The Shadow’s Curse

by Amy McCulloch

  ‘I won’t let it stay that way,’ said Khareh.

  Wadi shrugged. ‘In a way, I want it to. I want to help. It’s not right that all those people are stuck in Lazar, with no way of returning to their homes and families even after their oaths are forgotten. It’s barbaric. The sages didn’t think of that when they sealed the tunnels.’

  ‘No, they didn’t. They also prevented any trade between the North and South. Darhan has suffered because of it.’

  Wadi searched Khareh’s face for hint of a malicious plan, but he seemed genuinely concerned about the barrier to progress.

  The sound of rushing water filled the tunnel, and Khareh’s eyes grew wide as they passed a natural window in the rock. He leaned against the edge and peered down at the sight of the massive underground river that coursed its way deep under the mountains, and eventually through Lazar. They were further down the river than the enormous cavern she had taken Raim through, not so long ago.

  Here, they were closer to where the waterworms were bred. In fact, only a few steps later they came across one of the breeding caves. Khareh stared in amazement at the millions of little eggs sitting in shallow pools of water. They seemed to glow with their own supernatural light, illuminating the caves in the darkness.

  ‘Only a few worms will actually make it out alive,’ said Wadi. ‘But they breed all these eggs, in case. It’s a delicate process. The Shan have to make sure they capture the worm right at the moment it hatches. If they don’t, it will try to drink up all the water in the cave – including all the eggs that are around it – and make itself explode.’

  ‘Incredible,’ said Draikh. ‘I’ve heard of the Shan. Garus was one of them.’

  Wadi nodded. ‘They are led by an old man named Puutra-bar now. They style themselves after the Baril, hence the “bar” ending.’

  ‘And this is how the Alashan find water?’

  ‘This is what they trade for, yes. Waterworms in exchange for giving oathbreakers safe passage across the desert and bringing them to the city. But they would rather not have to trade with Lazar at all.’

  ‘So the Alashan would welcome it if I opened the trade routes between Lazar and Darhan again?’

  Wadi nodded. ‘They would welcome it if they no longer had to transport Chauk through the desert. Too many have died needlessly. We do not find them all.’ She paused. ‘We are almost there.’

  At the final turn, the atmosphere between them changed. They could both sense the heat rising in the tunnel. It would have felt oppressive if it hadn’t been so exciting. They were reaching the end of their journey.

  Even the spirits that guarded the tunnel seemed impatient to let them through. ‘This is the final gate,’ said Wadi. ‘Maybe you want to go first?’

  He stepped past her, and turned the final corner of the tunnel. ‘Wadi . . . it’s magnificent.’

  She stepped out behind him. Her heart stopped in her chest and her breath caught. It was possibly the most wondrous sight she had ever seen. They were high up in the cliffs, looking down through a window onto the entire desert. The sun was just setting, bathing the dunes in a red-orange glow. Unlike before, Wadi could see steps cut into the side of the cliff, steps that would lead down to the path into Lazar. And she would be able to find that path and bring Khareh to it. She had the navigational instincts of the Alashan. It was in her blood to be able to find Lazar and negotiate the mysterious avenues of the desert.

  Something glinted on the horizon, catching the light and reflecting it. Wadi shielded her eyes against it.

  ‘What direction is that?’ asked Khareh.

  ‘It’s . . . south,’ said Wadi.

  ‘That’s what I thought. That’s the Southern King’s army. They’re almost here.’

  ‘The entire army?’

  ‘They must have had help. Maybe it’s one of your tribes?’

  ‘The Alashan? The Alashan wouldn’t help anyone through the desert. Unless . . .’

  ‘Unless they had a great enough trade.’

  That wasn’t what Wadi was going to say. She was going to say unless they had Raim. But she nodded. Let Khareh think that.

  ‘Then we have no time to lose. They look only a day’s march away. That means we have to be ready for them.’

  ‘Khareh?’

  ‘Yes, Wadi?’

  ‘Claim the city of Lazar as your own. Even without all the pass-stones, you are a sage. They will need protecting.’

  ‘They will accept me as their leader?’

  She nodded. ‘I can help convince them.’

  ‘And you would do that?’ he asked.

