Shadows of Time: Shadow Maiden (5 page)

The Phooka burned holes into him, his eyes
full of rage. Yet he stood still, contemplating the elf’s offer. He
shook his hairy head in agreement, squeezing Luthen’s hand
hard.

“When and where? We will be ready with all
the fury of our
people.”        

“Splendid,” Luthen said, snatching his hand
free from the Chief’s rough grip. “Meet me at the base of the city,
tomorrow night. As soon as the moon rises above the mountains.”

And this, my dear Lestel, is how you seek
revenge.

***

“I can’t run anymore. Please, I have to
stop.” Amaeya’s words were nothing more than a wisp of
breathlessness.

Amaeya had been running alongside Merrick for
what seemed like hours. Her legs burned and shook with each step
and stumble further into the woods. Finally, as soon as the dawn
trickled into the blackened night sky, they collapsed, panting and
sweating, icy air stinging their lungs.

“There. We’ve stopped.” He fell back onto the
ground, sweat pouring down his face.

She leaned against a tree trunk, eyes closed,
breathing heavily from her open mouth. Merrick’s coughing jerked
her away. She reached out her hand to him, grabbing him by the
arm.

His clothing, it’s damp. No wonder he’s
ill.

She immediately tore off her tattered cloak
and wrapped it around his heaving shoulders.

“There, there, I’ll have you warm in no time.
The way you’re carrying on you’d think you’d never gotten chilled
before.”

He looked up at her, his blue eyes dulled and
distant. “I’m fine, really. It’s just so damn wet. Chilled is one
thing, chilled and wet is another thing. This doesn’t happen where
I’m from.”

“Where are you from? The moon? You’re so odd,
it wouldn’t surprise me.”

He laughed, which resulted in another fit of
coughing. She pulled him closer, trying to warm him. The chirping
of crickets flooded her senses. She had forgotten how lovely they
sang under the brimming moon.

“Somewhere very far away from here. Somewhere
I hope you never have to go, and yet I feel like I’ve left so much
behind,” Merrick said, his eyes distant and cloudy. “Let’s get some
rest. While we can.”

She nodded, for the most part to herself.
Merrick had already shut his eyes, his breath nothing but a faint
wheeze. She nuzzled her face against the scratchy cloak, thinking
about her family and friends from years past, wondering what they
would be like if they were still alive. What would life have been
like if she had never been stolen from her home so many years ago?
Probably married off to some dowdy farm boy, raising a litter of
children, biding my time until they finally grew up and did the
exact same thing.

She remembered as a child always fantasizing
about adventures and faraway places that were only told about in
whispers, yearning for her life to become a bed time story of her
own. Until, that is, her entire village was burnt to the ground by
none other than the savage Chief Al’Rul. She had been one of the
survivors, taken prisoner and marched miles away from everything
she knew. During that time, the Chief had grown fond of her, but
not enough to show her any kindness. She had quickly become his
personal favorite, like a pet, brought before him to sing childhood
songs or tend to his wounds. However, no matter how hard she tried
to accept her fate, the Chief’s cruelty toward others made her
heart plead for a miracle.

One clear night, when she was only sixteen,
she had finally decided to escape once and for all. She had been
with the war party for so long that they had grown lax in securing
her chains. That night they had forgotten to lock her shackles all
together. She hadn’t even made it a mile before the Phookan Chief
dragged her back by the hair. She remembered how the blood and
sweat from her scalp had burned as it dripped into her eyes and how
the scars on her legs from being dragged across the rocky ground
had never faded.

“
I will always hunt you down,”
he had
said, eyes blaring and voice gruff.
“I will always find you. I
own you!”

His voice echoed in her mind, bringing fresh
tears to her eyes. He would find her. She knew the way they hunted,
how they could pick up a trail from what seemed like untouched
forest.

She lay there smothering her sobs and
dreading the day that those yellow eyes would once again burn holes
into her soul.

