Slight and Shadow (Fate's Forsaken: Book Two) (34 page)

“Why don’t you make a new one?”

“I would, if I knew how to go about it.”

“Aren’t there books you can read?” Elena’s mouth parted again as she concentrated on a tricky patch of hair beneath his jaw. “I thought mages were fond of learning.”

“We are,” Jake allowed. “It’s just a rather complicated process. I doubt that you would even understand —”

“You’re afraid,” she said simply, cleaning the razor against the cloth. “You hold back your powers because you’re afraid of the harm you might do, and you give no thought at all to the good.”

Jake opened his mouth to retort, but she pressed a thumb against his lips, closing them. He blinked impatiently as she swiped at the hair beneath his nose. “I
do
think about the good,” he insisted, the second she released him. “In fact, I think about it so often that it makes me miserable —”

“Why’s that?”

“Because I’m
not
good! Don’t you think I’d rather be the good sort of mage? I’d love to mix potions, or sell charms at the market — I’d even rather be one of those strange, hermit mages who live underground and chat with enchanted toadstools! But I’m not. I’m a battlemage. And blowing things up is all I’ll ever be good for.”

Elena finished the last bit of stubble with a few quick swipes. “So … you’re afraid of yourself?”

Jake huffed. “I suppose I am. What are you smirking about?”

She shook her head. “That’s a stupid thing to be afraid of.
You
are the only person in the Kingdom that you have any control over. What you should be afraid of is the rest of us — and people like me, especially.”

“Why should I be afraid of you? You're my friend —”

“What makes you think that?” she snapped. The softness left her features. Her eyes burned, and her brows dropped low.

Jake touched a hand to his face. “You helped me. That's something friends do —”

Elena pressed the razor against his throat, cutting his words short. Kyleigh smelled the danger and sprang to her feet. She stepped behind Elena, putting her within arm’s reach. If her wrist so much as twitched, even the minceworms wouldn’t be able to find all of her pieces.

But fortunately for Elena, she didn’t move. “I made it very clear why I did this, and it wasn’t because I'm your friend,
mage
. I would still kill you if it suited me.” She stood. And waving the razor furiously about the room, she added: “I would kill you all!”

“You could try,” Silas murmured.

For a moment, Elena looked as if she might skin him then and there. But instead, she threw the blade down and stomped off into the darkness.

“No, wait — come back …” Silas’s words trailed off into a string of chuckles. “I can't even
pretend
to care about her without laughing!”

Jake said nothing. He stared at the empty doorway, one hand propped against his clean-shaven face. There was a look about him that Kyleigh didn’t quite understand. But then again, magefolk were more difficult to read than the rest.

Jake gathered his things and said he was going to spend the night in the hospital: he suddenly wasn’t feeling well. She supposed that might’ve had something to do with it.

Kyleigh and Silas waited up for Nadine. When she returned, they didn’t speak — they simply got settled down for the night.

Sleep didn’t come to her easily. Kyleigh felt herself stretched out between two worries: her worry for her friends in the plains … and her worry for Nadine. Her thoughts pushed and pulled on her, stretching her heart thin as she struggled to find some peace.

When sleep finally did come to her, it wasn’t peaceful at all — it was torment.

A horrible pressure suddenly crushed her from her sleep. Her muscles convulsed, writhing like snakes under her skin, twisting painfully in every direction. Something shoved against the backs of her eyes. It filled her head so tightly that she thought her ears might burst from the effort of trying to hold it in. A scream built up inside her chest, swelling until her throat ached.

Then it burst free.

“Dragoness!”

She was vaguely aware of Silas standing over her, how his eyes were wide with fear and how his hands hovered close to her skin, as if he was afraid to touch her. But she couldn’t reach him. She couldn’t stop her muscles from writhing, couldn’t stop her nails from digging deeper into her flesh.

Tears streamed from the corners of her eyes, but they weren’t the normal sort of tears: they seemed to burn everything they touched — her nose, her face, her lips … and though they poured down, she couldn’t seem to shove them out fast enough. Her throat stretched and ached, straining against them, throbbing with the promise of another scream.

Kyleigh’s heart was the only thing in her body that seemed to belong to her, and it was as frightened as she was.

Just when she thought she might burst from her skin, she felt a pair of arms wrap gently around her shoulders. She was brought into the warmth, into a place where her tears could fall without burning. She felt a second heartbeat hum against her ear.

