Shimmerdark

by Sarah Mensinga

  I don’t stop until I reach Upper Topdwell, where I land on an empty street and duck into a covered doorway. Every Shieldbearer in the city is probably searching for me by now, and I’m sure private citizens will soon join them. I grimly wonder what the reward for finding me will be.

  I lean against the wall, breathing heavily and feeling defeated. I didn’t want to, but I guess I’m going to put another person I care about in danger.

  “Glowy Pony?” I whisper. “Can you hear me?”

  Thank the source, he appears.

  “I’m looking for someone else,” I say. “Sir Calvolin Nelvaso. Do you know where he is?”

  The sparkling little creature nods—of course he does.

  I should probably find Fedorie; she’s tough and fierce. But Clicks owns a huge house. Surely I can hide in some secret passage or forgotten closet. I need rest and food and more than anything else, a safe place to stop and think.

  It must be nearing midday now, and the weather’s nicer than it was last night. There’s still an aggressive breeze rolling off the Silkord Sea, but there isn’t a competing northern wind anymore. There are also more people in the streets, so instead of letting Glowy Pony trot from shadow to shadow, I bundle him into my pallacoat. Once there, he nudges my arm to point me in the right direction.

  At first, we travel toward the Landroot District, but then Glowy Pony has me turn left at the brightly lit Kaverlee Foundry.

  That’s puzzling, yet maybe Clicks isn’t at home right now.

  Glowy Pony then has me walk north, leading me through a cemetery.

  Or rather, no, he’s led me into a cemetery, for when I’m about halfway through the snowcapped headstones, he wriggles and clearly wants to stop. Now my heart’s thudding. Clicks shouldn’t be here.

  “This can’t be right,” I whisper.

  Since no one’s nearby and there aren’t any windows facing us in the surrounding buildings, I put Glowy Pony down. He immediately trots over to the lone mausoleum, a short building covered in bare, leafless vines. He stops at the entrance and looks back at me.

  I’m already tearing up. “So Clicks is dead.”

  But Glowy Pony shakes his little head, no.

  “He’s alive?” I say, feeling like my heart has just been haphazardly flung around.

  The cagic horselet nods.

  Well, thank the realms, but then… “Why are we here?”

  Glowy Pony passes through the mausoleum’s chained wrought iron door and looks expectantly back at me.

  He wants me to follow him. “Are you sure? Clicks lives in the Landroot District. He’s told me hundreds of times.”

  Yet Glowy Pony steps further into the shadows and hops impatiently.

  It’s strange how I no longer trust Drae Devorla, but here I am trusting a being I still know nothing about.

  He did lead me to Kary, though.

  So I look around again, making sure that there’s still no one watching, and then I heat a small triangle of shimmerdark and use it to slice through the chain on the door. As for the door, it doesn’t open easily; it’s rusty and the bottom’s stuck in ice. But I only need to open it partway. As soon as I can fit through, I slip inside and close the door behind me, and then I follow Glowy Pony farther into the crypt.

  Once we’re well away from the entrance, I create a cagic sphere to light our way. Its blue glow illuminates covered alcoves that surely hold human remains. Now that I think about it, this place is too old for Clicks to be interred here—I should have realized that before. These days most people are buried beyond the spreadfarms during the Bright Month, which means the bodies surrounding me have been here for a long time. A few alcoves are no longer even covered, and I avoid looking into them. I just left Rutholyn in a place like this, and I hate to think about her alone in the dark.

  The mausoleum isn’t large, but it has two basements. When we reach the lowest one, Glowy Pony stops at a sturdy metal door. It reminds me of the doors in the Haberdine subtrain tunnel.

  “Through here?” I say, covering my nose. The mausoleum doesn’t smell bad in the way I’d expect, but the air is still musty and stagnant.

  Glowy Pony nods.

  I still can’t imagine we’re heading in the right direction. I suppose when I asked Glowy Pony to find me a map in Haberdine, he showed me the train tunnel, which was even more helpful. Maybe he’s doing something like that now. So I dutifully cut through the bolt on the door, and when I push it open, a cool breeze greets me. Have I found a much larger space?

