Shadows Past

by Lorna Freeman

  “But I don’t want to marry him!” Berenice wailed.

  “And you think I want to marry you?” the Forest Lord muttered.

  Berenice stopped midwail. “What?”

  “Someone who has no honor?” the Forest Lord asked. “Someone who’d forswear herself and her family because it doesn’t suit her fancy? Someone who’d cast aside and destroy anything that stands in the way of what she wants? Someone so obviously and distressingly human?”

  I raised my head at that, ready to protest that all humans weren’t oath-breaking, self-centered spoiled brats, but I saw Lady Margriet’s face and sank back down before she saw me.

  “Fine,” Berenice said. “I don’t want to marry you, you don’t want to marry me. Let’s call the whole thing off.”

  “It doesn’t work that way,” the Forest Lord said.

  “Then tell us how it does work,” Jusson said before Berenice could respond. “Who are you and what is this ‘my land’ business?”

  “This land has always been mine, Elf King,” the Forest Lord said. “When the sun was young in the sky, it was mine.”

  The room grew silent, Lord Wyln’s eyes rounding slightly, while Jusson’s expression went blank.

  “He is the Lord of the Forest, honored king,” Laurel said into the silence. “He most likely has been here since the first tree sprouted.”

  “Lord of the Forest,” Jusson echoed. He looked up at the tapestry and met the stag’s gaze staring back. Not the Lady’s Consort as Laurel, Wyln and I had first thought, but the chief companion of the Forest Lord. Jusson then looked down the hall at the carved screen of forest denizens surrounding the green man. He lastly looked back at the Forest Lord himself. “You’re the Watcher?”

  Amusement flickered over the green man’s face. “Is that what they call me?”

  “A presence in the forest surrounding the castle,” Jusson said. “One that defends Mearden from harm, according to legend.”

  “Legend?” The green man turned a narrow gaze on Idwal. “You turned me into a myth?”

  “Actually it was Lady Berenice who claimed you didn’t exist,” Jusson said.

  Catching Berenice’s glare, I shrugged. Princess Rajya caught our byplay and revived enough to give a short laugh. “Poor Sra Berenice, so betrayed. Did you not think that his king would ask what was said and done when Sro Rabbit went off with you? And that he wouldn’t tell?”

  “Apparently he didn’t tell all,” Suiden rumbled softly at his daughter. Princess Rajya opened her mouth, then closed it again. Suiden sat her down next to him, leaving his taloned claw disturbingly free as he swung his head to aim an emerald eye at me.

  “I didn’t offer insult or harm to either Lady Berenice or Princess Rajya,” I said, my voice weary. I found Ryson lurking in back of the troopers that had remained behind. “Did I?”

  It was Ryson’s turn to shrug. “No. You didn’t.” He drew in a breath and, glancing at Suiden, let it out again. “Not to say there weren’t, ah, invitations being issued, sir, but they were from Her Ladyship and then later Her Highness. And Rabbit didn’t accept. He didn’t get a chance with the first, the second one he turned down.”

  Nothing like helpful former troop mates. The griffin chirped under its breath, but whether it was in sympathy or in mirth, I couldn’t tell.

  “Ha!” Berenice said to Princess Rajya, the malice sparkling in her eyes making her look uncomfortably like Kveta. “Refused you, did he—”

  “Berenice,” Idwal said.

  “What have you done?” Lady Margriet demanded at the same time.

  The malice drained as Berenice gave her parents a wide-eyed look. “Uh.”

  “Never mind that,” Jusson said. “Go back to this ‘Forest Lord’ thing. You said you could explain, Idwal?”

  Idwal glanced at the green man, only to be met with the same narrowed stare. Sighing, he looked back at the king. “When the wars started—”

  “Which wars?” Jusson asked.

  Idwal ran a hand over his face. “Back at the beginning of Iver’s reign—”

  “King Iver,” Jusson said.

  “Yes,” Idwal said. He caught his wife’s eye and added,

  “Your Majesty.”

  “The first king of Iversterre,” Jusson said, seeking clarification.

  “Yes, Your Majesty,” Idwal said. “When he warred against those that were here—”

  “It was a time of chaos, Elf King,” the green man interrupted. “Turmoil, spurred by the humans and their priests who sought not only the conquest, but the annihilation of the People.”

