‘Now? Now, I don’t know you. All I see is the person that maimed my sister, that killed his uncle, that betrayed his land and his people by becoming this . . . this oath-breaker khan.
‘You have all this power because of me. Because I was stupid enough to entrust you with a vow that meant everything to me. But now, I have the power to take it all away.’
His resolve broke then. I don’t know if I can go through with this. But then he flicked his eyes to Wadi.
Wadi, who had given him strength since the day he’d met her.
Wadi, who gave him the confidence that he could be a leader. The leader, if he wanted it.
Wadi, who nodded at him ever so slightly, her eyes never leaving his. She knew what he was about to do, and she approved. That was enough for him.
He faced Khareh again. His former friend stood stock-still, apart from the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed.
Raim took a deep breath of his own. ‘I was told, once, by someone much wiser than you or me, that what is past is past, and we make the best of what we have now. And so, despite the fact this goes against every fibre of my being, despite everything I believe . . . I forgive you, Khareh. I forgive you for what you did to Dharma.’
As soon as the words left his mouth, Raim watched as his own spirit moved in front of him, a shadow separating the two former best friends. Then he floated forwards, slowly fading until he and Raim were one again. Power surged through Raim’s veins once more and, for the first time in a long time, he felt whole. Khareh looked down at his hand, and the scar that had lived on his palm – the scar that had started it all for Khareh – was gone.
Khareh stretched his hand out, and then curled it back into a fist and stretched it again. But the scar had truly disappeared. ‘Thank you,’ he whispered to Raim. ‘I feel so free now.’
The crown lay on the ground in between them, and to Raim it seemed to pulse with its own life and power. It would be so easy for him to pick it up and take it for his own, as maybe he was meant to do.
But that was not what he wanted.
He looked at Khareh. ‘The Council told me I was destined to rule Darhan. They dedicated their lives to make sure the bloodline of Hao was restored. This crown . . . it’s in my blood.’
Khareh nodded. ‘I know of Hao. He was a legendary khan. I had no idea you were his blood.’
‘Neither did I,’ Raim continued. ‘But I don’t know the first thing about leadership. I don’t have plans for Darhan. I have followed people blindly, made bad decisions, been lied to and deceived. But through it all, one person has been there to guide me.’
He turned to Draikh. You.
Draikh shook his head. ‘It was all you, Raim.’
You know that’s not true. You have been with me every step of the way.
Raim clenched his fists. He looked back at Khareh. ‘And although I hate – hate – what you did, and who you are now, I know that’s not who you really are. You lost the best part of yourself when you decided to break your vow to me. But now that part – Draikh – is stronger than you are. He is the one who should rule Darhan, not you as you are, and not me.’
Wadi stared at him with wide eyes. ‘No, Raim, you haven’t seen the things he’s done. You don’t know the whole story. You can do this on your own.’ Raim couldn’t look at her then, or else he risked losing all of his conviction. He kept his eyes on Khareh, and tried to keep his voice firm. Steady.
‘You’ve been preparing for this your whole life! If you were whole, if you could make the right decisions, you would be a great leader. The right leader.’
‘But I can never be whole,’ said Khareh, holding a hand over his heart.
Raim mirrored the gesture, placing his hand where his Absolute Vow had once been a tattoo of permanence. ‘Because you cannot forgive me and make yourself whole again, the way I forgave you?’
Khareh nodded.
‘You need Draikh. Without that side of you, you are not a good khan. But with him . . . you would make our nation great. I know it. With him, I believe you are the right person to lead Darhan.’ There was a sharp intake of breath, and Raim’s eyes darted to Wadi, and then to Draikh. Both could not conceal the shock on their faces. He’d never even dared to think the words he’d just said, in case Draikh could sense his intentions. Now, having said them out loud, he knew that he was making the right choice.
‘Raim, what are you doing?’ Wadi’s voice reached him. He looked over at her, and mouthed the words ‘I’m sorry’.
Raim turned back to Khareh and bowed his head, plucking a hair from it. It wasn’t much, it was crude, but it was something.
‘I don’t deserve this,’ said Khareh, his voice shaking.
