Two Shadows
“You do not need to learn mathematics,” a stout woman insisted, and she glared at Ellanie. Rigidly, she pointed at the counter. “Now, cut the onions like I showed you!”
“Because a woman’s place is in the kitchen?”
“And everywhere else in the house that needs her expertise and attention!” The stout woman squared her jaw. “No home functions without a deep understanding of what it takes to maintain it. And don’t get me started on childcare!”
“That’s okay, the math gets weird there. Explain to me how one man plus one woman equals one couple. Add nine months, and suddenly it equals one headache. Seems like the units aren’t matching up.”
“My, but you are willful! I will not be teaching you any math.”
“Too late.” Ellanie crossed her arms. “We already went over how to use addition, subtraction, multiplication, division, and fractions in baking. It follows that if I ever want to divide up cakes and pies to account for an unexpected number of guests, maybe geometry and trigonometry would be worth exploring. If it’s beyond you, I can ask Kel. He’s one of Ortog’s teachers.”
“Kel has too much self-respect to teach any woman anything.” She huffed. “Trust me.”
Ellanie shrugged. “He used to think I was a boy. Maybe he still does.”
“You’re thirteen now, Ellanie. You couldn’t pass for a boy if you tried.” Fiercely, she pointed at the counter again. “Onions! Now!”
Ellanie groaned and trudged to the pile of onions that awaited her. She picked up a kitchen knife, and with a sigh, took an onion in hand. “Fine,” she grumbled. With a longitudinal slash through its skin, she peeled it in one fluid motion.
“Good.” The instructor adjusted her bonnet and stepped closer. “Very good.”
“Thank you.”
“And thank you for returning to your senses.”
This is so stupid, thought Ellanie. Her eyes watered as she chopped up the onion. Ugh… At least there’s only nineteen more to go…
♦ ♦ ♦
Ortog sat in front of an open, leather-bound tome that rested atop a wooden study. The gray brick walls of a small room surrounded him. Torchlight guttered from wall sconces, and a wide candle burned at the edge of the desk. Firelight glinted from an illustrated page that detailed the events of a famous conflict, and Ortog yawned as he turned the page.
A reedy man loomed at his back. “Excuse me, child. Do you find the Battle of Silver Gorge boring?”
“No.” Ortog turned heavy eyes toward his tutor. “Wooden swords weigh almost as much as steel ones, and my arm hurts. I’m tired.”
“When I’ve quizzed you on this section, and I’m satisfied with your understanding of it, you may return to your home. Not before.”
Ortog slumped over the desk. “But it’s obvious what King Elward is going to do! The knights from Fharang are marching through Silver Gorge. With the rain moving in, they’re basically trapped there. When the mud flows, Elward’s forces will drop rocks from the ridge, knocking over the knights and stranding them on their backs. Like turtles, flipped upside down. Then Elward’s forces will just walk down into the ravine and slaughter them all.”
His tutor blinked rapidly, and he gritted his teeth.
“I’m right, aren’t I?” Muttering, Ortog added, “Or else, we’d all be speaking Fharangan right now.”
“Read it, anyway.”
Ortog took a deep breath. “Don’t worry, I will.” He focused on the page before him.
♦ ♦ ♦
The door creaked open, and Ortog trudged through the doorway into a cozy living room. Orgroth and Ognara smiled to see him. “There’s beef stew in the kitchen, if you’re hungry.” Ognara stood up and hugged her son. “Tough day?”
“Yeah.” He leaned against her. “Can you get some stew for me?”
“You’re ten yours old,” Orgroth reminded him. “You can get your own food. The kitchen is just down the hall.”
“Never mind, then. I’m not that hungry.”
“Really?”
Ortog nodded.
Ognara asked, “Still nervous about talking to the kitchen staff?”
After a beat, Ortog nodded again.
“You need to be brave in all things, my son.” She smiled kindly. “Eventually. Getting your own stew is a good way to challenge yourself.”
“Okay.” Ortog plopped down on a dining room chair. “Is Aidan coming over?”
“And Morgan and Little Eaun too, I expect.”
“How come Isobel never comes over anymore?”
“I imagine it’s because she’s grown too old for toy soldiers and wooden pull-dragons.”
“She’s only a year older than Ellanie, and Ellanie still plays dragons and knights with me.”
Ognara chuckled. “And that’s just one of the many reasons she’s your best friend.”
“I’ll never be too old for my toys.” Ortog crossed his arms on the table and leaned his head on his arms. “I just need to rest for a minute.” He yawned and closed his eyes.
Quietly, he snored.
