The Shadow’s Curse

by Amy McCulloch

  Now Khareh had learned how to use the oathbreakers’ shadows to form a shadow-army – one that would aid him in his quest to rule over all of Darhan, and Raim had no idea how to stop him. Khareh was a raging tornado, causing havoc wherever he went with his army.

  ‘Brooding is just as bad as arguing.’

  Draikh’s voice shook him from his dark stupor. Raim shrugged his shoulders back a couple of times and stretched the cricks from his neck.

  ‘You’re right.’ He looked up at Draikh. ‘What do you feel like doing today?’

  Draikh brandished a stick he had picked up. ‘How about some hand–eye coordination?’

  ‘Yes, anything!’

  ‘Pick up that rock and I’ll pretend it’s Khareh’s head.’

  Raim did as he was told and chose a jagged shard of rock from the ground, then launched it as hard as he could toward Draikh. Draikh batted it away with the stick, releasing the same pent-up frustration that Raim was feeling over not finding Wadi. They spent an hour tearing across the plain, practising coordinating their movements until they felt like one unit. Working with Draikh seemed so much more natural now, and with each session they discovered more and more about one another’s capabilities, and how each was strengthened by the other.

  Raim threw a stone, but Draikh missed. The stick dropped from Draikh’s hands and landed with a thud on the ground.

  ‘What is it?’ Raim asked.

  ‘It’s Vlad. He’s waking up.’

  3

  RAIM

  Raim spun round and sprinted back to the camp. As he approached, he heard Vlad let out a low groan. Loni was already there, dripping water into Vlad’s mouth.

  Slowly, Vlad’s eyes opened. ‘Where am I?’ His voice cracked.

  ‘Vlad?’ Raim knelt down beside him. Despite the disagreements they’d had back in Lazar, Raim was still glad to see him alive. ‘It’s me, Raim. We ambushed the wagon that was taking you to—’

  ‘To the prison.’ His voice was so weak, Raim had to lean in close to hear him. ‘I had outstayed my welcome.’ Raim thought he heard a hint of amusement in the man’s voice, but then Vlad slipped back into unconsciousness.

  Raim looked up at his grandfather, whose face was creased with concern. ‘It’s a good sign he spoke. It means he may yet recover more of his strength.’ He craned his neck back, scanning the sky for something – although Raim wasn’t quite sure what. ‘It has been enough time, I think, and we haven’t seen sign of another guard coming to retrieve the prisoner.

  ‘Pola, Mali,’ he barked at two of the other elders. ‘Let’s have a fire tonight. I think it’s time we had some real food.’ He turned to Raim, and raised an eyebrow.

  Raim jumped up and nodded, glad for the task. He placed two fingers in his mouth and whistled loudly. Within seconds, he felt the wind rush towards him, a tornado in miniature, and in the centre of it flew Oyu – the garfalcon he had acquired in the desert. Oyu was the reason Raim could not simply stroll into Khareh’s camp and kill him for what he had done. Oyu had swallowed the promise-knot Raim had made vowing his life to Khareh, and now he could not break his oath even if he tried.

  And gods above, did he ever want to try.

  Oyu landed on his arm and let out a loud screech in his ear. Raim laughed even as he shied away in surprise, and then ran a hand over Oyu’s silky black feathers. Oyu had also been instrumental in saving his life. The Yun were renowned for their skill with animals – and their hawks could be their deadliest weapons. Oyu had saved him when the Yun had sent their hawks to attack him.

  Training Oyu was another task that had helped Raim focus his mind. ‘Time to find some rabbits, right, Oyu?’ said Raim. Oyu lifted off Raim’s arm, and Raim had to duck to avoid being hit by his enormous wings.

  Later that evening, they all sat around a crackling fire, searing a brace of rabbits over the open flame. Raim tucked into a skewer, the meat tender and pink. It was the most restorative meal they had had in months. The Cheren was situated in the most barren part of the steppes, where there was little game to hunt. Why did the old people need proper meat, when they were only sent to a Cheren to die? Sometimes Darhan logic was twisted.

  ‘Raim – a little help?’

