Sisters of Shadow and Light

by Sara B. Larson

  “You’re barely capable of standing on your own two feet. What you need is to rest.” He gently took my elbow in his hand and guided me toward a fallen tree stump back a little ways from the path, mostly stripped clean of branches and leaves, creating the perfect spot to sit and do as he instructed.

  Only once I’d sat down did the final dregs of energy seep out of me, as if the very act of choosing to rest signaled to my body that it no longer had to push through the exhaustion. I could barely stay upright; the temptation to curl up on the pine- and leaf-strewn dirt at my feet was so strong I nearly crumpled forward to do exactly that.

  When Halvor took a seat beside me, I swayed toward him, to the warmth and solidity of his body next to mine. Wordlessly, he lifted his arm and wrapped it around my shoulders, drawing me in closer. I had few solid memories from my childhood—most were wrapped up in the haze of the roar, warped by the power that had consumed me—but one was of Sami drawing me into her lap one afternoon, of the warmth and comfort her soft arms had given me during one of my alert times. I didn’t remember why Zuhra wasn’t there, or what had caused my need for comfort. The memory only held the actual comforting—the peace her tenderness had given me.

  This moment with Halvor reminded me of that … except, even though his touch did calm and comfort, it also made my heart thump in my chest and brought heat to my cheeks—and deep in my belly.

  “You can close your eyes if you wish,” he murmured, his voice close and low. “I can’t imagine how tired you must be. It’s been almost two days since you’ve slept.”

  Had it been that long? I slowly lowered my head, inch by inch, until my cheek rested on the bony ridge of his shoulder. He shifted, moving just enough to adjust my position so that I was curled into his body, my face finding a more comfortable groove somewhere between his shoulder and his neck. My skin sparked everywhere he touched me, little flickers of heat that were something entirely different than the flames of my power. And yet, my eyes drifted shut and almost immediately, drowsiness overtook me. I inhaled the scent of his skin, now so close, mingled with the piney forest surrounding us.

  It was a singularly inexplicable experience: to be so close to sleep and yet so badly wanting not to fall asleep, wishing to relish this moment of touch, this moment with him.

  A moment I hardly deserved, after all that I had done in those two days of sleeplessness.

  “Halvor…” I whispered, my heart pounding so hard I wondered if he could hear it, “do you think Zuhra is … gone?” I couldn’t bring myself to say the word I meant. Dead. Do you think she is dead?

  His arm tightened around me, his hand curling over my arm and softly stroking the bare skin. The lick of Halvor-induced fire where he touched me was at complete odds with the pit of dread in my stomach. How could I experience so many different feelings at once? How could I be terrified of his answer and yet wanting his touch to continue, to move up my body, at the same time?

  “You opened the gateway to Visimperum with your power,” he began slowly. “That’s where the rakasa came from. It looked as though your sister was pulled through that gateway by a different rakasa. She was already badly injured, so I’m afraid…” He trailed off and I nodded, not needing to hear him say it. All warmth from his touch dissolved at the confirmation of what I’d been afraid to be true.

  Zuhra most likely had died.

  Because of me.

  I sat up abruptly, pushing him away.

  “Inara, don’t.” Halvor reached for my hand when I jumped to my feet, but I twisted out of his grip and took a few stumbling steps toward the trees, away from the town where others had also died because of me—because of the monster I’d let through.

  Tears burned trails of guilt down my chilled cheeks.

  “It wasn’t your fault—you didn’t—”

  “Not my fault?” I whirled on him. His eyes widened at my vehemence. Even I was shocked at the anger in my voice. “I did this. You just admitted that—you said it yourself. I opened that gateway—I brought the monster here. My sister got dragged through it into that other place because of me. It’s my fault that she’s—that she’s dead.” The word ripped out of my throat and I dropped to my knees on the ground, the pine needles and bits of wood and rocks biting into my skin through the thin material of Sami’s robe and my ruined nightgown beneath. But it was so much less than I deserved, those inconsequential pricks of pain.

