Shadow Cursed

The palace walls no longer towered over her as they once had, but Carth still felt the pressure from them, something that was more spiritual than actually physical yet left her wanting to escape nonetheless. The creeping ivy along the side felt like her spirit clamoring to get free of the palace, with the incessant training and the brutality she faced each day.

“If you keep staring at that wall, you’re bound to find some fault in it, don’t you think?”

Carth glanced to Samis, who lounged near the wall, his sword resting across his legs, a sheen of sweat coating his brow. How long had he been sitting there watching her? Probably too long, she decided, long enough to know how she longed to leave the practice yard and how she longed to climb like the ivy and see the inside of the city. It had been five years since she’d been allowed out. Five years she had remained within these walls, not imprisoned so much as protected.

“What’s to find fault with?” she asked. She made a conscious effort to tear her hand away from the hilt of her sword and turned to face him. Though the top of her head might only come to his shoulders, she wasn’t about to let him see her intimidated. Mostly because she wasn’t—not really—but also because she had to struggle for every bit of respect she’d gained while training and she wasn’t about to let Samis Gold take any of it from her. “The ivy is beautiful as it grows along the sides of the walls.”

Samis stood and wiped the edge of his blade with his shirt. What was the fool doing with his shirt off anyway? If he thought that impressed her, then he was mistaken. Well… mostly mistaken.

“Who cares if the ivy is beautiful? Look at the stone. That’s where the strength is. The ivy doesn’t keep you from getting past the wall, does it? That’s the stone.”

“I would suggest that you are both wrong.”

Carth jerked her head around to see Invar Tolneson standing behind them. How had he managed to sneak up on her so easily? All this time, she had been thinking she was getting more skilled, but with one simple act, he made it clear just how little she had learned. She would use the shadows to determine where he was, but the shadow magic had been forbidden from her here. Not because the A’ras thought she shouldn’t use it but because these walls somehow blocked her from doing so. It was for her own good, Jhon had told her before leaving her here; because of it, she would learn the A’ras way, and from there she could develop other abilities and eventually merge them with her ability with the shadows. But Carth couldn’t help but feel that she was missing something because she hadn’t used it for so long. She refused to let herself think about whether she could still even reach the shadows when she crossed to the other side of the wall.

“How is that wrong, Master?” Samis asked. He flipped his shirt over his shoulder as he sheathed his sword. She would have rather seen him cover himself than the sword. At least the sword she could deal with.

“Your assumption is wrong. You believe that it must be either the stone or the ivy.”

“You think it’s both?” Samis asked.

Invar arched a brow at Samis’s casual tone. If Samis was going to attempt such a relaxed attitude with any of the masters, it should not be Invar. Carth wasn’t even surprised to see him. Invar had been appearing around her more and more often, which she thought strange, but there was nothing she dared say about it, not to one of the masters.

“I think that there could not be strength without the other. The ivy needs the stone for support, and the stone needs the ivy for its beauty. Yes,” Invar said, tipping his head to Samis, “beauty. There is strength in beauty.”

Samis touched the leaves of the ivy and plucked one from the vine. He brought it to his nose and sniffed it before tossing it back to the ground.

“Yet it is neither the ivy nor the stone which grants the strength that you discuss.”

“What, then?” Samis asked.

“You study with the A’ras, yet you must question what gives strength to the wall?” Invar stared at them intently for a moment. Power radiated from him, as if the man exuded it. With Invar, that was possible.

He turned his back to them and left, crossing the lawn at a measured pace, his hands clasped behind his back.

Samis grabbed a strand of ivy and jerked. The muscles in his arm flexed, giving him another chance to show off, but the vines didn’t budge. Some of the leaves fell, but there was nothing else he could do to tear them free, short of unsheathing his sword again and hacking at them.

“You don’t care for the beauty?” she asked.

Samis sniffed. “Beauty? These are weeds, Carth, regardless of what Invar claims. They don’t do anything to hold the wall. What Invar doesn’t say is that it’s the A’ras magic that does it, not vines or stone.”

Carth couldn’t feel the magic in the walls, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t there. Just because she couldn’t feel the shadows didn’t mean that they weren’t there either. She might not be able to use that magic right now, but she knew it existed, and one day, when she was finally free after her time with the A’ras, she’d be free to reach the shadows again.

Samis jerked his shirt from his shoulder and swung it around. He flashed a wide smile and nodded after Invar. “I think he intends to claim you.”

Carth shook her head. “I don’t think he claims any students these days.” It would be a great honor were Invar to choose her for studies, but it had been years since Invar was said to have taken a student. She doubted he had any interest, and even if he did, she doubted he would choose her.

Samis shrugged. “Maybe he hasn’t, but I’ve seen the way he watches you, like you’re a puzzle he can’t quite figure out. What better way to work through a puzzle than to bring it closer, so that it has no choice but to spend time with you?”

Carth shot him a hard look, but Samis completely ignored it.

“Now, I thought we were supposed to practice here. That was the entire reason I came out to this part of the yard,” he said.

“You suggested here because you don’t want the others to see me defeat you.”

Samis’s grin faded. “You won’t defeat me.”

“Like I did Woldan yesterday?”

“That was luck, Rel, and you know it.”

She unsheathed the knife at her belt and twisted it in her hand. As she did, she reached for the connection to the A’ras magic, that source deep within her. In the five years she’d been confined within the palace yard, she had spent most of that time trying to master the technique required to simply access the magic. That was the hardest part of truly becoming one of the A’ras. Reaching that power, that source of magic that the A’ras had first believed lay within her, required pulling from a connection that flowed through her veins. She could feel it, the same way she felt it when others used their magic.

