The Nameless Shadow: Darkling Souls 1.5, page 6
“Arrest him!” a new voice cracked.
A warden in full titan ore armor pushed through the crowd. Yellow eyes glowed from within the helm. His limbs were too long, bent at the wrong places. A tuft of fur peeked out from the top of his boots.
Oh, hells.
The spy realized why the wardens looked so strange. Images of that cursed incinerator flooded his brain. They were experiments, not so different from the Mooncursed. Humans enhanced with corrupted magic.
The guards hesitantly grabbed the old man again.
“I won’t recognize Niamh.” The old man damned himself.
The warden kicked the old man’s legs with a loud crunch, and the man fell to his knees.
“Then die.”
The warden drew his thin, curved sword and cut off the man’s head. In the middle of the road. With people around. With children around. The spy’s brain whirlpooled into a paralyzed churning mass.
The man’s body slumped to the ground. The imperial guards gaped. People screamed and darted inside open doorways. Blood trickled through the ruddy cobblestones.
“Everyone get inside or get to your work assignments now,” the warden commanded. “We’ll be checking all offering bowls.”
The spy stared, his mind fighting to accept the horrors, but dragged Mei toward his apartment. Little choice remained but to reveal the location of his home.
Inside, she blinked back tears. “I can’t believe they killed him.”
His heart ached for her.
Gods—it was stupid. But he reached out and hugged her. Knowing she needed a modicum of comfort after the thrill and then murder. Not everyone could compartmentalize as he could, as he’d been raised to do. He squeezed her shoulders as they peered out the window at the scene below.
Lifting his bloody katana, the warden plopped the head into the offering bowl. “Remember this day. Defy Niamh and die.”
Unlikely Partners
Chapter Eight
The spy hurried out of his apartment a half hour later, wrapping the apron around his hips. He grabbed Mei’s hand and dragged her down the stairs behind him. He was already so late, and did not want to bring her here, but he needed to make sure to escort her out of that neighborhood while it was still crawling with wardens and guards.
“This is where you live?” she asked.
“What did you expect?” He flew down the stairs, hoping to not be the last one to check in to work.
“Like a bird nest on the top of one of the spires, or a cave where your disguises are displayed on mannequins like trophies. Or a stone cottage where you sleep upside down surrounded by coded letters.”
He nearly tripped. “What? Where did you get those ideas?”
She shrugged. “I like to read.”
“What sort of books have you been reading? Actually, don’t tell me. I’m late for work.”
“You have a job?” She gaped.
“Don’t you?” He rolled his eyes. “I need food. It would look suspicious if I didn’t work, and I can’t just have bags of gold laying around.”
“Bags of gold? How rich are you?” She followed him, jogging down the street toward the bakery. “Who do you work for?”
He snorted. “A spy never tells.” He waggled his eyebrows over his shoulder. “Who do you work for?”
She grunted, tailing him until he caught the end of the workers filing into the bakery.
Thank X’era.
He wasn’t late yet. Though he didn’t need the job, he couldn’t let Jun down again.
“I’ll contact you later.” He waved before following the stragglers inside.
He already knew his assignment for the day and hurried toward the rising rooms.
Jun’s voice interrupted him. “How do you know Mei?”
The spy turned to see Jun claiming a workstation beside him. “I was helping her with something.”
The lies danced from his tongue. He’d spent so much of his life lying, he hardly had to try.
Vague was good. Some truth helped sell it. Assume they know more than you think and let them talk more than you do. People will fill the silence if you let them. You just need to listen.
His father’s teachings lived in his head.
Jun leaned forward. “Are you part of… Are you helping her with…”
The spy could guess what filled those gaps. She must have a reputation with the rebels. He nodded slowly.
Jun leaned back. “Is that why you were gone the other day?”
The spy accepted his first kneaded loaf from the auditor and dipped a rag in boiled water. He wrapped the rag around the edge of the loaf pan and placed it into an oven. He flipped an hourglass, setting the time for that oven.
He joined Jun again. “I got held up with some work.”
“That’s why your explanation was so terrible?” Jun asked.
The spy nearly chuckled and nodded. He worked on another loaf, preparing it to rise.
“Last night too,” the spy said.
“I’m sorry I yelled at you,” Jun murmured. “I should’ve known you wouldn’t just leave us in a lurch like that. I was a bad friend to assume.”
The spy smiled and continued their work. The shift passed more quickly than others had, and it wasn’t until the end that the spy realized he hadn’t had any shadow-related accidents. He should have been thrilled, but the old man’s face before the warden’s katana came down dampened his spirits.
Jun caught his arm outside the bakery. “I want to help. My children won’t grow up in a place like this. Let me know what you need.”
The spy nodded. He watched Jun walk the opposite direction. He hated to admit it, but there were people in Demorra worth helping. Once he was done helping the High Seer protect Avyllon, was he really going to be able to leave?
Mei perched on the extended windowsill of his apartment when he got home. Her legs dangled three stories above the streets below. He tugged the apron off and laid it across the wooden table in the kitchen before climbing out onto the narrow sill beside her. It was so narrow their legs touched as she kicked her feet. Her black hair was freed from the plaits he’d always seen it in.
