Shadow

by Jenny Moss

  “I am weak, Kendra. All the vulnerability I saw in others has now laid claim to me. So, you see, this blend you speak of is a flawed one. I was not meant to rule a country. The only way I can live in peace is to embrace a solitary life.”

  “I cannot see you at a nunnery.”

  “You may laugh at me, but I know the truth of what I say.”

  “I think there are other plans for you,” she said, nodding at the sandy ground.

  I felt it knocking against my soaked shoes even before I looked down. With shaking hands, I picked up the wet medallion, no longer stained with blood.

  Kendra left me on the beach. I sat on the rock staring out into the sea, searching for her. Why wouldn’t she come to me?

  Kenway was at my side. He wordlessly took my arm and led me back up to the cottage. Once there, I put the medallion away.

  Kenway was restless. He tossed on his pallet, but didn’t cry out as he had in the village. His anger and guilt raged inside me, making it difficult to think. He carried the blame for Devona’s death deep in his heart as if it were his doing, the feeling so intense it was almost as if he’d poured the poison down her throat. His pain felt like a piercing high note of a song that would not stop. I hadn’t known his feeling of shame was this sharp and lonely.

  Kendra’s despair crept toward me from her cot. It was bleak and bitter. I could taste it in my mouth.

  Fear rose into the air, from far away. I smelled death and ashes and terror. A fire, once blazing, now gone out. The odor became stronger and stronger.

  And from Ingen, poured out need. It was strong and vivid and tugged at me. I didn’t understand it, but its power was frightening.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  “You must bring back Erce,” Kendra said.

  “Bring back Erce,” I repeated, not understanding.

  The four of us sat at the table. A fire blazed under a pot of fish soup, its warmth easing the cold of the morning air. The cottage stank of fish.

  “What do you mean, bring her back?” asked Kenway from his place beside me. He hadn’t looked at me in the same way since we’d learned who I really was. “You said she’s been watching out for Shad—the queen.”

  “Erce is a wounded spirit,” whispered Ingen, putting her hand over her heart.

  “She must be providing for Deor,” said Kenway. “Or else there would be no rain. Nothing would be growing at all.”

  “She’s dying,” said Kendra.

  “How can she be dying?” I asked, not wanting to accept it. “She’s a goddess.”

  “She can cease to exist,” Kendra replied. “At present, she’s very weak. Some of the mountain people say she’s too human and that drains her of life.”

  Ingen shook her head. “That’s the part of her I like best: the nurturer, the giver…human qualities. Not like the other gods.”

  Nurturer, I thought. I see little of that.

  “What other gods?” asked Kenway, a scoff twisting his lips.

  “An unbeliever, I see,” said Kendra. “That’s why Eldred didn’t reveal much to you.”

  “He told me enough,” said Kenway, suddenly defensive.

  “And what did he say?” Kendra asked, rising from her seat.

  “He entrusted me with Shadow, telling me to get her out of the castle, to protect her,” he replied. “He told me to bring Ingen to you, that she would know where to find you.”

  “Ah,” said Kendra, ladling soup into a bowl. “But he didn’t trust you with what’s most important: that Audrey is the true queen and the child of Erce.” She tried to give the bowl to me, but I turned up my nose.

  “Too early for fish.”

  Ingen took the soup and spooned it to her mouth with loud slurps.

  “No, but he chose me—” Kenway began.

  “And he didn’t tell you about Ingen.”

  “He knew I knew Ingen. She came to my father’s castle when she was five or so.”

  “But he didn’t trust you completely, Kenway. He didn’t tell you everything.” Kendra handed the next bowl to Kenway, who did not refuse it. She took her own and settled back down with us.

  “He told me we might be followed,” he said quietly, looking down at the bowl while he slowly stirred his soup.

  I didn’t want to get drawn into their exchange, but my curiosity was too great. “How did Fyren know about Ingen?” I asked reluctantly.

  “He first discovered Eldred was meeting with Callus,” said Kendra.

