Shadow of Hope

by Elsye Harwood

  So Mutta smiled at Inga and told her to come back with her to the village as the snow was falling steadily and it was getting colder. But as they left the level pasture, Inga suddenly stopped and looked back.

  “Wait, Mutta. I’ll be back in a minute.” And with that, the girl let go of her hand and ran doggedly across the snow, back to the stones at the base of the slope. She stopped and turned around. “It’s gone. Mutta! Already. Look!”

  Mutta went cold. He’d been there whilst they’d been talking, just beyond their view. With great trepidation, she made her way back and came to where the girl was standing grinning happily.

  On the boulder where, only moments ago, Inga had left a small blue stone, a smooth circular piece of bronze now reflected the light. Mutta had seen one of these a long time ago; it was a way of checking your reflection, a Roman toy. She looked up, but as expected there was no sign of anyone else around them. It was as if it had appeared out of the thin air.

  ***

  The night was dark, but the stars were bright and nearer than usual, almost close enough to touch. Then Inga realised that it was another dream, because she knew these stars, they had names and stories to explain why they moved across the heavens. It was that other place again, where the sun was nearly always shining and she was happy and loved.

  But tonight it was different; she was trotting over the grass alongside the river, which tinkled merrily in the darkness on her left. Up ahead someone was waiting for her; she was excited and a little nervous. He came out now to meet her from the sparse cover of the olive trees. She beamed at him and picked up speed to fall straight into his open arms. It was the same young man as before, the one who looked like their village blacksmith, except his eyes and hair were dark. She took his hand and together they strolled away from the village to be alone in the countryside. They kissed, but the boy was shy and hesitant. She wasn’t, she stepped back, pulled off her tunic and grinned at his shocked face, then dived into the icy water.

  Shocked, Inga opened her eyes and found herself back in the furs beside her little sister. Despite the covers, it was cold and her breath vaporised as she breathed out. She didn’t want any more dreams like that, she preferred the nice ones in the sunshine. Disgruntled, Inga turned over and tried to shut her mind to the ideas that had frightened and unnerved her.

  ***

  The hunger was the worst it had been for months and it was only the beginning of winter. There wasn’t time now to go back across the river to satiate the growing appetite inside him. Cimon stood in the tumulus racked with feelings that he shouldn’t have had, not at this time of the year.

  He knew that despite everything, he wanted and needed to see Shelpa again. It was becoming an ache inside him, like the hunger, an urge and desire that couldn’t be ignored for long. This reaction, he knew, was a response to his disillusionment with Germania. He’d left Esakhr and Persia just over a year ago and in that time he’d only managed to see Inga and to communicate with her via gifts. It wasn’t much and he still had no idea how he could achieve more, even if he even wanted to know her. The girl was still a mystery to him. More and more, he believed that he was wasting his time here, when he could be out helping people and seeking redemption that way. At least at the towns across the Rhine he was actually doing some good. During the summer when he’d stayed there, he’d worked as a physician and had done a good business and earned a decent name for himself; in fact, they’d asked him to help out at the new town that was growing around the hot springs west of the Rhine. Whilst there he’d been able to indulge himself and had spent the summer living as a true Rabisu, with few restrictions. Which was why it was so strange that he wanted to feed again so soon.

  He’d only been back a while and he’d thrown the rabbits to Inga as a sign that he’d returned. But to what point? All he could do was sit on the fringes and maybe exchange more gifts. He hadn’t been able to protect her from that hunter. And he was hungry; obviously his appetite wasn’t being satisfied by living like this. He was denying his nature and it seemed to be for nothing. There would be other times to seek redemption.

  Callie was gone, he remembered that every time he saw Inga. She’d moved on and maybe he should as well and actually enjoy the extra lives and powers he’d been given. This was what he was now, this was his reality. And despite everything that he’d originally felt about her, Shelpa was part of his life and who he was. It was foolish to pretend otherwise.

  He’d to stay for the winter because the village needed his help, so he’d hunt for them, then as soon as the spring came, he’d leave and go back to his maker. In the meantime he would have to visit the settlement beyond the mountains to satisfy the uncompromising hunger inside.

