Etta, who had been carrying nothing save a light pack slung over her shoulder, moved at once to take out some of our scant fuel. Aras lit the fire, with a weary, absent glance. Although no Ugaro could truly appreciate such cantrips, Etta nodded and put water to heat for a tisane, then began to take travel sticks out of the pack. I set Inhejeriel down, stretched, and sat down with my back against the cliff, letting my sister do the small tasks necessary to make everyone as comfortable as possible. Turning, I watched the empty shadow of the dark tide. Truly, it seemed very close now, though I could not tell whether any part of it lay directly in our path.
Aras straightened suddenly, then got quickly to his feet. His expression was intent, as though he listened to something no one else could hear. I jumped up, drawing my sword—Iro was on his feet an instant after I was—but Aras held up a hand, saying quickly, “Ryo, no, it’s—”
Suyet ran around the curve of the protecting stone. I was utterly astonished, but there was no time to think. He was running fast, and blindly, as a man will when he is very much afraid of something behind him. I moved several steps so that I could see farther along the direction from which he had come. I knew he must have come out of the Saa’arii tide, but I could not see any place where it crossed the mountain where we rested. Iro stepped to the side, a position that did not allow him to see as well, but from which he might take an unwary enemy from behind if such an enemy pursued Suyet.
But no enemy appeared, at least not yet. Instead, Suyet ran straight to Aras, dropped to his knees—Lau almost never made any such gesture—and wrapped his arms tightly around Aras’ legs, nearly knocking Aras off his feet. Lau never behave in such a way.
Yet Aras did not seem surprised. He bent, setting one hand on Suyet’s shoulder and the other on the back of his head. Then he glanced around at the rest of us—we were all staring, even Iro and me. Aras said, his tone faintly apologetic, “He will be better in a moment. A very hard pull will sometimes do this. I have been pulling as hard as I could for some time now. I hoped some of our people might be able to respond to that pull once we came near enough to that ... to the Saa’arii tide.” He looked at Inhejeriel, who was on her feet, her eyes wide, her hands pressed to her mouth.
He said, his tone gentle, “As my understanding was that our people were lost within that darkness, not dead in any ordinary way, I hoped this might prove useful.”
This is very, very good, Inherjeriel whispered silently. If only you were a sorcerer, a true sorcerer, sije-Aras! But this is very good. He was lost and desolate, but you caused the world to remember him in a way I could not.
“Perhaps.” Aras looked around at the rest of us. “I apologize for taking everyone by surprise, but I did not realize he was coming until he was almost here. I think he must have come out of the, ah, shadow tide very suddenly—and I think this means the shadow tide must be very close to this place, closer than it seems.”
I had already realized this, and once more watched the direction from which Suyet had come, waiting for anything else that might follow him. Nothing did, yet.
Aras was now looking down at Suyet, rubbing his back gently, as one will comfort a child. He said, frowning, “I think this extreme reaction isn’t only the pull. Let me see.” For perhaps twenty heartbeats, he was silent. Finally he asked, “Is that better yet? Try to breathe. Try to feel each breath.”
Suyet was trembling, as will happen with shock. Even now, he did not seem able to speak. He still clung tightly, and his face was pressed against Aras’ thigh, but I saw that he tried to do as Aras said, breathing deeply.
“Better,” murmured Aras. “You’re all right now. I’ve got you. Yes. That’s better.”
Everyone waited. Inhejeriel sat down again, slowly. I remained watchful, but nothing else happened.
Suyet was trembling less. He pushed away from Aras, looked up at him—then recoiled, letting him go and jumping to his feet. He staggered, and Etta caught his arm to steady him, but he did not appear to notice her at all. “My lord—” he began, plainly mortified.
“It doesn’t matter in the least. It’s perfectly all right,” Aras told him. “It certainly wasn’t your fault. There's absolutely no need to be embarrassed. Breathe. Do you need to sit down? Let Etta give you something hot to drink; that will settle you a bit.”
