Shift of Shadow and Soul (SoulShifter Book 1) Read online

  Then Ashemon’s eyes hardened, and Coren knew in that moment that she had lost. She hadn’t realized she was still grasping any hope until the General’s eyes sucked it from her soul. Her chest heaved against Sy’s arms in a helpless sob.

  Ashemon spoke, his voice louder this time. “Then you admit to practicing magic prohibited by the Mirror Magi and the elders of Weshen. We will harbor no such traitors. You are hereby banished from Weshen Isle and Weshen City from this day forward, until your last. As per our custom, you have one hour to pack your things and say goodbye to your family, who will stay here. Those children have done nothing wrong, and you will not destroy their lives as you have your own with these slanderous words. The Weshen people will gather here, on this beach, to offer you the Last Meal.”

  Sy let a wordless roar from his lips and charged at his father, hatred in every unbalanced step.

  “This is not right, and you all know it!” he yelled, sweeping his arms across the motionless crowd. “Father,” he said, turning to the General, “it’s my fault she’s been discovered. I asked her to show me what I suspected. She denied any knowledge, and I forced it from her.”

  “How could a son of Weshen force knowledge of magic when he has no such knowledge?” the General roared back. Coren slumped to the sand, her muscles giving up. Sy needed to be silent, but she had given him a reason to shout. Now this would be on her, as well.

  Sy did not flinch at Ashemon’s question. Instead he turned to his brother. “You have always wanted what I have. Now you may have it all!” Turning in a full circle, he stared down anyone who would meet his eyes.

  “People of Weshen, if you continue to listen to the history our elders cling to, instead of what future the Magi have given us today…if you choose to banish this innocent girl, whom you have persecuted for her family’s perceived failures, then you must also banish me, the First Son of your revered General!”

  And with that, he lifted his hands wide, calling the ocean water to him. Wide, thin waves soared above the crowd, and their silence broke into gasps and shrieks and even delighted laughter, from a few. As one, they ducked and cowered beneath the suspended droplets. Then Sy gathered the water into a swirling ball of pure white-blue, taller than the people, a world unto itself.

  Coren watched with a split sense of awe and despair as the sphere floated down to rest in the sand, a blurry barrier further separating them from their people. She heard a strangled noise and turned to see Reshra, ragged shock and possibly a painful knife of regret slicing across his finely-cut features.

  She wondered what the General could say to this display of power? Would he accept it? Sy looked back just then, his wide, desperate eyes catching the question on her face.

  Abruptly his power seemed to flicker, and he let go of whatever control he had over the sphere. The water splashed in a great wave at his feet, soaking himself, Reshra, and Coren.

  Something had changed in the General’s expression during this demonstration, but Sy no longer cared. If his people rejected him, he would welcome the freedom that would come from banishment.

  He alone, of all the Weshen, had the skills to ensure it did not result in death. He could survive the journey, and he and Coren could start a new life in EvenFall, far away from the judgments of their people.

  The General’s anger swept silence through the crowd, however, smothering even Sy’s reckless thoughts. The words came out as bites of bitterness. “You, Corentine Ashaden, daughter of Sorenta, and Syashin Havenash, son of Ashemon, are both hereby banished from all territories of Weshen for the use of prohibited magic, by order of the Mirror Magi and all of Weshen.”

  Sy nodded numbly and began to move away, unable to process the thoughts and emotions beating at him like tidal waves in a summer storm. The General reached to grab his shirt, holding him close and whispering, “Foolish boy. Why have you hidden this for so long, only to reveal it before everyone? The people are not ready, and there is nothing I can do to save you now! Go. Pack your bag.”

  It was more of a goodbye than Sy had hoped for, and he stared after the General as the broad man stalked away. It seemed his father did indeed know about the trickle of magic returning to his people.

  But if he had known this all along, why hadn’t he asked Sy, or tested him to find the magic? Why would he continue to stopper its reveal, when the return of Weshen magic could represent freedom from the Restless King’s grasp?

  And as he drowned in this new wave of questions, Sy realized he could never truly abandon his people.

