Shadow - a story about sorcery, tradition and dreams - from "Feelings in Staccato: the book of stories"

SHADOW

The Romans had doubled the guards and her raid in the fortress took longer than she had expected. She searched the temple for the Queen’s burial, but it was not there. 

She escaped the enclosure, but centurions were following her and getting closer. Shadow, her horse, was nervous.

She passed the Lake of the Fairies where the priestesses gathered for the festival of the Goddess Bendis. They danced under the moonlight, dressed like brides. The one who would see their beauty would be blinded, the one who joined them in their dance would die. She remembered the strong smell of the goldenrod wreaths in their hair. It was so long ago! The weight of time felt heavy on her shoulders. All the things that had happened since: the war, the death of their King, and Dacia becoming a Roman province.

Snapped branches interrupted her reverie. She dismounted, whispered in Shadow’s ear, then set him free. The horse galloped in the woodland and a few Romans chased after him. The horse would find her when it was safe.

Agile in her leather sandals, the Dacian sorceress climbed towards the peak. From the top she could see the whole valley. Seven well-hidden forts were built in these mountains. The Romans had burnt most of them down. The Queen had been killed and buried in one of their temples. 

She heard hooves behind her. Hunkered on a rock, she pulled the hood over her head. Her eyelids lowered over the light of her eyes. With a low voice she conjured the winds.

Seven winds like seven brothers — Her limbs got smaller, shoulders dropped and back hunched. She felt pain in her fragile bones.

Good to know, good to others — Her skin wrinkled, her hair greyed and twirled like dirty sheep fleece. The time clutched around her heart.

Flesh to make, years to take; The old Chira-maid to get — Her mouth became toothless, and eye sockets hollowed. She felt bewildered.

Each verse-spell transformed her body.

‘You!’ the Roman called.

When the crone turned to face him, the soldier flinched. Her crooked fingers with long black nails held a cloak around the decrepit body. He wanted to ask if she had met a rider with a horse. Her white clouded eyes looked through him. The question was senseless. The soldiers surrounded her suspiciously, but then pulled away. Hastily, they returned to their pursuit of a young Dacian rider.

Left alone, her body struggled to grasp the change. She sat there. Long hours.

She will soon forget where to return, what her other shape was. She will need help to bring back her body from its meander.



She started to forget. She could not remember who she was and where she was.

She could only remember Shadow. Shadow will know. He will find her and help her.

She found a cave nearby. She hobbled to the safe lair and waited for Shadow.