Kate’s skin was deathly cold and her lips touched with blue as Silas carried her out of the mist and into the central circle. The call of death severed from him at once as his feet touched the symbols, and the pressure of the living world returned to him like an iron weight dropped upon his shoulders. Kate’s energy spread through his blood like hot needles, connecting with the circle until its light faded and died. The circle’s energies collapsed, reconnecting the city square with its rightful place in time. The mist dispersed and the bonfire blazed suddenly back to life.
With the shades gone, the crowd overran the few remaining wardens, tearing open the upper doors and pouring out into the city like ants. One of the councilmen stood up to speak to the fleeing people, but his voice was lost among the frenzy of stampeding bodies, and Silas caught only three words of what he had said. Three words that were set to shape his future.
Silas Dane. Traitor.
Silas laid Kate carefully on the ground. There was movement around the table as Edgar and Tom ran to free Artemis from his ropes, and he turned toward Kate, sending Silas’s hand instinctively to his blade.
“Stay back!” said Silas. “This is no time for you.”
Artemis stopped, not daring to move any closer. “Don’t touch her!” he cried.
Silas ignored him, pulled a bloodstained cloak from the shoulders of a dead warden, and covered Kate with it. Artemis stood painfully, and limped over to the spot where Kate was laid.
“Why couldn’t you just leave her alone?” demanded Artemis. “This shouldn’t have happened. What have you done to her?”
Silas glared up at him in fury. “If you want this girl to die, keep asking foolish questions. If not, get out of my sight.”
Artemis faltered, stunned by Silas’s anger, and Edgar stepped forward, holding Wintercraft out for Silas to take. “I don’t know if it’ll help,” he said quietly. “But . . . here.”
Silas took the book from him, and Edgar took hold of Artemis’s arm.
“What is he doing?” asked Artemis.
“It’s all right,” said Edgar. “We have to trust him.”
“Trust him? After everything that’s happened? Why should we trust him?”
There were many things Silas could have said to a man who had allowed himself to be taken prisoner, relied upon his niece to help him escape, and then dared to complain at her not being unscathed at the end of it. Instead he shot Artemis a look that would have made anyone wither. Edgar led the limping man away.
“You did well, Miss Winters,” said Silas, as he pressed a hand against her forehead, using the veil’s energy to call her spirit back into life. “There are few people who could have done what you did tonight. Your idiot uncle will never understand it, but you should be proud of yourself. You did many souls a great service today.”
Silas looked over at what was left of the High Council. They were talking among themselves, no doubt discussing how best to make a dignified retreat. Some of them were smiling deviously, despite the gruesome scene of death around them, and Silas realized that it would be so easy for him to end them all right there. In just a few moments he could rid Albion of its greatest threat.
He considered it carefully, noticing the thinly disguised fear in the men’s eyes as they made their way out of the circle.
No, he decided. Now was not the time.
Gradually, the color started to return to Kate’s skin. She opened her eyes, and Silas lifted his hand gently from her head.
“Silas?”
“It appears I am not the only one who can look into the face of death and survive,” he said. “I was starting to believe you had gone too far.”
“Where’s Artemis?” asked Kate, sitting up. “And Edgar?”
“They are here. We have both done as we promised. I may not be dead, but I am free of Da’ru and your uncle is still alive. My honor is satisfied, as is yours. As of this moment, we owe each other nothing.”
Silas held Wintercraft tightly.The book’s ancient leather felt rough against his fingertips as he passed it to Kate, and he felt a warm flood of energy rush across his skin as the new blood within him reacted to her being close by. “This book is as much responsible for my situation as Da’ru herself,” he said. “It has made me what I am, and I do not want anything more to do with it. It belongs with you now. Keep it safe. Let no one know that you have it, and do not be afraid. You will become used to the veil in time.”
Kate looked down at the book, not knowing what to say.
“Many souls are free because of what you have done tonight,” said Silas. “Da’ru never could have opened this circle on her own. If it had truly belonged to her, it would have died when she did, but she was not in command of it. You were. Your energy created this circle, and your link to it acted as a beacon when you fell into death, allowing lost souls to pass freely into death’s current and letting them finally find peace. You have a rare gift, Miss Winters. Do not turn your back upon it.”
Silas stood up. “There is no place for me in this city anymore,” he said. “I suggest you leave here as soon as you can. Hundreds of people saw your face today. Many of them will fear you, and there are those who will hunt you for what you can do. You must disappear. Do not let them find you, and more than anything else, be careful whom you trust.”
