The Shadow Ryana (The Shadow Sisters Book 1)

by C. R. Daems

  "How did you do it, Ryana?" Morag asked. "Sister Alica told me that you were the slowest student in her class. She felt certain you wouldn't pass the test. Yet, this story is beautiful and your symbols adequate. For their small size, they are more than adequate."

  "Mistress Alica showed me the secret," I said, feeling less afraid now that she said she liked what I had done.

  "I did?" Alica said and shook her head like she didn't believe me.

  "Yes, Mistress. You showed me how to unfold the symbols into beautiful pictures."

  "What do you mean?" Morag asked.

  "When I see the symbols, they become the things they are. When I look at the symbol for a tree, it becomes a beautiful green tree. When I see the symbols for a red tree, I see the leaves change from green to red. The symbols come alive."

  "The wonders of youth," Morag said. "You're doing well, child."

  * * *

  The next day, the god Alica introduced us to the god Sanda. She was taller and looked thinner than god Alica. Her eyes were almond shaped, and the skin around them had a pale-yellow tint. Before she spoke, her brown eyes inspected each of us in turn. I shivered as her eyes fell on me. I didn't know what to expect.

  Would she consider me worth keeping? My father sold me because he thought me not worth feeding.

  "Girls, you've completed the first phase of your training—reading and writing. During this phase, you'll study the people, customs, major trade items, and leaders of the five provinces of Hesland. You'll learn to cook, recognize edible and poisonous plants, and be given a sixday free each season to find an animal friend."

  It sounded like each of us had an animal friend, somewhere. Our job was to find it. Although I didn't understand, I enjoyed the free time to wander the valley.

  The gods' village lay in a dead-end canyon, surrounded by rugged mountains. The entrance to the village ran through a narrow valley rich in grasses, bushes, and trees fed by small streams from the surrounding mountains. The cycle-long runoff produced a river that ran through the center of the valley and supported a large variety of wildlife. In addition to the ever-present population of small animals, birds of prey, wildcats, and wolves roamed the valley. Many made it their home while others strayed in from the open plains beyond.

  On my free sixday, I walked the entire valley, climbed into the lower regions of the mountains, and explored the river. Although I could sense the feeling of many of the animals and birds, none seemed inclined to be my friend. They visited only for the tidbits I carried and out of curiosity. I was always sorry to see each sixday end.

  A half-cycle passed and I still didn't understand what I was supposed to accomplish. The gods expected something—another test. Eventually, I worked up enough courage to ask the god Sanda.

  "Mistress, I don't understand what I'm supposed to do. I know I'm not given free time each season to have fun," I said, hoping she wouldn't punish me for… The gods had never punished me, but my past made me uncertain and fearful of everything.

  "Finding an animal familiar," she said as if that explained everything. She didn't feel mad but she didn't explain. As I stood there confused and not knowing what to say, a hawk glided down and landed on her outstretched arm. She lifted it to her shoulder and smiled.

  "Thank you, Mistress." I now understood. I was looking for a life companion, like the god Sanda's hawk. I understood, but that didn't help me to find one.

  Four more seasons passed without success. If I failed this test, it would end my stay with the gods. On my next free period, I felt too sad to search. I made my way up a small trail into the crags, where I sat, expecting nothing but hoping for a miracle. As the sun went down, hundreds of bats exploded out of a nearby cave. I couldn't resist looking inside. The cave's entrance was small and narrow, but once inside, the dim light revealed a huge, eerie cavern bathed in shadows. The stone floor swam in bat droppings, and the pungent air stung my nose, made my eyes water, and sent my head spinning. It took several minutes before my eyes adjusted to the dim light. When they did, I saw that a few bats remained in the crags of the walls and on the ceiling.

  Maybe, like me, they were too depressed to look for food.

  My world looked to be ending. The only question—when?

  Turning to leave, I nearly stepped on two tiny bats squirming in the droppings. I picked them up. They stank and I almost dropped them. I didn't want to see them die, but…how could I nurse a baby bat, and should I? I had heard the Ahasha bats fed on blood and had a poison that could paralyze and kill. Handling them could be dangerous, but I couldn't bring myself to leave them to die.

