Shadow Soul

by R. Michael Card

  She laughed a little. “Perhaps. Even I wish I were drunk when dealing with him at times.”

  “You could have a drink.”

  “No, not for this.”

  Barami nodded. He couldn’t help but have his silly grin grow wider as he looked her over. She was washed and, for once, not wearing her armor — which seemed ever-present on her. Instead, she wore a dress of white, made of some thick material — probably wise given the climate here. It covered her entirely, from a modest neck-line to wrists and ankles. Her fiery hair was braided in a single thick knot, falling to her mid-back, pulled back tightly. Her skin was pale and, as always, her eyes that brilliant green.

  “I’m the luckiest man alive,” he whispered and leaned in for a quick kiss. His lips only just brushed hers as she moved back a bit and blushed.

  “Not yet. Not here.”

  He quirked a brow. “What’s changed?” Was she having second thoughts?

  She was blushing as she leaned close and whispered, “There be a ritual to this. The woman wears a dress of white and must not be seen to be… intimate with the man. Not until this is done.”

  “Oh.” He nodded. For a moment, he’d been a little concerned. It was the first time she’d ever been so reserved in her actions or words. “Then let’s get this done.”

  She nodded and, taking his hand, turned to her father’s hall.

  “Holding hands is not too much?” he asked. He was teasing a little, but also actually curious. If a chaste kiss had been too much, perhaps…

  “Holding hands be well, yes.”

  They passed by many on their way to and through the long hall. Everyone who saw them began to follow along behind.

  “We’re gathering a crowd,” he said quietly.

  She gave a light laugh. “They know what be happening and wish to watch.”

  “This isn’t a private thing then?”

  She shook her head still smiling. “No.”

  “Ah.”

  Finally, they came before her father.

  Barami guessed that the man had had some warning. Either that or he was dressed in his own finery for the feast and funeral tonight. He wore a thick cloak lined with white fur, but the exterior was a pristine light blue, like a winter river. He was also washed and done-up. His long red-and-gray beard was braided, and his fiery hair was loose and laid out evenly over his shoulders. He looked every inch a king, even if it his kingdom was rather tiny.

  “Father,” Hildr said with a bit of a bow. She dipped, bending a knee, but did not kneel, that would only mar her dress in the dirt. She looked at Barami then.

  “Great Egir,” Barami said and did the same, bowing with a bended knee and rising. That had been what she’d told him to say. Now came the hard part, his own words.

  He met the chief’s eyes. It was the first time he met the man’s unyielding, intimidating gaze and felt no fear or worry. He felt at peace, and he even smiled.

  Hildr had told him to use his own words, just don’t insult her father… too much.

  “I am a simple man, so I shall keep this simple. I wish to be bonded to your daughter. I love her.”

  The Egir waited, perhaps to see if there was more. His face betrayed no emotion. After a long moment, he drew a deep breath and turned to Hildr.

  “Do you wish to be bonded to this… simple man?” the large man rumbled.

  “I do.” She nodded.

  Another long pause as the Egir turned that green-eyed gaze of steel back to Barami.

  From what Barami understood, the Dronnegir were unlike most cultures he’d heard of. Permission was not needed to be bonded. The two in question needed only to profess their devotion to each other before at least five others. What he and Hildr were doing now was a bit more formal. Also, this wasn’t the bonding. This was just addressing the Egir for his blessing, which, though not mandatory, was customary. The fact that the Egir was her father made things more interesting.

  The Egir spoke. “You are a strong and wise man, Barami of the Afgenni. I do not think you ‘simple’ in any way. You have my blessing to be bonded with this woman, and she has my blessing to be bonded to you.”

  The crowd around them cheered, and Hildr leaned over to him. Her voice was only just loud enough for his ears over the noise of the others. “You can kiss me now if you like.”

  He did, and it wasn’t all that chaste, but then, she was participating in it as much as he.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he caught the Egir’s expression.

  The man was actually smiling.

  Barami begged some time away from his now officially betrothed.

  Seeking out Caerwyn, he found her easily. She was where she had been for most of the last few days, at her bunk, laying down, eyes staring off into nothing.

  Volf was nearby, of course, and Barami asked if he could have a word with Caer alone. Volf passed a concerned gaze over the woman and nodded, leaving.

  Caerwyn rose to a sitting position. She’d heard him.

  “Barami? What do you need?”

  He came to sit on the edge of the platform, close to where she’d spread out her bunk. She slid over, so she was a little closer.

  It was heartbreaking to look at her, especially when he felt so light and happy. Some of his elation melted away. She no longer seemed like the woman he’d known. The toll of the recent events still wore on her deeply. There were bags under her eyes where there had been none before and her posture was different, not as rigid or firm, but slumped slightly. Mostly it was minor things that might not seem of any great concern, but to one who knew her, these were telling signs of a spirit that was — if not broken, then — altered.

  “I have good news. Though perhaps you may not see it as such.”

  “Oh?” She did not seem upset, but curious and a little worried.

  “Caer,” he began and reached out to her. She put her hand in his and he smiled. “I need to ask a favor of you, a large one.”

  “Go on.”

