Kingdom of Shadows

by K M Reynolds

  Marlon swallowed and willed his hands to remain steady. He could feel the blood draining from his face and he closed his eyes before replying, “There is a girl. I overheard her and her companions at the tavern in Brenton. They attempted to be discreet, but I could still hear them. She was explaining her story to a newcomer; a young man who wished to join their quest. She claims to be of Malcray blood, and she is seeking the sorceress known as Wynne.”

  “Wynne.” Lord Bainbridge spat the name as he strode the length of the platform. “She is dead. She vanished decades ago, when I came to power. A sorceress of that magnitude wouldn’t have stayed silent for this long. If she were alive, we would know it. Whatever, or whomever, this girl is seeking, she won’t find what she wants.”

  He paused, his gaze roving over Marlon’s prostrate form. “What makes you think this girl has a legitimate claim to my throne, eh? The Malcray’s are all dead, I took care of them myself.”

  “She… she had a letter with the Malcray royal seal. She claimed that her grandmother was Alianna, the Malcray Princess.”

  “Nonsense,” Lord Bainbridge scoffed with a wave of his hand. “I killed Alianna myself. I drove my sword through her heart while her parents watched. Then I killed them, too.” His eyes glowed as an eerie smile cracked his stony features. “It was glorious. Their cries as I impaled their daughter still bring me delight. I can practically feel her blood running over my hands.” He raised a weathered hand to his steel-grey hair and let his fingers trail down his face, sighing softly.

  “Your Excellency, I don’t doubt you, but—”

  “But what?” Lord Bainbridge snapped out of his memory-fueled trance, irritated at Marlon’s interruption.

  “Well, she said something about a handmaiden, Trista…” Marlon’s voice trailed off and he lifted his gaze to Lord Bainbridge’s scowling face. “She said that Alianna and Trista traded places, and that the handmaiden died in her stead. The real princess escaped to the mountains.”

  Lord Bainbridge’s brow furrowed even deeper and he paced the stone steps frantically. He muttered quietly under his breath for a few long minutes before turning and roaring, “Summon Thanaeron!”

  Marlon could feel his pulse roaring in his ears as Lord Bainbridge’s words echoed through the chamber. Not Thanaeron. He took several deep breaths before speaking again, hoping that the quiver in his voice would go unnoticed.

  “Well then, My Lord, I’ve told you all I know. I must be going now…”

  “Stay where you are.” Lord Bainbridge’s lips curled in a snarl as he pointed at Marlon. “Thanaeron will want to… examine you.”

  Tears began to stream down Marlon’s face unchecked and he fought for breath. He kept his head bowed as he pleaded, “Please, Your Grace. I’ve told you everything. I have a family, let me go home. Don’t turn me over to Thanaeron. Spare me, spare my children their father’s life, I beg of you.”

  Lord Bainbridge shook his head, turning away from Marlon in disgust. “No, the information in your mind is far too valuable and dangerous to be walking about unchecked. It is vital that Thanaeron be able to observe you herself. After all, isn’t that why you came here? To serve the kingdom?”

  “I serve you,” Marlon sobbed. “I serve this kingdom, with you at its head. I’ve proven my loyalty, please let me keep my life. I haven’t told anyone else what I know, I swear it. And I’ll never tell. Let me live sir, please!”

  “Oh, Marlon,” Lord Bainbridge sighed. “Your life simply isn’t worth keeping.”

  At that moment, the heavy chamber doors flung open with a bang. A chill swept through the air, and Marlon felt his body begin to convulse as he gasped for air. His vision was blurred with tears as he turned to face his demise.

  Thanaeron strode into the room, her long black hair billowing behind her. Blood-red robes swirled about her tall figure as she approached. Her eyes were black and cold, like the chill that surrounded her. She reached Marlon’s cowering form and stopped, bowing before her king.

  “You summoned me, My Liege?” Her voice slithered through the air, dripping with seduction and death.

  “I did. This man claims to have news of a Malcray survivor. I need to you verify that what he is saying is true. If it is, we must hunt this company down and destroy them all, before this news gets out.”

  “As you wish.”

