Twenty
When the next morning dawned bright and clear, Alex was determined to move on from the events of the previous day. She didn’t linger on the failure with the Flips or the near disaster with the Jarnocks or even the unforeseen—and complicated—close call with Kaiden. Instead, she gathered as many positive thoughts as she could and told herself that today would be a victory.
The only less-than-happy thought she couldn’t ignore was that she would be heading out on her own. With Jordan and D.C. stuck in detention from their make-out session—another reason for Alex to avoid any romantic entanglements—and Bear still healing in the Med Ward, Alex would be visiting the Shadow Walkers and Dayriders alone.
Or so she thought.
Just as she was making her approach through the snow to the Tower building, Caspar Lennox fell into step beside her.
“Sir?” she asked when it became clear that he wasn’t just passing by.
“You cannot simply announce yourself to the Shadow Walker elders, Alexandra Jennings,” he said. “You must be presented.”
Uncertain as to the meaning of both his words and his presence, Alex mumbled, “Um…”
“I will escort you to the city of my race,” Caspar Lennox told her straight out. “But even with my advocacy, I can offer no guarantees that they will be willing to listen to your claims.”
“Uh…”
With lightning-fast movement, his mottled-grey hand flashed out and wrapped firmly around her bicep.
“Whatever you do, do not pull away.”
That was all he said before the swirling cloud of inky shadows at his feet rose up to envelope them, with him tugging Alex forward through the darkness.
It was like hiking upwards through honey. While blind. Unable to see anything, Alex could only follow her SOSAC teacher’s directive and keep walking, anchored to him by his grip on her arm as they journeyed to wherever he was guiding them.
Alex had only travelled through the shadows once before. On her own, she’d wrestled with the darkness and felt pulled in every direction until she’d been able to assert her will and arrive at her intended destination.
With Caspar Lennox, it was different. Other than the sensation of walking through sludge, she didn’t have to fight for dominance over the precocious nature of the shadows. Whether that was because her teacher was doing it for them both, or simply because he was a Shadow Walker and this particular means of transportation was natural to him, she wasn’t sure.
When the darkness around them finally cleared, Alex could see they were now far, far away from anywhere she’d ever been.
“Whoa.”
Alex couldn’t have repressed her reaction if she’d wanted to, not as she took in the view laid out before her.
It was a city mounted up against the side of a craggy mountain, that much was evident. But it was unlike any city—or indeed, place—Alex had ever seen.
Half of it was covered in shadow. Deep, dark clouds swirled overhead, like a constantly brewing storm. Below the unnatural weather phenomenon, the buildings and streets were all pitch-black and, to her enhanced sight, appeared almost gothic in design. The architecture was predominantly made up of jagged spires and arches, with an ancient dark cathedral rising high above the rest—a structure that was as beautiful as it was intimidating.
The other half of the city was the polar opposite in every way. Blinding sunlight beamed down onto pure white buildings, their design similar to the shadowy side, but instead of looking like something from a horrific nightmare, it was more like something from a picturesque daydream. Most notably different was the lack of storm clouds, and in place of the daunting cathedral there was a crystal pyramid. The sunbeams bounced off it, causing bursts of multicolour to wash across the city in dazzling spears of light.
Alex could hardly believe what she was seeing. It was as if the city had an invisible line drawn right down its centre, marking light from dark, day from night.
As she stood there soaking in the incredible sight, all she could do was remain silent.
Caspar Lennox, however, wasn’t struck mute. In his clear, melodic voice, he announced, “Welcome to Graevale, Alexandra Jennings. Home of the Shadow Walkers and Dayriders.”
There would have been an unexpected but quirky kind of irony if Alex had discovered the Dayriders living in the dark half of the city and the Shadow Walkers living in the light, but unsurprisingly, that wasn’t the case. And that was made evident when Caspar Lennox gripped Alex’s arm again and walked her through the shadows once more, with them arriving at the edge of a ginormous cobblestoned town square—easily the size of two football fields—and right at the base of a dark staircase leading up to the formidable cathedral’s entry.
