Ahraia barely kept her thoughts from turning to spoken words. My shadow is at stake.
The Astra’s ears flickered in annoyance. “You naïve little shade,” she said, the calm of her face breaking with lines of anger. “You’re so busy worrying about your shadow, you’ve failed to take notice that our world moves in true dark.” She stared pointedly at Ahraia’s scars.
“Did you only come here to lecture me?” Ahraia felt Losna’s tail flick against her leg.
The Astra’s eyes yellowed with the sound of her voice, glowing against her ashen silhouette. Ahraia’s heart thumped heavily in her chest, knowing she had crossed the line. Losna didn’t care. Her thoughts were reduced to the simplest aggressions. Every one of her teeth glimmered white.
The quiet pressed about them. The Astra kept her eye on Losna.
“No,” she said at last, seeming to give up on Losna settling. “I came here to discuss your brothers.” The gold drained from her eyes and the cant of her ears lessened.
“Beran told me you went looking for them—that you saw something. I want to know what happened.” The Astra’s ears flickered for Ahraia to speak. It was a good thing because Ahraia’s doubted she could convey another word without letting the sheer contempt and anger howl from her thoughts.
“Didn’t he already tell you?”
“He said the humans killed them.”
Ahraia shook her head and pressed her lips together angrily. She hated her father just as much as she hated the Astra. He was just as guilty in Hayvon’s and the shades’ condemnation.
The fur behind Losna’s neck still bristled. Careful, she thought, I don’t trust her.
The Astra watched Ahraia piercingly. “You don’t think the humans did it?”
“I know they didn’t,” Ahraia said. The Astra raised her eyebrows. “We saw what killed them—and it wasn’t human.”
The Astra’s ears twitched. “You saw the killer? What did it look like?”
Ahraia hesitated, still angry but now careful to measure her words. The Astra’s face was a mask, but her eyes glinted with something . . . was it eagerness? Fear? Knowing?
“It was a shadow of sorts—but not in the sense of a shadow like Losna; it was a wraith . . .” Ahraia said.
“A wraith? An imp—maybe a mara? Some fiendish trick that slowed your thoughts? Something eating off the corpses?”
“No. It formed a full binding, stronger than any I’ve ever felt, a vice, from which there was no escape.”
The Astra’s eyes widened. Bindings of a sort were possible by many woodland creatures. Even some of the trees and flowers could leave you in a cloud of despair or fog of confusion—but not many wildlings had the ability, or the will, to bind a shade or sprite intentionally.
“Did you tell your father this?” she said, seeming perturbed.
“I told him, but he insisted it was the humans.”
“A spritish binding?” The Astra frowned, her eyebrows furrowing darkly.
Ahraia shrugged. “It wasn’t like any sprite I’ve ever bound. It was twisted . . . vile.” Evil.
“And you didn’t see anything more? What it looked like? The form it took . . .?”
Ahraia searched for the words to describe the inky-figure within the dark but then remembered the drain she had picked up. She hesitated, unsure if she should show the Astra the blade.
“I know what it killed them with. It left this . . . when Losna startled it.” She slid the dagger from her cloak, holding the blackened blade for the Astra to see. In the shade tree, it showed veins and channels that had been imperceptible in the forest.
The Astra reached out, as though she was thinking of taking it but stayed her hand. “Did you show anybody this?”
“Only my Father and Gavea.” And Gavea’s sisters—Levath, and Tallin.
All trustworthy, Ahraia heard, unsure if she was supposed to. The Astra’s ears straightened. “Don’t show it to anyone else.” A pause formed on her lips. Ahraia’s mind tingled with the lightest bonding. Did you see any sprites that night? The Astra conveyed as a whisper. Through the bond, Ahraia could feel the Astra’s emotion; she was worried.
Losna shifted next to Ahraia, glaring at the Astra. Only her and the alp . . .
Ahraia ignored her shadow’s suspicions and shook her head, knowing what the Astra meant. “You think that blade belongs to a sprite?” she asked. “Levath thought it might have been some sort of daemon bone.”
“It does look like daemon bone… but I don’t know what to make of it.” The Astra’s jaw clenched, and Ahraia could tell she wasn’t letting on whatever she thought or knew.
