Shadows

by Michael Duncan

  Kaylan made his way to his chamber, stooped over with exhaustion. He closed the door behind him and it locked with a snap—his final word for the night.

  Rayn looked to Aaron. “Sir, I’m not sure that I understand what just happened. Can you tell me what is going on?”

  “No, I don’t think I can.” Aaron paused, thoughtful. He had no answer for himself, let alone for Rayn. He lifted his head. “What I know is that we have a job to do, and we will investigate and employ all available resources to that end. Our task, no matter what else surrounds it, is to find the book. I am just as puzzled by these other encounters as you are…but I had hoped that this experience might somehow help lead us to the book.”

  “For now,” Rayn quipped, “I guess that the most we can do is to decide which room to take for the night. You look like you can use the rest. I know I can.”

  “I couldn’t sleep now even if I wanted to. My mind is a flurry of thoughts, and I need to think through these recent experiences. You go and get some sleep.”

  ****

  Rayn disappeared into one of the upper rooms while Aaron sat near the fire. He stared at the diminished flames in silence as his mind wandered to the image of the woman on the ledge…who was she…what does she have to do with me…what part does she play…does she have a part in my search for the book? Questions wove in his mind as he thought through the circumstances that possessed him. He felt like, somehow, he had tumbled into the floodwaters of a turbulent river and was unable to overcome the current.

  Events swirled around him like a torrent—the dream, what Morryn saw, the strange emissary in the mayor’s mansion, the visitation of the beast at the mountain cottage, and now this strange old man who had shown him a vision of someone he’d never met. All were incomprehensible, and yet they were his experiences of the last two days. “Let it rest,” he told himself. “If I get too caught up in trying to think this through, I’ll just paralyze myself.”

  All was quiet—so quiet in fact, that Aaron heard the gentle whisper of Rayn as he slept. The fire had died down in the common room; small flames and the glow of embers were all that remained. Aaron felt as if time stood still, and he found himself daydreaming of his many adventures in the service of the emperor. At thirty years of age he had become the youngest man to achieve the rank of captain, and he was given command of the Third Order of the Royal Guard. It was a high honor, bound with many responsibilities as well as a multitude of privileges. He enjoyed his position, and for the last three years performed his duties with excellence.

  Now, however, Aaron felt frustrated in his position. He didn’t know why, but his heart longed for more than service as a soldier in the guard—even if he was in command. Old snatches of childhood memories crept into his dreams and mingled with his unsettled restlessness. He wanted— needed—a chance to explore the hunger in his heart, but the oath he swore bound him to his service and could not be broken.

  He stared into the fire and noticed the orb was still perched on its stand. A slow, red glow swirled within the sphere as it captured the diminished light of the embers. Aaron was mesmerized by the light as it moved like liquid flame within the orb. He wanted to know more… he wanted to see the woman again and to help her in her distress. He stared at the orb. The lights within moved faster and held his gaze. Then the same flash of red light burst upon his eyes, and Aaron stood in a large hall.

  He looked around and guessed that the hall was the chamber of someone important. Large tapestries with images of mighty battles and grand heroes decorated the stone walls. Twelve massive stone columns lined both sides of a marble walkway which ended at a platform. Upon it sat a magnificent marble throne inlaid with gold. Statues of mighty warriors, each wielding a large iron axe, kept silent vigil at the base of each pillar. Atop the throne sat a rugged, bearded man—but shorter and broader than any man Aaron had ever seen. In each corner of the room oil-filled braziers burned with intense fires and black smoke wafted up to a small hole cut in the center of the roof. The lights of the braziers made shadows flicker along the walls.

  Aaron, slow and cautious, walked up to the dais, unsure if he was noticed by the one who sat enthroned. He observed the man wore a slender circlet of gold around his head, adorned with diamonds and a single, brilliant emerald at the brow. Obviously a man of rank. The bearded man’s eyes were fixed upon a scroll in his hands.

  The man tore the scroll and shouted, “Get my attendant!” His cavernous voice echoed in the stone hall.