  I remembered Fyren’s accusation. “So Callus was helping Eldred?”

  “Callus has become too careless in his old age,” Kendra said. “His ability to guard secrets is less than it once was. The regent has spies everywhere. Many have betrayed the realm. Although some are just misguided, wanting to restore Fyren’s mother’s line to the throne.”

  “That is not without merit,” I said. “She was the true heir, not my…father.”

  The prophetess gave me a long stare. I glanced at Kenway and Ingen, their faces a mixture of disbelief and sadness.

  “Do you think, Shadow,” Kenway began, “that Fyren is what’s best for Deor?”

  “I didn’t say that. But he is the true king.”

  His eyes filled with disappointment as he looked at me. “He has lost that right,” he said simply.

  I didn’t want to talk about it. “Those spies,” I asked Kendra, “what did they tell Fyren?”

  “That Erce is dying, and that Ingen is the key.”

  Ingen gazed at us with innocent eyes. I knew better than to believe the innocence. This girl was a warrior.

  “Why is she so valuable?” I asked.

  “She can talk to Erce,” said Kendra, offering me some dark bread.

  Kenway and I exchanged a look.

  “Skeptics,” said Kendra. She pushed the bread into my hand. “Eat.” My stomach didn’t want even this, but I knew I should eat something, so I nibbled at it.

  “Why shouldn’t we be suspicious?” Kenway asked. “All we have as proof of Erce’s existence is one blackberry bush. You could have done that.”

  “Is it easier for you to believe in a witch than a goddess?”

  “It is. A witch is human, just born with gifts others do not possess. But a goddess of the Earth?” Kenway scoffed. “This old religion is not for the educated.”

  A smile played at Kendra’s lips.

  Ingen’s eyes caught mine. “Audrey knows the truth.”

  She was right. I felt it. I grasped the medallion around my neck and felt a surge of something deep and strong ripple through me. I did not like the feeling.

  “Show him,” said Kendra.

  I narrowed my eyes at her, but pulled out the necklace for Kenway to see.

  He took it in his hand, looking from me to it and back again. “It is you.” I felt him pull away from me.

  I slid the medallion back under the front of my dress. “It is Erce—her human form.”

  “What human form?” he asked.

  I looked at Kendra. “How did she—”

  “She’s a goddess,” said Kendra, waving her hand. “I don’t know all her ways.”

  I could see it in her eyes. She knew more than she was saying. But I was Erce’s daughter. It was my right to know everything.

  “You must seek her, Audrey,” said Kendra.

  “Seek her?” I asked with a bite to my words. “I thought she was all around us.”

  She ignored me, looked at Kenway. “You will take Ingen and the queen to High Pointe. There, you will find Erce.”

  The queen.

  “High Pointe?” I asked.

  “The highest point of Deor,” Ingen said. “Erce’s spirit is strongest there. It is like…” She looked away. “Like her heart. Her energy pours out from there.”

  “Where is this place?” asked Kenway.

  “Not far. A full day up the mountain,” said Kendra. “But you must be careful. Others also seek Ingen.”

  “Who does?” he asked.

  “The mounta
in people,” said Ingen, “like the ones who took your horse and sword, Kenway. They think I’m a charm, that I’ll bring good fortune to their people.” She got up for more soup. She filled the bowl to the brim and then carried it to the table with both hands cupped around it. “They believe I belong to them.”

  “Obviously they thought the same of my horse and sword,” Kenway said soberly.

  I gave him a small smile, but his eyes were serious and he did not return it.

  “You once did belong to them, Ingen,” said Kendra. “Before your father took you from your mountain home.”

  “He has little faith.” She blew on her soup. “But I do remember Maren. My father says I couldn’t because I was young when I left her temple. But I remember her voice, her hands,” she said, looking at her own, “the things she taught me about Erce. I was with her until my father brought us to Kenway’s castle.”

  “Ingen is a special priestess,” said Kendra. “Maren was angry at Malcolm for taking her from the mountains.”

