The Shadow Watch

by S. A. Klopfenstein

  When they’d drunk their fill, they began stuffing their mouths with bread and preserves. Mischa found a lantern and jars filled with oil, and shadows soon flickered on the walls from the soft flames. We can build a fire and cook some potatoes before it gets dark, Tori thought ecstatically, maybe even find some salted venison for a stew. They could sleep down in the storeroom, protected from the elements and the monsters, and Mischa could regain her strength for a day or two before they pressed on.

  Consumed by the joy of the treasure they’d found, Tori did not stop to consider that they might not be the only ones seeking shelter. Tori did not notice how quiet it became in the storeroom as she filled herself with glorious sustenance. She did not realize anything was amiss until she turned to search for some meat on a shelf by the entrance. As she turned, horror shot through her.

  Standing at the base of the ladder, a young man with olive skin and long black hair towered over Mischa. A massive hand covered her mouth, and the other held a blade at her throat.

  Tori reached out with her mind, grasping for her powers, but nothing happened.

  The young man’s dark gaze shot through her. “Your powers have no place in the North, Darkling.”

  Tori felt as though her chest had collapsed. She could not breathe. The Alyut man pressed his jagged shank into Mischa’s skin, and Tori was completely helpless to save her. A trickle of blood eased down Mischa’s neck as he pressed the blade harder. The Alyut man blocked the only way to the outside world and escape.

  And Tori’s magic was gone. It was unfathomable, but somehow, her powers had vanished. Tori felt no awareness of the intricacies beyond the visible world. Her line to magic had been severed. She felt nothing. Tori felt entirely ordinary, and entirely helpless.

  “Don’t move, Darkling,” the Alyut man instructed, and Tori obeyed. He guided Mischa forward with a shove. “I’ve been waiting for you, ever since you set those monsters loose.”

  How could he know that?

  “You returned our world to the Abyss, and now you will—”

  But the young man’s threat was cut off. Mischa trembled in the man’s grasp, but that did not stop her from one last attempt at resistance. She bit deep into the man’s hand, and he roared in pain, his hand jerking away from her mouth. The blade fell away, clattering on the ground. Mischa arched her body back. The man lost his balance, stumbling over something on the dark storeroom floor. Shelves of provisions collapsed on him.

  “Run, Tori, run!” Mischa screamed.

  Mischa hurled herself at the man. She was sacrificing herself for Tori, just as Ol’ Merri had.

  Tori hesitated. Could she really flee and leave Mischa to the whims of this Northman? No! I’ve already lost too many. I will not lose Mischa too!

  Tori spun back to help, but she had paused too long. The Alyut man recovered himself. He leapt to his feet, hurtling Mischa into one of the barrels of water. As Tori launched herself at him, the man’s hand flew to his belt.

  Tori never reached him.

  His blade lodged itself at the base of her neck.

  A perfect throw.

  Ren would have been proud, Tori thought strangely.

  Mischa screamed, but her voice was stretched thin. Blood rushed from Tori’s body like a fountain. She slumped to the floor, and already she could feel it. Her body was not healing itself. The blade had struck an artery, and life was gushing from her wound, and she knew she was dying. A calm acceptance washed over her.

  “Noooo! Oh gods!” Mischa hurled herself at the man, and they fought in a blur. But Tori was fading away. Sound felt as though it was drifting from leagues away, from far mountain passes, from another world. The blurs morphed into little more than shadows against a bright light.

  Tori envisioned her mum at the end. Her warm face and bright green eyes shone in the sunset light upon the Steppe. Her smile was filled with warmth. Her hands reached for her. It felt like a glorious reunion. I’m coming back to you, Mum…

  The light grew brighter, washing out her mum’s beautiful features. And then there was nothing.

  39

  Thank the gods.”

  It was Mischa’s voice, slipping through the fog of Tori’s consciousness as she stirred from death.

  By some miracle, Tori was alive. She sensed the warmth of a fire nearby. Slowly, the fog cleared away, and she found herself still in the storeroom beneath the ruined Crooked village. Mischa clutched her hand, smiling down as Tori squinted against the light. It’s still daylight. And I’m alive. But how?

