The Shadow’s Curse (37 page)

All of this had been started by Lady Chabi: a woman who had never had his best intentions at heart. All she had wanted was power.

Raim knew what he wanted: to get back to Wadi, to Loni, to Dharma, and to the land that he loved. The knotted bracelet around his wrist felt more like a betrayal than the scar ever had. No matter what vows he made, he would always choose to defend the ones he loved at all costs. And right now, a threat was coming to his lands, and he was the only one who could stop it.

Or maybe Naran had just gone completely to his head.

‘I hope you’re making the right decision. I wish you’d let me know what it was.’

Raim kept his mind carefully guarded.
You know I can’t do that.

‘Just don’t do anything stupid.’

What, like trying to sneak past the army of the man who tried to kill me in the middle of the desert, in the middle of the day, towards the person who is my sworn enemy?

‘Well, anything
more
stupid.’

I’ll try.

Focus was his main goal now. Focus, and the thin blur of mountains on the horizon that was steadily growing thicker with every swerve they made through the sand.

‘You do know that I might be able to summon water out here, if we move to a spot where I can sense the underground river more easily,’ said Draikh.

Just those words in his head made Raim’s mouth yearn for water. In any other place, his mouth might have filled with saliva at the thought – but here it was just full of dust and sand.
Why would you torture me by saying that?

‘I just meant—’

No
. Raim cut him off more sharply than he meant to, unable to keep control of his temper in the heat.
I need you to do nothing else but focus on getting to full strength.

‘Fine,’ said Draikh. ‘Just know that I could help you.’

The thought was so tempting. He could ask Draikh to lift him up and take him to his destination, but that would defeat their purpose. Draikh needed all his strength – every ounce of it – for what Raim would soon want him to accomplish.

Too quickly the sun dropped behind them, and they doubled their pace. Raim knew that the king would not let his army rest until they reached the mountains of Lazar. Every time he felt like flagging, he remembered just what the price would be if he failed. He wished he’d realized his mother and the king’s treachery earlier, when the king did not have a stock of water to keep his army healthy. Then maybe Oyu would still be alive. It was too late to think of that now, so he had to be quicker.

He kept his head held high, though the muscles in his neck felt the strain. They were almost there.

Is there any sign of him?

Draikh lifted up into the sky. ‘I can’t see anything, just more desert.’

How is that possible? I thought
 . . . Raim felt his heart constrict in his chest and he struggled to control his breathing.
What if he hasn’t come? What if something happened to him already? What if
 . . .

‘Wait. I think I see something. Up there, on the mountainside.’

Raim looked up, following the direction that Draikh was pointing. Then, for the first time in hours, he stopped moving.

The loss of momentum caused him to drop to his knees.

Mesan snapped his neck around, not stopping his own movements – only slowing them. ‘You can’t stop here. You must keep moving.’

Raim let Mesan help him to his feet again, and somehow he willed his legs to keep moving. But he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the mountain.

Pouring out of a yawning cave entrance high up the mountainside was a river of spirit energy, so thick he could hardly make out individual spirit-forms. It looked like a shimmering, silver waterfall, one that curved in on itself and back into the mountain.

There was only one person on the earth who commanded that many spirits: Khareh. Khareh had brought his spirit-army to face King Song’s army. The person who commanded that spirit-army would easily be able to defeat the Southern King, and take the throne of the Golden Khan – ruling over the North and the South.

Khareh might wear the crown and be the Khan. But part of Raim’s own spirit led the army.

But then something sent him into a tailspin of panic once again. The spirit-army was heading back into the mountain. That meant that Khareh wasn’t preparing his army to meet the Southern King’s.

It meant that he was about to enter Lazar.

Raim forgot about the heat. He forgot about the sun. He forgot about how hard it was to move in the desert, and before Mesan could raise a cry to stop him, Raim burst into a sprint. He yelled for Draikh. And with a running leap into the air, he allowed himself to be caught by Draikh, and together they flew as fast as the spirit could fly towards the path that would lead to Lazar.

