She Cultivates Shadows

It was far more difficult to leave Paris behind than Emma thought it would be. Even with the uneasy atmosphere the war created, the city stood above it all. Soldiers patrolled every corner, their pistols and rifles and swords adding an element of danger to every stroll, every meal.

Still, Emma could have spent years wandering its boulevards, even as a tourist. It did not feel like home to her, but she didn’t have a home, so maybe Scotland was never hers either. Emma cast one last look at the city as they rode from it. The light gleamed off golden canopies again, her mind trading the prior day’s disdain with longing.

She turned back to the road ahead and the bouncing of the horse beneath her. The constant riding was taking its toll and her thighs ached with every stride. The thought of another long push almost made her scream. She took a deep breath and squeezed her horse’s reins until her fingers hurt instead. Jacob suggested they ride until they reach Esson, three stops away. It would be the longest single journey they’d undertaken since leaving Scotland. They would ride into the night.

Emma noticed Sarah checking on her more now. She couldn’t be sure how far along into her pregnancy she was, but based on how frequently her companion expressed her concern about the amount of rest she was getting, she must be at a critical point. Other than constant fatigue and a few new aches, her body was strong enough to ride. Morning nausea had left her, a minor blessing, and Sarah guessed she was most likely heading into her fourth month of pregnancy. The extra flesh of her stomach was still soft, though, so the baby still had much growing to do before her womb expanded. The extra fat was already strange to her. She had always been thin, her muscles showing through her scarred stomach. The marks were a constant reminder, a warning, to remain strong. When she undressed now, she couldn’t help but see weakness at a time she most wanted to be strong. Her stomach would grow; she would be vulnerable. Her scars would stretch long and purple as her child left its mark on her alongside the marks made by others, or perhaps cover them, removing their stain. She could only hope it would be—

“It’s going to rain!” Jacob shouted over his shoulder. He pointed ahead to dark clouds, wispy tendrils hanging below them like a woman’s hair draped over the end of a chaise. They pulled their cloaks on in unison and galloped south towards it.

The ride was long and quiet. Emma knew the regret of leaving Paris weighed on Jacob and Sarah as much as it did her. Perhaps this is why Jacob had urged them to get as far away from the city in that first day. It would have been so easy to turn back and stay there as long as they could, outlast the war, even. Instead, she stared at the ceiling of yet another carriage inn, the sounds of drunk men colliding with her window from outside, the muffled intercourse of a couple in a nearby room throbbing through the thin, wooden divide, and tried to convince her mind to let her dream of the French capital as she drifted asleep.

She did, in fact, dream. It did not include Notre Dame or crepes or gilded rooftops, but it was warm and comfortable and slow as molasses. A great amber light crept into her vision and shielded her eyes from a brilliance that grew from inside her, eclipsing the edges of her body and moving outward. For a moment, she felt weightless. The bed was no longer beneath her, nor the roof above. Then, as quickly as it started, it ended. The light retracted and the fibres of the sheets rubbed against her bare legs and arms once again. She shivered, a chill tickling the fine hairs of her legs. It was the middle of the night. So quiet she could hear the wind rattle against the windowpane. Too late even for drinking and sex. Sleep was the only option for every soul in Esson. She rolled over and joined them.

The next morning, she woke to heavy knocking on the door to her room. The intensity startled her to her feet. Sarah sat upright in her bed, sleep still clinging to her. Grabbing one of her knives, Emma pulled her chemise around her and stepped lightly to the door.

“Qu’est-ce?” she asked, employing what little French she knew.

A gruff angry voice responded. “Qu’est-ce? C’est le propriétaire de cette auberge. Qui es-to? Comment es-to entré dans ma chambre?”

Emma looked back at Sarah, her eyes squinted. She opened the door a crack to see into the hallway. A man with a red face and clenched teeth stood just outside. Ever since the excitement with the Luddites before they’d reached Dover, Emma paid special attention to the owners of the carriage inns. This was not the man that rented them rooms last night.

