Resolve hardened, Aza tensed her muscles and unraveled spools of yanaa from within, twisting them in and around herself. She churned the yanaa until it spun around her in a vortex. Her breath came fast, and her muscles strained as the world blurred before her eyes. Crossing to the Shadow Plane was like a cork diving to the bottom of the ocean.
The first time she’d crossed over a year ago, the transition felt as though someone had ripped the yanaa from her limbs. She’d been trying to reap more and more shadows, like a performer grabbing a polar lion by the scruff of the neck. Then the world around her vanished, her yanaa carrying her to an entirely new realm. And with it, a wave of empowered euphoria swept through her.
In a swirl of fear and wonder, she’d only lasted five seconds in the Shadow Plane before fainting and returning to the visible world. Her father had panicked at her sudden absence and forbidden such experiments, claiming they were dangerous. But his warning had fallen on deaf ears. Aza stole away to the Shadow Plane as often as she could, building up a resistance to its harsh demands. Her new record was almost four minutes, but only if she stayed perfectly still.
In an intoxicating rush, Aza’s surge of yanaa whipped away, and the world twisted and morphed as she left Okarria and entered a world wholly different. A field of empty darkness stretched before her with only blotches of specters dotting the empty landscape. In this silent expanse, her yanaa tingled uncomfortably on her skin with a whitish glow, and even slow movements took concentrated effort. Still, the power of the Plane soaked through her bones, filling her in a way a mere Shadow Step never had.
In the Shadow Plane, she stumbled like a sleepwalker through a dream, her fear driven away by a fierce wonder. Aza had never met another person in the dark realm, but other bizarre creatures with white ethereal bodies wandered the gray fields instead—shadow dwellers.
Aza squeezed her eyes shut to quell the vertigo that threatened to drown her. She took a deep breath and opened her eyes in the mind-bending silence. A field of long silvery grass carpeted the blackness, and the peculiar, disturbing creatures that roamed the Plane were nowhere to be seen, but that was expected. In the last few weeks, she’d been seeing fewer and fewer of the shadow dwellers. They’d fled like birds ahead of a coming storm, disappearing to who knew where, and that wasn’t even the worst of it.
“Azaaaaaaaa,” the wind whispered. The voice had been calling her for weeks now, but it still sent a shiver down her spine. “Azzzaaaaaaaaa.”
Aza opened her mouth to answer the call, when she noticed what looked like a headless child cutting across the Plane. With strained steps, as though wading through mud, she made her way to intercept it. Her yanaa uncoiled feverishly, the loose tether binding her to the Plane fraying by the second.
The creature had one eye in the center of its chest and a gaping mouth where its neck should have been, but Aza had no fear. Here, even the most peculiar sights seemed natural—the surreal landscape blunting the sharp edges of alarm. The headless child stopped and stared at her when it noticed her approach.
“Greetings,” Aza called.
The shadow dweller said nothing.
“What news?”
“To get you must give,” the creature said tersely from its gaping wound of a mouth. The words spewed out quickly like the thing was in a rush, but it kept oddly still.
“There is much death,” the wind hissed.
The creature gave no sign that it heard the wind. Ignoring the voice for a moment, Aza considered the shadow dweller’s request. “Someone’s stealing Odriel’s Blessed. I want to know more.”
The headless thing blinked its single eye at her. “Monsters claim souls. Turn into nightmares.”
“So much suffering,” the wind echoed.
Aza cocked her head, the spent yanaa straining her every muscle. “What monsters?”
The creature shifted, its shoulders swaying back and forth. “Monsters on the hunt.”
Blood-curdling screams of anguish swirled through the air between them, and Aza drew back sharply. The creature started walking again.
“Must go. Not safe here,” it muttered.
With little yanaa left to anchor her to the Shadow Plane, Aza felt the visible world tugging insistently on her. “Wait!” she yelled at the creature disappearing into the tall grass. This might be her last chance to get answers, and she had only seconds left. “Why isn’t it safe?”
