The Shadow’s Curse

by Amy McCulloch

  ‘That part of me didn’t understand. I didn’t want to wait any longer. I wanted to be Khan, Khan and sage in one! The thirst was so strong that I . . . I walked slowly over to Dharma and took her by the wrist. She was still so calm. I held the knife up against her throat.

  ‘That’s when I heard another voice. It was Raim’s voice, asking me what I was doing. I said, “Raim, I’m sorry.” Then I tried to use the knife. But I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t kill her.

  ‘I was angry then that I was too weak to do it. Can you believe that? I thought maybe I could just hurt her . . . but it had to be hard. It had to be permanent, or else the shadow would be weak. And in the end it was Dharma I listened to, not either of the other two voices – my own and Raim’s – that were still raging against me in my skull. She said, “Take my eyes. Please. I don’t need them.”

  ‘She was so brave. She acted like she wasn’t scared, but I could see that she was crying. I think I was crying too. But then my true purpose flashed through my head – I had freed a prisoner and helped him to escape, I had lost my heirdom to the khanate, I was nothing, and if I did this, I could have everything. Then everything in my head went silent, and . . . I did it.

  ‘The tent filled with noise. There was so much screaming – from her, from me – and from my new shadow. As I finished I could feel something within myself ripping, tearing, like my soul was being wrenched in two. Then I felt the sharp edge of a blade against my own palm and looked down in horror to see Raim slicing at me, the ugly crimson-red scar of an oathbreaker appearing on my palm. My mind was a blur – how was it that Raim was here, in the tent with me? He was on the run in Pennar . . .

  ‘I was pushed aside by Loni, who had broken free of Garus when he heard Dharma’s screams. He tried to kill me himself, but I pushed him away and stumbled out of the tent. Loni picked up Dharma in his arms, bundled her onto one of our horses – since they had none of their own – and fled. Garus asked if he should try and stop them, but I said to let them go.

  ‘I could see better then. I saw the spirit of Raim floating above me, screaming hideous curses in my face. “What is this madness, Garus?” I shouted at him, and when I looked over at him I saw – not a shadow behind him, but the figure of a young girl. “The shadow is the spirit of the one you betrayed,” Garus explained. “You must win his trust back to become a sage!”

  ‘I didn’t know how I was going to do that, when I had betrayed him so deeply, when I had committed the most heinous act in the world. Why would this spirit ever forgive me?’

  ‘Obviously he did. I don’t know whether to be more disgusted with you, or with your shadow. I wish he had continued to haunt and torment you, just like any other oathbreaker! I don’t understand how he’s come to serve you.’

  ‘One day you will. If I didn’t have him as a shadow, I wouldn’t be a sage, and I wouldn’t have control of my sage army.’

  ‘Your so-called sage army is just an example of how much of a monster you are. You’re just lying to them! They still believe that you will one day set them free.’

  ‘Set them free? Wadi, is there something you don’t understand about being an oathbreaker?’

  She hesitated. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I need them to set me free.’

  ‘I don’t . . .’

  Khareh untied the strings on his tunic.

  Wadi sat up straighter, and pulled her legs into her chest. The ankle chain stopped her from retreating too far. ‘What are you doing?’ she said, unable to keep fear from quaking her voice.

  ‘I’m showing you what it means to have a shadow-army,’ he said.

  As he pulled the ties of his tunic apart, she stopped moving. Jagged red lines crisscrossed his chest where his tunic flapped open. He pulled the tunic over his head, and Wadi gasped.

  His entire upper body was covered in promise-scars. He turned around, the muscles in his back flexing, making the promise-scars move and shift across his skin.

  ‘You see?’ Khareh said, putting the tunic back on again. ‘Leadership requires sacrifice.’

  ‘But Khareh . . .’ Wadi was speechless. Seeing their greatest taboo written all over Khareh’s chest and back was too much even for Wadi to feel revolted. Her mind thought her eyes must have lied to her. No one could commit that much betrayal and survive – could they?

  ‘Our biggest test is coming. From what I’ve heard of the Southern King – the mad King Song – he is planning to march on us soon. Do you know what will happen if he reaches Darhan? He will enslave all of us. He would enslave Naran if he could!’

