With Footfalls of Shadow

by Donogan Sawyer

  “Well, I’m certainly not going anywhere with a cold ale in front of me.”

  “Well said, mate,” offered Liam, and held his drink aloft. Lyra did the same.

  Travis tapped his ale to each of theirs, and offered a toast. “To Tandle, the God of Mischief. May he look after us all.”

  They all sipped their ale, then Liam said, “Perhaps that’s been my problem. I’ve been praying to the wrong gods.”

  “Anybody want to play some cards?” Lyra asked. She grabbed a deck and started shuffling. Travis was mesmerised by her dexterity.

  “All right,” he said. “But just hay pennies, eh? My luck has been squatter’s poor lately.”

  To Travis’s surprise, Lyra laughed. She looked stunning as her laugh faded to a smile.

  “Seven card block, blue queen’s got the push,” she said, and started dealing.

  The three played into the night, but no one was really interested in the game. Liam carefully prodded Travis about his past, his plans and his character without being too intrusive, while Travis did the same to Liam. Interesting stories were interspersed with the friendly interrogation, and Travis found himself enjoying an evening with two very interesting people with unique and impressive talents. Travis learned that Lyra had helped Liam to escape the soldiers after the incident at the town fountain. To Travis’s amusement, it seemed Liam had not had any intention of making a political statement or creating a hand gesture as a symbol of the rebellion, as most people of Jeandania had assumed. Lyra’s role in everything remained a mystery. He could not quite understand why Aunty Jules had directed him there. One thing was perfectly clear, however, he was in much deeper than he wished to be.

  “So I was cornered in this tiny shed when the soldiers walked in,” continued Liam. “My sword was tucked under a bench at my side. I might have survived a fight with those two, but I was alone outside the palace, with a hundred guards looking for me. So I huddled in the corner like a beggar. One of the guards came over to me and prodded me with his sword. I couldn’t think of anything to say that might make me sound like a convincing beggar, so I just started screeching like a bird. Caw! Caw! Caaaaw!”

  Travis listened with his mouth open wide.

  “The soldier jumped back in fright and raised his sword over my head. The soldier behind him grabbed his arm to stop him, I guess out of pity for a crazy old beggar, and probably saved my life.”

  Travis laughed. He was running out of stories to match Liam’s. He had heard of Liam’s prowess as a fighter from various people since the raid on his tavern, but never from Liam himself. Liam’s stories were tales of adventure, funny stories and amazing stories, but nothing to suggest he was a hero. Travis felt put at ease by this man, who should by all rights be intimidating. He was large, strong and well-worn. But in his eyes, Travis could see the mellow, kindly manner of a middle-aged man, the rash vitality of youth behind him. And in those friendly, welcoming eyes, he could also see something sad and tired. Had Travis not known better, Liam would have come off as just a personable fellow with a colourful past. He felt warmly towards him, as he might towards a favourite uncle, and he noticed that when Lyra looked at him, she held her gaze a little longer than when she looked at Travis.

  Pity, Travis thought, and held his gaze on Lyra a little longer than necessary as she dealt the cards.

  Travis looked back at Liam to try to get a reading on the hand Liam had just been dealt, but Liam was distracted. He was staring at the window, frozen, with an odd expression on his face. He had seen something. Travis took this as a signal, and rose from his chair.

  “I’ll just get us another round of ale,” Travis said and made his way to the window as nonchalantly as he could, trying to stay out of view of anyone who might be outside.

  Lyra stood up and casually walked into the next room. Her movements seemed natural, but the look on her face was intense. Liam stayed at the table with a smile on his face. He grabbed the cards and began idly reshuffling, while starting another story.

  Travis stood with his back flat against the wall next to the window and pulled the curtain open slowly. He had expected to find someone outside, but did not expect to see a very small, plumpish man standing in the garden. He stood in the light of a nearby torch, arm outstretched, pointing to the window with a tiny finger. Travis recoiled in fright at the sight of him. It was not the unusual size or gesture – he was merely standing there, non-threateningly, pointing like a child might point at a bird in the sky. It was not even the Bok who stirred behind the little man, readying their weapons, that frightened him. What stabbed Travis with fear were those vacant eyes of pure black.

