The Keeper's Shadow

by Dennis Foon

  When will Willum speak? They are two to Querin’s one. He came alone!

  “I have proclaimed her guilty as charged. We follow the inspired guidance of Our Stowe in meting out our punishment: your sister’s expulsion to the Devastation has been initiated.”

  “What do you want?” Stowe can hear the murder in Willum’s voice. She is ready.

  Querin squints inquisitively at Willum. “Apsara. Enemy of Darius. You are treacherous, of that I have no doubt. But I must determine the nature of your treachery. To that end, I shall test the prophecy.”

  “What prophecy?”

  Querin’s dark eyes glaze over. “Beneath the craters of the moon’s two faces, to a choir of earth’s song, the Apsara will be freed by the son of Longlight.” Querin pauses, his gaze shifting from Stowe to Willum and back again. “I have never doubted you, Our Stowe. But now I find you are under the sway of a man who may be dangerous. Very dangerous. Let the events unfold as they may. I will pray, for your sake, Our Stowe, that your brother does save my captive. Otherwise Willum is not the friend you think he is and we will have to eliminate him…and perhaps even…you.”

  THE PROPHECY

  IN THE CITY, WHERE YOU LEAST EXPECT IT, YOU WILL FIND A TRUE DEFENDER OF THE FAITH.

  —JOURNAL OF ROAN OF THE PARTING

  “PROPHET, WHAT IS YOUR WILL? Shall we evacuate?” Wolf’s voice is urgent but respectful.

  “Mabatan says nothing came up about this location,” Roan replies. “At least not before she was separated from Kira…Exercise caution. Double the patrols. We should be ready to move if we have to. We’ll need some alternate locations.”

  “It will be done.”

  Roan’s happy to be having the meeting. Addressing the obvious necessary details is all there is between him and despair. If Willum is exposed, then what of Stowe? He’d wanted to contact her through the ring but didn’t dare—what if he distracted her at a crucial moment?

  “Ende?”

  “The eclipse is in ten days. Not enough time to move my people from the Caldera. At this time of year, the journey is too dangerous for the elderly and the children. So we prepare for siege. Alandra’s being taken there—it is the only place we can guarantee her safety…at least for the time being.”

  Earlier, Ende had conferred with him about Alandra’s situation. She’d needed final confirmation that the healer was not to be awakened. The Apsara were keeping his friend alive, but only just, and she felt she had to warn him that even if Alandra were able to withdraw from the Hydra and return to her body, she might never be able to regain her previous strength and control. He’ll have to take what comfort he can in the fact that all that can be, is being done for her. Trying to shake off his worries, he thanks Ende and returns to the matters at hand.

  “Kamyar?”

  But before Kamyar can respond, Wolf rounds on him. “Yes, Storyteller. Stinger expected new recruits yesterday but they never arrived.”

  Surprisingly, Kamyar does not reply with his usual glib retort. Instead, he shakes his head and sighs heavily. “There is a strange lethargy in the villages. The people are aimless and exhausted. They say a demon is stealing their dreams. These people are not enabled, Roan. How is Darius doing it?”

  Roan, unsure of how to express what he knows, looks at Ende.

  “Darius has sought to control an Overshadower,” she says, training her gaze first on Kamyar, then on Wolf.

  Kamyar blanches, but Wolf leaps up. “Enemy to the Friend! The great darkness which casts his shadow over the sun. But Prophet, you said the Friend will pull the sun from the shadow.”

  Roan looks at the warrior in amazement. The Overshadower is the Friend’s enemy? Why not join together, then, to fight their common foe? The god had told Roan they would meet when Roan returned to the Dreamfield to destroy Darius’s Throne. And Ende had said if they fought Darius, they would fight the thing he feeds. So, what possible purpose could it serve to kill the Friend? Why—

  Roan starts when Kamyar touches his arm. Realizing he must have been staring off into space, he looks at the others sheepishly. “Sorry, I—”

  “No need to explain.” Kamyar pushes away from the table and gestures at Mejan, who’s waiting impatiently in the doorway. “But the Storytellers are making their way to the City, Roan. I have to say goodbye.”

  “Be careful, old friend.” Roan rises, extending a hand, and Kamyar envelops him in a walloping bear hug.

  “Be strong, Roan of Longlight, and ride with the wind at your back.”

  But Roan’s head begins to spin. He’s spiraling up the Big Empty and then, through a haze of exploding rock, he sees a puzzled frown.

  “Kamyar?” he whispers and collapses.

  ROAN IS BARELY PRESENT BEFORE STOWE HAS CLASPED HIS HAND, HER CONVERSATION WITH QUERIN FLOODING HIS AWARENESS.

  “KIRA’S ALIVE?”