‘Raim, are you sure about this?’ said Draikh, his voice rattling through his mind. ‘I’m not sure I’ll be able to stop her. I won’t be able to hold her back.’
Try your best, Draikh, thought Raim.
Raim stared at Khareh. ‘Maybe you don’t deserve this. But you can spend the rest of your life earning my forgiveness – and the forgiveness of Darhan.’
He took the hair, and then bent down on one knee. He reached out and tore one of the threads from the base of Khareh’s tattered green cloak. ‘I, Raimanan of the Moloti tribe, promise my life to you, as the true and rightful Khan of Darhan. My word, and my life, are yours. This is my Absolute Vow.’
An anguished scream filled the air – and Raim was immediately transported back to the day he had first promised his life to Khareh, after his Yun duel. The moment he had become an oathbreaker. The scream came from the spirit of his mother, the Lady Chabi, just as it had done before.
Raim’s promise-knot bracelet burst into flames again, and this time the shadow did appear, along with the scar. He looked over at his mother, the spirit who lived within the knot. It had only been days since he’d remade this promise to her. But now he was willing to break it – to do what was right for Darhan.
When her cry came to an end, in her hand was her spirit-blade.
‘No, Lady Chabi!’ Draikh flew into action, diving through the air at her to protect Raim.
Khareh and Wadi jumped too, shocked at the sight of Raim’s flaming wrist.
Raim could see the anger in his mother’s eyes as she plunged forwards to bury the spirit-knife deep into his chest.
But this time, he was ready for her.
66
RAIM
His spirit spread out of him, but this time he was in control of it, not Khareh. He was stronger than the haunt of Lady Chabi, and his spirit-hand was on her arm, stopping it before she could push the knife any further.
‘Remove my scar,’ said Raim and his spirit in unison, their voices firm.
‘Never,’ she said. ‘You will be scarred as an oathbreaker for the rest of your life – just as you deserve.’
‘The vow was false.’
‘You made the vow; you broke the vow.’
‘I would never have made it if I had known your plan to deceive me. The first time I made this vow to you, I was too young to understand what was happening. You forced it on me. The second time, you deceived me – and eventually tried to kill me. That breaks any conditions of the vow I had made to you. You don’t care about my bloodline – you care only about taking power for yourself. I am in Lazar, so I have fulfilled the conditions of an oath. You can remove my scar. I’m asking you nicely – remove it. Or the moment I see you outside, I will remove you.’
Lady Chabi let out a scream of frustration. ‘This is not over,’ she said, but even as she spoke, she rose, flying up into the sky. As she left, there was a bright flash of light and the scar around Raim’s wrist was gone.
He was truly free of all his vows. There was only thing left now.
‘You know she only did that because her body would have collapsed without its spirit again. She was undone by the power of the oath you made. She will probably still try to kill you the moment she sees you,’ said Draikh.
I know, said Raim. I will
deal with that later. But for now, you know what you need to do.
‘Are you sure you want me to do this?’
It’s the only way. I won’t lose you, will I? He couldn’t hide the momentary thread of panic in his voice.
‘You won’t be rid of me that easily,’ Draikh said with a wry grin. ‘I will always be close to the surface.’ Then he headed towards Khareh, disappearing until they were joined again. Draikh and Khareh. The dream and the reality. Together and whole.
Raim prayed it was for the best. He would be there, always watching, in case it wasn’t. That was a vow he intended to keep.
No more spirits were left in the courtyard. A buzzing reached his ears, and he realized it was the sound of hundreds of Lazar voices talking all at once about what they had seen.
He then turned to Wadi. Hurt and confusion was written all over her face. ‘What did you just do?’ she asked.
He took the few steps that separated them, and gathered up her hands in his. She didn’t resist. She ran her hands along his wrists. ‘You’re no longer an oathbreaker,’ she said, with a small smile.
‘No, no I’m not,’ said Raim, and he could hardly believe it.
‘But you’re still an idiot. You’ve given him everything.’ Raim was shocked as Wadi’s eyes filled with tears. He could only guess at what she had seen that would make her feel so strongly.
