With Footfalls of Shadow

by Donogan Sawyer

  “All I know is that I received a message to sing there.”

  “Well that explains why it was safe,” Travis guessed.

  “So this meeting, it was just about recruiting people to go to this place …”

  “Sarhani, yes,” aided Filos.

  “But they gave you no indication as to how Liam was going to escape, or to get to Sarhani?”

  “No,” answered Filos. “But they did tell me we had a part to play.”

  “What part?” asked Lyra.

  “I believe we are playing it now,” answered Rhemus.

  “And why should we believe all this?” Travis asked.

  “Because the woman pleading for the people to go to Sarhani was Foster’s daughter,” answered Filos.

  “I thought she was dead,” said Travis.

  “No,” Lyra answered. “She’s not. But you say she is here? In the capital?”

  “Yes, and I am certain she was with at least one Æhlman sister. She was very convincing. She is able to communicate with the dead.”

  “Brandi, a death walker?” Lyra seemed stunned. “What have I done? My god, what else did she say? Sarhani?”

  “Wow,” said Travis. “You weren’t kidding. They don’t tell you much, do they?”

  “No, they most certainly don’t,” she answered. She stood up and started pacing. “But they did tell me that I mustn’t let Liam know yet that she is alive. I hated keeping it from him, now I’m not sure if I made the right choice. Can you all promise me something?”

  She took a deep breath and continued, “Should Liam survive the trial ... Should we all survive the trial, please allow me to be the one to tell him. I have turned his daughter into a death walker. I feel I need to explain to him what happened, myself.”

  “I do not like the idea of keeping secrets, but as this secret is yours more than mine. I agree,” Filos said.

  “I think we must trust Lyra,” offered Rhemus.

  Kaila nodded.

  “Thank you, Kaila,” replied Lyra.

  “I’m not so sure I trust the Sisterhood,” said Travis.

  “Me neither,” replied Lyra.

  “But I will trust you, Lyra,” said Travis.

  “And I,” added Filos.

  “Thank you all,” Lyra said smiling through tears. Then she sat down again and put her face in her hands. “My God, what have I done?”

  “What do you mean?” asked Filos.

  “Back at Liam’s tavern,” she answered. “I saved her. I didn’t know it would lead to this.”

  “But the Sisterhood is already sending people to Sarhani in preparation for Liam Foster,” said Rhemus. “They did this with Brandi’s help. Perhaps your actions will prove the key to victory.”

  “Or perhaps I have ruined everything,” said Lyra quietly.

  ~Æ~

  The pain was getting easier to handle as the hours wore on. Blade was sure there was something that eased the pain in the fluids the wasp forced down his throat. The difficulty now was in keeping his senses about him. His movement and his vision were very limited. The paralysing effect of the wasp’s poison wore off a few hours after each feeding, but he was still confined to the rocks by strong, thin webbing over his body. He was able to move his feet, but he understood by now that the partial movement he was enjoying meant that the poison was wearing off and that another feeding was near. He focused on his breathing, and pushed back the fear. The helplessness of his confinement was something foreign. He was not able to confront his enemy or fight. His only option was to try to survive. He would endure the feeding’s and the temporary suffocation, and he would live to return to the Talons. Gastious would probably be back before long to continue his interrogation. He focused on his breathing, and tried to think of misinformation to feed to the King.

  Then he heard a clumsy scuffling coming from the tunnels. He heard the heavy door open, and realised the sound was the guards leading a new prisoner into the cavern. They briefly passed his field of vision, and Blade could see that the prisoner was an old man who gave them little resistance. At one point the old man fell. The guards picked him up, only to throw him to the ground again a few feet away. Then Blade heard the guards move quickly towards the door, anxious to reach the exit before one of the wasps attacked the wrong man.

  A moment later, he saw the old man’s face staring down at him.

  “We don’t have much time. Clench this between your teeth,” he said, stuffing a rock into Blade’s mouth. “Trust me. You are lucky. The wasp laid its eggs in your arm. It seems the young are early into their larval state.”

