Palimpsest

The gods feared many things in those final years. They feared her strength. They feared her dagger. But what they feared most, the accounts agree, was something simpler: that she had learned to move without being seen.

A god who cannot find you cannot stop you. She had understood this before any of them did.

— Chronicle of the First Age. Ledger Archives, Marialis branch. Transcriber unknown.

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Chapter 7 The Shadow

She opened her eyes to a faint smell of damp and a dull ache throbbing beside her head. Part of Veylith’s face was pressed into the faded red carpet, its color worn flat by years of use. She forced herself to lift her head and look around. It took a few seconds to understand where she was. The others were sprawled across the floor as well, but their eyes were still closed.

She staggered to her feet and made her way toward Ravah. The dream lingered in her mind. It had not felt like a dream at all, but a memory. What she had seen had truly happened. But why had she fainted? And why had that old memory surfaced?

“Ravah!” she called, grabbing her by the robe and shaking her.

“I know the truth!” Ravah shouted as she snapped her eyes open and seized Veylith by the throat.

Veylith was breathless for a moment, but as soon as Ravah came fully to herself, she released her.

“What happened?” Ravah asked, still breathing hard. “I was carrying the little ones and running and… I don’t remember.”

“I don’t know,” Veylith managed, her voice slightly hoarse. She glanced at the others. “Looks like it happened to all of us at the same time.”

Tivver and Darian were stirring beside them, just opening their eyes. Vaelra was farther ahead, near the wall, trying to push herself upright.

“Hey,” Veylith called. “Are you alright?”

“I think so,” Darian said, holding his head as he stood.

“That was some fucked up dream there,” Vaelra said as she joined them. She wore a smile, but the fear and confusion in her eyes told a different story.

Tivver had already gotten to his feet and was quietly straightening his clothes.

Veylith stepped toward him, about to speak, when the outer door suddenly rattled under heavy force.

“Guards,” Tivver said, turning to her.

“Got your breath back?” Veylith asked.

Ravah nodded.

“Then run,” Veylith told them all.

Ravah scooped Darian and Tivver under her arms again and began running. Vaelra was right beside her, though Ravah was faster despite the extra weight.

Veylith narrowed her eyes toward the door and walked backward behind them. She reached behind her and drew the pistols from her belt, holding both trained on the entrance.

The wooden brace she had jammed into the door finally cracked and split as the door burst open. A group of guards rushed in. They carried spears and wore chainmail made of interlocked metal rings. Metal caps protected their heads, though none carried shields. A few held torches. They had not expected a firefight, but they were not unprepared.

Veylith bared her teeth and began firing.

The guards recoiled in shock and stumbled back toward the hall. She was not shooting to kill. She aimed at their spear shafts and the edges of their helmets. Escaping as thieves was one thing. Being hunted as murderers in every city was another.

She turned the corner after the others, and the guards surged into the corridor as soon as her shots ceased. They were forced to take cover behind cabinets and vases lining the walls, because Veylith continued firing around the corner to keep them pinned.

Ravah had already darted into the supply room. Vaelra waited at the door for Veylith.

Seeing her, Veylith shouted, “Go. Don’t wait for me. They mustn’t see where we escape.”

“We can’t leave you,” Vaelra insisted, stepping back toward her. “We need a distraction.”

“Got something in mind?”

“You won’t like it.”

◈ ◈ ◈

The moment Ravah entered the storage room, she went to the back shelves. She set Darian and Tivver down. The room was filled with parchment, ink bottles, and other writing materials. The damp scent of wood stung faintly in the throat yet carried an unexpected sense of safety.

Without a word, Tivver moved to one of the shelves and pressed the wooden cylinder joint supporting it. The shelf shifted backward with the wall by the width of a finger.

Tivver turned to Ravah. “Could you open this pickle jar for me?” he said flatly, his face barely moving.

Ravah gave him a strange look and shoved the shelf hard. It swung open with the wall, revealing a narrow passage.

“Move,” she said, stepping aside.

Tivver and Darian entered the dark passage. Darian pulled a stick from his belt pouch, its tip wrapped in cloth, and handed it silently to Tivver.

Tivver reached into his vest pocket and took out two carefully shaped stones. He struck them together, scattering sparks over the cloth. On the second try, the fabric caught fire.

