Kingdom of Shadows

by K M Reynolds

  “Not yet, maybe. But what we have planned for you two tomorrow… you’ll be begging for death before we are done with you.” Thanaeron cackled and turned on her heel. “I look forward to it.”

  The entourage exited just as quickly as they had arrived, plunging the dungeon back into darkness. No one moved until the sound of the heavy door confirmed that they were once again alone.

  Cambria flew back up the corridor, once more illuminated by her conjured orb. Her eyes danced with fire that burned through her soul. “You are being executed tomorrow!” she cried, whirling back and forth to look at both of her parents. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

  “We didn’t want you to worry, baby,” Martin reached a hand through the bars before letting it fall back to his side. “We didn’t want to put you in danger.”

  “But you’ll die! And I can’t get here in time to save you,” Cambria sobbed, falling to her knees. “I won’t be able to stop them.”

  “Baby girl, you can’t stop them from killing us, that’s true. But you can stop them. Keep doing what you are doing, and our deaths won’t be in vain.” Chloe’s voice trembled as tears spilled down her cheeks. “This is happening for a reason.”

  “No! No, that’s not right, it’s not fair!”

  “Oh honey, life isn’t fair.” Chloe sat in her cell, pressing her face against the bars. “Sweetheart, look at me.”

  Cambria slowly lifted her tear-soaked face to meet her mother’s gaze. “This isn’t right,” she whispered, fighting to breathe around the burning lump in her throat.

  “I know it feels that way now. But I have faith that this is all part of the story that needs to play out. Your Nona always used to say that in in times of troubled water, we must not focus on the waves, but on where the current will carry us. And I believe that these waves are fearsome things, but they will carry you onward to a better future.”

  “I don’t want a future if you both aren’t in it.”

  “Be brave, dear heart,” Martin implored as he sank to the ground. “Be strong. Be loyal and true. And never stop fighting for justice and peace.”

  “We love you, Cambria. And we always will.”

  Cambria shook her head, glancing between her parents. “I’m going to find a way to fix this, you’ll see. I’ll save you both.” She blew them each a kiss and closed her eyes, willing her spirit to return to the lake where her body was waiting.

  Thanaeron strode into the throne room, her spindly fingers pressed together beneath her chin, a smirk twisting across her lips. She slithered up to the throne, perching on the armrest and turning her empty gaze to Lord Bainbridge.

  “My Lord,” she hissed, “the girl may not have come for her parents, but she certainly has been here recently.”

  “That makes no sense,” Lord Bainbridge sighed. “Speak plainly, witch.”

  “The daughter, or someone with her, is a magic user. Someone has been astral projecting into the dungeon; they may have even been there when I delivered the news about the execution.”

  “How can you know that for certain?” Lord Bainbridge peered at Thanaeron incredulously.

  “I can smell the magic in the air. Taste it. Someone was using light magic, and it certainly wasn’t me. But the magic was tainted… it wasn’t pure light magic. There was an element of…” her voice trailed off as she searched for the words.

  “Of darkness?”

  “In a way, yes. A darkness borne of greed and personal desire. It didn’t have that sickeningly wholesome smell that light magic usually has. It packed a bit of a punch.”

  “What does this mean?”

  “It means,” Thanaeron smiled, “that we just may be able to use this to our advantage. Poison this magic user, turn them away from the light and pull them into the shadows.”

  “How do you propose to do that, eh? We don’t even know who it was.”

  “All in good time, my Lord. I’ll handle it as soon as I know more, and I’ll keep you appraised. After all, magic is my area of expertise. You stick to brutality and bleeding these peasants dry.”

  “Don’t tell me how to run my kingdom,” he snarled. “Don’t forget your place, sorceress.”

  “My place is wherever I choose it, Desmond,” she thundered back. “Don’t forget that I can crush you like a bug. I gave you this throne and I can take it away just as easily.” Thanaeron gazed into his eyes, unblinking, like a viper poised to strike.

  Lord Bainbridge swallowed and broke the stare, shifting his gaze downward. He nodded, cowed once more into submission. “I know. I apologize.”

