Between the Shade and the Shadow

by Coleman Alexander

  The sprites from Daispar followed the Astra, relieved, chattering quietly and filling the corners of the forest with conveyance. They apparently weren’t aware that the Astra’s intentions had failed.

  Ahraia’s gaze followed her sister. Her feet started to move.

  Kren, she conveyed, keeping her thoughts subtle and hastening after the group.

  Kren’s eye twitched. Binding her sister’s mind was like holding a stone after a dry freeze: cold through to its inner heart.

  Have you seen Losna? Is she well? Ahraia conveyed.

  Kren didn’t answer, but walked briskly forward into the waiting wings of true dark.

  Kren! Ahraia conveyed more forcibly. Have you seen her?

  Several heads turned towards Ahraia, including the Masai. A sharp conveyance from the Astra told her to keep her thoughts to herself. Ahraia slowed. Kren glanced back but didn’t answer, moving quickly towards the darkening. The bond grew dimmer, the cold stinging worse than the sodden cloak Ahraia wore. She let their bond dissolve.

  Half a turning? she thought again. Her despair solidified with every step, anchoring her heart to the ground.

  Deep shadows layered the forest even though they were still well beyond the wall. The ground was dry, the rain flowing down flutings and out of sight. The light back in the glade wasn’t growing, it was murky gray though the day had certainly risen beyond.

  And still outside the darkening, Ahraia realized dimly.

  Finding Losna wouldn’t be easy. Trunks towered upwards, sweeping out in sprawling webs of intricate darkness. It was excessive—and immersive. There was no understory, just hollowed vaults higher than Ahraia had ever seen, higher even than the central hollow of Daispar. This was an old forest, darker and deeper than the Gelesh. Proud, from root tips to branch tips. And this was only the outer edges of the grove, one small fragment of a greater swell. Ahraia’s heart sunk.

  Losna could be anywhere.

  She wondered if there was a place like the chasms, or maybe even the Makers.

  The ribs of the shell stood a dozen feet across and sweeping vines as thick as tree trunks were the smallest threads in the woven palisade. When the closure formed, it uncurled into a great, sweeping arch, tall enough and wide enough for a pair of the largest keress to pass beneath, with room to spare above and beside.

  Ahraia stopped on the threshold, overwhelmed by the darkening.

  A stream gurgled forth near at hand, spreading into a broad sheet before cascading over an arc of short hanging cliffs to a shallow pool below. Other rivulets chattered to life, either from underground or overhead, pouring over falls and catch-lips in a chorus of water.

  If not for the empty pit in the depths of her belly, Ahraia would have been stunned by the sprawling dark before her. It was vast. Open. Held by columns wider than any trees Ahraia had ever seen, fading into the shadows.

  Shadows . . . Ahraia thought, distracted by a moon raven flapping and cawing. A fox hopped after a shade over a series of broad, flat stones amidst the streams.

  Losna? She searched out again, hardly noticing as a younger sprite joined them from the pools below. Ahraia’s calm was unraveling. For a whole turning, she had kept her desire contained, knowing there was nothing else she could do about getting to Losna without finding Angolor. But now, knowing her shadow was close, she was desperate. She wondered if she could search during the height of day.

  It must never get light here. Even on a midsummer’s day. She guessed there were sprites and shades about at all hours.

  “Ahraia,” the Masai said, bringing her out of her reverie. “This is Sprite Shalih,” My youngest daughter. “She will be a sister to you, should you pass your test.”

  Shalih’s gaze was fixed on Ahraia, boring into her. Kren’s was too.

  Ahraia ignored them, distracted. Dusk, she thought. It might get light at dusk. The hill faced west. If it got light enough, maybe she could go looking at the lightest moment . . .

  “Shade Ahraia,” the Masai’s daughter said without bowing.

  Sprite Shalih. Ahraia nodded, hardly aware of herself, forgetting to tuck her ears. She wondered if Losna had been hunting. Was she fed? Was she well?

  “While you are here in Angolor,” the Masai said, “you will be a guest to Shalih until you have seen yourself through your shadow test.”

  Shalih didn’t look much older than Ahraia, a couple of full turnings of the Dae-Mon at most. The night-gleam in her eyes was bright, but her face was pale and sunken. Like Kren’s.