  “Inara.” Halvor’s voice was quiet, a soft whoosh of sound carried on the breeze, and then he was there, crouched beside me. When he reached for me, this time I didn’t shy away. He turned his hand and gently brushed the tears from my cheeks, first one side, then the other. His own eyes glistened in the darkness. “I can’t pretend to know how much losing your sister must hurt. But … I did lose both of my parents not too long ago. I understand the grief and rage you are experiencing, at least to a degree. And though I did say you opened that gateway, I never once meant for you to think that means that any of this was your fault.”

  I stared at him, more tears leaking out, but he brushed each one away, even as his voice thickened, heavy with his own grief. Grief I knew intimately, having experienced a portion of it while healing him.

  “You didn’t know what you were doing. You didn’t intend for any of this to happen.” His thumb rested against my jaw, softly rubbing back and forth. “And I know, if Zuhra is gone, she would be heartbroken to see you blaming yourself like this—to see you hurting.”

  I swallowed the clump of anguish in my throat that seemed to grow larger every time I let myself truly think about everything that had happened—and my role in it.

  “Inara.” He put his finger underneath my chin and tilted my face up to look into his, soft but insistent. “You saved more than one life today. Without you and your power, I would have died. That boy would have died.”

  “The only reason either of you needed healing was because of me—because of my power,” I insisted, my eyelashes damp when I blinked to see him more clearly in the shadow-strewn forest.

  Halvor opened his mouth, about to say something more, when I cut him off.

  “How did your parents die?”

  It was an insensitive question, and I knew it. But he’d claimed to understand my pain; he’d lost his family too. And for some reason, it became imperative that I found out how.

  He let his hand drop away from my face, but I didn’t turn away. A muscle near where his jaw met his cheekbone ticked once, twice. “My father was a fisherman by trade—a fairly successful one. His ship was quite large, big enough for my mother and me to accompany him on all of his sails. They truly loved each other, and despised being apart. I spent half my life at sea.” As he spoke, though his eyes were on my face, his gaze was somewhere far away. I’d never seen the ocean in person, but now I knew what it looked like through his memories—the vast expanse of water, as wide as our mountains and as deep as they were tall. I wondered how much he missed it; for there was no doubt that he did. “By the time I was fifteen, Father had already been training me to work alongside him and his crew for years. But my mother was concerned about my lack of formal education. They agreed that I would be able to come on every other voyage until my tutor at home had assured them of his satisfaction with my learning.

  “It was one of the voyages when I was left home. He was caught in a hurricane—a horrific storm,” he added at my blank look, “and the ship barely made it through. But all their stores were lost, as well as a few members of their crew. They survived the storm, but without clean water and no food, when sickness hit the ship, they couldn’t survive that, too. They somehow made it to port, but my father was too far gone. He died that night. My mother took me to Mercarum then, to the libraries where her family worked. But a few months after my father’s death, she also grew sick and died.”

  I’d asked him to tell me, I’d wanted to know, thinking perhaps hearing about his pain would assuage my own. Instead, it only added to it, dredging up the memory of feeling his deeply bu
ried anguish when I’d healed him—the brief flashes of his parents and their deaths. “Halvor … I’m so sorry.”

  They were useless words, and we both knew it.

  “At least I was able to say goodbye to both of them.”

  I sat motionless, paralyzed by my own ineptitude—by my own lack of knowing what to do … how to comfort. Sami had pulled me into her lap when I was a child, Zuhra had hugged me when we were grown, even Halvor had put his arm around me moments earlier. But … was that what I should do for him? I lifted my hand, unsure. It was halfway to where his rested on his knee when a loud call startled us both and I jumped away, yanking my hand safely back to my side.

  “Hal! Where are you, Hal?”

  Halvor jumped to his feet and turned toward Barloc’s shout.

  “Here—we’re over here!” He strode forward, and added, “Why are you shou—”

  “They’re coming!” Sami’s familiar voice joined the older man’s, and not even the alarm in her tone could temper my relief that she had come. “The garrison is already on its way here!”