It was steady and deep. The rhythm matched the calming flow of the words — words that Kyleigh’s ears didn’t understand the meaning of, but her soul seemed to. Slowly, the aching left her body. All of the pain faded away, coaxed out by the words and the steady beat of the heart.

When Kyleigh opened her eyes, she realized that it was Nadine who held her. She held Kyleigh’s head to her chest, and as the last of her song faded, she whispered:

“Hush now, there is no shame in your sorrow. I know what haunts you. I have cried those same tears … perhaps my story will help quiet you.”

Kyleigh was still too weak to respond. She lay in a sweaty, trembling mass in the middle of the pelts. Silas stoked the small brazier the best he could, though the feeble light of the pebbles was hardly enough to make any difference. He sat beside the window; his eyes were unmasked and wide as they stared at Kyleigh.

He didn’t seem to want to be anywhere near her.

Nadine, on the other hand, settled Kyleigh’s head into her lap. She felt the soft tug on her scalp as Nadine pulled the tie from her hair. Her fingers ran gently through the raven strands, and it calmed her.

Kyleigh wasn’t used to having to be comforted. Very rarely was she hurt or frightened — and she’d never been wounded by something that she couldn’t wound right back. But this was a strange enemy, one she couldn’t defeat. She closed her eyes and let her ears tremble against the soft tones of Nadine’s voice.

“My life has not always been how I wished it to be,” she said quietly. “But I have had a good life. Hessa filled my heart with joy while I grew, and I thought I would never find a love more treasured. But when I was a young woman, I discovered a different sort of love.

“His name was Tahir.” Her voice cracked a bit as she said it, but she cleared her throat roughly. “By the laws of my people, a woman may choose for herself when she is ready to marry — if she is ever ready at all. A man has no power to ask her … except on one condition: if he saves her life, then he may ask. And she may not refuse him.” Kyleigh could hear the smile in her voice as she continued. “I was convinced I would never marry. I thought my duty to Hessa would make it impossible. But … I was wrong.

“Another tribe found their way into our tunnels one day, and I was called upon to fight them back. Our enemies were dark-fleshed men with blood on their faces. They wielded axes made of bone and rock. I underestimated their strength, and I was quickly thrown to the ground,” she muttered. “Tahir … he stepped over me, killing my attacker before my head could be crushed. And I knew I would be doomed to marry him.

“But he did not ask me.” Her hand paused against Kyleigh’s scalp, tickling her with its trembling. “When I asked him
why
he did not ask, he laughed at me.
You are Nadine, our Dawn’s protector. I would not burden you with my love — but you may always hold it freely, and know that it was meant for you
. It sounds more beautiful in our tongue,” Nadine mused.

Kyleigh thought it sounded rather beautiful in the Kingdom’s tongue. She couldn’t imagine what it must feel like to have such words spoken to her … and with a wrench of her throat, she realized that she might never find out.

She fought against a fresh wave of pain and focused herself on Nadine.

“Perhaps it was because he understood me so well, but I knew then that Tahir was my heart’s bond,” she whispered. “I asked him to marry me, and when he said again that he did not wish to burden me, I …” She laughed, shaking her head. “I cut my hair! That is what all of our married women do: we cut our locks and put them in our husband’s hands, as a symbol that our beauty will belong to him always. When I gave my hair to Tahir, I suppose he knew that I was serious. We were married and lived happily for several years, he and I — with Hessa as our daughter … and then the trolls attacked.”

Nadine’s hand trembled again. Kyleigh reached up to her, and Nadine wrapped both hands tightly around her fingers.

“They came upon us swiftly, in the dead of the night. We were chased out of our homes. My first duty was to Hessa: I wrapped her tightly in my arms and carried her out here, to safety.” She took a deep breath. “Tahir stayed behind in the tunnels. He led a company against the trolls, holding them back with the strength of his spear while the other mots escaped. They said he fought very bravely. If I have any honor left within our tribe, it is out of respect for Tahir. For I deserve nothing but shame.

“Long hours passed, and Tahir did not return. I was frightened for him. When Hessa fell asleep, I left her in the care of some of the other warriors and went into the tunnels to find my husband. I abandoned our
Dawn
,” she said miserably. “I left Hessa’s life in other hands — the very life I had sworn to protect with my own. And when I went into the tunnels, I saw that it was over … that Tahir’s men had been surrounded and swallowed up by the trolls. He was dead.

