With Footfalls of Shadow

by Donogan Sawyer

  ~Æ~

  Rhoie watched the battle from the city walls, his leg in a splint. Hundreds of others watched alongside him. He swigged the terrible tonic Maurious had given him and then took a drink from the aqueduct to wash it down. The tonic dulled the pain somewhat, but the ache of his broken bone and the searing pain of the deep gashes were still difficult to bear. Maurious had told him to go and rest, but how could he? Having been on the battlefield, he knew how horribly dangerous it was. He would surely have been killed out there had it not been for Liam and Filos. He wondered if perhaps he had been a hindrance to them. But he had done his duty, and he was proud of that. He would never admit how terrified he was, or the fact that several times he had seen over his shoulder the wild-haired Goddess of Death whom he had seen in the swamp. He had never been able to focus on her directly. When he had found a chance to turn and look, the wispy figure was no longer there, but he had the distinct impression that the goddess had seemed amused.

  Now Liam was in mortal combat with an enormous and terrible enemy. He had seen it first-hand many times earlier that day as he fought alongside Liam, but it was different looking from on high. The soldiers around them had formed a tidy, respectful fighting circle. The difference in size was so much that it looked to Rhoie that Liam might have to jump just to take a swing at the Bok’s head. Rhoie knew one lucky blow from such a powerful beast would be the end of Liam. After several exchanges, however, it seemed Liam was in full control of the conflict. Soon it was clear that the Bok’s wounds and his energetic charges were taking their toll. Surely it was only a matter of time before Liam won the battle. But it was never wise to underestimate a wounded animal. The Bok circled and circled, while Liam patiently kept his distance. Rhoie began to feel nervous again. He cupped his hands and took another drink from the aqueduct.

  The Bok charged, raised his mace above his head, and howled in murderous rage. By now it seemed routine how Liam moved to avoid the blow, but the Bok did something unpredictable, dropping his mace behind his back and jumping on top of Liam before he could move away, grabbing his arms and throwing him down with his mouth-wide open, ready to bite into Liam’s head. The Bok crashed on top of him, slamming Liam to the hard stone floor. Rhoie gasped as the Bok’s head started twisting back and forth.

  ~Æ~

  Liam was barely conscious from the impact of his head against the arena floor, but he was quite aroused by the feel of the Bok’s teeth in his face. With all his strength, he tried to push the Bok away, only to find the weight too heavy to lift. Slowly he managed to free his flesh from the Bok’s teeth. Then he pushed its head away enough so that the Bok’s mouth, its two rows of jagged teeth, and a lolling black tongue filled his entire field of vision. He was disoriented, and he felt a warm, sticky liquid flowing down his neck. Then he saw the blood soaked blade of his own sword running through the back of the Bok’s throat.

  ~Æ~

  Rhoie was in shock. The Bok lay on top of Liam, twisting back and forth. The pace of the shifting increased. Rhoie shuddered. Then the Bok rolled off Liam and onto its back. Liam lay still, covered in blood. Rhoie now noticed the hilt of a sword on the Bok’s chest, the blade apparently buried in the Bok’s head, thrust from under his chin. Liam rose shakily from the ground. He stood up and composed himself.

  “Dear brethren,” he finally said in a shaky voice.

  “Dear brethren, honourable Bok,” he said again, his voice much stronger. “I beg you, tell me the name of this worthy warrior who very nearly took my life.”

  The Bok stirred. Some of them looked at one another, perhaps unsure of how to react to Liam’s question.

  One Bok stepped forward. “Liam Foster!” he bellowed, and Rhoie was sure in that moment that he would challenge Liam also.

  Liam bowed.

  “I am Antok,” he said, and looked down to his fallen comrade. “His name was Doktuk. He was my cousin. He was a worthy warrior and a good friend.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss, good Antok. His name will be remembered, and I will forever bear his scars on my face.”

