Shimmerdark Read online

  Shimmerdark

  Sarah Mensinga

  For Christine

  Copyright © 2021 by Sarah Mensinga

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photography, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author.

  First Edition published by:

  Chattersketch Press

  Cover illustration and book design by Sarah Mensinga

  www.sarahmensinga.com

  Sunlight for the bright month,

  shadows for the dark.

  Count the days by moonlight,

  while hunters roam the world.

  1

  The Grimshore

  They’ll break in.

  I’m sure of it.

  The nocturnes will smash through the rock barrier and eat us. Me first, because I’ll jump up and run, and then they’ll devour everyone else. All that horror will surely happen in minutes too, which is strangely disappointing. It’s not that I want a drawn-out, miserable death, but a quick, unceremonious end doesn’t seem fair after surviving for this long either.

  I should do something. I shouldn’t just lie here listening to the beasts’ overlapping snarls.

  Maybe I can strengthen the barrier with shimmerlight—create some sort of energy blanket. But summoning that much cagic will temporarily blind me, and if the nocturnes still manage to force their way in, I’ll be even more vulnerable.

  I lift my head. Now I hear dry, raspy barking. It’s surely wolievs.

  I should wake someone else. I need help.

  Tall and sturdy Fedorie lies next to me and Clicks snores beside her, but they’re no use. I’ve tried to wake them during the Dark Month before, and when they lingersleep, they’re completely unresponsive. Maybe it’s because they’re older; Fedorie is nearly forty, and Clicks is in his sixties. I might be able to wake Kary, though.

  I create a small sphere of shimmerlight the size of a lemonelle, which hovers a few inches above my palm and casts pale blue light across our cave shelter. The floating ball of energy warms me too, which is comforting. There’s probably snow outside.

  I pull myself out of my itchy nest of a grass bed, and shivering in my ragged clothes, I walk around Fedorie and Clicks, over to where Kary sleeps. The rock beneath my feet feels like ice.

  Kary’s skin is just as cold, and he hardly seems to be breathing. Lingersleeping is so close to death, I thought everyone was dead the first time I woke mid-month.

  “Kary,” I whisper, shaking him. “Get up—please. I need you.”

  As for the nocturnes, they’re getting louder. I hear nerve-twanging shrieks and angry snorts. Kary, though, doesn’t move.

  “Kary!” I push aside his ragged hair and pinch his neck just under his ear. Thank the source, he finally shifts and stretches.

  It takes another few moments for him to open his bleary eyes and croak, “Xylia?” He hasn’t used his voice for days, weeks. Not since the Bright Month.

  “Do you hear them?” I whisper.

  He props himself up on an elbow and looks sharply toward the cave entrance that we’ve sealed with boulders, mud, and moss. “Wolievs.”

  I nod.

  Kary stands, brushes dry grass off his clothes, and together we creep across the uneven floor toward the jumble of rocks. After listening for another long moment, he makes a soft sound of despair. “If they find a way in...”

  “I know.” I touch his right arm, his shorter arm, the one missing a hand. “We can use the hollows.” But I hate even thinking about the narrow pits that tunnel down at the back of the cave, formed by centuries of rain. The huge nocturnes wouldn’t be able to follow us into them, but would we be able to wriggle back out? There are also only three shafts and four of us. One person would have to stand on someone else’s shoulders, which would be a nightmarish position to be in if we got stuck. “I’ll summon shimmerlight to distract them,” I whisper. “It’ll make me cagic-blind, though, so you’ll have to lead me back there. We should also wake up Clicks and Fedorie.”

  “And they won’t wake easily.” Kary steps toward the pair, but then he turns back to the barrier and cocks his head to one side.

  I hear it too. The sounds have changed from snarls and growls to whimpering.

  “They’re not trying to break in,” Kary says. “They’re just…”

  “Fighting each other,” I say with a soft, relieved laugh.

  We wait a few more minutes to be certain, and then we return to our sparse bedding. My teeth chatter. Kary trembles too.

