The Oathbreaker's Shadow (7 page)

She blinked the moisture from her eyes, as if weighing up the decision. Then she pushed away from the wall and moved into a fighting stance. She bounced on the balls of
her feet a couple of times, then snapped forward to strike at Raim.

He allowed himself to take the blow, absorbing the majority of the force on his left shoulder. Then, when she attacked again, he turned his body as if protecting his injured left side. He watched as Erdene’s nostrils flared, as if she could almost smell his weakness. Then she went in again for the kill, but he used his uninjured right to deflect the force of her attack against her and almost flipped her onto the ground. Except he didn’t let her complete the fall, catching her a few inches from the floor.

They remained in that position for a moment. It was only a moment, but it was long enough for Raim to notice he could feel the strong muscles of her back through her coarse tunic where he’d caught her, long enough to notice her hair trailing on the ground over his sandals, tickling the skin of his toes. He lifted her up to her feet quickly, before he noticed anything else.

Her face was hot and red with the exertion, but a wry smile crossed her face. ‘I see what you did. Feinting. Got it.’ She reached forward and Raim held his breath. She straightened his tunic by running her hands across his shoulders. ‘There. Better.’

He smiled back, awkwardly.

‘So, Raim, where’s the Crown Prince? Aren’t you two always together at the moment? That’s what I heard . . . that you are close enough to be in line to be his Protector one day.’ She raisea proud young

After he’d recovered from his encounter with Erdene enough to move again, Raim meandered his way back through the alleys in the vague direction he the other apprenticese was I a couple of times from the i thought Dharma and Loni would come looking for him. He was of sound mind enough to check for any sign of the crowd he had lost in the markets first before leaving the alley. But instead, he saw an even more unexpected sight: Khareh.

‘Ah, Raim, just the person I was looking for!’

‘Oh, hey, Khareh. I’m supposed to be meeting Loni . . .’

‘Whatever you need to do, it can wait; I have something far more exciting.’

‘But Loni and Dharma are going to help me choose a promise string. I need it before the Yun battle begins, and that could be any time . . .’

‘Think of it this way,’ said Khareh, always the negotiator. ‘You’ve already thwarted the gods of fate just by
bumping into me. No going back now. You might as well give in and come with me.’

Raim shrugged and gave in, encouraged by Khareh’s infectious excitement. ‘So where are we going?’

‘You remember that sage?’

‘As if I could forget!’

‘Well, I convinced Altan to give us a few minutes of alone time with the magician before he’s formally shipped off to prison and executed. They’re keeping him in a yurt outside the wall near the Rentai. We’re going to make him teach me how to make a carpet fly.’

‘My head.’ Raim covered the top of his closely-shaven head with his hands. ‘If I’m seen like this, I’ll be recognized right away.’ He thought back to the market square, the crowds.

‘I came prepared,’ said Khareh. He fumbled in the bag he was carrying and brought out a length of turban cloth and a small, dirty canvas sack. Raim wrapped the cloth around his head.

‘What’s that for?’ He eyed the sack.

In response, Khareh dipped his hand into the bag and flung a handful of black ash from it into Raim’s face. Raim found himself with a mouthful of dust.

Khareh started running.

‘If you weren’t the Prince, I’d kill you!’ Raim sped after him.

‘You could try!’

They ran, weaving through the tumultuous Darhanian
crowd, ducking under baskets and avoiding the rotting fruit that littered the ground.

‘How can the sage teach you if he’s sentenced to death?’ Raim dropped his voice to a whisper as they got closer to the outer wall. ‘Surely you can’t learn magic just like that . . .’

‘There has to be a way, I just know it. I will force it out of him if I have to.’

They exited the city through one of the smaller gates and Khareh singled out the prison yurt. They crept behind the back. The tent was specifically designed to hold prisoners and traitors. It looked ordinary on the outside, and blended with the sea of felted tents all around it. But inside there was a second room, the walls of which were made of thick black material, blocking out all light and sound.

Against the dirty beige of the yurt, Khareh’s cloak sparkled. It was made from a bright blue weave covered with hundreds of tiny circular mirrors. Raim caught a quick glimpse of his reflection. His face was covered in ash, the black smeared all over his forehead, cheeks and nose. Contrasted with his dark eyes and the tan a temporary settlementmSVnodned skin visible around his hairline and neck, he looked a disaster. He prayed he wouldn’t run into anyone who might know him.