  Even from atop the city walls Rhoie could see the snarl on Antok’s wide mouth. He walked up to the dead body of Doktuk and unceremoniously yanked the sword from its head. He threw it at Liam’s feet.

  “This business sickens me,” he said. “No more Bok will die for Arconus’s cause.”

  “You hear me?” he shouted to the King’s observation tent. “There will be no more killing from behind or the strong seeking the weak. We fight with honour, or not at all. The Bok are leaving.” And he walked away.

  Liam gave the signal to the flag bearer to end the day. The bearer looked surprised, and Liam had to signal again before he would comply. Liam had conceded the day, and the battle was concluded.

  Rhoie stretched out on the ground. He put his face in his hands and wept.

  ~Æ~

  It was just turning to evening, and Lyra was about to ask her friends if they should start a fire when Rhemus said suddenly, “They’re almost here.”

  “They were disguising their approach,” said Kaila.

  “Yes, they mean to bring harm,” agreed Rhemus. “Lyra, climb that tree as quickly as you can.”

  Lyra complied without question, but did not understand what was happening. After she climbed onto the first branch, she turned around take Kaila’s hand and pulled her up. Lyra looked down at Rhemus. He was walking slowly and carefully. It now seemed as if the very earth beneath his feet was writhing around him. Lyra could see a dozen or so snakes slithering, and knew there must be dozens more. She reached out a hand to help Rhemus.

  “No, Lyra. Climb higher,” Rhemus said sternly, but it was too late.

  A thin yellow band of lightening seemed to streak up from the ground towards Lyra’s arm. Lyra pulled her arm up and away, but the yellow snake had struck, and hung on tenaciously. She squeezed her fingers around its mottled neck to force it to release its grip, but she could feel the snake pumping its poison into her arm. She squeezed harder, and finally the snake’s jaws came open, and its teeth pulled free of her flesh. She tossed it back to the forest floor, and climbed as fast as she could up the tree. She thought she knew the species, and if she was right, she would soon be losing control of her faculties.

  ~Æ~

  “Been waiting here long, son?” asked Verkleet.

  “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” responded Argus, without turning around. He was sitting on a fallen tree beside a stream. The brook was wide and steep. Large rocks interrupted the path of the water here and there, and the water washed over them creating a series of miniature waterfalls dotting the moonlit surface of the stream. Verkleet sat next to his son.

  “So this is how it’s going to end, father?” asked Argus.

  “What do you mean?” he asked.

  “With water. There was something in the box regarding the water and stone.”

  “Also a father and his sons.”

  “The box has opened, then?” asked Argus.

  “Yes, it has. You had it in your possession for some time. You must have some sense of its message.”

  “I did, but there are a few things that remain a mystery.”

  “There always will be, my son, no matter how much you know.”

  Argus threw a stone into the water. It made a dramatic splash, but a moment later the stream resumed its former beauty, as if it had never been disrupted.

  “I suppose there’s a lesson in that, father?” Argus queried.

  “There’s a lesson in everything, Argus.”

  “I’m no longer in need of your lessons, you know.”

  “Then why have you brought me here?”

  “You know why I have brought you here.”

  “You want the box?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “You know that it makes no difference whether I give it to you or not. You cannot change fate,” Verkleet reasoned.

  “Then give it to me.”

  “If I do, or if I do not, it will be t
he will of the fates.”

  “Enough with your pedantic logic. I want the box. I don’t plan to disrupt fate.”

  “Your efforts at disrupting fate are merely a stone’s throw into the flowing water. I don’t worry for the fates, or for myself. I’m only trying to help you, my son.”

  “Then give me the box.”

  Verkleet hesitated no further. He reached into his cloak and handed him the box. It had already opened for the person for whom it was intended, and now could be opened at anytime by anyone. It unfolded in an intricate succession of motions to form a long, flat tablet.