  Liam was on his feet with his sword as the door crashed open and a Bok charged in. Travis was pinned between the door and the window, watching in astonishment as Liam dispatched the Bok. Lyra leapt on top of the table with a long bow in her hands. The arrow tracked something outside. Then she fired through the open window.

  ~Æ~

  Rhemus fell to the ground. He could feel the arrow in his back. He could feel the panic and the pain. He could feel the life slipping away, out into the Everything, confused, dying another time. A deep sadness passed through him.

  Filos watched in surprise and pity as his friend rolled on the ground. He knelt down and helped Rhemus up to a sitting position against a tree.

  “What’s wrong, Rhemus? Can you tell me what is wrong?” Filos asked quietly.

  “One of Bandalanu’s children is dead. He was shot in the back with an arrow.”

  “Bandalanu’s children?” Filos asked.

  “Yes,” Rhemus answered with a slow, long sigh.

  “Dead?”

  “Yes, but there was another with him, and he has just stolen fate.”

  Filos sat with the boy, stroking his head, trying to make sense of what Rhemus had said. “Maybe it’s time we talked about what happened in the cavern, Rhemus.”

  ~Æ~

  Travis struggled to follow Liam and Lyra through the dark woods. His fear and excitement were abating as they moved further from Endrin. Lyra put a hand in the air, signalling for them to stop. They listened for sounds of pursuit.

  “I think we are safe now,” said Lyra.

  “Don’t take this the wrong way,” Travis said between pants, “but you’re a witch, aren’t you?”

  “Sister,” Lyra bristled. “I am a member of the Æhlman Sisterhood.”

  “And that is how we got past all those Bok?” he pressed.

  “Yes, it is. Are you going to run screaming into the forest now?”

  “No, I don’t mind how we got out of there. If it’s because you’re a witch, then I think I like witches. You don’t fight half badly either,” Travis understated. She had been brilliant, and Liam even more so. He was beginning to believe the stories.

  “Our training is very extensive,” she responded.

  Travis breathed a little easier now that Lyra had confirmed that they were safe from their pursuers. He felt in his vest pocket for the box again, and realised it was gone. He felt all over his body, in case he had put it in a different pocket, but he knew he had not. Travis froze where he stood, the panic swelling within him. He took a deep breath to calm himself. A dizzy hot rush passed through him. His breathing stopped. He felt as if he could hear the sound of his own fear. The box was gone. He was a dead man.

  “What is it?” asked Lyra.

  Travis thought for a moment before answering. “Don’t you know?”

  Lyra looked at him carefully, and then seemed afraid as she said, “You’ve lost the box.”

  “And how did you know that?” Travis asked accusingly.

  “It wasn’t difficult to tell,” interrupted Liam. “I could see you had something in your breast pocket. You were feeling for it every ten minutes or so.”

  Travis tried to remain calm and said, “It was given to a friend of mine by one of your sisters. Do you know anything about it, Lyra? Did you have some reason to take it back?”

  “No, Travis,�
� Lyra answered. “I did not take your box, but I might know who did.”

  “So who do you think took it?” he sneered, and then lunged for Lyra in the mad certainty that she must have it. Lyra turned and ducked with the grace of a dancer. Travis was knocked to the ground with a blow to the head from her long bow, which never left her back.

  “Travis, I did not take your box. If I wanted it, I would have taken it, and would have left you to the Bok. The next time you attack me, I will kill you, and then you will have no hope of retrieving it.”

  Liam gave Travis a look that made him certain Liam would kill him if Lyra missed. He supposed she was right. Travis slowly moved to sit down on the cold ground, rubbing his head. He could feel a bump forming. The pain was a welcome distraction from the despair that was starting to swallow him. Everything seemed lost to him now, in an instant. In all of Jeandania, how could he possibly find it again? Perhaps Lyra knew something.

  “I’m sorry, Lyra. Of course I won’t attack you again. I lost my head,” he said, still massaging his new bump. “You seem to have found it for me. Nice move, by the way.”

