Shadows of Blood
Page 50
I touched my jaw. It was like probing a sore tooth—not particularly helpful, but necessary. It was tender and sore, and if I pushed there, I felt a small stabbing pain deep at the hinge, not to mention the new click every time I opened my mouth wide enough to chew or yawn.
I opened my jaw. Click. And the little stab.
I winced. I just had to leave it alone. Let it heal. It was probably a small crack in a small bone, and there was nothing I could do.
No. Explaining this back in Shyandar: that was the larger problem. The Elders would be furious. The High Elder would seek restitution for the violence, and the Al’kah would refuse. In the end, if I wanted to keep peace between the Temple and the Hall, I would have to accept responsibility for what happened and absolve Ishvandu of any guilt.
Again.
I sighed. I was weary of covering for him. I was weary of the lies. A torn scroll was one matter, but now lives were at stake. How could I ignore that looming presence, that constant danger—the enemy of our people lurking on the very outskirts of our city? And if I wanted Ishvandu not be executed for treason, I had to involve myself in his ongoing deceptions. But for how long?
I shook my head. Something would have to be done about that. I needed to do more research in the Library, working through dusty texts, throwing questions at Alis and letting her mull through the possibilities aloud. Shatayeth Undying must have a weakness somehow, a reason for being here that we could discern and exploit.
I stopped the vial and tucked it into my robes. I stood up. It was stuffy and warm in the tent, and the smell of the medicine was making me feel nauseous. I needed to clear my head.
I slipped outside.
A shadow jumped, a keshu half-drawn before its owner realized who I was.
“Yl’avah’s might,” said the young Guardian, the one they called Jil. He huffed and slid his keshu back with a click. “You scared the sands out of me. Don’t you know you can’t leave your tent at night?”
“Am I a prisoner?” I raised a brow.
The young man grunted. “Depends.”
“On what?”
“Whether you want your mind torn open by Sumadi.”
I sighed. The stars had risen past first quarter. They were clean and bright, beckoning me. I missed my walks in the Temple gardens. I missed Alis.
I spotted a Guardian moving along the cliffs, patrolling the camp. I hated this feeling, being trapped. I knew it was for my own safety but . . .
I frowned. The Guardian disappeared behind some rocks, slipping into shadow—like he, or she, didn’t want to be seen.
“Well?” Jil demanded. “Are you going back in your tent or not?”
I gave a chagrined smile. “Sorry. Of course.” I ducked back inside. I waited for him to step away, just a little, then I slipped out the back and hurried towards the edge of camp.
The thought of Shatayeth Undying waiting on the other side of those cliffs made everything suspicious. What if Breta had seen something when she’d drawn water with Ishvandu? What if curiosity was pulling her back? What if someone was determined to find the source of Ishvandu’s secrets?
Fool. I was still doing it, wasn’t I? I was trying to protect him, even now. Even after everything. I opened my jaw—click—and winced at the jolt of pain.
No, sands take Ishvandu. I was an Elder, and keeping track of who might be speaking with Shatayeth was just good sense.
I crouched against some shadowed rocks. I waited. And sure enough, a figure stepped out, oblivious to my presence.
I frowned. Was that Akkoryn? What was Tala’s brother doing sneaking out of camp? And . . .
I peered closer. He was holding something. Something that looked suspiciously like a sheathed keshu.
A second keshu?
I hurried after him, keeping low near the rocks. Ishvandu was pacing along one of the slopes, watching for Sumadi. Once his head was turned, Akkoryn slipped past him and I followed.
Twice, I had to leap back into hiding when Akkoryn glanced over his shoulder. Each time, I crouched in the dark, trembling and nervous, yet with a strange heady anticipation.
This Guardian was up to something, and—
The moonlight caught the keshu he was holding. A familiar blade. Tala’s blade.
I had a bad feeling about this.
We came to a moonlit trough, hidden behind the cliffs, and Akkoryn stopped. He stood in the open, looking around. Waiting.