  Lifeless, Ahraia thought to herself. Lifeless and dead. Like I’m going to be if I don’t see my shadow soon. I need to leave this place. Her markings itched. They always did when she had been in too much light.

  “You’ll have her former nit. It’s empty now that she’s passed her own shadow test,” the Masai said. “She’ll be growing her own.”

  Congratulations . . . Ahraia nodded absentmindedly. I need my shadow. I need to leave here. Her eyes flashed up realizing that she had let all of her thoughts out to Shalih.

  The sprite’s ears twitched. She smiled but said nothing.

  I’m sorry. I just want to see my shadow. Ahraia swallowed nervously, hoping the Astra or the Masai hadn’t known her thoughts. When will I know my test? she conveyed loosely, hoping to distract them.

  “Eager, aren’t you?” The Masai smiled a flat, placating smile. “You’ve only just arrived. We must make you welcome first.” Shalih, show Shade Ahraia the darkening.

  By your will. Shalih bowed, formally dropping her head, eyes, and ears before gesturing for Ahraia to walk beside her.

  Ahraia realized belatedly they were dismissed and flickered her ears with a half-bow of her head. Her eyes never met the ground. She hurried after the Masai's daughter, feeling Kren’s gaze burning after her. Shalih led her across the top of the falls by a pathway of precarious stone steps. Water flowed on all sides, shallow but swift, and surprisingly quiet, rolling over the edge and out of sight. Ahraia nearly slipped in carelessness, her eyes darting about, searching for Losna.

  They crossed a stair, wound beneath a tunnel of massive roots and emerged below the falls. Out of earshot, Shalih dropped her stiff manner. Her eyes warmed and her ears drooped slightly as she turned to Ahraia.

  “Your shadow is gorgeous,” she said.

  “You’ve seen her?” Ahraia blurted before she realized that she should have conveyed it.

  Shalih smiled, pardoning Ahraia’s voice with a casual flick of her left ear.

  “Yes, quite beautiful.”

  Where is she? Ahraia flushed, feeling panicked and out of sorts. I’m sorry. I just want to know that she is okay.

  Shalih laughed.

  “It’s all right. She’s well. And she’s fed. I’ve never seen a shadow eat like her. She could eat a deer a day, I swear.”

  A great weight lifted from Ahraia’s heart.

  Good, she conveyed from her deepest depths.

  Shalih smiled again. “Did I say a deer a day? Maybe a keress.” Her eyes gleamed conspiratorially. “I heard about it. About your first task. I heard the keress was magnificent.” She eyed Ahraia’s hip where the white drain rested. “My mother said she had never seen such an impressive kill. Her wards were talking about it for nights on end when they returned.” She said you enchanted a whole pack of wolves.

  Ahraia nodded, surprised the Masai had been impressed. She seemed so angry when I arrived, she conveyed, not knowing what else to say.

  Shalih’s smile faded somewhat.

  “She was worried. We thought you’d arrive sooner. But what a kill! A human and a brute of one at that. I’ve never even seen one before,” Shalih said in awe. She hesitated and then looked at Ahraia's drain again. Is that it? she conveyed sheepishly.

  Ahraia nodded.

  May I?

  Ahraia took the drain from her belt and held it out to Shalih. She took it with reverence, as though it were the most delicate leaf.

  “It’s beautiful,” she said. Her ears twitche
d permissively as she handed it back. “And please . . . speak. I’m only just a sprite. The Dark Moon hasn’t even turned once—I’m not used to all this deference.”

  Ahraia slipped the drain back into her cloak, her discomfort allayed partly by Shalih’s kindness. She was nothing like her mother.

  “You’ve never seen a human?” Ahraia asked, wondering if her task was particularly difficult, like the keress. Her gaze travelled through the darkening, seeking any hint of Losna.

  “We don’t have lightwalkers near here. Well, there are alps in the mountains but they keep well away.”

  “Then what was your second task?”

  “Just a goblin.” Shalih looked disappointed and suddenly younger.

  “Really? Where did you find one?” Ahraia said in surprise. Shalih brightened seeing Ahraia’s curiosity. In a way, she reminded Ahraia of Kren before her sister had taken her shadow test. She was expressive and curious. More like a shade than a sprite.

