Shards of Time

by Lynn Flewelling

  “Allow me,” said Seregil, taking out a stout lock pick.

  “Alec, hold the light closer, would you?” Seregil quickly jiggered the lock. “Ready?” he asked, grasping the latch.

  Alec and Micum drew their swords, more out of habit than any expectation that what might be lurking on the other side would be affected by cold steel.

  Seregil swung the door open and Alec held up his light.

  “Do you see that?” Micum whispered.

  “See what?” asked Seregil.

  “There! In the far corner.”

  Alec shifted the light and then froze as it fell across a tall, black shrouded figure.

  As they stood watching, it slowly turned to face them. Fathomless darkness took the place of head and face. A horrible, rasping laugh bubbled out of that darkness and in the blink of an eye it was across the room, reaching for Alec. Alec slashed at it with his sword but connected with nothing. It threw long, misjointed arms around him and for a moment he was overwhelmed by a noxious, rotting-flesh foulness and horrible coldness.

  Its insidious voice tickled his ear with incomprehensible words as icy needle-tipped fingers clutched at his throat. Alec’s sword and light slipped from numbed fingers. His tongue was like wood as he tried to gasp out a plea to Illior but he could not make a sound. The world was beginning to go dark when suddenly a shriek pierced the air and the shadowy figure was gone. As his wits slowly returned, he found himself on the floor, clutching at Seregil and Micum as they supported him.

  Seregil’s face was a mask of terror as he repeated “Aura Elustri!” over and over again.

  “I—I’m all right,” Alec croaked, finding his voice at last. “Was that a dra’gorgos?”

  Seregil let out an unsteady laugh. “It certainly was. We’ll have to thank Thero and Mika for these amulets. It appears they work, after all.”

  “What was it doing here?”

  “Waiting for someone to come poking around, most likely,” Micum suggested.

  “More likely it was hunting, looking for more people to steal,” Seregil said, holding Alec’s hand in a hard grip a moment longer than he needed to.

  Alec picked up his fallen sword and slid it into its sheath, more shaken than he wanted to admit. “Well, we came to look around, so let’s look around.”

  Seregil and Micum took out lightstones and the combined glow lit the room bright as day. Someone had removed the dead owl, but otherwise the room looked just as it had. The dried blood spattered and smeared over every surface showed black in this light. The carpet was crusty with it.

  They were still examining the ruined furnishings when a soft voice from the direction of the doorway said “How dare you!”

  A beautiful woman in a richly embroidered Skalan nightgown stood there, staring at them with a haughty disdain. Her face was pale, her dark hair tumbled in disarray around her shoulders. “What are you three doing in here?”

  “My lady, what are you doing here?” Micum asked, hurrying over to her. “Please, come away from—” He went to take her hand but his passed through hers easy as air. He pulled back a step, but remained gallant. “Who are you, my lady?”

  She looked down in confusion at the hand he’d tried to touch. “What is happening?”

  Seregil stepped in beside Micum and bowed. “Duchess Seria? I am Baron Seregil of Mirror Moon, at your service.”

  A chill climbed Alec’s spine, stirring the short hairs on his neck. Duchess Seria had died with Toneus in this chamber.

  “I have no need of your service, sir. Why are you in my chamber and where is—?” She broke off, looking momentarily confused.

  “Who were you with?” asked Seregil.

  She looked baffled. “He was here a moment ago.”

  “Archduke Toneus, my lady?”

  “Yes, that’s right.” She looked around the room, then brushed by the three of them and went to the bed. The condition of the room did not seem to appall her; she just looked pensive and lost and not in the least frightened.

  “My lady, when did you last see the archduke?” he asked.

  “I left him here when—” She looked around the room, increasingly distraught. “We were here, in bed. Then I met you three.” She pressed her hands to her cheeks. “What is happening? What have you done with him?”

  “He wasn’t here when we arrived,” Seregil said gently. “We are looking for him, as well. What’s the last thing you remember?”

  “I told you, we had retired for the night. That’s all.”

