The Shadow Warrior

by J. E. Klimov

  He shook his head. “We don’t know the full scope of their power. And look at Hakan and Dover. Don’t they seem different to you?”

  Isabel rested her chin on her hand. “I guess so,” she murmured. “Raiden told me they only can heal wounds and resurrect the dead. So, I’m not sure where this all fits in.”

  “And look at me. Everyone loves Two. She has taken care of so many sick Tuuli, and yet I have never felt worse in my life. I know I’m getting old, but it’s as if someone flipped a switch, and now I’m on the fast track to the grave.” Lief’s head fell into his hands.

  Isabel busied herself with her cup of tea. The liquid scalded her tongue, rendering her unable to taste anything. She focused on the pain so she wouldn’t have to look at Lief.

  With a sniff, Lief continued. “Two told me we needed a stronger military presence for our protection. I told her I wasn’t going to put any of my people in jeopardy. We already lost a lot of Tuuli in the war. And do you know what she told me?”

  She pressed her nails into her palms. “W-what?”

  “She said, ‘with my help, no living being would need to participate in this new army.’”

  Isabel’s hand missed the table. The burning liquid splashed from her cup as she caught it. Regaining her composure, she replayed Two’s words in her mind. “That’s insane. I mean, look how Dante turned out.”

  “Dante?” Lief’s head shot up. “Hmph. It’s as I suspected.”

  A hand rapped at the door. Both Isabel and Lief jumped in their seats, attention rocketing to the house entrance. Hope teetered on a tight rope. Isabel wondered if Jabin finally arrived. She craved his warm presence.

  The second knock intensified into a banging. “Master Lief, are you there? Your lovely daughter said you are entertaining a very important guest.”

  Lief looked at her with terror in his eyes.

  It was Two.

  “Master Lief? I was instructed to accompany you always, especially in meetings, both public and private. For your own safety,” the falsetto voice rang.

  As Isabel stood, her wicker chair flipped backward. Lief pulled her vest violently. His white locks flew about as he shook his head.

  “What can Two possibly do to me?” Isabel whispered.

  “Trap door. Kitchen. Now,” he hissed. “This thing is bigger than us.”

  Before she could respond, he shoved Isabel down and pointed to the back corner. She gritted her teeth as she crawled on her elbows and knees toward a stone column that separated the room from the kitchen. As Isabel rounded the corner, she turned her head around. Lief made a slicing motion with his hand against his neck. She gulped and continued to crawl. All the while, thoughts ran wild like a tempest. She never believed she, a queen, would be in hiding, and crawling on the floor.

  Defiance nagged her, slowing Isabel’s pace as if she were chained to a boulder. All she wanted to do was turn around, rip the door open and confront Two. How bad could it be? And yet, Lief, one of the people she trusted most, acted as if her life was in immediate danger.

  After she rounded the corner, she sat up and leaned against the wall. Catching her breath, Isabel searched for the trap door. A tattered baby blue rug lay before her. She lifted it and scowled. No door. She continued to shift along the wall until she reached the cast iron pot, bubbling with something meaty. Isabel’s mouth watered.

  The entrance to the front door blew open with a bang, startling Isabel. She ignored the sweat pouring liberally from her pores as she neared the boiling pot, until her hand traveled over an uneven brick. Sucking in a breath, she tried ever so gently to press the awkward brick behind her, but nothing happened. Indiscernible chatter grew louder. Then, she tried pulling the brick out without moving forward. Her nose was inches from the pot. From the corner of her eye, Isabel spotted a sandal peek from the column.

  “What’s that lovely smell? Can I see what Surea made?”

  The full weight of the brick rested in her hand, and the floor below her collapsed. Isabel clamped her mouth shut, quelling the scream rising in her throat as she fell backward. The entrance to Surea’s kitchen snapped shut, enshrouding her in darkness. Her limbs burned as they scraped against the narrow metal walls. Her head spun from the humid air. With no wiggle room, Isabel clutched herself tightly until she exited the shoot and landed back-first against a dirt surface.

