Her King Of Shadows

Chapter II.

While Boris stood at the door of his own home, he didn’t wonder there was no sound of horsemen or armed escort. He wasn’t surprised at the lateness of the hour. His main guest decided to return his call. Boris didn’t even mind knowing that each light and flame in his home had to die, even just for a moment. It showed him that the warrior was close. So he ordered his guards to open massive gates. Now he stood in front of them enjoying the icy northern wind. His coat was not enough to defend him from the cold fingers of fate which closed on his heart. Changes were coming. He knew it. He ran towards it.

The old ways were not enough anymore. Old alliances were slowly becoming weak. Leaders and warriors like Boris couldn’t survive without recognizing the best moment to create new alliances and loyalties. It was the only way to survive in the new world. Now he had to look as the darkness became stronger and thicker. Until he felt it would swallow him and his fort. As if it wasn’t just darkness in front of him. But a being which could see, hear and feel. Being which could hate. And there was no going back now. Boris knew it all well. He patiently waited for any fate to come to him. He nodded his head and the guards lighted the torches. The icy wind backed up, letting the flame live. There was new hope in Boris' heart and he almost thought that the worst thing was over. Until he heard the horsemen.

Something like that belonged in fairy tales. Something like that could not exist in their world, he was thinking. But when you play with fate, you shouldn’t be surprised when fate plays with you. He invited him and now the warrior had come. It was the biggest black horse he had ever seen in his life. It seemed as if the animal was created solely to scare and terrify. The black skin shown in the moonlight makes the creature even more awful. And even though it was decorated in silver and armor, no sound was coming. Horsemen were bound in black. Only long hair resisted the wind and it was darker than the night. Darker than anything. He didn’t dare to move. He couldn’t stop looking at them, certain that it would not happen to him again. And before he had time to blink, a warrior was before him. There were seven more faces hidden under their helmets. But his face was clearly visible. And eyes. Eyes of liquid emeralds. They had an entire world hiding in them.

He was so little in them. He instinctively lowered his hand to his sword but his fingers were shaking. It was so long that he didn’t see a member of his people. Memories threatened to break the surface. Hard, dark memories from which there was no salvation. And making them disappear took more and more strength each time. The Warriors circled him as if trying to get to know him. As if he can read all the hidden thoughts and feelings of the heart in front of him and conclude if he is worthy of living. He finally stopped after ten minutes and raised his hand to his escort. They were lost in darkness. Boris knew they would not go far. They never left their leader.

-What excuse you have to call me from the rest of the darkness in which I was living? -it was a voice to remember. It was said as an accusation from which there was no defense.

Now, when he was calm again, Boris knew what he had to do. He remembered his own promise. On what he had to say and tell.

-Araphel.-he said.

Warrior didn’t respond to his own name. Boris bowed his head, showing the fort. -Do me the honor and come to my home.-he invited. They both knew their story could end right there where it began. They both knew Araphel was a warrior who didn’t care about honor or the rules of their world. He didn’t want to be disturbed. He didn’t want to be invited or mentioned. He didn’t want to exist in the thoughts of others. His hand was ready on the sword to finish this warrior, which invited him. Who dared to think that he would participate in his world. But he still looked at the fort with curiosity even though it was humble. He has seen thousands of them and destroyed hundreds in his life. One more wouldn’t ruin his night. Maybe it would actually make it better. And he was ready to command it. To turn into darkness all around them. But he felt a strange scent he had never felt before. A scent and a quiet whisper he seemed to recognize. That whisper. That cry. That smell of blood which was spilled a long time ago. As if begging him to silence his hate. To cool down the calling for revenge, and just walk inside.

He waived his head trying to pull away from such feelings. Boris waited for his answer. When he looked at him again, it was all clear to him. Who was there and to whom did the fort belong to.

-Is it here that she died?-he asked.

Boris waved his head. -She spent her last nights here but she didn’t die here.-his answer hid the truth. Warrior decided to follow him inside.

