Time of Shadows (The Saga of the Seven Stars Book 2)

by Dayne Edmondson

  “I...we...we thought you were...”

  “I know what you thought. But I didn't die, and I'm back.”

  Ingrid averted her eyes, studying the grains in the wood of the counter she had likely scrubbed hundreds of times. “Why did you come back now of all times, Boris?”

  “I don't have anywhere else to go. Besides, I think it's been long enough, don't you? How have Pa and Ma been? Little Tobias?”

  She returned her gaze to meet his. “The world is a big place. You would have been better off staying away. But to answer your question, Pa died from the bloody cough some eight winters ago. Ma is still alive, but she was driven half mad with grief at the death of Sophie and the...disappearance of you. Tobias went off and joined the Imperial army as soon as he was of age – we haven't heard from him since.”

  Boris stared at his sister for a moment. He should have realized things would not be as he left them. “I'm sorry for the deceit, sister, but it was necessary. Dangerous people were after me. But I've grown up now. Where is Ma now?”

  Ingrid tipped her head to the right. “She's up at the manor house, working for the Lord and Lady Morozov in the kitchens. Not much use to them, but it keeps her mind and body occupied. Where have you been, Boris?”

  Boris thought carefully for a moment before he replied. “I've been across the sea, near Tar Ebon. I worked, uh, as an assassin, for a while. I'm not proud of it, but after what happened...I did what I had to do to survive.”

  “An assassin? You? What happened to my little brother who preferred reading books to wrestling with the other boys? I can't believe you'd kill anyone.”

  Boris shrugged and averted his eyes. “It wasn't an easy life. Recently I realized if I didn't leave that life I'd end up dead. I decided it was better to come back home.” He looked into her eyes and reached for her hands. “Ingrid, please believe me. I would never have left my family if there had been any other choice. I never wanted to leave.”

  “I believe you, Boris, but it's hard to forgive you nonetheless.” Ingrid slid her hands from Boris' grasp and turned. “Let me get you some food – on the house. You're welcome to stay here at the inn as long as you like, we have plenty of open rooms, but you should see mother first.”

  “I will,” Boris agreed. “I'll have some of the lentil soup if you please.”

  After eating, Boris left the inn and headed to the north end of town, where the manor house of the Lord of Vergingrad sat. It was the largest building in the small town, a four-story broad stone building with a low wooden palisade surrounding it. Passing through the gates of the palisade unchallenged, Boris entered through the servants’ quarters and found himself in the sweltering kitchens.

  The kitchens of a manor house were a constant center of activity from early morning until late night. Cooks toiled over pots of soup or prepared breads to be baked in the cast iron ovens which sat along one wall. Scullery maids worked to clean up after the cooks, while servant boys carried the food off to various areas within the manor.

  Boris scanned the kitchen for a moment, searching faces for the person he had known all of his life. There, he thought as his eyes fell upon an elderly woman with dark gray hair that was seated in one corner scrubbing a pot on the table before her. Despite the haggard look and bags under her eyes, and the way her back slouched, Boris knew his mother.

  Maneuvering through the bustling cluster of kitchen workers, Boris approached her. “Ma,” he said as he stood in front of her. “It's me, Ma, Boris.” He cracked a smile.

  His mother looked up and scrutinized him. “What? Am I seeing a ghost? Or is this some cruel trick, young man?”

  “It is no trick. I've come home.”

  Tears welled up in his mother's eyes. “Boris! Oh, Boris, thank the Founders,” she exclaimed. Rushing around the table, she gave him a mighty hug that took his breath away. Boris patted her on the back tenderly. The hug lasted for several seconds before his mother detached herself from him. “Where have you been? We all thought you were dead, my son.”

  Boris looked around the kitchen. There were several people in earshot, but expecting privacy in such a place was foolish. “It is a tale better saved for another time - a more private time.”

  His mother nodded. “Of course, I understand.” Suddenly her eyes grew wide and her hand rose to cover her mouth as she gasped. “Oh, Boris, you must follow me. There is someone you must see. Come, follow me.” Without waiting for acknowledgment, his mother grabbed his hand and led him to the servants’ stairs. They climbed to the very top of the stairs before exiting into a hallway. “This hallway runs behind the rooms of the residents here,” his mother explained as they walked. “The room we want is right...here.” With a click, a door along the right wall opened and together they entered a chamber.

