Terry Simpson - The Shadowbearer

The boy, Anton, pushed back from him a little and peered into his face. Brow knitting, he said, “Da, you sads? Why you crying?”

Stefan pulled him close. “No, son. I’m not sad. I’m very happy. I have never been happier in my entire life because I have you and your sister.” He took in Thania’s beaming face. Their gazes locked. He mouthed, “Thank you. I love you.”

She whispered. “I love you too.” Thania hiked up her dress and joined them on the floor, one hand around Stefan’s back and the other hugging Celina.

While enjoying the feel of his new family, basking in how complete he felt inside after so many years he and Thania spent avoiding the prospect of children, a sense of dread crept within Stefan. I finally have a full family to come home to, and Nerian wants to force me to leave again. NO. I can’t afford to be away from my children. I missed their birth. I will not miss their lives . But there was something worse than him having to go away on another campaign. Nerian’s command. All Matii must enter military service.

“What’s wrong, honey?” Voice filled with concern, Thania eased up from him. “Why are you so tense?”

Ever so slowly, Stefan gently held the children away from him. He peered into their fair faces and innocent eyes. Anton’s dark hair sat on his head in small curls, while Celina’s had already grown down to her neck. They gazed back up at him, their expressions joyful. “They have inherited our power haven’t they?” His throat constricted.

“Yes,” Thania whispered. “Like any other Matii, it may not manifest until after they turn thirteen, but their ability is there. I can sense it. They are going to be strong, love. Very strong.”

A great fist squeezed at Stefan’s heart with each word. Tears began to trickle down his face again, in happiness and sorrow. “Can you tell if they will succumb to the madness?”

“Honey, they’re too young to tell.” Thania gave his shoulder a squeeze. “But if their ability to already control their emotions this young is any sign, they should be fine. But that isn’t all that’s troubling you, is it?”

Stefan shook his head. “I spent the evening with Nerian. He told me about the decree. And he wants me to lead this new army of his. He went so far as to tell me I wouldn’t refuse him then told me to go home to you, that you needed me.” Stefan stood. Hands ruffling his children’s hair, he stared into Thania’s face.

Thania’s eyes closed, and she took a deep breath. When she opened them again, they were moist. “Cerny said the King promised he wouldn’t enforce the new law on me if you agreed to lead.”

The pain Stefan witnessed in her eyes, the fear written across her crestfallen face meant only one thing. He asked anyway. “And the children?” He stopped playing in their hair, sliding his hands away.

The tears that had welled up in his wife’s eyes began to flow freely, leaving streaks in her makeup. Thania’s face contorted. Her lower lip quivered. “Cerny said the King would take them as part of that law should you refuse,” she said in a barely audible whisper.

Stefan folded her tenderly into his arms. Head lost in his shoulder, she wept even harder. A tug on his trousers revealed Anton on one side and Celina on the other, hugging onto both him and their mother. Although he fought against the urge to clench his fists, he could not help grinding his teeth or the smoldering he felt deep within the pit of his stomach. The heat of his emotions crawled across his body like a living beast, clawing its way to get out.

He wondered if those really were Nerian’s orders. Cerny wouldn’t dare threaten his family without the King’s blessing, would he? Stefan found it hard to fathom. None of it sounded like the man who’d helped raise him and taught him what he knew, being there more than his own father. Yet, the meeting with Nerian gave him pause and clouded his mind with doubt. Somewhere deep inside, he knew one thing. He would not hesitate to kill either Cerny or Nerian if they touched his family.

“We could run away,” Stefan said into the silky, perfumed tresses of his wife’s hair. “We could go to Granadia.”

It took a few sniffles before Thania answered. “The house is watched. Who knows what he’ll do if we tried to escape and were captured. What I used to produce the image is the extent of power any Matii can Forge within the city. Somehow, the King has found a way to dampen our Forgings here. It’s enough to train with but not near enough to Materialize us away from here.”

“Besides,” a female voice said from the sitting room’s direction, “you are needed here. It is more important than ever that you make sure your children are safe.”

Stefan slid his hand to his sword hilt. He eased a step from Thania and the children to face the voice.

High Ashishin Galiana Calestis stood in the open doorway. Stefan squinted. Or was she High Alzari? Or both. The same chiseled face, ember hair, and golden stare from when she left twelve years ago greeted him. Dressed in green and gold robes, hair in a tight bun, she kept her gaze focused on him. Twelve years and still the woman did not appear to have aged a day from when she mentored him. Her complexion was a little pale as if she’d spent too much time out of the sun, but that was to be expected when one visited Granadia, even more so when the visit meant an extended stay at the Tribunal’s Iluminus.

Galiana’s brow quirked as her gaze shifted from his face to his sword hand then back to meet his eyes once more. “What a way to greet your old teacher and wet nurse.”

“Is that all you are?” Hand still on his hilt, Stefan shifted, placing himself between his family and Galiana.

A pained expression crossed Galiana’s face. “I should paddle your bottom.”

Stefan ignored the quip. “According to Nerian you were key in setting him on his current path.” He kept his tone conversational despite the angry heat inside. “A path that may yet cost me my family, my happiness, and hundreds of thousands if not millions of Setian lives.”

“He said that?”

“Not in so many words, but you provided him with information you gained in your infiltration of the Tribunal.”

Galiana’s lips twitched into a smile, but her eyes were frozen pinpoints. “Have you ever killed for your King, Stefan?”

“Of course I have.”

“Have you ever disobeyed your King’s orders?”

“How dare you? Never!”

The smile wilted from Galiana’s face. Her lips became a tight slit. “Good. The same for me. Until now.”

“What?”

A change came across her then. Galiana’s shoulders slumped, and she appeared tired, older, lines of worry about her eyes. “I gave King Nerian copies of several tomes the Tribunal kept in the Iluminus’ most guarded libraries. The tomes of the Chronicles. You remember those, correct? Written by philosophers and fortune-tellers countless years ago, they tell of things in the past and of events to come. Events that occurred since the Chronicles were written.”

“Are the stories really true?”

Galiana shrugged. “Apparently, they are. According to the Iluminus’ researchers, the people who wrote the tomes were the Eztezians and their direct descendants.”

Stefan frowned. The Eztezians were great warriors, the most powerful Matii to grace Denestia. Said to be a part of the gods’ lineage, they were tasked with protecting Denestia from the shade. And from itself. Driven mad by their overuse of Mater however, they almost destroyed the world. Eventually, they created the Great Divide, which brought about the shade’s defeat. Then they turned on their masters, sealing the gods in the Nether to prevent future wars and the creation of more creatures like the shadelings. Stefan could not picture such men and women sitting down to write anything. If they did, what else had they included in such texts?