  ‘And what will you do when you reach the South?’

  Whatever moment of softness had come over Wadi, whatever fragility she had momentarily seen in Khareh, it vanished with Khareh’s next piercingly hard look. ‘I will make sure they never threaten the North again.’

  Back in her yurt, Wadi slumped down next to the post her bindings were tied to. Erdene had brought her back from the Khan’s tent. She also gave her a bowl of dried meats, softened by a sprinkling of mare’s milk. Wadi wasn’t hungry, but she ate anyway. As she did, she studied Erdene. She was tall – taller than the average Darhanian, a bit like Raim, and slender. Yun were rarely over-muscled – they were trained in close combat and sword-fighting, but also to be great strategists, expert bowmen and accurate throwers of knives.

  Erdene was wearing a fine robe of silk, pale and delicate against her olive skin. The clothes accentuated the softer, gentler side of Erdene, although Wadi had seen enough of the girl’s fierceness not to be deceived by outward appearances. Since becoming the Seer-Queen, Erdene wore a thick layer of red stain on her lips, made from the juice of Rago berries; her eyes were lined with kohl, accentuating their almond shape – make-up that could just as easily become warpaint.

  Erdene stared into a piece of mirrored glass, wiping away stray kohl from beneath her eyes. ‘So, what did the great Khan share with you this time?’

  ‘He is despicable. I don’t understand how you can follow him.’

  ‘It is not the way of the Yun to question their leader,’ she said, without meeting Wadi’s eye.

  ‘Even if he is stupid and cruel?’

  Erdene laughed. ‘He is far from stupid. But even if he were . . . Loyalty is not something you can pick and choose. Once you promise to serve, that’s it.’

  ‘You said he was not always like this, though. That once he was different.’

  The other girl paused. ‘I thought he was different. I mean, he always had this wild ambitious streak, you could tell that, but when he came back with this shadow, he had changed and we were all afraid.

  ‘He needed supporters, though. I thought if I could show him from the very beginning that he had my loyalty, he would reward me. And in a way, he did. After we overthrew his uncle, he was the undisputed Khan of Darhan. He needed a queen, and he chose me.’

  Wadi bit down on her tongue. She didn’t want to say what she thought about being the queen of a tyrant. But when she looked back at Erdene, she was surprised to see that the girl had tears in her eyes.

  ‘Do you . . . do you love the Khan?’ asked Wadi, finding it both an impossible thought and an explanation for Erdene’s outburst of emotion. ‘Do you think he loves you?’

  ‘I don’t think he loves me. I’m not even sure he likes me.’ Then Erdene fiercely wiped away the tears, and took a deep breath. ‘But of course I love him. I am his queen. And Khareh will protect us.’ She swept out of the room, leaving Wadi to her thoughts.

  There was someone else out there who could protect and rule Darhan. Someone else who was a sage, but who had not done something terrible to gain his power.

  Raim.

  Wadi thought of his face and, for a moment, the sense of utter loneliness passed.

  22

  WADI

  ‘Pennar, home to the monks.’ Khareh was standing with his hands on his hips, facing the monastery of Pennar, across a long, narrow lake. He narrowed his eyes. ‘Not a great place for Mermaden to
stop. We have him trapped.’

  Still, anxiety poured off Khareh like wind from the Amarapura mountains. It was strange that Mermaden would choose to rest here. Everything about the situation felt wrong. The whole army had worked itself up into a frenzy throughout the hunt. They were like dogs that came across the rabbit sitting serenely in the woods, as if it wasn’t about to face its impending doom. It was as if the rabbit knew something the dogs didn’t – like that the wolves were on their way.

  Unlike dogs, though, Khareh had enough sense to stop. Evaluate.

  He gestured to Erdene. ‘You go ahead to the monastery and check if Mermaden is really there. And take Imal with you.’ The two bowed stiffly, and left to fulfil Khareh’s command. ‘Altan, prepare the rest of the camp.’

  Once they had all left, Wadi asked, ‘Why do you always send her away?’

  Khareh shifted awkwardly. ‘I sent her away so she could report back the truth.’

