Shadow Soul

by R. Michael Card

  That was also telling.

  Gosse nodded, but still didn’t really understand what he was going to do.

  He was drahksan… so did that mean he wasn’t a dragon hunter anymore? Could he kill his own kind? And by extension… should he kill himself?

  What was he to do?

  He knew only one thing for certain. He needed to get as far away from Tyark and Gerhardt as he could.

  “But there is something else,” Tyark’s voice was soft, his gaze distant. “I’ve had myself shielded for so long I was used to it, but now that I can sense again there is something… of great power, perhaps even greater than I…” His gaze drifted northward. “Up in those mountains.” He seemed to lose himself for a moment, then, “Perhaps that’s why the other drahksani were heading in this direction.” He shook his head with what seemed like an expression of wonder. “I’ve never felt anything like this before. If it’s a drahksan, I’d guess it’s a first or second generation. One of the ancient ones.” He pursed his lips in thought. “But even that doesn’t feel right. This feels more… primal.”

  Gosse had no idea what the man was talking about. He was just glad Tyark’s attentions weren’t on him any longer.

  “What’s all this about drahksani now?” Dathgar perked up. He looked a little glassy-eyed and not fully comprehending what was happening around him.

  Tyark spun on him. “Our employer had us hunting drahksan! At least three of the four of them were drahksani. I would prefer not to kill my own kind. There are so few of us. I’d rather recruit them if I could. If I can get enough drahksan together, we can have our revenge on humanity!”

  “Humanity? What do you mean?” Dathgar was growing more lucid by the moment. “What’s this about revenge?”

  “You’re the ones who hunted us, destroyed us! Humanity must suffer for its crimes against us!” Tyark’s voice was soaring so high as to be nearly incomprehensible.

  “You gonna kill me too?” Dathgar was indignant. He obviously didn’t see the danger in his words.

  “I don’t know why I’ve put up with you as long as I have. It disgusts me to be working with human scum!” With that, Tyark made a grabbing motion with his hand. At the same time Dathgar’s expression went from indignation to surprise and he stiffened. Then Tyark spun his hand quickly. Dathgar’s head wrenched around and, with a sickening crack, the man was dead, slumping to the ground.

  Tyark was breathing heavily, whether from exertion or the passion of the previous moment, Gosse didn’t know.

  The man’s killing of Dathgar on a whim however spoke volumes and only reaffirmed how much Gosse needed to get away from these men.

  “I need to relieve myself,” he said hoping he sounded calm. He rose and turned away.

  “You’re not going to get your prey.”

  Gosse stopped at the words. “Oh?” He wasn’t sure what Tyark meant.

  “I’m not going to kill those drahksan for you. Bounty hunter or no, we’re done working for you.”

  Gosse half turned, he didn’t like having his back to these men. “You can do what you will with them. My deal was with Dathgar and Dathgar is dead.” He shrugged and hoped his next words weren’t a mistake. “I’m no match for you and we both know it. So, do as you will.”

  Tyark drew himself up at the perceived compliment. “I’m glad you know your place.”

  Gosse nodded and waited a moment for more words, but they didn’t come. He turned and walked into the forest… and kept walking.

  He made sure to walk slowly, stay calm — despite the turmoil inside him — until he was out of sight of the others. Then he ran.

  He just hoped those crazed drahksani wouldn’t follow him.

  19

  Caerwyn tried to remain calm, but it was far from easy.

  Jais seemed to be recovering quickly. He still knelt where he’d collapsed after his ‘trial’ with the medallion. His breathing was returning to normal, as was his color, which had drained from him during the ordeal. He was still drawing long draughts of air, eyes wide. It was clear it had not been a pleasant experience.

  Barami was undergoing the trial now, reacting in a similar manner. The man simply screamed, eyes clenched shut, body taught and tensed, every muscle flexed while that amulet was pressed to his head.