  The room was lavish, with thick red carpet, elaborate patterned rugs and a plush sitting couch and two high-backed chairs. Boris stood still for a moment, taking in everything. He had seldom been in places of such opulence.

  “M'lady,” Boris' mother began as she dropped a crude curtsy. “My apologies for the interruption, but I have brought someone I thought you should want to see again.”

  Boris was confused at who his mother was speaking to, and a moment later was surprised when a woman stood up from the chair with its back to him. It was a woman, her long black hair running down to her mid back, a blue silk dress leaving her shoulders exposed. The woman turned, and Boris took a step back in surprise as the green eyes of Alexandra fell upon him.

  Memories of the past assailed Boris in that moment. Memories of walking through the fields of daisies, holding hands with Alexandra, of kissing her on the lips for the first time and talking as they lay away at night about the children they would have together. Before him stood the woman that he had been set to marry all those years before. Until that moment though, he had seemingly forgotten her.

  “It's alright, Galina,” Alexandra said, briefly glancing at Boris' mother before returning her piercing eyes to him. She opened her mouth to ask who she had brought to her, but then her eyes opened wide as recognition dawned. “Boris,” she whispered.

  Boris, speechless, performed a hasty bow. What should I say, he thought. Taking a deep breath and gulping, he returned his gaze to hers. “Hello, Alexandra. It has been too long. How have you been?”

  Alexandra's face grew red and she clenched her fists as she stepped around the chair to face him. Boris noticed as he saw her full body that the years had been kind to her. The dress she wore was modest, with very little cleavage showing, while small white slippers peeped out from beneath her dress. “How have I been? You just come into my life after all this time and that's all you can ask? Boris, where did you go? I thought you were dead for certain.”

  Boris sighed. He hadn't been expecting to run into the woman to whom he had been betrothed. “I had to leave, Alexandra. It was safer for everyone if I was believed dead. I'm sorry to have deceived you, but I couldn't risk telling you I was alive.”

  “Where have you been all this time, then?”

  “I traveled across the sea, to Tar Ebon. I did some odd jobs as a mercenary’s guard and then got involved with some darker characters.”

  “He’s back,” his mother interrupted. “My son, can you believe it?”

  “It seems hard to believe,” Alexandra said, a thoughtful expression on her face. “Why did you come back?”

  “I recently had an experience that made me appreciate the life I have. That and I had to flee from the authorities.” Memories of fleeing in the night toward the docks, Veronica’s blood still beneath his fingernails, came unbidden, causing him to close his eyes against them for a moment. “Vergingrad was the only place I could think of. Besides, I missed my home.”

  “Well, I am glad you are back.” She turned to his mother. “Galina, would you mind leaving Boris and I to talk? I imagine you have many duties to attend to, and I would not keep you from them.”

  His mother performed yet another curtsy. “Of cou
rse, m'lady.” She turned to Boris. “I'll meet you downstairs afterward, son.” With that, she withdrew from the chamber.

  As the door closed, Alexandra rushed forward - and slapped Boris. He had not been expecting it, and was sent reeling backward. “What was that...,” he began, but was cut off as she followed his backward trajectory, reached up, took his head in her hands and arched his head down. Her smooth, moist lips met his dry lips and she kissed him with great fervor, as if he were her lover and they were in bed.

  For a moment Boris did not return the passionate kiss, confused by first the slap and then the kiss, but at last he wrapped one arm around her waist and placed another hand behind her head, pressing her closer.

  “Oh...Boris,” she gasped in between fervent barrages of kisses. “How...how I missed you.” The flurry of kisses bestowed upon him continued for a few more moments, before she simply laid her head on his chest. “It's been a nightmare, Boris. After you left,” she started to sob, “my father shopped me around, looking for a man to sell me off to. At last father approached the lord of the manor, Sergei, and asked him. He took one look at me and paid my father three times the dowry he was asking. He had just lost his wife to the plague, and was in need of a new one. Within the fortnight we were married.

