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- Herausgeber: Pongu Text & Design GmbH
- Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
- Sprache: Englisch
When desperate courage is rewarded with a magical chance
The master of Eterna's assassins' guild rules with sadistic cruelty over his enslaved apprentices. Only Raghi has never submitted to him—and paid a terrible price. His latest provocation forces him to flee.
Raghi sneaks down the Stairs of Eternity into the past and finds refuge with a mysterious clan of travelers, an ancient magic people whose positive philosophy clashes painfully with his suicidal recklessness. They introduce him to the joys of life and friendship, not realizing that Raghi carries deathly hidden dangers.
Unscrupulous powers, however, take immediate notice. Raghi has to face up to his destiny at once. Otherwise, he damns his new family and the entire multiverse to eternal darkness—and forfeits every chance of an extraordinary love right from the legends of time immemorial.
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In Isa Day's touching time travel fantasy series The Stairs of Eternity seemingly lost (adult) protagonists are given a second chance. To do so, they have to travel to long gone times and forgotten worlds and overcome great danger. Their courage is rewarded with love and a community that takes them in.
The suspenseful yet heart-warming stories invite you to dream. They offer intelligent, fairytale-like and magical high fantasy for adults with multi-faceted protagonists and carefully crafted worlds. Other ingredients include time travel, a mysterious guild of murderers with a sinister master, romance, humor and -- as always in Isa Day's books -- lovable (magical) animals.
All books of the series The Stairs of Eternity are self-contained in one or two volumes, have different protagonists and can be read on their own. Readers who remain faithful to the series will discover larger contexts over the course of the books and meet beloved characters again.
"Raghi the Shadow" is the first volume of a dilogy. It tells of the search for the meaning of life and the courage to accept an extraordinary fate.
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Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2019
Ähnliche
ISA DAY’S BOOKS
Fantasy Romance Series “The Stairs of Eternity”
Faya the Nameless (Prequel)
Wolf of the South
Raghi the Shadow
* * *
Historical Romances
Twice in her Lifetime (A Women in Trade Regency Romance)
RAGHI THE SHADOW
THE STAIRS OF ETERNITY
ISA DAY
PONGU TEXT & DESIGN LTD.
Copyright © 2019 by Isa Day and Pongu Text & Design Ltd., Meilen, Switzerland
Contact: [email protected]
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without prior written permission from the author. The automated analysis of this work in order to obtain information, in particular about patterns, trends and correlations in accordance with Section 44b Act on Copyright and Related Rights (UrhG) ("text and data mining") is prohibited.
Cover Design: Isa Day
Image Sources (Depositphotos): GoodLightHunting, juliarstudio, WarmTail, yyanng
ISBN: 978-3-906868-16-5 (ebook)
ISBN: 978-3-906868-17-2 (print)
CONTENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
A kind request
License declaration
About Isa Day
Isa Day’s Books
1
“Are you here to kill me?” Raghi asked, leaning against the sarcophagus as if he hadn’t a care in the world.
“Yes,” Faya said.
Angry satisfaction rushed through his veins. The moment had finally come.
“Then what are you waiting for? Come here and snuff me!” he challenged her, spoiling for a fight.
He had known for a long time that one day they would face each other like this—Castelalto’s assassin for special assignments against him, the wayward apprentice.
It was after midnight—the perfect time for sneak assassinations. The place was unexpected, but fitting. She had tracked him down in a removed complex of Eterna’s catacombs where even the destitute who lived among the dead rarely ventured. It was a stone chamber full of cobwebs and shadows that moved on their own. The torches in their wall brackets danced in the perpetual draft that kept most of the tunnels and chambers well ventilated and dried the city’s better dead to mummies. Now and then, the flames hissed and sputtered like angry snakes.
It was a comfortable hiding place. The smell of dust and old bones was soothing. And this far down, neither the blistering desert sun nor the freezing cold of the nights reached. The temperature remained the same all year round, chilly and refreshing like the spring days back home. Having grown up on the storm-tossed islands of the Ice Sea, Raghi had never got used to Eterna’s brutal desert climate.
Faya pushed herself up to sit on the crypt’s other sarcophagus. The stone slab was flat, the outline of its occupant engraved in shallow lines. These burials were ancient, their simple style having gone out of fashion eons ago.
“Sometimes you are such an idiot!” Faya stated, rolling her eyes. Her face seemed to hover in empty air because her black clothes merged with the shadows.
“Thank you for appreciating my better traits,” Raghi retorted and mimicked her by sitting cross-legged on the sarcophagus behind him. Compared to her, he looked ragged. The wild strands of his hair hadn’t seen scissors in a long time, and he hadn’t taken the time to mend and re-dye his faded assassin’s garb—a long-sleeved tunic, sensible trousers, and a cape.
They glared at each other. The distance between them was about two long strides, short enough that she could instantly reach and kill him. Nobody had a chance against this little killer, except…
“How is perfect Emilio?” Raghi asked.
Her expression softened into a smile. “Blissfully happy and fitter than ever.”
“Always the overachiever,” he scoffed. Part of his derision stemmed from jealousy. Watching the deep bond between those two had made him feel even more alone. And that Emilio had got away from this hell he and Faya still lived in…
“Why the foreplay?” he taunted her.
