Shadowborne

by Matthew Callahan

  “You’ll be alright,” Cephora said as she rose to her feet. “Despite the blood, the wound seems to be rather superficial. I closed it up. Just go easy on it.”

  Morella glanced down at her side and tested it with a few tentative movements as she thanked Cephora before turning her focus back to Will. “So, a coincidence then? Fine, I’ll take that. Do you have names or should I just make some up for you?”

  “Well, that depends on whether I like the one you come up with,” Will said with a smile.

  “Madigan Davis,” his brother said as he eyed Will. “This is my brother, Will.”

  “Morella Darklore.” Her face broke into a crooked smile as she turned her eyes to Cephora. “And you, my wonderful physician?”

  Cephora eyed her warily a moment. “Oh no, I’m too intrigued, now. I’ll let you choose one for me.”

  Morella laughed, sudden and lighthearted, and Will was transported back to dancing with her in Undermyre. Enraptured by the laughter, he smiled as Morella gazed at Cephora appraisingly.

  “I’ll just have to call you Medic then.”

  Cephora gave a bit of a pout, the most playful expression Will had ever seen from her. “That’s not nearly as exciting as I thought it would be. Call me Cephora.”

  Will turned his attention back to Madigan’s leg and saw that, somehow, it had already stopped bleeding. If anything, in fact, he could almost swear that the wound looked smaller, as though it was rapidly healing already. He stared at it dumbfounded. Just like at the Nordoth. His brother met his eyes and glanced at his leg before flexing it and shrugging with a wry smile. “Damned if I know, Will.”

  “So, what are three dark and mysterious travelers doing crossing the borderlands?” Morella asked. “Aside from rushing to the rescue of the likes of me, of course.”

  “Traveling,” Cephora spoke quickly.

  Will nodded in agreement. “Taking in the sights is all.”

  “I’m sure,” Morella said. She glanced at Will and he flushed. His head rushed with the silent rhythms of the music from their dance together. He found himself staring at her lips, pursed now, no longer smiling, and quickly averted his eyes before she noticed.

  “And you?” Mad quipped. “Pretty damn funny that you also happen to be crossing the borderlands.”

  She eyed him levelly and spoke in a taunting, mocking tone. “Traveling. Taking in the sights.”

  Cephora looked at Madigan’s leg. “Can you walk?” He nodded and she went on. “I know this area. There is an old watchtower here, a surviving remnant from the Wars of Dawning. We should move this conversation there.”

  Morella nodded and pushed herself to her feet, wincing as she did so. Madigan looked around at the bodies strewn around them.

  “We should bury them,” he said.

  Will nodded in agreement at the same time that Morella protested. After a moment of awkwardness, Cephora interjected. “Why don’t you two lead Morella back to her cart and gather anything she needs and I’ll take care of them. I’ll meet you there shortly.”

  Morella sneered but gave in. After a moment, she, Will, and Madigan made their way back to the main road, circumventing the rock face before venturing back the way they came. When they passed the bodies of Morella’s companions, she paused momentarily at each, giving them a cursory glance and kneeling briefly, before rising and moving on without a word. As the trio approached the overturned cart she all but ignored the body closest to it before turning her full attention to the cart itself. Will was surprised by her seeming lack of compassion for the dead.

  “Are you holding up alright?” Will asked as she rummaged about, cursing occasionally but regularly pulling out various bags from which protruded rolled scrolls and maps.

  “I’m fine,” she replied absently. Her focus was on taking stock of the scrolls with an intensity that Will found off-putting. It was as if she had already forgotten the attack from moments before and the carnage that surrounded her.

  Madigan approached, his lips twisted down into a hard frown. “Not a lot of remorse for the fallen, it seems,” he said.

  Morella rolled her eyes, then paused and looked up to meet his judgmental stare. “Should there be?” Her tone was flippant. “I barely knew them. I met them on the road yesterday and they were the ones who suggested we travel together for safety.” She cocked her head to the side and glanced around her at the strewn contents of the cart. “It would appear that their suggestion was a bad one.”

