Into the Shadows by Linda K Hopkins
Chapter 23
The Drameara did not return, and Lark headed outside. A bush of berries grew near the tree line, and she plucked the sweet fruit, washing them down with water from a nearby stream. She returned to the ruined building and sat down in the doorway, lifting her face to the sun as she leaned her head against the doorpost.
The light was already beginning to fade when she heard a slight rustling sound, and she saw the Drameara watching her. He had washed the blood from his skin and had donned a blue shirt. Their gazes met and he turned away with a frown.
“Come,” he said.
She rose to follow him, but he only went a short distance away. He pulled a dagger from his belt and, flipping it in his hand, held it out to her.
“Attack me,” he said.
She frowned. “Why?”
“Since I first took you from your brother, you’ve dreamed of killing me. Now’s your chance.”
“I had a chance before,” she said, taking the dagger from him.
“And if you had taken it, you’d no longer be my prisoner. Now attack me.”
She tightened her grip around the handle. Somewhere along the line, she had stopped wishing him dead, and now just wished to be free.
“You were gone a long time.”
“Yes. And you didn’t try to run.”
“Would there have been any point?”
“No.”
She raised her hand and lurched at the Drameara, aiming for his heart. He stepped sideways and wrapped his arm around her waist, drawing her back to his chest and forcing her to drop the dagger.
“Is that the best you can do, princess?” he asked mockingly.
She spun out of his grip and picked up the weapon. “You kissed me!”
He glanced away. “Yes.”
She tightened her grip and aimed for his side. He caught her arm, again forcing her to drop the dagger.
“And then you disappeared for hours.”
His jaw tightened. “Are you going to talk all day, princess? As tedious as it is, constant chatter will not kill a man.”
She crouched down to get the dagger, then brought herself up forcefully, slamming her shoulder into his stomach. Taken off guard he stepped back, and she followed, slamming her fists against his chest. He caught her wrists and held her tightly. Lifting her foot, she kicked his shin.
“So angry, princess. You cannot allow your emotions to control your actions. You have to harness them and control them.”
“Like you do, Drameara?” she asked sarcastically.
“Yes.”
“Then why did you kiss me?”
“I wanted to.”
“And yet, you’re angry.”
He dropped her wrists and turned away. “Yes.”
“Why? Because you told me that you’re the Shadow Warrior?”
“No. Because now she knows.”
“Who?” She stepped back to look at him. “What are you talking about?”
“The Ancient. She knows that your blood affects me.”
Lark frowned. “How?”
“The tattoo. It’s a link to my mistress. She can use it to see through my eyes.”
“Through your eyes!” Lark was shocked. “She’s seen me?”
“Yes. She can also sense my emotions.”
“She keeps track of you.”
“Only when she feels the need. That is not often.”
“But she checked in on you today.”
“She sensed my aroused emotions.”
“It was purely physical.”
“Agreed. But your blood does affect me.” He picked up the dagger. “More control, less anger,” he said. “But first, you need to learn how to hold it.”
The last of the daylight hours were spent in training as he showed her how to hold the knife and had her practice her aim by throwing it at a tree. Her arm ached when he finally called a stop and announced that he would find them some food.
She fell asleep almost instantly when she lay down within the shadow of the building, her cloak serving as a blanket and her gown as a pillow, but he chased her into her dreams, making her toss and turn all night. She woke to the sun shining on her face, and yet she felt exhausted.
“We remain here for the day,” the Drameara announced. “There will be more Guardsmen coming this way.”
“Whom you will kill,” Lark said dryly.
“Only if they go on to Dundell. It will be clear to them who killed their comrades. If they value their lives, they will retrieve their fallen and turn back.”
“How many were there yesterday?”
“Six.”
She glanced away and bit her lip. “I want to see them,” she said.
“You won’t find what you’re looking for.”
“How do you know?”
“Your brothers are not there.”
“Would you have killed them if they were?”
“If your brothers were intent on killing me, which they would have been, then yes. Don’t forget I have already spared one of your brothers. I may still live to regret it.”
She looked away. Of course, Iron and Crag would want to kill a Shadow Warrior.
The morning passed with the Drameara making her kick and punch his bag, hanging from a branch, repeatedly, until she fell to the ground in exhaustion.
“Shouldn’t I just learn to stab someone?”
“What if you don’t have a weapon on you? Your body is a weapon as well, princess, which you need to hone.”
She was leaning against the building, drinking water from his canteen, when she heard the sound of horses’ hooves and looked up, meeting the Drameara’s gaze.
“Wait here,” he said, and slipping around the building, headed to the broken wall where he stopped and watched. Lark crept up beside him and he shot her an annoyed glance. “Do you never listen?”
“Shh,” she said, peering over the wall to see the men walking amongst the dead. “What are they doing?”
“They’re discussing what happened.”
“Are they going to Dundell?”
“They’re deciding.”
They watched as one of the men mounted his horse and started in their direction. “Get inside,” the Drameara hissed.
“What are you going to do?”
“If you value his life, get inside now.”
“Fine!”
She turned and quickly ran back to the building, then headed to the empty window to see the Drameara approaching the Guard. They spoke for a few minutes, and the man gestured toward the ruined building before drawing his sword and pointing it at the Drameara. As the Guard leaned forward in the saddle, the Drameara lifted his hands and took a step back. Lark had only to look at the scorn on the Guard’s face to know that whatever he had said was disparaging. He jumped down from his saddle and advanced on the Drameara, and Lark let out a soft groan. All the Drameara’s weapons were just beyond the building. Could he defend himself if he needed to?
