Shadow's Voice

by Natalie Johanson

  Rose inched her way toward the reins. “Shh.”

  She slowly grabbed his bridle and stroked the horse’s neck. “See. Nothing’s going to hurt you.”

  Quickly, she saddled the horse, stuffed her pack into the saddle bag, and pulled herself into the saddle.

  The horse twitched his ears. Rose looked through the shadows and nudged the horse with only a little trepidation. The rush of the fight had dulled the pain in her head, but now it was slowly coming back. She could handle it. She’d worked through worse before. It was a very useful trick and had stayed just that most of her childhood. It wasn’t until she was older that she learned what else she could do. Moving through the shadows had taken her quite a while to master, well into her early adult years. Now it was second nature.

  She hated her magic even as she used it. It was a curse she’d learned to live with, learned to use. Not everyone hated magic users, but enough did. And her hometown was more. . . . She shivered. It was a hard area for anyone with magic to live.

  She’d never felt at home, even before her father changed. Even before her mother left. She didn’t know what it felt like, to be comfortable where you slept. Maybe it was a dream to hope, but maybe Nico was right.

  She headed southwest, toward the king’s castle. Hopefully the Tracer didn’t have anything on the horse. Rose was taking a gamble hoping the Tracer was tracking Nico himself. If that was the case she might have a chance. Ride through the night, put some distance between her and Nico’s body, find the main road in the daylight and blend in with the travelers.

  Right. Sounds easy enough. Rose snorted and yawned hard enough her jaw popped. Right.

  “What happened to your face?” Simone asked Fabien as he limped toward her. “And your leg?”

  “What does it look like, Simone?” he snarled.

  Her partner’s eye was swollen shut and his cheek was a swollen, lump mess of red and purple.

  “It looks like your ass took a beating.” Simone went back to polishing her mirror, her Tool. “Did you get it?” she asked without looking up.

  “No,” he spit at her. He gripped her wrist hard and Simone looked up with scared eyes. “Because he had a partner you failed to find, and she helped him. Which is more than you do.” Fabien shoved Simone away from him.

  “She ambushed me. When I woke, she was gone. We have to track her down.”

  Fabien groaned as he limped over to his horse. “Hurry, we need to go back to his body.”

  Simone groaned quietly to herself. It did her no good for Fabien to hear her. She was stuck working with him until this assignment was over and paid for. Once that happened, she hoped never to see his face again. A small part of her was sad this unknown partner hadn’t just killed Fabien and ended this whole mess for her.

  Simone followed Fabien silently as they rode to the officer’s body. Birds were already landing in the clearing, waiting for their chance.

  Fabien grunted and dismounted, “All right. Well . . . use your witch magic to find her.”

  She swung off her horse, her loose, multi-layered skirts swirling around her. “It’s not that simple. I was tracking the officer before. I have nothing of his partner.” She knelt over the body and wrinkled her nose against the smell. Maybe there was something.

  “What are you looking for?”

  Simone ignored him and gently pulled some tangled hairs off a button.

  “Hair?”

  “Hopefully his horse’s hair.” She tucked the hairs into the small bottle of water at her waist and pulled the polished metal plate from her bags slung across her chest. Settling on the ground, Simone tucked the plate against her legs and poured the water over it.

  “I wish you wouldn’t do that where I can see.”

  She spoke without looking up from the plate. “Then walk away.” Leaves crunched, and the complaining stopped. She focused on her plate and water and watched as the surface changed into a moving scene. “She’s headed toward the King’s Lead Road.”

  Simone looked up to see Fabien leaning on a tree. He pushed off and gripped her arm, hauled her to her feet. She barely kept a hold on her plate. “Let’s go, then.”

  She yanked free and glared at the stocky man. “Gentle. This is worth more than your life.”

  Fabien laughed and swung into the saddle. “That’s saying very little.”

