Shadow Soul

by R. Michael Card

  Jais hadn’t known what to do, but in the end had told the man the truth. “I can’t sense you, but I can’t sense anyone. I seem to have missed that ability. I can’t tell a human from a drahksan any more than any human can.” He’d almost wanted to say he was sorry. The man had been so distraught. Then he recalled the man had tried to kill him and hadn’t apologized.

  A heavy sigh off to his right alerted Jais to the man’s presence. Jais looked to see the man standing nearby, staring off into the vista of morning mountains and the rising sun.

  “I’ve had a lot of time to think,” Gosse said slowly. “I didn’t sleep at all last night. I went for a walk as the sky began to lighten and I think—” He gave a hard single laugh. “Well I think I need more time to think.”

  Jais wasn’t sure what the man was up to and kept a keen eye on him.

  “All I know for certain right now is that I need some answers.” Gosse looked down at him. “And you haven’t been that helpful.” It wasn’t an accusation nor said with any malice. It was just a plain statement but Jais still was worried. Did this mean he was expendable now?

  Gosse pulled out a long knife.

  Jais squirmed and struggled. Gods no, he didn’t want to die like this.

  Gosse crossed the distance to him and crouched. He was eye level with Jais and held the knife up between their gazes. “Two days ago, I would have killed you without a thought.”

  The man’s gaze moved from Jais’ eyes to the blade then back several times.

  Gosse sighed and put away the knife.

  “Now I’m going to let you go.” He chuckled to himself. “A part of me wanted to cut the ropes to be dramatic, but this is good rope and I could reuse it.” He moved around behind the tree and Jais could hear and even feel the ropes being worked on. A moment later, they went slack.

  He held still, the manacles keeping him rather attached to the tree. But with the clink of a key, the manacles were released as well.

  Jais sprang to his feet and turned, ready for a fight. Or so he thought before a wave of dizziness swarmed through his head and he had to go to one knee to avoid falling. He doubted he would have been any good in a fight anyway. His arms were near to numb from having been at an odd angle behind him all night, his shoulders sore. He could use up more energy to heal himself but then he’d just be more tired.

  His head cleared a moment later and he looked up to see Gosse leaning on the tree Jais had been tied to.

  “You’re free to go.”

  Jais had to ask. “Why?”

  Gosse’s gaze lifted away from Jais off to that same vista behind him. “I’m done with killing for now.” He shook his head slowly. “I’ve been killing all my life, and there were times when I grew sick of it, but I thought I was doing it for a reason, for a cause.” His gaze drifted away, then down. He looked ashamed. “The things I’ve done.” He was shaking his head again. “I thought I…” He looked up at Jais, brows knit, eyes asking a question Jais couldn’t answer. “The goal was just. I was human. Drahksani were evil. These were things I knew, I believed. But if I am drahksan… Does that mean some human found me and took me from my parents and trained me to be like this? I know not all humans are good people, but I had to believe that those who trained me were right.” Gosse’s gaze shifted back to the mountains. “But none of that makes sense anymore. Until I know more about what I am and who I am—” He shrugged. “I’m done with it all.”

  Jais tried standing again and found he was still lightheaded, but able to keep his legs under him. He was in no condition to fight even if he wanted to.

  He turned and staggered a few steps before something stopped him. He turned back.

  “You still looking for help? For answers?”

  Gosse nodded.

  “Are you willing to surrender to me? I can take you to the others in my group. They might be able to help you. If that’s what you really want. But there is no way they’re going to let you anywhere near them while still armed.”

  Gosse seemed to consider for a long moment, his gaze moving from Jais to that sunrise and back several times. Finally, he nodded. He drew out his sword and tossed it at Jais’ feet; then did the same with several knives. He spoke as he did so. “In truth that had been my hope in letting you go.” He even went so far as to go to where his things were and toss Jais his bow and quiver. “I am ready to pay for my crimes if that is what you wish. I just want to know the truth before I die.”

  Fair enough, Jais thought.

  Gosse, still crouching next to his gear, looked away again and when he spoke next his voice was low. “I think I know the truth, and it’s already killing me.”

  23

  Barami marveled at the amount of time and the level of craftsmanship that must have gone into making these tunnels.

  They were well below the hill on which the village was located, and the tunnel was running smooth and straight. He had no clue which direction they were heading, but he assumed it was north.

  If he was honest with himself, he was more than just a little nervous at being so far underground in such a cramped space. It wasn’t that cramped really, he could stretch his arms out to either side and still not touch the walls, but it sure felt small and tight around him.

  They walked in single file. Hildr at the lead held a torch and Caerwyn, third in line behind him, had one as well. The red light flickered off the stone walls.

  The tunnel wasn’t carved from stone, but instead thick stone bricks had been used to form the sides and arched up to a curved dome above them. The floor was similarly paved with stone, flat and even.

  The entrance, far above them now, had been concealed. One of the large stone square fire-pits, in the middle of an empty longhouse — which seemed to be used mostly for storage — had hidden the way down. The grate on top had been lifted off to reveal the square was hollow within, a ladder leading down into darkness. The ladder ended at a platform beneath the false fire-pit and from there a winding stone stairway had spiraled down into the earth. Once they had all descended the ladder, torches had been lit. The last down had moved the grating on top back into place. They had descended those stone steps deeper and deeper into the hill. Finally, they had reached the bottom, and this straight tunnel.