  A bandage coated Tori’s neck. It was wet to the touch, and Tori knew she had lost much blood. She had known the instant the blade lodged in her throat that she was going to die. Yet here she was. A fire crackled near the base of the ladder, set so the smoke would escape through the open hatch. A shadow passed in front of the flames, and Tori shot up. It was the Alyut man.

  Tori jumped to her feet and had a blade to the man’s neck in an instant. It was too easy.

  The Alyut man chuckled. “If your reflexes had been so swift earlier, I might never have had the devastating realization that I nearly killed the Gallows Girl.”

  Tori raised an eyebrow, but did not remove the blade from the man’s throat. He did not resist her, and he was still smiling. “W-what do you want with us?” Tori demanded.

  Mischa was at her side, touching her arm softly. The man was still not resisting. And then, the light-headedness caught up with Tori, and she slumped forward. The Alyut man caught her, and he and Mischa helped her lie back down beside the fire.

  “You’ve healed,” said the man. “But you are weak. You should rest.”

  “W-what happened?” Tori’s head hurt and her vision was foggy.

  “It’s all right, Tori,” said Mischa. “He’s not our enemy. He… he saved you.”

  “Saved me? He nearly killed me!”

  “Thought you were Darklings,” said the man, or boy, rather. Up close, Tori realized he could be little older than she or Mischa. “I can’t tell you how truly sorry I am. As soon as I realized who you were, I withdrew my barrier from your magic. And not a moment too soon. You were near death, but your body healed remarkably.”

  Still, Tori regarded him with suspicion. But if he meant us harm, surely there could be no purpose in sparing my life.

  “What are Darklings?” Tori asked.

  “Darklings… that’s what we call the chancellor’s servants up here in the North.”

  “The Morphs?” said Tori.

  The Alyut man nodded. “I’ve felt many Darklings in the Crooked Teeth this past week.”

  “Y-you felt them?” said Tori. “Who are you? What did you mean about lifting a barrier from my magic?”

  “My name is Alyk dul Baruk. A shaman of the Alyuts of the Great White North. We have learned to render magic useless when we must. I was sent as the lone spirit protector for a party of my kinsmen. We were trading with the Crooked villages before the Darklings unleashed hell upon the North once more. Thank the All Mother, we managed to rescue many survivors after the annihilation the Rulaqs left in their wake.”

  “You were with a party of traders?” said Tori.

  Alyk gazed at her for a long moment. Tori’s suspicion began to wane, and as her vision cleared, she took stock of the young man. The hood of his fur-lined parka was down, revealing dark, straight hair pulled back behind his head. The ring of his face was darker than the rest of his olive skin, likely from when his hood was drawn tight. His jaw was muscular and smooth. His deep brown eyes invited her to hold his gaze, and he smiled broadly, which annoyed Tori.

  “What are you looking at me like that for?” she said.

  “It’s just—well, I never believed my grandmother, that you might actually be alive.”

  “Y-your grandmother?”

  “Mala dul Baruk, the High Shaman of the North. She has been praying vigilantly that the rumors would prove true, that the Gallows Girl was still alive. And here you are. I cannot wait for her to meet you.”


  “Meet me?” said Tori.

  “The rest of my company is holed up in a cavern a short distance from here. We raided these same stores last night. As morning came, I felt you coming. So, I sent the others away and remained to kill you. Little did I know the Darkling that I sensed was the Gallows Girl. The Saint of the North.”

  Tori did not like where this was going. “I’m no saint. It will be far better for your people if I remain as far from them as possible. The chancellor will be hunting for me.”

  “Let him come. We will be ready.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “While you were unconscious, Mischa told me what you both endured in the catacombs. You feel shame for the people you’ve lost. I sense that clearly. But you don’t understand, Astoria. Their deaths were not in vain. You have brought hope to a desolate world, where there has been little hope. Even in the Great White North, we have heard of you. My people were driven to the Icelands by the kingdoms of the Old World. We have survived a harsh and cruel existence for hundreds of years, waiting for our time to reclaim the land of our ancestors, to reclaim Osha.

