Shadow of a Slave (The Blood Mage Chronicles Book 1)

by Saffron Bryant

  Know-It-All was looking at him with narrowed eyes and Ash realized his hands were clenched into fists. He forced them open but Know-It-All was still staring. Unlike Time-Wasters, Know-It-Alls lived for knowledge and right now, that made them dangerous.

  “You look familiar,” Know-It-All said.

  Ash mimicked the Time-Waster’s carefree shrug from earlier. “I’m around here sometimes.”

  Know-It-All’s gaze didn’t lift.

  “Anyway, I’ve got to go,” Ash said. He pushed away from the wall and sauntered as slow as he dared toward Rae, but he could feel their eyes on his back like a cold finger tracing down his spine.

  “We’ve got to go,” Ash said as soon as he reached Rae’s side.

  “Hey, you,” Know-It-All’s voice cut through the crowd.

  Ash snatched Rae’s hand and yanked her forward so that they sprinted through the thickening crowd. Hard footsteps pounded on the cobblestones behind them, drawing closer. Ash pushed himself faster, even though the pain in his throat made each breath scrape his lungs and tears stung the corners of his eyes.

  “What’s happening?” Rae said.

  Ash drew a rasping breath and looked over his shoulder. Know-It-All and a handful of city guards were running after them, fighting against the surging crowd. Ash turned right into a side-street, pulling Rae with him, and kept running. The pounding footsteps behind them got quieter and Ash allowed himself to hope that they might get away.

  An uneven cobblestone caught his foot and he flew forward, arms flailing. He landed hard on the road, his stomach taking most of his weight and knocking the air out of his lungs. The rough stones scraped up his palms, tearing away the skin and leaving bloody grazes. He winced and gasped for breath.

  “Ash!” Rae turned and wrapped her arm under his shoulder.

  Ash’s legs shook and pain rattled his knees. Stars flashed over his oxygen-starved vision and the world kept tilting to the side.

  “Come on!” Rae hauled him upward and staggered forward.

  The guards rounded the end of the street and pelted toward them.

  Ash lurched forward and only kept his footing thanks to Rae’s strong grip. They stumbled on down the street, picking up speed as air scraped back into Ash’s lungs. At the next corner he let go of Rae’s arm and they sprinted together, darting down side-streets and doubling back through shadowed passages. Still the guards followed them.

  “What’s happening?” Rae said between gasps.

  “The Faceless Monks,” Ash said. Pain squeezed his chest and tears stung his eyes, somehow saying it out loud made it real. “They killed him.”

  17

  Ash and Rae sprinted through the streets of Falconwall; the gradual downhill slant of the city led them onward, out of Upper Trading and into the Craftsman’s District. They staggered past tailors and blacksmiths and, with a final spurt of energy, shoved past the two guards standing at the gate to the Lower Trading District. More people filled the streets here and uneven alleys made a maze impossible to follow.

  Rae tugged Ash into a side-street and then turned left. They kept running, even when the sounds of pursuit died away and each breath burned their lungs. Their footsteps became ragged shuffles and their heads hung low, eyes fixed on the ground in front of them.

  Ash’s legs quaked and buckled. He fell against the nearest building and Rae stumbled to a stop beside him. They stood under an overhang and gasped for air as evening descended around them.

  “He’s not really dead,” Rae said in a soft voice, some unknown time later.

  Ash swallowed and wiped sweat from his forehead. He didn’t want to believe it either, but they’d seen the evidence for themselves in the blackened remains of Sim’s house. “What do we do now?”

  Rae looked up and down the street. “I don’t recognize this part.”

  Ash studied the dirt road. Lopsided buildings squeezed together on both sides of the street and rubbish lay strewn in festering piles. The pungent scent of decay and filth filled his nostrils and made him gag.

  “We haven’t been here before.” He felt a tickle on his spine and studied the darkness of the nearest alley. A faint shiver of movement warned him that they were being watched. “And I don’t think we should stay here for long.”

  “What are we supposed to do?”