  Ingen nodded, taking a big spoonful of soup. “Mmm.” She took another. “Maren told my mother I had the strongest connection to Erce she’d ever seen.”

  “So you have spoken to Erce?” I asked, ignoring Kenway’s look.

  Ingen nodded. “But not since I was a child.”

  “You’re a child still,” said Kenway.

  Ingen’s forehead furrowed, but then she went back to her soup. “The fish is sweet and tender.” She looked at Kenway. “I haven’t spoken to Erce since I was five. But I remember it.”

  “What did she say?” I asked.

  “She was very sad,” said Ingen.

  Kenway sighed. “This is…,” he said, gesturing with his hands out, then clenching them into fists and dropping them to the table.

  “You haven’t talked with her since then?” I asked.

  “I’ve tried. My mother and I have taken trips to the temple. We would meet Maren, sometimes Kendra, too, at High Pointe. But Erce was silent.”

  “But you think I can talk to her?” I asked Kendra.

  “If her daughter cannot, who can?”

  “And what shall I tell her?” I asked.

  “To return to her people. The land needs her. She must put away her grief.”

  “And after we…talk to her?” Kenway asked. “What next?”

  “Erce can defeat Fyren. We can put Audrey on the throne where she belongs.”

  “And how will Erce do that?” I asked. “How will she defeat him?”

  “Nature is powerful.”

  “And if we aren’t successful?” asked Kenway. “Do you have another plan?” He obviously did not have much faith in this one.

  “It will be up to Audrey then,” said Kendra.

  They all looked at me.

  I could not return to the castle. But I could not confide in them about why. They would think I was going mad if I told them I was haunted—and not by ghosts, but by the feelings of others.

  Perhaps I’d discovered the true nature of ghosts.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Kendra told me to use her gray horse, Mirth, for the ride to High Pointe. She gave us thick wool blankets, feed for the horses, and a cloth pouch overflowing with salted fish.

  When Kenway mounted his horse, his hand went to his wound. But he didn’t complain. He never complained. Kendra had given him fresh ointment and clean bandages the night before.

  We said little to one another as we rode.

  I was lost in my own thoughts. For the first time, I felt uncertain about who I was. Part of me accepted Kendra’s claims. Her truth did explain some of the mysteries of my life. But I also resisted. A queen? The daughter of a goddess? How could that person be me? It fit, and yet it didn’t. It explained things, but it was a wild truth and not what I wanted, not who I’d been for the last sixteen years.

  So why was I going with them? I was a queen. No one could make me do anything anymore. I could truly choose my own path.

  I glanced over at Kenway, who was deep in thought himself. Sweet warmth rippled through me, just watching him. In the beginning, I came with him because I wanted to be with him. I also wanted my freedom, but perhaps I thought I could have both. I had a great faith in my ability to survive and, in some respect, to ultimately get what I wanted.

  But I could not have both. The thought jarred me, as if a cold hand had grabbed my heart. Kenway would never leave duty behind. Deor, not me, was first to him. But wasn’t I the same? I was choosing freedom over him. But I had to. I would be of no use to anyone if I was not true to myself. A ruler must want to rule. I had no desire for that.

  And even if I wanted to, I could not in my present state.

  So now I stayed for Erce. I did want to know her. I had always thought of my mother. I had never imagined this, but this is what I had, what was before me. If I had the chance to speak with her, I would take it.

  After High Pointe, I would leave.

  I looked again at Kenway, and he looked back at me, finally. But his face was a mask of knightly distance and obedience. It wounded me, this change in manner toward me. I knew he must be scheming, trying to think of ways to convince me to do what he felt I must do for Deor.

  If only he would leave with me! We could be together. Perhaps Piers would come live with us in Goodham, in a cottage by the river. And Tayte and Stillman and their boys would visit us. And we would farm. And catch fish. And hunt for our supper. I would like that life.

  But Kenway would never do that.

