Into the Shadows by Linda K Hopkins
Chapter 28
Lark spent so long in the pool, her skin was wrinkly when she finally rose from the water to don the garments that Cenoa had brought for her to wear; a skirt in a dark shade of red, and a white blouse, cinched at the waist, with cap sleeves and buttons down the front. The outfit was completed with a red and white floral scarf that tied around her waist.
“How long have you been here?” she asked Cenoa as she fastened the buttons of the blouse.
“Since I was a little girl. My parents died in a raid on our village.”
“What happened?”
“The Crimson Guard were looking for the men who had attacked their barracks. They killed everyone except the children, leaving them to starve to death.”
“You must hate the Crimson Guard.”
“I did. I still do, but there’s no point dwelling on it. The Warriors and Drameara are making sure they pay now for what they’ve done.”
“Still, I’m so sorry.”
Cenoa shrugged. “It’s not your fault, what the Crimson Guard do. The only ones to blame are the king and the commander. They’re the ones who let the Guard do what they please. But their time is coming, and soon they’ll be gone. Them and all their family.”
Lark swallowed hard. “How did you land up here?”
“The Ancient found me wandering in the woods and brought me here. I’d be dead if it weren’t for her.”
“And you’ve lived here ever since?”
“I have.” She gave a little giggle. “The Drameara like to think they know everything about this place, but they don’t know nearly as much as me!”
“Like what?” Lark asked in amusement.
“There are secret tunnels that only I know about.”
“Secret tunnels?” Lark glanced at Cenoa over her shoulder. “I’m jealous! I wish I had secret tunnels to explore growing up!”
“I know! I spent ages exploring when I was little. Even now, if I want to get away from the others, I go into some of the tunnels.”
“Where do they lead?”
“Oh, around the mountain. One goes to a waterfall. There’s another one that opens into a forest. There’s even one that goes all the way to Arach’s Gate. I think they were made by the Ancients before the war.”
“Arach’s Gate? That’s near Citadel, is it not?”
“Aye. The Cambrians traveled through the gate to see the Ancients, before they turned on them and betrayed them all.”
“The tunnels must be well hidden if no-one else knows about them.”
She giggled. “That’s the funny thing – they aren’t! It’s just that no-one thinks to look down all the tunnels. They only go to the ones they need. We passed the one that goes to the Gate on the way here!”
Lark shook her head. “I didn’t notice any tunnels.”
“I’ll show you on the way back. We’ll go do your hair in my room.”
She led Lark out of the cave and into the passage. “There,” she said, pointing out a dark tunnel as they walked past it. It was easy to miss – there were no lights within the tunnel itself, and it blended into the dark patches between the dim lights of the main passage. From there it was a short walk to Cenoa’s room which was filled with white tapers, the flickering lights shining against the pretty pink drapes that hung over the bed. She gestured for Lark to sit down before a mirror.
It turned out that Cenoa was almost as skilled as Neta. She trimmed Lark’s hair and curled the ends, then wrapped a bow around her head, Rhymer style. It matched the red of the gown, and made her eyes appear larger.
“We’ll go wait in the parlor so the Warrior knows where to find you,” Cenoa said, leading her once more down the tunnel. Lark smiled in amusement. She never thought a cave would be called a parlor. There was a woman in the room whom Lark had not seen before. She was taller than Cenoa by a few inches, with wavy hair that fell to her waist. Her cheekbones were high, and her eyes a light shade of brown
“Who’s this?” the woman asked Cenoa.
“Maura, this is Star.”
“She’s Cambrian.”
“She was brought here by a Warrior. She’s to wait here until he’s ready for her.”
“A Warrior?” Maura appeared startled, then gave a little smirk. “What better way to make use of a Cambrian!”
As Lark remained silent, Maura regarded her with distaste. “I want to see when the Warrior comes to fetch you,” she said snidely. “I cannot believe he would bring a filthy Cambrian right here to our queen’s lair.”
“And yet he did,” said a voice from the doorway, and Lark smiled as the color drained from Maura’s face. Maura turned and quickly brought her hand to her forehead.
“Forgive me, Warrior, I meant you no disrespect.”
The Drameara barely glanced at Maura before turning his attention to Lark, his yellow eyes roving over her. He nodded to Cenoa. “Well done.”
She blushed and quickly looked away. “Thank you, Warrior.”
Lark placed her hands on her hips and glared at him. “Well done? Did you think it would be that difficult to make me look presentable?” From the corner of her eye she saw Maura’s eyebrows fly up. The Drameara frowned.
“Let’sss go.” He did not wait for a reply as he headed to the doorway, but Lark turned to Cenoa and gave her a quick smile.
“Thank you for being so kind,” she said. Cenoa smiled in reply and Lark followed the Drameara back into the tunnel.
“Why are they so scared of you?” she demanded as they headed down the tunnel.
“I’m a Warrior. You should be scared, too.”
“None of them know what you are?”
“No.”
“Why not? Is it a secret?”
“It just keepsss things simple if they don’t know. Then, if they ever fall into the handsss of the enemy, they have nothing to tell.”
“But I know.”
He flicked her a glance. “Yesss.”
She was silent a moment. “Clearly you did not spend the time with Maura, so what were you doing?”
“Is that a note of jealousy I hear?”
“Certainly not,” she said indignantly.
His tongue flicked the air. “Hmm.”
“Where were you?”
“That has nothing to do with you, princessss.”
“Very well, where are we going?”
