The Shadow Weave

by Annette Marie

  Just before plunging into the forest shadows, he glanced back. The ryujin met his stare with strange eyes, solid black with no sclera or pupils, colder than the depths of an ocean. Then the daemon returned his attention to the dying dragon.

  Lyre fled into the trees, knowing that once the dragon died under his hands, the ryujin would come for them again—even hungrier for their blood.

  He shoved through the underbrush as fast as he could manage. Once he’d put a few hundred yards between him and the ryujin, he stopped, breathing hard, and laid Clio on the mossy ground. Blood smeared her arm and had splattered all over her pale skin.

  He checked the wound, furious that he couldn’t access his magic to stop the bleeding. With no better options, he stripped off his shirt and undershirt, then shredded the latter and tightly bound her arm. After redressing and strapping on his bow and quiver again, he picked her up, threw her over his shoulder, and marched on, hoping she wouldn’t bleed out before he regained his magic. There was nothing else he could do.

  He had no idea where he was going and he couldn’t cast a light. All he could do was hope he was heading east. The undergrowth was thick and tangled, full of strange plants and unfamiliar trees. He tried not to touch anything; throughout the previous day, Sabir and Clio had warned him about poisonous plant life. A muted symphony of chirping, buzzing, and croaking from insects and amphibians filled the darkness.

  The Overworld was beautiful, he couldn’t deny that. But it seemed like the more beautiful something was, the deadlier it was as well.

  Like those silver dragons. And the ryujin, with jeweled scales covering half his body. Beautiful but deadly. Clio hadn’t been sure how powerful the ryujin really were, but having recently fought a draconian, Lyre was confident the ryujin rivaled the most powerful Underworld caste.

  Clio eventually stirred awake. They exchanged a few terse words before continuing. The ryujin knew trespassers had entered their territory. There was no stopping, no turning back. He and Clio had to keep going.

  The long night stretched on, the planet above waxing until its full round face glared down at the land. The foothills stretched endlessly, and with no guide and only a general direction to travel in, he and Clio struggled to find passable terrain.

  Lyre’s ability to use magic reawakened after a few hours, and he and Clio took their first real break so he could heal her arm. His healing skills were rudimentary at best and he knew he’d done a poor job, nothing like the perfect healing she’d performed on him. Her arm would scar, but otherwise, there would be no lasting damage.

  They traveled onward. The foothills grew rockier and more impassable, forcing Lyre and Clio to detour back into ryujin territory. They trekked through a dark forest with tangled roots carpeting the ground and moss coating every surface, the sweet smell of rotting vegetation clogging their noses.

  Their path carried them higher until they came out of the trees onto a ridge, not unlike the one where they’d fought the jinn. On one side was the valley they’d crossed, and on the other, the rocky terrain dropped in a sheer cliff. Across the gorge, a waterfall plunged into a narrow river where misty clouds shimmered faintly.

  From the high vantage point, Lyre could see farther into the Kyo Kawa mountains than he’d yet been able to. He’d thought the Overworld was beautiful before—but he’d had no idea.

  Miles of sweeping valley spread before them, and the dark forests were alight. Unidentifiable orbs shone softly, scattered through the trees like azure stars, and rising above the trees, thousands of lights in green, blue, pink, and purple danced and swirled.

  “What …” he mumbled, awed but confused.

  “Bell moths,” Clio answered, her voice hoarse with fatigue. “And the larger lights are wellata pods—the fruit of a vine. Incandescent at night.”

  “It’s beautiful.”

  She smiled tiredly, her pale skin radiant under the moonlight. He’d shifted back to his human glamour in case the ryujin could follow his unfamiliar Underworld magic, but she’d remained in her nymph form. Speaking of beautiful sights in this world …

  “Irida is like that too. I think you’ll—” She broke off, her lips pressed tightly together as she stared at the river below them. “I can see blue auras in the water. Either dragons or ryujin. They might be tracking us.”

