Slight and Shadow (Fate's Forsaken: Book Two) (36 page)

I would rather do battle in the mind than anywhere in the actual realm,
Deathtreader had written.
For here there are no limitations of strength or flesh: I may wield any weapon I choose.

That was it! He remembered the stories, now — of the times when Deathtreader had no choice but to fight. A man couldn’t
carry
a weapon into the mind: he had to imagine it.

Kael’s bow was the first thing that came to him. He gasped a little when he felt his hand curl around its familiar, worn leather grip, but managed to keep his concentration. The gray shaft sprouted from the grip, complete with its strange, curling marks. The string bent the bow tight. Kael reached behind him and felt the coarse fletching of his arrows. He nocked one swiftly and took his aim.

He didn’t want to risk striking Brend, so he fired for the top of the shadow’s head — and grinned when it struck true.

The shadow stumbled backwards for a moment, its large feet leaving a trail of sticky black goo behind, and Kael thought it would surely fall. But at the last moment, it regained its balance. Black tendrils sprouted from the shadow’s head and wrapped around the arrow’s shaft, sucking it down into the blackness — just like it’d done to Brend. Then the monster advanced.

Its gooey flesh quickly swallowed Kael’s next two shots, and he realized that the bow wasn’t going to do him any good. Perhaps if he hacked the shadow into pieces, he might be able to pull Brend free.

A sticky arm swooped over his head, and Kael didn’t have time to imagine anything specific — just something sharp. He swung blindly above him and heard the shadow roar as a good portion of its arm fell away. He was surprised when he looked down and saw a giant’s scythe clutched in his hands.

But his blow didn’t stop the shadow’s charge. The severed end of its arm melted and ran back into its legs, and a new arm sprouted up from the stump. Kael was so busy staring that he didn’t see the shadow’s other arm — until it caught him in the chest.

It felt as if he sailed backwards for a full minute. When he finally struck the wall, he collapsed in a heap upon the ground. The shadow’s rumbling steps shook the floor as it hurried towards him, swinging its arms madly as it fought to pull its sticky feet free, closing the gap between them at an alarming pace.

Kael ached all over, but he dragged himself to his feet. Bits of the shadow stained his shirt. When he stuck his fingers to it, he realized that it felt more wet and slick than sticky. Almost like grease …

An idea came to him, so swiftly that he didn’t have time to doubt himself. The shadow’s arm shot out to grab him, and Kael imagined that he was holding a torch. Heat crossed his hand as the torch flared to life. He grit his teeth and thrust the orange blaze into the monster’s middle.

Fire burst from the end of the torch. It swarmed over the shadow’s flesh, roaring as it ate. The flames fed greedily through the greasy layers. Great chunks of shadow sloughed off and struck the ground, where they were quickly burned away.

Though the shadow flailed its limbs and threw its body upon the floor, it couldn’t stop the fire from doing its work. Within seconds, the monster had disappeared, leaving only a trail of smoke in its place.

Brend now stood alone in the middle of the room, alive and unharmed. He smiled as he took a deep, shuddering breath. Kael had made to run towards him when a great blast of wind threw him backwards. He rolled into the hallway and the door slammed shut behind him. He scrambled to his feet, prepared to charge back in … but then he noticed something odd.

The Threshold had changed. Tapestries now lined the walls, filled to their ends with pictures of people, lands, and beasts. Shelves stood beside the doors, each one covered to the top with plain, sturdy trinkets.

Kael nearly cried out in relief.

This was how the Threshold was supposed to look. It was supposed to be bright and full. Brend’s spirit must be free. He must’ve returned to the Inner Sanctum, the place Deathtreader called
the house of the soul
.

Kael’s work was done, then. Brend was the master of his own mind once again.

There was a part of him that wanted to stay, to wander through the halls a little longer and discover all of the places that Deathtreader had spoken of. But Kael knew it would be wrong of him to stay any longer.

So he walked back down the hall, to the front of the Threshold, and went out the way he’d come.

*******

“Kael!”

Footsteps slapped the dirt floor as Eveningwing rushed to his side. His body rolled over, and the earth ground against his back. Two worried amber eyes blinked down at him.

“Are you hurt?” Eveningwing said, his gaze flicking over Kael’s face. “You fainted — I couldn’t reach you in time.”

Kael was thinking about how to respond when a very welcome voice growled in his ear: “Let go of my neck, you great filthy midget!”

Declan gasped and jumped backwards, letting Brend struggle to his feet. He rubbed his throat and gazed about him slowly, as if he was trying to figure out where he’d wound up.

Declan punched him in the arm.

“Ow! What’s that for?”

“You gave us all fright, you clod!” Declan said, though his grin didn’t quite match the severity in his voice. “We didn’t think you’d ever make it back to us.”

Recognition crossed Brend’s face, and for a heart-stopping moment, Kael was afraid he might remember. “Oh,
that
. That was just a wee fever — nothing to be worried about. I’m all well now.” He took a deep breath through his nose. “See? The sniffles are all gone!”

