With Footfalls of Shadow

by Donogan Sawyer

  He had never spent time considering such matters before Bandalanu died, but now he was beginning to see the importance of the distinctions between his own senses and those who saw with vision. It seemed he could perceive things at a much greater distance than those with sight, and it was clear that his perception was far more penetrating. Whereas physical objects would obscure Rhemus’s senses to varying degrees, they seemed to utterly block a person’s vision. While others could see trees in the distance; he could perceive the trees, the mountains, and the living things moving through them.

  Now, as he cast his senses outward, he could feel the rhythm of the people of the city. He reached out with his senses across Kraal, as a tree branches out for nourishment in the earth, and he sensed that the growing tension in Jeandania was becoming more focused. As Filos had suggested, he tried to concentrate more on the individuals of the city, to glean some more specific information which they could use to find their way ‘in the world of men, rather than through the world of æther,’ as Filos put it.

  He had wanted to correct Filos, and explain that there is no difference between the two, but had not wanted to be disrespectful. Filos had been right about directing his senses, though. Rhemus could see clearly that the people of Kraal, and beyond, were focused on a remote hope and wonder. The æther was congealing. Everywhere across the land, like whispers in an empty hall, the name of Liam Foster echoed through Jeandania.

  Now there was something more immediate, more personal, that caught his attention. Rhemus was surprised he had not noticed it before. He recognised a strand of energy in the city, close to him, coming nearer. It was one of Bandalanu’s children, who had found Rhemus, and was coming to kill him.

  ~Æ~

  Filos walked through the bustling city, absorbing the excitement and anticipation of the day before the festival. There had not been such an event in the city for many years, and the people were grateful. Decorations were being hung, great barrels of ale and wine unloaded, and kiosks were stocking up and doing business. Filos enjoyed the city, and he enjoyed celebrations. A festival was a time when men seemed to shrug off their differences and their petty complaints, and for a few hours could sit together and celebrate being alive. Filos allowed himself to enjoy the morning; but he had other, more important objectives. He had set out to investigate, to gather some information about the state of affairs in Jeandania, and about who this Liam Foster really was. He had overheard a few conversations about the upcoming trial. Some seemed anxious to have him hung, and others seemed unsure. Some spoke in hushed voices only when they thought they would not be overheard, secretly supporting him. It seemed little Rhemus was correct. The entire city was focused on this man.

  Filos decided to find a place to eat, and possibly strike up a conversation with someone about the fair and the trial. He looked around at the various taverns, diners and restaurants in the narrow streets, trying to decide on which one to enter. Then, as he passed the entrance to an alleyway, he saw a man making a sign with his fingers against his chest and being let into a building.

  He was not sure if it had any significance, but he lingered a bit and saw two more people walk furtively into the alley and not come out again. Eventually he walked down the alley himself. It smelled horrible. The source of the stench came from four large boxes filled with rotting vegetables. If he was correct, this was done with purpose. The food had been rotting for many days, but the city garbage collectors made their rounds twice per week. Also, the boxes were not covered. Filos was certain the smell was meant as a deterrent to any lovers looking for a private nook, or vagabonds looking for a place to sleep. He finished working his way past the garbage in the alley and knocked. A skinny man with a thin face opened the door, drying his hands with an apron. His apron was wet, but not stained. A bartender most likely, thought Filos. Filos imitated the sign he had seen the other man make.

  The man at the door let him in. “You’re a big fella, aren’t you? Not from around here?”

  “I’m big enough to take on the man hiding behind the door, yes,” he answered, lowering his head to fit through the doorway.

  A large man in overalls, with a long scar across his eye and down his cheek, stepped out from behind the door holding a cudgel, confirming Filos’s assumption. Now he would test the assumption that really mattered; that these people were gathering to support Liam Foster. “Word of Liam Foster has reached the land of the Gantas. I am here to assess whether this man is worthy of our support.”

  “The Gantas, eh? Never know when you might need an army of giants, eh, Bull?” the man said, directing his question to the man with the scar.

  Bull grunted an affirmative.

  “Name’s Hatch, I’m the bartender,” he said, offering his hand.

  Filos enveloped Hatch’s hand in his own. “Aah,” teased the giant. “I am but a wee man compared to my brethren. An army of Gantas is fearsome to behold.”

  Hatch laughed gleefully at the thought and looked again to Bull, who made a motion with his head indicating the bartender should leave them alone.

  Filos watched Hatch walk around a corner into what looked like a scullery, and looked back to Bull, who was no longer there. Standing in his place was a beautiful adolescent girl on the verge of womanhood.

  “My name is Sinead,” she said.

  “Pleased to meet you, Sinead,” Filos answered.

  “You were being disingenuous. It is not the Ganta’s way to fight at all. And to fight a war on behalf of ordinary men would be nearly unthinkable to a Ganta. Or am I mistaken?”

  Filos tried to maintain his composure. He was obviously dealing with an Æhlman sister.

  “No, you are correct. You have discovered my prevarication. I was hoping to persuade the gatekeepers to permit my attendance to this meeting.”

  Sinead surveyed him intensely for a moment.

