The Shadow’s Curse (27 page)

‘So he is no better than Khareh.’

‘No,’ said Dharma. ‘But that is why Raim must rule. He must not only be the Khan, but the Golden Khan, ruling over all the lands Naran touches and the world will be right again.’

‘He will do it,’ Wadi said, although her mind couldn’t help but worry at about the difficult journey Raim had to take. He was the key to all this – but he had no one to help him, except Draikh.

‘He has to,’ whispered Dharma.

Wadi woke up to the sound of squeals. It took a moment for her to orient herself. Where was she? Nothing was familiar, there were none of the sounds that she had grown used to, and her leg felt too light without its chain . . .

But beside her, there was the cry again – louder this time – and Wadi rolled over to see the curled-up form of a little girl, limbs writhing in what seemed like great pain. She remembered where she was.

‘Dharma?’ She reached out and placed a tentative hand on the girl’s shoulder. She was like a kettle about to reach boiling point.

The tent door flapped open and Loni stumbled in, concern etched on his face. He carried with him a small bowl filled with water, and a rag. He knelt by Dharma and dabbed the cool, damp rag against her forehead. Her writhing body calmed, flailing limbs turned still. She still cried out, though, and Loni muttered soothing words until it subsided.

A chill ran through Wadi’s body, goosebumps raised on her arms. The night air was warm; it was the sight of the girl in pain – the girl who saw the future in her dreams, in pain – that caused her to shiver.

‘It’s been like this every night . . .’ said Loni in a quiet whisper, once the girl had settled back into a more restful slumber. ‘Every night since Raim left for Amarapura.’

‘What does she see?’

‘She sees too much . . . but what causes these night terrors? She won’t tell me what makes her cry at night. It distresses her too much to look too far ahead, when the future becomes more and more uncertain.’

Wadi looked down into Dharma’s angelic face. ‘The poor girl.’

‘She is stubborn. I sometimes wonder if she sees things that she won’t tell us.’

‘Like Raim failing on his journey?’ Wadi’s mouth went dry.

Loni’s eyes bore holes into her skull. ‘Maybe. But that’s why she was adamant about waiting for you here. She knew we had to be here to turn you back around. To send you back to Khareh. Raim is going to need all the help he can get, and you are going to have to be there.’

‘I understand,’ said Wadi. ‘I won’t let her down.’

They equipped her with a horse, a long sword and a short dagger, just in case, and plenty of food for the return journey. She hadn’t worked out quite what she would say when she saw Khareh again – she would have to cross that bridge when she came to it. Her brief stay with Dharma had confirmed it: she had to win back Khareh’s trust and accompany him on his journey to Lazar.

By whatever means possible.

She cantered across the steppes, the yurts of Dharma’s clan fast disappearing into the horizon. But she hadn’t gone far when she thought she could hear the pounding of a second set of hooves, coming up behind her. Had she forgotten something back at the camp? Was there another message for her? Wadi’s mind raced. What if Dharma had seen another vision that changed everything?

She glanced over her shoulder, but to her surprise she saw a young woman blazing toward her, a bright sword raised high above her head.

‘Oh gods,’ Wadi said, and attempted to spur her mount on faster. Her fingers grew slick with sweat around the reigns.
Erdene
. She looked over again, and saw that she was catching her up.

‘Stop!’ The word reached Wadi’s ears, but she felt no inclination to stop, even if to ignore the command was futile.

A whistle sounded in the air, and Wadi’s blood turned ice-cold in her veins. Something hit her shoulder, hard, and Wadi cried out in pain. Her horse whinnied loudly, rearing up and throwing Wadi from its back. She rolled on the ground, clutching her shoulder, as the horse fled.

The arrow had hit her shoulder, but luckily she’d been wearing her thick leathers, and a silk shirt underneath, so the arrowhead had not penetrated her skin. If she survived the night, she knew would have a deep indigo bruise there, to match her clothing.

She heard Erdene’s horse slow down as she approached. Wadi looked up at the other girl, trying to keep her expression neutral. ‘Erdene? What are you doing here?’

Her eyes narrowed. ‘It is my duty protect the Khan. And I don’t know what you’re up to, but whatever it is . . . I know it’s not in the Khan’s interest.’ She drew her Yun sword, the metallic twang of it slicing through the air.

