Of Blood, Earth, and Magic by A A Chamberlynn

Author:A A Chamberlynn [Chamberlynn, A A]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-10-07T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Six

Ashe

As the warriors drag me away from Elea, I scream her name. Her eyes flicker up to mine from where she lays huddled on the floor. Eyes that are silver, like these abhorrent creatures surrounding us. How can she be one of them?

When I’d seen her eyes the night Koko died, I hadn’t realized what it meant. Because it should be impossible. The Shadow Tribe had been all but extinguished hundreds of years ago. Those that remained were said to have fled Iamar, never to be seen again. But that was clearly false. The truth is now dragging me to my death.

And another thought flickers through my brain: Elea lied to me.

All of this passes through my head in an instant as I’m led beneath a tapestry of brilliant stars. The hands of the warriors holding me are rough, and one of them wears a ring that cuts into my skin. A congregation of Shadow warriors follow behind us, cheering and dancing. Their shrieks rise sharply into the night sky. Is the monster the leader referred to the same one that devoured Koko? I should be afraid, but instead I’m angry. Furious even. I let the fury course through my veins, because it feels a whole lot better than terror.

I have to survive and warn the others that the Shadow Tribe has been regaining numbers in secret. Like cockroaches, multiplying beneath the floor. Did they ever really leave, or did they leave and then come back at some point over the last few hundred years? How many of them are there? The leader had referred to a Fifth City. Presumably that means there are at least five of these abandoned cities. Judging by the eyes peering at us as we pass, from within dwellings and alleyways, and the crowd growing behind us, there are at least several hundred Shadow people in this city alone. Maybe even thousands.

We march for several minutes until we approach what appears to be the northern edge of the city. A large plaza of gray stone lies before us. The floor is set in a geometric pattern and slender pillars stand at attention along the perimeter. Someone took the time to clear this place of all debris, whereas the rest of the city was left in ruins. Beyond lie the plains, nothing but an inky blot in the darkness. A slim line of purple sits on the horizon.

In the middle of the clearing is a large bronze statue of a man. It’s Kintaew, the general of the Sun armies during the Shaman Wars. Every Sun child studies him in history class. He’s revered as the hero of the people. Somehow though, as I look at him now, I hear Elea’s voice in my head, speaking of genocide and injustice. It’s either an honor or a pity that he’ll watch over my final moments.

The mob leads me to the statue, and as I get closer I see there are chains at its feet. I try to

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