The Oathbreaker's Shadow (26 page)

‘You don’t really expect us to eat this, do you?’ Raim asked. He ran his finger across one of the pieces of meat and the tip turned black. He had eaten many strange things in his life, but this was pushing it even for him.

Wadi rolled her eyes. ‘Of course not. But around here there should be . . . ugh, will you look at this?’ Wadi kneeled down and gently stroked the roughly cut stalk of a jarumba plant. ‘Garus couldn’t even be bothered to ensure the plant would grow again!’ She got to work, attempting to salvage what she could from the plant that was close to death. Raim noted the care she took in slicing only the most mature parts of the root, so that the rest would continue to grow. ‘We must subsist on jarumba root from now on,’ she said. ‘Hope you haven’t lost your taste for it.’ She grinned at Raim.

Raim shook his head. ‘Jarumba? My favourite.’ He took the root from her hand, and then paused. ‘What happened back there?’ he asked. ‘The pass-stone just has to be returned to Lazar and then others can use it, right?’

Wadi’s face darkened. She looked on the verge of tears again. ‘Yes. That is true. But how many people who leave bring their stones back? Zero. For who would want to go back to Lazar after leaving it? No one.’

Vlad had his hand to his forehead and was rubbing the
flat part of his skull. ‘Forgive me, I still don’t understand. That was promise light we saw back there. And promise shadow from the other doorways. What does that mean?’

Draikh roared with sudden understanding. ‘Of course! That was it all along – there were spirits in the doorway. They are the guides! But what was the promise made?’

Wadi lowered her head. ‘It is the same promise anyone who uses a stone must make – and I knew it the moment I placed the stone in the wall. I had to promise to return with the stone to Lazar.’

Raim remembered her whispered curse. ‘Did you know you would have to make that promise?’

Wadi shook her head miserably. ‘No . . . but it’s the only way to get you back to Darhan.’

‘But why can’t you act like the other people who have fled Lazar? Just never come back, despite the vow?’

‘Because the stone will eventually destroy me, same as all those others who used it. Same as it must have destroyed my mother, and then my father. And then the curse will be passed down to whoever I leave it to – or if I leave it to no one, then whoever finds the stone accidentally. And unless I bequeath the stone to someone, they will never know what the task is that they have to achieve. And they will subsequently die.’

‘I thought that a promise died with the person who guards it,’ said Raim. ‘Which is why oathbreakers aren’t killed, they’re sent away.’

Vlad broke the awkward silence. hanging-indent-space-after
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that are even more important than Absolute Vows, Raim.’ He sighed and rubbed his temples. ‘And you have one of them. We’ve known it since you arrived. I’m sorry we didn’t tell you before, but Puutra was so determined to make you the greatest sage in Chauk history . . . The scar around your wrist – the fact that you don’t remember what it is about, the fact it was made before your Honour Age – is an indication of a generational promise.’ He expelled a deep breath after that, as if he couldn’t believe the words he had just said.

‘I’m sorry . . . what? A generational promise? You mean . . . all this is because I’m being punished for something my parents did? Or my grandparents? How is that fair?’ Raim’s face burned with anger, both at finding out about the generational promise and that the Shan had kept the knowledge from him this whole time. Raim looked up and shouted at the ceiling. ‘Why don’t you show yourself to me then, huh? Ancestor? Are you out there? Tell me how to break this curse!’

Of course, there was no reply.

Raim turned on Vlad. ‘What else do you know, that you haven’t told me?’

Vlad held his palms up to the sky. ‘As Baril, we read about these things in the ancient books. Generational promises are a legend . . . no one was ever thought to have made one, the consequences are too dire. You are essentially damning yourself and your descendants for eternity! The risk that the meaning behind the promise could be lost is too great.’

‘I guess I’m the perfect example of that,’ said Raim, his face crossed with frown lines. He was fed up with things having to be explained to him.

‘We should get moving,’ said Wadi.