  Halvor spun to face me, the whites of his eyes flashing in the darkness. “We have to go back to the citadel—now!”

  More voices sounded behind Barloc’s and Sami’s—villagers shouting, calling to one another. Yelling to find the Paladin witch before she got away.

  My short-lived relief crumbled beneath a surge of panic.

  “Go, Inara!” Sami came into view through the trees, waving her hands and arms at me. “Run!”

  I stared at her for half a second. Then I lifted the skirts of my nightgown and the robe she’d loaned me and did as she instructed. I turned toward the trail and ran as if my life depended on it.

  Because it did.

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  ZUHRA

  I slid my hands along the smooth, hard surface of the balustrade. Grandfather told me it had been created by the force of a hundred fire-gifted Paladin at once on melded limestone. He’d commented to me about how valuable such a structure would have been in my world, but I had no care for that. The true value in this room was the fact that he’d sought me out—that he’d wanted to meet me. My grandfather.

  Well, that, and the luxem magnam: the name of the light that the room—and the entire castle—was built around.

  “It has burned without dimming for millennia,” he explained as we stood, staring into the undulating, mesmerizing beauty of it. “The first two Paladin were born out of the luxem magnam, a man and a woman, each with a portion of this light burning within them. It is the birthplace of our power, and our most sacred place, where we may come to be healed, to be uplifted, and to be strengthened.”

  And yet I had walked straight here without a single obstruction. “Why was it left completely unguarded? No one tried to stop me even once.”

  My grandfather laughed softly, a sound that reminded me of my father—his son. His eyes crinkled the same way, too, when he smiled. “No one could harm the luxem magnam. It can’t be destroyed or stolen. We don’t guard it because any Paladin who wishes to visit it is welcome to do so at any time.”

  “But…” I hesitated and then, “I’m not a Paladin.”

  He tilted his head to look at me. “Why would you say such a thing? Your mother may be human, but you are still your father’s daughter as well. Paladin blood runs in your veins.”

  My fingers tightened on the diamond banister, the jeweled structure cool beneath my skin, despite the warmth I still felt from the luxem magnam. “You’ve seen my eyes; I have no power.”

  “My dear girl, do you think glowing eyes are the only indicator of power?” His own azure ones appraised me frankly.

  “Yes?” My answer was half question.

  “It is rare, I will admit, but there are Paladin whose eyes are not like this.” He gestured to his face. “And it doesn’t indicate a lack of power. Merely a different type.”

  His words ignited something in me—a flare deep within that I hadn’t experienced in far too long. Hope. “So … you think…”

  “Paladin power is passed down through families. Each family has their own special and unique gifts. Your grandmother is one of the most powerful Paladin who has ever lived—hence her position as head of the council. Your father inherited that strength from her, as well as my gift to heal.” My grandfather paused and hesitantly lifted one hand, reaching it out toward where mine still gripped the balustrade. When I didn’t flinch or pull away, he softly rested it on top of mine. “We already know that your sister also inherited an enormous amount of power—far greater than anyone I’ve ever known—to have been able to open the gateway by herself, for even just a moment. But I have no doubt that you have also inherited power of your own. You merely have to find it within yourself and learn how to use it.”

  I stared down at his hand on mine, his dark olive skin, the perfectly round nail beds and neatly trimmed nails. I’m afraid you’re wrong. I couldn’t force the words out. He sounded so certain. But surely, if I had even a fraction of the power he claimed ran in our family, I would have seen some sign of it by now.

  “Why did you come here today?” His question was gentle but there was a purposefulness behind it. It gave me the peculiar feeling that he somehow knew my thoughts even though I hadn’t spoken out loud.

  And something else told me I couldn’t lie—not to him, not about this. No matter how silly it might sound. “I felt … drawn here. Like something inside pulled me to this place.”

  His fingers curled over mine and squeezed. “Your power is there,” he repeated, even more confidently. “You only need to find it.”

