Jon Sprunk: Shadow's master

Josey wiped her eyes as Iola returned with a covered bowl. It was boiled oats, but Josey was too hungry to complain. While she ate, Iola herded everyone out of the tent and started rooting through the trunks. The girl pulled out a black gown with a high neck and long sleeves, but Josey stopped her and pointed. “No, that one, I think.” Hirsch always preferred her in lighter colors.

“Majesty?”

Josey nodded, and together they manhandled her into a flowing yellow kirtle with small green flowers that was only slightly muddied. When she was ready, Josey stepped outside the tent. A cool wind caressed her hair and pressed the material of the dress taut against her belly. Closing her eyes, she enjoyed the sun on her face. Someone cheered, and the hurrah was picked up by other voices, until a multitude called her name. Josey looked across the camp to a lone hill. A yew tree stood atop the bald tor, its leaves shining like gold in the early light.

An honor guard stood ready on either side of the elmwood casket. Captain Drathan and Brian stood at the front of the procession, looking to her.

Iola clasped her hand. “Shall we, Majesty?”

Josey took a deep breath. A trumpet called as the honor guard took up their cargo and began the slow march to the hill.

Josey smiled. “Yes. Let's say good-bye to our friend.”

The rising sun warmed his back through the heavy cloak. Balaam resisted the impulse to pull up his hood. He'd have to get used to the sunlight.

He shifted his weight. His knee was stiff from where the scion had left his mark, but it would heal. Balaam focused on what lay ahead.

The waves beat recklessly against the shore below, where a team of men wrestled large casks onto the waist of the tall sailing ship. She was beautiful and sleek, like a great wooden mare riding on the sea. Turquoise waters stretched into the morning's gray mist, slowly burning off with the advent of dawn. Balaam took a deep breath of the briny sea air and held it. I am my own man.

He had dreamt of this day all his life, even before he understood what his spirit wanted. Freedom. It was the sweetest smell in any world.

He hefted the haversack slung to his shoulder. Inside it was everything he owned: spare clothing, an extra pair of boots, a pouch of metal coins. His belt was empty, with not even a knife to weigh him down. He had left his kalishi sword behind in Erebus. A difficult decision, but he felt freer for it. He was tired of living by the blade. Perhaps one day he would find a place to settle, take up a peaceful profession, but for now he just wanted to see this world with new eyes.

Balaam took his gaze off the sea and looked over his shoulder. Dorcas stood behind him, with her burgundy cloak draped over her arm and her hair flying free. He reached out, and she gave him an uncertain smile as she took his hand. She was nervous. But so am I. We're both trying something new. To trust again.

He returned the smile and nodded, and then led her down to the shore where their ship awaited.

Caim stepped softly as he arrived back on the wastes. Kit, still wrapped in the cloak, sat beside a small fire made from broken sticks. She was beyond beautiful. The sight of her calmed him. She was the only person in the world he trusted completely. She knew all of his secrets, but she loved him anyway.

She looked up, and then jumped to her feet, dropping the cloak as she ran to him so quick it was like her feet never touched the ground. But she was real when she crashed into his arms, and the kiss she planted on his lips seized his heart in a vise-grip.

“Can't you two wait until I'm gone?”

Malig dropped a pair of crude burlap sacks beside the fire. His stolen sword hung over his shoulder by a rope. “Looting already?” Caim asked.

The big man shrugged as he squatted beside the fire. “Just trying to make something good out of this shit-storm you served up. There's lots of good stuff sitting around here, and I figure nobody's coming back for it.”

“There's been fighting in Eregoth.” Caim told Malig what he'd learned from Josey about the invasion. “Are you still going back?”

Malig nodded. “I've had enough of these wastes. I'll go back home and maybe find a wench. Settle down and have a pack of whelps. What about you two? Back to Nimea?”

“Not on your life,” Kit growled.

Caim laughed. “I guess not. But it's a long walk back to Liovard for one man alone.”

“I was thinking about that.” Malig spat into the fire. “You get around pretty quick, vanishing in one place and appearing in another. Can you send me back?”

Caim fought back a smile. He never thought he'd see the day when one of his northern countrymen would even acknowledge his powers, much less request their use. “I think so. Do you want to go to Liovard?”

“Sure. It's as good a place as any to start out. You know, Caim. You could come back with me. I'm sure Keegan would like having you around.”

Caim was tempted. He could imagine clearing the land around his father's estate, trying to rebuild the manor house. Raise some horses, or cattle maybe. But then the ache in his chest reminded him of all that he'd been through, and all that he'd lost. And there were his powers, only half-understood and never far beneath the surface. Being around ordinary people didn't seem wise. “Thanks anyway. You ready now?”

“Sure enough.” Malig looked around. “I got to hand it to you, Caim. You took us all the way to the edge of the world.”

Kit hugged the man around his middle. “Be good, you big ox.”

Malig chuckled and patted her on the head. When they separated, he picked up the sacks and squared his shoulders. “All right. Make with the magic before I lose my nerve.”

Caim opened the portal on the other side of the campfire. “Safe journey. Until we meet again.”

Malig stepped up to the black oval. “You think it's all right to leave Aemon buried out there? In the wastes, I mean. Seems awful far from home. And Dray. We don't even know where those bastards put his body.”

“They are together,” Kit said. “And at peace.”

Caim didn't know if Kit had some special knowledge, or if she was just trying to offer comfort, but Malig seemed to accept it. With a firm nod, he took a breath and jumped into the portal. Caim let it close behind him.

“Caim, look.”

He followed her gaze as streaks of cobalt appeared in the slate-gray sky. The blue turned to orange and then to a shimmering glow of pale gold as the sun broke over the horizon. Caim put his arm around Kit, and they watched the dawn sweep away the darkness for the first time in decades.

“So,” he said. “Now what?”

She slipped her arms around his neck. “We can go anywhere?”

“Anywhere you want.”

Kit trailed her fingertips across the tops of his ears and planted a kiss on his chin. “Surprise me.”

The portal opened behind Caim with hardly any effort. Kit laughed and let go of him, and he watched the rising sun for another moment. Light was returning to these wastes, but some darkness remained inside of him. He didn't see any shadows, but he felt them nearby. Watching him. Hungering.

Then Kit pulled him by the hand, with the sunlight flashing in her eyes, toward the portal and their future, and Caim forgot his worries.