The Shadow’s Curse

by Amy McCulloch

He closed his eyes for a brief second, and when he opened them again, the spirit of Lady Chabi was in front of him, floating above her unconscious body. ‘You have to remake your promise to me. You have come so far. This is the final step.’

  He looked from her to Draikh. Are you sure I should do this?

  He smiled. ‘What have we come all this way for?’

  Mei, held out a length of promise rope, and Raim gasped. It was the same thin indigo thread that he had worn around his wrist. The same thread that had burned to form the crimson scar. ‘This came with Lady Chabi, to be used for this very moment.’

  Raim had nothing of his own to promise with – at least, none of his own promise-string. So instead he plucked a hair from his head – crude, but effective. This will have to do, he thought.

  He reached down and took her hand, and it wasn’t as cold as he expected. In fact, it grew warmer under his touch. He held the piece of cord in a loose loop around his wrist, and then wrapped the hair beneath the string. He took a deep breath. ‘I . . .’ He stopped, the words choking in the back of his throat. He looked up at Draikh, who gave him a firm nod. ‘I am Raimanan, descendant of Hao, the last true Khan of Darhan. I promise I will stop at nothing until I take my rightful place on the throne of Darhan and all the lands under Naran, as the Golden Khan. I promise that I will pursue this goal with single-minded intensity until I have fulfilled my destiny. I promise this, with all my heart.’ With each sentence, he pulled the knot tighter, and at each pull, his conviction grew. He would do this.

  There was a flash of light, so bright it filled the tiny room and blinded Raim. He moved to pull his hand away from his mother’s, but her grip suddenly tightened on his like a vice.

  He stared down at his wrist, in utter disbelief.

  The scar was gone.

  In its place, the knot that held the new promise of his destiny.

  Raim shook. He shook with relief and shock. His body was wracked with sobs, his muscles collapsed so that he slumped into a heap on the bed as the immensity of the weight removed from him suddenly hit him. He was free of the taboo. He had the chance to make everything right again.

  Now, with this bracelet of honour as opposed to the scar of fear, he could be a leader of people.

  Maybe he was starting to believe it.

  Raim was no longer an oathbreaker.

  49

  WADI

  She closed her eyes and let the heat wash over her.

  She had missed this.

  Oh, how she had missed this. How could she have forgotten?

  When she breathed in deeply, the heat hit her in the back of her throat and the sand cleansed her nostrils. Even here, on the edge of the cliffs – not yet fully out into the desert – she could feel its power.

  This was her home. When she had lived here, she hadn’t known it. But now that she had been away, she could tell by the feeling in her bones. She felt settled. Her muscles were relaxed. Her breathing slowed. She recognized her feelings as the same ones that had shown on Raim’s face when they had reached Darhan from Lazar.

  That air had been his. This air was hers.

  Khareh came up to stand beside her, on the edge of the cliff. Wadi half expected him to say something dismissive, but instead his eyes widened at the sight.

  ‘Sola’s great desert. Everyone told me it would be impossible to cross. But now, here we are.’ He passed her a drawstring sack, filled with things she had asked for: water skins, dried meats, shelter, and a cloak similar to the ones used by the Alashan. She slung the sack over her shoulder.

  The pass-stones had led her to this place. She had cast her mind out to reach the spirits concealed within the stones, and they had led her to this place – not far from where she and Raim had arrived. Close enough that her chest ached from the ghost of her wound. Somewhere, along these cliffs, was a new entrance to Lazar. But Khareh wanted to experience one night in the desert first, and Wadi was happy to oblige. It meant fewer people might follow them, because – for now – they had the entire army with them.

  Khareh turned to Wadi.

  ‘The tunnel entrance is nearby?’

  She nodded.

  ‘Then let’s get started. I don’t want to waste any more time.’

  Khareh moved towards their horses, his own still bearing the immense embroidered saddle that he loved to ride on. The beast held its head high – it was taller than any of the other horses in Darhan, ponies bred for stamina not speed.

  Wadi had to stifle a laugh.