  “Ha. They swarm the woods south of here. We’re constantly hunting them. I’m surprised you didn’t see one on your way here. Nasty, vile creatures of the deep—but nothing as vile as a human. Come, I’ll show you the darkening.”

  Ahraia stared about her as they passed through the closures.

  You keep them open? Even in the daytime?

  “Only on special occasions.” Shalih smiled. I think my mother wished to impress you and your Astra.

  The vaults of the central hollow were so high Ahraia couldn’t separate the branches above from one tree or another. She followed Shalih along a stream, the support trunks growing larger and larger, older and older. But something was missing. The forest was too empty.

  Where are the nits? she asked.

  Shalih laughed.

  “Around the central hollow, of course.” She nodded for Ahraia to follow. “These are just the outer halls.”

  “The outer halls?” Ahraia said, staring upward.

  The stream was growing louder. It chattered between two massive trunks, each with roots as thick as trees clawing at the earth in smooth, sinuous fingers. Shalih led her around the trunk on the near bank, following a dirt-matted path away from the stream. They circled the trunk and stopped. Ahraia felt like she had stepped onto the Endless Plains for the first time.

  The stream cascaded away, but it hardly seemed to move or make a sound. The air before her was rigid. Fixed in place by dozens upon dozens of colossal trunks, rising one after another from the midst of the hollow, supporting the shell, which draped like impenetrable clouds over a dark sky. The columns were too big. Ahraia couldn’t understand what she was seeing. A great owl glided silently behind one of the trunks; she counted to five before it sailed from the other side. Nit trees sprawled about, crowding the valley floor and fading into the woods. The noise of the rain was a distant rapping above, but not a single turn or run could be seen. It was eerily quiet.

  “Is Daispar like this?” Shalih asked, watching her.

  “Not in the least,” Ahraia answered, completely in awe. Yellowtails hung between leech ferns, and bellow blossoms wrapped about the darkening cores, black as night and ringed with foxfells. Moon flowers grew at every level of the darkening, sprouting off trunks and branches as though they grew as easy as ferns.

  “Come . . . I’ll show you the rest.”

  Shalih led her into the bellies of the hollow, pointing out different sprites and the nits they governed. Ahraia quickly got tangled in all the names and relations and fell silent, listening and searching for any sense of Losna. They walked for what felt like miles, the very ground just as woven as the unbroken cover above. Sheets of eaves-web, grown and plated by whole teams of spinners, spread in intricate patterns. Paths twisted beneath archways of decorative shade maples, their blackened leaves hanging with perfect stillness, branches pointed outward from a breeze they never felt. Nit trees formed walls so thick and dark that Ahraia imagined even sprites had trouble seeing in the deep.

  She continued to reach out for Losna but felt nothing. If Shalih noticed her probings, she didn’t say anything. Eventually, the nits thinned, and the river flowed through a grove of wild trees and then passed beyond the darkening wall, through another set of open closures. An outer hall extended beyond, towards a faintly glowing fog, lit ghostly white by the morning light, like clouds in a moonlit sky.

  Ahraia heard the rain again, and a river beyond the fog.

  Shalih nodded towards the light-laced woods. “That is where the River Umbar lies. Beyond that, the Shad-Mon roam.”

  So close to the darkening? Ahraia conveyed in surprise. Shalih nodded with a gleam in her eyes, watching Ahraia with intense curiosity.

  “Have you ever seen one?” she asked. All gray and shadow?

  Ahraia nodded faintly, shuddering to remember the hand swinging out of the fog. Shalih’s eyes glimmered faintly against the glowing fog. She blinked it away, turning back to Ahraia.

  “Let’s get away from here. It is no good looking at such things.” She led Ahraia back through the darkening, back through the nits, almost to the head of the first falls. She stopped outside a nit tree, sunken in a low depression, almost like it was half-nit and half-den.

  “This was my mother’s first nit tree. Before she became the Masai . . .”

  The tree was oddly spartan. No extra vines grew or flowers bloomed. But it had a certain strength, a certain necessity to it. Shalih formed a closure and led Ahraia inside the protective dark. It was totally black. And silent. Ahraia could only make out the vague silhouettes of shade trees, and the pinpoint glimmer of Shalih’s eyes, framed by her white hair.

