Between the Shade and the Shadow
Page 11
“Hurry up, you two. A little starlight isn’t going to kill you.” Ahraia had told them just enough to keep them moving without whining, scared but not terrified. They knew something terrible had happened to Kaval and Altah, but she hadn’t mentioned the Shad-Mon.
The journey back to the Stone Tree was longer than Ahraia remembered, and her disquiet grew with every step. If the humans were camped in the meadow, they undoubtedly would have discovered her brothers and the orb. The nit tree would be leafless in a single turning without the moonlight to feed off of. And Kaval and Altah . . . she let the thought go, not wanting to think of their bodies being discovered.
“What do humans do with the dead?” Tev asked, as though an echo of Ahraia’s fears had escaped.
“You don’t want to know . . .” Hayvon said grimacing, leading them up a long gully of a dried up stream bed. “It’s not a peaceful rest under the unbroken dark, that’s for sure . . .”
They clambered up a dry falls with Shim in the lead.
“Father told me they burn them,” he said, peering back from above with a horrified gleam in his eyes.
Tev shuddered, “That’s not true. Is it?”
“Of course it is. They burn the body in the brightest, hottest flame they can make—”
“Shim. That’s enough,” Ahraia said, disgusted by the thought. She hoped it wasn’t a fate Kaval and Altah would suffer.
“I’m just telling her—”
Quiet, Hayvon conveyed, cutting Shim off and pulling Tev to the top of the rise. It’s not far now. This way. He gestured, leading them away from the stream bed towards a broad slope carpeted in ferns.
Ahraia’s ears kept twitching forward, listening for any signs of a song or the singer, but none came. The slope eased and the understory grew thick with maples and musty smelling charberries. The wind gusted in the trees, sweeping in and then leaving, each time stronger than before.
Losna lifted her nose. Smoke, she thought to Ahraia. Her tail stiffened.
Ahraia held up a hand in caution. She mimicked her shadow, sniffing the cool air. The smell was faint but unmistakable. Fire.
“Bright light and bitter day,” she cursed. “The humans have already reached the valley. Keep your shadows close.”
Tev trembled and Shim’s ears tucked inward, but neither argued. Ahraia took the lead and guided them downwind, where the scent of smoke grew heavier. Losna was just ahead, furtively picking her way through the woods, sniffing high and low. The trees creaked and shifted, stirring the night with swaying branches and the crackle of falling leaves. To Ahraia’s relief, thick clouds had hidden the stars.
I don’t like this, Hayvon thought, as the scent of smoke mixed with the strange smells of the humans. If the humans are already here, then there’s nothing to be done.
Tev pinched her nose. The odors were repulsive. They smell awful.
Like burning flesh, Shim conveyed with fiendish eyes.
Ahraia glared at him, her ears batting three times for silence. Her nose stung from the smoke.
Is that light? Hayvon conveyed before they had even crested the hill. A faint glow spread through the woods. That’s too big to be a fire.
The meadow was still out of sight, and yet, radiant light spewed through the treetops. Ahraia and the other shades paused, watching ahead. The light was garish and glaring—penetrating too deeply into the woods.
Hayvon caught Ahraia’s eye, his conveyance dropped low, hidden from the shades. You don’t think they’re burning them, do you?
Ahraia’s ears curled against her will, unable to answer out of fear. She imagined Kaval and Altah in a great pyre, burning before the humans, light and heat devouring them. She would die of guilt if that was their fate.
We should leave, Losna thought, nervously.
Ahraia shook her head stubbornly. I’m not leaving without the orb. She snuck forward to the hill’s crest, trying to get a glimpse of what could be sending out so much light.
That’s far enough, Hayvon conveyed from the deeper safety of the woods. It’s too late. The humans are already here.
Ahraia ignored him and edged towards a break in the woods. Upon reaching it, she peeked out from the cover of the trees and saw great, billowing flames rising from the meadow. They soared upwards, towering into the air as roiling clouds of light, far worse than any fire she had ever seen.