Declan glanced in Kael’s direction, but in the end, he seemed to decide that it was kinder to let Brend believe that he’d only been down with fever. “Whatever it was, we’re glad to have you back.”

Brend glanced curiously about the empty stall. “Where’d everybody go?”

“They spent the night elsewhere. No one wanted to catch your sniffles,” Declan said. He curled up on his pallet, a wide grin still on his face.

Brend just shrugged. “Well … I suppose that’s fair enough.”

Chapter 33

Unwary Revelers

Kyleigh wasn’t sure what time she woke. It was still dark outside, but the air smelled a bit livelier — like the hours had tilted further from night and more towards dawn.

Restless knots bunched up in her limbs, and she knew she wouldn’t be able to fall back asleep, so she didn’t try. Instead, she crawled out of bed and went in search of something to do.

She was alone as she climbed down the spiraling steps, not even the farmer-mots had risen yet. She followed the winding paths through the mountain, her mind consumed with all she had to do. The next time she blinked, Kyleigh was standing in the hospital.

There was only one small light burning in the back of the room, and she went for it at a jog. It looked as if she wasn’t the only one having a sleepless night: Jake sat alone at a small table, his head propped up against his fist. His journal lay open, but the charcoal sat unused next to his elbow. He tapped one finger against the large glass jar that sat in front of him.

A minceworm had been packed inside of the jar just as tightly as it would fit. The poor creature squirmed miserably against the glass walls, its skin made a squeaking sort of noise as it struggled to get comfortable.

“I thought they were more like bees,” Jake muttered, when Kyleigh’s shadow crossed over him. “But they’ve got these little pouches in the shallow parts of their stomach. Whenever they feed, half of their meal gets trapped inside that pouch. And then they try to take off.” He waved his hand out in front of him. It was a halfhearted gesture. “They turn north — almost as if they’ve got very important business. I think they’re trying to deliver that extra food somewhere. So they’re not like bees at all: they’re more like ants. I was wrong about them,” he said with a sigh. “Turns out that I was wrong about a lot of things.”

Kyleigh had a feeling that the slump in Jake’s shoulders wasn’t
all
about the minceworms. She sat down beside him and put her arm next to his. “It sounds to me as if you’re a mage in desperate need of a task.”

“Please, anything,” Jake moaned.

Kyleigh hadn’t been able to work out a plan on her own. She had lots of little thing buzzing around her head, but no way to tie them all together. And she wasn’t sure which of them might be best.

Fortunately, Jake was rather good at that sort of thing. Kyleigh tossed out some ideas, and he got them organized — trimming the good bits up, while throwing the most dangerous ones aside. It wasn’t long before they had a very roughly-drawn plan.

“It’ll be like damming up a river,” Jake said excitedly. There was a spark of new life to him now, an eagerness in his movements as he pushed his spectacles firmly up the bridge of his nose. “Here — I can show you on the map.”

Kyleigh was slightly surprised. “When did you have time to draw a map?”

“I’ve been trapped in the bowels of a mountain for weeks: I’ve had enough time to write a book about the motlands, if I needed to.” Jake looked at her curiously. “What have
you
been doing?”

She shrugged. “Eating, sleeping … keeping Silas out of trouble. It’s all very important business, I’ll have you know.”

“Indeed,” he said with a smile.

He showed her the map, and it didn’t take them long to figure out how to get the trolls taken care of. “There shouldn’t even be a mess,” Kyleigh said approvingly.

Jake nodded. “I think that’ll be our best route of attack — as long as everything goes according to plan, that is. If not, things could end rather … badly.” He closed his journal, and his hand rested on the cover for a weighted moment. “I’ve been doing some research on trolls — oh, don’t make that face,” he said when Kyleigh groaned. “Fine. I won’t go into the details. But let me just say that I believe this particular breed of troll comes from near the Red Spine. Desert folk have lived in that part of Whitebone for centuries, which would explain why these trolls have developed such human-like fighting skills. And as they likely didn’t cross
over
the desert —”

“You think there might be tunnels leading from here to the Baron’s castle?” Kyleigh finished for him. When Jake nodded, she felt relieved. “Well, that should clip a good bit of danger off our journey.”

“Yes …” Jake picked at his book for a moment, flicking his thumb absently against its spine. “You know, I’ve been thinking —”

“I’ll try to hold back my complete and utter shock.”

He made a face at her. “I’ve been thinking a lot about the minceworms, and I believe there might actually be a large, queen worm buried somewhere in the desert — much like there would be in an anthill. It would explain why there aren’t any eggs in the separate nests we find, and why the worms carry part of their food north. And I thought, since we were heading north anyways, that we might be able to —”

“Find the queen of all minceworms and give her a poke? Absolutely not.” Kyleigh had to fight hard not to laugh at how disappointed he looked. “Jake, even if we managed to find a jar big enough, I don’t see how you’d cram her in it —”

“Joke all you want to, but this is important to me,” he said, stuffing his journal roughly into the folds of his robe. “I’ve always dreamed of doing something like this: of discovering new lands, new species, a new people, even — and jotting it all down for somebody else to read. It’s the mark of a good mage,” he added, getting to his feet, “to be able to pass our knowledge down to others.”

