Shimmerdark
Page 19
I still don’t know how we’re going to enter the city.
Rutholyn moans.
“We’re almost there,” I say. If transference didn’t require such intense focus, I’d tell her that Kaverlee has excellent hospitals and soon skilled doctors will be taking care of her. I’d also let her know that I’m incredibly proud of her. She’s been so brave and resilient, and I finally understand why Great Draes are devoted to their Predraes, and why mothers—
OOOF.
Something knocks me sideways. With a yelp, I tighten my grip on Rutholyn, and together we tumble into the snow.
A carrow’s black wings flash overhead.
Screaming and hardly thinking, I raise my hands, summoning a shield of shimmerdark that I quickly expand into a glittering, black dome that covers us.
“Rutholyn! Rutholyn!” I cry in the cold, protected space. Sparks skitter and flash where the dome meets the snow, so I can see her. But she isn’t moving, and merciful light, I can’t fail her now. Pulling her out of the cold snow and onto my folded legs, I listen to the carrow scratching and pecking at the energy dome, unable to break through.
Maybe this dome is how we can enter Kaverlee.
The vast stone walls surrounding most of the city are impenetrable, but if I’m shielded by energy, I might be able to walk through the cagic barriers protecting the Expansion District.
“We’re even closer now,” I breathe in Rutholyn’s ear, and making the dome taller, I stand and pick her up.
She says something, but her voice is too faint to understand.
“What was that?” I ask, hoisting her onto my hip so that her head rests on my shoulder.
“All the way tired,” she whispers.
“So am I,” I say, glad that she’s still talking.
It’s not easy, I quickly realize, to carry a seven-year-old child through deep snow, but I grit my teeth and move as fast as I can.
Every dozen or so steps, I create a small opening in my energy shield to make sure I’m heading in the right direction, and then I seal it again. Even small openings make the shimmerdark shape more complex and therefore harder to maintain and move.
It’s frightening to walk in complete darkness, though, unable to see the nocturnes but having to listen to them snuffle, growl, and often fight each other only paces away.
Hopefully someone will tell Drae Devorla about the strange cagic shape nearing the Expansion District, and she’ll realize I created it and come to help.
I walk and I walk, my legs burning and my arms shaking. Rutholyn is limp and heavy and so hard to hold onto. I have to save her, though, so somehow, I keep going.
Realms, this is taking forever.
I feel like I’ve been trudging for hours even though it may have only been minutes. My lower legs are so cold and stiff, I feel like I’m wearing concrete boots. At first, I’m simply wading through snow—seemingly endless snow—but then a rocky path appears beneath my feet and then an icy road.
Every time I make tiny openings in the dome, I see that I’m a little closer to the projected cagic walls, but I also see more nocturnes swarming around me. After a while, though, I hear muffled voices. They must belong to the Shieldbearers guarding the projection towers. I’m almost there. I’ve almost saved Rutholyn. I wish I could release my shimmerdark dome and tell the Shieldbearers to prepare a chariot to rush Rutholyn to the nearest hospital. But I’ll have to do that once we’re safely inside the city.
The next time I create a tiny opening in the dome, I only see blazing blue shimmerlight—we’ve reached the barrier.
All I can do now is hope my cagic shield will protect us, allowing us to pass through the energy field unharmed. Shimmerdark is stronger than shimmerlight, isn’t it?
“We’re there!” I tell Rutholyn, and then I walk forward.
A rainbow of light erupts around us, and my hair floats up. We’re still covered by the shimmerdark dome, but colorful bolts of energy flash across its surface, loudly snapping and popping. The dome also wavers and squirms in my grip. I probably only need to take a few more steps, though, and then we’ll be inside. We’ll be safe.
Finally, the multicolored light vanishes, the energy stops crackling, and I don’t hear the Shieldbearers shouting anymore. We must be through.
With a deep sigh of relief, I release the shimmerdark dome.
And a Shieldbearer shoots me in the head.
19
Healing
There’s a soft cloth on my brow, I’m warm, and I have the fuzzy sense that although I’m hurt, something unnatural is dulling how much I care about the pain.
