The Shadow’s Curse (33 page)

‘My lady – you are beautiful. It is an honour to see the high priestess of the North awake at last. When your Council said that in sixteen years, a boy would come, I wasn’t sure whether to believe them. And yet, here he is. As you can see by this army, I have fulfilled my end of the bargain. You needed my army, and I have provided it.’

‘And now, I present you what you need: Raimanan,’ said his mother. ‘He is ready.’

‘What I need is a
khan
,’ said King Song. ‘Instead, you have brought me a boy, as green as a rice paddy in spring. I have heard tales of this new northern khan that would frighten the feathers off a vulture! You are telling me that this boy will help me defeat him, more than my army? Pah. I’m not so sure, Lady Chabi, that you have fulfilled your end of the bargain.’

Raim’s first thought was:
He’s right.

‘You’re a sage,’ said Draikh. ‘Act like it.’

Raim nodded. He lifted his arms and Draikh flew around the tent, sending objects soaring around the room. The king looked terrified, and ducked beneath the table. His guards drew their swords, but didn’t dare approach Raim: fear was written on their faces too.

‘Stop, please!’ said the king.

Raim lowered his arms, and the objects fell to the ground with a clatter. ‘I may be a boy, but I am also a sage. And you need me. Khareh-khan is a sage too, with an army that will devour yours like a swarm of behrflies no matter how many men you throw at him. He doesn’t just have an army of men. He has an army of
shadows
.

‘I am the only one who can stop him.’

There was a fluttering of wings outside the door, and Draikh said: ‘It’s Oyu, he’s outside.’

Raim opened the curtain and the bird flew in, coming to rest on his shoulder.

The king stared at the bird. ‘Is that a garfalcon? My word, I have never seen such an amazing creature. Maybe it is possible to make a khan out of you, after all.’

She could see the indent where she needed to place the pendant. The problem was, an enormous boulder was blocking the entrance. She placed both hands on the stone and looked up. The boulder loomed over her almost twice her height.

‘Is the tunnel behind there?’ Khareh asked.

Wadi nodded. She ran her fingers over the pendant. The stone pulsed with power against her chest, and she was both compelled and repulsed by it. This was definitely the right place.

‘Move back,’ Khareh said.

Wadi took a few steps backwards. A swarm of haunts flew over and began to move the boulder. It took more and more of the haunts to arrive, but eventually the rock began to shift.

A cool draught blew onto both Wadi and Khareh from deep inside the tunnel. She relished the coolness, although Sola’s dry air quickly sapped it away.

When there was a big enough gap to fit through, Wadi squeezed herself inside and Khareh soon followed suit. The walls dripped with moisture, so surprising after the desert. She tried to imagine what the route might have been like when trade and commerce were freer between North and South, when Lazar was the centre of activity. When the Alashan ruled the desert without worrying about shepherding Chauk, when there were more oases, places of rest – an easier life than the one they lived now.

She didn’t think it would involve wandering through a dank tunnel.

Had the sages known the trouble they would cause by sealing the tunnels to Lazar? Could they have predicted the way Darhan would falter – isolated and stunted in its growth? They had broken the natural movement of the world. Could they have predicted this new power struggle between a young boy who wanted more and another who didn’t know better?

She could ponder those kinds of questions later. For now, there were even more pressing threats to the world – a threat from Khareh, and a threat from the Southern King. Only Raim stood in the middle, able to do what the other two couldn’t: lead without cruelty.

Raim could do it.

She just had to help him along a bit.

She gripped the outer edges of her pendant and said a prayer to the spirits she knew resided within.
Let us get there quickly. Let us not be too late.

Timing was crucial. If they arrived while the Southern King’s army was in sight, she wouldn’t be able to tear Khareh away from the attack. They had to get there before, so she could have enough time to coax him through Lazar’s main gates.

They travelled for what seemed like hours, negotiating three junctions on the way. At the fourth crossroads, Wadi made her request as she imprinted her pass-stone into the rock.
Bring us outside the gates
, she thought. The spirits controlling the tunnels showed her the way. Sometimes she tried to speak with them, but they never answered other than to direct her to Lazar.

