Chapter Twenty-Four
Ishvandu ab’Admundi
I knew what I had to do.
I arranged to have a night off watch. Mani agreed to cover for me so I could steal some much-needed rest. Probably, she thought, to spend time with Tala.
But I told Tala nothing.
I waited for sunfall. Once the Hall was quiet, I nodded to Mani and crept back down the ladder. I moved toward the third’s sleeping quarters, but stopped shy of the common room.
When I was sure Mani would have turned her attention elsewhere, I slipped back out. I hugged the shadows all the way to the camel yard. Then, as quietly and as quickly as I could, I saddled Yma. Finally, I stole two outriding knives—blades sharpened from bone—and secreted them into the folds of my red Guardian’s sash. Then I led Yma out of the Hall.
“Kulnethar ab’Ethanir sent for me at the Temple,” I told the lone sentry at the back gate.
“In the middle of the blasted night?” he asked.
“It’s an emergency. Something about one of his patients—and the Sumadi. If someone asks for me, say I’ll be back as soon as I can. Maybe by morning. Maybe later.” Maybe never.
The man shrugged. “Whatever. Good luck.”
I waited until I was out of sight. Then I urged Yma into a run towards the north gate.
Soon the midnight desert opened around me. Unchanged. Unbroken. As compelling as ever. The stars sang overhead, achingly bright as they whispered of the Old Lands, while the throbbing of the Avanir faded mercifully into the background of my mind.
All my life, I’d thought E’tuah would help me find a way back. But not after today. I would have to find my own way. And I would. I was a Guardian now, and I would do it as a Guardian, or I would fail as a one.
Fail.
The thought echoed painfully inside. As desperate as this was, I knew I had to do it. Now. Before I lost my resolve.
I found the first outcropping of rocks: like a monument, warning fools away from the desert. It stood stark against an empty landscape, pointing towards the distant ridge. This would do.
I dismounted.
Hands shaking, I slipped out the Sending stone. I knew what I had to do. I’d gotten myself into this mess, and Tala was right. How could I guarantee their safety? How could I pretend he wasn’t out there? But if I told the Circle, the expedition would never go forward, and my work would never be accomplished.
No. I would take responsibility for my own problems, in my own way, and I would let no one else suffer for it. But first, I would gather one last proof.
I bent low over the Sending stone. “Shatayeth,” I whispered.
The stone hesitated, as if shocked. Then I was hurtling through the Unseen. It wasn’t as far as last time. Mere moments of undulating chaos, instead of an eternity.
When I opened my eyes, I was hovering over a lake, perched above the valley on a tottering stone. I could hear the gurgling of fresh water and the cooing of birds, but above it, I could taste the wind of the desert. I could see the Mountain’s Bones stretching in every direction, and if I strained my eyes south, I could see the distant walls of Shyandar: a dark smudge on the horizon and the single white point of the Temple’s highest tier.
I was in the cliffs above Gitaia. I had spoken Shatayeth’s name, and the stone had brought me here.
So it was true.
I shut my eyes, groaning silently to myself. I didn’t want to believe it. Even now. But I could no longer deny the evidence. He was here. Close. Far too close to be ignored. Hovering over my well. Threatening my expedition.
My palms began to sweat. Was I doing this? Was I really?
But I was here now. No turning back.
“A week from here to Ne’adun.” I said. “Can all Undying cross the desert like the wind? Or is the wilderness smaller than we imagined?”
A shadow turned. I thought it had been a piece of rock thrust up into the night sky, but now I recognized the outline of a man.
“Ytyri has many uses,” he said.
I groaned under my breath. I had so many questions, and he knew so many things. Even that single line dripped with impossible knowledge. What kind of uses? The ability to travel vast distances in a day? If he truly had such a device . . .
The Old Lands. I could cross the desert, follow the Chosen, and discover the truth. Learn everything and laugh at the emptiness between.
But of course he would say that.
Be a Guardian.
