The Shadowglass

by Rin Chupeco

  “And the aeshma?” Kalen asked. “It was slain in Odalia, Khalad. By rights, Kance was supposed to have it.”

  Khalad sighed. “He gave it to me two months ago, when I visited him last. He thought it would be more beneficial in Tea’s hands than in his.”

  “Kance said that?” I whispered.

  “But what do we do with them?” Likh demanded. “Are you going to let Tea use her own heart?”

  “If I volunteered,” I asked, thinking, “what can I do to keep my brother alive?”

  “Tea!” Kalen exclaimed.

  “The First Harvest kills those who do not bear the shadowglass,” Lord Agnarr said, “not even the Great Heroes were exempted from that tragedy, and all save Rashnu the Just perished. Including Vernasha herself. But to one that possesses the light and the dark, the First Harvest is like mother’s milk. Distill the juices of the First Harvest into a familiar’s heart, to take back what death had decreed.”

  “That is, word for word, the same line in a book I once took from a Faceless woman,” I said.

  “Words are shapeshifters. They take different forms to suit different motivations. The word for blue can be sifted and changed until it spells red. We share similar teachings with the Faceless, but what they take and learn from those teachings are different from the messages we treasure. It is why words are important, and it is why they can be dangerous.”

  “Do you know then where the First Harvest is located? Is it at the Ring of Worship?”

  The man nodded approvingly. “We believe so. But no asha, Dark or otherwise, has ever seen it and returned alive. Only Rashnu the Just survived, and only because he was wise enough to touch nothing.”

  “So the only way is to acquire shadowglass?”

  “A test is required, to prove one’s worthiness.”

  “Why is this necessary?” Khalad asked.

  “The road to treachery and malice has always been cobbled with the intentions of those who thought to only do what was best.”

  I put my hand over my heartsglass instinctively.

  “There is no shame in a black heart, Lady Tea.” Agnarr’s fingers caressed the air. Something shimmered on his chest: a heartsglass of impenetrable black.

  Likh gasped.

  “There are many myths regarding black heartsglass. It is not a sign of corruption, as many kingdoms would believe. It is a sign of strength and power, the ability to harness your talents beyond the average runebinder’s. Very few can manifest the black, though it is more common among Dark asha and Faceless. The Dark runes are the strongest of the magics, after all.” He drew another rune, and the outlines of a strange, ever-branching tree shimmered into view.

  “What is that?” Likh asked, entranced.

  “The rune to summon shadowglass. You can create it before the First Harvest as many times as you desire, but without shadowglass, it will refuse your call each time. To acquire shadowglass, you must first abide by our test. To you, seeking Hollow Knife’s path: present yourself to the mountain for judgment.”

  Silently, I cursed Aenah for being right. “What is this mountain that I must pass?” I felt Kalen’s hand on my arm, but I persisted. “What is it that I need to do?”

  In response, Lord Agnarr turned his face to stare out the window at the looming figure of Stranger’s Peak.

  Likh’s mouth fell open. “Tea has to climb the mountain?”

  “No, Lady Likh. Our men and women scale Stranger’s Peak frequently to gather runeberries to sell. It is a difficult task, but it is not impossible. To pass the test, Lady Tea must not go up the mountain; instead, she must go through it.”

  “You can ask me a question, if you’d like,” she said.

  She was Lord Agnarr’s daughter, called Solveiga, Strength of the Sun. It was a strange name for someone who has spent most of her years in winter, under the shadow of a mountain. “We prize what we do not always have,” she responded, and I could not refute her logic.

  Here, sitting on her horse in ungainly furs as we traveled to southern Odalia with the rest of the Kion army, she looked at ease with the world. I envied this skill of hers—it was one I had never been able to master.

  “Did your father tell the Dark asha the secrets of shadowglass?” I spotted Lord Agnarr riding with Lord Fox, the two engaged in deep conversation. The asha’s brother seemed troubled, but they were too far away for their words to reach us.