  For all his intelligence, he really thought that he could bring that horse through the tunnels? That he could just ride out onto the sand and conquer Sola like he had conquered Yelak? Maybe Khareh was just the human version of that horse – too ornamental, too big, too needy for the desert. The desert took everything you were, ground it up, and spat it back out again. The more there was to grind, the harder it tried. Khareh was a feast in the eyes of the desert. Wadi was barely a bite. She had grown up being tested, ground down, hardened and shaped by the desert. She was like a piece of sand glass – sharp and smooth at the same time, a part of the desert, one of its creations – it couldn’t touch her, it could only make her better.

  ‘Stop!’ she said, finally. ‘You can’t. You can’t go through the tunnels on that animal – you’ll kill it.’

  Khareh looked set to protest. Loudly. But instead he threw his head back and laughed. ‘Of course not! See, this is why I need you, Wadi. This is neither the time nor the place for you, Brundi.’ He patted the horse on its dark neck. Then he turned back to the group. ‘In fact, this is not the place for any of you.

  ‘Lars – I place you in charge of my army. Should I fail to return, you must guard Darhan against the Southern King – but it is not my intention that he shall ever reach these borders.’

  Lars bowed in response. ‘The army will be ready and waiting for your triumphant return, my Khan.’

  ‘Good. Tell all your generals – I will be addressing the army in a few minutes.’

  He outstretched his arms and his shadow flew him to the top of the army’s largest elephant, who stood at the front of the ranks at the edge of the cliff, the desert spreading out behind them. All the Darhanian soldiers were in front, thousands of men standing in silence, and behind them – yurts filled with women and children too young to fight, but old enough to help the war effort.

  Their fearless leader was about to set off to save them. And if he couldn’t, then they would have to save themselves.

  And even further back, Wadi knew, were the Chauk. The ones whose souls were being used to fuel Khareh’s spirit army.

  Who was going to save them?

  Wadi stood by one of the elephant’s great feet, dangerously close to the edge. She enjoyed it because she could feel the heat on her back, warming her.

  Khareh stood, his feet wide apart, his arms on his hips, balancing adroitly on the top of the howdah. Wadi looked up at him. This was when Khareh was in his element. He shone here. And high up, on the back of that elephant, he looked like the Golden Khan. He quite literally had the desert at his feet.

  Were it not for everything he had done, he could be a leader the people could believe in.

  His voice boomed out across the crowd as he cried out: ‘Soldiers of Darhan!’ His words were echoed by generals, relaying his message out across the masses. ‘Thank you for your bravery! We have united the North; we have conquered Yelak and brought down the traitor Mermaden. Now we are facing another threat to our borders. The King of the South is coming! The heathens are coming to Darhan to take our land and enslave our people. But I will not let them. I am your Khan. I am your Golden Khan. And when I return, Darhan will not only be free, but the most powerful nation on this earth!’

  A cheer rose up from in front of Khareh, so strong that it almost knocked Wadi back off the ledge. As word spread down the field, more shouts rose up, until it felt like the entire North was cheering for Khareh.

  Wadi swallowed hard, more determined now than eve
r. She had to do something drastic if Raim was going to have a chance. Otherwise . . .

  Something on the horizon caught her eye. At first she thought it might just have been light glinting off the helmets, or dust raised by the crowd beating their boots into the dusty ground. But it was neither of those things.

  It was shadows.

  It was the spirit-army.

  As the spirit-army passed over the heads of the soldiers, she watched them cringe, bend their knees and even keel over, in an attempt to get away from the taboo. They cheered for Khareh, but they were also afraid of him. Afraid of the power he wrought through the shadows. Afraid of the scar that cut across his hand – and in a thousand other places beside that they could not see.

  Even Wadi cowered as the spirits flew overhead. In a flash, Khareh was down from the elephant’s back, sliding down the ladders with unnatural ease, and he was by her side. ‘Are you ready?’ he asked, a twinkle in his eye.

  Ready to enter the desert? She was born ready. She imagined it would take them a day – possibly more – to find a route down to the desert from the cliff. She shrugged a response to Khareh, who took that as affirmation.