  ***

  Something woke her in the middle of the night. Quietly, so as not to wake Agis, Shelpa slipped out of the bed, and pulled a robe around herself. She stopped half way through the atrium of Cyrus’s villa. The sensation came again, but this time she recognised it. She knew what it was: Cimon was coming back to her. She could feel him calling to her, making her aware of his desire to see her and his deep need to be with her.

  She couldn’t resist the shudder of emotion that danced through her body. Cimon, her favourite child, was returning and he wanted to by choice. He loved her. She could feel it. So different from Agis, for whom the bond was only physical. It was a huge relief; she’d thought that he’d be angry with her after their visit to Estakhr because she’d decided to remain whilst he’d left in disgust at the lifestyle there. She‘d expected him to be away for years, so to have him return after such a short length of time was unexpected.

  She allowed herself to respond and call to him as well, telling him from the depth of her being that she wanted him and to come to her soon. His reaction was almost instant. She smiled. He was travelling by night to be with her. Then another more sobering thought doused her excitement. Agis. They would never get on, they were totally different and would both expect her to be with them. For the first time in her long life, Shelpa regretted being herself. Agis was demanding and controlling, and she hated him sometimes, Cimon was nothing like that, he respected her and let her have her freedom.

  She wanted to be with Cimon, but Agis hadn’t been back for long, she was reluctant to upset him, in case he went away and never returned. Unsure how to proceed, she found her footsteps leading her to Cyrus’s bedroom door.

  Quietly, she knocked, then without waiting for an answer went in. Her maker was sleeping alone, as Mardonius was in Campania where Cyrus was buying a villa in Nola. Even though Cyrus was alone, Agis became angry and annoyed if she spent too much time with him. She’d forgotten how jealous her first created child could be and she’d hoped that by coming to Rome he’d find plenty of distractions in the sprawling city, but it hadn’t happened, he’d insisted that they sample the delights of the metropolis together.

  She crept up to the bed, but before she got there, Cyrus woke and sat up.

  “Shelpa, what’s wrong?” he asked, shifting over to make room for her.

  “Cimon‘s coming. I can feel him,” she replied sitting down on the bed facing him.

  “Ah. Now I can see the problem,” he said quietly.

  “What can I do?” she asked.

  He smiled. “Nothing you can do, my dear. They have to meet, they are your created children, brothers even.”

  Shelpa snorted. “They’re nothing alike!”

  “No, I agree. One is your greatest mistake and the other is your worst creation. You can’t change things, Shelpa. They’ll clash and you’ll be in the middle.”

  She looked down and pulled at the sheet. “I have to choose, but I’m scared to.”

  Gently Cyrus put her dilemma into words. “Because the one you won’t pick will be angry and you might not see him again?” She looked up and nodded. “Then explain this to the one you know and trust. I’m sure he’ll understand and be willing to wait until the other one’s gone again.”

  She shook her
head. “But I want to be with Cimon now. I can feel him and he wants me. I don’t care if Agis is angry.”

  “You will, Shelpa, he can make life very difficult for you.”

  “But he hasn’t been near for years and then he comes back and tells me what I can and can’t do. He has no right and I’ll tell him.”

  “Agis will take permanent offence if you do, but Cimon will realise the situation. He loves you, Shelpa, you have that special bond with him. Don’t worry, he’ll understand.”

  She smiled sadly at him. “Thank you. Can I stay with you the rest of the night?”

  Cyrus shrugged. “You’re always welcome.” Cyrus stroked her shoulder. “But are you willing to put up with his anger tomorrow?”

  “If I leave early he won’t know,” she replied silkily.

  Chapter Seventeen

  They opened the door of the villa on the outskirts of Rome and immediately knew something was wrong. Mardonius glanced back at Cyrus when he realised what was occurring. Cyrus saw it as well and covered the distance from the door to the atrium in record speed. The storm that had been threatening for the last few days had finally hit.