“Could it have been an alp? Or maybe one of the Masai’s company?”
“Not likely,” the Astra said calmly, but her eyes went wide and her ears batted for silence. Have you lost all reason? You can’t say that aloud! She could have spies anywhere. She looked about nervously. Ahraia sensed her probing out with her mind, seeking anyone who might be listening.
She glared at Ahraia. That kind of accusation will get you condemned. Her voice covered her thoughts with a forced calm. “Besides, their company was in Deep Brook.” Her ears flickered and flicked again, scolding Ahraia not to speak aloud. “Now enough about this, your test begins when the Bright Moon is full. I want you to be ready for it.” She took a deep, steadying breath. Still looking perturbed, she turned, making to leave the shade tree.
Ahraia let a thought out before she had time to consider the implication, desperate to know what the Astra suspected.
I can show you, she conveyed, hoping to glean some hint of her suspicions.
The Astra froze, her ears twitching curiously.
Losna growled, sending a flurry of admonishments towards Ahraia.
The Astra peeled back a branch and looked out of the shade tree, then turned back.
A memory? She let the branches fall. Show me.
Ahraia took a deep breath. Reliving the scene once more wouldn’t be easy, and sharing the memory would put their minds far closer than she ever wanted to be. But it would be worth it if she could learn whatever the Astra suspected. Losna let out a growl. She stepped protectively closer to Ahraia.
Ahraia cleared her mind of all the emotions she could: of her brothers, of Hayvon, of the shades and her shadow test, of the Astra and all the anger and fear she was feeling. She took a deep breath, setting her mind to the memory of the meadow and the menace. The Astra was waiting.
Ahraia tentatively bound her, swallowing down a lump of fear. The initial connection was too hesitant to have any clarity. Ahraia had no sense of what the Astra was thinking either; she had no other choice but to let down her guard and let their link strengthen.
The fog came first. It wrapped around her spine, sucking her back into the meadow.
She was standing next to Losna, looking towards the Stone Tree. But the thin layer of fog didn’t seem to flow; it hung, untouched by the faint breeze that ruffled the grasses. The hulking Stone Tree loomed ahead.
They were moving. Dirt crunched beneath her feet. She was falling back into the memory, her distaste for the Astra fading entirely, as she recalled the quiet uncertainty of the night: the gathering clouds above, the darkness collecting within the underdae, and the pervasive menace. Her worry for her brothers returned.
Ahraia stood poised, alone at the edge of the impenetrable dark.
Kaval? Altah? She stepped forward. A broken wing. She knelt down. Mehra. She stood up quickly, her scars flushing with fear. Something stood just inside the dark.
Losna! she conveyed. The binding slapped down on her. Ahraia had a clear sense of the figure, death, standing on its hind legs, a wraith, wreathed in shadows blacker than the night. It waited, just inside the darkness, step by step drawing her inward. She saw it. Fur bristling around white teeth. One more step. This is it.
Losna’s growl erupted behind her and the binding disappeared. She was suddenly free. But the wraith didn’t flee. It was still there, just inside the darkness, waitin
g for her. The change in the memory scared Ahraia, startling her out of the vision back to the shade tree.
She emerged disoriented and panicked, her heart racing. She was in the true dark and Losna’s fear reverberated just behind her. For a moment, she thought she was still in the Stone Tree, and the wraith was in front of her. She scrambled backward, still breathing hard, unclasping herself entirely from the memory.
Losna bared her teeth at the Astra, who looked equally startled.
They both stood breathing hard before the Astra spoke. “Did you show your father that?” Her voice was surprisingly shaky.
It took a moment for Ahraia to reorient herself. Losna’s defensiveness had her on edge.
“No. He wouldn’t listen. He was intent on getting back here.” Ahraia stomach tightened in a sour knot.
You didn’t get a better look at it? You had no sense of it? Ahraia could feel the doubt in the Astra’s thoughts—and again the worry. Guard that memory close, she conveyed, turning to leave the shade tree.
Where are you going? Ahraia conveyed, reeling still from sharing the memory and the aftermath. What do you think that was?
