The Shadowglass

by Rin Chupeco

  “We’re not leaving you, Tea,” Khalad protested.

  “You won’t have a choice. You still have a duty to the kingdoms, and you’re not the type of person to turn your back on them. You’ll have hearts to forge, and you’ll find your own novices to train eventually. But without me, you’ll be safer.”

  “And can you do the same?” Likh asked shrewdly, stepping into the room. He had forsaken his usual hua and was dressed in dark clothes and thick breeches, his long hair pulled back. “You’re not the type to turn away when you know people need help.”

  “I’ll travel if I have to, avoid detection. I’ll visit villages, treat the sick to earn money.”

  “And what if another daeva appears? If you take it down with the Dark, then you accomplish what the elder asha want—to have your life drained with every resurrection. And if you bond them like you did the azi, then you may as well shine a beacon revealing your location, because the asha will find you.”

  “Let’s not make any hasty decisions,” Kalen said. “One thing at a time. Focus on the Drychta and Kance now, and we’ll weigh the rest of our options later.”

  “I won’t let you come to any more harm, Likh,” I said. “But in the end, it might not be my choice to make.”

  “Then for as long as we can still make decisions, I’ll go with you.” Likh hugged me, then turned to Khalad. “I would like to talk to you. Do you have a moment?”

  The Heartforger cast a furtive glance at me and nodded.

  “Did you mean that?” Kalen asked me as they stepped out. “Do you really want to spend the rest of your life living in the middle of nowhere like some hermit?”

  “Wasn’t that what you wanted?”

  “I meant living in a small town under assumed names. I have enough funds to set us up in moderate comfort indefinitely. Complete isolation isn’t what I—Tea?”

  I stared at the wall, awed.

  “Tea?”

  “Do we have enough time for a detour again?” I asked faintly. “Before we head to Kance’s army?”

  “It should be another two days before the Odalians reach Mithra’s Wall. Armies can’t move quickly over that terrain. Why?”

  “Because we need to stop by Istera. I want to have a talk with the Gorvekai. The symbol on Sakmeet’s notes—I knew I’d seen it before.” I placed my hands against the wall, where Lord Aden had showed me the faint Gorvekan symbols the night before. “I think the Gorvekai are the missing link in all of this, Kalen.”

  “I cannot join you,” Lord Garindor said regretfully as I secured my meager belongings. “There is little I can do in a war that I can do better in its aftermath, and you already serve as royal chronicler.”

  “I was commissioned by the bone witch, not by Empress Alyx.” I saw Lord Fox astride Chief, already deep in discussion with Lord Knox and the Kion generals. Lady Zoya was present, attending to their own preparations. Lady Shadi, who was to remain behind and oversee the salvaging of the Willows, flew to the latter’s side to give her a sweet kiss, oblivious to the faint wolf whistles of the men. Lady Altaecia had already left with a smaller party to scout ahead of the main army.

  “Yet you call her the slur they use to brand those of her profession. You are the closest thing to her defender among these Kions after Princess Inessa, and yet you bear a grudge,” he said.

  “She left me to my own devices and broke her promise, and she has never once called me by my own name. I don’t see why I cannot do the same,” I replied.

  “Would you have preferred it if she called you by your name? Not the one you call yourself nowadays, at any rate.”

  I glanced sharply down at him.

  “I will keep your secret, milord. We are very good at that. I wish you peace and good blessings, my esteemed brother, and when the long day is done, may you find your way back home.” Lord Garindor bowed—not in the royal Odalian or Kion way, but in the Drychta manner—his head pressed close to the ground and his hands upturned before it, then rose to leave, ignoring the curious stares after him.

  Lord Khalad had reappeared, pale and wan and uncommunicative. He ignored the others and saddled his horse.

  “You don’t need to come with us, Khalad,” Lord Fox told him, sympathy laced through his words.

  “I will see this through with Tea, Fox. I have a feeling I will be needed where you are going. What do you think Tea’s doing?”

  The other man scowled. “She’s luring us there. And she knows we can’t afford to ignore her. Do you know her reasons?”