  “We’ll go back and get S—” Ash choked on his name. “— and get the trunk. At least then we’ll be able to get some money.”

  “Good idea.”

  They shuffled together in the center of the road so they couldn’t be grabbed by unseen hands in the blackened alleys. Three turns later, they came to a broader main street that led uphill, back toward Upper Trading. The stores here were cleaner and the road lined with cobblestones.

  Ash’s feet chafed in his muddy shoes; at least there was another pair in the trunk. He had to focus on that; once they got the trunk, they’d have money for food and they’d be able to think clearly. Maybe they’d been wrong and Sim was fine; it might have been a misunderstanding.

  Rae must have picked up on his resolve because they both stood straighter and strode up the road to the tall gate that led into the Craftsman’s District.

  “Whoa!” A guard in blue and gold stepped out of the shadows and held up his hand. “I’ll need to see your district tattoos.”

  Ash froze as if ice water had been poured over his head.

  “Our tattoos,” Rae said in a high-pitched voice.

  “Yes, come on. It’s cold out here.”

  Ash’s hands clenched and unclenched at his sides but he couldn’t make any other part of him work. The tattoos, how had they forgotten the tattoos?

  “Um, we don’t have any…” Rae said.

  The guard’s hand dropped to the knife at his belt and his expression of vague annoyance turned to disgust. “Then why the hell are you bothering decent citizens? Get away.”

  “No, you don’t understand,” Rae said, stepping forward.

  Ash swallowed but couldn’t bring himself to speak.

  “We come from Upper Trading,” Rae said. “But we came down today and forgot about the tattoos.”

  “Is that so?”

  Rae nodded.

  “Then you’ll be able to tell me the name and address of your parents so that they can come and get you?”

  Ash’s stomach rolled, threatening to hurl what little he’d had to eat across the road. His face surged hot and cold at the same time and the tips of his fingers had gone numb.

  “Well… we don’t have parents here,” Rae said. “Please let us pass. Everything we own is up there.”

  The guard folded his arms across his chest and sneered down at them. “You don’t have tattoos and you don’t have parents who can vouch for you? How do you think that looks?”

  “Not good,” Rae said.

  “Too right. Now get away from here and stop causing a nuisance, or I’ll beat you myself.”

  “We need to get our things,” Ash said, finally finding his voice.

  The guard’s gaze flicked to him. “More like steal from hard working people. You know the rules as well as anyone. If you don’t have a tattoo, you don’t get in. Simple as that.”

  The guard turned and marched back to the gate where he exchanged some low words with his companion. They both shook their heads.

  Ash and Rae stood rooted to the middle of the street like statues. Ash’s insides had turned to ice and he didn’t think he’d ever be able to bring himself to move again. They were trapped, trapped on the wrong side of the gate with absolutely no way to get back. Without Sim, they’d never get into Upper Trading and that meant they had nothing but the clothes on their backs and the few coins in their pockets. Why had they left the district? Why hadn’t they thought it through!

  “Get out of here!” The guard strode forward and brandished his fist.

  Rae grabbed Ash’s arm and dragged him back. “Ash, we have to go.”

  Ash put one foot in front of the other and allowed himself to be led
away from the gate. Rae pulled him around the corner, into a darkened alley scattered with a few boxes. She slumped down on one and held her head in her hands. Ash sat beside her and wrapped his arm over her shoulders.

  “We’ll never survive.”

  Ash swallowed, tears threatening to overwhelm him. A lump had formed in his throat and suffocated him every time he tried to talk. “We need a plan,” he said. “Together we’ll be okay. We just need a plan.”

  “We’re homeless!” Rae waved her hand to indicate the alley.

  Ash winced. Somehow the reality of their situation hadn’t sunk in yet, he still expected Sim to come around the corner, grinning, at any moment. He and Rae couldn’t be homeless… they just couldn’t.

  “We’ll go back to Wichden,” Ash said.

  Rae snorted. “Even if Mother would have us back, which I doubt, how are we going to get there? It’s miles away and we have no food, no horse, and no way to pay for travel. All together we have what, five silvers?”

