The Shadow Prince

Part 2:
Entwined

3.

Duskcliff- Two Years Before The Battle of Stonefort

A horn echoed through the courtyard of the red stone fortress. Three blows, one right after the other. It had been a long time since anyone residing at Duskcliff had heard the horns blow like that. The warning blows echoed off the steep faces of the mountains that the fortress was built into. This message of warning had been carried by the lookouts at the watchtowers that dotted the southern border of Duskcliff’s domain.

Something… or someone… was coming.

“My Lady, a message came in on The Line,” A young Imperial soldier rushed up to Lady Anya Harrell as she entered the courtyard upon hearing the horn blow.

“Well, what is it?”

“Imperial Black knight, riding in haste by horseback. Possibly injured.” The soldier said. Anya’s stomach dropped. A single Black Knight? This couldn't possibly be good.

“How long until his arrival?” Anya asked, trying to remain calm.

“Within the hour.”

“Who else knows of this?”

“Only the Master of The Line.”

“Breathe a word to no one, return to the Master, and inform him to say nothing. I will prepare the men.” Anya said. The young soldier saluted her before rushing back to The Line room. Anya composed herself for a brief moment before heading to the front gates of the fortress. All around her Imperial Soldiers scurried to their posts.

Duskcliff was nearly a fortnight’s ride away from The Capitol and any fronts of battle within Baccora, yet, being a strategic ancient Fortress, soldiers were posted here anyway. Duskcliff was of little to no importance to The Chancellor and many of high rank down in the south, it was merely a formality to provide the fortress with a battalion of its own, even if it was a battalion of soldiers who wouldn’t ever last a day out in the real war.

For three years now, Anya acted as De Facto Wardoness of The Void, which entailed her also acting as Commander of the small battalion of soldiers. Despite Duskcliff being of little to no importance to anyone, Anya took pride in seeing to it that Duskcliff operated with as much precision as a southern fortress.

Anya raised her eyes skywards as she watched soldiers take their positions upon the upper battlements of the fortress walls. Around her men scurried and even women and children from the village beyond the walls tried to sneak into the security of the Fortress. When an old woman caught Anya’s eye, she bowed, fearing she would be chastised for seeing sanctuary.

“Go in peace, urge the others that followed you to take shelter in the kitchens.” Anya kindly said to the woman.

“Thank you, my Lady!” The woman said as she went on her way. As the old woman walked away, Anya took note of all the soldiers standing to attention around her.

“A Black Knight has been spotted riding in haste from The South.” Immediately fear struck the men, and she didn't blame them. The Black Knights were The Chancellor’s henchmen. They traveled the realm doing The Chancellor’s bidding. Their reputations were things of myth and legend. Wherever a Black Knight went, sorrow and dread quickly followed.

“I do not want you to be scared… or afraid. You are, in my opinion, the best soldiers north of the Forge River. Tend to the Knight’s horse, armor, and whatever else he might need upon his arrival. I will ensure that all are kept safe. Is that understood?” She said.

“We are the only soldiers north of The Forge River….” One young soldier whispered sound enough for Anya to hear.

“And you are the best soldiers…” She said, placing a steadying hand on his shoulder. Then, the horn blasted once more from the fortress’ watchtower. The Black Knight had been spotted.

Kian Garai shoved the heel of his boot harder into his horse’s side, urging the beast to ride faster. Hooves pounded against the earth and the animal’s breath huffed and puffed as it rode harder, eager to get its master aid. Two arrows stood protruding out of Kieran’s left shoulder and his black leather armor was caked in blood and dirt.

A momentary feeling of relief washed over Kieran as he caught the first glimpse of Duskcliff appearing in the distance, yet he knew he could not slow down, not now.

“Come on!” He shouted, whipping the reins of his horse.

Inside Duskcliff, soldiers stood at attention awaiting the arrival of their unexpected guest. The Knight and his horse thunderously entered the fortress courtyard through the open gates, and finally, the horse slowed to a stop.

Anya’s mouth hung open in shock upon seeing the two arrows sticking out of the Knights left shoulder. Motioning to her men, she urged them to take his horse.

Dismounting the beast, the knight staggered towards Anya and the soldiers.

“Where is your Commander?” The knight demanded, his voice deep and fear-inspiring.

“I am Lady Anya Harrell, I am acting Wardoness and Commander here,” Anya said, stepping forward. The Knight turned to look at her and took a surprised step back.

“I see that you are injured, I have a local healer available at the ready. Your horse will be cared for, and I will see to it that your armor is cleaned.” Anya continued.

“Is there a Line here?” That was all that the knight said.

“Yes. We’ve had one installed.”

