The Shadow’s Curse (2 page)

Finally, after a pause that seemed to last a lifetime, Loni nodded. ‘We need to get away from here,’ he said, his gaze fixed on the empty plain ahead of them. ‘They might come back with reinforcements.’

Raim nodded, not trusting himself yet to speak. He hoisted Vlad to his feet, and with the help of another they carried the broken man away from the site of the ambush, the long grasses obscuring their path. Vlad barely weighed a thing.

They set up camp a few miles away, and established a vigilant watch, but no one came; the only shadows on the horizon were the dark peaks of the Amarapura mountains. Still, Loni insisted they couldn’t risk a campfire, not even to boil water to help sterilize Vlad’s wounds. The air felt so still though, Raim couldn’t imagine anyone approaching without them knowing about it. Not that he thought Khareh would be particularly bothered by the ambush. They hadn’t come away with the real prize.

Vlad drifted in and out of consciousness, babbling meaningless words. Raim cringed, looking at him. He was a shell of his former self – the arrogant former Baril priest Raim had met in Lazar. Some of Vlad’s wounds were older – scars fading to white, cracking, healing poorly. His haunt was silent and docile. Raim tried to talk to him, too, but received nothing in return. His stomach turned at the thought of what the man must have endured.

Of what Wadi might still be enduring.

‘Look, you didn’t know. Couldn’t have known.’ Draikh sat cross-legged in front of him.

Raim shrugged. ‘But what she saw . . .’

‘She saw a wagon. Carrying a prisoner. She didn’t see the prisoner. We all just assumed because they had shadow-guards that they were carrying someone important. You hoped it would be—’

‘Of course I hoped it would be her! The fact that it’s not means that she’s still there with him. That I’ve still abandoned her to whatever fate he has in store for her.’ Raim stood up, stretching the cramp from his leg. ‘Gods, this is so frustrating.’

Dharma had never been wrong before. Everyone was awed by Raim and his sage powers, but he was in awe of his younger sister. She had endured terrible pain at the hands of Khareh, but in doing so he had inadvertently unlocked her gift. She could see into the future, and what she saw, she wove into carpets that prophesied the future. It had been Dharma who had shown him that Wadi was still alive in the first place – when he thought she was dead. He had seen with his own eyes the knife Khareh had thrust into her chest. But Dharma knew otherwise, and had set him on the path to rescuing her.

Those who knew of her gift called her the Weaver. Vlad didn’t yet know the wonder his daughter had become. Raim would tell him when he woke up; it might go some way to relieving his pain.

‘Khareh is playing you,’ said Draikh. ‘He knows you too well. He knew you would come after her.’

‘And surely
you
should have known Khareh better than anyone!’

‘Raim!’ Loni stormed over. Whereas before, his grandfather used to look at Raim as if he was going mad, now he understood what was happening when Raim appeared to shout at a dark cloud: that Raim was having a conversation with his spirit – or, in this case, an argument. ‘How about channelling that energy into something more productive? You’ve neglected your training ever since we came on this expedition.’

Raim cursed under his breath, but he knew his grandfather was right. All his focus had been on rescuing Wadi and he had set aside the progress he and Draikh had been making. The first month after the brutal clash with Khareh had been about recovering, for both of them. Khareh had broken them of both physical and mental energy. Raim still had flashes of memory: the expression of sheer joy and cruelty as Khareh looked down on the men and women from Lazar; the fear that gripped his throat when Raim saw his likeness – a part of
his own
spirit – empowering his greatest enemy; Khareh’s cool demeanour as he punched the knife through Wadi’s chest.

It was a miracle Raim had escaped with his life. Without Draikh, he wouldn’t have. Besides Khareh and his soldiers, they had also been fighting against members of the Yun – the elite guard of Darhan, the best anywhere in the world, and the order that Raim had once been apprenticed to. Once, Raim had dreamed of nothing more than joining the Yun and becoming its leader – and the Protector of the Khan himself. The fact that his best friend at the time had been the heir to the khanate seemed to make it all the more clear that it was his destiny.

