Shadow Blessed (The Shadow Accords Book 1)

by D. K. Holmberg

  The vendor’s gaze pulled back down to her and he smiled, grabbing a rolled gown and one of his masks and handing them to her.

  Carth took them and spun, hurrying to the side.

  She ducked down, slipping on the mask and quickly unrolling the robe, hoping that it fit well enough. It didn’t have to be perfect. Few that she’d seen wore anything too well fitted, but she didn’t want to give the A’ras any reason to notice her.

  The crowd began to part behind her.

  That was all the sign that she needed to know that the A’ras were near.

  She stood carefully and made a show of standing close to a man near her. She wasn’t tall enough for eighteen and had to stand on her toes to look taller, but at least this way she could create the impression of being with someone.

  As the crowd separated around the A’ras, she followed the man. He had a muscular build and his robe draped to the ground, dragging behind him, so that Carth had to be careful she didn’t step on it. He glanced at her, and she smiled, hoping that he wouldn’t try anything.

  The A’ras moved past.

  Carth tensed, her hand reaching for her pocket and the knife she carried with her. If nothing else, she could attack them and use the chaos of the festival to hide.

  What had gotten into her? Could she really be thinking about attacking the A’ras this openly? Attacking would be suicide.

  Unless she could sneak behind them.

  They were responsible for what had happened to her mother. She might not have seen how they killed her, but the A’ras had been there. She might not get vengeance on Felyn—Carth didn’t want to see him again—but there was the hope that she could find a way to get some revenge on the A’ras.

  She left the man, slipping away from him as she wound through the crowd, slipping behind the A’ras. She followed them, letting the way the crowd parted ahead of her guide her. As she went, she pulled the knife from within her pocket.

  The knife felt cold in her hand, colder than it had ever felt before.

  Maybe that was because the knife knew what she intended.

  As she approached the A’ras, barely only five paces away, they turned toward her.

  Had she made a mistake? Had they known that she was there?

  Carth didn’t think that she’d been that loud. She glanced around and realized that no one else approached the A’ras. She stood alone in the middle of a crowd, wearing a mask and a gown and holding a knife.

  One of the A’ras glanced at the knife.

  They reached for their swords as one.

  Carth froze. She wanted to run, to disappear and find a place where they wouldn’t reach her, but the crowd grew more and more distant as she stood there, as if they withdrew, knowing what the A’ras would do.

  There was no way she would be able to use this knife against them, not when they came at her with swords.

  The knife went colder in her hand.

  Her skin burned with energy and felt as if it were pulled tight, as if she’d been standing in the sun for too long. A strange muffling filled her ears and she became unaware of anything else, unable to take her eyes off the A’ras.

  They approached her casually. There was no urgency, no concern that she might run or that she might attack them. These were men who knew that she would—that she could—go nowhere.

  Was this the effect of their magic?

  There were stories of the A’ras magic, but she’d never experienced it before. She had never wanted to.

  Carth tried pulling away. If nothing else, she could slip the knife back into her pocket, try to pretend that she hadn’t carried it, or that she hadn’t intended to use it against the A’ras. Her hand wouldn’t work. Nothing worked, as if her mind couldn’t control her body.

  The knife remained cold, practically burning her skin.

  The A’ras were almost upon her.

  She could smell them now, a mixture of scents that reminded her of the herbalist shop. Notes of pine and slick oil combined together, the effect intoxicating. One of the swords moved, and Carth followed its movement.

  “Kneel.”

  The voice was gravelly and she could do nothing but obey.

  She went to her knees, staring at the A’ras and the wrap around his head that covered his mouth and chin, leaving only his eyes visible. A part of her mind rebelled, raging to stand, to fight, to do anything but what the A’ras wanted of her, but she didn’t. She couldn’t.

  As much as she wanted to slip the knife away and hide it, her hand wouldn’t move.

  The only thing that seemed to work was her mind. It raced, running through the terrifying thoughts of what would happen to her. Would the A’ras simply end her here, or would they try ask her why she had climbed the wall into the palace yard? What would she answer if they did?

  “What is your name?” the other A’ras said. He didn’t have the same wrap around his head, but the thick beard on his chin hid his lips as he spoke.

  “Carth.” She answered in spite of her desire not to answer, in spite of the fact that she knew that she should not answer. Giving her name to the A’ras meant that were she able to escape, they would have a way to find her.

  “Where did you obtain that blade?” the bearded man asked.

  “The A’ras.”

  The man stepped closer. Strangely, he appeared to hesitate. “You would not have taken a knife from one of the A’ras.”

  “They were dead.”

  The bearded man glanced at the other. “They?”

  “There were three. They were killed.”

  “She lies, Ah-rahn.”

  The bearded man stared at the knife. “Does she? Look at the blade she carries. Remember what happened to Al-shad.”

  Carth had heard that name before, but didn’t know when. Where had she heard it?

  “Give me the knife.”

  She wanted nothing more than to hand the knife to the A’ras, but her arm didn’t work. She couldn’t lift it and couldn’t release the hilt of the blade.

  “The knife,” Ah-rahn said. “Hand it to me.”

