The Lost Endeavour

by Georgina Makalani

  She took a steadying breath and looked back towards the body. A soldier stood nearby, shaking his head.

  “There is another,” he said, his eyes wide as he focused on her father. A murmur started through the crowd as she was guided away from the people.

  “Is this wise?” she asked Ende. He kept her close at his side, as though he might keep her safe, and she knew he would.

  “Another?” Papa asked.

  The soldier nodded. Salima pulled back from the warmth of the tall man. “He…” The soldier gestured back across the courtyard to the practice rooms, but he couldn’t seem to come up with any other words.

  “Another what?” Salima prompted.

  “The body,” the man went on, as though he didn’t realise it was her who had asked the question. “The boy.” He gulped down his fears. “He disappeared into the shadows, and then the shadow moved.”

  “I thought I saw something,” Ende said. “You didn’t say anything,” he continued, his voice accusing.

  “She was there, and then she wasn’t. And when you arrived, I was called away.” He gestured back to the group surrounding the little boy.

  “Who?” Salima asked.

  “The witch,” he whispered, glancing around as though she might appear at the mention of her. “It was like she knew it was there, the shadow. She asked why it was here.”

  “Did it answer her?” Ende asked. Something dark in his voice made Salima shiver, and he glanced at her as though he had forgotten she was there.

  The soldier nodded.

  The tall man sighed, and Salima felt the warm air wrap around her. It felt angry, hot and yet comforting. “What did it say?” he prompted.

  “That it wanted what she wanted. It was there but not there. Dark. And by the time you arrived at the door, the witch was gone, and so was the shadow.”

  “Who else have you told about the witch?” Salima asked, worried for her.

  He shook his head. “Who would believe me? She appeared from nowhere and then went away again. It might have been my imagination.”

  “Someone may say that she took the body,” Salima whispered.

  “Not unless she made the shadow.”

  “Someone killed the boy for a reason, and then something else used it. Or was it the same beast?” Papa asked.

  “The same darkness that she felt,” Salima said. When the soldier turned his attention to her, she chewed her lip.

  “Have you seen the witch?” he asked, his voice accusing.

  She shook her head. What was Ana? Someone thought her a mage, someone who had magic but wasn’t ruled by it. Wasn’t that a witch? She looked up at the tall man beside her, wanting to step into his warmth again. He could explain to her what Ana was. He seemed to know her best. Her father moved between her and the soldier.

  “We haven’t seen her,” he said. “How do we know that you didn’t do something to the body? You were on watch. How could it simply disappear?”

  “It didn’t disappear,” the man said, desperation clear in his voice. “It moved into the shadows and then became the shadows.”

  “You have seen this before,” Salima said slowly, looking between her father and Ende.

  Papa sighed but nodded. “Many years ago,” he whispered. “Long before you were born.”

  “What happened?”

  “It disappeared.”

  “To where?”

  “Does it matter?” he asked, turning on her.

  She shook her head. “Unless that is part of the reason it has returned.”

  “There is much in the world we don’t understand. Has the regent been made aware of the boy?” Papa asked the soldier.

  The man shrugged and looked back to the crowd. It appeared no one was brave enough to lift the child from the ground, yet someone had carried him here from the river. “Who found him?” Salima asked.

  “The watch on the wall,” the soldier answered. “There was a cloaked figure, maybe.”

  “Maybe?” Salima asked.

  “The soldier wasn’t sure, and when he got down to the child, he wasn’t very sure of anything.”

  “Cloaked?” she asked.

  “He thought it another soldier. But maybe they couldn’t bring themselves to bring the child into the castle, for fear they would bring the evil with them.”

  “We are a far more superstitious people than I expected,” Salima said softly. It can’t have been Ana with the boy, for she didn’t have a cloak. Did she? She had worn that same dress for so long. If she’d had a cloak, she might not have frozen so quickly in the cells. Salima was tempted to sigh now. For all the work they had done, it seemed people knew Ana had survived and was free somewhere in the capital.

  “Can we go home now?” she asked her father.

  He nodded and held out a hand. Salima was reluctant to leave the tall man’s side, but she stepped forward and put her arm through her father’s, allowing him to lead her away. When she looked back at the group, the cleric had the child in his arms and was carrying him towards the library. She had a sudden image of him lying amongst the books on the tables where the cleric read of an evening, but she was aware that the cleric’s workrooms were near the library, and he was most likely taking him there. She wondered if they would be able to determine just what they were facing. Or if it was similar to what they had seen before. They might be superstitious people, but how short were their memories?

  It was nice to enter their own small rooms rather than the other room they had hidden in for so long. She was surprised that it was as warm and cosy as it had always been, rather than the cool she feared would have filled the space in their absence. The curtains were pulled closed, and her father lit a candle as she stepped forward to pull them open. She stopped, the hairs rising on her skin as something moved in the shadows. She swallowed down her fear and dragged the curtain back to allow the afternoon sun to fill the room.

