The Complete Shadow Trilogy

by Dayne Edmondson

  Removing his hand from the binding behind the shield, Boris turned his shield horizontally and threw it as hard as he could toward his opponent. The man’s eyes grew wide with surprise as he saw the heavy shield coming toward him. The man instinctively lifted his shield to deflect the blow. In his state of distraction, Boris drew the dagger from its sheath and rushed forward. Boris’ shield slammed into the shield of the other man and the man swung his shield arm to the side to deflect it. In that moment, he was vulnerable. Boris raised his sword, batting aside the other man’s sword, and slammed his dagger hilt-deep beneath the larger man’s ribcage. The man staggered, then tried to clutch Boris in a bear hug and crush him. Boris continued stabbing, over and over again. With each stab, he felt the energy of the larger man fading. At last, satisfied, Boris stepped back and allowed the black gladiator to fall to his knees before him. “May you drown in your own blood, friend,” Boris said as blood began to pour from his opponents mouth and he toppled to the ground.

  A cheer rose up from the stands, echoing through the arena. Boris looked around him to see many people in the stands clapping. He sheathed his dagger and reclaimed his shield. That done, he turned toward the viewing box, where the portly arena master, Victor sat with the owner of the dead slave. The portly man was once again standing, holding his arms up for silence. Boris bowed to the man, sword and shield held out to his side, expecting that’s what he should do.

  “What is your name, slave?” the man asked.

  “Boris, sir.”

  “You defeated one of the greatest slaves in this arena, Boris. How does that make you feel?”

  Boris hesitated. Is this a trick? he thought. Should I tell the truth - that I feel angry at men like him for locking men up like animals and forcing them to fight? Should I tell him that the sycophants around who cheer as a slave dies before their eyes should be ashamed of themselves, and punished? “Good, sir,” he replied at last. No, his goal was to survive, not tell the truth.

  “Behold, people of Rolstad, today’s champion, Boris!”

  A cheer went up again and followed him as he exited through the tunnel he had entered. As he passed beneath the gate, Darin stood watching. “You got lucky,” he said. “Next time you won’t be so lucky - you can count on it.” He gestured to the guards. “Take him back to his cell with the others.” The guards stepped forward, snatched his sword and shield from his hands, and clapped irons around his wrists and legs once more.

  As Boris shuffled away he came to a realization. Darin, for all his talk of letting him live, had played some part in orchestrating such a challenging fight. He had fully expected Boris to die in the fight, not overcome the challenge and become the victor. Fool, Boris thought. Why couldn’t I have just left him alone? Now he’s out to get me. He won’t kill me outright - he’ll just put me up against more and more challenging opponents. A sinking feeling manifested in Boris’ stomach, and he feared he would not long survive.

  Chapter 17 - Stoneridge

  The town of Stoneridge, within the kingdom of Valnaria, sat wedged against the White Mountains. A mining town, Stoneridge was known for its large quarries that mined precious stone such as marble from the heart of the vast White Mountains. Around the town was an expanse of farmland, which Dawyn and Anwyn traversed as they approached. The slave master, Ferdinand, was rumored to be west of the city, hiding in the woods. Stoneridge, though, was said to be where slaves were illegally traded before being shipped over the mountains, put to work in the mines or sent south to the hidden Black Harbor to be sent to Imperial lands.

  As Dawyn and Anwyn made their way through the central square of Stoneridge, they witnessed a bustling town on market day. The sun was barely up, yet vendors cried their wares, urchins roamed the streets, beggars asked for spare coins, and customers went from vendor to vendor purchasing needed merchandise. There was no sign of slave trading, though.

  “Perhaps Horacio was incorrect,” Anwyn said from atop her horse. “Maybe Stoneridge isn’t the place we’re looking for. He may have lied just to throw us off the trail.”

  “Perhaps,” Dawyn said, though he was not convinced. “Still,” he trailed off as he saw a carriage pulled by half a dozen horses trundling out of an alleyway. The carriage had four walls and a roof, making it impossible to discern who was within the coach. The driver was dressed in livery and a man dressed as a footman sat next to him. At first, Dawyn assumed the carriage contained members of the nobility. But to come out of the alley like that…he studied the men as they passed. One of the men shot him a glare, but he held his gaze. No, those were not the eyes of a servant of nobility.