  “I remember,” Wyln said softly.

  “I decided that it would be best to withdraw until the tempest passed,” the green man said. There was a family of humans who lived here in harmony with us.”

  “Before the wars?” Jusson asked.

  “Yes, Elf King,” the green man said. “We—”

  “We,” Jusson repeated.

  A faint smile crossed the Forest Lord’s face. “Those of the forest. We helped them raise this castle, set protections about the land, and gave it all into their stewardship with the condition that the forest would not be harmed, and that when I returned it would revert to me. They agreed.”

  “And you’ve been hiding for six hundred years?” Jusson asked.

  The Forest Lord’s smile faded. “Not exactly. So many changes. All around, there were so many changes—and so much loss. The People being killed, being driven out. Those that remained going into hiding. The essence went out of the land, causing my strength to wane, and I and those with me fell into a slumber. It was only recently that we began to stir. Only now that I have completely awakened.”

  “And you insisted on entering into a marriage contract to make sure that you receive your land back?”

  The Forest Lord gave a dry laugh. “No, I didn’t insist on the betrothal. The steward and his wife did. To make sure that they would not be dispossessed when I returned. I agreed.”

  “I see,” Jusson said. “How fortuitous, then, that there was a daughter of the House for you to marry when you finally awoke.”

  “I believe that it was part of the reason I did fully awake out of the twilight that held me,” the green man said.

  “For Lady Berenice?” Jusson asked. “Surely there were other daughters born during the centuries of Mearden’s stewardship.”

  “Our House always tended toward sons,” Idwal said quickly.

  “Daughters were born, Elf King,” the green man said, ignoring Idwal. “However, none reached adulthood. Until now.”

  The room fell silent and I lifted my head to stare at Idwal in horror. As I did, Finn stirred and came to join me, a slight frown on his face. He gently took my chin and lifted it, looking at the side of my neck. He made a soft exclamation and quickly straightened. Casting a glance at his uncle still gripped by Jusson, he saw the blackened dagger held in the king’s hand. His frown deepened as he stared at the blood on the dagger’s blade and he beckoned to Laurel. The Faena walked over and also examined my neck. I shivered as he ran his paw over the cut and, pulling away, I glanced up to ask what was wrong. The shiver changed into a spine-tightening chill as I saw the silent snarl on his face, his canines white and sharp in the morning light, his amber gaze on Kveta. However, the wolf merely sneered, the malice once more glittering in her one good eye.

  “I see,” Jusson said again, his own face blank. “Are you sure you want to marry into this family?”

  “There’s no proof of any wrongdoing,” Idwal began, his voice hot.

  “He has to, Iver’son,” Wyln said, speaking over Idwal. “The contract has been signed, the betrothal vows made. To break them would be bad not only for Mearden, but the ill effects could spread to the rest of the kingdom.”

  “Ill effects?” Thadro asked.

  “Infertility for one,” Wyln said. “Of fields and kine. And people too—”

  “A moment,” Jusson interrupted, his attention snagged by Laurel and Finn. Still holdi
ng on to Cais, he walked to where I sat, pulling the majordomo with him. He was followed by Wyln, Thadro, and Suiden, the captain dragon maintaining his firm grasp on Munir while gently herding Princess Rajya before him. The Freston troopers and the Turalian soldiers followed behind them, and Jeff and Arlis also wandered closer, their faces and stances full of nonchalance. But that changed as Jusson, handing the knife off to Thadro, stooped and lifted my chin. I heard Lady Margriet give a gasp, while Suiden’s basso rumbling growl filled the hall.

  “Bones and bloody ashes, Rabbit,” Jeff whispered.

  “What?” I asked, now trying to pull away from the king. “What’s wrong?”

  “A little more pressure, Two Trees’son, and you would be dead,” Wyln said, moving Finn aside. He crouched down, taking possession of my chin from Jusson. “Very dead.”

  “Oh.” I relaxed, the worry easing that Kveta had cast some fearsome spell on my neck. “Yeah—I mean, yes, honored cyhn, I figured that.”

  “Did you, Cousin?” Jusson asked.

  “I felt the knife, Your Majesty.”