“Sir, I do not speak French. Is there a problem?”

“A problem? You should not be here! You did not pay!” An accent laced his words so thick he spit while he spoke.

“We rented the room from the owner last night. Is there another person who works in the evening?”

“I’m the owner, the only owner. I was here all night. We did not receive any guests and yet, somehow, here you are. Sleeping in my rooms for free.”

Sarah piped up from behind her, “Sir, please allow us to get dressed and we will be more than happy to discuss this. It’s highly inappropriate for you to barge into the room of two young women.”

Emma looked back at her, but the window caught her gaze.

“Get dressed then. You’d best hurry. And grab your man too. You’re all paying for the night before you leave!” He trailed off as he left their door and descended the nearby stairs.

“Sarah, look.” Emma pointed to the window.

They both crept towards it like the image would shatter if they stepped any harder. From here, they could see the rooftops of a few other buildings.

They were all covered in snow.

They pressed their faces up against the window. The streets below were similar. A thin layer of white collected in the middle of the street.

“Look!”

In the distance, peeking through the clouds, were the tops of mountains. Black, snow-capped crags tore through the fog, blocking the morning sun. The sight did more than steal their breath, it rattled their minds. She might have been able to believe a freak snowstorm had descended onto Esson, but the mountains, those were the Alps of Switzerland.

Sarah’s similar confusion told her she had not somehow woken on the far side of a forgotten period of travel.

“We were in Esson last night, were we not?”

Sarah nodded.

“Where are we now?”

Another knock at their door. This time softer. “Ladies, something has happened.” It was Jacob. He knocked again.

Emma opened the door. Jacob’s face drained of all colour.

“We are not in Esson,” Emma said.

Jacob shook his head.

“Meet us downstairs. We have to pay the owner for the night.”

Sarah and Emma dressed and left the room to join Jacob, who was speaking with the owner. The man looked much calmer already. Jacob convinced him they’d arrived while he had stepped away from the bar and, seeing no one, took two empty rooms, but had every intention of paying in the morning.

With that worry addressed, the three of them stepped outside. The air prickled against their face, neck, and hands. Even having seen what lay before them from their room’s window, they still had trouble making sense of it. A thin layer of snow dusted the streets of the small town they were in. Rooftops and chimneys looked like frosted cakes. Footprints leading in every direction spoiled the clean blanket of snow that lay across the small square outside the inn.

“The owner told me this is Martigny. It does snow here, he said, but this is unseasonal.” The words were slow to form. Jacob was not sure how to make sense of this. “He’s worried about the vineyards.”

Sarah tittered. “What happened? This is madness. If it wasn’t for the two of you seeing the same thing I’m seeing, I’d have myself committed.”

“We all remember arriving in Esson, paying the owner of the carriage inn for fresh horses and our rooms, and getting into bed, yes?”

The others nodded.

“Did either of you wake in the night?”

Both shook their heads. “Which is strange, if I’m being honest. I am not a heavy sleeper and I often sleep only a few hours, wake for a while, then sleep another few. Last night I did not wake at all. I assumed the long ride exhausted me.”

“By this point, I’ve witnessed many things that would have me committed to an asylum if I were to speak them to the wrong person.” Emma considered what she was about to say. “I had a curious dream last night and yet, it did not leave my mind as dreams do on waking. I remember every detail.”

“A dream? How could that explain any of this?” Jacob said, his hands stretched out in disbelief.

“We were moved during the night.”

“Moved? By who? Even if we were unconscious for the duration of the entire evening, it would take weeks to get where we are now from Esson.”

“I don’t know how to explain it, but as I drifted to sleep, I was overwhelmed by the same sensation as in Paris. A light and a warmth coursed through me. It covered everything in a deep, amber glow. I felt weightless for a moment, before settling back into my bed. I have no words for this, but I believe we moved a great distance in an instant. From one room to another, here in Martigny.”