  “There, there. That’s better,” Thanaeron cooed, running her long fingernails down his cheek, causing him to shiver involuntarily. “As long as we all play our parts, things will go swimmingly. Let’s not forget our roles in the future, shall we?” She leaned close and placed a kiss on his cheek, smiling to herself when he flinched. The door at the back of the throne room opened and Thanaeron stood, turning to face the newcomer.

  A frail woman in richly embroidered robes approached, a silver circlet resting on top of her plaited black and silver-streaked hair. She walked slowly, yet decisively, down the long carpet to the throne. At the base of the stairs, she stopped and addressed them.

  “Husband, if I may have a word alone?”

  Lord Bainbridge glanced between Thanaeron and his wife and licked his lips. “What is this about, Penelope? I’m in the middle of something here.”

  “Please, Desmond. A word alone?” Penelope implored. “It’s important.”

  “Fine,” Lord Bainbridge agreed, rolling his eyes. “Thanaeron, give us the room.”

  In reply, Thanaeron hissed and slunk away from the throne, exiting through one of the doors to the side of the great hall.

  “What do you want, Penelope? I’m a busy man.” Lord Bainbridge grumbled.

  “It’s about this execution tomorrow. Is this really necessary? I’m afraid the people—”

  “The people need to fear me, and understand that crossing me or harboring would-be usurpers means certain death,” he snapped. “You are weak, you wouldn’t understand.”

  “I just wonder if showing mercy in this situation might garner your favor in the eyes of the people,” Lady Bainbridge stammered. “I have heard that our son is party to this group of rebellious youths and I don’t want any harm to come to him.”

  “Brennan made his choice when he abandoned our family years ago. He is a traitor and deserves whatever punishment comes his way.”

  “But he is still our son,” she protested gently. “I don’t want this to tarnish your name, going after harmless children. I want you to be a great ruler.”

  “I am a great ruler,” Lord Bainbridge thundered back, rising from his throne. “How dare you imply otherwise, you impudent woman? Get out of my sight before I have you flogged.”

  Lady Bainbridge’s eyes widened and her cheeks flushed red. “My love, I—”

  “Enough!” he bellowed, enraged. “Get out!”

  Lady Bainbridge dropped her head and scurried back out of the throne room without another sound. Lord Bainbridge watched her go, a disdainful sneer plastered across his face.

  “She is weak,” he spat, returning to his throne. “Thanaeron!”

  The door flung open and Thanaeron glided back into the room. “Yes, my liege?”

  “Come now. We have an execution to prepare for.”

  An evil smile flickered across her lips as she clasped her hands and rubbed them together. “Certainly. I have some ideas I think you’ll be quite fond of, sire.”

  “I’m sure I will be. I have absolute faith that you will help me get the message across.”

  “Only the best for the greatest ruler Echaria has ever seen,” she purred, slinking into his lap.

  He chuckled wryly and patted her knee. “Let’s get to it then. After tomorrow, no one will dare think of overthrowing my rule.”

  “It will be the thing nightmares are made of,” Thanaeron promised.

  the exe
cution

  C ambria’s stomach clenched as she took in the scene below her. Throngs of people were pouring through the open gates of Greystone Castle, filling the courtyard and parapets. In the center of the courtyard were two large wooden posts with shackles on the ground in front of them. A light dusting of snow was falling from the grey sky, and the teeming mass of people huddled together for warmth against the bitter cold.

  Cambria quietly landed unnoticed on the outer wall and made her way to the front of the crowd, careful not to touch anyone. As she watched, the door to the dungeon opened and her parents emerged, squinting as the light of day burned their eyes after so long in the dark. She caught her breath as she saw them, for the first time able to take in every detail of the damage their imprisonment had wrought.

  “Move it,” shouted the jailer, shoving Chloe so that she stumbled forward, nearly falling.

  Chloe scanned the crowd, her eyes flitting from face to face, until she found Cambria. Her eyes widened and she shook her head, crying out, “Go, leave!” The jailer struck her again, and this time she did fall, her knees connecting with the stones that paved the courtyard with a crack. She turned to Martin as the guards hauled her back to her feet, whispering, “she’s here.”