  Then the high priest, as Caerwyn had come to think of him, drew back the sigil and Barami collapsed to the floor. Jais went to him, helped him to his knees, whispered something. Barami nodded faintly.

  Volf was next.

  He glanced at her with clear terror in his eyes. She nodded to the two others. “They’re fine. It’s a few moments of—” She had no idea what… pain? That’s what it seemed like. “You’ll get through this. It may hurt, but we’ll all come out the other side stronger.”

  Volf turned the other way and looked at Jais and Barami then back to her. He nodded, though he didn’t look much calmed.

  The high priest stepped before Volf and without a word pressed the metal to Volf’s forehead. Volf’s eyes went wide then clenched shut and he let out that same scream.

  Now that the aged man was closer, Caerwyn caught that his eyes were closed as well. He seemed to be in his own trance. He would nod and sway and hum to himself.

  It occurred to her, the man was most likely reading their memories and thoughts. He was searching for truth. That’s what this trial was. That’s what the story leading up to this had been about, the ancient man’s search for truth in his sons.

  But why would that be painful?

  It took her a moment to answer herself.

  Truths were not always easily admitted, even to oneself. Everyone hid some truths, and having them dragged to the surface might not be a pleasant experience.

  Caerwyn searched back through her own memories. Did she have her own hidden truths? Did she have secrets she didn’t want the world to know… well yes, but anything she’d not tell if she had to? She didn’t think so.

  Then Volf was collapsing next to her, and she had no more time to wonder. The aged Dronnegir man shuffled forward and met her gaze, then lifted the medallion.

  It was like a light, far too bright to look at. With it came a dry cold which sapped the strength from her bones. The truth was an icy thing at times. It did not care about passions or family. It was cold and, at times, heartless. Truth was truth.

  She didn’t know if she was screaming. She only knew that everything in her life was being pulled out of her.

  Every moment, even some she’d long forgotten, was exposed and brought forth into that harsh light. Her early childhood at her parents’ small house in Domara far to the west. That was pleasant up until the harsh moment when her parents had been killed. That was replayed before her eyes, though in truth she’d seen nothing. She’d been fleeing into the forest. She remembered only the sound of fighting and screams.

  Then her life on the run; for three years she’d lived as a wildling in the forests before stowing away on a boat heading south to the ‘Firelands.’

  There she’d met her new father, who’d found her stealing in a market and adopted her. He’d been curious at her strange appearance and tough nature. She’d made him a proud father, rising through the ranks of the Afgenni army, becoming a general. Then came the next most painful day of her life: being exposed as a drahksan before her family—and those she’d come to think of as ‘her people,’—and exiled.

  Then she’d traveled north with the one man who hadn’t abandoned her, Barami. They’d found Jais, fought krolls and a krolloc, then made their way here.

  The light vanished.

  She drew a long breath, finding her legs weak beneath her, but oddly she didn’t fall. She did have to reach out to a pillar supporting the ceiling and lean on it, but she stayed on her feet.

  The aged man gave her a quizzical look for a long moment, then nodded to himself with a faint smile. He said a word: “Steinnhjartha”

  She turned to the man of middle years following in the ancient man’s wake. “What does th
at mean?”

  The man smiled. “Stone heart. It means you are strong.” The man glanced back at the three men who’d undergone the trial before her. “I have never seen anyone remain on their feet after the trial… until now.”

  Oh.

  She nodded to the man.

  It really hadn’t seemed that bad.

  She watched as the high priest shuffled toward Anubjorn. The old man spoke at some length in the Dronnegir tongue. The reactions on the faces of both Anubjorn and Hildr, as well as the assembled others, were telling.

  Caerwyn guessed that the priest was telling everyone… everything about their guests. Well not everything or they’d have been there for ages, but the important bits.

  By the time the man finished, all her companions including Volf were on their feet.

  Volf leaned over to her. “That was not what I had expected.”

  “It didn’t feel painful,” Caerwyn said. “Did I scream?”