Raim wasted no time in getting ready: he could dwell on the generational promise later. For now, he had a more pressing concern, and that was getting to Darhan as quickly as possible. Wadi looked inside all the camping packs, selected a couple and gave one to Vlad to carry. They all pushed the jarumba root to the space behind their back teeth, where it would continue to provide nourishment as they ran. Raim took off first, not waiting for the others. When Wadi and Vlad caught up, Wadi was doing her planning aloud: ‘The spirits in the doorways should guide us to Darhan using the quickest route possible. Then if we keep to the highest ground, we can try to spot Khareh’s camp.’

‘So tonight,’ Raim said, barely as a whisper because he didn’t dare believe it to be true, ‘we will sleep in Darhan.’

They passed through five more portals in much the same way, but when they reached the seventh, they knew it would be the final one before Darhan. Even before the pass-stone showed Wadi the way, Raim felt confident he could’ve chosen the right path no matter how the spirits decided to guide him. There was a freshness to the way the air smelled and a cleanness of taste – totally devoid of the
sand particles Raim had been ingesting with every breath in the desert.

He felt currents of energy nipping at his toes and fingertips, making him jumpy.

‘Would you stop that?’ Draikh said, turning a critical eye on Raim’s feet, which were incessantly hopping backward and forward.

‘I can taste it!’ Raim said with glee that could not be dampened by Draikh, try as he might.

Even Vlad’s energy had changed, grown younger and more lively.

The first blast of true fresh air was like coming up from being trapped underwater.

Raim gulped in the air and almost choked on the freshness. Outside it was dusk. The tunnel exited onto a rocky ledge. There was a good thirty feet between the ledge and the ground. Raim peered out over the edge. There was a cluster of fireflies hovering just below and beyond was an enormous plain of grass, which stretched out before him like a welcome mat.

Vlad reached out and put his hand on Raim’s shoulder, as if he had to stop the young boy from launching himself off the ledge and into the grass. But when Raim looked in the man’s eyes, he saw that they shared the same sense of longing. Looking out into the vast expanse of open land, the clear sky and the unexpected breath of moisture in the air, Raim suddenly had a pang for Oyu – the garfalcon would have loved this.

‘He will find his way here,’ said Draikh.

Are you sure?
thought Raim.

‘He wouldn’t miss this for the world.’

Wadi was the last through the tunnel and onto the ledge. When she was out in the fresh air, there was a deep rumble behind them. Raim spun round in time to see the ceiling of the tunnel collapse a few feet away from where they had exited. He gripped Wadi’s wrist beside him, both of them tense. When the rumble stopped, it was clear that there was no way back through the tunnel to Lazar.

‘I’m sorry . . .’ Wadi said. ‘I guess I should’ve been nicer to the spirits when asking them to get us to Darhan as quickly as possible.’

‘It’s not so bad,’ said Draikh. ‘Look at these vines hanging down from the top of the mountain. They will probably hold your weight and you can lower yourself down.’

‘Easy for you to say, you can float,’ said Raim, staring at the vines uncertainly. The source of the vines wasn’t even visible. The thick green strands disappeared into the low-lying clouds above them.

Vlad clasped one of them and shook it brusquely. Leaves and dirt tumbled past them, but the vine held. He shrugged and passed the vine to Raim first.

Raim grabbed the vine from Vlad’s hands and was surprised at how solid it seemed. He took a deep breath and without a second thought he launched himself off the
cliff. The descent was relatively easy as the vine was smooth and thankfully free of thorns. He slid down, occasionally pushing himself off the cliff face, and in minutes he touched the ground.

‘I’ve landed!’ he called up to the others. ‘Send Wadi now!’

But the next figure to launch off the cliff was not Wadi, but Vlad.

‘Good to see you haven’t lost any of your Baril arrogance,’ said Raim as Vlad’s boots touched the ground. ‘You send me down first so you know it’s safe and then you go yourself, before the only woman.’ Raim’s expression hovered between disapproval and worry. Vlad ignored him, brushed the dirt off his knees and walked onto the plain, breathing in the thick, green air.