  “Many years ago, my grandmother received a vision from the All Mother. A vision of the day of our Restoration. On that day, she saw a winter lily breaking through the thaw. It was the day when Osha fell, when the world was made right. I believe that lily was you, Astoria Burodai. My grandmother believes a third age of our world is approaching. An age of peace for the oppressed. You must come north to meet the High Shaman, and see the army in the North.”

  “Army?” said Tori. A note of fear resounded through her.

  Alyk dul Baruk stood tall as he spoke. “Ever since you resisted the chancellor on the day of the Gallows, there has been unrest building across the New World. And now, here you are, right before my eyes. My grandmother was right. The day of our Restoration is near.”

  “I’m not… I can’t be…” Tori began, fumbling for words. This young man might be amiable, but he was a fool, just like Ren, and the Watchers, and the lowborns of Osha who put hope in the Gallows Girl. All of them had thought she was going to come to their aid, but she had failed them all.

  “Look, I’m not some saint,” Tori said. “I wasn’t even trying to resist the chancellor on the day of the Gallows. I was just trying to save my friend. And now he’s one of the chancellor’s servants, one of your Darklings, and all my other friends are probably dead. That’s what happens when I save people. I can’t be what your people long for. That’s what got all my friends killed. I can’t do that again.”

  Alyk was silent for a long time, but his smile never wavered. His olive Alyut skin glowed in the firelight, and his eyes glistened. Tori had to look away. Why is he always smiling?

  “You long for revenge,” he said finally. “I can sense it in you. I can see it in the way your fists tremble when you speak of them. The way your eyes darken at what happened to those you love. You long to see the chancellor dead. You long to see the fall of the White Citadel, like we all do.”

  Tori sighed. “I do. But my revenge is not what your people need.”

  “My people need justice, Astoria. For centuries we have prayed for it. A war is coming to the New World. But we in the North are few and inexperienced. We’re hunters, not soldiers. We cannot win Restoration alone. And neither could your Watchers. But together… with the Gallows Girl…”

  “No,” said Tori. “You don’t get it. The Gallows Girl is only a myth.”

  Alyk remained irritatingly calm. “Perhaps she is. But perhaps that is okay. Perhaps what you really are is not the point.”

  “It’s the only point!” Tori’s throat throbbed with pain. She leaned back and closed her eyes.

  When she opened them again, the young shaman was still smiling. “You don’t know the hope you bring others because you haven’t seen them. There are thousands who will join you in the North. We may still be little match for the chancellor’s Legions, it is true, but there are others. This Witch Queen in the Southern Isles is gathering followers. For the first time in centuries, many of the Isles are uniting under one banner.”

  “What does that have to do with your Restoration?”

  “This queen does not come from a highborn family, and rumors suggest she has her eyes set on the mainland, on Osha, just as we do. The refugees fleeing the Teeth are coming north for refuge, and with the destruction of their homeland, they long for revenge. And ever since your escape from the White Citadel, slaves are stirring all across Osha. There have been several major uprisings. The time is ripe for change. And who better to unite them all than the Gallows Girl?”

  “You want me to start a war?” said Tori.

  “I want you to come with me,” said Alyk. “I want you to meet the people who dare to put their hope in the symbol of the Gallows Girl, in the return of magic to our world. What you do after is your decision.”

  “You did say the North might be our best path,” said Mischa, who had been smiling throughout the conversation. Tori knew it was because the notion of a resistance had rekindled her hope. Hope of rescuing the others. Hope of being reunited with Vashti.

  But Tori felt hesitant to hope. She was responsible for what happened to the Watchers. If there were even any left alive. The chancellor would not have attacked the Watchtower if not for her. Tori did not bring hope. She brought destruction wherever she went.

  “I will go above and ensure the Rulaqs have not returned to these ruins,” said Alyk. “It is nearly nightfall. When darkness comes, I will be leaving, with or without you. But Astoria… I really hope you’ll come.”