“I need immediate communication to The Capitol.” He responded.

“Surely, but your injury…” The knight reached up and snapped the arrows in half, leaving now two shortened pieces of wood sticking out of his body.

“It can wait a few more minutes. It will not kill me.” He said.

“Please, follow me,” Anya said. Even with her back turned and her focus entirely on the path in front of her, Anya could sense just how much the knight towered a good three heads taller than her as he followed closely behind.

Kian had heard stories about Duskcliff, how it was an ancient fortress, and how the least favorable of soldiers were always sent to serve here. For some reason, he had pictured that the Commander and Warden of the fortress would be an old frail man, not a beautiful young woman.

Anya looked over her shoulder and gave him a polite smile. He had to admit to himself that she was very beautiful. She had thick blond hair tightly braided and running down her back. When she looked at him over her shoulder, the light hit her eyes revealing to him that they were a unique shade of green, unlike any he had seen before. He couldn't help but smirk under the helmet he wore on his head that concealed his identity.

He had spent a lifetime in the service of The Chancellor, and more recently, on the road and in the wilderness alone. It had been a very long time since he had been able to lay eyes on a beautiful woman.

“Here we are.” She said, motioning to a small outbuilding on the far side of the fortress courtyard. Inside the outbuilding, an old man sat at The Line operation board with a look of both awe and terror on his face at the sight of the Black Knight which eclipsed the entire doorway.

“I know how to operate it myself, this is confidential.” He said. Immediately the Master of The Line vacated his seat and fled the outbuilding.

“While you make the connection, may I get you anything? Some water perhaps?” Anya asked. The question was innocent, yet it shocked him. He was a Black Knight, he was accustomed to people running in terror from him, not wanting to bring him water. He turned to look at her, and through the visor of his helmet, he met her eyes. Her presence was a calming one to him, inviting and balanced.

“Water would be sufficient.” He sternly said.

“Of course, I will knock when I return.” She curtsies before leaving him alone in The Line building.

Kian removed his helmet and sat down on the comically small chair that sat in front of the operation board. The Line was new technology, an innovation of its kind, it allowed the entire nation to be connected in a previously impossible way. Of course, it was heavily regulated but the Empire and was only used for military or official communication, but it was groundbreaking nonetheless.

Kian began to take the tiny metal plugs attached to various wires and connect them to the Sun Boxes. Sun Boxes were an innovation as well, tiny boxes filled with a unique combination of chemicals which when the metal plugs were inserted, would heat rapidly and output tiny bolts of lightning, which could then be harvested to send messages down The Line. It was all a complicated system, but once combined in its final form, made for the most innovative form of communication Baccora had ever seen.

With the machine fully powered and fired up, Kian began to send little pulses down The Line. The Line itself was a thick wire of metal that was now weaved across Baccora. In many places, it hung on tall poles right out in the open, and in other places, it was buried deep beneath the earth. It was a security risk, yes, given that rebels could easily destroy parts of the exposed Line, but the whole system itself was heavily guarded, and the code used to communicate was only known by a few.

With his communication pulses sent, Kian waited. It took a minute or two, but soon the return pulses began. Buzzing in the corner, the transcriber began punching holes in a unique pattern that only Kian could read.

“I have already been told of your failure to squash the rebels hiding in the northern regions. Twenty-one elite soldiers you had at your back, and you were the only survivor. Pathetic. I command you to stay at Duskcliff until my favor returns to you. Do not attempt to contact me again.”

Kian read and reread the message over and over again. It came directly from The Chancellor himself, using the code only he knew how to read. Kian sat in the chair dumbfounded. Banished? Had he just been banished? Was that what this was? All these years forced to serve The Chancellor as his prisoner, pet, and now attack dog, and The Chancellor had now essentially banished him.

Freedom. Kian had been hoping for freedom after this mission. He had hoped that it would have been enough to win The Chancellor’s favor for him to allow him to be free. Now it was clear that would never happen.

Rising from the tiny chair, Kian crumpled up the piece of paper, balling his fists in rage. Anger and hate began to bubble forth in him and his initial instinct was to want to rip apart the entire control board of The Line, but just as he was about to raise his fists in anger, he heard a knock on the door.

Swallowing his rage, Kian turned to the door and flung it open. He was met with the sight of Lady Anya holding a tray that contained bread, cheese, a glass, and a pitcher of water. Anya’s eyes were wide as she took in the sight before her. There were descriptions of many Black Knights that drifted their way up to Duskcliff, but none of them matched the description of this Knight.

This Knight stood before her, tall, with his frame taking up the entire doorway. He had thick dark hair that cascaded down passed his ears in flowing waves. The strong chiseled bone structure of his face was distinct, and his eyes a deep hazel color.