  “Why don’t you sleep here?” he whispers, lowering himself onto his thin, leafy palette. I usually sleep beside Fedorie but sharing my warmth with Kary is probably wise. Releasing the energy of my glowing shimmerlight globe, I wriggle in beside him and tuck loose grass and dried moss around us. Then he pulls me close with his left arm, his good arm.

  It’s surprisingly pleasant, curled up with Kary like this. His sweaty, briny boy smell is somehow comforting and so is the feel of his heartbeat.

  Because I thought we might die a few minutes ago, fear still has its prongs in me, flooding me with urgent, unspent energy. I wonder if Kary feels the same way. He must.

  A dreamlike sensation comes over me, full of anticipation and longing. I feel clear-eyed and purposeful in a way that only ever seems to happen in the dark. Without thinking, I lift my face to Kary’s and press my lips against his.

  He twitches, loosens his grip, and pulls away. “Xylia?”

  The heady combination of loneliness and affection rushing through me quickly vanishes.

  For an agonizing, embarrassing moment both of us are silent, and then Kary says, “Perhaps we should sleep back to back?”

  What have I done? I know better. I’m a Predrae. I can’t indulge my emotions. I have much more important responsibilities. “I should sleep in my usual place.” I roll away from him.

  “No, no, stay,” Kary says. “I didn’t mean… You’ll be cold over there. I’m sorry, it’s just…”

  “Don’t,” I say sharply. My pride can’t bear hearing him explain why my mistake was a mistake. “Don’t say anything else.” I then scurry back to my chilly spot beside Fedorie. At least now I have burning shame to keep me warm.

  ◆◆◆

  Fedorie runs towards us, bounding heavily across the rough ground as only she can. She’s also yelling something, but the wind sweeps her low voice away.

  Kary hurries forward, a chunk of driftwood under his arm. “What is it?”

  I put down the fish I’m scaling and stand up. Fedorie doesn’t look frightened or hurt, so why is she running?

  She soon reaches us, but she’s too breathless to speak.

  “You look as if you’ve seen the Great Drae,” I joke, and oh, if only that were true.

  Fedorie waves her large hands at the shore. “Calvolin…” she gasps.

  “Is he in trouble?” Kary asks, and that’s likely. Ever since Clicks broke his glasses, he’s been scraping his shins and stumbling into bogs.

  Fedorie shakes her head, though, and at first I think she’s grimacing, but then I realize she’s smiling. “No, he’s fine—he’s just waiting with…” She spreads her arms. “A ship!”

  “A ship,” I echo. There can’t be a ship. There has never been a ship. I must have heard her wrong.

  But she nods. “Yes, indeed! A Kaverlee ship with all the flags and banners! She just dropped anchor, and a rowboat’s heading to shore.”

  It’s happening.

  It’s really happening. We’re finally being rescued.

  My heart floats up like a cagic spark. When we first dragged ourselves onto this miserable island, I didn’t thi
nk we’d be here long. Surely Drae Devorla would search for me, her apprentice. But that was seven years ago. And what perfect timing—in another few years I’ll wink out and lose my ability to summon shimmerlight. Now there’s still time for Drae Devorla to teach me the secret of lifelong cagic; a technique she can only share with her Predrae.

  “Hurry up!” Fedorie urges us. “You have to see it!” She’s already running back to the shore.

  I start to follow her, but then I realize Kary isn’t moving.

  “Aren’t you coming?” I ask.

  He gives me a strange look, and it’s a look he’s had ever since we woke up from our last lingersleep: part caution, part resolve, part thoughtful, and all very Kary.

  “You go on,” he says. “I’ll cover the fish.”

  “Leave them. We’ll soon have plenty to eat.” Just thinking about home makes my mouth water. It’s been so long since I’ve had anything cooked with spices and sauces. And there are so many other wonderful things we’ll be returning to as well… clean clothes, cagic lighting, heaters, beds. Also, proper underclothes and books and windows that keep bugs away. We won’t have to fatten ourselves up for lingersleeping either.