  But no, it must simply be well-ventilated, for I step into a narrow corridor. I shut the door behind me, happy to leave the mausoleum behind, and then I look around. I’m not in a clean or pleasant passage, but I think it once was much nicer. On the floor are colorful yet dirty tiles, and there are faint flowers painted on the cracked plaster walls. Glowy Pony then leads me forward through various rooms, some of them full of crumbling, forgotten furniture, others empty aside from small piles of debris. I feel like I’m in a basement that’s been sealed up and forgotten for centuries.

  “This is a Dark Month shelter,” I suddenly realize. Kaverlee didn’t always have a star net or cagically charged barrier walls. The people here once hid like everyone else.

  I still don’t understand what these abandoned passages have to do with Clicks, yet with Drae Devorla searching for me, maybe this is simply a safer way to reach his house. This network of chambers and corridors must be underneath the entire city.

  Every now and then, I hear deep thrumming whooshes, which are probably subtrains, and I also hear water flowing through the pipes that punch through the walls like tree roots.

  I follow Glowy Pony as he turns corners and descends staircases. And before long, I’m thoroughly lost.

  Eventually, the sound of subtrains fade, and I stop seeing pipes. The walls change too; they are no longer plaster, brick, or concrete, but made out of huge stone blocks. It’s also getting slightly warmer, so I pull off my pallacoat.

  “Where are we?” I ask Glowy Pony, but of course he can’t answer.

  We cross a long, subterranean bridge, and I hear water far below. This time it’s not the soft trickle of pipes, but the smash and splatter of waves meeting cave walls. I must be hearing the Silkord Sea. Moments later, we reach a set of ajar, ornate bronze doors, and I gape at the intricate reliefs covering them. I don’t think anyone in Kaverlee could make doors like these anymore.

  Passing through them, I enter a large chamber.

  Rich, blue tiles cover the floor and vaulted ceilings, while white marble carvings line the walls. Not far ahead of me, standing in a sunken circle that must once have been a pool, is a two-story statue of the Hidden Gods.

  But what really catches my eye are the large niches in the surrounding walls. Seated inside them, or at least in the ones lit by my shimmerlight, are giant, metal figures.

  “Colossi!” I say, stunned.

  24

  The Antiquities Society

  The Colossi I know have simplified heads with round eyes and no other features. These ones have human-like faces with stern expressions. They’re also made out of an unfamiliar metal covered in a blue patina, and they’re beautifully ornate, decorated with engravings of nocturnes and geometric patterns. Empty sockets also circle their necks and arms. Maybe those once held jewels.

  I notice light shining out of a side passage—how strange. Maybe I should hide. I’m still deciding what to do, when a group of about ten people emerge. One of them, a woman holding a lantern, runs toward me, crying, “Xylia!”

  “Fedorie?” I call back, squinting.

  And it is her, although she’s cut her hair short and dyed it bright red. She’s also wearing a blue outfit with lots of dangling sashes.

  Clicks also hurries toward me, and he looks different too. He now has a large, curled moustache and he’s wearing fine clothes: an elegant green tago, striped necktie, satin-lined palliumcoat, and eyeglasses—something he dearly missed on the Grimshore.


  For a few moments, we are a disorganized tangle of hugs and relieved sighs, but then Fedorie steps back and says, “What are you doing here?”

  I could ask her the same thing. “Well, I was following…” I look around for Glowy Pony, but he’s vanished. That’s probably for the best since there are other people here. “Where am I?”

  “They think this was once a Hidden God temple.” Clicks nods at his friends.

  “And who are they?” I ask softly. They’re all around Clicks’s age, with fine wrinkles and silver hair in various shades. They also all wear well-tailored stolas, wrapsuits, and tagos, and a few of them carry canes and fine leather satchels.

  “May I introduce the Antiquities Society’s advisory council,” Clicks says grandly. “And I’m a member of the society too. I officially joined last Bright Month.”

  “The Antiquities Society? What’s that?” I ask.

  The nearest man, a stocky gentleman with wild, white hair, steps forward and bows deeply. He then says, “We are a group of historians who archive and protect information so it isn’t lost or—” he gives me a dark look “—hidden on purpose. In short, we strive to safeguard Kaverlee’s past.”

