A Shade of Vampire 89: A Sanctuary of Foes

by Bella Forrest

  “There goes your let’s-get-friendly-with-the-rebel-clones plan,” I said as we bolted through the woods. The hard ground made my steps feel heavier than usual, but we were definitely moving at a faster pace than the doubles.

  I lost track of time as we continued our hasty retreat, my breath ragged and my thighs burning. I could’ve gone full dragon, but the point was to keep a low profile, not to let the entire fake Shade know that we were there. I’d thought my dragon nature would help the most, but it was my fae fire that seemed more useful—that was my favorite irony, considering I’d always wanted to get closer to my dad’s side than my mom’s. I’d never really identified with the fae. How could I, when I had a roaring, fire-spitting beast within me?

  “Don’t knock it yet!” Dafne eventually replied, pointing a thumb over her shoulder. “I don’t think they’re that keen to catch us.”

  We slowed down, checking the faint trail we’d left behind. “Hold on,” Soph managed as she stopped to catch her breath. We must’ve been running at full speed for at least twenty minutes, if not more. “Hold on… did we lose them?”

  “I don’t think so,” Thayen said. We took a break to get our bearings. GASP training and supernatural abilities aside, none of us were cut out for long-distance running—we considered long-distance to be anything over ten continuous miles, given our collective standards. On top of that, our energy levels seemed to have tighter limits here, and it had been a while since any of us had fed. We’d need nourishment and proper rest soon. “They’ve been great at tracking us before. We barely lost them before the cave, remember? No, there’s something else.”

  “I think Dafne might be on to something,” Astra replied, her pink hair messy and riddled with leaves she’d inadvertently picked up along the way. “They stopped chasing after us. Maybe they didn’t actually want to follow us.”

  “Then why point us out in the first place?” I asked.

  “Caleb’s clone would’ve spotted us or caught our scent sooner or later,” Dafne suggested. “Perhaps the rebel doppelgangers didn’t want to give him another reason to punish them. They seem to be under some kind of fragile truce.”

  “So, if they signal our presence and run after us but fail to keep up, at least Caleb’s clone will know they’ve tried,” Thayen concluded, nodding slowly. “Yeah, that makes sense. I think it’s a reasonable premise, actually. You all heard them. They just want to be left alone.”

  Astra exhaled sharply. “They seem to have made a life in this wilderness. I wouldn’t blame them for trying to play by their maker’s rules in order to survive.”

  “You do realize what this means, though. Right?” I asked, feeling my eyes burn, my mind opening up to a plethora of new possibilities in a land that didn’t leave much wiggle room. My blood rushed, heart pumping with newfound excitement. Thayen and the girls looked at me, curious about what I meant. “It means they’re not all into this sick game. Like Caleb’s clone just said, they’re not robots. They can be swayed. They can be broken. They can be pitted against one another.”

  “And some might even serve as allies,” Dafne insisted.

  “It could be too soon for that,” Soph warned. “Just because they didn’t catch up with us now doesn’t mean they won’t try to kill us the next time they see us.”

  Dafne seemed disappointed, mainly because she knew Soph was right. Nevertheless, I felt the need to give her some form of agreement, so I gently took her hand in mine and offered a smile. Only when she stilled from my touch did I realize what I had done. Ironically, my fear of rejection had been trumped by my desire to comfort her—and the sky hadn’t crashed down on me for it, either. I still couldn’t read her, since she just stared at me without saying anything. “We’ll go to the armory first and see if we can stock up,” I said, finally finding my voice. She didn’t take her hand away, though. That had to mean something. “Once that’s done, we can come back and speak to them. It’s not a good idea to approach them now. Not while Caleb’s clone is out there. But we can certainly consider your suggestion later.”

  “I agree,” Thayen replied.

  We used our memory of The Shade’s terrain to find the armory. We weren’t sure we’d find it where we expected it to be. We weren’t even sure we’d get what we needed from it. But it was still our best shot at gaining a minimal advantage against the clones and Haldor and whatever other creatures dwelled in this realm.