  ‘But she just wants to keep you safe. To do her duty as your Protector.’

  He shrugged off his doubt. ‘Once I had my shadow guard, it didn’t matter whom I chose to be my new Protector. They just needed to be Yun. She didn’t ask questions – even once she saw my broken oath. She knew I had power. She was afraid, but I proved my strength to her. I showed her which side was the winning side and, like a smart girl, she chose correctly.’

  With a rough jerk of his head, he gestured for Wadi to follow him outside. Wadi restrained the urge to shudder or refuse. If she couldn’t escape then this is exactly where she wanted to be. Close to Khareh. Compiling information she could use against him. Learning his weaknesses – and his strengths – so that when the time came, she knew precisely where to hit him so it hurt.

  And the time would come. She clenched her fists.

  Khareh noticed. ‘Wadi, you look tense.’

  She shook herself. Khareh appeared relaxed, but she noticed that his shadow moved closer than normal. ‘How can you be tense on such a beautiful day, in such a beautiful place?’ He flung his arm out wide in a dramatic sweep.

  And he was perfectly right. It was beautiful. Wadi could not believe how different the landscape could be from Yelak, after only a relatively short ride. Yes, she had grown up in the desert, which was her home and her first love. The desert could have a million subtle differences, but at the end of the day, you could ride for days and it would still be just sand and rock and the sun’s harsh rays. This place . . . it could not be more different to Yelak than to Sola. In place of the close forests, there was an endless stretch of grassland as far as the eye could see. The vast blue of the sky melted into the steppes at the horizon. Even though she knew there were mountains and forests nearby, she might believe that the world stretched into eternity.

  Directly in front of them, a sparkling lake broke the line of green. This was, of course, the reason that the monks had chosen to build a monastery here. It was a route marker for nomads, a known place of rest. The sunlight danced off the windswept waves glittering like the jewels on Khareh’s crown. Across the water was the monastery – and Wadi was instantly reminded of Raim’s story. It was the place that would have been Raim’s sanctuary – or, more likely, his tomb. Wadi felt strange to be here, like she was walking in his untaken footsteps.

  The monastery itself was built of wood – wood that must have taken an age to carry across the grassy sea, likely on wagons pulled by oxen. From Wadi’s vantage point, it was a strange mix of sturdy and fragile – big, thick beams that curved softly as they reached up towards the open blue sky and delicate carvings as intricate as a spider’s web. The roof was painted white, so looking at it from afar it appeared like clouds floating in the sky.

  ‘Pitiful, isn’t it?’ said Khareh, looking over at Pennar.

  Wadi grimaced. ‘Actually, I was thinking the opposite.’

  He waved his hand dismissively. ‘Oh, I know it’s the best we can do. But one tired old monk, drunk on mare’s milk, knocks over his candle and . . . poof! The whole place goes up in flames. Happened three times already. They just keep moving it to a different location on the lake.’

  ‘Let things change,’ said Wadi. It sprung to her mouth before she could stop it: something she remembered her father once saying to her.

  ‘I hate that phrase. Yes, things should change. But only if they’re growing, learning, advancing. What’s the point in changing if you’re just going to repeat the same mistakes again somewhere else?’

  Wadi did something she did not like to do. She tilted her face upwards and stared at Khareh. She searched his face, the smooth oval of it, searched his dark eyes, the curl of his lip that, at times, could appear the cruellest mouth in the world.

  She stayed focused on his eyes. ‘And this is what you see as the problem in Darhan?’

  He looked straight back at her. ‘Yes.’

  Both their attentions were wrenched away by a commotion across the lake. Dust plumed in the air as two horses came riding out of the monastery. Khareh’s standard was fluttering wildly in the wind behind them. The same wind picked up the stray strands of hair around Wadi’s face. She relished the coolness of it. She had a feeling what was to come would result in a very long night.

  Imal and Erdene soon came into view. Altan hurried over as well, a young boy trotting behind him holding the reins to other horses. Imal did not dismount when he reached Khareh and Wadi, but spoke from the back of his mount: ‘The traitor Mermaden is in the monastery. The monks refused him sanctuary. They have been holding him, waiting for you to come, my Khan.’

