Nobody responded.
“When King Varren sees what you are doing—”
Another needle bit into Lluava’s neck. A low growl escaped her. She heard footsteps as several different people quickly moved away from her. The door slammed shut and was locked.
Byron’s voice warned her, “Do not move, Lluava. Do not move at all. I will return with Varren. We will settle this.”
Then Lluava was left alone.
Noises arose from the far side of her chamber. Should she investigate? From the worried tone of Byron’s voice, she was to stand absolutely still. But why? What was making the noise? What was that…?
Random images swam in a colorless scene. Slowly they took shape and definition, then color exploded back into place. Her sight had returned! And, oh, she wished it hadn’t.
Lluava was locked not in a chamber but in a cell fashioned for a villain. The space was of moderate size, yet the fearsome fact was that the far wall was not a wall at all; the fourth side was open. Bars were unnecessary. The edge of the floor ended in a sheer drop from a cliff’s edge. Her cell was part of an enormous mountain cavern.
Creeping toward the edge, she craned her head to look at the vast, dark space. There was no opening except for what appeared to be air shafts high above. Scattered about the cavern walls at various levels were darker areas that indicated other openings. Were these also cells, like hers? All were vacant, as far as she could tell.
Light from sconces twinkled like fireflies; narrow troughs with burning oil illuminated other areas. Without their light, the entire space would be thrust into blackness. It was so dimly lit that even she had trouble seeing as much as she would have liked. Once more, she was thankful not to be human.
Near the edge, Lluava dropped to the floor on her stomach, stretched her head over the uneven ledge, and looked down. Although she could not tell how far it was to the ground, it was clearly far enough that she would not survive a fall.
The area below teemed with people, all dressed in shades of black. Lluava squinted to discern details. Most appeared to wear the garb of the Obsidian Guard, but a few pale heads were maskless and hoodless. How many were there? Hundreds? Thousands? And all in black.
With a start, Lluava realized where she had been taken. She was the first Theriomorph in history to be permitted into Erebos, the City of Shadows.
Chapter 3
Six Questions
Lluava would never leave Erebos. She realized that immediately. The Obsidian Guard would not permit a Theriomorph to leave who was even vaguely aware of their lair. But did that mean she would die?
Observing the ground so far below her, Lluava suddenly felt queasy. She pushed away from the ledge, rolled onto her back, and stared at the rocky ceiling above the massive hollow.
What did she know of this place? Any facts? No. Only hearsay, whispered suspicions. Little was known about the king’s personal guardians—where they grew up, where they trained, or who deemed them ready to watch over the king.
Their sole duty was to protect Elysia’s ruler. Founded during the Landon Wars, the Obsidian Guard had kept its secrets well. All that was known was that they lurked in dark spaces, listening, watching, constantly on alert for an attack. They were allowed no distractions—they never married, never fathered children. They were elite assassins, feared by all.
From time to time, over the years, there came a Call for Human Infants. Although females were seldom selected, every child under a certain age was tested by the Guard. The chosen children were brought to Erebos. In return, their families were bestowed with certain honors and compensation.
As Theriomorphs, Lluava and her siblings were not affected by the calls. Lluava’s mother, Maessa, was secretly grateful that her children were safe from this forcible removal. Or had been until the draft.
There had been only one call during Lluava’s memory. She had been young, and what she now remembered was extremely hazy. No one from her small town of Rivendale had been selected, so everyone went on with their lives as they always had.
Lluava had almost forgotten the tales told by human children who had seen the black-cloaked phantoms. The Obsidian Guard had seemed little more than myth until she accompanied Varren to the capital in the fall. Would she live out her life as a prisoner of the Guard in their hidden city?
A heavy key clanked in the aged lock.
“Varren!” Lluava exclaimed as she sat up.
However, it was not the young ruler who stepped through the darkened doorway but another Shadow. “The King cannot see you now,” he stated solemnly. “Those who know you are not permitted to converse with you until after the trial. Everyone must be questioned separately. We want the most thorough and honest understanding of the events that occurred prior to the Fall.”
