Shadow Lands

by K. F. Breene

  “And then you will break the log halfway through.”

  “Yes, but that side has a little grass growing on it. Soft landing.”

  “The grass is growing out of the gaps in rock, Cayan…”

  “Better than no grass. Come on, let’s get ready.”

  With a tightness in her chest, Shanti tied the end of the rope around her middle using a sturdy knot. Cayan took the other side and tied it to a tree. She edged out onto the log and jumped a little, seeing if it would hold her weight. The log didn’t even wobble. Good sign.

  “Wish me luck,” she said, walking out a little ways.

  “You don’t need it. Get a move on.”

  Shanti smiled at Cayan’s light tone, ignoring the anxiety bleeding through his emotions. She walked out further, feeling the breeze ruffle her hair. And then feeling the other breeze—the one ruffling the edges of her pants. She knew better than to look down. Looking down only made things much worse—

  Death’s playground, is there a bottom to that ravine?

  Shanti yanked her gaze straight-ahead and steadied herself, stilling her suddenly wobbly stomach. Arms out to the side, she walked forward like she might with a sword in her hand. Balance was easy. Steady feet and a sure step were simple. Controlling her raging fear of falling to her death took a little concentration however.

  One foot in front of the other, she made her way out to the middle. The log below her feet narrowed, crowding her steps. The wind kicked up a little, enough to gently push her body. The log wobbled.

  “I have movement out here,” Shanti said, passing the center of the now-swaying log.

  “Just keep your focus,” Cayan called out to her.

  “That wasn’t what I meant,” she muttered, taking another step. The wood creaked, bending under her weight. A small swirl of wind slapped at her side. Her balance teetered for just a moment. A thrill went through her, sending shooting shivers through her body. Her fingers tingled, thinking of the height. Thinking of falling.

  “Steady,” Shanti whispered, her gaze boring into the trunk of a large tree at the other side.

  She placed another foot. The creak sounded again, followed by a groan. This log only had so much to give, and she was stressing it. Best to get off before I use up all its goodwill.

  Shanti walked faster now, letting her mind go blank. Thinking of an enemy. Thinking of having a knife in her hand. Remembering her training. Her body steadied, ignoring another gust of wind slapping her. Salty air whipped by her face. The log whined as she sped up, stepping as light and balanced as possible. The creaks got louder. Something popped. The wood wobbled.

  Her heart hammered in that way that meant danger was on her heels, but she kept going. She tasted salt, reminded of home. The smell of kelp drifted on the breeze—they must be near the sea. She clutched at the memory as her feet moved across the last of the log. She had reached the other side!

  At the other end, she noticed the rope was barely dragging across the log. They’d given them just enough rope to cross this bridge. Either they knew she’d take this way, or the other way had something similar.

  She untied the rope and fastened it to the nearest tree. On the other side of the bridge, Cayan had fastened his rope to his waist and was already walking out onto the log.

  Shanti’s heart started hammering again. Her chest felt tight and her toes tingled. She was terrified something would happen to him. That he would fall to his death and she would be left without him. She couldn’t lose another one. She couldn’t lose this one.

  She cupped her hands around her mouth and yelled, “Maybe there’s another way!”

  Confidence welled up inside her, fed to her by Cayan from their merge. And then another emotion, one infinitely more tender. One that implied the term mesasha.

  “Damn him,” she breathed, heart thundering for a different reason—one that liked hearing that word on his lips.

  She stepped near the edge as though she’d catch him if he fell.

  He stepped out onto the log further and did a little jump as she had done. A soft few cracks whispered from the center of the wood. “Why do you have to be such a big bastard, Cayan?” she muttered, intent on his movement.

  He stepped out a bit farther and tried again. More creaks, more ominous.

  “Get on with it!” she yelled. She couldn’t help herself. This is why she didn’t want to care—it was very unpleasant when something bad was sure to happen.

