The Shadow’s Curse (7 page)

One of the biggest monks stopped and pointed a finger at Raim. ‘There! There is the oathbreaker. Take him!’

‘Raim, what do you want to do?’ asked Draikh.

I don’t know – we’ve come so close . . . I can’t go back now.

Raim turned in desperation to Tarik, who held up his hands. ‘I’m sorry, Raim – I thought I could avoid this. I will speak to Qatir-bar and explain everything.’

Raim’s only choice was to trust his brother, as the burly Baril monks grabbed him roughly by the arms and dragged him towards the temple.

The night passed without incident, which meant that Khareh’s plan had worked. Early scout reports told that Mermaden’s men were holed up behind their city walls and would not attempt a night-time raid. Khareh sent his generals to negotiate a settlement with Mermaden, as the next step. As they waited for the emissaries to return, Wadi spent the night listening in as Khareh learned about the great fortress city of Samar. It would be the young khan’s first proper test. He and his army had overrun the numerous other villages and small towns leading up through Yelak, but none of them had the sophistication of Samar’s defences.

Yet Khareh didn’t seem to care much for Altan’s lessons on siege engines and warcraft. He was far more concerned with two other things: the infrastructure of the city’s water supply – which Wadi was having trouble wrapping her head around – and something Garus mentioned, called the ‘Temple of the Undying Women’, which sounded far more interesting to her. Although her eyelids felt heavy, she didn’t want to sleep while Khareh and his advisers were talking strategy. Any snippets of information she could garner might one day prove extremely useful.

‘And that’s where I will find it?’ asked Khareh, rubbing his eyes. None of them had slept a wink.

Garus nodded, his eyelids drooping.

‘So that will bring our total to three out of seven.’

‘Yes, my Khan.’ His words slurred into each other, and his chin slumped against his chest. He jumped with a start.

Khareh rolled his eyes. ‘Go back to your yurt, Garus. All of you, clear out and get some rest. Tomorrow will be a big day. Tomorrow, I conquer my last enemy in the North.’

At his words, the yurt emptied of everyone except Khareh, his shadow and Wadi.

‘The palace in Samar has water that runs through the walls, can you believe that? We could use that technology in Kharein. I don’t know why my uncle never insisted on Mermaden sharing his knowledge.’

Wadi couldn’t be sure if Khareh was talking to her, or thinking out loud. When she hesitated in replying, he levelled his gaze straight at her.

Wadi swallowed, but refused to back down under his scrutiny. ‘I met a few people from Yelak in the desert. From what I heard, Mermaden has never pledged allegiance to a Darhanian khan. He proclaims Samar a free city.’

‘You’re right there. He won’t even pledge to me, and you know well enough the rumours people spread about me,’ said Khareh. ‘He was one of the warlords my uncle never dared to put pressure on. Unfortunately for Mermaden, I do dare.’

‘Samar has held against many sieges. It’s thwarted many armies, some bigger than yours. That’s why Batar-khan didn’t try.’

‘I am not my uncle.’

‘That’s for sure. You are far worse.’

Khareh studied her for a few unnerving moments. ‘That’s why I like our little chats, Wadi. You’re never afraid to tell it to me straight.’

She narrowed her eyes, but in a way, she didn’t want to lose Khareh’s misplaced sense of trust in her. She needed to learn. She changed the subject. ‘What is the Temple of the Undying Women?’

‘Ah, now that is interesting. It’s the real reason I’m going after Mermaden now. Otherwise I might wait . . .’

He is afraid
, Wadi realized with a shock. Mermaden was not some lowly warlord of a tribe of fifty people, a few felt yurts and a herd of goats – he had ruled over a fortified city for more than thirty years. Khareh’s loyalty was newly won through fear. Mermaden’s rule was sealed by fear too, but it had also withstood the test of time. He had experience, and Khareh was little more than a boy. A boy with a spirit-army, but a boy nonetheless.

She only hoped that Mermaden didn’t underestimate the boy-khan. Then maybe he would stand a chance.

‘The Temple of the Undying Women is run by a weird sub sect of the Baril – maybe the only sect not under Qatir-bar’s control,’ continued Khareh. ‘They call themselves “The Council”. Every generation, the Council selects a woman to become “the Undying”. Of course, these women do die – often while they are still young, as if they are struck by some kind of mysterious illness – and when that happens they just choose another to take her place. What links them is a special stone necklace that is passed down to each new Undying Woman. I used to beg my old tutor to tell me about them.’