  The sound of a latch snapped and another man entered from behind the throne. In appearance, the second man was much like the first, bearded and short, with a broad chest. The man rushed in and knelt before the first. “My lord,” he said with respect.

  “How long?” He threw the torn scraps of parchment at his attendant. “When did you receive this notice?”

  “Sir, I just received this today…this very moment in fact...from the messenger. I was told he received the news just two days ago.” The attendant’s voice trembled.

  “So the book is lost! How could this have happened?” The man stood and began to pace across the platform.

  “My lord, it is thought the book was taken by the men of Celedon, those of the Royal Guard. It could very well be on its way back to their emperor as we speak.”

  The attendant’s words sent his lord into a rage. “Send for the seer! I need to know what has happened. I need to know if the book is lost to us! This can’t have happened; the world hangs in the balance, and the key to victory makes its way to our enemy. Quick man, get up and go get the seer!” The second man rose and ran behind the throne to disappear with only the sound of a door latch to signal his departure.

  Aaron watched the tirade, bewildered at what he saw. It was apparent to him the players in the drama that unfolded before his eyes were unaware of his presence. He didn’t know these people but they must be the ones in league with the thief. Aaron took great interest in the fact the Royal Guard was mentioned by name, and that they mistakenly thought he possessed the Book of Aleth. If only that were true, thought Aaron. I could go back to Celedon and be done with this. He continued to watch the bearded lord pace back and forth on the platform.

  In a flurry of activity, the attendant returned. Close on his heels followed another of the short, but unusually stout, men. Bearded like the rest, he wore a hooded robe and carried a large leather satchel over his shoulder. The hood was loosely draped behind his back, and the newcomer quickly assembled a tripod stand with a small fire pot underneath. Then, much like Kaylan, he took an orb from within the satchel and placed it on the stand. The robed newcomer set fire to the fuel in the small pot and it began to burn with great intensity. The orb swirled with a fire within, growing in brilliance until it outshone every other light. The hooded man’s attention disappeared into the currents of light within the small crystal. After a brief time he looked up, his eyes fixed with fear. “My lord,” he said with a shudder. “I have seen the man who has the book!”

  “Who?” Demanded the other and pounded his fist on the throne. “Tell me now; we must make plans to retrieve it!”

  The hooded stranger knelt, appearing more exhausted than reverent, and spoke with labored breath. “My lord, it is with a man dressed in a soldier’s uniform, a uniform that bears the insignia of the empire and with the mark of the Royal Guard. And, sir, he leads a company of men—soldiers all. He was a tall man, even for his kind, stern and fierce in his appearance. He was on no road that I could see, and led his men southeast.”

  “Morryn!” Aaron exclaimed.

  With a flash of red light, Aaron found he looked upon the dim fire in the hearth and the small orb perched upon its tripod. He turned to see Rayn behind him, a worried, puzzled look on the private’s face. Kaylan stood next to Rayn. The wizened man stared at Aaron with strong disapproval. Aaron was out of breath, exhausted from his experience with the orb. He looked at Rayn with a sunken weariness. “We need to turn east,” he panted. “Morryn has taken the book.”
Then Aaron collapsed, unconscious.

  Shadows: Book of Aleth Part One

  4

  A Bitter Betrayal

  Lieutenant Morryn sat tall upon his steed, a sly smile on his face. He was glad to see the miles between him and his captain continue to grow. He reached down and touched the leather saddle bag at his side and checked that the book was secure. It was. Behind him twenty mounted men rode in silent procession, careful to follow their new commander and more careful to keep a safe distance from his hot-tempered reach. Morryn sat amazed at how simple it was to acquire the treasured Book of Aleth. He just slipped out in the evening while the men in the barracks slept, made his way to the burned out building and walked away with the prize.

  However, he didn’t foresee his captain giving over command of the squad. Morryn intended to slip away in the still quiet of the winter night, but after being ordered to take command, his disappearance would have been suspicious. He looked back at the score of soldiers who rode in silence. He needed to be rid of them soon.