  Argus read hungrily. Some of the symbols he interpreted aloud as he tried to puzzle out their meaning. “... The water ... the path, path, path ... destruction ...of destruction, and creation ... order... new order? Long-lived ... rule. The long-lived will rule again!” Argus looked triumphant. “I told you father. After all the times you preached to me to leave the power to the people, where it belongs. I knew you were wrong. We deserve the power. We are the only race capable of restoring order to Jeandania.”

  Verkleet nodded lightly, saying nothing.

  Argus continued, “Rule, beneath, behind, mask, short-lived, terregin. They will rule behind a terregin mask. That’s what I’ve been trying to do all these years, father, don’t you see? Father, son, sacrifice ... path clear. But the path cannot be cleared until the father is the sacrifice for the son.”

  Argus stopped reading, and looked upon his father, who silently sat on the looking into the water.

  “I was almost able to puzzle this out, but not quite. I couldn’t be sure,” Argus said heavily.

  “But this is really why you brought me here?” asked Verkleet, and threw a stone into the brook.

  “Yes, father. I thought it would come to this, and I’m sorry,” answered Argus, and deftly injected his father with a poison that would kill him in less than a minute.

  “I’m sorry, father,” said Argus, “but we cannot quarrel with the fates. This lesson you have taught me well.”

  ~Æ~

  It took several minutes for Rhemus to join them. Lyra was grateful to see his face. She was already beginning to feel very weak.

  “We need to get you some help,” Rhemus said.

  “The snakes?” she asked.

  “They rest, but remain ready.”

  “The yellow viper, it dug into my arm like it wanted to kill me,” said Lyra. “Snakes don’t do that.”

  “No, they don’t, not without severe provocation,” said Rhemus. “It was the others. They put the snakes in an aggressive panic. Kaila and I were able to ward them off once we understood what they were doing.”

  Rhemus touched Lyra’s forehead and called to the Mikraino below. “We have an injured person here. We must deal with each other at another time.”

  They were met with silence.

  “They are confused. They don’t understand why Rhemus cares for you. They believe him to be a monster, a killer,” explained Kaila.

  The forest was silent for another long moment. Rhemus pleaded again, “If you will not leave us, will you help us?”

  “How many are there?” asked Lyra. She was trying to remain conscious, and stay involved, but she was drifting.

  “I believe there are three,” answered Kaila.

  “My friend is very ill. I am coming down now. We must take her away,” Rhemus said.

  “Stay where you are,” came a voice from below.

  “We must come down, or my friend might not survive.”

  “This is a trick. You wish to kill us,” returned the voice.

  Rhemus recognised the voice. The sound seemed altered, and the signature of the Mikraino’s energy was not anything he quite recognised, but there was something familiar.

  “Dantun!” Rhemus exclaimed.

  “So you know my name,” answered Dantun. “Why should this matter? I know your name, too. You are Rhemus, the destroyer.”

  “He is not what you think,” Kaila pleaded. “Please let us help our friend.”

  “He has you fooled, yet you can see yourself that he has killed many,” Dantun answered. “And that woman,” he said in a tone that expressed a sudden realisation. “She has killed one of ours as well! She killed a Mikraino herself.”

  “Yes, it’s true, but . . .” answered Kaila, growing frustrated. “We can explain it all to you after she is taken care of. Please help us, or leave us alone so that we can help her.”

  The forest remained silent, and Rhemus began traversing the branches towards the ground. He said to the others, “Come, we must help her down now. We have no choice. She will lose her capacity for movement very soon, and we are not strong enough to carry her.”

  “Lyra,” Rhemus added, “you must climb down. We will help you.”

  “Stop this,” demanded Dantun. “You only pretend to help your friend. This is a trick. We have means other than snakes with which to attack you. Stop now or we will use them.”

  “We cannot stop,” answered Rhemus. “Our friend’s life depends on us.”

  “Liar!”

  Kaila spoke through tears, “He thinks you are making it all up. He doesn’t even believe Lyra is hurt. He may attack us at any moment. He is very scared, and ready to strike.”

