Shadows: Book One of the Eligia Shala (7 page)

“Nonsense, Serena,” Rafael beamed at Jenevra. “Girl’s as pretty as a picture, eh? Looks just like her dear mother.”

Jenevra froze. The phrase jarred.

“He’s right, though,” Phillip came over, raised Jenevra’s hand and kissed it; amused by her evident embarrassment. “You look nice. Welcome home, Jenn.”

Several minutes of mutual hugging and welcoming went on. On the Island, everyone had kept their emotions to themselves, and Jenevra found this sudden exposure to mass tactile affection highly unsettling. The dressmaker had done a miraculous job of having a gown ready for that evening, and even Jenevra’s self-critical eyes could find little to dislike in the flowing green velvet gown which was of a softer style than that worn by the more mature ladies of the group. Her hair was loose, which felt strange after the braid she had worn for five years, but the rich mass set off a thin circlet of gold studded with emeralds to perfection. The glow provided by the dozens of candles in the room warmed her skin, picking out auburn lights in her hair.

As they moved towards the table, Jenevra found herself next to Raik Rabenaldt. He alone had not joined in the general hugging a few moments before. He gave her an amused look. “Hello, trouble.”

“Not pleased to see me then, Commander?” Jenevra had called him Raik since she could remember, but somehow it just didn’t seem right this evening.

“We’ll see.” He crossed the room to find his seat by Arrilia Neilla. His casual dismissal of her return hurt somehow, and Jenevra bit on her lip again, until a sharp elbow from Serena brought her back to the moment. Sitting between Phillip and Mikyle, Jenevra picked at her food. Mikyle Manvi was always quiet; his peaceful demeanor was only ever belied on the battlefield where he demanded, and got, the very utmost out of the men in his Flight. In his formal uniform of blue trimmed with silver, Mikyle sat stiffly at the table focusing on his food. A couple of years older than Phillip, he had always taken his position seriously; culminating in his early promotion to the rank of Captain of the Third Flight of the Imperial Army at twenty five, two years ago. He seemed unusually shy in Jenevra’s company though, even when she tried drawing him into conversation; giving up when the answers remained monosyllabic.

Phillip was trying to listen in to the conversation on the other side of the table where Raik and Rafael were already disputing tactics while the ladies tried to persuade them that the dinner table was not the place for those discussions. Before long, Phillip had given it up as a bad job and engaged Mikyle in a discussion about the activities of King Corros, monarch of the neighboring realm of Diruthia, frequently a thorn in the side of the Empire.

Jenevra pushed her food around her plate dispiritedly. The suddenness of all the changes she had been through over the last few weeks was starting to catch up with her. Although she had trained to put physical fatigue to one side at the temple, she knew that the emotional strain would begin to take its toll soon, if she didn’t get some quiet time to process everything that was happening to her. Remembering the peace and quiet of the temple brought an almost physical pain, and Jenevra’s hand moved to the talisman she wore around her neck, her fingers absently tracing over the design: the distant vibration increasing within her as she touched it. It was so tempting just to hold on to it and forget why she had been sent back. She felt totally disengaged from everyone in the room, but she knew she couldn’t return to the Temple. She sighed quietly. If she could have just one hour back with Misha, her partner at the Temple; not to talk, just spending that time quietly in each other’s presence was somehow soothing. Here, her mind was drifting back to the bitter resentment she had felt when she was sent to meet a small group of men who had taken her, without explanation, to her life in the Order. How could the people here in this room now, just sit there and pretend it had never happened; expect her to smile and talk as if she had just popped out to visit a close friend for a few days?

Phillip’s voice whispered in her ear. “Are you all right, Jenn?”

She ghosted a smile at him, laying her hand on his. “I’m fine, Phil, honestly. I guess I’m just a bit more tired than I thought.”

“You’re sure?” Concern filled his dark eyes. “You know Chris will never forgive me if you’re all sad when she arrives.”

A slightly more genuine grin broke through. “Yes, I suppose that’s the next step; seeing the family again. It’s just been so long; and it’s all going to change again, with you and Chris marrying.”

Phillip squeezed her hand. “At least we’ll all be back here together again. You’re back home now, Jenn: just like it used to be.”