  Raim turned around, a dribble of meat juice running down his chin. He saw Loni approaching, struggling to support Vlad. Raim leaped up, dropping his food in the grass, and moved to take the weight off his grandfather’s shoulders. Together they made their way into the circle, and Raim helped Vlad settle onto the ground near the fire. The man shivered, and another elder threw a second cloak around him.

  Vlad began attacking the meat Raim gave him with a fury that belied his apparent frailty. That had always been Vlad’s way – to take advantage when the advantage was there to take.

  ‘Enough strength to eat is enough strength to talk, don’t you think?’ Draikh said.

  Vlad threw him a scowl – since Vlad was an oath-breaker, he could see and hear Draikh – but swallowed his mouthful and rearranged his expression into something more placid. ‘I thought you were dead,’ he said to Raim. ‘It’s good to see you. Can I ask . . . how did you find me?’

  Raim hesitated. ‘We have a seer among us.’

  Vlad couldn’t hide the look of surprise on his face. ‘Truly? A real seer?’

  Raim nodded. ‘Yes. I promise to tell you all about that later. But first, Vlad, I have something even more important to tell you.’ He gripped the old man’s shoulder. ‘Dharma is alive.’

  ‘What? But I thought Khareh . . .’ Vlad attempted to scramble to his feet, but his legs gave way from under him. ‘I have to see her. Where is she?’

  Raim nodded. ‘We will take you to her, don’t worry. And no, Khareh didn’t kill her. But he did break his promise to me.’

  ‘So he did still hurt her.’ Vlad’s shoulders slumped.

  ‘He did. And he will pay for that. But – and these are Dharma’s words – he also helped her to see. She is the seer now. And Vlad – you would be so proud. She is amazing.’

  ‘My daughter is the seer?’

  ‘Dharma is the seer,’ said Loni, gruffly.

  ‘I want to go to her now,’ said Vlad. ‘What are we waiting here for? Where is she?’

  ‘We will return to the Cheren in the morning,’ said Raim. ‘And in the meantime, I will tell you anything else you want to know about her.’

  ‘A Cheren? What, a place for withered old men and women, good for nothing?’ Vlad’s nose wrinkled in disgust. ‘What is she doing there? A true seer should be celebrated! She should have her own tribe of followers!’

  ‘She is where she is safe,’ Loni snapped. ‘What would you know about keeping her safe, when you abandoned her in the first place?’

  ‘Don’t talk to me like that, old man.’

  ‘Oathbreaker!’

  ‘Stop this!’ said Raim, throwing his arms between them. ‘Vlad, we will take you to her. Soon. But now, you must tell us what happened to you. And you need to tell me what you know about Wadi.’

  Vlad glared at Loni, and chewed another morsel before speaking. He threw a bone onto the fire. ‘I was mostly kept in with the camp of shadows.’

  ‘Khareh’s spirit-army,’ Raim said, his eyes wide.

  Vlad nodded. His hands shook, and his chewing became both more frantic and sloppier. ‘Except when he wanted to torture me. He’s a clever khan, I will give him that much. He thought he could use me – after all, I’m not only Baril, but Shan too, and Garus informed him that I knew about sagery. But I would never give that monster anything. Not after what he did to my daughter.’ Vlad took a shuddering breath and clutched at his side. Then, slowly, he lifted the edge of his tunic, all the way up to his armpit. Dozens of cuts littered his side, some of the scars puckered and gnarled.

  Raim had heard of this form of torture, but never seen it in the flesh. Every hour, a different part of the body was sliced with a sharp knife, causing an endless stream of agony. Eventually, when all the skin was scarred or marked, they w
ould start removing limbs. Luckily – if any luck could be found – Vlad’s torture hadn’t reached that point yet. Raim’s stomach turned.

  ‘The Khan gave me to Garus to see what information he could extract from me.’ Vlad dropped his tunic. ‘After Garus failed to learn anything, Khareh gave up and sent me to the prison. I think he disliked having so much blood on the floor of his yurt.’

  Raim winced. ‘But I thought Garus was the most advanced sage the Shan had ever known – what could you know that he didn’t already?’

  Vlad shut his eyes and took a deep, shuddering breath.