  Volf grinned. “You did, yes, but I heard what that one said to you. I agree, you must have a heart like stone to resist that and stay on your feet afterward.”

  “Did it hurt you?”

  “Yes, but not how I expected. It wasn’t a physical pain at all, just a realization of so many things. It’s odd though, now I can’t even seem to recall those things.”

  Caerwyn had the same odd sensation. She’d uncovered some long-forgotten memories and emotions, but they were gone again now.

  “I guess that’s the nature of the magic in that thing. It drags everything up for the priest to see, but for us, we go back to normal afterward.”

  “Priest?”

  “He’s the one with a holy magical artifact and spouting off about the gods, what do you think?”

  “Fair enough.”

  “Come forward.” This from Anubjorn.

  The leader, or Egir, of the barbarians surveyed them all for a long moment before he spoke again. “Havardr told us many truths. I was wrong to accuse you.” There was little change on the stony face of the man, but Caerwyn was sure that had cost him to say. “You are what you say and came here meaning no harm to the Dronnegir and our ways.”

  Well that was a promising start.

  “But, what should I do with you?” He raised a hand to forestall the words he must have seen forming on Caerwyn’s lips. He spoke with care, slow and even. “Trust does not come easy for our kind. Especially for any outsiders. I know not if you can understand our oath; how it is a part of us. It is our life and to break it would be to break us. If we let you see the dragon, we would not be Dronnegir… I would not be Egir.” His tone and demeanor changed as one: harder, harsher, stern. “What certainty do we have that you will not tell others of our secret here?”

  Caerwyn waited to see if the man had more to say, but nothing was forthcoming.

  “We helped you—” Jais said.

  “Jais!” she said sharply. Jais had spoken first, and as usual his words were heated and passionate. That was not what was needed now. She moderated her own tone and spoke to Jais first. “Now is not the time for accusations or quick words. Please let me speak.”

  Jais looked a little put out but nodded.

  She turned to Anubjorn. “Egir, you are right. You have no reason to trust us. We do not know your ways and customs. But, we have endured your trial. Does that not speak somewhat to our nature?” Caerwyn glanced at Hildr standing next to the Egir. She’d been the one who’d fought for them last night, who had suggested the trial. The woman nodded slightly. Caerwyn wasn’t sure what to make of that except perhaps to push on with this line.

  The Egir nodded. “You have, yes.”

  “And the purpose of the trial was to test our virtue, was it not? To see if we could be trusted?”

  The large man pressed his lips together. He didn’t want to admit it. After a moment he did. “Yes, but—”

  “We came here today willing to undergo your trial. We have done everything you have demanded of us.” Except leave when first asked, but she didn’t bring that up. “What more do you need?”

  The Egir glared at her. He didn’t like this line of thought. Then his glare became something else and he grinned. “You ask what more? I say this. If you wish to speak with the dragon then you must become Dronnegir. You must become one of us… you must never leave this place.”

  She’d been about to agree to whatever it took to become a Dronnegir, but the words died at his last sentence.

  Never leave?

  That was impossible.

  She spoke slowly, carefully. “We would gladly do what is needed to become one of your clan, but we cannot stay. Speaking to the dragon is but the beginning of our quest, not its end.”

  Even as Anubjorn spoke to righteously refuse their request, having found his perfect reason to deny them, Caerwyn’s mind was churning through a plan. It was risky, very risky, but it might just be worth it.

  “What if we appealed to a higher authority?”

  The Egir stopped mid-sentence and glared at her again. “There is no higher authority.”

  “There is the dragon.”

  “But you cannot see the dragon without agreeing to stay,” he said with a grin, thinking he had her.

  “What if we let the dragon make that choice?”

  “What?”