  “I cannot do my job if this is broken. Which means you can’t do yours, either.” Simone gently tucked her Tool back into its pouch on her saddle and pulled herself onto her horse. Fabien, for all the extra gold he was getting over her, couldn’t track a cow in an open field. Even without her mirror, Simone was a good tracker. He needed her more than Fabien would ever admit.

  “If we hurry, we can reach the Lead by sundown.”

  She kicked her horse and rode past him. “She has at least a day’s travel on us.”

  “Then hurry,” Fabien snapped.

  Simone clucked her tongue at him and snapped her reins.

  Chapter 2

  Exhausted from riding all night and the too short nap, Rose groaned and pulled herself into the saddle. Her bones ached from sitting in the saddle for so long. She could see the road faintly through the trees and nudged the horse toward it. A merchant caravan was moving slowly down the road, and Rose slipped in behind them.

  Distance sounds of horses behind her made her turn. Two more riders were traveling along the road. Rose watched as they come up on the group. A nervous flutter started in her stomach.

  Slowly, the man and woman rode past her. The man was gruff and worn, his clothing threadbare and dirty. The terrible bruise covering half his face made Rose’s heart race. The woman next to him had short floppy hair, but it was white as snow. Now Rose knew who the other mercenary was.

  He laughed and said something rude to the woman. She might’ve replied, but they moved past her hearing. Rose watched as they rode and stared at the pair. She chewed her lip as she watched them ride farther away.

  The two disappeared behind a bend in the road. Rose kicked the horse into the woods away from the turn in the road. He dipped and lunged over the uneven ground and she rocked dangerously in the saddle.

  She rode over a small ridge and came to a stream. The horse’s hooves crunched on the mud and stones of the small bank and Rose smiled. This is perfect. The stream was shallow but a fast running one. She dismounted and pulled the horse into the stream with her. The cold water shocked the breath out of her as it rushed around her shins. The horse bobbed his head but stayed still.

  “All right horse . . . just . . . stay there a minute.” Rose ran up the bank and snapped a small branch off the tree. Walking backward to the stream, she beat and smacked the ground with any tracks. Standing in the cold water, Rose looked at the ground. It wasn’t perfect. She wasn’t a hunter or a tracker by any means and didn’t know how obvious her cover up looked, but it was better than blatant tracks.

  She swung back up and shivered from her cold, wet pants. With a flick of the reins she was plodding down the stream. Hopefully it would slow down anyone tracking her. Unfortunately, it would do little to stop a Tracer.

  Rose stayed in the stream until it became too shallow to be useful, then headed farther into the dense forest. The sun had started to set and the thick canopy was blocking what sunlight remained. She sent her vision through the shadows and searched the darkness.

  Rose cursed as she saw them. She pulled out of the shadows and urged the horse faster. They were following her and they were getting closer. In the lowering sun, Rose pulled the horse around a large tree growing out of the side of a hill. Quickly, she got off the horse and climbed the thick, old tree. The Tracer would always be able to find her, unless she could destroy what she was using to follow her.

  She pulled herself onto a thick branch of the tree, the leaves pulling at he
r hair, and settled herself low on it. It didn’t take long before the two were riding into view. They stopped when they noticed the horse. The man dismounted and unraveled a whip. Rose took long, slow breaths to calm her racing pulse.

  The woman stayed on her horse but pulled a small dagger while the man circled the area. He turned to the white-haired woman. “Well? Where is she?”

  She shrugged, “I was tracking the horse and there is the horse. There are too many leaves and rocks here for me to see any prints.”

  “If you’d get off your horse and look a bit, maybe you’ll surprise yourself.”

  The woman glared at him and stayed on her horse.

  “That wasn’t a suggestion, witch.”

  The woman clucked her tongue but swung off the horse.

  Rose slowly and carefully moved on the branch to watch the man as he continued to search. He lazily flicked the whip as he stood there.

  “I still do not see any tracks. She might’ve bolted.”