  Ingen was leading us. The path forked and twisted, but she continued to take us higher into the mountains. Mid-day, we got off the horses and let them drink from a cold stream. We fed them, and ate fish in quiet.

  On this journey to Erce’s temple, I found I was trying to let go of the mother I’d created. It wasn’t at all who she really was. I had imagined her vulnerable and frail. But also loving, and not choosing to leave me. But she had chosen.

  So I now mourned a mother who never really existed. It was a humbling and unsettling feeling for someone who put much faith in her own judgment.

  I tried to replace her with the queen-goddess Anne-Erce. This creature wasn’t strong, either—she was as weak as I had imagined a human mother to be. Weak, not loving, but capable of great power.

  Ingen’s face was scrunched in concentration on a piece of fish. She picked something off it and flicked it away. She saw me looking, smiled, and said, “A gnat.”

  I wondered how this enigmatic girl could connect with a goddess.

  We were back on the horses.

  The path continued to be well-worn. Many had traveled this way, on horseback and on foot.

  We came to yet another fork: One path went up, one down. I thought Ingen would continue to follow the most-traveled path. Instead, she took the lower one. We descended a little, then traveled around the perimeter of a rock that jutted out.

  The view opened up when we turned a corner. We were on a ledge overlooking a vast valley. The trail wound around the side of a mountain. On the other side of the valley was another mountain. Connecting the two was a narrow bridge of rock. The trail ended at that bridge and continued on the other side. We were meant to cross it.

  Kenway’s horse was skittish on the ledge. The other two horses were more sure-footed.

  “Is she all right?” I asked him, concerned for his safety.

  He nodded his assent.

  The ledge was not as narrow as I first thought. Two riders could easily ride side by side. Still, we rode one behind the other, Ingen in the lead, Kenway behind me. I was glad there was only a slight breeze—it was cold enough without a gusty wind freezing our faces.

  As we rode, I’d glance back at Kenway. His horse stopped frequently and he had to urge her on. He touched his shoulder once, and I wondered if his injury still caused him pain.

  The height and beauty of this place was magnificent. A narrow strip of water flowed at the bottom of the gulch below. The sky was a beautiful blue with not a cloud to mar
it. It felt as if we were indeed riding to the home of the gods. Kendra’s horse was calm and not hesitant. She had been this way before.

  Crossing the rock bridge was a challenge for Kenway’s horse. She didn’t want to make the trip, even after the other two horses had easily crossed. I watched her every step. Kenway’s face was one of intense concentration. He handled his horse well. I let out a breath of relief when he finally joined us.

  We rounded the next mountain on an identical trail. This one went slowly up and up and then turned away from the edge.

  Scrub bushes got larger and larger and soon we were riding through trees. The trees became a dark forest, and it was colder here away from the sun. Patches of snow hid in the shade.

  The sun kept sinking. Clouds had now rolled in, disturbing the pure look of the sky.

  We finally made it to more level ground, at the top of the mountain, still surrounded by forest.

  “We’re on foot from here,” Ingen said, gesturing to the path. It was no longer wide enough. We tied the horses’ reins to thin trees.

  We walked through trees and bushes and around rocks. The wind had picked up and blew ice-cold against my face. One part of the path was very narrow, pressed against a rock wall. We went one by one, and watched our feet carefully, for it was a long way down.

  I looked up as we rounded the corner, and I saw it.

  Erce’s temple.

  It was circular, with large gray rocks set one to the other to make the perimeter. There was no roof. I approached it slowly, feeling a tug in my chest.

  Inexplicably, wildflowers covered the ground around the temple. One unruly bush with purple blossoms spilled over the side of the stone.

  Ingen touched the flowers. “Erce loves these, so the mountain people named them after her.”

  “She loves purple flowers,” I said, “but not her own people.”

  Ingen looked at me curiously. “You care about the people, Audrey?” She plucked a flower and brushed it against my nose.

  “Don’t,” I said, pushing it away.

  Kenway’s eyes were on me, too.