Shadow Lost (The Shadow Accords Book 4) Page 6
Without a violation, Carth wouldn’t do anything to disrupt the peace, especially since they had fought so hard to gain it in the first place. In this, she agreed with Dara: the Hjan likely planned something more than they knew, which was the very reason Carth worried about the blood magic.
Guya stopped next to her, crouching low as she studied the dead woman. “This was not the Hjan. You think it’s—”
Carth shook her head. “I don’t know. It’s different than the ship, but it might be the same.”
“Can you tell if there’s anything else here?”
“Such as other powers?”
Guya nodded. “You’ve said you can pick up on the Hjan. If it’s not them, are there others you can detect?”
“Some, but I don’t detect anything else.”
“Why do I get the sense that bothers you?”
“Because it does. That blood magic… I wouldn’t be able to detect it.”
Carth stood and surveyed the rest of the tavern. There were at least a dozen other bodies, each lying in various positions, and all with their throats slit, making it appear as if it had been a non-magical attack. That didn’t change the softly burning sense she had across her skin, and the sense of unease that crawled within her that this wasn’t quite right.
“How many different powers can you detect?”
“Reshian. A’ras. Hjan. I don’t know about any others.” Now that she knew about the blood magic, could she detect it? If she could, would she be able to anticipate it, and maybe defend against it?
She moved to the next body. There was nothing particularly interesting about this one either, other than the fact that this was a younger man, probably barely older than a boy, and his neck now had a gaping wound where his life had leaked out.
“We don’t know what’s taking place here.”
“We don’t, but that’s what I need to discover.”
She’d gone from having her parents teaching and protecting her, to Vera and Hal, to the A’ras, and then to Jhon. After escaping Ras, she had discovered she didn’t need someone else watching her, and didn’t need for someone to guide her. She was able to make her own decisions.
After stopping the Hjan threat, it was clear to her what she needed to do, if not how.
“You think this a magical attack?” Dara asked, touching the back of her neck. She made a point of not looking at the bodies.
“I do. When I use my different abilities, I can feel something. With the A’ras magic, it’s an irritant. With the shadows, it’s something off, as if the shadows are distorted. With this… I can’t put my finger on it, but there’s something not quite right,” she said.
She stopped at the counter running along one side of the tavern. The layout here reminded her in some ways of the Wounded Lyre, the tavern where she had spent the better part of a year after her parents had died—her mother, at least. Her father lived, something that troubled her still.
A film coated the counter, and she ran her hand along it, finding it sticky. Was it only dried ale and spilled food, or was there something else here?
Why kill all these people? Had it been the same kind of attack they’d encountered on the sea?
“Is it them?” Dara asked. “The blood priests?”
“Priests?”
Dara shrugged. “You described them as using the blood in something like a ceremony. That’s the only term that seems to fit.”
Strangely, it did for Carth as well. “I don’t know.”
She made her way around the inside of the tavern. She stopped at each of the bodies, looking at them, but she detected nothing else. Each person had been killed in the same way.
That troubled her.
“Why would all of their throats be slit?” she asked, looking to Guya for answers she doubted he had. “They didn’t kill the women this way.”
“Not all of these are women,” Guya said.
Not all women, so the attack wasn’t like what they’d come across on the Tempar.
But there was something else that troubled her. There was blood, but not so much as she would have expected. The tavern itself didn’t appear as if it had been attacked, so there didn’t seem to have been much of a struggle. No chairs were tipped over, and tables still had trays laden with food on them. Whatever had happened here had been deliberate, and it had been done almost casually, not with the kind of violence these deaths should require.
Had they already been dead?
That would explain why there didn’t seem to have been a struggle, and it might explain why there didn’t seem to be nearly as much blood as she would expect.
And nothing answered the question of whether there had been a power used here. That was the question she needed answered most of all.
“What are you thinking?” Dara asked.
“They were already dead,” Carth said, standing and taking a deep breath, peering around the tavern. What had she missed? What more would she be able to find?
“How do you know?”
“I don’t know, but it is the answer that makes the most sense.”
Carth finished her circuit of the inside of the tavern. There wasn’t anything more to it other than this single room and a kitchen in the back. In Nyaesh, many of the taverns also possessed an inn, but this one didn’t.
She stepped back out into the sunlight. There was a time when having nothing but the bright sun overhead would have posed a problem, but that had been when her primary strength had come in the form of the shadow magic. Now that she wore her mother’s ring, she was better able to connect to the A’ras flame and no longer struggled to reach even that level of power. The sunlight didn’t necessarily help, but it didn’t restrict her either.
Dara followed her out of the tavern. They stood on the edge of the city, and the docks stretched away from the shore, long teeth reaching into the deepwater bay. There weren’t many like it that could accommodate ships like the Goth Spald, but this city could.