  Dawyn turned to Anwyn. “That carriage that just passed. It came out an alleyway, not from the palace or a wealthy estate.”

  “So? Perhaps they had business to attend to,” Anwyn said.

  “In a dark alleyway?” Dawyn pointed. “No, I think we’ve just discovered how the slavers are getting slaves out of town - they’re disguising them as nobility. Few people will question people of noble birth, including guards. They can smuggle the humans in and out of the city almost with impunity.”

  Anwyn’s eyes grew large. “Then that means there were slaves in that carriage?”

  “Yes.”

  “We have to tell someone. Go to the city watch, or the rangers, or someone.”

  “This is outside of the jurisdiction of the rangers. They have no authority within Valnaria. As for the city watch, it’s entirely possible they are in on the scheme and taking a cut of the profits. For now we will keep this information to ourselves. Remember, our primary mission is to find Ferdinand.”

  “I haven’t forgotten,” Anwyn growled. Her eyes took on a distant look. “I lived through that experience.”

  Their first stop was the Stoneridge Inn, what appeared to be the primary drinking and lodging establishment in town. They stabled their horses and went inside. As Dawyn suspected was typical on market day, the tavern was not busy. A few older men sat at tables scattered around the tavern, but it was the calm before the bustle of the evening rush. One young woman moved between those occupied tables, attending to the needs of her patrons.

  As Dawyn and Anwyn approached the bar, the young woman came up from behind, carrying a tray of empty dishes. “Can I help you folks?” she asked. Her dark brown hair was tied back, while a brown apron hung from her neck, shielding her green dress.

  “Perhaps you can,” Dawyn said. “We’re looking for,” he stopped. What were they looking for? He couldn’t just say they were looking for Ferdinand, as word could reach him. “Rooms, we’re looking for rooms.” He looked at Anwyn. “Make that just one room,” he amended. “Also, is the keeper of this establishment here?”

  The young woman nodded. “We have plenty of rooms available. Would you like one that overlooks the front street or the back alley? My pa is out fetching more ale, but should be back soon.”

  “We’ll take the one overlooking the back alley,” Dawyn said. “What is your name?”

  “Victoria,” the young woman replied. She led them upstairs and handed them the keys to one of the rooms overlooking the back alley. “The washroom is down the hall and to your right,” she said.

  “Would you mind fetching some hot water to bathe with?” Dawyn asked. “Or tell us where to get it?”

  “I’ll put on some hot water down in the kitchen. You’ll have to come down and get it, though.”

  “That would be fine,” Dawyn said with a bow.

  Dawyn and Anwyn placed their belongings in the room and took their spare clothing to the washroom. Dawyn went downstairs and brought up two heaping buckets of water, which he poured into the metal wash tub. After a few more trips, the tub was full enough. Stripping down, the two of them helped one another wash, and languished in the warmth of the tub.

  Afterward, they dressed and made their way back to their room, where they set their travel-worn clothes aside and journeyed downstairs.

  A tall man with balding brown hair was carrying a barrel of
ale in from the back yard when they arrived in the common room.

  “Stay here for a moment,” Dawyn said to Anwyn, before walking to the rear of the tavern. He cleared his throat. “Excuse me, do you need any assistance bringing that ale inside?”

  The man straightened from lowering the barrel of ale and looked at Dawyn. “Aye, I could at that. My son is nowhere to be seen, the lazy whelp. What’s your name, sir?”

  “Dawyn. Yours?”

  “Bertram.” The man stepped forward and offered his hand, which Dawyn shook. “Come on, there are several barrels left.” Without waiting for acknowledgment, he stepped around Dawyn and went out the back door.

  Several minutes later, the two men completed moving the barrels from the wagons in the yard to the cellar beneath the inn. “Let me get you a drink, Dawyn,” Bertram said, as he pulled out a pair of tankards and filled them to the brim with ale. He handed one to Dawyn.