“That’s none of your concern. Keep your head about you, things may be worse than I imagined. For now, forget about it. I need you focused on your test. The Gelesh is counting on you.”
She turned and pulled aside the branches of Ahraia’s shade tree. When Ahraia looked back at Losna, her shadow was standing stock still, her whole body rigid with burning fear.
Ahraia, Losna thought, it was her.
13
Fading Light
Her? The Astra? Ahraia conveyed.
How could we not have seen it? Losna thought. She must have killed Altah and Kaval. She was getting them out of the way. Didn’t you hear her? “It’s always been about darkness’. Losna let out a woof, obviously aggravated. That was her knife. That’s why she told you not to show anyone.
A chill passed through Ahraia, as though she had brushed beneath the ghostly fingers of a mara. She spoke hesitantly, her thoughts tainted by the terror of the memory. “I’ve seen her drain, and that wasn’t it.”
Losna couldn’t sit still. She paced back and forth, tail held back as though she was hunting. There’s no way this is coincidence. She planned this. And if it wasn’t her in the Stone Tree, then it was some daemon of hers . . . maybe the alp. Maybe she can control the Shad Mon.
No one controls the Shad Mon, Ahraia conveyed.
Losna pressed on. She knew the Masai was coming. She knew that if you were the oldest, she could trade you for darkening seeds.
Ahraia shook her head. “So she killed Kaval and Altah . . . and then what? Hayvon was supposed to just disappear?”
Losna stopped. The fur on her brow wrinkled in discontent. Hayvon is disappearing, isn’t he?
Ahraia scratched idly at her scars, wondering if the Astra truly could have planned this.
“What about the fur and eyes? You smelled it. And besides, even with Kaval and Altah dead, she couldn’t have done it without Hayvon out of the way too,” she said, thinking aloud. “It was sheer stupidity on my part to let the human go. And even worse luck that Hayvon admitted to being seen. There’s no way she could have planned for that.”
She condemned him easily enough. Losna huffed in aggravation, shaking her fur.
“Maybe she could have . . .” Ahraia admitted. The Astra was certainly vile enough to kill for her own good; she had discarded her oldest shades easily enough, and she had condemned her own sister. But as horrible as she was, Ahraia struggled to imagine the Astra hiding behind the veil of darkness. Then again, the enchantment had been powerful, and if it did emanate from a sprite, then the Astra was the strongest . . .
Her, or the Masai, Losna conveyed, continuing Ahraia’s thought.
“And the Masai was in Deep Brook, and her contingent with her . . .” Ahraia trailed off. The silence between them stretched, and Ahraia reached out to make sure the Astra had truly left. The nit was empty.
Losna paced the edges of the shade tree. No one else could bind you like that. Think about it . . . who else has more to gain? Not the Masai. She gets to keep an eye on you, but you’re another daughter in a long line waiting to supplant her. She’s acting in defense to keep you rising against her from here in Daispar. But that security is trivial compared to what the Astra gets. She gains whole darkenings. And she gets rid of us.
Ahraia flushed, her stomach roiling in anger. She couldn’t fathom going to such lengths just for darkness; she couldn’t imagine killing shades and shadows. But the truth flashed before her like the light-burst from their nit’s broken orb. She couldn’t do these things, but the Astra certainly could.
She hesitated, remembering how she had been dragged towards the underdae, step by inevitable step. “Why would she draw me in? Do you think she meant to kill me too?”
She probably didn’t realize it was you until I showed up. That’s why she fled.
Ahraia could swear she had seen black eyes—black, lifeless eyes—and fur, but regardless, the truth was crashing down like the binding from the Stone Tree.
“And we thought it was the Shad-Mon.” She scoffed, shaking her head. She suddenly had a terrible thought. “You don’t think my father knew, do you?” Her heart felt like it was in her throat.
Maybe that's why he blamed the humans so quickly. Losna growled, a low, deep rumble that came from the hollows of her chest.
“He was in on it,” Ahraia said, flooded with disbelief. It spread as though she had been stung by a serapin, starting at her fingers and flushing all the way to her cheeks, tingling right to her lips. The emotions overwhelmed her. She sat down, her legs feeling weak. Losna came closer and nuzzled her.