‘You probably hoped the story was a key to immortality,’ said Wadi.

Khareh shrugged. ‘Probably. But it wasn’t until I interrogated Garus that I understood what it truly could be. You see, I just couldn’t understand how Garus had escaped Lazar without crossing the desert. And that was when he told me about the tunnels – and how they were sealed by seven pass-stones, only two of which were left in Lazar. Or one, I suppose, after he stole the other. The rest were lost out in the world . . .’

Wadi gripped her own stone, and Khareh nodded. ‘Yes, exactly like yours. When I heard the story of the Undying Women again, something clicked. Maybe the necklace that the Undying Woman must wear is a pass-stone too? If I’m right, that will bring me one step closer to owning all the stones – and unlocking the underground path to Lazar for good.’

Wadi’s mind exploded with questions, but she was unable to ask them. There was a loud commotion outside the yurt, and a mud-streaked hand pulled open the curtain that barred the entrance. It was Lars, the Yun who Raim had beaten in a duel. But Wadi had learned that since Raim had been exiled as an oathbreaker, Lars had been given a place with the Yun instead. ‘The general has returned, Your Excellence.’ He looked pale, as if he had seen a ghost.

‘One general? I sent three?’ Khareh stood up.

‘Yes, my Khan.’ He pulled aside the curtain.

Wadi screamed. She couldn’t help herself. Even Khareh staggered backwards against the desk. The general stepped into the yurt, but around his neck were the heads of the other two emissaries, tied together by their long hair.

‘Mermaden did this?’

‘He said he would never accept a settlement with you, my Khan.’ The general trembled with every word.

‘Lars, get those wretched things off the man’s neck and get him some help, for Sola’s sake. Are the troops ready?’

‘Of course,’ said Lars.

‘Then we will move as soon as possible.’ Khareh balled his hands into fists. ‘Mermaden will not get away with this.’

The yurt filled with movement, dozens of servants materializing seemingly from nowhere to dress and ready Khareh. Wadi remained in her corner, watching everything with careful eyes. She didn’t know what would be asked of her now that they were preparing for battle. She wouldn’t fight, although Khareh knew she was more than capable of it. He wouldn’t be foolish enough to give her a weapon. She knew exactly where she would use it.

Khareh was going fully-fledged into battle – his ridiculous crown on, his two Yun swords, their curved edges twisted outwards, at his side. The blades were hung that way just for show – Khareh could never use them practically in battle. If it wasn’t so horrific, Wadi might even find it funny. Instead, it just demonstrated the extent of Khareh’s tyranny and power – that he could be as ostentatious as he wished, and no one dared to challenge him.

Wadi’s hand went to the pendant around her neck, and her fingers absent-mindedly ran over the lines engraved into the stone. From what she had been able to glean, Khareh had not been so evil and terrifying when Raim knew him. Suddenly he had gone from Crown Prince – a spoiled brat, yes, but not a tyrant – to ultimate ruler, with no limits to his power and ambition. That was not a transformation that he could have undergone overnight. Or had Raim been right? Had Khareh lost the only part of his soul that had been reasonable in Draikh, and all that was left was the power-hungry, tyrannical ruler Khareh-khan?

A voice calling her name snapped her from her thoughts.

‘Wadi.’ She looked up, and Khareh was staring at her.

She immediately felt her shoulders tighten, her breath catch. She wished he didn’t have that effect on her, but he was so unpredictable.

‘Come with me,’ he said.

She hesitated. ‘I won’t fight for you.’

‘I’m not asking you to,’ he said. ‘But you can’t stay here. I need to put you under a different kind of protection. You will be kept close, but hopefully not involved in the action. At least, that’s the plan. So, there’s only one place you can go.’

‘And where is that?’

In his infuriating way, Khareh didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he waited as his servants finished lacing up his supple leather boots, which reached all the way to his knees.

Then he turned his back on Wadi and strode out of the yurt, followed closely by Altan, Garus, Lars and then the rest of his contingent. The final two guards took Wadi roughly by an arm each, and dragged her out.

