5 The Doomed

When the riders disappeared from their sight, Dashvara turned to the barracks. Most of the Xalyas had returned to tend to the sick, but Makarva and Zamoy were sitting on the platform talking animatedly. Dashvara could tell by their expressions that they were ranting about the possible doings of the Pearl Brotherhood. As long as they were a little more effective than they had been in Dazbon…

A questioning snort brought him out of his thoughts, and he remembered that he was holding the horse by the bridle. He patted the horse on the neck and smiled when he saw that the animal responded in a friendly manner. He had long since come to the conclusion at the Border that horses were much friendlier than sajits. At least among the Doomed.

“Do you know what I’m going to call you?” he whispered to it, stroking its forehead. “I’ll call you Latish. Because you took a year to arrive and now we’re going to part ways without almost knowing each other. It’s a shame.”

The horse snorted again. Its black eyes contemplated him with a discreet curiosity.

“Come on, Latish.”

He pulled on the reins and led him to the shed. After a moment’s hesitation, he went to get the saddle. He was a steppeman, and it had been more than a year since he had ridden. Wasn’t that unthinkable! He smiled.

“This must be remedied, Latish, don’t you think?”

He had trouble finding the saddle: it was stuck under the wood store. Finally, he pulled it out and removed a rope from the horse that he was carrying with two bags attached to the ends. He paused for a moment. Two bags? he repeated to himself. He looked at it. Was it… food, maybe? With curiosity, he opened one that seemed almost empty and stood in suspense. There, inside, was… Yes. The proud wooden figurine that old Bashak had given him. He took it in the palm of his hand, smiling, remembering the wrinkled and serene face of the wise Shalussi. Ah, damn good memories, he thought cheerfully. Then he wrinkled his forehead. There, on the underside, was a kind of plug that wasn’t there before. He pulled on it, more and more intrigued, he shook the sculpture, and a rolled-up leaf came off.

“Eternal Bird,” he whispered.

With trembling hands, he unfolded the parchment, convinced that, if there was anything written, bad luck must have erased it… But no. There were two clear sentences that said in Oy’vat: Brother, if you are still alive, let me repeat something you once told me: no matter how much the wind blows, don’t give up the fight.

Dashvara blinked. The writing was clear, elegant. It was Fayrah’s handwriting, no mistake about that. He would have recognized it among a thousand. So that meant that his sister was really okay…

Mmph. Did you think the Duke would lie to you?

She had used otter flower ink to write. Like the one Maloven used in the dungeon. He rolled up the message again, and shrugging, gave it to the horse, which ate it. Immediately, Latish’s eyes widened in surprise as he realized that it did not taste like grass. Dashvara chuckled.

“Words feed the mind, Latish.”

He took the other bag. This one was chunkier, but it weighed curiously less.

‘Don’t panic,’ an insecure voice suddenly warned him.

Dashvara exhaled sharply and opened the bag. Inside, there was nothing but darkness. He couldn’t believe it…

“Tahisran?”

The shadow stuck its head out.

‘In person,’ he confirmed cheerfully. ‘You don’t know how many things has happened to me. I probably would have come sooner if I hadn’t been locked up in a box for twenty thousand years.’

Dashvara stared at him, stunned. Wait a second… Did Rowyn bring the shadow to me? Had he done it on purpose or was it Fayrah who had introduced it there without him noticing? It didn’t matter: the case was that the shadow was there, in front of him, with an obvious apologetic pout on its tenebrous face.

“I’m not panicking,” he assured with a huff. Latish imitated him. “Tell me, Tahisran, does Rowyn know that you…? I mean, did he send you? I mean… what’s all this about a crate?”

‘I’ll explain,’ the shadow sighed as he pulled out the bag. ‘When you boarded for Titiaka, I didn’t get there in time to catch the boat, so I decided to take the next one.’ He paused for a moment and continued, ‘I’ll tell you how it happened. You see, I took the next boat after advising Fayrah, Lessi, and Aligra not to part with that Shalussi… that Rokuish. Because he’s a friend of yours, right?’

Dashvara nodded, expectantly.

‘Well,’ the shadow cleared its throat mentally. ‘So here’s the thing, the ship I was on was a commercial ship. Some pirates boarded it, stole the ship and changed course, and headed for an island. I… I was very upset. And I showed up in front of the captain of the ship to tell him my story and ask him to at least let me stay on the coast of Titiaka. I almost scared him to death.’

Dashvara suppressed the urge to cover his mouth.

“Tahisran, I have already told you that sajits are not used to seeing shadows.”

‘I am a sajit,’ Tahisran replied patiently. ‘And I am well aware of the effect I have on people. You don’t need to remind me of that.’ He sat down on a log, glanced puzzledly at the horse and donkey, and continued, ‘It turns out that on this island they are not afraid of shadows. Quite the opposite, actually. Those pirates thought I was a saint, a kind of ancestral spirit. I managed to escape once and went all over the island looking for a ship to steal. I thought that, if pirates were stealing boats, I could steal one from them too, right? But… well, I don’t know how to sail. So, finally, I tried to sneak into a ship that was already occupied. They discovered me in the middle of the sea and locked me in a metal box about thirty inches wide. I spent all that time hanging from a mast answering the pirates’ ridiculous questions: is there going to be a storm, does this woman really love me, will I really go to hell when I die… At first, I didn’t answer, but then I got so bored that I even looked forward to the next stupidity that those sailors would come up with. If you had seen how excited they got when I answered…’

He clasped his hands together in his lap, sighing.