“I hope not,” Jenevra said, more loudly than she’d intended, bringing the conversation at the table to a standstill. Looking around, she realized that she couldn’t bear to stay a minute longer in that closed room. Twisting the end of her sleeve in her hands, she kept her gaze focused on the tablecloth. “It’s been five years,” she said. “And I have changed. Far more than any of you know. No matter how like my mother you all think I am, I’m simply not her, so you’d better get used to that fact. I am me; no one else. So whatever happens from here nothing will ever be the same as it used to be. Maybe there will come a time when we see that as a good thing.”

Biting her lip, she turned towards Arrilia Neilla. “I’m sorry if I spoiled dinner, Your Majesty. I didn’t mean to; I’m just not ready for company yet. May I be excused?” Without waiting for a response, Jenevra fled the room and headed out into the gardens. She needed solitude and this was the only place she could think of that would provide it. Striding out along the gravel pathways she passed ornamental bushes and trees, hedges and beds of plants forcing her along pathways she’d all but forgotten. Coming to a large pond with a fountain playing its merry tune of splashing water from the mouth of a large jumping dolphin, she stopped and sat on the marble rim, remembering romping in it as a child. Closing her eyes and stirring the leaf-thin shards of ice forming in the pool with her fingers, she let herself become aware the charm around her neck, feeling the dark pulse deep within her as breathed in meditative rhythm to the water’s flow. Drawing her mind into peacefulness she was still aware of the footsteps on the gravel long before they were next to her. Raik’s solid frame sat next to her on the edge of the pool. Feeling like a small child again, Jenevra looked up at him. “I suppose you’ve come to tell me I’m an idiot?”

“Is that what you think?” he asked softly.

“After the last few days I honestly don’t know what I think.” She sighed.

Raik tipped his head slowly to one side. “Is this a good time to contemplate being Imperial Protector then?”

“Phillip told you.” It wasn’t a question. “It wasn’t exactly my choice, Commander, but could you agree to my being Imperial Protector?”

“You need my approval?”

“I think so. If you think it’s a stupid idea you can make things difficult for me with the rest of the Imperial War Host, so, yes, I need your approval.”

“You’ll need a Patrol of your own, you know. How will you handle that?” Raik’s tone was all business.

Jenevra responded in like manner. “It’s up to you and Phillip, really. I’d rather work on my own, but if I have to have one, then I want a small team. Twenty would be enough.”

“Anything else?”

“I only want men without any other ties. No family, no girlfriends: totally alone. It may be difficult finding twenty with that qualification, but that will be the primary one. Experience is useful, but secondary. I’ll take as many as we can find. I’ll train them in some of the techniques I’ve learned from the Order. I may even have another of the Order join us in time.”

“You really think Imperial Guards will be willing to follow a girl?”

Jenevra smiled in the darkness. “I know you better than that Commander. But for those doubters, I have a simple solution. I will fight them; several at a time until they are convinced.”

Raik chuckled. “My bold little Princess. Confident you can beat them, are you?”

“Yes,” Jenevra said simply. She dipped her hand down into the water, swirling her fingers around, avoiding looking at him. “Master Ki still talks of his fight against you, you know. He was disappointed that you weren’t asked to join the Order. He thought you would have been one of our best.”

“Master Ki? When I fought Kian he hadn’t reached the highest level of your Order.”

“Not then, he hadn’t. You were one of his tests, though, and he went on to complete his mastery. Ki’Nimh was my mentor for most of my time on the Island and he still holds you in great esteem as an opponent.”

“Do you think you could beat me?”

“I think so, yes. But I don’t want to. You know you’ve always been my hero.” There was no boastfulness, just a quiet statement.

“If you’ve reached that level, does that make you a Master, Jenn?”

She laughed; the first time he had heard anything that reminded him of the little girl she had once been. “No. Master is a title that is given when you’ve earned it. I’ve only completed the first part of my training. Ki’Nimh has earned his rank over years of service and experience. In weapons and technique I may be better–in that I’m younger and faster–but he’s far wiser than I can dream of being.”

Raik reached out and patted her hand. “That’s why I won’t oppose your role as Imperial Protector, Jenn. I know the skills Kian had when I fought him. If anyone ever gets past me, I want to be damn sure they won’t get past you.” Raik put his hand on Jenevra’s shoulder. “Your abilities were never in question from me. Now I think you’re beginning to understand what responsibility means too. To be honest, I don’t think I would really trust anyone else with the Emperor’s life.” He stood to leave. “We may have to break some heads to give you a decent Flight, Jenn, but we’ll get there. Try to be patient. Not everyone will be quite as accepting of you straightaway. Coming in yet?”