  Mad stayed silent but his face, usually so composed, betrayed his thoughts. He doesn’t know what to make of her yet. Then again, Will wasn’t quite sure what his own thoughts were on the matter. She seemed so calm, so collected, as if the spectacle surrounding her was an everyday occurrence. She just killed three men. Does that even faze her?

  He looked at Madigan and could see the conflict in his brother. After a moment, though, all the tension seemed to slip away from Mad’s body. He met Will’s questioning look and gave an almost defeated shrug.

  Morella stood finally, her belongings gathered, and slung her bags over her shoulder. “And now?” she said.

  “Let’s save Cephora some time,” Mad said. He presented himself as calm and controlled but Will could hear the strain in his voice. “I’m going to start digging a grave.”

  Without waiting for a response, he turned away from the wreckage and walked off the road. Morella, double checking her supplies, winked at Will and then set off after his brother. He let her get a few steps ahead, shaking his head as he considered the newcomer.

  Oh yes, this one is tricky.

  When Cephora returned a short while later, the three had successfully moved the body into a shallow grave and covered it. After a quick scan of the broken cart for supplies, Cephora led them farther cross-country. Thirty minutes or so later, they approached the watchtower that she previously spoke of. Seeing the pain that plagued Morella’s steps, Will offered to carry her supplies for her. She laughed politely and denied him with a quiet ferocity. Whatever it was she carried, she was passionate about protecting it. He did notice that after the offer had been made, however, her expression softened and she walked a bit closer to him.

  The watchtower itself was nestled upon a hilltop and overgrown with roots and trees from years of neglect. The interior was spacious, and in a short time the group was able to clear much of the debris away from one of the larger rooms on the ground floor. Cephora set about making a fire in an ancient stone fireplace while the rest shrugged off their packs and collapsed to the ground for a time. A flat stone, nearly waist height, stood in the center of the space and they ultimately moved to surround it, using old stumps and logs as seats.

  Despite her casual friendliness toward Will on the walk to the tower, Morella sat a short distance away from the rest of them. She kept herself between the group and her belongings, her eyes constantly darting to any flicker of movement. Will thought she seemed nervous, but then again, she was in the presence of strangers. Given what she just went through, who wouldn’t be cautious?

  Before long Cephora had a pleasant fire going and the room began to gain some warmth, the fire’s comforting presence seeming to ease the strain of the day. She stood and brushed her hands on her long coat before making her way over to the table and seating herself opposite Morella. Taking a swig from her canteen, she looked up and smiled in a way that did not completely reach her eyes as she looked at the newest addition to the group.

  “So,” she began, “I would absolutely be delighted to hear a bit more about you, Morella Darklore.”

  Morella met the steady gaze and returned with an unwavering, unnerving smile. “Is that a fact?” she said.

  Cephora nodded. “That it is.”

  Morella sat back and extended her legs forward, arching her back in a deep stretch for a moment before returning her focus to the group. “Well, you certainly helped me out back there and you seem safe enough. Very well then, where shall I begin?”

  The warmth of the fire had done wond
ers for Madigan’s mood and he gave her a quick wink. “Wherever seems most likely to get you to the end.”

  “Finishing would take far too long to get into the first time around,” Morella said, giving a coy grin. “But really, I’m afraid I’m not nearly as intriguing as you’d like me to be. I’m a historian.”

  “A historian?” Will asked. “Wow, what do you do?”

  “Well, Will, I imagine that she is someone who chronicles the history of a particular subject,” Mad said with a grin. Both Cephora and Morella laughed at that.

  Will felt his face flush. “I know that,” he said. “I just meant that I wouldn’t have pegged her for a historian is all.”

  Madigan chuckled. “Oh yeah? Known many historians, have you?”

  “Well, no but what I meant was—”

  “Oh, yes,” Madigan spoke over his brother, “do tell us what you meant.”

  “Perhaps we should let the lady continue?” Cephora said, chiding him.

  Morella laughed again while Madigan grinned. Will clamped his mouth shut. I think I enjoyed it more when he was quiet and introspective.