  Jusson straightened and plucked the blackened blade from Thadro. “This knife?” Removing his hand from Cais’ shoulder, he examined it, running a finger over the dried blood to stop at the rune etched at the base of the blade. I watched as his face changed, the darkness and lines reappearing—and I struggled to my feet.

  “No, sire! Don’t!”

  Both Cais and the griffin were faster than I was, the griffin quickly moving Kveta out of Jusson’s reach, while Cais gripped the king around the waist as he lunged, pulling him back.

  “It would be murder, Your Majesty,” Thadro said, stepping in front of the king.

  It would’ve been something. Something wrong. Something so wrong that it would’ve warped the throne, twisting the kingdom through it. My legs shaking, I had started to sink back down on the floor when a metallic taste filled my mouth. I turned in time to see Kveta fling a working at Jusson. But before I could react, the spheres around me darted in front of Jusson, absorbing whatever was cast at him. They stayed, hovering in front of the king and I grinned down at the wolf.

  “All by themselves, Kveta,” I murmured, leaning against my staff. “The hell they don’t do as they want.”

  Jusson tried to pull away from Cais but the majordomo held him fast and the king gave up. He aimed an unwinking stare at Kveta and drew in breath to speak. Before he could, though, the green man reached over and gently removed the knife from his grip.

  “More foulness,” the Forest Lord said quietly.

  Jusson blinked, the darkness abruptly leaving his face. “It is?”

  “Yes,” the Forest Lord said. He pointed at the blood-encrusted rune. “A summoning.”

  “So Lord Wyln said,” Thadro began. He and Wyln drew close, their faces interested. Even Suiden craned his head to peer over their shoulders down at the knife, while Munir shifted a bit in Suiden’s grip, trying to get a look.

  “One that is now covered in the blood of a noble-born mage who is heir to a throne and bound by those ties to the land. Didn’t you wonder what it was summoning?”

  “Yes, of course we wondered,” Jusson said. He stepped aside as Laurel worked past him to stare at the knife in the green man’s grip. “And Lord Wyln came up with the most interesting ideas.”

  “So I did,” Wyln said. “But they were all guesses. Who is being summoned?”

  “More ‘what,’ Wyln,” Laurel said. He pointed at Kveta’s necklet. “It ties into that. Or more accurately into the same kind of working. And the fact that people are still affected by it even though it’s warded tells me that she probably has salted more dragon bones throughout the castle.”

  “That’s entirely possible,” Thadro said. “She was with the stewart while he searched for you, Cais, and everyone else.”

  “She was also in the hallway the night of the fire …” Ryson trailed off as he remembered why we were there and he eyed Suiden nervously. He then rallied. “Maybe she put some in the stables and barracks. Maybe that’s what spooked the horses.”

  “Entirely possible,” Laurel echoed. He inscribed a circle with an extended claw and an earth sphere formed, swirling with gentle greens and browns as it floated by his head. He then gave a tired sigh. “It’s going to be a long, hard haul, cleansing this place.”

  “There’s at least one in Lady Margriet’s stillroom,” I said.

  “There is?” Idwal asked as he slid an arm around his wide-eyed wife. “Is that how she became locked in?”

  “I don’t know, my lord,” I said, “but it explains what happened afterwards.”

  “And as Kveta has both air and water, she could’ve slipped downstairs and jammed the door without anyone knowing,” Wyln said. “In fact, she could’ve slipped in anywhere with no one the wiser.”

  “I would’ve known,” Laurel pointed out.

  “And you were ensorceled and imprisoned,” Wyln pointed out back.

  “Well, that explains what happened,” Lady Margriet said, huddled against Idwal. “It was her magicks—what did you call it? The dragon curse making everyone say what was said—”

  “No, my lady,” I said. I sank down, doing my own huddling against the griffin. “Not exactly.”

  “Explain, Cousin,” Jusson said.

  “The dragon’s curse works universally, Your Majesty,” I said. “It’s dissension, division, and distrust with everyone. Not just a select few. If it were just the curse working, no one would be trusting anyone.” I looked up at him, my gaze fixing on him. “Not Cais, not Thadro, not Suiden, not Wyln. Not anyone. It would be chaos. Bloody chaos.”