  The Heartforger spread his hands. “Your guess is as good as mine. But if it’s a trap, it’s likely a trap for the Drychta. Why she wants us there, on the other hand, is a complete mystery to me.”

  “Hold!”

  Lord Fox turned warily as a soldier rushed forward. A hasty conversation commenced, and Lord Fox frowned. “It’s unusual to see so many of them here,” he mused. “I’ve only seen two before, and that was when they presented Mykkie and Tea with Chief and Kismet.”

  “It’s best to see what they want, Fox,” Lady Zoya said. “We cannot linger for too long.”

  “They” turned out to be a group of Gorvekai. They waited respectfully while Lord Fox rode forward to greet them. Despite the heat, they remained garbed in thick woolen furs, though they took off their traditional caps as a concession. Their leader cantered forward.

  “You are the General Pahlavi,” he said. “Sister to the Dark asha and royal consort to the princess of Kion.”

  “What do you want with us, milord? As you can see, we are in a hurry.”

  “Perhaps it would be best then that we come with you to the southern edges of Odalia, to aid King Kance.”

  “You are knowledgeable of both our movements and our objectives, sir?”

  “My name is Agnarr, the first of my clan. The Gorvekai have come to pledge our assistance in your war against the Drychta. We are here to see our prophecies come to pass.”

  “And what prophecy is that, Sir Agnarr?”

  The man smiled. “The prophecy of the shadowglass, General Pahlavi. Your sister came to us once, seeking its spell as many have done before her. For so long we have kept to our community along the Ice Knife, waiting for one who might be worthy to wield it. We have pledged our service and our loyalty to Little Tears’s seed, and now she has bade us to aid you in your battle against both Druj and the Drychta that the Faceless compels.”

  15

  “Th-this wasn’t exactly what I h-had in mind when I asked for a ch-change of scenery!” Likh chattered against my ear as we clambered off the azi. We had traded the mild Yadoshan climate for the bone-chilling winters of Istera, but the capital city of Farsun was not our destination. Instead, we had flown farther north, onto the Gorvekan steppes. The wind was harsh and biting, and not even the warmest cloaks we’d brought for the journey nor the Fire runes Kalen manifested to warm us could counteract the cold.

  Already a group of Gorvekai gathered, watching us silently. They wore their cloak pelts loosely, but generations spent in the harshest climate meant their bodies were toughened by weather. They had no heartsglass that I could see, but I fancied they were more curious of us than anything else.

  As we approached, I saw Fire runes blazed around the Gorvekai as well, bright and red against the winterscape. I had only ever seen two Gorvekai in my life; they traveled to Kion during my apprenticeship, bringing with them the horses Mykaela and I would eventually love as Kismet and Chief. The latter whinnied softly at the sight of them, ears perked.

  “Stay on your guard, Tea,” Kalen cautioned. “It’s rare for Gorvekai to allow strangers onto their soil. Not even asha and Deathseekers are permitted to stay long.”

  “Except for Mykaela,” I whispered. “Kalen, they gave us Chief and Kismet in gratitude for something Mykkie had done for them. Surely they remember.”

  Their leader’s gaze tra
veled to Chief, who was still nickering in delight. “What do you want from us?”

  I cleared my throat. “We’ve come to talk about shadowglass.”

  The others took a step back, hostility replacing their polite indifference. Some of the men and women reached for bows and axes. Still others wove familiar runes into the air, which glittered against the falling snow. Likh made a startled sound.

  “Wait!” I talked hurriedly. “We mean no harm. The Faceless have infiltrated Mithra’s Wall, searching for the First Harvest.”

  A snort echoed against the quiet; one of the men snickered. Soon, another joined in and then another; until laughter surrounded us. Even the leader, so unwelcoming only seconds before, allowed a grin to cross his harsh, bearded features.

  “They will find nothing in Mithra’s Wall, Tea of the Embers. The First Harvest does not reside within those mountains. There is nothing to fear, and you may leave safe in that knowledge.”