  Marlon suddenly felt himself rising off the ground and he flailed wildly, desperate to escape. Thanaeron snapped her fingers and sighed deeply, rolling her eyes. Marlon’s eyes widened and his mouth opened in a silent scream as his torso and limbs were constricted in an invisible vice. He floated there in mute agony, helpless in the face of this demon.

  “Don’t fight it, little man. Your struggle is merely an annoyance.” She smirked and trailed a long black fingernail across his cheek. “I can taste your fear. I can hear your heart pounding in your chest. How very… human of you.”

  She leaned forward until her face was an inch away from Marlon’s own. Her icy breath tickled his cheek, and without warning, she leaned forward and dragged her tongue up his face, licking away the tears that still tumbled from his eyes. He shuddered and tried to speak, but no sound came from his lips.

  “Don’t worry, sweetheart. This will be over soon. It will be excruciating, but it won’t be forever.”

  With that, Thanaeron grabbed Marlon’s face and brought his lips to her own. She kissed him deeply, and for a brief moment, Marlon felt at peace. Then the pain began. Tendrils of green smoke poured from Thanaeron’s mouth as she kissed, him, forcing its way down his throat and through every passageway in his body. His senses were overloaded and his head felt it may explode. The pain ripped through him like lightning as Thanaeron’s nails dug into his skull. He could feel his blood streaming from his eyes and nose as she probed his mind. Quickly, the pain overtook him and his world faded to darkness.

  Thanaeron stood there, her lips locked to his lifeless body for several more minutes before she pulled away. The green smoke streamed back out of his corpse and into her open mouth as she inhaled, a wide smile on her face. Her task complete, she released Marlon’s body, which fell to the stone floor with a dull thud. She licked her lips and sighed deeply before turning her dark gaze to Lord Bainbridge, who stood waiting for her verdict, arms crossed.

  “Well, Desmond,” Thanaeron purred as she approached him, slinking across the marble floor, “I have the answer to the question that is burning a hole in your mind.” She splayed her hands on Lord Bainbridge’s chest and placed a soft kiss on his lips.

  “Well, what is it?” Lord Bainbridge scowled at his sorceress, taking a step back. “Now isn’t the time for pleasantries, Thanaeron. Stop playing games.” He glanced furtively around the throne room, his scowl deepening. “Besides, not here. Someone could see. What if my wife—”

  “Do you really think anyone would challenge me? Besides, I can wipe your wife’s memory with a flick of my finger.” She gestured subtly as she stepped up to him and reached out. “It would be as easy as the spells I do to keep you young and vital.” She ran her hands down his chest, stopping at his belt, which she grasped firmly. She flashed a smile, her pointed teeth glinting in the light.

  Lord Bainbridge shook his head and stepped back again. “No, Thanaeron. Don’t make me tell you again. I am your King.”

  Thanaeron exhaled, her thin lips forming a pout. “You know better than to scold me, Desmond. Or threaten me, for that matter.” She wriggled closer again, wrapping her arms around his waist and pecking his cheek while he sighed in resignation. “But fine, I’ll tell you, though you aren’t going to like the answer. We do, in fact, have a little Malcray problem.”

  “So, where are we going?” Cambria asked as she trailed behind Wynne, careful not to step on Juniper as she darted in and out of the bushes around them. “I thought venturing out into The Tangle wasn’t safe?”

  Wynne seemed to glide through the underbrush, unphased by the dangers that could be lurking in each shadow. “Where we walk is p
rotected. Pay attention, for you may need to take this path on your own and I don’t want you wandering outside the protective boundary.”

  “So this trail is under your protection?” Cambria flinched as a low-hanging vine tickled her cheek, her heart leaping into her throat.

  “Correct.” Wynne paid no mind to Cambria’s jumpy demeanor and pressed onward.

  Cambria swatted a mosquito away as it buzzed angrily around her ear. “Is there any way to increase the spell to include bugs? I feel like I’m getting eaten alive!”

  Wynne chuckled over her shoulder. “Unfortunately, no. But stay close to me, or you may actually be eaten alive!”

