The Oathbreaker's Shadow

by Amy McCulloch

  He had been only ten years old when they first met. He had been out on a hill in the middle of the steppes in the dead of night, forced into guard duty over the goats after one of the elders had spotted the menacing form of a lone wolf prowling the countryside not far away. The wolf was the most dangerous creature of the steppe. Its endurance surpassed any other, and even one that seemed far away could suddenly come and steal a prized kid in the dead of night.

  Just not on Raim’s watch. Even at ten years old, he hadn’t been afraid.

  He remembered he had almost willed the wolf to come, anything to alleviate the boredom that was fast settling into his bones. His eyelids had grown heavy, the burden of staying alert too much.

  But that was when he heard the growl. Immediately, Raim’s ears had pricked up, his heart rate speeded up and he willed himself to become deadly still. The growl came again, and this time Raim could place it – on the other side of the hill from where he and his goats were safely resting.

  Slowly, Raim crept up to the crest of the hill, until he was at the highest viewpoint. The bottom of the hill on that side dropped away in a much steeper slope. That was when he saw it: the grey wolf, its fur matted and teeth bared. It was crouched down low, in a position to strike. A smattering of blood was scattered in front of it, and curiously there was a willow basket – ripped to shreds by the wolf’s teeth – a few feet away.

  Raim couldn’t see the object of the wolf’s ire, but he couldn’t hear any bleating either. He wondered if its prey was already half-dead, beyond saving.

  He crept over the hillside, manoeuvring into a position where he could see the victim. But it wasn’t a lamb at all. It was another little boy, standing with his back to the rock, cowering from the beast.

  Even in the weak moonlight, Raim could see the boy’s hands, red with blood. At first, Raim thought he must’ve been attacked already, but then there was another clue: a thick hunk of meat lay at the boy’s feet.

  There had been little time to ponder that mystery. Raim could see the boy had no weapons. He picked up a rock from the ground and drew himself up to his full height. Then he launched the rock at the wolf and ran down the hillside shouting as loud as he could. He leaped the last few feet as he reached the sheer rock face, and landed in front of the other boy.

  He had thought the rock and the shouting might be enough to drive the wolf away, but not this one. This wolf was hungry; the scent of blood was in his nostrils, and a hungry wolf was also desperate. The creature eyed Raim like a soldier assessing a new foe, but Raim was only small then – and the threat was dismissed. The wolf advanced.

  But Raim was prepared. He star own path to followor from side to sideCC fed the wolf in the eye as his fingers fumbled behind his back for the whittling knife he carried at his belt. Fear was beginning to scratch at him now, threatening to pull his focus from the job at hand. Actually being face to face with a wolf was different from how he had imagined it. Being so close – the razor sharp points of its teeth, the terrible stench of its breath, the rabid look in its eye – made it seem all the more real and terrifying.

  The wolf was advancing on them both now. Raim saw him bunch his muscles, prepare to lunge . . .

  The other boy moved then. He scooped up the piece of meat and prepared to dash past the wolf.

  Its attention diverted, Raim took the split second to leap for the wolf, even as it sprang for the other boy. He plunged the knife into the wolf’s ribcage, trying his best to ignore the snarls and howls of pain from the creature. He gripped tightly onto the wolf’s fur, not letting go as it thrashed from side to side, trying to stay out of reach of the gnashing teeth.

  Then there was a thud, and then another, and the wolf slumped into his arms, two arrows buried into its side.

  For the first time throughout the whole ordeal, the two boys looked at each other. The other boy’s arm was shaking under the weight of the bow, but his aim had been true.

  The moments after that had been a blur. The elders arrived – attracted by the shouting and commotion – to find Raim drenched in wolf’s blood. That was when Raim found out the boy he saved was the son of a warlord. The warlord wouldn’t let Raim go back to being a lowly goatherder, but told him that someone of his bravery and skill should be training with the elite warriors of Darhan. That’s how Raim had become a Yun apprentice.

  Khareh had explained later that he had been trying to trap the wolf, so he could tame it and keep it as a pet. But instead of a wolf, he had gained a friend – and from that moment on, the two boys had been as inseparable as two humps on a camel.

