Immediately she moved, clasping a hand over the man’s mouth and dragged a dagger across his throat. Dorian took his with a dagger to the back. The men fell silently and Dorian and Asmara stepped over them.

  They peered out of the corridor and saw a group of three guards heading towards them. They hadn’t noticed yet that the stairway guards were no longer alive.

  ‘I don’t think stealth is an option anymore.’ she murmured.

  Dorian nodded in agreement.

  The two waited for the guards to get closer. Then, as footsteps faltered, eyes widened and mouths opened to yell an alarm Dorian and Asmara leapt out of the stairway. Asmara whispered her incantations and the tip of her sword flared and lengthened, taking the first man in the heart. Dorian muttered and clenched his fist and the second man fell, scrabbling at his throat and gasping for air. By that time the third had shouted and was running at them, sword raised. Asmara ducked under his swing and slashed at his chest as she passed. She didn’t wait for him to hit the ground and was running down the hall, Dorian following. From behind came the sounds of shouting and heavy footsteps, more guards were following. Ahead they could see no one and it seemed they might be in the clear. Dorian frowned, though, feeling something off in the air.

  ‘Asmara, stop!’ Dorian shouted.

  She halted immediately, her sword raised, a questioning look thrown his way.

  ‘Duck!’ he yelled and she obeyed as the air whooshed above her.

  The men behind were closing on them. Asmara raised her sword and something clanged into it. Asmara slashed at nothing as Dorian chanted. Blood dripped on the ground from empty air. Asmara rose and edged back, her sword held before her. The air rippled and she saw a guardsman. Then there was a ripping sound coinciding with the end of Dorian’s chant. Suddenly a group of four guards stood before them, one with a shallow cut on his wrist. A robed man at the back of the group was yelling in Lakashan at the guards. At the robed man’s behest the four in front of them charged. Seconds later, the group from behind reached them and the corridor was filled with the sounds of fighting and flashes of magic.

  Julietta edged away from the swords, chanting all the while. Bo swung his sword around expertly, mowing down groups of men at a time. She sent blasts of power at the men further back, trying to fell them before they could reach Bo. Two other mages fought her too, distracting her attention and so despite her best efforts, men kept reaching Bo.

  ‘Julietta!’ Bo yelled above the sounds of fighting and explosions of magical energy. ‘We need to leave!’

  Julietta could not interrupt her chanting, a third mage had joined the first two. She backed up another step, forced to abandon her attacks on the guards. More men appeared on the walls.

  ‘Dorian and Asmara will have to find another way out! Can you give us cover?!’

  The night was brightened by bursts of magic. Julietta’s night vision was ruined. A yell from Bo broke her focus. Suddenly she realized what he had been asking of her and changed her spell mid-chant.

  The night air thickened, the light from torches and spells dimming.

  She took a breath to yell to Bo, ‘run, now!’ and returned to her chanting.

  In relief she saw him back up, guards still following. Julietta walked forward until she could put her hand on Bo’s shoulder. It was wet. She was close to the guards now and their swords, closer than she liked. The cadence of her chant changed and the night suddenly went completely dark, the stars and moon winking out, the lights from the castle fading and disappearing. Not even the trees around were visible. Julietta moved her hand to Bo’s wrist and firmly pulled. She walked quickly and without error, never tripping or bumping into anything. It was eerie, the complete darkness while they still heard the sounds of their attackers, tramping feet, and calls in Lakashan.

  Bo didn’t ask any questions, just followed.

  Dorian slid down the wall with a soft cry, his vision blurring. He saw Asmara still fighting, he couldn’t move. How had he not seen the man with the club? She fought like a demon, whispering her incantations, her sword flaring and sparking. Then suddenly it died, and her sword was just a sword. She didn’t appear to notice and kept fighting. But she couldn’t win, couldn’t possibly win. Dorian tried to move, the world wobbling in front of his eyes but still there. And then Asmara fell, her sword falling from her fingers, her body hitting the ground with a thump.

  The Lakashan mage was shouting orders and gesturing wildly. The guards were disappearing with surprising alacrity now that Asmara was down. Dorian tried to move, his head ached so badly.