  Dull throbbing spread across her body. Isabel lay for a minute, catching her breath and trying to collect her thoughts. It was challenging to wrap her head around the fact she was somewhere underground, hiding from some lady with brow piercings. Grimacing as she sat up, Isabel cursed under her breath. She had her sai and her armlet that could control wind, water, earth, and fire.

  “This thing is bigger than us.”

  Isabel steadied herself onto her feet. Snapping her fingers, a fire combusted her palm. The light revealed a tunnel, twice her height and width. Gnarled tree roots weaved in and out of the dirt walls. The passageway extended several hundreds of feet before it ended. A rickety ladder leaned against the wall.

  Scaling the ladder one step at a time, she ascended with no end in sight. She slowed her pace as it wobbled. Isabel gulped, unable to see above or below her, but she continued climbing until her head bumped against a solid object. After rubbing her head, she felt above until a finger caught onto a latch. With a click, she pushed a circular door up, revealing gray clouds and a limestone wall.

  After pulling herself out of the hole, she scanned the area. She was outside Buryan’s city walls, and the hatch was disguised as some sort of drain. Her horse stood, tied to a tree a few feet away. Lief…

  When she mounted her horse, she searched her satchel. To her surprise, her cloak was rolled neatly inside.

  “He really thought this through,” she said.

  Even after she wrapped herself tightly, a slight chill remained, but it wasn’t one that could be warmed by something physical. She had to seek out Jabin immediately.

  CHAPTER

  25

  A woman with a swath of white across her forehead and cheeks opened a trunk. Bence tugged his ear while Maciji pulled out a violet silk linen and draped it across her body. He really didn’t care what color the Hall of Enchantments should be decorated. The Irellians were already obsessed with purple, and he wasn’t sure why more decisions were necessary.

  “What do you think, dear?” Maciji asked sweetly.

  “Whatever you want.” Bence rubbed the space between his eyes. “We’ve been looking at decorative curtains for the wedding for a good hour already.”

  Her ornate nails dug into his biceps. She tugged him closer. “This is monumental for my people, so it will look, and be, perfect.”

  “Why do you need my opinion anyway? I’m the foreigner here.”

  “Well, maybe we could incorporate your country’s colors with ours?” She stood on her tip-toes, angling her face so that her sharp nose grazed his. Bence swallowed. Her eyes were pools of jade and were powerfully hypnotic. The floral aroma wafting from her sudden movement filled his lungs. Her beauty was undeniable. However, his insides churned as he dug around for a response. What is Deran’s color?

  “Um, I think it may be something purple too. Or at least something that surely clashes with the Irellian’s color,” Bence said in one breath.

  Maciji raised one brow.

  “But─but─” Bence fumbled around his neck for his necklace. He stared at Isabel’s ring. “Our emblem is… er… Oh, a ph─”

  “A phoenix.” Maciji brushed her hand against his cheek and faced the merchant. Her fingers intertwined behind her back and squeezed.

  Shoving the necklace beneath his flax tunic, he said, “Yes, right. How were you able to guess before I could answer?” He chuckled nervously as he stood beside her. “I think this will look absolutely perfect, my love.”

  She shot him a look. Bence winked and flashed a dashing smile.

  “You never called me that before. So, is that true? I am your love?”

&n
bsp; Bence’s grin cracked in half. He felt the walls closing in on him. Images of Ami volleyed back and forth. Even Isabel entered his mind. Love… I never used that word until now.

  “Love…” he mouthed silently.

  She tapped her foot. “Hm?”

  “Yes,” he blurted.

  “That will make the marriage easier on you then.” Maciji turned back to the merchant once more and nodded in approval of the silk. She gestured for her to empty the rest of the contents of the trunk for inspection.

  Bence remained silent. His vocal cords, tightly bound by an invisible force, refused to let him speak. Every time Maciji showed a swath of color for their wedding, he nodded or shook his head based off the look on her face.

  “Okay. Done with that. Next!” With a snap of her fingers, a male merchant entered the room with a trunk of his own. It was wrapped in leather and framed in golden leaves.

  When the lid flipped open, the scent of sandalwood overpowered Bence. Covering his nose with his arm, he leaned forward and peeked inside. Silver, purple, and black garments were swirled together like a painting.