Dae-Mon above, she cursed. She ducked back behind the trees. Sweat beaded in her hair and she pulled her hood close before slipping forward. She stole carefully between safer shadows, contorting herself between the flickering beams. She looked back.
Hayvon’s ears tucked tightly against his head. Have you gone mad? You aren’t getting anywhere near that meadow, he conveyed. Against his usual prudence, he lumbered forward to Ahraia, shielding his face with an arm. If you come back to Daispar light-scarred, it’s my head.
Ahraia shook her head. What do light-scars matter if we don’t have a nit tree?
Hayvon’s bonding rang with disbelief. We can come back tomorrow night! Once the humans move on. Once this light is gone. Let’s—
A distant crash cut Hayvon’s conveyance short; it sounded like a tree cracking in a storm. New flames surged upward and then settled. Hayvon and Ahraia froze, waiting for anything else, but nothing came. No voices. No sound. No call or cry from the humans.
Another day under the Dae-Mon and it won’t matter if we get the orb back. It’ll be shattered, she pressed. And if the humans already have the orb, then it won’t do us any good to come back tomorrow night.
Hayvon glared at her.
Then I’ll go. That way father won’t condemn me. I’ll just burn up along the way. He took out his light-veil and unfurled it.
“Give it to me,” Ahraia said. She snatched it from him and held him back with an arm. We wouldn’t be in this if I’d used my head. I’m not going to let you suffer for it.
Hayvon opened his mouth to protest and lunged for the veil. Ahraia formed a binding and held him still. She half-wrapped the web about her neck with her free hand and stepped towards the light.
I’ll go without if you force me, she threatened stubbornly.
Hayvon’s conveyance was desperate. This is a bad idea. What if the humans see you? What if the orb isn’t there? You’re not going to find it and you’re going to mar yourself in the process. If you’d just—
Ahraia stepped closer to the light.
Hayvon looked tormented, letting out a growl before relenting. He stared at her skin. The faint lines of light-spotting were emerging at her wrists, drawn out by the barest glimpses of the fire. He frowned.
“What about the light?” he pleaded aloud.
It’s not like it’s the Dae-Mon. “I’ll survive,” she whispered. Get them to the deeper dark. Losna and I will be fine. Come on, Losna . . .
Hayvon reluctantly retreated with the shades to the safer dark, while Losna and Ahraia crept closer to the meadow. Losna moved one paw at a time. If she was quiet, it was nothing compared to what Ahraia was capable of. Silence was woven through every step. She bound branches, ferns, and leaves to keep even the faintest rustle from disturbing the night.
They reached the edge of the meadow and Ahraia paused, not yet daring to look at the bright fires. The oppressive menace that had permeated the night before was absent, chased away by the light.
Do you see anything? Ahraia conveyed. Scarlet firelight flecked Losna’s skin and danced in her eyes. Their bond reverberated with fear.
The work of the Shad-Mon, Losna thought, peering out.
Ahraia looped Hayvon’s veil about her face and risked a glance. She squinted. The light of the fires burned hot—so bright that she was forced to covered the veil with her arm. It rose in great, angry flames, illuminating the whole meadow, all the way from the eaves of the forest to the imposing figure of the Stone Tree.
Ahraia gasped at the ruin before her.
Flames engulfed the human encampment, but nothing else moved. Humans and horses both scattered
the ground, like the last leaves after an autumn storm. Two of the wagons lay tipped on their sides, their white coverings smoking heavily, the dark fumes curling amongst the wicked flames. The smell stung her nostrils: damp cloth and flesh. A surreal stillness reigned, even amongst the ever-dancing blaze. The wagons looked as though a great beast had ravaged them and cast fire over the whole meadow, like the sky-daemons of the north. But Ahraia knew it couldn’t have been.
Losna stepped back into the shadows. Are you convinced now?
There was no movement, and no sign of whoever or whatever did this. Nothing about the meadow seemed like the night before. Light replaced dark. The low crackle of flames replaced silence. The Stone Tree loomed over the meadow, flickering in the firelight but untouched by flames, staring down with empty, black eyes.