“Your place is weird. It’s not weird enough,” she said.
He chuckled. “That’s the point. If you don’t look too closely, it’s painfully ordinary.” He pointed behind him. “My broom has a few wigs hidden inside. The disguise sewing materials are in the kitchen drawer. The blanket doubles as a cloak. My face paints and clays are hidden in the hearth in the ashes.”
She studied each location he pointed out, squinting against the afternoon sun. “Hiding in plain sight.”
“Blending in is about fitting in,” he said. “Knowing how to belong but to settle into the waves of human behavior. There are patterns if you look for them. You want people to feel as though you belong, you’ve always belonged, you’ve been there forever. But they’re not able to recall your face or name the next day.”
“That sounds incredibly lonely,” she said.
His gut twisted. Aurienne hadn’t intended to send him on another job after being abroad so long, but the emperor’s missive had forced her hand. And working with Mei definitely had helped.
“It can be. Family helps. Friends help.” He glanced at her, deciding to tell her something entirely real. “I visit my mother for a while between every mission. I stay for days or weeks in that little town. They think I’m a merchant, so my absences aren’t missed. But every time I see her, it grounds me. I remember who I am behind the names and faces I shed.”
She chewed her lip. “What about partners?”
He’d usually worked alone unless a particular mission demanded it, but a partner? Never. He glanced at the sprawling city, thinking of all the people within. He couldn’t do this alone, not in time.
And she’d helped, held her own. Thought on her feet. Never betrayed his secrets. And she’d found him within days. She’d be a good partner, at least for a while. She was a rebel, a fighter, and didn’t need to be reminded of the risks. She knew what she was asking.
“A partner would be nice, too.”
“Great.” She beamed. “Now teach me the trick where you disappear.”
He threw his head back and laughed loudly for a few seconds before wiping his eyes. Not all his secrets could be given so freely. And her joining him in rebel-spy activities was one thing. He wasn’t sure his conscience would allow him to open her eyes to the shadow world—even if he knew how.
An inky shadow winked at him from behind his curtains. The best stories were vague and part truth. He reached his hand into the shadow, into the shadow world and it disappeared.
“You expect to see nothing, so you don’t.” He brought his hand back into their world.
“It was really gone!” She leaned back and put her hand into the shadow and wiggled her fingers.
Unlike his hand, hers remained visible.
He covered her hand with his and pressed it into the inky spot he knew she couldn’t see. Her fingers disappeared underneath his.
“Whoa,” she murmured.
He pulled their hands back into the sun, skin tingling where they touched. “It’s just about feeling invisible.”
Her brows furrowed as she focused intently, and he was drawn to her eyes rather than her hand. They were so close, and he found himself studying every detail. She stilled and slowly, ever so slowly, she dipped her fingers into the shadows, and they disappeared.
Did she just…
The outlines of her fingers appeared again, and she beamed. He blinked, shaking his head.
No. Just his imagination—becoming invisible as he had so many times before the magic. It couldn’t be the magic.
“Look,” he pointed to the golden road in the distance leading away from the city.
The golden road spanned the length of the continent, connecting all the great cities. It wove through the mountains, now full of army regiments leading away. If he could see it—the palace could.
“We did that,” she breathed.
Allowing, himself a rare moment of satisfaction, he cocked a brow at his new partner. “We did.”
He leaned against the window; it was time to get some answers from the rebels. “What have you learned?”
“The rebels have hidden all the maps of Teridar they could find,” she said. “They’re still locating and hiding them as we speak. They’ve also located the shrine.”
His blood spiked. The gamble to work with the rebels had already paid off. She toed the floorboards, and he stiffened. Of course, there was a catch.
“They have a trade,” she said. “There’s a hostage they want released in exchange for the information.”
“Who?”
“A political adversary from the region of Wolf Run that he locked up. One who’s powerful and could aid our cause.”
Not like he had a choice.
“Fine,” he sighed. “Where?”
“The royal dungeons.” Her wide smile was apologetic and slightly excited.
He rubbed his temples. That was going to be a problem. Prior to infiltrating the throne room, he’d investigated the dungeons and found it was nearly impossible to get in or out. Part of his goal was to find a way out if he was captured, and he’d found none from the inside. Getting someone out was theoretically possible if luck was on their side and he could control his magic well enough. Both were questionable, but he needed to know where the shrine was so he could sabotage the Mooncursed.
He cracked his knuckles. “What do you say we free a prisoner?”
Dungeons
Chapter Nine
Not a single shadow turned inky and shimmering around the palace or Niamh’s temples. The spy circled them both, searching for any he could slip through, but something guarded the perimeter. The spy ate an apple, glancing at the black metal bars with diamond and gold flecks atop the high walls. Titan ore—on the windows and decorative elements on the walls too.
“Where are they finding all this titan ore?” he murmured to Mei.
“It’s coming in on ships. They take workers out for three months at a time to mines, and bring back the ore,” she said.