Ravah watched them light the torch while remaining outside the passage. She glanced toward the closed door and drew a deep breath. Her face showed little, but her fingers drummed against the stone floor.

◈ ◈ ◈

“Ready?” Vaelra asked tensely, watching Veylith fire intermittently around the corner.

“Wait until I say,” Veylith replied while reloading.

Vaelra nodded. Her breathing grew heavier.

Veylith finished loading, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. She exhaled slowly and opened them. The tension had vanished from her face; her body seemed almost relaxed. With a graceful turn she stepped into the center of the corridor and began firing directly at the guards.

Most were caught standing. Exactly as she intended.

When she emptied her pistols, the corridor went dark. Only faint city light filtered through distant windows. The guards lifted their heads and realized the flaming tips of their torches were gone.

Veylith had shattered each torch head, plunging the corridor into darkness. As the guards struggled to understand what had happened, two faint lights appeared at the far end of the corridor, like a pair of watching eyes.

Veylith stood unmoving, pistols aimed. The barrels, still glowing faintly, began to cool, thin smoke barely visible in the dimness.

“Now,” she whispered without shifting her stance.

Vaelra pressed her right palm to her chest and closed her eyes.

“Shadow,” she breathed.

The whisper echoed through the hall like wind and faded. When she opened her eyes, the honey-gold irises had turned white. She faced the guards. They shivered as though seeing a ghost. The air seemed colder, yet they did not move.

Vaelra extended her hand toward the hall. “Go,” she whispered again.

From behind her shoulder a shadow surged forward, howling in unintelligible murmurs, spreading across the corridor walls. The guards panicked. Some collapsed, clutching their heads. Others fled in terror. Vaelra swayed, drained. Veylith caught her by the waist before she fell.

“You managed to scare even me this time,” she murmured.

“I thought you were only afraid of commitment,” Vaelra replied with a faint grin as her eyes slowly returned to normal.

“We need to move,” Veylith said, ignoring the remark. In a swift motion she lifted Vaelra into her arms. Vaelra tried to hide how exhausted she was, but Veylith knew.

They rushed into the storage room. Ravah stood by the door and shut it quickly behind them.

“She used that damned thing again, didn’t she?” Ravah muttered.

“Sorry for saving our asses, darling,” Vaelra replied weakly.

After Veylith passed through the hidden passage with Vaelra in her arms, Ravah pushed the wall closed behind them. “Start praying,” she muttered.

The tunnel was wide enough for two to walk side by side, though it narrowed in places, forcing them into single file. The damp smell grew harsher, burning in the throat. Worse was the slick ground that squelched underfoot. For a port city, it was a miracle these tunnels were not flooded.

Tivver led with the torch. Behind him came Veylith, still carrying Vaelra.

“I should heal her,” Darian called softly.

“We need more distance first,” Veylith answered. “If they find where we fled, there must be space between us.

…

Less than ten minutes later Ravah stopped and listened behind them.

“I think we’re safe for now, boss,” she said.

Veylith lowered Vaelra onto a dry rock slightly raised above the ground. Vaelra was conscious, but the pallor of her lips betrayed her condition.

Darian helped her sit upright and placed his hands over hers on her abdomen. They began to glow warm yellow. Almost immediately Vaelra’s breathing steadied. Her body relaxed and color returned to her face.

“Thank you,” she said without opening her eyes.

“You’ll feel better in a few minutes. Just relax,” Darian whispered.

“I’m not saying I love this fragrant and comfortable tunnel, but I doubt I can relax, darling,” she replied with a sigh. “That stupid dream…”

“So you saw something too,” Darian said.

Vaelra opened her eyes. “You did as well?”

“I think we all did,” Darian said.

“What did you see?” Vaelra asked quietly.

Darian hesitated, as though chewing his words before speaking. “I was in a tent filled with wounded,” he said. “We were in the middle of a war. There were injured everywhere. I could hear fighting outside.” He paused. “I’ve seen battle before. I’ve treated sword and arrow wounds. But… the fear in their eyes was unlike anything. As if something had wounded their souls.”

When the glow faded and he withdrew his hands, he looked down to hide the moisture in his eyes. “Do you feel better?”