Is there anything alive out there? Losna asked.
Ahraia swept out with her mind. The meadow was too broad to tell, but a lingering sense of dread and devastation hung in the air, but it was far different from the intentional emptiness of the night before.
What do we do? Losna thought.
“We can’t do anything yet; these flames need to settle first. We’re just going to have to wait,” Ahraia said. She tucked herself into a dark hollow of the forest and listened, probing with her mind for any life or threat. Losna searched as well, her eyes fixed on the encampment and her ears turning one way and then the next, but nothing stirred except the slowly dying flames. After a time, the light settled to the point that Ahraia’s face didn’t burn when she peeked out.
Go check on Hayvon and the shades, she conveyed. Then circle the woods and see if there’s any sign of what happened. When you get back, we’ll go look for them.
What about you?
I’ll be fine. I want to keep a watch over things for a bit.
Losna huffed in discontent, not liking Ahraia’s plan one bit. She let out a whine but nuzzled against her cheek in acknowledgment.
And be careful, Ahraia conveyed after her.
Losna trotted off into the woods, leaving Ahraia listening to the whispers of the fires. She waited and watched. The flames slowly turned to embers, and she sensed the skies overhead growing darker. It smelled of rain, and she hoped for a downpour.
Not one of the humans had moved. Their deaths would mean trouble in the Gelesh. More humans would come—with bright armor and sharp spears. And more fire. The borders of the forest would be dangerous. But horrible as that thought was, her mind kept returning to their deaths.
What kind of daemon could kill a whole troop of lightwalkers? she wondered. What kind of daemon could kill two shades and their shadows?
The thought festered in her mind until she sensed Losna creeping back from the woods. The firelight barely glowed on the eaves of the forest now.
Anything out there? Ahraia asked.
Deserted. Hayvon’s still safe in the deeper dark. Losna looked about, her ears twitching in all directions. She let out an agitated huff. I want to be done with this place. We’ve already lingered too long.
“Then let’s get this over with,” Ahraia whispered. I can probably stand this light. She pulled up her hood and carefully re-wrapped Hayvon’s light-veil about her face, so only her eyes shone out.
Are you sure?
Ahraia looked back to the fires. Only a few low, lingering flames and bright hot embers remained, licking at the wagons and ruins.
We’ll find out. She nodded to Losna and then moved decidedly from their hiding place.
The heat and light pressed against her eyes, but her skin didn’t burn. Losna jogged right beside her, worrying and watching and sniffing as they went. Ahraia hurried towards the Stone Tree, staying low in the grass and awaiting Losna’s warning if anything seemed amiss. She sought out ahead of her with her mind, fearing the sudden paralysis of the night before. But no enchantment came. They crossed the meadow quickly, staying well away from the ruins of the human encampment. Ahraia’s heart thudded in her chest and the skin around her eyes felt hot. Her mouth was dry and sticky, knowing she was about to see her brothers again.
Careful, Losna thought as they approached.
Ahraia drew her small drain and peered into the dark. The closure itself was black, but the glowing cinders of the human fires cast the ground in relief. Ahraia leaned in and saw at once that neither her brothers nor their shadows lay where she had left them. She moved cautiously inside the underdae. Losna pressed up against her side.
The entry was empty; her brothers were gone.
Where are they? Losna asked as she sniffed about, moving carefully into the darker recesses of the Stone Tree.
Ahraia’s mind was racing. Had the humans found their bodies? Moved them? Burned them? And where was the orb? Had the humans taken it? She crept into the bowels of the Stone Tree, toeing her way down a narrow, rubble-strewn passage. She turned a corner and the closure was hidden entirely. She let her eyes adjust.
Small chambers led off either side, but they too were empty. The stairs leading both up and down were crumbled inward. She circled back, searching each corner for Kaval and Altah. She checked beneath an overgrown bramble that spilled in through a second closure, and beneath a small pile of stone where part of the structure had collapsed.
They aren’t here. Ahraia stood up, disheartened and worried. Neither is the orb.