‘No, Khareh sent me away,’ Wadi said, hoping that the nervous energy rushing through her would help to mask the lie. ‘See?’ She struggled to her feet and fumbled in her pocket for the ring she had taken from Khareh. ‘He gave this to me as a token to prove that I was really one of his messengers.’

Erdene squinted at it, then grunted dismissively. ‘As if I would believe you. You are a dirty, ignorant, useless savage. As soon as I heard you were gone after what happened in the arena, I knew you were up to good! And now I find you here, dealing with one of the few tribes that has not pledged tribute to the Khan!’

Wadi waited for a few heart-stopping moments for Erdene to mention a seer, or the rumours of one living in the camp. But she did not.

‘Why would he give this to me if I wasn’t doing his bidding?’ asked Wadi.

Erdene hesitated for a moment, but then a dark look descended on her face. ‘Even if he did give it to you freely, he shouldn’t have. I should be the only one he trusts.’

Wadi’s eyes opened wide with fear, staring at the drawn sword. ‘Erdene . . . please. Don’t do this. I . . . I don’t mean Khareh any harm. I saved his life, remember?’

Erdene threw her head back and laughed, but it was tinged with bitterness. ‘You saved his life, but you have humiliated him by escaping. He might pretend to be your friend, but I know the truth. I know what he wanted me to do: he wanted me to find you if you left. Find you and kill you.’

Wadi swallowed, hard. ‘Khareh ordered you to come after me and kill me if I left?’

‘Khareh-khan didn’t have to order me to do anything! I know what I have to do. Why are you sneaking around here, anyway? I thought your home was in the desert? Whatever you are doing, I know you’re trying to bring Khareh down. And I am not going to let you do it.’

Wadi looked up at Erdene. She loomed a fearsome figure on the horse, her Yun sword held high. Wadi felt like a bug the Yun girl was about to crush beneath her boot. Wadi had the sword that the tribespeople had given her, but didn’t have the skill to use it. She should have asked for throwing knives instead.

Raim had taught her the basics of how to use a sword, and Silas too. She’d had Yun trainers, but she was not Yun. Erdene – for all her love of fine things, for all her complicated feelings for Khareh – was Yun. She was one of the best.

‘Maybe Khareh will never want me. But I know he’d want me to do this.’ Erdene then surprised Wadi by dismounting. She’d had her hair tied back in a long braid, and she was dressed in her finest Yun fighting gear. She had long boots that reached up to her knees, and a leather striped tunic that acted as lightweight armour. She also had a strip of toughened leather on her arm – a shield like the one Raim had used.

She swung her Yun sword in the air in slashes of figure eights, and the sword dazzled as the light caught it in the air.

Wadi drew her own sword, but it looked blunt and battered in comparison.

Erdene charged at her then, with the fury of a person who was defending the one she loved. Wadi blocked the blow, and recovered as quickly as she could – with all the conviction of someone who was fighting for their life. Fighting to survive.

That was stronger.

Or so she hoped. Erdene slashed at her again, and again Wadi was only just able to parry the strike in time. The blow had Erdene’s sword right up against Wadi’s neck, the only thing preventing it from slicing her head clean off being the pressure of her own blade back against it. She could feel her skin stiffen, stretch and then split beneath the weight. Her breaths quickened, her eyes stretched wide. With a mighty grunt, she shifted all her weight back onto Erdene, giving herself a split second to spin away from the sword.

Blood trickled down her neck. She could feel it running under her tunic; she could smell it in her nostrils.

Fear ignited in her bones now, a fire lit by the scent of her own blood. She unleashed a scream of anger, and began going on the attack against Erdene. She was satisfied to see the sheen of sweat appear on the other girl’s face, even as she dripped sweat like she had emerged from a lake of exertion.

Then Erdene seemed to drop her right hand, rolling her wrist in a manner that suggested pain. Wadi was like a fear-soaked animal. She didn’t think about whether she had hit Erdene on that side. She only saw an opportunity.

She didn’t see the feint.

Erdene retaliated with a blow that knocked the sword clean from Wadi’s hands. There was a moment of shock – of panic – a moment that Wadi could not afford. While she scrambled to find her sword again, Erdene put her boot on Wadi’s back and kicked her into the dust. With another kick, she spun the sword away from Wadi’s grasp. Wadi flipped onto her back, prepared to face her opponent and meet her end head-on.

