Stories From the Shadowlands Read online

  Day 129

  Philip came to my chamber today and sat with me. He asked if I wanted to hear a story. I didn't answer, but he told me anyway, about how he had a wife and a son in a place called Virginia. A war came. He was a soldier, and a good one, apparently. But when he got word that his family had died of a sickness, he lost hope and lost himself. It was hard to breathe as he told me this story, because he made the same choice I did: He ended his life in the hope of being with his family again, and he has paid dearly for it. He has been here for many years, he thinks. I know this is true, because the American Civil War was eighty or so years ago. He has been here for decades, and yet, he says he has more hope now than he did at the end of his life. All I can think about is that he has been separated from his family for eighty years. I will not let this happen to me.

  Day 131

  Philip and Takeshi took me to see their armorer today. His name is Michael, and I have never met a more disgusting individual. I am unsure of how someone of his girth can manage to move, but he does, and quite quickly. He also has the foulest mouth of anyone I have ever met, but he was cursing in Slovak, so I was the only one in the room who understood the things he was saying. Takeshi advised me to ignore him, but did it with a sly smile that told me he found it truly funny. Between insults, Michael asked me what weapons I prefer, and I told him I fight with whatever is available to me. Takeshi asked him to make me my own set of knives, a baton that extends to a staff, and a scimitar. I have not practiced much with the long blade, but it feels good in my hand.

  Day 132

  Today Takeshi took me on a walk outside the Station. He said it was a patrol, but it seemed like more of a chance for me to prove that I am stable again and will not try to escape. He had his hand on his baton the entire time. We walked to the southwest, along the cobblestone road past a twisting, tilting tower that looked like it was about to collapse. Takeshi said that often, residents create things for themselves and abandon them quickly when they aren't comforting or satisfying enough. The city is full of empty buildings of all types. He said that was a very bad thing, because anyone can settle within an abandoned building. The way he said it, with an unusually grim expression, made me think he was referring to someone specific. I would have asked him, but that was when I heard the gates of the city opening and slamming shut. I vaguely remember them, and the brute Guards who pushed us all through into this place. I wonder how far the Gates are from here, if I can hear them so clearly. I wonder if I can make it there. I am stronger now. Maybe I could leave the way I came in—through the Gates?

  Day 135

  The knives. Philip is an expert with them, and can kill from a distance, though what exactly he wants or needs to kill, I do not know, because the residents of this city appear to be passive in the extreme unless their property is disturbed or taken. But if I want to get out of here, I will need to be able to kill anything that gets in my way. Today I practiced so hard that my wrists were swollen and aching, and my fingers could not grip the knives. And then I asked Raphael to heal me so I could continue. He asked if I wanted to sleep, but I told him I had no patience for that. He agreed to fix me while I stayed awake, and as he took hold of my wrists, his look of amusement made me break out in a cold sweat. It was like sticking my hands in a roaring fire. It was like the moment I threw myself on the As it turns out, I couldn’t stay awake—I lost consciousness from the sheer agony of it. But my wrists and hands are healed. Tomorrow I will work harder.

  Day176

  I have become so good with the knives that Takeshi says I am ready to move on. He began teaching me to wield the staff, his preferred weapon. I preferred the knives until he blocked every one I threw with that staff. Eager for a chance to hurt Takeshi, I invited him to teach me now that I have a baton/staff of my own. I woke up a short while ago. Raphael told me my skull had been fractured yet again. Takeshi did it on purpose. He always does. I hope to repay him sometime soon.

  Day 185

  Takeshi and Philip left on a patrol this morning. They said they were going through downtown, and neither of them looked happy about it. I assured them I would stay here and train, but instead I sneaked out and followed the sound of the Suicide Gates. I counted blocks and noted landmarks, and when I got close enough, I went to the top of one of the tall apartment buildings and watched from the roof. I can see the distant square and the Suicide Gates just beyond it, the people stumbling and shambling through as the Gate Guards shout and laugh. It turned my stomach, the memories, both of coming in and the time before. But that is my way out, of that I am sure. I cannot go over the walls, so I must escape through the Gates. At the moment they swing wide, there is an opening in the crowd, a pause in the crushing wave of bodies, and that is when I will go. The Gate Guards won't be able to stop me, not if I take my weapons. All the time Takeshi and Philip have spent training me will not be wasted.