She threw them off. ‘I can make it outside myself, thanks,’ she said. They dropped her arms but remained so close they jostled her from side to side as they walked.

Outside, Wadi was shocked. Compared to the evening before, there was almost no one around. Smoke still rose from the campfires, but the coals were dark, the ashes damp. They had been put out some time ago. Every man and woman was needed for this attack – sent to the front lines.

Wadi hurried to keep close to the group, so she could keep track of their conversation.

‘We’ll send the newly taken Yelak tribes out first. The ones who aren’t oathbreakers. Maybe Mermaden will be less likely to want to hew down his own people.’

‘I strongly doubt that, Your Excellence. They are converts to your side. They turned over their villages to you rather than fight. Mermaden will consider them traitors.’

‘They are traitors,’ said Khareh. ‘Another reason why they should be in the front line. If they survive then the gods have spared them, and they will have proved themselves useful in my eyes. Let them take the first volley of arrows for me, the first wave of burning pitch poured down from the city walls. Then we will move.’

Altan nodded, then barked a word at Lars, who sped off as if a whip had been applied to his back rather than just a tongue.

‘Wait—’ cried out Khareh, and Lars skidded to a halt, bowing his head low. ‘Remember what I said. When you breach the city walls, take anything you want, but leave the people alone. Spread the word.’

‘Of course, my Khan.’ And Lars was off again, this time beyond Khareh’s earshot.

Wadi raised an eyebrow. Khareh caught the expression and shrugged. ‘What? You can’t trust the soldiers to tell the engineers from the enemies. I need everyone useful to be taken back to Kharein – alive.’

They continued to walk until they came to another yurt that was almost twin to Khareh’s. In fact, Wadi had to blink sleep out of her eyes to be convinced they hadn’t just walked in a big circle. But no – as they drew closer, she could see that this was slightly smaller in size than Khareh’s tent, and displayed a slightly different pattern on its woven walls – although it was just as ornate.

Behind it, the trees here cleared, and a vast plain spread out in front of them, leading up towards an enormous walled city. The pale stone walls, partially obscured by smoke from smouldering fires, blended in against the dawn sky. Looking over at it, Wadi thought it looked strangely serene – the calm before the storm that Khareh was set to bring.

She tore her eyes away from the city Khareh was about to invade and pushed down the pity in her heart for the lives that were about to be overturned, uprooted – and, likely, destroyed. There was nothing she could do.

Instead, she returned her focus to the new yurt. Why she needed to be moved from one to another, she had no idea . . . until the curtain was drawn aside and a girl not much older than her stepped out, a look of thunder on her pretty face.

The Khan’s wife. The Seer-Queen. Erdene. She was beautiful, dressed in an intricately embroidered overcoat that covered her from neck to boots.

‘Khareh,’ she said. ‘You are here, finally. I thought for a moment you weren’t coming. I have been ready and waiting for your call for hours. I am your Protector. I should be with you at all times, not hidden away without you.’

Khareh reached out and grabbed her by both hands. ‘Erdene, we’ve been over this. Your duty is to do what I ask, and today I want you to protect my prize. This is as important as my protection now. And plus, I have my spirit-guard.’

The Seer-Queen bristled, a shudder that brought her shoulders tightly together. ‘I am Yun – I am one of the best fighters that you have. Leave your “prize” with one of your regular soldiers. I will be of more use to you on the battlefield. I am not weak.’

‘You’re not weak, but don’t test me today, Erdene.’ He dropped her hands. He gestured to the guards, who pushed Wadi forward. She almost stumbled into the other girl’s arms, but managed to pull up in time. ‘This is now your most important task. I say that as your khan.’ Khareh then spun on his heel and walked away.

The tightness around Erdene’s mouth made her anger as obvious as if she were shouting. She looked Wadi up and down. ‘So. You are the important one.’

Clearly, that fact riled Erdene.

‘You can let me go if you want,’ Wadi replied, with a shrug.

Erdene tutted, then swept back into the yurt. Wadi followed; there wasn’t much choice to do otherwise.

‘You’d think he’d want me by his side; I am his Protector after all! I am not the Protector of his Pet Projects.’ She looked sidelong at Wadi. ‘I didn’t think the savages of the desert spoke Darhanian. Let alone wrote it too. I’ve heard about the tasks he’s been giving you. Things he should entrust to a true Darhanian.’