  Instead, he needed to get Corentine to the mountains, to Damren. Then together they could work to save Weshen before it sank into the ocean, too stubborn to fight the destruction that was coming.

  If he could master his magic and kill the Restless King, Sy would earn back his people’s acceptance, and he could return to claim his place as First Son, and later, as General.

  Resh watched as the crowds parted wide for Sy and Corentine, as though the people feared the magic might rub onto them. He blinked after them, still calculating where his plans to help his brother regain the hunts had gone so, so wrong.

  Resh had made mistakes today, but none so crippling as the mistake his father had made, every day of the brothers’ lives, in failing to tell them the truth. He’d seen the very first, fleeting look on the General’s face. It had not been fear, or anger, or even mistrust. It had been pride, and worship, and hope. Even if Ashemon hadn’t known of Sy’s magic, he had to have known its return was imminent, and not in the mythical future.

  Betrayal coursed through Resh’s mind as he remembered all the time spent on his knees in the temples, praying for a way for Weshen to rise once more.

  What possibilities for their people’s revenge had been squandered by Sy keeping this glorious secret? What could possibly have been gained by such a thing?

  He knew Corentine’s family had once dallied with Sulit witches. The girl had somehow inverted the hunts, claiming his brother’s mind and body, and Resh still vowed to never trust her motives or her magic.

  But if Sy had magic too, it would certainly be Weshen. Never dark.

  If their shifter magic was indeed returning, then Weshen’s future was within reach. The Restless King could be killed.

  Resh jolted to life and rushed after his father and brother.

  Sy stormed into their shared tent, Resh only steps behind. Sy didn’t even glance at him, instead grabbing a worn leather rucksack from his travel trunk and shoving in clothing haphazardly. Resh watched him, uncertain what to say or do, then pushed aside the room divider. He yanked a box from beneath his mattress and took out an offering.

  It wouldn’t be enough.

  “You can take mine,” Resh said, hating how his voice cracked with regret. But it was enough to jolt Sy out of his movements. He glanced over his shoulder, his eyes taking in the favorite knife Resh was holding.

  But Sy only turned back to his bag. “Too late to be sorry for what you started,” he muttered.

  “Brother…I never knew.” Resh’s voice was tight with the effort of apologizing.

  “You never asked,” Sy tossed back belligerently.

  Resh cursed and chucked the knife into Sy’s bag. It fell with a soft thud against a pair of boots. Sy didn’t touch it.

  “We’re not children any more, Resh,” he said, keeping his back turned. “This is a real war, and my family just surrendered me to the enemy.”

  Resh wanted nothing more than to pummel Syashin out of his anger and stubbornness. But he clenched his jaw against the sensation.

  Sy was the strength. Resh was the sly. He must be smarter about this.

  Just then Sy turned and pinned his eyes on Resh. “I’ll survive this, little brother. Be watching for my return.”

  Determination flared in Sy’s expression. Resh knew if anyone could live through such a punishment, it would be Sy.

  “And Resh, if you care for me at all - if you ever have - be sure the people are ready for the return of the mag
ic. Because when I come back here, I’ll be bringing the future with me. The Restless King will fall to our hands. He will not last another generation, and his sons will never see the throne!”

  Resh felt himself nodding, but even then, as he imagined an empty throne in StarsHelm Palace, the regret began to twist and grow into jealousy. Syashin, the First Son, had always been taller. Stronger. Better with every weapon, including the one that was his own muscled body.

  Now he was conveniently the first to receive the shifter magic as well? Resh narrowed his eyes. He needed answers, and he wouldn’t find them on Weshen Isle.

  Chapter 14

  Ashemon entered the tent just in time to hear his First Son’s claim, and to see the look of jealousy twist into his Second Son’s face.

  “Syashin, I never wanted this for you.” Ashemon knew his voice betrayed his fatigue. This was nothing like what he had planned. He wondered how strong his son’s magic was, even as he reminded himself one magi would never be enough.