  “Fair point.” Cambria was careful to step exactly where Wynne did, for fear of stepping outside the protection her magical boundary offered. She tried to make note of any distinct trees or flowering plants they passed, so that she could find her way again if needed, as Wynne seemed to think would be a necessity.

  Juniper leapt into a shrub with a yowl and quickly emerged with a large lizard hanging limp in her jaws. She trotted along behind Wynne, her head held high as she carried her trophy. Cambria shuddered at the sight of the lifeless lizard’s eyes staring blankly up at her.

  The women continued onward into the dense jungle until they reached a clearing. In the center of the glen stood a sprawling, twisted tree. The trunk seemed to spiral in on itself, with smaller supportive trunks dropping from the spreading branches. Wynne marched straight for the massive tree, her pace never faltering. Cambria shuffled behind, her mouth momentarily agape at the size of the gnarled branches that spread overhead. Wynne began to round the trunk and Cambria lost sight of her for a moment. When she came around the turn, Wynne was nowhere to be seen. Cambria drew up short, swiveling her gaze round as she looked for her mentor.

  “Wynne? Where did you go?”

  “Down here!” Wynne’s voice came from the tree to her left, and Cambria turned sharply. There, hidden in the folds of the trunk, was a natural opening. Cambria approached it tentatively, marveling at how it seemed to grow in size as she approached. The gap seemed to form a doorway, opening to a set of stairs that spiraled down into the earth below the tree. Cambria placed her hands on either side of the archway, calling down the stairs to Wynne.

  “Wynne? Are you down here?”

  “Yes, that’s what I said, isn’t it? Hurry along, we don’t have all day.”

  Cool air met Cambria’s face as she leaned into the doorway, craning into the darkness below. She took one last look over her shoulder at the sunlit glen before descending into the darkness.

  Training begins

  A delaide exhaled, squinting at the large tree in front of her. She drew back the bowstring, her hand trembling slightly with the effort. She could feel her breath faltering and she shifted slightly, planting her feet and trying to hold the bow as steady as possible. Her biceps twitched with the effort and she blinked hard, huffing lightly.

  “Breathe, Addie. You’re doing great.” Charles spoke softly, his breath tickling the back of Adelaide’s neck as he hovered behind her. “Now when you exhale, release the arrow.”

  Adelaide closed her eyes and exhaled, loosening her grip on the arrow. The bowstring hummed as the arrow flew from its nock, speeding towards the spreading tree. With a swish, the arrow missed its mark and continued unchecked into the underbrush. Adelaide groaned, slumping her shoulders as she wiped sweat from her brow.

  “It’s no use, I’ll never get the hang of this!”

  “You will, it just takes practice. No one picks up archery and is just good at it. You’ll get it.”

  “Charles, I can’t even hit a tree from a few paces away! I’ve seen children do better.”

  “Well, in fairness, most of those children were exposed to archery from a young age, and practiced regularly. I guarantee that none of them were able to hit a target their first try.”

  “Fine, maybe not the first try,” Adelaide sulked, “But surely by the end of their first day they could hit a tree.”

  Charles laughed and shook his head. “Who’s to say? Don’t compare yourself to them, Addie. Right now we just need to focus on getting these arrows to where they need to go.”

  Adelaide rolled her eyes and gestured across the yard at the well. “We can pick it up in a minute, but first I need some water. All this concentrating has left a bit of a film in my mouth.”

  “Deal. I could use some water too.”

  They strolled toward the well and Adelaide cast a glance over her shoulder at the tree.

  “Maybe I should take up sword fighting instead. At least my target would be within arms reach, and I’d have a decent shot of at least touching it.”

  Charles choked back a laugh as he turned to face Adelaide. “No, I think sword fighting would be a terrible idea. Truly terrible.”

  “And why is that?” Adelaide frowned indignantly. “You think I can’t handle it?”

  “Well, it’s just—”

  “—just what?” she interjected.

  “I think archery is a good way to teach you a skill that will be useful in life and in battle, while also keeping you safe. Putting the Princess within arms reach of an enemy with a blade isn’t the best strategy.”