  I held them under a trickle of water running down one of the cracks to wash off the dirt. I had nothing with me to feed them, so I put them inside my shirt and walked back to the compound. At dinner, I saved a few drops of milk. Back in my room, I pricked my finger with a thorn for some blood to mix with the milk. With a thin spine of a thistle plant, I fed them a drop at a time, hoping I was doing the right thing. For the next several days, I spent my free time nursing them. They didn't die, which made me happy!

  Unfortunately, I had no place else to keep them but my room, which I scrubbed daily trying to keep the pungent odor down. I failed.

  "Ryana, what's that smell coming from your room? You're supposed to clean your room and clothes daily. We won't tolerate filth." The god Sanda opened my door and stepped back, scanning the room from the doorway. Everything was spotless—except for the latest droppings.

  "Bats?"

  "Yes, Mistress. I found them on my last free sixday. If I hadn't nursed them, they would've died. I'll let them go as soon as they are able to fly. Please. Or else they'll die." I could tolerate the smell if it meant they would live. I was torn apart. I didn't want to be asked to leave, but I didn't want the bats to die. The god Sanda stared at me for a long time.

  "What do you feed them?" she asked, her forehead furrowed in a frown.

  "I've been feeding them a little milk and blood," I said, while looking at the floor. She appeared to be waiting for me to say more. I feared what was to come next, but the gods hated lies. "Sometimes I get blood from a goat and sometimes they feed on me."

  She knelt and held me by my shoulders. "Ryana, you're the only person in this village who would nurse Ahasha bats, and worse, let them feed off you. Child, they are dangerous."

  "Please, Mistress. I don't want them to die."

  She rose. "Until they can fly, sleep in the barn. Perhaps the animals can tolerate the smell. Besides, they need blood—preferably not yours."

  I moved to the shed, which everyone seemed to avoid. The god Sanda gave me the chore of feeding, cleaning, and caring for the goats. Over the next few days, the bats took short flights around the shed and fed off the animals. But unlike regular bats, they slept on me—in my hair, inside my shirt, or in the crook of my arm.

  To my great relief, none of the animals appeared harmed by the bats' feedings. One night several sixdays later, they flew out of the shed and off into the night. Relieved, I began moving my belongings back to my room, only to find they had returned during the night. I stayed in my room that night. I was sure they would leave for good—soon. It would break my heart, but it would please everyone else. I couldn't help feeling that I would be asked to leave if I couldn't make them go and spent sleepless nights trying to solve my dilemma. Several days later, the god Morag entered the shed while I was cleaning the floor.

  "Well, Ryana, you've again bewildered us. First by the beautiful story you wrote, when Sister Alica thought you would fail, and now by adopting bats. Something no one else would dare do." She looked at the bats, which were hanging from my shirt. So did the aging hawk sitting on her shoulder. A tear rolled down my cheek. I had worked night and day to stay, and now I would be asked to leave because I saved two bats. But I couldn't have done anything different. I felt like dying. "You need to learn the skills the other children are learning if you're to stay with us. We'll find a way for you to take part in the classes and keep y
our bats. Only the gods know why an animal chooses to stay with us. Who am I to argue with them?"

  I stood there in shock. What gods? They were gods.

  The god Morag looked hard at me, then laughed. "No, child, we aren't gods. We're women like you'll be someday. We are called Shadow Sisters by those who hire us." She turned and walked away shaking her head.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Ahasha Valley—Dazel Province

  To my relief, my bats learned or sensed they should leave their droppings outside, and life returned to normal. I rejoined the class and did well. Learning about Hesland and its five provinces opened a fascinating new world for me.

  Mistress Morag paid me an unexpected visit after the bats remained with me a second season. "Ryana, follow me." She walked away from the compound. I followed as she strode in silence up a narrow mountain trail, which I had never seen. The steep trail took us higher into the crags. My nervousness increased when she entered a large cave. Mistresses Alica and Sanda waited inside.

  "Release your bats, Ryana," Morag said.

