Author: Rothalion

Title: The Shade

Summary: AU. Orig. Historical fiction I think. Not fan fic at all. That much I know but I have altered events. This is difficult to summarize. An original character will be brought into being and travel great distances to seek out an understanding of his father. Bildungsromam of sorts. This will be slow story. A great deal of geography info will be needed on my part. So please bear with me. Updates may be less than frequent. Hope not. This is going to bury me!

Rating: Ahh PG

Disclaimer: I do not own any historical characters. This is historical fiction I suppose. Damon, Bedros, Tanek and others are mine by design.

Prologue

The three heavily robed figures huddled in the dank semi-darkness of the passageway. Their hushed voices were coarse against the even drip, drop plunking sound of water slipping from the vine covered roof into the stagnant puddle that lapped at their sandaled feet. The smaller of the three held a swaddled bundle possessively against her chest, and bore a large, well filled infantryman styled satchel on her back. It was a wonder that the her thin frame could bear up beneath its obvious weight. A breeze filtered through; momentarily ridding the air of the rancid smell of urine, mold and mud. The spare wall lamps flickered at the fresh air's intrusion and the walls danced with a wicked array of threatening black shadows.

"You must, Damon!" The woman pleaded. "See reason! We cannot tarry. Even now they plan our death."

"My lady, what you ask of us…it is…to leave you it is suicide, my lady. Come with us!"

"Damon 'you' must save my son. You and Bedros! It is the only way. My life is forfeit, Damon. My coming questioning will be a distraction to buy you time. You know this Damon! Bedros, make him see reason! Bedros?" She implored the other man.

A rustling sound broke the short silence as the two stared at one another through the gloom. The group slid back against the cool, slick wall and crouched deeper into the shadow.

"A rat, only a rat," Bedros hissed. "Damon, she is right you know this Damon."

"Arghh! How my lady how can we leave you?"

"Because our lord would expect us to be strong. Come, Damon. It has been prepared for. My lord was no fool. He arranged for all of it before he died. He instructed me. It is all in the satchel. Gold, papers, other proofs. Damon!"

Damon reached out and grasped the woman by the shoulders. "No, I won't, can't, leave you to be slaughtered! Not a questioning, but torture my lady. Torture!"

"Damon mind your voice. It carries in this foul tunnel. She is right my friend. We must go and go quickly."

The three continued to argue back and forth for a bit; the conversation shifting between Persian and Greek. Finally the sound of approaching voices put and end to the disagreement.

"Take him, Damon! Take him to his Grandfather in Pella. Take him and save him in the memory of my lord, your lord! It's all in the satchel all of it. Our lord's instruction's for you and for his Grandfather. Do not let our lord's careful planning go to ruin, Damon!"

She thrust the bundle away from her chest, into the man's arms and with Bedros' help began to shrug the heavy leather pack off her slim and tired shoulders.

"My lady," his voice broke but he withheld the sob that begged to escape his chest. Then, suddenly resolute, he leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. "may the gods see to your safety, and if not then to a swift clean death." He bowed and turned to Bedros who had donned the satchel.

"Damon, come my friend the voices draw nearer. They are soldiers' voices not some whore with a client. Come! Take care my lady. He is safe with us. Our lives for his." He kissed his lady and the two guardians turned to go; walking briskly through the tunnel and into the dark Babylonian night.