“Do you really think I would kill you?” she fired back.
“Well, let’s say that your actions were occasionally suspect.”
Something changed in her aura, and he felt a shiver run down his spine. Faya was such a slip of a young woman—small, almost frail like a half-starved kitten. She should have looked innocent with her long raven hair, her huge black eyes, and her olive-toned skin.
But something had lit up in the depths of those eyes. Their glare seemed to pierce his soul.
“Raghi, please take off the hood.”
He obeyed with an exasperated sigh.
“You have been starving yourself again.”
“First, that is none of your business, and second, food is largely overrated.”
He averted his face so that he didn’t have to meet her scrutiny. Contrary to perfect Emilio whose dark Southern looks turned women’s heads, he was pale and plain. His face resembled those of the marble statues in the temples: perfect skin, straight nose, full lips, pale, expressionless, stone-cold. Just the dark rings beneath his plain brown eyes provided a hint of color besides his mousy brown hair.
“Raghi…” Suddenly, she stood in front of him, gently taking his hands.
He flinched with surprise. Why hadn’t he heard her move?
“Trying to soften me up before slitting my throat?”
She did not rise to the bait, just waited until he forced himself to meet her eyes.
“This abuse you put yourself through has gone on long enough. You may not believe it, but you are something special.”
“By being the only prince the master didn’t have to steal because my parents sold me? Yeah, lucky me!” He snorted.
Her face filled with compassion. “At least you know where your roots are, no matter how bad or corrupted.”
She had him there. Her origins were unknown although her dark skin and hair suggested somewhere in the South where most dark-skinned people lived. It must be hell not to know, not to have a home to dream about. He had at least that. While he hated his parents, their wild island kingdom was stunning in its beauty.
“Why do you think I am special, Nameless?” he asked.
She put her palm over his heart. “Because of your energy. You are like a tornado—a force of nature that sweeps everything away. I know nobody else like you.”
Remembering some of his crazier escapades, he gave her a lopsided grin. “I don’t think the tavern keepers of Oblivion Alley would describe me with such friendly words.”
“Well, you burnt down their street after enticing all of their customers to drink themselves way beyond senseless.”
“And thus providing them with the most lucrative night of their lives. As I see it, I did them a favor. They got filthy rich over it and didn’t have to tear down their rat-infested hell holes themselves. No effort of cleaning could have scraped away the accumulated grime of centuries. Now everything looks nice and new.”
Faye tried to look stern. “Let’s not forget the riot you caused by showing the prostitutes of Eterna’s most expensive brothel how to dance more enticingly than ever before. The city guards had to intervene when you transferred your performance to the balcony above Magisterial Square.”
Raghi grinned evilly. “I got a huge number of flattering offers out of that stunt. Too bad Castelalto wouldn’t allow me to become a dancer.”
Something stirred in him, something he didn’t want to awaken as long as Faya was there. He should pick his jokes with more care and bury those memories that caused his barely contained anger to flare. But the young woman made it easy to trust her. She knew most of what had happened to him and the consequences for his self-esteem, having suffered her own brand of cruelty at the master’s hands.
“If you had changed your career, then perhaps you wouldn’t have acted out your latest piece of mischief.”
Icy rage rushed through Raghi’s veins. “I fail to see why that straw broke the camel’s back.”
Faya sighed while he remembered. Castelalto had done his worst to him almost three years ago. These days, the master of the assassins’ guild meted out punishment by giving him as a sexual plaything to rich sadists. As if he couldn’t deal with that! As if pain was of any consequence for him!
“You terrorized a powerful magistrate. He expected to get a rush of power from dominating you, but you turned everything around and frightened him to death. In doing so, you shook up the master’s hold over the man. Distrust shattered their companionship of shared evil and cost the master a considerable chunk of his influence.”
Raghi smirked. “Then it was well worth it. So what are you waiting for? Kill me!” And everything would finally, finally be over!
“I most certainly will not. I want you to strike me down, then flee.”
“Flee where?” He opened his arms wide. “Castelalto terrorizes the entire continent and outlying islands. There is nowhere to hide!”
“There is. The past.”
He stared into her eyes, his tirade forgotten. “That is the way Emilio went. But it is only open to committed felons who are granted a second chance!”
She grinned. “So you think.”
He grew pensive. Was she setting a trap for him? “What is in it for you?”
Her expression turned wan. “Knowing that another of my friends has a chance to escape this hell and find happiness.”
“Since happiness is not an option, let’s focus on the escape. How do you suggest I make it work?”
“Just by sneaking down the stairs and hiding somewhere and sometime in the past. You will not grow older, but at least…” She faltered.
Her countenance gave him pause. “You are hiding something from me. Something big. What is it?” He jumped from the sarcophagus and grabbed her shoulders, too rough in his agitation. When she winced, he instantly eased the pressure of his fingers. He might not trust her, but she was his friend and frail, just bird bones and velvety skin.
“Based on everything I know about you, there is one person you love in this entire world. Intelligence reached me very late. Thus, I can’t be sure, but perhaps it is still possible to save her life.”