‘Just because I’m a woman, doesn’t mean I need any special treatment!’ said Wadi as she yanked the vine. But halfway through her descent, a sickening crack shuddered through the air and the vine slackened in Wadihanging-indent-space-after
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The movement and the darkness and the voices had been terrifying, even though he knew what was happening. The blindfold now wrapped tightly over his eyes was coarse and scratched at his eyelids as he tried to open them. His wrists were bound too. He tugged at the knots but he knew they were solid. As he struggled, the knots only drew tighter, so he let his muscles relax and focused his attention on his a temporary settlement Ise his mind0">

He could hear others in the room, smell them. The breaths to his left were quick and shallow, making him think they belonged to Wadi. The freshness of the outdoors had been replaced by the thick scent of dirt-stiffened carpets. They were inside a yurt. The smell of blood and sweat dominated over even that, but Raim was certain it emanated from his own body, his skin burning where it had been scraped as he was dragged brutally over the terrain. He must have blacked out after their initial
capture, for he had no sense of time passing. Only the strange sense of déjà vu: the opaque rattan sack pulled over his head, the strong hands throwing him onto the back of a broad-shouldered and soon-to-be-swiftly-moving horse, the ropes lashing him in place. His head pounded with pain. A groan penetrated the barrier of agony, and it took a moment for Raim to realize it hadn’t come from his own mouth. Hesitantly, he whispered Wadi’s name.

Another groan replied. There was a slump next to him, as if Wadi had launched herself towards his voice. He even thought he felt strands of her hair tickle against his fingertips and he groped to stroke them, to let her know he was there, but strong footsteps shook the ground beneath him and lifted Wadi back upright.

The darkness momentarily brightened in front of his eyes and Raim assumed someone was entering the tent, pulling the curtain door aside. He was about to protest the treatment they were receiving, when the new arrival did it for him.

‘What is this?’ cried the voice. Raim felt his heart simultaneously leap and harden at the sound. He had found his best friend at last – both the worst and best feeling in the world. ‘Untie them! Such brutality is uncalled for – these are my friends, or at least, I think they are.’

The cold blade against his forearm made Raim jump. The moment he felt the bonds release, he tugged the blindfold down off his eyes.

And for a brief moment, he hardly recognized the
person standing in front of him. Khareh loomed enormous, a thick cloak of luxurious black velvet broadening his muscular frame by several inches. Layers of jewels hung off his neck, so many of them that Raim couldn’t even see the shirt on Khareh’s chest, although that too was surely blazoned in gold. The next items that caught Raim’s eye were the two giant blades that protruded from Khareh’s cloak like elephant tusks; impractical position for battling, sure, but Khareh had enough bodyguards not to have to worry about the functionality of his blades. Even more shocking to Raim was that the blades were translucent, like those supposedly reserved for the members of the Yun.

It took him so long to process Khareh’s new clothing that he had hardly looked at his friend’s face. When he did, he physically recoiled in shock. Khareh’s features were refreshingly familiar; the smug look on his face the same as when he had left it and the same look that he had encountered so often with Draikh. But Khareh’s turban was monstrous. It was not in the traditional purple that represented the Khanate of his uncle and his ancestors, but fashioned in a new, bright, jade green. Wrapped in the middle of the green fabric and sitting directly on top of Khareh’s head was the terrifying skull of a Darhan jaguar, two immense fangs curving down past its bone jaw until they reached Khareh’s eyebrows. Khareh was wearing the traditional headgear of the sages.

Raim knew he was staring, but he couldn’t tear his eyes from his former friend. Then it struck him. Khareh had
taken over the Khanate in every way, surpass the other apprenticesanvoed to ded his uncle in all measure. He was more a Khan than his uncle had ever been. Raim felt the nakedness of his own head more acutely then, realizing the magnitude of Khareh’s new position. Here he was, at the feet of the Khan of Darhan. Hatred boiled over.

‘You sicken me,’ he said, staring straight into Khareh’s eyes.

‘Oh, that’s some way to treat your best friend when you see them for the first time in months.’

‘My best friend?’ The term strangled his throat. ‘You expect me to be your friend after what you did?’

‘After what
I
did?’ Khareh said. Raim bristled as the hands of Khareh’s bodyguards moved deliberately to the handles of their swords, and Khareh continued to speak: ‘You are the one who betrayed your sacred vow to me, and I stood by you. They all said – those Yun leaders that you admired so much – that you were a traitor and I should hope for your death. I believed with all my heart that you must have had good reason for not meeting me in Pennar, and that when you returned, you would have rid yourself of that disgrace.’