  Ash bit his lip and studied the dirty cobblestones. It had been less than twelve hours ago that he’d been overjoyed that Sim trusted him again. He’d been so excited to go out and sell and it had seemed like nothing could go wrong. Just twelve hours, and yet it felt like years.

  Rae kicked the crate beneath them with the heel of her shoe. “Those bastards! How could they hurt Sim?”

  “They were looking for us.”

  Ash went on to explain what the Know-It-All had said.

  “I don’t understand. He had twin children before?” Rae said.

  “That’s what the guy said.”

  “Do you think he was trying to use us to replace them?”

  “Maybe. Explains why he was so scared of them. And the clothes.”

  “Not that it did any good,” Rae said, a catch in her voice.

  “He was good to us. He deserved better.” Some of the hopelessness and fear in Ash’s chest sizzled and steamed, turning to rage. “They can’t be allowed to get away with killing a good man.”

  “Ash…” Rae said.

  “No. We can’t let them get away with it.”

  “What can we possibly do against the Faceless Monks?”

  Ash’s gaze dropped and his teeth clenched. “There has to be a way.”

  Rae shook her head and fell silent.

  “The Institute,” Ash said.

  “What?” Rae said.

  “We go to the Institute. We learn magic, and we get revenge.”

  Rae clasped her hands between her legs and gazed into the darkness. “You’re assuming a lot.”

  “So? Together I know we can make it. We’ll be the best magician’s anyone has ever seen.”

  “I suppose the Institute is safer than here, and maybe if we work hard, we’ll be able to afford it. Plus, with the coins we have we should be able to get a place on the back of a wagon to travel there.”

  “Yes!” Ash said.

  “But I don’t agree about revenge.”

  “What?” Ash frowned and some of the excitement died in his chest.

  “We can’t base our whole plan around getting revenge. It’s not right.”

  “But they deserve it!”

  “I know,” Rae said. “But let Talon and the other Gods deal with them. It’s not our job.”

  “But they—”

  “Please, Ash, I’ll go with you to the Institute, and together we’ll become the greatest magicians. But we’ll do it to help people, not for revenge.”

  Ash slumped and the fire fizzled out in his chest. “You’re probably right.”

  “Good. We’ll buy our way there tomorrow. For now we should try to get some sleep.”

  A few sparse torches lit the main streets and a thin sliver of moon shone on the darkened alley. Ash and Rae curled up on the hard ground behind the wooden crates, alongside a foul-smelling puddle. The cobblestones sent a cool chill through their clothes and they shivered against each other.

  Every sound made Ash’s eyes fly open and his heart surge into an erratic rhythm. Something hairy and rough ran over his leg and he sat up with a stifled scream. His stomach ached, gnawing at his insides and refusing to let him sleep, so he spent the rest of the night glaring at the alley wall and imagining all the things he’d do to the Faceless Monks if he were given the chance. His gaze caught on Rae and he sighed, tried to push away his thirst for revenge. He just had to hope that Talon would indeed take care of the monsters.

  As he sat there, awake, hungry, and shivering, he saw several shadows stalk past the alley entrance and fade into the night like wraiths. Ash shivered, he didn’t think he could face another night sleeping in the city streets with no food. They had to get to the Institute as soon as possible.

  18

  Early morning sunlight chased away some of the dark shadows from Ash’s mind and a small flicker of hope bloomed in his chest. He still had Rae, and the two of them together could do anything. They’d go to the Institute and become the greatest magicians, together.

  He nudged Rae. “Wake up, sleepy head.”

  Her eyes flickered opened and then jerked around the alley as she sprung upright.

  “Whoa,” Ash said. “It’s okay. But we should head into the market. I want to get out of here as soon as possible.”

  Rae sighed. “You’re right. I wish we had some breakfast though.”

  Ash’s stomach growled in response. “We should have some coins left over for some bread or something.”

  They stood and stretched out their cramped limbs. Ash’s legs felt as though they’d been turned to hard ice by the cobblestones, the chill seeping into his very bones.

  “Better than Wichden,” Rae said. “There would have been frost on the ground.”