Jenevra shook her head. “Don’t you think I’ve caused enough trouble for one day? I’m just going to stay out here for a while, and enjoy the peace a little longer.”

“I am glad you’re back, Jenn,” Raik dropped a light kiss on the top of her head. “Your aunt and I have worried about you.” His booted footsteps receded into the darkness, leaving Jenevra alone once more, trying to fight back the exasperation his last statement was causing.

The frustration with everyone’s tacit expectation that she should behave as if she’d never left was growing again. Incapable of sitting still when she was agitated, Jenevra wandered along the pathways, churning things over in her mind. Without really realizing where she was going, she found herself at the top of the east lawn; a long sloping sward of soft grass stretching down towards a large lake. At the top of the lawn was a small temple–the private, personal temple for the Imperial Family. A sense of joyful thanks came over her as she remembered the place, and she opened the small side door. Inside was exactly as she pictured it. Feeling more at home here than anywhere else since leaving the Island, Jenevra bowed her head in prayer and meditation; sitting in silence for an hour or so.

A much calmer princess emerged from the temple, and she wandered along the chill marble hallways of the Imperial palace in a dreamy state, but acknowledging the salutes of the few sentries still on duty; all of whom had been briefed by Commander Rabenaldt who knew Jenevra’s nocturnal wandering habits of old.

It was something of a shock when an arm suddenly blocked her path.

“You really shouldn’t be wandering about alone at night,” a voice she recognized said softly. “You must be new to the palace. Maybe I can help you find your way?” There was an inveigling quality to the voice—a certainty of her acquiescence—that immediately brought back Jenevra’s irritation. For the loss of her peace, as much as anything, she became suddenly and profoundly angry.

“Move it, or lose it,” she snarled, flipping a small but razor sharp knife into her hand, and under Captain Tessier’s chin before he could blink.

The phrase struck an immediate chord and, cautiously taking his arm from in front of the princess, Tessier’s eyes widened as he realized who the young woman was. Phillip’s words echoed in his ears as he took a step back and looked once more at the princess, wondering how he could have mistaken her. Resorting to his usual ploy of charm, he gave a disarming grin. “You can’t really blame me, Princess,” he said, taking in the long, lustrous hair and slender figure in the slightly old-fashioned gown. “Who’d have thought you would scrub up so well? You’re quite a revelation.”

Taken aback by his manner, Jenevra glared directly at the Captain. Expecting to see fury, he was surprised to see confusion in her eyes.

With a strangled sound of utter exasperation, Jenevra pushed past the Captain, striding swiftly towards her rooms without a backwards glance. Thankfully, Serena had seen fit to dismiss her maids for the night, so there was no-one to fuss over her as she wriggled out of her gown. Ignoring the huge canopied bed, Jenevra wrapped herself in a blanket, curling up on the large seat carved into the window recess. The windows had been shut, but Jenevra opened them again, oblivious to the night chill coming off the mountains. Resting her chin on her folded arms, Jenevra watched the mountain waterfalls pouring their ribbons of silver mist against the dark stones until sleep claimed her.

 CHAPTER SIX

When Anna, the maid, came in to light the fire the next morning, the princess was already awake, draped in the blanket she had slept in, rifling through the cedar clothes chest. Dropping a quick curtsey Anna asked, “Can I help Your Highness to find something?”

Jenevra flashed a quick smile. “Just looking for the clothes I had on yesterday.”

Picking up the green velvet gown from the bed where Jenevra had thrown it, Anna wrinkled her nose. “It’s a bit creased, Your Highness, and it looks like there are some water spots on it, but I can have it aired and ready for you in a couple of hours.”

“No, not that” Jenevra waved a hand dismissively at the dress. “I mean the tunic and trousers I had on when I arrived. Gray … silk tunic … dark gray trousers … boots?”

Anna looked slightly embarrassed. “Forgive me, Your Highness, but Lady Massili told us to throw them out.”