  Lyra and Liam smiled, but remained watchful.

  “Look, I’m really sorry,” said Travis. “Maybe you can help me. You said you might know who took it?”

  Lyra visibly relaxed and sat down next to him. She started tending to his head. Her touch was divine.

  “I don’t believe that Mikraino was alone,” she said, taking out some salve from her satchel.

  “The Mikraino? You mean the little man with the dark eyes?” Travis asked, as the salve was applied to his wound. He could not help but wonder how his hair would look full of salve.

  “Yes, very strange,” she mused. “There is only supposed to be one.”

  “One what?” asked Liam.

  “One Mikraino with eyes of black. All of the Mikraino are small, but their eyes are just like ours. Eyes of black are only supposed to happen once in a generation, and the man with eyes of black is supposed to be in the Mikraino mountains,” she answered. “The Mikraino with eyes of black is the leader of the Mikraino people. There is never supposed to be more than one, but I think there were two with us tonight, and they seemed to be scouts.”

  “Okay, but what do they have to do with my box?”

  “The house we stayed in is enchanted. It is owned by the Sisterhood. To most, it’s shielded from view, or, more accurately, from attention. The enchantment is a very effective cloak. People are not even aware of it. They are just inclined to walk past, like you were. But to others it has the opposite effect. It’s like a beacon.”

  “You’re saying these Mikraino were lured to it?” asked Liam.

  “Yes, I believe so. They were lured to the house by the magic, as they were lured to the box. The other one must have taken it. I could sense his presence shortly after the scuffle. He was moving away from us very quickly. He must have been on horseback.”

  “How could he have taken the box without us noticing?” asked Travis.

  “I don’t know. The Mikraino with eyes of black are supposed to be very powerful.”

  “What kind of box is this?” asked Liam.

  “It was a message box,” answered Lyra. “And you were supposed to deliver it to someone, yes?”

  Travis nodded.

  “I’m sorry, Travis. I’m not sure if I can help.”

  “Why not?”

  Lyra struggled to find an answer. “The box itself? I don’t know very much about it. I am one of the swain. We are kind of peripheral to the Sisterhood. A message box is a tool used only by the Oracle, but from what I understand, a message box is a vessel of the Fates, not of the Sisterhood.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means the box will travel its own path.”

  “Then why was I asked, and threatened, to deliver it?’

  “I don’t know.”

  “Is my death sentence still valid if this box runs away from me?”

  “That is not for me to decide.”

  “Right,” said Travis. “Great.”

  “Lyra,” Liam interjected. “You said you could sense the Mikraino, correct?”

  “Yes, to some extent.”

  “Do you have an idea where he’s headed?”

  “I think he is headed for the capital.”

  “Well, that is where I’m headed. We can travel together, if you like, Travis.”

  “You wish to go to Kraal?” asked Lyra.

  “Yes. I believe it’s time to confront the King.”

  Lyra bowed her head softly. “You’ll need my help.”

  “I cannot ask you to help me,” Liam protested. “Travis and I can go alone.”

  “You are not asking,” answered Lyra. “I am offering.”

  Liam nodded in acceptance. “And what is it you wish to do, Travis?”

  Travis felt bewildered. Here he was running through the forest with Liam Foster and an Æhlman witch. A little man had just pilfered his reason for living, and possibly secured him a death sentence. Now Liam was on his way to face the King, and asking Travis to accompany him.

  “What do you think the chances are that I’ll find the box again?” he asked.

  “I don’t know, Travis,” answered Lyra. “The best I can tell you is that if you had the box in your possession, then you are now a part of its message. If you are meant to deliver this box, you will.”

  Travis sighed at this answer. He did not yet trust Lyra, but she might be his best chance to recover the box. In many ways, it seemed a terrible idea to associate himself with these two in the midst of his own problems, but he sensed a certain integrity in Liam which compelled him to help. If he wasn’t able to find his box, perhaps he could at least do some good.

  “I don’t seem to be long on options at the moment. Let’s go to Kraal.”