“I returned to the mountain, heartbroken. The Grandmot scorned me before our tribe for my betrayal. She took Hessa from me, and said I was not worthy to be the Dawn’s protector. From that day forth,
she
would be the one to watch over Hessa — and I would not be allowed to see her again. These blows echoed through my heart like screams through the tunnels, for my soul was already empty.” She spoke simply, as if this were a matter of fact and nothing more. There were no tears in her voice. “You asked me once if I wished to die, outlander — and now you know.”

She placed a hand against Kyleigh’s cheek. “I will not ask to hear who you cry for, but know that I understand. There are few hearts more desolate than mine. Sleep, now.” Her thumb brushed a soothing line against Kyleigh’s temple. “Sleep, and let the quiet of the night soothe your bones.”

Kyleigh closed her eyes, but she couldn’t sleep. Nadine’s story didn’t soothe her bones — it put a fire in them.

The mots were starving, they’d been driven from their homes, but the Grandmot didn’t care about any of that. She’d grown to resent Nadine for the power she held — power that Nadine hadn’t even thought about: Hessa’s love. And she’d done everything she could to try to reclaim that power. She’d even used Nadine’s grief as an excuse to take Hessa away.

But it was too late. Hessa already loved Nadine, already sought her wisdom above the Grandmot’s. The only slight chance the Grandmot had to take her power back would be if Nadine was out of the way — lying dead in the depths of some tunnel.
That’s
why the Grandmot hated Nadine.
That’s
why she wanted her dead.

Well, as long as there was fire in her blood, Kyleigh wasn’t going to let that happen.

Chapter 31

The Spring Sniffles

Things in the plains got steadily worse.

More guards came down from the castle, wielding wench-tongues instead of pikes, and they had no interest in being slavemasters. Whether or not the fields got planted wasn’t any of their concern: they were out for blood.

They swooped in among the slaves, circling and waiting for a chance to strike. They walked the fields in groups, and would gladly pick off any man who strayed too far from his team. Giants were beaten senseless for walking too slowly, or being the last one out of the barn, or for no reason at all. One day, a giant was beaten so badly that he collapsed.

When the guards couldn’t get him to rise, they threw him into the back of a cart and sent it for the castle.

Brend watched the cart roll away, a heavy fist planted on his chest. “Don’t let him get to you, friend,” he murmured. “May Death find you before Gilderick does.” Then he dropped to one knee and ripped the next weed out of the ground with such force that it showered Kael with dirt.

They were deep in the vegetable patch, drawing out the many healthy weeds that had taken up residence amongst the beans and carrots. It was slow, tedious work. Kael knew that by the end of the day, every clump of grass would sit like stone, and their roots would feel a mile deep.

Some of the weeds were also rather vicious: the one Kael struggled with had a clump of tiny thorns hidden beneath its leaves, and it had already stung him once. He wrapped his fingers around a part he thought might be safe — only to find more thorns.

They bit into his fingers, but the sharp pain only made him angrier. He wrenched the plant from the ground with a roar and hurled it at the nearest guard. It struck his back with a satisfying
thunk
, showering bits of dirt and rocks into his armor. He spun, and murder lined his eyes as they lighted on Kael. But even though he clearly would’ve liked to beat him raw, he didn’t move.

Declan worked a few paces away, and the guards went out of their way to avoid him. Even now, all he had to do was look up from his work and stare calmly in the guard’s direction — and he immediately stomped away.

As soon as the guard was gone, Declan went back to weeding. He hadn’t spoken to anyone since the mind-walking incident — not even to Brend. And Kael was slightly relieved.

He’d been so intent on discovering his secret that he’d expected Declan to out him the minute he woke up. Maybe he hadn’t realized what had happened … though he obviously knew that Kael had been inside his head — and that certainly wasn’t a normal thing. The more he thought about it, the more he began to worry.

Why
hadn’t
Declan told? What could he possibly have to gain by keeping Kael’s secret to himself? As much as he wanted to believe that Declan wouldn’t turn him over to Gilderick … he didn’t exactly trust him. He tried to watch, to peer beneath the deep shadow of Declan’s brow for any signs of what he was up to, but he couldn’t see a thing.

For not the first time that week, his stomach twisted into an uncomfortable, worried knot.

