Between the Shade and the Shadow

by Coleman Alexander

  And then stillness.

  Ahraia hardly dared to breathe. The shadow sniffed the ground nearby, growling.

  “Quiet, boy. That bear’s up the hill by now,” the man said.

  A terrifying scraping sounded directly above Ahraia’s head. She flinched, and a great booming noise of wood knocking against wood filled the air. Startled, she nearly split from her cover. Did the human know she was there? Was he trying to get her to run, like a rabbit from its hiding?

  Another scraping noise and she saw a piece of wood taken from atop the wall, followed by another boom.

  Ahraia held her breath, too scared to act, shuddering with every scrape and thud.

  The noises came again and again. The smell of the man pressed into her nose, all musk and sweat and sour cloth. She huddled low, waiting for the end to come, but eventually, she heard a heavy grunt and a great rumble, and his footsteps faded.

  She peeked around the wall and saw the human pushing the cart filled with broken wood towards his house, followed by his shadow. Ahraia let out a relieved breath, still hardly daring to move.

  The kill was out of the question.

  I’m a coward, she thought, filled with guilt. Her ears batted, knowing she might not get another chance. The human rounded the side of the house, his unceremonious light gratefully disappearing.

  Ahraia gathered her courage. She stalked after him through the woods, reminding herself that one way or another, she needed a head.

  The house creaked and a stiff closure formed, twice as wide as the man. Light streamed outward. A smaller human emerged, a boy, who took the wood the man handed him and disappeared inside. All the while, the shadow sniffed about their feet, so distinctly similar to Losna.

  Without thinking, Ahraia reached out and bound it.

  Food, it thought, snuffling across the ground, giving Ahraia a sharp pain of memory. She let the binding dissolve, desperate for Losna.

  The man and the child worked in silence, if anything humans did could be called quiet. When they finished, the man wheeled the push-wagon back against the wall and disappeared into the cover of the house. The closure slapped closed behind him.

  How in the light can I kill one of these?

  An arrow would do the trick, but then what? Would she take the head and leave the body for the rest of its nit to find? The man had a small one, maybe more . . . and a shadow too.

  This is madness, Ahraia thought, swallowing painfully. There was no sense in this task at all. Killing a human wouldn't make her a sprite, it would make her a wraith.

  Her link to the shadow must have lingered, because she heard its thoughts from inside, food . . . food . . . food.

  She needed Losna back. A mix of guilt and fear rose; her best opportunity to make the kill had likely just slipped away.

  “I’m going to have to do this,” she whispered, cursing her own cowardice.

  The wind stirred up from the south, rattling dried leaves against the house. She was going to have to approach the house. Maybe even bait the human out somehow. She thought about making a racket, trying to draw them into the night, but that might bring them all out, and she didn’t know how many there might be.

  She watched and waited, but the closure stayed closed. The humans’ voices carried out from inside from time to time. A horse brayed off in the distance. Ahraia’s ears twisted forward.

  Ahraia lifted her nose to the air. A smell wafted from the house towards her. She sniffed, unexpectedly salivating.

  Meat, she thought, reminded of the cook fires in Daispar. Her stomach grumbled. She hadn’t had meat in half a turning, and roots and berries had twisted her stomach in a knot. She couldn’t believe she was hungry at a time like this. Only Losna would think of food.

  Her chest tightened. There was no choice but to get on with it. She adjusted the arrows at her hip, her decision made. She needed to look into the house, to see what she was up against.

  Steeling herself, she stepped out from the woods.

  Her skin was afire with nerves and dim light. She flitted across the barren earth to the pall of the house. She crept around the corner, away from the swinging closure.

  The horses snickered and stomped away in the meadows. Ahraia moved silently, each step hushed, until she was just below the yellow-laced closure, spitting light outward. Thin wooden vines crisscrossed the opening, perfectly straight. She paused and listened, hearing the faint murmur of the humans inside. She set her bow and clutch of arrows quietly against the wall, and slowly raised her eyes to the closure. Blinding light spilled outward. Ahraia squinted tightly and peered inside.