  “I need you to discharge my life-debt.”

  Her brow furrowed. “Not that you haven’t repaid it a dozen times over, but why?”

  He gave a halfhearted laugh. “I may have repaid it that many times, but you’ve saved my life even more still.” He looked away for a moment and drew in a long breath. “Caerwyn, I’ve found something here.” He pressed his lips together for a moment before going on. “I am sure you know how I felt about you. I will always admire you. But I have found… someone, and I need to pledge my life to them now.”

  “Hildr.”

  He nodded.

  It was her turn to look away. “You’re staying.” It wasn’t a question. After a moment, she nodded and repeated — in a more final and grave way— “You’re staying.”

  “I am.”

  She just kept nodding to herself.

  “But,” he hastened to add. “I will always be here if you need me. As much as this place is as far from my home as I have ever known, I will be making a new home here. If you need anything, you have but to return and ask it. I’ll give you whatever you need.” He shrugged, and the next words sort of slipped out, though he wasn’t sure he meant to say them. “You could make a home here too.”

  She shook her head. “No.” The gaze she turned back to his was hard even if her tone wasn’t. After a moment, she said the word again, but softer still and squeezed his hand. “No. I’m happy for you, Barami. I’m glad you’ve found someone and…” She drew in a long breath. “I am sorry I could not give you what you wanted. You have always been—” Tears were coming to her eyes now, another sign of her changed spirit. She would not have wept before. “You’ve been such a good friend, the best friend a person could have. Thank you… for everything.”

  She withdrew her hand from his and that was the end of it.

  The end…

  He rose and nodded. “As have you, Caerwyn. Thank you.”

  She was smiling as he turned away, but it was a sad smile and her eyes were still tearing.


  He left a little bit of his heart with her in that moment. If she had been her old self he was sure he could have made a clean break, but now… she was so vulnerable. He hated himself for leaving her, even if she’d be the one leaving this place not him.

  He swallowed a lump in his throat and exited through the far end of the long-hall. He didn’t have the heart to rejoin the celebrations.

  Not now.

  Not yet.

  40

  Jais woke just before dusk.

  He was ravenous and, as had been the case in the — however many — days since the wizard’s death, food had been left on the edge of the platform for him. He scurried over and ate it all, despite it being well cooled. He cared little.

  He cared little.

  That phrase stuck like a burr in his thoughts. It seemed to sum up the entirety of his being at this moment. So much had happened. He should have felt excited or victorious. They had defeated the wizard, and he’d discovered a new ability. He didn’t know where it had come from, but under that pile of men and woman trying to crush him he’d done something. The earth had shaken, and he’d thrown everyone off him. It had been amazing and eye-opening and allowed him to get to the wizard to help Caerwyn. But that felt like it had been so long ago. Now, he felt… nothing.

  Hollow.

  Nearby, someone cleared their throat.

  He paused in shoving food into his mouth and looked up to see a young man standing not far away. He was Dronnegir, that was clear enough by the tall lean build and red-blond hair.

  “I be told to tell you, if you woke before dusk, that that be when we will perform the rites for Elria.” The young man motioned to a large wooden basin filled with water and some fresh clothes, all in white. “If you wished to bathe and change we shall wait for you.” He nodded and left without waiting for any response.

  “What if I didn’t want to come,” Jais mumbled to himself, but he knew it was meaningless. He’d go.

  Finishing his meal, he stripped and stepped into the tub. The water wasn’t frigid, but it was far from warm. He cared little and sunk in, scrubbing himself.

  He wasn’t sure where the others were.

  When he’d fallen asleep after the battle, they had all had their bunks spread out somewhere nearby on this platform, but all their things were gone now. Had they left without him, heading south already? He didn’t think that likely, but he grew more concerned.

  How long had he been asleep?

  He knew only that he felt well rested now.

  Finally.

  It felt like it had been ages since he’d felt this way.

  And what would he do if the others had left him?

  Would he follow after them? He was a good enough tracker to find them if he wanted to. But, what did he want?

  He felt so… empty.

  He scrubbed hard to remove the layers of caked on grime, then dunked himself a few times. There was a cloth for drying himself, then he dressed. The clothes were not his, so they were ill fitting, there were few people in this world with his build. The Dronnegir were tall and muscular, he was even more muscular than most but stocky and short. Anything which fit him across the shoulders was usually too long for him.

  He made some adjustments to the clothes with his knife, caring little for the garments he might have ruined or the loose threads he left hanging from every hem. He put on his boots and walked out into the growing dimness of a gathering dusk.

  He’d been wrong. His friends had not left. They were all still here… but then why had they moved their bunks away from his? He shrugged and moved forward to join the large group which surrounded a pyre.

  Elria’s pyre.

  “We are all gathered,” a great baritone voice boomed into the dimness. Jais looked around to see Elria’s father standing with a torch, the only torch. “Who wishes to speak of my daughter before she be sent to Vala?”

  Jais froze, a tear in his eye and a lump he couldn’t quite swallow in his throat. He wasn’t ready for this.

