Shadow Soul

by R. Michael Card

  She rose and crossed the short distance between the bunks in one long stride. She was tall for a woman, taller than he for certain. Her dress was pretty, a deep green, which matched her eyes. She was more rounded and shapely than Caerwyn, but there was a similar hardness — no that wasn’t the right word. There was an intensity about her.

  She sat on the stool, and he came to kneel next to Barami’s bed.

  “How much do you know?” she asked.

  He laughed a little. “Let’s assume I know nothing and start from the beginning.”

  She nodded. “Put your hand on him, flesh to flesh, like this.” She leaned over and touched Barami’s chest. His shirt had been removed already.

  Jais did the same, his hand not far from hers.

  “What do you feel?”

  He quirked a grin. “Skin?”

  She cocked her head to one side giving him an exasperated look.

  He tried again. “It’s warm. I think… I think I can feel his heart beating.”

  “Nothing beyond the surface?” she asked.

  Oh!

  He’d heard his aunt talk many times about ‘reading the body,’ but he didn’t really know what that meant. Yet… now that he’d been so aware of what she’d done to him, perhaps…

  He closed his eyes to shut out any distractions and concentrated on what he felt through his hand on Barami’s chest. Beyond the flesh… was there anything? He felt the beating heart within, but… no… perhaps that was a place to start.

  The beating heart. Was the pulse strong? Yes. Was there anything else?

  He grimaced. “Can you help me? What am I looking for? How should I be feeling…” He didn’t know how to explain it.

  “Let your body connect with his. Let your awareness slip from you into him. Feel his blood flowing, the ease or contractions of his muscles. Hear the air moving in his lungs, see the messages flowing along from his brain to his body. You should be able to sense everything within him.” She had to speak slowly, choosing her words. It was clear that the Northern tongue was a little foreign to her. He’d have to ask her where she was from… later.

  He tried doing as she instructed. He’d been well connected within his own body while she’d been healing him. Now he tried to extend that awareness out to Barami’s body as well. He knew what his own felt like and concentrated on the physical touch of his hand to the man’s chest.

  It was like a little bubble bursting as he pushed past the barrier of flesh and his awareness could ‘feel’ inside Barami as well. “I think I did it,” he said softly. He was a little awed at this discovery. He explored within the man, sensing the various things Elria had mentioned. He could feel the blood flowing to muscles which flexed or relaxed. He felt the rise and fall of Barami’s chest as the air was sucked in and expelled from his lungs. It was amazing. “Yes. I see it now!”

  “Can you see the wound?”

  “Yes, it’s like… like some large area of… wrongness. It doesn’t feel right.”

  She laughed a little. “That be not a bad way to say it, yes.”

  He opened his eyes to find her smiling at him. There was something in that look, something he couldn’t fathom. Though… in a way it reminded him of how Alnia had looked at him. She broke off the gaze after a moment. “Now you keep your hand there. Feel what I do as I heal him.”

  She moved her hand down over the wound.

  This sensation was much more familiar. He’d been aware when she’d healed him, and the sensation was the same. Though now, being so much more aware of the internal workings of another body, he could see the slow and steady flow of her energies and how they were not so much forcing the body to heal as encouraging the natural process to speed up.

  She paused.

  “Did you feel what I did?”

  He nodded.

  “Did you want to try it?”

  “Yes.”

  They switched. He took her stool and she knelt on the floor.

  Putting his hand over Barami’s wound, he took a long moment to simply ready himself. Then he focused on the wound, seeing down into the ‘wrongness.’ He used his connection to Barami’s body to ‘speak’ to it in a way without words. He sent a slow flow of energy into the wound, he didn’t try to direct the healing but let the body reconstruct itself.

  “Yes, doing quite well, you are.”

  He heard the encouragement and smiled as he finished up the healing on Barami. He lifted his hand away with a long breath blown out.

  “That was… different.” He nodded to himself. “You’re an excellent teacher.”

  She smiled up at him. “I only showed you the way. You are the one who picked it up so quickly. You must have some training, no?”

  He shook his head. “I’d done some healing before, in combat, when it was imperative, but nothing as delicate at this.”

  “Then you are a natural healer.” She shook her own head, perhaps a little awed. “It took me years to master what you just did.”

  Oh.

  “I’m sure there is still much more I could learn,” he said softly. He thought for a long moment. “Can you heal diseases and sickness? I’ve never tried that.”

  She nodded. “I can, yes.”

  “Can you tell me about that?”

  She smiled, leaning back against the wall. “I can.”

  6

  Barami hovered at the edge of consciousness.

  His mind, in a semi-feverish state, replayed the attack, those few moments of which he’d been aware. He’d caught a flash, an ever-so-brief flicker of light, then he’d heard something. It might have been the twang of a bow string, but he couldn’t be sure. Well he hadn’t been sure at the time, but he was now. Then pain exploding through his stomach, shocking his entire being. He hadn’t been able to move, and his limbs had gone numb. He’d fallen but hadn’t even felt himself hit the ground. He had a few flashes of color, movement, but then darkness.