  “Yes, Will, a historian,” Morella said. Her face glowed with her wide, crooked smile. “Well, a historian of sorts.” She paused and took a deep breath. “I study the ancient mysteries and legends of Aeril.” She stopped speaking and looked at the brothers. She seemed to be waiting for something, as if she expected some kind of rebuke. When none came, her expression brightened and she sat just a little bit taller. “Usually when I say that aloud there is a bit more ridicule than that.”

  “Why would people ridicule you for educating yourself?” Mad asked.

  Morella looked at him for a moment and then turned to Will, eyeing him up and down as though seeing him for the first time. Her eyes grew wide as they darted to Cephora, taking her in, and then back to the brothers. She turned her focus back to Cephora. “They’re not…”

  Cephora shook her head. “No, they are not.”

  “But from where, then?” Morella asked, her excitement bubbling.

  Cephora sipped water from her canteen. “They are Casc.”

  Morella clapped her hands together and nearly cheered in excitement. “Fascinating! Oh, that explains so much.” Her eyes, suddenly filled with a hunger, a need, flitted between Madigan and Will in quick succession. She studied the brothers as if unable to focus on either of them for fear of missing something from the other. “I have so many questions for you.”

  Cephora raised a hand. “Perhaps you could finish your own story first?”

  Morella’s eyes darkened momentarily, but then the shadow was gone as quickly as it had appeared. She bit her lip, nodded, and began a hurried speech. “Oh, yes of course. To answer your question, Madigan, it is not the education that is frowned upon. It is the subject. In this world, secrets are kept secret for a reason. I’ve spent years studying the secrets of Aeril, chronicling everything I discovered and”—she gestured to the scrolls in her bag—“my primary focus has been on one of the ancient stories, a work known in Aeril as The Veleriat.”

  “The Veleriat?” Will said in excitement. “We know that one!”

  “Do you now?” Morella said, a gleam in her eye. “That’s wonderful.” Will beamed at his brother and Madigan rolled his eyes. Morella continued. “You see, many Aerillians view the myth as just that, a myth, a foundation for the belief system that arose in Aeril longer ago than anyone can remember. But I think there is something more to it. I think it is a true story, or at least elements of it are true.”

  Will’s jaw dropped as he stared wide-eyed. “You think Velier was real? That the Crimson Moon and Thorns of the Rose actually existed?”

  “I’d stake everything on it.” Morella beamed.

  Cephora took another sip of water but didn’t let her eyes fall from Morella. “Is that so?” she asked.

  Morella nodded, obviously pleased to have found such a receptive audience. “You see, there are elements of the tale that coincide perfectly with actual surviving historical records. From my findings, I think there’s more to Aeril than the world we know. Locations of great power, conduits for amplification, artifacts and the like…there are vast relics of untapped power.”

  Morella fell silent and furrowed her brow. Cephora closed the canteen and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “What was that last bit?”

  A twitch danced along the corner of Morella’s lips and she shook her head. “Just aspects of my research that are pointing me in various directions, nothing more.”

  “You’re lying,” Cephora said. Morella’s happy face fell to a frown and before she was able to respond, Cephora continued. “You’re searching for the Relics of Antiquity, aren’t you?”

  Morella clamped her mouth shut and shrank back within herself as if chastised. Will glanced at his brother, the sudden silence in the room harsh and abrasive. “What are the Relics of Antiquity?” he asked.

  Morella didn’t say a word. It was Cephora who finally answered. “Legends, Will. Artifacts of such power that whoever controls them could control the world. They were scattered to the winds, long ago.”

  Morella bit her lip and shook her head. “They’re not what everyone thinks. They’re not. The Veleriat proves that there is so much more to them than the capacity for destruction.”

  “I don’t understand,” Madigan said. “I’ve heard the story and I heard no mention of any relics like that.”

  “They aren’t explicitly mentioned,” Morella said, appearing to shrink back even farther as though trying to sink into the ground. “But how else could Velier have overcome all that he did? The Relics were the key.”

  Cephora glared at her. “I’ve seen their power firsthand,” she said, spite dripping in each word. “And I’ve seen what madmen in pursuit of their power are capable of.” She shook her head. “The Relics invite death to the world.”

