“Then why are we—”
She didn’t get a chance to finish. The shadows shifted and Carth cloaked herself quickly, grabbing Marna and dropping to the ground. A knife whistled over her head as she did.
Marna gasped, and Carth clasped her hand over the woman’s mouth, silencing her. She remained cloaked in the shadows, creeping slowly forward as she searched for the attacker.
He had disappeared.
Carth felt pressure on her shadow ability. It was the same sort of pressure she had recognized when she was in Asador, the pressure that told her someone with power was nearby, if not what their power was and how they could use it.
She pulled them to a nearby alley, remaining cloaked as she did. In the darkness of night, the cloaking wouldn’t look quite as unusual. It wouldn’t be quite as out of place.
The pressure surged against her again, and Carth rolled, a knife barely missing her once more.
She couldn’t see the assassin, but he somehow managed to see her.
Either she needed to capture him, or she needed to follow him. Given the way he’d bested her the last time, she wasn’t certain she could capture him. But could she follow him? Doing so might allow her to understand who had instructed him, who really had hired him.
She leaned into Marna, whispering in her ear, “I’m going to have to die.”
Marna’s eyes widened slightly.
Carth jumped away from the other woman, leaving her couched in shadows in the alley. Carth lowered her shadow cloaking, letting the connection to her magic disappear, and allowing the shadows to swirl around her. She resisted the urge to reach for the shadows, resisted the urge to reach for the power of the flame. Instead, she crept along the row of buildings.
At the end of the street, she noted Dara watching her. Carth smiled, a sad smile.
A knife whistled.
Carth twisted, slightly to the side.
The knife pierced her back, below her left shoulder blade, puncturing her lung.
As it sank in, Carth fell, flaring a hint of the flame, searing off the injury, trying to sear the poison off.
She dropped to the ground, unmoving.
Carth listened, uncertain whether she had made a mistake, if she would really die from this wound. It was possible that she would, in fact, die from it. It was possible that this had been a mistake.
She felt movement near her and, connected as she was to the flame, she could tell that it wasn’t Dara, and it wasn’t Marna. She could even tell that it wasn’t Timothy.
No, this had the distinct sensation of her assassin.
When she didn’t move, he hurried off, leaving her in the street, bleeding from a wound that would kill her.
28
Carth rolled over, the knife in her back throbbing. After the assassin had left, she’d used the power of the flame to heal herself, drawing upon it so that she could recuperate. It took significant strength for her to use that ability, and injured as she was, she very nearly overwhelmed her ability to recover. Not only did she fight the wound in her back, but she fought the poison the assassin had used, one that she’d only been able to fully counter because she’d kept a rolled leaf of narcass in her pocket. She’d stuffed it into her mouth when she’d observed the attacker.
If things went as she hoped, Marna would be following him, leaving a way for her to trail after.
Carth sat up, her head woozy from the effort. Had she made a mistake, allowing him to attack her this way? She didn’t think so, but there was the real possibility that he might discover Marna.
A hand slipped underneath her arm, helping her stand.
Carth looked over to see Timothy holding on to her, a concerned expression across his face. “You shouldn’t live.”
Carth tried to laugh, but it hurt too much. “I shouldn’t, but I am.”
“Take this, then.”
He handed her a vial of powder, and Carth eyed it suspiciously. “I promise that I will not poison you,” Timothy said. “Besides, haven’t I helped you often enough that I’ve proven myself to you?”
“It’s a little difficult to trust someone.”
“Yes. Sometimes it is difficult to trust. But sometimes we have no choice but to do so.”
Carth unstoppered the powder and sniffed it.
“You only need a pinch.”
“What does it do?”
“I suspect it does much the same as what your friend took.”
“I’m concerned how it might interact with my—”
“You think you would be the first person with abilities to consume it? No, there have been plenty others who have used this combination. Plenty others who have enjoyed the augmentation this allows.”
Carth tipped a little bit of the vial back, letting the powder settle into her palm. “Do I inhale it?”
Timothy shook his head with a smile. He reached into her palm, grabbed the powder, and stuck it into his cheek. “See? There’s nothing to fear.”
Carth took the powder, placing a pinch of it into her cheek as he had done, and felt an immediate jolt.
It was a burning sensation, one that reminded her of when she’d first attempted using the A’ras magic, only this came with a steady throbbing, one that she felt starting in her lips and working its way down her throat, before spreading out to her arms and her legs. It was not painful, despite the burning she noticed. This was… invigorating.
Power thrummed through her. It was the power of the A’ras magic, the power of the shadows, and they flowed together, combined by her, and given strength by whatever this concoction was.
Carth felt the power of the A’ras magic healing her, knitting together the damage the knife had caused to her back, burning off the poisoning.
“That was…”
Timothy nodded knowingly. “Yes. That was.”
“Did you get to see him?”
Timothy nodded. “A dangerous game you are playing here, Carth. You could have died by that knife.”
Carth found. “I knew I could counter the poisoning.”
