Shadows of Time: Shadow Maiden (6 page)

“Maggot! ‘Ey, you filthy beast, get up,
before I chop off your mangy horns and use ‘em as an ass
scratcher!” Fanger kicked him in the rump, sending a puff of dirt
that had been caked in his companion’s fur drifting through the
air.

“OWWWW! You should know I’m of a rather
delicate composition. My poor mum said so herself, she did.”

“I don’t care if she said you were a fairy
princess, get up!” Fanger grabbed the cowering Phooka by the horn
and dragged him up to his feet. “Come on, we’ll be leaving any
minute now and those damn slaves are still snoozing away. We need
to get them out and ready to march and pull that blasted machine!
Are you listening?”

Maggot snapped his eyes back to his,
scratching at his chin like he was going to say something best left
unsaid. “Oh yes. Do you know what’s for breakfast?”

I wonder how hard I would have to hit him for
him to not remember I hit him at all.

“Maggot. Dear, sweet, simple Maggot.” Fanger
tried his best to form a natural smile. Instead his snout curled up
in an instinctual snarl.

“Yes… my sweet, sweet dearie Fanger.” Maggot
played the coy maiden, batting his stubby eyelashes and giving his
best bashful smile

.“GET TO WORK!” Maggot scurried away before
Fanger’s swinging fist could catch him. Fanger snorted, huffing
over his disappointment that he had missed his chance to leave some
remarkable bruises.

Fanger staggered over to the war machine.
Maggot had already begun unlocking the wheels. They stood towering
over him, with spokes measuring as long as hip to heal. Fanger
could hear him panting as the squeal of unoiled metal warbled
through the air.

Fanger stepped up to the door to the
undercarriage where the slaves slept, fiddling with a tarnished
brass key. He shoved it into the lock, and instead of the familiar
click, the door squealed away from him.
Damn it. We did it
again
.

“Rise and shine, time for another wonderful
day!
On your feet, or you’ll be tasty meat
, that’s what I
always say. Not that any of you worms look tasty. Maggot might
disagree with the likes of me, wouldn’t you, my dirty little
Maggot?”

Maggot popped his head in the door, once
again fluttering his grimy eyelashes. “Did somebody say meat?”

Fanger’s fist barely managed to graze
Maggot’s cheek as he dashed back outside.

One day I’ll get him right where it
hurts.

“Come on, now! UP!” Fanger’s eyes quickly
adjusted to the pitch black inside the war machine. Small wafting
motes spun from the ceiling to glimmer in the early morning rays.
If his senses weren’t assaulted by the rank smell of human piss it
would have been almost beautiful.

Suddenly stiff, jerky limbs came alive,
trying to pull and push their waiflike bodies to their feet. He
watched them, smirking at their pale, shaking bodies. They seemed
to be getting weaker.
That won’t do at all. ‘Bout time to get
some fresh pairs of legs.
He kicked at one body that took
longer rising than the others. Only one human would dare do that to
him.

“Amaeya! I’m in no mood for your games! The
Chief will want you by his side today, he will, especially after a
night like last night!”

Fanger snatched the fraying blanket from the
body, growling at her sluggishness. His body froze with his yellow
eyes wide as an owls as he studied the corpse before him. The
human’s face was contorted in a mixture of pain and fear, but that
wasn’t the worst of it. Large splinters of wood stuck out of its
face. One very bloody sliver stuck out of its neck, blood
congealing into a slime with a strong, biting metallic smell.

Fanger kicked the body, enraged that he had
allowed himself to be frightened by such a pathetic sight. He
grabbed the nearest slave by the throat and pulled him upright.

“What happened here? What did this? Tell me
now or I’ll gut you!” Fanger’s eyes had paled to almost white. He
was mere inches from uncontrollable panic.

The slave’s head lolled up to look at him,
its eyes glazed over like dirty glass marbles. Its mouth opened
only to gurgle and moan.

Fanger roared, drawing his sword and pressing
the hungry steel against the human’s bulging neck. Its empty eyes
rolled around its head until they stared up and over his head. He
noticed the shuffling and scraping sounds of the other slaves had
ceased. They all stood staring, unmoving as withered trees.