  “These are options for your outfit,” Maciji said.

  “Even black?” He reached down and rubbed the fabric in between his fingers, unable to distinguish the material. It had texture, but weighed like air. “Seems inappropriate for a wedding. Wouldn’t that be a bad omen?”

  Maciji played with her crystal bangles at the base of her neck. “We have many superstitions, but not that. I requested black given your mysterious… power.”

  Again, referencing the shadow thing.

  “I’ll let you decide,” Bence concluded.

  “Black it is.” No sooner had the man closed his trunk, she whistled for the next merchant. Bence craned his neck and saw a line of people stretching beyond the corridor and into the garden. He suppressed a yawn.

  “You can leave now.”

  Bence started. “Really?”

  She blew him a kiss. “I need to choose my dress. Grooms aren’t allowed to see their brides in their dresses until wedding day.”

  Heat erupted at the base of his neck as he backed away. Words tried to untangle themselves in his already constricted throat.

  A jarring sound wave slammed Bence from behind with so much force, it pushed him forward. A bodiless, warped shouting bounced off the walls. Whipping his head both ways, he drew his dagger.

  Maciji crossed her arms. “What the hell are you doing?”

  “Did you feel tha─”

  The wind whistled as it snaked from the corridor to the end of the room.

  “Bence.”

  As if it had a mind of its own, the gale did not dissipate, but swirling around and ramming into him once more.

  “Bence!”

  The voice became clearer. It was a female voice. He gawked at Maciji, but her lips didn’t move. “You’re not hearing this?”

  “It’s just a strong breeze. Weather is unpredictable, you know,” she replied. She narrowed her eyes.

  As if the force entered his ears, the voice exploded in his mind. “I need you!” Bence cupped his hands over his ears, but the words repeated over and over. “Bence!”

  He stilled. His eyes shot open. “Isabel?” His heart slammed against his chest as the voice faded and wind calmed.

  “Are you okay? I’m not keen in marrying a lunatic, but I still plan on it.” Maciji waved her hand in front of his face.

  Bence scowled. “I’m fine.”

  “Fine? You were raving about raging winds with voices.”

  Bence examined the room. Nothing budged, not even the stack of papers on the desk behind her. “Sorry.” He adjusted his gold collar and grunted. “I’m not crazy. All these life changing events have me on edge.”

  With a flick of her golden hair, she said, “Well, this is the perfect time to take a walk. Go. I want to start trying on outfits!” Her eyes flickered toward his hand.

  After he bowed, Bence shoved past the people waiting in line, ignoring the glares and aggravated sighs. The thought of marriage hadn’t hit him until now, and maybe the stress was getting to him. At the mention of a wedding dress, his body suddenly pumped adrenaline into his veins, which could’ve trigged a moment of delusion. But the wind. The voice. It seemed so real. He ran his hand through his hair and pulled. Fool. You were imagining it.

  Cutting through the garden, he strode past the rows of bushes and headed toward the iron gates. The guards hesitated, but opened them at the sight of his ring. The black pearl glimmered in the sun. He stared down at it. His whole life had surrounded an empty mission his parents decreed. One that was beyond himself. Today, he was in Irelle, accepted into the arms of one of the clan leaders, albeit a gorgeous one. The word “love” confused him, but he had lived without it so far, and he could continue to live without it. Turning the ring pearl-side down, Bence clenched his jaw. And yet, something set him off. He was as uneasy as he was traveling overseas.

  “Gee, I wonder why,” he grumbled to himself. He drew his dagger and stared at his warped reflection. “She thinks I am a bridge to Deran.”

  He turned the corner abruptly and faced a fenced in area. Tulelo was curled into a ball. His back rose and fell, and his rocky tail twitched. Bence leaned on the wooden barrier, resting his chin on his arms. The sweltering heat beat down on him mercilessly. Bence cleared his throat.

  The clinking of chains sounded as Tulelo’s head rose inches above the ground. He regarded Bence with hooded eyes and snuffed.

  “Hey. You doing alright?”