  “Will they follow us into Irida?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Then we’ll stay away from the water and keep going.”

  She closed her eyes, gathering her strength—her shoulders straightening, chin lifting, hands curling into fists. He did the same, summoning the stamina and endurance he would need to make it out of this territory. Fear would have to keep him going.

  The ryujin frightened him—scared him on a deeper, more visceral level than Ash’s manufactured terror ever could. The way the ryujin had mysteriously brought the jinn to his knees. The way the ryujin had calmly and callously murdered the daemon, and had just as calmly and easily ripped out Sabir’s throat. The way the ryujin had turned an entire river to still, silent glass.

  Pushing those thoughts out of his head, he focused on their journey through valleys and up ridges, back down into valleys, always avoiding rivers where ryujin might be lurking. The rocky ground evolved into soft turf so gradually that Lyre missed the moment of transition, and now he found himself walking through a magical Overworld forest.

  Softly glowing azure pods hung from tree branches, long tendrils dangling from the bases like pale streamers. The radiant moss that covered every surface cast an enchanting but eerie turquoise hue over the woods. Insects flitted and darted, danced and swirled, their wings or bodies glowing or flashing, some as large as his outspread hand or even bigger. Their wings whirred quietly, filling the still air with a quiet hum, and delicate chirps that could have been birds or frogs echoed nearby.

  The trees had reached monstrous proportions and their heavy roots coiled across the ground in waves and arches so large that he and Clio walked beneath them as often as they walked over them. Flowers bloomed from low plants and climbing vines, some aglow with bright markings or with thick bodies that held a luminous liquid. The equally vibrant insects fluttered among them in a feeding ecstasy.

  Lyre walked a step behind Clio, staring all around. In the canopy high above, a pair of large green eyes blinked at him from a branch, then the small, furry creature hopped into the foliage and disappeared. Movement from the corner of his eye had him turning toward a fat tree root where a centipede-like insect, as long as his arm and almost as thick, scurried across the bark with countless legs that flickered with neon yellow light.

  Clio stopped and Lyre almost walked into her back. His gaze flashed around in alarm.

  “Look,” she said breathlessly, pointing. “We made it.”

  In the distance, almost obscured by the foliage, a double line of green lights stretched into the trees. Lyre squinted, trying to figure out what the lights were.

  Before he could ask, she rushed forward with renewed energy, weaving among tree roots and tall plant stalks with iridescent violet poofs on their tops. Lyre hurried after her, then slowed to a stop, letting her go on without him.

  Ahead were two simple wooden posts topped with pieces of rough crystal that glowed electric green with a spell. The posts marked the beginning of a wooden boardwalk that wound into the trees, the simple planks flowing up and over patches of heavy underbrush or dipping under the looping roots covered in soft moss and vines. Every dozen paces, another pair of crystal lamps guided travelers along the trail.

  From the head of the boardwalk, two paths forked—the first roads he’d seen since entering this realm. One headed west toward the ryujin mountains and one angled north. A post, its top holding another glowing crystal, had three markings carved into it, each indicating a trail.

  Clio raced to the signpost and stopped to scan the unfamiliar markings. He watched her, marveling at this stunning creature in a forest more enchanting than any magic he’d ever seen or
woven before. She moved without a hint of self-consciousness despite her minimal clothing, absolutely comfortable walking barefoot through the forest. The markings on her skin—spots and whorls in the faintest green—were almost invisible, but when the light caught them, they shimmered. With every tiny movement, she was art in motion.

  Exhaling slowly, he started forward again. As he approached, she turned, her silver-sheen hair fluttering around her and her huge eyes shining with unshed tears.

  “We made it!” Joy bubbled in her voice, overcoming her weariness. “We’re in Irida!”

  He smiled, enjoying her happiness. “You’re home.”

  “Finally,” she whispered, a single tear spilling down her cheek. Her gaze flitted across his face, then she slid her arms around his neck and tilted her face up, inviting him to lean down.