  Loni looked up at Raim, concern deep in his eyes. ‘Don’t make him relive it. Not yet. Ask him again when he is stronger.’

  Raim couldn’t help himself. ‘Tell us about Garus later. But what about Wadi? Is she still with Khareh?’

  Vlad managed to nod, and Raim’s heart beat loudly in his ears. ‘Did you see her? Is she safe?’

  Vlad only let out a groan in response, and Raim wanted to shake him in frustration. Loni put a gentle but firm hand on his knee. ‘We can learn more when we get back to the Cheren. He needs an experienced healer – and so do our other wounded men. We’re like sheep on a plain here, waiting for the wolves to find us. Wait until tomorrow.’

  ‘Grandfather, I cannot wait.’ Raim bit his lip. A plan had been forming in his mind for some time now, but he hadn’t had the opportunity to voice it. Now was the time. He looked out at the steppes, in the direction that the last of Khareh’s guards had ridden away. ‘I don’t think I will come back to the Cheren with you. I can’t have travelled all this way without even attempting to rescue Wadi.’ He had felt so sure that this was going to be the moment he would get her back. Not having accomplished that felt so wrong. ‘What if he is torturing her too? What if I am leaving her to this same fate?’ He gestured at Vlad. ‘I have to find her.’

  ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea,’ said Vlad, one eye cracking open.

  ‘And why is that?’ snapped Raim.

  ‘She is being held by Khareh himself. Surrounded by every haunt and human guard you could imagine.’

  ‘But I can’t just return without even trying. Not when I’m already halfway there.’ A hint of desperation crept in at the edge of Raim’s voice.

  ‘No, that’s right. You cannot go back to the Cheren – you cannot waste any more time there.’

  ‘Then what?’

  ‘Raim, you are the only one close enough to achieving the kind of sage power Khareh has mastered. You are the one who could overthrow him. But you will never be able to do that with your scar. No one will follow an oathbreaker.’

  Raim’s fists tightened into a ball, but he knew it was true.

  ‘Garus was right about something. I – and Zu – have both known things about sagery that no other Shan knows. And we knew something of the significance of that scar around your wrist that we never shared with you.’

  Raim looked up sharply.

  ‘Have you heard of a group called the Council?’

  Raim shook his head, and instinctively moved his opposite hand over his wrist, to cover his mark of shame. It was a habit born of instinct, and one he couldn’t shake.

  ‘Zu was a member. She was bound to not share all its secrets with me, but I know where you can find others who belong, who can grant you answers: the Baril. Go to the Amarapura mountains.’ He gestured to the shadows of the mountain range in the far distance. ‘You have a brother there, no? Go to him, and ask him about the Council. He might be able to help you. The Council can put you on your true path, and you will be able to rid yourself of that scar – and rescue Wadi.’

  Raim gazed over at the Amarapura mountains. Is the answer really there? Could I finally find a way to rid myself of this scar, once and for all?

  ‘Worth a try,’ said Draikh, in his mind.

  But Wadi has to come first. I can’t leave her to Khareh’s torture.

  ‘Agreed.’

  ‘I’m sorry Vlad, Loni,’ Raim said aloud. ‘I’m going to Khareh’s camp to free Wadi. That comes before everything – even my scar. Even if it means fighting against Khareh, his entire spirit-army and the Yun. Draikh and I can do it. I will not leave her to suffer whatever he has planned for her.’

  Vlad stared at Raim for a long time, sending an uncomfortable shiver down his spine. Then the man attempted to stand, waving off the helping hand that Loni offered him. He placed one hand on a shaking knee to support his weight, then with a groan pushed himself to his full height. Raim had forgotten what an imposing figure Vlad struck when he wanted to. But he resisted taking a step back, standing as tall as Vlad, the grass of the steppes waving all around them.

  ‘Go to the Baril. Discover the origins of your scar. Rid yourself of that burden. Become whole again, in the eyes of the people. Then you can carry out your mission for revenge.’

  ‘No. I want to rescue Wadi.’

  Vlad looked Raim dead in the eye. ‘But what makes you so sure that Wadi wants to be rescued?’