I crouched behind some jumbled rocks to watch. His feet began to shift, his face creasing into a frown. He was uncomfortable with this. He was waiting for something, and whatever that was, he didn’t like it.
My bad feeling increased. Enough. I should show myself, demand an explanation.
“You made it,” a voice said, startlingly close. I jumped and clamped a hand over my mouth. But the person hadn’t seen me. They strode confidently across open ground.
Tala. Where had she come from? I could have sworn she wasn’t there a moment ago.
“Yl’avah’s blasted might,” Akkoryn growled. “I don’t like this. And I don’t like that . . . thing you told me about.”
“Me neither,” she said. “But I can’t just sit around doing nothing. Did you bring it?”
He held out the keshu. She took it and, with a practised hand, belted it onto her robes.
“There,” she said. “Now your promise.”
Akkoryn heaved a sigh. “It’s not happening.”
“Yes, it is. I’m not discussing this with you. I asked for your help with one condition. Now go. No excuses.”
“At the very least, you owe me an explanation.”
“I owe you nothing.”
“Really? After making me put up with that arrogant ass-shove you call a husband?”
“I’m sure the feeling is mutual—though you were almost getting along until you had to start taking orders from him.”
“That won’t last.”
“Careful, brother,” Tala laughed. “If this plan of his works, it’ll be the start of something new. You’ll be sworn to protect that as much as I am, so get over your jealousy now.”
“Jealousy?”
“Of Ishvandu. His leadership. His secrets. My loyalty to him. But you’re still my brother, Koryn. Even if you’re too much like our father, I still care for you. This is me caring.” She gave him a shove. “Go.”
“Fine. But if anything happens to you, I’m blaming him.”
Akkoryn strode past her.
“I wouldn’t.” The voice came from behind me, then stepped past without even glancing my way.
I went cold. I recognized that face: like something chiselled from stone, yet with eyes that burned. Shatayeth Undying.
Tala hissed and snatched Akkoryn back, shoving him behind her.
“What—?”
“Say nothing,” she said. “Do exactly as I tell you.”
Shatayeth smiled, stepping closer. Tala held her ground. A hand clutched her keshu.
“I’ve been waiting for you, little warrior,” he said. “But I’m disappointed. A Sending? Surely Atali sai’Neraia is bolder than that.”
“Or smarter,” she snapped.
A Sending. He was talking about that ytyri stone. Which meant Tala was doing the same thing Ishvandu had, making a copy of herself. Hoping it would protect her. Smart indeed. Except for Akkoryn, standing vulnerable behind her.
“What’s going on?” he whispered. “Tala who is this?”
She shushed him, elbowing him back. Then she elbowed him again, tilting her head. Run, she was trying to say.
Shatayeth spread his arms. “Then you’ve already admitted it. You can’t beat me. You know it. So why the pretense?” He tilted his head. “Or were you hoping I wouldn’t notice?”
“There’s always a chance.”
He laughed. “Good. Your plan is a step better than his—but Sending is not without its drawbacks.”
“Such as?”
“Well, you really can’t be in two places at once.”
Tala cursed and whipped her keshu from its sheath. “It was you! You sent them after us, didn’t you?”
“Oh?” He tilted his head. “Why would you say that?”
Akkoryn drew and circled around, now glaring at Shatayeth with a new level of suspicion. “If you have a plan, sister, let’s hurry it up.”
“You think? Step one was you not being here.”
He growled. “Well, two blades are better than one. Say the word, and he’s dead.”
“It won’t be that easy.”
“Why not? This creep is unarmed. He’s alone. And right now it sounds like our camp is under attack, so I think we’ve more important places to be.”
I heard the edge of panic in his voice. I felt it too, the urge to join the defence, to stand together. Still—until the attack ended, I was more a liability than an advantage.
Yl’avah keep them safe!
Tala was frowning, mind churning. “Whatever you do, Koryn, do not underestimate him. He will be armed. He’ll strike fast. I don’t have time to explain, just trust me, and the moment you think you can get clear, you need to run. He can’t hurt me, I promise, but he will kill you if you let him close.”