  “He is a horrible man,” she continued, tears beginning to soak his shirt. “He beats me and tells me how much he hates me. He rarely lets me leave the manor and I never see my family. His guards act more like jailers, and this chamber feels more like a cage every day. I prayed to the Founders every day for the first year of our marriage to help me escape, but they did not hear my prayers. I have no children because of what he did to me.

  “Now you are here, though.” Alexandra said, pulling away from his chest and taking his hands in hers. “You can take me away from all this! We can run away, take new names and be free of this horrid village. Oh, please tell me you will help me?”

  Boris wanted to say no. Something in the back of his mind urged him to say no. Years of being around dishonest denizens of the underworld had taught him to detect traps and lies, and also to suspect everyone who spoke of lying and every friendly face of trying to entrap him. No, this is Alexandra, he thought. She wouldn't lie to me. I'm being paranoid. I've been around dishonest people so long that I suspect everyone of lying. “I will do what I can, Alexandra, though you should know I have no money to my name. Are you ready to leave now?”

  “Money does not matter to me, Boris,” Alexandra said as she lifted his hands to her lips and kissed them. “I am just so happy to see you and I want to be with you. Return to me tonight at midnight and I will accompany you.”

  “How will I get past the guards? Surely they will not permit me to enter at so late an hour?”

  “The guard changes at quarter to midnight. There is a hillock that runs along the northeast side of the palisade. You can climb the wall there and slip in through the servants’ entrance. It is unguarded and the servants will be asleep.”

  “I will do it,” Boris said with a bow and a final kiss. “See you tonight, my dear.”

  “Good night, my love. I will wait anxiously for your return.”

  Chapter 4 - Unexpected Allies

  John clung to the iron bars for stability as the slave cart trundled through the woods. He crouched due to the low ceiling of the cart. “Jason, are you all right?”

  Jason, laying in one corner, with Ashley kneeling over him, removed a hand from his head and looked over at John. “Other than the splitting headache and fact that I might have a concussion, sure, I'm doing just peachy. Oh, and waking up in a cage might have freaked me out just a little bit.”

  “We weren't even unconscious and it freaked us out,” Ashley said.

  “Listen,” John said as he neared them and lowered his voice. “In case you missed it or forgot, they're going to ‘have their way’ with Ashley tonight. I think you know what that means, Jason. So we have to do something. Night is falling.”

  “What are two unarmed guys and a girl going to do against all of these mercenaries,” Jason asked. He gestured around them. A dozen mercenaries walked along, scattered around the cart. The slave master rode a horse ahead of the cart. “Not to mention these cuffs.” The chain between the cuffs clinked as he pulled it taut.

  “I don't know, but have to do something.” John raised his finger to indicate a new idea. “I know, we will overpower the guard when he comes to unlock the door. Kick out the door in his face and make our run for it. We can scatter, to make it more difficult for them to catch us, or stick together. What do you guys think?”

  “I don't want any more of us getting hurt,” Ashley said.

  “Would you rather be violated by these men?” John asked.

  “Well, no, but...”

  “Then we have no other choice. That's the plan. Let me do the kicking, then you and Jason follow me. We will all run to the left. Get some rest if you can until it’s time.”

  Several hours later, the caged slave cart came to a rest in a clearing as the sun slipped below the horizon. The slavers moved in the moonlight and prepared a fire and small encampment. As John watched, one of the guards approached the cart, keys in hand. “Back away from the door, slaves,” he growled.

  John and the others backed up, though John crouched lower, ready to rush toward the door in an instant. As the lock clicked and the door opened outward, John launched himself forward and slammed his shoulder into the iron bars of the door. The door gave way with ease and slammed into the man, knocking him to the ground with a grunt. “Come on!” John said, beckoning the others to follow.

  Together the three raced out of the cage and ran to the left. Shouts began to echo throughout the campsite as the mercenaries realized what was happening. “Get them!” The slave master shouted. “Get a crossbow and bring them down! I want the wench alive!”

