Stories From the Shadowlands (3 page)

Day 314

Takeshi and Philip are very good with their weapons, but neither of them can take me in a hand to hand fight, especially now that I have recovered my strength. The two of them expend so much energy and follow too many rules. I was taught differently. My one priority: do as much damage as possible as quickly as possible. I don't think they enjoy training with me, because they asked Michael to create cloth-and-metal figures for me to practice with. Takeshi said he cannot take another knee to the groin. I reminded him he'd fractured my skull with his staff on at least three different occasions. He laughed and said he needs his
kintama
more than I need my brain.

Day 355

My sleep has been more restful lately, and the nightmares don't stalk me like they did before. Instead of my mother's face, her eyes as they dragged her away, I have darkness. I should be glad, not to see her in my dreams. And yet, I feel guilty for letting her go.

Day 400

I write this from the tower above the Station, on my 400th day in this city. I never expected that I would learn so many things after my own death. Especially the things I have learned. I can carry on conversations in languages I never heard a word of when I was alive. I can throw knives and fight with a staff. I wield a scimitar and wear armor. I am stronger than I was. I wish Heshel could see what I've become. I miss him so badly it hurts me. No, right now I am content. I am alone, but not imprisoned. The air is not fresh, but I imagine that a breeze comes over the wall, bringing the scent of the forest with it. Someday… someday. But not today. Maybe not for many years. I have realized this: the only way out is through, and I will not fight it anymore. I am here. I will do what they ask me to do, and I will do it well.

Day 401

Philip came to my quarters this morning and told me I am to accompany him to the Southern Quarter tomorrow. Though I have been out in the city many times, this will be my first official patrol as a Guard. I am ready.

Day 402

Philip and I are in an outpost in the Southern Quarter, a plain stone building in a sea of ramshackle wooden cabins, some of which have sprouted additional floors or towers. When we stepped outside the Station early this morning for the journey, my stomach clenched. I did not realize how many people were on the streets. When I journeyed through the city before, the roads were almost deserted, and I only saw the people the other Guards brought to my attention. But now I understand. I was so trapped in myself before, so absorbed in my desire to escape that I did not see the truth of where I am: a city full of people suffering the same way. How I ever thought I had been singled out for punishment is beyond me. There are millions of souls here, and though I knew that before, now it is real. The despair is a taste in my mouth, sour and dank. I am one of the Guards charged with watching over these lost people, but I have no idea how to help them.

Day 404

I have learned something terrible.

I have been patrolling in the Southern Quarter with Philip for two days, and this morning we entered a massive apartment building near the western wall. I had never been in a building so huge, with halls that went on and on, purple paint on the walls and lurid orange doors, nearly all of them closed. But as we walked down one hallway, Philip stopped me and asked if I smelled something strange. I sniffed, and though it was faint, it stung my nose and throat. The only place I had experienced something similar was in a bazaar on the outskirts of town, a place I went once with my mother. The scent made Philip draw his scimitar, and I did the same.

And down the hall, a door opened, and a woman came out. She had very dark skin, and her hair was in tight braids that circled her head. Her eyes were beautiful. She was beautiful. But when she saw Philip, she screeched and ran. He chased her, and I followed, just trying to keep up with him, not understanding what this woman had done to earn his attention. Then she entered one of the long, seemingly endless corridors, and I almost shouted a warning to her, because Philip does not need to be close to kill. He drew two knives, and a moment later the woman was on her belly, fighting to breathe, blades buried deep in her back. I sank to my knees next to her, horrified, but Philip shoved me back, warning me that she was still dangerous. So I sat just out of her reach, watching her die. I had thought we were here to protect these people, but Philip slaughtered this woman in cold blood. Without hesitation or regret.

But then he told me: this woman is something called a “Mazikin.”

He promises he will tell me more tonight, after he disposes of her body.