  Cimon and Agis were about to come to blows and Shelpa, instead of enjoying the spectacle of two men fighting over her, was standing helpless to one side calling on them in vain to stop. Naturally they were both ignoring her. Cyrus motioned to Mardonius who went to Shelpa to assure her and she immediately flung herself into his arms, whilst Cyrus approached the two men and shouted at them.

  One stood classically beautiful, like a statue come to life, whilst the other resembled a Greek hoplite warrior. Cyrus was in no doubt who would win. Since Cimon had come back he’d shown that he was a long way removed from the young shepherd from Boeotia; life in the wilds had toughened and hardened him up and allowed the other soul to dominate.

  Cyrus shouted at them again, but both were too caught up in their anger. Their hatred was intense, an almost tangible presence in the room. This had been coming, though Shelpa had tried her best to avoid it. She’d spoken with Cimon and as expected he’d understood and kept away as much as he was able, but it was easy to see his anger and frustration in being close to her but kept apart from her. Mardonius had done his best to distract him and keep him satisfied and occupied, but his real desire was Shelpa and he couldn’t have her, which was driving him wild.

  Cyrus knew what had finally broken the tension; Cimon couldn’t understand how Agis could be so controlling and jealous of Shelpa. It was that more than anything that irked him. How could a created child treat his maker like that? And Agis for his part was jealous of his younger brother, who obviously loved their maker and who was adored in return. That was why he and Mardonius had been out; to make the final arrangements so that their villa in Nola would be ready in the next few days.

  “Apologise, Mede!” Cimon demanded suddenly, almost growling.

  “Not to you, Greek. Your stomach’s too weak for this life. You’re an insult to our kind.”

  “I don’t strike women. It makes you weak that you have to.”

  “I’m stronger and more powerful than you, boy.”

  “Try me,” Cimon snarled. Cyrus shouted to them both again, but he knew that it was too late. Cimon had launched himself at Agis, who met him half way and they began wrestling in the atrium.

  It soon became clear who the better fighter was and it was over surprisingly quickly with Agis pinned down on the floor and Cimon straddling him, with his hands at Agis’s throat.

  “Cimon!” Cyrus barked in warning.

  “I could kill you, Mede.” he growled.

  Agis, despite his position, laughed. “Fool. Don’t you know anything, you can’t kill me. I’m immortal,” he declared triumphantly.

  It was Cimon’s turn to smile and to Cyrus’s horror whilst holding Agis down with one hand, he reached to his belt and removed something from the leather holster. The room stilled when they all saw what Cimon was holding above Agis’s head.

  “This will kill you though,” Cimon told him, grinning. Agis began to struggle and writhe beneath the Greek, whilst Cimon smirked down at him enjoying watching him squirm.

  Shelpa screamed at him to stop, then buried herself in Mardonius’s shoulder and Cyrus spoke quietly to the young Rabisu.

  “We don’t kill our own kind, Cimon,” he reminded him. Still grinning. Cimon gracefully got to his feet and gave Agis room to stand. But as soon as the older hunter regained his feet, he dived at Cimon and attempted to trip him up again. Shelpa screamed again. But before anything else could happen, Cimon had Agis against the wall where he stood back then hit him right in the face.

  “That’s for hitting a woman,” he told him as he backed away. Agis tentatively put his hand to his mouth to stop the blood that was already trickling.

  “Enough, Cimon, go to the courtyard. Wait for me there,” Cyrus commanded. Surprisingly, Cimon obeyed with only a small pounce at Agis who flinched back in terror. “Shelpa, take Agis and give him some essence, he needs attention.”

  Shelpa reluctantly moved out of Mardonius’s embrace, she glanced at Cyrus but could see that he wasn’t in any mood for argument, then tried to see past him into the courtyard but Cyrus made it clear he wanted her to move. Once they were gone, he was alone with Mardonius.

  “Where did he get that spike? “ Cyrus asked.

  Mardonius smiled. “He’s had it since that sect came to Rome; he took it off one of them.”

  Cyrus nodded. He remembered only too well the last days of Cimon’s innocence, when he’d still mostly been a shepherd from Greece.

  “Go get the wagons, we’ll leave tonight. Get a message sent ahead to be ready.” Mardonius nodded and went back out into the street.