Blood stained the ground where Kaval had lain, but no other signs remained of her brothers or the orb. She swept her hands over the rough dirt floor wondering if perhaps the orb had shattered from all the light of the day and the fires. But there were no fragments of it. And if it hadn’t shattered, then she expected it to be gleaming with brilliant light.
She stood up and looked back to the human fires, wondering if the lightwalkers had perhaps burned her brothers before whatever trouble had beset them. Her heart constricted with guilt.
Do you think the humans took them? Losna thought, following her gaze.
I hope not. She hesitated in the cool dark just inside the closure, wondering what to do next. Losna sniffed once more and then headed out of the underdae into the grasses of the meadow. Ahraia walked about the structure again, knowing she wasn’t going to find them. An agitated woof came from outside.
Here they are! Losna called to her.
Ahraia hurried from the underdae, not caring about the burning light. Losna sniffed through the waist-high grasses of the meadow, her fur glowing in the dying flames.
Just their shadows, she thought as Ahraia approached. Here’s Reyn. She stood over Kaval’s fox, nuzzling him gently, as though he might awaken with her touch.
Ahraia stooped down and turned him. The soft white fur at his throat was punctured cleanly, too perfect to be caused by anything but a blade.
The knife. Ahraia remembered the charcoal black of the blade. She couldn’t imagine the daemon using a knife. It didn’t seem right.
Losna sniffed through the grass. She woofed again, quietly, upset. Here’s what’s left of Mehra. Altah’s raven lay several yards away, one wing twisted awkwardly out.
Losna moved away, checking progressively outward from the shadows and the underdae. A faint mist began to fall.
“Do you see the knife?” Ahraia asked. She searched across the meadow’s rough tussocks, trying to retrace their path. Losna hurried after her, sniffing about below the dry grasses.
It’s here, she snorted and shook her head, disgusted by whatever she smelled.
Ahraia hurried to her shadow, kneeling next to her to block the light of the glowing embers. She peered at the knife, examining it closely before picking it up. It was long and charcoal black, as slim as a drain but of some strange material Ahraia had never seen. It wasn’t bone of any type she knew, and it wasn’t metal, wood, or stone.
She picked it up. It was cool to the touch, far lighter than she expected. And yet, she could tell it was strong. Unbreakable perhaps. She tested the tip, pricking the end of her finger with hardly any pressure. A point of blood formed on her skin.
They must be among the humans, she conveyed. Ahraia moved towards the burning remnants of the wagons. Most of the flames were extinguished, but the night was still brighter than any she had ever seen. She held her hood close and put a hand over her nose and veil. She ducked behind the only wagon that remained upright and hadn’t yet succumbed to the fire at its feet. The mist prickled at her skin and hissed at the edges of the fire.
The repugnant stench of humans filled her nose. Two twisted figures lay on the ground nearby, and a third slumped awkwardly over a broken barrel of wood, all dead.
Losna’s fur bristled nervously. Let’s get out of here. They aren’t here. And neither is the orb.
Ahraia peeked inside the wagon. A smaller human’s body lay across the floor with blood pooled about it. It was only a child, like a spriteling and it clutched something close to his chest, almost like Tev clutched her shadow. It was the small, wooden figurine she had seen him playing with the night before, carved in the perfect likeness of a human. It dangled from four strings tied to a cross of wood. Ahraia felt a pang of hurt, wondering what horrors he had seen in his last moments.
Losna let out a low, agitated growl. Ahraia looked up to find her shadow’s eyes on the woods. Her tail was stiff and her ears pointed to the darkness.
Something’s out there.
Ahraia’s eyes snapped towards the forest where firelight danced and flickered against the outer eaves. She couldn’t see anything, but she could feel it. It came as a chill running through her body. They were being watched.
Ahraia ducked behind the wagon, her first thought wondering if it was the Shad-Mon returned. She didn’t feel the paralyzing enchantment of the night before or the overbearing menace. She thought about Hayvon and the shades, but she knew they wouldn’t venture so close to the fires.