  Martin whipped his head up, searching the crowd for his daughter. “She shouldn’t be here. She shouldn’t have to see this.”

  The guards chained Martin and Chloe to the posts in the center of the courtyard and blindfolded them. Cambria turned her head away as the guards cut through her parents clothing, stripping them down until they were standing naked, bound and blind, in front of hundreds of strangers. She clenched her fists at her sides, feeling her nails biting into her palms, creating fresh wounds over top of the old ones..

  A door opened on the far side of the courtyard and Lord Bainbridge emerged, followed by Thanaeron. They strode to the platform where Chloe and Martin were displayed. Lord Bainbridge turned to the crowd and raised his hands. Silence fell over the courtyard.

  “Citizens of Echaria, you are here to bear witness to the death of two traitors to the crown, Martin and Chloe of Redloch. For their crimes of aiding and abetting a wanted fugitive, and for keeping secrets from the crown, I hereby sentence them to death by flaying and fire.”

  The crowd erupted in a cacophony of murmurs and horrified whispers, and Cambria felt as though all the air had been sucked from her lungs.

  “Do you have any last words?” Lord Bainbridge turned to Martin and Chloe.

  “Cambria, I love you, baby girl,” Chloe sobbed, shivering as a cold gust of wind blew the falling snow onto her bare skin.

  ““Be brave, dear heart. Be strong. Be loyal and true,” Martin spoke, echoing his words to Cambria the day before in the dungeon.

  “That’s enough of that,” Lord Bainbridge announced. “Thanaeron, if you would?”

  “With pleasure.” She reached beneath her cloak and pulled out a long, thin blade. She positioned herself between the two pillars and turned her attention to Chloe. “It’s time, you worthless sow. It’s a pity your daughter couldn’t join you up here, I would have enjoyed carving her.”

  Slowly and deliberately, Thanaeron ran the edge of the knife down Chloe’s arm, removing a long, thin strip of skin. Chloe’s screams echoed in the courtyard and blood flowed freely down her arm, dripping from her fingertips.

  “Chloe! Chloe, what is happening?” Martin cried out, straining against his bonds.

  “Your turn!” Thanaeron announced gleefully, whirling to face Martin and dragging the knife down his arm, leaving him with an identical wound.

  Cambria watched, eyes spilling tears and stomach rolling as Thanaeron danced from one parent to the other, slashing and peeling their skin from their bodies in even, measured strokes. Their screams of agony pierced the air, and each one was like a lance to Cambria’s heart. Thanaeron took her time, expertly filleting the flesh like a butcher prepares a choice cut of meat, the smile never leaving her face. Their blood was running off the platform in rivulets now, mixing with the trampled snow. People in the crowd were protesting, crying, and gagging at the carnage unfolding before them. The air was thick with the smell of blood and bile.

  At long last, Thanaeron stopped cutting. Martin and Chloe were motionless on the posts, every inch of exposed flesh raw and bloody. All around them, piles of skin lay, discarded and quickly freezing. If it wasn’t for their chests rising and falling in shallow, ragged breaths, Cambria would have been certain that they were already dead. But such a mercy was not to be found.

  “And now,” Thanaeron announced to the horrified crowd, “a cleansing by fire.”

  She snapped her fingers and the posts were engulfed with flames. The courtyard was one again filled with cries of pure agony, this time accompanied by the acrid smell of burning flesh. Cambria couldn’t hold it in anymore. She opened her mouth and screamed, feeling the world tearing to pieces around her. She hurtled back through the ether, howling and wailing.

  At last she was back in her body, in the burrow. She immediately fell forward and heaved, nausea and white-hot pain tearing at her insides. In between her retches she continued to scream, hot tears pouring readily from her eyes as she pounded her fists into the dirt floor. She felt a snap, and knew her hand had broken against the ground as she beat it senselessly, mindlessly. She didn’t care; any pain she felt was all dwarfed by the pain in her heart. She screamed until long after her voice was gone, and then she curled into a ball and sobbed until darkness engulfed her.

  Thanaeron swept into Lord Bainbridge’s chambers, twirling like a young girl. She laughed and sank onto a plush chair in the corner of the ornately decorated room.

