The Oathbreaker's Shadow (6 page)

Kharein itself was shaped like a pentagon and surrounded by a long, low wall. The wall served more as a way to section off the inner city from the masses of yurts that surrounded it than as any means of defence, as Kharein needed little defending. The flat, isolated land that surrounded the city meant that any attacking army could be seen from miles away, and would be met well before it reached the city. On every point of the pentagon stood a tall watchtower, guards keeping a vigilant eye for suspicious plumes of dust. During Festival season, the yurts were scattered around the outside of the city walls, clustered together by clan like white petals around a flower. This was the only time Kharein truly looked alive. Without the visiting population it was simply a dried-up bud – the centre of royal activity, perhaps, but not the home of people’s hearts. The people of Darhan could not be settled. They moved constantly, shifting with the days
of the year, the seasons, the animals. By the end of the month-long Festival even the merriest Darhan grew restless. They dispersed, seeds on the wind, and yet remained unified. It was the life of the Darhan, and had been for centuries.

When they finally stopped, Raim couldn’t even see the outer wall for all the yurts and tents that had been set up. To an outsider it might have looked haphazard, but each tribe knew its place; each clan had their own position and style of yurt. Setting up their home again took about an hour, but Raim took pride over every rope, peg and inch of frame. If things went according to plan in Kharein, this would be the last softened. ‘You should n from the pose f time he ever set up his yurt with Loni and Dharma. After he took the knot to join the Yun, there would be no turning back to his old life.

He was finishing up positioning one of the woven tension bands that held the felt outer covering of the yurt in place when Loni stepped out of the door, Dharma holding his hand. ‘We are heading over to visit the Una clan, to show off Dharma’s weaving skill.’

Raim patted Dharma on the head as she went by. ‘You’ll blow them away. You’re the best weaver I know.’

‘Shall we meet you in Kharein? I know you have something important to choose.’ Loni winked.

Raim swallowed down unexpected nerves and nodded, then waved them goodbye. He had to choose his promise string. The time had almost come.

When Raim was satisfied that their home was well built
and the 8IL3J">‘

Raim walked out of the yurt dressed in the uniform of a Yun apprentice: a light, loose-fitting silk shirt under a knee-length brown robe tied at the waist with a strip of leather. Dark trousers made of coarse cotton billowed around his ankles. He kneeled down in the dust outside the yurt to tie up his boots, tucking the excess fabric from his trousers into the top before lacing them up. He felt more comfortable in these clothes than in any others – except, he imagined, when he would be able to change into the ebony-black robes of the Yun. When he was finally ready, Raim began to pick his way through the maze of yurts to reach Kharein.

He loved entering the city, and he let the excitement of the moment wash over him as he passed through the main gate. Although the surrounding wall was low, the main entrance was a tall gate with an intricate pagoda-style roof. All the largest and most important buildings in
Darhan were housed within the inner city: the Imperial Palace, the Rentai – Darhan’s greatest temple – and the iron mill. The palace took up the entire northern corner, with a large open courtyard that served as a stadium for Yun tournaments and as a forum for the Khan’s audiences and declarations.

Through the eastern corner of the city ran the River Iod, which transected the inner city walls. The iron mill was built over the top of the river, and a giant waterwheel turned the complicated mechanisms inside. This mill served many purposes and was the principal manufacturing workshop for all of Darhan. Although he had never he Western Eye of Sheba of the >

He headed deeper into the city, following the throng. He spied people from every clan and tribe amongst the crowds: from the weavers, with their fingers dripping in yarns, to the soldiers, swords hanging from their belts, to ordinary goatherders staring wide-eyed at all the wares. Someone he would have been, if it wasn’t for Khareh.

He owed Khareh so much because his life could have been so different. He felt as lucky as a raindrop that chanced to fall in a mighty river as opposed to on the dusty ground.

He had been only ten years old when they first met. He had been out on a hill in the middle of the steppes in the
dead of night, forced into guard duty over the goats after one of the elders had spotted the menacing form of a lone wolf prowling the countryside not far away. The wolf was the most dangerous creature of the steppe. Its endurance surpassed any other, and even one that seemed far away could suddenly come and steal a prized kid in the dead of night.

