giggles rang out again. My lips curved against the cool satiny sheets for a fleeting second before I pushed up on one elbow and tucked a hank of hair behind one ear. "Hi Ash, hi Sienna."

  "Good morning." Ashley whispered loudly. Sienna smiled.

  "It's okay girls, no need to whisper. I'm up."

  "You can go back to sleep, if you want to."

  The very thought made me groan. "I wish. Unfortunately," I yawned and sat the rest of the way up, "I've probably overslept as it is. You girls wouldn't happen to have the time?" Both children shook their heads.

  "Mama says you're going to the beach."

  "We are." I nodded, hoping they wouldn't decide to ask any questions about the trip to Coztal.

  "Can we go with?" Ashley asked, her small voice clearly hopeful.

  "No. I'm afraid not."

  "It's too dangerous for us, isn't it?" Sienna regarded me quietly, more somber than her sister.

  "Oh. Well. Uh..." I stammered. Where the hell was Claire?

  At that moment, Marta walked in and from downstairs came the faint ding of the oven timer. Her announcement of chocolate chip cookies was enough to persuade Ashley and Sienna to leave the room. Well, that and a stern look.

  “Thanks.” I yawned and stretched, falling back against the cool, smooth pillows.

  “Mhmm.” Marta grunted and plunked a basket of folded towels onto the dresser. “You're going to do something with your hair before you leave for the coast, I hope.”

  I turned my head toward the opposite wall, staring at the gray-blue expanse of sky outside the window until the urge to laugh had passed. Finally, I turned warm eyes on the older woman. She was always at her most prickly when she worried. And right now she was one step away from hostile.

  “Yes, I was just getting up to shower, actually.”

  Marta nodded and left the basket where it was, headed for the door. She paused at the threshold. “You be careful, you hear me?” Her voice was harsh and she didn't turn around, just stood there clutching the door frame.

  “I will.” I said, softly.

  She nodded once and was gone.

  The polished wooded floor was smooth and cold as I swung out of bed and padded across the room to the window. It was impossible not to notice the glass was so much cleaner than my window panes at home, another clear sign Marta was nervous about everyone leaving today. She worried endlessly over her flock; despite her often times gruff exterior I knew this trip was taking a heavy toll on her and we hadn’t even left yet. But we would. Soon. I twitched the curtain aside and stared out into the day. On the lawn below, men were already beginning to gather. Rain clouds threatened but were still far off in the distance. It was entirely possible we would have mild sunshine all the way to Coztal. "One could hope, anyway." I sighed, letting the cornflower blue curtain fall back into place. It was time to get ready.

  I took a shower and even lingered for a minute or two under the hot spray. It was an action that was totally out of character but impossible to resist. The clean heat of the water was far too tempting and it was doubtful there would be another opportunity for a shower–a hot shower–until our mission was completed.

  So I rested my palms flat against the roughly textured white stone tile of the shower wall and let my head fall forward, let the water sluice through my freshly washed hair and over my back. A knock at the door shattered the moment of peaceful solitude.

  "Ari? We're supposed to be ready to leave in ten." Claire called through the solid wood of the bathroom door.

  Ten? I straightened and immediately twisted the shower knobs, cutting off the water. Had I heard her correctly? Ten minutes?

  "Come in." I called, hurriedly snagging a clean towel from the rack beside the sink and wrapping it loosely around myself.

  "Sorry." She stuck her head into the room before opening the door the rest of the way and stepping into the bathroom, waving a hand to clear the heavy steam from the room. "I didn't want to interrupt, but Mark just told me we're all leaving now so..." she shrugged.

  "Something's wrong." I guessed, striding past her into the bedroom. Cool air rushed over my bare skin and I shivered a little as I tossed the towel aside and began to dress.

  "Of course. Why wouldn't something be going wrong on this damned day? The children are downstairs crying, Tara's turning the living room into some sort of winter wonderland gone wrong in an effort to calm them, and Marta's mixed enough chocolate chip cookie dough to give us all diabetes three times over. And by us," Claire enunciated, tugging a brush through my wet hair before she began to hastily braid the wet locks, "I mean the entire army of Terlain. I warn you, Aries, it's not a pretty sight down there." She tied a black elastic band around the end of the tightly woven braid just as I snapped the top clasp on my snug tan canvas pants and tied the strings on the dark brown leather top.