  He grumbled something, but Rose wasn’t paying attention. If she could get just one more hard hit to his head, he’d go down. She just needed to wait for her moment. The ground was littered with loose rocks and boulders from the hillside.

  Rose slipped into shadows. She flittered down the tree and nestled in the shadow of the hill, right next to the man. He was bending down, looking at something in the dirt, and Rose circled him looking for the best position. The mercenary’s horse whinnied as she passed it.

  Rose dropped out of shadow next to him, reached down and grabbed the rock with both her hands, and had it up and swinging.

  “Fabien!”

  Fabien jerked at the woman’s shout and Rose’s rock collided with his shoulder instead. He grunted and rolled with the impact. Rose’s balance was thrown off and she stumbled toward him but raised the rock again. This time the rock hit him square in the face with her upward swing. The woman plowed into Rose and sent them both crashing to the ground but Rose disappeared into the shadows of the forest floor.

  “What in the hells!”

  Rose stepped out of the shadows behind the woman and locked her arm around the woman’s neck. She swung over her shoulder at Rose with the small dagger and the tip sliced across her cheek. Rose grunted and grabbed the fist with her own.

  “Do not make me kill you.”

  The woman wheezed and tried to twist away but Rose threw her body against hers and pinned her to the ground, all the while squeezing her arm as tight as she could.

  “You will . . . regret this,” she wheezed at Rose.

  “I swore an oath to never kill a Tracer. That is the only reason I’ve not slit your throat.”

  The woman struggled and tried to free her dagger but Rose had it pinned to the ground with both their body weights. Eventually, her struggles stopped and Rose pulled away. She leaned close to the woman’s mouth and heard shallow breathing. She stood up to check the man but her vision swarmed and she saw stars. Too much magic and not enough sleep and food in the last few days was making her weak. Rose had to sink to her knees and count to ten before she could stand and walk straight. Glancing at the other mercenary, she saw him crumpled on the ground, his face a bloody mess.

  Rose stood and stared at the two. They would continue to hunt her, even more now, but Rose was good at disappearing. She thought to the two small, wooden idols stuffed deep down in her bag, the gods of lost and forsaken souls and the protector. Rose wasn’t sure she’d earned his protection yet; she hoped she would one day. She knew killing them like this wouldn’t be worth any protection and if word made its way to the Tracer Clan leader . . . Rose did not want them after her.

  Rose knelt and tore strips from the woman’s dress and used them to tie their hands and feet. Standing, she started searching the woman’s bags. Every Tracer had their Tool, where they focused their sight. Wrapped in soft deerskin, she found a polished silver plate. Her reflection in the plate was hard, blood running down one cheek. Rose gripped a rock and dragged it hard across its shiny surface. The loud scratching sound seemed to echo through the forest. The scratch that appeared made the Tool useless. But what if she had a second? Rose needed to find the material she was tracing from. “Think, think. The last one used water and blood. She was tracking the horse . . . so, hair? Or horse shit? Would she still use water?”

  Rose kept muttering to herself and continued to upend all the bags. Tied to the saddle was a small waterskin, too small to hold much, and Rose uncorked it and emptied the contents. Rose smacked the horses on their rumps and sent them off into the woods. She paused once as she mounted her own and looked down at the two unconscious mercenaries.

  Rose shoved the heavy feeling aside with a deep sigh. A light squeeze of the horse’s sides and he plodded back down the hillside. The thumping of her heart slowed and Rose noticed the throbbing in her cheek. Groaning, she ripped off a piece of her shirttail. She poured water on the rag and started wiping away the blood from her cheek and neck.

  Rose gave up trying to clean it and just held the cold rag against her cheek. She rocked gently in the saddle and tried not to dwell on the two people behind her. She knew she should have killed them. That solved the problem of them waking up and looking for her. But this once . . . just once she wanted to walk away without more blood.