  One of the guards stayed, he didn’t look very happy. The mage was still shouting. Dorian didn’t know much Lakashan, just a little from working with Lakashan mercenaries occasionally. The only words he could pick up were ‘dark’ and ‘mage’. Were they talking about shadow magic?

  The Lakashan guard roughly turned Asmara onto her back and lifted his sword over her prone body.

  Dorian let out a little yell of despair. It came out as a soft wheeze. He felt sick. He could do nothing but watch as the guard hacked at her chest while the mage egged him on.

  And then the guard fell. Without any sound or sign he simply collapsed to the ground. The mage screamed and tried to pick up the guard’s sword, his face suffused with fear. Dorian watched in growing confusion as the mage fell awkwardly to his knees and placed his hands on Asmara’s bloodied body. Dorian felt the sudden eruption of magic from the mage, so strong it almost hurt. The mage was entirely silent now, his face still. What was happening? What was the point? After several minutes the mage awkwardly stood and woodenly approached Dorian. Dorian tried to say something but couldn’t as the man put his clammy, bony hands on him. He did not remember the mage being so very thin. Immediately he felt better as the Lakashan mage began healing him. Dorian blinked and sat up, flexing his hands.

  ‘Why are you helping me?’ he mumbled.

  The mage suddenly collapsed, his body wasted and his breathing weak after the enormous expenditure of magic. Dorian frowned, still trying to sort out what had happened. The weak gasping of the mage faded and was gone. He was dead. A sound of movement alerted Dorian and he looked up as Asmara jerkily got up on her knees and then stood. With a motion as unnatural and wooden as that of the Lakashan mage, she tottered over and started kicking the body of the mage.

  ‘Cut my heart out? What’s wrong with you?’ her voice was oddly flat and forced, despite the words she used. Dorian stared at her, unable to move.

  ‘It doesn’t help, you freak! Next time try burning! Though I can always steal another body you-!’ Asmara kept kicking him.

  ‘Asmara.’ Dorian said weakly. ‘Asmara.’

  Asmara froze mid-kick, then put her foot down as she struggled to balance. ‘We should leave now.’ she said.

  ‘You’re alive.’

  ‘We should leave now.’ she repeated in that strange, flat voice. ‘I’ll need your help to walk. We should leave now.’

  Dorian, suddenly remembering the urgency of their situation, stood and held out an arm to Asmara. She grabbed onto him and they started walking. They couldn’t go very fast. Asmara kept her head down, her eyes on her legs as she moved in a weird rocking motion, moving only one leg at a time.

  ‘We’ll go out the front way.’ Asmara said. ‘I can’t climb.’

  ‘There’ll be more guards, Asmara, I’ll help you.’

  ‘I can’t climb.’

  True to his prediction, as soon as they left the staircase and emerged on the second floor they found the guards that had fled when Asmara fell.

  The guards looked at them in horror and fear and most scattered. A few stayed. Dorian was readying his magic when Asmara collapsed against him. Suddenly faced with the full weight of her body Dorian’s focus shattered. But it didn’t matter. The guards collapsed without a sound and then Asmara was standing again.

  ‘Keep... going.’ she said and Dorian obeyed.

  Dorian headed to the first stairwell they had used which would take them back to the ground floor. As they stumbled along they encountered more guards. These were not so afraid as the previous ones, or were perhaps just unaware of what Asmara had done, and they all attacked. The outcome was the same; Asmara collapsed and then so did the guards, their souls ripped from their bodies by her shadow magic.

  They reached the narrow courtyard before the wall. Asmara’s movement was worse, and Dorian was mostly carrying her, her grip on his shoulder weak. He glanced at her and for a terrifying moment thought she had died. Her face was completely slack, as if all the muscles had stopped working, and her head was tilted at a floppy angle, as if she no longer had the strength to hold it up. Then he saw her eyes move and he let out a breath. He didn’t even bother suggesting they climb and instead walked around the side of the castle and out into the front yard. The gate was closed and the yard was filled with guards and a few mages. He didn’t see Julietta or Bo anywhere. Maybe they’d escaped. Maybe they’d been killed, or captured and taken elsewhere.

