Shadowguard

Everna's awareness returned in fleeting bouts of consciousness punctuated by eternities of blissful oblivion. There was sound, a distant shuffle of feet and voices — muffled and distorted — then silence. Something touched her shoulder, and again her leg. One moment she was floating, adrift in the ceaseless void of nothingness, and the next she woke to itchy sheets clinging to her sweaty skin.

When she finally opened her eyes, the fuzzy wall of an unfamiliar room greeted her. Her body was heavy, her limbs reluctant to respond. They lay tangled beneath the quilted duvet thrown over her, and even the slightest movement was too great a task.

Her mind was much of the same: thick and muddled. The haze that choked her cognizance smothered her thoughts, leaving them a garbled mess of fragmented pieces — blurry images and vague words of little significance. It took several minutes before she realized she was no longer asleep.

It was several more before she realized she was not in her room. This one was much smaller and barren, built of faded wood rather than polished paneling. Her sword sat propped against the leg of a rickety desk pushed against the wall opposite the bed. A small mirror, framed with tarnished brass, hung above the desk, upon which sat a stack of neatly folded clothes and a set of black leathers. A bag hung from the back of the accompanying chair.

With great effort, Everna pulled herself upright and turned to look out the window beside the bed. Large flakes of snow tumbled from the sky, further burying the small clearing beneath a sea of white. Beyond said clearing stretched a forest of tall oaks intermixed with the occasional brilliant red of a maple tree. Near the edge of the forest stood a small stone stable, the horses inside swaddled in thick blankets as they fed from their troughs.

"Oh, good. You're finally awake."

She turned to the door, her head wobbling. A tall woman — so tall her head nearly touched the top of the door frame — lingered on the other side of the threshold. She wore a dress of pure white and pale gold, which split at the hips. A golden, bejeweled sword hung loosely around her waist. A golden circlet sat snuggly atop the braided crown twisted around her head. She held a small bottle filled with shimmering blue liquid in her hand.

"My name's Leah," she said. Her voice bared the hallmarks of a healer, each word enunciated with care. "The resident cleric, if you will. You caused quite a stir when you arrived."

"And where, exactly, did I arrive?"

Speaking was no easy feat. Everna’s words tumbled from her lips in a slurred mess, her lips refusing to part more than a few inches. She hardly understood herself.

Leah chuckled melodically, and stepped fully into the room. She moved with the grace of a priestess, poised and quiet. When she arrived at the edge of the bed, she uncorked the bottle and pressed it into Everna's hands.

"You're in one of Shadowguard's safe houses, and that is a clarity potion," she explained. "Should help to clear your head. "

Everna's fingers fumbled as she took the bottle. It was cool against her skin, the liquid inside shimmering beneath the glow of the oil lamp burning on the small nightstand beside the bed. Even with her abysmal lack of magical knowledge, she felt the thrum of power contained inside.

The potion was heaven as it slid down her throat. It tasted sweet, a bit like berries, and left no lingering aftertaste — a rarity as far as potions were concerned. Whoever brewed it was no budding alchemist.

It set to work immediately. The fog parted and, much like a veil being lifted, her thoughts sprang into focus. Along with them came the memories of the previous night and the weeks leading up to that event. Clarity, indeed.

"Gods, that's powerful," she said, peering into the now empty bottle.

"A bit too much? I wasn't sure how deep the daze would be, so I brewed a stronger potion as a precaution," Leah said, apologetic. She plucked the empty bottle from her hand and returned the cork to its place. "It won't remedy any lingering exhaustion. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to inform the others you're awake."

She left as quickly as she arrived, closing behind her with a soft click.

With her head clear and feeling much better than she had in days, Everna pushed the covers aside and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. In place of her dress, she wore a short nightgown, the ends barely long enough to touch her knees. Her coat hung from a hook near the door. On the desk she found her dress, freshly washed.

She nearly jumped out of her skin when she glanced at her reflection in the mirror. Where her hair had once fallen to her waist, the ends now brushed the underside of her chin, loose waves sleep-tousled and sticking out at odd angles. She ran her fingers through it, the waves smoothing for only a second before bouncing back into place.

Someone must have fixed it while she was unconscious, though she can't imagine why it would be a concern.

Still, Everna couldn't help but scrunch her nose. She'd never been fond of the shorter styles, though they'd become rather popular in the capital in recent years. It made her face look too round — her cheeks too pudgy. Too dollish.

She supposed she should consider herself fortunate it wasn't any shorter; Windmore hadn't left her with much room.

It'll grow back, she told herself. At least your head's still attached.

Pushing that thought aside, she slipped out of the nightgown and into her dress. She pulled on the pair of plain leather boots set off to the side and, after a moment of thought, belted her sword to her waist. Dressed and decidedly hungry, she opened the door.

The hall beyond, plain and illuminated by candles burning in wall sconces, stretched for nearly a couple hundred feet before it abruptly stopped at the top of a flight of stairs. The sound of conversation drifted up from the main room as she descended, and for a moment, she felt as if she was back in the tavern the night Mayor Ashburn died — only the twisting in her gut wasn't one of foreboding, but nervousness.

She didn't know these people.

Wil was not an ideal model to base her expectations on, and Everna prayed to the Golden Lady they weren't all like him. Leah was a cleric — kindness as a virtue demanded of her by the clergy. With the obvious attempt on her life and the startling realization that she couldn't even trust the Guard, the thought of walking into a room full of strangers seemed more daunting than ever.

"She has to go. She cannot stay here," a woman said, her voice shrill and nasally. There was a pompous flare to her words and a hint of an accent not found in Inverness. "She's going to lead them right to us!"

Everna stepped off the last step and into the small alcove beyond, but, upon hearing that statement, her legs refused to move further.

"Vina's right, Osain," a man, said. He sounded almost reluctant. "Why should we stick our necks out for her? She's not part of Shadowguard. It's not worth the risk. Not with them involved."

Everna bit the inside of her cheek, her hands fisting into the folds of her skirt. Perhaps she wasn't hungry after all. Rest seemed like the better option. Leah said she needed that as well.

Yet, despite her better judgment, she remained there, listening.

"Thanks to her, Shroud knows we have a post in this area," the pompous woman continued. "They're nosing around the border as we speak!"

"Osain, please listen to reason for once," another voice chimed in, soft and pleading. "Her situation's unfortunate, but Vina and Cedric are right. The risk of keeping her here is too great."

"Useless cowards, the lot of them."

Everna startled. Wil's voice didn't come from the room beyond, but from her right. He lingered in the corner of her peripheral vision, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. His fingers dug into the blackened leather encasing his frame and his knuckles bled white. It seemed with every word they said, his irritation only grew.

"What are they talking about?" Everna asked, her voice hardly more than a whisper.

Wil shook his head. "You going out there or not?"

"No, I think I'm going back upstairs, actually."

"You're going to have to face them, eventually. Might as well do it while Osain's here to keep them in line."

Everna pinned him with a withering glare. "Last time I took your advice, I ended up getting shot with an arrow. I don't exactly trust your judgment."

Just as she started up the stairs, he pushed off the wall. He caught her by the arm, and before she could protest further, he hauled her out of the alcove and into the main room.