I blink my swollen eyes open. I’m in a dark place that has the puzzle-piece shape of a room wedged between two more significant rooms. I see a window, the shadowy outline of a chair, a lamp on a low table, and a chest of drawers.
I try to sit up but I’m too weak, and even small movements make my pain feel fresh and bright.
At first my memories seem to be hiding from me—shy things I try to beckon closer. I remember a bright light and a bursting, stinging in my forehead, and I remember Rutholyn, limp and heavy on my chest.
Where is she?
I collapse back onto linens that smell like lavendrops and lemonelle, my heart thudding.
Time passes, I’m not sure how much, and then I hear a soft, metallic click, the sound of a well-oiled doorknob. After that, a line of light appears on the far wall, and I watch the gleaming stripe widen to frame the shadowy outline of a person.
Someone’s looking into my room, looking at me probably, but I can’t see them because I’m facing the wrong way. I try to turn toward the door, but because I’m moving so slowly, by the time I can see it, whoever was there has gone.
Yet only a few moments later, I hear sturdy shoes crossing floorboards and the rhythmic clink of a tool belt. I know who’s approaching—the Great Drae.
Yet even though I longed to see her before, I don’t want to see her now, and I’m not sure why.
The door opens again, and because this time I’m facing it, I watch Drae Devorla enter the room. She’s so comfortingly familiar: frizzy hair, leather apron, warm eyes. “Oh good,” she says. “Tah Roli Miri said you were awake.”
So that’s who checked on me. I open my mouth and find it surprisingly hard to speak. “Is… Rutha… ded?” My words are garbled. Concentrating, I try again. “Isssshe dead?”
“Xylia,” Drae Devorla says gently.
“Is sshe?” I feel like I’m pleading. Somehow whether Rutholyn is alive or not seems like a decision Drae Devorla can make right now.
The Great Drae doesn’t answer, but the terrible truth is in her sagging expression and slumped shoulders.
No, Rutholyn can’t be dead.
I squeeze my eyes shut and a sound comes out of me that’s part wail, part whimper.
Drae Devorla lets me cry, and then she says, “I’m very sorry. I had no idea you’d risk traveling during the Dark Month, and I never imagined you’d have a child with you. You also clearly aren’t in the violent state Theandra described. I’m afraid I told the Shieldbearers that if you reached the city, they weren’t to let you in unless I was present. When you breached the wall, they considered it an invasion. They thought you were dangerous.”
So they shot me.
Drae Devorla looks down at the floor. “And the little girl… the Shieldbearers didn’t realize she had a senneck bite until it was too late.”
If I hadn’t been shot, I could have told them.
I sniff back tears, which makes my head throb. I want to be angry with Drae Devorla, but she didn’t know what truly happened. All she knew was that I attacked a well-respected Authenticator using strange energy. Of course I seemed dangerous. Of course she had to take precautions to protect the city.
But, what a devastating misunderstanding.
When my tears slow, Drae Devorla says, “What I don’t understand is, where did the little girl come from?”
Didn’t Theandra tell her?
Drae Devorla’s mouth flattens. “Theandra didn’t mention that. It seems there’s a lot she didn’t tell me.” Crossing the room, she turns on the lamp. “I heard how you entered the city. Your cagic has changed.” She doesn’t sound interested in or excited about my shimmerdark, which is strange, but I’m finding it hard to follow the conversation with my clattering headache, and well, broken heart.
“My cagic has changed, yes,” I say, my lips and tongue being more cooperative.
Drae Devorla pulls back the drapes. Outside, the star net shimmers against the dark sky. She then sits in the chair and momentarily rests her head in her hands. When she looks up again, there are tears in her eyes. “I should have warned you this could happen. When a mature Shimmerling is in danger, there’s always a risk they might become a Shimmercaster.”
“Shimmercaster?” I whisper. “What’s that?”
Drae Devorla leans back in the chair. “I’m a Shimmercaster and so are the Conduits protecting the other Connected Lands. A Shimmercaster is someone who’s cagic has evolved instead of winking out. We can summon vast amounts of energy.”