  She nodded at her father. “That was the same question your general asked earlier. As Lady Tea’s familiar, Lord Fox will die should she complete the spell. His courage is commendable, but he has no reason to worry. A touch of the First Harvest upon his own, and he will be saved.”

  I said, “He didn’t want his sister to take shadowglass. He knows she will die from it.”

  “She’s been dying for a long time, milord. There is a reason why we keep shadowglass a secret. There is a reason why Faceless seek us out despite not truly understanding the tenets of Hollow Knife. We have been threatened by the Faceless more times than they have threatened kingdoms, and still they balk at rising against us. Once we are gone, their hopes cannot come to fruition. We cannot be compelled, and their holds on daeva have always been tenuous—not as complete as Lady Tea’s. Should she join darksglass and lightsglass with the First Harvest, then she too becomes a creature of magic. Do you not see what happens next?”

  “If all magic dies,” I began slowly, and then understood, “so will she.”

  “It is a strong possibility. I suspect she has realized the same, and that is why she makes many plans. She has two familiars now, doesn’t she?”

  “Lord Kalen would rather share her fate than gain another lifetime without her, milady.”

  “Perhaps. We are wary of those who come seeking shadowglass. We trust the mountain to judge the worthy. Lady Tea will become like a goddess herself. She could choose to divest herself of those powers—perhaps sacrificing her life in the process—or use them to hold dominion over us as a god. Though the mountain rejects those who choose the latter. That is why so many runebinders fail its test. That is why so many Faceless are desperate for another way.”

  A yell rose from the vanguard. Clouds of dust swirled as weapons were drawn. Lord Fox swore loudly and rode on ahead, the rest of the soldiers at his heels.

  A small regiment of dead Drychta littered the ground. We could not gauge their numbers at first glance, for many had been torn apart.

  Three blighted creatures crouched over the remains, the sickening crunch of sharp teeth on bone loud over the horse hooves. The smallest of the creatures lifted its crab-like head, swiveled eyeless sockets our way, and screeched.

  Lord Fox was several gallops ahead of everyone else. His sword bit into the beast’s armored neck, sending its head flying. The body tottered, extremities twitching, and was promptly ridden down by Chief.

  The other two were not as easy to kill. The first was an eight-foot spider, half-submerged in the loam. Its head was a rotting skull, sticky silk webs spreading underneath its spinnerets. At the end of each leg was a fierce humanlike hand with hooks for fingernails. They swiped at the soldiers drawing closer, quicker than the beast’s size suggested. The second resembled a giant piranha on hind legs with an upward-pointing mouth, jaws wider than the tallest man, and teeth asymmetrically pointed.

  I backed away from the horrific scene, and several of the men did the same, their horses whinnying in fear. Lord Fox never faltered; his sword cut through one of the spider legs, avoiding its grasp. Lord Rahim was the next to reach them, and he hacked rhythmically at the rest of the splayed limbs like he was chopping wood. Lord Knox released a battle cry and charged forward, some of the braver Yadoshans following suit. Above my head, I saw arcs of fire as both Deathseekers and asha unleashed their spells, and soon the sky overhead was filled with lightning and the sounds of brutal fighting.

  My horse stumbled. I
fell, rolling across the ground, rocks cutting into my arms and hands. Petrified, I stared into the maw of the piscine horror, irisless eyes gaping down at me.

  Suddenly, Solveiga sprung into view, her palms crackling with magic. The thing shrieked its agony as it took in a gill-ful of magic that sliced its way out from within. Solveiga grabbed me, and we fled.

  It was hard work, killing nightmares. By the end of the day, the grounds were littered with new, grisly dead, and the army had lost half a dozen men for their trouble. Lord Fox, covered in blood not his own, ordered his men to burn the corpses, to see to the wounded, and then to push on with the march.

  “Still eager to come with us, Bard?” he asked wryly.

  I was trembling, the fish creature’s gaping gullet still burned into my mind. “I must, milord.”

  “I cannot promise you there will be no more of these abominations. I can’t promise you your life.”

