The Shadow’s Curse Page 6

  A voice calling her name snapped her from her thoughts.

  ‘Wadi.’ She looked up, and Khareh was staring at her.

  She immediately felt her shoulders tighten, her breath catch. She wished he didn’t have that effect on her, but he was so unpredictable.

  ‘Come with me,’ he said.

  She hesitated. ‘I won’t fight for you.’

  ‘I’m not asking you to,’ he said. ‘But you can’t stay here. I need to put you under a different kind of protection. You will be kept close, but hopefully not involved in the action. At least, that’s the plan. So, there’s only one place you can go.’

  ‘And where is that?’

  In his infuriating way, Khareh didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he waited as his servants finished lacing up his supple leather boots, which reached all the way to his knees.

  Then he turned his back on Wadi and strode out of the yurt, followed closely by Altan, Garus, Lars and then the rest of his contingent. The final two guards took Wadi roughly by an arm each, and dragged her out.

  She threw them off. ‘I can make it outside myself, thanks,’ she said. They dropped her arms but remained so close they jostled her from side to side as they walked.

  10

  WADI

  Outside, Wadi was shocked. Compared to the evening before, there was almost no one around. Smoke still rose from the campfires, but the coals were dark, the ashes damp. They had been put out some time ago. Every man and woman was needed for this attack – sent to the front lines.

  Wadi hurried to keep close to the group, so she could keep track of their conversation.

  ‘We’ll send the newly taken Yelak tribes out first. The ones who aren’t oathbreakers. Maybe Mermaden will be less likely to want to hew down his own people.’

  ‘I strongly doubt that, Your Excellence. They are converts to your side. They turned over their villages to you rather than fight. Mermaden will consider them traitors.’

  ‘They are traitors,’ said Khareh. ‘Another reason why they should be in the front line. If they survive then the gods have spared them, and they will have proved themselves useful in my eyes. Let them take the first volley of arrows for me, the first wave of burning pitch poured down from the city walls. Then we will move.’

  Altan nodded, then barked a word at Lars, who sped off as if a whip had been applied to his back rather than just a tongue.

  ‘Wait—’ cried out Khareh, and Lars skidded to a halt, bowing his head low. ‘Remember what I said. When you breach the city walls, take anything you want, but leave the people alone. Spread the word.’

  ‘Of course, my Khan.’ And Lars was off again, this time beyond Khareh’s earshot.

  Wadi raised an eyebrow. Khareh caught the expression and shrugged. ‘What? You can’t trust the soldiers to tell the engineers from the enemies. I need everyone useful to be taken back to Kharein – alive.’

  They continued to walk until they came to another yurt that was almost twin to Khareh’s. In fact, Wadi had to blink sleep out of her eyes to be convinced they hadn’t just walked in a big circle. But no – as they drew closer, she could see that this was slightly smaller in size than Khareh’s tent, and displayed a slightly different pattern on its woven walls – although it was just as ornate.

  Behind it, the trees here cleared, and a vast plain spread out in front of them, leading up towards an enormous walled city. The pale stone walls, partially obscured by smoke from smouldering fires, blended in against the dawn sky. Looking over at it, Wadi thought it looked strangely serene – the calm before the storm that Khareh was set to bring.

  She tore her eyes away from the city Khareh was about to invade and pushed down the pity in her heart for the lives that were about to be overturned, uprooted – and, likely, destroyed. There was nothing she could do.

  Instead, she returned her focus to the new yurt. Why she needed to be moved from one to another, she had no idea . . . until the curtain was drawn aside and a girl not much older than her stepped out, a look of thunder on her pretty face.

  The Khan’s wife. The Seer-Queen. Erdene. She was beautiful, dressed in an intricately embroidered overcoat that covered her from neck to boots.

  ‘Khareh,’ she said. ‘You are here, finally. I thought for a moment you weren’t coming. I have been ready and waiting for your call for hours. I am your Protector. I should be with you at all times, not hidden away without you.’

  Khareh reached out and grabbed her by both hands. ‘Erdene, we’ve been over this. Your duty is to do what I ask, and today I want you to protect my prize. This is as important as my protection now. And plus, I have my spirit-guard.’