“It’s not only the poisoning you need to fear. It’s the man.”
“Who is he?”
“Someone who trained with another like me. Someone who has significant knowledge and skill. He is not someone you should take lightly.”
“Does he have abilities?”
“Not the same as you. His are of a different descent. Have you seen his green eyes?”
Carth nodded.
“They are a marker of his people.” Carth remembered another man with green eyes, one who had attacked her, aligned with the Hjan. That couldn’t be a coincidence, could it?
“Where are they from?” Carth asked.
“I thought you knew the Hjan,” Timothy said. “You faced them before, you attacked them. And now you’re asking about them?”
“Not the Hjan,” Carth said. “Where are they originally from?”
“As I said, they’re from a place along the coast, a place where the people have abilities of their own, nothing quite like your shadows or your ability with the flame. They have some with enhanced sight, some with the ability to hear things others could not, some with the ability to anticipate, almost as if they were seeing the future, and some with the ability to enter your mind and know your thoughts.”
“And control them,” Carth said. That had been the secret of the Hjan that she hadn’t known. That had been what they had wanted to keep, but she’d seen how they used that ability to control others, attacking with it, forcing the Lashasn like Dara to act against her will. Forcing even those of Ih-lash to act against their will. They might not be able to acquire their abilities, but they could acquire those with those abilities. That was the secret the Hjan sought.
“And this man? You know who he is, don’t you?”
Timothy nodded. “I know who he is. Most who work with the Caulad Guild know who he is. He has taken our teachings and twisted them. He has become a faithless man,” Timothy said.
“Why do I think
there’s more to it than that?”
Timothy sighed. “Because I don’t think we need your friend to know where he is going.”
“Where’s that?”
“To Thyr.”
29
Carth and Timothy moved unencumbered through the streets of Thyr. They had traveled by ship, taking the Goth Spald along the coast, with Carth trusting that Timothy would do as he promised, and that he would help her find this man, that he would help her discover what secrets he sought in Thyr.
She hoped to find Marna, not wanting to come across this assassin before he came across her friend. But mostly wanting to find him before he reached the Hjan.
Timothy led her, knowing the streets, and Carth wondered briefly how he knew so well where he was going, but she also knew she needed to trust him. Timothy had been nothing if not honest with her. There was no reason to distrust him.
In that, Timothy was right, she did need to trust him.
Thyr was a massive city, one nearly the size of Asador, filled with sprawl and darkness, but also bright colors and lush greenery throughout the city, and a floral scent that hung over everything. People moved hurriedly, and she found the crowd somewhat unsettling, the way they were packed into the city more densely than even in Nyaesh.
“Why here?” Carth asked as they rounded a corner. The people within Thyr appeared no different than anyone else. Some seemed a little harder, some dirtier, but for the most part, it was a city in many ways like Asador. A massive tower of scholars existed outside of the city, and Timothy had shared with her that the Hjan were a part of that tower, that they had originally been those scholars. She didn’t fully understand, but perhaps she didn’t need to.
“Why here? Because this is where Venass had their start.”
“Explain to me the difference between Venass and the Hjan?”
His eyes narrowed a moment. “You’ll need to be careful using those terms in this place. People are understandably sensitive to both terms. But the Hjan are part of Venass, they support them, working as an arm of assassins, assigned to help enforce the rest of Venass’s agenda. And trust me when I tell you that they have an agenda.”
“What agenda is that? Were they involved with the attacks in Asador? Were they trying to move women to sell them for slavery?” Carth didn’t think that was the case; that seemed less than what Venass was interested in. They seemed more interested in acquiring power. Smuggling women, even though some of those women had power, when they had managed to hold her, seemed beneath the Hjan. But was it part of Venass’s greater plan? Maybe that was the key that she didn’t fully understand.
“There are only a few who truly know what Venass seeks. They are scholars, but what they study is a different sort of endeavor than what you would find in Asador.”
“If that’s the case, then they are after power. Knowing that, I can counter them.”
“Think of the numbers you faced in Reva. Those were men enhanced with various combinations of leaves and roots and toxins, so that they could augment their natural abilities. Those of Venass—and those of the Hjan—they have a different power, oftentimes one that occurs naturally, that they augment with something.”
“Something? Do you mean like your concoctions?”
“Not like the concoctions.” He said the word with a slight distaste. Carth had noted how he preferred a more elegant term, much like he preferred the more elegant term augment. She smiled to herself, thinking that if anything, Timothy was someone she was beginning to understand.
“No, they use something different than what we use. We haven’t yet learned the secret, but it is telling that most from Venass, and most of the Hjan, carry scars.”
“Do they physically augment themselves?”
Timothy shrugged. “I can only speculate what they do. I’m not certain, and I’m not sure that anyone is certain enough to say what they do, and how they managed to augment themselves.”
He fell silent as they turned the corner, and a massive temple rose up before them.