  Carth tried, but it was as if the chill in the blade prevented her from lifting her hand. She could no more hand the knife to him than she could open her mouth and refuse.

  The other A’ras took a step toward her. Carth readied for the swing of his sword and the inevitable pain, but then there would be nothing, and she would be reunited with her mother and father. Would that not be worth the brief pain?

  The A’ras with the wrap over his face grunted and fell to the ground.

  Carth wanted to look to see what had happened, but Ah-rahn approached, his sword already moving. She couldn’t even close her eyes; she would have to watch as the sword struck.

  Ah-rahn took another step toward her. It seemed as if time slowed. His sword swung.

  And then stopped.

  His head tipped to the side and a confused expression crossed his face. His sword dropped from his hand and clattered to the stone. As it did, whatever spell held her in place released her.

  Carth jumped to her feet and jabbed the knife at him, wanting to stab him in the stomach or chest, wanting revenge for her parents, but someone grabbed her wrist.

  She jerked her hand away, trembling with fear. When she turned, she expected another A’ras, but there was not.

  Instead, a familiar face looked at her. Rather than a blank and unreadable expression as he usually wore, concern pulled at the corners of Jhon’s eyes. “Easy,” he said softly.

  “What are you doing here?”

  He glanced over her shoulder. “I would ask you the same, but it seems that we don’t have time for questions. Perhaps we can speak if we get free of this.”

  Jhon pulled on her arm, dragging her down the street, away from the palace. Carth hazarded a look over her shoulder and noted that three more A’ras appeared. One stopped and knelt next to the two that had attacked her, while the other two continued after them. Her skin felt tight and she detected the strange sizzling sensa
tion on her flesh that she’d noticed when the A’ras used their magic before.

  “You will have to obscure us,” Jhon said.

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Like you did in the palace yard. If we are to escape, you will have to obscure us. Now that they have sighted me, that is the only way we’ll get free of them.”

  The corners of his eyes twitched, the same way her father’s did when he struggled. She glanced back and realized that the A’ras still trailed her, and wondered if they had used their magic to attack.

  “Hurry!” Jhon urged. He pulled them into an alley. The tight sensation to her skin didn’t change.

  “I don’t know what you mean. How can I obscure us?”

  Jhon pushed her up against the wall, flattening them into the growing darkness. “You are shadow blessed, Carth of Ih-lash.”

  “Shadow blessed?”

  “There’s no time to explain now. You must repeat what you did on the palace grounds. I followed you, but then you disappeared. There is only one way you would disappear from me, the same way you managed to hide me when your friend attacked. I should have seen it earlier.”

  The only thing she had done was try to sink into the shadows. That had been the trick her father had demonstrated, a way of masking herself. It was one she’d struggled with, and now he claimed it made her shadow blessed?

  “They are almost upon us,” Jhon said more calmly than she felt.

  Her heart raced, panic setting in. She didn’t need for Jhon to tell her that the A’ras were nearly upon them. She could feel the dangerous pull of their magic, the way her skin felt and the sizzling energy that crackled in the air.

  What she had done in the palace yard had been attempting to sink into the shadows. Could she really do that? Was there some sort of magic to her?

  Her skin sizzled even more, growing ever tighter.

  Carth couldn’t delay attempting.

  She focused on the shadows around them, searching for the edge of it as her father had taught her, and found it near the mouth of the alley. Once she found it, she pulled on it, drawing the shadows around her as she did, letting herself fade backward into the darkness, into the shadows.

  Darkness grew like a fog around her. Jhon became almost insubstantial next to her. Sounds became muted. She held her breath, afraid to do anything, afraid to say anything.

  The tension faded from her skin, and the energy in the air dissipated somewhat.

  Muted footsteps thudded past. Through the darkness, Carth caught sight of a hint of maroon and recognized the A’ras passing.

  The footsteps paused.

  Carth’s heart thudded in her chest. Jhon did not move, though she wondered if she would see it if he did. Would the A’ras hear her heart beating? Would they know she was here?

  Then the footsteps started away, continuing down the street.

  Jhon tapped her on the arm. “You may release it.”

  Carth didn’t know how to release it, but she allowed herself to breathe and took a step forward. As she did, the darkness settled back into place, the fog lifting.

  This time, there was a clear sense that she had done something, though she wasn’t exactly certain what it was. “How is that possible?” she asked.

  “You are shadow blessed,” Jhon said again. “Come with me, and I will explain as much as is safe.”

  17

  Carth stood atop a stooped roof, looking down at the city. Was this the sort of view her father had had when he had crawled along the roofs? From here, she just made out the edge of the river, a black line where the lights of the city ended.

  “Why did you risk going to the palace garden tonight?” Jhon asked. He stood on the edge of the roof, his hands clasped behind him as he studied the night.

  Carth kept back from the edge. She wasn’t afraid of heights so much as she was terrified of them. She debated how much to answer Jhon, but then without him, she wouldn’t have been able to get away from the A’ras. “You killed two of them,” she said.

  He made an expression like he’d just eaten rotten fish. “Not killed, but I fear they will not see it any differently. Besides, it could not have been helped, not if you were to get free. Had you not approached as you did, it might not have been necessary.”

