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JUSTAN BLINKED THE spots from his eyes and then searched for the enemy, but the man in black was gone. No shadow survived the brilliance, but the light revealed a painful sight as it faded.
Merrilyn was lying on her side in the middle of the trail. Her cape spread around her, her hair covering her face. She lay so still, the sight of her had his chest tightening as he fought down a sob.
“Merrilyn!” He rushed to her side, shouting her name. Rolling her over, he stroked the hair away from her face with gentle hands. His heart leapt with relief as she drew in a feeble breath. Lifting her into his arms, he carried her quickly up the hill and into camp.
Aileena saw him coming and ran to meet him.
"Quick," she said, "in here."
She led him to the tent where they had treated Aiden the night before. He laid Merrilyn's body on the soft mattress and Aileena immediately pushed him out of the way to get a closer look at her. She mumbled rapidly under her breath, and Justan realized she was praying. Tears streamed down her face.
Aileena began at Merrilyn's head and felt gently with her hands, checking her all the way down to her toes. When she had searched Merrilyn everywhere for wounds and found none, she stepped away from the bed, shaking her head in confusion.
"Describe exactly what happened," Aileen said. Her voice was calm, but there was a wildness in her eyes that gave her away.
"We were attacked by"—he searched for words—"shadows led by what I can only guess to be a wizard."
"A wizard?"
Justan nodded. "He seemed to be surrounded by darkness and when he charged at me, Merrilyn—I don't know where she came from or how she did it!"
He caught himself on a sob and ran a hand through his damp hair. With a shuddering breath he shook his head again.
Aileena began to cry. Justan put his arm around her to comfort her, but she shoved him away with such force it surprised him.
"Get out, Justan! Get out!" She yelled, her face full of anger and covered in tears. Aileena pushed him back with each shouted word and, with a final fling he tripped out into the sunlight, the tent flap falling before him.
Justan clinched his fists for a moment, then kicked the edge of the tent and marched off to find someone to shout at.
****
"WHAT'S OUR STATUS, Caide?" Justan asked, rubbing his tired eyes a few hours later. The two of them stood in his tent where they had gathered to revise their strategy.
"We have several injured, Your Highness, but Aileena assures me they will recover quickly. We only lost Timand, but he was the first attacked and they got him from behind, sir."
Justan nodded. It was excellent news. A surprise attack costing only one casualty was a stroke of luck. He realized with a sudden pain in his chest that their success was mostly due to Merrilyn's presence. Though his men were well trained, her healing at the scene had made the significant difference in their margin of victory. If they were to lose her now, though, it could hardly be considered a victory.
"It seems they've given up their advantage by attacking us in the daylight," Caide continued. "Now we know what we're up against, to some extent."
"What news have we of these... these ... shadows? Do we know what they are? Where they are from?"
"So far, no one can be found who has ever seen or even heard of a race of shadowmen. I have already sent a messenger to Keelan seeking their help in answering this mystery. Perhaps they have had some dealings with the shadows before and can help us find their camp. Regardless of what we discover, it seems apparent that they have chosen this fight with us in particular, Your Majesty. None of the surrounding people have seen any sign of this enemy, and they have now attacked two of Nomar’s encampments in three months' time."
Justan nodded grimly at this. He had come to much the same conclusion. "It seems whoever they are, they mean to bring us to war."
He paced slowly across the small space, rubbing his brow in concentration before turning to give orders to Caide. "Have the men set up torches around the perimeter of the camp, as many as they can manage, and be sure they are tall so that they keep the camp well lit at all times. If our enemy has the advantage in darkness, then we must use light as our ally. We can at least try to keep them from surprising us again."
Caide nodded. "Shall I have the bonfire expanded, sir?"
"Yes," said Justan. "Yes, that is excellent. Have the men stay close and armed tonight. We'll be able to hold fast until morning. I want you to lead a thorough search of the forest surrounding the pools. Perhaps they've left us a trail we could follow and bring the battle to them for a change."
Caide didn't respond, but Justan seemed to answer his unspoken thoughts.
"I know it's a long shot, Caide, but it's all we have to go on for now. If we can't discover their hiding place..." He broke off with a tired sigh.
"Page!"
The tent flap rose to admit a young boy. Justan moved to the table and scribbled a brief note as he spoke without looking at his new audience. "I want you to find Tomas and give him this message to be carried with all haste to the king."
He paused for a moment to concentrate on his writing. Certain now that they must prepare for war, Justan asked his father to send more troops. He sealed and handed the message to the boy before bending close to whisper. "One more thing...bring me news of the Alaith."
The boy nodded and left. Caide followed him out to build up the fires as they had discussed. Soon, the smell of wood smoke filled the air and the flickering light of the torches shifted constantly, casting an eerie glow over the darkening camp.
Justan paced in silence, the crushing weight of his burdens growing heavier with every step. He had come here to discover the fate of his brother, but the closer he got, the more elusive it seemed. Now, his worst fear had been realized. Merrilyn lay unconscious, afflicted with some unseen injury, and he worried she would never wake up.
Taking a seat, he replayed the scene in his head once more. Still, he could not understand what had happened. The only thing he knew was she had saved his life by taking the blow that was meant for him.
He shook his head, trying to clear it of the memory, but it did no good.
Footsteps approached his tent and he shouted, "Enter!" before the visitor even asked.
It was the page, returning with news of the Alaith.
"Well?" he asked, glancing up at the young boy.
"She is still asleep, Your Highness, and she looks very peaceful."
Justan sighed deeply. "Thank you, page."
The boy bowed his head and marched away.
"Thank you," he said to no one.
Then, he cried.