The screams were all around them now, growing ever louder—hair-raising cries of the dying, screaming babies, sobbing women. The headless child turned around one last time, staring at her as she struggled to remain for just a few moments longer. Saying nothing, it raised one of its long arms and pointed a claw straight at her.
Aza released her yanaa, and the shadows shoved her back into the visible world. Her reserves completely spent, Aza fell flat onto her back in the wood outside of their camp. Her ears rang and her body ached as though her bones had been rattled around in her skin. She tried to calm her rasping breath and sat up with burning muscles.
Her father’s eyes fluttered open by the fire, his voice still thick with sleep. “Aza, are you okay?”
She plucked up a sturdy stick from the ground and rose to her feet. “Just getting more wood for the fire.”
Klaus nodded with a grunt, eyes falling closed again.
Aza let out a slow breath, heart still thrumming in her throat. Above her, the inky sky swirled with dawn hues of navy and indigo.
Monsters on the hunt. She could believe that. All kinds of monsters roamed Okarria—both human and otherwise. But she was the reason the Shadow Plane wasn’t safe? That didn’t make any sense. For centuries, generations of Heirs had sworn to protect Okarria. Wincing, Aza walked back to the fire and tossed the stick into the flames, her eyes resting on her father.
She couldn’t keep a message like that to herself. If the Rastgol were the monsters on the hunt, her father needed to know. I’ll have to tell him. Grimacing, she put her hands on her hips. But it’s not going to be pretty.
Chapter Three
Catalede
With the boy returned to his parents and their spring patrol at an end, Aza’s unspoken confession still weighed on her mind. The Shadow Heirs led their mounts over the steep green mountainside that overlooked the stone fortress of Catalede Academy and the village below. Two dozen slate-tiled houses gathered together in the valley fields as if to keep out the chill. Higher up the slope, standing apart from the village like a shy guest, the stone walls of the Catalede Academy circled another handful of structures—the barracks, the mess hall, the training grounds, the schoolroom, the barn, and of course, the Thane’s sprawling farmhouse. Even from afar, she could see a herd of cerulean blusheep going out to pasture and a scattering of long-necked llamow wandering the swaying grass well above the tree line.
Aza smiled. The Shadow Heirs patrolled Okarria each spring and fall, and coming home always felt like a warm blanket around her shoulders.
Well… almost always.
Shifting in her saddle, Aza sighed, eyeing her father riding tall in his sleek black leather atop Stormshade. She’d been waiting for the right time, but after five days, she had to admit there really might not be a right time for this conversation. But then again, she needed to know what she stood to lose before he lost his temper.
Envy twisted Aza’s lips as she watched Stormshade pick her way down the slope on her nimble cloven hooves. Her gaze turned to Oakhoof plodding along the track, and Aza patted her neck. Though solid and dependable, gray hair had started to speckle her face. Soon she wouldn’t be able to make these journeys.
What Aza wouldn’t give for a Dalteek fawn to replace her. With all the hard patrols they’d been doing, it only made sense, and the Dalteek breeders—the Maldibor—were due for a visit in only a few weeks. But if her father was angry with her, the chances of getting one would go from slim to none. Best to feel him out before she broke the news about the Shadow Plane.
“Hey, Papa, is Tekoa coming to the
spring festival this year?”
“He usually does.” Klaus looked at her. “Why do you ask?”
Aza tucked her dark hair behind an ear and tried to sound casual. “Well, you know Oakhoof is going to be sixteen this year, and I was going to ask Tekoa if they had any new fawns.”
Klaus snorted out a sudden laugh.
Aza wrinkled her nose. “What?”
“I’ve already told you that you only get one when you take my place one day.”
Aza groaned. “C’mon, Papa, that’ll be ages. I’ve been patrolling with you for three years now, and I did just rescue an Odriel’s Blessed all on my own, so that should count for something.”
“You know how the Maldibor tribe are about their mounts. For them, it’s like giving family away.” He shook his head with a smile. “It’s not happening.”
Sagging, Aza watched longingly as the graceful Dalteek trotted down the steep path as nimbly as a mountain goat. Well, at least she’d tried. That confirmed, she really had nothing to lose. Time for the more difficult conversation…
Or maybe not. Was there someone else she could talk to about the Shadow Plane? “What about the magi? Do you think they’d come if we asked?”