  “We were meeting to discuss you, actually,” Clicks says.

  “Why?” I ask suspiciously. Even though I trust him and Fedorie, I don’t know these other people.

  “No need to worry, my dear,” Clicks says. “My friends simply want to help you. There were rumors you returned to the city beneath some sort of strange black energy mid-Dark-Month! Mid-Dark-Month, Xylia!” He looks both amazed and alarmed. “I also heard rumors you were shot. Is any of that true?”

  I nod. “It all is.”

  Clicks pales. “Whatever happened? I tried to contact you at the palace, but I was turned away.”

  “So was I,” Fedorie adds, putting her hands on her hips. “And then today, Shieldbearers came to my insulae looking for you. I knew you must be in danger, so I went to see Clicks…”

  “And I called for help.” Clicks nods at the group. “The Antiquities Society knows a lot about cagic and all the former Great Draes.”

  “I suggested we meet here,” an old woman says, stepping forward and smiling at me. “It’s a safe place—Triumvirate Hall has forgotten about it.”

  “Yet after all that trouble, here you are!” Fedorie wraps one of her muscular arms around my shoulders and squeezes. It’s as if now that we’re together, she thinks I’m completely safe.

  I wish that was true.

  “How did you find this place, though?” the woman asks.

  And I’m not sure how to answer. Should I tell everyone about Glowy Pony? I just met these people.

  Yet before I say anything, another woman, one with a tight, steely gray bun steps forward. “You’re a Shimmercaster now, aren’t you?”

  “Yes,” I say, surprised she knows the term.

  The woman adjusts her spectacles and eyes the man beside her. “Told you so.”

  “Well go on, tell us what happened,” Fedorie says. “Don’t keep us in suspense.”

  I’m torn. I want to tell Fedorie and Clicks everything, but can I trust their friends? Then again, who am I keeping secrets for? The Great Drae?

  So I sit down on the edge of the empty pool and share my story, and it’s somehow easier this time. The painful parts still hurt, of course, but strangely, I feel like I’m talking about someone else. Fedorie and Clicks are outraged by Golly’s behavior and sad about Rutholyn’s death, and everyone’s shocked by Auldora’s downleveling.

  “We should have known Shimmerlings never wink out!” cries a tiny, very wrinkled woman. “There’s no mention of cagic fading in the old stories.”

  “How abominable,” Clicks says, his voice cracking, and he’s even more upset when I tell him that Drae Devorla arrested Kary.

  “Maybe she’ll let him go,” Fedorie says.

  “Maybe,” I say heavily because we all know how unlikely that is.

  After a long silence, Clicks asks, “May we, er, meet the glowing pony?”

  “Alright,” I say. “If he’s willing to show himself.” I turn back to the doorway where I last saw him. “Glowy Pony? Are you still here?”

  Rather than cantor across the hall, he appears before us in a dramatic shower of sparks, and I’m pretty sure he’s showing off. Everyone gasps, which must please him, and Fedorie even claps.

  “Amazing,” Clicks breathes.

  “Does anyone know what he is?” I ask.

  The Antiquities Society member with wild, white hair snorts. “Isn’t it obvious? He’s a cagic guide.”

  “A cagic guide,” I repeat. “What’s that?”

  “Shimmercasters used to have them as companions,” he says. “But that was centuries ago. I wonder why this one came to you.”

  And I wonder why Flutter came to Aerro.

  “Tell me everything you know about Shimmercasters,” I say. “Please. I feel like I hardly know anything.”

  “Tell you?” he huffs. “I might as well show you. Follow me.”

  He leads us further into the vast chamber, our footsteps echoing loudly and Glowy Pony trotting silently.

  A Colossi emerges from the darkness, lying on the floor. It looks like someone attempted to move him and then realized how heavy he was. His arm’s also missing, and his head’s dented. I wonder if looters tried to pry it off.

