UNDER THE DARKENED SUN

Part 1: Behind the Iron Gates

D. G. Davidson

Copyright © 2022 D. G. Davidson

All rights reserved.

Cover Artist: Jon C. Pool

Acknowledgments

To my parents, your lives are an inspiration to me always, and I’m grateful for the opportunity to share my “January Project 2022” with you. Thank you for always being by my side and showering me with love. I am forever your adoring daughter.

To my sister, my brother and sister-in-law, and all my nieces and nephews, I am forever grateful for your encouragement, support, and love. I am always comforted to know that you all will be there no matter what life brings. As always, I love you dearly, and I hope you enjoy Part 1 of my story!

To my friends, Deb and Kali, your endurance while being inundated with emails, messages, and pictures during this process is to be commended. Thank you for your feedback, even when it was not welcome, and cheers to all future group chats and writing sessions.

Thank you all,

Dani

For a Girl with Golden Eyes

In the largest bedchamber of the largest palace, Lara sat at her dressing table near the open balcony, surrounded by finery fit for a queen—no, a soon-to-be empress. So far from home, and far from the front where the last battles raged, she sat frozen in place.

“What did you say?” Lara asked. Her eyes fixed on the reflection of her maidservant.

“Tasher,” Bryle said. “Tasher, he… he’s going to get rid of—”

“And the king? What did the king say?” Lara asked. She searched Bryle’s face in the mirror, and the maidservant’s eyes were filling with tears. “What did my husband say?” I need to hear her say it.

“He agreed it would be best for the sake of the kingdom,” Bryle said through her tears.

The hairpin tipped and slid from between Lara’s fingertips and hit the carpet with a thud. No. This couldn’t be happening. Lara stood, her chair careening backwards. She could not allow it. She turned to face her maidservant, each breath causing pain in her chest. “Bryle, you have been loyal to me all these years. Are you loyal to me still?”

Bryle’s tears stopped, and she swallowed. “I have sworn an oath, Your Majesty. And I will serve you until my dying breath.”

Lara nodded. “Then may the ancient ones reward you for your loyalty. Now go, fetch the manservant from Gerlath, and bring me my baby at once. Do not delay.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” she said and picked up her skirts and fled from the room.

Alone in her chambers, Lara opened the top drawer of her dressing table. Her eyes lingered on a small dagger with a plain wooden handle in its leather sheath. She reached out with a shaky hand and picked it up. It smelled like pine needles and the sap of evergreen trees; it smelled like home. She clutched it to her chest, and her grandmother’s voice echoed in her mind. Even curses can bring good things, Lara.

She knew what she had to do. She tucked the dagger into her nightdress and strode across the room to stand before the tapestry her grandmother wove using live material, the last of its kind. The cloth held an old incantation to make things animate and showed a woman with golden eyes dancing beside a fire, containing it with her words. Lara placed a hand on the cloth, closed her eyes, and let the vision overtake her mind, as she had so many times before. And whispers began to fill the air. She felt skirts brush against her legs, the warmth from the fire faded and swelled, and the cold ground beat against the soles of her feet as she danced. But the whispers she heard came from somewhere else. The sound traveled on the wind from a place far away across the sea. It spoke of life. She took a deep breath and let herself be over the sea, to a place where the smell of ashes filled the air, and six people stood framed by smoke. Another six came to stand next to them. Her mouth moved, and the twelve were bound, a curse entwining ropes of blooming crimson across their chests.

Her grandmother’s voice traveled through her mind once again. Even curses can bring good things, Lara. Do not forget whose blood runs in your veins, even when you leave us here. Terrified shrieks filled the smoky air, and shadows began to envelop those who were bound, shadows dark enough to despair even the clearest mind. Lara’s eyes snapped open, and she left the unfinished scene behind. With one hand still on the tapestry, she swept it aside. Where it had hung, a small oak door now stood. Four stories down, she thought and pressed a hand against the door’s smooth surface. It was unused for so many years.

The sound of the door to her chambers opening reached her ears, and she heard the soft footsteps of Bryle on the carpets, followed by the heavier footfalls of the manservant. She turned to meet Bryle, who hurriedly placed the baby in her arms. Lara’s dark brown eyes met those of gold as her baby looked up and cooed at her. A faint smile touched Lara’s lips. “Aleda, my darling,” she said and placed a kiss on the baby’s tiny forehead. She closed her eyes, breathed deep the smell of her baby’s skin, and felt her throat tighten. Tears threatened to spill over, but Lara held back, straightened her shoulders, and looked at the manservant. “Man from Gerlath. Do you remember what we spoke of the day I saved you?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” he said and inclined his head.

Lara held Aleda out to him, but he hesitated. “Taker her,” Lara said, and pushed the baby into his arms. He took Aleda and cradled her gently, and she looked increasingly small in his large hands. Lara took a step back. “Bryle, open the door.”

The maidservant jumped and fumbled with the doorknob before opening the door to reveal a dark stairwell. A cleft in the wall followed the stairs like a handrail, and Lara quickly reached out and lowered her fingertips to the cold stone. A few words from her lips, just a short summons, and a spark leapt from the wall where her fingers touched, lighting a fire that chased the staircase downward. She turned to the manservant. “Take Aleda down below and wait for me there.”

The man bowed his head, his scarred neck edging from beneath his shirt, and then, with one large step, he was within the stairwell. Bryle closed the door behind him with shaky hands and pulled the tapestry back into place.

“Bryle,” Lara said and walked back to her dressing table, “send word to the king that I must speak to him urgently.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” the woman said, and hurried toward the door.

Lara looked down at her hands and let out a pent up breath. “And Bryle, when you’re done, go home. Go back to your family. I release you from your bond.”

Bryle paused. “Forgive me, Your Majesty,” she said, and faced the queen. “My oath forbids it, and even you cannot release me from such a bond.”

“Have you forgotten who I am? Give me your hand, and I will release you.” Lara held out a hand in Bryle’s direction.

“Your Majesty,” Bryle said, “I do not wish to leave you.”

Lara studied her companion’s freckled face and nodded. “Very well. Then go below with Caius and wait for me. I will go to the king myself.”

Bryle’s face relaxed, and she smiled. “Thank you, Your Majesty.” And with that Bryle ran back to the hidden door and shut herself inside.

Lara picked her dressing gown up, flung it over her shoulders, and looked at the surrounding room. Seven years. Seven years of trying to convince the king to make things right. She sighed and rubbed her temples. She had to try to speak with him one more time.

But, before she could take a step, the door to her chamber flew open, and there the king stood. His broad frame filled the doorway, and he stepped into the room, anxiety written all over his face. “Lara,” he said, and stepped across the room in her direction.

She felt her heart thud and confusion well up inside her. He will listen. He has to listen… because if he doesn’t… She shook her head and faced him. “Have you decided?” she asked.