The Shadow of War

by Bryan Gifford

  Her father had indulged in the finer things, but Vanthe even more so. He’d taken the already grand mansion and somehow made it even more extravagant—carved arches like murals, mosaic walkways, and jeweled columns. Even the outer wall around the hillside was sculpted into flowing shapes and elegant carvings, laced with curling green vines and white blossoms. Guards marched atop the wall walk, their Royal Guard regalia glittering gold and black in the late afternoon sun.

  “Well,” Isroc said from beside her. “What do you think?”

  Adriel looked over the hilltop to the village, its many chimneys already wafting smoke in the setting sun as people readied for bed. “It’s home,” she replied, hoping she didn’t sound too vague.

  “I know that look… what happened to you here?”

  How could she not be? All those years of enduring her father’s abuses and being powerless to stop him from hurting her mother. And then, worst of all…

  Adriel squeezed her eyes shut. She’d bottled it up for years, hoping that time would numb her pain. It hadn’t. Only joining the Warriors, only finding purpose again had helped ease her heart. It hurt to talk about, but it seemed poetic that she’d return home after so much had happened. Perhaps she needed to confront her past mistakes before becoming what she needed to be. The leader of the Vilant. The hope for all free people.

  “I had a sister. Calla.” Adriel gazed out to the nearby hills just beyond the village. “She died there, out on those hills.”

  Isroc gazed out over the hills, eyes saddened.

  “Calla was two years younger than I. She was so pretty, with her green eyes and almost white hair. The whole village loved her. Even though she was the daughter of a lord, she’d always be helping the townsfolk—milk their cow, rake their hay, sew their clothes. Half of it was probably just to escape our father.

  “He was a drunkard, a gambler. He beat my mother and sister and me. My mother was often sick or hiding her bruises from the villagers, so our father would seek us out. This place was a prison. And so, we’d run away. That’s how I learned to survive out in the wilderness.”

  She sighed, eyes transfixed on those hills. “We ran away one day. It was nothing new, after all, we’d done it countless times before. Then the arzecs came. We fled back home, but they caught up to us… I just stood there. I was too scared to do anything but watch as they…”

  She clenched her reins and forced herself to look away. She turned to Isroc who now watched her with a mixed look of unease and sympathy. “I won’t make that mistake again.”

  “I’m sorry,” he managed to say.

  “Don’t be. It was many years ago.” She didn’t want people feeling sorry for her. She’d gotten Calla killed. It was her fault, encouraging her sister to run away with her and then not being strong enough to protect her when the time came.

  “That moment made me who I am; it’s led me to this point. I fight to protect people, as I should have protected Calla. She lives on in my heart and in my sword.”

  Isroc nodded. “Just as I fight for my daughter, Claire. She is my purpose.”

  The two exchanged a small smile.

  “Come, Kari should be back by now.” Adriel led Isroc back down the hill toward a group of Vilant.

  Kari approached with a salute. “Commander, we’ve done our preliminary scouting. It appears the mansion has a garrison of around two hundred Royal Guards.”

  Adriel nodded. She assumed as much; that was nearly the entire Royal Guard, after all. Men hand-picked from elite units for their prowess in combat and loyalty to the crown.

  “What’s the plan?” Harin asked from nearby.

  “Commander,” Kari added with a pointed look at the old soldier.

  “She’s no commander of mine.”

  Adriel raised a hand. “I want your boys on this hill, Harin. They will watch the village and mansion for signs of trouble. You and your men will join my Vilant in the assault.”

  “How are we going to get in there?” Isroc asked. “The sentries will see us coming long before we reach the gate, not to mention the fact that we’re outnumbered and outmatched.”

  Harin snorted. “Are you scared, Warrior? Maybe you should scurry back to the Gray Lands.”

  Isroc turned with a reply but Adriel cut him short. “A few of us won’t look out of place down there, there’s horses and wagons, and there’s a few people moving in and out of the mansion. You three will come with me first. Once we get inside, the others will have to rush the gate before those sentries lay down a volley.”

  “That’s easily the worst plan I’ve ever heard,” Harin grunted.

