Like fire we burn

Chapter thirty three

Just beyond a slight rise in the ground lay a chasm wide enough to swallow a barge. It was too dark to see how far it went down, but Shadow had a feeling they wouldn't see the bottom even in broad daylight. This was her doing, this writhing pit of black. And it was entirely out of her control. It wasn't supposed to get this bad so soon – she was supposed to have a few years to grow into her immortal power at least. Not a few days. Not like this.

Tyrin, oblivious to her hysteria, walked to the edge of the chasm and fiddled with something lying precariously close to the edge. A torch. Once he'd managed to light, he swung it around them in a wide arc. There was nothing left to see but a bow and a couple of haphazard ash arrows.

"Looks like you did too well of a job getting rid of them."

Something pale caught her eye – skin. "Wait."

"What – " Tyrin cocked his head to the side as they approached. "Oh."

A man clutched at the crumbling edge of soil, his feet carving out footholds. His breath was a rattle of hope and desperation.

Shadow crouched and regarded the man, noting the way his lips pulled back in horror at the sight of her wings – her.

"Monster," He spat with a curse.

"I've been called worse." She shrugged, slipping into her mask – into the female who was never afraid and never weak. "Help me get him up. That doesn't look like Aexon's uniforms."

Tyrin gripped the man's arms and helped hoist him up. He dropped the male in a heap and stepped backwards as if he reeked. "I won't tell you anything," The soldier growled, crawling back to the chasm as if to jump.

"That implies you have something worth hearing," Shadow drawled as she stepped into his path and tugged him to his feet by his collar. His smile-worn eyes snagged on the mask strapped to her belt. His face was stained with dirt, but she could smell the metallic blood coursing down his temple. Human. Tyrin held the torch closer and his pupils pin-pricked. A few teeth were missing when the soldier snarled at her.

"I won't tell you monsters any'ing," He chanted. A slight Southern Angoran accent rolled his words. Shadow cocked her head to the side and dropped the shield she used to dim the scent of her power.

The man paled a bit, and Tyrin moved not an inch.

"Do you have a name? Or should I call you dead?" She raked her eyes over him; the scabbard at his waist hanging empty.

He kept silent, eyes blazing with... hate. Shadow grinned.

"Answer her," Tyrin warned, baring his teeth. "Or she'll rip you to shreds so small even the crows won't be able to find enough for a meal." Shadow's teeth glinted.

There must have been something in their feral faces, because the man seemed to crumple into himself all at once. "Aron."

"Thank you. I feel introductions are now in order. My name is the Shadow of the East." She found she didn't care when he shivered – couldn't feel anything but the beat of her magic. Let me lose. I want out. "Why did you fire at us?" She sang sweetly. Like this conversation wasn't going to end with his corpse regardless. His hands trembled. A crest was sewn onto the left pocket of his black tunic, but it wasn't one she recognised.

"Following orders, I was, to kill any Wind Walkers on sight" Aron choked out. "We could sense your magic from a mile back and waited until you were in range."

"How?" If they could sense a magic-wielder, every spy in the Realm would be at risk.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Shadow's fist tightened on Aron's collar and she raised a dark eyebrow. But she recognised the resolve in his eyes. He spluttered, ripping at her skin with blunted nails that drew blood nevertheless. Her face remained expressionless.

"Who ordered you to kill my people?" Tyrin cut in, face a picture of icy crags and rough-hewn stone.

"Your people – you – are monsters. It is my duty to rid these lands of you," The man hissed, with courage only the knowledge of death could give.

He didn't know, Shadow realised.

"You follow someone you've never met – never seen?" She narrowed her eyes to slits. "Why?"

A manic laugh. "My family was in Angora when your people murdered the entire village. Anyone against you is with me." The soldier spat at their feet, saliva dripping from his chin. "Arying Attori," He breathed. "We are the Truth Seekers."

"Why were you so far from Aexon, little soldier? These lands don't welcome outsiders," Tyrin snarled. The dread in her blood mirrored his voice.

Aron smiled, a horrible twisted curl of his lips. "Retribution."

"What were you planning, Attori?" Tyrin rested his dagger against the man's throat, his eyes simmering with something fierce.

"Slaughtering you when you're at your most vulnerable. Retribution for what you did to us." He drew on more of his earlier conviction. "We were just a scouting party, the fifteen of us. Hundreds more will follow in our footsteps. And we will destroy you."

Cold realisation pricked through her. "The training camp," She whispered, fingers slackening on the soldier's shirt.

He grinned at her, his lip cracking and blood dribbling down his chin to mix with the saliva and dirt. Tyrin swore and pressed the knife into his skin until it drew blood of its own. "How far?"

The man's smile didn't faulter. "Three days," he said gleefully. "And there is no way you can stop it. No one will send aid in time."

The man ripped himself from her grip and made a desperate move for the chasm, but Shadow harshly tugged him back. "I want you alive," She purred, breathing her poisoned words against his face, "and suffered every day for the death you would bring down upon innocents."

The man's eyes darted to Tyrin, searching – searching for mercy. He found nothing but granite. Shadow didn't care what excuse he'd tell his supervisors – if he'd be killed for it or tortured.

She hadn't fully realised how deeply she'd sunk into her reputation until the sharp crack of the man's knees breaking was swallowed by the night. Her boot had been angled to strike and push down, a malicious, violent move. One she hadn't used in a while unless she was feeling especially cruel. Shadow released the man as he screamed, rolling along the dewed grass. Her hands shook slightly in the wake of her sudden violence. But there was nothing – no emotion, no regret – save for the rhythmic pulse of magic through her veins. It was that – the lack of feeling – that made her suddenly sick.

Shadow turned on the ball of her foot, ready to leave the soldier and his laboured breaths behind.

"Do you no' think the people in my villages were innocent – that they had done nothing to deserve the fire that rained down?" Aron roared, halting her turn from him. "Did your troops spare any of them?" Pained whistles broke from his lips. He curled around his legs protectively and shook – with sobs, Shadow realised. "My son was thirteen when he was killed, my wife died trying to shield him from those – those –" He snarled in frustration, struggling to come up with a name repulsive enough. "Your soldiers."

"They are not my people, Attori," She found herself saying. "This was never my war."

"This war is everyone's," He screamed, voice raw. "It's us against them; us against you."

Shadow left him in the dirt. Unable to even crawl to the peaceful darkness.