The blood rushed to his feet, and he reeled. “Nana! What did those devils who are my parents to do her now?”
“Reports are that your mother gave birth to a girl like you. They tossed the newborn into the dungeon to starve. When your nurse tried to intervene on behalf of the little one, they locked her in with her.”
Bloodlust filled his brain and impeded his thinking. With iron determination, he forced it down to focus. But something stirred, that alien part of him he was unable to control. When it separated from his body, he closed his eyes. “I am sorry, Faya.”
He heard her gulp.
“What does it do?” Raghi could not look. If it attacked Faya and killed her, then those dregs he called his life were truly over.
“It is staring at me and seems to be listening.”
Raghi opened his eyes to glance over his shoulder. Yes, there it was, and she was right. It looked enraged, its terrifying eyes burning like the fires of hell, but the rage was not directed at Faya.
“Get your mouth running! What do we need to do?” he urged her to continue.
“You once showed me a locket containing a lock of your nana’s hair. Are you wearing it now?”
“Yes.”
“Then you have everything you need. Time will freeze once you enter the Stairs of Eternity. If your nana is still alive then, she will not die. Do you understand? Once on the stairs, you can take all the time you need to find a place that suits you.”
“Time will stop. I can take all the time I need,” he repeated to prove that he was listening. Since he often made a joke of ignoring what other people said, it was important that Faya believed him.
Her gaze grew intense, her black eyes burning. “If you return to this time and place—your original timeline—time will start again at the exact moment you left, and your nana will again face death. If you go, you must not return here—not ever. Understood?”
She seemed to be speaking the truth, yet he had a hunch she was giving it a spin to fit her intentions. Did it matter?
His burning anger answered the question. Nana had been the only beacon of light and love in his dreadful youth. Only she mattered.
“Yes, I understand that I can never return!” he hissed. The thing behind him growled.
“Everything on your body will travel with you into the past. A single hair can suffice. Once you enter a stream of time, what you carried with you will appear at your side in the state it had when you entered the stairs.”
His heart lurched. “So I might find myself with my nana’s dead body?”
She nodded gravely. “That is an unfortunate possibility.”
“What about my chimera? I carry her feathers with me to make arrows.” He opened his pouch to show Faya.
“She is bigger than a horse for which you need ten hairs of the animal’s mane to make the journey work without fail. With that number of feathers, she will follow you.”
He made his decision. “Then I will go now. Show us the entrance to the stairs.”
She looked behind him, narrowing her eyes. “You realize you just said ‘us?’”
He grinned at her rakishly. “There is so much of me that I deserve to count as more than one.”
She snorted. “Regarding your ego? Certainly!”
2
Raghi had always preferred the city of the dead to that of the living. Eterna was busy, loud, and confusing. The masses thinned in the half-world of the catacombs.
The man-made caves offered good shelter, but living there also meant that you had reached the bottom rung of society and given up all aspirations.
Those poor that still retained a shadow of hope huddled in the overcrowded hovels leaning against the ramparts. Those huts stank, turned freezing at night and into an oven under the relentless sun. But they were above ground and hence belonged to the respectable world.
Faya led him into yet another tunnel unknown to him. How had they got here? In the months and years after his arrival in Eterna, Raghi had painstakingly cataloged all corridors of the catacombs, out of boredom and because he knew that one day he would need to disappear.
Never before had he set foot in these parts. Suspicion grew. Was Faya leading him to his death? No problem there, but if yes, then he wanted to know.
“Are you sure this is the way?” he asked, reaching for the knife at his belt.
She swung around and noticed his defensive move. “Seriously, you have that thing at your side and are afraid of tiny me?” She pointed at the shadow that followed them.
Raghi stared at her. “Of all assassins, you are the most dangerous. Even perfect Emilio had levers to push and a conscience. I am not so sure about you.”
She sighed in exasperation. “We are almost beneath the magisterial palace. These are the oldest parts of the catacombs and shut off from the rest to prevent sneak attacks. In your preoccupation, you did not notice, but a while ago we went through a secret door and down a stairway. Ask your thing if you don’t believe me. It noticed.”
With trepidation, Raghi looked back at his shadow. Its bottomless burning eyes focused on him.
“Is that true?” He hated to speak with it, but he needed to know.
It blinked, indicating yes.
Raghi growled. “This place is disgusting,” he complained to nobody in particular.
Heaps of dirt and dust covered every surface of these caves and tunnels, and tangled curtains of cobwebs hung from the irregular stone ceiling. The air was musty, motionless, and smelled of mildew. And then the corpses! It seemed that in ancient times the dead were hung side-by-side from the walls. Hooks driven into their necks held them up and made them look like desiccated rag dolls. Most of their jaws hung open.
“Why don’t they fall down?” he asked, poking one skeleton’s ribcage.
The mummy dropped to the stone floor and turned into a bundle of bones and leathery skin. “Uh…”
Faya rolled her eyes and hurried on.
She opened a small door and went through. Raghi followed her without thinking and froze.
“I knew it. You are trying to kill me!” he yelled, his eyes growing wide with terror. He stood on empty air over a bottomless black abyss. High above his head, gray mist swirled. And in the center of the cavernous space they had entered…
Faya grabbed his arm and pulled him with her. “Don’t be such a baby! Come now. You can stare all you want once we are standing on the stairs and time stops.”
