Shift of Shadow and Soul (SoulShifter Book 1)

by Hilary Thompson

  Damren lay crumpled before them, her throat slashed open. The floor was lurid and sticky with her fresh blood.

  Coren gasped. “What did this?”

  Sy could barely answer through his grief. Damren - who had helped him when no-one else could. Dead.

  He had failed her completely, utterly, in the only way that mattered.

  “Shadow,” he whispered, finally. “The Umbren Shadow is no myth or children’s nightmare. It’s awake, and it was following us.”

  Coren knew better than to keep asking him questions, though she burned with them.

  Whatever had done this to Damren seemed to be gone, though she and Sy checked every corner and nook in the bedrooms and hall. He grew more listless with each step. Coren knew he needed to grieve, so while he continued to look, she cleaned and prepared Damren’s broken body, arranging her on the bed as though she were sleeping, then wiping the floor of blood.

  When Sy finally finished searching the main floor, he shifted the mountain rock over the hall’s entry, hopefully sealing them in and whatever evil creature out. They would have to open the seal eventually to leave, but they hoped this would buy them some time in safety.

  Only then did Coren lead him back to Damren’s room, where she placed two chairs beside the bed and lit the room with as many candles as she could find. She sat by his side through the long hours of the night vigil, and she lent her voice to the funeral song she had learned in so many hard ways over the years.

  In the early dawn hours, when a sliver of light was beginning to arc into his bedroom from the single skylight, Coren followed him to his bed and curled behind him. Her arm circled his chest, the connection keeping them grounded, not in reality but in the comforting presence of each other.

  After several minutes Sy rolled to face her, and she leaned into his shoulder, then let him turn her face up to his.

  He sought solace in her lips, his fingers shaking as they traced her neck, collarbone, then down her sides above her thin tunic, coming to rest heavily on her hipbone. Their lips met again and again, but more gently each time, and with less passion.

  Coren wiped each tear from his cheek as it appeared.

  She wasn’t sure how she was supposed to feel. She mourned the loss of Damren, but her ache came from seeing him in such pain. His touch was warm, but it didn’t stir her heart or the core of her body, where love and lovers were supposed to dwell.

  The light above them strengthened and Sy blinked away what turned out to be his last tear.

  “I’m sorry, Corentine. I just can’t do this.” He pushed away from her on the narrow bed, covering his eyes with his arm. “I can’t do this with you.”

  And then Coren understood. Her heart was closed. She’d walled it away to avoid hurt, like Sy shifting the mountain rock to keep out Shadow. His words should have hurt her, but all she felt was relief that she didn’t have to unseal that wall quite yet.

  She didn’t think she could live through it if the wall crumbled and exposed her heart to the wrong person.

  “I once thought I might fall in love with you,” Sy murmured, his voice muffled beneath the fabric of his sleeve. “But even as little as I know of love, I can tell we’re not meant to have it. Whatever we do here, in a bed like this, is just an extension of the hunts.” He pushed up on his elbow, looking at her again.

  “I feel it here,” he touched his temple, “but not here,” and his heart. Laying one hand gently over hers, he watched her for a reaction. She nodded, hoping he would continue to explain, so she wouldn’t have to.

  “All this time, I thought I was resisting my father’s wishes, but everything I’ve tried to force with you only extends what he wants.”

  “He wants a magical heir,” Coren said, and Sy nodded, his eyes dark and closed.

  “A magical heir isn’t the answer to Weshen’s problems.” He sat up farther. “Coren, I’m tired of waiting. I don’t want to sit and grow old hoping for the next generation to be the one.”

  “It has to be us,” she clarified, and finally a weak smile broke onto his face. She sat up and crossed her legs beneath her. “Sy, I know nothing of romantic love either, but I do know friendship, and that’s what I feel here.” She touched her own heart.

  “I’ll follow you, but I’ll also lead you, and together we can become the magical Weshen heir he wishes for - the creation won’t be a helpless baby, but the magic inside each of us. We will rise like the sun and burn away Zorander Graeme’s hold on Riata.”