  Ahead, spanning the massive Hoppe River, a single bridge reached to the eastern bank. A heavy mist shimmered in the cold morning air, churned up by the torrent. Morryn led his men across and then turned southeast toward the Shattered Hills. Whispers of discontent and concern about the change in direction swirled within the company, but Morryn knew that they feared to question him directly. He liked it that way.

  They rode at a steady pace through drifts of new fallen snow as the sun started its ascent into the pale blue sky. The chill November air penetrated to the bone as a light breeze whipped up an army of snowflakes that clung to both man and horse. They passed through a sparse, wooded glen, illuminated with sunlight that filtered through the trees. Skulking shadows writhed in silence as the trees swayed in the wind.

  They continued for several miles when one of the men spurred his horse to catch up with Morryn. It was the sergeant, Lorik, older than the rest, a seasoned veteran of countless years of service in the Royal Guard. A keen awareness flashed in the sergeant’s eyes—the awareness of experience. “Lieutenant,” he said as he approached, “the men need a rest. I know this area, and there is a clearing about two miles east. We can break formation there and allow the men and horses to recover a bit from this ride.”

  “Very well, sergeant,” Morryn said, frustrated by the delay. “Make sure that you tell the men that this will be just a brief rest. We must arrive at the edge of the Shattered Hills before nightfall tomorrow. Now if you know the way, take us there.” Lorik saluted and turned back toward the men behind them. Morryn had to keep up appearances, to feign command until he reached his destination.

  He listened as Lorik spoke loud enough to be heard by everyone “Men, we have just a couple more miles to go, and we will take a rest.” A collective sigh of relief went up from the men. They rode on with renewed vigor. Lorik returned to Morryn’s side and took the lead through the forest. Branches, burdened with snow, sent showers of winter upon the small contingent as they ducked beneath them. Groans reverberated from the men as they cursed the snow and winter.

  An hour passed and they came to the edge of the clearing. It was a gentle vale, a quaint, snow-covered meadow nestled in the pine forest. The thin trees provided some protection from the swirling wind. High now, the sun sent down a remembrance of warmth, but was unable to stave off the encroaching cold. The men dismounted and tied their horses to the trees at the edge of the glade and began to scavenge for various branches and sticks, enough to have fuel for a campfire. Lorik helped three other men dig a pit in the snow for the fire.

  Soon a large, warm blaze cracked and popped with all the men gathered around. The entire band stood near and stretched their hands out to capture its heat. Lorik retrieved a saddlebag from his horse and passed it to the men who had circled the campfire. Inside the bag was a treasure of dried beef and assorted dried fruit, as well as hard cheese and bread wafers. There was plenty to go around and each man took his share.

  “Sergeant,” a young, rugged soldier asked, “what are we doin’ out here? I mean, I thought we were headin’ home?”

  Lorik saw a reflection of his own apprehension in the young man’s eyes.

  “Soldier,” Lorik replied, “the captain gave the lieutenant command of this squad and that is enough for you and me.” Lorik looked over to where Morryn warmed his hands by the fire. “Don’t be troubled over a detour. If the lieutenant says there’s a good reason to be out here then there’s a good reason.” Lorik spoke more to convince himself. He glanced at Morryn again. Where is the lieutenant taking us? He determined to keep a wary eye on his temporary commander.

  ****

  “Soldiers!” An hour had passed when Morryn barked out his command. “Mount up and move out. We must be through these woods before nightfall, and we only have four more hours of daylight. There’s a chill wind from the north, so we can expect snow tonight. I plan to have tents pitched before then. Sergeant, get these men moving!”

  Morryn mounted his horse and checked his saddlebag to ensure the book was still secure and unnoticed. Several men grumbled about the necessity to ride out on what was sure to be a bone-chilling exercise, but they mounted their horses as ordered and formed two columns. The men rode through the trees in as good a formation as the forest allowed.