  “That went well,” she announced, absentmindedly brushing lint from her robes.

  “You think so? The people looked horrified,” Lord Bainbridge growled from behind his privacy curtain as he changed out of his execution robes.

  “Well yes, that was the plan,” she replied. “Plus, the child was there, she saw the whole thing.”

  “What?” He leapt out from behind the curtain, no longer caring that he was in his undergarments. “She was there? Why didn’t we seize her immediately?”

  “Relax, Desmond. She wasn’t really there. She was merely astral projecting.”

  “Oh,” he grumbled, retreating back behind the curtain to continue dressing. “Whatever that means. I don’t follow your magic mumbo jumbo. But if you say she saw it all, then I believe you.”

  “Yes, she wasn’t physically present, we couldn’t have captured her no matter how hard we tried, which is frustrating. But now I have a solid grasp on her magic, and I am certain that I can reach out to her across the space, and hopefully corrupt her and discover the location of the other traitors.”

  “And if you succeed?”

  “Her magic is strong for one so young, I can taste it.” Thanaeron licked her lips. “It would be a shame to snuff out all that potential. I propose we offer her pardon in exchange for the lives of her companions, on the condition that she becomes one of the Daskuji and serves as my apprentice.”

  Lord Bainbridge snorted derisively. “She would never agree to that.”

  “I don’t know, there is so much darkness in her. It is at constant war with the light, making her magic and her mind a tempest. And there’s nothing I love better than a good storm.”

  “Do you really think this will work? It could backfire.”

  Thanaeron rose from her chair and sashayed over to Lord Bainbridge, running her hands down his arms. “Darling, I said she was strong. But she’s nowhere near as strong as I am. If she tries to fight, or tries to trick me, I will eat her heart and make a necklace of her intestines. She is no more than an insect.”

  “If you say so.”

  “I do say so.” She placed her hand under Lord Bainbridge’s chin and gazed directly into his eyes. “And what I say goes. Always.”

  “Always.”

  Thanaeron leaned forward and kissed Lord Bainbridge firmly on the lips. H
e kissed back for a brief moment, then inhaled sharply and pulled away.

  “Not here, my wife—”

  “Won’t bother us,” Thanaeron interjected, waving her hand absentmindedly at the door. The heavy lock slid into place and a shimmering green wall encircled the room. “There. Locked and sealed against sound and light. No one will bother us now.”

  She took him by the hand and led him to the large four-poster bed. She deftly undid her robes and they fell softly, piling at her feet. Her thin, naked body was pale, marred by silver scars that twisted over her flesh and seemed to entwine with black runic tattoos that covered her body. She turned and began to unfasted his clothes, batting her cold dead eyes and pouting her thin lips.

  “Must I do everything myself, Desmond?”

  In response, Lord Bainbridge lifted trembling hands and began to disrobe, his eyes never leaving Thanaeron’s.

  She purred as his clothing dropped to the floor beside hers and ran her long fingernails down his bare chest, creating goosebumps on his skin. She leaned close, pressing her body against his, and whispered, “Show me what my King is made of.”

  The silence hung thick in the common room where the group was gathered. Adelaide’s eyes burned as fresh tears welled up and she choked back another sob. The world seemed to rock around her like a ship at sea and she bit her lip, focusing on the sting to reorient herself. After several long minutes, Wynne softly broke the silence.

  “Cam, let me fix your hand. It’s the least I can do.”

  Cambria lifted her head to reveal swollen, blood-shot eyes and tear stained cheeks. “Fix my hand? Fix my hand!?” she screamed hoarsely. “That’s what you do, isn’t it. You wait till things are broken and then offer to bandage the problem.”

  “No, I—”

  “Dammit, Wynne! No!” Cambria cradled her broken hand close to her body. “Just stay away from me. You’ve done more than enough.”

  Adelaide watched this exchange and could practically feel her heart breaking. She thought of Chloe and Martin, and of how good they had always been to her. To hear about their deaths, and to die in such a gruesome fashion… it was more than she could bear. The world spun faster and faster and she felt as though she was floating.