  He spun round to face the desert, on the very edge of the cliff. He stretched out his arms, holding out one hand to Wadi. ‘Shall we go?’

  She didn’t take his outstretched hand.

  He took two steps forward anyway. And jumped.

  The air thickened all around her as a steady stream of spirits whipped past, the entire army. They swept over her, around her, above her. She had to follow that? She grabbed her original pendant with her hand, held it tightly, thought of Lazar and the mission that Dharma had given her.

  Then she walked to the edge of the cliff, and continued walking.

  50

  WADI

  It was hard to imagine that somewhere across the vast, golden ocean, there was an equally vast army massing against Darhan. Wadi stared across the enormous dunes and half imagined that she could see the glint of sunlight off armour, spears shaking in the air, horses pawing the ground. It was exactly what Wadi had warned Khareh against. No army could survive the desert, surely? But what about an army that had been preparing for this journey far, far longer than Khareh’s army had? What if they had provisions, plans, access to water, and unlimited numbers of soldiers?

  What if all they needed to do was take Lazar? Then it would be an easier journey into Darhan.

  The Darhanian army, for all their training, wouldn’t have a chance.

  If a single army scout from the South came and looked at them now, what would they see?

  The two of them, standing on the top of the dune – Khareh still in his ridiculous crown, his intricately woven cloak wrapped over his shoulders, Wadi in her simple indigo tunic of the Alashan. And behind them, a dark swarm of shadows, as far as the eye could see. Would the shadows look threatening to them?

  ‘The desert. We are here at last. I feel like the gods have brought me here to this moment.’

  Wadi turned away, staring at the sand beneath her feet. ‘Let’s get on with finding the tunnel.’

  Wadi took him only as far as they could go while still in sight of the dark line that marked the cliffs of Darhan. They continued to walk in the morning light, since while Darhan was still visible the sun was not at its full strength, and while they still had food and water in their bellies, they were strong.

  Wadi felt the sun warm her bones, and relished the delicious burn of her muscles working hard to fight the sand.

  To his credit, Khareh refused to show much discomfort, even though he must have been feeling it. The only concession he made was to remove his crown, which he passed to his shadow to carry for him. Sweat soaked his hairline, making his dark hair seem slick with oil. As he struggled just to put one foot in front of the other, he seemed to lose the hardness that defined his character in Darhan – the boy trying so hard to hold onto his newly won power. Even with the spirit-army behind him, Wadi saw the true meaning of Khareh’s journey. He was travelling all this way, on his own, to prove his worth.

  There was something to admire in that.

  When Sola reached its peak, Wadi said: ‘Stop. We will rest here before it gets too hot.’

  Khareh, however, kept on moving, plodding one foot in front of the other.

  ‘I said stop!’ Wadi repeated.

  He spoke without turning his head back to look at her. ‘If you ask me to stop now and I obey, I won’t be able to move again today. Or possibly tomorrow.’

  ‘That’s the plan.’

  ‘Oh, good.’ Just like that, Khareh’s legs gave out from under him, and he collapsed to the ground in a heap.

  ‘Not so easy, is it?’

  ‘I could curl up in the sand here and die, if my entire country wasn’t on the line . . .’

  Wadi chuckled, but then sobered. She was silent for a moment, then she ran her hands over the sand.

  Khareh leaned forward. ‘What is it?’

  ‘Can you feel that?’

  He spread his palms next to hers. ‘Feel what?’

  Wadi was silent for a moment. ‘There! That.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Water.’ Wadi’s eyes shone. ‘Deep below the surface. If we had a sandworm, we could access it.’ She breathed a deep sigh of relief because she could still remember how to read the desert, as easily as words on a page. Even more easily, maybe. The desert didn’t betray her, didn’t carry secrets, didn’t try to deceive or confuse her. It told her the truth.

  She could feel the water surging through the sand, far below the surface, every granule beneath her legs vibrating the message. But then something jolted her out of her reminiscing. Khareh moved his hand so that it was over hers.