  I wanted to scream. She meant forever. I looked for somewhere to run or hide, but the three women surrounded me. Tears ran down my face and my body trembled at the thought of losing them.

  "Ryana, do you love those bats?"

  "Yes…Yes, Mistress Morag," I whispered.

  "Would you tie their wings, so they couldn't fly away?"

  "No, Mistress. I'd never hurt them." I sobbed. The thought of losing them hurt too much for my ten-cycle-old heart to bear. I reached into the harness that I had made to carry them during the day and removed one and then the other. It required all my will to extend my hands toward Morag and open them. When I did, the bats flew deeper into the cave. It felt like my heart had been ripped from my chest.

  With tears streaking my face, I stood frozen, staring into the dark cavern after them. As time passed and nothing happened, my hope faded. No one moved. Then out of the black two bats appeared, circled, and landed on my shoulder. I stood paralyzed with fear and hope, resisting the overwhelming urge to reach for them. Then as Mistresses Morag, Alica, and Sanda began chanting, a gray mist arose around me. While they chanted, one of the bats launched itself into the air, circled once, and landed on my outstretched hand.

  "We name you Kasi."

  The other bat launched, circled twice, and landed on my other hand.

  "We name you Anil."

  "We name you Ryana," they chanted. I screeched and could hear the echoes. I could smell the blood that flowed through the women's veins. I felt my fingers elongate into the skin that stretched from the side of my body, and my thumbs change into claws. When the mist cleared, I stood holding the bats—in normal hands.

  "By their own free will, Kasi and Anil are bonded to you and you to them," Morag said. I fainted.

  Over the following seasons, I began to see and hear through Kasi and Anil. Slowly, I learned to interpret their echoes, and they began to sense my wishes.

  * * *

  At the end of two cycles, Leila and Zaria were asked to leave. They had failed to find a familiar. Now I understood—another phase, another test, and another thing to fear. I hoped I would prove worthy.

  Jelena and I were introduced to Mistress Hajna, our instructor for our weapons training phase. She had black hawk-like eyes, which froze me, light-brown skin, was taller than Mistress Sanda, and moved like a cat—quiet and deadly. Her weapons blurred in her hands as she spun from an upright stance to a low, coiled, snake-like position. Jelena and I began our training with wooden weapons. They couldn't kill, but they did leave nasty bruises and sometimes cuts. We learned each Shadow Sister was required to be competent in five weapons: sword, staff, bow and arrow, knife, and the natural weapons of the body—and expert in two. After the first cycle of the seasons passed, I proved good at defending myself but poor at offense. I could sense when my opponent was unbalanced and vulnerable, yet remained reluctant to attack.

  "Ryana, you must learn to attack. You're good at defending yourself, but you don't go for the kill. In a fight, you would lose. Learn from Jelena; she has the aggressiveness you need." Hajna shook her head. Without warning, she attacked. I avoided her for three strokes but not the fourth. She had been intentionally slow. Then she attacked Jelena. On the third stroke, Jelena countered and attacked. She managed to survive for several seconds. "There, Ryana. Do you see the difference? Jelena defended herself by attacking, so she had a chance of winning and surviving."

  I understood, but it wasn't in my nature. Growing up, I had learned to defend myself but never dared to fight back. From then on, I forced myself to attack and improved somewhat. But it would never come naturally.

  I headed for the river and its cold water after each workout. It helped to reduce the swelling of my bruises. I didn't like attacking or hurting Jelena or anyone. And while she didn't intend to hurt me, Jelena lost herself in the fury of the fight and always felt sorry afterward.

  Today, I submerged, using a hollow reed to breathe. The icy-cold water felt wonderful and helped dull my aches and pains. I must have dozed off for a few seconds because I woke fighting for air. I sputtered up the water I had sucked into my lungs. When the coughing stopped, I wiped my eyes and blew into my reed to clear it. Weeds and water shot out, landing on the shore. Fascinated, I spent the rest of the day loading it with tiny pebbles and blowing them out. In the days that followed, I amused myself by making tubes of wood and shooting pebbles, assessing the accuracy and distance of each. Then I made sticks with feathers—like arrows. Over the next two seasons, my darts, accuracy, and distance improved. What had begun for amusement had become an obsession.

