Sean Russell - The Shadow Roads

Dease looked around quickly, wondering how far voices carrieddown these passages. “I’ve not forgotten, Cousin,” he whispered. “That is whyI’m here. I’ll try to intercede with Toren for you-and with Lady Beatrice aswell. But they will never trust you. Be sure of that. If I cannot sway them, Iwill get you out of here somehow.” He glanced back down the hall. “This guardis fond of his drink. I shall slip him enough brandy to put him to sleep if Imust.”

They fell silent then, the two conspirators. The lanternguttered and went out, leaving Dease in near darkness, only the frail light ofSamul’s candle pushing back a thousandth part of the darkness. Dease glancedquickly around and he realized he could be in the cell, and the littlewindow through which he could see Samul’s faint silhouette his only view of theoutside.

He reached up and clasped Samul’s hand, which still held thebar. “Is there anything you need?”

Samul laughed. “In such luxurious surroundings what couldany man want? A new pallet and bedding would not be out of order. Candles. Abook to read. Ink and paper. I will soon go mad down here if I have nothing tooccupy my hours.”

“I’ll see to your needs, Samul. As soon as I can.” Deasereached up and took his lantern down from its hook, feeling the warmth stillrising from it even though the flame had vanished. He turned away, leaving hiscousin’s haunted face framed in the barred window.

“Dease?” Samul called before Dease had gone a dozen paces.

“Yes?”

HO

“And a cloak of wool. It is damp and chill down here. A mancan never get warm.”

“I’ll find you one,” Dease said.

He lit his lamp again from the guard’s and carried on downthe passage, the small, barred windows of empty cells gazing at him reproachfullyas he left.

Elise and A’brgail supported each other as they foughtthrough the final yards of bramble and into the failing sunlight. A’brgailglanced quickly behind. The day was all but gone, the western sky awash inmolten cloud.

“He’s no longer near,” Elise said calmly. Her gaze appearedto rest upon some distant place, far out of his view.

A’brgail was humbled by her strength. He leaned an arm onher thin girlish shoulders, but she did not falter or even seem to notice. Herslight frame was stronger than his-stronger than any man’s, he expected. If notfor Elise he would never have survived the flooded cavern. But surviving thattook all his strength, and he couldn’t have walked another furlong without her.He shook his head. Elise stood erect still, though her golden hair was tangled,her clothing so torn to ruins that it was barely decent. Where she had beenbattered against the stone walls in the maze of tunnels, her skin was darklybruised and scraped raw. She lowered A’brgail to a fallen trunk and sat down ona little hillock opposite.

“Are we in the hidden lands, yet?” the knight asked. “I’veseen no landmark I recognize. No village or road. Not even a dirt track thatmight lead us … somewhere. We must not yet have found our way back into theland between the mountains.”

“We’re back to our own lands,” Elise said, her voice faraway. “Though where we are I cannot say. Lost …” She said this last wordwistfully. Then to herself, Lost .

A’brgail regarded her with what he realized was pity-thisthing he had once vowed to destroy. This abomination, who appeared to be atroubled young woman, sad beyond measure. “Are you well, my lady?” he askedsoftly.

“No, Sir Gilbert,” she said, shaking her head, her gazefixed on the open fields. “I have not been well since I sold my soul to amonster.”

“You don’t seem much like a monster,” he answered, to hissurprise.

“No? I fear it will show in time.” She looked down at herhands, turning them over as though not sure they were hers. “I have hermemories, her sensibility and feelings, struggling against my own, against mynature. Sianon was without remorse, without affection. Her lovers were toonumerous to name, and she loved none of them. Her own children went into battleto gain her love, and when they died she did not mourn. It was the price of hergift-all loved her, but she cared for no one. That is not true; she loved oneman-her own brother, Sainth, who has made a bargain with Alaan.”

“My brother,” A’brgail said softly.

Elise did look up at him then, a crease appearing betweenher eyebrows, as though she tried to look inside him.

“It is a tangle of relations,” she said, running her handabsent-mindedly over her torn breeches.

“But you are not Sianon,” A’brgail insisted. “Alaan swearsthat he is not controlled by Sainth, and in truth, he does not seem greatlychanged, though I have been loath to admit it until now.”

“But Alaan and Sainth are not so different. Sianon … sheis my opposite in almost every way. And I have already given in, once, to her… appetites.” She played with a frayed edge on her torn breeches. “A part ofme did it only for pleasure, as a man might go to a brothel”-she closed her eyes,cheeks burning-“but the part of me that is … me-I was not so callous. Myheart was … touched. It will sound naive, but I swear I felt it open-like ablossom.” She closed her eyes, as though to staunch the tears.

A’brgail found himself wanting to comfort her, though hefeared it was the spell that surrounded Sianon that made everyone want toplease her, to win her favor, but he couldn’t help himself. “Don’t be ashamedof having womanly feelings,” he said. “Better to have a broken heart than noheart at all.”

“Easily said,” Elise answered, opening her eyes and blinkingrapidly. She wiped a dirty sleeve across her cheeks. “But thank you all thesame.” She stood. “We must go on. I need to know where we are and how far it isback to Westbrook.”

“Not far,” said a voice.

Elise spun around to find a Fael standing a few yards off, asword in hand.

“Archers have their arrows trained on your hearts,” the mansaid. “You would be wise not to move.”

“And who are you?” Elise asked, trying to keep the pride ofSianon in check.

“I am Brendl,” the Fael answered. “And you would appear tobe beggars, by your dress, but I suspect that is far from the truth.”

A’brgail realized that other men lurked in the shadows ofthe trees as the dusk settled around them.

“I’m Elise Wills, and this is Gilbert A’brgail, a knightwhose deeds, if they were known, would win him great renown.”

“Elise Wills drowned in the Westbrook,” Brendl said, “or soit is said.”

“I did go into the Westbrook, to escape a man who calls himselfSir Eremon, but I did not drown, as you can see.”

The Fael nodded, a little bow of acknowledgment. “You arevery much alive, but whether or not you are Elise Wills … that is for othersto judge. Come with me.”

“And where will you take us?”

“Not far,” he said. Other Fael appeared out of the woodthen, all uncharacteristically well armed.

Elise glanced at A’brgail and nodded, to his relief. Hecould not have put up any resistance. He barely managed to gain his feetwithout help. A Fael came to his aid, and he made his way through the shadowsbeneath the trees, with Elise supporting him on one side and a black wandereron the other.

In a few moments they broke out of the trees into thequickly failing light.

Brendl raised a hand and pointed. “There. The tower citiesof my people.”

A’brgail pulled himself upright and gazed down the hillsideinto the dark shadow of the undulating blue hills. There was water there-asmall lake, perhaps-dark as steel in the spreading twilight. And then he sawthem; the three worn stone towers-raised by the hand of nature-extending likemisshapen fingers from the smooth water. Upon their crests the cities of theFael-Aland-or, Fylan-or, and Naismoran.