Just not on Raim’s watch. Even at ten years old, he hadn’t been afraid.

He remembered he had almost willed the wolf to come, anything to alleviate the boredom that was fast settling into his bones. His eyelids had grown heavy, the burden of staying alert too much.

But that was when he heard the growl. Immediately, Raim’s ears had pricked up, his heart rate speeded up and he willed himself to become deadly still. The growl came again, and this time Raim could place it – on the other side of the hill from where he and his goats were safely resting.

Slowly, Raim crept up to the crest of the hill, until he was at the highest viewpoint. The bottom of the hill on that side dropped away in a much steeper slope. That was when he saw it: the grey wolf, its fur matted and teeth bared. It was crouched down low, in a position to strike. A smattering of blood was scattered in front of it, and curiously there was a willow basket – ripped to shreds by the wolf’s teeth – a few feet away.

Raim couldn’t see the object of the wolf’s ire, but he
couldn’t hear any bleating either. He wondered if its prey was already half-dead, beyond saving.

He crept over the hillside, manoeuvring into a position where he could see the victim. But it wasn’t a lamb at all. It was another little boy, standing with his back to the rock, cowering from the beast.

Even in the weak moonlight, Raim could see the boy’s hands, red with blood. At first, Raim thought he must’ve been attacked already, but then there was another clue: a thick hunk of meat lay at the boy’s feet.

There had been little time to ponder that mystery. Raim could see the boy had no weapons. He picked up a rock from the ground and drew himself up to his full height. Then he launched the rock at the wolf and ran down the hillside shouting as loud as he could. He leaped the last few feet as he reached the sheer rock face, and landed in front of the other boy.

He had thought the rock and the shouting might be enough to drive the wolf away, but not this one. This wolf was hungry; the scent of blood was in his nostrils, and a hungry wolf was also desperate. The creature eyed Raim like a soldier assessing a new foe, but Raim was only small then – and the threat was dismissed. The wolf advanced.

But Raim was prepared. He star own path to followor from side to sideCC fed the wolf in the eye as his fingers fumbled behind his back for the whittling knife he carried at his belt. Fear was beginning to scratch at him now, threatening to pull his focus from the job at hand. Actually being face to face with a wolf was different
from how he had imagined it. Being so close – the razor sharp points of its teeth, the terrible stench of its breath, the rabid look in its eye – made it seem all the more real and terrifying.

The wolf was advancing on them both now. Raim saw him bunch his muscles, prepare to lunge . . .

The other boy moved then. He scooped up the piece of meat and prepared to dash past the wolf.

Its attention diverted, Raim took the split second to leap for the wolf, even as it sprang for the other boy. He plunged the knife into the wolf’s ribcage, trying his best to ignore the snarls and howls of pain from the creature. He gripped tightly onto the wolf’s fur, not letting go as it thrashed from side to side, trying to stay out of reach of the gnashing teeth.

Then there was a thud, and then another, and the wolf slumped into his arms, two arrows buried into its side.

For the first time throughout the whole ordeal, the two boys looked at each other. The other boy’s arm was shaking under the weight of the bow, but his aim had been true.

The moments after that had been a blur. The elders arrived – attracted by the shouting and commotion – to find Raim drenched in wolf’s blood. That was when Raim found out the boy he saved was the son of a warlord. The warlord wouldn’t let Raim go back to being a lowly goatherder, but told him that someone of his bravery and skill should be training with the elite warriors of
Darhan. That’s how Raim had become a Yun apprentice.

Khareh had explained later that he had been trying to trap the wolf, so he could tame it and keep it as a pet. But instead of a wolf, he had gained a friend – and from that moment on, the two boys had been as inseparable as two humps on a camel.

Now, Raim was about to take his Yun test, and the only growl was from his stomach.

He found himself being drawn deeper towards the market stalls. The smell warmed him more than a freshly stoked fire and made his mouth fill with saliva. After months living on a diet of goat’s milk, rice and the occasional piece of dried meat, the variety on Kharein’s streets overwhelmed him. It seemed like everyone in Darhan – and beyond – felt the same way. The food market was filled to the brim. The Festival had well and truly begun.