Wadi stumbled on a slippery rock underfoot. Khareh reached out and caught her arm. ‘Are you all right?’ he asked.

‘Fine,’ she said, snatching her arm away. But her movement was sluggish.

‘We’ve been going for too long,’ said Khareh, noticing her fatigue. ‘We need to rest. Eat something. The haunts don’t need a break, but we do.’

Reluctantly, Wadi nodded. Her eyes were drooping shut with tiredness, and she would need all her senses alert if she wanted to outwit Khareh. ‘Just a bit further along, we should find a storeroom. We might be able to find supplies there – if we are lucky.’

‘I’ll go on ahead and have a look,’ said Khareh.

Here, just the two of them, it felt so much more natural. Almost easy.

‘Found it!’ called Khareh a few moments later. ‘Although there’s just some weird-looking plant; the dried meat doesn’t look like it would be good to eat.’

Wadi smiled, despite herself. ‘It’s jarumba root,’ she said. ‘You can chew it and it will quench your thirst.’

Khareh took out a sharp folding knife and sliced two rootlets off the plant, taking care not to nick the main stem. Wadi was impressed that he knew how to preserve the plant. She took the root and chewed it, savouring the refreshing taste that tickled across her tongue.

Her first conversation with Raim had been about jarumba root, she remembered. She had been distrustful of him, of course – he had been Chauk, even if at that point he hadn’t been followed by a normal shadow. But she had also been excited. She could see the fire in his eyes and she had wanted to get to know him, despite herself. And although she loved the Alashan like family, she felt cut off from Darhan. Raim had just been a convenient subject to practise her Darhanian language skills on. Instead, she’d ended up losing her heart to him.

‘What are you thinking about?’ asked Khareh.

‘Nothing,’ she said, but her eyes flicked to Khareh’s spirit-guard before she could stop herself.

‘Oh, you’re thinking about Raimanan, aren’t you? I wonder where he is. I wonder if I will ever see him again,’ said Khareh, staring down at his boots.

I know where he is
, thought Wadi.
We are going to him now, don’t you see?
But she wouldn’t say the words aloud.

When Wadi didn’t reply, Khareh continued. ‘How much longer do you think it will take?’

They had passed through four gateways. Three to go. ‘One more night, I imagine.’

‘Good. I only hope that the Southern King hasn’t beaten us to it. It will be much harder for us if we have to lay siege to the city of Lazar, than if I can take them out in the open. In the desert, my army can descend on them like behrflies. The city will be harder.’

‘The tunnel will take us to the outskirts of Lazar, not inside the city walls itself. That way you can see whether the Southern King is inside or not.’

‘Great.’ Khareh jumped up, rubbing his hands together, looking more alive by the moment. He walked up to Wadi and placed both hands on her shoulders. He looked her straight in the eye. ‘Thank you for coming back.’

‘Don’t thank me yet,’ said Wadi.

‘Wadi, can I ask you something?’

She made a noncommittal sound. Tiredness was beating down on her like a hammer on stone. Still, Khareh continued. ‘Why did you save me that night? I was beginning to think you would have done anything possible to kill me. You could have let Mhara finish the job. But you didn’t.’

No, but I should have done
, she thought. Out loud, she said, ‘I don’t know. But, I suppose, I would rather you were in charge than the Southern King.’ She had meant to lie to Khareh, but she was surprised to realize those words were true. It didn’t matter, she reminded herself. Neither of those options would come to pass.

She bit down on her tongue before she could say more. She couldn’t risk breaking the trust he had misplaced so fully in her. That trust might save Darhan. It might save the world.

That was worth more than her conscience.

‘Well, thank you,’ said Khareh. ‘I wouldn’t be here without you.’

She knew he meant it.

The ride out to the army’s front line was exhilarating. Raim had never experienced such an atmosphere before. The closest he had come to a real army had been to Khareh’s, when he had skirted the lake at Pennar. Any warfare he had participated in as a Yun apprentice seemed like nothing more than tiny raids compared to this.