  “You planned this for me,” Syashin hissed, as if somehow throwing Ashemon’s thought back at him. “Corentine learned of your plan to awaken the magic. And guess what? It worked. But the women have more of it than you know.”

  The girl’s name reminded Ashemon of something else he had planned, much more recently. Perhaps, the two of them alone on the MagiSea…perhaps his son’s magic could be put to use after all.

  “I’m aware that some of the women have a weak sort of magic still,” Ashemon admitted. “Some of the Wesh in Riata retain the gifts as well, though none so strong as what our people once possessed.”

  Reshra made a noise then as if to protest the very idea, but Ashemon held up a silencing hand. Both of his sons quieted, their years of training evident. Ashemon nearly smiled at the display of obedience.

  “The Mirror Magi know all. Surely they have tolerated the determination of certain families to retain their magic in secret. Our elders also know the importance that the old ways remain alive. But Syashin, know this: Weshen people are not ready for the magic to fully return, and none of the people who have the magic in their blood are ready to fight the Restless King.”

  Syashin’s face flushed with this implication, but Ashemon stared him down. “You may think you are ready to fight. But Zorander Graeme has conquered fourteen nations in his lifetime. What is one half-magical boy to him?”

  Ashemon watched as Syashin’s shoulders slumped in agreement, and his chest warmed in satisfaction that his son would do nothing rash. “But you are right on one matter,” he continued. “The Restless King will never survive your generation. Though we believe dark magic prolongs his life force, still he grows old and weak with wanting.”

  Syashin’s eyes widened in surprise, but he asked no questions, whether from residual anger or good training, Ashemon wasn’t sure.

  “Father, what are you talking about?” Reshra asked, his voice rising in disrespect. Ashemon resisted the urge to backhand his Second Son, but only just.

  “I will tell you what you need to know, when you need to know it. Just like the other men and women of Weshen,” Ashemon said evenly. He stared at Reshra, glad he was still several inches taller than the boy. Reshra would need much harder discipline now if he were to take Syashin’s place for the summer months. It may be Ashemon’s fault, but the boy had grown too soft with women and drink.

  “Now, go help Tagsha drive the people to the beach. Ready the Alimente for your brother. And Reshra…” Ashemon waited a few seconds until Reshra had given up his full, grudging attention. “Fill it well if you want to see your brother again.”

  Reshra nodded, though a scowl darkened his face as he left to prepare the unique vessel. Ashemon turned in time to see Syashin hide a grim smile. He watched the young man before him for a long moment, taking in the shoulders and chest broadened with muscle, the too-long hair and faded clothing that spoke of a warrior rather than a pampered prince. Glancing in the bag behind Syashin, he could see more weapons than shirts.

  He allowed himself a single, brief smile.

  “My son, I did not wish this for you,” he repeated, struggling to clear the sorrow from his voice. “It is true that I sought a strong Weshen woman to be your mother, and that I hoped the magic would lie dormant in your blood until the right time. But I don’t believe today was the right time. Shifter magic alone will never be enough to fight the Restless King - it never was. He has more strength than you could imagine, and only a meticulous plan will topple his reign. You and Corentine must use your banishment well. Gather information. Train. Learn. Hide in the mountains, but do not venture past them. I will come for you when the summer is done, and we will conceive a plan together.”

  He clapped a hand to his son’s shoulder, hesitated, then drew Syashin in for a full embrace. The boy allowed it, but Ashemon felt the mistrust still stiffening Syashin’s shoulders, and he closed his eyes in appreciation.

  General Ashemon knew he had made many mistakes, but his First Son was not one of them.

  Coren stumbled to her house through a blur of tears. How had this happened so swiftly? How could she possibly explain what had happened to Penna and Kosh?

  Why was her family the one who tumbled from the cliff to the MagiSea first? Was it true, what Reshra had said - that her grandmother was somehow responsible for the Sacrifice? He could be lying, but what would he have to gain in a whisper?

  What secrets had Sorenta taken with her into the dark water?