‘The Khareh you knew is not the Khan now. The Khareh I knew, is.’
Khareh dropped to his knee. ‘It’s true, Wadi. I can see every reason why you would hate me, and I will do everything in my power to make it up to you.’
‘I was never meant to be a khan, Wadi. I was meant to be Yun,’ said Raim. ‘That was my destiny. To be a protector, not a leader. I accept that now.’
The word ‘Yun’ seemed to bring fresh horror to Wadi’s face.
‘What is it?’ Raim asked, stricken that he had caused Wadi more hurt.
‘Raim, I have something to tell you. The Yun warrior Mhara was going to kill Khareh. But I saved him. I . . .’
Raim felt his heart stop for an instant. Then he felt the power of the oath he made. The vow to protect Khareh. ‘Then I guess you did my job for me,’ he said. ‘Mhara was her own woman. She had her own vows, her own duties. She would not have hesitated, even if I had been at Khareh’s side. That was one of the reasons I respect – respected – her so much. Her destiny was her own.’
Their moment was interrupted as Puutra-bar came running over. Raim wanted more time to speak to Wadi, to explain his decision, but the old man’s tone spoke of something even more urgent than answers. ‘We are all in great danger. We sent out a scout after we heard that the Southern King was approaching. He’s here. He can’t find the entrance to Lazar. But it’s only a matter of time; he’s prowling the cliffs. He’s close, and if you don’t hurry, he will find us.’
‘Then this is your first duty as the Khan,’ said Raim to Khareh. ‘Let’s go out and finish this Southern King. He will learn that he can’t bring an army to Darhan and not face your wrath.’ Raim picked up Khareh’s crown and brushed the dirt from it. ‘You will need this.’
Khareh took it from him, and held it out in front of him as if the base was dipped in poison. ‘I still have a problem: I have no army.’
Raim nodded. ‘I know. But I have a plan.’ He turned then, and grabbed Wadi’s hands. ‘Do you understand what I did?’
She shook her head. ‘I don’t think I ever will.’
He pressed his lips to her hands, then released them. ‘Soon, I will be able to explain everything. But for now – please take us back to the desert,’ he said. ‘You’re the only one who can.’
Wadi hesitated for a second, and then nodded.
As they walked through the thin pathway, Wadi and Raim first, Khareh just behind, they could hear the king’s screams, echoing off the sheer faces of the cliffs, clear as if he was standing five feet away from them: ‘Raim! Come out here, Raim. You can’t hide from me. I will find you and kill you and raze your entire city to the ground!’
Raim stopped when Wadi signalled that they were to turn the final bend to reach the desert. He turned to Wadi. ‘I don’t know if my plan is going to work. If it doesn’t, call on the spirits of Lazar using the pass-stones, like only you can. Seal this passage. Don’t let the Southern King and his army through. Don’t let them reach Lazar. Even if it means leaving us out there.’
‘How about you just don’t fail?’ she said, her voice trembling.
‘I’ll try,’ he said.
Then he turned to Khareh. ‘Ready?’
They turned and walked out to meet the Southern King together.
67
RAIM
King Song seethed with barely concealed fury. His entire body trembled with it. Just behind him stood three of his generals, their faces dark, hands on the hilts of their swords. Worse still, the generals were guarding the Alashan, their hands bound behind their backs. Mesan was among them, the bright red egg of a bruise growing on his cheek, his lip split and bleeding.
And behind them in a long straight line, as far as the eye could see in the dying light of the sun, was the rest of the king’s army.
When he saw the two boys exit the thin crevice in the cliff face, the king threw his head back and laughed. Raim let the sound wash over him. Beside him, he heard Khareh take a sharp breath at the sight of the king’s army. But Raim was not scared. They walked forward until only a few feet separated them from the king.