  "Did he say why we're leaving right now?" I asked, strapping a sheathed knife to my left thigh. Cl
aire tossed me the heavy black canvas backpack that I'd–thankfully–prepared the night before. She shook her head.

  "He didn't stay long enough to explain. But I can tell something is very wrong."

  I nodded, laced and buckled my boots, and then we were headed down the stairs.

  Ashley and Sienna had quieted to intermittent hiccupping sobs, the smell of burnt chocolate filled the air, and Christmas lights had been strung haphazardly from every surface and corner. In the midst of the chaos stood Tara, looking like a wide–eyed, perverted sugarplum fairy in a short red dress and red hat with a white tassel at the top.

  "The girls and I are working on a Christmas play." she announced brightly. "You're all going to be so impressed when you come back from your trip." Tara's voice shook a little, and I shot a sympathetic look in her direction. It was obvious she was trying hard to distract the distraught little girls.

  "A play? Truly?" I forced a grin and hoped it looked natural enough to be convincing. Tears had gathered in the corners of Claire's eyes, but she blinked the moisture away before it could fall. My heart clenched painfully as I watched her sink to one knee and open both arms to her young daughters.

  "I'll be back before you know it." she murmured, squeezing Ashley and Sienna close before releasing them and climbing unsteadily to her feet. "And when Daddy and aunt Aries and I come back, we expect to see a wonderful Christmas play." she added with a tremulous smile.

  ***

  The sun was well overhead by the time we gathered at the edge of Bob and Marta's property a few minutes later. It was already hours past midday, and Mark stood at the head of the large group, which wasn't unusual. What was puzzling was the haggard expression on his face. It was there in the tight set of his jaw and his over-bright eyes.

  "Mark?" I shot a look at Claire before taking a tentative step toward Mark. "What's going on?"

  His green eyes cut to my own wary gaze and I glimpsed something that made my blood run cold. It was fear. Mark was afraid. No, the emotions I saw on his face went so much deeper than fear–for one brief second, an expression of sheer and utter despair arced across his taut features. And then it was gone. Just like that, Mark's face became a blank mask devoid of any and all emotion. The dread I had been feeling congealed into a tight, hard knot that settled in the pit of my stomach.

  From the corner of my eye, I saw Mike come around the side of the house and stride across the lawn toward us. I noticed, but quickly returned my complete attention to Mark. This was it. Something was going to happen and soon. The expression on his face couldn't have been any clearer if he had shouted it from the rooftops–we were going into battle. Not later, not two weeks from now, but right now. The distant, elusive 'later' had finally come–it was here.

  "Mark." I demanded hoarsely. Claire stepped up beside me and I could feel the faint tremor that coursed through her body.

  "They're coming." he said. "Just after midnight, spotters reported a large group of Coatyl beginning to form and organize at the northern edge of Lerna. Two hours ago, they began to move. They're headed our way."

  "How many?"

  "Over three hundred, at last count."

  The staggering total wrung a startled gasp from Claire. My hands clenched into fists at my sides. "Any sign of Kahn or the shadow man?"

  "No." Mark answered. The word was understandably clipped, tense. We were in trouble, and that was putting it mildly.

  "The fences?" I was petrified to even voice the question.

  "The fences are holding–for now." His tone was grim.

  Claire and I were still processing our dismal situation when the unthinkable happened. In the instant Mike had reached our sides, one of the soldiers, a young man who looked to be barely out of his teens, broke through the trees at the edge of the property, running hard. He made a beeline for us and even from faraway I could see the panic in his wide brown eyes. And then he stood before us and uttered the one thing guaranteed to strike cold fear into all of us.

  "The fences are wavering. They're fading." he gasped, out of breath.

  "Let's go." The words had barely left my mouth before I was off and running, a mad dash through the trees that would lead us to the border, to the fence line–and probably to disaster.

  There was no need to stop and check to see if the others were behind me, even though Mark was the only one who was able to keep pace with me; I could have gone much faster; I could have flown and cut my time in half but I didn't want to leave the rest of our small group in the dust, so to speak. And so I paced myself, which wasn't such a difficult task because as much as I knew we needed to get to the border–and fast–there was a part of me, however small, that was in no hurry to get there.

