Reign of Shadows

by Deborah Chester

Her paralysis frightened her even more. Heart pounding, she struggled to control her own fear. It’s only a dream, she tried to reassure herself without much success. Dream or not, it seemed far too vivid and real.

  She found herself increasingly mesmerized by the shadow’s easy, loping stride. Time compressed to stillness, unable to flow naturally. The man continued to come closer, yet he seemed quite a distance away. Too far for her to see his face, which remained concealed by the gloom.

  Like her, he was clad only in darkness. Her skin flushed hot as though she’d ben dipped in boiling water, yet the very top of her head felt icy cold. She found herself gripping the sides of her bench with all her strength, and she could not stop trembling. Her breathing deepened, and her back arched of its own volition.

  Suddenly she was off the bench, standing tall. Her fear remained, yet it shielded an eagerness she had never known before. Something inside her seemed to recognize this half- seen stranger. He walked like a warrior, graceful and strong. She had never seen anyone as tall. His neck was like a column, straight and strong. She strained to see the molding of his head and face.

  To see him more clearly ... to gaze into his eyes ... to feel the touch of his fingertips on her skin ...

  She stepped forward, walking to meet him halfway. Her heart lifted and yearned. She knew him, had known him throughout the sands of time. He was for her, as she was for him. Gladness burst through her, and she wanted to sing as she ran. Why had it taken so long to find him again?

  In the blink of a moment, the distance between them ended. They stood face to face, breathless and cloaked in the strange shadows.

  “Elandra,” he whispered, his voice striking like a bronze bell within her soul.

  The light was spreading, lifting around them. In moments she would see his face and know his name again, this man whom she had loved for all of time.

  She lifted her arms to his neck and pressed herself close against warm skin and hard muscles.

  “Elandra,” he said again. “I have found thee, my only love.”

  His lips brushed against her trembling ones, even as she caught her breath for the kiss that would return her memory.

  But from the corner of her eye she glimpsed a quick flash of yellow light, bright and foreign to the soft green light at their feet.

  Distracted, Elandra turned her head to look, and her lover vanished like smoke.

  “No!” she cried aloud. She looked in all directions, but he was gone.

  Filled with a sense of loss, Elandra took a few aimless steps. “Come back!” she called. “Please come back to me!”

  She did not know his name, and her frustration grew. If she could call out his name, he would come back to her.

  “Please,” she whispered again.

  He did not reappear, and she knew she could search forever through the shadows and not find him.

  Angry, she turned toward the yellow light and stormed toward it. “Why?” she called. “Why couldn’t you wait?”

  The light tried to recede and wavered. That’s when Elandra saw it was only a shield for a woman, motionless and watchful.

  Slightly plump and middle-aged, she was garbed in a long black robe that covered her entirely from neck to wrist to feet.

  “Who are you?” Elandra demanded. “Why did you interrupt? What are you doing here?”

  The woman’s eyes widened in astonishment that changed to alarm. Without a word, she gathered up her long skirts and abruptly ran.

  But her flight only fanned Elandra’s anger more. She ran after the watcher, pursuing her in a wild, zigzagging flight up and down hills and over boulder-strewn ground. The woman ran awkwardly and not very well. Soon, she slowed and began to glance over her shoulder more and more often. Elandra gritted her teeth and increased her stride.

  You are an old gazelle, she thought, drawing on an old childhood game when she had been taught by the huntsman how to pursue quarry with her mind as well as her body. I am the panther, swift and bold. I can catch you.

  With every stride, she gained on the older woman.

  By the time they reached the stone pillars, Elandra was close enough to grab the back of the watcher’s robe. She yanked hard, bringing the woman to a halt just short of the gateway.

  The woman twisted in her hold, eyes filled with fear. “No,” she said breathlessly. “You cannot exit with me. You cannot—”

  “Tell me his name, watcher,” Elandra said.

  The woman’s fearfulness grew. “Impossible!” she breathed. “You cannot see me. You are not—”

  “I see you,” Elandra said, twisting harder on the woman’s robe. “I have caught you, watcher. Tell me his name!”

