Page 8 of Return of the Darkness
“Are you a god?”
“Would it make a difference if I was?” he asked, and Elisarashrugged.
“It will help me to determine how easy it will be to kill you.” With a flourish of her hand, the shadow wall squirmed with snakes of smoke and light.
“Interesting,” Caligh said, monitoring the shadowed wall again. “How our powers differ.”
“I’m not particularly concerned. I would rather be as different from you as possible.” Elisara sensed her army growing restless—the man beneath the shadows, who had taken to being by her side throughout the battle, wished to push through the wall. She did not know why she listened to his feelings, but silently, she granted him permission.
“For the love of Makaria,” Arik cursed under his breath behind Elisara. She glanced over her shoulder to find him backing away from her newfound protector, who materialised through the wall and stood directly at his side. Two heads taller than Arik, he was closer to Osiris in height. Elisara imagined her protector looking the boy up and down, assessing. She sensed he was extremely critical at some point in his life. Tajana’s chains clinked as Osiris shifted, eyeing the protector with a wary look.
The shadow was quiet as he strode to Elisara, positioning himself on her right, just a single step behind her. Caligh raised an eyebrow.
“Are you a soul I took?” Caligh asked. Her protector did not move. “You should know, Queen Elisara, not every soul in that sword was killed unjustly. Some are trapped for a reason.” A soft shadow caressed her mind, keeping her from looking at Osiris. She wondered if he, too, was once trapped in the sword for a reason. Perhaps he would be more dangerous were he not indebted to Caligh.
“It does not matter why they were in the sword. All that matters is they now answer to me.” Lifting her chin, Elisara surrendered her hold on the army. Hundreds of shadows drifted through the falling wall, shoulder to shoulder. Endless rows encircled thespace—an impenetrable barrier against the copper and Novisian soldiers. Shadowed creatures circled overhead, and Elisara spared a thought for Talia, wondering if she was among them.
“So, you have no intention of freeing them?” Caligh asked curiously. Elisara did not answer. Even if she wished to free them, she did not know how. “It doesn’t matter either way, I suppose,” he hummed. “Even when you free them, they remain bound to you, indebted until you choose to release them.”
“Or someone else frees them,” Osiris chimed in solemnly.
“You have become far too confident in recent days, boy,” snapped Caligh, glaring at him. Elisara looked at Osiris, who stared intently at her. “Come closer.” Caligh bent his finger towards Osiris, who dragged his feet against the sand. The chain in his hand continued to clink as it pulled Tajana forward, with Arik following. Elisara willed her shadows to take a silent step—just one, quiet enough to go unnoticed. “It is not only you who owes me a debt, because of the sword or otherwise.” Elisara lost interest in the pair, prompting the shadows to take another step forward. From her peripheral vision, she sensed people trying to push through.
It was like she felt the well of their powers—the rush of the ocean, a fire’s blaze, overwhelming strength. The rulers were trying to reach her. With a silent command, her shadows parted to allow them entry. Larelle and Alvan stepped behind Caligh; a spiral of water snaked around the pair, hovering where commanded and aimed at the enemy. Caligh’s shadows moved around him instinctively. On Elisara’s left, Caellum and Sadira appeared, hand in hand, while spiked vines wove in and out of the sand towards their shared enemy. Nyzaia and Farid joined Elisara’s right-hand side; fire blazed up the queen’s arms, matching the brightness of the flames on Farid’s wings. The rulers watched Elisara, their pity leaving a bitter taste in her mouth as she avoided their eyes.
“Ah, everyone is here.” Caligh threw his arms in the air and turned in a circle. “Have you all come to witness the great essence of Sitara bow to me? The return of old lore, the one who will helpyour Kingdom fall.” Elisara ground her teeth, frustrated with the showmanship. Silently, her army took another step closer. They were still too far. The circular space they had formed was no smaller than three throne rooms. “Enough!” Caligh shouted, spinning to face Elisara. “Do you think I cannot sense the shadows moving in or detect their slightest movements, even if they are not my own?” His arrogance vanished, replaced with distaste as he scowled at Vala’s queen and began pacing. “You can come willingly, or I will make you, like I have done with so many others.” Caligh glanced at Caellum and smirked. “It was so easy to get in the minds of those in Novisia, so easy to convince them they were protected on this land. I always hated Garridon. He was an arrogant man, who always looked down on me.” Elisara glanced at Caellum, unclear as to the shift in conversation. Caellum’s jaw clenched, but his eyes did not falter from their enemy.
If she took the risk and sent the army now, they might smother him. Her protector shifted beside her, as though telling her to wait—listen. “It was so easy to get into your grandfather’s head. Jorah was already such a proud man. Compelling him to kill Errard was easy, though I did not anticipate Lyra’s escape.” Elisara frowned. All the heirs watched Caligh intently. “And then there was your father. Wren.”
“What did you do to him?” Caellum asked. He spoke with clarity and strength, but it held a note of uncertainty; Elisara knew his feelings about his family far too well.