  The questions blurred into a whirlwind as she stepped inside the summercloth, but the sight that met her arrested all movement. The blur of tears and panic broke like glass shattering, and her home snapped into focus sharply. Every cupboard had been opened and emptied. Every trunk overturned.

  She darted into the sleeping room, and it was the same. Clothing was scattered. The beds leaned against the wall.

  And Penna and Kosh were nowhere. Pricks of dread needled through her dazed confusion.

  Coren’s breath came in shallow gulps as her eyes darted from one empty space to the next. Sinking to the floor amid the chaos, she used several precious minutes forcing herself to focus. She chanted a simple prayer to the Magi until the repeated words calmed her breathing, and she opened her eyes again.

  Looking around the house carefully, analytically, she realized it was their essential items which were gone - even her things.

  Someone had done this with intention…but who? And for what purpose?

  Nothing of value was left for her to take on the boat. Not only had she been banished, but robbed. Leaning against the wall, Coren closed her eyes and rubbed at her face, smoothing away the tears and massaging her furrowed brow. She let the anger seep into her bones. She would not be beaten this way. She had survived a Vespa attack. She had torn apart a Vespa with shifter magic.

  That was something no-one could steal from her. She would be banished, yes, but she would honor Jyesh’s memory by surviving. Perhaps she was so strangely strong because his spirit remained with her. Perhaps his magic had blended with hers when he died, their sources shifting back together in a reversal of their separation in the womb.

  Yes. Family was the answer.

  It occurred to her that maybe there was one valuable possession left. She knelt and pulled at the loose board in the floor, breathing a deep sigh of relief when she found her father’s journal still there. As she lifted it, though, she noticed a scrap of paper below it.

  Your bag is packed and waiting at my house. Come there to see the children.

  M

  Coren crushed the paper between the pages of the journal and cursed in frustration and relief. What was the old woman doing now? She sprinted out of the house, dodging quickly into the brush to avoid any inquiring eyes. Several minutes later, she arrived, breathless, at Maren’s yard.

  Penna and Kosh waited there for her, their young faces streaked with tears.

  “It’s okay,” Penna whispered, hugging Coren tightly. “You will survive. We will see you soon, at Rurok! Mar
en says.”

  “Rurok?” Coren said, jerking her head up to look at Maren, who had bustled into the yard with a large rucksack. She handed it to Coren, who shouldered it dumbly.

  “Yes. We’re leaving as well. You certainly can’t take them with you, and I won’t have these two banished as well. First Jyesh, then you. It’s only a matter of time until their magic manifests. The General is an idiot who goes back on his word, and he can’t be trusted.” The woman’s words were matter-of-fact, but Coren sensed the deadly fury in her every movement.

  Of course. Syashin should never have been banished. The General had promised to protect him. But what could he have done, with all the people watching and hearing Sy’s challenge?

  “Ashemon has never been a fearless leader,” Maren answered. “The people are not ready, true. But his influence could have brought us together today to become ready. Instead he chose to bow to their ignorance and prejudice.”

  Kosh wrapped his slim arms protectively around Coren and Penna, squashing his sisters together. “Now I won’t have to go to the men’s city and be trained to forget you both. Now I’ll be a refugee in Sulit, and the witches will help us find our power. Surely we will have magic, too,” he said, his child’s face stretched into an excited grin.

  Coren clutched their thin bodies close to her, her body shaking as the tears began again. The twins had simply accepted the complete reversal of their world. Burying her face in their hair, she murmured thanks to the Mirror Magi for their resilience, and for Maren, who would defend them with her life.

  “But Sulit, Maren? How can you get there? How can you even know the witches will still welcome you?” Coren asked, the reality of Maren’s plan sinking in, now that her soul had quieted somewhat around her siblings’ safety.

  “I can’t. Witches are fickle sometimes. But we were friends once, and I will not stay on this island a day longer, Corentine,” Maren said, embracing her fiercely. “I’ve stayed all these years, hoping to be of help when we Weshen banded together to reclaim our magic and our love, but I am through.” Her hand sliced the air, leaving a shimmering trail as it moved. Coren wondered just what sorts of magic Maren still hid.