The first time she’d travelled this passage, she had been running toward the city, away from the Alashan. She’d had an insatiable desire to see Lazar, driven by her pass-stone, and yet she had also been filled with dread.

This time, she felt almost the exact same emotions. Drive that led to excitement. Fear that led to dread. Except this time as she walked, she was not alone. In fact, if she dared to look behind her, not only would she see Khareh in his impressive costume, his crown perched back on top of his head, his green velvet cloak around his shoulders, but behind him she would see the shadows of his spirit-army fill the rest of the narrow crevice, as far back as her eyes could see.

But she did not turn around. She kept her eyes focused forward.

They reached the first square, with its two gigantic figures standing guard – one in an expression of sadness, the other in an expression of horror. They passed the gong, which still lay on the floor from when Silas-yun had broken it into pieces. She stepped over the shards, and walked straight up to the first door. She pounded on it with her fist, the action barely making a sound.

But she knew that someone would hear it.

She banged once more, as hard as she could, for good measure, and then she turned around.

A wave of nausea came over her at the sight, and her knees felt weak. There was so much power in front of her under Khareh’s command. But she forced herself to remember. The only real power here was Khareh and his original spirit. The spirit-part of Raim had never been to Lazar. Wadi thanked all the gods for that fact. The haunt didn’t know what was to come, and couldn’t warn Khareh what she had planned.

She had expected Puutra-bar or another member of the Shan to appear at the top of the gate, as he had done on that first day. But he didn’t. A small door, carved within the larger, opened off to one side. Her heart jumped to see the familiar old man appear on the threshold. He appeared equally surprised, as he stopped in his tracks, saw Khareh and his army, and let out a squeal so undignified Wadi almost laughed. Until she thought about how scared he must be.

Puutra was already shutting the door, so Wadi cried out, ‘Puutra-bar! It’s me.’

The door opened again by an inch. ‘Wadi?’

She nodded. ‘I have brought with me the Khan of Darhan. He has come to declare himself khan of this city, and his first act will be to protect you and the rest of the Chauk from the approach of the Southern King.’

Khareh walked over, and to Wadi’s surprise, he dropped into a small bow to the old man. ‘With my spirit-army, I am unstoppable. Accept me as your leader without any quarrel, and I will not let your city or its people come to any harm.’

Confusion wriggled across Puutra-bar’s face.

‘Tell me you will welcome him, Puutra? The people of Lazar have no choice.’ Wadi was careful to keep her voice neutral, and Puutra studied both of them for what felt like an endless second.

Then he returned Khareh’s bow. He raised an eyebrow. ‘We are a people subjugated by our own demons, my Khan, but if you are offering us protection then we will take it – as we can provide none for ourselves. Please, let me open our city walls, and you can enter to own what is rightfully yours.’

‘Thank you, Puutra-bar,’ said Khareh, his voice solemn.

Puutra retreated back behind the door to signal the opening of the gates. There was a loud creak, and slowly the huge doors opened.

Khareh put his hand on Wadi’s shoulder, and she had to control herself not to jump a mile in the air. ‘That was easier than I expected,’ Khareh said.

Wadi did not trust herself to speak.

They waited until the doors were fully open, and they looked up to see the entire city of Lazar gathered around the entrance, just as they had done when Raim had entered before.

Wadi took the first step forward. She turned back to Khareh, and extended out her arm. ‘Are you ready?’

He swam through spirits.

Draikh had dropped him at the entrance of the crevice in the mountainside that led to Lazar and from there he had been running through the sea of haunts. They did not impair his movement at all, but it was disconcerting. He tried to keep his focus ahead, unable to look any of the haunts in the eye.

Faster, faster.

He willed himself to move. He wasn’t too late yet. Not if the haunts were still there.

He skidded out into the first square, and his heart stopped when he saw the gates were open.

He saw Wadi, her arm outstretched, standing inside the gates of Lazar.

He saw himself, his spirit, behind Khareh, caught his eye, and saw the panic in his face.

He saw Khareh take a step.

He let out a cry that echoed off the crevice’s high stone walls:

‘No!’

Wadi held her breath.

Khareh stepped through the doorway.