  The old man continued speaking quietly as he took two steps and lay down. “They look for a soft spot. If you are not already wounded, this usually means the stomach. That is where they will lay their eggs in me.”

  The all too familiar buzzing was getting louder again. The wasps were descending.

  “The rock in your mouth will prevent the wasp from feeding you. In less than a day the larvae will die without the nutrients it needs from its mother. The wasps will consider you an unviable host and will not bother you again.”

  A wasp swooped down on the old man, landing on his shoulder and quickly, deftly reaching its stinger under him to spear his spinal column. The old man ripped a terrible scream through the cavern, and then barely managed to stifle another. Blade recognised a very deliberate effort to control his breathing.

  “By the hairy stinking balls of Roknuss!” the old man yelled. “That hurts.”

  Then the old man’s breathing slowed as the poison began to sedate him. “Yeah, come on, my pretty,” he goaded the wasp.

  Blade craned his neck to see the old man on the ground, the wasp that attacked him perched on a rock above him, waiting patiently with horrifying glassy eyes.

  “I’m just about weak enough now,” the old man said, and Blade saw him put a rock in his mouth. His next words were muffled. “Come weave your web, my pretty. Your children will die in my flesh, and I may one day come back to kill you.”

  Blade bit down on the rock as the wasp slowly descended. He closed his eyes to avoid the sight of the ferocious face of his tormentor. Soon he felt the tentative touch of the wasp’s feathery legs on his shoulders and neck as it prepared to land. Next he felt the full weight of it on his chest. Then he heard the slippery click-click of the jaws opening and closing, and he felt the hairy tendrils clamping around his head. The old man’s words echoed in his head, and he repeated them in his mind. ‘Your children will die in my flesh, and I may one day come back to kill you.’

  ~Æ~

  The assembly before the trial was full and noisy. The crowd had been gathering for hours. It was the last day of the carnival. The citizens of Kraal had all had their fill of drink and dance, and had seen all there was to see. The blood red wine flowed, but today the assembly was timid to taste it, as they awaited the trial of Liam Foster. Lyra listened in on several conversations as she picked her way through the crowd. Most expected him to die, but some argued hopefully. There were debates on the evidence that would be brought, and debates on the King’s mood and the possibility for leniency, but in the end most agreed on the probable outcome. Liam would be found guilty, and then he would be executed.

  Lyra watched as Filos pushed his way towards the front of the crowd. He was carrying a backpack holding the veiled Kaila. A man carrying a baby on his back was an unusual sight, more so considering his size, but unusual sights were not so unusual in Kraal, especially over the last few days with so many visitors from foreign lands populating the city. No one seemed particularly interested. This gave Lyra some comfort.

  She looked for Travis in the back. He was standing on top of some boxes, close to the top of the wall, so that he could climb over if need be. The trial would start in less than an hour.

  “How are we doing?” Lyra asked her new companion.

  “There may be a problem.”

  “What is it?”

  “There are more here.”

  “More
what?”

  “More of my people, and I believe their objective conflicts with ours.”

  ~Æ~

  It was hard to tell how far he still had to ride. Rhoie was deep in the forest, unfamiliar with the path. He knew that he would emerge from the forest near the top of Mount Tralany, and from there he should be able to see Kraal, which would be another half day of riding.

  It was morning, and the path was getting steeper. He dearly hoped he was nearing the top of the mountain. The riding aggravated the wounds on his side, and his saddle sores were raw to bleeding, but by now he had grown accustomed to the pain. “Pain is nothing more than a very unpleasant physical sensation,” Liam used to say. He would say it all the time when Rhoie hurt himself. Rhoie knew that Liam would say this largely in teasing, but now he was beginning to understand the value of that simple observation. The mind was stronger than the body, and pain could be overcome to some extent by the force of will. He just hoped he could hold it off a few more hours.