“What did you expect?” Brend muttered, when he saw the look on Kael’s face. “Did you think he’d just open up and gab about it —? Ach!” He let out a loud sneeze, followed by a fit of violent coughs.

Kael reached over to pound him on the back, but Brend knocked his hand away.

“It’s just the spring — ach — sniffles!” he gasped. When he caught his breath, he straightened up and cleared his throat. “I get them every year. It’s nothing to worry about.”

Kael wasn’t so sure. He thought Brend looked rather pale.

*******

Early the next morning, Kael woke to someone poking frantically in his ear. He batted the hand away and blinked back the fog of sleep until a very worried-looking Eveningwing came into focus.

“What is it?” Kael said groggily. “And what were you doing in my ear?”

“I was trying to be quiet,” he whispered back. “I wanted to tell you something. But I wasn’t sure where to poke —”

“Never mind,” Kael mumbled, not wanting to try to follow whatever ridiculous path of reason the boy had come up with. “What did you want to tell me?”

“The swordbearers — the …” he squinched his eyes shut tightly, “the
guards
— they’re gone.”

Kael sat up straight, rubbing impatiently at the sleep in his eyes. “What do you mean they’re gone? They can’t just be
gone.
”

“A great noise called them back to the castle,” Eveningwing said, shifting his weight anxiously. “It sounded like a very large goose. Or perhaps a duck —”

Kael clamped a hand over his mouth as the cry of a battle horn trembled through the air. Its song was low and steady, a single note that had no meaning to him, but he knew very well might spell trouble.

“It was that,” Eveningwing said when Kael released him.

“Are we under attack?”

“I don’t think so —”

But they didn’t get a chance to discuss it any further. The stall doors screeched open, and Kael hurried outside ahead of the others. He was one of the first in the courtyard. All across the Fields, the sprouts of fresh green lay sleepily in the earth, blanketed in a heavy layer of shimmering dew. His eyes combed across the thin morning mist, searching for a banner, or the telling glint of swords. But he saw nothing amiss — the land was quiet.

Kael still wasn’t convinced. He spotted Brend crouched over one of the water troughs and went after him at a run. “Where are the guards?” he said when he reached him.

Brend looked up. His eyes were glassy and out of focus. He stared blearily at Kael for a few moments before he seemed to recognize him. “Ho there, wee rat,” he mumbled.

His words trailed into a cough. It sounded as if he had a loose bone rattling inside his chest. When Kael asked if he was all right, he waved his hand impatiently. “I already told you — it’s just the sniffles. Now, what are you shouting about?”

Kael hadn’t been shouting about anything, but he lowered his voice and said it again.

Brend didn’t seem too concerned. He glanced around at the empty land and shrugged. “Oh, Gilderick’s probably just called them back for the Sowing Moon. He likes to keep his army close by, when others are around — and he knows we’ll all behave because we don’t want to get chosen.”

Kael didn’t understand three words of that. Brend wandered off, and he followed at a trot. “What’s the Sowing Moon?”

“It’s a festival,” Brend said hoarsely. His brow creased in frustration and he cleared his throat. “It used to be a grand thing. All of the clans would gather together to celebrate the growth of their crops and the birth of their calves. There was food and drink, and games, too. A young man could win honor in the games,” Brend smiled, “or the hand of the one he loved. See there?”

He held a finger up to the sky, where a faint outline of the moon still clung stubbornly to its perch. Its rounded halves were a bit uneven.

“In three days time, all of our crops will have sprouted and that moon will be full.”

The Tinnarkians had always used the changes in the weather to mark their days, so it was strange to think that the giants followed the moon. Though Kael supposed it made sense: except for a light frost in winter, the weather in the plains was always warm and fair. Their days might run together if they didn’t keep track of the moon.

“And you say that Lord Gilderick still celebrates the Sowing Moon?”

“Yes … in his way,” Brend said darkly. “Though he’s twisted it to the point that hardly anybody can stomach it. Even the Five don’t stick around —”

“Wait a moment,” Kael interrupted, his heart pounding. “You mean to say that in three days time, the Five will be here? With their armies and everything?”

“No, it’s not all that. Hardly anybody ever accepts — clodded leaky eyes!” Brend cursed, wiping them impatiently with the back of his sleeve. When he blinked, Kael couldn’t help but think that his eyes were a little more bloodshot than they’d been before. “The Earl’s usually too drunk to stay on his horse, and it’s not nearly a grand enough event to interest the Duke. No, Baron Sahar and Countess D’Mere are the only ones who ever come out: he’s here early, and she arrives late — both try to be gone before the games.”