Staring at him, utterly undone in a way I had never imagined possible, Suyet backed up a step. Then another. He sat down all at once, almost collapsing, by the little fire. Even then he did not look away from Aras. He said again, “My lord ...” but, as before, did not go on.
“I know,” Aras said gently. “It's fine. Please don't worry about it. I would appreciate your report, Trooper, but not until you’re a little more coherent. Shh. Breathe. That wasn’t a criticism. Should we expect an enemy to pursue you? I can’t quite tell—ah! Ryo—”
In answer to his urgent gesture, I turned firmly, lifting my sword. But the one who came, running like a young doe, was not an enemy, but Lalani.
I should have expected this might be so. Other than Suyet, of course Aras might have the strongest tie to Lalani, who had been one of his people for a long time. She did not see me—she saw nothing—she was running to Aras, as Suyet had done. I stepped out of her way. But I asked, “Do you have a tie to everyone? To Garoyo? To Raga?” Strange as it was to hope that a sorcerer had bound my brothers in such a way, I did hope that.
Lalani did not fall to her knees as Suyet had done. She flung herself against Aras and embraced him tightly, but she stayed on her feet. She bowed her head against his chest, shaking, and he folded his arms gently around her, waiting for her to recover. He said to me, over her shoulder, “I have a fairly deep tie to Hokino, but only a shallow tie to Tano. My tie to Garoyo is still more shallow. I don’t know whether those ties will be strong enough to draw them now. I’m sorry, but I have no tie at all to Raga or Arayo. I’ve met them, which will help me look for them, but, Ryo, that may not be enough.”
I nodded. I should have realized all this. He had freed Hokino from Lorellan; that was why he had a deep tie to the inKera warleader. No such need had driven him to take a deep tie to Garoyo. He had barely come near my younger brother; of course he had no tie there. I asked nothing more. At least he had brought Lalani to us. This was very good. I was very, very pleased to see her. Extraordinarily pleased and glad ... I realized suddenly that these were not my feelings. I felt that way, certainly, but not this much, or not in exactly this way. There was a sense of something else, of satisfaction to that feeling. It was much like the satisfaction a warrior feels as he sees a stratagem he has designed begin to fall into place.
I looked at Inhejeriel. She was gripping her hands together, shivering a little, her eyes fixed on Lalani. But she saw me look at her, or felt my attention. Her gaze came to me, and she said, her tone apologetic, I do not mean to. I am very glad to recover her. I am more likely to succeed now that we have recovered her. She is not as I am, not as one of my people would be, her memory is not right for the full task, but she can help me.
I could hardly protest. Any warleader might have said much the same. Inhejeriel was more like that, like a warleader, than I had realized. I had not understood that until this moment. She was so small, but our strategy in this place, such as it might be, was entirely hers. No one else truly understood what she meant to do, except perhaps Aras.
He was looking at me over Lalani’s bowed head. When I met his eyes, he nodded. He said nothing, but I took this as sufficient assurance that he understood enough.
Lalani was recovering. Unlike Suyet, she did not recoil from Aras when she realized she was embracing him. Her hold loosened, and she stepped back, her hands sliding down his arms until she gripped his hands, but though she still shivered, she did not retreat or apologize or even seem embarrassed. She said, “Aras.” Then she blinked and said, “Lord Gaur.” Then, fervently, “Thank you. Thank you ... I thank the gods!” She let him go at last, but did not back away.
“Very good,” he mu
rmured. “Yes, I thank the gods I’ve recovered you both. You’ve been feeling the pull for some time.”
Lalani touched her lips, then her forehead. “I don’t know ...”
“A long time,” Suyet interrupted her. “Yes. Hours and hours. Days. It seems like days ... weeks. Years.” His voice was hoarse. He looked away and down, shuddering, and swallowed some of the tisane. His hands were shaking, but Etta caught the bowl and prevented the rest of the tisane from spilling.
“What was it like, in that place?” my sister asked, uncharacteristically tentative. “If you are able to say.” She sat back on her heels, looking at him anxiously.
“Did you meet enemies there?” Iro asked, much more curt. “Do enemies pursue you?”