  The Antiquities Society members move slowly. It’s probably because they’re older, but it seems very reverent, and I find myself matching their pace. A resonant, gut-deep feeling spreads through me too. I’ve felt very lost since Rutholyn died. Not only have I been sad, I no longer have a purpose. When I first returned to Kaverlee, I had a clear goal—I wanted to become the Predrae again. Now though, what am I trying to do? I don’t want to be downleveled and I want to help Kary, but beyond that, my future seems hazy, shapeless, and well, pointless.

  This hall, though, seems steeped in certainty and meaning. Something about the ancient space fills me with confidence and seems to promise that what I do still matters.

  We eventually reach cascading stone risers, clearly meant to seat many people. Glowy Pony leaps up them as if he already knows what’s at the top. The old man follows the cagic horselet slowly, and when he’s about halfway up, he lifts his lantern.

  “There,” he says. “Shimmercasters.”

  I’m not quite sure what I’m looking at, so I create a large hovering ball of shimmerlight. It reveals a massive mural covering the wall.

  Even though it’s faded and water-damaged, the painting is incredible. Seven larger-than-life Shimmercasters battle nocturnes in front of what appears to be Kaverlee City. I’m not sure if they’re men or women, but they’re dressed like warriors. They’re also sending diamonds of red-edged shimmerdark into wolievs, sharecks, and carrows. A few carry shining energy shields, and one even brandishes a cagic sword that seems to have a blazing hot blade and cool grip. Maybe that’s something I should try. Another Shimmercaster wears cagic armor, which must be challenging to shape and move. And running among them are two shimmerdark animals much like Glowy Pony: a martin and a small goat. Even more fascinating, behind the warriors are three Colossi, and they seem to be fighting the nocturnes too.

  I have the heart-tightening-yet-comforting sense that I’m part of something big and wonderful. “Who are they?” I ask.

  “They’re the Shimmercasters who used to protect the city during the Dark Month,” says the woman with the bun. “Hundreds of years ago, everyone lingerslept, but Shimmercasters stayed awake and stood guard. There’s evidence of teams like this across the Connected Lands.”

  “So there are more murals?” I ask. I’d love to see them.

  “There are a few,” she says. “As well as some carefully preserved manuscripts and paintings. But if cityland officials find them, they tend to disappear.”

  It would have been much easier to fight the nocturnes if I’d had help. I wish I could return to the days where cagic-touched people weren
’t downleveled but useful and celebrated. We wouldn’t need as much energy either if we didn’t have to power sky nets, barrier walls, lights, and heaters. But I can’t imagine modern Kaverleans agreeing to lingersleeping. They love their luxuries and freedoms, and I understand that. When I was on the Grimshore, I missed my easy life here so intensely it was almost like grieving a loved one.

  I look up at the seven warriors again. “In those old manuscripts, does anyone say the dark energy damaged people’s minds?”

  “I don’t believe so,” the woman with the bun says, and her answer doesn’t surprise me. Of course that was a lie, an attempt to stop Shimmercasters from becoming too powerful.

  I want to know more. I want to know everything there is to know about cagic, and these Antiquities Society people do seem to have answers. “So where does all this energy come from?”

  “I’m afraid that’s still a mystery,” says a tall, lanky man with dark skin. “There are fanciful stories and myths, though. My favorite is the tale of King Wendler who tried to cut a doorway into the Hidden Gods’ realm. When he found other realms in between, he impatiently slashed through them. Unfortunately, the nocturnes lived in one of those realms, and they came pouring into ours. When the Hidden Gods saw what King Wendler had done, they tried to stitch the worlds closed again, but they couldn’t. So instead, they gave us a gift to protect ourselves—cagic.”

  I shiver. It’s just a story of course, but in this shadowy, otherworldly chamber, it seems like anything could be true.

  I wonder why people stopped believing in the Hidden Gods, and I’m sure like many things, there wasn’t any singular reason. The shift probably happened slowly, over many centuries.

  “Hold on,” I say, thinking of Kary’s father. “Did the king cut through the realms using a jewel?”

  “You’ve heard the tale!” the lanky man smiles. “The Matreornans once claimed to have the very stone, the Vaylark. But of course, the Nelbarians insist it was their prized gem, the Vethnal, and I think there’s another candidate in Highland Tilber. I forget what that one’s called, though.”