  “Sergeant,” the voice of one soldier rang out from behind Morryn and he eavesdropped on the conversation. “Are we really heading to the Shattered Hills?”

  “Yes,” Lorik replied.

  “But sir…the Shattered Hills!” The young soldier’s voice broke with disbelief. “I’ve heard horror stories of the creatures that live there. Trolls and worse…that’s all we will encounter!”

  “It’s good you’re with us then!” Lorik sounded impatient. Morryn listened as the sergeant continued. “Keep your courage; we won’t encounter anything that we can’t handle.”

  Morryn smiled a deceptive smile. Lorik’s duty was to ensure the men obeyed all his orders and maintain discipline. He glanced back at Lorik. The sergeant’s duty would be put to the test.

  The rest of the day passed without incident or conversation as each man kept his thoughts to himself. Morryn’s forecasted weather, in the form of heavy grey clouds, rolled in from the north, drifting over the Shadow Mountains with long sheets of snow painted in streaks upon the horizon. Clouds shrouded the sun and cast the world in twilight. The pale light projected ghostly images and engendered the forest with eerie shadows that moved like specters. Trees stood around them as frozen sentinels, grasping at the soldiers with gnarled branches. Morryn watched the ominous approach of the winter storm. He knew they had less than an hour.

  The regiment arrived at the edge of the forest with both man and beast tired and cold. Many men groaned with fatigue, relieved that they were at day’s end. As they passed beyond the eastern edge of the woods the wind, which blew from the north, bit into them with renewed ferocity. Frigid air mingled with swirling snow and caused even the hardiest soldier to shiver in the bitter flurry. Just beyond the tree line, Lorik located a patch of level ground to set their camp and barked out orders in the blustery wind.

  “Men, get these tents assembled quickly and prepare a bonfire to ward off the cold.” He pointed to the men who stood to his left. “You gather wood and other fuel and build a fire; and you”—he pointed to the rest—“set up the tents. Make sure that they’re arranged with the flaps inward, toward the fire. Now gird yourselves up, men, and we’ll have ourselves encamped before the sun sets.”

  Despite the bitter cold and blowing snow, the men responded with the discipline of trained soldiers. Each man took to his responsibility; half gathered loose wood and other debris and piled it in the center of the campsite. The rest of the men moved in almost synchronous motion and prepared twelve tents in a circle around the pile just as the sergeant ordered. When they had gathered enough fuel, several men from the fire detail retrieved their flint and tinder boxes and sparked a massive, crackling blaze.

 
All the men huddled near the fire, the only relief from the bitter cold. Several bags were passed around containing more dried meats, fruits, and hard-cheese. As they ate their cold meal, the sun gave up its last rays of light with shafts of orange and purple that streaked across the sky. Then it left the world to the cold shadow of night.

  Most of the men sat in stillness, occupied with their own thoughts. Lorik heard some of the men quietly talking with each other. “What are we doin’ out here? We ought to be on the road home.”

  Another whisper was heard in reply. “Just shut up, will ya? It doesn’t help to think of what we don’t have!”

  By the light of the campfire, Lorik walked among the troops. Occasionally, he would stop and speak a word of encouragement to a sullen soldier, pat another on the shoulder and keep him focused on his duty. The darkness outside the circle of the campfire deepened, and Lorik wanted to get the men set for the night. He gathered them around him.

  “All right, men,” he said. “We’ve had a long march, and it’s cold. Get some rest and be fresh for tomorrow. Each tent will be responsible for a one hour guard duty. The lieutenant and I will take the first watch and will wake the next tent in sequence. Get some sleep; you have a long, hard march to the Shattered Hills tomorrow.”

  The men paired up and entered into their various tents. Most left their tent flap open to try and capture as much of the heat from the fire as possible. Even with the fire, the tents were uncomfortable and chilled.

  With the men in their shelters, Lorik ventured over to find Morryn who sat motionless and alone. “Sir, if you like, you get some rest. I can handle the first watch—it’s still early and there’s no need for the both of us to be out in the cold.”