  He responded without thinking, capturing her lips with his. Her arms tightened, and he caressed her waist, his thumbs running over her smooth skin and finding the strange, slightly rougher texture of the markings that patterned her skin. He slid one hand up her back and into the silk of her hair, deepening the kiss until she melted against him.

  In that moment, it really sank in that he was kissing an Overworlder. He, an incubus, held a nymph in his arms. Cordial relations between residents of the two daemon realms were so rare that he and Clio fell into a tiny minority. Somehow, that realization took his breath away more than the beauty of the forest had.

  She drew back, her homeland’s lure too much for him to compete with. As she turned toward the boardwalk, she reached back and caught his hand, her fingers soft but her grip firm, holding him tight, keeping him close.

  He stepped to her side, tracing the trail of lights as far into the distance as he could see. Irida. Finally. A painful knot of tension released from his spine. They were safe from the ryujin.

  “If I remember correctly,” Clio murmured, “we’re about ten miles from the Iridian border with Kyo Kawa. It’ll take another day of travel from here to reach the capital.”

  “Ten miles from the ryujin border already?” He glanced over his shoulder. “I don’t remember crossing anything that looked like a border.”

  “I don’t think anyone worries about exactly where the border is on this side. The ryujin don’t come here, so …” She shrugged.

  “But isn’t Irida under threat of invasion from Ra?”

  “I’m sure there are soldiers along that part of the border.”

  He squinted thoughtfully. “I don’t know the lay of the land here, but it sounds like the territories of Ra, Kyo Kawa, and Irida all come together at some point. Wouldn’t that mean Ra could cut into ryujin territory to attack Irida from this side? Shouldn’t your king be guarding this area as well?”

  She frowned. “Maybe … I don’t know.”

  He glanced again at the empty forest behind them. Not a single soldier, scout, or guard. It was strange, but not their concern. He refocused on Clio. “Another day is more than I have in me. We need to rest—soon.”

  “Sleeping in the open in this forest isn’t comfortable—the insects will drive us mad. We need shelter, but I’m not sure …” Her eyes went out of focus. “Oh.”

  “Clio? What’s wrong?”

  “I just realized … we aren’t that far from …”

  “From where?”

  She blinked slowly, her expression oddly slack as though too many emotions were crowding her at once. “Not that far from home.”

  His brow furrowed. “Home?”

  Her eyes brightened again and she smiled, but her hand tightened on his like she needed a lifeline. “My old home, I mean. Where I lived with my mother. It’s about eight miles northeast of here. We could rest there.”

  “Is it a town or a village?”

  “There’s a village two miles farther north, but the house is isolated. I don’t think … there’s a chance someone else might live there now, but I doubt it.”

  “Sounds like our best bet,” he agreed, suppressing his wariness over her reaction to the place. He took a step, his boot thudding hollowly on the first plank.

  Clio stared down at the boardwalk as though afraid to step onto it. Her joy at being home was fading, and beneath her cheerful optimism, he sensed different emotions fueling her hesitancy.

  What exactly had driven her from her homeland two years ago?

  He hadn’t yet asked her about her claim that she was the king’s illegitimate daughter. He wanted to—he was dying to get answers—but they hadn’t had the time or energy for that sort of discussion. She’d mentioned before that leaving Irida had been a favor to Bastian, the prince, but Lyre suspected there was more to it.

  He was starting to suspect there was something ugly hidden in the unspoken details of her past, but he didn’t know how to ask—or if he should ask at all.

  Stepping back onto the dirt path, he wrapped his arm around her. She looked at him, her brow furrowed and eyes scrunched with emotions she was trying to hide.

  With gentle pressure, he pulled her forward and together they stepped onto the boardwalk. She halted again, her body stiff under his arm, then she relaxed. When she started forward, he moved with her, his fingers curled over her side.

  If she’d longed so desperately to return … why did she seem so afraid?

  Chapter Twenty

  She’d looked forward to returning home for so long, but now that she was back, she didn’t know what to feel.