  The Seer-Queen bristled, a shudder that brought her shoulders tightly together. ‘I am Yun – I am one of the best fighters that you have. Leave your “prize” with one of your regular soldiers. I will be of more use to you on the battlefield. I am not weak.’

  ‘You’re not weak, but don’t test me today, Erdene.’ He dropped her hands. He gestured to the guards, who pushed Wadi forward. She almost stumbled into the other girl’s arms, but managed to pull up in time. ‘This is now your most important task. I say that as your khan.’ Khareh then spun on his heel and walked away.

  The tightness around Erdene’s mouth made her anger as obvious as if she were shouting. She looked Wadi up and down. ‘So. You are the important one.’

  Clearly, that fact riled Erdene.

  ‘You can let me go if you want,’ Wadi replied, with a shrug.

  Erdene tutted, then swept back into the yurt. Wadi followed; there wasn’t much choice to do otherwise.

  ‘You’d think he’d want me by his side; I am his Protector after all! I am not the Protector of his Pet Projects.’ She looked sidelong at Wadi. ‘I didn’t think the savages of the desert spoke Darhanian. Let alone wrote it too. I’ve heard about the tasks he’s been giving you. Things he should entrust to a true Darhanian.’

  Yes, Wadi thought. If any of them could read or write. She kept her mouth shut.

  The inside of this yurt was plusher even than Khareh’s. Silks trimmed with sparkling cloth of gold draped the walls, soft furs covered the ground and the seating areas. A blazing fire warmed the whole tent from the centre of the yurt. Wood, at least, was plentiful in Yelak.

  ‘Oh, come on. I know you’re not mute.’ Erdene threw herself down on one of the fur-covered, cushioned surfaces, letting her arm drape across her forehead. Melodrama she must have learned from Khareh – unless it came naturally.

  Wadi snapped back before she could think: ‘I didn’t think you’d want to talk with . . . what was it? Khareh’s Pet Project.’

  ‘He’s the Khan to you. Or His Excellence.’ To Wadi’s surprise, Erdene then laughed. ‘Plus, you are one of many projects Khareh has ongoing. Even I might be one of them.’

  Then, like a flash of lightning, her expression turned more sombre. ‘I should be out there with him.’

  Wadi raised an eyebrow. ‘I’m no stranger to a fight, but all-out war . . . that’s something different.’

  Erdene shrugged. ‘It’s what I trained my whole life for!’ Then she slumped. ‘But he doesn’t need me now he has his sage powers.’ She held up her knotted necklace. ‘He could have had any of the older, more experienced Yun as his Protector – once he’d proven his strength to them, of course. But he picked me. I don’t think this Protector role means anything to him any more, not since Raimanan disappeared.’

  She noticed that Wadi visibly stiffened at Raim’s name.

  ‘You knew Raimanan, didn’t you?’ Erdene’s eyes narrowed.

  Wadi tried not to answer, but her pained expression gave her away.

  ‘You did!’ Erdene laughed. ‘Oh, you liked him? Don’t try to deny it, I can tell. How funny.’

  Wadi didn’t smile.

  ‘I could have had Raim if I wanted,’ Erdene said, staring at her fingernails, although she sneaked a glance at Wadi, who tried her best to remain impassive. ‘He used to run around after me like a li
ttle puppy. It was sweet, really. But why have the bodyguard, when you can have the Khan? Seems like Raim has resorted to picking up scraps in the desert instead.’

  Wadi couldn’t believe that Raim had ever liked such a horrible person, but then his former best friend was Khareh. Maybe he didn’t have the greatest judgement of character when he was growing up.

  Silence filled the air between them, Wadi biting down on her tongue so as not to respond to Erdene’s barbs. Wadi sensed that Erdene was on edge. She didn’t want to antagonize her, but her curiosity was too strong.

  ‘What does Khareh want with me, if I’m just a scrap of the desert? Why not just kill me?’

  Erdene shrugged. ‘He doesn’t tell me much. All I know is that I’m to bring you to the temple in the city once they have conquered it.’