  Sy laughed then, the sound triumphant and strong. Grief lingered in his eyes, but Coren knew he was ready.

  “Shall we go to EvenFall today?” she asked. “We have Wesh to rescue.”

  His face settled into a hard, handsome line that she was proud of. “Pack for cold and climbing.”

  Chapter 26

  Climbing down the mountain was easier than climbing up, and Sy was grateful for it. He felt drained, exhausted from the night’s vigil and full of a terrible regret for what had happened.

  He would never tell her, but he suspected Damren’s death was Corentine’s fault. He guessed Shadow had entered when she opened the rock door of Damren’s home in anger.

  Sy didn’t want to live his life with blame, but he knew there was a part of him that might never forgive Coren for her rash disbelief in the dangers of Umbren. He only hoped now she might take him more seriously when he warned her about danger in Sulit and Riata.

  They spoke little on the journey down the slick rock, stopping only once for a hurried meal.

  “Do you feel any of the shadows around us?” Corentine asked, warming her hands above the small fire.

  “It’s Shadow, singular, and no, I don’t,” Sy answered, knowing his voice was harsh but his fatigue made him unable to temper it.

  “Sy, I’m really sorry. I know how much Damren meant to you. How much her knowledge could have meant to everyone.”

  He turned away, closing himself to her words. He couldn’t stop to think about it, and right now he didn’t care a bit about the lost magical knowledge. Damren had been more parent to him than his father, and losing her was a wound that felt like it would never heal. “Let’s keep going. I want to be inside the mountain passage before night.”

  Corentine nodded and repacked their remaining food without another word. They made good progress, but still night descended before they reached the Weshen City wall. Sy hated to admit it, but he knew they needed rest. Although desperation to rescue the Wesh was beginning to needle his every thought, he knew pushing forward until he collapsed would help nothing.

  “We need to sleep for a few hours,” he said, not waiting for a response. He lead them to a tiny cave he knew of, just beyond the grove of lemondrine trees where the Alimente still waited, untouched. The cave was too small to hide Shadow, and after cramming their bags and bodies into the cramped space, they both worked quickly to shift rock across the opening, walling themselves in.

  “This feels like a tomb,” Corentine whispered, lighting a single candle.

  “Well, for a shifter it’s not,” Sy said, draining the last bit of a water skin and closing his eyes to rest. He slept hard for several hours before the dreams began: Damren, alone and walled forever in a real rock tomb. Sitting up too quickly in the darkness, Sy smacked his forehead on the rock ceiling. Cursing, he fumbled for a candle. The light showed nothing threatening, though. Corentine slept peacefully, and their shifting had held, keeping them safe inside the rock.

  Still, time was running short. He pulled bread from a bag and began to eat. Soon Corentine stirred too, and rubbing her eyes, she tried awkwardly to stretch her legs. Silently, she took the offered food.

  “Ready?” He zipped the bag closed a few minutes later. She nodded, and he shifted away enough rock for a tiny peephole. The world outside was still dark, but all seemed quiet and still. He widened the opening and shoved a bag through.

  “The passage isn’t far, and it’s only a few hours’ journey under the mountains.”

&nb
sp; “So it’s an underground passage?” she asked, and he heard the nervousness in her voice as they stepped out of the cave.

  “Yes,” he answered, shouldering his bags and setting a quick pace. “But it’s not so tight as the one from the city. And Shadow could never follow us there. It can only go where there’s both light and dark. Plus, the passage was enchanted by the Magi as part of the barrier. Only full-blooded Weshen can pass through unharmed.”

  “Full-blooded?” she repeated, following him closely across the moonlit sand toward the city wall. “But how will we get the Wesh back through the passage once we rescue them?”

  “As long as they have some Weshen blood in their lines, they may pass through. They just won’t be unharmed,” he said. “I traveled through once with a guard whose family had lived in Riata, and mixed their blood with a Riatan family. He grew weak and sick inside the mountain, but he made it through. The effects aren’t permanent.”