  Her throat turned dry. ‘Of course,’ she managed to choke out.

  ‘Well then, Wadi. Take me into Lazar.’

  ‘As you ask, Khareh-khan.’

  60

  RAIM

  He had marked the exact place where Tarik had been held prisoner.

  There was no way that the king was going to get away with threatening him and holding his brother prisoner. So he decided to do the unthinkable. It filled him with fear and went against everything he had ever known about desert survival. But it was the only way: he was going to rescue Tarik, but he was doing it at the height of day, when Naran was at her peak.

  Even opening his eyes at this time of day felt unnatural. But Mesan assured him that he could do it. The Alashan managed it on rare occasions – they trained for it, learning from experience how to move in the heat of the day – and now Raim was going to attempt a daylight run without destroying his body in the process. His eyelids peeled apart, squinting in protest at the bright light. Even the slightest exertion – just blinking – caused beads of sweat to appear on his forehead. His mind screamed at him that this was wrong, but he kept going. He stretched his legs, keeping every movement slow and smooth, so as not to disturb the others around him. The king was hidden away in his tent and the soldiers around him were all sleeping, their heads completely covered by their cloaks, masking them against the sun.

  Being awake while everyone was asleep was strange. They resembled more a sea of rocks on golden water, pebbles on a beach, than an army.

  Draikh, Raim reached out to the spirit.

  ‘I am here.’

  Are you feeling strong?

  ‘I’m ready to kick some southern backside, if that’s what you mean.’

  Good. Raim held his arms out and Draikh lifted him off the ground. That way he wouldn’t make any vibrations that might signal his approach. Together, they flew over to Tarik’s prison tent. Raim held his breath as he flew past the guards, but no one moved a muscle. Sweat poured from Raim’s face, and he wiped his eyes with his upper arm. Draikh dropped him down by the tent, and Raim swiftly pulled up one of the pegs anchoring it into the ground. The bottom edge of the tent rippled and Raim froze, his muscles tensed, wondering if anyone inside the tent had seen.

  He waited for one second. Then another.

  No movement. He breathed a quick sigh of relief, then dropped down to his belly. Slithering like a sand-snake, he made his way into the tent.

  It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dim interior from the brightness of the outside. The air inside the tent was incredibly humid, made sticky and wet by the breathing of its occupants. Raim much preferred to be outside, where at least the air was dry.

  In the far end of the tent, there was a cage, like something Raim might use to trap rabbits on the steppes. Cramped inside the tiny space, folded up like a scroll, his wrists wrapped in chains, was Tarik. On the opposite side of the tent, two guards were asleep, curled up under their Alashan-like hoods even though they weren’t directly outside.

  ‘Surely one of them should be awake,’ said Draikh.

  Gods, who wouldn’t fall asleep in this tent? Even I feel drowsy and I’ve only been in here for a few seconds.

  Still, Raim didn’t want to hang around to see if one of them might stir. He crept over to the cage. He didn’t want to wake Tarik the normal way, so instead he used a tip that Mesan had taught him
. He poured a drop of water from his water bottle onto a strip of cloth, and placed it on Tarik’s wrists. His brother’s skin was almost searing to touch, and Raim worried that he might be suffering even beyond being kept in the cage. If he had been in a similar condition to Raim when he’d been washed up on the shore, he would have needed serious treatment. He doubted the king would have given it to him.

  Tarik’s eyes fluttered open. He stared wide-eyed at Raim’s face and momentarily recoiled, but relaxed when he recognized his brother. Raim put a finger against his own lips, then slipped a piece of jarumba root out of his pocket. He passed it through the bars, and Tarik bit down on it eagerly. His eyes rolled back in his head, as if he was experiencing some kind of ecstasy.

  ‘Tarik, where are the keys to the cage?’ Raim whispered. He held up the thick lock that held the bars together. He could maybe hack through it with brute force, but that would attract far more attention than he wanted.

  ‘The guards,’ Tarik said. ‘The one on the left has the keys to the cage, the one on the right has the keys to my chains.’

  Raim bit his lower lip. Of course the guards had them. He mouthed, ‘just a moment,’ then crept along the perimeter of the tent until he was close enough to reach out and touch the first guard. He signalled to Draikh to go around to the other the guard.