  The humans huddled close to a bright, angry fire, sitting in silence, strangely muted.

  Ahraia’s ears quivered, pointing straight up. She couldn’t imagine the torture of sitting before a fire.

  The man’s dae-mon was hidden and she was glad; she didn’t want to see how they kept the night at bay. Her eyes were already burning from the brightness.

  Nearer at hand, some sort of cooked bird sat just inside the closure. A pheasant she guessed, though it had already been dressed and cooked. A small one.

  Ahraia sniffed. It was strange, she couldn’t smell it as strongly as before, though it was right before her eyes. Still, her mouth watered. She thought about just reaching through the closure and grabbing the meat. The humans wouldn’t notice; they were all looking towards the fire. But maybe they would notice. Maybe they would think it was a fox or a bear. Or maybe they would think it was something more devilish. Maybe they would come looking for the thief.

  Her stomach growled.

  It was a brilliant plan. When they noticed it missing, they would come looking for her. Maybe just the big one, the man. She could make her kill in the safety of the dark woods and be done with it without a binding. His head would be hers.

  Ahraia made her mind up in a split second.

  Impressed with her ingenuity, she raised onto her tiptoes and made to quickly reach through the closure to grab the bird—

  Thunk!

  Her hand smacked against some unseen barrier and a loud slap echoed out. She ducked down, flushing in panic as the humans all turned toward her. The human shadow began to howl inside the light tree, its voice muted by the invisible barrier.

  “Ahooo. Ahoo.”

  Ahraia scrambled for cover, knocking her clutch over and breaking the tie. Her arrows spilled on to the ground.

  Light take me, she thought, her heart racing.

  “What was that?” one of the humans asked. His voice was muffled and Ahraia realized some devilry kept the closure closed, even while she could see through it. She ducked into the deeper shadows along the wall, just as a grizzly silhouette stood before the light. Her arrows were hidden, but they were scattered everywhere.

  “Was that an owl? Sounded like it might have hit the window,” a human said.

  Ahraia held her breath. She resisted the urge to bind him.

  “Can’t see anything,” one of them said. Ahraia’s ears strained.

  The shadow was still howling incessantly.

  “That didn’t sound like an owl to me. Yewl, get the axe.”

  Ahraia struck out with her mind and softly linked the shadow. At first touch, she flinched, but then she soothed it. She heard the humans talking but couldn’t hear their words anymore.

  It’s okay. It’s okay. Shhhh, Ahraia thought, stilling the shadow. It quieted, but a moment later, she heard the strange creaking closure and then the bang of it closing.

  Cold sweat broke out across her neck, and she saw light tumbling towards her. Instinctively, she reached out to bond the human, forgetting all intention to avoid enchantments. She sensed it coming around the house, and darted in the opposite direction, having no choice but to leave her arrows. She would just have to come back for them—

  Shouting erupted inside the house.

  “Da, I see it! I see it!” one of the humans called.

  Light jumbled around the outside of the house. She gave up any pre
tense of enchantment and scurried for the woods.

  “What the hell is that? Da, get back in the house!” one of them shouted.

  “Ealor, get in the house,” a woman’s voice called out.

  Ahraia sprinted for the woods. The night around her was thrown into light. She turned and saw the brilliant dae-mon being held by the human as he emerged around the corner. Ahraia stumbled back, blinded by the brightness of the light. She raised her hand to her eyes, unable to discern shade from the shadows.

  But the man was staring right at her. She turned and fled as his voice called after her.

  “Raise the town!” he shouted at the top of his lungs. “It’s a demon.”

  22

  Broken Dark

  The true Dae-Mon had almost risen when Ahraia finally stopped. Miles lay behind her, and she was sure the humans had given up the chase. Even with their shadows, they couldn’t possibly keep up with her, not if they followed her all day and all night.