  “Yes, tell,” commanded another voice.

  Startled, Elandra looked around and saw Hecati standing in the fog. The old witch stood cloaked in murkiness, as though smoke billowed around her. Elandra smelled a scent of something burning, and knew Hecati’s magic was at work. Strangely, in her dream she did not fear.

  “His name!” Hecati commanded.

  The watcher tried to pull free of Elandra’s hold. “No!” she said to Hecati, lifting one hand in a gesture of repudiation. “Begone, intruder. You have no place here!”

  Hecati threw back her head in laughter, and Elandra stepped closer to her captive.

  “Quickly,” she whispered. “Explain to me why—”

  Something invisible hit Elandra a stunning blow. She staggered back, unable to breathe or even see. The world spun around her and went entirely dark.

  Then she could breathe again. With a gasp, she struggled up only to find her face and shoulders entangled in insect netting. Through the tent flap, bright moonlight shone over the camp and cast a shadow from the silhouette of the sentry who paced outside.

  Elandra drew in an unsteady breath and shoved her hair back from her face. She was covered with perspiration and breathing hard. Her nightgown stuck to her damp skin.

  Unlike the usual sort of dream that faded immediately, this one remained vivid in her mind, haunting her. Who was the woman who watched? Why had she been in Elandra’s dream?

  And who had been the man?

  Remembering how she’d responded to him, Elandra blushed in the night. Was she mad to dream of her future husband like a silly field-hand girl? Hers would be a marriage of convenience and dynastic alliance. The union would strengthen her father’s power as a warlord. It would provide her with a home, a name, and possibly children, but nothing more.

  Love ... how could she dream about it like that, as though she’d been molten candlewax poured into a new mold, pliant for whatever he willed, eager to give herself like . . .

  Breathing hard with embarrassment, Elandra pressed her hands against her cheeks in an effort to calm herself. Perhaps the woman she’d chased was only a symbol of her conscience, standing as a witness. But why had she run? And what had Hecati been doing there?

  Perhaps she’d been visited by a dream walker.

  Even as the thought entered her mind, Elandra shivered with dread. Dream walkers were creatures who entered the dreams of the unsuspecting and shaped their minds while they slept. Creatures who stole dreams and twisted them into dark magic. Creatures who might do worse.

  She flung off the netting and stood up in the dark tent, restless with alarm. The camp was protected with jinjas. No dream walker could reach her without an alarm being sounded.

  But even as she tried to reassure herself, a tiny voice in the back of her mind reminded her that Hecati practiced small magic all the time and the palace jinja never noticed.

  Hugging herself against another shiver, Elandra paced slowly back and forth in the cramped confines of her tent. Outside, a predator screamed in the jungle, but the camp slept on peacefully. No alarms. Her dream was only a dream, nothing more.

  Still trying to convince herself, Elandra continued to shiver in the hot silence of the night. She did not return to her hard cot. There would be no more sleep tonight.

  Chapter Sixteen

>   IN THE MORNING, Elandra said nothing about her strange dream, not even to Magan. The world seemed filled with mystery and danger. Wary and nervous, she caught Hecati’s speculative gaze on her more than once, and Elandra made certain she stayed as far from the witch as possible. If ever the gods granted her a secure home or wealth, she vowed she would never again travel without the protection of a jinja of her very own.

  At nightfall, she found her dreams once again restless and troubling, but nothing like the one in which she had kissed the tall stranger.

  On the following day, their trail began to climb. They left the steaming jungle for the foothills and wound slowly into a forbidding mountain range.

  The trees thinned out, and the air grew progressively drier and cooler until a sharp wind blew constantly and the air felt thin and hard to breathe.

  When they reached the top of the mountains, Elandra lifted weary eyes to the heavens and saw the stone walls of a stronghold rising up above the narrow road. Something about the architectural lines of the structure made her hair rise on the back of her neck. It looked extremely old and primitive.