  Carth flushed. Anger had overcome her when she had finally managed to get free of the A’ras magic.

  “An interesting knife you have.”

  She reached into her pocket and squeezed the hilt. Did he know that it was one of the A’ras knives?

  “Few are able to safely possess such a blade.”

  “It’s an A’ras blade.”

  He arched a brow. “Is it? Those who hold one of the A’ras blades usually suffer in some ways.”

  “What do you mean, they suffer?”

  “You felt the power the A’ras are able to work. They place some of that power into their swords and knives. It is why they are so dangerous.”

  “I thought they were poisoned.”

  “Perhaps some. Others use their particular brand of magic through the blade.”

  Carth relaxed her grip on the knife. Was it the same way?

  “Weapons are crafted by the A’ras, and typically linked in some ways to the maker. That gives them greater strength, and makes them more dangerous as well.”

  “A man named Al-shad had this one.”

  A half-smile tugged at his lips, almost amused. “Did he give it to you?”

  Carth shook her head. “He… he was one of the A’ras who…” She swallowed and couldn’t finish.

  “Your mother?”

  She nodded.

  “You were there that day.”

  She nodded again, her hand slipping into her pocket and fingering her mother’s ring.

  “Ah, child, you should not have been exposed to that. These are dangerous people, and that”—he pointed to her pocket where she held the knife, the hilt no longer biting cold as it had been—“was made by a man with much power.”

  He touched her head and a warmth washed through her. It happened briefly, so quickly that she couldn’t react.

  “Why did you help me? Why have you been following me, for that matter?”

  Jhon looked at her for a moment, then turned back to stare out over the city. “What do you know of your place of birth?” he asked.

  “I don’t know anything. My parents rarely spoke of Ih-lash.”

  “Yet they taught you many of the lessons of the people.”

  “Like what?”

  “There are skills that are—or were—taught to the children of Ih-lash. They would learn to follow without being seen. They would learn to see what wished to remain hidden. They would be able to slip in without others knowing, and disappear again.” Jhon looked over his shoulder at her. “I can see from your expression that you have some familiarity with what I am telling you.”

  “The games,” she said. When he frowned, she went on. “My parents used to play games like that with me. I would trail my mother, but as it went on, I had to remain a certain distance from her. Eventually, I had to let her get so far ahead that I couldn’t see her. That was what we were doing that day… that day…”

  She swallowed the lump in her throat, trying to keep from crying again. Every time she thought of that day, tears welled in her eyes unbidden. She hadn’t managed to find a way to keep them from coming.

  “That is why you weren’t with them when they were discovered,” Jhon said.

  She nodded. “My father was behind me. Watching me. My mother…”

  The image of her mother lying on the street, unmoving, came into her mind. It was an image that came to her while she slept, and often while she was awake. The complete lack of concern from Felyn or the A’ras made it even more difficult for her to bear.

  “Were there other games your parents played with you?” he asked.

  Carth nodded. “There were many.”

  “Tell me about them.”

  Carth didn’t want to share th
ose stories with a stranger, but if she didn’t, if she didn’t explain what she had been through and share with him what her parents had done with her, would Jhon ever help her understand why they were gone? Answers were the thing she wanted most of all, and here she was with a man who seemingly had them.

  So she shared with Jhon the details of the games she had played with her parents. As she did, Jhon watched her, his face unreadable. When she got to describing how she sank into the shadows, he actually smiled again. As he did, the blank slate expression that he wore changed, making him appear much more youthful. In that moment, Carth wondered exactly how old he actually was. In some ways, he didn’t appear that much older than her.

  “That is what proves you are shadow blessed,” Jhon said.

  “What is shadow blessed?”

  “There are few, even in Ih-lash, but the games you describe are meant to determine who is born with those gifts. Most in Ih-lash are able to move without being seen, but the shadow blessed, they are able to do something else entirely. Not only can they move without being seen, but they can manipulate the shadows, make it so that darkness shrouds them. In Ih-lash, it is considered a particularly blessed skill to possess.”

  “Why do you think that I am shadow blessed?”

  “There are telltale signs one can look for. When I first discovered you, the way you moved made it clear that you had the skills of one of Ih-lash. That intrigued me. It had been years since I had come across someone of Ih-lash who was not a part of…” He seemed to catch himself and smiled. “No matter. Only know that it intrigued me. And still does.”

  Years? Carth would have guessed Jhon no older than his early twenties, but the way he spoke made it sound as if he were much older, unless he had been training for such a long time.

  “I have trailed you. When you shrouded me near the river, I suspected, but with this,” he tapped his head where remnants of the bruise remained, “I knew with certainty.”

  Carth flushed. “Kel is sorry about that.”

  Jhon shrugged. “I live. That is more than most who come across the A’ras in that state can claim. But for you to have hidden me, that takes a skill that few possess. I waited, watching you as you made your way into the city. Consider me curious. And then I find that you climbed over the wall, putting yourself in danger by going into the palace yard. I watched, unable to enter myself, only to see that you were not in the danger that I expected.”