  Chapter 3

  The sun was just starting to rise by the time Rose could see the village. Once a trading post, the multiple legs of the King’s Lead joined here before it went west to the capital allowed for the trading post to expand into a thriving trade city.

  Riding into the city, she spotted a supply outpost and a tiny little pub near the edge. Rose stiffly slipped off the horse and tied him off at a post near the pub. She needed supplies but didn’t have near enough coin. Rose stretched and slipped down the dusty alley. The building cast a long shadow on the beaten dirt. Rose let herself fall into the shadow, dissolve into its dark world. In that world, Rose could easily see the storeroom through the shadows. She walked through the dark mists and stepped into the shop’s storeroom. After a quick look around, Rose easily found what she needed. She pulled jerky off the shelves and stuffed her pockets. Next, she searched the dark room for cheese and bread. Rose turned to grab another chunk of cheese and knocked a bowl off the shelf. She froze as it clattered along the wood floor.

  She slipped back into the shadows as she heard footsteps approaching. A few steps through the cool mist that always seemed to be in the shadow world and Rose was back in the alley. She walked quickly through the alleys back to her horse and started stuffing her goods into the saddle pack. She was stuffing the last of the jerky into the pack when a dark blue overcoat caught her attention.

  Curious, Rose pulled it out and shook out the dirt from it. It was a nice, long, thick coat. There was a small insignia stitched on the breast pocket, one she didn’t recognize but assumed to be the crest for the Light Horse. She ran her thumb over the stitching of the crossed sabers, followed the circle they lay over. She sighed and slipped it on. Maybe Nico was right. Maybe whatever he believed in enough to die for was worth the chance of protection. She stuffed her small coin purse in the coat pocket and headed into the pub. She inhaled the aromas of fresh bread, spiced wine, and cooking meat. She walked up to the counter and slipped onto the stool.

  The young man standing behind the counter looked first to the raw cut on her face. “Mornin’.”

  Rose pulled the coat closed as she settled on the stool. “Morning. Do you have any porridge yet? I know it’s still early.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He looked over her coat and his eyes paused on her breast pocket with the insignia. “I’ll fetch it.”

  Rose glanced down at the coat again. He was back quickly with a bowl of porridge and a sausage link. She nibbled on the sausage. He glanced at the crest again. “Do I make you nervous?”

  He pulled his eyes away wit
h a jerk. “Yes, ma’am.”

  She dipped the sausage into the porridge. “Why?”

  He frowned, “You’re a king’s man, ma’am.”

  Rose bit her sausage. “You shouldn’t be nervous.”

  The boy chuckled nervously. “Yes, ma’am. If you need anything while you’re here just ask.”

  “Thank you.” Rose dropped a coin on the worn counter top and quickly ate the watery porridge. She looked around the small room for the boy but he had disappeared. Her stomach full, Rose returned to her horse and led it down the street. As the sun continued to rise, more and more people emerged on the streets. The further into town she went, the more trade stalls appeared. She found the inn, a long squat building, and headed toward it with a tired, worn determination.

  Rose wanted to rest longer, needed to rest longer, but she needed to travel more. The past few days had been quiet in the forest and she’d traveled far.

  “I should think of a name for you,” she muttered to her horse and leaned forward to pat his neck. The horse nickered softly and flicked his ears. “I can’t call you horse the whole trip.”

  Movement through the shadows made Rose tense. She looked around herself and sent her sight through the dark forest but couldn’t find what had alerted her. No, that was wrong. She focused on her shadows and saw nothing where there should be something. It was like there was a void in the mist surrounding whatever was moving through the forest. She pulled out of the shadows frowning.

  “What the . . . .”

  Sounds to her right had her made her turn in time to see the mangled and bruised face of the mercenary rushing through the bushes. Rose kicked her horse and tried to break away, but the Tracer was in front of her and was grabbing for her reins. The man tried to drag Rose from the saddle. Rose reached for her knife, but he got his arms around her and hauled her onto his saddle.