It was the library for the most important guest. Boris stood before the giant fireplace. He was thankful for the light which was his only protection against the warrior. Now he could look at him better even though he knew it was a bad idea. He was taller than him. Almost like a giant in his black armor, which made him even more terrifying than he really was. Emerald shone in the half darkness with his every move. When he removed his gloves, a blood ruby showed on a silver ring. He removed his sword, placed it on top of the writing table and unopened letters. They looked at each other waiting for the guards to leave. Waiting for the doors to be closed after them. Waiting for to be left alone because some words could not be spoken even in your own home. Boris knew it better than anyone. He never trusted anyone in his home. Not even his children. Those were the rules of his world.

-They are telling me you are gathering an army.-Araphel spoke. He was never one to play games. To create conspiracies. It was law of the sword for him. And his pride and honor never got hurt by words. They were two opposite worlds, him and Boris. And Boris didn’t have to ask who told him such things. Darkness was a witness to his decisions and that was enough.

-Only a couple of close friends who come when a man is in trouble and he needs advice.-He tried to stay calm in front of those emerald eyes. But there was fear in his movement. In his eyes. In the words which escaped him.

He imagined this conversation between them hundreds of times and it was in vain. Nothing could prepare him for this meeting.

-Last time we had a chance to talk I told you not to call me again. I told you many other things also and I don’t like to repeat myself.-he warned him. Araphel stepped away from the fire. It was in his nature to look for the darkest place in the room. And this time it was a comfortable armchair next to the door. Boris gained courage when he had more space. He had time to think about his answer.

-It is not about me.-he said.

-It was never about you. But if not for you I wouldn’t have to come here!-Araphel raised his voice. It wasn’t a good sign. He had to think harder about what to tell him. How to explain his actions?

-She will be killed.-he whispered. Araphel pretended not to hear. He pretended those words were never spoken. Because in the end it wasn’t his problem. It wasn’t his family. Not anymore. It wasn’t his people. Nothing connected him with that old warrior who fought to stay alive. He was ready to get up and leave. Never to return. Never to see him or to remember that there was a warrior with his name.

-Let the past die.-it was the only advice he could give him. But it couldn’t be done. It was impossible. In their world past would always return to get another blow at them. To take another last life. The past in their world turned to the present. Sometimes, even to the future.

-I promised her mother. -he was ready to remind him, but emerald eyes stopped him.

-Do not mention her mother.-it was the only warning.

Boris turned his back to him in despair, aware he was losing the battle before it started. That warrior would not help him. He was even the only one who could. He looked at the writing desk on which he created countless calls. Made hundreds of deals and traps. And he knew there was nothing for him to write or imagine which could save him from his fate.

He was a father who was losing the battle of death. He couldn’t watch his children going to their ruin without trying everything he could do to save them. He bowed his head, refusing to be defeated. Maybe there was something more he could say. Maybe there were words. But time was getting less. Araphel already stood up ready to leave.

-You were never worthy of her. You know it also. And that is why she finished the way she did. That is why your entire family is cursed. -his voice was quiet. Those were the last blows he could do. The last pain. Because he was jealous of how much Boris could still feel. He envied that pain, fear and knowledge of how close he was to death. Those were feelings he himself once had. But not anymore. Not for a very long time. He turned to the door, which opened. One of the guards looked at them and Araphel knew there was something wrong. There was too much fear.

-Your daughter is not in her chambers.-he said seriously. Boris turned to his voice. To the intruder who said something it wasn’t true. He left her asleep only an hour ago. He made sure she was safe.

-How is it possible?-he said.

-Torches were dead. The fort was in darkness. Maybe she ran away. Maybe she was looking for you or Davon.-the guard suggested. Boris went by him, his fear rising. No. it was not happening again. He ran to the steps which led to her chambers. Araphel decided not to follow. It wasn’t his home or his battle. He exited the fort. His horse waited, waiting for him. The icy wind turned into a breeze. But it was enough to bring him her calls. -Alexandra.-he whispered. He stood in front of the guards listening. Hoping it was all his imagination. Maybe the past was strong in this place. But someone was praying. Someone was calling to be saved. Someone was in danger.