Lingering Shadows-Chapter 17

Notes

• I really hope none of this breaks canon.

• After reading this can any of you say you expected it? 😏

• My drawing of Nia, 15 almost 16 years old.

• https://ibb.co/WtxvzMq

• Also, please let me know if this is choppy or weird. There are several time and scene switches.

Chapter 17- Unexpected

Esben flopped to the dry grass in the fading afternoon light, panting happily as he watched the other young men and women either congratulating or consoling one another. His team had lost, but the whole evening had been so enjoyable that he still couldn’t stop smiling. 

He had dirt all over his clothes, which didn’t really matter, considering he had already practically ruined his shirt by drawing on his shirt cuffs the other day. He had accidentally ran into someone and knocked heads with them, and the game had been such a confusion of passing the ball, pushing and grabbing and running, and he hadn’t had more fun with other people for as long as he could remember. 

The girl that had first invited him to come play in the first place came over to sit on the ground next to him.

 “For a first time player you weren’t that bad,” she said encouragingly, still flushed and panting from her team’s victory. Esben laughed. 

“I was awful! Half the time I didn’t know what we were doing,” he said. The girl smiled at him wryly. 

“Exactly. Most people don’t know what they’re doing the whole time,” she joked. “I, of course, have been playing my whole life, along with my cousin. I can’t remember a time we have played on the same team and lost.” Esben nodded. 

“I’d like to meet your cousin,” he said. “I don’t know many people my age around here.”

 “I can introduce you,” she said. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you here before. Where are you from?” she asked. Esben sighed. 

“I’m Annieran. You see I-” 

“Oh! If you’re Annieran you must be part of the group that came with the King and Throne Warden, right? That makes sense why I’ve never seen you before.” Esben looked down and frowned as he ripped up some of the dead blades of grass. 

“Um…I guess you could say that. I…I did come with the group.” Esben was about to open his mouth and continue, but the girl spoke again. 

“So if you came with the King and Throne Warden, what is your job there? Oh, wait, how could I forget?” She laughed. “I don’t even know your name yet! I’m Nia Igiby.” she said with a smile. 

A million thoughts raced through Esben’s mind. She didn’t know he was the King of Anniera. He had been surprised at first, when she invited him to play. Almost everyone else in the Green Hollows recognized him. Except for people his age. He assumed that it was because if any of them had visited Anniera, or been to his coronation, and had seen him, they wouldn’t recognize him now. He was a year older, and had grown a lot in that year. 

After he had realized that no one here knew him, he had enjoyed the fact to the fullest. Everyone else he knew except for Artham, Cador and Sheridan, treated him like an adult. These people treated him like his age, inviting him to play with them, laughing with him and not being afraid to tackle him when he had the ball. None of that would have happened if they knew he was the King. This girl-Nia- wouldn’t be so friendly with him if she knew he was King. If he told her his name everything would be messed up. 

He was about to tell her. He was about to tell her, and then she’d feel awkward and embarrassed, then she’d think she had to address him as ‘Your Majesty,” like everyone else he knew. He didn’t want her to know. He wanted her and her friends to keep treating him like they would any other stranger. So before he could think it through any longer, he told her the first name that came to his mind, actually his middle name.

 “I’m Lander. Nice to meet you, Nia.”

*

     Artham looked up, the panic in him intensifying at the sound of footsteps in the hall. Silently, fueled by the adrenaline shooting through him, he put Esben’s sketchbook back on the desk, blew out the lantern and saw that whoever it was was carrying a light. It didn’t occur to him in his fear that an assassin carrying a lamp into the house would either have to be incredibly brazen or simply stupid. He passed his knife to his other hand, silently but swiftly ran across the room, threw open the door, and brandished his knife in front of him. 

“Artham!” Artham jerked back at the person’s shout, realizing who it was, and dropped his knife. 

“Oh. Oh, Es, it’s just you. Are you okay? Did anything happen on your way home? Did you see anyone? Are you okay? Wait, I already said that.” Artham said, shooting off questions faster than Esben could answer them, grabbing his brother by the shoulders, looking him up and down, trying to reassure himself that Esben wasn’t hurt.

 “Artham, the only thing that happened was that you almost attacked me with your knife. It’s a good thing you looked first. What happened? Is something wrong?” 

“Sorry. I-I thought you were someone else when I did that. No, nothing’s wrong…actually yes, something is very, very, wrong.”

 “It sure looks like it, Artham! You look like you saw a ghost! And-why in Aerwiar are you so mad?” Esben asked with concern, having learned to recognize the burning in Artham’s eyes and the rigidity in his shoulders when he was furious. 

“Come into your room, Es.” Esben followed Artham, and his heart started beating faster. 

“Something’s…really wrong, isn’t it, Artham.” He whispered, looking around at his room. His stacks of papers and sketchbooks and the occasional reading book were scattered over the floor. His unmade bedcovers had been jerked back, and his wardrobe thrown open. 

“Yeah,” Artham whispered back as he handed his brother the sketchbook. Esben’s eyes widened as he read the note. 

“What in Aerwiar is this supposed to mean?” He asked. Artham re-lit the lantern and carefully slipped his knife back up his sleeve. 

“I was reading, and I heard something fall-or I suppose getting knocked over. I thought it was just some of your mess falling over. Then there was a crash, someone said something in surprise…then there was a bang and some scrambling. That was someone climbing out the window. That last bit was right as I opened the door.”