  My hands go to my plump stomach. Will the Triumvirate Hall courtiers understand that we have to eat a lot to prepare for lingersleeping? They have strong walls and a star net to protect them during the Dark Month. They’ve never had to live like this.

  “It really is a miracle,” I say to Kary as he covers the fish with a basket and puts a rock on top to keep it from blowing away.

  “I suppose so,” he says, yet he doesn’t sound happy. “You go on. I’ll catch up.”

  Confused, I make my way across the rocky island that, years ago, Clicks nicknamed the Grimshore. Kary should be overjoyed. We’ll never be scratched by thorns again, we won’t have to smell the swamps when they get hot and stinky mid-month, and we’ll never be out in the rain for so long that our fingers and toes swell like bloated, dead fish.

  Soon I reach the water, and then I see the ship. Its robust hull bobs almost impossibly high on the surface of the sea, reminding me of a fluffy bird on a tiny branch. A giddy tremble shivers through me too, for Fedorie was right; this vessel is definitely from Kaverlee. It’s flying our cityland flags and has a Triumvirate banner. Because I’m used to being surrounded by broken, tattered, and faded things, and it’s been so long since I’ve seen something beautifully made and properly maintained, I tear up. The boat’s green and gold hull looks freshly painted, sailors have neatly furled its pristine, white sails, and the two energy reservoirs bolted to its upper deck gleam brightly in the sunlight. It’s breathtaking.

  Four unfamiliar people stand on the rocky beach too, talking to Fedorie and Clicks.

  “There she is!” Fedorie waves me over.

  It isn’t easy to cross the sharp, slippery rocks, but I soon reach them. A tall man wearing a three-cornered captain’s hat smiles at me. He’s so wonderfully clean and so finely dressed, I’m tempted to lean over and smell him and then run my hands over the fine fabric of his palliumcoat.

  “You must be the missing Shimmerling,” he says.

  I curtsy—awkwardly. It’s something I haven’t done in years. “Yes, I’m Predrae Xylia Amoreah Selvantez, Heir of the Great Drae.”

  The three other sailors exchange quick, uncertain looks.

  “Is something wrong?” I ask.

  “Everyone thought you were dead,” the Captain says gently. “The Great Drae selected a new Predrae. You’ve been… ah… replaced.”

  2

  Kaverlee

  I’ve imagined returning home countless times, and for the most part, travelling from the Grimshore to Kaverlee satisfies my expectations. Because the Duskrider is a well-provisioned merchant ship, we’re treated to warm baths, delicious food, and clean clothes.

  But I struggle to enjoy any of it.

  I’ve been replaced.

  The Great Drae gave up on me.

  I spend most of our journey feeling either seasick or heartsick. Yet at least I’m not alone; Kary seems just as miserable.

  We spend most of our time sitting on the deck together, staring morosely at the Silkord Sea. Whenever I ask him why he’s unhappy, I’m pretty sure he only gives me a small, sliver of the truth. He says things like, “I’ll miss seeing you,” and “I don’t have a home to return to.”

  Fedorie takes him at his word though, and one evening while sailors are taming Kary’s overgrown hair, she corners Clicks and me near the galley. “What are we going to do about our Kary?” she asks. “He’s not from Kaverlee like us. His mother’s dead, poor woman, and his father, well, he’s not available either, is he?” She looks meaningfully down at us.

  Kary’s father is in prison, or at least he was when our ferry foundered.

  “Then there’s the...” Fedorie soberly holds out her arm.

  Kary’s never told us why he lost his hand, but it looked like a recent injury when we first met, all of us staggering sobbing and shocked onto the Grimshore. Like me, Kary was a child then, and I clearly remember the angry, bright pink skin covering his maimed wrist.

  “He’s welcome to live with me,” Clicks says, lifting his bare chin, which is a part of him I’m not used to seeing. For the past seven years, a wiry, unkempt beard covered half of his face. The sailors helped him shave, and for the first time, I realize he must once have been a handsome man. “But the poor lad’s from Matreornan,” Clicks continues. “He doesn’t have land justification for our city. That’s a problem.”