There was a loud cry from across the cavernous entrance. Wadi’s jaw dropped as her eyes took in Raim – the real Raim – who appeared in the opening, shouting a long, drawn-out ‘NO . . .’

Even the sudden appearance of Raim, though, could not hold her attention for long – not with Khareh standing there. He passed through the gates and seemed confused for a moment – both at Wadi’s sudden expression of surprise, and at the shock of hearing Raim’s voice, and so he hadn’t fully registered what was happening.

‘Wait. Where are they going?’ said Khareh. He looked up, and the colour drained from his face. His spirit-army had followed him into Lazar, but in crossing the threshold, they flew into the sky and disappeared. One by one, his power drained away, lost up into the sky.

‘What is happening?’ asked Khareh. ‘Wadi? What is happening?’ He jumped in the air, as if he could catch the spirits and hold them to the ground. ‘No! No, they can’t! I need them.’

Waves of relief and guilt and happiness and fear swept over Wadi, threatening to overwhelm her. She didn’t know whether to feel joy at what she’d accomplished or terror at the potential consequences. This was what she wanted, but it clearly wasn’t what Raim wanted. She didn’t understand. When she spoke, her voice shook. ‘You have come to Lazar, the home of the oathbreakers. When you pass through these gates, your oath is fulfilled. The spirits may forgive you, or not. It appears that every single person you betrayed to gain your spirit-army chose to forgive you.’ Even as she spoke, Wadi watched as more and more of Khareh’s spirit-army disappeared, until a final whoosh of spirit energy rushed through the doorway, and there were no spirits left. With one exception: the spirit of Raim.

‘You betrayed me,’ said Khareh. He had never looked so young in all the time that Wadi had known him. He stared at her with wide eyes. ‘I trusted you.’

‘You shouldn’t have,’ Wadi whispered. But now she couldn’t tear her eyes from Raim, who approached the pair with a look of thunder upon his face.

‘You.’ Raim ran at him then, all sensible thoughts flying from his mind. All the words he had planned for this moment were gone too, lost in a swirling ocean storm of pent-up rage and fear. Raim collided with Khareh and his crown flew off his head, crashing to the ground.

Spirit-Raim, the last haunt remaining, leaped to Khareh’s defence. But Draikh was also there, and more than a match for him.

Raim’s fury added power to his punches, but also made them swing wild. Khareh ducked and dodged, avoiding the full brunt of the assault, and eventually landed one of his own kicks on Raim’s stomach, knocking the wind out of him. Raim didn’t care. Even as his stomach complained and his lungs struggled for air, he grappled for Khareh’s leg, grabbing it and twisting it around.

Khareh dropped to the ground with a thud, but with his other leg kicked out and brought Raim to the ground too. They wrestled there, Raim unable to shake the anger that fuelled his every movement.

‘Stop!’ cried Wadi. ‘This isn’t you!’

And Raim knew that she was right. He pulled back and scrambled to his feet, but dropped his fists, just in time for Khareh to land one last blow on his cheek, sending him flying into the ground.

He tasted dirt, and blood.

‘Raim!’ he heard Draikh’s voice in his mind.

Let him finish me
, thought Raim.
I don’t care.
He dared one last glance at Wadi. She was in fighting stance too. But she wasn’t looking at him. No. Her last fierce words hadn’t been for him at all. They’d been for Khareh.

Khareh was breathing heavily, his cheeks flushed red. ‘The wolf is here for me, Raimanan. The wolf is here and this time you’ve not come here to save me. Look at me. I have nothing any more.’ He opened his hands palm out. His clothes were ripped and caked in dirt, his crown cast aside on the ground, one of the jaguar fangs cracked.

All the eyes of Lazar were on them, and Raim steeled himself for their scrutiny.

He forced himself to stand up, the rush of blood and pain making him woozy. But his mind was clear, and the familiar tingling sensation ran across his body, healing his every wound. He saw Khareh’s eyes go wide as the cut on his cheek closed, and Draikh was nowhere near. ‘After I saved you from that wolf, you became my friend. I knew you, so I knew you would have done the same for me.