  But there was no pain now.

  He considered for a moment that he might have died and gone to Erival, the gardens of the honored dead. But he’d always heard that that was a place of light, eternal day. He got the impression wherever he was now, was mostly dark, with a faint flickering light.

  He opened his eyes, blinking for a moment.

  He was in a room. Wooden walls and ceiling were his first sight. He was lying on something soft, probably a straw-stuffed mattress. There was a wall on his right side and one just next to his head at the top of the bed. To his left was a bit of an open space. He rolled his head to that side. He couldn’t do much more, he was exhausted. There was a small table between his bed and the other in the room. It was a common enough layout to many tavern rooms, two beds with a chest at the foot most likely and a small table between them. He guessed he wasn’t dead. He didn’t imagine any place like this existed in Erival or Holn.

  Also, Jais wasn’t likely to be there in the room with him if he were dead, and the young man was sitting on the bed across the way, talking to someone Barami couldn’t see.

  “That be the hardest part. Once you know the sickness you are dealing with, you can start to see how it affects the body and work against it. It is hard to explain without experiencing it.” The voice was unfamiliar, feminine with an odd cadence and sing-song lilting tone.

  “If only I could stick around and learn from you. There is so much I don’t know about any of this.” That was Jais. He looked excited and regretful at the same time.

  Neither Jais nor the stranger had noticed Barami was awake.

  Jais seemed a little too interested in this woman. Wasn’t he supposed to be courting Caerwyn or something like that? Where was Caerwyn? Who was this new woman?

  “Caerwyn,” he croaked, his voice rough. He coughed a few times.

  That got their attention, and a moment later they were both next to him. The woman was tall, with flashing red hair and a slightly flushed face. There was an intensity about her Barami couldn’t place.

  “Hey, old man,” Jais s
aid in a friendly tone. Barami didn’t much like that moniker, but he was in no condition to refute it at the moment. “How do you feel?”

  “Tired,” he said. “No pain, though.” He didn’t know if that was a good thing or not.

  Jais nodded. “We healed you. You should be fine, just rest.”

  “We?”

  Jais nodded. “This is Elria. She’s the healer here in Cold River, that’s the town we were headed for when we were attacked… by bandits.”

  Bandits? That didn’t seem likely. Before he could say anything though, Jais went on.

  “Caer is out looking for that person we came here to see. She wanted us both to be in good shape to move on if needed. I was fairly hurt too, but Elria healed me. Good as new now. You should rest, though.”

  Barami got the feeling there was more to Jais’ words, but his mind was a little sluggish and he didn’t want to bring it up.

  He simply nodded and closed his eyes, rolling his head back straight on the pillow.

  He heard Jais and the woman move off, still talking, but he blocked out their words for now.

  His mind drifted. Yet it went to the same place it always went these days.

  Jais was right, he was an old man. He was over forty, which was ancient for a warrior. Those of the fighting trades who didn’t die young, often wished they were dead by this time — tormented by old wounds and bad memories. Barami had his fair share of both, but he’d been privileged enough — as Caerwyn’s protector — to receive the best healing the Afgenni Empire had. And those who had died before him haunted him less and less these days. No, what truly bothered him was… his lack of a companion.

  He’d followed Caerwyn north after her exile because he’d vowed to protect her with his life, but also because he’d held out a little hope that someday she might look at him differently. Not as a constant friend and companion, but something more. That hadn’t happened, and now it never would. She had Jais. Perhaps this new drahksan in town would be another possible mate for her. And he knew she didn’t even really want a man to be with her, she just wanted the child they would provide. She was too strong and independent to need a man.

  But what did that leave for him?

  He could fight well enough still. Did that mean he’d spend his days chopping down enemies until one day they got him instead? Was that all there was?

  His heart constricted at that thought. He’d passed up offers for bonding with many women from his tribe back in the Afgenni Empire. He’d been holding out hope for Caerwyn. But now… he wasn’t likely to get many more offers. He wasn’t young like Jais, who already had Caerwyn and now seemed to be quite friendly with this new woman as well.

  His mind caught a stray thought, a memory. That woman with Jais had flame-red hair… just like…

  He shivered.

  The full memory rushed back to him. The moment when he’d communed with the God Berem in that odd cave, before they faced the krolloc. He’d had a vision. Standing on a chilly plateau high up on a mountainside. There had been a woman, a redheaded beauty, but different from the one in the room now. The hair and eyes had been the same, flame red and emerald green, but the one in the vision had seemed more like Caerwyn, stern and hard, direct. Her face had been different too, a little longer.

  Who was that woman?

  It occurred to him that the woman with Jais shared similar traits. Perhaps they were from the same tribe or area. He could ask her… but what would he say? He was looking for a woman he’d only ever seen in a vision?

  He sighed and settled. Sleep was coming on, he could feel it. His thoughts grew more and more muddled, harder to hold. Yet as his mind drifted from thoughts to dreams, that same woman from his vision stayed with him.

  And his dreams with her were quite interesting.

  7

  Volf felt her drawing near.