“Could you call him that? Father? After the way I had him treat you.” Caligh smirked when Caellum moved, held back by Sadira’s grip on his arm. Laughing, Caligh added, “He was such a happy man once. The happiest are the easiest to break. It took me barely a day to work my shadows into his mind and tell him his children were worthless, that they would never be a good ruler like him.” Caellum’s face paled. Elisara wanted to run to him. “You see, if even the king deemed his children unworthy of the throne, it would be so easy to place a new heir under hisnose—a fallen queen, perhaps.” Elisara’s heart broke all over again as she watched Caellum tense in a bid to control his emotions, refusing to break before Caligh’s taunts as the truth dawned on them all. His father had never intentionally abused his children; Caligh had controlled him the entire time. “He managed to break through on occasion. Would you like to know when?” Elisara hung her head, recalling the memory shown by the gods. “Once when he tried to decide which of his children to sacrifice, and then again before he died. Realising what was about to happen to his family, he tried to stop it. His last thought before his death was the morbid realisation of everything he had unwillingly put his children through.”
Ripping free from Sadira’s hold, Caellum surged forward, unsheathing his sword. Elisara blinked, and a wall of shadow appeared before him, just as Caligh’s collided with it. Caellum’s chest rose and fell with rapid breaths as he glanced at Elisara, who shook her head in silent warning. Behind the wall, Caligh laughed, but his eyes narrowed, as if noting the failure of his shadows to break hers.
“Caligh!” Elisara’s shout drew his attention from Caellum, who returned to Sadira’s side. Elisara dropped the wall. No one else would die today.
“What did you say?” Osiris demanded, stepping towards Elisara.
“Step back, Osiris,” Caligh’s tone changed, his eyes flitting between Osiris and Elisara manically. Osiris looked at Arik, wide-eyed, and moved to scan the surrounding army, searching for someone. “Stand still, Osiris. I command it!” Caligh roared. Elisara looked at her protector, who took a menacing step forward, watching the scene unfold alongside her. Doing as Caligh commanded, Osiris stopped directly before Larelle, gripping her hands.
“Remember,” Osiris pleaded. “Remember what I told you when I asked about Zarya’s name.”
“I’ve had enough of this,” Caligh snapped, summoning hisshadows. A swirling twist of threads gathered to pounce on Elisara, but her protector lunged, sending a flurry of darkness to slow Caligh.
“Remember, Larelle!” Osiris called as a strand of darkness wrapped around his throat, tugging him back. Elisara beckoned her army forward while her protector distracted Caligh. Larelle looked at Sadira.
“There is power in a name,” the future Queen of Garridon called. Osiris nodded, spinning to face Elisara. She frowned, still not understanding. Caligh finally pierced a shadow through her protector, and she hunched as he retreated into her. For a split second, before he re-emerged, she caught a glimpse of a memory. A short woman was dressed in robes, her blonde hair slicked back, highlighting the metal diadem resting on her forehead. She stood before the man Elisara had watched coat the Sword of Souls. A pendant hung around her neck, not too dissimilar from that of the Wiccan. She gazed up at the man, nodding.
“There must always be balance. We need a way to reverse things to avoid living in a constant state of chaos.” The man sighed but nodded. “There is power in a name, depending on how it is used. In this instance, a slave that knows a captor’s name holds the key to their escape.” Elisara did not have time to wonder if her protector had also witnessed the memory or its many implications. Elisara looked at Osiris again, who nodded eagerly. She straightened just as Caligh approached, his shadows swarming and ready to pounce. The flush on his face spoke of his fury as his mouth twisted into a snarl.
“Caligh Servusian,” she announced loudly. Caligh halted, paling. It was his first emotion, other than arrogance or anger, she had seen.
“Caligh Servusian,” Arik murmured before doubling over. He knelt on his hands and knees, dropping one of Tajana’s chains. Slowly, Caligh turned from Elisara as a wisp of shadow climbed up and out of Arik’s throat, who coughed and spluttered. Yet when helooked up, Osiris grinned. The amber rings around the boy’s irises had faded, freeing him from his debt to Caligh.
“Caligh Servusian!” Osiris bellowed across the desert, carrying the name on the wind. Osiris cracked his neck as a shadow escaped his mouth and dropped Tajana’s chain. He flexed his arms and cracked his knuckles while chants of “Caligh Servusian” bellowed around Elisara, with copper soldiers taking up the cry. Osiris stepped towards Caligh, who retreated, summoning his darkness once again.
“Two hundred and seventylongyears.” Osiris grinned, stalking towards Caligh. “It was so smart of you to take a different body, a different name when you sliced me with that sword.” Osiris smacked his fist against the palm of his hand, and shadows twisted out from it, interlaced with sparkling amber. It cast a slight glow upon him, highlighting the scar running down his cheek and neck. “It is so good to be back, grandfather.” Elisara looked between the two—their matching height, angled jaw, and dark eyes. The only difference in their dark hair was the speckled grey in Caligh’s.