“To see my mistresss.” He sent another glance in her direction. “You look far more presentable than before. Rhymer clothes suit you.”
“If I had known it was for her benefit, I would not have bothered,” she retorted.
“Then you did it for mine?”
“I did it because I do not enjoy having weeks of dirt caking my skin!”
A smile flitted across his lips then was gone. They continued walking in silence until he came to a stop just outside the entrance to a large cave. “You have no reason to fear the Ancient.”
“I’m not scared.”
“Let’sss put that to the test.” He gestured for her to enter the cave, following a step behind. Crouched on the hard stone floor was the creature that Lark had only ever heard about. She was smaller than Lark expected, with a long neck and yellow eyes that stared at her. She was covered in rose-bronze scales, from her head to the paws which rested on the ground. A large tail snaked along the floor to her side, and her wings were folded over her back. Horns rose from her head – a quick count revealed seven – and spikes ran down the length of her back. Scattered on the floor around her were jewels, as though they had been carelessly thrown around her. Beneath one of her paws shimmered a pile of dark red gems.
“So this is Valor’s daughter,” the dragon said.
“Granddaughter many times over,” Lark said.
“It matters not how many times over, Lady Lark. You are of his blood, which means that you carry his taint.” Her eyes flicked to the Drameara. “You have something for me?”
“I do.” He opened his hand to reveal a piece of scrunched-up cloth which Lark had noticed before. He opened the edges to reveal varying sizes of dark stone – the same color as the stone beneath her paw. The Ancient leaned forward eagerly, then frowned.
“This is all?”
“It isss well hidden, my queen.”
The Ancient’s eyes flicked to Lark. “Very well. We’ll discuss this more later.”
The Drameara bowed his head. “Yes, mistressss.”
“Good. Now show me what I want to see.”
“Mistressss?”
“How her blood affects you.”
A slight frown crossed the Drameara’s face, but he turned to face Lark. “Do not fight me,” he said.
“You’re going to drink my blood? Here?” Lark could hear her voice rising and fought to gain control of the panic she was feeling. He stepped closer and wrapped his claws around the tops of her arms.
“Yesss.”
Before she had time to react, his fangs sank into her neck and he drew her blood into his mouth. She heard him swallow but his mouth remained glued to her skin. A shudder passed through her and his claws tightened. She squeezed her hands into fists, determined not to react, as she stared at the dragon, who was watching them closely. Lark could not read her expression, but she had the distinct impression that she was displeased. The Drameara pulled away, his eyes meeting hers as he stared at her. The yellow was fading from his eyes, and his lips were beginning to lighten, turning a dull shade of pink then growing redder. The scales melted away, disappearing into his tan skin, and sharp claws no longer pricked her skin. She bit her lip as she watched and felt him stiffen.
“Well then, how interesting.” The Ancient’s voice acted like a pull on a string, making him draw abruptly away, and Lark quickly stepped back as the Drameara dropped his hands and turned from her. “I’ve never seen this happen before, but then my Warriors don’t usually taste the blood of Cambrian royalty! I am disappointed, Seven,” she continued. “I had such high hopes for you.”
“My queen,” he began, but she held up a paw to silence him.
“Go,” she commanded. “Leave us alone.”
He bowed, then turning on his heel, left the room, leaving Lark alone with the Ancient. The dragon cocked her head, listening for a moment, before returning her gaze to Lark.
“Well, then, what have you done to my Warrior?”
“I did nothing.”
“Really? Well, you’re going to do something now.”
“And what is that?”
“You’re going to kill him.”
“Kill him?” Lark said in shock. “Why?”
“He has disappointed me. He must die.”
“He is Drameara. It’s impossible for me to kill him. Believe me, I have tried.”
“You did not have my help before.”
“My reason for wanting to kill him was to prevent him from bringing me here. Now that I have arrived, there is no need for me to kill him.”
“Oh, but there is!” She lifted a paw and a man Lark had not noticed before emerged from the shadows and left the room. He returned moments later dragging a boy behind him. His gaze met hers, his eyes widening as he stared at her.
“Pip!” She ran over to him and grabbed his face in her hands. “What are you doing here?”
“Lark!” A shudder wracked his body. “I thought you were dead!”
“Isn’t this a sweet reunion,” the dragon said.
Lark turned to face her. “What have you done? Why is he here?”
“I’ve been preparing for this day since the first time he tasted your blood. Your brother was taken from beyond the city and brought here as we waited for your arrival.”
Lark turned back to Pip. “Are you hurt? Did they hurt you?”
“I’m fine, Lark. But how are you alive?”
“Why is he here?” she demanded, turning to face the Ancient.
“He’s here to ensure you do as I say. Choose – the Drameara or your brother?”
“I don’t understand.”
“Do I have to spell it out for you? Kill the Drameara or your brother dies!”
“The Drameara cannot be killed!”
“I will give you what you need to carry out the plan.”
“Then why don’t you do it yourself?”
“Myself?” The dragon laughed. “No, this has a certain poetic justice. You wanted him dead, and now you become the one who makes it happen.”
“But he’s one of your Warriors! You would get rid of him so easily?”
The dragon leaned forward, her eyes flashing. “My Warriors are expected to give me their undying loyalty and devotion. Their lives must belong to me, and me alone. I raised them up from nothing, and I can strike them down again. Seven has shown that he is not fully committed to me.”
“Because he drank my blood?”
“Because he desires you. Now you must choose a life. His, or your brother’s?”