Brend had to cough a few more times before he found the breath to carry on. “I think Sahar only comes for the food. Desert fare is stringy at best, and Gilderick owes him a couple of castles. So the Baron stocks his larders a few times a year in payment. Gilderick’s castle burned down
twice
— can you believe it?”

Kael certainly believed it. In fact, he happened to know the mischievous halfdragon who’d been responsible for the fires. He tried to steer the conversation back to the festival. “What happens at the games?”

Brend swallowed hard, and from the way he grimaced, it must’ve been painful. “I can’t say, wee rat. All we know is that the day of the Sowing Moon, the mages choose a couple of slaves and send them up to the castle. They usually pick the sickliest ones, or some of those fellows from the seas. But the slaves that get chosen don’t ever come back — not even as Fallows. I’m not sure what happens to them, but it can’t be pleasant.”

The information about the Sowing Moon was interesting, but Kael still didn’t understand why Gilderick would risk leaving the slaves unwatched. Even the mages didn’t seem too concerned: Hob stayed holed up in his cottage for a good portion of the morning, and only ventured out at midday. The whole thing made Kael uneasy.

The sun had begun to set when he finally got his answer.

A chorus of voices drew his eyes from the weeding, and he watched in amazement as a large procession of desert folk emerged from the Spine. He realized there must’ve been some sort of pass cut into it, a way to connect the desert and the plains — otherwise, the journey might’ve taken them several days.

There were dozens of desert folk, all traveling in a line. They carried heavy baskets across their backs, sunk low by the weight of glittering gold. The bright colors of their garments stunned the earth around them: brilliant yellows, fiery reds, and several shades of blues and greens. They clapped as they chanted, singing in a language that Kael didn’t understand.

In the very middle of the line, eight guards held up something that looked like the top to a very fine carriage, supported by two long poles. The sunlight glittered off the carriage’s gold trappings. Jewels winked across its surface, nearly blinding them with colorful bursts of light. Red curtains hid the inside of the carriage from view, but Kael thought he might’ve been able to guess who it carried:

Baron Sahar had arrived in the plains.

So
this
was why Gilderick had called his guards inside the castle. It wasn’t that he needed the protection — it was because he didn’t want the others to know of his troubles. If Sahar found out that Gilderick had lost nearly all his mages, how long would it be before the news reached the King? And once Crevan heard, Gilderick would surely be punished. He might even lose his position as a ruler.

So he’d had no choice but to call his guards away and carry on like nothing had happened. Kael realized that Gilderick would be vulnerable these next few days — which might just give him the chance he needed to fix things.

He was in the middle of trying to organize his thoughts when Brend interrupted him:

“Sun-loving sandbeaters!” He swayed a little as he stood, glaring at the desert folk. “They’ve got no business coming on our soil. By Fate, those mountains were put there for a reason — to keep you clods
out
!”

Though they were at least two bowshots away, he picked up a chunk of soil and tried to hurl it at them. It slipped out of his hand and plummeted straight to the ground.

The throw put Brend off balance. He stumbled backwards and likely would’ve fallen, had Declan not stepped up behind him. He caught Brend under the arms and led him to the edge of the field. “Sit down, rest your legs for a bit —”

“They’ve got no business!” Brend went on, his voice suddenly thick by what could’ve easily been anger or tears. “We should’ve been out by now —”

“Just calm yourself, try to take it easy.”

But Brend would have none of it. When Declan finally got him to sit, he tried to rise by climbing up the front of Declan’s shirt. “You were right — you’ve been right the whole while.” He clung tightly when Declan tried to peel his hands away. “We’re going to die like this. We’ll be sent back down into the dust we’ve sobbed in!”

“You don’t know that,” Declan said, though now his eyes were wide with worry. “What’s gotten into you? Are you sun-stroked?”

Brend’s mouth opened as if he was about to speak, but the words never got out. His eyes rolled back into their sockets and his hands fell limply from Declan’s shirt. Kael rushed over and caught his head.

He felt the alarming heat at the base of Brend’s skull, and his stomach dropped. “He’s got a fever.”

“What do we do?” Declan’s hands clenched and unclenched at his sides. His head shot to the left, where Hob was driving the water wagon towards them.