  Mistress Morag found me one day at the river practicing. I feared she would be mad at me for playing when I should be studying.

  You worry about everything. All your teachers accuse you of working too hard. She should be happy to see you relaxing, I chastised myself, but I still worried. Working hard had saved me from being made to leave.

  "Well, Ryana, I finally found you relaxing, or are you? What do you have there?" Morag asked as she neared and sat.

  "I've been…playing with this tube," I said after I recovered from the shock of her sitting down next to me.

  "What are you doing with it?" She seemed interested, so I relaxed—cautiously.

  "I'm trying to shoot darts from it. I've sent one five paces."

  Morag took the tube from me and inspected it. Then she picked up the dart, turning it around in her hand to examine the feathers.

  "Show me."

  I loaded the feathered dart into the tube and prepared to blow when she pointed to a log some six paces away. I took a deep breath and blew. The dart wobbled as it went and fell short by a hand's width. I tried not to let my disappointment show.

  "You've never been conventional, Ryana, so I guess that I can't expect it now. I've heard of such a device but never seen one. I think you'll have to smooth out the tube and redesign your feathers." She paused and studied the dart. "If you wish, I'll help you play with your dart weapon."

  "Yes, Mistress. Please." I felt shocked. Ecstatic. Excited. Then it hit me—weapon!

  "Meet me here each day after your lessons with Sister Hajna, and we'll work on it. Don't neglect your other weapons."

  * * *

  For the next six seasons, Mistress Morag and I labored over refining the weapon. We smoothed the inside of the tube, experimented with different lengths, and tested a variety of feather arrangements. I could now blow a dart some twenty paces with a fair degree of accuracy.

  One day she took me partway up the side of the mountain and pointed to a small flowering vine growing out of the side of a rock face.

  "Those black berries are called rockberry. They are poisonous and quickly paralyze." She continued climbing until she found a beautiful blue-tailed lizard. "That is a rock lizard. Their skins contain a deadly poison called rocktail." She went on to explain how each could be made into a poison—one to paralyze and one to kill. Then, to my d
elight, she blessed the weapon and informed Mistress Hajna that it should be part of my training.

  I practiced during class and spent hours on my own. Five seasons later, I could blow a dart from twenty paces into a two-inch circle every time. It became my weapon of choice.

  "Well, Ryana, I'll accept the blowtube as your weapon of choice. Dipped in rocktail or rockberry, it would be an effective weapon. But you need a second one," Hajna said, turning the tube over in her hand as she did when evaluating a weapon's quality. I had stained it black, which made it difficult to see at night and almost invisible against our black clothes. As spies, a Shadow Sister wore clothing appropriate to the profession or person she impersonated. But for formal meetings with buyers of her services, she wore black shoes, pants, shirt, and a head wrap, which left only her eyes exposed, precluding easy identification.

  "Two, Mistress. A blowtube and…" I reached down to my ankle and pulled out two sticks from a sheath I had made. Made from hardwood, they were a hand's width long, finger thin, and sharp at one end. "Needles. One I coated with rockberry and another with rocktail." Hajna nodded her approval.

  Another cycle passed. I had improved my blowtube and its accuracy. My knife throwing also proved better than normal and my knife and needle fighting excellent. Knives and needles required me to get in close. They were effective against long weapons. I could step inside the weapon's arc, making a long weapon ineffective, and deliver a killing or paralyzing strike. Against short weapons, the blowtube was effective. This phase came to an end, and we were tested to judge our competency. I had been so consumed with my blowtube weapon, I never thought about failing this phase—until now. I wasn't sure if I would be competing against Jelena or some other undisclosed criteria of Mistress Hajna.

  It went as expected. Jelena was far better than me at every weapon except the knife and my special weapons—blowtube and needles. It didn't matter to me. I wanted to be a Spy, which only required me to be expert in two. Jelena intended to be an Assassin, which required her to be expert in the standard five.