  “Yes, Brandi said to watch for someone like you.”

  “Brandi?”

  “Yes, Brandi Foster. She is Liam Foster’s daughter.”

  “I thought she had died in the raid.”

  “So do many in Jeandania, but it is her. She has special abilities now, and you will soon see how she puts them to use in aid of her father.”

  Sinead gestured for him to enter the meeting. He looked to where she was waving, and when he looked back, the scarred faced character of Bull was once again standing guard.

  Bull nodded and gestured again for him to move on. Hatch poked his head around the corner. “Come this way.”

  The bartender led him through the scullery and the kitchen, and into a large dining area. It was mid-afternoon. Two hours earlier or two hours later would have seen this room filled with patrons, but now it was filled with many men and a few women gathered for a secret purpose. People were lining the walls, and standing in between the tables. As a Ganta, Filos understood unity. He understood what it was like to be in a room of people with a common purpose, and he sensed it here. He also sensed something else, something he had not felt in Jeandania in many, many years. It was a sense of hope.

  A woman walked in front of the group and looked around at all of the people. Her gaze lingered on Filos, and she gave him a nod. He nodded back. She was a pretty stout young woman with an intensely serious, perhaps wounded, look on her face.

  “My name is Brandi Foster. I am here to ask for your support ...”

  ~Æ~

  Maurious had spent the last few days getting to know the seer. They sat in one of his residences, a very large hole at the base of a tree branch high above the ground. Maurious had carved the space out many years ago. The tree was better off for the effort, as the wood had been rotting there. Maurious had dug it out, and then burned the walls, cauterising the wound and smoothing out the surfaces. Now, forty-seven years later, the tree was still healthy, and Maurious still had a home. It was a one room dwelling with minimal furniture; a bed, a table with four chairs, and a counter on which to prepare food, all constructed of what he could gather high in the trees of
the swamp. Against the walls were stacks of yellowing documents in neat piles of varying height, mainly records and study material from a life before his self-imposed exile. The smell of today’s lunch wafted in from outside, where a small fire warmed the fish and swamp vegetation on Maurious’s only real modern indulgence; his metal cooking stand. Maurious brought the lunch inside, serving it on large leaves that were thick enough not to bend under the weight of the food. His new friend seemed appreciative, and he continued their conversation in his stilted, awkward phrases.

  The little man called himself Kienten, and he was not at all what Maurious had expected. The man was in his twenties. He was a seer, indeed, but he seemed to have no experience with these powers. Maurious found it difficult to fathom how a man of such profound perception, intelligence and relative age, could be so naive about the world around him. As Kienten explained his situation, he gave the impression that he had only been of this world for a short time. Maurious deduced that he had some sort of memory loss, but he had his doubts as well. He wondered if it was just a condition of the seers, to experience the world with perfect clarity, yet retain no memory of it for longer than a few weeks. After a while, he decided to leave the mystery of Kienten’s past alone, and to focus on the matters at hand.

  As best as Maurious could discern, Kienten had come into the service of the King in some capacity. He had travelled a fair distance to the home of a man near the capital. Kienten did not know why he had chosen to go there, only that he had been drawn to it, much like he had been drawn to Maurious. He said that there were others like him who lived there, and that together they would play with birds and animals. They knew that they had another life before this, but the memories were vague, and language from that time only came to them gradually. He said that sometimes the man was mean to them, and they decided to pretend they could not speak, even as they learned together. Maurious was fairly certain it was Argus who owned the home near the capital which Kienten was drawn to. He was very disturbed that his brother was once again involving himself in the affairs of Jeandania. It seemed this time they had chosen opposite sides.

  ~Æ~

  Filos had taught Rhemus how to use the crossbow. It was meant to be a hand-held device for a normal man, but served as a full-sized weapon for Rhemus. He explained to Rhemus how important it was to defend himself, even against his own people if need be. “As horrible as it may be for you to lose one of your people, it would be much worse for your people to lose you.”

  Rhemus had understood, and even agreed with Filos to an extent, but he knew he would never take up arms against another Mikraino, no matter the circumstances.

  Rhemus mentally tracked the Mikraino who was now climbing over the fence in Filos’s backyard. Close enough that Rhemus could sense that the Mikraino was confused, and angry, and afraid, and murderous, and ... female. Rhemus tried to remain calm. He was grateful Filos was not here. He needed to face this woman alone.

  ~Æ~

  Filos walked out into the alley as dusk was settling in. Many had stayed after the meeting to discuss matters further, and have a meal. The rest filtered out, one by one or in small groups, so as not to attract attention by leaving en mass.

  It seemed that Liam Foster had a very powerful ally in his daughter, and many new followers because of her and her special talents. Loved ones who have died can make a very convincing argument. Filos had seen it before. It was a rare gift, and one often imitated by conmen. As impressed as he was with Brandi, he was energised by the promise of her father. There was something about this man, a man who claimed no ambition, no agenda or political ideology. He had a legitimate blood claim to the throne, however, and he seemed willing, and able, to defy the King.