But it wasn’t just any food that Raim was after. If anything, it was the tyrfish from the River Erudine that was drawing him deeper into the market. The Festival was the only time of the year that the fishermen – the Erudees – brought their catch to the capital city. They transported it strapped to fragrant planks of wood cut from the forests on the border of Mauz. By the time they reached Kharein, the fish was rich with flavour – once seared on the giant wood-heated grills on the city streets it became Raim’s favourite dish.

He followed his nose to the stall and handed over a few
bronze coins for a portion. It came wrapped in thin white paper, juicy and delicious.

Before he could take a bite, he felt a tug on the sleeve of his tunic. He looked down into the face of a young boy. ‘Excuse me, are you a Yun apprentice?’

Raim smiled. ‘Yes . . .’

}
div.shading-50-whiteor from side to sideCC f‘GRANDFATHER, I’VE FOUND ONE!’ the boy shouted.

All of a sudden he was surrounded by people, jostling him between them like a gutball. In one instant he was being pulled at by a dozen young boys asking for advice, the next he was in amidst strong-armed merchants, like the young boy’s grandfather, evaluating him for a good bet.

‘How’s your sword arm?’

‘Not feeling a little weak in the shoulder?’

‘Don’t eat that Erudine crap, you’ll feel sick for the bout.’

‘I’ll give you a hundred gold pieces if you let the other boy win.’

He knew apprentices often experienced a whirlwind of attention during the festival, but he never realized it was as bad as this. He felt trapped. Khareh was the one who normally got all the attention and Raim liked it that way. Khareh might embrace it, but Raim could currently think of nothing worse. He tried to push his way through the crowd to escape, but wherever he moved the hungry throng followed.

‘Quick, follow me!’ said a whispered female voice. A hand pressed on his back, then slid round to his elbow to lead him away. He whipped round just in time to see the girl’s dark brown eyes urging him to follow her before she disappeared into the crowd.

Erdene.

A new kind of adrenaline fuelled him now, his heart speeding up to a thousand horse strides a minute in his chest. He caught sight of her again, and doubled, trebled his effort to get to her, finding a path through the crowd that had seemed so impenetrable before.

She ducked down an alley, and just as he entered it himself he saw her twist down into another. This part of Kharein, behind the market stalls, was a maze of cramped, darkened streets barely wide enough for a single person to move. He turned sideways to fit down the alley she had turned down, then stopped abruptly as a hand grabbed his belt and pulled him backward.

He tumbled into a small courtyard, a welcome square of space after the tight alley and hungry crowd. A line of freshly washed linens hung from a cord across two windows above them, motionless in the still air.

Or maybe the air only felt so still because he was suddenly aware of how close he was to Erdene. Close and alone.

He turned round to see her pulling the veil down off her head, strands of long black hair falling across her face. She pushed them off her forehead, threw her head back,
and laughed. ‘Gods, did you expect that? All those people clamouring for us. I guess the other apprentices have been through this before, so that’s why we don’t see them out and about so much before the duel.’

Raim struggled to form any suitable kind of reply, his mouth suddenly completely dry. She didn’t wait for him to speak, though. ‘Do you have any idea when they’ll call us in for the fights? Last year it was at the beginning of the Festival, so maybe this year they’ll make it the closing event . . . I hate to be kept waiting, don’t you?’

His mouth tried to form words like, ‘Yes, the wait is horrible,’ but instead he ended up mumbling something vaguely affirmative.

Erdene didn’t seem to notice. She leaned back against the wall, and when she looked Raim in the eyes, he was surprised to see them glistening. ‘I’m so worried about the fight,’ she said, biting her lower lip. ‘I don’t know a temporary settlementmSVwad if I’m ready for Jendo. It’s his third try and . . . I want to be Yun. I want to be Yun more than anything.’

‘Jendo is a good fighter, but he has his weaknesses,’ Raim said, grateful she had finally picked a topic that would loosen his tongue. On this subject, he could talk for ever. ‘He’s steady, but he’s not very creative. You can trick him – use feints, deflections. Come at me now.’ He beckoned her over.