  “You’ve never met Cain Taran then. Do you have a better idea?”

  The grizzled soldier shrugged before passing orders to his men. Soon, Adriel, Isroc, Kari, and Harin were saddled and riding down toward the village. They joined a small group of farmers and followed the road through Alara toward the mansion. Adriel fought glances up at the sentries, but fortunately, they took no notice of the four riders.

  One of the gate guards suddenly pointed with a cry. The other cursed and the two moved to close the doors.

  Adriel dug her heels into her mount and shot up the road for the closing gate. She galloped past startled farmers and slipped through the doors. She jumped from her saddle and hit the ground with a roll. Coming up with a swing, she blocked one of the guard’s attacks before kicking him back. She dodged another quick slash and brought her sword up to the man’s throat. He dropped his weapon and raised his hands.

  The other guard skidded to a stop with sword raised, but a scowl from the first man led him to throw his weapon aside.

  “Well, you’re a pretty little thing,” he said.

  “That’s Adriel Ivanne, you damned idiot,” the other spat. The tip of her blade scratched the lump in his throat.

  The first man paused as if to study her. “Adriel Ivanne… the king has been waiting for you. He wants to talk.”

  Adriel frowned at the man as Isroc, Harin, and Kari slipped through the doors and surrounded the two Guardsmen.

  “Vanthe knows I’m here for him?”

  “I’m just passing the message. He told us to stand down and lead you to him.”

  Adriel laughed. “That’s Vanthe. He’d rather set a trap than face me like a man.”

  “What if it’s true?” Kari asked. “What if he just wants to talk?”

  “Bah!” replied Harin. “Leave it to the traitorous bastard to play dirty!”

  Shouting. Boots clacked against the stones above as sentries gathered over the gatehouse. The Vilant appeared, galloping like mad toward the mansion. Arrows took men from their saddles. Villagers scattered as projectiles pelted down around them. Adriel shouted for the archers to stop, but between their cries and the Vilant hoofs, her words went unheard and unheeded.

  “We need to move!” Adriel scooped up the discarded swords and tossed them to Harin. “Hold the gate until our men get here, Harin. You two with me. Don’t kill anyone if you can help it.”

  Harin shoved the two guards into a corner. “Don’t kill anyone, she says. Take the whole bloody mansion, but don’t kill anyone, she says.”

  Adriel turned from his grumbling just as two sentries appeared. She ducked in time for an arrow to whizz past. She knocked the bow from the man’s hands and swept his feet out from under him. The other sentry fell beside her, Isroc’s spear against his breastplate.

  Horses rushed through the open gate and the Vilant soon filled the entrance grounds, bows and swords in hand. Royal Guards appeared from the walls and mansions. Arrows shot down from the wall walk. Horses and Vilant died screaming.

  “Harin, take your men and stop those archers or we’ll all be dead soon. You two, let’s go.” Adriel, Isroc, and Kari rushed into the fighting.

  Arrows pelted down around them. The gold and black armor of the Royal Guards flashed here and there between the leathers and rags of her Vilant. Horses careened past, crashing into Guardsmen. Horses fell with terrible cries, spea
rs pierced through their breasts.

  The three weaved through the chaos, bodies smashing and steel ringing. They vaulted up the steps and threw open the gilded doors.

  The mansion was much as she remembered it—white walls, plush carpet, and elegant tapestries. Adriel led the two down the hall, silver worked chandeliers lighting their way.

  “Do you know where he’ll be?” Isroc asked as they scanned side passages and rooms.

  “I think so. Upstairs.” She led them through the maze of hallways to a massive flight of stairs. The second floor was as quiet as the first. Distant shouts and footfalls sounded, but they seemed far enough away that they didn’t need to worry for the moment. She turned down a hallway and made for the door at the end.

  She burst into the study, but it was empty, save for the huge desk and shelves of books and scrolls. Kari called for her, and she stepped back out of the study to see two Royal Guards charging down the hall.

  Isroc lunged with his spear, deflecting a sword and sending the men jumping back. He waved it again to fend them off as Adriel ducked under his weapon to knock a sword aside. She dodged another attack and kicked off the wall to punch the man in the face. He staggered back, clutching his bleeding nose as the other leapt forward.