Then I’m as powerful as she is. But why is that bad?
“The trouble is,” Drae Devorla continues, answering my unspoken question, “the Connected Lands’ Treaty permits only one Shimmercaster and one apprentice per city, and Kaverlee already has ours. You cannot keep these powers.”
“You mean I’ll be downleveled?” Another layer of misery engulfs me. “No! Please, please no.”
She nods and sighs and looks as if she’d much rather be repairing an energy reservoir than sitting with me. “I am sorry. But these laws exist for many reasons. And let’s be honest, it sounds like you’ve already summoned a lot of corrupt energy.”
What does she mean, corrupt energy? Is she talking about shimmerdark?
I must look confused because Drae Devorla says, “The black cagic you used to enter the city is unstable and extremely dangerous. It’s easy to summon, yes, and easy to control, but it will also damage your mind, causing deterioration.”
“I didn’t know,” I say, and how frightening. Poor Aerro, too. He’s been using shimmerdark for years. No wonder he behaved the way he did. My sorrow deepens. Here I thought shimmerdark made me special, but no, it’s more like an illness. Warm tears slide down my cheeks. I don’t want to be downleveled, but what choice do I have?
Also, maybe this is what I deserve. I should have stayed calm when Golly found me with his drawings. I should have pretended I hadn’t seen them. Then I could have safely entered the shelter, brought Rutholyn to Kaverlee by subtrain, and reported Golly to the Great Drae. Or going back even further, if I’d just accepted that I wasn’t the Predrae anymore, none of this would have happened.
“I can see you’re blaming yourself—don’t.” Drae Devorla walks over to my bed and takes my hand. “This is my fault and my fault alone. I should have kept you in the Courtyard of Youth until you winked out. I took a risk and you and that child paid a devastating price. Again, I’m so very sorry.”
She holds my hand for a while longer. Pain still radiates through me, but her touch helps.
Eventually she says, “I want to hear more about your journey, but first, I think you should rest.”
I nod. I am tired, and I also want to grieve alone. Once I start crying in earnest about Rutholyn, it’ll be hard to stop.
Drae Devorla lets go of my hand. “Come find me when you’re feeling better. You’re in my apartments, of course. The Shieldbearers wanted to lock you in the palace prisons, but I wouldn’t hear of it. You may not be my Predrae anymore, but you’re still one of my Shimmerlings. I’ll always look out for you. I hope you know that.”
She then leaves, and I’m alone with my overwhelming sadness. I vaguely wonder where Glowy Pony is. I yelled at him out there in the snow, didn’t I? I wish I hadn’t.
Maybe he isn’t here because he was connected to Rutholyn and now that she’s gone, he’s gone too. Or maybe he isn’t here because he’s upset with me. If that’s the case, I don’t blame him.
◆◆◆
The next day, we have a simple funeral for Rutholyn. A Maternal brings me to the ceremony in a wheeled-chair because I’m too weak to walk, and I spend the next hour wishing I had the strength to run away. I can hardly bear to look at Rutholyn’s little body resting in its coffin. Because I didn’t see her die, it’s hard to comprehend that she’s truly gone. I have the fuzzy sense we’ve both been cheated, and if I could try to save her again, I’d succeed.
After Matron Isme recites a poem in the palace library, Shieldbearers carry Rutholyn to the Shimmerling mausoleum. The rest of us follow in a subdued procession. At least the mausoleum is pretty. Rutholyn would like that. It’s a small building in the Triumvirate Hall gardens surrounded by willow trees and, during the Bright Month, colorful iriserines and daislets. Right now, though, the flower beds are buried beneath ice and snow.
As I wait with the Maternals, I notice Queen Naradara has joined us. I don’t make eye contact with the elegant, silver-haired woman, and I wonder if I ever mattered to her. She and King Macreolar represent Kaverlee in matters of policy, trade, and economics, not cagic.
I spend the next day napping fitfully in my pocket of a room, my thoughts miserable and just as restless. I should have stayed on the Grimshore. If I’d become a Shimmercaster there, no one would be trying to downlevel me. Then there’s Vonnet—he still thinks his sister’s alive. He trusted us to take care of her.
