Chapter Fifty-two: Looming Shadows
"I spy with my little eye," Illieno said, his emerald eyes scanning across the landscape they rode through, "something…green."
Ana sighed as she surveyed the scenery. Everywhere she looked she saw varying shades of green. Spring had taken hold with a vengeance, and the softly sloping hills around them were teeming with her verdant trappings. The Old Road East cut a dusty path through the landscape that varied between rippling expanses of open prairie and coppices of forest. Sometimes, the road would wind through one of these woods for quite awhile, and they would ride beneath the canopies, where sunlight filtered down through the branches of the native Tortallian trees.
She didn't even bother following Illieno's gaze to try and decipher the general direction of Illieno's target—she knew from experience that Illieno was too tricky to make her search easier by looking at his object while he described it.
"That's not fair, Illieno," Ana protested. "Last game you said that colors had to be accompanied with an adjective in the final 'spy'."
"Fine." Illieno said, "Dark green, then."
Damn him! Ana thought. He gave her no clues, and this was the final round, wherein it would be decided whether Ana or Illieno would be christened, "Master Spymaster." It was a tentative title to hold, for the reward of having the losers address them so at every pertinent opportunity was a fiercely competed position.
"Hmmm…" Ana said, trying desperately to remember whether or not 'the shadows of leaves' had been used this game. She turned to take in the rest of the panorama, noting the places beneath the canopy where the sunlight filtered through the green leaves to light the flora of the forest in a darker green haze.
The world was alive around them; birdsong and the hum of insects composed the soundtrack of their journey, mingling with the rhythmic jingle of tack and the pounding of many hooves.
"You have to take your next guess at some point." Illieno said, smirking at her. "Or, you could just concede me the title and save your breath. Remember, you have to spy what I spy within two guesses or I'll see you bow before me as Master Spymaster."
Illieno had informed her that "I Spy" was a common game played by Tortallian children, but Ana remained skeptical. She was convinced that Illieno had made the game up on the spot in order to torment her, a theory reinforced by his tendency to remember the rules (like you couldn't repeat an object already spied) just after she managed to thwart him by breaking one of them.
"Fat chance." Ana muttered in Thaylian, suppressing the urge to stick her tongue out at him. Sometimes he just reminded her so much of Darius. She had to remember that she was not twelve again, and that it would not be appropriate for her to be so familiar with him. So instead, she kept her dignity by simply throwing her head back and giving him her best withering look.
"I'd like to buy a question," She said, "I'll sacrifice a guess."
Illieno crossed his arms, looking at her speculatively. "I'll take that offer." He said, "Ask away."
"Will I find it on the left or right of where I ride?" She already knew that it was always visible, and that it was neither animal, vegetable, nor mineral.
"Left," Illieno said, without hesitation.
Ana looked left, watching the progression of the landscape as it fell away beneath Firedance's steady stride. She noted the riders making their way slightly ahead and to the left of the place in the column where she rode between Illieno and Karma.
The man who rode at the very head was dressed in a dark tunic that threw emerald reflections as the sunlight bounced off the fabric.
"Will's tunic," Ana murmured, before she considered or not whether she wanted that to be her final answer.
She didn't have time to regret her guess, though, for she was suddenly filled with elation as Illieno's face gave away her victory. She burst into laughter, unable to suppress a triumphant, "Who is Master Spymaster now?" She took one hand off of the reigns, making a grand gesture. She lifted her chin imperially, as she had seen Marghi do, and said,"As Master Spymaster, my first decree is that Illieno shall be known henceforth as Assistant Spymaster-in-training." Illieno glowered at her, and stuck out his tongue.
Laughter bubbled up from someplace deep within her, and Ana nearly fell off of Firedance's back as she doubled-over with glee.
Karma giggled from her seat up on top of Mystic's back. Despite her prophetic prowess, Karma had proved to be a disastrous 'Spymaster'. Her occasional insights could not make up for the fact that she was an awful guesser. She had a bad habit of asking detailed questions, which did little to narrow her focus. She still played when it was her turn, but it had been clear since the fifth round that she was not in contention during this game. That did not stop her from heckling them and cheering them on by turns.