The smile faded from Klaus’ lips. “No, no one has seen or heard from Everard since Fiola passed away.” A shadow of grief flitted across his face. “Sorrow hits the magi especially hard.”
“What about his brother… Dorinar, right?”
Klaus laughed again. “Dorinar hasn’t left his hovel in I don’t know how long.” The lookout at the Catalede gate saw them and waved with a shout. Klaus raised a hand and then arched his scarred eyebrow at his daughter. “Why are you asking?”
“Last spring you promised to take me to meet Dorinar and learn more about past Shadow Heirs. I still want to talk to him.”
Her father ran an exasperated hand through his short dark hair, and his voice held a note of skepticism. “What, specifically, do you want to know?”
“There’s more to the Shadow Plane than we know. Maybe Dorinar knows what it is and how we can use it.”
Klaus’ mouth flattened into a thin line. “I thought I told you not to cross to the Shadow Plane. Even my father warned me against it when I was a boy. It’s too draining, Aza, and we don’t understand it.”
“Exactly, Papa! That’s why I need to talk to Dorinar. If it’s part of Odriel’s gift, it must serve a purpose.” Aza opened her mouth to say more but stopped herself.
Catching her hesitation, Klaus’ eyes narrowed. “And?”
No going back now. Aza licked her lips, choosing her words carefully. “For a while now, I’ve been hearing voices from the Shadow Plane. Cries for help, whispers of death and—”
“You can understand them?” Klaus pulled Stormshade to a halt, the iron Catalede gate looming before them.
“You can’t?”
Klaus’ brow furrowed. “They’ve always just been noises to me.”
Aza bristled, drawing up alongside him. “You know there’s something going on in the world, and someone is trying to warn us about it. What do you want me to do, just stare at a corner until it comes to our doorstep?”
Klaus turned away with a scowl, the leather reins creaking in his tight fists.
“We need to better understand our gift,” Aza pressed.
It was something he had drilled into her early after all—to be sharp, to be strong, to be the best. To command the yanaa as another limb. To be able to protect others… and themselves… She traced the scar along her cheek once more.
Farther down the dirt trail, beyond the stubby briar pines and the early teal dewblooms, the Dragon Heirs opened the wrought iron gates with two ragehounds at their heels. For anyone else, the sight of the wolf-like hounds and Odriel’s fire-blessed Heirs might’ve caused a spike of fear. But to Aza, they’d always just be her mother and brother.
Aza lowered her voice. “And you did promise to take me to Tazgar.”
Klaus sighed, pasting on a smile as the ragehounds ran toward them with wagging tails, the Dragon Heirs following behind. “Okay, I’ll make a deal. You don’t cross to the Shadow Plane until we figure out what it actually is.” His hard eyes flicked to hers as he dismounted. “And you don’t mention the voices to anyone else. I don’t want to raise alarm when we don’t know what this is. Then, in the summer, I will take you to Dorinar.”
Aza twisted her lips. She wanted to leave tomorrow, but perhaps she could wear him down later. For now, she’d have to accept this small victory. “The deal is struck.”
“Welcome back.” Aza’s mother approached them with a smile, her side braid shining copper among her long brown locks. Though her chestnut eyes crinkled with joy, Aza didn’t miss the sleepless half-circles that clung to her lower lashes.
“Firefly!” Klaus wrapped his arms around her and spun her around. He sealed it with a kiss and a whisper too soft for Aza’s ears.
Aza dismounted and ran her hands through the ragehounds’ thick fur as they wriggled and snuffled under her fingers. She knelt down to throw an arm around each hound, one red and one black. Her mother always favored the red-furred pups descended from her favorite hound, Gus, but her brother could always pick out the prettiest of the litter.
“Luna! Sasha! I missed you!” She pulled a few dried strips of meat from her pocket, and they snatched them excitedly from her palms.
Zephyr threw out his arms for a hug with a fake pout. “What about me?”