“Much better,” Vaelra replied with a faint smile. “Mine wasn’t a dream. It was a memory.”

Darian looked up again.

“I was at home with my husband,” she said, averting her gaze. “One of his bad days.”

Darian squeezed her hand. She returned it. Neither spoke.

Ravah sat alone at the back, watching the direction they had come from.

“No sound, no light behind us,” Veylith said quietly from a few steps away. “You can ease up.”

“When I’m dead,” Ravah replied without moving. Then more softly, “I’m not the one you need to watch.”

Veylith turned and saw Tivver crouched by the torch at the front, staring into the tunnel. She sighed and walked toward him. “You did well tonight,” she said, her voice hesitant. As if she wanted to say more, she leaned forward slightly, then pulled back.

“Everyone loves jesters,” Tivver said without looking at her, “but no one takes them seriously. Know why?”

She did not answer.

“Because they’re too good at what they do,” he continued. “So good people only see the jester, not the man behind him. And if the jester starts acting serious, the magic breaks. People want the jester. Not the man.”

He stood and tossed the small pouch from his pocket. It jingled heavily. “Back to work,” he added lightly. Veylith caught it and drew a breath as if to speak.

“We need to move. The ones chasing us may be idiots, but their superior will figure out where we escaped,” Tivver said, lifting the torch.

They resumed walking. Vaelra brushed Veylith’s shoulder lightly as she passed with Darian. Ravah paused beside Veylith and gave her a look. Finally Veylith squeezed the pouch and slipped it into her pocket, then moved ahead.

After some time Ravah called forward, “When will you admit we’re lost?”

“We’re not lost, we just took the scenic route,” Tivver muttered. “Ask louder and maybe someone above ground will guide you.”

Ravah growled.

“There should be a wider tunnel branching left ahead. After that, straight under the bridge at the docks. I think.”

“Fantastic,” Vaelra muttered. “Let’s spend the night here. I’m getting used to my burning nose.”

“So brave, princess,” Tivver shot back.

“Do we have to go to the bridge? Can’t we just exit somewhere else?” Vaelra said wearily.

“Of course,” Tivver replied. “Wasn’t there a brothel nearby? Maybe we can hide there.”

“Shut up, Tivver!” Vaelra snapped.

He fell silent. When she used his full name, she meant it. He glanced back briefly, then raised the torch. Ahead, two tunnels merged and curved left. “Hah!” he cried smugly. “Told you. We’re almost out. Maybe ten more minu—”

A silhouette suddenly ran across their path. It took only a second to realize it was a young woman. She sprinted past them toward the tunnel they intended to take. Then the ground beneath her gave way and her leg plunged into a hole.

Tivver and Vaelra rushed to her.

“Hey, are you alright?” Vaelra asked.

“Shit! My leg’s stuck in this damned hole, I can’t get it out!” Kaelin cursed.

Tivver examined the small pit in the torchlight. “It’s wedged between two stones. You can’t pull it free.”

“How do we get her out?” Vaelra asked.

“If we crack the surrounding rock, we can free her. But it’ll take force.”

“Move,” Ravah said, stepping forward. She drew the short wooden batons from her belt.

Each consisted of a wooden length the size of a forearm, tipped with a dagger-like metal spike, and a perpendicular grip at the joint. When she held them, the wood shielded her forearm and the spike jutted forward, turning her fists into weapons. Kaelin froze as the towering woman advanced with the frightening batons. Should she trust them?

Ravah swung.

Kaelin squeezed her eyes shut and heard metal strike stones. Her entire leg vibrated. When she opened her eyes, she saw Ravah had shattered the rock beside her leg.

Vaelra carefully cleared the broken stones and freed Kaelin. “It’s not broken, but you definitely can’t walk on it, sweetheart,” she said softly, having already guessed from her clothes and Tivver’s remark where the girl had come from.

Kaelin tried to speak, but Darian knelt beside her.

“I can’t fully heal it now, but I can get you walking.”

Veylith did not object to helping the girl, but she grew increasingly tense at the time lost. As Darian extended his hands, Veylith saw a light appear at the far end of the tunnel the girl had come from.

Then a man’s voice echoed; “Don’t move. You can’t escape!”