Then he noticed a smear of fingerprints on the man’s shoulder and the wall behind. “Move him,” he commanded. One of the guards tugged at the man’s huge body until it slumped forward and to the side, revealing a paper stuck to the wall with dried blood.
Resh peeled it away delicately, moving to the window to read.
General,
Corentine and I have taken what we need and left the city. I am sorry this life was also taken, but Corentine felt hers was in danger. I ask no pardon for myself in these matters, but I hope you take into account the desperation of our mission. Please spare her family any retribution for her actions. I hope to see you again one day, but it will not be in Weshen City or the NeverCross Mountains.
Syashin
Resh crumpled the paper into his pocket. Had Corentine killed this man, or had Sy killed him for her? The language seemed purposefully vague. Either way, though, he knew he had been right. Sy would never kill one of his own unless it were a fight to the death, and there was no other smear of blood in the room.
The girl was at fault. Sy was blinded by her power.
“Appoint a new Commander,” he ordered the guards watching in silence. He drew the sword from his belt, the song of it leaving its scabbard sweet in his ears. This would be a perfect chance to cement his authority and rid himself of a guard he’d never trusted to begin with.
He gestured to the dead man. “This poor soul was bested by a witch who has enchanted my brother’s heart, and I fear Melshen’s heart is also compromised.”
Melshen moaned just then, and his eyes fluttered open just in time to widen as the sword of the Second Son plunged into his heart.
“Search the city for the witch,” Resh said, calmly drawing a black cloth from his scabbard and wiping the blood from his sword. He ignored the shocked gazes of the men and strode from the room. Making certain none of the guards had followed him, he ducked into a nearby room and locked the door.
Slumping against the wall, he yanked his string of black beads from beneath his shirt and began to pray, his fingers shaking. “Magi, protect our people from the Sulit witches, who have come again to ruin us. Help me see through the mist they weave against reality, and guide my sword to the heart of their power.”
His eyes closed, and he continued to repeat the prayer, even as his mind wandered to his brother and Corentine.
He regretted killing a Weshen. But if the guard had seen either of their powers and could gossip to the others, then his life was a necessary sacrifice in the game of witch against Weshen. The Sulit witches had compromised his people’s freedom in Riata so many years ago; he had learned this much from the ancients in EvenFall two winters ago.
Later, the General had confirmed Resh’s inquiries, although he insisted the witches had no ability or reason left to attack from beyond the barriers of the MagiSea.
Resh, however, believed they might still attack from within, their magic passed along in whispers through families just like Corentine’s.
Chapter 22
Sy awoke with a pounding headache. He yawned and looked around him in the pale dawn light. Corentine slept nearby, curled in the hull of the boat, a light shawl covering most of her face and upper body. He gingerly felt his head, where he remembered striking it against the rock wall. Though tender, it didn’t appear to be bleeding.
Again he glanced to Coren. She had saved both of them somehow - he didn’t even remember what had happened after he struck the wall. Cheetanas were one of the strongest MagiCreatures, and clever as well. He’d never known one to abandon a fight. He shook his head, thinking again of how powerful Coren was. The thought was clouded, though, by the memory of his father’s maddening decisions.
If the General had told the right stories or even paused long enough to ask the right questions, Sy and Coren might be heroes instead of outcasts, helping their people search for magic in their blood. Instead, they were unlikely to see anyone they knew again.
Sy pushed to his feet, brushing away the sand and cave dirt that had collected in his clothes. He rummaged in a bag and found an empty water skin, then walked slowly to the shore to fill it, stretching his stiff muscles. He shifted away the salt and drank the skin dry, then repeated the process before his headache began to recede.
Coren stretched in her sleep, then she settled again, her form quiet.
He decided to let her sleep as long as she needed. They could reach Damren’s home with a good day’s climb, but she would need her strength. Turning back to the water, Sy wandered along its edge for several minutes before he noticed the prints.
They were almost washed from the sand, but they were there. Human.
Sy scanned the beach. All was clear and quiet. What was left of the prints seemed to lead toward an outcropping of tall rocks, though, and he wondered if perhaps someone had hidden there. Sy moved closer to the water, careful to allow the tide to erase his own prints.
Just as he reached the rocks, a figure dressed all in black stepped into view, separating slowly from the lingering darkness of early morning. Sy felt his face harden into a blank stare.
“Hello, brother,” Resh said. “I see you found the prints I left for you. How were the tunnels?” He half-turned in the direction of the tunnel’s exit, and the wind caught his cloak, billowing it behind him. “Just as when we were children?”
“Resh,” Sy said, nodding a cold greeting. “You left the island.”
“Indeed. Our father would have sent me anyways, so I thought to do it on my terms. The girl still lives.”
“Corentine is fine,” Sy answered, although he could tell Resh hadn’t asked a question. How long had Resh been tracking them? Had he been to the city?
“So she is,” Resh agreed, studying him. “But are you, Sy? Are you fine? Or has the witch woven her spells so tightly that you no longer even know?”
“Corentine is no more witch than I am. You and Father would both know that if you’d stopped to listen.”