What are we going to do?
Ahraia let out a heavy sigh, running her fingers through Losna’s damp fur. She wanted to confront her father: to scream at him until her voice was hoarse, to bind him and feel if it was true.
“We’re going to find him and find out if he did it.”
And if he did?
“Then I’ll kill them.” Ahraia squeezed her fist around the blackened drain until her fingers hurt.
It comforted her that Losna didn’t challenge her. She carefully placed the blackened drain in a fold of the shade tree, turning back to find Losna watching her. Her shadow was worrying, but no longer about the Astra or her brothers.
What are we going to do about the Shadow Test?
Ahraia swallowed. What could they do? She closed her eyes, her teeth clenched so tight that her jaw ached. She could feel Losna watching her, but she couldn’t begin to know how to answer that.
“I don’t know,” she said at last.
Losna’s breathing eventually became too deep and uniform to be awake, the steady rasp of her breaths rattling against her nose, but sleep wouldn’t come for Ahraia. The day stretched on. She lay awake, agonizing over everything that had come to pass: her brothers’ murders, Hayvon’s and the shades’ condemnation, and her and Losna’s eminent shadow test.
She lay in a haze, her hand stuck in Losna’s fur, debilitated by her fears while she wondered if the Astra could have murdered her brothers. Her memory from the Stone Tree had changed—the wraith took a more familiar silhouette. The fur was gone; the eyes weren’t lifeless—they were lightless—pale and drawn. Ahraia could see the Astra now, standing over Kaval and Altah, a foreign drain in her hand to hide her identity. Ahraia could feel her mind: the ragged rush of evil and the absolutism of needing dark.
It made sense. And it made sense that the Astra had come to her shade tree, no doubt seeking what she had seen. She felt stupid for showing the Astra the blade, and even more foolish for showing her the memory.
She eventually dozed, and when night came, she awoke to an overwhelming sense of despair and the sound of rain falling on the darkening beyond. A part of her never wanted to move again, but she forced herself up and Losna followed. They emerged from the shade tree to find a ghostly nit. Only Kyah, A
lua, and Thelon remained. The two spritelings were sitting together, whispering in hushed voices. They looked towards her, heads down and ears back, their faces cast with worry.
Ahraia greeted them and walked towards Kyah’s shade tree. The tree was small, but perfectly kept. Her sister was like Kren, mature and motherly beyond her years. Soon enough, she wouldn’t have a choice. Ahraia bound the shelter and lifted back the branches.
Kyah sat awake with her shadow cradled on her lap, its gray-black tail tucked tightly about it. They were both young; it hadn’t been more than three winters since Kyah had become a shade. Her gray fox had its head down and ears up. Their despair seeped through the dark like fog from the Shadow Woods. Ahraia had no need to guess that they too were mourning Kaval and Altah and their shadows. Her sister looked sunken and drawn.
“Have you eaten?” Ahraia asked.
Kyah shook her head.
“You need to. And you need to make sure the spritelings get something too . . .” Ahraia hesitated. The words and thoughts felt sharp as knives in her throat. She swallowed painfully. “Kyah . . . I won’t be here much longer.”
“I know . . . I heard.” Kyah kept her head down.
It wasn’t a fair burden to place on the young shade, or the spritelings for that matter. They stood so little chance of surviving without older shades and sprites to guide them—especially now that the nit tree was failing as well.
“When I’m gone, you’ll have to look after Alua and Thelon.” They need you.
“I know.” Kyah bit her lip and sniffed away a tear. “I know.” She set her shadow on the ground and stood up. I’ll look after them.
She walked to Ahraia and embraced her. Ahraia held her younger sister, her hands wanting to protect her forever, her body nearly shaking in the anguish of all the loss their nit had suffered. She wanted to scream for the helplessness she felt. She blamed her father, and the Astra, and the Masai—and every sprite who had ever come before her. She didn’t understand the shadow test. She didn’t understand why she was worth killing for, or why she was worth trading for. She kept these thoughts within, clutching her sister, determined not to show how deeply cut she was.
Between the Shade and the Shadow Page 17