  ‘So, we could be here a while.’ Wadi had overheard enough of Altan’s lectures on sieges to understand that you didn’t just walk into a city and take over. There were strategies. Tactics. And the city always had the upper hand over the invading army.

  For a moment, it was as if Erdene’s dark-brown eyes drained of colour, like a cloud passed over them. She was blinking back tears. When she spoke, her voice was low, barely a whisper. ‘No. Not if he unleashes the shadows.’

  The thought sent shivers up and down Wadi’s spine. Although she hadn’t grown up in the North – where the stigma against oathbreakers was strongest – she could still vividly remember the Chauk she had travelled with in the desert, and how terrible their shadows had seemed to her.

  She could imagine the terror of the people of Samar when they saw an army of haunts bearing down on them. Khareh would seem invincible.

  She thought of the Camp of Shadows, and what Khareh had asked of those people. ‘All those broken oaths. How can you follow him?’

  ‘He has all these plans. He rants and raves all night about everything that’s wrong with Darhan. The fact that our cities are so small – but who needs big cities when we are travelling all the time? He hates that no one can read and write. He hates that about me, you know that? He hates that I am Yun-trained, skilled with sword and bow-and-arrow, but I can’t read any of his damn papers. That’s probably why he likes you best.’ At that, Wadi grimaced. Erdene rolled her eyes. ‘Well, why he prefers your company. He says even the savages teach their youth to read – what does that say about us?’

  ‘You don’t agree with him?’

  ‘I don’t see what’s wrong with our society. It’s been functioning fine for so long. The Baril preserve our history. That is enough for me.’

  ‘You have to admit, some of the Darhanian traditions are more than a little strange. What about this Seer-Queen stuff? Are you a seer?’

  Erdene studied Wadi for a moment. Then, there was a moment – a crack in Erdene’s veneer. ‘You are a savage,’ she said. Wadi was about to protest, but Erdene continued without noting the other girl’s shock. ‘So I suppose that means I can tell you. I don’t know what a seer is. I thought they were legends. There hasn’t been a true seer for an age. If there has ever been one . . . a person who can see the future? It’s impossible.’

  ‘Although they said the same thing about sages,’ said Wadi, filled with caution.

  Erdene paused, mulling that thought over in her mind. ‘That they did.’ She let out a long breath. ‘Well, if there are seers out there, I’m not one of them. But I’m strong in other ways. I can help Khareh. He will see that in time. He never used to be like this, you know? Raim’s betrayal broke him. Changed him. He became . . .’ She didn’t finish the sentence, but her eyes passed over Wadi’s form, and turned hard.

  The slight warming Wadi was beginning to feel towards the girl froze in an instant. Now, there was ice between them. For a person born and bred of the desert, it was not a pleasant sensation. ‘Khareh is a monster.’ Wadi shuddered.

  ‘Yes,’ said Erdene. She dragged the tip over her tongue over her top lip. ‘But he is my monster.’

  11

  RAIM

  He was on his knees on a hard wooden floor. The man who stood over him had a nose like a beak, and a flattened forehead so pronounced he could have balanced an entire tea set without spilling a drop.

  ‘Is this the oathbreaker?’ the man said.

  Raim recognized him. Even through the sting of the bruises that were rising all over his body from the handling of the monks, his mind was clear. This was Qatir-bar, the head of the Baril, the man who had married Tarik to his wife, Solongal, so long ago, before Raim’s exile. All around him, other Baril monks were gathered to watch the spectacle.

  Tarik rushed forward and prostrated himself at the man’s feet, bowing as low as he could without burying his head in the floor.

  ‘Oh, great and wondrous Qatir-bar. This is the one, Raim, who possesses the shadow. In my previous lowly life, he was my brother under Loni, my guardian in the Moloti tribe. As soon as I saw him, I knew to bring him to you.’

  Qatir raised an eyebrow. ‘And who are you?’

  ‘Tarik, my lord. One of your humble novices.’ He spoke into the ground, still not daring to look up.

  A visible shudder ran through Qatir’s body. ‘A novice? So you are the one responsible for bringing this dirty oath-breaker to our lands? I should cast you out of the Baril for this!’