 “Yeah, okay, so what’s with this creepy note!?” Esben asked, both freaked out that someone had been in his room and also angry that someone had actually written in his sketchbook. Across his drawing of the Silverstar, no less. Whoever it was had no respect for art. They could have at least written in one of the books. Esben looked up from his frustrated train of thought. Artham had his fist against his forehead, his eyes closed. 

“First you have to consider that according to plan, you would’ve been home hours ago, probably here in your room. Whoever it was didn’t know you were out. If they had, I can’t imagine what they would’ve done. Then you have to consider that whoever it was knew I was in my room, and was coming in after them. They just had time to scribble this note before they went out the window.”

 “So…explanation for the note please?” Esben asked again, feeling panic rising in his throat. 

“It could mean two things. They’re both pretty obvious. One, whoever it is is after you. That one is more likely, I think. They kill you, and I won’t be Throne Warden. Two, they want to kill me. Probably because getting rid of me, you’ll be an easier target.”

 “But that doesn’t make sense,” Esben said, choking down his fear. “They knew you were in your room. Why didn’t they just…why didn’t they just get rid of you?” 

“I don’t know…” Artham said, pressing his fist to his forehead again.  “I just thank the Maker you weren’t home.”

 “Yeah,” Esben whispered. Then he looked up, suddenly coming to a full realization that this actually had happened, rising out of the fear and realizing that they had to do something. 

“We need to tell someone what happened,” Esben practically shouted. Artham straightened up. 

“You’re right,” he said, going from all out adrenaline protect-my-brother-at-all-costs mode to panic fueled hunt-down-whoever-wants-to-hurt-my-brother mode. Despite appearances the two were very different. He took a deep breath and tried to calm his racing heart. 

“We need to get the officials over here, especially the lieutenant of the company of guards that came with us. This requires another emergency council. We need to let the Chiefs know tomorrow, and send a letter to Anniera. Come on, we’ll split up- no. No, we aren’t splitting up until I know we’re safe. Come on, we need to go alert the council.” Esben was about to insist they split up, but the gash of a knife that had clearly opened the window frame changed his mind. He didn’t have a weapon with him, either. So he nodded to Artham and followed his brother out of his wrecked bedroom. 

Artham sped out of the room and almost ran head first into Aro. He did manage to knock him down though, causing Aro to tumble with a crash into the wall. Artham skidded to a stop and turned around to help up his unlucky scribe. As Aro took his hand, Artham thought for a minute that the boy went pale.  

But then he scrambled up, brushed off his clothes, and looked in surprise at Artham and Esben. 

“I-I was just coming to…to tell you supper is ready,” he said, seeming like he was groping for words in his surprise that Artham had run into him. 

“Is everything okay?” He asked, taking in Artham’s fiery eyes and tense muscles, and Esben’s pale face.

 “No. Go get Bonifer, Aro. Quickly!” Artham said, turning to make sure Esben was still following him, and walking away, still fast, but at a more reasonable pace toward the guards’ quarters behind the house.

 “Yes sir!” Aro said, obviously still confused but running off in the other direction anyway. 

*

Only about ten minutes later, Artham and Esben sat at the head of the dinner table, Esben still in the dirty clothes he had been wearing when he came in, and Aro, standing nervously behind Artham, writing dutifully on a notepad as Artham spoke to the improvised emergency council. 

“How was this allowed to happen?” Artham asked the lieutenant. “An assassin got into my brother’s room. What happened to the guards around the house and patrolling the grounds?” One of the guards spoke up anxiously. 

“Sir, we didn’t see anything unusual. Whoever it was must have been able to sneak around us. We didn’t see anything, I promise, sir! If someone made it into the King’s room, he must have been made of shadows.”

 “The knife cuts in my brother’s window were very un-shadow like, Byrin.” Artham said. Then he paused, considering what the guard had said. 

“Are you saying you suspect Durgans, Byrin?” Artham asked in surprise. 

“N-no…no sir. Not if you don’t.” Artham sighed, and Esben spoke up, addressing everyone. 

“Please, throughout this emergency council, do us the honor of being completely honest. Your thoughts are valued, and may help us solve this. On my word, my brother and I will cause you no harm just for speaking your minds. Please, anything anyone saw or heard, or even suspected, please tell us.” No one spoke up, and Esben sighed, turning to one of the pages standing by the wall. 

“Please find one of the guards and go to the Keep,” he said. Artham looked at Esben, and seemingly reading his mind, wrote at a furious pace on one of the papers he had with him, passing it to Esben.

 “Take this with you, and find Chief Kandir. Give it to him and no one else,” Esben said, passing the paper to the page. The boy bowed and ran off.

 “Now would be the time when the Keeper would get involved,” Esben muttered. Then he spoke up, addressing the officials around the table. 

“Chief Kandir, as he is taking the Keeper’s place until he returned, needs to know about the situation. As the Durgans are…at least suspected, we can’t simply let one of them know, or let one of them deliver the news to the Keeper.” Esben sighed. “I want none of you to begin making your own conclusions, and far less to act on them. I want to keep the honor of the Durgans unsuspected for as long as possible.” The group around the table murmured their assent, and Artham fingered the knife under his sleeve. This was so unsuspected. 

Again, something had turned his world upside down, shaking everything into a new place. 

How are we going to make it through this? Maker help us, Artham prayed silently, hoping for guidance, wondering desperately what he was going to do in the next month, in the next day, tonight, in the next few hours. 

How could he know what to do when his brother’s life could be at risk at any moment?