  But I was not one to give up so easily. “As a token of your gratitude, you once gifted my mentor, Lady Mykaela, two horses, one of whom is now my constant companion. Please, I beseech you—we are dying. Lady Mykaela is dying. The Dark that we draw is killing us. I came because the old legends speak of the People of the Shadow, who know the secrets to shadowglass. That’s who you are, aren’t you?”

  The axes and bows rose again, trained on me this time. Kalen inched closer, but I stopped him, my gaze on their leader. “I understand your suspicions. You’ve protected it for thousands of years. But I know you too wish to keep shadowglass from the Faceless. I don’t want it in their hands either.”

  The man said nothing. Kalen was rigid with tension. Behind me, Likh gulped noisily. But the man lifted his hand and uttered a word I did not understand. The others lowered their weapons.

  “We are of the Shadow,” he said. “In your tongue, I am called Agnarr. In mine, it means the Edge of a Sword. We’ve shared bread with Mykaela of the Sorrows, and we extend our welcome to Tea of the Embers and her companions.” His gaze moved to Likh, who was still shivering. At another gesture from Agnarr, the other warriors stepped forward, weaving. The bursts of fire they created were warmer than what most asha could channel. “Our home lies near the mountain. We shall speak there.”

  The Gorvekans’ village turned out to be a wooden settlement protected by a wall of runes—Fire, Ice, and Shield—carefully maintained by watchful guards. Children scampered about, pausing to stare at us while men and women hovered near campfires. There were dark-skinned and light-skinned Gorvekai, red- and yellow- and dark-haired. The delicious smell of cooking meat filled the air, and my stomach growled, an indication that I had eaten little that day.

  “For a small community, they sure do have a lot of runebinders,” Likh murmured.

  “I had the opportunity of talking with Lord Garindor before we left Istera,” Khalad said. “If they’re the People of the Shadow, then he says they’re the direct descendants of the people who lived around the same time as Blade that Soars ruled, and they’re supposedly stronger in the runic arts than most. But the Gorvekai’s isolation may be a problem, if it promotes inbreeding.”

  “Not quite,” said one of the women guiding us toward the largest stone enclosure in the small town. “We travel the world frequently to trade our runeberries, and we take partners from kingdoms as far as Kion and Drycht. Look around; we are a varied people, and for good purpose. To live within our own lineage weakens the alchemy of our hearts. To survive, we exchange heartsglass with all.”

  “But you wear no heartsglass,” Khalad said.

  The woman laid a hand against her chest. “We have no need for glass trinkets to see our own, honored Forger.”

  The largest building lay in the shadow of Stranger’s Peak, the tallest mountain among the kingdoms. Kalen stared up at the imposing ridge with an expression I’d learned to recognize. “Why are you staring at the mountain the same way you stare at bamieh?”

  His head whipped around so fast I was surprised it didn’t come off his neck. “I don’t look at bamieh like that!”

  “Your mouth waters every time I mention fried dough.”

  He scowled. “The Gorvekai harvest the best quality runeberries atop Stranger’s Peak. I tried the wine distilled from it once. It was…more than pleasant. And very expensive.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Perhaps if you scale the mountain, they’ll give you a sip. Stranger’s Peak is not a sight everyone gets to see up close, and you’re thinking about runeberries?”

  “It was really good wine, Tea.”

  We sat on comfortable-looking bundles made from animal pelts. Our female guide and another girl stepped forward with bowls of fragrant-smelling liquid.

  “My daughters,” Lord Agnarr murmured. “Solveiga and Eydís—Strength of the Sun and Celestial Fortune. We have added some kolscheya to your rose tea, to encourage the warmth back into your bones. It is essential, living in the heart of winter.” The man fixed a steely gaze on me. “Why have you come for shadowglass?”

  “Before we discuss that, I have one request. My friend here, Likh—he’s been blighted. We were hoping perhaps you knew of some spell that could heal—”

  Already the man was shaking his head. “Not even our ancestors knew of a true antidote.” Likh lowered his head. “But she is adequately shielded, and she will be safe. The effects of the Blight rune will pass in a few weeks, though Lady Likh must take the utmost care before then.”