Day 405

Now I know who the enemy is. I have much to learn about the Mazikin, but Philip shared some of the things he has witnessed, and it is enough to convince me that they are evil. That such creatures would come here and prey on the sorrowful, hurting people of this city is an offense. The woman Philip killed yesterday—she was gone long before his knives pierced her body. And not because she had done wrong, but because she had the misfortune of appealing to these creatures. They took her and destroyed her and the rage is almost too much for me.

Philip seems surprised; he said if he had known I would react like this, he would have explained it sooner. But he does not know where I came from or what happened to me. I haven’t talked about it. Maybe I will, when I can, so he will know that I understand the evil of the Mazikin, because I have met people who treat others as something to be discarded as trash, as if the souls inside those bodies are not worthy of a second thought. This is how my people were treated. This is how I was treated. And my brother. Especially my brother. If I can find a way to stop the Mazikin, to rid the city of them completely, I will. I will devote everything I have to this mission.

Day 514

Mazikin have apparently inhabited our city for hundreds of years, but they were not always here. We know little else. It baffles me how few records were kept. When I mentioned that, Takeshi laughed at me. He said the human Guards are focused on doing their jobs and getting out, not creating a historical account. What knowledge we have is passed from one Guard to the other. The story goes that when the Mazikin first appeared, they announced themselves by slaughtering several unsuspecting Guards. They wanted us to know they were here. They have a hatred for the Judge, for Raphael. Worse than that, they have a contempt for the people in this city.

I cannot blame them for despising the Judge. I do not feel kindly toward him myself. But I cannot forgive them for hurting these people. Takeshi and Philip are teaching me to find and track them. The Mazikin have a scent that I can recognize now. They often travel in pairs or packs, and that is easy enough to spot because the citizens are always alone, except for those near the Sanctum. They move like animals sometimes, depending on preference, familiarity with being inside a human body, and the age and health of that body. And they are present. They watch, alert. They are hunters searching for prey. This alone makes them easy to pick out of a crowd, because no one here notices other people, not really. Well. I can watch, too. I can hunt. Takeshi and I are leaving tomorrow on a multi-day patrol. He swears we won't return until I have killed my first Mazikin.

Day 517

It all happened so fast. We were at the end of a long patrol, heading for an apartment building a few blocks away. I wasn't paying attention. Takeshi nearly knocked me over as he shoved past me. I chased after him as he sprinted up the street, and then I saw them: two men dragging a limp woman into a basement unit. When they saw us coming, they dropped her. Takeshi drew his scimitar and I did the same. My opponent was tall, with long, shaggy hair that made him look like a lion. He bared his teeth, an odd sort of grin.

"You are new," he said, and scrambled away on all fours, his leaping strides much longer than mine. I followed him into an alley. I didn't know I'd run past him until he leapt on my back, his clawing hands reaching for my weapons. He drew one of my knives before I shoved him away. I barely got my scimitar out of its sheath before he leapt at me, and all my Guard training deserted me. I dropped my scimitar.

And I let my old training take over.

I drove my fist into his throat, his groin. I slammed my elbow against his jaw as he tried to bite me. He sliced at my arm, but I tore the knife from his grasp—then plunged it into his chest. His eyes went wide. So did mine, I'm sure. His long fingernails scrabbled at my armor.

"I'll come back," he wheezed. He never closed his eyes. Not ever. His blood gushed over my hands. It ran in rivulets from his mouth. His body shuddered. His chest heaved. But he still didn't look away, and I couldn't either. Even when he was dead. It was like the person he once had been was condemning me for destroying him. One minute was all it took to make me a killer, a few seconds between what I was then and what I have become. The unchangeable truth of it was like a blade in my own chest. I did not know how to make that feeling go away, so I did the only thing that came to me.

The words of the prayer came to me easily. I recited the whole thing. By the time I was finished, Takeshi had joined me in the alley. "It gets easier" was all he said to me before resuming his trek to the apartment. I'm not sure I believe him, but I have no choice but to find out if he's right.

