Empire of Shadows

17.

At first there was darkness.

Then a cold and numb feeling that settled in his stomach and the marrow in his bones.

Something was different. Very different.

He knew he didn't like this different—it tasted bad, like blood and smoke.

But when he opened his eyes, the stars greeted him. A thousand and one brilliant pinpricks of light against a pure black, brighter than the jewels in any crown. When he was little, his father had told him the stars were the candles of the gods.

Of course none of them believed it, but it made for an interesting story.

The stars had never been this bright. He could see each constellation in the Polarian night sky. There was the great huntress Alvilde with her axe raised in battle and just north was the kvättorp with large black wings spread in flight.

He took a breath, slowly moving his fingers. They were numb, snow covering his skin. A prickle of pain lit up his body and he blinked slowly, his mind retreating into the darkness from which he had departed.

"No." Came a woman's voice and then there was a face above him, pressing her fingers against his face.

Who was she?

He found his voice slowly, "Araste—"

She shushed him, her dark eyes staring into his. She pressed a finger to his throat, nodding in thought.

"Aras su presæ? Østberg?" She spoke in harsh Polarian—all jutting angles and harsh syllables. Her grammar was impeccable and only nobles spoke full Polarian. But who was she?

Are you the prince?

He nodded weakly. "Jai."

She looked around, the moon illuminating her face. She whispered something to herself, her hands pressing against his chest.

He let out a cry and she let up the pressure.

"Aras je døed?!"

Am I dead?

She paused a moment, brushing her fingers over his face slowly. "Jai."

Yes.

He let out another cry. He couldn't die. No. No. He couldn't die now! Asluag was going to save him from the Elder Laws!

She carefully lifted his head a little and he found his voice again. "Aras su døet?"

Are you death?

She stopped, shaking her head. "No."

He sat up with her help, staring at the dried blood coating his body. He pressed his numb right hand against his chest, fingers probing the knife wound over his heart. His other hand gently felt the wound on his side where blood had frozen his tunic to his skin. "Drass. Je aras døed," he whispered.

I am dead.

The woman threw her cloak over his shoulders, helping him to his feet. She paused one last time and he craned his head up to look at the stars.

"Su aste savallin nen."

You are safe now.

A hand touched his face and Ketil startled awake in the darkness. "Wake up."

"Raziel?" Ketil let out a groan. "What are you—"

"You're talking in your sleep." Raziel sat down beside him, patting his leg. "Not that anyone can understand you, but you're twitching and talking."