  She looked up at him in alarm. But he wasn’t looking back at her with desire – at least, not that kind of desire.

  ‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘For showing this to me.’

  She snatched her hand away like it had been plunged in ice water, and set about preparing her shelter for the day. Khareh watched her with his dark eyes, copying her every movement.

  They rested through the heat of the day, and at night they started walking again. Wadi followed her instincts, guided by the stones, which brought them back towards the cliffs. Far above their heads, she could see a dark spot – the entrance to a tunnel.

  Her hand moved to her pendant. She wasn’t sure if she was imagining it, but it seemed like the stone pulsed with heat. Yes, this is the place.

  ‘Is that the entrance?’ Khareh asked.

  Wadi nodded.

  ‘Then let’s go.’

  51

  RAIM

  ‘My child, my son. You have made it to me.’

  Lady Chabi awoke, her eyelids fluttering, the words coming out as barely a whisper. The Council women behind him, including Mei, all made cries of astonishment as Lady Chabi shifted in the bed, trying to pull herself up to a sitting position.

  Mei rushed forward and moved a well-stuffed cushion behind her mistress’s back. ‘Lady Chabi of the Council, do you remember me? I am Mei. I have been your loyal servant ever since—’

  ‘Ever since I had to leave Darhan.’ Chabi placed her other hand on the woman’s cheek, although the movement made her wince. ‘Of course I remember you. So, have I made it to the South? Did you do everything I instructed?’

  ‘Of course, my lady.’

  Relief washed over Lady Chabi’s features. ‘Then we don’t have a moment to lose. Get me out of this bed.’

  The long years lying still while her spirit accompanied Raim had atrophied the muscles in Lady Chabi’s legs, even though the Council had tried their hardest to keep her moving and comfortable.

  ‘Are you sure you don’t want to rest longer, Lady Chabi?’ In truth, Raim wanted to ask her some of the myriad questions he had on the tip of his tongue.

  ‘Call me “mother”,’ she replied, her smile sweet.

  Raim hesitated. He knew that his mother was originally Baril, but Loni a
nd the other elders had raised him as a child of the steppes. The concept of ‘mother’ and ‘father’ rang hollow for him. He had been taught that his destiny was his own to carve out, and he felt far more affection to Loni and even his mysterious grandmother Yasmin than he could towards this woman he had only just met.

  Obviously he had been wrong about his destiny . . .

  He still left out the word ‘mother’. It didn’t feel right. ‘I just have so many questions.’

  ‘My spirit will heal me quickly now that it has returned,’ she said. She inhaled deeply. ‘I will be strong soon; I can feel it. There will be time for questions later.’

  ‘Our most important duty now is to retrieve the pass-stone,’ said Mei. ‘Once we have that, we can join the king with his army at the edge of the desert. He has been waiting for you, Raim.’

  Raim nodded, swallowing hard. He stole glances down at his wrist as the Council women fussed over Lady Chabi. He couldn’t believe the scar had gone, just like that.

  In order to move from the bed, Lady Chabi had to be lifted into a palanquin – a bamboo chair supported by poles, and carried by two of the Council women. Raim chose to walk alongside her – and even offered to carry one of the poles, but his mother refused.

  They crossed an enormous courtyard paved in grey stone to reach the main room of the palace – a single-storey red-painted building that was the widest single building he had ever seen. The contrast between the red and grey made the palace appear like a boat in the centre of a dark grey sea: isolated, huge and imposing. The roof of the building was tiled in gold – so much gold Raim’s jaw dropped at the sight. It glinted under Naran’s rays, almost blinding Raim as they crossed.

  Raim always believed that the khans of Darhan were rich, with access to all the wealth they could want in the world. But compared to the king’s palace in Aqben, they looked like paupers.

  All around in the courtyard, Raim could see other men and women being carried in similar chairs to his mother, but the men who carried them wore nothing but a strip of cloth around their waists. He couldn’t help but stare. ‘Are there many in Aqben unable to walk?’ Raim asked Mei.