  They ambled side-by-side to the mouth of the alley and turned left, down a thin street dotted with puddles of filthy water. At the next turn they found themselves alongside the wall that ran around the edge of the city. It towered above them and leaned over the dilapidated buildings on their other side.

  Far in the distance they could just make out the noise of a market but the voices were dim. Ash’s footsteps echoed back to him and he shivered.

  “Not long,” Rae said.

  Ash nodded. She was right, they just had to focus on getting to the Institute and everything else would fall into place. The Institute. His mind filled with the possibilities and he walked faster, cutting close to the mouth of a darkened alley.

  A dirty hand snapped out, grabbed hold of Ash’s collar, and dragged him into the shadows. Another hand snatched Rae and bundled her into the alley.

  Ash struggled and strained but thick arms pinned his hands to his sides and lifted him so his feet swung useless in the air.

  “Hey! What do you—?”

  A foul smelling hand clapped over Ash’s mouth and a square face with a cut across the top lip filled Ash’s vision.

  “Quiet or your girlfriend gets it,” the square-headed boy said. He couldn’t have been older than Rae and Ash but his muscles bulged out like he had rocks hidden under his skin.

  Rae writhed but she looked like a thin twig in the arms of the boy who held her.

  “Search them,” the square-headed leader said.

  Hands, it felt like hundreds of them, landed on Ash and ran along every inch of him. Fingers turned out his pockets and took the few coins he had. Others searched Rae.

  “No!”

  The hand over Ash’s mouth pushed harder and crushed his lips against his teeth. Hot rage boiled in Ash’s chest and he bit down on the thick fingers. Someone grunted and the hand disappeared. Ash tasted blood and sweat and dirt. “Help! Someone help!”

  Ash’s voice echoed down the alley and spilled out onto the main street. He imagined people hearing his cry and gathering the City Watch to help them.

  “You bastard.” A burly boy with a bloody finger balled his fist and slammed it into Ash’s face.

  Ash’s nose and jaw exploded in pain, as if his entire face had imploded, sending bright flashes
and lashes of agony through his head. His skull snapped back and blood sprayed out in an arc around the alley.

  “Ash!” Rae cried, and then her voice became muffled.

  Ash blinked. His ears rang and dim shadows moved about in front of his blurry eyes. Someone shoved him, and then the world fell sideways. He landed hard, the wind rushing out of his lungs and leaving him gasping for air. Shadowed legs moved around in front of him. He tried to reach out and grab them, but his arms refused to do what he wanted.

  Rae. What if they took her? What if they hurt her?

  He drew a rasping breath that sounded like a death rattle and tried to sit, but all he managed was a weak flailing, like a dying fish. Blood filled his mouth with an iron tang and slid down his throat. The voices got fainter and the dark around the edge of his vision grew.

  A pounding headache throbbed in time with his heartbeat, and a deeper pain pulsated from his crushed nose. The shadows deepened until his whole vision became a tiny pinprick of light, and then went out.

  “Ash!”

  “Ash!”

  A familiar voice tickled the edges of Ash’s consciousness, pulling him awake. Pain surged back and he shied away, wanting to sink into oblivion where his face didn’t feel like it had been crushed by a blacksmith’s hammer.

  “Ash!”

  It was Rae. He recognized her voice. She sounded scared.

  The thought of Rae afraid and alone forced Ash to face the pain and open his eyes. New agony surged into his brain with the blinding light and he squeezed his eyes shut again.

  “Oh, Ash,” Rae said, cradling his head.

  Dried blood coated his face and tugged his skin. He couldn’t breathe through his nose, and had to settle for a rattling gasp.

  “Ash, you need to sit up. They broke your nose.”

  Ash blinked again, this time Rae’s face swam into focus; tears made clean rivulets down her dirt-smeared cheeks.

  Broken nose. Ash tried to think back to the book of healing Sim had given them. Broken nose. His dazed mind could almost picture the page but it kept slipping away, replaced with bright flashes of painful light and a square-faced boy with a cut above his lip.