"You were doomed, Illieno." Karma giggled, "It was your own fault for picking such an easy spy for the last round."
"Humph," Illieno snorted. "Are you kidding? I was banking on the fact that Ana always discards the obvious answer. She spends so much time searching the bigger picture that she's oblivious to what is close to her."
"That is Master Spymaster Ana, to you, little Spymaster-in-training." Ana said, throwing him a saucy grin. "And what is that supposed to mean, anyway? From the way you flailed around on a couple of those rounds I was certain that those eyes of yours couldn't see anything."
Illieno snorted, but his grin was good-natured. He put a hand to his chest, arranged his face into its best imitation of shamed meekness, and said, "I am humbled by your great wit, oh Master Spymaster. It is clear I have so much to learn from your greatness."
She glowered at him, suddenly annoyed by the silly way Illieno always answered her questions. He spoke so that she could not always tell whether he was being sarcastic or not. And sometimes his words seemed to have double meanings, as if he was trying to get her to guess a 'Spy' in his words and expression, but instead of an object it was a question she was supposed to spy out the answer to. It frustrated her, for she wished that he would just tell her whatever it was. The man wouldn't know a straight line of reasoning if it smacked him right on the side of his cheeky little mouth.
And she knew that Karmos and Illieno were talking about her behind her back.
Her annoyance was not enough to stop the smile that broke as he pretended to cower beneath her glare, for her emotions did not yet overpower her desire to enjoy Illieno's teasing.
They shared another laugh, and though Ana's laugh was just as loud and merry as her friends', it still felt a little hallow.
Her good mood shattered, Ana let her gaze roam, as she so often did in moments like these, when the laughter died and her friends lapsed into the silence that lived between their conversations, their games and follies. The silences always grew longer and heavier as the day progressed, as if the sun's relentless march across the sky tracked their moods. In the mornings, when the world was loud and noisy around them, they were cheerful and gay—their collective relief at once again being in company after the long hours of night making them giddy. But by evening, as the shadows of the setting sun loomed toward them, they became quieter, and more sober.
For despite Illieno's endless games and pranks, Karma's stories, and Ana's spirited commentary they could not quite manage to laugh so loud that they forgot who they were and where it was they rode to. They could not forget that their laughter was only a folly, for though it filled the hours of travel in a pleasant way, it could not change the unpleasant destination.
It was usually around this time of day that Ana started staring at the scenery, searching desperately in the waning light for something she could not quite name. She felt like if she only looked hard enough she might read an answer somewhere in the folds of the land as it passed her by. An answer to what question, though? She wondered, Am I really looking for anything more than a distraction from gloomy thoughts about the future? She let her eye fill with the bounty of spring, watching as the details of the countryside—the patterns in the bark of trees, the rippling waves of grass and wildflowers as they bent beneath the wind, the individual outlines of leaves—were swallowed beneath the approaching fingers of shadow.
Despair washed over her as the world, once again, descended into darkness. She hated the darkness these days, hated and feared it as she never had as a child. She did not look forward to another night stifled beneath the close ceiling of her tent, which was tall enough to sit upright in, but not tall enough to stand in. She dreamed uneasily these nights, of shadowy figures and scenes which floated up in her unconsciousness, the forms distorted as if looking through a dark pane of wavy glass.
A shiver ran through her spine, as she suddenly recalled the fragment of one dream.
The sun dipped low into the sky, casting the world in a red light. The shadows, in contrast, seemed blacker than the blackest of nights.
Though they traveled the same Old Road that Ana had traversed on her way to Corus, Ana found that she recognized almost nothing of the path. Occasionally, some landmark would stir a faint familiarity in her breast, but for the most part she recognized little of the landscape they rode through.