  ~Æ~

  Lyra was startled as the fanfare blasted across the courtyard.

  “You are very worried,” Rhemus observed.

  “You little guys are really beginning to lose your charm, you know that?”

  “What did I say to upset you?” asked Rhemus.

  “I don’t need to be told all the time what I’m feeling. In fact, you are not even supposed to know what I’m feeling. Can’t you just keep your prying eyes out of my head?”

  “I’m sorry to have upset you, but I don’t need to read your mind to see you have feelings for Liam.”

  “Oh, really?”

  “Yes, it’s obvious to everyone.”

  Lyra stood a bit stunned, then responded shortly, “Is that right? Well then, I feel much better.”

  “You do?”

  “Read my mind,” she said, glaring.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. It is very difficult to understand your people.”

  “Get used to it. And get ready. Here they come.”

  XXXI

  Today the west wing assembly area is the very symbol of justice in Jeandania, but its history is riddled with challenges to its integrity.

  – Little’s Encyclopedia

  Liam was standing between two guards inside the door, waiting to be marched outside onto the dais where he would be tried. He felt wetness in his right shoe, and realised that the shackles had rubbed through the skin enough to make his ankles and wrists bleed. The pain did not bother him, but he worried about an infection. Then he realised it was very unlikely that he would live long enough to develop an infection.

  “I suppose I can scratch that one off my list,” he murmured.

  “Silence,” one of the guards said, jerking his chains.

  Liam kept silent and waited. He knew what he was going to do. He thought of all of those he loved and cared for. He thought of Brandi, and the familiar feeling of desolation overcame him. Then he thought for a moment he might be seeing her this afternoon after his death, and his spirits lifted a bit. He did not believe in such things, nor disbelieve, but he allowed himself a moment to enjoy the possibility. He wondered about Lyra and Travis. He knew they would be in the crowd today, and he regretted having involved them. They were good people, and good friends. If he were going to die today, he hoped they would keep themselves safe. He wondered how Verkleet was holding up under his questioning. He hoped the poor old man would die quickly, because the only other alternative was for him to die slowly. He shuddered at the thought of the wasp pits, and hoped Verkleet was being interrogated somewhere else.

  Liam judged it had been about a half an hour before someone finally knocked on the door to summon them outside. The light was bright and disorienting. Liam tried to ignore it and to walk with dignity. The smell of fresh cut wood summoned an image of his father building the tavern. He laughed to himself that he would think of such a thing at such a time, but he could not help admiring the construction of the new dais. It was very solid, utilitarian, but still quite pleasing to the eye. His father would have been impressed. Perhaps his father’s spirit was with him, and those stray thoughts were his way of communicating with him. Liam chose to think so.

  As he was led to the centre of the stage in front of the King, the newly constructed gallows were being raised under the direction of a young man in purple robes. He felt he should be intimidated by his impending fate, but somehow he was not. He was there for his daughter, and for Rhoie. The thought of dying was not fearful to him. It never had been, and now, most of what he lived for was already gone. Yet, there was sadness in him. He had to think about where it came from for a moment, and then he realised. He did not want to leave Lyra.

  It was difficult to concentrate while being shoved and prodded, but he scanned the crowd for her beautiful face. She had told him she would be at the front of the crowd.

  Then he saw her standing there, only a few dozen feet away, and felt certain that he would never again be closer to her than this. But in the brief moment when their eyes met, he felt comforted. She wore an expression that was at once assured and sympathetic. She carried his sword, and she would throw it to him if he signalled to her. Liam knew, however, it was a signal he would never give. Aiding him would put her in too much danger.

  He stole another glance at her, and only then did he notice that she was not alone. Inexplicably, a baby was strapped to her, looking over her shoulder at him. He looked again, and noticed that the baby was staring back at him. He realised it was not a baby at all, but a very small child with eyes like black pearls. He remembered the Mikraino in Endrin, and worried that she might be a captive. But as he looked at the Mikraino, he felt certain that the boy was there to help.

