Page 21 of The False Shaman (Claimed by the Red Hand #2)
DROKO
“Making Gargle look unhinged was a stroke of utter genius.” Archie rushed into the meditation room, grabbed the flask of wine he’d brought for me, and methodically downed the entire thing. He dried his lips with a swipe of his hand and said, “Er…which of us came up with the plan, anyway? Eh, doesn’t matter. Not only did it put that bully in his place—it sent a clear message to his buddy-boys not to mess with the new shaman.”
The grub trick sent a message, all right. But not the one Archie thought. A soldier is trained to spot his enemy’s weakness. And by publicly proclaiming that Archie and I bore each other’s scents, Gorgul had assured that whoever still wanted to strike at me could do so through my human.
“Archie…it’s too dangerous for you to stay here.” I did my best to keep my voice even and strong. “You have to leave.”
He’d been beaming with excitement moments before, but now his face drained of color. “Wait…what?”
“You heard me. You can’t stay. It’s too risky. If one of Gorgul’s followers decides to challenge me, he’ll do it by hurting you.”
“Hold on—you’re saying I’m a vulnerability ?”
Well…unfortunately, yes.
Archie squared his shoulders. “Who was the one who suggested using Gorgul’s spy-hole against him, anyway? Oh yeah, now I remember. It was me.”
I sighed.
“Who stood up to a bunch of musclebound brutes wielding pointy objects—armed with nothing but his good looks, I might add—to get said bully off your back? Also me.”
“Archie….”
“And most important of all, who chewed and swallowed the world’s fattest grub without so much as a hiccup?”
One thing I knew from observing my father was that until you truly proved yourself, when one enemy fell, another always rose up to take his place. “Gorgul is not the only honor guard to know I’m no shaman. The others are sure to find out.”
“But it rained —”
“It doesn’t matter. A true shaman would have found the crypt by tossing his ivories or consulting the spirits or…whatever. He wouldn’t dress up a storage room with a pile of old bones. These men all know I failed. I can never win enough of their respect to keep us both alive.”
“Especially when I’m so puny and weak.” The bitterness in Archie’s tone cut me like a blade…but he wasn’t trying to hurt me. He had a point to make. “Don’t forget, Droko—I knew Taruut. Knew him well. Not only was he too feeble to walk, but he was totally blind. He was so decrepit, he needed them to hold him over the bedpan while he pissed! Any one of the honor guard could have crushed his ribcage with nothing more than a gentle nudge—and gotten away with it by saying he’d fallen. If that’s not vulnerable, I don’t know what is.”
“But he was a shaman—”
“Yeah. I noticed, what with all the incense and body paint and feathers. But here’s the thing. Not once, in all the time I spent with him, did I ever see Taruut work any magic. He’d make a big show of reading his little teeth or going on about his cryptic dreams—”
So, I wasn’t the only one plagued by nighttime disturbances. Something ill in the atmosphere, no doubt.
“—but Taruut’s shamaning consisted of herbcraft, common sense, and a few vague predictions. Nothing more.”
“It took years for Taruut to build up enough respect to protect him in his old age, Archie. Decades. And he was born to the Red Hand Clan. Not an outsider, like me.”
When the mulish set of Archie’s jaw told me that no amount of convincing on my part would change his mind, I strode to the far side of the meditation room, feathered neckpiece bobbing, and whisked aside the rotting tapestry to reveal the treacherous hole.
“Look at me, Archie.” I gestured at the hole. “ This is the problem. This is why you can’t stay. There is no loyalty here for me. And there’s no telling how long it will take me to earn it—if I ever do. And my happiness is not worth your life.”
Archie’s sky-colored eyes went to the hole, then found my gaze. Subdued, he said, “So…I make you happy?”
I took him in. Fierce. Defiant. Beautiful. “Of course you do.”
He surged to his feet, rushing toward me. “Then I don’t give a damn about the risk. Do you hear me? Because I’d rather be happy with you for a month—or a week, or even a day—than spend my life wondering how things could’ve been, if only I were brave enough to stick around.”
Bravery would hardly protect him from death at the hands of my enemies. I tore a pouch from my belt—heavy, and cool to the touch—and thrust it into his grasp. “Stormsilver. Take it and go. At least then I’ll know I’ve provided for you. You’ll have a good life. The life you deserve.”
Archie pulled out the stormsilver and let the empty pouch fall to the floor. The metal glinted dully by the light of the brazier, orange reflections swirling softly. “What use is some treasure if I’ve got no one to share it with? It’s not the security I want, or wealth, or even whatever status might come with being the shaman’s favorite. It’s you.”
“It’s not safe .” I jabbed a finger toward the spyhole.
Archie strode to the wall, chin tipped up, cheeks flushed. “I. Don’t. Care.”
He tried to prove his point by throwing the stormsilver away. It should have worked. While the lump of metal was certainly heavy, it was smaller than my fist. But its form was not as fixed as we thought, and when he thrust it into the circular hole, it somehow reshaped itself. It didn’t fall through, nor did it bounce off. Instead, it ground into place with a stony snap that echoed through the chamber.
We stopped arguing and both looked at the thing, baffled.
And then the stormsilver crackled…and the floor shook.
One moment, it was a tickle through the soles of my sandals, and the next I was sure a cave-in would bury us both. A sparking fissure raced across the longest solid curve of the wall, the section that arced between the spyhole and the door. Light knifed through the crack, a sawtoothed zigzag that was far too regular to be natural. A light that was the color of fire.
It was a scene right out of my dreams. I half-expected to wake up before I was burned alive—except there was no heat, I realized. Only light.
A blinding orange light that brought me to my knees.