Damn, the little hellcat was strong! Raghi was of medium height, tall enough that he had to look up to few men. She should not have been able to drag him this easily to where he did not want to go.
The Stairs of Eternity were a circular staircase that spiraled unattached in emptiness. They looked as if they had once been situated in a high tower and remained in place after the protective building had rotted away.
Faya shoved him onto one of the ghostly, orange glowing steps that was just turning into stone beneath his feet. “Now you can ask questions. We have stepped out of time.”
Raghi looked down. The step beneath them seemed to remain the same while from above spectral, translucent steps wound their way down, and below, newly formed stone steps dropped away into the darkness. All of a sudden, he found his questions irrelevant. “They are beautiful,” he said with awe.
“Yes, they are. It is said that a wizard king built them so that he could wander through time and make sure that his people always was happy and well. When he died, his successors realized that the stairs could serve for good and evil and hid their existence by encasing them in a palace. Since cities are built on cities, the stairs sank into the ground over eons, forgotten by Eterna’s ordinary people, while the magisterial palace rose higher and higher into the sky. Today, only the Guardians of Eternity remain aware of their existence. Everybody else believes them to be a myth.”
“Do you think there is any truth to that tale?”
She shrugged. “Does it matter? Dreams can be more important than the truth.”
Raghi took her hand. It was cool, the dark skin on its back soft and the palm coarsened by callouses. “I promise to do as you say, Faya, but now is the time to tell me the truth. Is my nana in danger and have you received the master’s order to kill me?”
Her eyes filled with tears.
Shocked, he gripped her hand harder. “Faya?”
“Your nana is in danger and odds are that she already died from the abuse she suffered. As to the order to kill you, it was given, but not to me. The master tasked one of the Old Ones.”
Raghi’s stomach seemed to drop to his knees. “Wow, I hadn’t realized that I once again managed to be that annoying!”
“Don’t joke about this, Raghi.”
It was either joking or panicking. The history of Eterna’s assassins’ guild was vague. It had always existed in one form or another. Then, about five decades ago, Castelalto had seized power and made himself guild master with the aid of a group of followers. Those assassins, called “the Old Ones,” were now in their fifties or early sixties.
And unlike the younger generations that considered themselves craftsmen or contractors and found no joy in killing, the Old Ones seemed to subsist on bloodshed and murder.
Raghi had encountered all of them, and his breath seized at the painful memories. A furious growl by his shadow calmed him.
“Be that as it may. If my nana is dead, I will return and take revenge on my parents. They’ve had it coming for a long time!” he swore.
Faya reached up to wipe a tear from his cheek, her touch ever so gentle.
“Stop that, or you will have me crying all over you,” he warned her.
She smiled. “I will leave you now, my friend, because you need to forge your own destiny without my meddling. Go down the stairs into the past. Each exit leads to a different time and world. Wait until you reach the door that feels right. You will know when that happens. And please promise me you will take good care of yourself. No more starving, no more self-abuse.”
“No more poking the devil?” he joked. His tears spilled over.
“I can’t ask that of you. You will always be who you are, walking a line right on the edge of disaster. Just try to remember now and then that you are worthy of being loved. And even if you can’t find anybody else—which I doubt—that I will always love you.”
“Oh, Faya, stop it!” He pulled her into his arms, looking instinctively over her shoulder for Emilio’s approval. But Emilio wasn’t there anymore. Raghi realized something. “Who will protect you now? With Emilio gone and my leaving, you will be more vulnerable than ever. Why don’t you come with me?”
Her embrace tightened. “I can’t, Raghi. Each one of us has a different destiny to follow. Go now!” She pulled herself free and turned away, trying to hide that she was weeping. “No outsider will ever know how it was to grow up in the guild. The bonds we forged during our apprenticeship are stronger than even the ties of a loving family. None of us will ever be truly alone.”
She stepped away from the stairs onto the abyss.
“If you believe that, you are a fool!” he yelled after her. “In all of this, we are completely alone and always have been.”
She was walking away. “Whatever!” she shouted back, waving without turning around.
When her outline disappeared into the twilight around the stairs, Raghi shouted, “I love you, Nameless!”
He heard her chuckle. Then she was gone. “I know,” her beautiful voice drifted to him.
Alone with his shadow, Raghi tried to take in his surroundings while deliberating what to do.
“This place is scaring me shitless!” he said with a shudder. Realizing what he had just done, he scoffed. “Which I have just proven by talking to you!”
The thing growled at him.
“Oh, shut up!” he snapped. “Faya told us—me!—to go down. So let’s go up.”
He set foot on the first translucent step leading up into the future. All at once, the soft orange light disappeared. Rough stone walls solidified around him, and the sole of his boot met an ordinary stone step.
Raghi swung round. A small wooden door standing open marked the spot where he had entered the Stairs of Eternity. Through it, he still saw the bottomless abyss over which he had walked.
He shuddered again. “Smoke and shadows. As if we hadn’t enough of that in the guild! And what is real? This?” He hit the wall with his fist—and winced when the rough stones scraped his skin. “Or what we saw before? And I will stop talking now before I turn completely nuts!”