“Dangerous uses,” I snapped. “This stone you gave me? It’s going to get me killed. They’re planning a search tomorrow and they’ll rope me if they find it. But what else am I going to do with it? I can’t just leave it lying around somewhere for any unsuspecting fool to stumble on.”
“That would be . . . unwise,” E’tuah agreed.
“Right. So how do I destroy it?”
E’tuah laughed. “Destroy it? Have you really become so ignorant?” He shook his head. “No, Ishvandu. That is . . . impossible.”
“So what?” I laced my voice with desperation. “They’re on to me. All of them—the Elders, the Circle. Even Tala doesn’t believe me. E’tuah, you have to help! Help me hide it or . . . or . . . take it back before this stupid thing gets me killed.”
He studied me. I saw his eyes glinting through the dark, though his face was hidden.
“You want me to come to Shyandar to help you?” His voice dripped with scorn.
I hesitated. “You wouldn’t have to come into the city. I could slip away, meet you outside the walls. But . . . but it has to be tonight. Please, E’tuah. I can’t keep this thing another day! Will you come?”
I held my breath.
Then he nodded slowly. “I will come.”
“Thank you!” I cried, hating the unfeigned relief in my voice. “There’s a crop of boulders north of the city. I’ll meet you there. I’ll come as fast as I can. Thank you!”
I pulled myself back through the Unseen. I woke, still leaning against the cold stone, breathing hard.
This was it.
I drew out one of my knives and slipped it into the sand beneath the base of the rocks, then crept away to wait.
No going back now. No getting out of it. Shatayeth Undying was on his way. And he was coming for me.
I sat on Yma, watching the north horizon, my stomach knotting and flipping. E’tuah. E’tuah Undying. I imagined the meeting in my mind, over and over again. I would have to be fast. I couldn’t think about it. Think, and I would falter. One chance. One.
Yl’avah save me.
The sky blushed. Grey fingers stretched over the Mountain’s Bones, blotting out the stars. Heat gathered on the horizon. A shimmering red, like blood, touched the brief and fleeting clouds.
And then I saw him. He walked alone, a solitary figure in the open expanse, not diminished by the surrounding vastness, but revealed. He seemed to command the wilderness; even the wind obeyed as it snapped his robes, curling around him. He halted next to the jumble of rocks, then watched me, expectant.
I leapt off my camel.
Don’t think. Just do it. Now.
I strode towards him.
“E’tuah! Thank Yl’avah, you came!” I fumbled for the stone in my robes, then held it out to him. “Here. Take the blasted thing. I don’t want it.”
He didn’t move. He showed no signs of attacking or defending, but actually raised his arm to take the stone. I thrust it into his grasp. I waited until his fingers curled over mine, until we were terrifyingly close.
Then my other hand ripped my keshu free of its sheath. The blade would slice open his belly in a single move. We had practised this: for when lethality and surprise had to strike together. For when mercy was not an option.
The blade slashed up—and sparks leapt between us. Sparks?
A knife, half-hidden in his robes. And now my arm was extended, my belly exposed. A fatal error.
E’tuah’s knife darted out like a serpent’s fang. The point broke the skin—and stopped. Poi
sed over my heart.
He looked at me, lips curled into a smile.
“I told you I would not allow it.”
He shoved me away. I staggered, too shocked to attack. The Sending stone tumbled to the ground between us and lay there, pulsing eagerly.
I touched the front of my robes. A small cut, a drop of blood. More precise than death—a killing blow withheld, pulled back at the final instant. Mocking me.
I stood there, trembling as my pent-up anxiety, the anticipation and deception of trying to kill someone, swept through me. The sun was peering over the horizon now, red-rimmed, like a sleepless eye. Light crawled over the sands.
This was not over yet.
But he could have killed me, and he hadn’t. Why? Why spare me, when I had betrayed him!
E’tuah tilted his head, amused. “How long have I walked this earth, Ishvandu? How long?”
“Long enough.”
He nodded. “So Ethanir ab’Estaldir’s oath finally wore you down. I was wondering how long it would take.”
“This has nothing to do with him.”
