Terry Simpson - The Shadowbearer

Flames crackled in the braziers next to the pillars and in the three large hearths along the walls. Unlike the rest of the castle, the throne room was hot. Up on the dais, dressed in ebony armor, Nerian slouched, his throne barely visible behind his massive form. On either side of him sat Anton and Celina. There was no sign of Thania.

Cerny rushed into the room. “Sire-”

King Nerian stopped him with an upraised hand. “So the wayward son returns,” Nerian’s voice echoed throughout the empty chamber. “Children, go greet your father.”

They glanced over to Nerian as if uncertain.

“He is your father, isn’t he? Go on.”

They stood. Stefan’s eyes widened, and if not for the circumstances, he would have smiled at how much they’d grown. Anton was almost Stefan’s height, his shoulders broad, hair coal-black. Celina was also tall, but she had her mother’s silky tresses and dainty shape. Both were dressed in finery. Despite the years, their features were unmistakable.

One foot in front the other , Stefan reminded himself as he willed his feet to move and began to walk toward his children. At first, Anton and Celina took slow, uncertain steps, then their pace quickened, and eventually they ran. Tears in his eyes, Stefan broke into a run to meet them.

“Father,” Anton said, breathless when they met near the room’s middle. “Is that really you?”

“Yes,” Stefan replied. He grabbed them both in his arms and hugged them.

“Of course it is silly,” Celina said. “He’s almost the same as when Mother lets us see him in her divya . The one that resembles him.”

The pendant of Thania hanging around Stefan’s neck was heavy and cold against his skin. “Yes. Yes it is,” he whispered. He hugged them even tighter.

The moment seemed to go on forever, him hugging his children, and they squeezing him in return. They cried the entire time.

Finally, Stefan released them. Wiping at his eyes, he asked, “Where’s your mother?”

“She abandoned them,” Nerian said from across the room.

How did the King hear what was said from so far away? “She would never do that,” Stefan shouted. He searched his children’s faces to confirm he was right. Sadness reflected at him.

“She’s been gone for days,” Anton said.

Celina shook her head, mouth downturned. “The same day Uncle Nerian’s King’s Guard showed up at our home.”

“Uncle Nerian?” Stefan repeated.

Anton shrugged. “It’s what we called him for years. Mother said Uncle used to look after you like you were his son.”

Stefan took in the throne and the stranger sitting upon it. “That was a long time ago. He’s no longer the same man. Did your mother give any idea where she was going?”

“I know, but I doubt they would.” Nerian chuckled.

A squeeze of his arm made Stefan look down. It was Anton’s hand. When he met his son’s eyes, Anton’s expression pinched with concentration.

“He cannot hear us now, Father,” Celina whispered, lips barely moving. “Anton is making sure of that.”

She had positioned herself to block the King’s view. The strain on Anton’s face revealed the boy was Forging. Stefan nodded to show he understood.

“Mother left when the King sent his Alzari for all of us,” Celina said, her voice still low. “By the time she realized what was happening it was too late. We would have fought them off, but there was no way to win. No one knows where Mother went or how she escaped. So we have sat here, playing the innocent niece and nephew to the King while hoping she returns with help. Father …” Her voice cracked a little. “We’re both scared. We saw what the King does to those who fail him. A-And the creatures that stalk these halls, often trying to get in here … We can hear them growling late at night. We can smell them. A-Anton says they’re shadelings.”

“They are,” Stefan said. “The King has turned to the shade.”

Celina sucked in a breath, her gaze darting toward Nerian. A dip of Anton’s head and the unsurprised expression on his face said he suspected as much.

“What are we going to do?” Celina asked, her hand gripping Stefan’s even tighter, fingers cold and clammy against his palm.

“Enough of the whispering,” Nerian called. “Enter.”

The double doors to the chamber’s left side swung open. In pairs along the shadowy hallway, nine figures entered the room. Stefan’s sword vibrated violently against his leg.

The first four were wraithwolves, fur rippling, mouths lolling in toothy grins.

Darkwraiths entered after them. Long black cloaks hid their bodies, and their feet never appeared to touch the ground. Smoky mist danced around them. It coiled up like a living thing to hide their faces in a translucent hood from which red eyes glowed.

Even as seeing the shadelings here, so obviously under Nerian’s command, came as a shock, nothing prepared Stefan for the person trudging between them. His heart felt as if it had been ripped from his chest. Dressed in blue, tattered, bloody clothes, her face a mask of welts was Thania.

“No, no … no … no,” Stefan whispered. Fresh tears welled up in his eyes.

The group positioned themselves next to Cerny. A slow, triumphant smile spread across his features. “I told you I would take your place.”

Choked cries escaped from Celina and Anton. Stefan managed to prevent them from running to their mother. He did not know how he kept his ground or stood despite the weakness in his knees, but something deep within told him he must.

His pendant bloomed with warmth. He reached a tentative hand to the charm before he stopped. Why hadn’t he felt the same from the children? Thania’s words rose fresh in his mind. ‘Our pendants, the pieces of us I imbued into them, now also contain a part of the children’s essences. The day you do not feel its warmth, our love when within its presence is the day you will know something is amiss. But even then, there will be hope.’ He should have realized what the pendant’s coldness meant when the children came near, but he was so overwhelmed by his emotions he’d missed its importance.

Stefan made to ease his grip from Celina’s, but a warning look flashed across his wife’s face.

A chuckle began behind him. The sound built into a hearty laugh. By the time he turned to face throne, it was a cackle.

King Nerian’s mad laugh rose to a feverish pitch before he sputtered into silence. The only other noise within the room came from the flames crackling atop the braziers.

“I apologize, but I could not help myself,” Nerian said. “The expression on your face when you saw your wife, the way she tried to warn you … This whole scenario is priceless. The deception almost worked too.”

“What-” Stefan began.

“Oh, come now,” Nerian said. He pointed at Thania. “That … is your wife. Those,” he gestured at Anton and Celina, “are not your children.”

Stefan’s mouth dropped open. Not from surprise that they weren’t his children, but because the King had known all along.

Nerian chuckled. “Why the charade? I wanted to witness how this would unfold.” His gaze shifted to the children. “If you could tell they were not yours or if they would fool you completely. A good try, Thania. However, when you are as strong as I am in Mater, one can sense the tiny disturbance in the essences that accompanies even the most experienced Sven.”

With those words, Nerian gave a lazy wave of his hand in Stefan’s direction. Spear-like flames darted from two of the braziers near the King and shot down the room.

Around Stefan, the ground rumbled and heaved. He lost his balance, stumbling for a moment as he noticed the children step forward. Eyes wide with shock and fear, he could do nothing to help.