  He took a deep breath.

  One of them opened his eye a fraction, then opened his mouth to cry out. Raim quickly snapped the edge of his hand against the man’s throat, and the guard slumped to the floor.

  Draikh was far subtler, pressing down on a pressure point on the man’s neck until he too slid from sleep into unconsciousness. Raim took the keys from around the man’s belt, and rushed over to Tarik. In a few seconds they had the lock undone, and Draikh passed over the second set to undo his wrists.

  ‘You can’t stay here,’ said Tarik, his voice full of urgency.

  ‘No, I realize that – but once I get you to the Alashan camp, the king won’t be able to punish me. He still needs me, and I him, but I’m not going to let him bully me.’

  ‘No, it’s not that,’ said Tarik. ‘It’s the king and the Lady Chabi. The king offered to make her his wife and Queen of the North. They’re going to use you to destroy Khareh’s spirit army but then they will destroy you. Your mother has no love for you, no matter what she has said.’

  Raim reeled from Tarik’s words. ‘How – how can that be true? The destiny – the blood of Hao? The council?’

  ‘What is a destiny but words, and what is blood but liquid? Your mother was never truly loyal to the Council; she only wanted power for herself. Why do you think she is your mother? She found the blood of Hao, only to want to make herself a part of it. And then when she was on the brink of losing everything, she made the reckless decision to force the promise on you as a baby. Why would she do that? She did it to save herself. But then she needed you to wake her from her sleep.’

  A movement from outside the tent, like a loud thump, made them both jump. ‘I will explain it all later. For now, we need to get out of here . . .’

  Tarik was too weak to move very far, so Raim supported his weight across his back. Draikh, can you carry both of us?

  ‘For a short period.’

  Do it, please. The Alashan are waiting on the outskirts of the camp.

  They barely took two steps outside the tent, when Oyu screeched a warning cry. Raim stopped in his tracks. From behind him, a deep voice resounded. ‘What are you doing?’

  It was the king, the Lady Chabi, and several alert soldiers – slaves – dropping their fans and taking up swords instead. Raim had to hand it to the king. He looked wide-awake and, if he was suffering from the heat, he wasn’t going to show it.

  ‘Stand up to him,’ said Draikh, in his mind.

  ‘I’m freeing my brother,’ said Raim, pulling himself up to his full height. ‘You have no right to keep him locked up in a cage like an animal.’

  ‘I have every right. The Lady Chabi and I have been discussing this matter. You are not the saviour I was promised. You are no khan-in-waiting; you are an arrogant boy with a few paltry tricks up his sleeve and a weak shadow. I needed someone to destroy the young khan in the North and his shadow army – and now I hear you cannot even do that. Your mother told me the truth. She told me that scar on your chest is a promise to Khareh-khan. That means you are nothing to me.’

  Raim couldn’t help but look at Lady Chabi in that instant. Her face was pale, but determined. So Tarik had been right after all. ‘I’m sorry, my son,’ she said. ‘If you hadn’t made that Absolute Vow, maybe things would have been different. My spirit obviously knew the truth. I needed you to come here to wake me. But now I will be Queen of the North.’

  The king smirked. ‘Together we will rule your blasted land, and I will take your wretched people and make them my slaves. Just what they deserve.’

  Draikh?

  ‘I’m on it.’ Draikh swooped at the nearest guard, disarming him and throwing the sword in Raim’s direction. But this time, the king just laughed. ‘You might have been told about my obsession with birds. Well, I happen to know a thing or two about garfalcons, even though I thought they were just a legend. It’s something I suspected when I first saw that scar on your chest. Now, how about we prove my theory?’

  In one swift motion, the king drew a bow from behind his back, and several of his guards did the same. They pointed their arrows at Raim.

  Draikh? What do I do?

  ‘I’ll protect you!’ Draikh swooped back toward him.

  But then the shooters changed direction, aiming their arrows at Oyu, who was circling the air above them. They let fly all at once.

  ‘No!’ Raim and Draikh cried at the same time.