  “Thank you,” Dawyn said. He motioned Anwyn over.

  “Cheers,” Bertram said and the two men clanked their mugs together.

  “Bertram, this is Anwyn,” he paused. What were they? He told the three from Earth that they were lovers, but were they more than lovers. They hadn’t had a chance to marry yet, it just seemed like they never had the time. Back home he might have said they were engaged. He settled on saying, “She and I are friends. Anwyn, this is Bertram, the owner of this establishment.”

  Bertram accepted the explanation with a nod and gave a small bow. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, lass. Would you care for some ale?”

  Anwyn shook her head. “No, thank you Bertram. I don’t drink spirits unless I have no other choice.”

  Bertram shrugged. “Suit yourself.” He turned his attention back to Dawyn. “So, what brings you folks to the Stoneridge Inn? I have to admit we don’t get many visitors here, being so far out of the way.”

  This was the moment Dawyn had been fearing. Although Bertram seemed trustworthy, there were many prying ears around, and he knew first-hand how word could spread like wildfire. “We’ve traveled here from the north. I’m looking for work. We would like to settle down here in Stoneridge.”

  “Really?” Bertram asked. “Well, there isn’t much work available around here. You might find some work in the mines, or as a guardsman, if you’ve the skill.”

  “What about the nobles?” Dawyn asked. “We saw a carriage carrying nobles leaving town earlier today. Surely they need guards to protect them on the roads. Is there any such work available that you’ve heard of?”

  Bertram began to study his tankard, as if it were the first time he’d seen it. “No, can’t say that I’ve heard of any work related to nobles,” he said. The way he said it though. He knows something, Dawyn thought. Knows or suspects.

  “Oh, that’s too bad. Perhaps I’ll apply at the quarry.”

  “Yes, that would probably be best. I need to get back to work, now. It was nice meeting you.” He shook hands with Dawyn, gave a quick nod to Anwyn and hurried into the kitchens.

  Anwyn looked after Bertram and then turned her head toward Dawyn. “That was odd.” She kept her voice low. “Do you think he knows something?”

  “He definitely knows something he’s not telling us,” Dawyn said. “I don’t think he’s involved with the business, though. Maybe he’s afraid.”

  “Maybe,” Anwyn said. “I’m tired. Let’s go to our room. We can start our investigations in the morning.”

  ***

  Anwyn awoke with a gasp and sat up. Sweat soaked her naked body, adhering the wool blankets to her skin. Beside her, Dawyn stirred.

  “Anwyn, what’s wrong?”

  She swallowed and considered her answer. The dream, no the vision, had been so clear. It had felt as if she had truly been there, seen him, touched him. But if it had been real, and not just a dream… She turned to face Dawyn in the dark. “Nothing my love, just a nightmare.”

  “It must have been a bad one. What did you dream of?” He reached out and touched the flesh on her back, causing goosebumps to form.

  Her mind raced to come up with a lie. She didn’t dare tell him the truth, not yet. She shook her head. “I don’t quite remember now, it’s fading so fast, as dreams often do.”

  Dawyn placed his other hand on her chest and pressed her backward onto the bed. Pressing his own body up against hers, he pulled the covers up. “Well, I’ll be right here beside you if you have any more nightmares. I love you, Anwyn.”

  “I love you too, Dawyn.” And I will miss you dearly, she thought to herself as she lay pondering her vision before sleep came.

  Chapter 18 - Fire

  “Good,” Alivia said as John drew his mind back into his body. Flames danced in the brazier standing before him, the logs glowing a strong orange color. “You were able to pull the heat from a nearby torch,” she gestured to the wall, where one of the torches was extinguished, “to set the log alight. Can you tell me the other ways you could light the log?”

  John thought for a moment before recalling the answer. “I can manipulate the molecules of the wood itself, making them move faster. But this uses my own energy and can exhaust me faster. I can manipulate the air molecules, to make them move faster, thus causing heat and raising the temperature of the wood. This is slower than manipulating the wood directly, but less energy intensive. The final way is,” he frowned. “Ummm…”

  “The final way is to draw heat from your own body,” Ashley chimed in from behind John. “But it is the most dangerous of methods, because if you draw too much, you can cause severe hypothermia to certain parts of your body.”