  “Then we won’t disturb you any longer, my lady.” Seregil made her a graceful bow as if they were at court, extending his hand. She took it, or tried to, only to have her fingers pass through his as they had Micum’s.

  “My lady,” Alec began. “My dear lady, I’m so sorry to tell you but—”

  “Alec, no,” Seregil murmured.

  “But what?” Seria demanded, clasping her hands under her chin as she stared down at Seregil’s in disbelief.

  “The archduke stepped out for some air,” Seregil told her. “He may be some time.”

  She gave him a relieved smile. “Oh, I see. Thank you, my lord. Things are so strange tonight. Please, if you see him, tell him to hurry back.” With that she lay down on what was left of the mattress and disappeared.

  Micum passed a hand over his chin and shook his head. “I didn’t think they could look so real.”

  “She cast no shadow,” said Seregil. “Keep that in mind. I suspect she’s not the last ghost we’ll be seeing here.”

  Thero awoke with a start just after dawn to find Seregil, Alec, and Micum standing anxiously by Mika’s cot. The boy’s color had returned, but he had an impressive black eye under the head bandage. He still lay on his back, splinted arm across his chest.

  “Bilairy’s Balls!” Seregil whispered, bending over Mika.

  “Your message said he’d had an accident. What happened?”

  Throwing back the blankets, Thero drew a cloak over his rumpled clothing and led them outside to talk. It was a cold, foggy morning, the mist so thick that they could barely see other tents nearby. There was a watch fire burning unattended, and they gathered around it for warmth.

  “Apparently he met some locals and one of them attacked him,” Thero explained. “He fell and struck his head on a stone. Did you find anything?”

  “Only dust and ghost stories, at first,” Alec replied. “But then we saw a dra’gorgos in the royal bedchamber. Your amulets saved us, Thero. It tried to attack me, but then it disappeared.”

  “We’d hardly recovered from that when we met the shade of Duchess Seria,” said Micum. “She doesn’t know she’s dead, poor thing.”

  “I see. Any sign of the archduke’s ghost?” asked Thero.

  “No,” said Seregil. “We spent the rest of the night watching, but there was no sign of him, or anything else.”

  “Tell me more about the dra’gorgos. What was it doing there?”

  “Looking for someone to steal,” said Micum. “It nearly got Alec, but for your magic.”

  “Yes, thank you,” said Seregil. “Now, are you going to tell us what exactly happened to Mika?”

  Thero explained how he’d found the boy by the river.

  “Did Mika say where those two came from?” asked Micum.

  “I wish I knew. I haven’t had much of a chance to talk with him. He was very distraught. We don’t need that kind of trouble around camp.”

  “That’s something to consider.”

  “Stay with him,” Seregil advised. “We’ll go have a look around.”

  The camp was quiet except for the familiar kitchen sounds. A few cooks were already up, brewing large buckets of tea and cooking ash cakes. Seregil charmed one of them out of three steaming mugs and a plate of hot cakes.

  They ate quickly, then made their way through the fog to the riverbank.

  “This could be the large rock Thero spoke of,” said Micum, pointing at a dark shape in the fog.

  Upon closer i
nspection it did appear to be the right one.

  “Here’s where he fell and struck his head,” Micum pointed out, nudging a smaller stone half embedded in the earth with the toe of his boot. “You can still see the blood on it. And the ground is soft enough that you can still see footprints.”

  They examined the traces more closely, trying to piece together what had happened. The soft spring grass and wildflowers were pressed down where Mika had lain, and where Thero had knelt beside him; everything was covered with heavy dew, which had not been disturbed since. Small, deep toe prints that ended just short of the large stone showed where Mika had been running at the end. Tracing these back, they went about ten yards between the road and riverbank before losing the trail.

  “That’s odd,” Seregil mused as they cast about, looking for more prints. “The way Thero told it, the attacker chased Mika and the younger one. There’s no sign of anyone else with him.”

  “Maybe they didn’t come this far?” Micum suggested. “Or Mika made that bit up.”

  Micum gave him a surprised look. “You think Mika lied? Why would he do that?”