A strange sensation filled his stomach. It increased with each new step he climbed. So much for forebodings! What he was doing felt wrong. His decision firmed. His curiosity about what awaited him grew.
Raghi reached the first door and looked through. His breath caught, and his heart almost stopped.
He was looking down at Eterna like a desert falcon soaring on the winds. The magisterial palace and the spacious square in front of it were unmistakable. But this future version of the city differed from everything he knew. The flag on the highest tower of the palace explained why. It bore the master’s coat-of-arms.
Raghi stared down at the monstrosity in horror. The Eterna of his time was a gilded cesspool—a dangerous, rotten place that presented a beautiful face to the world like an old witch wearing a mask. Nevertheless, lots of people managed to find happiness within its ramparts and lived a good life. At the academy, the sciences were thriving and led to new discoveries every year. Even those in search of music and banter could spend a night out without being robbed, unless they grew careless.
But this Eterna…The golden stone of the buildings and walls had turned black. Whole quarters were in a terrible state of disrepair, the houses falling down. And on the desert plains around the town, a forest of gallows and crosses grew. From every single one hung something that had once been a human being.
“I seem to remember that your friend ordered you to go down into the past,” somebody observed neutrally at Raghi’s elbow.
He jumped with surprise.
“I would appreciate if you removed the tip of your dagger from my throat,” the voice continued. “I did nothing to threaten you, and you are nicking my skin.”
Raghi blinked. It took him the longest time to focus on the person standing at his side. Gradually he realized that the old man—inferred from the deep and somewhat breathy voice—wore a long hooded cloak. Its black color blended with the shadows created by the erratic light of the scarce torches that seemed to wander up and down the stairs.
“Who the f…hell are you!” Raghi cursed, sheathing his dagger. He intended to be abrasive but somehow could not bring himself to disrespect his unexpected companion.
“Sometimes a judge and sometimes a counselor.”
“And a guardian as well?”
“Little is known about the guardians of the stairs. They have been around forever, while I am as mortal as you are. Just a little wiser.” That last remark carried no reproach, only infinite patience.
“Then you can’t tell me what this is?” Raghi nodded toward the abomination of everything he knew.
“This future will come into existence if you set foot out there. It is everything you fear, hate, and despise.”
Raghi snorted with disbelief. “Are you saying I am creating this horror?”
The hood moved as the man nodded. “Yes. Everybody can go into the past, but few are capable of going into the future without turning it into a nightmare. If I asked you whether your fears or hopes are stronger, you would probably say they are in balance. But that is not true. Humans are shaped by their fears. They cage our souls, and they are also the reason why so few people live their destiny. Fear turns our familiar misery into a place of well-being.”
Raghi contemplated this observation. “And where do I fit in? When other people turn away, I barge on. I can never leave anything alone. If I can’t achieve complete mayhem, I am not satisfied.”
The old man chuckled. “If you go down the stairs, you might find out.”
What complete nonsense! “You warn me of changing the future, but what if I change the past and turn the present into this?” Raghi indicated what had once been the Fields of Death. The fires burnt higher than ever, but instead of burning the bodies of the poorer dead, demons threw live people—men, women, and children—into the flames. The wind carried their terrible screams and the stink of burning flesh up into the skies to Raghi and his companion.
“Changing the past is nothing but a dream. History has happened and been fixed in hundreds of chronicles, books, even in the letters we write on the most mundane of topics. But like in any tapestry woven over a very long time, there are faults, imperfections, or spots where the fabric has rotted away. It is to those places that the supplicants daring the stairs travel and where they create a new destiny for themselves.”
Malice stirred in Raghi’s soul. “Too bad, and I hoped to populate the past with my offspring so that my descendants can achieve world domination.”
“If you say so.” The judge pushed his hands into the opposite sleeves of his robe. He did not seem perturbed at all.
With remarks like that, Raghi usually elicited a heated retort. He felt disappointed, but also safe in the other man’s presence. “You know that I am not a supplicant. I am about to steal a destiny for myself like a thief,” he admitted.
“That is correct. But in their long existence, people have used the stairs for different reasons. There have been those who had to disappear like you. Others were sentenced like your friend Emilio.”
“Well, I wouldn’t call him a friend,” Raghi interrupted. “He was more like an annoying older brother.”
“Then, there were those who tried to abuse the stairs for some sort of personal gain and had to witness how fate turned against them,” the judge took back control of the conversation. “And the worst of all—those who tried to right past wrong. Our culture is shaped as much by our achievements as by our errors. Without our errors, we are nothing.”
That got Raghi’s attention. He turned his head to examine the judge. In the diffuse light, he only saw an outline. “Would you take off your hood for me?”
The man complied.
Raghi stared at him. He would never forget the judge’s face. At the same time, he found it impossible to describe what he saw. It looked ancient and young, wise and mischievous, angelically beautiful and ugly as hell. If the universe had a face, this would be it.
“How old are you?” Raghi asked.
“Older than any human you know. How old are you?”
“Twenty-one. Almost twenty-two. You must think me an idiot.”