  Adriel jumped away from a sword swing and Isroc’s spear flashed by her to drive the man back. Kari shot between them, smacked the Guard’s weapon away, and kicked him out of the hallway. Adriel sidestepped a stab from the other Guard and lunged. The man’s eyes grew wide and his moment of uncertainty let Adriel knock the blade from his hand. Isroc prodded the Guard out of the hallway, and they joined Kari who had her heel against the other man’s bleeding nose.

  “Wait,” the man gurgled from underneath the woman’s boot. “You’re the king’s niece. Please, we don’t want to fight. We thought you were rebels or bandits!”

  The other raised his hands. “He’s right. The king wants to meet with you.”

  Adriel eyed the two Guards. Could she trust them? Would Vanthe really want to talk with her? He probably just wanted to plead for his life.

  Adriel gathered the Guards’ weapons and tossed them out a window. “If you speak the truth, then go and break up the fighting outside. Quick, before more good men die. And please, tend to that nose. It looks awful.” She turned down another hall, Kari and Isroc behind her.

  “What are the odds they’ll actually do what you said?” Isroc asked.

  “We’ll need to find Vanthe, and quick.”

  The muffled clanging of swords sounded from below. The fighting was in the mansion now.

  Adriel led the two down the expansive hallways, peeking into every room and closet. They turned down the final hall.

  Ahead was the grand dining room where her father had hosted his many panderers and sycophants. Four Guardsmen barred the wide oak doors, halberds ready in hand. Adriel stepped forward warily, longsword before her. “I’m Adriel Ivanne.” If it meant sparing lives, she’d risk meeting Vanthe.

  The four Guards lowered their weapons and turned to push the door open. They stepped aside and stood in proud silence. Adriel spared them another glance, then entered the dining room.

  She ignored the high-vaulted ceiling and towering stained-glass windows. She had eyes only for Vanthe. He sat at the end of the long table in his plush chair, gaudy crown on his sable head. He studied her with those gray eyes, ringed hands out on the tabletop before him. Several others sat around the table, food half eaten and gasping at the sight of her. Royal Guards lined the outskirts of the room, weapons in hand.

  Adriel ignored them all. She jumped onto the table and strode across it. She tramped over plates of delicate food, knocking over goblets and baskets. She stopped before Vanthe, his sycophants whimpering and sniveling.

  Adriel placed her sword under Vanthe’s chin. She stood there for a moment, heaving with anger, weapon shaking. Her uncle simply looked up the blade at her.

  “How could you do it?” she managed to cry. “How could you betray your own people?”

  Vanthe slammed a fist on the table. Several Royal Guards stepped toward them, but the king held up a hand. The room filled with Royal Guards and Vilant. Every eye watched the two.

  “Do you think I wanted… do you think I enjoyed watching my own people put in chains?”

  “You never once cared for anyone but yourself!”

  “You know nothing, girl!” He sighed and dropped his head. “I was prideful. Greedy. I fell to Iscarius’ whispers. He gained me the throne, but I lost everything else. I wanted the power and the glory, but I didn’t ask what it would cost me.”

  “You threw away your country, your people. You threw away any chance for peace, and for what? Your own selfish greed?” Behind her, more Vilant and Royal Guards poured into the room, then fell quiet at the sight of them.

  Vanthe nodded. “I gave Iscarius free reign of my country. But I didn’t know that he’d do this to my people. I promise you.”

  “Your word means nothing to me!” she spat. “You turned a blind eye to the enslavement of your own people! You’re a monster!”

  “Yes, I am.” He glanced down at the sword still under his chin. “But you won’t kill me.”

  “You don’t know me!”

  “I do, better than you think. You’re a good person. You wouldn’t stain your hands with the blood of your family.”

  Adriel pushed her sword against his neck, bringing a pinprick of blood.

  “Which is why I won’t let you start now.” He pulled a knife from his belt.

  “I’ll do it!” Adriel pressed her sword harder against his neck. “Damnit, I will!”

  Vanthe raised a hand and cut his wrist.