  “I must, milord. Even the dead have their stories.”

  “Yes.” He smiled then. “And if we both survive this, we might have more to tell you.”

  16

  A small cave lay tucked against the base of the mountain, barely noticeable amid the sleet and snow. The half-hour journey to reach the entrance did little to improve Kalen’s mood. “At least let me go with you,” he rasped in my ear.

  “Agnarr promised that my life wouldn’t be in danger, Kalen. They’re a very peaceful people, and I don’t think they would stand for bloodshed, custom or not.”

  “Just because none of the other Dark asha have ever been injured doesn’t mean it’s impossible. How many Dark asha have entered here throughout the years?”

  “Forty-eight over the centuries,” said a helpful Gorvekai woman. Lady Solveiga, I remembered.

  “That’s not an impressive statistic.”

  “Many Gorvekai travel the kingdoms, searching for suitable candidates. These are forty-eight Dark asha over thousands we have assessed and ultimately rejected long before they knew of any trials.”

  “And what of me?” I asked. “Would I have been rejected, if I hadn’t come?”

  The woman shrugged. In many ways, she reminded me of Zoya. “You’re here now, aren’t you? The point appears to be moot.”

  “You don’t have to do this,” Kalen repeated for the eleventh time that day.

  I grinned and kissed him. “You’re just mad you have to stay out here in the cold while I’ll be warm and cozy inside. Trust me. If this is what I have to do, then this is what I’ll do.”

  “Are you sure, Tea? Are you sure the only reason you want to find out if you’re capable of shadowglass is so you can keep it away from the elders?”

  I hesitated and sighed. “What if I succeed?”

  Kalen shook his head. “I trust you, but that is dangerous. There’s no telling how the magic could change you.”

  “I know. But if there’s a chance I could change the world, why not bring Fox back for good and then rid the world of magic? I could bring back Polaire and Daisy while I’m at it! It would solve so many of our problems—”

  “That’s not how that works,” Solveiga said, unabashedly eavesdropping. “You only choose one or the other.”

  I glared at her. “Then why not change the magic to ensure it will no longer be misused?”

  “That’s more complicated than you make it sound,” Kalen pointed out.

  “Look, I don’t know if I’m capable yet, right? I’ll make no promises. We need options; we don’t have very many left.”

  Kalen growled. “If you run into any trouble in there, don’t hesitate to shout. Summon some dead corpses. Call on the azi. Cause enough ruckus for me to hear.”

  “I will not call the azi this close to Stranger’s Peak unless you want a firsthand view of an avalanche.” I kissed him again and turned to face the entrance. The snow had lightened, and I could make out some small torches burning inside. At least I wouldn’t be in total darkness. “I’m ready, Lord Agnarr.”

  The Gorvekai stepped aside, forming a short line on either side of me as I walked toward the entrance, their features solemn. Despite Agnarr’s reassurances, I felt like I was about to head into danger, and that feeling lingered.

  Inside it was cold, but at least there was none of the swirling snow. I gingerly felt my way through the narrow corridor, the torches lighting my path for another mile or so, until I reached the final burning wick. Up ahead, darkness stared back.

  I took the torch from its makeshift holder—only for the fire to go out without warning. I whirled around in time to see the rest of the torches flicker out one after the other, until there was complete darkness.

  “Seven hells.” I could turn and go out the way I came in, or I could forge ahead. Despite what I’d told Kalen, I reached for the azi, but found no consciousness other than my own. It felt like the mountain was one giant, runic ward, more complete and thorough than any I’d encountered before, and it prevented all kinds of magic, powerful and small.

  I trudged on, with one hand on the wall to keep my balance. My eyes gradually adjusted; another fifth of a mile out, I found myself facing three forks in the path, all leading into further darkness.

  Agnarr had never mentioned this. I paused, indecisive, until my eyes fell on three small, headstone-like markers growing before the diverging paths like stalagmites, weathered and eroding. Words glowed on each: Duty on the leftmost stone, Honor on the right, and Love at the center.