But destiny had other plans for Raim. Like an involuntary twitch, Raim’s eyes flicked down to his wrist where a bright red scar encircled it, a brazen reminder of his treachery. In Darhan, vows were sealed with knots and carried for ever by the oathtaker. Broken promises were seared into the skin like brands when the knots burned away. Even worse, a dark shadow would arrive to haunt the oathbreaker, who would henceforth be shunned. There was no escape from their final fate: banishment across the Sola desert, to the city of exiles – Lazar. An oathbreaker was considered too wretched even to deserve an honourable death at the blade of a sword. Either they would perish in the unforgiving sands of the desert, or they would become Chauk: residents of the city of Lazar, unable to return to their homeland. At least, that was the legend that Raim had grown up with, the legend that had engendered the deeply rooted hatred for all oathbreakers – even himself, now that he was one.

The truth, he discovered, was a little more complicated. The scars were bad, yes, but worse were the shadows – or
haunts
as they were known by the Chauk. As only an oath-breaker could know, the haunt was actually the spirit of the person they betrayed, who could berate the traitor until the oathbreaker was driven mad or entered the city gates. Once they entered Lazar, their punishment was over, and the haunt disappeared. The oathbreakers then lived out the rest of their lives in Lazar, not believing themselves worthy of returning home.

Any vow made before Honour Age – sixteen – did not suffer this consequence. Or so Raim had thought. But by vowing to protect his best friend Khareh’s life, Raim had unwittingly broken a promise he never even knew he had made. He had been scarred, but there was no sign of a shadow. It was still the greatest mystery.

On the run from his home, scarred as an oathbreaker, he had made his first big mistake. Khareh had offered to help him, and Raim had agreed. In exchange, Khareh wanted to make Raim a vow. He promised to take care of Raim’s younger sister once Raim was gone. A promise Khareh would break as soon as he could, to unlock the
other
mystery of the haunts: the power that would make him a sage. If somehow an oathbreaker could gain dominance over, or cooperation with, their haunt, they could harness all their power: from levitation, to healing, and even to flight.

Draikh was Raim’s haunt, but he wasn’t like any other. Raim hadn’t broken his vow to Khareh. Draikh had appeared when Raim was being attacked by a lethal swarm of behrflies, in order to save Raim’s life. Maybe Druikh was the only part of Kharth that was good.

Now Khareh had learned how to use the oathbreakers’ shadows to form a shadow-army – one that would aid him in his quest to rule over all of Darhan, and Raim had no idea how to stop him. Khareh was a raging tornado, causing havoc wherever he went with his army.

‘Brooding is just as bad as arguing.’

Draikh’s voice shook him from his dark stupor. Raim shrugged his shoulders back a couple of times and stretched the cricks from his neck.

‘You’re right.’ He looked up at Draikh. ‘What do you feel like doing today?’

Draikh brandished a stick he had picked up. ‘How about some hand–eye coordination?’

‘Yes, anything!’

‘Pick up that rock and I’ll pretend it’s Khareh’s head.’

Raim did as he was told and chose a jagged shard of rock from the ground, then launched it as hard as he could toward Draikh. Draikh batted it away with the stick, releasing the same pent-up frustration that Raim was feeling over not finding Wadi. They spent an hour tearing across the plain, practising coordinating their movements until they felt like one unit. Working with Draikh seemed so much more natural now, and with each session they discovered more and more about one another’s capabilities, and how each was strengthened by the other.

Raim threw a stone, but Draikh missed. The stick dropped from Draikh’s hands and landed with a thud on the ground.

‘What is it?’ Raim asked.

‘It’s Vlad. He’s waking up.’

Raim spun round and sprinted back to the camp. As he approached, he heard Vlad let out a low groan. Loni was already there, dripping water into Vlad’s mouth.

Slowly, Vlad’s eyes opened. ‘Where am I?’ His voice cracked.

‘Vlad?’ Raim knelt down beside him. Despite the disagreements they’d had back in Lazar, Raim was still glad to see him alive. ‘It’s me, Raim. We ambushed the wagon that was taking you to—’

‘To the prison.’ His voice was so weak, Raim had to lean in close to hear him. ‘I had outstayed my welcome.’ Raim thought he heard a hint of amusement in the man’s voice, but then Vlad slipped back into unconsciousness.

Raim looked up at his grandfather, whose face was creased with concern. ‘It’s a good sign he spoke. It means he may yet recover more of his strength.’ He craned his neck back, scanning the sky for something – although Raim wasn’t quite sure what. ‘It has been enough time, I think, and we haven’t seen sign of another guard coming to retrieve the prisoner.