  ‘Raise the gate.’ Dorian yelled. ‘And let us go, or the shadow mage will kill you.’

  There was no point. Either they didn’t speak Manunian or they didn’t care.

  Dorian watched, feeling ill as the men dropped soundlessly. There were a lot of them, and he had the opportunity to watch as they died one by one, in quick succession. The last one did not die though. He froze for one moment and then started walking normally towards the gate. Asmara was conscious again.

  Dorian didn’t know what she’d done to him, but the man opened the gate and silently let them pass. Dorian didn’t stop walking after they passed under the gate.

  ‘Asmara,’ he said. ‘Where do we go?’

  She didn’t answer.

  He glanced at her and saw her eyes were open and flicking around, from the trees, to the sky, to him, yet she didn’t seem to notice anything. Making a decision, Dorian headed back into the forest, and the way they had originally come. All the while he tried to talk to Asmara, tried to get her to walk or move. Occasionally she would look at him, a lifeless expression on her face. She never spoke.

  CHAPTER 22

  11 Maurth, 1353

  The world was warm and cozy. Dark, warm, soft. Comforting, close, no reason to ever leave- bright light stabbed into his eyes. A groan of annoyance, the sound of blankets, cushions being thrown back.

  Idris Mer Haidar sat up, blinking owlishly in the bright morning light.

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry, sir, I thought you were awake!’ the maid replied, going bright red. ‘I was going to clean the room, it is well into the day already!’

  ‘How far into the day?’ he mumbled, suddenly cold. Sleepily, he gathered up his scattered blankets and pulled them around his bare shoulders.

  ‘Oh, the kitchens will be serving lunch in an hour or so.’

  Idris was silent for a moment as that sunk into his brain. The cold at least was waking him up quickly. Why was it so cold? ‘Why wasn’t I woken earlier?’ What happened to my breakfast?

  ‘Oh, I-I must have forgotten!’

  Idris rubbed his eyes and then, more alert, looked towards his fireplace. It was cold and empty.

  ‘My fire...’

  ‘I’m sorry, I was so busy, and you know how Lord Haroun can be so demanding!’

  Idris, now completely awake, suddenly smiled. ‘Oh, yes, I’m sorry, I hope I haven’t put you out.’ and then he sneezed. ‘Excuse me!’ he managed before breaking into a fit of coughing.

  ‘Oh dear, you must have caught a cold!’

  ‘Oh, please, don’t trouble yourself,’ he managed, his eyes watery from his coughing and wheezing, ‘it is still summer, isn’t it, at least for a few more days? Perhaps it is just the dust!’ Not that the season really mattered, it was always cold atop Ashdo Mountain.

  ‘I’ll light the fire right away!’

  ‘Please, a bath too if you will? I’m sure I’m late for something but I-I can’t seem to recall...’

  ‘I’ll arrange it all right away!’ and the young woman rushed from the room.

  Once she was gone Idris sat up straight, his breathing calm. In the last week the girl had only managed to light his fire twice. Haroun is so unpleasant, but he gets all his fires, his wake ups, his breakfasts. And they wonder why their masters are so brusque with them, this is what kindness gets! Idris mused over all the things he could have done to the girl, all much more unusual and severe than having her reprimanded or fired. He shook those thoughts from his head and stood, his toes finding the plush carpet beneath his bed. At least they haven’t stolen that and given it to Haroun.

  He padded over to his desk and idly browsed through his letters. Everything on display was of a frivolous nature. The maids had an unhealthy habit of snooping through his things, even though very few of them could read they could recognize signatures and seals. Gossipy little cretins. I could kill her right now, he thought, picking up a paperweight from his desk, and no one would say a thing about it. Except the maids who’d have to clean the blood off the carpet. He put the paperweight down. Lucky for her, any replacement would be just as bad. Besides, he disliked mess in his own home. Would the maids be as tardy removing the body as they were with his breakfast?

  The young woman rushed back into his room about ten minutes later, her arms full of wood. He watched, a forced smile on his face, as she littered splinters and dirt everywhere.