  “You coming to take me for a ‘walk?’” He asked in a gravelly voice, turning his head in the other direction.

  Wiping the sweat that dripped into his eyes, Bence said, “Why not? It’s… beautiful out.”

  “Beautifully stifling, alright.”

  Bence cracked his neck. “Tulelo,” he pleaded. “I already had a rough day. How about this? Let’s take a walk outside the city.”

  Tulelo didn’t budge. “They won’t allow that.”

  Fanning himself, Bence felt short of breath. “It’s freaking hot, and I’m losing it. If I am Maciji’s betrothed, they can’t say no to me.”

  When Tulelo rolled over, he swatted a pebble. Before he could blink, it smacked Bence in the forehead like a bee sting. Exposing long, yellowed fangs, Tulelo roared in laughter.

  “Fine.” Bence sheathed his dagger and stalked away.

  “Wait!” Tulelo bellowed, still choking on fits of giggling. The ground rumbled as the Dunya shifted his weight.

  His shadow cast over Bence, who turned and crossed his arms. A smirk itched as he watched Tulelo waggle his thick gold eyebrows. Without another word, he trotted to the post where the Dunya was chained. He pulled out a lone silver key and released the bindings.

  Tulelo stretched on his hind legs, standing inches taller than Bence. After a satisfying crack, he wrapped his claw around his collar. He found the rope attached to it and handed it to him. “Got to do what you got to do, right?”

  “Yes,” Bence replied. He led Tulelo down the path past the wooden fence.

  They passed a mill to their left and what seemed like a distillery to their right. A man with an armful of fabric and mouthful of clothespins strutted out from a one-story building and faltered at the sight of the pair.

  “Pardon us,” Bence said with authority, tugging the leash gently. Tulelo growled in response.

  “What are you looking at?” he snuffed.

  The man’s lips trembled, dropping all his pins. Bence shook his head, sides aching with laughter. The two continued down the winding path. A bleating sheep to his left stole his attention.

  “Don’t look,” Bence muttered.

  “What?”

  A circle of men swayed while a statuesque woman painted completely in yellow lodged a knife into the base of the sheep’s neck. Bence held in the bile that shot up his throat as Tulelo retched. They hooted and grasped for its blood to paint on themselves. The woman stood still, face solemn. Her
eyes flickered to Bence, and he quickly turned the other direction. He yanked Tulelo’s collar harder.

  “Walk faster,” he hissed.

  “This place scares me,” the Dunya opined. “I mean, what was that?”

  Bence tried to scrub the imagery away. “I don’t want to know. Do you?”

  “Nope.”

  They sped around the bend where the road opened up to a large steel door. Bence spotted a soldier, confirmed by green stripes marked up his bare arms and legs.

  “I want to take a walk outside the compound. I’m taking my… pet.” He grimaced.

  Tulelo’s claws dug into the rust-colored sand.

  Without a word, the man pulled a lever and the gate lifted at a snail’s place. The screech pierced his ears, but Bence pushed forward with Tulelo. As soon as they passed the gate and into the main village, the steel came slamming down. The pair jumped in place, but the commoners that milled about didn’t even look up.

  “I’m sorry.” Those words were still hard to form, but Bence’s heart ached each time he had to call his friend a “pet.”

  “I’m used to it,” Tulelo replied flatly.

  Bence’s feet weighed like lead. He thought about a response, but decided against it. He scanned the area, spotting the main entrance of the compound to their far right. There was no mistaking the glistening marble. Narrow winding streets stemmed from his left. Roads too thin for Tulelo to squeeze through. Their only option was to go straight. Bence trudged along silently as Tulelo followed.

  The buildings towered high enough to provide shade. Bence sighed in relief as the temperature dropped a few degrees. He took in the sights of street vendors, who all halted business to stare at Tulelo. The scent of succulent meat from a butcher caught Bence’s attention. The shop displayed a pig roasting on a split. Drool cascaded from Tulelo’s jaws. Women clung to their dresses as they skirted by. Men clutched their merchandise and sneered. Ignoring the crowd, Bence pushed past them, dug his free hand into his pocket and slammed his silver coin onto the copper counter.