“I don’t know, are you?” the judge tossed his remark right back at him.
“Sometimes I feel like one,” Raghi confessed to his deepest fear. “Faya told me how Emilio won himself a new destiny. I am not surprised. Despite working as an assassin, he resembled the good knight in a fairytale—Prince Perfect. He always had a plan, knew right from wrong. I lack his moral compass. I cannot control my temper. Instead of solving a problem, I’d rather walk away. What if I break the past?”
His companion smiled. It was a benevolent, loving smile—the kind of smile Raghi had always wished for from his parents. “I understand your concerns, but your fears are unfounded. As I explained before, the past cannot be broken. And regarding your feelings about not fitting in: Have you ever considered that there might be a time and place that will suit you and your unique skill set better than the present you are about to leave?”
Now that was an interesting thought!
The judge directed another one of his smiles at Raghi and put a gentle hand on his shoulder. Warmth suffused Raghi’s chest.
“Do as your friend told you and go into the past, young assassin. There is nothing to gain for you here, but so much to win where you are going. And don’t doubt. You will know which door to take. You will feel it in your heart.”
Raghi nodded meekly and tried to move. His feet wouldn’t budge.
“I will leave you alone now. Else you will never go. Have faith and don’t give up—ever.” The cloaked figure faded and was gone.
After a moment, Raghi blinked and shook his head. Had he been hallucinating? And where was his shadow?
He looked around but met no burning eyes. With trepidation, he lifted the collar of his tunic and tried to look down his back. Because his neck was not that flexible, he only saw a small part of his shoulder blade, and the orange sheen reflected off the inside of the fabric.
So the thing had merged with him again. He breathed a sigh of relief.
“Then I will go now. I will never be readier!” he plucked up his courage. “Perfect Emilio managed it. I can do so as well. Just one step after another.”
He passed the doorway through which he had entered the stairs. Its heavy lock was now bolted.
“No need to panic!” Raghi cheered himself up. With his broad and fake grin, he must look like a maniac to a hidden observer.
After he had descended a few steps into the past, a trail of lights appeared beneath his feet. At first, he thought that he must be mistaken. Then the shine brightened, and he realized that each step contained a lamp at its center. Bending down to touch it, his fingers met a surface indistinguishable from its dark surroundings. The stone itself seemed to glow.
“Thank you, to whom it may concern,” he said loud enough for his voice to carry up and down several turns of the spiral staircase. Twilight and shadows were no problem. The dark, however, terrified him like nothing else.
Time passed while he descended. He seemed to be the only traveler on the stairs. Somehow, he had imagined them to be busier.
The trail of lights led on and on. His thigh muscles started to protest.
Doubt reared its ugly head. What if he had missed his exit? Focusing on the lights, he had failed to investigate every single doorway.
His guiding lights still beckoned, their twinkle warm and inviting.
Raghi went on, completing another turn, and froze.
The lights stopped at an ornate portal that opened onto a winter meadow pelted by heavy rain. Dark clouds hung low in the sky and visibility was non-existent, just a few steps before everything merged into black.
He edged closer, trying to make sense of the stone carvings on the doorframe. They looked like an alchemist’s gibberish—occult symbols intended to impress gullible victims.
Whatever!
He spied through the door. A blast of cold wind hit him in the face. He fondly remembered this kind of weather from the islands where he was born. The heavy rain filled his ears with a roar, and the air smelled fresh and green.
It was as good a choice as any.
Raghi took a deep breath and faced his destiny.
3
Raghi stepped through the door onto the grass. The abrupt change felt as if an entire world had been thrown in his face. Within moments, the heavy rain soaked him to the skin.
He looked over his shoulder. The doorway to the stairs was fading.
A heavy feeling settled in his stomach.
His first indication that Faya had spoken the truth consisted of a familiar form taking shape next to him.
Desert Rose shook herself with a shriek, then glared around in outrage, her two heads on their long separate necks going in different directions. One head looked like a dragon’s, the other like an eagle’s. She swished her long dragon’s tail in annoyance, shook her amber lion’s body, and flapped her white-feathered wings. The chimera hated getting wet.
“Oh, don’t be such a baby,” Raghi scolded her, relieved that she was with him. “Ow! Stop that!”
Her dragon’s head had sent a fiery blast his way.
He almost fell into their routine of mock-fighting, which helped them to relieve tension. Then he noticed another shape forming at his feet—that of a woman.
Raghi waited, the speed of his heartbeat accelerating until he could barely breathe.
She was lying on her side, one arm close to her chest, the other extended. A dirt-stained hooded cape covered her head and most of her body. Corpses looked like that.
Raghi kneeled down next to her. “Nana?”
Gently, he pushed the hood from her cheek to see her face. It was emaciated and looked strained. Her eyes were closed. When he moved his hand to her nostrils, faint warmth brushed his skin. She was still breathing.
“Nana? Please wake up.” He bent over her so that his upper body provided a shield against the rain and eased her onto her back. Her shoulder was bony, and she felt much too light. Faya had told the truth. His parents had been starving her.
What was that bump on her chest?
When Raghi brushed the fabric aside, something wailed. Angry dark eyes met his gaze.