  ‘The bathwater is coming! You really ought to go back to bed, sir, lest your cold gets worse.’

  Idris forced a cough and said in a weak voice, ‘no, I must get going with my day, I have important things to do!’

  As far as the maid knew, that was a lie. Idris’s public persona never had anything important to do, as a third son of a rich and well established noble family all he had to do was lounge around, gossip with other rich sons and generally spend each day in even more trivial pursuits than the last.

  ‘Tell me,’ he said, ‘how has the day been so far? What have I missed?’

  The girl began chatting animatedly, revealing all sorts of secrets about the people she served. A lesson, he thought idly, in the importance of hiding things from the help. If it wasn’t for your perverse interest in the lives of other people I would have to have something terrible done to you for neglecting your duties so. I could arrange for your best friend, the freckly one who can’t walk and carry things at the same time, to marry that boy you like. I’m not sure you’d appreciate that I was punishing you though. I could dock your pay I suppose, but I fear you’d just grumble.

  The help was paid well, for what they did. There really was no excuse for neglecting him so.

  As she talked other maids traipsed into the room sloshing boiling water from buckets. He winced as water splashed on his plush, wine red rug. Getting these creatures to clean up their mess without offending them was ludicrously complicated. Still, he smiled, and heard all the news from the new arrivals as well.

  He noticed one of the younger girls was staring at him. He smiled politely and picked up the amulet hanging around his neck. The girls had stopped filling his bath (despite it being only half-filled) and were now comfortably gathered in his bed chamber chatting with him.

  ‘Do you want to know about this?’ he asked.

  The girl giggled and one of the others elbowed her and said, ‘don’t stare, Maryam, it’s rude!’

  ‘Is it really a candle?’ the giggling girl asked.

  Idris nodded. ‘Of course!’ he said proudly. ‘A proper one, I get it re-tested and fixed every year!’

  The girl looked impressed, as she should, while another asked, ‘how did you get one?’

  ‘My father has connections, and I am an important member of the Emperor’s court.’ he said with a conceited smile.

  The girls nodded and smiled, likely laughing behind their smiles. As far as the world knew, there was nothing of importance in Idris Mer Haidar’s head that any shadow mage would have the least interest in. But he was a pleasant, faintly stupid, rich, still-young man (though soon people might get the idea to call him middle-aged), and a vastly inflated sense of self-importance was common in the nobility, so people humoured him.

  ‘You’d best get along,’ he said, a strain of worry entering his voice, ‘I can’t keep you all day, I’d hate for you to get in trouble!’

  But if one of you doesn’t come back later to clean up those twigs somebody’s house is going to get burnt down.

  The maids left and Idris bathed in peace. He did not take long though, he really was late to be starting his day. After bathing he breakfasted on fresh fruit in a bowl in his room before heading to his office. His office was hidden in plain sight. It was disguised as a lovely, but small reading room in the Imperial Palace and there was nothing about it to draw attention. When he arrived the Third Assistant Librarian, Head of the Second South-Eastern Reading Room, was waiting impatiently for him.

  Seeing him, Idris was immediately on alert. Yasir mer Uthman had every reason to be here, considering his position, but he usually wasn’t. Messages were artfully concealed in the books, disguised as the writing of bored young men with no respect for the proper way to treat valuable old books. There was no reason for Yasir to be waiting unless something big had happened.

  ‘Yasir, what is it?’ Idris demanded.

  ‘Message from Yaquba Citadel, west of Port Eliach-’

  ‘I know where it is.’

  ‘Last night it was attacked, as we knew it would be but... there was a shadow mage-’

  ‘A shadow mage? This happened last night? Why am I only hearing about this now?’

  ‘Nearly all the guards were killed, and all the mages. Idris, our man in the citadel had to send a stableboy to take the message to Ubeda and have the mages there send the message. Still, we heard first, no one else in the palace knows.’

  Idris nodded curtly. ‘Good. Still, this is a bloody mess, we should have known a shadow mage was in the empire, though if our shadow mages haven’t figured this out yet...’