  “I don’t know. But you’re a better tracker than I am, and you don’t see signs of anyone else, do you?”

  “No. Maybe he dreamed them, after he hit his head?”

  “That’s more likely than him lying.” Seregil stared down at the single set of footprints. “But he was definitely running before he fell. I’m thinking you should spend the day with him, Alec. You’re closest to his age and he trusts you. Maybe you can get more out of him.”

  Alec frowned. “Not go back into Menosi with you, you mean?”

  “Just for today. If there’s a faction of Plenimaran sympathizers out here among the country people, they could mean to make trouble for Klia. Micum and I will keep to daylight.”

  “I’ll see what I can do. But you be careful.”

  Back at camp they found Klia and the camp drysian with Thero and Mika. The boy was sitting up in bed, sipping broth one-handed from a bowl under the watchful eye of the healer. Thero sat beside him, watching with apparent concern.

  “I’m glad you’re safely back,” said Klia. “We had a bit of a rough night here, as you can see.”

  “Did you see any ghosts?” Mika asked hopefully.

  Alec glanced at Thero, who nodded slightly.

  “We did, that of a very sad lady,” Alec told Mika. “But what about you? Looks like you went off and had an adventure without us. What happened?”

  “He’s about to tell us,” said Thero. “Finish your medicine first, Mika.”

  The boy gulped down the rest of his broth, and the drysian bowed and took her leave.

  “So, what happened?” Alec prompted, sitting down on the floor by the bed. Seregil swung the desk chair over for Micum, then leaned on the tent pole.

  “I went down to the river after you all went into the city—” Mika began.

  “But why?” asked Klia.

  Mika gave a little shrug. “I was bored, I guess. And it wasn’t very far. Master Thero isn’t angry at me for that, are you, Master?”

  “No, I’m not. But we do need to hear everything that happened. Think carefully.”

  Mika gave the wizard a relieved look. “Well, I was sitting on the big rock when a boy my size came by. He couldn’t talk, but we played together on the riverbank for a long time. We had fun and ran and played in the water and he even showed me how to catch fish and little lobsters with my hands.”

  Thero raised an eyebrow. “Lobsters?” Micum smiled. “Crayfish, most likely. Go on, then what happened?”

  “Then the other one came.” Mika grew serious. “He was mean. He had a cudgel and he chased us and hit us with it. That’s how my arm got broken. I used my magic to make him go away. My friend and I ran and then I fell and—” He paused, biting his lower lip nervously. “After that, I woke up here in the tent with Master Thero.”

  “Did the mean one say anything?” asked Seregil.

  “He was very angry and was yelling at us, but I couldn’t understand what he was saying.”

  “He was speaking a different language?”

  “I guess so. But I knew he was angry, by his face and his yelling.”

  “Was your friend scared of him, too?” asked Alec.

  “Yes! He tried to help me get away.” Mika was trembling and pale now, remembering.

  “Where did the mean man come from?” asked Micum.

  “I—I’m not sure. We were playing and then he came over a bank by the road.”

  Thero put a comforting arm around the boy’s shoulders. “That’s enough for now.”

  “How about I stay with you today, while Thero is gone?” asked Alec.

  Mika brightened a little. “Can we play bakshi?”

  “Watch out for him, Alec,” Klia said with a wink. “He’s a sharp player.”

  “So is Alec.” Seregil chuckled. “If you’re very good, Mika, perhaps he’ll teach you how to cheat.”

  “He’ll do no such thing!” Thero sputtered.

  Seregil gave him a crooked grin. “You never know. It might come in handy someday.” He yawned and stretched. “It’s been a long night. and I should get a few hours’ sleep before we go back in. What do you say, Thero?”

  “That’s fine. Come find me when you’re ready.”

  “I’ll say good-bye now, then.” Klia stood and hugged them. “Zella and I are heading back to Deep Harbor this morning. I have official duties awaiting me, though I’d much rather stay here and ferret out spirits with you.”