  “IF QUERIN IS TO BE BELIEVED. BUT FOR HOW LONG, WE CAN’T BE SURE.”

  “BUT BENEATH THE CRATERS OF THE MOON’S TWO FACES—WHERE’S THAT?”

  “WE DON’T KNOW. PRESUMABLY THAT’S PART OF THE TEST: CAN YOU FIND HER AND WILL YOU ENACT HER RESCUE ACCORDING TO WHATEVER’S IN THE PROPHECY THAT QUERIN HASN’T TOLD US.”

  THEY STAND FOR A MOMENT, SILENT.

  “THIS COULD BE A TRAP.”

  “I KNOW THAT, BROTHER. QUERIN HAS US UNDER GUARD, SO WILLUM CAN’T CONTACT THE GUNTHERS. WE’RE HOPING YOU CAN DECIPHER THE PROPHECY HE’S REFERRING TO IN TIME.” PLACING HER HAND OVER HER BROTHER’S HEART, SHE SMILES. “I KNOW YOU’LL DO IT, ROAN. I KNOW. THE PROPHECIES NEVER LIE, DO THEY?”

  Kamyar’s shaking him. “Roan! Roan! What’s wrong with you? What is it?”

  Reaching up to assure the worried Storyteller, Roan says urgently, “Kamyar, ‘Beneath the craters of the moon’s two faces…’ Do you know that prophecy?”

  But it is Ende who responds. “One of the Wazya, three singers on each palm, shall guide them.”

  Nodding, Kamyar interjects, “And on and on it goes. Roan! It’s one of the most debated of the prophecies. Since I met our friend, Lump, I’ve developed my own personal theory.”

  “I need to hear it. Kira’s been released and the prophecy’s supposed to tell us where to find her. Our lives depend on it.”

  Lumpy’s furious. “Ende says the ride alone could kill her. Mabatan’s so weak, Roan. And since she’s heard, well—she insists. But every time we shut off the Allayer…it’s as if she’s dying. Roan. If Kira dies and Mabatan…”

  “Do you believe in the prophecies?”

  “What?”

  “Do you?”

  Lumpy looks at his friend, confused.

  “Do you believe in the Dreamfield? The crickets? That Darius must be destroyed? His presence in the Dreamfield eradicated? That I was chosen to do this? That you were destined to be my friend? Do you believe in the prophecies, Lumpy? Do you?”

  Lumpy’s eyes are red, but he does not blink or try to avoid Roan’s gaze. “Yes.”

  Roan sighs. “Then we go.”

  The three riders gallop across the Farlands bordering the wasted fields of the Devastation.

  “Any change?” Roan yells.

  Mabatan’s slumped against Lumpy, and as he bends to hear her, his arms squeeze even more protectively around her. Having them ride together has slowed their progress, but given her condition there simply wasn’t any other way.

  “She says we’re getting closer. It’s a scarred place, just beyond that ridge.”

  “Should we dismount?”

  Lumpy leans forward again, his ear brushing Mabatan’s cheek. “She says no. There’s a vehicle. But she doesn’t think anyone’s inside. And only one Cleric with Kira. He’s carrying a cage with two birds in it—one white, one black.”

  As they crest the ridge, streaks of red slash the sky like claw marks over a festering wound. The Cleric is patiently waiting, his cage on the ground beside him. On a wide smooth stone, her hands and feet bound, lies Kira.

  Roan’s heart is in his throat
. The sight of the broken Apsara warrior unbearable, he turns to the moon, hanging behind him on the eastern horizon, and dismounts.

  Lumpy carefully slides Mabatan into Roan’s arms. She presses her head into his shoulder and breathes compulsively, stifling sobs. When she’s finally calmed herself, Roan whispers, “As soon as the moonlight touches Kira.”

  The three stand silently together, watching the moonbeams slowly trace their way across the plain. Finally they reach the stone.

  Mabatan holds out her palms and three white crickets leap onto each one. Staring at the ground, she moves with excruciating care. He knows the effort it is taking for her to stand tall, to walk steadily. Seeing the damage to Kira has brought home the extent of their suffering and he flushes with rage. Though he tries to quiet his pulse, the anger will not leave him.

  Mabatan passes the Cleric and steps toward Kira, making sure their eyes do not meet. When she’s close enough, the crickets begin to sing.

  Placing a hand on Lumpy’s shoulder, Roan whispers, “Go.”

  Without hesitation, Lumpy walks straight to Kira. Standing beside her, he faces the moon. Its glow is reflected on Lumpy’s face, his ravaged skin an ethereal echo of the moon’s surface.

  Hook-sword in hand, Roan strides over to his companions. His own white cricket crawls out of his pocket and sits on his shoulder, joining the song. Then, with his blade, Roan cuts Kira’s bonds, and intones the words Kamyar taught him. “We walk in the shadow of greatness. But when the shadow passes, we will be blessed with the sun.” Lifting Kira’s fragile body, he turns, Mabatan and Lumpy at his side.