  Taking a deep breath, Shanti watched as Cayan started walking across the log as though sauntering through a park. Not slow, but not rushed, he strolled out along the groaning, creaking wood.

  “Elders, please don’t let him fall. Please don’t take this man away from me,” she begged, running back to the tree and shortening the rope as he moved across.

  A loud pop shot out. Cayan took three more steps. He was now halfway. Another loud pop, followed by a crack.

  “Hurry, Cayan!” she yelled, not realizing she used the language of her home.

  He sped up, though. Cracks and pops sounded with each step, leading into a loud groan as he made it three-fourths of the way across. She tied off more rope as she yelled, “Almost there, baby! A little bit more!”

  Wood squealed and strained. It was breaking. The whole thing was breaking. With a chorus of horror, the log splintered and tore, weightless for one moment before gravity took hold of it.

  Cayan started to sprint. Shanti didn’t have time to tie off more rope. She grabbed it in both hands and backpedaled as fast as she could. His hands pumped, muscles moving like a master fighter, until the log started to swing downward. Then he jumped.

  Breath held, Shanti spun within the rope until it was wrapped around her, braced her feet against a big trunk, and then held on. Cayan’s body disappeared from her sight as the rope yanked at her grip, burning away a layer of skin from her palms. The coil around her middle jerked taut. Rope squeezed the breath out of her, making lights dance in her vision. Pain blasted through her body. It felt like her intestines were trying to squish out of her. The rope tried to spin her around but she held on, digging in her heels, barely able to breathe.

  Be okay, Cayan. Climb back up.

  She held on as the pain dug into her. Giving him time to be okay. Giving him time to crawl up the rock face and make it over before she had to unwind the rope and see what lay at the end of it.

  Seconds ticked by. Fog dusted her face. Worry brought moisture to her eyes. “Cayan?”

  Please be okay… Please, Elders, don’t make me responsible for another one. Please!

  “Cayan?” she called again. More seconds of silence, dragging by into minutes. Still there was no movement.

  A tear overflowed, but she did not yield. Not yet. The man could work miracles. He could do the unimaginable. He was created by the Elders for great things. It would take more than a battering against rock to take him out.

  Another tear fell as the pain tore at her. As the rope continued to cut off her breath. Her hands throbbed in agony. Still she held on, now too afraid of what it might mean if she let go.

  The rope jerked.

  A half-breath, bordering on a sob, ripped from her throat.

  The rope jerked again.

  Oh thank the Elders!

  “Are you okay?” she squeaked. She didn’t have the breath to yell.

  The rope tugged again, tearing a moan from her throat as the pain cinched around her waist. And then the weight was gone.

  “Cayan?” she called, tears coming to her eyes again, this time in relief. Sanders was right—she did cry too much. She’d never noticed.

  But as he appeared between the trees with a fantastic welt on the side of his head, and his left side all scraped, she couldn’t help the flood of relief drowning her eyes. She dropped the rope, spun to get it off, and ran at him. He spread his arms right before she barreled into his body and yanked his head down for a deep kiss.

  “Takes more than a rock face to kill me, mesasha,” he said as he smil
ed down on her.

  “You scared the shit out of me!” she said, afraid to let go of his body.

  “Is this all I needed to get you to show you liked me? Almost die?”

  She laughed and kissed him again until it curled her toes and spread warmth through her body. When she backed away, seriously considering fighting the pain so as to make love to him, he noticed her coat. His eyes traced the indents before his gaze hit hers again. Then he grabbed her hands, seeing the burn marks from the rope.

  “I wondered how you held me,” he said softly, glancing around. “We need to treat these hands.”

  “What about you? We should clean those wounds.”

  Cayan glanced at his skin through his ripped jacket. “Nah. I’m fine.”

  “Just like a man. C’mon. We’ll play doctor naked and have some lunch before we move on.”

  * * *

  Later that evening they were walking again, checking the map every so often as they threaded through the thick undergrowth. While there was a narrow path, it was overgrown. People clearly didn’t come this way often.