  I’d seen enough to understand that we had to step up beyond our current limits if we were to survive and get to the truth behind this massive farce. Acquiring weapons was barely the beginning of a complicated and dangerous mission. I only hoped we’d get there in one piece. The darkness around us had secrets. I had a feeling the forest itself was watching us, and only so much of this suspicion could be attributed to paranoia or fear.

  Tristan

  Once we revealed ourselves, it didn’t take long for the Dainians to take notice and start asking questions. It was our only avenue to follow, given that Anunit had vanished, leaving us to untangle the mystery ourselves. I figured it was part of the trial—seeking the truth and reaching the conclusion that Shezin had to die. That there was no other way to complete this challenge.

  Unending and I had taken a seat at a table in one of the taverns. From the moment we’d come through the doors, the Dainians’ eyes had settled on us, filled with wonder and curiosity. No fear or apprehension. They were just eager to find out more about who we were and where we’d come from. GASP had not made it all the way here, and no other travelers had come around—except for Shezin.

  One of the barmaids found the courage to speak to us about an hour later. We’d only ordered drinks to have something on our table, and I’d paid with small pieces of gold I’d learned to carry with me. Precious metals had value pretty much anywhere in the universe, so I always had a small pouch filled with silver, copper, and gold, just in case. The Dainian girl was two heads above me, but she was slender and genteel in her motions. Unlike the others, she sat at our table with a wide smile.

  “Welcome, strangers. Are you enjoying your drinks?” she asked confidently, as if we were but tourists coming in from a guided tour. As if she’d seen the likes of us before. She hadn’t, but you’d never know it from her easy charm.

  “We don’t drink, but we figured we could at least be polite and try to blend in,” I said, mirroring her bright expression. “You are hospitable. We thank you for that.”

  “You don’t seem wary of our presence,” Unending replied, watching her closely. “We’re not of this land.”

  The girl shook her head. “No, you’re not. But we’ve always believed that there were others out there. Our astronomers have studied the skies for a long time. We know the planets close to ours were once inhabited. It’s not that big of a stretch to assume others are, and that someday they might find us. Is it?”

  She was incredibly bright, and I found myself in awe of her. Other nations had first recoiled at the sight of our ships descending from the heavens. It had taken weeks—months, in some instances—to convince some of them that we hadn’t come to do harm. Yet this Dainian girl wasn’t just aware of her world and her solar system. She was aware of visitors eventually coming from other realms.

  Unending chuckled softly. “You’re brave. You all are, for that matter. We’re clearly not of this world, yet you let us sit at your tables. You come and speak to us. I commend you.”

  “What do you think of our land so far?” the Dainian girl asked.

  “It’s beautiful,” I said. “Different from ours, but beautiful. I’m Tristan, by the way. And this is Unending, my wife.”

  The girl beamed, straightening her back as she gave us her name. “Embry, they call me. Embry, daughter of Starn. I’m just a barmaid, but I brew the sweetest mead and I cook the best pies on this side of the river.”

  “We’re explorers,” I replied. “We look for new worlds to study and understand. Our intentions here are peaceful, in case you or anyone else might be worr
ied.”

  “Shezin always tells us to be open to the unknown, for wonders will come of it. I suppose he was right,” Embry said. “I used to deride some of his teachings, but recently I have understood that his word is the truth. The absolute truth. Do you have a god in your land? What is your world like?”

  Unending and I exchanged brief glances. “We have nations of creatures with different powers and exceptional abilities, but they are not worshipped as gods. We are all equal before creation and death, even those of us who are presumably immortal. Is Shezin your god?”

  “Yes. He’s the well-wisher of our people. He makes sure we prosper. That our rivers never run dry. That our orchards are bountiful,” Embry said. “He is immortal…” Her voice trailed off as she picked up on something I’d just let slip. “There are immortals among you?”

  I nodded. “I’m immortal. Though I can be killed in a small handful of ways. There is no such thing as absolute immortality. Death comes for us all, eventually.”