  “A problem Xylia can solve.” Fedorie gives me a firm smile. She was once my travel governess and guardian, and she sometimes still tries to boss me around. Although to be fair, she’s just as forthright with Clicks and Kary. “You can ask the Great Drae to grant Kary land justification.”

  “Well… I’m not the Predrae anymore,” I say, and a selfish, shameful part of me hopes that I’m reminding them that Kary isn’t the only person who could use some sympathy and guidance.

  Fedorie gives my shoulder a hearty squeeze. “That’s not a problem. You’re still a Shimmerling; You’ll still live in Triumvirate Hall.”

  “I’ll do my best,” I say uncertainly.

  I tell Kary about Fedorie’s plan a few hours later. I find him where we usually sit, on the small triangle of deck in the prow of the ship. It seems to be the only place on the Duskrider where my stomach doesn’t roil and churn. It’s also a very beautiful spot right now. We’re in the sunrise days, and the sky is a kaleidoscope of shifting colors and clouds.

  “Your hair’s so short!” I say, hitching up my trousers to kneel beside him. The sailor’s outfit I’m wearing doesn’t fit me properly, but it’s still far better than the rags I wore before.

  Kary leans back on his lone hand. “It’s too short. I look like a woliev chewed on my head.”

  “Then you wouldn’t have a head,” I reason. Without his long, matted locks, his face seems to have new corners and angles. I still don’t find him particularly good looking, but I can imagine someone else might.

  “Ha, well, I know I look like woliev food because of this.” He holds a shiny, flat object out to me —a handheld mirror. “I borrowed it from the crew. Are you curious?”

  I feel like I’m picking up a venomous spider, but I do take the mirror and peer into it. An unfamiliar young woman stares back at me. She’s not the round-cheeked little girl who once stood confidently at Drae Devorla’s side. She resembles an agency worker who’s spent too much time in a spreadfarm field. She has tan skin, thin black hair, scattered-grain freckles, and wary eyes. “I’ve changed so much.” My voice shakes.

  “You look the same to me,” Kary says with a smile. But he also puts the mirror onto the deck shiny side down, hiding both of our reflections.

  I tell him about Fedorie’s plan then. How he’ll live with Clicks, and how, after I plead his case, Drae Devorla will hopefully give him land justification so he can stay in Kaverlee. “What do you think?” I ask
for his expression hasn’t changed.

  “It sounds like a good idea,” Kary says lightly, although I hear a crinkle of hesitation in his voice. “What about you? What will you do?”

  I don’t have to think about my answer. I already know. “I’m going to make sure I become the Predrae again.”

  Kary nods. “Good.”

  ◆◆◆

  After three lunar days, Kaverlee City emerges from a rosy fog. It’s as grand as I remember, with countless buildings on sloping hills, all sparkling with cagic light. The protective walls surrounding the city look like stern, ancient arms, and workers are busy assembling the star net, stringing an immense wire lattice over the city. Once charged, the star net will keep flying nocturnes out of Kaverlee during the Dark Month.

  It seems to take forever for the Duskrider to find a mooring place alongside the busy, concrete piers. Yet once the ship is secure, the captain won’t let us disembark. He has us stay on board while he sends a messenger to Triumvirate Hall. “Her Imbued Eminence would be furious if I let someone so important wander the docks,” he tells me.

  I understand, but it’s still an agonizing wait when we’re so close to home. I stare hungrily out at the harbor, at the bustling, fragrant popinas, at the many chariots, coaches, and trailers, at the piles of cargo, and many ships. Even though it’s late in the month and the harbor will soon empty, there are still so many people around.

  In fact, rumor of my return must be spreading for Kaverleans begin gathering around the Duskrider. The attention sends fluttery, heart-thumping delight through me. Yet I wish this wasn’t my first public appearance in seven years. I hardly look like the Predrae they would remember.

  Four automatic chariots soon arrive, and several Shieldbearers join us on the Duskrider’s deck. It’s been so long since I’ve seen a Kaverlee guard, I’d forgotten how meticulously dressed they always are, with emerald green palliumcoats, silver shoulder clasps, and polished shockguns.