She felt as if she were really seeing the land that was Tortall for the first time again, for now it was clear to her that the hilly country north and west of Corus was the 'breadbasket' of the country, as Darius would have termed it. Occasionally, they rode through villages or hamlets of various sizes, surrounded by neatly tilled cropland where women and children sewed seeds into the rich, dark soil. She watched as a woman came to the door of a sturdy old farmhouse and rang a loud, clanking bell. At the sound of its clanging peals, the planters packed up their bags of seed for the evening and made their way into the house, out of the shadows and into the lamplit interior.
Ana gulped in the sweet breath of spring, trying vainly to hold on to some lingering sense of contentment. Yes, the air was sweetly perfumed and the countryside was beautiful, but as much as she wanted to simply enjoy the moment…she couldn't.
She was too restless.
Will had set a brisk but steady pace from the very first, one that rode the fine line between expediency and hurry. It was just enough so that they might not push the horses' endurance too much, nor fail to cover as many miles as possible in a day.
The sensible pace felt unbearably slow for Ana. As the day wore on it chaffed her more and more, until she was nearly overwhelmed with the longing to put her heels to Firedance's sides and burn off the tension they both felt at having to maintain the same stilted jog for hours and days on end.
Or perhaps it was just that the pace required no conscious effort at riding, and Ana resented that she was denied another possible distraction from her unruly thoughts and emotions.
She wanted to do anything, anything but think about her place in this world and its history. She wanted to escape the feeling that she was being dragged to her destiny; an innocent prisoner pacing her cell, waiting for the guards to come to take her to her execution. If she was going to die then she wanted to die doing something, something meaningful. Something direct. She wanted to fight, to feel useful and not such a tool of destiny. She wanted to shake off the feeling of helplessness that ignited her fear and anger.
Most of the time, she was grateful for Illieno's amusing little games and colorful antecedents that he related with sly humor. Then, she would play along, wagering silly things like grooming all their horses or pitching the tents in their endless gambling about who would win which game. And if Illieno was the master of entertaining distractions, then Karma was not far behind him in that scheme. In her most paranoid moments, Ana suspected that Illieno and Karma were under orders from Will to entertain her, to keep her occupied so she would not disturb him and whatever it was that he was doing.
At other times, Illieno's unending cheerfulness and Karma's ceaseless compassion only served to aggravate her. Then, she struggled not to snap at them. She resented how easy they always seemed, for she wished she could be as carefree as he and as composed as she.
Her rational mind knew that both Illieno and Karma were only trying their best to placate and distract her—to ease the long hours of travel. But she could not help the feeling that she was being left out in the dark.
Her moods peaked and dipped like the hills and valleys they rode through.
That night, after they'd pitched camp, the three of them joined Lucas, Tohmas, and a smattering of other men around the big fire outside of the King's tent. That was usually where they ate their dinner, lingering around the bright flames and trying to forget the shadows all around them.
One of their favorite evening pastimes was the story-telling tourney. It had been Ana's idea originally, for she had long observed that the Tortallian people were fiercely proud of their oral tradition. At first, she had had to beg and wheedle her friends into declaiming, but, as more and more people came to watch, listen, and participate, her friend's shrugged off their self-consciousness and became more enthusiastic. This improved the quality of the stories by a good deal. They took turns telling stories, and awarding each other with positive or negative 'points' as the listeners acted as judges. Listeners were allowed to ask questions, but only one per story (As Lucas had insisted, if he was partake). They did not keep score, for they felt no need to. They all had their strengths and their challenges; Karma was clearly the queen of the dramatic tale, while Illieno was at his best telling thrilling but improbable scenes, where the dashing hero was always getting caught up into some tight situation and having to riddle his way out of the fire, only to fall directly into some other pot. Lucas told grand, sweeping tales that varied in tone and genre but were always riveting. The Voice of the Tribes, the leader of the fierce, dark-skinned Bazhir, was a master storyteller, weaving haunting tales of magic and mystery from his people's folklore. Others came and went, and added their voices to the tourney, or simply watched. Some men sang ballads, and often a tale was accompanied by various melodies, as the musically adept brought out their instruments to enrich the tales. She had learned a lot about the telling of stories by listening to the Tortallians spin their tales, but she preferred listening and judging to performing.