  “I know,” said Rhemus, “but we have no choice. We must show no aggression. Exposing ourselves to attack, with no intent to respond, may finally convince him we are his friends. Lyra will die if we do not get her down and away from here.”

  Rhemus directed his eyes at Dantun. Rhemus could feel the conflict in him. He could sense Dantun’s suspicion, his hate and his fear, but he could also sense a strange and unmistakable remnant of the old Dantun, the one he had met that terrible day outside the Mikraino cave. Dantun once had a very innocent heart, and the loss of that innocence had scarred him badly, and made him all the more suspicious. It seemed as if Dantun wanted to believe Rhemus, but there were other factors clouding his judgment. His memory was incomplete, his control of his abilities was immature, and there were other, outside influences confusing him further.

  Rhemus tried to reach out to Dantun, to simply show him the innocence in his own heart. Dantun watched Rhemus very closely. Rhemus could see the doubt fade within Dantun now, and even a budding concern for Lyra, as he began to entertain the notion that this was not a trick. Rhemus was beginning to think Dantun was turning. As they approached the bottom of the tree, he sensed Dantun’s inclination to actually reach out and help them.

  Dantun’s companions watched their leader carefully, and timidly. Rhemus knew if he could win Dantun, the others would follow.

  Suddenly another yellow lightening strike shot at Tienden, then another, and another. The little woman had no chance against three bites from the yellow viper. She quivered in a ball on the ground, and Dantun ran to her, disregarding the danger of the snakes. The snakes darted into the forest before him. Dantun held his friend in his arms for a moment, and then began crying in deep sobs.

  “Liar,” he screamed at Rhemus. “It was a trick. We never should have come here. Come! Run, before he kills us all.”

  And with that Dantun let go of his dead friend and ran into the forest with Bryntal, his last remaining companion.

  ~Æ~

  Liam, Filos, Maurious, Rhoie, Travis and General Riley gathered in Blade’s quarters. It was the only way to keep the young Talon in bed, as he insisted on attending the council meeting.

  Liam glanced down at the stump that was now Blade’s left arm, and observed that Gastious’s prosthetics were lined up against the wall beside his bed. The strapping hung on the corner of his bedpost. He had obviously been inspecting it.

  Liam chuckled inwardly, admiring the young man’s spirit. Liam was quite conscious of his own appearance. He could feel how swollen his cheeks were, and Maurious had told him that he had sewn nearly one hundred stitches.

  The seven of them talked together, remembering fallen comrades, telling each other about their experiences of the day. Perhaps
it was the fact that they were in a private quarters, rather than in their accustomed formal conference area that attributed to the relaxed feel of the meeting. But Liam also knew that the men in the room had shared and sacrificed together. They all hurt. They had all lost people close to them, and they needed each other.

  “You know, Liam,” said Rhoie, “if I didn’t know better, I’d say a Bok tried to eat your face!”

  Everyone laughed, and Liam unconsciously reached for his face again. “As a matter of fact, one did!”

  The laughter continued, and then General Riley asked the question that brought them back to business. “Liam, you know you cannot take the arena tomorrow!”

  “No, I won’t,” he answered. In truth he would have, but he knew he was wounded badly and that taking the arena would put Filos in danger, forcing the Ganta to spend the day saving his life.

  “In fact,” said Maurious, “I’m confident that none of you will need to take the arena. I believe it’s time to face my brother.”

  “Do you mean that it’s time to implement your father’s plan?” asked Liam.

  “I think we must,” replied Maurious.

  ~Æ~

  When Lyra reached the bottom branches of the tree, she had no more strength. She dropped to the ground and lay on her back. She was not strong enough to fight the effects of the poison. Rhemus and Kaila tended to her carefully. She was too weak to move, and the little Mikraino could not carry her. She would just sleep a bit, and then she would try to think of something, she decided.

  Lyra felt the hard smack of a small hand on her cheek, and after a moment could hear Kaila’s voice screaming at her. “Lyra, you cannot fall asleep. If you do, you will never see Liam again, and the children you are to have will never be born.”