  A cloaked figure stood against the wall, slender yet hidden in the depths of the thick black wool. Salima could understand why the watch had thought it a soldier, for it wore a soldier’s cloak.

  Her father frightened her, taking her hand. He had inched around as she stared at the figure. The door banged open, and Ende stood in the doorway, seeming even bigger than he usually did. The figure moved, raising a head, and the greenest eyes shone from within the darkness.

  ֍

  There was too much happening inside Ana’s head for her to keep up. She had thought the space the only quiet and safe place she could find. Everyone else was busy looking for her or the creatures that appeared to have followed her here. Or followed something else of her here. She still didn’t quite understand the beyond, and yet she knew it more clearly than much of her own history.

  Had they abandoned hope of her return in coming back to their little space? The neat, open living room had only two small bedrooms leading off it. Although small, it was comfortable for the sword master and his daughter. There was a warmth to it that drew her, like that of the little dragon. But it had still been a surprise to hear them return, and Ende had felt the little one’s fear. Ana had felt it herself. Perhaps she was on edge due to the events of the day.

  Ana didn’t have any understanding of it. And yet she understood it all. The maid had been given and went willingly. The boy, though, was another matter. He was already gone—or had some deal been made in his final moments and the sudden appearance of the sword master had delayed what was wanted, needed, for the joining to occur?

  Ana shook her head. She pulled the cloak tighter around her. She looked between the faces, the uncertainty of the sword master, the relief of his daughter and the anger—Or was it fear?—on Ende’s face. Again, she thought of him as someone different, not the dragon she had met on the mountain, not the old man who had seen her dreams.

  “I didn’t call you,” she murmured.

  “Not this time,” he said, his anger rolling out. Ana wondered if he could bring the castle down around them if necessary.

  �
�But you knew,” she said.

  He looked at the child. Strange that he hadn’t sensed her before now. Or he hadn’t tried because she’d been thought lost with her mother.

  “You are taller than I remember,” she said.

  He turned his glare on her and, reluctantly, she stepped away from the wall.

  “I’m so glad you are safe,” the child said, throwing herself at Ana, who gripped her tightly in return. “Could you bring Ed back?” she asked. Ana released her hold. Everyone wanted something, she thought. It must have shown on her face, for the dragon was there between them, pulling the child to safety.

  Ana sighed. “He will do what he must. And he needs to find his own way.” She sounded harsher than she had intended. Dray might have cautioned her. Might have. She doubted he would take the time. It was only at the open mouth of the sword master that she wiped at the tear. Dray was still pulling her, and she wasn’t sure why.

  “You found the child,” she said.

  Ende nodded once as the sword master stepped forward, almost between her and the girl again. They did think her a threat. “The watch brought him in. The other body has disappeared.”

  “Not exactly, just moved.”

  “How?” he asked.

  “They are two shadows from the beyond that have become solid because someone on this side is willing to help them.”

  “That body was willing?” the sword master asked, shuddering.

  “It may have offered a deal, before the death. I don’t know how it works.”

  “You have an idea.”

  “I could sense the girl in the one I met in the forest.”

  “The girl?”

  “The maid,” Ana said with a sigh. Had he given her up or offered her something more? She doubted he would give himself up in such a way, but there must be a way to undo it.

  “There are two,” the sword master said slowly, as though trying to process the information.

  “There may be more. The shadow can only become solid once it has something to cling to. One must have killed the boy to bring another forth.”

  “And the little boy?”

  “He might not have been willing, or his soul was used to strengthen another.”

  “They can take souls?” Salima asked, her voice too high and squeaky. Ende pulled her closer.

  “I don’t understand what they can do, but the child’s soul was… removed.”

  The sword master sat heavily in a chair. “We don’t want the king in the middle of this.”

  “The regent may be responsible in some way,” Ende said. “Do we want him remaining in a position of power?”

  “Putting Ed on the throne may not stop it.”

  They all looked up at her. “I thought you wanted that. I thought you saw him as King,” Ende said, his voice accusing.

  “He is the king,” Ana said, “and I think he will find his way to us whether it is safe or not.”

  “Can you stop them?” Salima asked. “Can you defeat these shadows?”

  Ana shook her head. She had no idea. They wanted what she wanted. Was that to put Ed on the throne? Were they removing his enemies? Although it appeared that the mage and regent had sent them. “I can slow them down.”

  “How?”

  Ana put her hand to her chest. She wasn’t sure what lived inside her, and she could only hope it wasn’t the dark shadows. But they had listened because of her magic, because of the strength inside her. The queen inside her. “They listened when I said not to harm them.”

  “But can you do that for everyone?” Salima asked.

  “I don’t know,” she said too loudly, exasperated.

  The sword master surprised her by stepping forward and resting his hands on her shoulders, then pulled her hood back. “Have you slept?” he asked. “Eaten?”

  She shook her head. She didn’t have time for such things; she had been busy trying to find her way to… where? What? Understanding?

  “Go to the kitchens,” he said to Salima, and she was on her feet and gone.

  “You can’t send her out into that?” Ende said sharply, making to follow her.