  Her eyes were wide, and he shrugged. “I doubt the Wesh will mind the sickness if it gains them their freedom.”

  “So how has the Restless King not breached the mountains, then?” she asked. “Surely he’s tried with Wesh soldiers.”

  They were nearing the entrance to the passage, and the wall loomed in the distance. Sy hushed her with his finger. “There are always guards watching the passage here. They check everyone who comes out. We’ve killed many of Zorander Graeme’s attempts.”

  “You mean you killed our own people!” she whispered back, fury in her eyes.

  Sy regarded her grimly. “We killed traitors.” He shushed her again, and they crept closer. Just as he’d said, there were two guards standing watch at the mouth of the passage.

  He motioned to her to wait, and he slunk between the trees, using their early-morning shadows as cover. Once he was close enough to see the iron gate that barred the entrance, he began to shift the metal bars, careful to remove only what they would need to slip through. He turned to beckon to Corentine, only to find her mere feet behind him.

  Smiling for the first time since Damren’s death, Sy pointed to the two guards, then up to the rock face. Corentine nodded in understanding, and as he removed the last bar, she shifted part of the mountain face into fist-sized rocks that tumbled down the cliff just beyond the entrance. The guards snapped to attention, leaving their posts to investigate.

  Sy and Corentine sprinted to the passage opening and shoved their bags through. They had just made it into the darkened entrance when the guards returned, arguing about what they’d heard and seen. Sy quickly fused the iron bars in their original position, and silently, they backed into the Weshen passage.

  Coren was struggling to keep up with Sy’s pace through the mountain tunnel, but it was as though her limbs were filled with sand. She fell farther and farther behind, finally stumbling to her knees with barely enough strength to call out to him.

  She heard Sy’s steps rushing back to her, but when she tried to look up at him, the candle he held grew in her vision until it was all she could see, and she screwed her eyes shut against the brightness.

  “Corentine?”

  His voice sounded so far away, like he was calling her name from the very beaches of Weshen Isle. She smiled softly, thinking of running the plains there, free and carefree. Her stomach churned then, and the image behind her eyes grew sinister. She imagined herself running the plains, but running from Shadow, and nearly being caught. In her imagination, she jumped from the cliff, but Shadow clung to her, wrapping around her body as she fell, splashing into the sea and sinking and sinking and sinking and-

  “Corentine!”

  Her body was shaking, or someone was shaking her body.

  “Open your eyes and look at me!”

  She tried to obey, but even her eyelids were too heavy to move. She struggled and finally peeled open one eye.

  “Hmm?” she breathed.

  “Are you going to be sick?” Sy asked. Syashin, she remembered. He would help her. He always did. He liked her. He didn’t like kissing her, though. Her brain began to spin again, and she closed her eyes against the nausea, but that made it worse, like she was spinning away into nothingness.

  Her stomach churned from the imagined movement, and she rolled to her knees, heaving, gulping at the cool cave air.

  “Coren, we’re only halfway through. Can you stand?” Sy held out a hand and she took it, stumbling to her feet. She swayed, and the sick bubbled in her belly, but she nodded hesitantly. Sy pulled her hand out to rest on the rough passage wall.

  “I’ll carry the bags. You go in front, and I’ll be right here in case you fall again.”

  Their progress slowed to nearly nothing, as Coren repeatedly had to pause to rest and dry heave every dozen steps.

  “I need to stop,” she said finally. There wasn’t a scrap of energy left in her body.

  “No, we need to move,” Sy answered, prodding at her back. “We have to get you out of here.” But her legs buckled, and she sat right down on a bag, pulling it from his shoulder. She blinked up at him, the near-darkness and the shadows in the cave passage making her dizzy and fearful again.

  “Don’t you know what’s happening?” he asked. Her mind was like mud. “You’re obviously reacting to the passage. This is just like what happened to that guard. You have the strongest magic in decades, and you’re not even a full-blooded Weshen,” he said, ending on a sort of strained laugh.

  “Wesh,” she managed, unintentionally cutting the word to its appropriate label.

