Shadow Weaver (Back on Wattpad 2020!)

Chapter 44

I thought I knew what death was. I had seen it over and over in my father's memories after he killed the mercenaries who stole Asmine. A soldier and three bird-men died during the attack yesterday, one right before my eyes. But this is different.

In the mind-world the sky has cracked and the heavens rage. A storm of memories shake like thunder. Memories so vivid, so detailed, moving faster than an arrow in flight. As though in the last moments of death, every detail of the life lived is emptied out and left behind. I stumble after Tug, half-blind and overwhelmed by so much information.

The first level of the palace is an open network of halls, libraries, galleries and reception rooms. Spaces are separated by Corinthian columns, arcades, and windows. Mirrors on the walls reflect light into the deepest recesses.

Tug stops. The clashing swords and cries and shouts of the real world trickle through my awareness. I lean against a wall as he peers around it to check the arcade ahead.

It's then I notice a soldier slumped against the opposite wall. He has dragged himself from the fighting leaving a trail of red smears across the veined marble. His eyes are open, his breathing labored. His hand presses against his chest wound.

As I stare, his body shudders and his hand slips slowly to his side. A fork of lightning passes through me. It takes only a second, but his whole life flashes on my inner-eye. Everything he has ever experienced. Each act of selfishness, cruelty, consideration, kindness. And not only from his own perspective, but the same events from the perspectives of all the lives he has touched for better or for worse. It is over in an instant.

I come to myself, huddled on the floor. The soldier's empty eyes stare across the dim corridor. I gaze back in shock. Tug is speaking, but I cannot command my body to one place, one time, one viewpoint from which to understand the world. It is as though I have been spread across a thousand lives.

"Mirra, stay with me." I try to look at him but my eyes are locked on the soldier. "Mirra, can you hear me?"

"He was Uru Ana," I whisper. From the corner of my vision I see Tug's face shift to take in the dead soldier. "In death, he became Uru Ana."

Tug's large, strong hand wraps around mine, and he pulls me away from the carnage. Movement drives me back to my body, my heaving chest, the cumbersome dress, the weariness of my muscles, the ache in my ribs.

A smell of burning oils and flowers wafts through the hall we have entered, replacing the scent of death. I grow more aware of our surroundings. The ceiling is vaulted, the windows pastel colored.

"On guard!" I hiss, pulling Tug's wrist. He raises his sword. At the same moment two soldiers appear at the other end of the hall. Their uniforms are stained and tattered. Specks of blood color their pale cheeks. They jog towards us.

"Whom do you fight for?" One of them demands.

"The Baroness of Tersil," Tug answers. I step out from behind Tug's huge frame.

"Take her back to her chambers. The palace has been closed."

"Closed on whose command?" Tug asks.

"Prince Jakut, heir to the throne of Caruca."

It is a lie. When we left the Prince he was about to descend to the King's departing ceremony. He will be trying to stop the bloodshed, not trap everyone inside the palace.

Tug steps wide, pushing me back, arcing up his sword to fight.

"No," I say, reaching for him. "If it is the Prince's wish, we will return as we have been asked." Tug holds the soldiers in his fixed glare. He could take both men. But I do not want their deaths on my hands.