‘Finally, not long ago, they landed me in Titiaka, and for some reason, a certain Atasiag freed me and led me to Fayrah. You see. All this journey for nothing.’

Dashvara shook his head in amazement.

“So you were looking for me.”

The shadow smiled.

‘Yes. You asked me not to abandon you, and I’m not abandoning you. How are you? You are thinner than before. You should eat more. You don’t want to become a shadow like me, do you?’

Dashvara breathed in and out several times before letting go:

“Tell me, Tahisran, since you’re here, you’re going to tell me everything you know, aren’t you? You’re not a pain like the republicans, are you?”

Tahisran tilted his head to one side.

‘I remind you that I am from the Fire Republic. I too was born a republican.’

Dashvara glared at him.

‘All right,’ the shadow sighed. ‘I’ll tell you everything I know. But it’s not much.’

Dashvara gave him a grateful smile and stood up energetically.

“So get back in your bag. Latish, you and I are going out for a walk.”

‘Great, I love walks!’ the shadow enthused.

A few minutes later, Dashvara came out of the shed riding Latish. Makarva and Zamoy looked up from the podium.

“Dash!” Makarva exclaimed. “Where are you going?”

“To warn those of Dignity that they have a breach in their palisade,” Dashvara replied. He had no intention of hiding the shadow’s presence from his brothers, but he had not yet asked Tahisran’s permission. He pointed to Latish as he completed, “And show our new companion around. Can you do me a favor? Can you bring me the swords, just in case?”

“I’d be surprised if Dignity’s people hadn’t seen the damage yet,” Makarva commented, standing up. “I’ll bring you the swords right away.”

He ran into the barracks, and Zamoy said:

“You see, cousin? It wasn’t so bad, right? These people may be foreigners but they look quite friendly. And Makarva and I have come to the conclusion that, even if they don’t manage to free us, maybe they will lead us to a nicer place from which we can escape more easily. The Eternal Bird is favorable to us, Dash.”

Dashvara huffed, amused.

“The Eternal Bird is favorable to whoever wishes it, cousin. But the Eternal Bird has nothing to do with luck.”

Makarva arrived with the swords, and Dashvara secured them with the strap.

“You make me envious with the horse,” his friend confessed. “Be careful!”

“I usually am,” Dashvara replied, spurring Latish on. He drew away from Compassion, listening with undeniable pleasure to the thud of hooves against the earth.

After riding south for a while, he found himself smiling. If he just looked west, he could almost believe he was on the steppe. Almost. He put the horse into a walk while glancing toward the swampy jungle. Finally, he broke the silence:

“Tahisran? Can you hear me?”

‘I hear you, Dash. But, truth be told, I’d rather be out there. Can I?’

Dashvara opened one eye wider then shook his head.

“Are you asking for my permission? If you want to go out, go out, shadow. You’re free to do what you want.”

The shadow struggled a bit, pulled out a hand, and opened the bag. When it sat astride behind him, Dashvara laughed quietly.

‘What is it?’ Tahisran asked, intrigued.

“Nothing,” he assured, without stopping to smile. “It’s nothing.”

‘Well,’ the shadow whispered. ‘It’s been years since I’ve seen the swamps of Ariltuan.’

Dashvara arched an eyebrow in disbelief.

“Have you ever been in there?”

‘Me? Ha. No. I once travelled along them, but I’ve never been inside. I cherish my life.’

Dashvara smiled again.

‘I feel like you’re laughing at me,’ Tahisran sighed. ‘But I can’t understand why. Does it seem strange to you that a shadow would value its life?’

Dashvara shook his head, looking forward.

“Not at all,” he said earnestly. “In the end, even if you are a shadow, you are still a sajit. And you still have an Eternal Bird.”

‘Mm. By the way, I would like to know what exactly this Eternal Bird means to you,’ Tahisran said.

Dashvara shrugged.

“I’ll explain it to you as soon as you’ve explained to me what the demons the Brothers of the Pearl are up to. But first, tell me, where is Fayrah?”

‘In Titiaka,’ the shadow answered immediately.

So Rowyn had really taken her to Diumcili…

“Titiaka, huh?” Dashvara sighed. “Demons, it doesn’t matter where she is as long as she’s okay. And why did they let you stuff yourself in that bag if they don’t want me to know their intentions?”

‘Simply because I can’t tell you much,’ the shadow admitted. ‘And also because I insisted that they lead me to you,’ he added with a smile. ‘Frankly, I didn’t think they had a bad heart. Except maybe Azune. I heard her say that, if it was up to her, she would have left you at the Border for a few more years. But I think she was joking. I mean, I don’t think they’re plotting anything against you and your brothers. I even think that the main objective is to get you out of this… inhospitable place. Fayrah insisted a lot to get you out of here. And, myself, I tried my best, even if you can imagine that they didn’t listen to me much. Anyway, I admit that the first thing I did, when I arrived in Titiaka, was to walk around the whole town and finally enjoy my freedom.’