“Let me guess,” Alex said, rubbing her arm from his nearly bruising grip. “The elders hang here?”
Creepy church-like building for creepy vampire-like creatures? It made sense in her mind.
“The elders do not hang,” Caspar Lennox said, his distaste for her word choice clear.
When he said no more, Alex pressed, “But they’re here, right?”
“They meet inside the Obscuria, yes.”
“Then what are we waiting for?” Alex started up the jagged, black steps, wondering why he hadn’t just dropped them off at the top of the stairs rather than making them tackle the arduous climb.
When Alex realised he wasn’t following, she turned back and raised her eyebrows in a ‘What’s the hold up?’ gesture.
“I’m beginning to regret bringing you here,” Caspar Lennox said on a sigh as he stepped up beside her.
“We haven’t even done anything yet,” she said, baffled by his statement.
“Exactly. That means you haven’t had a chance to cause any problems,” he returned. “Please, Alexandra, for the grace of the shadows, promise me you will be mindful of your words.”
Alex pursed her lips. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
His answer came without hesitation. “You have a habit of speaking before you think. I strongly advise against doing so here. The elders do not suffer fools gladly.”
Offended, Alex opened her mouth to argue, but he continued before she could.
“And as I have told you once before, they are also not inclined to care for humans. They are just as likely to laugh at you as they are to listen.”
After the Jarnocks and the Flips, Alex wasn’t ignorant of the possibilities.
“I’m aware of that,” she said in a curt voice. “But I still have to try.”
His dark eyes holding hers, Caspar Lennox nodded once. “Very well.” Beginning to climb the stairs again, he ordered, “Follow me.” He then halted so suddenly that Alex almost bumped into him when he turned around to add, “No matter how tempted you are, do not speak unless you are addressed. Do you understand?”
“Got it,” she said, staying close as he continued upwards until they reached an impressive double-arched entrance and walked inside.
Alex wasn’t sure what she’d expected to see after stepping into the cathedral. Pews and an altar, perhaps. Maybe candles and a priest of some kind. But none were to be found. She listened for the quintessential ringing from a hunchback in the bell tower, but that didn’t come either.
All in all, the inside of the mammoth building wasn’t anything like she would have thought. The floor was made of a glossy black marble, blending into the walls so perfectly that it was almost impossible to see where the corner angle shifted from horizontal to vertical. The stained-glass windows allowed barely any light in due to the menacing storm clouds outside, so the only illumination offered was from hanging sconces filled with a strange, purple fire.
Taking in all that with a glance, Alex’s attention was more focused on what was happening in the centre of the empty space. While there were no furnishings of any kind, the cathedral wasn’t without people. Or rather, Shadow Walkers.
It appeared as if there was some kind of combative match taking place, but it was difficult to see around the scores of mottled-grey beings shouting out both jeers and cheers. Bookies were loudly calling for people to place their bets, and willing punters were yelling back the names of their favourites. It was like a mad house of activity, completely at odds with what Alex would have presumed was a sacred site.
Perched on tiered balconies rising high up into the cathedral’s spires and overlooking the action were what seemed to be hundreds of Shadow Walkers, all avidly watching the chaos on the floor. Situated in the central balcony with the best view were three figures, two males and a female, each practically drowning in the shadows that swirled around their hooded capes. What was visible of their grey-skinned faces showed signs of the years they’d lived, their eyes like endless pools of ancient darkness.
Without needing to be told, Alex knew they were the elders she was here to see, and she looked at Caspar Lennox, waiting for him to show her how to approach them.
He, however, had other ideas, and he latched tightly onto her arm and whispered, “We need to leave. Now.”
“But—”
“Now, Alexandra.”
His order was sharp and, to Alex’s ears, anxious. It was the last that kept her from resisting or arguing, even when the shadows started rising up around them as he readied to whisk them away.
“Caspar Lennox! Trivana pos fered se tonda corr!”
The teacher’s grip clenched painfully before he released Alex and shoved her behind him, the shadows dropping back down to his feet as he turned to face the female Shadow Walker who had called for his attention.