Erdene didn’t take a moment to reflect or brag. She struck down again, with a blow as hard and as accurate as she could manage. Erdene would show no mercy for being her companion for so long. No mercy for the moments they had spent together. No mercy at all. Not so long as Wadi was on the side opposite Erdene – the side opposite Khareh.

Wadi’s reflexes had rarely failed her, and she rolled to avoid the blow. It rang against the dusty ground as if it had struck metal. Wadi couldn’t imagine how any ordinary blade ever stood a chance.

She didn’t know then if it was because she was Sola’s child, or whether it was just dumb luck – but the sun came out from behind the clouds just then, striking the sword as Erdene was lifting it. The brightness of the flash scared them both, but Wadi was used to moving with the sun in her eyes. Her hands scrambled against her body, finding the dagger that she had tied around her thigh. She yanked it out, drawing blood along her leg as she did so, but in the heat of the moment, fighting for her life, she didn’t notice the pain.

The flash of sunlight on her sword blinded Erdene for no more than a second. But a second was all Wadi needed. In that moment she moved swiftly up, and close to Erdene. So close . . . her hand suddenly grew warm, warm and wet.

Erdene’s mouth opened, then shut again, her throat trembling as she spoke. ‘Don’t . . . Don’t let . . .’

But before she could finish, the light went out in her eyes, and Erdene dropped to her knees, then to the ground, Wadi’s dagger stuck in her side.

‘I’m sorry about that,’ said the man, in surprisingly good Darhanian.

The inside of the man’s house was lit only by the light from a small bamboo stove. Shadows seemed to inhabit every corner, and as Raim’s eyes adjusted to the poor light, he saw how simply furnished it was. Heat emanated from the stove, which sat on a table in the corner. On top, there was a small iron kettle, brewing leaves. The smell reminded Raim of his grandmother’s favourite tea.

The man pulled a bowl down from the shelf, a deep crack running through the orange-red pottery. ‘I’ve been waiting for you.’ He poured a watery-looking substance into the bowl and passed it to Raim.

Raim sniffed it, and wrinkled his nose at the odd pieces of . . . brown gunk floating in the clear liquid. Tentatively he raised the bowl to his lips and took a sip.

‘Assuming, of course, you are Raimanan of Darhan.’

Raim almost choked on his sip of tea. He coughed as the liquid hit the back of his throat, and he had to steady himself against the table. The man waited for him to finish.

‘Can I take that as a yes?’

Raim hesitated for a moment, then nodded. ‘How did you know that?’

‘Welcome to the Southern lands, Raimanan.’ He smiled warmly, but then it faded slightly. ‘I’m afraid you’ve arrived at a difficult time. This village is very suspicious of foreigners, and someone washed up from the sea beyond the Xel rocks is especially suspect.’

‘You have been waiting for me?’

‘Yes, I am one of the servants of the Council.’ He gestured up to the wall behind Raim. A painting hung there. Raim swallowed hard. It depicted Lady Chabi, her eyes closed in sleep, but unmistakeably her. ‘We didn’t know when or where you would come, but there are servants everywhere along this shore and the borderlands of the desert, awaiting your return.’

So they have been preparing for me
, thought Raim.

‘It would seem that way,’ said Draikh.

‘I sent out a messenger bird as soon as I spotted your body in the cove. Other Council servants should be on their way. I hope they come quickly. I might not have been the only one to see you. With any luck, they will reach us before the sun and the villagers have properly risen . . .’

The man’s erratic tone set Raim on edge. Draikh seemed to feel it too. His spirit form kept flickering in and out. Draikh was not only weak, he was nervous and that made Raim nervous.

There was a loud bang on the door.

Now Raim’s eyes were truly open. The tiny one-roomed dwelling had no other exit point. One window had been hastily boarded over, rusty metal nails hammered in at precarious angles. The other window was half blocked by a tall chest.

Raim cursed himself. What had he thought when he’d arrived? The darkness. The shadowy corners. Of course, there was no light coming in. All of it had been blocked.

He’d just walked into a death trap.

Worse, now he could hear shouts, commotion outside the door.

‘Is there another way out?’ he asked the man.

He shook his head vigorously. ‘I thought we would have more time! I’m sorry; I was following instructions. Find you, bring you here until you can be collected . . .’