Dashvara waited for a few seconds, then shook his head in frustration.

“And you know nothing else?” He breathed in. “Who is this Atasiag who freed you from your crate?”

He perceived the hesitation of the shadow.

‘A… man.’

Dashvara rolled his eyes.

“Yeah. What else?”

‘Well… I don’t know. He seemed nice, but I barely spoke with him. I think he had something to do with this plan against the slaver too. I’m sorry I can’t help you more.’ Dashvara felt Tahisran’s hand patting him on the shoulder as he added more enthusiastically, ‘Now that we are together, we will be able to work things out, you will see.’

Dashvara smiled.

“I believe you. After all, you are a saint, aren’t you?”

Tahisran answered him with a simple snort, and Dashvara completed: A sympathetic saint, at that.

He pulled on the reins so that Latish would stop eating grass, and he put the horse back into a trot. Startled, the shadow clung to his white Doomed belt—silently, because whatever a shadow did, it did it silently.

“Tahisran?”

‘Yes?’

“What was it like to be trapped in that crate?”

There was a silence, and Dashvara feared that he had awakened bad memories. Then the shadow answered:

‘In some ways, better than in the catacombs. At least, I was surrounded by the living. Although, to be honest with you…’ He hesitated. ‘I must admit that sometimes the dead are more bearable than the living. At least the dead don’t kill each other.’

Dashvara winced and glanced toward the swamp and the palisade. They were not far from the boundary between Compassion and Dignity. He noticed that at the breach, several figures of the Doomed were working to repair the damage. Lazy, but not that lazy when it comes to survival, he smiled. Dashvara turned to the shadow and could see it cautiously sliding into the bag. He pulled on the reins.

“Tahisran,” he then repeated.

‘Yes, Dash?’

“May I ask why you are following me?”

He heard a small amused laugh.

‘Does it seem so odd to you that someone would want to follow you?’

Dashvara shook his head.

“A child follows you not to get lost. A wolf does so to eat you. And a friend follows you to help you. No,” he admitted. “It doesn’t seem so strange to me. But I wonder who you are, the friend, the child, or the wolf.”

There was silence.

‘Are you kidding?’

Dashvara grinned broadly, amused.

“Hardly.”

He had just seen one of the Doomed move away from him, and he spurred his mount to approach.

“Hi, Compassive!” threw the one from Dignity. Dashvara knew his name. He was the leader of Dignity, a certain Towder, tall, sturdy, and tough: he had been at the Border, changing turns for fifteen years. One of the few who lasted that long.

“Hi,” Dashvara replied, stopping Latish. “I was just on my way to your tower to warn you that a borwerg had passed through here last night. I suppose you must have seen the bodies. We haven’t, er… taken the time to remove them yet, but we will. Is everything okay at Dignity?”

Towder’s face was devastated by a huge scar that froze it in a constant grimace of disgust. However, appearances were not to be trusted: Dashvara knew that he was one of the most treatable among the Doomed of Dignity.

“Skrat,” Towder swore. “Well, not really. We’ve got half the platoon emptying their guts.”

Dashvara’s eyes widened in alarm.

“Really? Us too.”

“What?” Towder muttered. “You too?” Both exchanged a frown. If those in Dignity had suffered the same thing, that meant those in Sympathy were not guilty. Then, most likely, the problem had to come from the swamps. “Skrat,” Towder spat. “This is weird.”

“I agree. Tell me, Towder, have you ever heard of a creature that releases green toxins that make you sick?”

The Doomed man twisted his mouth even more. He sputtered as he spoke:

“No, not creatures. But there are plants in Ariltuan that could be used.”

“By the orcs?”

“Mm. It could be. Hey!” he said suddenly, calling out to his companions. “It seems that what happened to Skif’s patrol also happened to the Compassives!” He turned back to Dashvara. “I don’t think it’s lethal. But if it’s orcs… we better be on our guard.”

Dashvara agreed.

“We will be. By the way, apparently, we, the Xalyas, are going to have to leave Compassion in a week.”

Towder didn’t budge even a bit.

“They send you to Patience?”

Dashvara shrugged.

“No idea.”

Towder uncovered his teeth.

“Then I hope the platoon that is going to replace you will be as bearable as you guys.”

Dashvara returned his smile.

“I hope so for your sake.”

He raised a hand in greeting and pulled the reins to make his horse fly. The news was rather disturbing, he thought.

Are the orcs now planning to kill us by poisoning us? Bah… Can such a plan fit inside the head of a swamp orc? He shrugged. It could, why not? But it’s not their style…

He had barely made it halfway home when he heard a flurry of alarm bells.

For a second, Dashvara felt himself die. The sound came from Compassion. Then his heart began to beat like a war drum. He spurred the horse, and it bolted north.

This time, you better not be late, Latish…