Silas turned to walk away, and Kate called after him.
“Good-bye,” she said. “And thank you . . . for what you did.”
Silas looked back and nodded once. “Good-bye, Kate.”
Then he stepped out of sight behind one of the council carriages, and was gone.
“Kate!” Edgar ran up to her, with Artemis and Tom close behind, and Artemis pulled her into a crushing hug.
“You’re alive!” he said, almost squeezing the life out of her again. “I thought you were gone. I thought . . .”
Edgar waited awkwardly as Artemis took his time, and when he finally let her go, Kate hid Wintercraft under her coat before letting Edgar help her up.
“Silas is gone,” Edgar said, but his smile faded when he looked into Kate’s face. “What happened to your eyes?”
“Why?” said Kate. “What’s wrong with them?”
“Nothing’s wrong, exactly. They’re just a bit . . . different.”
Kate headed to the nearest carriage and looked at her reflection in the dark window. Her eyes were a completely different color; her irises were rings of deep black, edged with blue, and her pupils were glazed with a sheen of silver that could only be seen when the light caught them a certain way.
“Most of the Skilled spend years looking into the veil before it affects them like that,” said Edgar. “But I’ve never seen silver in anyone’s eyes before.”
Kate looked toward one of the lower gates just in time to see Silas riding a stolen carriage horse out of the square.
“Do you feel all right?” asked Edgar.
“I’m fine,” said Kate, not wanting to admit that her eyes felt like she had been staring too long at the sun. When she looked down at the ground the symbols closest to her feet still looked like they were glowing with gentle light.
“The wardens won’t just let us go, not after all of this,” said Artemis nervously. “Edgar, can you drive a carriage?”
“Tom’s a better driver than I am. Why?”
“I think we should take a carriage and find somewhere safe before the council send their men back here to find us.”
“If we need a place to hide, we should go to the Skilled,” said Edgar. “Tom and I know the way. They trust us.”
“No!” said Kate. “I can’t go back there. Silas killed two people while I was with them. They’ll think I did it!”
“Then we’ll just have to put them right, won’t we? Those eyes of yours will definitely give them something to think about. They won’t turn us away.”
“The Skilled it is, then,” said Artemis, nodding with the wariness of someone not used to making big decisions.
“Kate?” Edgar said car
efully. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
Kate was looking up at the galleries as the last few people trickled out of the city square. Even though it was no longer active, she could see the symbols around the edge of the enormous listening circle as clearly as when it was linked to the veil. She could see traces of hidden energy sealed within its central stones and as she walked over the symbols she could feel it, too, like gentle vibrations beneath her feet. If this was what Silas had been talking about, he was right, it was definitely going to take some getting used to.
The moon hid briefly behind a bank of purple clouds and the stars shone down upon the glowing circle. The energy was so clear, Kate did not know how she could have missed it before. And she was not the only one attracted to its light. A large black bird flew smoothly across the empty square, soaring powerfully over her head and swooping down to land upon the bloodstained table.
“Can you see that?” she asked, as the bird perched beside the body of the dead crow.
“See what?” asked Edgar.
Kate walked slowly up to the bird, not wanting to scare it away, and when she got closer she realized that she could see right through it. Its feathers had no substance, and it flickered in and out of her sight, watching her all the time.
“It’s Silas’s bird,” she said.
“Yeah, I know,” said Edgar, thinking she was talking about the body on the table. “It’s a shame, I suppose. Who wouldn’t want a crazy feathered thing flying around taking orders from a madman? If you ask me, it got off lightly. Who’d want to spend all their time with someone like Silas? It’s probably relieved to be free of him. I know I am.”
Kate stood beside the crow’s body and watched its bloodied feathers ruffling in the wind. Silas had saved her life. He had spared Edgar and saved Artemis, and that bird meant something to him. If its spirit was there, maybe it had not yet gone fully over into death. If there was any way to thank Silas for what he had done, surely this was it.
Gently, she picked up the body—it was lighter than she had expected—and balanced it carefully between her hands, concentrating upon healing the wound, just as she had done with the man in the river. Nothing happened, and she was worried the bird might have been dead too long. But then, like a subtle heat growing from her bones, she felt the energy of the veil pass softly through her hands, spread into the crow’s delicate body and out across its skin, healing the muscles and binding the flesh until the faint throb of a heartbeat fluttered against her palm.