  Adelaide sighed, slumping against the well. “I guess you are right. Though Wynne did say she wants me to learn hand-to-hand combat. I don’t know if only archery qualifies. I may have to learn how to swordfight eventually.”

  “Eventually, yes, once you’ve built up your strength and endurance. I think archery is your best first move here. Plus,” Charles bit back another smile, “swords are long, and they get heavy to wield continuously. It takes practice and stamina. I just can’t imagine you with one.”

  “How heavy can they be?” Adelaide challenged. “Let me try to lift yours.”

  “I don’t know if that would be the best idea, given your full morning of archery practice…”

  “No, let me try!”

  “Fine,” Charles sighed. He swiftly crossed the yard to the house, returning with his sword. “But you can’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  Adelaide glanced smugly at Charles before grasping the sword by its hilt. “Warning taken.” She grunted as she tried to pull the sword free from its sheath. Her eyes widened as her arms reached their full span and the sword was only half-released. She grunted and adjusted her grasp, pulling the blade free.

  “There! I did it!”

  “Now lift it like you are going to swing it, and hold it there. It may seem easy at first, but like I said, the weight seems to grow over time.” Charles smirked, perched on the edge of the well.

  “Maybe I will swing it, right at your head,” Adelaide muttered. She took a deep breath and grasped the hilt of the sword with both hands. She lifted it, surprised at how light it seemed. Her eyebrows raised, she glanced at Charles.

  “What’s so hard about this?”

  “Nothing… yet. Go to the tree and swing this sword at it one hundred times. Just try not to actually hit the trunk and dull the blade, please.”

  Adelaide rolled her eyes, playfully swinging the sword. “This isn’t nearly as heavy as you said it would be. I’ll go swing it at the tree, and it will be as simple as threading a needle.”

  “If you say so, Princess.”

  Charles watched in amusement as Adelaide began swinging enthusiastically at the low-hanging branches of the tree. After a few minutes, her swings began to slow, and her stance widened. He could hear her breathing become labored as she strained to continue swinging. Finally, she whirled around, sweat trickling down her flushed cheeks.

  “Fine, you win!” She crossed the yard, dragging the sword through the dirt. “This does get heavy, and it takes a lot more energy than I thought.”

  Charles smiled and held out the bow. “Ready to return to the archery?”

  “I can concede and agree that archery is the better plan for me, but I think I’m done for the day. I’m not going to get any better before the sun goes down.”
<
br />   “You don’t know that,” Charles urged as he took his sword back and offered her the bow again. “You could hit the tree on your first try. I just don’t think we should give up just yet today.”

  “But—”

  “No buts, Princess. If you want to get better at archery, you have to actually practice archery.”

  “Fine.” Adelaide glared as she accepted the bow. “Just a little while longer. But I don’t think a few more hours today will change anything.”

  “We’ll see.”

  Cambria’s mouth hung open as she took in her surroundings. The cool air kissed her cheeks, a welcome relief from the pressing heat of the jungle above. All around her, the roots of the spreading tree were visible, woven through the dirt walls like an intricate carving. The spacious cave beneath the tree was furnished comfortably and filled to the brim with herbs, potions, and what Cam assumed to be mystical objects. Tables and bookshelves lined every wall, and the center of the room had a cauldron, a pile of cushions, and a small table piled high with leather-bound books. Just like in the barn, glowing orbs floated near the ceiling, casting a warm glow on this hidden retreat.

  Juniper pranced straight over to the cushions and curled up with her lizard carcass, purring contentedly. Cam’s gaze wandered to the corner, where Wynne was busy assembling a row of candles on a table.

  “What is this place?”

  Wynne turned to face Cambria, spreading her arms and smiling. “This is my study. My little corner of the world tucked away and secret, where I do my most sacred magic.” She turned slowly, inviting Cambria to take it all in. “This is where you will do most of your training.”

  Cambria nodded, eyeing the shelves laden with crystals and leather-bound journals. “It’s incredible.”

  “I think so, too.” Wynne smiled again, clasping her hands in front of her. “You are the first soul besides myself to see this place, you know. Besides Juniper, of course.”