Day 518

I saw a star. I am lying on the roof, right at the edge, somewhere far in the northeast quadrant, in a tall building that allows me a view all the way to the north wall miles away. I was staring at the sky, the deep black roof of the city, and I am certain: for a moment there was a dim, twinkling light above me. Now it’s all darkness again, but I’m sure it was there. Hope is very much like that, I think.

Day 547

On patrol today with Takeshi, I saw a man who used to buy shoes from my father. He was sitting alone on a stoop, staring at his hands, and I recognized a scar along his forearm, a jagged tear I recall wondering about as a boy. He used to bring his pretty daughter into the shop, and Heshel and I would act like idiots showing off to get her to smile at us. I was excited to see a familiar face and greeted him. He greeted me—I think it was a relief to him to hear a familiar language—but he did not know my name. He did not know who I was. I almost asked after his daughter, but then I realized: if he is here, it is because he lost everything, and that bright-eyed girl is most likely dead. I wonder if anyone I knew is still alive. I wonder if anything is different. It felt like the world was ending. But when I spoke these thoughts aloud to Takeshi, he only shook his head and said that all who live in the dark city, no matter what era they lived in, probably felt that way. It's part of the reason they're here. I think Takeshi does not understand what it was like before I died, and I do not have the stomach to tell him.

Day 548

I am still thinking of the man I met yesterday, of his eyes, the way he looked at me but did not see me. Takeshi says he has never once met someone he knew in life here in the dark city, but the way he said it, so easily, so casually, I have to wonder if he is lying. I asked Philip the same question, and he says he did once: a young soldier who had been under his command. Like me, he was both saddened and excited to see someone he had known before, and he rushed up to the soldier and greeted him. He ended up with the man's teeth clamped onto his arm, and only then did he realize the man had been taken by a Mazikin. It did not end well for the creature, and I think it hurt Philip to kill him, because he wore the face of a friend.

Day 564

I am recovering from a fall. Philip and I were chasing a Mazikin through a dense maze of rooms in an enormous statehouse, one that must have been abandoned by its owner since the Mazikin was able to enter. Philip directed me down one corridor and he took the other, hoping to corner the creature, an older man with yellow teeth filed to sharp points. I could hear the man laughing as I sprinted the hallway, and then, as the floor dropped out from under me, I realized why. He'd set a trap. I crashed through the rug that had been laid over the hole in the rotten floorboards and plunged to the ballroom below. My left ankle snapped and the whole world turned red with the pain of it. I don't know how long I lay there before Philip found me.

He said the Mazikin got away, and I urged him to keep searching, but he only laughed. "Takeshi would miss you if you died." And then I was laughing, too, and then I fainted with the pain. He must have carried me back to the Station slung over his shoulders like a sack of flour.

Day 591

Takeshi has been unusually quiet since returning from his two-day patrol with Philip to the Harag zone. When he returns from a multi-day absence, he usually shows up in the training room the next day to criticize my form or engage me in a sparring session, but this time, he retired to his room and did not come out for quite some time. When I asked Philip what was wrong with him, he only shook his head. Something has changed, but I'm not sure what.

Day 595

I hurt Philip badly during a sparring session. It was an accident—he's usually so fast, but today he was noticeably slower. I asked if he was ill, though I can't remember any of us actually being sick. Philip says he is quite the opposite of ill, and was in a good mood even though he was bleeding profusely from his nose. Takeshi, on the other hand, was irritable and stormed out. I caught up with him after dinner and asked why, and he said I would understand soon enough.

Day 603

Today Philip went to the Sanctum and did not return.

Day 612

Takeshi is now the Captain of the Guard. There was no ceremony, no celebration. In fact, he has barely spoken since we received word that Philip has moved on. We have trained, and we have patrolled, all in silence. I have no idea what he’s thinking, but his quick smile is gone.

Most of me is happy for Philip. He was kind. He was honorable. He’s served his time. Perhaps he will find his family again, out there in the Countryside. I hope he does.

The rest of me is sick with envy and anger.