  Indeed, with the sheer walls of the cliff faces rising up around her, Elandra felt hemmed in and increasingly trapped. She could not explain her feelings; they were deep fears, primitive and inarticulate. The age of the place filled her with uneasiness. Carved into the cliffs were ancient symbols that seemed almost familiar, although Elandra was certain she had never seen them before. Whenever she stared at them too long, a sensation of dizziness would force her to turn her gaze away.

  She told herself it was the thin air that made her feel so ill, hut inside she was less sure.

  Equally disturbing was the fact that they came to no village. The stronghold stood alone, completely isolated at the top of this long, treacherous road. Even then, when the road abruptly leveled out in a sort of clearing and stopped, the stronghold towered high above them. The only way to reach it was via a steep series of steps carved into the solid rock of the mountainside.

  The Imperial Guard galloped ahead, banners streaming. Trumpets blared, sending up a summons that echoed loudly. The Gialtans circled the elephants, grouping them into a bunch. Thus, Elandra found her palanquin unexpectedly next to Bixia’s.

  The two half-sisters glared at each other.

  Bixia leaned over and said, “This time you will not usurp the honors due me. You will wait. You will keep your place. Am I clear?”

  Elandra looked down, feeling humiliation burn the back of her throat. She clenched her hands in her lap and nodded silently. She didn’t trust her voice.

  The trumpets blared again, and this time a gong was struck in the stronghold in reply.

  Figures robed in black appeared on the ramparts, gazing down in silence. The absence of welcome and fanfare made a sharp contrast to the streaming banners and fluttering saddlecloths below.

  Both generals dismounted. As they approached the steps, a single figure in black descended to meet them.

  Elandra felt a chill shiver through her. She had chased such a black-robed woman in her dream. To her knowledge she had never seen a Penestrican before. Nor was she someone with the gift of foretelling. How had she known what these women would look like?

  Servants scurried about the elephants, bringing ladders to help the passengers dismount.

  Conscious of the need to avoid further mistakes, Elandra sat still, making no move at all until Bixia was safely on the ground. Then Elandra descended as quickly as possible. The wind plucked at her veil, sending it streaming out to one side. She found herself conscious of her travel- stained and very wrinkled gown. Her muscles ached, and her eyes were gritty from insufficient sleep. She felt wind- blasted and unkempt.

  Hecati moved quickly around Bixia, straightening her gown and brushing away wrinkles. Magan did the same for Elandra, who gave the maid a tired smile of gratitude.

  Then the generals, gleaming in burnished armor, swords clanking at their sides, returned from the steps.

  Both bowed first to Bixia, then to Elandra.

  General Handar, his plumed turban powdered with dust and his spurs jingling with every step, dropped to one knee before Bixia and bowed even more deeply with his hand over his heart.

  “My lady,” he said in his deep voice, “permit this servant to wish you all the blessings of the gods in your future. I have discharged my duty in bringing you safely to the hands of the Penestricans. With my honor have I guided you to this place. With my life have I protected you. May peace follow your name. I request of you my farewell.”

  It was a beautiful speech, spoken with all the honor and sincerity the grizzled old soldier was capable of expressing. Watching as he knelt there at her half-sister’s feet, Elandra felt sentimental tears sting her eyes. When Handar left them, it would cut their final tie to Gialta. Theirs was the fate of all women, to be sent forth from the shelter of their home, to make lives for themselves wherever Fate decreed, delivered like chattel and trade goods for the purposes for men.

  Bixia gazed down at the commander with a smug gleam in her green eyes. “You have served well, General Handar,” she said in a bored voice. Her gaze moved beyond him, to the steps where more women in black robes had appeared. “We thank you. Farewell.”

  It was a moment before he looked up. Something flickered in his eyes—disappointment or chagrin, perhaps—at her short reply. He rose to his feet and saluted. His dark face might have been carved from wood as he bowed quickly to Elandra and turned away.

  As soon as he was remounted on his horse, he bawled out commands. The Gialtans galloped away, leaving a cloud of dust and the echoing thunder of hoofbeats behind.

  Meanwhile, the general of the Imperial Guard was giving his arm to Bixia, who smiled and used her eyes to flirt above her veil. Together, they crossed the dusty clearing. Elandra tried to follow, but Hecati gripped her arm and held her back.