  Her mind had gone blank. The frayed edges of her fears strained against the dull, haunting pulse of reason. She was going to have to go back; she had to make a kill.

  And she was going to have to be ruthless about it.

  Her stomach tightened in a knot.

  I’m going to have to make a binding, she thought darkly, at the very least to get them alone without light.

  A memory of the keress swelled up, and she felt dizzy. Losna had begged her not to, but trusting luck had nearly ended in ruin. She spit, trying to rid herself of a chalky taste that filled her mouth. The humans were too dangerous, too clouded in light . . .

  “I’m going to have to, this once . . .” she said. She swore she could hear Losna’s thoughts in reply.

  It will destroy you . . .

  Her ears batted in shame.

  You won’t recover . . .

  Her palms were sweating. She pushed her worries aside. The gray of dawn was coming, and if she didn’t find shelter soon, nothing else would matter. She turned her mind to finding darkness.

  The woods about her felt strange, and awake. She knew she was still on the borders of the human realm, just a night’s run away, but the woods felt familiar now. She smelled wickers and pines, and the faintest lingering of eaves-web growing wild.

  I’m going to have to go back, she thought again, her ears twitching at the familiar caw of a moon raven.

  The human road would likely be the place to make the kill. An arrow from the woods and maybe she wouldn’t need a binding. Or maybe if she folded a corner of darkness just at the fringe, she could coax one off the path during the day. A light binding. Maybe even just a noise to draw them in.

  Her heart eased with the thought. If she took it with an arrow, and they fell unseen, she could wait for darkness and claim her prize. She grimaced. She would need new arrows . . .

  I’m no better than the wraith in the Stone Tree, she realized darkly.

  She walked for a time, looking about for any deep shade to underdae beneath. With each step, the forest felt more and more like Daispar, and she soon realized that her feet were leading her by a path, forgotten and overgrown, but folding back willingly, even eagerly, out of her way.

  She saw the Dae-Mon’s faint glow and began to jog again, but she didn’t have to follow the track long before a hulking mass loomed before her.

  A darkening. Abandoned, but unmistakable. Dimdale or Holcrek . . . one of the first of the Gelesh to fall.

  The once tight shell had disintegrated without the support of enchantment, sagging inward, and the nit trees looked burnt from too much light. The central hollow lay between them, broken open to the graying skies above. The forest had crept back in over the years, sending tendrils and crawlers over everything. A gnarled pine grew through a half-formed shade tree. A nit collapsed under the weight of a fallen darkening core.

  She found a shade tree that was largely still intact, overgrown with thick brambles. She pushed a hole through the edge, and wheedled the shade tree into opening. It rustled, as though roused from a long and deep sleep, and she crawled inside, brushing aside the dried leaves and broken branches that had accumulated over the years. The shade tree was old, almost older than it could remember, with only the faintest memory of its shade. It felt strange. Foreign.

  Ahraia lay in the semi-dark, brooding over her task as the Dae-Mon climbed in the sky. She knew, deep in her heart, what she was going to have to do.

  I’m going to have to make a binding. She felt a lump in her throat. The pain would be excruciating—and knowing how deep the human abyss of emotions went, the aftermath would be inescapable. The severed part of her would rot and die. The guilt and grief would coalesce within her, forming a solid hollow, a permanent void—an emptiness that would either make her more spritish or destroy her.

  Losna would be furious.

  Maybe she won’t know. But it was a feeble thought. The emptiness always showed.

  Ahraia had seen it in other shades in the midst of their shadow test. Their moods worsened as they progressed, growing darker and more deathly until they became sprites: wraiths, empty and wain. Like Kren. Like her father and the Astra.

  That was the purpose of the test: to solidify that part of her who could be ruthless, that part of her that could kill without thought or care. She felt sick knowing every shade before her had faced the same act. The realization took the breath from her. The roots of the shade tree could be holding her to the ground for all she knew.