“I need to sit.” Jacob scoffed and took a seat on a bench outside the inn’s entrance.

“Jacob, I know this is difficult to accept, but you have not seen what I’ve seen.”

“What you are saying is impossible. It’s fantasy.”

“Then how do you explain this?”

“Just because I can’t explain it does not mean the only explanation should defy the laws of—”

“She’s right, Jacob,” Sarah said.

“It is no surprise that you would align yourself with her.”

“Jacob, please, don’t dismiss this so easily. I’ve seen this before.”

Emma turned to Sarah, confused.

“You have too, Emma. Your Ned. Nicholas. He did astounding things. Do you not remember? There was a day, late in the afternoon, several of us went out in a boat in Inverness. This was after the factory fire. After… the child that was lost. I have never spoken this to another soul, but we went out a little further into the sea than we should have. The waves were choppy, too much for the small boat, so we rowed back. Then we saw him, Ned, suspended above the water, like God himself was holding him by the ankle. He dangled there, his arms thrashing. Then he fell, but it appeared like he was slammed into the surface of the water. It wasn’t natural. We expected him to struggle or splash or anything, but there was nothing. One of us dove into the water and pulled him into the boat. Then, I cannot explain this, but a blinding yellow light sparked only for an instant, and he was gone. It almost drove us mad right there in the boat. We’d all seen him. We touched him. It was not a ghost. When we made it back to shore, we saw him stumbling out of the bar, soaking wet, face cut and bleeding. Then again, he was gone. We all knew something strange had occurred, but we let ourselves believe we had too many drinks that night, or the trip had made us weary, or the sea and the twilight had created a shared delusion. I didn’t drink that night. I wasn’t tired. And I could see perfectly. He moved in an instant. Invisible. Impossible.”

Tears fell from Emma’s eyes, and she could not explain why.

Jacob spoke first. “Assuming all of that is true, what would this man have to do with Emma?”

Emma placed her hands on her stomach. “This is his child. The one in the workshop in Edinburgh told me this lineage passes through the firstborn child.”

“The child isn’t even born, Emma. You’re suggesting it can manifest these powers from inside you? It’s not even able to see, let alone think, yet.”

“This isn’t the first time. In Paris, you claimed you could not see us at the checkpoint to enter the city. Neither did the soldier. How is that possible? We were both on horses beside you. I remember wanting to be small, then not just insignificant, but invisible. And it was so. We walked through dozens of soldiers undetected. I felt my baby move during this, Jacob. It knew what I needed and helped me, to help it, survive.”

Jacob turned his gaze to the mountains in the distance. “I can no longer trust my eyes. Sense and reason are lost. I don’t know if it is your child that makes these events occur, but I cannot say it isn’t. I don’t think I could even concoct an alternative for this that would satisfy me more. For now, we must act as if what you say is true, no matter what we may or may not believe.”

Sarah kneeled beside Jacob and held his hand. “I know this isn’t the journey you expected, and I know it’s asking a lot from you and the way you see the world, but I appreciate that you make room for the impossible. Despite what you may think, it is difficult for me too. In fact, I don’t want any of the things I’ve witnessed to be true. The world is too large and too incomprehensible as it is. If I now have to allow for this…” She cast a quick glance back at Emma. “How do I reconcile myself with a world where the laws of nature are broken by a few?”

“I suppose you ensure you are friends, and not enemies, of the ones who can,” Jacob said. He chuckled to himself, but it was not genuine.

“We are friends for life, Jacob,” Emma said. “Of that, you can be sure.”

“Be sure to let the little one know too, will you? When he or she arrives.” Jacob stood and took a step into the street. “For now, we must decide. We either try to find our original route to Lyon and go around the mountains or we do as we are being led to do.”

“What is that?”

“To do as Napoleon did. We cross the Alps.”