  Khareh’s face lit up. ‘Ah, the monks have been loyal for a change! How nice. Very well.’ He snapped his fingers and the boy jumped forward, tugging one of the horses with him. Khareh quickly mounted. He turned to Altan. ‘I think you will need to find another horse.’

  ‘But my Khan, there are four horses, and four of us. The savage should stay behind.’

  Khareh levelled his gaze. ‘No, there are five of us.’ He clicked his fingers at Wadi. ‘Savage,’ he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm – although she knew it wasn’t directed at her; he was mocking Altan. ‘Get on that other horse. Altan, find another mount and come after us.’

  Once Wadi had mounted, she scowled at Khareh. ‘Why do you do that? You know you only make him hate me more.’

  ‘He needs to understand his place. And right now, yours is higher than his, whether he likes that or not.’

  23

  RAIM

  That evening, under the cover of darkness, their route was due to take them past the ancient Baril monastery of Pennar. It had been a fraught journey so far, their nerves frayed to breaking as several small groups of Khareh’s army came within inches of finding them. None of them had dared to sleep, especially once Mhara identified the groups as search parties. Raim guessed that news of Vlad’s rescue had finally reached Khareh’s ears.

  ‘They’re looking for you,’ Mhara said, as the last group moved out of earshot.

  Raim shivered. It had been a close call. ‘At least they don’t seem to expect me to be going south.’

  As they approached the monastery, Raim pondered the journey he had come on. Pennar had once meant a place of sanctuary, of safety. It was where Khareh had said to meet him so they could solve the mystery of Raim’s scar together.

  A meeting that never happened.

  Now he would be going to Pennar, but not with Khareh; instead, he was going with Draikh.

  ‘What are you looking at?’ said Draikh.

  I’m worried.

  Draikh scratched. ‘I know what you mean. I’m worried too, and Mhara definitely senses something wrong.’

  Mhara’s demeanour had changed since leaving Amarapura, a dark glower permanently etched on her face.

  The atmosphere felt too charged, like the calm before a storm. They had chosen the route that went past Pennar specifically because they expected it to be calm. The bulk of Khareh’s army had last been spotted far away – in Yelak. It quickly became clear that the army hadn
’t stayed there.

  It quickly became clear that they hadn’t stayed there. The area around the temple was illuminated by lights from campfires dotting the shore of the lake – enough campfires to indicate an army.

  Khareh was at Pennar.

  The tension was so thick, Raim could almost eat it.

  ‘We have to change our route,’ hissed Tarik, as it became increasingly clear that they were heading straight into danger.

  ‘No,’ said Mhara. There was a dangerous glint to her eye, something more than just the reflection of the campfires. ‘We must keep going. This is the quickest route through to the Temple of Bones. Khareh won’t be expecting us. And the Baril here will shelter us for the night.’

  ‘It’s too dangerous!’ said Tarik.

  If Khareh is here, then maybe Wadi is too. What do you think, Draikh?

  ‘She could be,’ he replied.

  Then we have to find out. If there’s a chance, even a remote one, I have to try.

  Mhara turned to Tarik. ‘You’re right; it is too dangerous – for you. Don’t come with us into Pennar. You will head around the perimeter, and you will wait one day and night, then meet us at the fork of the river between Pennar and the Temple of Bones. Have horses and supplies ready for us there. Do you think you can do that?’

  Tarik looked ready to protest.

  ‘I won’t be any more than one night,’ said Raim, jumping on Mhara’s plan. ‘Take Oyu – you know that I would not willingly go anywhere without him. And if you don’t see me after that time . . . go and find Loni and Dharma. They will take care of both of you.’

  Tarik hesitated for a second, but then nodded. Raim whistled into the air and Oyu flew down from the sky, landing on his outstretched arm. He slipped the hood over the bird’s eyes, and Oyu calmed immediately. He allowed Raim to shift him onto Tarik’s trembling arm. When Tarik saw that Oyu’s sharp talons weren’t going to rip his arm to shreds, he visibly relaxed. He whispered ‘good luck’ to Raim, then scurried off, making a wide circle around the temple.