The Archer's Heart by Astrid Amara Page B

his hand linked with Keshan’s.
    “I’m going to show you a door. You already know the words. Now you have to craft them slightly so that they are less volatile.” Keshan closed his eyes, and stretched out his arms, palms upwards towards the sky. He began reciting words, shartic words, but they were different than the weapons Jandu knew. They lilted at the end, trilled. Jandu mimicked Keshan’s posture and repeated them, grateful that his mouth didn’t bleed.
    When the sharta finished, Jandu opened his eyes. He was still standing with Keshan in the dark narrow street. But he felt different. Something about the light shifted, shadows had appeared as if the sun still shone.
    “What did you do?”
    “Opened the door.” Keshan grabbed his hand. “Looks the same, doesn’t it? But now…”
    Something blurry passed in front of Jandu, and he tensed. He grasped the hilt of his sword.
    Another shadowy image rushed by. He could distinguish the shape of a body, but it was much taller than a human’s, with shimmering blue skin, and the face was hazy, unformed.
    “What was that?”
    “A Yashva.” Keshan squinted in concentration. “This way.”
    Keshan stepped into the air, pulling Jandu along behind.
    Jandu blinked—
    —and they stood in a field. An empty field, as far as he could see. In the distance, far away, Jandu made out a strange mountain range, the hills jagged and piercing in every direction, like thorns on a rose. The air was thick here, fragrant with flowers and something indefinably sweet, like rotting blackberries and rich soil. Jandu felt bathed in warmth.
    “Where are we?” Jandu whispered.
    Keshan laughed. “Where do you think? In the Yashva kingdom.”
    Jandu gazed around him in amazement. “Really? But… how?”
    “You’ve always known how, Jandu. Every time you use a sharta, you open the door between worlds. You just haven’t ever stepped through that door.” Keshan peered into the distance. “Come on.”
    The field, which had seemed endless, now moved in front of Jandu as if he were flying. Perception warped here, and he felt dizzy.           
    “I can’t feel my feet touching the ground,” Jandu admitted.
    Keshan nodded. “That’s because, technically, they aren’t touching ground. This is all illusion.”
    “So how do you know where to go?”
    “It’s my illusion. Every Yashva has a different interpretation of this space.” Keshan cocked his head as if thinking hard. “Think of it as your rooms back in the palace. An empty space for you to decorate how you will. You would prefer to have targets on the walls. Yudar, no doubt, has holy scrolls and paintings of the prophets. It is the same in the Yashva realm. Each Yashva has a different world, but we can interact here as well.”
    As the field flew by, Jandu caught sight of more Yashvas. They were taller than him, with lanky, thin bodies, shimmering blue skin, and dark, swirling eyes. They were beautiful, but strangely immobile, their faces like expressionless masks.
    “Are they upset with me being here?” Jandu asked self-consciously.
    Keshan shook his head. “No, merely curious. It says a lot about you, the fact that you are even here. You have a great deal of power. Most people cannot wield shartas, let alone summon the concentration required to enter a Yashva’s home.”
    “It’s beautiful.” The field gave way to a flowing stream of rushing water, and on the other side, a collection of buildings, their exteriors pearly and turbulent in the soft, unnatural light. The fact that this was all Keshan’s world, his mind, made the entire sight even more beautiful and intimate.
    “Prasta’s palace is right here,” Keshan said, stomping the ground. The gesture produced no sound. Everything was muffled, echoed and distant. “We can go back, or we can have a drink here, where I stayed during my exile.”
    A giddy excitement filled Jandu. This was Keshan’s private world. No one else had seen this but