Evanna’s eyes opened to rays of early morning
sunlight freckled across her ivory bedroom. Birds chirped with
glee, announcing the arrival of a new day. The cool, crisp autumn
air smelled sweet with ripe orchard apples as it fluttered past the
silky curtains. She smiled and stretched her arms wide. Astrid had
wriggled away from her during the night and lay curled up on the
far side of the bed. She was still fast asleep with her thumb stuck
halfway out of her mouth. It was hard for Evanna to believe she was
already eight years old.

She slid her feet from the cream colored
covers and onto the frosty white floor. Gritting her teeth against
the cold stone, she grabbed her shawl that hung on a nearby chair
and pattered out of the room and down the corridor. The morning was
still quite young, however that didn’t stop the occasional servant
from bustling about to and fro. They only stopped long enough for a
clumsy bow or unbalanced curtsy before scurrying away to their
destinations. She couldn’t help but think of them as frightened
mice fleeing from a hungry housecat.

Servants are such silly things.

Evanna came to the half-opened door of her
daughters’ bedroom and pushed it the rest of the way open, making
only a small hush on its well-oiled hinges. Inside sat a tidy
little girl on one of two large identical beds. She held a
porcelain doll with wide empty eyes. She was brushing its long
brown hair, watching the curls bounce away from the bristles with
an eerie intent.

There had always been something odd about the
child, some hidden sense of order that seemed unnatural for a girl
her age. Evanna had always pushed any suspicions aside, but
sometimes she couldn’t help but wonder if her little girl had ever
really been a child at all.

“Good morning, Mother. I trust you have slept
well. Even if you did let Astrid break the rules again.” She looked
up from her doll only long enough to a flash a cold, jealous
stare.

“Oh Anya, you know if you were ever
frightened at night you could do the same thing.”

“But you said we weren’t supposed to leave
our rooms!” Anya’s face mirrored the flat expression of her
doll.

“Not to wander about as you please, no,” said
Evanna, edging herself closer to her daughter.

“It’s still a rule, and she broke it.” Anya’s
cheeks started to blush with anger, cracking her ice cold
composure.

“Well then, let’s do away with it then. No
more silly rule.” Evanna reached out to stroke her daughter’s long
dark hair. She jerked away from her mother’s grasp like she had
been stung.

“She still broke it.” She clutched her doll
in her arms and slid off the bed, running past her mother and out
the door.

Why didn’t anyone tell me being a mother
was so difficult?
Evanna thought, trying to hide the hurt on
her face.

While she shook her head as if trying to
shake off her uneasiness, her mind suddenly snapped to Lestel’s
absence.
Oh, my. The poor thing’s probably half-starved by
now.

Evanna shuffled out the door and down the
hall. The library’s door looked even bigger than she remembered.
She clenched the shiny brass handle and pushed. The hinges moaned
as the large door swung open. The library was as dark as
midnight.

“Lestel? Darling? Are you there?” She stepped
inside, feeling her way past mounds of papers and books. The air
was dank and heavy with a strange, musty smell. “Lestel? Where are
you?”

Her eyes strained against the shadows, trying
to make out even the faintest bit of light. Such deep darkness
frightened her, though she never knew why. She could feel her heart
pounding in her throat as she held her breath, trying to listen for
any sounds of movement. Dense silence pressed in on her, throbbing
in her ears. She released a huff of breath, disappointed and very
confused. As she turned to leave a strong hand clawed her shoulder.
Screaming at the shock, she stumbled free, turning to face the
owner of the mysterious hand.

“Lestel! Don’t you ever scare me like that
again!” Her hand rested on her heaving chest while her husband’s
smiling face shone down at her.

“I’m sorry my dear, I couldn’t help myself.”
Dark circles clung underneath his eyes and his shoulder length
brown hair shrouded his ghostly face.

“I was worried about you so I came to check
on you. You look ill, maybe you should go to bed for a while.” She
reached up to touch his waxen face but he pulled back just beyond
her reach.

“I feel quite fine. In fact, I feel better
than ever. I have something to show you. Tonight, though. The
sunlight wouldn’t do it justice.” His words poured over her like
ice water, numbing her to the core.