  I had no idea what the stones meant and decided it would make no difference whichever one I picked. I made for the left passageway, cautiously passing the stone. I took several steps before finding myself blinking against a sudden glare, back in the Valerian asha-ka in Kion.

  Confused, I looked around, but the cave had disappeared. Instead, there was Polaire, carrying a fan in one hand and splaying the other at her hip, smiling coldly at me. I shrank back in fear, the shock of seeing her alive making my knees buckle.

  “You want to cast shadowglass, child?” Her voice was brittle, mocking. “Do you think to cast the spell and that will be all there is to it, Tea? Foolish girl. You have always been foolish. It’s why Parmina rejected you all those years ago, when you first came to the Willows to make your mark as an asha, none of us knowing you would do so with soot and ash. You have always been blind to consequences. That’s how you killed me.”

  I shook. “Who are you?”

  My sister-asha grinned. “I am the truth, you stupid chit. Always have been. You traveled here to see me judge you worthy of shadowglass. I’m here to tell you that you won’t be. Have a look.”

  She stepped out of the Valerian. I followed—and stopped.

  Kion was in flames. I could hear the screams of those trapped within buildings, heard the wood collapsing under the weight of fires. I saw bodies in the streets, and smoke sending soot into the blackened sky. I saw friends, lifeless, with unseeing eyes and outstretched arms. Beyond the destruction, I could make out the shape of the azi as it flew overhead, breathing death down into the city. Frantic, I reached out to the daeva but could not connect with its mind.

  This is a nightmare, I told myself. I reached for a burning piece of wood without thinking and then cried out in pain, dropping it. The pain was intense and all too real.

  “This is what happens when you take shadowglass,” Polaire said. “This is what happens when you fancy yourself worthy of a god’s heart. You will bring about Kion’s destruction. You will wreck the lives of everyone you have ever loved, and you will doom them to hardship until the end of their days. We of the shadow can pass no falsehood through this mountain, and you know in your heart that this is your fate.

  “Your duty to the lands outweighs your duty to those you call friends, those you call allies. The world must burn in order to heal. Do you still find yourself worthy, Tea of the Embers? Do you still accept this responsibility?”

  I k
new then that she told the truth. Already I had ruined lives. Already I had imagined Kion burning. “Yes,” I choked out, still weeping and cradling my burnt hand.

  Polaire vanished, and the rest of Kion with her. I stood inside the dark cave once more, but this time only two paths remained open to me, their passages yawning into night. But my wound remained, and I had to bite my lip against the throbbing pain.

  Now Honor lay to the left, with Love on the right.

  Trembling, I stepped into the left passageway once more. There was another spark of light, so blinding I had to cover my eyes with my uninjured hand.

  “It is time.”

  I gasped. King Kance stood before me, his hand held out for me, smiling gently.

  “Kance? Your Majesty?” I took his hand. He was warm, solid, and reassuring. “What are you—?”

  He tucked my arm underneath his. “They’re waiting for us, Lady Tea. Let’s not be late.”

  “Waiting for what?”

  “For your execution, Tea.” Kance’s smile was soft, but it held an edge of malice. “Or have you forgotten? All the spells in the world cannot make up for your sins. Surely you didn’t think you would be allowed to live after everything you’ve done? You killed Polaire. You ruined my father. Everything you touch bleeds sorrow and misery.”

  “I didn’t mean to—”

  “Intention amounts to nothing in this place.”

  He pushed open a door that had not been there before, and we stood before the gardens of the Odalian palace. A scaffold had been set up at its center, surrounded by a cheering crowd. On the platform stood a hooded executioner. The ax in his hands gleamed in the sunlight, though the blade’s edge was already dark with blood.

  I took a step back, but Kance’s grip was steel, forcing me forward. The cheers turned to jeering as he ushered me up the wooden steps. Desperate, I glanced around, searching for a friendly face, for someone to protest and fight for me, but I saw only contempt and accusation.