  ~Æ~

  “Rhemus, I think it is time to talk about your experience in the Mikraino cavern.”

  Rhemus did not seem perturbed. He nodded slowly, and replied, “Of course, Filos. You deserve an explanation. Thank you for your patience with me. I needed time to reflect on what happened, but now I’m beginning to understand.”

  Rhemus took a deep breath. “I was on the floor of Bandalanu’s lair, and I was being attacked. I could not escape. I was scared and confused. I knew I was dying.”

  Filos listened closely. Even Rhemus’s language was different since the incident in the cave.

  “Bandalanu thought I was dead. He was sad and tired. He did not wish to kill me, but ... there can be only one,” Rhemus continued. “Then I lashed out. I still don’t understand exactly how, but I lashed out with all my might, my anger and my fear. I killed him, I think because Bandalanu was weakened by a long struggle with Dantun.” Rhemus stared blankly ahead of him as he spoke. “It also killed the rest of the Mikraino in the cavern.”

  “Yet, some came back?”

  “Yes, some came back. I sense now they were not really dead, but metamorphosing when I first found them.”

  Rhemus took a deep breath and continued, “Bandalanu was a good leader. He was a wise man, even a gentle man. But I was a threat to him and a danger to his people. I became exactly what he feared. He knew what I would bring. He could sense it, and his actions were a noble effort to stop me. How could he have known?”

  “Known what?” Filos asked patiently.

  “The visions he had before my arrival were accurate, that I would bring ruin to the Mikraino. His actions were taken in order to stop me, but it was those very actions that caused it. As he died, he saw what his efforts had wreaked. He comprehended the part he had played in the destruction of his people. It was a horrifying truth to realise, and he did what he could to make it right. His body was dead, but he clung hard to keep his energy whole. Before he passed on, before he dissipated completely, his energy rushed into everyone in the cavern who still had a sign of life. I, myself, was near death, and some of him is now in me. He wanted to save us. His guilt is with me too, added to my own.


  “With earthquakes and thunder, or with footfalls of shadow, the will of the Fates shall be wrought.”

  Filos had heard these words before. They were a part of the Æhlman text. He guessed little Rhemus had never read them, but Bandalanu certainly had.

  “Bandalanu saved as many of us as he could. I can feel them. Some have memories of who they were, some do not. Some remember Bandalanu, some do not. I was the centre of Bandalanu’s focus just before he died. I can feel his sentiment in the breath of the land even now. That sentiment runs through his children, as well. They all fear me, and they all want me dead. Underneath their fear, I believe they still possess reason and goodness. But at the moment their fear is stronger, and it guides them.”

  “That is the way of all men,” added Filos. “Fear must be overcome before reason can hold sway.”

  “Fear is the realm before reason, where hatred and destruction fester,” Rhemus agreed. “Reason is the path that leads from fear to understanding, hatred to love and destruction to creation.”

  Filos recognised, again, a passage from the Tomes of Æhlman.

  “There is something happening in Jeandania now,” Rhemus continued. “I can see it in the trees and in the mountains, in the wind and the clouds. Bandalanu would have known what it all means, but it is unclear to me. I can see that the æther is roiling. The will of the people of Jeandania and the will of the Fates are jostling and coalescing. As all tributaries eventually lead to the sea, events are now flowing towards the capital. That is where we must go. I cannot bring my people together again until this matter is resolved.”

  Filos recoiled with sympathy for the eight-year-old boy, who bore an unthinkable burden. “My friend,” he said. “I will accompany you for as long as I can be of use.”

  Rhemus looked back to Filos, the child comforted with the assurance of Filos’s company; the man of ages comforted to be joined by his peer. “Thank you, Filos. You will be needed. Let us go east. We must find a man named Liam Foster.”

  XIX

  It is rare to encounter one who is half-Bok, half-man. Such a one is usually the product of a heinous crime. A woman pregnant with such a creature is apt to end her own life, or the life of her newborn child. The rare adult half-breed is as intelligent as a human, as strong as a Bok, and as fierce as a dog mistreated by his master.