‘Khareh, you are a prince. You’re destined to rule . . . not to be an apprentice to a sage.’

‘I see no reason why I can’t be both. A prince with magic. Think how good that sounds. And anyway, how can he refuse me? I’m the Khan. He’s my subject, isn’t he?’
He disappeared into the yurt with a grand flourish.

Raim stared in disbelief as the curtain fell. ‘You’re not the Khan yet,’ he said, and slipped inside behind his friend.

Altan was waiting for them. Raim had always been wary of the Khan’s adviser, with his crooked fingers and pointed beak of a nose. Khareh always said he was harmless, but Raim wasn’t sure.

‘You must be quick,’ he said to Khareh. His breath caught as he spotted Raim. ‘Prince, forgive me, I thought I said to come alone.’

Khareh just shrugged. ‘And I decided to bring my friend with me.’

‘But the prisoner will only speak to you.’

‘So? Raim can hide inside. He won’t be seen.’

Altan’s eyes narrowed as he glanced over Raim’s ash-covered face and hastily thrown together turban. He refused to say anything further, and simply pulled back the second layer of cloth separating the prisoner’s room from the rest of the yurt.

Khareh strode in confidently, and Altan followed close behind. Raim slipped in last, creeping down low to the ground and staying close to the perimeter of the room. There was a stack of canvas sacks and fur pelts piled up along the far side. He squeezed behind it and kneeled down. From his vantage point, he could see the back of the prisoner. The sage’s hands were tied behind his back around the centre post, angry black ropes coiled like snakes around his wrists.

‘I wish to become a sage,’ said Khareh. ‘Will you be able to teach me?’

Raim shifted a coarse burlap sack. He could see Khareh’s face but not the sage’s. The sage was whispering and Raim struggled to hear a word.

‘My prince . . . not worthy of your attention . . . humble servant.’

By contrast, Khareh’s voice was strong and full of pride. Raim could sense his friend’s excitement bubbling right under the surface. ‘Prove your worth to me then, sage, and I will make sure you receive the respect you deserve in my court. The ancient books tell of a ruler so great, he united all of Darhan. He was a sage. Tell me how I can become him.’

There were more murmurings from the sage’s limp form. Raim caught the word ‘Batar’. Khareh grabbed one of the large urns near the sage and threw it to the ground, shattering it. Altan put his hand on the Prince’s shoulder, trying to restrain him. Khareh shrugged him off. ‘Sola take my uncle! Tell me what I need to do to become a sage!’

Tell him
, Raim said in silent prayer under his breath. He had seen Khareh blow up at his uncle, his tutors and his servants. If things didn’t go his way . . .

‘Fine.’ Khareh’s voice was hard and cold, like iron. ‘Have it your way. Tomorrow you will be sent to Garra prison, for a short stay in hell before you are executed. That death will come to you
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div.shading-50-whiteor Wadi and VladCC f as a mercy, if my uncle has anything to do with it. We don’t take kindly to oathbreakers who refuse their exile.’

Khareh turned on his heel, but there was a feeble ‘Wait’ from the sage. ‘I can teach you,’ the sage said, his voice ragged, then taking on a harder tone. ‘But it will require the ultimate sacrifice from you.’

‘Anything,’ Khareh breathed.

Hands gripped Raim’s ankles and pulled him under the curtained walls to the outer circle of the yurt. When he flipped over, he looked straight into the muddy green eyes of Mhara.

‘I’m . . . uh, well . . .’

‘Somewhere you definitely shouldn’t be? Come on.’

Raim’s stomach flipped with dread as she dragged him outside. But to his surprise, she said, ‘Don’t worry, I haven’t come to punish you – although you were doing an incredibly dangerous thing just then. The situations the Prince gets you into.’

He followed her back towards the city, pausing at a water pump so he could wipe his face. They entered the city through the main gates, and into the jostling market.

‘Mhara – how could the sage teach Khareh how to conjure?’

Mhara scoffed as if she hardly believed the magic to be real. But she had been in the royal yurt and seen it too, with her own eyes. ‘I have no time for legends. No doubt he thinks he is a precious commodity. But to me, his magic is nothing.’