He shoved the human away from him, gripping
his sword tight in preparation for whatever stood behind him

Fanger whirled around, ready to fight. His
mouth flew open and his sword fell from his fingers, clanging on
the dirty ground. His eyes darted around the scene, sensing there
was far worse trouble than the mangled Phookan that hung from the
wall like a rotting trophy
. The chain!

His hands snatched the empty manacles lying
on the floor.

Two pairs. One for Amaeya, and the other? The
wizard. Damn him!

He clenched his teeth, trying with all his
might to resist howling with rage. This had to be kept quiet and
under control. He had to find them or find someone else to place
the blame. Finding them would be out of the question. His absence
would raise one too many eye brows.

Now to find someone to point the finger
at.

“Hey Fanger,” Maggot filled the doorway, his
frazzled head cocked to the side, “how much longer are you going to
be? I smell someone’s breakfast going to waste and you know—”

Maggot’s eyes snapped wide open at the
dribbling corpse. Fanger had already picked up his sword from the
soiled hay below. Their eyes met for only an instant before Fanger
could feel his hands clawing for the imbecile’s throat. He slammed
the back of Maggot’s head into a heavy wooden beam, sending his
cohort’s eyes lolling into his skull. Maggot slid down onto the
floor, his head bobbing onto his chest. Fanger grabbed his flask
and doused the Phooka in dragon whiskey.

Fanger heaved the wretched creature onto his
shoulders. He began the promenade straight to Chief Al’Rul, working
out the final details of Maggot’s folly in his whirring mind and
fighting hard not to grin at the crowd of laughing Phooka through
his gritted teeth.

***

Astrid hopped from tile to tile, humming and
smiling a clever smirk. She had once again outwitted her nanny from
dressing her in her princess best. She hated frilly, fluffy
clothes, and for some reason everyone felt it their duty to keep
her covered head to toe with such frivolities. Anya, on the other
hand, adored being dressed up and pampered like a coveted doll. Her
cousins that lived on the far side of the palace were just as silly
as her twin. Even the boys enjoyed braiding their long golden hair
and parading in colorful silks.

Pft. Stupid prissy girl. Why couldn’t I be an
only child?

Her bare toes were numb against the frosty
stone. She soon grew bored of her skipping game and wandered
further down the corridor. A nearby door creaked open and shut with
a bang. She dashed for a quick hiding spot behind one of the many
large tapestries lining the hall. The servants usually didn’t
linger in the royal sleeping quarters past noon, but she couldn’t
be too careful. Her old croon of a nanny seemed to always be on the
prowl, watching like a vulture watches a young pup, waiting for
Astrid to lower her guard.

She hid with her hand clamped over her mouth
to keep her breathing hushed. Heavy feet shuffled down the shady
corridor. A faint laughing floated through the air, along with a
chill breeze. Light drained from the sun lit hall like blood from a
dying man’s face. Fear squeezed around her heart, holding tighter
with each beat.

Anya rounded the corner into the gaping
corridor.

No! Turn around! No, no, no!

Astrid’s twin looked up from her doll,
straining her eyes to see what was standing before her. The
darkness crept down the hall, its shadowy fingers reaching out like
a spider’s embrace. Astrid wanted to run out to Anya, but she was
rigid with fear, caught in the spider’s web.

Anya stared with empty, emotionless eyes at
the approaching figure. She didn’t move. She hardly even seemed to
breathe.

What is she doing? Run! Fight back! Do
something!

Astrid’s fingernails dug into her cheek while
tears burned at her eyes. She didn’t know what to do. She would
have given anything to somehow wake up to her mother’s soft,
comforting voice. Despite pinching herself and shaking her head
violently, the nightmare remained.

She could see a cloak seeping from the edge
of the tapestry. It stretched open before her sister, yawning wide
like the mouth of a hungry beast, until finally it swallowed her
whole.

The corridor immediately brightened. Birds
chirped away as if nothing had happened, basking in the burning
haze of the noonday sun.

Astrid crumpled to the floor, her hand
falling away from her tear slicked face. She did not know what to
do. She hugged her legs and pressed her face against her knees.

“What are you doing behind there?”