  “ARE you sure you don’t want more of an escort, Highness?” Zella fretted as they gathered with Klia’s small escort to begin the ride back to Deep Harbor later that morning. “After what happened to poor little Mika, I don’t want to take any chances with your safety.”

  “If we are attacked by a few shepherds with cudgels, I’m sure twenty of my best riders can protect me,” Klia said with a chuckle. “What do you say, Captain Sedge?”

  He grinned. “Oh, I think we can handle it.” The man was beaming; he was going back to Deep Harbor to be with his family.

  “Captain Brescia, I’m leaving you in command until I return,” Klia told her officer.

  “I’ll take care of things, Highness.” Brescia pressed her fist to her chest and bowed.

  Mounting Moonshine, Klia led the way down the road.

  “How are you feeling today?” Zella inquired.

  “Perfectly well,” Klia assured her. “I’d much rather stay here and hunt ghosts than deal with the crowd of petitioners I’m sure are awaiting me when we get back.”

  “Is this your first administrative post?”

  “Yes. I’m a soldier at heart, but with the peace comes different responsibilities.”

  “Would you rather be fighting?”

  “I wouldn’t say that, exactly. But being governor is likely to be quite a bit tamer than the life I’m used to.”

  “It has its challenges, Highness. And I am honored to serve you. Will you continue the archduke’s work here?”

  “The city will have to wait until we’ve ascertained what happened to Toneus and his lady. I’m thinking of sending for Illioran priests to investigate why the oracle went silent and who the spirit in the inner chamber is. I would consider my time here well spent if it were possible to awaken the spirit of the Lightbringer here once more.”

  They weren’t far beyond Mika’s stone when, ahead of them, Captain Sedge reined in and signaled the small column to a halt. Looking past him, Klia saw a tall, black-cloaked figure standing in the center of the road. It struck her at once that it was not just tall, but too tall for a man. It raised its arms as if to embrace them, and she saw with a cold, sinking feeling that the edges of the figure’s garments were wavering like smoke. It raised its head and she saw that it had no face, just a black hole where it should have been.

  “Stay back!” she ordered as Sedge and the others drew their swords. “That’s no man.” Drawing out the amulet that Ther
o had made for her, she rode up beside Sedge and held it up. “Begone, foul demon! You can’t touch me.”

  To her surprise, the thing let out a weird, hooting call, made her a chilling, misjointed bow, and disappeared into thin air.

  “Quickly, Highness!” cried Zella. “We must return to camp and find Lord Thero.”

  They wheeled their mounts to retreat, only to find themselves facing a crowd of the shifting, wavering phantoms. With blinding speed, they rushed the column and Klia watched in horror as each of her companions was attacked. A black figure attached itself to a person, then phantom, rider, and mount winked out of sight. In the blink of an eye, she alone was left facing at least a dozen of the foul creatures. One darted forward and disappeared up her horse’s nose in a black mist. Poor Moonshine shuddered horribly, then staggered in a drunken circle and took off at a gallop down the road away from camp. Klia dragged on the reins, then tried to turn the possessed horse, but it thundered on, and she had no choice but to hang on as best she could. The air went dreadfully cold around her. Tangled in the stallion’s white mane, Klia’s fingers went numb.

  She was in serious danger of falling off, but just as she was bracing for it, Moonshine foundered and went down under her. She hit the ground hard and rolled away, narrowly missing being pinned under the horse. It knocked the breath out of her and she could only lie there helplessly and watch as gouts of black blood erupted from the stallion’s mouth and nostrils. He gave a last convulsive kick, then went limp. Black mist streamed from his bloody mouth and faded to nothing on the still air.

  “Illior’s Light,” Klia gasped, making a two-fingered warding sign. Still fighting for breath, she staggered to her feet, clutching Thero’s charm and trying to get her bearings. What she saw took her breath away all over again, as powerfully as if she’d suffered another blow.

  She was on a rock-strewn plain under a grey sky. All around her lay the bodies of her escort’s mounts, all with black blood staining their faces, sightless eyes staring at nothing. Horses, but no riders, dead or otherwise. She was alone.