  Alivia nodded in approval. “Yes, you are both correct. Those three methods, in addition to the method you used, are the primary ways to light a log. As mages, we prefer to use a heat source other than our own bodies to light something first, followed by manipulation of the air around an object, manipulating the molecules of the object itself and then, only in the most dire of circumstances, pulling heat from our own bodies.”

  “What about the sun?” John asked. “Could you light something with the sun? Like I used to do with a magnifying glass on a piece of grass?”

  “Drawing heat from the air around you,” Alivia said, “which has been naturally heated by the sun, would use the principle of drawing heat from the torch, though you would need to concentrate the heat. Light itself, however, cannot be manipulated. Not by any mages alive today, anyway.”

  “Today? So it was possible once?” John pressed.

  Alivia smiled. “So eager to run when you have yet to walk steadily, John. There is a passage in the ancient texts which have remained from the time of the Founding that speaks of the power to bend light itself. The Founders argued that because light is both a particle and a,” she paused, recalling the word, “wave, that it was more difficult to command light. It was like trying to cup water in your hand while running.”

  “That makes sense,” Jason said from behind John, where he sat next to Ashley. The two of them had already performed their magical feats, freezing water and disintegrating stone. “Even in our…” he stopped. “Even where we come from, light is not well understood.”

  He almost blew our story, John thought. During their time with Alivia, they had not told her their true origin. The story that had been fabricated by Dawyn was that they came from a faraway land, similar to where Dawyn hailed from. If Alivia suspected they were being untruthful, she showed no sign of it.

  Several weeks had passed since Dawyn and Anwyn left in search of the slave master, Ferdinand. In that time, the three college students from Earth had undergone intensive training under the tutelage of Alivia. Each day they were up before the sun, when the bells of the Tower chimed, echoing throughout the city, and were expected to be at the Tower before the bells rang a second time. Alivia would train them during the morning, allow them a brief break for lunch, and then train them until the evening bell rang, before dismissing them for the night. Such a rigid schedule made for long days and exhausted students, but
Alivia assured them the pace they were learning at was well above average.

  Alivia glanced in Jason’s direction and nodded. She opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted by the tolling of the Tower’s bells above them. She waited until they had ceased their chiming before speaking. “That is enough instruction for the day. You may leave now. Tomorrow will be more of the same. Have a nice evening.”

  The other three said their farewells and took one of the lifts, which would have been called elevators on Earth, to the ground floor. The level of technology present in the Tower, which many of the younger mages considered magic, astounded the three Earthlings, especially Jason. While all around the Tower, medieval technology was prevalent, the interior of the tower was like stepping into a whole different world. During their weeks at the Tower, they had been given opportunities to explore to a limited extent, and Alivia had given them a whirlwind tour the day after Dawyn and Anwyn left. What they had seen during the tour and explorations was an advanced building from an age even beyond the modern era of Earth.

  “So, what do you two have planned for the evening?” Jason asked.

  “Well,” Ashley said. “We’re going to swing by Gerry’s place for a bit, then head to the tavern. I need a drink to get rid of this headache. You?”

  Jason looked to the left and then to the right, up and down the street in front of the Tower. “I think I’m going to wander around for a bit. I’m still trying to wrap my head around this whole magic thing, ya know.”

  “Alright, be safe, man,” John said and and slapped Jason on the back. Reaching down, he clasped Ashley’s hand and together they walked toward Gerry’s place.

  Gerry’s place was his blacksmith shop, where he forged many types of weapons, armor and day-to-day items such as horseshoes, nails, wheel rims and much more. The sound of hammering reached their ears before the intense heat from the forge assailed their faces and bodies. Glowing iron sparked as the large hammer Gerry wielded slammed into it again and again. The item of his focus was a sword, its distinct form contrasting against the black anvil. He hammered the iron a few more times with the large hammer before switching to a smaller hammer and making lighter taps. John and Ashley stood watching in silence for a minute or two as Gerry continued his work, oblivious to the outside world.