‘So you don’t believe he is a sage like in the old stories?’

‘No, I am sure they died out long ago. He should have
stayed in Lazar, where oathbreakers like him belong.’ Suddenly, she broke out into a rare smile. ‘You know, Raim, you have been my best pupil. There is no doubt that you are the most promising apprentice the Yun has ever had. No need to blush, it is true. Your skills are far beyond your years.’

Raim beamed back, relieved that his antics hadn’t got him kicked out of the Yun apprenticeship the day before his test. ‘Khareh is already preparing all the celebrations for tomorrow. I tried to tell him that I hadn’t actually won yet, but he wouldn’t listen.’

Her smile slowly faded. ‘You should be wary of Khareh,’ she said, after a long silence.

‘He’s my best friend.’

‘I know.’ She seemed to stare straight into his skull. ‘Has he made you his Protector?’

Raim shook his head and broke away from his mentor’s un comfortable scrutiny. ‘But he will.’ He paused, then added, ‘And I would be honoured.’

‘Do you remember when I told you about the Absolute Vow?’

Of course he remembered. How could he forget? It was the defining moment of his life, when he first realized that his greatest ambition – becoming the Khan’s Protector and leader of the Yun – could actually come true. But it unnerved him to remember it now. Mhara obviously still held reservations about Khareh. Did she still not trust him to make the right decision about his own future?

The conversation had taken place three years ago, when he was long settled into his Yun apprenticeship. They had been riding together, Raim on Pouri, an old but a temporary settlementmSVnod experienced mare and Mhara on Crear, a magnificent black stallion. They were returning from archery practice. Raim was learning to synchronize the release of his arrow with Pouri’s gallop, so that all her hooves were in the air at the time of the shot. It would improve his aim immensely. And he had succeeded that day, so Mhara was pleased with him. They would’ve continued to train long into the dark, but his ring had broken.

The ring was vital. He wore it on his thumb. The string on a Yun bow was too taut, the tension too strong, to be maintained by human fingers alone, let alone the fingers of a thirteen-year-old boy. To supplement their strength they used a ring with a curved hook protruding from it, like the talon of a bird of prey, which they wore on the strongest digit – the thumb to pull back the string. His was just made out of crudely sewn strips of leather – a hunter’s ring really, not made for the challenge and rigour of warfare. He eyed Mhara’s ring with envy and excitement. It was made of a precious white metal and richly engraved with symbols from her tribe and the khanate. One day, he would have a ring like that too. But for now, they had to return, so he could mend the leather talon, which had snapped off the circular part of the ring.

He thought she must have caught him staring at it, for she rotated her ring slowly as they meandered back to
camp with their horses. ‘Straighten your back more,’ she said, commenting on his technique. ‘And adjust your feet so your toes are just balancing on the stirrup. You need to be as nimble as a dancer when you shoot.’

He couldn’t ask for a better teacher. While there may have been one or two Yun who could best Mhara in a sword fight, in archery she had no equal. What she lacked in arm muscle – and she didn’t lack much – she made up for in accuracy and horsemanship. She could see impossibly long distances, finding targets across the miles. She never learned to read or write, and couldn’t stand to look at maps, not even for strategizing. Instead, she would look out over the country side and develop plans with her immense mental and actual vision. Anything close seemed to bother her.

Even people. She was the first Protector to be a woman in ten generations of Khans. If it had been any other woman, someone could have started slanderous rumours, accusing her of making the Khan unfaithful to the Seer-Queen or of seducing her way into power. But the Khan had been careful in his selection. Mhara had never been known to show affection to anyone. The closest she ever came were displays of pride and almost motherly tenderness towards her favourite apprentice, Raim. And even those moments were few and far between.

That day had been the first time she had shown him her promise knot to Batar-Khan. Mhara had drawn her curved scimitar out from its sheath and balanced it on top of her
knees. The blade itself was deadly and beautiful – Raim had to shield his eyes from the glint. Sealed inside the translucent blade like an insect trapped in an amber tomb was a simple knot; simple, but it represented her Absolute Vow of unconditional fealty to Batar-Khan. The knot was preserved even though the process of being sealed in the mould with searing hot ochir would destroy ordinary thread. And – Sola forbid – if Mhara were to break her vow, the sword would shatter and the knot would burn, marking her like any other oathbreaker.