  Draikh changed direction and flew up to Oyu, solidifying in the air, trying to knock Oyu out of the path of the arrows. He deflected several of them, taking the points into his own form, knocking him down. But one of them hit true, burying itself deep in Oyu’s body. The garfalcon tumbled out of the sky, black feathers flying in every direction, until he hit the desert with a sickening thud.

  Raim tore at the skin on his face, his throat forming an inhumane sound of grief. That’s when an arrow hit his own chest, and he was knocked to his knees.

  As he fell, he caught sight of Lady Chabi, the bow in her hand pointing at him. He looked down in shock. But even as the blood blossomed out of the wound, all he could see was that the tattoo of permanence, the scar of his Absolute Vow, was gone.

  ‘I’m sorry, my son,’ Lady Chabi repeated, her words just reaching him through the veil of pain that descended over all his senses. Behind him, he could hear his brother’s voice saying ‘no, no, no’ over and over again.

  He fell forward, just managing to turn sideways with a last show of strength, to stop the arrow burrowing any deeper.

  Darkness descended. He welcomed it.

  61

  RAIM

  Come back to me. He could picture Wadi’s hands making the symbol for protection. He tried to reach out to touch those hands, but his limbs wouldn’t respond no matter how hard he willed them.

  Come back to me, she said again.

  I’m trying.

  ‘I can’t heal you any more. It won’t be enough.’ A voice broke through the fog of his mind. Khareh’s voice. ‘You have to do it, Raim. Can you hear me? Raim, you can do this.’

  No, not Khareh’s voice. Draikh’s voice.

  I don’t know how. His thoughts were weak, ill-formed things.

  Draikh seemed to pounce on them like a wildcat. ‘You’re there! Do it. I know you can. Do it for Wadi. Do it for vengeance. We can still stop the king! It’s not too late.’

  It is too late, he thought. But a tingling sensation ran through his body, concentrating in his chest. He drew away from it, the pain suddenly becoming too much. It hurts, Draikh.

  ‘I know it does, Raim. But just a little more. It’s working, I promise you. The Alashan are all here. They will help you. You just ne
ed to heal.’

  ‘What’s happening to him?’ Now Raim heard Tarik’s voice. ‘Look at his wound! It’s smaller, I’m sure of it.’

  A damp cloth was pressed to Raim’s forehead, and the coolness of it helped to clear his mind. If he could hear Tarik now, it meant he was getting stronger. He focused on the tingling sensation again. Separate, he willed his spirit. Heal me. Make me strong.

  Searing pain made his body convulse, but it was a different kind of pain to the initial wound. He panted with breath, but he wouldn’t let it stop. Water, I need water. Instantly, water poured over his head and dripped into his mouth. Tarik cried out.

  ‘You’re doing it!’ said Draikh. ‘Keep going!’

  He pushed and pushed.

  ‘There! The wound is healed. You can open your eyes now. You can stop.’

  Come back to me, Raim said, and this time he was talking to his own spirit. He felt himself become whole again, and the tingling ended.

  ‘Gods, Raim, you’ve really done it.’

  He had healed himself. He felt power surge through him, felt his spirit lingering just beneath the surface. He would be able to draw it out as easily as breathing. The tingling returned, but now he welcomed it. He knew what it represented. He felt unbeatable. Invincible.

  He opened his eyes. He saw Draikh, weak and near-transparent. Through him, he saw the shocked look on Tarik’s face. ‘You moved the water from the bowl,’ Tarik said, his mouth gaping like a fish after ever sentence. ‘Your wound just healed. Was that your shadow?’

  ‘In a way,’ said Raim, not sure how to explain what had happened. He rubbed where the arrow wound had been with his hand. It itched like the ghost of a wound, but there was barely even a scab there.

  ‘You did a better job than I could ever have done,’ said Draikh. ‘I’m proud of you.’

  ‘The king,’ Raim said, aloud. ‘Where is he?’

  Tarik’s face darkened. ‘After the arrow, we all thought you were dead. The Alashan took you away, and they gathered Oyu’s body too. The Alashan left the camp then, moving too quickly for the king to keep up. But I don’t think the king cares. We are so close to Lazar now, he can see the line of the mountains.’