The rebels were as well-informed as he’d hoped.
He squinted. “Three months at a time? How much ore comes back?”
“I have no idea, but I have heard the miners say that they’re going to the hells. They have to pay them high wages to get anyone to agree.”
Hells? Like they’re near the Nyx’ela mountains? Said to be the realm of the gods, the Nyx’ela mountain range was rumored to have a gleaming city high in the peaks. The stories also said that doorways to the hells opened, and if the miners said they were going to the hells, they could mean those mountains where dark beasts emerged from the hellish doorways and prowled the mist.
A piece of apple fell from his mouth.
Portals to the hells.
Just like the shadows he was stepping through. Maybe there was more truth to those legends than he realized. How many other stories were true?
Returning to the present matter, he allowed his gaze to wander over the palace. The iron front gates were forged to look like snarling dragons, and yellow stones reflected the sun in their eyes and mouths. Red curved tiles covered the flat rooftops many stories above the ground. The reddish walls were nearly sheer, save for hundreds upon hundreds of windows and balconies. Guards on horses patrolled in groups of six, leaving no entry point at the front.
While the nearby temple, covered in crushed purple crystals, remained outside the high gates and stone walls, it was just as impenetrable. There was a single entrance unless a person was willing to climb through the attic as he’d done several weeks ago when he discovered remnants of magical experiments gone wrong.
“How do we get in?” she whispered.
He’d been planning to sneak in through the shadows, but there were no portals. Later, he’d have to figure out why, but for now they’d make do.
“The old-fashioned way.” He grinned when she quirked a brow.
The spy pushed off the wall and tossed the apple into one of the many smoldering fire pits illuminating the roads outside the palace. He bent down, flipping his cloak with an easy motion. When he stood, he wore a royal gardener’s green cloak. It happened to be an Avyllon gardener’s cloak, but it was close enough to avoid suspicion from a distance.
Mei’s mouth dropped open. “But you… that cloak is black on one side and gray on the other. How is it green?”
He grinned, not ready to part with all his secrets. “Let’s go.”
The spy navigated the crowd until he reached the quieter street beside the imperial gardens. He waited until the street was clear and pushed through a thorny hedge.
The thorns caught on his cloak, tearing his skin and leaving thin lines of blood. He pushed slowly in, carefully leaning this way and that to deflect the thorns. Each cut stung, forcing him to call on his training to force the pain away.
“This is. Possibly. The worst way in. Ever.” Mei hissed every word. She yelped, and then yelped again.
“Don’t fight the thorns, just to imagine them brushing by you,” he muttered back.
Once his head was freed from the hedge, he glanced around. The gardens were empty. A fountain bubbled between the rosebushes and lotus plants. Stepping out, he picked the thorns from his skin as he inspected himself. He was bleeding in a dozen places, but his thick cloak was mostly intact, and they’d gotten in much quicker than he’d expected.
“Not bad,” he said.
“Not bad?” Mei panted as she finally exited the hedge in a crumpled puddle.
“The sewers are just as likely to drown you as let you through.” He pulled a thorn out of his neck with a hiss. “Climbing isn’t possible in daylight, and a single misplaced step can send you falling to your death. Walking in the front door is only possible with weeks of planning and set up. You can try to hide in an incoming cart, but if they find you, you’re dead. This is about as good an entry as you can get.”
She tugged thorns out of her legs and arms, wincing and muttering. When he started meandering toward the palace, stopping at random florae as a gardener would, she stumbled after him holding a dented watering can. The orderly garden maze stretched for several square miles in each direction behind the palace.
They reached the side entry to the gold and red palace, and he paused. Pretending to prune a nearby hedge, he waited for the guards to pass. The hooves of the horses clicked on the cobblestones as the guards patrolled by, but the two commonplace gardeners watering hedges attracted no attention.
After they passed, the spy pointed to the series of wide doors on the side of the building across the wide stone road. A never-ending cloud of steam escaped the doors, smelling of lye and bleach. Rows of drying racks bending under the weight of the linens were nestled between the two buildings.
“The laundry is that way, and we need a distraction. We need two uniforms that won’t be missed or noticed for a while to keep the count off for a while.” At her confused expression, he added, “Getting out without anyone knowing you were there is just as important as getting in. Especially if you aren’t immediately leaving the country. Now can you handle the distraction? I’ll get the uniforms.”
“Won’t they know we’re in the wrong clothes if they see us wearing this?” She pulled at her clothes.
“Yes.”
“Okay.” A devious grin tugged at the corners of her mouth. “You stay out of sight; I’ll create a distraction.”
The spy slipped into the back of the laundry, behind the carts of soiled linens. Square cut pools of various dyes, soaps, and rinse water filled the room. Laundresses walked on thin paths between the pools. Along one wall, bottles of various brightly colored liquids formed neat lines.
Lying flat, he peered out from underneath the cart, excited to see what Mei would come up with. Her chaos was intoxicating for someone as disciplined as him.
Before he knew it, Mei was swathed in a long curtain and a few odd pieces of bedding, stumbling and screaming.