  ‘No, please, Qatir-bar. He says he is not an oathbreaker. He says he is a sage. I have seen his powers with my own eyes.’

  Qatir turned his attention back to Raim. ‘A sage?’

  Raim remembered what Vlad had said. He had to appeal to the Baril’s greatest strength and greatest weakness: their thirst for knowledge. That was his only opportunity. ‘Qatir-bar,’ he said. ‘I know all you see in front of you is the shadow, and only oathbreakers are haunted by shadows. But sages also control shadows.’

  Qatir stroked the bottom of his chin. ‘Why have you come here?’

  ‘I need help,’ Raim said.

  ‘And why should we help you?’

  ‘Because if you can help me, I will teach you everything I know about sages, and promise-magic.’

  ‘If we refuse?’

  ‘If you refuse, or you can’t help me, then I will leave here and find someone who can.’ He wiped his hand across his brow, feeling a lump rise where one of the Baril monks had hit him across the head. He had not fought back. If the Baril refused to help, he would fight back with all his might – and they would not stand a chance.

  A long moment of silence followed during which Raim refused to look at the floor. Instead, he stared straight at Qatir-bar, allowing the man’s piercing gaze to wash over him. He had been in worse positions before. No one could scare him after Khareh. And he had nothing to lose.

  There was a large commotion from behind another door to the temple. The door swung open, clattering against the wood and disturbing the otherwise peaceful scene. A woman, dressed in black, with long, dark hair strode in. ‘What is this, Qatir? Something you are hiding from us?’

  The Baril who had gathered around Raim all moved so they stood between him and the woman in black. ‘The boy and his shadow were found by one of my novices,’ snapped Qatir. ‘He is mine to deal with. Get back in your hovel.’

  The woman managed to catch Raim’s eye through the crowd of people, and he felt her stare burn into the deepest recesses of his soul. He squirmed – uncomfortable under her scrutiny. He wondered who it was that could cause Qatir to become so flustered. ‘As you will, Qatir. But why don’t you ask your new prize what he’s hiding under that fabric around his wrist.’ She left without any sign of a bow in his direction.

  The colour drained from Raim’s face. Draikh?

  The shadow drew closer to Raim, ready to defend at any moment.

  ‘How did she know?’ Draikh’s anxious voice rang in his skull.

  I have no idea! What should I do?

  Qatir looked back down at Raim, then with a sharp gesture of his head, signalled for two of his guards to grab Raim by the wrists. One of them held his arm aloft, while
the other took a knife and sliced the fabric that was wrapped around his wrist. The pieces fluttered to the ground, revealing the crimson scar to the entire room.

  There was a sharp intake of breath, and the man holding his arm released it as if it had burst into flames.

  ‘You lied to me,’ said Qatir-bar. ‘You are an oath-breaker.’

  ‘No, I’m not – let me explain . . .’

  ‘The time for explanations are over! The evidence is clear. And you,’ he turned to Tarik. ‘You brought this oath-breaker into our midst. How dare you!’

  ‘I didn’t know!’ whimpered Tarik.

  ‘I’ll deal with you later,’ said Qatir, his voice as cold as the snow on the mountains. ‘Take the oathbreaker to the cells.’

  12

  RAIM

  The cell was little more than an empty room with thick stone walls and a bolted wooden door. In the freezing darkness, Raim shivered on the floor, tucked in close to the far wall, beneath a thin blanket – the only comfort he’d been offered. His sleep was fitful, interrupted by nightmares of creeping red rope entwining itself around his body and threatening to strangle him. When his nightmares scared him awake, all he could see was the crimson of his scar around his wrist, as bright as if it glowed in the dark, still tormenting him with the fact that he was an oathbreaker. What was he thinking, coming here? Why would the Baril wait for him to give an explanation?

  When he closed his eyes again, he tried to put the thoughts out of his mind. Nothing would be accomplished by dwelling on his predicament. He needed all the rest he could get.

  ‘Raim.’

  He wasn’t even sure if the word had been spoken aloud, or whether Draikh had just spoken deep in his subconscious. It didn’t matter either way: in an instant, he was wide awake. The urgency in Draikh’s tone meant he had no choice.