My chest squeezed. No! They were actually going to attack. They were—
Akkoryn swept in high. Tala dashed forward, swiping low. They moved with startling speed. I gasped.
Shatayeth slid neatly between them. He ducked, then stepped over Tala’s blade, spinning away. They were already pressing the attack, but he dodged—right, left, closed the distance with Akkoryn and hammered him in the side with a fist.
Akkoryn grunted and swung hard. He missed. Shatayeth caught his foot, snapping him forward. Akkoryn lost his balance, but twisted into a roll, even as Shatayeth ducked under Tala’s vicious swing. I stared. The man moved like water. Like wind. It wasn’t possible for someone to be that fast.
Akkoryn was already on his feet. Tala fell back, breathing hard. Shatayeth smiled. “The problem is not your speed, but your inexperience. How many wars have you fought, little Guardian? How many men have you killed?”
“One,” she snapped. I thought of Dunya, kicking and groaning on the ropes. I shut my eyes, willing the image away.
“Not enough,” Shatayeth said. “You have to feel the blood, taste it—pull it to your sword, and it will come.” He spread his arms. “Again.”
Tala backed away, lowering her keshu. But Akkoryn charged in with a shout. “Wait!” Tala cried.
Akkoryn swung and stabbed, screaming as Shatayeth slipped through every attack, sometimes countering with a hit, sometimes shifting away.
Tala growled her frustration and pounced.
They fell into a grisly dance. I stared, horrified, fascinated. Tala’s face transformed. She moved without thinking. She stopped trying to see him. It was impossible. Her attacks slowed—yet each movement felt stronger, more deliberate. Akkoryn missed and Shatayeth’s next blow sent him sprawling across the ground. A heavy hit. Tala lunged.
My breath caught. It wasn’t at him—but exactly where he moved an instant later.
He realized his mistake and twisted, one arm deflecting the blade. Tala raked it back. He leapt away. His eyes flared, mouth parted in shock.
Tala’s face had gone hard. She lifted her keshu into an attack stance, and the edge shone with blood.
Shatayeth gazed at the wetness on his fingertips. Then a smile spread across his face. “I knew you could do it, little warrior.”
Akkoryn had crawled around behind Shatayeth. Blood leaked from one eye and stained his teeth. He’d already sustained some nasty blows, but a dark determination had settled on him. I watched, holding my breath.
“You will leave my people,” Tala said quietly. “Go back, or I will find a way to end you.”
“I am tempted.” He nodded. “Tempted to let you try.”
“You say that like you’re not afraid.” Tala tilted her head, trying to hold Shatayeth’s attention as her brother crept nearer. “But when was the last time you saw your own blood?”
“When I was king over the Undying, in the last days of the war.” He smiled. “I gave him the honour of a slow death.”
“Isn’t that kind of you.”
Akkoryn leapt and struck from behind. Shatayeth whirled. One hand flashed into his robes, another hammered Akkoryn’s wrist from below. The keshu spun out of his grasp. Then in the same move, Shatayeth punched straight into his ribs.
Tala cried out. Akkoryn’s eyes widened. I felt the difference, throwing my hands to my face, knowing this had been coming. Yet I had hoped . . . hoped . . .
Akkoryn collapsed. Tala screamed and attacked. Shatayeth disarmed her just as quickly, throwing her back. She stumbled. He came at her. He held a knife at his side, the blade dripping with blood. She crouched, ready.
“No!” I gasped under my breath.
Shatayeth closed the distance. Tala dodged, deflected, moving with a strange calm, as if even now she thought she could win.
Until the knife dug into her hip. She grunted. Shatayeth slammed her into the ground and the blade raked up, across her belly, twisting into her gut. She gave a guttural shriek. I couldn’t watch. I fell behind the rocks, deeper into my hiding place, clutching my face. Run. I had to get out of here. I couldn’t save them.
Tala groaned, coughing through unimaginable pain. Why wasn’t she leaving? She was using the ytyri stone—wasn’t she? She wasn’t really here. This wasn’t really her . . .