For a moment the Drameara stood his ground, but then he spun suddenly around and brought his hand down on the Guard’s extended arm. The man dropped his sword with a yell, and the Drameara snatched it up. He said a few words and the Guard responded, and although Lark could not hear the words, she could see the sneer on the man’s face – but it vanished a moment later as his sword was run through his chest. Lark felt her stomach clench in horror at the needlessness of the man’s death. The Drameara dropped the blade in the grass and headed back to the building as Lark ran out.
“Go,” he said, pointing to a small copse of trees a short distance away. “Wait for me there.” He pulled off his shirt and opened his bag, removing the stone jar. He pulled out the stopper and drank some of the liquid, before pouring it into his hand and smearing it over his chest.
“What are you going to do?”
“What do you think, princess? Now go.”
“So much killing! It’s horrible.”
“That man brought his death on himself, and now he has endangered his comrades, who will seek revenge.”
“And you love it,” she said bitterly. “The more Cambrians you kill, the better!”
He inclined his head but was silent as she stalked away. She reached the trees and turned back to see the Shadow Warrior strapping on his weapons. She slid down the trunk of the tree and dropped her head onto her knees as he strode back to the body of the Guard he had killed. All was quiet, and after a moment she peeked around the trunk to see that he was still standing there, his arms crossed over his chest. The men in the clearing were staring at him, and one crept a little closer. There was a shout, and the men began to back up before mounting their horses and riding away, back in the direction they had come from. She watched as they disappeared into the distance, then looked up to see the Shadow Warrior striding back to where she was.
“You didn’t kill them,” she said in surprise, rising to her feet.
“Clearly.”
“Why not?”
“They made the very wise decision not to attack me. Now let’sss go.” He grabbed his bag and started walking between the trees as she followed. His back was bare, showing his scaly skin which covered his taut muscles. Small spikes ran from his shoulders down his arms, ending in clawed hands, the nails black. The tattoo was muted beneath the bronze-gray skin, but she could see it shimmering.
“How long will you be like this?” she asked.
Silence.
“What makes you like this? Is it the blood? You drink it all the time, so what is it that makes you into a Shadow Warrior?”
The length of his stride lengthened slightly, and she picked up her pace to keep up.
“Do you like being like this?”
He stopped and turned to face her. “Enough questionsss.”
“Then answer me!”
“You know more than you should, already.”
“Do you like being like this?”
He stepped closer, the tips of his forked tongue flicking between his lips. “Yesss.”
“Why?”
He stared at her a moment, his pupils narrow slits in his green-yellow eyes, before turning away and continuing ahead.
“Why won’t you answer me, Kalen?”
He stopped again. “Kalen? Kalen isss a scared boy who feared for hisss life. He isss gone. This isss me, now.”
“Nameless.”
“Fearlesssss.” He continued walking.
“Why do you do that with your tongue?”
“What?”
“Flick it?”
He was quiet, and she thought he wasn’t going to reply again, but then: “It isss asss natural asss breathing, only better.”
“Better?”
“It tellsss me everything I need to know about my enemy.”
“Am I your enemy?”
Silence.
“Am I?”
“You are a daughter of Valor, so yesss.”
“And what does your tongue tell you about me?”
“What you are feeling.”
“And what am I feeling?”
“Conflicted.”
She should have left it, but she could not. “Conflicted about what?”
He stopped and turned around again, meeting her gaze. “Me.”
“No.” She shook her head. “I know exactly how I feel about you!”
He gazed at her a moment longer, before resuming his walk. They broke through the trees, but he did not head back to the main road, keeping instead to a narrow footpath. He could have taken the Guard’s horse, she thought. They had spent weeks walking across the countryside, when the journey could have been done in days.
“Why do you walk?”
“What do you mean?”
“It takes a long time to walk from Lenora to the mountains.”
“I walk because of you.”
She frowned. “What do I have to do with the matter?”
“If you were not with me, I would run. I am swifter than any horse. You should already know that, princessss.”
So that was how he had caught her when she tried to escape on Beauty. “Then why don’t I ride a horse?”
“You needed the exercise.”
“You wanted someone you were going to kill to get exercise?”
“I was never going to kill you.”
“You were going to kill my brother.”
“Perhapsss.”
“But you weren’t going to kill me?”
“No.”
“Why?”
He glanced at her over his shoulder. “I had other usesss for you.”
“Such as dragging me across the country to the Ancient?”
“Should I have killed you?”
She glared at him angrily. “You should have let me go!”
“How would that have benefited me?”
“How does this?”
“The commander’sss daughter in the Ancient’sss lair. She will find a use for you.”
“Will she make me drink her blood?”
“Perhapsss.”
“I will find a way to escape.”
“Her blood is like a drug. Once you start drinking it, you cannot stop.”
Lark felt her heart stop. “What do you mean?”
“Once you start drinking it your body cannot survive without it. You will die.”
“No, I …” The blood drained from her head, and dizziness overtook her. He spun around and caught her as she reached out to grab hold of something, but as soon as the dizziness passed, she pushed him back and stepped away from him. “You would take me to that? You would have me become like that?” She ran her hand through the air, gesturing his form.
“Drinking her blood does not make you a Shadow Warrior.”
“But you would tie my life to the one who hates me.”
He cocked his head, and his tongue flicked the air. “Yesss.”
“You are a monster,” she hissed.
“You already knew that, princessss,” he said, turning back on the path.
Anger coursed through her as she stared daggers into his back. Her only hope of freedom lay in killing him, and she regretted, once again, that she had not stabbed him through the heart when she’d had the chance. It was her life or his, and she was determined that it would not be hers.