  He’d finished his nightly pilfering and returned to his hovel with his spoils. Some he’d eaten, some he’d stowed away for later. There wasn’t much room in his small dwelling. It had once been a hall connecting two buildings across an alley. He didn’t know why it had been created nor why it had been boarded up on either side. He’d found it and made his own door, then covered that with a large piece of scrap tin roofing he’d found in another alley. It looked like nothing so much as an end to the alley with a little refuse scattered around. He doubted anyone would suspect someone lived there.

  Inside was a mattress he’d scrounged, a rough table he’d made, a chair, and then rough shelves he’d put in. It was cramped and confined, but he didn’t need to be here all the time. It was a place to get out of the rain or sleep; otherwise, he was often out on the roofs, watching the town.

  He was certain his pile of refuse would deter any average person wandering down the alley from finding his little hut, but her…

  If she could sense him the way he sensed her then…

  She was close, just outside.

  He heard the scrape of tin as it was moved. He turned and there she was in his small doorway, ducking down to slip under and into his home.

  The woman was tall and well built, square of shoulders and strong. Brown hair was tied back, revealing a kind face. There was a scar on her cheek, which tugged at one side of her mouth giving her a faint, roguish grin.

  She looked around, taking everything in with soft brown, intelligent eyes. The single candle he had lit seemed enough for her to see.

  “Not exactly what I expected,” she said then shrugged. Her gaze met his. “Hello. Sorry to barge in like this, but I’ve been looking for you.”

  His heart raced. There was only one way out of here, and she was in his way. By her look, strong and sure, he doubted he could get past her to escape… but he didn’t really think he wanted to. That’s what frightened him so much.

  He tried to make sure his voice was steady when he asked, “Who are you?”

  “Caerwyn. You?”

  “Volf.”

  “Volf?” She sounded out the word, tasted it on her lips and tongue, then shrugged again. “Volf it is.” After a moment, she added, “Do you know why I’m here? Can you… sense me?”

  His eyes widened just a little. He nodded, but he didn’t know what to say. He’d known she could sense him, that had to be how she found him, but still… to have it said aloud.

  “Are we connected?” he breathed. “Are we fated?”

  She cocked her head to one side with an odd, considering look. “That’s one possible way to look at it I suppose… but…” She sighed. “I’m guessing you don’t know what you are?” Her words now were tentative, questioning.

  He blinked. What he was?

  Was he something?

  He’d known from his early teen years that he was different, not like other people. His skills at stealth, how light he was on his feet, his ability to go unseen… no one else could do that, and they all seemed surprised and afraid of him when they found out he could. He’d learned to stop telling people or asking about it. But did that mean he was something different? It seemed logical. But what?

  He shook his head. “What am I?”

  Her look became one of concern and compassion. “You’ve lived your entire life not knowing? What about your parents?” In an instant, her expression went through confusion to a sudden realization. “You’re an orphan?”

  He nodded. This was all a little much and his head was starting to spin, joining his already racing heart. What was happening? He had the feeling he was on the verge of something, some cliff with a gaping chasm before him.

  He swallowed hard, remembering a rough childhood. “My parents left me with friends here in Cold River. I don’t know why.”

  She pursed her lips at this as if she was trying to keep herself from saying something.

  So, he went on. “I was a burden to them, this new family. I figured that out quickly enough. My… mother — the woman who raised me — she tried, but my adoptive father was not happy I was around. I was another mouth to feed in an already full ho
use. I made my own way, on the streets, as soon as I was able.”

  She moved a half step toward him. “I’m sorry. I lost my parents too, my birth parents, when I was very young. Luckily for me I found a family that accepted me.” She quirked her lips. There was more she wasn’t telling him. “But I know why your birth parents left you.”

  “You do?”

  “Yes. It was for your own safety. They were saving your life. They were being hunted and wanted to make sure you weren’t found with them.”

  “Hunted? By who? Why?”

  She took another half step, which brought her to the edge of his little table. She crouched, leaning against the table for support. He hoped it would hold.

  “Have you ever heard of drahksani?”

  Drahksani?

  “No.” He shook his head.

  She nodded. “Drahksani are humans with special abilities. I’m guessing you can do something, something no one else can do? That is because you are drahksani. No one knows how they came to be, but they were around for hundreds of years. Then humans turned on them, not trusting those who were different. Humans hunted down the drahksani everywhere. Only a few survived. Myself and a friend I brought with me… and you. We’re the only ones I’ve found since I was a child.”

  He was… drahksani? What did that mean?

  This was all a little much. But it did explain some things. “That’s how we can sense each other?”

  She nodded. “It’s an ability some of us seem to have. My friend can’t, but I sensed you a long way off and came here to find you.”

  “Why?”

  That chasm before him oddly was growing deeper and darker as more questions arose, and yet the other side seemed closer at the same time. The gap was closing, but it wasn’t safe yet. He couldn’t quite make the leap to the other side, to accepting what he was hearing.

  “Because I… I think others like us need to know who and what they are. I want to reunite the drahksani.” Again, there was something she was omitting, but her reason seemed sensible enough.