  “Liam Foster,” came the King’s voice from high above him, and with that, the trial began.

  Liam faced the crowd, not turning around. He kept his back to Arconus and stood tall in his shackles. It was a bitter insult to the King, and it did not last long. He was knocked to the ground with a blow to his head. He wearily climbed to his feet and found himself now facing Arconus. His head hurt intensely, but he ignored the pain and again tried to stand tall.

  “Your defiance is evident, even now, Foster. I could have you killed based on that insult alone.”

  Liam had an answer, but he was hit in the mouth as soon as he opened it. He turned and spat blood in the King’s direction.

  General Theron stepped in and addressed the crowd. “The King has granted this man a trial, and still he defies him. Is this not proof enough of treason?” Theron was incensed. “I have had enough of this,” he proclaimed. He drew his sword and lifted it over his head. Liam watched him carefully.

  “Stay your hand, general,” the King ordered. Theron still held his sword, ready to strike, but after a moment slowly brought it down and sheathed it.

  He bowed to the King. “I stay my hand for my King,” he said loudly, and slowly stepped away from Liam. “Your mercy is far greater than my own, Your Highness.”

  “You hear that, Liam Foster. Twice now I have spared your life. I have granted you a trial against the advice of some of my most trusted advisors. Still you defy me. You are trying my patience. There is an end to my mercy, and I fear you are nearing it now.”

  Liam looked back at the King, and saw Gastious behind him. Perhaps more disturbingly, standing next to the throne was a man dressed in purple robes, the twin of the man standing next to the gallows. Indeed death stood at the King’s command. Liam’s mouth and head were still smarting. He tried to speak normally, but with a mouth filling with blood, it was difficult. “I have already met the ends of your mercy, and so has my daughter.”

  “Ah, yes, your daughter. Now we come to the crux of the matter. I am very sorry to hear about the loss of your daughter. I understand it must be very difficult for you. It must be especially difficult given your responsibility in the matter.”

  Liam was unnerved, but he had expected this. He also knew he had exhausted the King’s patience already, and one more disrespe
ctful word or gesture could mean his immediate death. He chose his next words carefully.

  “You have shown you are capable of mercy. You have also shown your ability to lead the people of Jeandania. You have brought some stability to our nation.”

  “Yes, Mr Foster, that and much more,” sneered Theron. “But the King’s prowess is not at question; only your crimes, your sedition.”

  “Yes, Mr Foster, the good general is correct,” added Arconus. “You are the one on trial, here. What is your defence?”

  Liam looked out to the crowd again, and passed his eyes over Lyra, pausing for a moment to indicate everything was under control, though he didn’t believe it.

  Liam looked back again at the King, and answered, “That is where you are wrong, sire. We are both on trial here.”

  Theron lashed out at Liam with another blow to the head. Liam ducked under the main force of the blow, but took a glancing hit on the top of his head. It was enough to dizzy him again.

  “General, perhaps we have heard enough from this man.” The King stood to address the assembly. “This man deserves to die. But first I want to share with my people the true nature of this savage so there will be no misunderstanding. Liam Foster is a traitor, and he is a murderer. General Theron, will you please produce the evidence.”

  “Mr Foster,” the general began. “Is it true that you have had a Mr Stephen Ardoul perform at your tavern?”

  Liam thought about the question, though it pained him just to think. “Yes. Yes, it’s true.”

  “Mr Ardoul has been convicted of sedition and has been executed. Is it true that you have had one Marci Pinxton perform at your tavern?”

  Liam was still reeling at the thought of Stephen being executed for sedition. He was the most apolitical man Liam had ever known, and Marci Pinxton?

  “Yes. She performed at my tavern a number of times, but ...”

  “Marci Pinxton has been found guilty of crimes against Jeandania and has been executed.”

  Liam pressed his eyes shut. Marci had three children. Three more orphans in a nation of orphans.

  “Roger Pentervlees?”