The army comprised many different groups, all joined together under King Song’s banner. Raim could distinguish them by the different colours and styles of their dress. Some wore armour similar to Darhan’s: thick leather jerkins over long tunics, with loose trousers underneath. Others looked strange to Raim’s eye, like the men were wearing full-body suits of armour, unwieldy and uncomfortable. Raim hoped they would take them off before they entered the desert, or else they risked boiling in their chosen clothing.

As they neared the front line, there was another group of soldiers – the largest unified group that Raim had seen. The majority of these men had no shirts on, just loose black trousers tied around their waists with string. They each bore an intricate tattoo on their right shoulder. Most of them looked strong, but Raim spotted a few whose emaciated bodies made him wince. Many of them turned their faces to look at him as he passed, their expressions impassive.

This is the king’s front line? They must be his elite warriors
, thought Raim.

‘I wouldn’t be so sure of that,’ said Draikh.

‘Who are these men?’ Raim asked the king.

‘These? My secret weapon,’ said the king, with a sour smile. ‘They are slaves from the western islands, and the fiercest fighters you will find anywhere.’

Raim’s brow furrowed, his mouth set in a grim line, but the king didn’t seem to notice his expression darkening.

Instead, he spread his arms wide, gesturing to his entire army. ‘For generations, the kings of the South have wanted to make this crossing. Our libraries are full of tales of the great trading outpost Lazar, its greatness and richness, and of all the lands above the vast desert with their immense resources. Those resources could feed my people in times when we cannot grow enough food ourselves.

‘And I am going to be the one to do it. Because of you.’

Raim tore his eyes away from the slave army. He felt determination settle in his stomach, but he would address that later. For now, he still needed the king. ‘Your father attempted to cross, once,’ he said, remembering Mei’s story.

The king frowned. ‘It took years to recover from my father’s attempt. Do you know how many lives we lost? Countless. Men and their animals, great soldiers and generals lost to the sands. My father took the largest army the South had ever known – until now – into the desert, and came back with only a handful of men.

‘You can only imagine how they survived at all. My father was driven mad by the experience. The desert took his sanity, as well as his power. A usurper took over the throne and banished me to live with the other survivors. It was the most stupid thing he could have done. Because those survivors told me all I needed to know. They spared me no details. How they wandered through that godsforsaken place with dreams of finding the trade city, and instead finding nothing – nothing! – but sand on top of sand on top of heat on top of death.

‘Do you know how long it takes before an army of that size becomes desperate for water? Days. Hours. And even those who carried some water with them grew heavy in the heat and collapsed.

‘They ate the animals first. Drank their blood and tried to suck water from their flesh and organs. Some even claimed to see shadowy figures on the other dunes – the savages that live in the desert – but despite their cries for help, no one ever came. But still, they were a good, loyal, army. For them, giving up was as hard as going on. They subsisted on the belief that if they walked far enough then one day, surely one day, they would come across the city, which had water in abundance . . . or at least an oasis.’ The king fell silent.

‘But they never did?’ prompted Raim, after a period of silence.

‘They never did. My father sent out smaller scouting parties to look for routes, but none of the scouts ever returned. He thought maybe some of them had found the city and chosen not to return. But that was only until he came across their bodies. He could only identify them by their weapons and standards. Their bones had been picked clean by flies, and bleached in that short space of time by the sun.’

Raim shuddered. He remembered behrflies as well as any.

‘That was when my father and the dregs of his soldiers turned back. But by then, it was far too late. His reign was in tatters, much like his army. So now it is my turn. I must avenge him.’

Draikh spoke in Raim’s mind: ‘Sola be damned, he looks determined.’

I know
, Raim replied. Aloud, he said, ‘But I don’t understand. You have your throne here. Why risk crossing the desert again, when your father experienced such disaster?’

The king’s eyes swept over the vista in front of him. They had reached the very front of the his vast army. ‘Because, young Raim, where my father failed, I shall not. The South is as strong as it has ever been, and it can be stronger still. I have been preparing for this moment for sixteen years. My armies have been training in the desert day and night. They can subsist on the smallest ration of water possible, and we have camels loaded with empty pots, ready to be filled with water and buried, for the reserve battalions to drink from. I will have a constant supply of fresh soldiers to feed my campaign. I have learned from my father’s mistakes. I only had to wait for one thing: you.