In either direction down the street, other buildings rose. Many were two or three stories tall, something she had grown accustomed to seeing on these islands, especially as they often had such little usable land. The city attempted to make full use of what they had available.
“What is it?” Dara asked. The anger in her voice remained. How long would that be there?
“This tavern is like this, but no one else seemed to know.”
“If they didn’t go in…”
“Why wouldn’t they have gone in?” Carth asked. “Look at the street. It’s not as if it isn’t busy.”
There were hundreds of people moving along the street. Most were dressed in the same thick wool, though some had robes like the man she’d seen in the tavern. As she watched the street, she noted people moving into some of the storefront buildings and others back out. Even the stores on either side of the tavern had people entering and leaving, but not the tavern.
Could it only be their presence?
She grabbed Dara and pulled her across the street. They stopped in a shadowed section between two buildings and Carth pulled on the shadows, concealing them. As she did, she watched, waiting to see what else might come out.
Guya emerged, and she released the shadows enough for him to see them before engulfing him in shadows as well. He’d had enough time with her to recognize what she did, and didn’t question it until he’d crossed the street and reached them.
“Why are you concealing us?” he asked.
“There’s something here—”
Nausea hit her and she stopped talking.
It was a quick flickering sense, one that nearly bent her over with nausea. It had been nearly a year since she’d detected something similar, but she knew immediately what it was.
“They’re here.”
“Who?” Guya asked.
Dara watched her, a worried look on her face. Carth had explained what it meant when she detected the nausea, and she seemed to understand without her telling them. But Guya needed answers.
8
Carth pulled on the shadows as she crossed the street, gliding with them. There had been a time when she hadn’t known how to move and hold the shadows at the same time, but she’d discovered that she could do so by flowing with them. This allowed her the ability to slide with them and even on a bright day, she could use the shadows as she crossed the street, pulling something that appeared more like smoke or fog as she did.
She reached the door of the tavern, her sword unsheathed, and kicked open the door.
On the other side, three Hjan stood.
They all turned to her as she entered, two with the same strange scar running down the side of her face as she’d seen with the others, and focused on her. The third had no scar, and focused on her with eyes that were the deepest green she’d ever seen.
“You would violate the accords?” she asked.
The unscarred man waved a hand and the other two disappeared with a flicker. Carth noted they took two of the bodies with them.
She frowned. What was this about?
Her Tsatsun training kicked in. The Hjan would have an agenda, and if she could figure it out, she would know what their endgame might be. The trouble was, she didn’t know what they wanted this time. Before, it had been about obtaining the power of the Reshian or the A’ras, but these lands didn’t know either of those powers. Whatever the reason they were here, it would be about power—Carth was sure of that—but what power existed here?
Could it be about the blood magic? Had the Hjan learned of it already?
“There is no violation unless you attack, Carthenne of Ih-lash,” he said.
She hesitated. The Hjan knew her name. She’d expected that they would learn, hadn’t really expected to keep that secret from them, but that they knew it placed her in a more dangerous position. She knew nothing about this man, other than that he was one of the Hjan.
“Were you responsible for this?”
The Hjan grunted, somehow making it sound like a laugh. “Responsible for this? You have seen how the Hjan work, Carthenne of Ih-lash.”
“That was no answer.”
“This was not us.”
“Then why are you here?”
The Hjan shrugged and then flickered, appearing again near the back of the tavern. As she watched, he flickered from place to place around the tavern before finally settling on one of the dead. It was an older man, and not one she’d spent much time studying.
“I would ask the same of you,” he said.
“I’m here to ensure you don’t violate the accords.”
The green-eyed man smiled. “The accords have been signed by all parties. Why would we violate them? Besides, unless you claim membership with the Reshian or A’ras, I think you are outside of the accords, are you not?”
He knew.
That had been part of the reason she’d remained free from the Reshian and from the A’ras. If she joined either, she wouldn’t be able to act were the Hjan to attack again, and she wanted to be able to attack them. She’d seen the way her combination of magic, both the shadows and the flame, allowed her to stop the Hjan. There were few others with that ability.
“I have not attacked you. Do not entice me to do so,” the Hjan said.
“If I were going to attack you, I would have done so by now.”
The green-eyed man smiled at her. “So confident. I must admit you have proven an intriguing challenge. It is too bad you’ve neglected the other parties in the accords.”
“What other parties?”
“You have forgotten them already? And here I heard you were half of each.”
“The Reshian and the A’ras maintain the peace.”
“Do they?” he asked with a smile.
Carth felt her heart speeding up. She’d remained outside of the accords, but what would happen if the Hjan forced either of the other parties to violate them?
“What happens if I drive my sword through your stomach?”
His smile widened. “You would risk the peace you so graciously established?”
“I would risk nothing.”