Lluava’s hands felt clammy. What would her friends say? How did they perceive what had happened? She should have talked to Varren on their journey.
“I am Jigo. If you need anything, ask for me.”
As the guard turned to leave, Lluava stopped him. “Jigo,” she began, barely able to make out the glint of his eyes as the man in black looked at her. “When will the trial take place?”
“Soon,” he answered. “We do not like to keep prisoners here.”
Instead of asking him her ever-multiplying questions, Lluava kept silent and watched Jigo disappear down the passageway. A second Shadow locked the door behind him.
In the gloom of Erebos, Lluava lost track of time. Once again consumed by her thoughts, she wondered what had happened to Onyx. The raven had traveled with her and would alight on her shoulder to nibble her hair or croon in her ears after she lost her sight. If the bird had noticed any difference in her, it was not apparent. Yet he had disappeared shortly before Lluava entered the underground lair.
Had he flown off on one of his daily hunts, only to return to nothing? Had he seen the little caravan disappear into the mountain range? Had he tried to follow? Poor, old, half-blind bird. Could he survive alone? A long life for a maimed creature in the wild was unlikely. Did Onyx have any chance at all? Did she?
Although Lluava was never treated with contempt, the Shadows followed a formal protocol. When food was brought to her—mildly flavored but hearty—no one struck up a conversation. No matter; she didn’t really want to talk to anyone.
She spent most of her time peering over the ledge and watching the dark forms below move with a sort of precision. Shadows moved about one another quickly, spinning and turning as if locked in a dance, yet the clink of metal proved the movements to be more sinister. Was this the training ground? But it could not be, not entirely. Small groups would enter and depart through various openings at the ground level. There was a set pattern to their progression.
Once, Lluava had the sense she was being observed. Glancing up, she thought she saw a figure staring at her from another open-faced prison cell. She squinted to see better but could discern only an empty ledge. After that, the feeling of being watched never quite left her.
Finally, the time came when her gate was unlatched and Jigo told her to follow him. Unbound and virtually unguarded, she was steered down an unlit hall. Without even a small torch to light the way, blackness swallowed everything. Lluava’s hyperactive senses were aroused, yet she struggled to distinguish what lay before them. Several times she grated her shoulder against the stone wall when the corridor veered off in another direction.
If she had so much trouble seeing, how could a human walk through these halls as if he were strolling around in the daylight? Could the Obsidian Guard actually see that well in the dark? Or had they memorized the layout of this place that well? Whatever the reason, why did they not use more lights? Why all this darkness and gloom?
“Over here,” Jigo said as he led her into a chamber. At least this one had several sconces flickering around the perimeter. Three hoodless men sat at the back of the room on low stools. Regin was in the center, while two much older men flanked him. On the floor in front of them lay a wo
ven mat. Regin motioned toward it.
“Take a seat,” he commanded.
Lluava sat cross-legged on the mat and looked up at the men. These three figures would decide if she were to live or die.
Regin inclined his head. Streaks of silver in his short, groomed beard shone in the torchlight. “Lluava Kargen, daughter of Haliden Kargen. Theriomorph. You may begin wherever you see fit. I would advise you to leave out nothing, for even a small detail could alter our judgments. Tell us in your own words what occurred before the Fall of Cronus.”
That was just what Lluava did. Keeping the secrets that High Priestess Yena had shared no longer mattered; the priestess had proved to be the enemy, just as the Guardians had, just like Councilman Hyrax. All their disclosures had been intended to manipulate her. It was time to expose them.