  Warmth flooded Morella’s pale cheeks, though from frustration or incredulity, Will could not say. “You’ve seen them?” She shook her head. “They’ve been lost for ages! How have you…?” She closed her mouth and eyed the group’s guide carefully. “Your name is Cephora.”

  Cephora flicked a twig into the fire and nodded.

  “I am a historian, Cephora,” Morella said in hushed tones. “What are you?”

  There was the briefest pause before she answered. “I am a Seeker.”

  Realization that Will couldn’t place poured over Morella’s face. Her mouth formed into a tight line and she nodded brusquely before glancing at Madigan and Will. “And they are who, precisely?” Gone was the soft smile and easy laughter; her whole countenance had gone hard as steel.

  “No one.”

  Morella barked a laugh and her gaze sharpened. “I highly doubt that.”

  “Not to interrupt,” Will said, “but what, exactly, am I missing?”

  Morella shifted uncomfortably as she glanced in Will’s direction but did not speak. Cephora clasped her hands behind her head and leaned back, eyes never leaving Morella. “Nothing, Will,” she said. “Morella was just about to continue her story.”

  “She’s said enough,” Mad interjected. “If she doesn’t want to say more, that’s okay.”

  “It’s fine.” The edge had left Morella and she gave Madigan a long, lingering look of appreciation. Still, she lacked her prior enthusiasm as she spoke. “The majority of my life has been quiet and bookish, most of my time spent in libraries. Legends”—she emphasized the word and glanced at Cephora—“put me on a path toward finding the Relics. I figured that if I could finally find them, consolidate them even, then perhaps…” She sighed. “Perhaps peace would finally again come to Aeril. I’ve spent years following the rumors. One sent me on a path that led me through Undermyre and here I am.”

  “So,” Will quipped after a moment, “you’re just trying save the world is all.”

  Her eyes met his own and butterflies raced in his stomach. Morella’s face, so serious only moments before, erupted into a huge grin
and she let loose a boisterous laugh. “I suppose so,” she said.

  Will met her eyes, dark and enticing, and he felt the butterflies again. He gave a mock bow. “Well, how fortuitous for you! We have precisely the same goal.”

  “Will!” Madigan snapped. Will clamped his mouth shut and sent a hurt glance toward his brother. Cephora sighed audibly and put her face in the palm of her hand.

  “You three are off to save the world?” Morella snickered.

  “So it would seem,” Cephora muttered as Will shrank beneath Madigan’s glare.

  She laughed with delight and seemed to relax again. “Madigan and William Davis, two Cascs, joining forces with Cephora, Prime of the Seekers, to save the world? Now there is a story I would love to hear.”

  “Oh no, it isn’t really that at all,” Will said quickly, trying to undo whatever damage he had done. “Plus, I’m afraid none of us are particularly eloquent when it comes to telling stories.” Cephora stood and turned to tend the fire as Madigan just shook his head at his younger brother.

  “I’m sure,” Morella smiled.

  “Really,” Will said with as much casualness as he could muster. “Our story is quite similar to your own. We heard stories and went searching for our own adventure.” Gods, I don’t sound the least bit convincing. “We just happened to meet a guide who offered to show us the world a bit and here we are.”

  “Oh, well that explains everything then,” Morella said, laughing again. “And you just happened to arrive here from Cascania? And happened to know how to fight? And you just happened to have weapons from the Halls of Shadow?” She stared at Will flatly. “I’m a historian, Will. I’ve studied weaponry. I know the arms you carry.”

  He shifted uncomfortably under her gaze.

  “Anyone can fight, if the situation calls for it,” Madigan said. “For a historian you seemed to handle yourself pretty well out there earlier.”

  Morella turned her gaze to Madigan and gave a cool smile. “Oh, you boys really are new here, aren’t you? No one survives long in this realm without knowing how to hold their own.” Her appearance softened a bit as she looked from Mad and back to Will. “Then again, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t grateful. Things got out of hand there. I just got lucky.”