She enjoyed the story-telling, but, she thought, as she lay strangled in her bedroll that night, it also triggered her irritation. I am not usually such a moody person, she thought, watching the play of shadows on the peaked ceiling of her tent. Perhaps that is the question I have been looking for: why do I feel this way?
She'd hoped that the restlessness would ease once they were on their way, but, to her frustration, the sense of tension did not ebb. She could feel her emotions roiling inside her, like a kettle of water coming to boil over a slow fire. She could feel the pressure building inside her, and feared what would happen when it became too much. Would she snap then, and lose all control over her mind and body? Would she give in to all of the dark thoughts and intentions that seethed under the surface of her consciousness?
She let off steam in everyway she could, sparring with whoever would engage her, conversing with Karma, laughing at Lucas's bad jokes, and playing along with Illieno's absurd games…but despite her friends' efforts, or perhaps because of them, her frustration and annoyance only grew as their journey progressed.
Her friends could not comfort her, because it was not they who could grant her the freedoms she felt she deserved.
I want a choice, Ana thought. That is the answer. I feel like a marionette, made to move my limbs and walk and run as my strings are pulled. And when the puppet master is not there to make me dance and perform, then I am stuffed into a dusty corner, forced to watch as the show goes on around me.
She didn't really have to wonder, actually, she knew exactly why she was so cross.
Will was avoiding her. She was certain of it.
He was almost always off elsewhere, usually surrounded by a gaggle of advisors or knights or the King's Own. And when he did join the three of them, he rode a little apart and seldom deigned to take part in their games and conversations. Sometimes, he would gesture subtly, and the game could pause for minutes or hours as he and Illieno rode out ahead of the column, off to do some mysterious deed.
It drove her absolutely crazy, not knowing what Will was up to. He certainly didn't give any clue as to his thoughts; though his eyes were often distant, his face relaxed into studied neutrality.
He rarely approached her unless it was for a specific reason…and if she moved to ride beside him, it was never long before he managed to duck away, off to scout or confer with one advisor or another. He was distant and formal, as if she had become a stranger again after swearing allegiance to him. She learned her duties as Champion indirectly, through the subtle hints and blatant advice dropped by Lucas, Tohmas, and Illieno.
She had been certain, when she had stood on the dais and said the words with all of her heart, that they had understood each other in that moment. That he had seen that she needed to be informed, needed to be useful, needed to earn the respect that she had been so hastily granted. She had been sure that he had seen that she needed him to trust her.
She had hoped that would mean he would take her into his confidence, to let her know the thoughts behind the carefully neutral face of authority.
But instead he kept her in the dark about his plans. Through Lucas and Illieno, he told her what to do, to smile and laugh and make merry. To be an example to the troops of discipline and maintain her dignity at all times, for she was watched at all times. Apparently it was not appropriate for the Champion of Tortall to be worried about the future, though the King was allowed to worry all he wanted.
She was a shining beacon of hope and had to play the part, though she felt an imposter in the role. She felt that she had not yet proven herself worthy of the honor she had been given, and resented that Will denied her the opportunity to test herself.
Without even realizing it Ana drifted into sleep, and watched through darkly tinted glass as blood ran through the plowed furrows of Tortall's farmland, and the shadows of darkness writhed and billowed with a sick, manic frenzy over the valleys and hills and forests. The sky became dark and stormy above her. A massive thunderhead with two glowing, burning eyes staring out of the depths of the roiling cloud loomed over head while lightning played beneath them, flashing a cruel, hungry smile.
There was no light in this darkness, and no light within her to keep it at bay.
Ana tossed and turned, wrestling with the demons behind her eyelids and waiting for the darkness to end. In the blackest hours of the night she grew certain that she would never wake from the nightmares that held her, she lay, suspended between waking and dreaming, aware of her body paralyzed and helpless beneath her sheets but unable to stir her limbs in order to wake, to run from the shadows that reached for her. She could not cry out, could not scream though she longed to, for her voice had been strangled and there was no one to hear her anyway, for the darkness had swallowed them all.
~ ~:~ ~