‘Pola, Mali,’ he barked at two of the other elders. ‘Let’s have a fire tonight. I think it’s time we had some real food.’ He turned to Raim, and raised an eyebrow.

Raim jumped up and nodded, glad for the task. He placed two fingers in his mouth and whistled loudly. Within seconds, he felt the wind rush towards him, a tornado in miniature, and in the centre of it flew Oyu – the garfalcon he had acquired in the desert. Oyu was the reason Raim could not simply stroll into Khareh’s camp and kill him for what he had done. Oyu had swallowed the promise-knot Raim had made vowing his life to Khareh, and now he could not break his oath even if he tried.

And gods above, did he ever want to try.

Oyu landed on his arm and let out a loud screech in his ear. Raim laughed even as he shied away in surprise, and then ran a hand over Oyu’s silky black feathers. Oyu had also been instrumental in saving his life. The Yun were renowned for their skill with animals – and their hawks could be their deadliest weapons. Oyu had saved him when the Yun had sent their hawks to attack him.

Training Oyu was another task that had helped Raim focus his mind. ‘Time to find some rabbits, right, Oyu?’ said Raim. Oyu lifted off Raim’s arm, and Raim had to duck to avoid being hit by his enormous wings.

Later that evening, they all sat around a crackling fire, searing a brace of rabbits over the open flame. Raim tucked into a skewer, the meat tender and pink. It was the most restorative meal they had had in months. The Cheren was situated in the most barren part of the steppes, where there was little game to hunt. Why did the old people need proper meat, when they were only sent to a Cheren to die? Sometimes Darhan logic was twisted.

‘Raim – a little help?’

Raim turned around, a dribble of meat juice running down his chin. He saw Loni approaching, struggling to support Vlad. Raim leaped up, dropping his food in the grass, and moved to take the weight off his grandfather’s shoulders. Together they made their way into the circle, and Raim helped Vlad settle onto the ground near the fire. The man shivered, and another elder threw a second cloak around him.

Vlad began attacking the meat Raim gave him with a fury that belied his apparent frailty. That had always been Vlad’s way – to take advantage when the advantage was there to take.

‘Enough strength to eat is enough strength to talk, don’t you think?’ Draikh said.

Vlad threw him a scowl – since Vlad was an oath-breaker, he could see and hear Draikh – but swallowed his mouthful and rearranged his expression into something more placid. ‘I thought you were dead,’ he said to Raim. ‘It’s good to see you. Can I ask . . . how did you find me?’

Raim hesitated. ‘We have a seer among us.’

Vlad couldn’t hide the look of surprise on his face. ‘Truly? A real seer?’

Raim nodded. ‘Yes. I promise to tell you all about that later. But first, Vlad, I have something even more important to tell you.’ He gripped the old man’s shoulder. ‘Dharma is alive.’

‘What? But I thought Khareh . . .’ Vlad attempted to scramble to his feet, but his legs gave way from under him. ‘I have to see her. Where is she?’

Raim nodded. ‘We will take you to her, don’t worry. And no, Khareh didn’t kill her. But he did break his promise to me.’

‘So he did still hurt her.’ Vlad’s shoulders slumped.

‘He did. And he will pay for that. But – and these are Dharma’s words – he also helped her to see. She is the seer now. And Vlad – you would be so proud. She is amazing.’

‘
My daughter
is the seer?’

‘Dharma is the seer,’ said Loni, gruffly.

‘I want to go to her now,’ said Vlad. ‘What are we waiting here for? Where is she?’

‘We will return to the Cheren in the morning,’ said Raim. ‘And in the meantime, I will tell you anything else you want to know about her.’

‘A Cheren? What, a place for withered old men and women, good for nothing?’ Vlad’s nose wrinkled in disgust. ‘What is she doing there? A true seer should be celebrated! She should have her own tribe of followers!’

‘She is where she is safe,’ Loni snapped. ‘What would you know about keeping her safe, when you abandoned her in the first place?’

‘Don’t talk to me like that, old man.’

‘Oathbreaker!’

‘Stop this!’ said Raim, throwing his arms between them. ‘Vlad, we will take you to her. Soon. But now, you must tell us what happened to you. And you need to tell me what you know about Wadi.’

Vlad glared at Loni, and chewed another morsel before speaking. He threw a bone onto the fire. ‘I was mostly kept in with the camp of shadows.’

‘Khareh’s spirit-army,’ Raim said, his eyes wide.