Once she managed to master reaching the magic, then she could learn ways of connecting to that power and using it for other purposes. The knife helped her hone her connection to the magic, to focus it. Someday, she hoped she would no longer need the knife as a focus, even though many of the A’ras never reached that point. The masters, however, had, and were able to focus their magic without need of an object.

She still couldn’t reach that power nearly as quickly as she would like. It came, but it was something like pulling molasses through her veins, trying to separate from her blood, and doing so was painful. That was another part of the lessons she’d had to learn: finding a way to reach that power in spite of the pain.

None of the others studying here experienced the same pain. Carth remembered how much it had hurt when she’d first reached the power flowing through her, like her blood had boiled, or had grown too thick for her veins. The masters had frowned when she’d described what she felt, and she remembered all too well how Master Harrison had claimed that any pain was mental rather than physical. Carth found it strange that she still hadn’t managed to get past the psychological pain after all these years of studying.

When she’d lived near the docks, using the shadows had required none of the same focus or pain as pulling on A’ras magic. She wanted the same ease that she remembered and even tried to reach for, but the shadows remained blocked to her, possibly by the A’ras magic infused in the walls she and Samis had just been discussing. Her skin tingled, telling her that Samis had reached his magic. He used a short sword—the ashai were not allowed longer or more complex weapons until they were able to craft them on their own—and sent the magic surging into it. Carth’s own focus reached her power only a second or two behind him.

But too slowly.

He lunged, swinging his sword, slicing toward her.

Carth ducked, rolling toward the ground, thrusting the long-bladed knife out in front of her, catching his sword and deflecting it to the side. As she did, she pulsed through the knife, using that focus to drive power and to push the much larger Samis away.

He went flying, but quickly regained his footing. He gritted his teeth, glaring at her, sweat dripping down his chest. How did he make even battle look appealing?

She forced the thought from her mind. She would not allow him to distract her. There were enough distractions as it was. She was too different, her access to the magic too slow, her ability unconventional, but mostly the other ashai thought her too old. She had been when she first came to the A’ras, but now she had progressed to the point that she had nearly reached her age group.

“Nice trick. That’s the same thing you did to Woldan yesterday,” Samis said. She nodded, pleased in spite of herself that he recognized it. How much attention had Samis been paying to her? “How did you do that?”

She didn’t know if he really complimented her or if it was another distraction. “Pushed through the blade.”

It was one of the first things she had learned, but she had trouble explaining how she did it. Her instructors had never been much help in demonstrating that. They used their blades for focus, but few of them used their magic through the blade the way that Carth did. That was part of the reason she struggled to learn some of the techniques that the others so easily mastered—she was hampered by what she could push through her focus, and often it wasn’t enough.

Samis held his sword out, and Carth felt the surge of power as he sent it through the blade. He directed it at the ground near her feet, tossing her to the side. When she rolled and jumped back up, he flashed a wolfish grin. “Nice. Now you’re in trouble.”

He sliced forward, his sword a blur, and sent his magic through the blade, using the technique Carth had demonstrated. If the sword connected, or even if the magic connected, she’d get blasted to the ground, so she had to make certain the sword didn’t connect with her.

She dropped to her knees and raised the knife up, holding the edge out. As she pulled on her magic, she screamed, tearing it out of herself. There were times when the use of the A’ras magic did not hurt, but this wasn’t one of them. It surged in a flash, catching Samis’s sword and blocking it, but the force of his blow, combined with the magic he pushed behind it, nearly crumpled her to the ground.

Samis stood over her, more and more power going through his blade. Carth resisted, not wanting to be beaten, and not wanting him to beat her.

She pulled on more of her magic. As always, it was like moving molasses when others moved water, and she forced its thick movement through the knife. With a surge of power, she tried pushing Samis off her, but he had been quicker with his magic.

His power exploded, forcing her to the ground.

Carth sprawled forward. Her ears rang and pain coursed through her, leaving her unable to see clearly. Distantly, she heard laughter. She tried to look around to see where it might be coming from, but the pain prevented her from seeing anyone very easily.

Someone grabbed her hand and pulled her up. As her vision cleared, she realized it was Samis. She hated that he would be the one to help her.

“That was impressive,” he said, his breath smelling of pine and mint. She hated that the scent appealed to her, and reminded her in some ways of her father. “You nearly had me.” Samis stepped away from her and slipped his sword into its sheath. “You’re strong, Rel, but always a bit slow.”

He grabbed his shirt from the ground and flipped it back over his shoulder, turning his back to her as he started away. “Figure out a way to get faster, or you’re always going to get beat.”

She shot him a hard look that he completely ignored as he continued past her. Carth looked away from the sweat that gleamed off his broad shoulders and tried to ignore the swagger he carried himself with as he made his way back toward the cosak, the low building that housed all the students.

Get faster. That was the one thing she wanted as well, but she couldn’t. She wasn’t fast enough. That was part of the problem with how she reached her magic, the painful way she drew it out from herself. It was different from the others who studied here—she was different—and had no evidence she would ever get any faster or better. And if she couldn’t, she would never become a full A’ras, and wasn’t that the entire point of studying here? Wasn’t that the reason her parents had brought her to Nyaesh? She hated how much it still pained her to think of them, hated the knot that formed in her throat as she did, much as she hated that she would never have answers to her questions. Only more questions.