Aza looked up at her brother with a smile. At eighteen, he was two years older than her, but he hardly acted like it. Floppy brown hair hung down onto his forehead, with orange streaking along the side—just like their mother’s.
Though historically only the eldest child inherited the gift of the parent Heir, Zephyr and Aza had been the first progeny of two Heirs. But Odriel, Okarria’s reclusive spirit-guide who granted the Heirs their lasting gifts, had apparently chosen to grant two Heir children to the two Heir parents, rather than one child with two gifts. Lucky for her—she could only imagine how insufferable Zephyr would’ve been with fire and shadow.
She rose with an exaggerated sigh. “I guess.” She spread out her arms for a hug, and then at the last minute feigned a punch to his gut.
He flinched as if she’d really punched him. “Always so cold, Shadow.”
“Just trying to keep you on your toes, Dragon.” She poked him in the stomach with a finger.
Her mother walked over and wrapped Aza in her strong arms. “We missed you, Azy.”
Aza inhaled her mother’s scent of embers and wool, and a wave of calm washed over her.
“I hope everything went well,” Kaia murmured.
Over her mother’s shoulder, Aza’s gaze found her father’s, and an age-old understanding flashed between them. Something they’d never spoken, but both of them knew. All the darkness of their patrols—the close calls, the ambushes, the death—stayed there. They carried the shadows within them, but they wouldn’t cast them on their bright home.
“Of course.” Aza squeezed her mother with a smile. “No problems at all.”
✽✽✽
Aza slipped into her old routines like a pair of worn boots. She woke in the near dawn and started her day with a run up Halsana peak. She always savored the brief moment to herself before her instructor duties swallowed the rest of her day. Sweating and muscles burning, she didn’t even stop to admire the view in the crisp mountain air before sprinting back down to Catalede. She stepped into the spacious mess hall with her chest still heaving just as the three notes of the sonorous breakfast bell called the students to eat. With a nod to the cooks and a rumble of her empty stomach, she piled eggs and bacon between two thick slices of bread and stepped out again.
She helped Zephyr with the students’ morning weapons classes, correcting form with a nudge or a silent demonstration. The students, or Greens as Zephyr called them, were all close to her age and came from all walks of life—farmers’ sons, noblemen’s daughters, and even a few
orphans with nowhere else to go. They stayed at Catalede to complete their training before swearing an oath to serve if the Heirs should call on them. Then they returned to whatever corner of Okarria they hailed from. A waiting army that Aza’s parents hoped they wouldn’t need one day—but knew they would. With the Rastgol raging in the west, and the corrupt nobles trying to revive the monarchy, war never seemed far off.
This class was reaching the end of their instruction, and Aza could recognize and name every single one of the sixty students who boarded in the barracks. But she much preferred to let Zephyr do the talking. A brilliant smile lit his handsome face as he joked and tussled with the Greens. They spun around him like a wheel about an axle, and he basked in their reverence. They snuck awed glances and shy smiles at Aza too, but she ignored them. Once she made eye contact, they stuck to her like an old burr. Helping their parents run Catalede Academy might’ve been Zephyr’s calling, but it was Aza’s chore.
The midday break found Aza in her usual quiet corner of the grassy courtyard with thoughts of the Shadow Plane churning through her mind. The students chattered as they milled about the dirt paths crisscrossing the verdant grounds lined with budding blush maples. But the gray stone walls and sturdy buildings around them seemed small against the sharp mountain peaks behind. The solitude only lasted a few moments before Zephyr and Luna found her.
With his back against the stones of the courtyard wall, he sagged down beside her with a contented sigh and a plate heaped high with hedge hen, wine rice, and greens. Luna rolled her shaggy dark body in the grass, snuffling with her long tongue lolling, and Aza couldn’t help but tickle her belly.
Zephyr stuffed a bite in his mouth. “Whatcha doin’?”
“Who says I’m doing anything?” Aza snatched a bit of hedge hen from Zephyr’s plate and let Luna lick it from her fingers.
“You’re always doing something.”
Idriel's Children (Odriel's Heirs Book 2) Page 2