  But what other choice did she have? She would kill a hundred humans if it meant Losna returned safely to her side. She would walk in the light. She would make a binding and kill a lightwalker.

  I should have done it already. She cursed herself for being so childish with her first attempt. But she had only wasted a night. And she could make more arrows.

  When darkness came again, she wouldn’t bother imping about without the will to kill. The human realm was vast, and she refused to let the task be the end of her.

  I have to enchant to kill. Just this once, she thought as she drifted off to sleep.

  Ahraia awoke, sensing dusk and movement. Her ears twitched, and she thought she heard the swish of branches being pushed aside.

  She sat up.

  A moon raven cawed close by. She held her breath as the last echoes faded. Silence settled across the darkening, but it was short lived as a branch dragged distantly over fallen leaves.

  Ahraia crawled to the thick skirt of branches, hardly stirring any noise as her mind teased apart a small closure. Outside lay a broken kind of dark. Late afternoon had given way to the long shadows of dusk, but shafts of light cut dangerously across the darkening, stabbing down like spears of death.

  Ahraia squinted, scanning the woods. Something moved distantly through the darker shadows.

  A deer?

  She held her breath. It moved strangely. And stealthily.

  Suddenly, she saw a hooded figure walking between the trunks. A veil hung across its face. A veil made of eaves-web.

  A dae-ward.

  Ahraia lowered the branches, just enough to see. She could sense a rippling tension in the nit and shade trees; the ward wasn’t from the darkening. The raven cawed again. The ward looked about. He moved carefully, avoiding the rays of light where he could.

  The transient flicker of a mind searched past Ahraia. Not expecting it, she didn’t deflect it quickly enough. She flinched when his voice suddenly cracked the silence.

  “Shade Ahraia?” the ward called. He turned about slowly, seeking her. “I know you’re here.”

  The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. For a moment, she wondered how he knew her, but then she recognized him. It was Golan, the same ward who had given her direction—one of the Astra’s dae-wards. He turned about again, hunting for her.

  “I don’t want to start shaking shade trees,” he called out. His voice was boisterous. She felt the brush of his mind and he turned in her direction. Realizing he somehow already knew she was nearby, she parted the closur
e of the shade tree.

  “What are you doing here?”

  The tension in the ward eased visibly. He let out a sigh.

  “Finally. I’ve been looking for you for days and nights on end. Haven’t hardly slept . . .”

  He hurried towards her. She scuttled backwards as the closure enlarged against her will, letting in more of the diffuse light. He stooped at the edge, peering in.

  “It’s me, Golan.”

  “I know,” Ahraia said. She was so surprised by his presence that she didn’t think to convey. His ears didn’t flicker. His eyes glinted with excitement. He waited.

  “You’re letting in the light.”

  “Oh . . . right.” He stepped inside, letting the closure re-form. The dark swelled around them. “Dae-Mon above, I hate these veils, haven’t figured out how to grow it any thinner . . .” He pulled the web below his chin, pushing back his hood to reveal fresh scars. They were still red, rising from his neck to just below his jaw.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked again. He stunk of milde-weed.

  “I . . .” he stopped. A lie wreathed itself on the edges of his thoughts. Ahraia’s eyes narrowed and she formed a light bonding, trying to sense his mind. He seemed to know it too, as his shoulders loosened.

  “The Astra sent me after you,” he admitted, his ears downturned, “she wanted me to look after you . . .”

  “Look after me? This is my shadow test.”

  Golan looked guilty. He shrugged. “I do as I am told. I’m just supposed to see that you finish your task.” His eyes flickered to her bow, which she had laid next to her. By any means necessary, he conveyed.

  Ahraia hesitated. The Astra would put a ward to the task. With how badly she wanted darkness, there was no doubt she would try to tip the balance.

  “That’s an awful risk. If the Masai finds out . . .”