Her head popped up to find Anya pulling back
the heavy tapestry, an old and scornful look on her young face. “I
said what are you doing? This isn’t another one of your childish
games, is it?”

“But I thought, no I saw you… there was a
monster, you didn’t even flinch.”

Anya folded her arms, furrowing her brow like
a withered old woman. “Why do you always have to lie about
everything? I’m sick of it! And I’m sick of you.”

Astrid looked up at her sister, regretting
every tear she had shed for her.

“I didn’t lie about it! I saw it!” Astrid
jumped to her feet, raking the tears from her cheeks. Her face
burned with fury.

“So what was it, another one of your monsters
come to gobble you up? I’m surprised you’re not running off to
mother. That’s what you always do. Babies always go crying to
mommy,” Anya said, miming a frightful little girl with her
glassy-eyed doll.

Astrid’s face blazed red as hot breath poured
from her nostrils and sweat simmered on her forehead. She lunged at
her twin in a fiery rage, pulling at her hair, scratching at her
face, doing anything to hurt her. Anya batted at her, bawling and
whimpering, trying to get away.

Neither girl had noticed the servants
gathering in the corridor until unseen arms dragged them apart.
Astrid’s arms struggled to get free while her feet kicked
everything in their way. “I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU!” She kept
screaming to the point where it almost seemed like breathing. She
no longer knew the words that came out only that they had to or
else she felt she would die.

“Astrid! Astrid, stop this! Stop this now!”
Her mother’s voice cut through her sobs like the sobering prick of
the fingertip on a rose’s thorn.

Astrid couldn’t see at first through the
sweat and tears, stinging holes into her eyes. Her small chest
heaved and shook with each breath. Her mother looked down at her
with an expression of pity and anger.

“Astrid. I don’t know what to say to you
right now. Maybe it’s best this way. I want you to spend the rest
of the day in your room. The door will be locked. I want you to
think about why I’m doing this. And I want you to know that I
never, ever want to see you stoop to such a level again. I’m
ashamed to call you mine.” Her mother’s voice was a string strung
too tightly, seconds from breaking.

“But mother please don’t, please. You don’t
understand.” Astrid’s eyes begged for any signs of compassion, but
none came.

“Not another word,” her mother said, her
voice strengthening to a queen’s rumble, and turned away to whisper
orders in a nearby servant’s ear.

“It serves you right!” Anya stood with a
triumphant smirk on her lips and a purple bruise swelling on her
cheek.

Evanna spun around, her finger stabbing into
the air like a lightning bolt. “And you, young lady, will be locked
in my bedroom for the rest of the day. I know you had more to do
with this than it seems, as usual. Trust me when I say I’m ashamed
of you both.” Their mother’s green eyes cut into each of the girls
one last time before she proceeded back to the throne room.

Astrid was lifted up and carried away, her
body limp and tired from struggling with the world. She could hear
Anya howling in protest further down the corridor and couldn’t help
but smile. However, she couldn’t help but think about the strange
monster that she had seen.

It was so much like a dream, but it couldn’t
have been. Could it?

She was laid out on her bed by a bustling
group of servants. They left a tray of food on a nearby table and
scampered out as fast as their feet could carry them. The door
hushed closed and the lock clicked. She sighed and nestled her head
into the soft pillow. The silence welcomed her like an old
friend.

I wish I could always be alone like this.
Nobody to fight with, nobody to make angry. Just me to take care of
and no one else.

She yawned wide as her eyes drifted
closed.

How I wish I lived alone.

All on my own.

The world as my home.

Free to roam, no bratty sister, no binding
stones,

Alone, alone, alone!

Astrid smiled, wondering what her father
would think of her rhyme.

Lestel paced within his mind. At least,
that’s what he perceived himself to be doing. Half of his
consciousness was left linked to his body, subject to be turned on
or off whenever Luthen saw fit. The other half was spent trapped in
an imagined prison.

The walls were bare and smelled of must. The
scene was eerily similar to that of the tower chamber, only this
time Lestel was the corpse left to rot. The only differences were
the furnishings. A large mirror, at least four hands taller than
him, leaned up against the wall and a round gray candle burned
lazily on the floor. The frame of the mirror was made of thick
black branches twisted with razor sharp thorns and the glass
nothing but swirling fog.