  “Don’t call yourself that,” Sy said, anger drawing his mouth into a tight line. “After we finish with the Restless King, no-one will ever have to call themselves that. Now get up. You’ll only feel like this - or worse - as long as you’re in the passage.”

  Coren groaned inwardly and struggled to pull herself up. One foot at a time, she instructed herself, fixing her eyes on the semi-circle of light thrown out by the candle.

  It felt like hours passed, but eventually the candle was not the only light in front of her.

  “There’s the exit,” Sy said, breathing hard. She could feel him behind her, nearly pushing her along with a hand on her back, the bags bumping between them.

  She tripped over her own feet trying to hurry toward the light, and as she stumbled into the bright morning sun, Coren dropped to her hands and knees in the grass, breathing a prayer of thanks to the Mirror Magi for the impossibility of yet another safe journey.

  “We made it,” she grinned, rolling over onto her back. The dizziness was already subsiding somewhat.

  “Welcome to Riata,” Sy said, letting the bags slide from his shoulders and dropping to sit next to her.

  Coren closed her eyes against the sun for a moment, noticing how the sickness in her belly and the heaviness in her limbs was dissipating. She breathed deeply of the fresh air. It was warmer already.

  But then a chill slunk over her, and she pushed herself up, staring at the mountain above them. The morning sun was still weak, and the clouds hung low, filling the cliffs with undulating shadows that strummed at her nerves. She turned her gaze back to Sy. He looked exhausted.

  “How am I not a full Weshen?” she asked, wondering what other family secrets her blood might hold.

  “Many Weshen had children with Riatan noble families. Your grandmother lived in Riata, didn’t she?”

  Coren nodded and reached into her bag for a skin of water, not certain that was a sufficient answer. “We have to rescue those slaves, Sy.”

  “We will,” he said, the certainty in his voice reassuring as she closed her eyes to drink.

  “How far to EvenFall?” she asked, putting the skin away and standing shakily to look at the flower-pocked meadow spread before them, and the dark woods beyond. But the answer never came, because an icy wind blasted down from the mountain, knocking her off balance and sucking the air from her lungs.

  Her face smashed into the grass, and her eyes screwed shut against the freezing air.

  “Coren!” Sy
screamed, but it was too late.

  Darkness was covering her, the sensation just like her vision from the passage. Shadows slunk over her skin, blackening it, crawling down her throat and behind her eyes. She tried to scream, but her voice strangled in her throat, and she felt herself falling and falling. Coren rolled, trying to curl in on herself, to protect herself, but her muscles spasmed and stretched, flattening her face-first on the ground.

  Another scream filled the air, and Sy shouted, but all Coren could do was struggle to resist.

  Her blood swirled and bubbled in her veins, her mind filling with a war between light and dark, and all that was winning was Shadow.

  Sy was desperate to understand what was happening.

  A tall shape had leaped from the cliff, darkness trailing its insubstantial form as it landed on Coren, somehow both covering her and dissolving into her. Her pores oozed the blackness, but as Sy scratched her skin, his fingers grasped nothing. Somehow, an oily smoke was attacking her.

  Was this Shadow? It seemed so different from what he’d beaten at Damren’s. He fought to help her, but she only twisted away from him, screaming as though his touch were worse than whatever grasped her mind.

  This couldn’t be happening. His brain swirled with panic. They’d come so far. Why wouldn’t the Magi protect them now? Coren was going to die here, at the base of the NeverCross Mountains, barely two steps into Riata.

  And then a different sort of scream registered, coming from far above them, and Sy’s heart dropped.

  It was over.

  A flap of giant, gray-shaded wings knocked him to the ground and away from Coren’s writhing form. He rolled head over heels several feet, then managed to scramble up and pull his dagger, but he was too late.

  An enormous Vespa crouched directly on Coren’s back, wings spread wide as its golden, deadly claws sunk deep into her skin. It screamed and she screamed as it raked those poisonous talons across the whole of her back, leaving bright streaks of blood beneath the shredded fabric of her shirt.