“He fell asleep,” Orgroth chuckled. “Our son’s going to be hungry when he wakes up.”
Ognara sighed and shook her head. “I’ll be right back. The stew will be cold by the time he wakes up, but I’m sure he won’t mind. Better than foraging for kitchen scraps.”
Ortog awoke to the sounds of Arangyle’s sons playing with his toys. Aidan raised the pull-dragon and roared loud enough to startle his younger brothers. Ortog devoured his bowl of room temperature beef and potato stew, made his way to the kitchen, cleaned his bowl and spoon, and hurried home. With a grin, he scooped up his favorite toy soldier and squared off against the wooden dragon.
Getting into character, Ortog declared, “I’m not afraid of you, Mountain Worm!”
Doing his best impression of a dragon’s voice, Aidan bared his teeth and snarled, “You will be!”
The soldier collided directly with the dragon. Emboldened, Morgan and Eaun managed battle cries of their own and thrust their own toy soldiers into the pitched melee. They rapidly turned into a swirling pile of scuffling, roars, and laughter.
Later that night, someone knocked on the door, and Orgroth pulled it open. “Countess Elspaith.” He bowed at the waist. “Eaun’s been asleep for about an hour. Almost as long as Morgan’s been yawning.” He glanced at the hearth, where Ortog sat across from Aidan. “Our son’s been gushing about the Battle of Silver Gorge, and either Aidan’s genuinely interested, or he’s too polite to say anything.”
“He’s never that polite.” Elspaith snickered, and she raised her voice in a motherly way. “Alright boys, it’s time to go home!” She stooped down and lifted Eaun into her arms. He smiled contentedly and draped over her shoulder.
Aidan and Morgan protested, but Elspaith was adamant. “You can finish hearing about ancient battles tomorrow.”
Reluctantly, the boys gathered behind her, and she led them into the stone hallway beyond. She closed the door halfway and turned around. “Until tomorrow?”
“Until tomorrow,” Orgroth replied.
Ognara smiled and waved. “Good night, Countess.”
“Good night.” Elspaith latched the door and strolled down the hall with her boys in tow.
Orgroth snuffed the candles, and he joined Ognara in the bedroom.
Ortog lay down on a mat of hay in the living room corner and adjusted his blanket until it covered him completely. He rolled on his side, and his mind raced.
♦ ♦ ♦
A quiet tap thumped from the bottom of the front door, and the noise drew Ortog from his sleep. He stood on his tiptoes but wasn’t quite tall enough to make use of the door’s vision panel. With a groan, Ortog crouched and peered through the bottom gap. “Oh! Hi, Ellanie. What are you doing here?”
“Just saying hi.”
“I’m glad you did.” He smiled. “What’s on your mind?”
“Were you sleeping?”
“Not really.”
“Good. You need to see something.”
“What is it?”
She glanced around to make sure she was still alone. “It’s a secret, so I can’t say anything. But I can show you. Okay? Come on!”
“Where are we going?”
“North, to the edge of the forest.”
“I like the forest! And it’s a double full moon tonight.” Ortog’s heart raced. “Okay, let’s go!” He stood up, nodded, and squatted back down. “My parents will hear if I open the door.”
Ellanie placed her hand against the jamb. Motes and sparks floated from her palm into the hinges. “No, they won’t.”
“How do you know?”
“I just do.”
Ortog took a deep breath. “Okay, but it always creaks. They’re going to wake up, and we’re both going to get in trouble.”
“It won’t creak.”
“Okay.” Wincing, he pulled on the door.
It glided silently open.
Ellanie met his astonished gaze. “Told you.” She grinned. “Come on!”
“How did you do that?” he whispered.
“Come on!”
He put on his boots and followed Ellanie along the stone halls of the castle keep. They emerged into an ivy-covered horse corral, bathed in the silver light of two full moons. Across the way at the corral’s wooden gate, a watchman sat on a stool, slumped against the wall’s cool stone, and he dozed.
Moving quietly, Ellanie and Ortog headed west along the city’s cobblestone byways. Laughter and music rose from the inns and taverns, and someone on a nearby upper floor dumped the liquid contents of a wooden bucket into an alleyway.
They reached the warehouses near the coastal elevator, where longshoremen finished up their workday with calls, jokes, and laughter, and promises to return to the grind come morning. As soon as no one was looking, Ellanie led Ortog to a grassy depression between a boarded up building and the city wall. The grass gave way to a shallow gap, and they climbed inside.