Alex’s bond with Xiraxus was again her saving grace, since her inner translator was able to understand the words as a casual greeting similar to the Freyan exclamation of ‘Where the hell have you been?’
“Well met, Shirez Ganare,” Caspar Lennox said in his native language with a slight bow of his waist.
“What brings you by, old friend?” Shirez asked. “Surely you’re not here to compete?”
“Not at all. Indeed, had I known vatali targo was underway, I would have postponed my visit entirely,” Caspar Lennox replied in a tight voice that hid the anxiety Alex had just heard. “I believe it best if I return again at a more favourable time.”
“Nonsense!” cried Shirez. “You must stay and watch with us. It’s only the second day, but the early rounds can be just as exciting as the finals. All our close acquaintances are here—if you join us, it’ll be like old times.”
“I’m afraid I have pressing business to attend to,” Caspar Lennox said.
“Pressing business that involves bringing a human to Graevale?” Shirez asked, an edge to her voice.
Seeing as the female clearly knew Alex was there, she felt ridiculous hiding behind her teacher, so she stepped into view. Just as she was about to take the initiative and introduce herself, she caught Caspar Lennox’s warning glance and remembered his instruction not to speak unless first spoken to.
“The human is Alexandra Jennings,” Caspar Lennox said, and Shirez’s eyes widened in surprise—which in turn surprised Alex, since she had no idea why her name would mean anything to the female Shadow Walker. “She is here to speak with the elders.”
Shirez scoffed at that. “They will not speak with her. She is human.”
Alex barely managed to hold her tongue at the Shadow Walker’s clear disdain.
“What she has to say needs to be heard.”
“I gathered as much,” Shirez replied. “You would not have brought Alexandra Jennings of all people here otherwise.”
Alex’s brow furrowed. Of all people? What was that supposed to mean?
Unfortunately, her facial gesture gave her away, and Shirez turned narrowed onyx eyes to her. “Can you understand me, human?”
Her expression once again neutral, Alex was careful not to react or respond in any way.
“Of course she cannot understand,” Caspar Lennox said dismissively, despite knowing of her bond with Xiraxus and its potential language interpretation. “She has had neither the time nor the training to learn our tongue.”
If nothing else, that much was true. And Alex had a feeling she would be better off keeping her translation skills a secret, given the less than amiable reception she’d already received.
“I could have sworn…” Shirez began, but then she shook her head. “You’re right, of course. No human would ever be capable of learning our language.”
If all Shadow Walkers were as condescending as Shirez, then Alex was going to have a jaw ache by the time she left Graevale just from gritting her teeth.
“We’ve clearly come at an inopportune time,” Caspar Lennox said, tilting his head towards the commotion at the centre of the cathedral, “but Alexandra’s news is time-sensitive. And if, as you say, the vatali targo is only in the early rounds, it could be too late if we return after the trials and their resulting festivities are complete.”
Curiosity lit the grey features of the female Shadow Walker. “Too late for what?”
Caspar Lennox didn’t answer, but he did say, “I would be in your debt if you would assist us with this.”
With a knowing look, Shirez said, “You want me to take you to my grandfather, don’t you?”
“As I said, I would be in your debt.”
“If I do, will you stay a while? Watch the next few matches with us?”
Her tone was the kind of hopeful that Alex thought was unbelievably telling, but Caspar Lennox seemed oblivious.
“As soon as Alexandra has delivered her tidings, I must be away with her to the academy,” he responded.
Standing close enough to him that his shadows covered her feet, Alex booted him firmly in the leg, the gesture hidden from sight.
Giving a jolt that he managed to cover by shifting his weight, Caspar Lennox’s eyes narrowed slightly at the confirmation that Alex could indeed understand their conversation, but he didn’t look down and risk revealing her secret. Instead, he somehow managed to read her not-so-subtle hint. Perhaps he wasn’t as oblivious as she had presumed.
“However,” he said slowly, “perhaps I shall return to witness the final trials, and we might see each other again then.”