“No?” Suyet said, not sounding at all certain. “I don’t ... it was ... it was nothing. There was nothing there. For a long time ... it seemed like a long time.”
Iro gave the nearest smear of emptiness a grim look, disregarding Suyet’s tentative denial.
Aras said quietly, “Nothing at all. Nothing to see or hear, nothing to touch. No sense of your own body.” Lalani was nodding, and Aras shuddered suddenly. “No wonder your return struck you both hard.”
“I heard you, my lord.” Suyet’s voice shook. “Or, not really heard. I knew where you were, but I—”
Tano burst into view around the curve of the mountain, running hard, his head down, looking much as he had when he first ran out of the forest and encountered us. I was very glad to see him, and began to step forward, but checked as he shied hard to the side, nearly fell from the ledge, barely caught himself, and came to a quivering halt. Then he stood braced, his eyes fixed on us, untrusting; his knife in his hand. Certainly his behavior was nothing like that of the Lau. Perhaps I should not have expected an Ugaro to respond to a sorcerous pull in the same way as a Lau.
“Tano!” I called to him.
When he heard my voice, he staggered, caught himself, lowered the knife, and stared at me as though he had no idea who I was. Or as though he did not trust that I was who I seemed.
Aras lifted empty hands palm-out. He said, his voice level but tense, speaking loudly enough for us all to hear him, “He does not clearly remember anything other than the nothingness Suyet described, but he feels ... he believes ... he feels strongly that something else was in that nothingness. Someone else. Danger. Enemies. Something coming, always coming closer.”
“Oh,” said Suyet, and shuddered.
“Ah. Suyet actually felt that too.” Aras glanced at Lalani. “They all felt that, but my people not nearly as strongly as Tano. Speak to him again, Ryo. That may help.”
“Tano,” I called, making my tone firm and unworried. “It does not befit an inGara warrior to threaten friends. Look at me. Understand that what you see is real and true, and recover good sense.”
His expression did not ease, but he heard me. I knew this because he looked around at the mountains and the sky. The Moon, so close to the world here, drew a second look, and the brilliance of the stars. But his breathing became smoother. Looking at me, he said, his voice almost steady, “It is you. I—we—”
“Yes,” I said. “Are you steady enough to walk?”
“Yes,” he said, stung. He sheathed his knife at last. His hand was shaking, so it took him two tries, but he sheathed it and began to make his way toward us, if still slowly.
Iro was frowning at Inhejeriel. “What manner of enemies are in this shadow of your black tide?”
She gripped her hands together, taking in shallow little breaths. The great warriors, the ka’a, the shadows of those warriors. They will not care about Ugaro. They have come seeking me. They may follow—
Emptiness streaked the sky, erasing the world just beyond the curve of the mountain, where the stone fell away into the sky. A shadow spilled out of that emptiness and folded itself upright, becoming a person—the shadow of a person. He was not like a shade, not colorless or transparent, not made of air or light. He was a person made of nothing, a shadow that somehow took on solidity and stalked forward. Light slid across him and somehow into him, confusing the eye in a wrenching fashion I would never have been able to imagine. More than anything, he seemed to me like a man carved out of coal and the midnight sky, but then emptied of substance, and yet brought to a semblance of life.
His eyes were emptier even than the rest of him—black against black against black, layer upon layer of emptiness. When he smiled, his teeth were like that too: black against black, sharply pointed.
He was as tall as a Lau, but as broad as an Ugaro. In one hand, he carried a sword, curved that was black, into which light fell as it fell into his form, into his eyes. In the other, he gripped a weapon with a short haft and three vicious curving claws.
All this, I saw in one appalled instant. Almost before I knew what I saw, another such shadow fell across the mountain and rose up, and another after that. Three shadow warriors—five—too many, and another came out of the emptiness even as I thought so. They all smiled, translucent black teeth gleaming in translucent black faces. They were very, very pleased to find us—to find Inhejeriel.