  The last to defy Arconus was General Santaque, whose head rotted outside the city walls even now, with just a few remnants of sun dried flesh still clinging to his skull. Filos felt that all the people at the meeting dreamed of defying the King, but were too afraid or too practical to do so. A dead man cannot feed his family, but a man who is not free is not entirely alive, either. In Liam Foster, these people saw a man who was alive, strong and heroic in his defiance. They saw a man who seemed to hold the promise of a better Jeandania.

  The entire crowd left committed to helping Liam Foster. Perhaps there was hope; but first Liam needed to survive his trial.

  ~Æ~

  As they sat together, talking peacefully, Maurious could tell that his guest was growing upset, and distracted.

  “What is it, Kienten?” he asked.

  “Another comes. He carries fate with him.”

  ~Æ~

  Rhemus could hear her now, coming up the stairs, slowly, quietly. She must have known that he was aware of her coming. He could hear her breathing as she walked down the passageway and stood outside his door. There she paused, scared to take the final step.

  “Please, come in,” invited Rhemus.

  The breathing became louder, its rhythm broken by little sporadic gasps. The young lady then burst into the doorway and aimed her weapon at Rhemus.

  “I see you have found my crossbow.”

  “And I am going to kill you with it.”

  “Ironic. That weapon was supposed to be for my protection.”

  “You cannot fool me. I can see through you. I know you are afraid. I can see it. I can see just like you.”

  “Yes, I know. I’m afraid. I don’t want to die. You can see that, but I can also see that you are afraid, and you don’t want to kill me.”

  “Yes, I do. You killed Bandalanu.”

  “Yes, I did. I almost killed you, too; but Bandalanu saved you, and he saved me.”

  The confused young lady shook her head, her frustration welling, finally broken by a flurry of questions and tears. “Why? How? Why am I like this? What happened to my friends, my family?”

  “I don’t have all the answers you seek. But you deserve them. I will share what I know, then perhaps together we can find the rest of our people. Please, put the bow down.”

  “You cannot control me,” she said, straightening her aim.

  “I don’t wish to control you.”

  “How can I trust you? You killed Bandalanu and the others.”

  “You know you can trust me,” he answered. “Use your gifts. Trust your gifts. With your eyes you can see whether or not I’m telling the truth. Look at me and know that I mean you no harm.”

  The crossbow shook in her hands and tears dripped from her cheeks onto her dainty fingers. She decided she was going to shoot him, and in that moment she saw in Rhemus the acceptance of this fact. She saw that he was ready to accept death rather than harm her. She did not understand exactly how she knew this, but she was confident that it was the truth.

  “You would let me kill you?” she asked him, her finger still on the trigger.

  “I would, but I dearly hope you will choose not to.”

  “I see fear in you still, but not of death.”

  “I don’t fear death itself, only its consequences. I fear I may fail in my responsibilities.”

  “What responsibilities?”

  “I must bring our people back together,” he answered, and offered his hand. “Please, help me.”

  She slowly dropped the crossbow to the ground, and then sat down on the floor crying. Rhemus walked over to her and held her. He comforted her in ways impossible to understand to all but those with eyes of black.

  ~Æ~

  Argus acted before thinking and the Mikraino, Shagien, was dead before he hit the ground.

  “You lost it! You were told to protect it, and you lost it,” Argus snarled at them. “You see what happens when you do not obey me? You see what happens when you betray me? You brought this on yourself. You have killed your friend. Rubalt, you see, you have killed your friend.”

  “My name is not Rubalt,” he replied, anger plain in his voice. “My name is Dantun.”

  XXVIII

  The first day of celebration is the day of Ishra, Goddess of Peace. It is
a celebration of the sun, the summer; of bounty, and generosity ...

  – King Arconus, transcript from the King’s address from the first day of the first Carnival at Kraal

  Filos had envisioned the costumes while walking around the day before. The carnival had brought people to Kraal from all over the country, and beyond. Among them were people from a place called Diamond Lake in the far south, where the winters were long and the summers were cold. They had fair skin and light hair, and although Kraal was no desert, their skin was sensitive to the sun this far north. They wore light veils to protect themselves, especially the women and children. In talking to them, Filos found them to be gentle, kindly and shy. Filos wondered if the veils served the purpose of protecting them from too much conversation, as well as from too much sun. In any case, their interesting fashion proved a useful disguise for Rhemus and their new companion. A giant man in plain clothing travelling with two young children was a believable disguise, and, more importantly, the veils covered the Mikraino’s eyes.

  Filos found the situation very strange. The young lady had come to kill Rhemus. There was no doubt about that, but there also was no doubt that she was now bonded to him in some deep and mysterious way, and was no longer a threat.

  “This could be a wonderful gathering, under different circumstances,” Rhemus observed as they walked through the noisy streets. Rhemus had an unusual ability to project his tiny voice directly to his listeners, and he had taught it to Kaila. Filos’s bellowing voice did not need special projection techniques.

  “What makes you say that?” asked Rhemus’s new pupil.

  “The purpose of this gathering is to bring the city together, and make them grateful to the King. But the people are torn because of the trial.”

  Kaila walked silently for a moment.

  “I see only confusion,” she said irritably.

  “It is all right, Kaila. I sense confusion, too,” answered Rhemus.