“No? The Hjan would claim Reshian attacked. Or A’ras. Perhaps we could even place the blame on the C’than, though I do not believe you have accepted their offer. I imagine the Trivant are most displeased with that decision.”
Carth forced herself to maintain a neutral expression. How did this man know so much about her? And what were the C’than and the Trivant?
More she didn’t understand.
But if he knew what he claimed, he would be able to use it not only against her, but against those she would see remain safe. The accords had settled the Reshian and the A’ras, stopping a silent war that had been waged far longer than she once would ever have believed.
Carth had seen this man before, she was sure of it, and now that he had come here openly… or had he?
She had surprised him by coming here, and he had the other Hjan removing bodies. There had to be some reason behind it.
“How much do you know about blood magic?” Carth asked.
The green-eyed man offered a hint of a smile. “I know more than you can imagine, Carthenne of Ih-lash.”
She lunged at him, slicing with her sword, not intending to hit him, but wanting to distract more than anything. With the attack, she pulled on the shadows, drawing them with her, wrapping herself in them for strength.
The green-eyed man flickered.
When he reappeared, he held a slender blade. “You would risk the accords for revenge?”
“Is that what you think?” Carth attacked again, this time nearly catching him. When he flickered, the nausea was stronger.
He appeared in the same place he had been before. “It’s a dangerous game you’re playing, Carthenne of Ih-lash.”
“What makes you think this is a game?”
“Is not everything a game?”
He watched her expression, and Carth didn’t think she managed to keep it nearly as neutral as she wanted.
How much did he know about her?
Did he know that her father had played games with her? Did he know about her collecting scraps while living along the docks with Vera and Hal, the way they had made a game of it for her? Did he know that she had learned Tsatsun from Ras?
He seemed to understand her struggle, and smiled again.
Carth lunged, pulling on both the shadows and the S’al.
Now that she wore her mother’s ring, she could use that power in ways she could not before. It was as if the ring itself connected her to the magic more deeply, allowing her to reach for the flame without the same anger and passion that she’d needed before.
She pressed out with her power, pushing away from her in an attack, no longer using her sword.
The green-eyed man waved his hand, and the power seemed to dissolve around him.
In some ways, the control of power he possessed reminded her of Ras, but what this man did was different from what Ras did. He used no obvious magic, none that she could see. He’d simply stopped her.
Stranger still, she’d felt nothing when he had. Not as she had when she had fought the Hjan before.
Wasn’t this man one of the Hjan?
“Who are you?” she asked.
The green-eyed man grinned. “I thought you knew.”
She had thought she knew, just as she had thought that she could defeat him, but with the power he possessed, she wouldn’t be able to overwhelm him with her abilities. In that way, it reminded her of how Ras had defeated her, the way he had managed to simply wave off her attack, and worse, block her from even reaching her magic.
“You’re with the Hjan.”
“The Hjan are a tool, Carthenne of Ih-lash. Much like you are used as a tool.”
“I’m not used by anyone.”
“No? Then why are you here?”
Carth didn’t have to answer, and didn’t know why she did. She hoped that keeping him talking would ge
t him to reveal more about himself, and she needed to understand his abilities, needed to know who he was. “Partly to prevent the Hjan from disrupting the accords. That is all you want.”
“Is that what you think, Carthenne of Ih-lash? Is that what they have taught you?”
“Tell me what it might be, then.”
Wrapped in the shadows, she slid toward him, attacking again.
The green-eyed man flickered almost lazily away from her, a wide smile on his face.
When he reappeared, he watched her. “Have you asked them how we are so different?”
“Asked who?”
The green-eyed man flickered again as she lunged toward him. She no longer thought she could stop him, and if he truly attacked her, she wondered if she would be able to defeat him. The only hope she had was that he seemed interested in remaining away from her sword, and his gaze occasionally drifted to her knife.
Switching weapons, she held the knife out in front of her, slipping her sword back into the sheath. If he feared the knife more than the sword, she would use that instead.
And why wouldn’t he? When she’d faced the Hjan in Wesjan, she’d used the knife and forced shadows through it, using the power of the shadows and of the flame to stop the Hjan. She wondered if she might be able to do something similar to him. With the way he made a point of staying away from her knife, she suspected he did as well.
“You have much to learn before you can play the real game.”
“What game is that?”
“The only one that matters,” he said, flickering again.
Carth noted that he appeared near the same body he had before. She glanced down at the man, trying to understand why he would continue to return to this body, but didn’t see anything that would help her.
“What game?” she asked. She lunged, knife extended, shadows flowing through her.
He grabbed the arm of the dead man. “Power.” Then he flickered, disappearing.
Nausea rolled through her again, slowly settling back to nothingness.
The door to the tavern opened again, and Dara entered with her knife unsheathed, Guya following. There was hesitancy to their faces, but they had come. That pleased her more than it should. “What was it? Why did you hurry back?”