  “She knows the way, and I think she can protect herself better than you imagine.”

  “It might want her,” Ende said, a dangerous rumble behind his words.

  “I know that. But I have kept her safe this long. And Ana wouldn’t let that happen.”

  “I don’t know that I can stop it,” Ana admitted as the sword master directed her across the room and into a chair. As she sat, her cloak moved, and he studied her leg for a moment. She pulled at the cloak, but he put his hand on hers to stop the movement.

  “Where did you get that?” he asked.

  She looked down at the mud on her skirts. When she made to brush it off, she noticed the blood on her hands. Had she touched the child? Had she touched Salima with that hand?

  “The river,” she murmured.

  He turned to the fire and then looked at Ende, who stepped forward with a huff and started it quickly. And as the sword master watched him, it blazed to life, warming the little room further along with the kettle that hung over the flame.

  “I meant the new clothes,” he said, walking to the stand by the wall with the basin, which he carried to the small table before her. He looked again at Ende, then lifted the kettle and poured the steaming water into the basin.

  “The regent had sent dresses when I stayed with the mage.”

  “You went to the mage?” Ende asked.

  She shook her head and then nodded. “He didn’t know I was there. I can put myself wherever I like,” she said. “I don’t quite understand it.”

  She leaned forward and submerged her hands in the water, rubbing at the blood as though it stained her skin. The sword master submerged a small cloth and then rubbed at her knee where the mud marked her dress.

  “It doesn’t matter,” she said.

  “Let’s make you appear somewhat respectable.”

  She wanted to laugh. She was anything but. He couldn’t make her into a lady of the court. She would never be that. “They will always see me as a witch,” she whispered.

  “What is the difference?” Salima asked, rushing through the door, a large bowl in her hands and a loaf under her arm. “I kept it hot,” she said, grinning as she sat the bowl down beside the basin.

  “Serve it out,” her father said, and she lifted it back to the side board. Then she opened it to retrieve a small stack of bowls.

  “Some call you a witch,” she said. “Some a mage.”

  “A mage is someone with magic; a witch is something else,” the sword master said.

  “What sort of something?” Ana asked before the child could.

  “Something dark.”

  She looked up at Ende then, who was looking down at her over the sword master as though he was still trying to read her. “You think I’m a witch.”

  “I always thought you a mage,” he said, “but I don’t know what your magic is.”

  “Like my mother’s.” Ana took the towel the sword master offered to dry her hands, leaving streaks across it. What if she was a vessel for something darker, something like the shadows that consumed all around them? Yet it chose not to change her, to use her to hide in. “What happened to her?” she asked as the girl handed her a small bowl. The smell of stew filled her senses, and she realised just how hungry she was.

  “She ran away with your father,” Ende said.

  “After that?” Ana asked, looking up.

  He shook his head. “She had you.”

  “She left us,” Ana said, looking back to the bowl. “I saw it, her leaving to keep us safe.”

  Ende studied her but said nothing else. The girl sat at her feet with a bowl of her own, and the sword master rubbed the towel over her knee, drying the material he had cleaned. “I could get another,” Salima said.

  He shook his head, and she nodded once.

  Ana woke, still in the chair. Someone had draped a blanket over her, and th
e bowls and basin had been removed from the table in front of her. Someone had even taken her boots off. The memory of the sword master’s gentle hand on her knee made her wonder if there was something else. Or was he hoping his kindness would be returned and she wouldn’t kill the child? She wouldn’t. Ana knew what Salima was, and she would keep the secret. She wondered if Ende would be able to. She stood slowly and stretched, the blanket falling around her feet, and found her cloak over the back of the chair. She turned, wanting the rough wool against her face, and Dray’s face appeared in the darkness.

  He sat at a window—not one looking over the capital, as was the one in the room she was in, but one that overlooked a forest through dense leaves, the moonlight barely lighting his features. He continued to stare as she stepped closer. Did he know she was there? Was she, or was it an idea of being there, of being with him? Everything seemed to make her think of him.

  She turned and took in the room. Ed slept on a large bed. The room felt familiar and yet was unknown. But they were the only two in it. She took another step towards Dray and rested her hand on his shoulder. He felt so real, and she sighed. He rested his hand on hers, and she looked from it to his dark eyes. She wanted desperately to reach for his face, but she kept her other hand at her side.

  “Where are the others?” she whispered.

  “They want payment.”

  “For the forest?”

  He nodded, turning back to the window, his hand still on hers. She could feel the warm, calloused skin. “I wish you were here,” he whispered.

  “Ed will find a way,” she said.

  “We are coming to you.” He startled her by standing quickly, her hand still in his. “We will find you.”

  She shook her head. “I’m not safe.”

  He smiled then, and her fears subsided a little. “You wouldn’t harm Ed.”

  She glanced back to the sleeping king. She hoped Dray was right. “I’m scared,” she admitted, knowing he was the only one she could truly be honest with.

  “You control them,” he said, his voice a little hard.

  “No.”