No, this had to be the one Knight no one dared to speak of. The one Knight who, muttering his true name out loud was treason.

Kian Garai, the stolen Prince of Baccora

“I… I brought you water and I thought you would like something to eat after your long journey.” Anya forced herself to say, removing herself from the paralyzed state the sight of his face put her in.

Without saying a word, Kian reached out and took the bread off the platter. Not knowing really what else to do. Anya stepped inside The Line room and, after placing the tray down on a table, began to pour him a glass of water.

“Did your message go through?” She asked, “We sometimes have issues with the connection.”

“It did. The Chancellor wishes for me to station myself here for the time being.” He said, his eyes fixed on her back as she poured him the glass. Anya was absolutely positive that the man standing before her was Prince Kian. Her hands shook as she lifted the glass of water. Taking a quiet cleansing breath, she turned, and with a smile handed him the glass.

“I have our local healers ready to tend to your wounds.” She said as he gulped down the liquid. With the bread and cheese eaten, Anya led the Knight out of the outbuilding and towards the main hall of the fortress.

“We do not get many visitors this far north. I will have rooms prepared for you, but for tonight you may take my chambers until rooms befitting your station can be made up.” Anya said.

“Befitting my station?” He questioned her. Anya took in a sharp breath of air. Even acknowledging who Kieran was could be considered treason.

“As a Black Knight, my Lord, you are a high-ranking member of The Chancellor’s personal guard.” Anya quickly explained.

“That won’t be necessary, I can sleep in the barracks or stables.”

“Nonsense. I’ll see to it you have lodgings if you stay here for a while.” Anya said they entered the main hall of the fortress. On the inside, it looked just like any other stately home of an ancient family. Tall windows let in plenty of light, and ancient tapestries adorned the walls. As they walked through the stately rooms, servants gawked at the sight of a legendary Black Knight.

Adrenaline began to wear off and the pain in Kieran’s shoulder began to increase. He had been ignoring this festering wound for too long. Kieran expected the Lady to take him to whatever chambers that were supposed to be his for the night, but instead, she took him directly to the kitchens.

“Our healers here are Voidari healers, they do not speak the common tongue, so I will have to translate for you.”

“You speak Voidari?” Kieran asked as he took in the sight of the three elder women before him. The kitchens were warm and busy. A raging fire roared in the hearth of the kitchen with pots of steaming food hanging over its flames. A large wooden work table stood at the very center and above it hung various bundles of dried herbs hanging from the rafters.

“I am half Voidari.” She said with a smile. The three older women kindly motioned for him to sit in the chair in front of them. The menacing Knight was not one to ever like to be told what to do. He often stitched his own wounds or ignored them long enough till they healed on their own. Having healers fuss over him was something he never allowed, yet, the presence of these Voidari women piqued his curiosity.

They began to speak in a language Kian had never heard before. The sound of it was rich and it flowed with curly R’s and sharp S’s.

“They are going to remove your armor very carefully. It will hurt.” Anya said to him. Kian gritted his teeth as the three elder women removed the thick black leather armor he wore. They moved carefully around what was left of the arrows. One of them placed her wrinkled hand on his shoulder and began speaking.

“They say it is not deep. Your armor took most of the impact, but it will still hurt.” Anya translated. One of the elder women stood in front of him and in, what he could only describe as a kind tone, began to speak to him.

“They need to remove your undershirt now.” Anya translated. Kian nodded as the last layer of clothing was removed.

He was bloodied, dirty, and reeked, but still, Anya gawked. Beneath all those layers was a strong, muscular man with broad shoulders and a strong chiseled chest. One of the healers spoke again.

“They are going to pull out the arrows now,” Anya said. With fluid precision, the first arrow was tugged from his flesh. Kian gritted his teeth and punched his own leg to dull the pain. One of the women spoke again.

“This next one is the worst of the two. Here…” Anya said, extending her hand to him. Kian looked at her in confusion. “You can squeeze my hand.” She explained. Hesitantly, Kian took her hand in his and held on tightly as the second of the two arrows was plucked from his body. He loudly cursed as the pain reached its peak.

“That’s it then. They will stitch you up now and take you to a room to bathe. I will take your armor down to our armory to be cleaned and repaired. Fresh clothes will be brought to your chambers.” She said, quickly dropping his hand, which he hadn't realized he was still holding on to.

“Thank you…” He uttered as she left the kitchens. “Thank you” was not a phrase Kian often uttered to people. Anya carefully picked up his armor, which had more weight to it than expected, curtsied politely, and left the room.