  “I like him,” said Mischa, when the shaman had left.

  Tori gritted her teeth. “You like what he says. You like that he gives you hope.”

  “We need hope, Tori! Perhaps he is the very reason we escaped. Maybe we were meant to meet him here.”

  “Meant by who? The gods? A vision of some lily? This doesn’t sound like shenzah to you?” Mischa just smiled, and Tori shook her head. She knew her friend’s mind was already made up. “What if he’s lying? What if there is no resistance? What if he’s dangerous?”

  Mischa crossed her arms over her chest. “You didn’t see him when he realized who you were. I did. I trust him. And I think we should go. Besides, what other choice do we have? To wander the Teeth until the Rulaqs find us? Or worse, the chancellor? We need Alyk’s help.”

  As much as Tori hated it, she knew Mischa was right, at least about that. Deep inside, as much as her mind told her to flee from anyone interested in the hope of the Gallows Girl, Tori felt they were supposed to go with Alyk dul Baruk. She could not explain it, and part of her screamed to resist it. But something in her heart told her it was the right path forward. Tori sighed. “All right, we’ll go. But the moment something seems wrong, we leave.”

  “Deal,” said Mischa. “But it won’t go wrong.”

  “Won’t it?”

  Mischa gripped her hand. “You feel it too. I can tell.”

  “Feel what?”

  “Hope.”

  When darkness came, they set out from the ruined Crooked settlement. The rest of Alyk’s party was camped a league away in a small cavern. Tori remained wary throughout the journey. She did not like the idea of trekking alone with a man who could incapacitate her powers. Although, if he’d wanted me dead, he could have just let me die already. Which means he wants me alive because he’s trustworthy, or because he is up to something…

  The cavern opening was small enough they had to crawl through, and it consisted of only one large chamber, which did not seem to connect to any deeper passages. Still, going underground again immediately brought back nightmarish images of the Nosferati leaping upon Ol’ Merri, and Commander Scelero’s twisted face. Tori shuddered at the memories.

  Within the chamber, a host of about fifty people sat huddled around small fires. When Alyk led the girls in, the entire place hushed to complete silence.

  There were about a dozen Alyut men and women, dressed in coats with
fur-lined hoods encircling their faces. The rest were Crooked folk, evident by their weathered, high altitude skin—survivors of the Rulaq attack that Tori had made possible.

  Everyone in the chamber rose as Tori and Mischa entered. Their eyes grew wide. The silence transformed to faint murmurs.

  Alyk raised his hands at the center of the chamber, and all fell silent. “My friends,” he said, grinning and gesturing to Tori. “This is Astoria Burodai, the Saint of Osha, the Hope of the North—the Gallows Girl.”

  Every eye was fixed upon her. Wordless mouths hung open, and Tori did not know what to say or do. Were they glad to see her? Angry? Did they know she was the one who had brought the Rulaqs upon them? Had Alyk tricked her? Brought her here only to let this group of refugees slaughter her out of revenge?

  And truth be told, Tori felt she would deserve it. The North was in ruins. And she had caused it. She had not been strong enough to fight the chancellor, and she had not even thought what the greater effects of her resistance might be. All these refugees are fleeing the Teeth because of me.

  The chamber remained silent. Tori looked to Alyk. He took hold of her hand and raised it, and the room erupted in cheers.

  Mischa took Tori’s other hand, and the cheers grew louder. Without thinking, Tori released their hands and let herself rise from the ground by magic.

  A young mother at the front of the crowd dropped to her knees, and the others followed suit. Soon, the entire room knelt before Tori, as though she were royalty, as though she were a god. The room fell silent.

  A young girl clutched her little brother’s hand. Both had seen fewer than twelve summers. The little boy’s face was streaked with happy tears. All eyes remained expectantly fixed upon Tori as she returned to the ground, but still the kneeling crowd was silent.

  Alyk leaned close and whispered in Tori’s ear. “You are the hope of the gods to these people. They are waiting for you to speak.”

  Then Alyk knelt as well, and Mischa followed his lead.