Chapter 21 ~ Night Shadows, part 2

Russ jumped back and Currun nearly dropped the torch.  A white hand moved from the chest and lifted the netting aside, and the woman sat up.  Russ pressed himself against the wall, not knowing what to think.

“Wait—” Currun got ahold of himself, “—you’re not Aysha.”

Russ stayed against the wall.  “What?”

“Blue eyes.”  Currun waved his torch toward the woman, who was now sitting on the edge of the bier surveying them with mild amusement.  “Aysha had brown eyes.”

“And I have blue eyes,” said Alisiya.  “Congratulations, Uncle Currun, for being so perceptive.”

Currun stared at her wordlessly, and Russ took a step forward, trying to shrug off the lingering buzz from the surge of fear that had jolted him.

“Why are you lying on a bier?” Currun asked finally.

“Waiting for you,” she answered, then turned her eyes on Russ.  “You’re still alive.”

He opened his mouth but didn’t know how to reply.  She smiled, and stood up.  “See how easy this was, Uncle?  If any of you had cared even a little, you could have done this decades ago.”

Currun’s expression had set into something inscrutable, and he only replied, “We thought you were no more.”

“Wished,” Alisiya bit off the word.

“Wished?” Currun looked surprised a moment.  “You’re Aysha’s daughter, I would never wish such a thing.  I loved your mother.  She was more like a mother to me than a sister; she was . . . ” he paused, retreated behind his eyes, and finished, “ . . . she was a shining star, Alisiya.  If I had thought you lived I would have—”

“Stop it,” she cut him off, turning away toward Russ.  “When my mother died, she was giving birth to me, but I was still trapped in her womb.  They thought to cut me out from her to save me, but he—” she darted an icy white glare over her shoulder, “protested vehemently.  He stormed out of the palace, in anger, when they didn’t let me die.”

“That wasn’t it,” Currun burst impatiently.  “I was still shocked at her death, I couldn’t bring myself to believe she was really dead, and the thought of gutting her like an animal — I wasn’t thinking clearly.  I apologize,” he added stiffly.  Russ didn’t see his face, because he could only stare at Alisiya’s.  She didn’t look placated at first, her face a field of white ice.  But then her expression softened into a half smile around still-cold eyes, and she spun around, brushing Russ with the ends of her long black hair.

“I’ll forgive you if you manage to get me out of here.  I’ve escaped too many times on my own only to be found and forced back again.  I want to stay free, this time.”

“You will,” said Currun, with a curt nod.

Russ was still caught in staring at her with wonder, trying to understand how this could be the same person as the small, black eyed, tan skinned child he’d seen in his room.  She was staring at him again before he realized it, and he tried to say something but couldn’t make any noise.  She was very tall, as tall as him, and could hold his eyes straight on.  He was vaguely aware that he needed to blink.

Then she moved forward and kissed him, lingering.  He froze, not knowing how to react, but suddenly realized with surprise, that her lips felt warm and soft.

Currun huffed impatiently.  “We’re in a hostile place, with one dead guard waiting to be found.  Shall we go?”

Alisiya drew away, smiled at him, but it still didn’t reach her eyes.  They still made him feel frozen, unwilling to stare, but forced to anyway.  “I’ve been locked away for a very long time.”  She shrugged, and broke their gaze, leaving Russ to wonder what exactly had happened.  She picked a cloak up from the bier and threw it over her shoulders.  “I’ve watched other people taking enjoyment from life for far too long.”

Currun grunted, but then faltered a little when Alisiya turned a flash of blue on him.  He frowned, gripped the torch a little tighter, then shook his head and turned to go.  Alisiya fastened her cloak around the white dress, and lifted the hood over her head, hiding her face in its shadows.

Currun took a few steps, then suddenly halted.  “Where is your mother?” he asked, sweeping the torchlight around the room.

“Buried,” said Alisiya’s voice from the cloak.

“Buried?  In the ground?”

“You would not want her bones on display like these poor souls?” Alisiya motioned to the dusty corpses in the walls.

Currun shook his head.  “It’s still hard to think of her as bones.  When we saw you . . . .”

“Then remember her that way.”  Alisiya walked past him.  “And as you said, you are in a hostile place.  Best not become bones yourselves.”

Russ followed them in a daze.  He could still feel Alisiya’s lips on his, but now he remembered them as cold.  He rubbed the back of his hand across his mouth, and the hooded shadow turned to look at him.  He dropped his hand guiltily.

They climbed the many steps up through the burial halls.  When they came to the door, Alisiya put out a white hand and stopped Currun.  “Russell,” she said, “you must go out first.”

“Alright,” nodded Russ, walking around her.  He didn’t know why, but he felt he should do it.  She placed her other hand on his arm briefly, and he felt the touch through to his bone.

“Why?” Currun protested.

“The guard is changing,” she said.  “Go on.”

Russ opened the door and walked out, still feeling fuzzy, though he couldn’t quite name the feeling or the reason.  He noticed the fresh air, after being in the musty tomb, and looked up at the stars before scanning the garden.  The guard was still sprawled out on the path, but the body didn’t seem to register as much more than a dark lump.  Perhaps . . . he’d overreacted before . . . .

He looked over his shoulder.  The door was shut behind him.  He walked down the path, swiveling his head to look at the bushes and shadows rising on either side.  Where am I going?

Keep walking.  You’re doing fine.

Well, okay . . . .  Vague unease gnawed at him, but he kept walking.  In a moment, he heard voices, and froze.  He looked back again, but the tomb was lost in the bushes.  He listened a moment; the voices came from straight ahead of him.  Instinct told him to run.

Wait.

He waited, not knowing why.  He saw light flickering down the path, and wanted to run, but he couldn’t run, so he waited.  Two guards came walking down the path, and he felt naked and foolish.  Then he realized that he was bait again.

Shit.  He tried to dart into the bushes, but it was too late.  They yelled out, and as he ran into the dark he heard them pursue.  He ran, not knowing what was shadow and what was bush, swerving away from nothing and stumbling into leaves.  They could see him, with their lights, and he felt cornered, helpless.  Their voices continued to call out, shouting orders, but louder to him was the thump of feet on ground and his heart in his ears.  He had daggers, but against two guards?  Forget about it.  Where am I going? he wondered, but there was no answer this time.

Up ahead he saw another path open up, and took it.  A gate called to him, standing tall and welcoming in the moonlight.  He sprinted toward it, then heard a single sound speak to him on the other side.  A bark.

“The dog kennels are down past the garden this way.”

His limbs stopped working.  He froze and stumbled, falling to the ground, seeing the darkness turn to grass blades just before he slammed into it.  Panicking, he tried to scramble back to his feet, but they were on him.  Guards, not dogs.  Somehow even in his fear the thought rose in him with relief.  They grabbed him from behind and pinned his arms back, forcing him back down on his knees.  He struggled, trying to kick and thrash them away; to get to his knives.

Sharp pain struck and filled the back of his head, and he fell.