  It sounded grim, but I had to start debunking their myth. I didn’t trust Anunit’s account of Shezin, but I certainly didn’t agree with someone posing as a god purely because he was harder to kill than most. It was wrong. Embry fell silent, perhaps not knowing what to say next. I might have succeeded in planting a seed of doubt in one person’s mind. It would not be enough to sway an entire nation.

  “Our world is simple and green, with forests and lakes, deserts and oceans,” I said, then proceeded to tell her a little bit more about Earth first, then moving on to other realms of our GASP alliance. It took me about an hour to list the planets we’d been to, along with details of what they were like, but I definitely had Embry’s attention—and not just hers. Before I even realized it, our table was surrounded by other Dainians who listened to our stories from other times and worlds. They hung on every word, savoring every image I conveyed.

  The Dainians were entranced and eager to know more.

  “But enough about our realms,” I said after a long pause, looking to Embry. “Tell me about Shezin. How did he come to be?”

  Embry grinned. She knew this part of the story, it seemed. “Shezin came down from the moon one night. He walked barefoot down its rays and reached the ground. And when his foot touched the dirt, our land was blessed.”

  “He came down from the moon,” Unending sighed, having trouble concealing her disdain for embellished myths, especially since she knew exactly where Shezin had come from, and it wasn’t a moon.

  “Yes. The first one. The other two appeared when he descended upon our lands,” Embry continued. “The heavens rejoiced at his arrival to Dain, so they gave us two more moons to guide us through the long nights.”

  It took us a while, but we managed to learn more about Shezin and the miracles he’d performed. Apparently, he hadn’t simply appeared and established himself as a god here. He’d taken the long and winding road to godly stardom, telling people he’d come from the moon. When they had laughed in his face, not believing him, he’d moved on, living in one city or another for years on end, doing the odd job and helping those who couldn’t help themselves. A good Samaritan, so to speak.

  “He performed his first miracle on his twentieth year in Dain,” Embry said, while the others nodded slowly in agreement, each of them remembering the stories they knew about Shezin. From what I could tell, they didn’t just worship him. They loved him. And it didn’t quite match the stolen and fearful glances that Unending had mentioned earlier. “He made the dry lands of Alhara green again. No one had ever seen a blade of grass anywhere on that wide and crackled brown field. Not a single mouse had taken residence in that dirt, for there was nothing to eat. Even birds steered clear. Alhara used to be known as the Deadlands before Shezin arrived.”

  “How was this miracle performed?” Unending asked, curious. We’d already exchanged several impressions telepathically. The more Embry told us about Shezin, the more we believed that he was a false god, using the tricks of Reapers to fool these people. That brought a troubling realization—Death had given him death magic, not just immortality. Her sin was infinitely worse than Unending’s where Erethiel had been concerned. And worse, Death had denied everything.

  “He got down on his knees, and with his scythe, he drew circles on the ground,” Embry said. “The circles shone like the moons in the sky, and soon the grass emerged from between the deep dry cracks. Within two weeks, Alhara was a lush savannah with tall trees and wildcats sharpening their claws on their stone-like bark. A small river found its way down from the mountain, and a city soon sprawled on both sides of the water. It is one of our biggest now.”

  I glanced at Unending, using my thoughts to communicate. “Makes you wonder what the local Reapers think of this guy, huh?”

  “That’s the strange part. I haven’t seen any Reapers here other than myself and Anunit. It’s a little odd, to say the least,” Unending replied through our mind connection. “Every world should have Reapers. Visio was the understandable exception, but what is Dain’s excuse?”

  “Good question,” I replied, then spoke to Embry. “Tell me, please—what do the Dainians think of death? What are your rituals surrounding the end of one’s life?”

  Embry took a deep breath, so excited I feared she might make herself faint. “Shezin is the one who carries our souls into the afterlife. He has made it so through his fourth miracle.”

  “Oh?” Unending managed, her eyebrows reaching for the ceiling.

  “His first miracle was breathing life into Alhara, like I said. His second miracle was bringing a young boy back to life after he fell from the mountain ridge.”