‘You are the khan I’ve been hearing so much about?’ the king said when he finally stopped laughing. ‘You?’ His eyes combed over Khareh’s ludicrous crown, his green cloak – and by his side, Raim, in his borrowed clothing from the South, in tatters from his journey through the desert. ‘And where is the so-called shadow-army I heard so much about? Or did you crawl out of your dark tunnel like a cockroach to turn your lands over to me? I am the Golden King, and the desert is mine. The North is mine.’ He turned to Raim. ‘And you. You were exactly what I thought you were: dirty, oathbreaking scum from the North. I should have never listened to the Council when they said they would bring me a hero from the North, but it was the only way I could cross this infernal desert. And I should certainly never have listened to that treacherous mother of yours. She’s disappeared; abandoned me. Abandoned both of us, it looks like.’
Song’s words about his mother made the hair stand up on the back of Raim’s neck. Khareh opened his mouth to say something, but Raim jumped in first. ‘King Song, this is your chance to surrender to Khareh-khan. If you do, you may return to your lands to govern them as you always have. We will have several demands that will need to be met, of course. No more slavery. And free trade routes between the North and South.’
‘I hope your plan is a good one,’ Khareh leaned over and whispered to Raim.
‘Don’t worry,’ replied Raim. ‘I made a vow to be your Protector, and I intend to keep it this time.’
‘Go home, Song. We are making the choice easy for you. The North is not yours for the taking,’ said Khareh.
King Song’s eyes threatened to bulge out of his head. ‘You would give orders to me? You are nothing but a boy with a crown and a single friend. I am a king. I have an army of thousands. I don’t have to listen to you. If you do not move, I will crush you.’
‘I am nothing but a boy with a crown, that is true. But you underestimate the power of my friend.’
At that, Raim closed his eyes, leaned his head back, and outstretched his arms. He called his spirit to the surface, where it coiled like a snake about to strike. Like a layer peeling away, his spirit spread from his body. He was a sage of the highest order: he could use his own spirit as the source of his power. His spectral form flew straight up in the air, following the line of the cliff, and as he did so, a handful of sand from by Raim’s feet flew out behind him.
The sand buffeted against the king’s clothes. He wiped it away, perplexed.
Then Raim’s eyes flew open and he directed all his
energy at the king. His spirit whipped up the sand in front of the king, until it was a whirlwind in miniature.
King Song took several steps backwards. ‘You think a little sand will stop me?’ he bellowed. Then, he raised a horn to his lips and blew it hard. The signal for his army. They began to rush towards the cliffs, a thousands spears lifted at once, and the desert shook with the sudden approach of men hollering for victory. They wanted to make Raim and Khareh flee to safety in Lazar, where they would pursue them until the end. But Raim had no plans to move. And Khareh stood solid as a stone beside him.
Raim sent his spirit flying out across the desert, picking up more and more sand in his wake. It looked as if a curtain of sand was lifting up out of the desert – a wall built from thousands of tiny grains. The spirit spun the grit around, so that the walls became more like tornadoes: whirlwinds of sand that were about to hit the Southern King’s army with all the force that he could muster.
‘Do not falter!’ the king shouted, and he blew the horn again. Raim couldn’t tell if his words or the horn had an impact on the sand-battered soldiers – the great golden wall absorbed all sound in the thunderous roar of its own making.
The sand hit the soldiers as they were running, and their battle roars turned to screams. As Raim fed more power into his spirit, the sand gained momentum, building into a fierce maelstrom that devoured everything in its path.
‘Are . . . they . . . running?’ Raim’s voice sounded strained and stilted. His eyes had closed again from the effort, but his eyelids twitched as if they were under great strain. His lips moved, speaking unheard words. Every real word required a lot of effort – effort that he didn’t have.
‘They’re dropping their weapons!’ Khareh said, and Raim could hear it too. Swords fell to the ground as the sand, each grain as sharp as a shard of glass, ate away at every inch of exposed flesh on the soldiers’ bodies – starting with their hands.
‘They’re turning back!’ said Khareh, unable to disguise the glee in his voice.
‘No!’ said the king. ‘Keep coming! Keep coming! Make it to the cliffs!’ But even if they wanted to, the army could not obey. The men covered their heads with their cloaks, disorientated, confused and in pain. The only relief came from turning back, away from the storm.
The Shadow’s Curse Page 30