Run. Run now.
And then what? Shatayeth would see me. He would come after me.
“Be careful, little warrior.” He spoke quietly, almost gently. “Stay, and your mind will crack. I would hate for this to be our last meeting.”
She laughed. It was a horrible, chilling sound. “Pathetic . . . wretch,” she gasped. “I learned . . . exactly what I needed.”
I squeezed my eyes, then peered over one of the rocks, daring to look.
Shatayeth had her pinned to the ground, knife pressed to her throat.
“Oh really? And what is that?”
“Wouldn’t you . . . love to know.”
“I admire your persistence. Brave—but foolish. Let me do you a favour.”
One hand clutched her face. The knife slipped across her throat, slowly, deeply. She choked, struggled—then vanished.
A moment later, Shatayeth knelt on bare rock, leaning over a pool of blood, looking strangely vulnerable.
Someone groaned.
Akkoryn was moving, one hand over his chest. Yl’avah’s might, he was still alive!
Shatayeth glanced up. He looked straight at me, eyes ramming into me like the knife he held. I threw myself to the ground, heart slamming. Yl’avah hide me!
“You might be able to save him.”
The words curled into me, stinking of fear. I held my breath. I didn’t dare move.
“Yes, ab’Ethanir. I know you’re there.”
Run. Run. No. It was too late for that now.
“I didn’t pierce the heart, though he will bleed out soon. Let him die, or not. The choice is yours.”
I groaned. I couldn’t leave. Not while there was the slightest chance Akkoryn might live.
I had no choice. I stood.
Shatayeth was on his feet now, watching me. The knife still dripped at his side. I met his gaze, then edged slowly around the rocks, circling towards the fallen Guardian. I couldn’t stop the tremor of fear, rattling my limbs.
“Calm yourself,” he said. “I’m not in the habit of attacking unarmed healers.”
“We wouldn’t give very good sport, now, would we?” I heard myself say.
Shatayeth laughed but said nothing. I hesitated. He made no move towards me. He could kill me now, whether I helped or not.
I dropped my caution and ran towards Akkoryn.
He’d been stabbed through the right side o
f his chest, into his ribs. I pressed on the wound but immediately felt a wave of helplessness. I had none of my things, it was dark, and his life was fading quickly.
I moved through my checks anyway. He was still breathing, but the wetness of the sound meant one of the lungs had probably filled and collapsed. His pulse was elevated, weak. Blood soaked his robes. He groaned and clutched feebly at my arm.
“Tala . . .”
“She’ll be fine,” I said, though I had no idea about that either. I shouldn’t be here. The camp needed me. Had they survived the Sumadi? Had Tala?
Akkoryn nodded anyway, mumbling, weakening.
I shook my head, then tore a strip off my robes, packing it into the wound, pressing down. Yl’avah’s might, I didn’t even have water!
“He won’t survive here,” I said, half to myself. I pressed down harder. I had to get him to my tent. I had to get my things.
“Shall I help you carry him?”
I glanced up at Shatayeth. A wave of anger slammed through me. How dare he? How dare he do this to the man, then stand there like he had any right to be concerned for his welfare?
“Yes,” I heard myself say. “Yes, do it.”
Shatayeth tilted his head. “Interesting.”
“Do it!” I shouted.
Akkoryn shuddered and passed out. I hesitated, then grabbed him under the arms and struggled to turn him around, back towards camp. I grunted, leaning my body into it, dragging him. The cloth I’d packed against his wound tumbled out, and blood kept pumping. I cursed, dragged him another step, then slipped in Tala’s blood, falling hard. I struggled back to my feet. I dragged him another step. Another. Blood trailed behind, glistening dark in the moonlight. No use. Hopeless.
“Ab’Ethanir—”
“No!” I shouted through my tears. “How dare you! How dare you mock me. Offer to help and then stand there, like...like . . .”
“It’s too late.”
I stilled, struck by the finality of his voice. Then I pressed a finger to Akkoryn’s neck. I crouched over him. I checked his breathing. I put a hand to his face.
Gone.