  The Cleric opens the cage. Before they pass over the rise, Roan looks back and as the Blue Robe raises his arm, a white bird flies away.

  Waiting is not something Stowe does well. She wanted to come up with a plan, try to kill Darius now before it’s too late. Willum’s great idea was that they trust in Roan. So here they are again. Waiting.

  “Kira’s still alive?”

  “Still.”

  That’s about the hundredth time she’s asked. Willum had said she’d know too if something happened to Roan. “Would it be the same if something happened to you?” she’d wanted to know. “Those who are bound by blood and love,” he’d said. “So only you can answer that question.” And what about him, would he feel it if she died? She knew the question wasn’t worthy of an answer, but he’d smiled and whispered, “Yes. I would know.”

  It’s the first evening of the full moon, and as its light spills into the chamber Willum gasps. “It’s done. Roan’s got her.”

  He covers his face with his hands. Stowe can read the exhaustion in his body. He hasn’t slept or eaten since Kira was captured. She wants to comfort him, but instead she lifts the bowl of fruit from the table and brings it to him.

  “Eat. You must eat.”

  When Querin steps in, Willum is almost himself again. The Master carefully locks the door, and leaves the lights dim. Then, stepping into the center of the room, he activates his small box. His expression is almost feverish, eyes swimming, his head a whirl of purple streaks of light. At a speed that takes Stowe’s breath away, he’s beside them withdrawing a long, sharp stiletto. Stowe is about to scream, but Willum places a hand firmly on her arm.

  Opening his robe, Querin draws the knife across his chest, raising a thin line of blood. He places the knife down in front of them and kneels. “Stowe of Longlight, Willum of the Apsara, the prophecies are at last coming to pass. I mark myself as your servant. Forgive my doubts.”

  Stowe stares openmouthed.

  “You are forgiven,” Willum says calmly.

  “For decades I have prayed in secret for this day. Now it begins.”

  “But you are the Archbishop’s most trusted advisor,” Stowe blurts out. Willum sighs. Had he covered this one of those times she hadn’t been listening?

  “I serve only the prophecies.”

  “How much time do we have before Darius activates the Throne?” Willum is taking Querin at his word. Querin. Master of Inculcation. Second only to Darius in power. Are they really supposed to trust him? Darius had been afraid of him…but maybe for the wrong reasons.

  “He has announced the Throne’s unveiling. The Masters are to assemble before it in eight days’ time.”

  “Master Querin.” Willum motions the man to rise. “I suspect you and your colleagues are about to be sacrificed.”

  PREPARATIONS FOR THE ECLIPSE

  YOU ARE TOLD YOU’RE NOT FORGOTTEN

  BUT THAT MONUMENT SMELLS ROTTEN

  YES, IT’S SHINY BUT REMEMBER:

  ALL THAT GLITTERS IS NOT GOLD.

  —LORE OF THE STORYTELLERS

  BOTH STOWE AND ROAN ARE OBLIVIOUS TO THE ROCK RAINING DOWN ON THEM. THEY ARE EXHILARATED AND THE ATMOSPHERE AROUND THEM SEEMS ELECTRIC.

  ROAN SHAKES HIS HEAD IN DISBELIEF. “I ALWAYS HATED THE PROPHECIES. I FELT LIKE THEY WERE FORCING ME INTO A CORNER I DIDN’T WANT TO BE IN.”

  “I NEVER PAID ATTENTION TO ANY OF IT. PROBABLY SHOULD HAVE. BUT WE WEREN’T BROUGHT UP WITH THEM, ROAN. QUERIN WAS. I KNEW HIM ONLY AS THE MASTER OF INCULCATION, BUT HE TOOK HIS SECRET TITLE MUCH MORE SERIOUSLY.”

  “DEFENDER OF THE FAITH.” ROAN CAN’T KEEP THE SLIGHTLY MOCKING TONE FROM HIS VOICE.

  “HE SAVED KIRA.”

  “BARELY. SHE WAS HURT, STOWE, IN WAYS I DON’T LIKE TO THINK ABOUT. THAT HE WOULD LET IT GET THAT FAR—”

  “WE DON’T KNOW EXACTLY WHAT HAPPENED, ROAN. I KNOW HE’S DANGEROUS BUT WILLUM SAYS WE CAN TRUST HIM. FOR NOW. THE CLERICS WILL GO WHEREVER HE ORDERS—EXCEPT FOR DARIUS’S PERSONAL GUARD. THEY STICK CLOSE TO THE KEEPER. WE’RE ONLY SUGGESTING IT BECAUSE WILLUM THOUGHT IT WOULD HELP.”