  Now, Raim was about to take his Yun test, and the only growl was from his stomach.

  He found himself being drawn deeper towards the market stalls. The smell warmed him more than a freshly stoked fire and made his mouth fill with saliva. After months living on a diet of goat’s milk, rice and the occasional piece of dried meat, the variety on Kharein’s streets overwhelmed him. It seemed like everyone in Darhan – and beyond – felt the same way. The food market was filled to the brim. The Festival had well and truly begun.

  But it wasn’t just any food that Raim was after. If anything, it was the tyrfish from the River Erudine that was drawing him deeper into the market. The Festival was the only time of the year that the fishermen – the Erudees – brought their catch to the capital city. They transported it strapped to fragrant planks of wood cut from the forests on the border of Mauz. By the time they reached Kharein, the fish was rich with flavour – once seared on the giant wood-heated grills on the city streets it became Raim’s favourite dish.

  He followed his nose to the stall and handed over a few bronze coins for a portion. It came wrapped in thin white paper, juicy and delicious.

  Before he could take a bite, he felt a tug on the sleeve of his tunic. He looked down into the face of a young boy. ‘Excuse me, are you a Yun apprentice?’

  Raim smiled. ‘Yes . . .’

  } div.shading-50-whiteor from side to sideCC f‘GRANDFATHER, I’VE FOUND ONE!’ the boy shouted.

  All of a sudden he was surrounded by people, jostling him between them like a gutball. In one instant he was being pulled at by a dozen young boys asking for advice, the next he was in amidst strong-armed merchants, like the young boy’s grandfather, evaluating him for a good bet.

  ‘How’s your sword arm?’

  ‘Not feeling a little weak in the shoulder?’

  ‘Don’t eat that Erudine crap, you’ll feel sick for the bout.’

  ‘I’ll give you a hundred gold pieces if you let the other boy win.’

  He knew apprentices often experienced a whirlwind of attention during the festival, but he never realized it was as bad as this. He felt trapped. Khareh was the one who normally got all the attention and Raim liked it that way. Khareh might embrace it, but Raim could currently think of nothing worse. He tried to push his way through the crowd to escape, but wherever he moved the hungry throng followed.

  ‘Quick, follow me!’ said a whispered female voice. A hand pressed on his back, then slid round to his elbow to lead him away. He whipped round just in time to see the girl’s dark brown eyes urging him to follow her before she disappeared into the crowd.

  Erdene.

  A new kind of adrenaline fuelled him now, his heart speeding up to a thousand horse strides a minute in his chest. He caught sight of her again, and doubled, trebled his effort to get to her, finding a path through the crowd that had seemed so impenetrable before.

  She ducked down an alley, and just as he entered it himself he saw her twist down into another. This part of Kharein, behind the market stalls, was a maze of cramped, darkened streets barely wide enough for a single person to move. He turned sideways to fit down the alley she had turned down, then stopped abruptly as a hand grabbed his belt and pulled him backward.

  He tumbled into a small courtyard, a welcome square of space after the tight alley and hungry crowd. A line of freshly washed linens hung from a cord across two windows above them, motion
less in the still air.

  Or maybe the air only felt so still because he was suddenly aware of how close he was to Erdene. Close and alone.

  He turned round to see her pulling the veil down off her head, strands of long black hair falling across her face. She pushed them off her forehead, threw her head back, and laughed. ‘Gods, did you expect that? All those people clamouring for us. I guess the other apprentices have been through this before, so that’s why we don’t see them out and about so much before the duel.’

  Raim struggled to form any suitable kind of reply, his mouth suddenly completely dry. She didn’t wait for him to speak, though. ‘Do you have any idea when they’ll call us in for the fights? Last year it was at the beginning of the Festival, so maybe this year they’ll make it the closing event . . . I hate to be kept waiting, don’t you?’

  His mouth tried to form words like, ‘Yes, the wait is horrible,’ but instead he ended up mumbling something vaguely affirmative.

  Erdene didn’t seem to notice. She leaned back against the wall, and when she looked Raim in the eyes, he was surprised to see them glistening. ‘I’m so worried about the fight,’ she said, biting her lower lip. ‘I don’t know a temporary settlementmSVwad if I’m ready for Jendo. It’s his third try and . . . I want to be Yun. I want to be Yun more than anything.’