Evanna nodded despite a strange nagging
tickle at the back of her mind.
He looks so pale. Not himself at
all.

“What is it?” Her voice was distant, unsure
whether her worry was warranted or just her imagination.

“If I told you,” he reached his hand to the
door knob while escorting her out with the other hand, “it wouldn’t
be a surprise.” Before letting her go, his nose brushed against her
hair, breathing in her scent, sending chills down her spine.

Evanna stood alone in the corridor long after
the door had creaked shut, not knowing what to think. Going without
sleep did strange things to the mind. Shrugging off Lestel’s odd
behavior, she strolled back to her bedroom to get ready for the
day. After all, there was much to do.

***

Merrick found himself standing in an empty
room. Tall windows yawned before him with silver curtains
fluttering like ghosts. Black mountains stood far in the distance
as the moon rose from behind with an unnatural speed. A woman with
long waves of blond hair walked past with hushed footsteps. She
reached the window and turned to face him. He realized she was
actually looking further past him. It was the same elf from before,
her green eyes glowing in the darkness. She opened her mouth but
the words were muted and distant, as if he were hearing it with
hands over his ears. Suddenly her widened eyes snapped to his.

Look to the city in the sky. He will kill us
all.

She fell back over the window’s ledge.
Merrick ran toward her, only to find he was falling too. Suddenly,
he was swallowed up by darkness, thrashing against the sounds of
his own screams.

“Merrick! Wake up, it’s only a dream!”

His eyes burst open. Amaeya was leaning over
him, her honey brown curls dangling over his face. Her green eyes
were touched with amber and honey, radiating comfort like sunlight
in spring.

“I saw her again. I have to find her,” said
Merrick, squeezing the words from the tightened grip of his aching
lungs.

“What are you talking about?” She felt his
flushed face, wiping sweat from his brow. “You’re still feverish.
You need to rest.”

“No you don’t understand. I have to search
the sky. She’s in the sky.”

Amaeya stopped and stared deep into his eyes.
“What did you say?”

“She’s in the sky. I don’t know how, all I
know is that I have to find her before it’s too late.” He looked
deep into her springtime eyes. She touched his face with a soft
touch that reminded him of his dead wife—

“Rest now. We’ll search for your lady friend
when your fever breaks. Please, sleep, before you get worse.”

“Promise me you’ll help me.” His eyes rolled
back and forth, glazed over and bleary.

“I promise.” She smiled, wrapping him tighter
in the sweat-drenched cloak.

He heaved a sigh of relief. A strange part of
him felt like everything would turn out right because of her
promise.

If only it were that simple.

***

Fanger Al’Rul pawed at his beady,
sleep-ridden eyes, cursing the fool god who invented mornings. Last
night had been one to jump right to the top of his list of the
things most unpleasant, zooming past the one and only time he ever
shared a tent with his disgusting counterpart, Maggot.

He scratched at his bottom, shaking the horse
flies from his tail, and yawned as if he hadn’t slept in years.
Whatever appeared last night had certainly made an impression on
his father, the Chief. He had ordered the entire war party to pack
up and prepare for march at dawn. Fanger and Maggot were in charge
of the slaves and the transport of the war machine.

He waddled over to the strange craft. Its
large metal wheels gleamed a wicked black in the morning light. A
gigantic trebuchet lay perched on its top, lashed down and waiting
for battle. Its dark wood was warped from seeing one too many thick
morning fogs. The war party had stumbled across the war machine,
another abandoned weapon of war made by the humans. They always
created more and more efficient ways to kill each other. Fanger
chuckled, wondering if anyone was willing to wager with him how
long it would take before they would finally kill themselves
off.

The last few decades had been even more
violent than years past. Phookan war parties were nothing compared
to the slaughter the humans inflicted upon themselves. Fanger had
already seen enough battle fields to know that there was little
honor among the race of men. If two Phookan tribes were in
disagreement, the Chiefs would battle, not their people. The
unnecessary killing of other Phooka was looked down upon. The
unnecessary killing of other species, however, was strictly
sport.