  John was three steps from the tree line when a sharp pain took his breath away. The pain dropped him to his knees and he looked down to find a crossbow bolt sticking through his chest, the point covered in blood. Ashley stopped and turned, gasping and covering her mouth in horror. “John!” Her face began to fade as darkness closed on him and unconsciousness came.

  ***

  Ashley watched as John fell forward onto the ground. She turned to Jason. “Jason, help me get him up. We'll have to drag him. Hurry!”

  Jason bent over John and tried to lift him. He strained and grunted, but couldn't pick him up. “Can't...lift...him.”

  Ashley looked back toward the clearing and saw the crossbowman who had shot John had reloaded and was taking aim again.

  As the bolt released, Ashley closed her eyes and imagined it streaking toward her. In her mind’s eye, it was as if she could feel the grain of the wood, brush her mind across the feathers, feel it slicing through the air. In her moment of desperation, Ashley prayed the bolt would either stop or miss. She imagined a wall stopping the bolt. She heard a sound in front of her that made her open her eyes. There on the ground in front of her was a crossbow bolt, lying in pieces. She looked up to see a look of surprise on the crossbowman's face. How did that happen, she wondered.

  The man's surprise had bought them valuable time. Pushing the man from her thoughts, she reached down and grabbed hold of John's legs. “Grab both his arms,” she commanded Jason. “We'll lift him on three. One, two, three, lift!” Together she and Jason lifted John a few inches off the ground. “Hurry.” Moving backward, Jason led them toward the woods.

  Ashley had almost entered the woods when an animal of some sort - possibly a wolf - flashed by on her left. “Wait,” she said to Jason. “Set him down.” Together they lowered John to the ground.

  Ashley turned to see the animal racing toward the man with the crossbow. He had almost reloaded, but his hands began to shake as the wolf raced toward him. At the last moment, he turned his crossbow as if to shield himself, but the wolf went low and snapped at his legs, dropping him to the ground with a shriek of panic and pain and sending his crossbo
w flying.

  The wolf took no time disengaging itself from the man's legs and leaping forward to rip his throat out. The man's feet kicked as he died, becoming still as blood flowed from his neck. The wolf lifted its head and looked back at Ashley. It's yellow eyes seemed almost human – as if it were intelligent.

  The man's shout had alerted the other mercenaries to the location of the escaped prisoners, and several of the mercenaries ran toward them with swords and other weapons in hand. They slowed as they saw the wolf and the dead mercenary.

  “It's just a damn wolf,” the slave master shouted. “Surround it and kill it, or just shoot it with a few bolts.” His words seemed to break the men out of their uncertainty, for they began spreading out as two of the men loaded their crossbows.

  “I wouldn't do that if I were you,” a voice said from Ashley's left. Ashley turned and glimpsed a man dressed all in black striding forward. It was hard to tell in the poor light, but it appeared that he had a breastplate covering his chest, and a pair of objects reminiscent of scabbards hung from his waist. His face was concealed by a hooded cloak which shadowed his eyes. “In fact, if I were you, I would run.”

  “One man, against almost a dozen of my guards? Just who do you think you are?” Horacio asked. “A fool?”

  The cloaked man continued forward to stand beside the wolf. Reaching up, he undid the clasp around his neck, causing his cloak to fall to the forest floor. “I am your worst nightmare. If you and your men value your lives, you will surrender or run. If you fight my friend and I, it will not end well for you.”

  Horacio threw back his head and laughed. “You must not be much of a gambler, for the odds are heavily against you and your wolf. Men, kill them quickly and get those slaves back.” He stepped back as his guards moved forward.

  The guards with the crossbows had readied their weapons during the conversation between the newcomer and Horacio. They took careful aim as their companions advanced, then fired in unison.

  As the bolts neared the man, Ashley again closed her eyes and let the image of the bolts come into her mind. In that instant, she imagined the bolts stopping and falling to the ground, as if there was a wall before the man. She didn't know whether the bolt earlier had been because of her, but she had to try. When the grunt she had been half-expecting was replaced instead by a gasp of surprise from the mercenaries, she knew what she had done had worked. Opening her eyes, Ashley noted the outline of two crossbow bolts lying several inches from the man's feet, shattered like the other one. They had not touched him.