  “The Forest Lord explained why that wasn’t,” Suiden put in.

  “Yes, sir,” I said. “Except we didn’t irrationally attack those we felt were our enemies. We weren’t irrational at all. We knew what we were doing, who we were doing it to—and why.” Just like the townspeople the first night here, just like the longshoremen at the fair, just like Lisle at the horse race. Wondering if Kveta had been anywhere near the tavern Captain Remke had told us about, I dropped my gaze to my truth rune, faintly shining even in the daylight pouring in from the great hall’s windows. As the green man had said, it had affected the dragon’s curse, but not in the way he thought it. It was as if all self-control were removed, allowing what was truly thought, what was actually felt, what was kept hidden—even from ourselves—to spew out.

  Their dust scattered to the four winds.

  I closed my eyes, trying to control the tremor coursing through me.

  “You think so, Cousin?” Jusson said.

  I opened my eyes to see not only the king, but also Thadro, Wyln, Laurel, Cais, Suiden, the green man, and even Munir all looking at me. “Uhm—”

  “We need to work on your control while under duress and fatigue, Rabbit,” Laurel said.

  “What?” Idwal said. “What did he do?”

  “Magical stuff,” Wyln said.

  “That may be what happened, Mage,” the Forest Lord said to me. “That very well may be.”

  “Interesting,” Munir said, a fascinated expression on his face for all that he was still dangling from Suiden’s talons. “The truth runes turned the dragon’s curse into a sort of verifier—”

  “Not something I’d recommend trying to re-create, wizard,” Laurel said.

  “No,” the Forest Lord said. “The Old Ones counseled against using the Virtues in conjunction with the dark earth magicks, mostly because the results were so disastrously unpredictable.”

  “The Virtues?” Munir asked, his eyes narrowed.

  “Truth, justice, mercy, charity, among others,” Wyln murmured. “Powers that I’m sure you’re unfamiliar with.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Princess Rajya said before Munir could respond, her voice still hoarse. “None of it matters, except you come home, Father.”

  “Daughter—”

  “Still trying to pirate away our liegeman, Your Highness?” Jusson asked.

 
“A liegeman whom you’ve immured away from what he loves, from what makes him alive,” Princess Rajya snapped back. She shifted so that she looked up into her da’s face. As much as she could see. “His Glory the amir has agreed to give you your own command. Think of it, Father. Once more at sea—”

  “No, Daughter,” Suiden said. “I’m content—”

  “Actually, I’m about to appoint Suiden to a fleet command,” Jusson said.

  “—where I am.” Suiden stopped and blinked a couple of times. “Your Majesty?”

  “The windriders in the harbor, that arrived here when we did,” Jusson said. “The ones you saw from the windows. Those are yours.”

  “Mine,” Suiden repeated. He shifted, lifting his head and looked towards the harbor, as if he could see through the castle’s stone walls.

  “Abbin,” Princess Rajya said, leaning against her father. She closed her eyes, a tear rolling down her face.

  “Shush,” Suiden murmured softly, dragging his gaze from his imagined view of his new fleet. “It’ll be all right.”

  “No,” Princess Rajya said, another tear rolling down her face. “It won’t. We need you.”

  “See, you haven’t been open with me, Daughter,” Suiden said.

  Princess Rajya’s eyes flew open. “Father?”

  “Who is this ‘we’?”

  Princess Rajya remained silent.

  “Are they the same that Sro Wizard”—Suiden waved Munir about, the wizard’s legs flailing—“was working so hard to give me to?”

  “I—” Princess Rajya broke off, gnawing her bottom lip.

  “Don’t know, do you?” Suiden said.

  “Well—” Princess Rajya began.

  “No,” Suiden said, stopping her. “We will talk later. But know that whatever is said, I will remain here and you will remain with me.”

  Princess Rajya’s mouth quirked even as another tear rolled down her face. “Yes, Abbin.”

  “As for you.” Suiden held up Munir to eye level, the wizard’s legs now dangling, his ankles showing from beneath his robe.

  “Let us handle Lord Munir,” Jusson said quickly.

  “If you wish, Your Majesty,” Suiden said.

  “We do,” Jusson said. “Very much so—”