Carth had seen many temples within Nyaesh. Many were no longer used the way they once had been, people’s faith changing, new gods taking the place of others, but this one had the look of age to it. There was activity in and out of the temple, some wearing flowing robes that she suspected indicated that they were priests of some sort. Others wore the garb of the people she’d seen within the city, and Carth presumed they were parishioners.
“Why here?” Carth asked.
“Because here is where our friend will have gone.”
Timothy led them into the temple. The walls were made of a white marble. Sconces glowed with light. Massive tapestries depicted scenes that seemed too fantastical to believe. A soft silence hung over everything, one where Carth felt compelled to keep a hushed voice. She managed to keep her footsteps muted as well. She began drawing upon the shadows, wanting to retreat into them, to cloak herself, when Timothy laid a hand on her arm and shook his head.
“Not here.”
Carth wondered how he was aware of her ability, how he knew that she reached for them, but there were others who had been aware as well.
Timothy led them away from the main part of the temple, turning down a narrow hallway and pushing through a doorway. When the door shut behind them, Carth turned to him and, with a smile on her face, asked, “Are you some sort of priest?”
Timothy shrugged. “Perhaps by those here, I might be viewed as a priest, but not by any who know better.”
“I’m not sure what that means.”
“No. You do not.”
They passed through another few doors, the halls turning before Carth began to lose track of where they were. The temple was enormous, with enough branching hallways that she wondered if Timothy intended to confuse her or if he was simply leading her someplace she had not yet discovered.
Finally, he stopped at a door and pushed it open. On the other side of the door, a man sat at a desk. He had a shorn head and a plain-looking face, and when he looked up, his eyes seemed penetrating. His gaze skipped from Carth to Timothy, settling on and holding on to the other man. There was no other expression on his face. He seemed almost disappointed to see Timothy here.
“You should not have come,” the man said. He had a deep voice, one that would likely fill the halls of the temple. She could imagine him chanting the ceremony, his voice the voice of authority, the voice of whatever god these people believed in.
“He is here.”
The man paused a moment before looking up. “Here? He should not be here. He knows better than to come here.”
Carth noted Timothy’s gaze flickering to her. What was taking place between these men? What was she missing?
“Are you certain?”
“Have you ever known me not to be certain?”
The bald man clasped his hands together on top of the desk and leaned forward. His face showed a flicker of emotion, a slight frown, but that disappeared within moments. “It would be unfortunate if he has come here.”
“It was unfortunate that he chose to leave in the first place.”
“Yes. Unfortunate. And why have you brought another into this?”
“Because he attempted to terminate her.”
Carth waited, trying to take stock of what she observed here. There was something she wasn’t quite grasping, and she was determined to understand what it was. It had to do with Timothy and whatever role he played. It seemed that Timothy was more complicated than she had known. There were other secrets he kept from her. She had believed him nothing more than a simple sellsword, but that seemed not to be the case. And perhaps there was nothing simple about Timothy.
“What would you ask of me?” the other man asked.
Timothy nodded, as if it had been a foregone conclusion that this other man would do what Timothy needed.
“I would have answers.”
“What kind of answers?” the man asked.
Carth glanced to Timothy, noting the tight smile on his face.
It made him appear even more dangerous, if that were possible. Carth had believed Timothy to be somewhat plain, inconspicuous, but when he made that face, he was anything but plain.
“We need to find him before he—”
The other man cut Timothy off with a shake of his head. “If it is as you say, then we truly do need to find him.”
He turned to Carth, his eyes glittering. “You should take a moment to pray,” he told her.
Carth shook her head. “I think you are mistaken. I don’t—”
Timothy rested his hand on her arm, silencing her. “I will take her into the temple, and we will pray a moment.”
The other man nodded once, and Carth frowned, thinking that she was still missing something.
30
The inside of the temple was filled with a steady chanting, one that seemed to reverberate from the walls. It filled her, a pleasant, comforting chant, one that Carth found herself swaying with. Timothy sat with a rigid back in the booth next to her, saying nothing. They had been here for over an hour, neither of them saying anything, nothing but the soft, steady chanting around them.
Carth occasionally had an urge to reach for the shadows, but each time she started to do so, Timothy placed his hand on her arm, as if knowing what she did. Most likely he did, though Carth still wondered how. Was it related to the concoctions he used, or was there something else? Was there some other way he managed to detect her reaching for the shadows?
Perhaps Timothy had an ability of his own that she had yet to determine. He had made it clear that many who used the concoctions had innate abilities, which was part of the reason he had known she would be safe when she had taken some of it.
It made her look at him with renewed interest. Here was a man she had met by chance, but one who not only had aided her in rescuing the women, stopping Guya and Hoga in the process, but now was somehow pivotal in whatever was taking place.
She felt movement down the aisle and looked over to see a young man dressed in a light blue robe coming towards her. He had each hand slipped into the sleeve of the opposite arm, and he stopped next to her, leaning forward.
Shadow Found (The Shadow Accords Book 6) Page 17