Oh Rutholyn.
You were so courageous and sweet, and I failed you.
I’ve never felt regret so intensely, so completely. I feel like I’m drowning in it.
Every few hours, a medical Maternal visits me. She replaces my bandages and checks my injuries. Shockgun blasts are usually deadly, she says, and I suspect being a Shimmercaster able to channel large amounts of cagic saved me.
Sometimes I find the strength to stagger to the lavatory next to my room, but it’s a slow, painful trip. The rest of the time, I lie as still as possible, and I try not to cry because it makes my constant headache worse.
After three lunar days, at least I think it’s three, the red welts on my face fade to ugly purple bruises, my headache becomes just an irritating pang, and I’m able to hobble short distances. So I go looking for Drae Devorla. I dread being downleveled, but I still want to know when and where it will happen.
The Great Drae is easy to find, perched on a large reservoir in her workroom. As I limp toward her, I hear her calling out measurements to Tah Roli Miri who stands nearby, holding a pencil and clipboard.
“Seven even by six-point-two-five,” Drae Devorla says. “And below the hinge, it’s eleven-point-five by ten-point-two.”
Tah Roli Miri notices me first. “Xylia,” she says, sounding like she always does, as if I’m interrupting a daydream. “I’m so glad you’re alright.”
She seems happy to see me, which makes me feel badly about how I’ve treated her. I was so determined to become the Predrae again, I didn’t care if it meant stealing her position. I’m sure she’s proud of being the Predrae, just like I was, and also eager to avoid winking out.
“Ah, Xylia, I’m so glad you’re up and moving around.” Drae Devorla peers down from the reservoir, pulling back her protective goggles. She must have been wearing them for a while because they leave pink imprints around her eyes. “How are you feeling?” she asks.
“Stronger,” I say, which is more accurate than saying better. I’m still miserable—but my head no longer feels like it’s being held in someone’s clenched fist and I haven’t cried in a few hours.
Drae Devorla climbs down a ladder, peels off her work gloves, and unties her leather apron. “Tah, would you mind eating your midday meal in the Courtyard of Youth? Now that Xylia’s here, I need to speak to her.”
Tah Roli Miri nods, and before she drifts
out of the room, she tries to hug me.
I dodge the embrace. “No, please,” I say. I don’t deserve empathy from anyone.
“Come Xylia,” Drae Devorla says. “There’s food in the dining room.”
I’m not hungry, and I haven’t been since Rutholyn died, but I limp after her. My body feels heavy and clumsy, like I’ve become a Colossus.
I miss my metal giants too. I can see them from the workshop windows overlooking the Courtyard of Youth. When I peered down yesterday, I saw Shimmerlings working together to move Sevensy and Goliah. They seemed to be having a very slow race with them, and although their control was impressive, I watched them sourly. I felt like a child seeing other children play with my toys. I tried to shake off my petulant feelings, for at least the huge figures weren’t sitting in flower beds anymore, but it wasn’t easy. And last night, I dreamed I walked them into the Silkord Sea and let them sink to the bottom.
The Great Drae’s dining room is an elegant space that was surely decorated by a previous Drae. A glossy wood table and chairs dominates the room. Larger-than-life portraits hang on three of the walls and a huge window fills the fourth.
“You’re uncomfortable, aren’t you?” Drae Devorla says as she rounds the table. “Should I call for a medical Maternal? Do you need pain suppressants?”
“I’m fine,” I say, trying not to wince as I ease myself into a chair.
A servant wearing a sleek gray tago steps out of the shadows to ladle soup into bowls for us.
“What truly happened with the Shalvos?” Drae Devorla asks. “It’s obvious Theandra lied to me. She said you lost your wits and were dangerous.”
I want to tell her the truth, but it’s hard to think about Golly’s drawings so it’s even harder to talk about them. I do it, though. I tell Drae Devorla about finding the blue folder, and examining my spoon handle rather than looking at her somehow makes the conversation bearable. I remember those sketches far too vividly.
Drae Devorla listens quietly, and when I finish talking, all she says is, “Then what happened?”