  I stared down at the undulating luxem magnam; it looked like a lake, but instead of water, it was waves and ripples of light moving below us. Was it possible—could I have Paladin power?

  “Zeph told me I’d find you here, Alkimos.”

  At the imperious female voice, we both turned to face Ederra standing at the archway, her arms crossed over her chest. Her burning gaze glanced over me and came to a rest on her husband.

  “Has the council all arrived?”

  “No.” Her retort was short but emphatic. The light from the luxem magnam pooled around her as if she were made from it, as if it somehow emanated from within her. But rather than softening her high cheekbones or warming her eyes, it only brought out the coldness in her expression. “Yemaya is out on patrol and it may take some time to track her down. However, I need you to attend to some … business.”

  “Business,” he repeated, bemused. “I believe I have fairly important business I’m already attending to here. With our granddaughter.”

  Ederra stiffened at the reprimand in his tone—as did I, terrified that she might lash out at one or both of us at his daring. But then again, he was her husband. He knew her far better than I, and he must not have believed himself to be putting us in any danger by subtly calling her on her continued attempt to ignore my existence. On the other hand, I had the sudden, very convincing urge to get as far away from her as possible, as quickly as possible.

  Her gaze didn’t even flicker toward me when she bit out, “You are needed elsewhere,” and then turned on her heel and stormed off.

  My shoulders sank forward the moment she disappeared from view, as if she’d somehow absorbed all the hope my grandfather had given me and the rapture from the luxem magnam, and ripped them both away with her departure.

  “Zuhra, you may not believe this any more than you believe me about your slumbering power.” Grandfather turned to me, his face as soft and warm as hers was distant and cold. “But your grandmother’s anger is not directed at you.”

  I nearly laughed out loud at that, barely managing to swallow my incredulity enough to merely make a noncommittal noise in my throat.

  “I said you might not believe me. But you’ll have to trust that I know her and have known her for most of my life, and I promise you, while it may seem as though she can’t stand you—it is not what it seems. What upsets her is what you represent. What you
force her to remember.”

  “I don’t understand,” I admitted.

  “And sadly, I don’t have time to explain. I had best go see what she needs. Not even I dare ignore a direct ‘request’ from Ederra. But,” he continued, “I promise to explain it as soon as I can. For now, know this. What the Five Banished did took a heavy toll on your world, but it took a toll here, too. On some families more than many others. Ederra has been forced to make some heartbreakingly hard choices and they still weigh heavily on her, even now, all these years later.”

  “Who are the Five Banished? What choices?”

  I could feel him preparing to leave me, and though I knew I risked her wrath at him, I was desperate to make him stay—to make him keep talking, to keep offering me hope in bits and pieces.

  “Soon, Zuhra,” he assured me. “I will try to come to you and explain it all soon. But for now, stay here as long as you’d like. You might be surprised at what you find in this room.”

  He reached up and gently squeezed my shoulder, then turned and followed in his wife’s footsteps, leaving me standing in the light but feeling very much in the dark.

  * * *

  I stayed there for quite some time, until the hunger in my stomach grew stronger than the fear of facing more Paladin and the quandary of searching for my quarters.

  Despite what my grandfather had claimed, I didn’t find anything else in the room, but as soon as I left the luxem magnam, I had to fight the urge to immediately turn around and go back. It called to me in a way that went beyond words or sound or even feeling. It just … was. And I wanted to be there, letting it bask over me, filling me with that intoxicating hope: that perhaps the reason I felt anything at all was because somewhere, deep within me, a piece of Paladin magic lay sleeping, hidden for eighteen years, finally ready to awaken and unfurl.

  And if it did, perhaps I could make my own way back to my sister.

  As I wandered through the castle once more, I couldn’t help but think of how much Inara would have loved the luxem magnam—how her fire-blue eyes would have widened with wonder at the sight. I wondered what it would have felt like to her, if I, who held so little of the Paladin within me, was so drawn to it. What would someone like her experience?