  Day 243

  Tomorrow is the day. I am different than I was. No longer must I rely on cunning and speed in a fight. My body is powerful now, more powerful than it was when I was alive, and I have more than my hands as weapons. I have been practicing with the inhuman Guards, and they cannot defeat me. I am too fast, and too willing to hurt them, and they know it. More and more, I can match Philip in a fight, and even Takeshi must struggle to take me down. They are all impressed and proud, I can tell, happy with how they have changed me, happy at my potential as a Guard. When Philip left with Takeshi for patrol this morning, he said that soon I will start patrolling with him. He said it like it was a gift to me, a reward for a job well done. What he doesn't know: by tomorrow night, I will be gone.

  Day 244

  Takeshi came to my quarters this morning. He is usually as quick with his smile as he is with his staff, but when he entered my chamber, I could see what lies beneath that grin, a darkness he often conceals. He sat on my floor and said he needed to talk to me, that he needed me to know something. He told me that when he first came here and was made a Guard, he tried to escape, just as I have, but that, unlike me, he attempted to exit through the Suicide Gates. I clamped my mouth shut as my heart raced—I have been so careful. No one can possibly know what I plan to do tonight. I told him I was done with escaping, that I knew it was not possible, but he insisted on telling me his story. He said that he fled all the way to the Suicide Gates. And when he entered the plaza where the new residents come through, it began to grow. The cobblestones multiplied and stretched, and the faster he ran toward the Gates, the farther away they were. He told me he ran for hours, until his body gave out and he collapsed. He said that escape attempt taught him all he needed to know about this city and how it works, and that he never attempted to escape again. And then he smiled at me and left my chambers, as if he had done me a favor.

  He is lying. I know he is lying. I will escape tonight, and I will go through the Gates, and Takeshi’s mind games will not frighten me or hold me back.

  Day 245

  Takeshi was not lying.

  Day 257

  Thirty-nine meals have passed, and they are stacked and rotting and stinking in the corner, smeared and dripping on the stone floor. It doesn't matter; I am barely strong enough to hold this pen, let alone lift a fork to my mouth. The plaza broke me. I was ready, and I was strong, and I had so much hope. I could see the Gates and see what lay beyond them, so close I could almost feel the sunlight on my face. Every part of me was stretching toward it. I do not understand how it was not enough. I have worked so hard. I have suffered so much. And I am not a bad person. When I was alive, I never hurt anyone who had not tried to hurt me first. I was never the first to strike, and if I was the last, then that is only because I wanted to live, not because I wanted to cause pain. So I do not understand why I have been singled out for this torment. But one thing is certain—I am finished. Whatever fight and hope I had is gone, and my only wish is for silence and darkness and nothing. It won't be much longer now. This will be my last entry.

  Page 258

  Raphae
l came to me. He cleared the rotting food away and sat on the floor next to my cot. His expression was not mocking, not amused, not anything but gentle. He asked me why I was allowing myself to hurt like this, why I was punishing myself. I was too weak to laugh, but I wanted to. He sensed it, I think, because he smiled.

  "No one," he said, "makes these choices for you."

  He didn't say it in a cruel way, but it was not apologetic, either. He does not feel sorry for me, but he doesn't dismiss the pain. I don't know how to describe how it felt when he laid his hand on my forehead, when he closed his eyes and bowed his head and stayed with me while I wept for everything I have lost. I don't know if what I saw was real, if that light that came from him was a dream. But for a time, I wasn't here, and I was safe and warm, and I realized there could be something out there for me if I endure. If I choose to endure. One more day. I'll try for one more day.

  Day 300

  One more day. I say this to myself every day. Tonight I am on the roof, and I am looking over the forest beyond the Sanctum and the eastern wall. I am thinking of my parents and where they might be. I hope they are together. They made each other stronger. He was steady and sure, but she was life and breath. And as I remember how she looked at him, it makes me wish for something I always thought I would have someday, but now understand may not ever happen. It seems silly to think about, and I have dismissed it a thousand times, but tonight I will let myself dream of a girl who looks at me like that, like I'm the earth and she's the sky, and if we had each other, everything else would disappear and it wouldn't matter. Because she was made for me, and I was made for her, and she is life and breath and Sometimes I do not know why I allow myself to dream such foolish things.

  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 d
espising 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.