  I glanced at Unending, my thoughts touching hers. “Only Death can bring a spirit back, right? Why would she give him such power?”

  “If the spirit hasn’t crossed over, it can be forced back into the body, though it’s not advisable. No sane Reaper would know to do it, and the ones who’d know… they wouldn’t, obviously. Once the body has reached its expiration date, even with the soul back in it… it just withers slowly,” my wife replied telepathically. “Either Shezin had the ability to do that, or he just tricked the Dainians with some death magic into thinking he resurrected the boy or something. Or maybe they thought the boy dead, Shezin healed the boy’s wounds, yadda, yadda…”

  Embry continued, unaware of our telepathic conversation. “His third was turning Sullis Hill into gold, thus filling the coffers of our kingdom overnight. His fourth was a most powerful spell. The texts are a little vague on the details, but in short, Shezin made it so his scythe would be able to take souls into the otherworld without him moving a muscle. He showed the souls departing to those who weren’t sure of his words. He proved himself, over and over, until there wasn’t a single Dainian standing to doubt him.”

  Unending gave me a sideways glance, genuinely troubled. “I’m not sure what this means,” she said telepathically. “It certainly does explain the lack of Reapers.”

  “But how?”

  “It must’ve been a capable spell. I think only Shezin can tell us what it entails. If Death taught him, it will definitely be potent. And I doubt she’ll tell us,” she replied. Smiling at Embry, Unending moved on to the most important question. “When and where can we meet Shezin? He sounds absolutely incredible.”

  The Dainians had the answer ready for us, as they all spoke at once. “Tonight. At the temple.”

  Embry giggled, leaning toward us. “We celebrate the new year tonight, upon the full moons. There will be a celebration at the temple just over the river. If you go out now, you can see it from here, toward the eastern edge of the city. The lights will probably be on. We hold the feast every year, and Shezin honors us with his presence. He speaks to us. He imparts his wisdom. He bewitches the bread and the mead that is shared with the people… and in the morning, we start anew and filled with mirth.”

  So, Shezin more or less lived among the people, performing tricks. It was all a scam, and I couldn’t help but wonder what his endgame was.
It could simply be about the adoration. The man had to be a massive narcissist to fool an entire kingdom like that. He could’ve told them the truth, but he’d chosen myths and laughable stories, using death magic for his so-called miracles.

  I had little respect for his kind of people. The Dainians didn’t understand the farce, and it pained me that we’d be the ones to basically break their hearts. Unending didn’t have to tell me anything—it was written all over her face. She had no intention of letting Shezin go any further with his godlike persona. His reign over Dain would soon end. Now we just had to investigate and determine whether death was his only option.

  From the trial’s point of view, it certainly was. But we had souls. We couldn’t simply kill someone because Anunit had demanded it. Nothing was worth such a crime, unless we resorted to trickery, such as having Death resurrect Shezin once we were done with Anunit. After all, the trial didn’t specify that Shezin’s soul would need to be reaped as well. It was a workable loophole. But even killing him like that, only to bring him back, felt like a heinous crime if he didn’t deserve it. “We have to go to the temple,” Unending told me. Embry heard and nodded with excitement.

  “I’ll happily take you there. We will be closing the tavern soon.”

  I doubted we’d need the girl, but Unending let her play the role of our guide. There was a chance Embry could introduce us to whoever served Shezin in that temple. The priests or priestesses, the shamans, whatever mystics the Dainians had running their place of worship. Those servants, in turn, could lead us to Shezin. Unending had mentioned earlier that she couldn’t find him otherwise.

  The man was warded up to his teeth, and then some.

  Tristan

  We walked with Embry to the other side of the river and crossed the city. She delighted us with different stories from her youth and legends from their cultures. The Dainians we came across eyed us curiously but relaxed at seeing her with us. Their reaction to strangers from another world was odd, though I knew their culture and upbringing was radically different from that of humans. As far as I could tell—and based on Embry’s accounts, as well—the Dainians were raised to believe that they weren’t alone, and that sooner or later travelers from other worlds would come to their land.