Lingering Shadows-Chapter 16

Notes:

• hehehe…enjoy this chapter! 😁

• Do I enjoy causing suspense with cliffhangers? Extremely. Prepare yourselves. 😊

• Also, I had origianlly planned for Connolin to be both Artham and Esben’s dog. He…was supposed to be. Haha he liked Artham better, though.

• Previous Chapter

Chapter 16-Surprises

“I can’t believe he’s doing this!” Artham fumed as he and Esben walked out of earshot of the Keep, Connolin trotting at Artham’s heels and occasionally coming forward to push his head under Artham’s hand to be scratched.

It had been three days since the beginning of the conference that was supposed to renew the alliance, and Myndik Bunge was still in Ban Soran, but managing to create plenty of problems despite of, and even because of his absence. Esben, Artham, and the other Chiefs had done their best to proceed with as much of the conference as possible without him, but it was difficult and frustrating, not to mention extremely awkward to tend to the affairs of two ‘allied’ countries when said alliance had not yet been renewed.

“It’s against any rule and protocol I’ve ever heard of, unprecedented, improper, unprofessional, inconsiderate, and simply unacceptable! I don’t understand how he can simply neglect his duties as Keeper, put everyone working with him in an uncomfortable position, and just leave like that! It’s…it’s…I ran out of words. I need a dictionary to describe how unacceptable this is.”

“You are a dictionary, Artham,” Esben muttered. Artham sighed.

“Why are you not more concerned by this? He doesn’t even have a good reason to have left.”

“I am concerned, Arth. I’m just tired. I’m trying to figure all this out, but you stress much better than I do anyway. It’s not that terrible, he’ll be back in a couple days.”

“True,” Artham continued, “but it’s disrespectful to your position as King!” Esben huffed.

“I just want to take a break from ‘being King’. Maybe Nibbik’s right. Maybe I am too young for this.” Artham stopped in his tracks.

“Don’t listen to him, Es. He’s never told you anything but lies.”

“But-” Esben began to speak but Artham cut him off.

“-But you are brave, and strong, and good. You’re the best King I’ve ever seen, except maybe Papa. He’d tell you otherwise, though. You’re just tired. You hear me?” Esben nodded and tried to smile.

“I’m glad you think so. Are you headed back to Oak Hill?”

“Yes, aren’t you?” Artham asked skeptically.

“I’ll be there in time for supper. I need to take a walk. Maybe I can find something to draw or something.” Artham opened his mouth to say absolutely not, that Esben could not go anywhere alone, but then he paused, considering. The whole four days in the Hollows, Artham had been telling himself that they were safe. They were in a nation of warriors who were all on their side. Where could Esben be safer?

“Alright. Just please be back in time for supper, or I’ll probably assume the worst,” Artham said, half jokingly.

“Yeah, you’d have a panic attack,” Esben muttered.

“I would not,” Artham responded dryly.

“Well I’m going into town. See you at supper.”

“Be safe, Es. See you in a couple hours.” Artham said. Esben walked off, pulling out his sketchbook without looking back at Artham. Artham sighed as he watched Esben walk off. He crouched over and rubbed Connolin around the neck, smiling when the big dog lunged forward to lick his face.

“You are much less stressful than my brother.”

*

Esben walked through town by himself for a long time. He was occasionally stopped by people wanting to speak with the King of Anniera. He usually enjoyed talking with people like that, but today it was harder for him to act like he usually did, smooth, friendly, and humorous. He didn’t want to be King today. He walked off the road and made his way through a stand of trees, and found himself by a bench on the outskirts of a flat, grassy, lonely field.

He pulled off his coat and vest, stuffing them in his satchel. The little hollow was remarkably sheltered from the biting wind. Cold, but not freezing. His thick white shirt, plain and simple as it was, was plenty warm enough. He plunked down on the bench and pulled out his sketchbook and pencil, he sat still and silent for a moment, wondering what Artham was doing, and then what was for supper. Then he started to think about what he would do at tomorrow’s meeting with Chiefs.

He did not want to think about that, so he ducked his head over his sketchbook and began to sketch fast, for a few seconds not knowing what he was drawing, but his random lines soon took the shape of a concept drawing for a painting he hoped to do. He sat there for a long time as he drew, not realizing when a happy group of young men and women, about his age, came into the little clearing, laughing and tossing a ball to each other. They didn’t see him either.

He was so absorbed in his thoughts, that he didn’t even look up when they started a game, shouting to each other, throwing the ball, running and occasionally shoving one another in an attempt to do whatever it was they had to do in the game.

He only looked up when the leather stitched ball they were using rolled over to him and bumped into one of his feet. He looked up in surprise, suddenly realizing he wasn’t alone. He closed his sketchbook and reached down, picking up the dirty ball, surprised again when a young girl came running over straight toward him. She was breathing hard and her cheeks were flushed pink, a smile lingering around her lips and her brown eyes sparkling.

“Oh! Hello, I didn’t see you there,” she said to Esben in a friendly tone. Esben just stared up at her in surprise for a moment, astonished at how normally she addressed him. Normal was abnormal to him by now. She looked at him expectantly for a second, then spoke again in her rich, lilting Hollish accent.

“Um, can I have the ball now?”

“Oh!” Esben looked down in surprise at the ball in his hand. He had forgotten it was there. “Sure. Here you go.”