  The boy asha looked up. “Oh…I’m not—I’m not a girl.”

  “My apologies,” Agnarr said gently. “Your heartsglass is not afraid to speak its honesty, and I only follow what it expresses. But if that troubles you…”

  “No. No, it doesn’t. Th-thank you, milord,” the asha stuttered.

  “There are other things you are afraid of, Lady Tea, that you do not say. You are afraid for your brother, estranged as you are.”

  I started.

  “I see it clearly in your heart. Your brother walks a thin line between the lands of life and death. To use shadowglass means to give up the Dark. But to give up the Dark means to give up your brother, and that you will never do.”

  I nodded, speechless, trembling at how quickly Agnarr saw through me.

  “Our people guard the secrets of Hollow Knife. It is to our benefit that the world knows little of shadowglass. You have no intention of taking its power for your own—I see that much.”

  Khalad spoke up. “Why haven’t you completed the spell yourself?”

  “None of our people draw the Dark. We can channel all runes but those. It was deliberate—our blood does not share in the curse of Little Tears. We can accomplish shadowglass without an outsider’s help no more than they can succeed without ours.”

  “Lady Mykaela helped you?” I found myself asking.

  “The zarich rarely makes its way this far north, but on one occasion it drew close to our territory, long before the Dark asha Sakmeet made Farsun her home. I promised to gift her the best of our horses at the zarich’s passing. But Lady Mykaela was not fit for our purpose without her heartsglass. Though she has reclaimed it, she has been greatly weakened.”

  “So Mykaela knew about shadowglass?”

  “No. There are trials Dark asha must agree to take before we impart our knowledge. She knew nothing.” His eyes settled on mine. “You are the first to come to us armed with that knowledge. Have you come to volunteer?”

  “What would she be volunteering for exactly?” Kalen asked suspiciously.

  “There are two key components of shadowglass—the light and the dark. To attain the light, the essence of the Five Great Heroes must be distilled into a silver heart. We have perfected a technique over the centuries, which allows us to forge one without taking a life.” He looked at Khalad. “I believe, Heartforger, that you and your master, Narel, had discovered our method.”

  Khalad nodded,
awed. “It only looks easy in hindsight.”

  “The other is the dark, and that is a far more dangerous route, one that only Dark asha can safely create.”

  I nodded slowly. The words came easy from memory. “Present yourself with a heartsglass of black, where love’s blood had shed over, and seven daeva’s bezoars. Boil the stones separately, and drink a vial’s worth of their waters. Weave Compulsion in the air; its heart shall reveal itself to you. Take it into your heartsglass—”

  “And be born anew,” Agnarr finished. “The process will not be gentle.” He smiled at the incredulity on our faces. “We are all connected. Sea and sky can influence each other, though they never meet. The words you speak come from the same legends we honor.”

  Wordlessly, Khalad rose and went to our packs, rummaging until he found a heavy pouch. Returning, he upended its contents on the ground. Bezoars rolled out. The taurvi’s stopped beside my foot.

  “Where did you get this, Khalad?” I gasped.

  “From the Dawnseed apothecary. Mistress Salika’s mother suffered from the early stages of dementia, and she was kind enough to give me the remains of the taurvi’s bezoar in exchange for a healthy heartsglass. And here is the aeshma’s from the year before, and the bezoar of the savul you fought in Daanoris. And of course, the zarich’s from Istera, and the nanghait’s from Yadosha.”

  “But how did you get all these?” I asked.

  “First Minister Stefan didn’t care about the nanghait bezoar, quite frankly. King Rendorvik offered the zarich’s back to me. And as for Empress Alyx…” Khalad cleared his throat. “She doesn’t know. I swore Salika to secrecy.”

  “Khalad!” Likh gasped.

  “They imprisoned Tea, Likh. I knew the elders would seek it out sooner or later. I couldn’t talk to Alyx without one of them in attendance, so I took it before they could.”