  He dragged the knife down his arm, blood staining his fine silk robe. The room filled with curses and cries, and Royal Guards rushed to his aid. He waved them away and brought his knife to his other wrist. Blood spilled onto the table and down the legs. Vanthe leaned back in his chair, eyes growing distant.

  “I had the chance to change things, Adriel, but I squandered it. I know you won’t.” He reached up with a shaking hand and removed his crown. He dropped it at Adriel’s feet, bloody fingerprints wet on its jewels.

  Adriel’s sword clattered to the table. Why was she crying? “Uncle…”

  “You are queen now. You’ll make a better ruler than I.” He forced his eyes open a final time to meet her gaze, his face growing pale. “You must know… Iscarius won’t be in Dun Ara for long. He’s moving to Markadesh. In Angeled. It’s his sanctuary, his stronghold. He’s hoping to set a trap for Cain and the Alliance. Go there, and finish this. Bring our people the peace I threw away.”

  He smiled up at her. “I’m proud of you, Adriel. I have always been proud of you. Forgive me for the things I’ve done.”

  Vanthe gave a final sigh.

  Adriel stared at his body with disbelief, trying in vain to blink away her tears.

  Every Royal Guard and Vilant fell to a knee. Isroc and Kari followed, and a stunned Harin quickly joined them. Together, they knelt to Adriel Ivanne, Queen of Charun.

  Home

  Ada Arillius jumped out of the trees, bow raised. He quickly scanned the trail before kneeling beside the bodies. He searched their pockets. Nothing. He cursed softly and dragged the scouts off the path and dumped them into a crevice before continuing along his way.

  He skulked through the dead trees and shrubs, practiced feet barely making a sound in the brittle weeds and shale. Hills jutted up here and there and deep ravines cut haphazard to form small crevices or towering valleys.

  Angeled was a wild, unforgiving place. There was a reason few people tried to settle here.

  So, it was odd indeed that Malleus had come here. Had their slave caravan been headed here the entire time? He’d picked up the trail at the Gray Lands and then again in Kaanos. It had been easy to track Malleus’ caravan—the man always left behind trash like breadcrumbs. And bodies.

  Ada continued over the rocky hills for a time until the s
ound of footfalls met his ear. He paused and crouched against the base of a twisted tree to peer over the cliff’s edge.

  An Aceden patrol. A hundred men in their black armor marched along a makeshift road, Iscarius’ banners flapping in the brisk breeze. They stomped by, somehow making more noise than Ada thought possible.

  He watched them go and scrambled down the cliff. This road would be his best chance to find Malleus. There was indeed something out here, deep in the wilds. All these scouts and patrols were protecting something valuable. What that was didn’t much matter now, not when he knew Malleus would be there.

  And so, Ada followed the road, keeping just off the edge of the path and using the trees and hills for concealment. The jagged knolls and deep ravines forced him to go out of his way more than once. Patrols were thick in this area, and several times he had to hide in thickets to avoid being spotted. Fortunately, those patrols were more for show than being of any actual use, and so he continued unseen.

  He sighed, glancing up at the sky. The sun was low now, and this far into the towering hills, its light already stretched thin. He needed to hurry if he was going to find his destination tonight.

  He’d spent nearly thirty years serving Iscarius. From a deserter in the Inveiran army to a feared assassin. In that time, he’d gained all the riches he could ever want, and taught the world to cower at his name. He’d been at the pinnacle of power. Wasn’t that what he’d always wanted?

  Sadly, it was. But now that he’d reached that peak he’d felt how empty it was. He’d fought his entire life for riches, and where had that gotten him? To an empty and lonely place. Deep down, he admitted that he longed for love, longed for friends. He hadn’t known either since his youth.

  What a wasted life.

  But he could do something about that now. He’d seen his mistakes even if it had nearly been too late. He refused to stand by and watch innocent people put in chains, families split, lives snuffed out for nothing. Iscarius’ vision for peace—an idea that had swayed hundreds of thousands of people to rise up and betray their fellows—was a lie. It was born from the fires of war and built on the backs of slaves, cleansed with the blood of the innocent and raised over a world of ash and dust.