  ‘Jendo is a good fighter, but he has his weaknesses,’ Raim said, grateful she had finally picked a topic that would loosen his tongue. On this subject, he could talk for ever. ‘He’s steady, but he’s not very creative. You can trick him – use feints, deflections. Come at me now.’ He beckoned her over.

  She blinked the moisture from her eyes, as if weighing up the decision. Then she pushed away from the wall and moved into a fighting stance. She bounced on the balls of her feet a couple of times, then snapped forward to strike at Raim.

  He allowed himself to take the blow, absorbing the majority of the force on his left shoulder. Then, when she attacked again, he turned his body as if protecting his injured left side. He watched as Erdene’s nostrils flared, as if she could almost smell his weakness. Then she went in again for the kill, but he used his uninjured right to deflect the force of her attack against her and almost flipped her onto the ground. Except he didn’t let her complete the fall, catching her a few inches from the floor.

  They remained in that position for a moment. It was only a moment, but it was long enough for Raim to notice he could feel the strong muscles of her back through her coarse tunic where he’d caught her, long enough to notice her hair trailing on the ground over his sandals, tickling the skin of his toes. He lifted her up to her feet quickly, before he noticed anything else.

  Her face was hot and red with the exertion, but a wry smile crossed her face. ‘I see what you did. Feinting. Got it.’ She reached forward and Raim held his breath. She straightened his tunic by running her hands across his shoulders. ‘There. Better.’

  He smiled back, awkwardly.

  ‘So, Raim, where’s the Crown Prince? Aren’t you two always together at the moment? That’s what I heard . . . that you are close enough to be in line to be his Protector one day.’ She raisea proud young

  7

  After he’d recovered from his encounter with Erdene enough to move again, Raim meandered his way back through the alleys in the vague direction he the other apprenticese was I a couple of times from the i thought Dharma and Loni would come looking for him. He was of sound mind enough to check for any sign of the crowd he had lost in the markets first before leaving the alley. But instead, he saw an even more unexpected sight: Khareh.

  ‘Ah, Raim, just the person I was looking for!’

  ‘Oh, hey, Khareh. I’m supposed to be meeting Loni . . .’

  ‘Whatever you need to do, it can wait; I have something far more exciting.’

  ‘But Loni and Dharma are going to help me choose a promise string. I need it before the Yun battle begins, and that could be any time . . .’

  ‘Think of it this way,’ said Khareh, always the negotiator. ‘You’ve already thwarted the gods of fate just by bumping into me. No going back now. You might as well give in and come with me.’

  Raim shrugged and gave in, encouraged by Khareh’s infectious excitement. ‘So where are we going?’

  ‘You remember that sage?’

  ‘As if I could forget!’

  ‘Well, I convinced Altan to give us a few minutes of alone time with the magician before he’s formally shipped off to prison and executed. They’re keeping him in a yurt outside the wall near the Rentai. We’re going to make him teach me how to make a carpet fly.’

  ‘My head.’ Raim covered the top of his closely-shaven head with his hands. ‘If I’m seen like this, I’ll be recognized right away.’ He thought back to the market square, the crowds.

  ‘I came prepared,’ said Khareh. He fumbled in the bag he was carrying and brought out a length of turban cloth and a small, dirty canvas sack. Raim wrapped the cloth around his head.

  ‘What’s that for?’ He eyed the sack.

  In response, Khareh dipped his hand into the bag and flung a handful of black ash from it into Raim’s face. Raim found himself with a mouthful of dust.

  Khareh started running.

  ‘If you weren’t the Prince, I’d kill you!’ Raim sped after him.

  ‘You could try!’

  They ran, weaving through the tumultuous Darhanian crowd, ducking under baskets and avoiding the rotting fruit that littered the ground.

  ‘How can the sage teach you if he’s sentenced to death?’ Raim dropped his voice to a whisper as they got closer to the outer wall. ‘Surely you can’t learn magic just like that . . .’

  ‘There has to be a way, I just know it. I will force it out of him if I have to.’