Shirez’s features lit up with pleasure. But then she turned to Alex and her expression blanked. “Come with me, Alexandra Jennings,” she said clearly in the common tongue, and she turned on her heel and began marching away.
If Alex hadn’t been following their whole conversation until now, there was no way she would have blindly trailed after the Shadow Walker, not even when Caspar Lennox gave her a none-too-gentle shove forward. But since this might be her only chance to speak with the elders, she didn’t hesitate to rush after Shirez, only slowing when the excited crowd became so thick that she had to elbow her way through the masses.
Oblivious to the human in their midst, the Shadow Walkers continued screaming insults and encouragement to the vatali targo contenders—whatever they were doing—as Alex fought to keep up with Shirez. When a break opened up in the mob, she darted through it, figuring she would cut the corner and return close to her escort’s heels. But instead of making up the distance, when Alex’s view became clear, she stopped dead and stared.
Just as she had first presumed, it was a sparring match of some kind. But it was also much more than that.
Purple flames as high as Alex herself were joined together in straight, sharp angles, creating what looked like large triangular shapes, but it was hard to tell from her view on the ground. The fire appeared and disappeared like a blowtorch turning on and off, over and over again, but at an irregular frequency. Some of the lines blazed for barely seconds before being smothered, while others remained alight for much longer periods.
Amid the flames and being careful to avoid the purple lines were three sparring Shadow Walkers: two against one, all of them fighting ferociously.
The fire, the sparring, none of that was what held Alex captivated. What stopped her from being able to move was watching the fight itself—or rather, how the Shadow Walkers moved during the fight. Appearing in bursts of darkness, attacking swiftly, then disappearing again, they battled like wraiths; like shadow ghosts. It was like watching a choreographed masterpiece of impossible dance steps as they moved around the empty spaces and between the lines of purple fire.
No wonder Shirez was haughty, Alex thought, if the Shadow Walkers were capable of fighting like this.
“Human!” the female hissed, arriving at Alex’s side and causing her to jump out of her staring stupor.
“Sorry,” Alex said quickly, and only the further narrowing of Shirez’s eyes reminded her that she should have kept her mouth shut.
“Do not step out of turn again,” Shirez ordered, before pushing her way back through the crowd.
The mob thinned as they made it to the other side of the cathedral where Caspar Lennox was already waiting for them. Alex sent him an apologetic shrug to which his lips thinned in displeasure, then the two of them followed Shirez towards a private spiral staircase that led directly up to the elders’ balcony.
“The most I can do is get you an audience,” she said as they started up the stairs. “I cannot make them listen.”
Alex opened her mouth to offer her thanks before remembering—again—not to speak, and instead allowed Caspar Lennox to offer gratitude on her behalf.
When they stepped off the staircase, Alex took a moment to look down at the scene below. From her higher vantage point she had an unconcealed view inside the flames—flames that she could now see were shaped along the lines of a six-sided star. Six triangles were connected to a larger hexagonal centre space, all of which the combatants were shadowing their way through as the flames rose and fell, allowing them easier access to the different areas.
“Grandfather, Elders,” Shirez said respectfully in her own tongue, and Alex turned her attention to the three ancient figures seated on dark, throne-like chairs. “There is a human here who wishes to speak with you.”
“A human?” said the male closest to where they stood, peering intently at Alex. A jagged scar sawed through his left eyebrow, making him seem as if he had a permanently quizzical expression.
“Yes, Grandfather,” Shirez said. “Alexandra Jennings.”
“So not just any human,” the female in the middle said, her implied familiarity again puzzling Alex. “And it appears she was brought here by one of our own.”
“Noble Elders,” Caspar Lennox said, also reverting to the language of his race. He stepped forward, offering a deep, respectful bow. “I would not have brought the girl unless I believed what she has to say to be of the utmost importance to your ears.”
“Stand aside, Caspar Lennox, and let her come forth,” said the final male elder, his eyes a staggering pale blue colour against his mottled-grey skin. While Alex had little experience with the shadowy race, he was the first she’d seen with coloured irises. The effect was astounding.