“Oh, but it does. You think you’re doing this for yourself, for your expedition? Whose idea was it, planted in your mind at the right moment?”
“Because he knew the truth.”
“Oh yes, he knew.” E’tuah smiled. “And what wrath he poured against me, the moment he touched that stone! What an Elder of Kayr he might have made, daring to denounce me before Yl’avah and the Tree, as if he truly believed his own authority.”
I gripped my keshu, gathering myself, ready to pounce.
“Maybe you should heed his warnings, Shatayeth an-E’tuah.”
His eyes lit up. “An-E’tuah, is it? No one’s called me that since the days of Andari ab’Andala. You must have done your reading. Very good, Ishvandu. But you need to ask yourself why. Why would the High Elder send you here, knowing the truth, as he did? He could have sent the whole strength of the Hall of Guardians against me. A hundred blades such as this. And would that stop me?”
“Maybe one is enough.”
“Maybe.” He took a step closer. “You think no one has tried?”
“You want me to believe you’re untouchable? That your skin is iron? Maybe you’ve lived centuries on fear and cunning alone—but I bet your guts spill the same as any man.”
E’tuah smiled. “Then try it.”
And in the same breath, he turned away, showing his back. That familiar burning humiliation rushed up under my skin—like my father’s beatings, like being turned out of the Temple, cast onto the Guardians unwanted, like Koryn’s cruelty in the Novice’s quarter, every chance he had. You’re not a Guardian, and you never will be. You’re not. Not.
E’tuah’s back was only a pace away. I lunged.
My keshu sliced air. He swivelled, one hand tucked into his spinning robes. Something whipped the back of my leg. I stumbled. E’tuah seized my arm and yanked, and I heard a crack. I gasped, choking on a scream. My keshu dropped. I fell to my knees, and immediately a cold edge slid against my throat.
There was an agony of silence. I tried not to whimper. Be a Guardian. Be strong. Oh, Yl’avah’s might—he moved so fast. I never stood a chance. My wrist. I blinked as sweat pooled in my eyes. Pain stabbed over and over like searing metal. There was a gust of wind. Sand whipped my face, stinging.
“You want to know why the High Elder sent you?” E’tuah leaned close, his breath hot on my neck.
I counted breaths against the pain. Seven. Eight. Focus. Nine . . .
“You think he was such a fool? Ishvandu ab’Admundi, the great Guardian—he will kill the Undying. He will succeed, where countless others have failed.”
He laughed. Terror coiled up through me, pounding into my heart. I was going to die. I was actually going to die.
“No, no. Of course not, you fool.” His fingers dug into my broken wrist, twisting. I clamped my mouth shut. I wouldn’t cry out. A Guardian was above that. A Guardian wasn’t controlled by pain. Wasn’t. Wasn’t. I clenched my teeth until I thought they would break.
“I live on and on,” he continued. “And on. And who are you? Who are you to threaten me? Why do you think he gave you the stone? So you could die a thief. Why do you think he sent you here? So if you didn’t die a thief, I would kill you myself. Don’t you see? The High Elder sent you to die.”
“No,” I gasped.
“You threaten their power, you question their lies, you thirst for more, and in this world of survival that is the greatest threat to Shyandar. Oaths and Guardian drivel. Don’t be a fool. You only swore to your own death.”
“No!” It was a desperate plea, a denial.
“Then try again.”
He shoved me away. I sprawled in the dust, cradling my broken wrist, groaning and scrabbling for the hilt of my keshu. If nothing else I would die with a blade in my hands.
I staggered to my feet and faced him, forcing down the pain. He stood entirely unconcerned, knife hanging by his side, mouth twisted. “Try,” he said. “A single scratch. A drop of blood. Can you do it?”
I edged around him. He was impossible to read. He never shifted, never even flinched. How could I even hope to beat him? The hand that gripped my keshu began to shake.
“You lied to me,” I said. “You’ve been using me from the start. And for what?”
“You know. You’ve seen it, Ishvandu—the truth of the Avanir.”
“With no help from you! Don’t pretend to care about us. We mean nothing to you!”