Jenevra closed her eyes. “Wonderful. But please understand that from now on nothing is taken from my wardrobe without my direct knowledge. Lady Massili is not dictating my clothing.” Pulling open the pack she had carried with her from the Island, Jenevra dug out a spare tunic and trousers, waving aside Anna’s helpful offer of pressing them to remove all the creases. “No thanks,” Jenevra said cheerfully. “They’ll just have to get used to me like this. If you could tell the dressmaker that I would like to see her again later. It looks rather like I’ll need a couple of extra sets of these ready for when Lady Massili tries to throw them out again!” Hopping into her soft boots on her way out, Jenevra slipped down a small stairway that led from the back of her room to a courtyard near the gardens. She made for the stables via the kitchens on the lower floor of the palace. Pausing briefly, she grabbed a couple of carrots and a handful of dried fruits. Chewing on the fruit, she shared the carrots with her horse, rubbing his nose. The stable boy was already up and busy. “Shall I saddle him up for you, my Lady?” he asked, shyly.

“Later, maybe,” she replied, with a small sigh. “Business first, I’m afraid.”

“For those of you who may not have had the chance to see me before, I am Phillip Marissime, your future Emperor. Commander Rabenaldt has already explained the new Flight to you: my own personal Flight. You will remain a small group, your first loyalty will be to me and any failure will be immediately punished by death.” Phillip saw some of the men exchanging sideways glances in trepidation. “Any man here who does not feel he can give total commitment to the Empire and to me should leave now, with no stain of dishonor on him.” Several of the men still looked wary, but none moved to leave. Phillip nodded in satisfaction. “Good. I expect to be proud of each one of you. You do, however, need to understand what this force is about, and you need to meet your commanding officer. I have chosen to resurrect an old title, one that fell out of favor many years ago.” Hands clasped behind his back, Phillip strode along the ranks of soldiers as he spoke. Dressed in elegant but business-like black and silver, with his height and carriage, Phillip looked every inch the young Emperor; and his dark eyes locked with each man in front of him as he passed by them.

“You need to understand … I am not re-creating this as a purely ceremonial unit, although that is what people will think and I have no intention of disillusioning them. People will also assume that your commander has been chosen purely as a figurehead, a ceremonial title only.” Phillip stopped pacing, facing the assembly and meeting their gazes squarely. “Let me assure you all very strongly that your commander is far from ceremonial. I have every confidence in my appointment and I recommend that you not make the mistake of underestimating them.”

Jenevra stepped out from the shadowed portico that ran along the side of the courtyard.

Phillip announced, “Gentlemen, meet the new Imperial Protector, Her Imperial Highness, Jenevra Couressime.”

A stunned silence fell. A couple of the men who had served with Raik’s Border Patrol grinned broadly; they remembered the younger Jenevra whose childhood exploits had become something of a legend in that unit. Mostly, though the men looked either disgusted, or puzzled.

“I can see how thrilled most of you are that you have a woman in charge,” Jenevra said, clearly.

“Girl,” someone muttered from the ranks.

With an almost uncanny speed and silence Jenevra placed herself directly in front of the man who had spoken, tipping her head back to lock eyes with the soldier–a bulky man more than a head taller than the princess. “Did you speak?”

Deciding to brazen it out; the soldier made the wrong choice. “I said you’re a girl, not a woman … Your Highness.”

“I see,” Jenevra’s tone, and smile, were deceptively gentle. Her hand shot out faster than he could defend against; three fingers jamming straight into the soldier’s throat, cutting off his air. She stood demurely in front of him for the longest minute of his life as he writhed on the floor like a fish out of water, gasping for air. “A girl who can kill you with one hand though.” Leaning down, she grasped his throat, pushing cartilage back into place and opening his airway again. As he gulped oxygen back into his system, Jenevra walked back to the front of the group. “Any other objections?” When none were forthcoming she continued as if the interruption had never happened. “I realize that many of you cannot see how I can lead a unit like this one. I intend to convince you.” She noticed skeptical glances flying around. Handing her cloak to Commander Rabenaldt, she ignored the stir as some of the men murmured in shock at seeing a woman dressed in men’s clothing. The twin swords she carried were visible on her back, hilts protruding slightly above her gray-clad shoulders. “Fine, let’s deal with this now then,” she said. “I’ll take you all on if I have to, but I will prove to you right here and right now that I am fit to lead this group.” She moved into the center of the courtyard. “Come on then, any of you who feel that you can beat me in hand to hand combat, let’s do it.”

One of the men found his voice. “What? You mean fight you? Here? Now?”