Lluava told the three Obsidian Guards what took place, beginning with Councilman Hyrax’s admonition to leave Elysia and—with Apex’s help—to seek other Incarn: their captivity in Leucrocotta, her return to Elysia to fight the Raiders, her discovery of Yena’s treachery, and finally their flight from Cronus to save Varren’s life. Although she felt that full honesty was called for, she did not share her feelings for Varren and Apex nor reveal what had occurred during her battle with Master Hon. Lluava finished by saying, “King Varren does not know most of this. He deserves to be told.”
The trio of judges did not converse among themselves during Lluava’s testimony. They sat silently, faces rigid, listening intently to every word, even when she spoke of the Incarn and the Guardians, the pantheon and the prophecy.
Once she had finished, Regin told her, “We have six questions. Answer them honestly. First, why did you encourage our king to permit the Outlanders within the walls of Cronus?”
Even though Lluava had just related all of this, she responded without hesitation. “I made an agreement with High Priestess Yena so she would send an army to aid Elysia in the war. I gave my word that our gates would be opened to her people. I keep my promises.”
Regin spoke again. “Why did you advocate opening the royal armory to the Outlanders upon their arrival?”
“Since some Theriomorphs could fly, they arrived ahead of the land-traveling troops. However, Theriomorphs typically cannot carry weapons in their dual forms. When Ruire Thoth arrived with the winged troops, he needed weapons from the armory to help us fend off the Raiders’ army. I backed his request. And they did help us withstand the Raiders.”
When Lluava finished, she held her tongue. She could have argued that she didn’t know the Outlanders would turn their weapons against the Elysians, that once the capital’s stores were emptied, there would be little chance for the citizens to protect themselves. She could have admitted that she was terribly sorry. Yet what did any of that matter, after all those lives were lost?
The third question was asked. “Did you know or expect what the high priestess was planning?”
“No.”
There was a long pause. The trio stared at Lluava as if waiting for her to retract her answer. Then Regin asked, “Do you believe you were specifically created by your gods to fulfill their will?”
“I believe everyone’s will is his or her own.”
“Do you believe you have special abilities?”
“I believe everyone has a special ability, whether to write beautiful ballads, dance with fluid grace, or engage in the art of warfare.”
“Lluava Kargen,” Regin began, “Do you believe you will end this war?”
“If it is in my power.” Lluava considered each man individually. “Yes.”
Regin glanced at the men beside him. Both nodded subtly. He turned back toward the defendant. “Lluava Kargen, we have heard your statement and the answers to our questions. Unless you wish to change or add anything, we have made our decision.”
Already? Lluava’s heart skipped a beat. Did they not want to deliberate? Had these men decided the outcome before they even heard her side? Was this her end?
“Those who aid enemies of the crown are sentenced to death. You did so.” Regin’s face was stern. “Yet your involvement in the events that led up to the Fall have been found to be unintentional. Regardless, you have shown poor judgment and have made choices that not only cost the lives of many but also risked the kingdom of Elysia.”
The three men stared at her with unsympathetic eyes. Regin continued, “You will henceforth be stripped of your rank as corporal in the king’s army, and you are barred from serving as future head of the High Council and military partner to the king.”
The last phrase caused Lluava to inhale sharply. Momentarily speechless, she was unable to plead for a different verdict.
Regin finished his proclamation. “Though advised to discharge you from military service completely, you are an exceptionally skilled warrior. At a time when the king’s allies are few, there is need for skill such as yours. Until required, you will remain here as ward of the Obsidian Guard.”
“As your actions have been judged accordingly, you will be reassigned new quarters. However, you will be under Jigo’s supervision during your stay at Erebos. Access is granted to the main chamber and to our meal hall. All other areas of the Dark are reserved for the Obsidian Guard alone; you are forbidden to enter them. Furthermore, you are not to shift into your dual form for any reason during your stay. Any attempt to do so will be deemed a hostile act, and you will be returned to and held in the cell in which you were originally placed. Remember, you will be treated as a guest only if you obey our directives.”
Lluava could not hold back her question any longer. “Will I be able to see him?”
“That is up to King Varren.” Something in Regin’s tone forewarned her that Varren might not want to see her. “Jigo will take you to your room.”