  This is where the risk came in. She took a step forward to meet the Egir’s eyes, not in contest, not to glare, but to make certain he knew she meant what she was saying. “You say we have to stay. I say we do not, that we can be trusted to keep your secrets because they are our secrets too. We are at an impasse. So why don’t we go to see this dragon and both of us accept whatever outcome for us that the dragon decides. If he says we must stay… we will. But if he says we can go… you will let us leave. Agreed?”

  “Caer, do you—” Jais started.

  “I don’t know—” Barami spoke at the same moment.

  “Agreed?” she said more forcefully, cutting Barami and Jais off. Both had been saying variations on the same thing, questioning her.

  The Egir considered her words for a long moment. He could say no, but that would be to block those who had helped his clan and had been trying to work within the rules of that clan for as long as they’d been here. He had to agree.

  He finally nodded. “Agreed.”

  She nodded in return. “When can we leave?”

  The Egir sighed out heavily. “Tomorrow at sunrise. It is a long trek up into the mountains. I shall send my best guides and my own brother.” He nodded and that was that.

  20

  Volf let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding.

  Had they just won or had Caerwyn just sold them into staying here for the rest of their lives? He didn’t know.

  All he knew in that moment was his intense admiration and respect for the woman who had just brokered a deal for them to go see the dragon.

  He still didn’t much understand the ways of these Dronnegir. They were just a little too foreign to him with their magic-mind-medallions and harsh living. But he could understand their lack of trust. Up until just a couple of weeks ago he hadn’t trusted anyone. Caerwyn had changed all that for him… and for these people. She was truly an amazing woman.

  “What does this mean?” Jais was asking Caerwyn.

  She spoke softly, just to them. “I’m hoping that the dragon will see things differently than these people. The Dronnegir have been set in their ways for a long time. They aren’t going to see reason, but the dragon might. I can only hope it will understand that we mean it no harm and aren’t going to give away its secrets to all we meet.” She lowered her voice further. “But that doesn’t mean that if we meet other drahksan who need help that we might not send them this way.”

  “And put them through all this?” Jais asked.

  She shook her head, “No, that’s just it. What I’m hoping the dragon will say… to all of us… is that the Dronnegir have nothing to fear from drahksani, at least not those who come in peace to speak to the dra
gon. This is too valuable a resource to be left untapped.”

  “That seems like a long shot,” Barami said.

  Volf had to agree. These people did not seem so open to change. He wasn’t sure if they’d take it so well, even if the dragon itself told them to do it, but maybe.

  “I trust Caerwyn’s judgment,” Volf said. “If she believes it can be done, then I believe it as well.”

  She smiled at him and he felt his heart lift with that simple look. He returned the smile.

  He didn’t know why he felt like he did, but with her… it just felt like anything was possible, like his life had opened up and a whole new world was set before him.

  They were being escorted out of the longhouse. The two women — Elria and Hildr? — approached, and for a moment Jais and Barami were drawn away as they spoke with the women.

  Now was his moment.

  Once they were out in the courtyard, he turned to Caerwyn. “I just wanted to say that you were amazing in there. I’ve never known anyone like you and when I’m around you I feel like the world is a new place filled with endless opportunities.”

  Her look was a little stunned. But she smiled and that gave him the impetus to push on.

  “I just wanted you to know that if there is ever anything you need… you just have to ask and if it is within my power to give it, I shall.”

  An odd look crossed her face at that point. She smiled faintly and nodded. “There just may be something you can do. Perhaps we can speak more about that… later.”

  He beamed and was so filled with impassioned joy he seized the moment. He stepped in and embraced her, kissing her fiercely. It was too much, and this would not be what she’d want, but oddly, she didn’t push him away, but lingered in the kiss for a long moment before he finally withdrew.

  “I just…” He had to say something to explain himself. “Thank you, for everything.”

  She still seemed a little shocked.

  “Thank you too, Volf.”

  They continued on their way back to the longhouse where they’d been put the night before. Volf couldn’t help but glance at her as they walked. He was rather pleasantly surprised that she too was glancing at him. There was something new in how she looked at him.