  4

  WADI

  Wadi sat at the hard wooden desk in the yurt and stretched the cramp from her fingers. The circulation had returned to her hands since they had last been bound, but it had been a long time since she had written for such an extended period of time. In the desert, there wasn’t much need for correspondence.

  She was grateful that her father had taken the time to teach her to read and write as a child, as one of the few Darhanians who knew how. She knew that meant he must have been Baril at some point in his life, but not since she had been born.

  Throughout all that time learning, she had never envisaged using her skills to become a scribe to a ruthless khan.

  It saved her from being just a prisoner, at least.

  A tug at her ankle as she attempted to cross her legs reminded her of that fact. A thick, coarse rope tied her ankle to a stake firmly embedded in the ground at the centre of the yurt. She had free rein within a predetermined perimeter. Long enough to get to the desk. Long enough to reach the jug of water that had been left for her. Long enough to reach the pile of cushions she slept on. Not long enough to reach the candles, which provided her a little light after the sun went down. Not long enough to reach the doorway.

  Sometimes she imagined picking up a cushion and throwing it at the candle, setting the place ablaze. But then either she would be beaten as punishment, or burned alive. Neither of those options was appealing.

  Her task had been Khareh’s idea, even though Altan – his vile adviser – had argued persistently against it. Wadi had quickly learned to avoid the scrutiny of the beak-nosed Altan, who had once advised Khareh’s uncle, before turning traitor to him and throwing his support behind Khareh. The only person in the entire camp worse than Altan was Garus – the snivelling, weak sage who had taught Khareh the secret of his craft: that he needed to break a vow. Where Altan was like a vulture, circling the carnage until it was safe to feed on the remnants, Garus was a rat scurrying for Khareh’s scraps on the ground. And it was Garus who had convinced Khareh to break his oath to Raim.

  For most of the first month in captivity, Wadi had heard a man’s screams on the other side of the yurt’s thick felt walls. More than once, it had been enough to make her heave the contents of her stomach onto the carpets, imagining what the man must be going through, although she never gave Khareh the pleasure of seeing her discomfort. One night, she had heard the man scream a name – ‘Zu’ – and she realized it was Vlad being tortured. From the cackle that followed, she recognized his torturer: Garus.

  She had tried to break through the walls that separated them, then. She had kicked at the frame of the yurt, trying to break off a splinter of wood and hack through the felt. But Khareh’s guards had been on her immediately, shortening her rope and securing it more tightly than usual.

  Last night, there had been silence. No more screaming.

  Wadi almost cried tears of relief, but then her stomach filled with dread. The lack of noise could only mean one of
two things: Vlad was dead, or he had been sent away. She would never be able to help him. And he would never be able to help her.

  Her last connection to her former life was gone. Raim was her only hope. But she didn’t know where Raim was, or if he was even in Darhan any more. The last time she had seen him, he had been trapped underneath falling rocks as a cave came crashing down around him.

  Pain blossomed beneath her ribs, reminding her of Khareh’s brutality and recklessness – the memory of Khareh plunging the knife into her chest almost as painful as the moment itself. The wound could have killed her, but he had reassured her later that he had always known his spirit could heal her before she lost too much blood. Khareh played with life like it was a toy he could discard at any moment.

  It had been the second time she had been brought back from the brink of near-death by a spirit. Once by Draikh, after she had fallen from the tunnel exit of Lazar. Once by the spirit of Raim.

  She wasn’t keen to try the trick a third time.

  She reached instinctively to the pendant at her neck. One of her haziest memories of her time in captivity was just after she had been stabbed. Khareh had brought her to his yurt, where the spirit of Raim performed the healing. Khareh had tried to take the pendant from her then, but Garus had stopped him. Even through the cloud of pain, she heard him explain about the oath contained within the pass-stone: that any person who possessed it was sworn to return to Lazar. ‘Let the girl remain bound to that cursed place, like I am, your Eminence. You do not want that burden to bear.’

  Since then, Khareh had rarely let her out of his sight. He had her trapped. She couldn’t just take off the pendant and leave it behind, and he knew it. Any attempt to abandon the pass-stone would make her an oathbreaker to the spirits within the stone. And that was something she could never allow. The taboo bothered her still. Even if the person who occupied her thoughts the most was an oathbreaker.