  Barami found the dark and the quiet a little too oppressive and needed to speak.

  “Hildr, you had mentioned something about Dragon Boons? That even with them you didn’t think you’d be able to defeat that wizard. What did that mean?”

  Hildr didn’t look back when she spoke, but her voice echoed along the hall. In some ways that sucked the power from her voice, but it also made it easier to make out her words… if she spoke slow enough.

  “It was the deal our ancestors struck with the dragon. We protect it and it makes us… more. Normal people, our ancestors were, in a world with dragons, drahksan, and other strange things. The dragon gave us gifts, boons, to help us. Not physical things, not swords or spears, but magic, infused into our very beings. It be why Elria can heal. Stayed with us these gifts have, over many generations. Some Dronnegir possess powers from ancestors gifted long past. Others were gifted more recently.”

  “Recently?” Barami asked. Did these people keep getting boons from the dragon?

  “Yes. The power must remain strong in our bloodlines. Three are chosen every generation, to go to the dragon and receive new boons.”

  “Just three?”

  “The dragon grows old. It gives only so much. The rest it keeps to sustain itself.”

  “Oh.” That was news. Suddenly Barami wondered if they should be disturbing this beast at all if it was so frail. But he knew Caerwyn would insist. Even just talking to it would provide them with great insights he was sure.

  “Did you receive a boon?” he asked.

  “I did,” she said evenly. “It be why I know the way to the dragon. It be not known to all in the clan. Only the chosen three are led through the paths and perils by one from the previous generation. I and Elria went, a
s did a boy named Sindr.” She was quiet for a long moment before she went on. When she did her voice was low, soft. “Sindr died fighting with the wizard. Now only two from my generation remain.”

  Barami put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. “I’m sorry for the loss.”

  She nodded.

  “Here be the exit,” she said, her voice still not having regained its full strength.

  Barami glanced around her to see a heavy wooden door bound with iron. She opened it inward on hinges which made no sound. Beyond was faint sunlight filtering through heavy brush. “You three go first. I will close the door. Those bushes will part for you.”

  Barami was eager enough to get out of this dark place and pushed forward, moving sideways through bushes, which he guessed were cedar from their scent. The needles were softer than those in the South, flatter. They brushed around him before he stepped into full sunlight and had to shield his eyes, blinking.

  He thought to move to one side as the next person, Caerwyn stepped through the bushes as well. After her came Volf then Hildr who spent a moment with the door before emerging from the bushes.

  By that point, Barami could see well enough and glanced around to try to get his bearings.

  Behind him, where they’d come out of the hill, was a craggy cliff-face stretching up about thirty odd feet before becoming a gentler slope up the side of a hill. In the distance above him smoke curled up into the sky from somewhere atop the hill. He guessed they were at the base of the hill upon which the village sat. Ahead of them was a very shallow decline into a sweeping valley filled with trees and bushes. He could hear the rush of water but couldn’t see the source. Beyond this valley were other high-heaving hills and then the rather ominous sides of mountains.

  “Most in the village know of that tunnel,” Hildr said as she began picking her way down to a long stretch of trees. “It be our escape in case we are overrun. From here, only those chosen are shown the path into the mountains. That be how much of a secret the dragon’s location remains.

  Once at the trees, the sound of running water was much more prevalent and within the forest a short distance was a rushing stream.

  “Is this the same brook which we crossed on the other side of the hill?” Barami asked.

  “Indeed,” Hildr said, flashing him a grin. “It runs out of the mountains and curves around the base of our hill. We call it Ice River.” She chuckled. “Far south of here… it be called Cold River.”

  Barami looked at the little rushing watercourse and had to laugh. It was much more significant where it passed the town which bore its name. He said as much to Hildr who nodded.

  “Many rivers join with it before then, making it much wider and deeper.” She didn’t cross but began following the creek. “We will follow the river for a while before the land becomes too difficult to traverse.”

  Barami grinned and drew in a long breath of air.

  The day was warm without being too hot. The pleasant scent of cedars filled the air, and the stream made a relaxing burbling sound. He took in the trees around him, the clear waters, the blue sky, and the lithe, lean form of the woman in front of him as she picked her way along the rocky bank of the river.

  “Barami,” Hildr called from ahead. It was odd to hear his name in her accent, but he liked it. He wondered if she’d known he was looking at her backside. He raised his eyes and caught her as she glanced over her shoulder at him. “Join me.”

  He did, moving up to walk beside her.

  “Told you, I have, of me and my clan. Tell me of the South, your home,” she said softly.

  He nodded. “Let me start with a question. How much hotter than this does it get up here in the North?”

  She considered for a moment moving her head from side to side. “Not much more than this. Though one summer, when a child I be, there was great heat. All children of the village ran to the bottom of our hill, to play in the river and cool ourselves.” She laughed a little. “But these waters be quite cold all year. Most times, we bathe fast.”