Tano had whirled to face the threat that had followed him out of the shadow tide, his knife in his hand, but he also backed quickly toward us. Suyet was shouting, on his feet, reaching for a sword, but like Tano he had no weapons except his knife. He drew that. Inhejeriel was making a thin sound, strangling a scream to something almost inaudible. I was all but overwhelmed by the desire to protect her; if I had not already been running forward, I would have done it then.
Even as I moved, I was aware of Etta was pushing Inhejeriel back, her own knife in her hand; even Lalani leaped up and put herself between our enemies and the Tarashana woman, snatching up the pan from the little fire and brandishing that like a weapon. Aras stepped before them all. He was speaking, shouting, but I did not have time to listen. Eleven shadow warriors faced us now. I now stood shoulder to shoulder with Iro on one side and Tano on the other, but Tano had no weapon but a knife. “Get back, Tano!” I ordered sharply. “Stand with Aras!” I thought Iro and I could hold the narrow ledge, while Tano and Suyet and Aras formed a second line of defense, the last line between our enemies and the women, to stop any enemy that got past us.
But Tano ignored me, and before I could make him obey my order, the foremost shadow warrior reached us.
Behind me, Etta sang a long, clear word, just as the warrior struck at me. I took the blow, which had more strength and weight behind it than I had hoped, so that I had to lead the blow rather than throwing the warrior back. I attacked as aggressively as possible, and as I had hoped, the shadow warrior fought like a man and forgot he had other opponents. Iro took the opening I gave him, opening a long, gaping wound along the warrior’s back and side. The wound gaped wide, but blood did not pour out—shadows do ont bleed. Instead, moonlight poured into the wound, and the shadow warrior shredded into wisps of darkness and disappeared.
But the second warrior was already leaping forward, and others behind him. Tano cut at one of the shadow warriors, which was brave, but stupid; his knife was not enough against those curved swords. I cut across that warrior’s belly. My sword tore through him with much the same feeling as though I had cut against armor—perhaps I had—the iridescense slid across the shadow warrior in a way that suggested armor. I did not have time to cut at him again; I had to pivot at once to meet a different attack, then duck low to evade a stroke from yet another warrior. I cut at one enemy and thrust my knife into another warrior’s throat. Darkness spilled out of him and light into him, and that one was gone, but there were so many.
Etta’s voice rose, the tone pure and sweet, pitched high to carry, but I did not have time to listen. Tano left his knife in an enemy’s chest and ducked away from a return stroke—I shouted his name and threw him my knife, as better than nothing.
He snatched the blade out of the air, dropped it, caught it again, and pointed past me, shouting, but though his tone was urgent, I was
trying to keep a shadow warrior from striking Iro in the back—Iro was fighting two other enemies and could not manage three—also, an enemy was trying to slip around me—he was past me, I could not stop him—
Suyet flung himself between Aras and the shadow warrior. Before I could do anything, the shadow warrior caught Suyet’s knife with the claw-weapon, jerked it out of his hand, and whipped the curved sword across his belly. Our enemy did not allow enough for the long Lau reach, and in the same breath Suyet caught his knife in his left hand, stooped low and drove the knife into his enemy’s side. The shadow made no sound when he cried out; these enemies were voiceless as well as bloodless; but he jerked back.
Then Suyet tried to straighten, but fell, his features slackening. His enemy’s weapon had cut him much more badly than I had realized. He was on his knees and one hand, trying to get up, but the shadow warrior swept forward, sliding in and out of moonlight and shadows. The enemy struck Suyet down and lunged past him, toward Aras and the women.
Rage took me. A roaring filled my ears. Tano was still shouting—only half a heartbeat had passed—but I did not have time to attend to his warning. I had no choice but to leave the one warrior for Aras—I already faced another, and he was blindingly fast. I barely evaded a slashing blow from that claw-weapon that might have torn across my stomach and ended the fight very badly. I stabbed at my enemy, but he blocked my blow—
Tano tackled me, kicking me behind the knee to force me down, grabbing my sword hand so I could not reflexively strike him. I was far too astonished to fight him, but twisted to throw him off and get up. The shadow warrior lunged forward, lifting his sword for the killing stroke—
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