“Thank you!” She said, grabbing the ball and turning to run back to her group of friends. Her dark brown hair was bound in a long, thick braid that reached nearly to her waist. It swung out behind her when she turned. But she didn’t run back into the laughing group of people. She stopped and turned, looking Esben over again.

“Would you like to join us?” She asked. Esben was having a surprising day. This girl was treating him like any other young man his age. He hesitated for a moment, then stood up with a smile.

“I’d love to, but I don’t really know how to play.”

“It doesn’t really have rules,” the girl said with a laugh. “It’s basically a mix between Get the Boot and Handyball. No rolling though. Just throwing the ball.”

“Okay, I’ll try,” Esben said, feeling so happy to be invited to a normal activity with people his age.

“How old are you?” The girl asked skeptically, looking at Esben’s face. Then as if remembering something, she hurried to add, “I’m about to turn sixteen.”

“Oh. Well, I’m sixteen too,” Esben answered with a smile.

“Really?” She asked in surprise. “I thought you were older.” She glanced at him again, and she realized that whoever this young man was, he looked younger when he smiled.

“Here,” she said, pushing the ball into his hands. “They are all on your side. It’s a good thing you showed up, we were one person off. My cousin Malik was switching teams every round.” She said, pointing rapidly at half of the people, making sure they heard her so they knew this new person who seemed to have come out of nowhere was on their team.

“Throw the ball, and then just do what everyone else is doing, you’ll figure it out soon enough,” she called over her shoulder as she ran over to the other side of the clearing, her thick braid swinging, and said something to the tall, strong boy who must have been her cousin.

Unsure of himself but still just so glad to be doing something normal, Esben threw the ball to one of the young men the girl had pointed too, and all of a sudden he was swept along in a wave of running and jumping and shouting. Occasionally the ball made it’s way into his hands, in which case he would look around frantically looking for one of the people the girl had pointed too. He couldn’t stop smiling.

*

About an hour after he left Esben at the Keep, Artham sat peacefully at the desk in his room, extremely happy because he had picked up a book from the Great Library on the way home. It was incredibly rare, it was thicker than his fist and it smelled amazing.

He had also had a snatch of rather odd conversation at the library with a young man about his age that seemed familiar. The young man’s name was Rian, and Artham decided that the strangeness of the young man’s conversation was simply because he was rather grumpy, and seemed to be constantly on the offensive. But as Artham had a natural inclination to like anyone browsing the Ancient History section, he hoped to meet Rian again.

He had completely forgot the conversation though, and was completely immersed in the fascinating world of his book. He only occasionally remembered that he was in Aerwiar when he had to stop rubbing Connolin’s head to turn a page, and Connolin whined at him impatiently.

Then he heard a muffled sound from Esben’s room, that sounded halfway between a rustle and a thump. Not wanting to tear himself away from his book, he told himself it was just a pile of Esben’s hazardously stacked belongings falling over.

Then he heard another thump, and what sounded like someone’s muffled exclamation of surprise. He froze, slowly lifting his eyes from his book, then setting it silently down on the desk, motioning for Connolin to be quiet.

Quiet as a shadow, he slipped to his door and slowly opened it. There were no lamps lit in the hall or in Esben’s room. He wished he hadn’t unbuckled his sword as he pulled the knife out of his sleeve. Just as he reached for the doorknob, he heard scrambling and a loud bang. He threw open the door, his heart pounding and brandished his knife in front of him. The room was dark, and even as he lit a lantern, he knew he wouldn’t find anyone. The window was wide open, banging against the wall because of the wind coming from outside.

“No. No, no, no, no, no…”

He rushed to the window, but the last lights of sunset were burning out on the horizon. The yard was still. He slammed the window shut and locked it, his mind racing.

Connolin made his way in on velvet paws, whining as he stepped up to Artham. He sniffed the air and growled. Artham turned and placed his hands on Esben’s desk, trying to stop the panic that was racing through him, closing his eyes for only a second. Someone had been in Esben’s room. Someone could have killed him. His shoulder started throbbing again, remembering what had happened on the bridge. He knew this was connected somehow.

Thank the Maker that he wasn’t here. The thought fought it’s way through the mess of all his other frantic thoughts and gave him a second of peace. Esben wasn’t here, which right now meant he was safe. He had just a moment of assurance. Assurance that Esben was safe, and that even when he failed as protector, the Maker was protecting them.

It only lasted a second before it was engulfed by everything else. Fear, terrible fear because someone wanted Esben’s life, and could have taken it only a few seconds ago. Guilt because someone had been in their house, and he, the Throne Warden, somehow hadn’t known about it or stopped it. And a burning anger at whoever wanted to kill his little brother.

He stood up and was about to turn and leave Esben’s room, fired by the burning need to protect, protect, protect. Despite the frantic racing of his mind and his heart, he had already started to think of a plan, when something on his brother’s desk caught his eye.

One of Esben’s sketchbooks was saying open on the desk. Out of everything else came another spark of anger that whoever it was had invaded his brother’s privacy by looking through his sketchbooks. Artham moved to close it, but there was something on the page.

He brought the book closer to his face, trying to see through the darkness only brightened by the flickering lamp he was holding. There was writing on the page that wasn’t Esben’s.

You won’t be Throne Warden for much longer.

The words sent an icy wave of fear for Esben crackling through Artham’s veins. His heart pounded and pounded and pounded and he was frozen in place, only able to stare at the awful message as his mind raced, only arriving at terrible places. He gripped his knife so hard all the muscles in his arm tensed and his knuckles turned white.

Then he heard someone walking quietly down the hall.