  Cyrus now had to persuade the young hunter to come with them to Campania rather than stay here and get into more trouble. He’d no doubt that in time if left to his own devices Cimon would kill Agis, and he for one wouldn’t be sorry, but Shelpa might never forgive him.

  In the courtyard, Cimon was sitting quietly on the bench. He didn’t look up when Cyrus sat down next to him.

  “We’re going to Nola tonight, Cimon. I want you to come with us.” He waited for the younger hunter’s response.

  Finally Cimon replied, sitting forward with his elbows on his knees. “Do I get a choice?”

  “Yes, but it would be best if you did. I’ve no doubt that you’ll come to blows again, and next time you won’t hold back.” Cimon glanced over and pulled a face. “I know he’s only alive because we came home in time. But if you do kill him, Shelpa won’t forgive you and though you might think that you’re doing the world a favour, other Rabisu won’t see it like that.”

  “If they find out,” Cimon muttered.

  “You know how we know Wielders?” Cyrus asked. Cimon nodded. “You would have that same impression on your aura. So we would know.” Cyrus saw Cimon slump in frustration. “I don’t want any more trouble, Shelpa is struggling with this. You’ve been good to her so far and not forced her to make a choice that she can’t make.” Cimon looked at him.

  “Why does she put up with it? I don’t understand.” Cyrus was about to speak, but Cimon continued. “It makes me so angry to see him treat her like this. I know he’s been gone for years but this is Shelpa, she’s his maker.”

  Cyrus reached out to touch the younger Rabisu’s shoulder. “Remember I told you about her father?” Cimon nodded and then realisation dawned on his face. “Part of her accepts this, it’s what she knows, though believe me, she gives as good as she gets. It’s a rivalry between them. She’ll get bored of it and Agis will leave again.”

  Cimon was quiet, thinking about the older man’s words and contemplating the fountain.

  “I don’t stand a chance with him around,” he muttered quietly.

  “He’s been gone for years. Don’t worry, he’ll go and Shelpa will feel foolish and be sad, but also relieved.”

  They both considering how she’d react once Agis
left again which they both knew that he would.

  “Will you come with us?” Cyrus asked.

  Cimon nodded. What choice do I have?” He replied looking out into the garden.

  “The frontiers have toughed you up,” Cyrus told him.

  Cimon glanced over. “You have no idea.”

  “You don’t say much in your scrolls other than you’ve been healing.”

  Cimon admitted. “Amongst other things.” He was quiet. He hadn’t told Cyrus about Callie/Inga. All the older Rabisu knew was that he’d been living across the Rhine on the edge of the empire.

  “Have you…” Cyrus paused then tried again. “Have you found something?” Cimon leant forward and looked across at the flowers that grew in the sunlight of the courtyard. “Is it your wife?” Cyrus saw he’d hit on something from the colours that blazed close to Cimon’s body. “Why are you here and not there with her?”

  Finally Cimon leant back. “How did you know?”

  Cyrus smiled a little bashfully. “You’re normally so open about things. Your silence says more than any words. You told me once that you were waiting for her and that you’d feel her when she came again. Why else would you exile yourself to some far-flung armpit of the empire?”

  “But I came back,” Cimon replied looking away so that Cyrus wouldn’t see his face.

  “Yes, you did, but for Shelpa or something else?”

  Eventually Cimon answered very quietly. “Both. I’ve been living a careful and controlled existence and only feeding occasionally, to avoid drawing attention to myself. But the hunger was becoming too strong and I was taking risks and killing people who didn’t deserve to die, so I came back. And I missed Shelpa, I wanted to come back to be with her and to embrace what she’d made me.”

  “And your wife, who I take it has been reborn?” Cyrus asked.

  Cimon took a deep breath and looked over at him. “It’s not her.” He smiled. “I don’t know what I was expecting, but she’s just a child, she looks different. She speaks a foreign language, she has strange customs. I know that you shouldn’t judge on looks alone, Agis is a prime example, but Cyrus, it’s hard not to. She’s not my wife. I don’t know her and I’m counting on her for everything.