  He laughed. “My people would give a fortune for waters as chill as these. Drinking this water is refreshing. There is a great river which splits the Southern lands and most of those who live in the South live near its shores, or along one of its tributaries. The rest of the lands are ill suited for most. There are dried up deserts of blowing sand or cracked earth where only the hardiest of plants grow. Then there is the great jungle, wet and hot and full of life, but most of it is trying to kill you. Few people venture far from that great river to live in the dry lands or the jungle. My people, the Kigasi, call that jungle home. We are nomads, traveling through the jungle, knowing what is safe to eat and what animals and plants to avoid. We get our waters from the rains or roots when we venture far from the river.” He heard his voice growing wistful. He laughed. It was far from an easy life, but he still missed it.

  “It is hot all the time,” he continued. “There is little relief from the heat, even at night.” He gave a breathy laugh. “Only a rare night might be as pleasant as this.”

  “Truly?”

  “Oh yes.”

  “It must be hard, enduring such heat. You must look forward to the winters!”

  “We have no winters.”

  “You jest!”

  “I do not. We tell seasons by the rains, not the temperature. What you call winter is simply a dryer season for us, but still incredibly hot. It might be a bit nicer on some days as the heat is not made worse by the oppressive moisture in the air which is ever-present in our summers or wet seasons.”

  “I can’t imagine,” she said in wonder. “So, have you never seen snow?”

  “Snow? A little yes, but not in my homeland.” It had snowed lightly a few times as he and Caerwyn had made their way north. Once there had been a couple feet of the stuff on the ground and they had stayed in a village for a week waiting for it to melt.

  “We get so much snow here it buries our longhouses. Did you see the tunnels that connect our homes?”

  “Are those the breaks in the platforms near the middle?”

  “Yes, we dug paths to connect all the longhouses because some days we cannot leave through the doors. A few of the houses have ladders up to doors in the roofs. It be another reason for the tunnel under the village. Though even that can be blocked by snow.”

  Barami couldn’t imagine it. He knew of floods, where water could cover things, but this did not sound like that at all. He’d found the very existence of the white stuff a little mysterious and magical. Yet that much on the ground, enough to bury a house, he had trouble seeing it in his mind. It made sense that there would be more snow farther north, but still.

  “We come from very different worlds,” he said softly. He was a man of action and not one to mince words. He had to know if this amazing woman was as fascinated with him as he was with her. “I like you. I would like to spend more time with you. Would you like that?”

  She looked at him with a broad smile on her face, her red hair flashing in the sun. Her green eyes sparkled as she nodded. “I would like that very much, Barami.” Her next words caught him a little off guard with their forward nature. “How many children would you like?”

  “Ah…?” He might have found an answer if he hadn’t lost his footing at that moment, perhaps from the shock of such a direct question, and fallen into the stream.

  It was indeed quite cold.

  Jais rushed through the gates of the village once they had been opened, ignoring the stern and disapproving looks of the men and women on guard.

  “Jais!”

  He saw Elria as she saw him and called out.

  “Have the others left?”

  She gave him a look which seemed to slip through a dozen different emotions from annoyance to relief and several others in between which let him know he should never have run off. “Yes, it be mid-morning! Where were you? We must hurry to catch them. I’ve packed a rucksack for you.”

  “Elria, I can’t.” he faltered not knowing
how to explain this. He hadn’t brought Gosse into the village. If any of the villagers had recognized the man from the attack, Jais was certain Gosse wouldn’t have lived long.

  She looked wounded and confused.

  He did the only thing he could think of and embraced her, kissing her deeply, not caring if anyone saw.

  “Jais?” She was confused and a little breathless.

  “I’m so very sorry I missed our… night. It’s a long story which I don’t have time to tell now. I need to catch up to the others, but I have a… guest.”

  “Jais—”

  He waved away her words, again not wanting to explain. “I’ll take that pack you made up for me. Can you tell me how to catch up to the others?”

  “I will take you myself.”

  Would that be wise? He didn’t know how she might react to Gosse either. “Elria, I don’t think that’s best—”

  “Jais, what be wrong with you? What happened?”

  He was tired and at the end of his energy and somehow trusting the man who’d tried to kill him and Caerwyn multiple times. He didn’t know what was going on within him at the moment, but he also didn’t really want to stop and think too much about it. He didn’t have time to.

  “Fine. Grab my pack and come with me.”

  “With you? But that be not the way.”

  “It is now. I know I’m being evasive, Elria, but all will make sense once we’re out beyond the walls. You may not like it, but it will make sense at least.”

  She didn’t seem to like it now. She was frowning at him, but after a moment simply sighed heavily, shaking her head. “This way, you can grab your own rucksack, I have one that’s just as heavy.”

  He followed her to the longhouse where he had been staying and plucked up the pack she’d prepared for him. It wasn’t that heavy for him, even exhausted as he was. After he put it on he turned to her and she was laboring under the weight of hers.

  Only then did he see the heavy bags under her eyes and the lackluster slouch to her shoulders. She was just as tired as he was. Had she slept at all last night? Had she been worrying about him?