  “I will.” Hildr stepped forward. All eyes turned to the chieftain’s daughter. “My cousin, though she trained with us in weapons, was always a kind soul. As a healer, she loved to help others. Yet she had no fear when it came to battle. Her heart be Dronnegir!” That got a bit of a cheer from the crowd. “Never doubt that she died fighting. Her spirit resisted until the end. She was the best of any of us… of all of us. I know not any woman like her and can only hope she will inspire us to be better.”

  A few people gave restrained cheers or affirming comments as Hildr stepped back.

  Jais had to move now.

  But he couldn’t.

  Tears were on his cheeks, and he feared he’d have no voice to speak with. That and his legs refused to move.

  Yet again, another stepped forward before he did.

  It was Caerwyn.

  “I cannot apologize enough.” The words were clear, her voice raised. But Jais could sense something from her, a bitterness underlying what she said, a self-loathing. It seemed to taint all her words, making them just a little too harsh, too abrasive. “It is my fault that this woman died.”

  Oh gods. No, don’t do this to yourself Caerwyn. Don’t tell them. They don’t need to know the details. Please just stop.

  “If I had not sought her out in Cold River to heal my friends. If she hadn’t known we were coming north, she may have stayed in that town. But she knew her duty…” Caerwyn faltered and her voice broke. It took her a moment and several breaths to recover. “She was strong and came north with us to warn you of our arrival.” Caerwyn shook her head a sour look on her face. “I should have heeded her warning, your warning. If I had, none of this would have happened. I am so, so sorry,” She wiped away tears and tried to speak again a few times, but in the end simply said, “I’m sorry.” She returned to her place tears running down her cheeks.

  Jais moved.

  His legs unstuck. He stepped forward. He didn’t know what he’d say, but he was committed now, moved by Caerwyn’s speech.

  He came to stand before the pyre, uncertain, in front of the gathered mass of Dronnegir. For a long time, he simply stood there trying to find words as tears traced his cheeks.

  He had to say something.

  “I—” His voice cracked with that one word. He couldn’t help himself. The noise he’d made had been so pathetic and his emotions so tense and taut that he had to laugh. He laughed in a jerking, sobbing sort of way for a long moment before it became sobs and the words fell out of him like the tears from his eyes. He wasn’t speaking loudly or perhaps even clearly, but he didn’t care.

  “I loved her. The gods only know how I loved her. She was unlike anyone I’d ever met. She was pure and loving and wonderful, and I wish to all the heavens that I could be there in her place and she here with you. I too am sorry that I and my friends dragged you and her into this mess. I can’t ever make up for your loss. If you feel her loss half as deeply as I do, then I know it will mark your soul just as it has marked mine. She was… she was… everything Hildr said she was: strong and brave and kind and wonderful and so helpful and, and, I’m so sorry. I… my heart… she…” He was stammering, and he knew it.

  Strong arms enfolded him and pulled him close to a large barrel chest.

  “I understand.”

  It took Jais a moment to figure out who was holding him. He looked up into the tear-streaked face of Elria’s father.

  “It be clear now, your feelings for her. I be sorry if I doubted you. I hold no ill will against you. She died a warrior, defending the dragon. That is all we can ask.”

  Jais nodded, and the man released him. Jais moved back to the crowd, feeling drained and with a new weariness coming over him. Though he felt just a little lighter for having released those words from his soul.

  Elria’s father spoke.

  Jais didn’t really hear the words, he was still a little lost in his own mourning. He only was drawn back as the man lit the pyre.

  “…and so we s
end her soul to Vala to be with her ancestors and the gods.”

  The flame caught quickly and spread, licking like a hungry wolf through the timber. Soon the white-wrapped bundle atop the pyre was no longer visible through the flames. Yet Jais stayed to watch the fire. He had to. He felt like there was nothing else for him in the world at the moment. He stayed, as did her father, late into the night until the pile was only embers. Then he returned to his bunk and returned to sleep. This time it was not the slumber of a fatigued body, but a weary soul.

  41

  Caerwyn stood on the roof of the hall she shared with her two companions: Jais and Volf. Barami was living with Hildr now. She was happy for him.

  If indeed she could be truly happy about anything.

  She stared out over the hills beyond the wall of the village, but the amazing vista did little to inspire much of any emotion within her.

  She shivered despite the warmth of the late summer morning. The cold wasn’t without, but within. Where before within her there had been certainty and daring, now there was just a gaping hole, frosty and hollow.

  She’d had time enough to think about what had happened to her; to assess the events in the cave and afterward. Logically, she knew she wasn’t a different person, but she felt like some part of her had been ripped out. The wound was healing, but in its place was only scarring. And as with all new scars it didn’t feel right, less sensitive and rough. She’d come to terms with what had happened, but they weren’t great terms.

  She was questioning things she’d never questioned before, which was odd. She knew more about herself and her power now than she had, but that was only part of who she was. That was what had been given to her through generations, but her heart and soul were her own and until now she’d never questioned her wants and desires.

  Now she questioned everything.

  Her keen ears picked up the footfalls of someone approaching. It was a testament to those superior senses that she even knew who it was. Jais and Volf had very different gaits and strides. This was soft and long, not sturdy and sure.