  They exited the city through one of the smaller gates and Khareh singled out the prison yurt. They crept behind the back. The tent was specifically designed to hold prisoners and traitors. It looked ordinary on the outside, and blended with the sea of felted tents all around it. But inside there was a second room, the walls of which were made of thick black material, blocking out all light and sound.

  Against the dirty beige of the yurt, Khareh’s cloak sparkled. It was made from a bright blue weave covered with hundreds of tiny circular mirrors. Raim caught a quick glimpse of his reflection. His face was covered in ash, the black smeared all over his forehead, cheeks and nose. Contrasted with his dark eyes and the tan a temporary settlementmSVnodned skin visible around his hairline and neck, he looked a disaster. He prayed he wouldn’t run into anyone who might know him.

  ‘Khareh, you are a prince. You’re destined to rule . . . not to be an apprentice to a sage.’

  ‘I see no reason why I can’t be both. A prince with magic. Think how good that sounds. And anyway, how can he refuse me? I’m the Khan. He’s my subject, isn’t he?’ He disappeared into the yurt with a grand flourish.

  Raim stared in disbelief as the curtain fell. ‘You’re not the Khan yet,’ he said, and slipped inside behind his friend.

  Altan was waiting for them. Raim had always been wary of the Khan’s adviser, with his crooked fingers and pointed beak of a nose. Khareh always said he was harmless, but Raim wasn’t sure.

  ‘You must be quick,’ he said to Khareh. His breath caught as he spotted Raim. ‘Prince, forgive me, I thought I said to come alone.’

  Khareh just shrugged. ‘And I decided to bring my friend with me.’

  ‘But the prisoner will only speak to you.’

  ‘So? Raim can hide inside. He won’t be seen.’

  Altan’s eyes narrowed as he glanced over Raim’s ash-covered face and hastily thrown together turban. He refused to say anything further, and simply pulled back the second layer of cloth separating the prisoner’s room from the rest of the yurt.

  Khareh strode in confidently, and Altan followed close behind. Raim slipped in last, creeping down low to the ground and staying close to the perimeter of the room. There was a stack of canvas sac
ks and fur pelts piled up along the far side. He squeezed behind it and kneeled down. From his vantage point, he could see the back of the prisoner. The sage’s hands were tied behind his back around the centre post, angry black ropes coiled like snakes around his wrists.

  ‘I wish to become a sage,’ said Khareh. ‘Will you be able to teach me?’

  Raim shifted a coarse burlap sack. He could see Khareh’s face but not the sage’s. The sage was whispering and Raim struggled to hear a word.

  ‘My prince . . . not worthy of your attention . . . humble servant.’

  By contrast, Khareh’s voice was strong and full of pride. Raim could sense his friend’s excitement bubbling right under the surface. ‘Prove your worth to me then, sage, and I will make sure you receive the respect you deserve in my court. The ancient books tell of a ruler so great, he united all of Darhan. He was a sage. Tell me how I can become him.’

  There were more murmurings from the sage’s limp form. Raim caught the word ‘Batar’. Khareh grabbed one of the large urns near the sage and threw it to the ground, shattering it. Altan put his hand on the Prince’s shoulder, trying to restrain him. Khareh shrugged him off. ‘Sola take my uncle! Tell me what I need to do to become a sage!’

  Tell him, Raim said in silent prayer under his breath. He had seen Khareh blow up at his uncle, his tutors and his servants. If things didn’t go his way . . .

  ‘Fine.’ Khareh’s voice was hard and cold, like iron. ‘Have it your way. Tomorrow you will be sent to Garra prison, for a short stay in hell before you are executed. That death will come to you } div.shading-50-whiteor Wadi and VladCC f as a mercy, if my uncle has anything to do with it. We don’t take kindly to oathbreakers who refuse their exile.’

  Khareh turned on his heel, but there was a feeble ‘Wait’ from the sage. ‘I can teach you,’ the sage said, his voice ragged, then taking on a harder tone. ‘But it will require the ultimate sacrifice from you.’

  ‘Anything,’ Khareh breathed.

  Hands gripped Raim’s ankles and pulled him under the curtained walls to the outer circle of the yurt. When he flipped over, he looked straight into the muddy green eyes of Mhara.