“Alexandra, you have been given leave to approach,” Caspar Lennox told her in the common tongue, as if she didn’t already know.
She played her part and nodded before stepping towards the elders, careful to keep her mouth firmly shut until they gave permission for her to speak.
“Well met, Alexandra Jennings of the human race,” said Shirez’s grandfather, now in the common tongue. “I am Radek Ganare.”
“Azalia Shaw,” offered the female in the middle.
“And I am Saber Karn,” said the blue-eyed male on the far end. “On behalf of our people, we welcome you to Graevale.”
So far, Alex thought things were going rather well. Certainly much better than she’d imagined, especially after Shirez’s less than warm treatment.
“My granddaughter claims you have come to speak with us,” Radek said.
When he said no more, Alex took his statement to be a question and made the assumption that he was granting her permission to speak. “Yes, that’s right. I’ve come to warn—”
“You have arrived during vatali targo,” interrupted Azalia.
When she said no more, Alex again presumed she was allowed to respond. “I’m sorry about that. I didn’t mean to interrupt the, uh… ” She waved a hand to the action below and finished, “… festivities. But—”
“We do not deal with matters of politics during the trials,” said Saber.
“This isn’t really about politics,” Alex said. “It’s about—”
“You will not speak out of turn, human,” Azalia said with slitted eyes.
Frustrated, Alex wondered how she was supposed to know whether she could talk or not if some of their statements were questions while others weren’t.
“Saber Karn speaks true,” Radek said. “We do not discuss politics while the trials are in session.”
Another long pause, which Alex hoped meant she could again attempt speech.
She took a chance and asked, “How long do the trials last?”
“Until a victor is named,” Azalia answered. “Usually no more than a week.”
A week. That wasn’t great, but it also wasn’t terrible. Hopefully Aven wouldn’t do anything drastic in that time, and Alex would still be able to warn the elders before he acted.
“However,” Azalia continued, “we will not discuss politics with anyone until the celebrations have concluded.”
“Do you mean like a party?” Alex asked. “When does it finish?”
“Sunrise,” Saber answered. Before adding, “After the next full moon.”
Alex’s mouth dropped open.
A month? They partied for a whole month?
“You’re not serious?” she gasped out.
The shadows around the elders rose up suddenly, like snakes hissing with fury.
“Watch your tone, human,” said Azalia sharply. “Remember who you stand before.”
This was ridiculous. It was utterly ridiculous. Here she was, trying to warn them about an impending threat, and they wanted to throw a month-long party before they would hear a single word from her.
“My warning can’t wait,” Alex said, not caring that she was using both a firm tone and speaking out of turn. “You need to listen to me. Aven Dal—”
“Enough!” Azalia cried, her voice like thunder, but Alex refused to be interrupted.
“—marta is coming. He has an entire arm—”
Suddenly, Alex’s words were cut off as shadows surrounded her, stealing her voice and choking the air from her lungs. Gagging, she heard Caspar Lennox and, surprisingly, Shirez, interceding on her behalf, but she was too focused on not suffocating to hear what they were saying. Then, in an instant, her asphyxiation eased and she was able to breathe again.
Unable to help herself, she glared at the three elders while sucking in gasps of oxygen. But she also held her tongue while she did so.
“Caspar Lennox advocates strongly for you, Alexandra Jennings,” Radek said. “My granddaughter, too.” He sounded just as baffled by the last as Alex was. “Despite that, we will not allow you to force our attention.”
Alex wanted to throw something at him. At all of them.
“However,” Radek said, and she hastily retracted her previous thought, “you may have the opportunity to earn that attention.”
Alex stilled, feeling both curious and wary about how she might manage such a feat.
“If you wish to speak freely before the conclusion of the vatali targo and its accompanying celebrations,” Saber took up the conversation, “then you shall have to claim the right to do so.”
Clearing her throat in the silence that followed, Alex risked asking, “And how would I do that?”
“Compete in the trials,” answered Azalia, her smug tone showing how amused she was by the idea. “Prove that you’re worthy of our consideration, and we will listen to anything you have to say.”