“Would I be here if that were true? Your work is unfinished. The power of the Realms lies broken, left to rot, the Lifewater forever stained with its corruption. You think I want that? But you—you Ishvandu, could undo this horror. The first of your kind in generations.”
I struck forward with a shout. He knocked my blade aside, then stepped past my back-swing. My keshu spun, cutting downward. He leaned away. The point sliced the front of his robes, but nothing else. I cried out, swinging wildly—and missed.
A blow struck my face. I staggered back. A second pounded into my gut. The breath squeezed from my lungs and I doubled over in pain. Specks danced in front of my eyes.
“The sons of Kyrada are lost,” his voice came from behind me. I swung around, falling into back stance.
“They’ve forgotten themselves—shadows already, labouring and toiling towards nothing. Are you content with that? To farm your people into Sumadi? Is that what you want?”
I was breathing hard. I tightened my hand on the keshu.
“You’re getting closer,” he said. “Try again.”
I swung. Then feinted back at the last moment, whirling the keshu in a reverse sweep.
He ducked, closed the gap, and drove his hand into my nose, snapping cartilage. I gasped, staggering. He spun. His knife raked across my ribs, and a hand followed, hammering the side of my head like a stone.
I hit the ground. I struggled to stay conscious, still clinging to my keshu. He stepped over me and kicked it out of my hand. It went spinning away, across the dust.
“Try again,” he said.
Anger clawed its way up my throat. I gave a wheezing cry. I grabbed the knife from my belt and drove it at his knee. He snapped the blade away so hard it whistled across the sand in pieces. I roared in frustration. The heel of his foot smashed into my mouth and I fell back, tasting blood.
I landed an inch from cold stone.
“Stubborn fool,” he said. A knee drove into my chest and he loomed over me. “I should end you. Just for thinking you had any chance against me. For being so easily deceived.”
“Then do it!” I coughed. One hand sank into the sand.
He thought about it. He watched, sneering at my weakness. You are nothing, he seemed to say, as he leaned closer. Closer.
My searching hand grew more desperate. It was here. It was right here. I had just . . .
He drew a familiar bone-edged knife from his robes. “Looking for something?”
My stomach
dropped. I felt the cold certainty of my defeat, and as he pressed the tip of that knife to my throat, I stopped struggling.
Everything I hoped to accomplish—my dreams, my ambitions, a whole blasted world—would vanish with the flick of a knife.
He was right. The High Elder had led me to my death.
And once I was dead, Tala would hunt Shatayeth down, and he would kill her too. The world would hardly stop to notice—a few words sung in grief, and then on and on. A wasted life. Born into dust, ended in futility. Gone, like that.
I stared into his eyes. They were cold and fierce, flashing with a sudden urge to do it, to end me, to spill life and blood together.
His lips twitched, then he drew back, standing in a single, fluid move.
“You are beaten,” he said. “But I will give you one last choice.”
He paced around me.
I heard the scrape of a blade across sand. It circled back, tracing a line past my ear. My own keshu. The bastard was holding my own keshu!
“Get up,” he commanded.
I couldn’t move. My arm was throbbing in pain, my face bleeding and broken, eyes burning.
“Just kill me,” I rasped.
He tilted his head. “Get up.” He took a step closer. My keshu caught the sun in a sudden, blinding flash. I blinked and looked away and saw the blue of the sky, shimmering in the heat. The endless blue.
“Get up and live.” He pressed the blade against my neck. “Or die for nothing. The choice is yours.”
I thought of Tala. A stab of remorse lodged in my throat. I swallowed it down, squeezing my eyes against the tears. I hadn’t even said goodbye. I had lied to her, slipping away in the night.
“Sands take you,” I choked.
He would do it. Cold fire slid across my throat, less than a hair’s breadth between life and death. What was death? Only emptiness. Death was Kaprash and Sumadi and everything I hated. Death was pointless.
I shifted with a groan. I shut my eyes. “Don’t.” I took a few precious breaths. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t kill me.”
“I thought you wanted to die.”
Shadows of Blood Page 31