  Mostly because I knew bad news waited for us in that ever decreasing distance. The fences would fail this time. Exactly how I knew this, I couldn't say, but I felt it with one hundred percent, blood chilling certainty. It didn't matter that last night the protective spell on the fences had bounced back and remained intact. This time–right now–we would not be so lucky.

  I did the best I could to prepare myself for what we would find in a matter of minutes. I took slow, deep, even breaths and my gaze remained fixed firmly ahead. There was a job to be done and people were depending on me; this is what I chose to focus on. The duty, the responsibility–not the fear. And oh there was fear…fear and dread and a whole myriad of emotions lived and breathed and preyed in the darkest corners of my heart.

  I felt them there, in the way my pulse beat rhythmically, almost painfully, against my rib cage. It was the one thing I couldn't control.

  But fear was crippling and so logic dictated there would be plenty of time for that later and, if there wasn't, then really, not having the opportunity to freak out and be terrified wasn't any great loss. Besides, there was always that bit about people depending on me.

  As I dashed through the woods with Mark on my heels and Claire and Mike several paces behind but still following at a fast clip, I thought of all the people who depended on me and who were counting on me–people like Ashley and Sienna and the children of my village, the nymphs, the people who lived under the dome–thinking of them, and the people back home, piled on some added pressure but at the same time it helped me to stay focused on the task at hand–handling the situation with the fence.

  I didn't like to think of it that way, as something that had to be handled, but it was true. Things were about to go horribly, irrevocably wrong. And so it came as no surprise when the four of us burst into the clearing to find the shimmering fence flickering crazily, madly in the gathering shadows of twilight. No.

  Hundreds of warriors were already gathered around, grimly watching the scene unfold.

  I didn't blame them. I had no clue how to stop what I was pretty sure we all knew was inevitable. Mark came skidding to stop next to me. Claire and Mike cleared the tree line only seconds later; both were gasping for breath.

  "Oh, no." Claire clutched at the heavy strap of my pack. "We've got to do something."

  Mark was shaking his head before I had a chance to answer. "There's nothing to be done, Claire, not now."

  "No!" she cried, wide-eyed. "There must be something–this is not–" her hands curled into fists. "This is not happening. Damn it, we have to do something." Claire's shrill, panicked command broke through the numb shock and with a start I realized she was right. I darted to the fence and gripped the wooden top rung with both hands, pressing hard and trying to lend some of my own strength to the flickering, fading light. Beside me, Claire did the same.

  "What are we doing?" she asked without loosening her white knuckle grip on the fence.

  I watched thin tendrils of wispy light and sparkles weave around our fingers, becoming slower and weaker with each passing second.

  "I don't know. But this worked last night. I thought…"

  "Well, it's not working now."

  "I can see that." I forced the words through my teeth.

  The energy pulsed and vibrated
beneath our fingertips and we held on tighter. A giant flashing light exploded into the twilight sky–one final, desperate outburst, and then everything faded to black. The light was gone. Finished.

  I turned to see Mark next to Claire and me; for a moment he looked up and I could completely understand the stark desperation that was clearly etched on his features. Because we were desperate and there was no end in sight, except our own.

  "Oh God, no." Claire raised horrified eyes to mine, and abruptly released the now plain looking fence. "This is bad, Ari." she whispered, her troubled gaze darting to the ominously silent forest beyond the useless fence.

  "Bad." I nodded, swallowed. "That's one way of putting it."

  But it was about to get much, much worse. The whole lot of us stood there for long moments, sprites and warriors and nymphs alike, until a young, slim soldier–a Scout–dashed out of those woods and jumped the fence.

  "They're coming." the girl shouted. "Lots of them. Hundreds of them."

  "Where?" Mark demanded.

  "About ten miles back."

  Her words incited a flurry of action around us, most of which was chaotic and totally counterproductive. Ten miles. I exchanged a desperate look with Mark. Neither of us had to say we were screwed. We were all well-aware of how fast the Coatyl were capable of moving. Mike and Bob's studies of the creature I'd killed had even suggested the potential for increased speed in the mutated ones. Could we fight them? All of them?

  My heartbeat was a dull, deep ache in my chest as I spun in a slow circle; all around me, arguments were breaking out. It hurt. Oh how it hurt to think of the thousands of people back in the town and the small outlying areas, the men, women and children who were counting on us to protect them from Khan and horrors like the Coatyl.