  “DON’T GET ME WRONG, IT’S A GREAT PLAN. THE FEWER CLERICS WOLF HAS TO DEAL WITH AT THE CITY GATES, THE BETTER. IT’S JUST HARD NOT TO BE SUSPICIOUS.”

  “WILLUM SAYS IT LOOKS LIKE A GOOD SITE FOR AN AMBUSH, BUT IF YOU GET THERE AND IT FEELS WRONG, GET OUT. THEN LET ME KNOW. OUR PLANS WILL HAVE TO CHANGE TOO IF WE’RE BEING DOUBLE-CROSSED.” STOWE GRABS ROAN’S HAND. “SOMETHING’S WRONG. I HAVE TO GO. IS IT A YES?”

  “YES. STOWE—”

  “I’LL BE VERY CAREFUL, ROAN. IT SEEMS CERTAIN DARIUS IS PLANNING SOMETHING AT THE TOP OF THE PYRAMID. YOU JUST HAVE TO FIND A WAY THERE.”

  “WHAT IF—”

  “NO MATTER WHAT, I’LL GET HIM THERE. I PROMISE. DON’T WORRY ABOUT ME!”

  HOW CAN HE HELP IT? ROAN THINKS AS HE WATCHES HIS SISTER FADE AWAY. ONCE DARIUS HAD NEEDED HER; NOW SHE IS EXPENDABLE. THE NEXT WEEK WILL BE MORE DANGEROUS THAN ANY STOWE HAS EVER EXPERIENCED—AND HE NEVER EVEN SAID GOODBYE.

  The Academy is thrumming with anticipation. Although the Brothers have already been deployed to the gorge, the Apsara are still honing weapons and checking supplies in preparation for their departure to the City. Roan too is anxious to be on his way, but there’s still one last meeting and, before that, he has to attend to the summons he’s just received from Algie.

  He finds the old Gunther bent over Roan of the Parting’s journal, muttering. He sits opposite him and slides his hand onto the desk where Algie can see it.

  Sighing irritably, the old man slowly props up his head, but upon seeing Roan he flashes a gap-toothed grin. “Oh, there you are, at last! Everything seems to take too long since Gwendolen…”

  “I know.”

  “There was a passage she was working on that she was most excited about. I’ve just finished and thought you should hear it before you go.” The old man bends his head as close to the paper as he can without touching it: “To defeat Darius, Roan of Longlight, you must not stand alone against a darkening sky. Alone, you are nothing. You must travel with a friend.” Algie shakes his head. “Do you know who that might be?”

  Roan smiles. “Could that ‘a’ be a ‘the,’ do you think?”

  “Humph. You know, Roan of Longlight, you might be right. My mistake, my mistake.” The old Gunther shakes his head unhappily.

  “Algie, I was teasing. �
��A’ or ‘the’ doesn’t matter. You’ve done so much. More than I could ever thank you for.”

  “No, no, Roan of Longlight, really you mustn’t,” Algie stands and pats Roan awkwardly. “Just come back. Please. Come back.”

  Kira, her arms in heavy casts, is arguing with Ende, much to the bemusement of the many warriors who surround them.

  “It’s not your place!”

  “Oh? And are you planning on clobbering your foes to death with those?” Ende scowls, pointing to the casts.

  “Let Dai, Petra, or Veet—any of them is well able—”

  “I will lead the Apsara into the City. You will not deny me this.”

  “You ceded leadership to me and I say no!” As Kira gestures emphatically to make her point, she crumples in pain.

  Othard runs to her, looking pleadingly at Lumpy and Roan. “These are multiple fractures.”

  “She risks infection and amputation,” adds Imin, joining him at her side.

  Kira grimaces, her face pinched, pleading with Ende. “Grandmother, please. Don’t go.”

  “You know I must.” Ende kneels before her granddaughter. “They are not ready, and I will not see life wasted. Kira.” Lifting a hand, Ende lays it gently on Kira’s cheek. “Kira, they are all my daughters. I must keep them as safe as I may. I will not return, Kira. Shush. I know this. But I go at peace knowing you will be here to lead the Apsara when this is over. My time, Kira, is now. Please, give me your leave.”

  It is obvious Kira wants to fight but her outburst exhausted her last reserves of energy and she simply inclines her head and sighs, unable to look her grandmother in the face.

  “Everyone’s waiting, Ende,” Roan says gently.

  The Apsara matriarch acknowledges him curtly, all emotion tautly reined in. As she leaves, Roan crouches at his cousin’s side. “I’d like for you to be there as well.”

  But Kira does not look up. She lets her head drop even farther and her red hair parts to reveal a livid wound at her neck—where the enabler was removed.

  When she notices Roan staring, Kira abruptly twists away. “I’m not…ah…very portable.”