“That’s right soldier … scared?”

“Scared I’ll hurt you, my Lady,” the soldier looked worried.

Jenevra gave him an encouraging smile. “No need to worry about that. You won’t touch me. If you do manage to get a hit in, which you won’t, you won’t be held responsible … not today, anyway.”

Phillip leaned close to Raik. “Are you sure she knows what she’s doing? Some of these fellows look pretty rough. She could get hurt. Should we stop it?”

“Can’t,” Raik said bluntly. “She’d never get their respect if we stepped in. Anyway,” he grinned, “Just watch her. Don’t worry.”

“Oh come on!” Jenevra taunted the soldiers who were hanging back. “Look, you can come in six at a time. I really can’t be fairer than that. Come on! What’re you waiting for, a written invitation?”

The soldier whose throat she’d closed decided to go for revenge and lunged towards her. When he looked up again from the floor, he saw her grinning down at him. Unable to believe a girl had put him on the floor twice, he jumped back up and tried again. And again. Wherever he went to attack, she simply wasn’t there anymore. A foot under his legs and he was flat on his back again, the princess standing calmly in the center of the yard with scarcely a hair out of place.

As some of the other skeptics saw that he wasn’t touching the princess, they became suddenly—and strangely—brave enough to try and four tried to join the attack. Like their friend they were mystified when the princess wasn’t in their path any more, but was always just out of reach. She hardly seemed to move, but she was never where they thought she was. With a minimum of hand and foot motions Jenevra had all five of them on the floor at the same time. “Anyone else?” she asked the remaining soldiers, who—to a man—declined the offer.

“Well, so much for hand to hand combat. Who’s any good with a sword?” Jenevra held out a standard issue broadsword negligently in one hand.

The young man didn’t so much step forward as everyone else stepped back.

“Your name, soldier?” Jenevra asked the worried looking youth, passing the broadsword to him.

“Simon. Simon Varsun, my Lady.” He was tall and slim built, with a long reach which had helped him rise to the top of the sword specialists in the Border Patrol.

“Are you good with a sword then, Simon?”

“He’s the best we’ve got, Your Highness,” one of the men supplied.

“Pretty good then,” Jenevra agreed. “Well then, Simon, let’s see how quickly you can learn.” Reaching back over her shoulders she drew the two slim bladed swords that she carried. Simon looked puzzled, but he hefted the broadsword in front of him, following the princess as she moved around him. As he hesitated, Jenevra began talking to him. “Come on now, Simon … I’m not going to attack you … you’ll have to make the first move. You know you have to. You can’t hold that sword up in front of you forever. It’s heavy. You’re going to have to move it soon.”

Still following her as she danced lightly round him, Simon could feel the tension building in his shoulders. She was right, he would have to swing soon, or lose some of the strength that gave momentum to the huge sword. Lunging forward he brought the sword down on where her head had just been, only belatedly feeling the sting of her hit across the back of his thigh. “It’s just a scratch, Simon” she called to reassure him. “It’ll sting, but it’s not deep enough to give you a problem.”

Putting his brain into a new gear, Simon put together a series of moves that had gone a long way to making him the champion swordsman of the Border Patrol. Frustratingly, not one of them made contact with the princess’s swords, although she managed to trace a series of slashes across the back of his shirt.

Waving him to a halt, Jenevra lowered her swords. “Enough, Simon? We can keep going if you want to, I just don’t see the point. Maybe we can try again when I’ve shown you how to use swords like mine.”

Simon’s head came up, an excited light in his eyes. “Really? You’ll show me how to fight with those?” He nodded towards the pair of swords in her hands.

Jenevra nodded. “I’ll show you all. I can use a broadsword as well as the rest of you,” she said, “But I prefer these. They are faster, lighter and much easier to disable your opponent with. Any of those light slashes I gave you could have been a couple of inches deeper; they’d have taken out a tendon, or muscle, effectively crippling you against me. You will all train to use both techniques: the same with the hand to hand fighting. I will train this squad to become the most efficient fighting unit in the Imperial army. I want the best men the army has; and they have sent me you. But you can only become that good if you accept right now that I can do this. If you aren’t willing to listen to me and to learn what I can teach you, then you may as well leave now.” Her voice rang and her eyes blazed with conviction. She met the gaze of each man standing in the courtyard.