As Lluava was led through the pitch-black, winding corridors, she wondered if Varren actually blamed her. They had not talked about the Fall since he regained consciousness. Actually, little had been said between them. Their journey had been wearing, and they both needed to conserve their strength. Lluava thought these were the reasons for their rather quiet trek. Could it have been something else?
What did Varren think of her now? Would he feel differently about her when he found out what she had said during her trial? He had trusted her, and in doing so, had lost many of his people and possibly his kingdom. Suddenly, Lluava feared that nothing would be the same between them. Could it ever be?
Regin was right to remove her as Varren’s military partner and future advisor. Once again, Lluava was overcome by grief for all the pain and suffering she had caused. Her eyes brimmed with tears. Wiping them away on her sleeve, she stumbled forward until she reached the bottom of the mound, what Regin had called the main chamber.
She looked up. From this perspective, the entire hollow seemed incomprehensibly huge. Was this what an ant felt like in its nest? A speck against a behemoth? Above, sporadic torchlight flickered like stars. Suddenly, Lluava felt unwelcome eyes on her.
“This way,” motioned Jigo, once he noticed that Lluava had stopped. She hurriedly caught up with him.
Numerous Shadows swarmed about. But were they all Shadows? Lluava was unsure. Most wore the skin-tight, hooded and masked suits of the Obsidian Guard, yet cloaked old men shuffled alongside robed youths of varying ages. Twice Lluava thought she saw another female in the distance, but she was not certain. Everyone seemed to wear black except the teens, who wore dark brown. Nobody paid any attention to her. They all seemed preoccupied with their own duties.
Jigo led Lluava into a hallway on the opposite side of the cavern and up a single set of stairs before steering her to a small room. She heard flint sparking a candle, and the room took form. There was no bed, only another thin woven mat on the floor. A wooden block with a subtle indent was positioned at one end of the mat. An unlit sconce was affixed to the far wall. Underneath stood a very low table with quill, ink, and one unblemished scroll.
“Is that—?” Lluava started to ask,
staring at the mat and block.
“Your bed. Yes,” said Jigo. “We live simple, disciplined lives. It is quite late. I bid you a good sleep and will collect you for breakfast come morning.”
As Jigo left, Lluava wondered how anyone could tell time without the light of sun, moon, or stars. Regardless, she tried to get comfortable on the mat and then placed her head in the cradle of the wooden block. Though less uncomfortable than she had expected, Lluava doubted she would get much sleep.
The hours slipped by and she wondered if, when day finally arrived, Varren would arrive with it. The young woman’s desire to talk to her partner grew until it became a physical ache.
He would never be able to forgive her. How could he? To spare her feelings, Varren would lie and tell her everything was all right between them. He always tried to protect her. Yet the results of her decisions were unforgivable. How could he look at her, think of her, as he once had?
Lluava envisioned Varren’s cool blue eyes, veiled by pain that she had caused, staring at her. She shuddered at the image. How ironic; all the work she had done, all the anguish she had endured to break Selene’s hold over Varren had been ruined by none other than herself.
There was a knock at the door. Lluava sat up and rubbed her stiff neck. “Come in,” she called, hoping and fearing it was Varren.
When the figure stepped into the room, Lluava leaped to her feet as if seeing a ghost, for that was what it felt like. Before her stood not only one of the rare female Shadows but also the Shadow acknowledged as Regin’s second-in-command. The Shadow she had left in Cronus to bury the body of her slain handmaiden. The Shadow who had not escaped with them.
“Holly!” Lluava gasped out. “You’re alive!”
Chapter 4
Onyx’s Return
How?” questioned Lluava. “I was sure you were trapped in the castle.”
“There was another route out of Tartarus,” answered Holly. The Shadow pulled off her mask, revealing her waterfall of curls. “A less preferable one, but there were no other options.”
Giahem's Talons Page 3