“I think she’s woven her magic around you so delicately that you can’t even tell what is your thought and what is hers. I found your note,” Resh sneered, and he held up a crumpled paper like evidence. Sy narrowed his eyes.
“So you think I’m lying for her? Yes, she killed a man, but in self-defense.”
“She should be dead for all she’s done.”
“And yet she lives. The Mirror Magi have allowed her to live.” Sy saw the falter in Resh’s expression, so he pushed the point. “Don’t you think the Magi would have wiped away her magic if they didn’t want it? Drowned her and dissolved her blood back into the MagiSea? We survived, Resh. We passed the shadows of Umbren, escaped the mouth of the Hungry River, and the pull of the Sulit shores, and the NewMoon Falls, and we lived. How many can say that?”
Resh considered his brother for a few scant seconds, then shrugged. “And where will you go now, since you are alive but homeless? Without family or friends?”
Sy bit back the disappointment he felt from Resh’s response. How he wished his brother believed in the magic and what it could do for them. “We’re going into the mountains. Perhaps on to EvenFall, maybe even StarsHelm.” He was deliberately vague, not certain if Resh would try to follow them, but knowing his brother would complicate things, as always.
Resh raised his brows but kept his voice neutral. “The General told you to wait in the mountains for his return.”
“The General banished me. I care nothing for his return.” Sy picked a pebble from the crevice of a larger rock and skipped it across the water. “Besides, you put the map to the Wesh in the boat.”
Reshra raised an eyebrow in answer. “And what of Corentine? How will you protect her on such a mission? You and I both know the mountains themselves are dangerous. EvenFall would be purgatory for a Weshen woman, and StarsHelm certain suicide. You claim to care for her, but all I see is a plan to get her killed.”
“Corentine can take care of herself,” Sy said, feeling a smile creep onto his face.
“She’s
a witch, Sy.”
“No. She’s a Weshen.”
The brothers considered each other as the waves lapped at their feet and crashed against the rocks. Overhead a bird screamed, and Sy only broke the stare to ensure it wasn’t a Vespa.
“Report back to the General if you must. Tell him we survived. But be sure he knows that I won’t be waiting for him when he comes home from the summer hunts.” Sy held Resh’s eyes a second more before stalking back to the boat.
Coren watched Sy approach from far down the beach. He looked recovered, at least, but as he neared she saw his face taut with irritation.
“What is it?” she asked, shaking her shawl free of sand.
“Are you rested? We should go,” he answered. Coren eyed him for a few seconds, but he said nothing more. Shrugging, she bent to begin the process of sorting and packing their supplies into a manageable bundle.
“Take the winter clothing, and the dresses for EvenFall. And the weapons,” Sy added.
“What about the food?”
“Only enough for a few meals. Damren’s home isn’t far. And we can melt snow to drink.”
“What about the lemondrines?” she asked, gesturing to the nearby trees.
“Yes, bring a few,” he answered, impatience lacing his words.
Coren flicked her eyes to him as they packed in silence, but he kept his head down. Coren’s mind kept returning to what she’d heard in the cave.
When a MagiCreature had spoken to her. Then again, perhaps she’d imagined it all. After all, she’d hit her head as well.
As soon as they had packed and hidden the leftover supplies with the boat, Sy led her up the beach, to where the mountain face dipped in on itself, creating a sunless cove.
Coren shivered as the mountain suddenly seemed to surround her. Every corner and ledge were dark with shadows, and the Cheetana’s warning danced through her mind.
That warning alone insinuated that she hadn’t imagined the creature. Shadows had never been anything more than a lack of light to her, but the Cheetana had spoken as though the shadow were an entity in itself - a monster dangerous enough for a MagiCreature to fear.
She wanted to ask Sy, but something in the stillness of the cooler air stopped her, as though the whole world was holding its breath to see what would happen next. If something called Shadow had indeed followed them here, she didn’t want to invite it further by speaking its name.
The mountain stretched its spiny crest into the sky, losing sharpness to the blurring mist of the clouds. The temperature had dropped noticeably in the sunless shelter of this cove, and Sy knew the wind would strengthen and grow full of ice as they neared Damren’s hidden home.
“Let’s climb,” he said, turning to Coren, who had been staring into the shadows of the rock around them. She had experience with the cliffs of Weshen Isle, but he wondered if they could truly make it. How long would their luck last? As she met his eyes, though, she only lifted an eyebrow in challenge and set her jaw.
They began the ascent, their heavy bags dangling by ropes clipped to their waists.
“I miss the island summer,” Coren grumbled as she moved steadily below him, placing her hooks and toes in the vacancies left by his climbing. She was already breathing harder, and he smiled to himself as she cursed the dresses and furs that were weighing her down.
“I’d rather be back there too,” he returned. “I’ve already spent much of the winter doing this. But I’m grateful to be free of the hunts,” he added. How would the summer have ended if her magic hadn’t manifested?
Would he have really obeyed the General and fathered a child, either with her or another girl? The thought seemed too bizarre, and he rejected it, focusing instead on the gray and black-streaked rock before his eyes.