  “So…” Cayan’s voice seemed to drop dead in the trees around them. “Baby?”

  Shanti was thankful she was in front—he couldn’t see the redness creep into her face. “You heard that, huh?”

  “Mhm. I didn’t realize you were into pet names. What else are you into?”

  Shanti’s face burned. “Torture. You can be my first subject.”

  “Sounds fun.”

  “That wasn’t sexual.”

  “Are you sure?”

  A sparkle of light appeared to their right, thankfully distracting Shanti from the topic, then claiming all of her focus.

  She slowed, captivated by the shifting colors of pinks and purples lighting up the darkening forest.

  “What’s that?” she asked. Her voice seemed to echo in the distance.

  Her Gift sparked as the lights started to pulse playfully. They called her closer with their light show. “So beautiful,” she sighed, smiling as a delicious fizz crawled up her middle.

  She stepped off the path, drunk with the sweet feeling created by those twinkling, pulsing lights. A soft melody sang to her. Everlasting joy filled her, making her laugh.

  Her feet moved of their own accord, wanting to get closer. Wanting to follow those lights.

  “What’s going on?”

  Cayan’s words barely registered. A heavy grip circled her arm. She staggered backwards, pulled by something ugly and disgusting.

  “Let go!” She struggled, twisting to try and escape the strong arms now wrapping around her chest, pinning her arms to her sides.

  “Shanti, what’s happening?”

  Shanti couldn’t seem to tear her eyes away from those colors, beckoning her closer. “Don’t you see it? Don’t you feel it? Let me go!”

  “I feel you responding to something, but I don’t see anything…”

  The colors shifted and danced, twenty paces away through the trees. The singing grew louder, calling her. Begging her to come and play. Her Gift danced, knowing that following it was the right thing to do.

  She tried to walk forward, confused as to why her body wouldn’t obey. Her eyes stayed rooted to those beautiful, dancing colors.

  Firm fingers wrapped around her chin and dragged her face away. She scowled as confused eyes swam before her. Her mind swirled in dizziness.

  Suddenly, it all cleared. Reality came rushing back, and with it bile rising up from a swirling stomach.

  “Let me go—I’m going to throw up,” Shanti grunted, pulling to the side. Staggering a few paces in the opposite direction she’d been trying to go, she bent over and retched, heaving up the contents of her stomach. Spitting, she paused for a moment, making sure it was over. When her stomach evened out she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and straightened up, breathing heavily.

  “What’s happening?” he asked with an edge to his voice.

  Shanti glanced out into the woods. There was nothing there. Her Gift had stabilized. Dimmed light from the failing day sprinkled through the canopy overhead in places, but was mostly reduced to a greenish glow, turning the ground a dark, murky green.

  “What was that? What were those lights?” she asked, remembering the sweet joy. Feeling the horror of realizing she was the only one seeing it. It had all been in her head.

  “The wood playing tricks, I’d imagine,” Cayan said in a calm voice, directing her along the path. “Best to keep going.”

  “I wonder what would’ve happened if I had followed.”

  “I don’t know, but we have a disadvantage being foreigners. Having grown up here, people would’ve heard about the strangeness of the wood. About the pockets without access to your mental powers, the animals—and whatever else there might be. How would a traveler know to distrust the lights?”

  “Maybe the spell wavers…”

  “Maybe.” Cayan’s hand didn’t leave her shoulder. “Or maybe you realize your error right after you step off a cliff. If they appear to me, and you can’t get me to come around, punch me in the balls. That should work.”

  “As soon as I stopped looking at it, everything vanished,” Shanti said, threading her way along the path. Vines hid amid the tall grasses, grabbing her feet.

  “This time.”

  They continued as the wood pressed in on them, choked with high bushes and low vines between the trees. The air was moist and dank, with little air flowing through. A bird screeched before a flurry of wings and rustling leaves sounded.

  Shanti’s skin prickled with a presence and a warning shiver covered her body.