  Over the last two hours, the sky had lightened and the morning suns had breached the horizon. Golden beams streaked through the trees, illuminating trails and paths that had grown increasingly familiar. She’d never ventured as far west as the boardwalk, but here every tree, every rock, every signpost was familiar.

  Her return wasn’t anything like she’d imagined. Instead of arriving triumphantly in the capital with Kassia at her side and Bastian welcoming her with open arms, Kassia was dead, Bastian probably thought Clio was dead, and she had a fugitive Underworld spell weaver as her companion.

  When she reached Bastian, would he be relieved to see her alive? Or would he be upset she had come to the capital, risking their family’s safety with her presence? If Ra ever found out about her, they would use her against the king.

  Exhaustion dragged at her limbs and every bone ached, but she didn’t stop until she came to a familiar towering tree with huge roots that sprawled across the forest floor. Moss covered its ancient bark and vines hung from the broad boughs, their scarlet leaves forming thick curtains that swayed in the breeze.

  The main trail continued past the tree, but a narrow path blanketed in leaf litter branched off under an arch in the tree roots.

  “The village is at the end of the main trail,” she told Lyre as he stopped beside her. “My old home is just up this path.”

  His gaze slid across her face. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes … I think so. I haven’t been here since … since shortly after my mother died.”

  He searched her eyes for a moment longer. “Together?”

  He held out his hand. Dirt and dried blood smudged his skin but she didn’t hesitate to grasp his fingers. Together. With her hand entwined in Lyre’s, she walked beneath the arch and followed the trail between gargantuan trees.

  After a hundred yards, the trees ended. Stretching before them was a small meadow with emerald grass, lush and tall, swaying in the breeze. In the center, a cabin stood, its walls covered in moss and vines so thick that the building appeared to have risen from the ground as naturally as the trees. Well beyond the house, three elegant ceryn, deer-like creatures with gold antlers, raised their heads to stare at the daemons, then bounded gracefully into the forest beyond the glade.

  She and Lyre waded through the waist-high grass to a low wooden fence that kept wildlife from wandering right up to the cabin. She shoved the gate open, flattening the grass, and her steps slowed further as she approached the door, half hidden beneath vines. She reached for the latch, but her hand froze before she could touch i
t. For a long moment, she stood with her fingers hovering above the handle. Grief and loneliness flooded her chest, leaving no room for air.

  She realized she was crushing Lyre’s fingers in her grip and loosened her hold. “Let’s go around to the back. There’s a well. We can get a drink.”

  “Sure,” he agreed. No impatience or exasperation touched his voice. No judgment. She could have kissed him just for that.

  The grass in the backyard was even longer, hiding the squat well. Only its little peaked roof was visible, the same old bucket hanging from the center post. On one side of the yard, a more robust fence circled a large garden plot where plant stalks and leaves of all shapes and colors were tangled up in the grass.

  “I don’t believe it!” Releasing Lyre’s hand, she ran to the fence and leaned over it. “There are vegetables!”

  “Huh?” He joined her at the fence.

  “I can’t believe the weeds didn’t choke out everything else.” Brightening with excitement, she hopped over the fence and pushed the grass aside. “We can eat before we head for the capital. How about vegetable soup?”

  He agreed enthusiastically and headed to the well while she sifted through the garden, getting an idea of what plants had survived and which were ripe for harvest. Crouching in a patch of low, broad-leaved plants, she dug into the soil and unearthed a cluster of fat gray bulbs.

  Lyre returned from the well and stretched over the fence to pass her his waterskin—the only piece of gear they had left. It had been tied to his belt when they’d escaped, but the rest of their belongings were long gone.

  Clio guzzled down the cool liquid, the tang of the well water painfully familiar, then handed the waterskin back. She gathered the bulbs and passed them to him. “Can you peel these?”

  “Peel them? I guess …”

  She frowned at his tone, then a laugh bubbled up in her throat. “You’ve never peeled a vegetable before, have you?”