The crow’s spirit gathered into a thin gray wisp and sank like smoke back down into its body. Kate waited, hoping that the heartbeat would last . . . until one limp wing flapped back into life, then the other, striking the air and sending the crow tumbling out of her hands and onto the table. It scrabbled drunkenly up onto its feet and shook its feathers before screeching out a call that echoed loudly across the city square.
“Go to your master,” said Kate, picking up the crow and holding it high in the air. “Go to Silas!”
The bird took flight, swooping across the square and soaring out over the city, calling out victoriously into the night.
“It’s more than he deserves,” said Artemis, climbing into a carriage as everyone else watched the bird fly away. “Come on. We’re wasting time here.”
With everyone safely on board, Tom steered the horses expertly through the square’s lower doors and out into the streets. The roads outside were littered with the remains of the night’s celebrations, and despite what had happened in the city square, there were still hundreds of people dancing together, sharing stories of what they had seen, determined to keep celebrating until the sun rose again.
Edgar sat next to Kate, his hands and face cut by the broken window during the warden attack, and Artemis sat opposite them, his injured leg stretched on the seat beside him, his forehead wrinkled with thought. Kate wanted to heal them both, but she knew she did not have the strength. Using the circles had left her weak and tired, and healing the bird had taken the very last piece of energy she had. All she could do was sit there, watching the city pass by, feeling the secret weight of Wintercraft hidden safely beneath her coat.
“Don’t worry,” said Edgar. “The Skilled will help us. I’m sure everything will be all right.”
After what had happened, Kate wasn’t so sure about that. All she had at that moment was the brief safety of the carriage and the rhythmic rumble of its wheels as it carried her on toward an uncertain future in an unfamiliar city.
“I hope you’re right,” she said.
Halfway across the city Silas and his stolen horse thundered along the streets, racing toward the southern gate and the freedom of the wild counties beyond. Silas knew every inch of that city and most of the City Below, but Fume was no longer his home. To him, its walls had been a cage for too long. Now he was free.
The gate guards saw him coming long before he reached them, his gray eyes gleaming fiercely in the dark. They unbolted the gate without waiting for his command, letting the horse and its rider gallop out into the wilds, leaving Fume and all its history behind. Silas carried with him questions the city could never answer and an ambition it could never help him reach. As a traitor he would be a hunted man, so he would find a ship and travel to the Continent, far away from Albion and the High Council, its laws, and its men. Kate Winters had allowed him to take revenge against his greatest enemy, and she had given him his freedom. The rest he was going to find on his own.
Silas followed a gravel road running alongside the red train’s tracks, and he came across an old signpost marking a trader’s path that was long overgrown. There, sitting on top of the sign, was a crow exactly like his own, except for a short line of white feathers running right down the center of its chest. A spark of familiar intelligence shone in its eyes, and Silas slowed his horse to a stop beneath it.
“Crow?”
The bird sat still, its eyes fixed upon the path.
Silas was about to snap the reins, cursing his mistake, when the crow looked at him, spread its wings, and circled him once before flying down to take its place upon his shoulder. Silas ran his fingers down the bird’s white feathers where the wound from Da’ru’s blade would have been.
“Well, Miss Winters,” he said, looking back at the city one last time. “It seems I do owe you something, after all.”
About the Author
JENNA BURTENSHAW has been writing since she was a child, and she divides her time between her writing, her three dogs, and two rescue rabbits. SHADOWCRY is her first novel. Jenna Burtenshaw lives in England. You can visit her online at jennaburtenshaw.blogspot.com.
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Credits
Jacket art © 2011 by Jennifer Jill Radford
Jacket design by Sylvie Le Floc’h
Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. References to real people, events, establishments, organizations, or locales are intended only to provide a sense of authenticity, and are used to advance the fictional narrative. All other characters, and all incidents and dialogue, are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real.
Shadowcry
Copyright © 2011 by Jenna Burtenshaw
The right of Jenna Burtenshaw to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Burtenshaw, Jenna.
[Wintercraft]
Shadowcry / by Jenna Burtenshaw.
p. cm. — (The secrets of Wintercraft)
“Greenwillow Books.”
Summary: Pursued by two ruthless members of the High Council of Albion,
fifteen-year-old Kate Winters discovers that she is one of the Skilled, a rare person
who can see through the veil between the living and the dead.
ISBN 978-0-06-202642-2 (trade bdg.) [1. Fantasy. 2. Dead—Fiction.] I. Title.
PZ7.B94569Ni 2011 [Fic]—dc22 2010025823
EPub Edition © 2011 ISBN: 9780062084583
11 12 13 14 15 LP/RRDB 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
First Edition
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