  “Something’s close,” Cayan said in a whisper.

  Shanti took out her sword. Her Gift spread out as far as she could push it, but she felt no life. She hadn’t even felt that bird.

  “Do you feel anything?” she asked in a quiet voice.

  “No. But something is out there. We’re being hunted.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Sanders filed out of his room and met the rest of his men and woman in the hall. All wore newly purchased garments made of treated leather that they had seen the Shadow people wear. Two dead men lay face down only a few paces away, both wearing black.

  “Graygual or Inkna?” Sanders asked, not bothering to look harder.

  “Graygual. Tried to get the jump on Marc as he came out of his room.” Tobias clapped Marc on the back. “He reacted by shoving a knife in the guy’s throat, then running away.”

  Sanders glanced at Marc, red-faced and looking at the ground. The youth said, “S’am always jumps out at us. If you don’t strike first, you get punched really hard.”

  “And the running?” Sanders asked as he checked his weapons.

  Marc shrugged. “I was always too slow to get her, so rather than getting thumped after I struck out, I ran.”

  “Ruisa got the other one.” Tobias threw her a proud wink. “Who says girls are only for cooking?”

  “Not me. She’s a terrible cook,” Marc mumbled. Ruisa shoved him.

  Etherlan was up and moving around, pissed off and ready to kill the first person he saw. He was still a little weak, but he would make a full recovery. The whole group was damn glad.

  Rohnan stood beside Burson, as far from everyone else as he could get. He was probably trying to block out whatever people were feeling, which Sanders figured was probably a mixture of fear and panic. They all knew they’d have to fight their way out to the main square, where the Shadow people would protect them, but then slip out to perform an extremely dangerous task.

  They were going to try and poison the Graygual’s water supply.

  Leilius had found a few places where the rainwater was captured for the Trespasser Village. From the large metal tank ran piping that fed a system of pumps in the Village.

  Poison the inlet, poison the Graygual.

  The plan seemed easy, but getting to that inlet meant sneaking through enemy occupation. If they succeeded, they would still only get
about a third of the population—and that was if no one figured out where the sickness was coming from quickly.

  Sanders had discussed the plan at length with Daniels, figured out a route and a way, and then talked it over with the more experienced of his men. It was risky, but with the overwhelming amount of Graygual on the island, they had to try and even the numbers somehow. The risk was worth it.

  “Ready?” Sanders asked.

  “Yes, sir,” everyone chorused.

  Sanders started off at a brisk walk, seeing a couple more dead men as he passed Tobias’ quarters. A few more littered the hallway.

  “The enemy has tried this before—they don’t learn.” Sanders took the stairs two at a time, hearing the thundering feet behind him.

  “None are officers,” Daniels commented. “They were either thinking for themselves, or aiming for cheap shots.”

  “Probably thinking for themselves. Succeeding, with even just one of us, would mean a step up onto the first rung of captaincy,” Rohnan explained as they stopped next to the door leading into the alleyway. “The first rung is still considered garbage by anyone who matters, but these men wouldn’t understand that. They are the worst society has to offer. Just a little power is enough to excite them.”

  “Not any more. Ready?” Sanders glanced at those close, and then those stationed up the stairs, waiting. All nodded.

  Sanders pushed through the door with his sword in the air. Daniels and Tobias filed out to either side, bows at the ready. Rohnan was right after.

  An empty alleyway greeted them. Sanders saw the shapes at the mouth at either end, four of them in all, standing guard.

  Sanders drifted to the right until he was close enough to two of the guards to be heard. Tobias still had his bow at the ready. Daniels had remained in the doorway, covering the other side. Everyone else filed in the middle.

  “What are you doing here?” Sanders asked the nearest guard.

  The man’s shoulders turned toward Sanders, but his features were lost to the night. “Keeping you alive. Our Battle Lord, Sonson, said it was necessary. He told me to let you know that your Captain and his mate, the hopeful-Chosen, are nearing the end of the trials. Stay alive until then.”