The passage was dark, winding, and much narrower than Ortog preferred. They pushed through and emerged on the north side of the city wall, covered in scratches and dirt. Ellanie glanced up and pressed her hand against Ortog’s chest. A chill wind blew from the sea, and they both shivered as she watched the shadows of a patrolman pass by the ramparts overhead.
A chorus of bullfrogs croaked from the north, accompanied by the trickle of a flowing creek. Crickets roared from all around, and the grasses ahead of them bowed as rodents scurried along. An owl hooted and swooped down, gripped something in its talons, and winged back up into the sky.
Ellanie whispered, “Okay, go!”
They raced north through the grass, heading for the forest’s edge.
It took them an hour to reach it.
Ellanie studied the trees. “This way.” She led Ortog down a steep, leaf-covered slope to an old, gnarled oak at the base of a muddy ravine. She crouched at its roots and gestured for Ortog to keep his distance.
Awkwardly, he stood, and he watched. “What are we waiting for?”
Fiercely, she shushed him.
“I was just asking,” he muttered.
As gentle as moonlight at first, a glow appeared above the oak’s twisted trunk. Gradually, it glowed brighter as it took a towering form. Ellanie’s heart raced as the visitor completed its manifestation: a spectral duplicate of herself, but easily twice her height. It mirrored her movements, smiled when she smiled, and twirled in place just as she did. “This is my secret!” Ellanie beamed. “Isn’t she amazing?”
“Isn’t who amazing?”
Ellanie pointed at her giant twin. “Her name is Emyr. You can’t see her?”
In the shadows on the far side of the ravine, movement caught Ortog’s eye. “Oh, wait. Maybe I can.” He pointed across the way. “Is that her?”
Ellanie looked where he pointed. “No, she’s right here. What are you looking at?”
Moonlight gleamed in the black eyes that met Ortog’s gaze, and he shivered. “I don’t know,” he breathed. The shadowy head they belonged to tilted slightly; it uttered a surprised huff just before it loped away. Its movements sounded like leaves rustling in the wind.
“Hold on.” Ellanie focused on the spectral apparition. “I asked her to show herself to you, and she’s going to try.”
“Okay.” Ortog shivered again, and goose bumps covered his skin. He hugged himself and rapidly rubbed his hands against his arms.
“She says to try not looking directly at her. Sometimes that helps.”
“I’ll try.” He looked off to the side, and for a moment, he saw Emyr in the corner of his eye. She was smiling happily, independent of Ellanie, but the instant he looked directly at her, she was gone. “She’s huge!”
“I know!”
“Except for the height, Emyr looks exactly the same as you.”
Ellanie nodded. “She likes you.” She laughed joyfully. “I knew she would!”
“What is she?”
“I don’t know. She says she was originally part of Deomyr, but that now she isn’t. I don’t know who Deomyr is. If stand within her long enough, I take some of her energy with me, and it lets me do amazing things.” She stepped close and grabbed Ortog’s hands. “Magical things!”
“Like what?”
“Like silencing the door.” Her smile practically glowed. “I can make light and shadows, too, and I’m learning to craft detailed illusions.”
He looked suddenly and gravely concerned. “She’s not hurting you, is she?”
Ellanie scoffed. “Please! No, she’d never do that. She only wants to help me.”
Ortog whispered, “Did you ask your dad who Deomyr is?”
“Not yet. The name isn’t anywhere in his field journal, so he probably doesn’t know either.” She gazed at her ethereal twin. “To be honest, I haven’t asked him, because I don’t want this to end. Whatever this is.”
“But what if Deomyr is dangerous?”
Ellanie shrugged. “Then I’m glad Emyr isn’t part of it anymore.”
“So am I.”
She faced the apparition and nodded. “I understand.”
“Understand what?” Ortog asked.
“Emyr says she has to leave soon. Hold on.” She closed her eyes, and Emyr filled Ellanie’s senses with warmth and light. The feeling faded like the setting sun, and Ellanie exhaled deeply. “Okay, we should probably get back.” She crossed her lips with her index finger. “You can’t tell anyone, okay?”
“Not a word.” He stared at the far side of the ravine, but nothing else caught his eye. A deep chill settled within him—one he couldn’t shake during the whole walk back to the city.
They climbed through the gap, crept along the city streets, and returned to the ivy-covered horse corral.
Once more within the safety of the keep, Ellanie and Ortog hurried home.
The door creaked when he opened it, and he hurried over to his bed.
In response to the sound, Orgroth stumbled out of the bedroom and checked the latch. He rubbed his eyes and stood over Ortog, for all appearances, fast asleep. He yawned and stumbled back to bed.
Ortog’s mind raced. The memory of the creature’s black eyes burned into his mind.