  “This can be your shade tree for now.” She showed Ahraia to a shade tree that looked as though it hadn’t been used in a number of full turnings. It won’t be for long. You’ll be a sprite soon. A sister.

  Ahraia nodded, unable to answer.

  “You miss your shadow, don’t you?”

  Ahraia swallowed, hardly able to see Shalih in the perfect dark. She didn’t dare to speak, but nodded. Shalih’s gaze dropped to the ground. She grimaced as though remembering something she didn’t want to remember.

  “I miss mine too,” she whispered. She kicked at a small twig on the ground. “It’s not fair that my mother keeps you two separated before you must part from each other permanently.”

  Ahraia couldn’t speak. It felt as though her mouth was sealed shut. Shalih had put to words the deepest emotions in her heart. She nodded.

  Shalih looked up, and Ahraia could see true loss in her eyes.

  Shades and shadows shouldn’t be separated.

  Ahraia kept nodding, still not knowing what to say. Shalih was staring at her, a penetrating look that made Ahraia glance away. She felt a tenuous bond form. When she looked, Shalih’s eyes were locked on hers. Her conveyance came through soft, whispered, like the faintest falling of rain on the shell above.

  I can show you to her. Would you like that?

  Ahraia’s breath caught, unable to contain her desire. “More than anything!” she said desperately.

  Shalih smiled, a sincere smile.

  “When night falls, I’ll take you to her.”

  Ahraia stole from the darkening just as dusk fell. She went by the southern closure, beneath an archway of rowan trees, just as Shalih had instructed. She brushed past two shades, both with pure black ravens for shadows. The birds cawed loudly, their calls swallowed easily by the vast dark. A few sprites were up and about, but none seemed to take notice of Ahraia as she slipped to the edges of the outer halls. She didn’t have to wait long before Shalih joined her.

  “Did any sprites see you?” she asked, her hood pulled close.

  Just some shades.

  “Good. Come on.”

  Shalih was nothing more than a sliver of a figure dashing beneath the outer halls. Ahraia followed at a run, the air cold against her still damp cloak. When they emerged, thick clouds lay overhead, and no signs of the Dae-Mon remained. The forest was still wet from the day before. It was
deeper, darker and more alive than the forest of Daispar. Shalih led her by paths that rose and fell through deep ravines teeming with shade maples and timber ferns. Even well beyond the darkening, trees and limbs linked to each other, like ice crystals spreading outward from the first freeze on a cold pond. Ahraia would have been amazed if she weren’t so eager to see Losna.

  Shalih moved in silence but Ahraia didn’t mind. Her hands were shaking in eagerness. Her ears twitched at every noise, expecting it to be Losna. She felt like her heart was going to burst from her chest.

  She wondered if tonight would be the best night to flee. If she found Losna, maybe they could run—maybe they could make for the mountains or the plains or even the human’s realm, where no wards would follow. She could send messages to Kyah to flee, and if everything went perfectly, she could meet her siblings and take them beyond where any wards could reach them. The prospect was daunting. If the darkening were any indication, the Masai’s realm would be teeming with wards.

  Full night had fallen before Ahraia started to wonder where Shalih was taking her. She had imagined that Losna was being kept in the Makers, but Ahraia’s senses told her they were in the deep woods. Alone.

  Where is my shadow being kept? she conveyed finally.

  Shalih didn’t stop. Your shadow? Not far. She hurried forward.

  Ahraia wondered if a world lay beyond the mountains. Would it be possible to cross under them in their deep shadows or did these woods stretch forever? Would she be chased all the way to Everdark, where the Dae-Mon was said to never rise?

  Shalih came to a sudden halt, her ears twitching. She smiled. Ahraia stopped too, taking a cursory look around. She didn’t see Losna and she didn’t feel any sense of her shadow. But she sensed something else, something distinctively familiar.

  A pair of ravens glided to a perch on the limbs of a small ash, causing the branch to sway precariously.

  Shalih’s eyes gleamed brighter than the stars ever had. It made the hairs on Ahraia’s neck stand on end. One of the raven’s cawed. Ahraia recognized the call.