They climbed in silence for over an hour before Sy found his first resting place. There were four, each a quarter of the way. Over the many times he had visited Damren, he had grown smart enough to leave supplies at each stop, and this practice served him well now, as Coren ducked into the shelter of the tiny cave. There was barely enough room for both of them.
Sy brushed the snow from a narrow bench he’d once carved from the ice and drew the fire box from an alcove at the back. The box had an outer shell waxed against moisture, and when Sy removed it, he found the matches and several corn cobs still dry from his previous visit. He’d need to remember to bring more to fill it when they rested here again on their journey into EvenFall.
The fire was soon burning hot, and Coren smiled to herself as she held her fingers to the warmth. They ate a little bit of dried meat warmed over the fire, and melted snow in a skin to drink.
The day continued slowly, broken into quarters by their climbing and stopping until finally, they had reached a ledge which seemed to be a dead end. The rock above them was slick and impossible to climb, and before them on the ledge was only more of the solid mountain.
“Now what?” Coren asked, surveying the mountains around them. Her voice was soft with exhaustion, but she hadn’t complained again. She was even stronger than he’d hoped. “We don’t have to sleep out here, do we?” she asked, a shiver coursing through her shoulders. It had grown nearly dark, and day was ending.
“Nope. We’re actually here. The entrance is hidden.” Sy grinned. This was the best part. He brushed snow from the rock to find the secret markings. “Accessible only to shifters. Damren has plenty of space inside though, and once, she had a handful of shifter students to help her build and maintain it.”
“Was it a school?” Coren asked, leaning against the rock face. Sy shook his head. He glanced behind them, noticing how quickly the shadows had gathered for the night. An uneasy feeling hurried his searching as he turned his attention back to the rock wall.
“Damren told me once that she wanted to form one, but luckily for us, she never got that far. The Separation and the Sacrifice made schools a target. The others were all ransacked and destroyed by the Restless King. Since hers hadn’t really been official yet, Graeme’s soldiers knew nothing of this place.”
He found what he’d been looking for and began to shift aside the stone of the mountain. A sliver of light from within began to show, and he glanced back to see Coren’s eyes widen as she watched. It was almost too dark to see now. He wondered if a storm was coming, and said a quick prayer thanking the Magi that they had arrived before true night. “To my knowledge, Damren is the only source of magical lore that survived the Sacrifice, at least on this side of the mountains.”
Soon there was a gap large enough for them to squeeze through, and Sy pushed the bags inside, the wind pushing puffs of snow in as well. “Come on,” he said. “We need to shift the rock back once we’re inside.”
Shadow had watched them climb the mountain all day. It, too, had been climbing, but the light of day made its progress slow and tedious. It took strength to shatter itself into the tiny pieces that fit between the rocks, and even more strength to gather those pieces back together. There was precious little food on the mountain, too.
But once the magical cycle was more complete, Shadow would once more be able to move as it pleased. Patience was needed, and Shadow had waited a long, long time already. What was a few weeks of human time to such a creature?
It caught the scent of the girl again and slithered faster up the rock face. They had stopped moving. The time could be perfect, if only…A hissed growl echoed off the icy rocks as the boy sealed the mountain shut behind them.
Shadow could not pass through rock.
But surely they would come out again, and then Shadow would be ready. Waiting. Patient.
The darkness grew thicker as night settled into the cliffs, and Shadow scraped its finger idly across the rock, leaving no mark. Soon, though. Soon it would be able to leave marks, and not just on rocky mountains.
It turned its hollow eyes to the night, watching for any movement that might become a source of sustenance.
Chapter 23
“Syashin?” a thin voice cal
led out as they stepped inside the mountain.
“Yes, Damren, it’s me! I’ve brought a guest!” he called back as he finished sealing the strange mountain-door again. Coren rubbed at her tingling cheeks, relieved to feel that even with no fire visible, the inside of the mountain was free of wind, and therefore much warmer.
She’d kept her complaints to herself, but she never wanted to climb that mountain again.
“This way,” Sy said, excitement lacing his voice. He shouldered their bags, and Coren hurried to follow him through a low-ceilinged tunnel. She sighed - if she never saw another tunnel after today either, that would be quite fine. But seeing as they hadn’t even crossed the NeverCross Mountains yet, she seriously doubted either of her wishes would be granted.
Sy led her into a more open room, with a book-filled table in the center and several empty hooks on the wall. An eight-candle sconce rested dangerously close to a stack of books, and Coren tried to resist moving it. Sy dropped the bags and hung his fur cloak on one of the hooks, then reached for hers. Coren let him have it reluctantly, still shivering. The ice that had formed along its edges was now melting and dripping all over the stone floor.
She had just reached over to move the candles away from the books when a stunted, wrinkle-faced woman bustled into the entryway. The woman glared at her hand on the candle, and Coren tucked it behind her, embarrassed. Books were important, though, she reasoned. The titles were too faded to read, but the spines looked promisingly broken.
“Damren, this is Corentine,” Sy said.
Damren looked her over carefully, appearing to take measurements. “Welcome to my home. You’ll do.”
“Do what?” Coren asked, startled at the old woman’s abrupt manner.
Shift of Shadow and Soul (SoulShifter Book 1) Page 21