  “No,” she said in a low, sharp voice. Hecati’s face was pale and marked by dark circles beneath her eyes as though the journey had been a terrible strain. Even now, with Bixia safely delivered, Hecati looked tense and nervous as she glared at Elandra. “You will wait outside with the servants until Lady Bixia is received by the Magria and properly welcomed in.”

  Elandra’s cheeks burned beneath her veil, but she retreated obediently to the elephants. The handlers were still unloading baggage. Magan stood guarding Elandra’s bag. Without glancing at the maidservant, Elandra took a place beside her. Hecati hurried after her niece.

  At the steps, the general and Bixia paused. There was a moment of silence, broken only by the snorting of the horses and the restless mumbling of the elephants, which were to continue to Imperia as part of Bixia’s dowry gift to her future husband.

  The Penestricans had been waiting quietly on the steps. Now, however, they descended to the bottom. One woman, young and beautiful, with pale straight hair flowing down her back, walked ahead of the others. A pair of gnarled old crones with terrible mutilation scars on their bare arms followed her. They carried tall wooden staffs. The rest of the sisterhood lined the steps on either side, holding burning candles that seemed odd in the bright sunshine.

  The leader’s eyes were a clear blue. Her gaze swept everyone, then fixed upon Bixia. “I am Anas,” she said in a voice that carried easily.

  It was almost as though the cliff walls surrounding them formed a natural amphitheater.

  Anas’s voice made Elandra think of crystal—melodic in a sharp, piercing away.

  “I am deputy to her Excellency, the Magria. I bid you welcome.”

  The general bowed low enough to make his armor creak. “The Lady Bixia,” he said by way of introduction. Frowning, he glanced around as though seeking Elandra, but Hecati gave him an impatient pinch and he faced the deputy again. “Also, the Lady Hecati, sister-in-law to Lord Albain, and Lady Bixia’s aunt.”

  He seemed to have a ritualized speech prepared, but even as he opened his mouth, one of the Penestricans lifted her wooden staff with a shar
p gesture and pointed it at the sky.

  A streamer of dark cloud appeared to obscure the sun, as though it had been wiped away with a rag.

  Elandra gazed upward in astonishment. She could have sworn a moment ago the sky had been cloudless. A shiver passed through her. It was said the Penestricans commandedmany of the old ways. Did they govern the heavens as well as the earth and its growing things?

  “Where is the other one?” Anas asked. “We were told, General, that both of Lord Albain’s daughters would be brought to us.”

  Bixia tossed her head, but Hecati turned halfway around and snapped her fingers imperiously at Elandra.

  “Come, girl!” she said. “Don’t hang back and call undue attention to yourself. You delay the proceedings.”

  Elandra’s resentment burned even hotter. She was tempted to stay where she was, but with everyone looking at her she had little choice but to walk forward. Hecati was making sure she got off on the wrong foot with the Penestricans, and there was little Elandra could do about it right now.

  Although miserable, she walked with her head high. She did not pick up her skirts and run to join the others, although Hecati snapped her fingers again. Instead, Elandra kept her steps modest and graceful as befitting a lady. If it was the only way in which she could defy Hecati, then she would do it.

  She came up behind Hecati and stopped, grateful for the veil that hid her burning face from Anas’s clear blue eyes.

  The deputy stared at her for a long moment without expression.

  “May I also introduce the Lady Elandra,” the general said into the awkward silence.

  Anas inclined her head graciously. “You are also bid welcome to our walls, Lady Elandra.”

  Bixia began to fidget and sigh. “We’ve had a very long, uncomfortable journey. May we have refreshment?”

  Behind her veil, Elandra gasped at Bixia’s rudeness. For once Hecati made no attempt to correct her charge or to smooth over the matter.

  A flicker of something unreadable passed across Anas’s face. “Of course,” she said pleasantly. “Everything has been prepared for you.” She shifted her gaze and smiled perfunctorily. “General, according to our rules, no man may step past this point.”