Dumbfounded, he stared at the baby.
“Raghi? Is that really you?” he heard the voice he loved most in the world. She sounded so terribly weak, almost delirious. Something touched his fingers.
“Nana!” He took her hand in both of his.
Her lavender eyes were overflowing with tears when their gaze found him. “It has to be you. You are a grown man now, but you still have the eyes of the boy I loved. I prayed that fate would allow me to see you one last time before I die, although I could never imagine how that might become possible. I am not dreaming? You are here? Wait! That means…” She glanced frantically around, gasping for air in great gulps.
“You are no longer in my parents’ dungeon, Nana. I freed you. That is all you need to know right now.” He reached out to caress her cheek and almost wept. Just bone and parchment-like skin. She had been so beautiful once.
“It won’t be for long, child. Death is reaching out for me.”
“No, he isn’t!” Raghi hissed. “We will kick him in the ass and drive him away!”
She smiled, tried to focus on his face and failed. “Being here with you, wherever we are, has lifted a great burden from my heart. This is Mallika, your baby sister. I entrust her into your care. Promise me to keep her safe.” With each new word, her voice had weakened.
Raghi looked in horror at the baby. “Stop talking, Nana. You will not die. I will not allow it. And neither will Mallika. Now be quiet and let me think. We need to find shelter and the help of a healer.”
Although he had no idea how to achieve that. He did not know where they were—what age, century, country, whatever! He had no idea where to find a healer. He didn’t know which end of a baby was up. He could not be entrusted with taking care of other people. He…
His nana’s grip tightened. “Raghi, you need to focus on your breathing, else you will suffer a choking attack. Don’t let me die with you wheezing by my side.”
“Stop talking like that. You will not die!” he yelled at her, feeling terrible.
A smile pulled at her lips.
Fortunately, Rose took action before he could say or do something even more stupid. Crouching next to him, she opened her wings and used them to form a tent over everybody. Then she breathed kind fire over Nana and the baby. This fire felt warm, not hot, and gave the receiver an illusion of renewed strength.
Raghi suddenly knew what to do. “You and Mallika stay here with Rose, Nana. She will protect you. I will search for help.”
“Please don’t. Please stay with me so that I don’t have to die alone,” she begged weakly.
“I can’t, Nana. You were always so brave. Please be brave now!”
With tears in his eyes, Raghi moved away. Desert Rose lifted the wing that sheltered him so that he could rise.
The rain wasn’t as heavy as before, the darkness lifting. Raghi looked around to get his bearings—and froze.
What he saw made little sense. He seemed to find himself in the middle of a fragmented circular moonbow. How else to explain the diffuse spots of cheerful colors all around him?
Moments passed. The light got stronger, and he realized that the stairs had a weird sense of humor.
They had dumped him on a winter meadow right in the middle of a camp of travelers. Their artfully painted wagons formed a wide barricade around him, and everybody had stopped what they were doing to stare in his direction.
Perhaps ten steps away, two people stood. One was a doe-like young man with dark skin and shoulder-length black hair, flamboyantly dressed in various shades of emerald green, the other a regal older woman with long gray hair that contrasted with her flowing turquoise gown. Both wore lots of gold jewelry and looked dashing.
The weirdest thing was that their clothes and hair appeared dry, while Raghi and Rose were soaked and dripping from the rain.
“We saw you and your family travel down the Stairs of Eternity and are here to offer our help,” the regal woman said in the old language, which Raghi spoke well. Her voice was strong and carried far, probably even back to the wagons.
“Liar! You can’t possibly have seen anything in this heavy rain!” he retorted. Like always, his paranoia and mouth were quicker to react than his brain.
The young man jumped with surprise at the accusation. The woman just narrowed her eyes.
“There are various ways of seeing, child. Some of which do not require the eyes.” Her voice sounded harder now, but still friendly.
Raghi’s temper calmed. He had no choice. “If you have a healer, please make him help my nana and my little sister,” he begged. “They have been starved, and I have just been able to free them.”
The woman lifted her arm and signaled somebody near the barricades. “Can you ask your chimera to let me see?”
Raghi looked at Rose. Her eagle’s head was up to watch the goings-on. From beneath her wings, he heard the soft hiss of kind fire.
After a quick glare at him, the chimera lifted her wings. Her dragon’s head was nose-to-nose with Nana, trying to breathe life essence into her. Since a chimera was only part dragon, she did not have a dragon’s magic, but sometimes mere intent sufficed.
“Rose will not hurt you,” Raghi promised.
The woman went to Nana and kneeled without regard for her beautiful gown. “Continue what you are doing,” she said to Rose, touching the dragon’s snout.
Raghi could only stare. Everybody was afraid of Desert Rose, no matter how often he told them that she was kind as long as they were. He went to kneel at the woman’s side.
She took his nana’s hand. “What is your name, dear?”
“Violet. Raghi calls me Nana. I was his nurse.” The effort of speaking seemed to drain her last strength, and her halting words became slurred.
“My name is Kaea. I am the queen of the Ghitains. The young man with me is Naveen, my son. Our healer will help you, but I need you to be strong for a little longer. Can you do that?”
“…so tired.”
Raghi’s heart clenched.
“I know, Violet. But as women we have to be strong to our very last breath for those we love. You would do anything for Raghi and the little one, even though you haven’t born them.”
Violet’s eyes opened and her gaze cleared. “Yes.”
“Then hold on with all your might. Don’t give victory to those who did this to you. Don’t allow them to separate you from the ones you love.”
New resolve seemed to course through the emaciated body. “I won’t.”
A young woman with long brown hair and bright blue eyes joined them. Her beautiful face seemed to glow with an inner light. She wore a fuchsia dress, cut more daringly than Kaea’s, a multicolored shawl, and lots of silver jewelry.
Her hands held a silver goblet inset with precious stones. Like the queen, she did not hesitate to kneel in the wet grass. “I am Chandana, this clan’s healer. I bring this potion to ease your pain. May I give it to you?”
Violet’s nod was little more than a blink.
“Would you lift Violet’s head?” Kaea addressed Raghi. “In doing so, you must be very careful. Do you understand?”
Raghi nodded, gulping audibly. His hands trembled when he reached out. His nana’s hair felt dry and brittle. He remembered it being glossy and soft.
“I love you, Nana,” he said. Let everybody see the tears running down his face! He did not care if they thought him weak.
The young healer was very skilled. After a few minutes, Violet had drained the goblet, a tiny sip at a time. Her eyes closed and her breathing deepened.
The Ghitains around Raghi breathed a sigh of relief.
“You may hope now, young man,” the queen said. “Her soul had already merged with eternity, a tiny last strand connecting her body. With the potion, the strand has turned into a rope. With good care and a bit of luck, her soul will return.”
“Thank you!” Raghi said. The words felt dreadfully inadequate.
The queen rose and the wet patches and grass stains on her dress faded. Who were those people?
“You will need to stay with us for a while. Whatever your plans were, they have to wait until Violet has recovered. How is the little one, Chandana?”
The healer had eased Mallika from Violet’s hold and examined her. “Furious and hungry, but surprisingly well. Violet must have given her last bit of strength to her.” Unexpectedly, she winced. “That little one is a tiger. She bites and fights. Let’s see if she is ticklish.” Her finger went to a tiny armpit.
A squeal erupted from the baby. Desert Rose’s eyes, all four of them, widened at the sound.
“Look how she glares at me,” the healer said, her face glowing with love. “Nothing will ever break her. Her spirit is as free as a bird’s.”
Kaea turned to Raghi. “Follow me. We need to make arrangements for your stay with us.”
“I won’t leave my nana,” he snapped.
The queen fixated him with her compelling stare. Raghi had never seen eyes like hers. Around the pupils shone stars in blue and green that merged into brown and were delimited from the white by a black border. He got the impression that she could simultaneously see into the past, present, and future.
“Going down the stairs is no easy task, young man. There are many lessons involved, and your first is learning to trust. Now follow me. I will not repeat myself.”
Raghi looked at her son, seeking support.
“Please trust her. You are safe with us,” the queen’s son—Naveen—said. He tried to put his hand on Raghi’s shoulder.
Raghi flinched away from his touch. “Hands off!” he growled. A ripple of energy ran down his back.
Not now! With iron determination, he forced himself to relax.
He followed the queen of the Ghitains to one of the carved wagons, this one painted lavender and silver.
Two draft horses with golden coats and white manes were grazing nearby. Mandala-like dark patterns covered their hindquarters. Either somebody spent a lot of time with shears, or these animals had been born with the most unusual markings Raghi had ever seen.
“This is Baz, my husband and Naveen’s father,” Kaea introduced the man currying one of the horses.
He gave Raghi a curt nod. Father and son were much alike. Both had luminous brown eyes, handsome faces, and feathery black hair, although Baz’s was short and turning gray with age.
“How did you come by a chimera?” he asked, his eyes on Rose, who was following at Raghi’s heels.
“By finding her half-starved in the desert when she was a cub and raising her. Her name is Desert Rose.”
Baz put the currycomb on a stool and came to stand next to Raghi, his gaze still on the chimera. Slowly, he extended a hand, palm up. After a moment of hesitation, Rose nosed it with her dragon’s snout while her eagle’s head kept watch.
Baz lifted his other hand to stroke her scaly forehead and cheek. Rose closed her eyes, enjoying his touch. “You are very fortunate. She is extraordinary.”
And so was this man. Like his wife, he treated the chimera as if she were a domestic animal.
“What happens now, my love?” Baz asked his wife.
“Raghi, his nurse Violet, and his little sister Mallika will stay with us for a while. Chandana will take in Violet and Mallika. This leaves the question of how to accommodate Raghi.”
“There is no question,” Raghi protested. “I don’t need your charity. I can sleep in the grass next to the fire, or beneath a wagon in bad weather—unless you forbid me to do that. But I want to visit my nana and my sister. You can’t keep me away. How dare you take them away from me…!”
A hand closed over his mouth before he could work up a full tantrum. “Stop it now, boy,” Baz said kindly. “There is no need for you to dig your own grave. Nobody is keeping you away from your family. We are just trying to answer the question of where you will sleep. And that will not be beneath a vardo.