He made to stomp off, but Kyleigh grabbed the hem of his robes. “I’m sorry — truly, I am,” she insisted, when he snorted. “I’m not used to having so many lives depending on me. I’ve never been the leader before, and I’m not sure I’m cut out for it. I suppose that joking about it is the only way I know to cope.”

“I see.” Jake sat back down. “Do you think that might be a species trait? Do all halfdragons use humor as a means for coping?”

“I don’t — what are you doing?”

Jake had whipped his journal back out of his robes and was busily flipping through the pages. “I was so hoping we’d have a chance to talk about this. I’ve already got a space prepared — see?”

He held up his journal, and on one of the pages was a neatly scrawled title:
Conversing with a Halfdragon
.

“That way your name won’t be out there for everyone to read,” he explained. “We can keep things anonymous.”

“Brilliant,” Kyleigh muttered as she got to her feet.

“Where are you going? I thought we were going to have a talk.”

“Not a chance. We’ve got loads to do, and only a little time to do it in.”

Kyleigh left — grinning when she heard Jake’s disappointed huff from behind her.

*******

On the night before the battle, Nadine declared that she wanted to sleep outside. “I have spent so much of my life underground that I never thought to miss the stars. It is strange, but I think if I do not see them tonight, I will miss them.”

So Kyleigh followed her out to the paddock.

With the sun gone, the farmers had all returned to their homes. The only noise was of the goats’ sleepy grunts and the hum of the wind. They spread out on the soft grass, watching the stars as they wheeled overhead. The silence between them was light: Nadine seemed content to keep her fate pushed far behind her, and to focus on other things.

They’d only just gotten settled when a dark figure wandered up to them. The sharp lines of Elena’s shoulders stood out against the glittering sky, as if she’d been cut from it, leaving a dark hole behind. When she spotted Kyleigh and Nadine, she raised her arm in greeting. There was a rather large jar clutched in her hand.

Nadine sat up. “Is that rice wine I smell?”

Elena shrugged. “I don’t know what it is. But it smelled like liquor, and I thought we could all use a drink. I swiped it from the Grandmot,” she added, when Nadine reached for it.

She hesitated for a moment — then quite suddenly, she snatched the jar from Elena’s hands. She braced it against her lips and a little stream of wine trailed down her chin as she swallowed. “There is nothing more she can do to me,” Nadine gasped, passing the jar off to Kyleigh. “So I might as well drink!”

“That’s usually how I feel about things,” Elena agreed.

They sat in a tight circle and passed the jar around. On its way down, the wine burned every bit as fiercely as the rice. But there was an earthiness to it, perhaps from the juice of fruits. The sickly-sweet grit coated Kyleigh’s tongue, and by the time the jar came back around, she was ready to brave the fires once again.

She only took a few drinks — just enough to numb her fingers and toes. She knew she would sleep easier with the wine in her blood, but she certainly didn’t want to overdo it. She’d seen the effects of spirits on unwary revelers, and had no wish to have her senses muddled.

But her companions must not have known the dangers, because they drank even after the wine had made them silly.

It turned out that Elena actually had a real smile hidden behind her terse lips — and a laugh, as well. Nadine spoke in her native tongue half of the time, and Elena answered her back with gibberish. They talked and joked as if they’d known each other all of their lives. Their spirits were impossibly high one moment, then they argued the next — only to burst out laughing once again.

Kyleigh leaned back on her elbows, content to ride along the bucking waves of their chatter. It was fascinating to watch humans like this. They worked so very hard to keep their feathers slicked back that it made her grin to see them come undone.

But as the night went on, their spirits waned. And their happiness dipped down rather suddenly into darkness.

Kyleigh listened, hardly breathing, as Elena told her story:

“ … I thought I loved him, but it didn’t … didn’t happen like I thought it would. Is that what love’s supposed to be like?” Elena said thickly. Her mask was gone, and years of hurt stained her face.

Nadine shook her head. She reached across and grasped Elena’s shoulder clumsily. “That is not love — it is defilement. And in my culture, if a man defiles a woman, every member of her family may beat him with the backs of their spears — three blows each. Then, he is stripped naked and sent out to wander the desert at nightfall.” She jerked her arm towards the Spine, so forcefully that she nearly lost her balance. Elena had to grab the front of her dress to keep her from toppling backwards. “If he survives the minceworms, then he has proven his innocence. But,” she laughed, “it has never happened.”

“I imagine that’s a pretty effective punishment,” Kyleigh mused.

Nadine held up a finger. “It is one of those rules that need only be broken once.”

Elena stared at the desert, swaying a little under the effects of the wine. “Are all men such … wolves?”

“No,” Nadine said firmly. “They are not. My Tahir was a good man. He loved me truly, and he never left my side — even though …” she choked and clutched a hand to her lips, “even though I am barren!”

She started to sob, then, and Elena cried along with her.

Kyleigh didn’t know what to do. These weren’t the sort of tears she was used to — the silly tears Aerilyn used to cry whenever she got her feelings hurt, or the sharp, final tears that flowed after death. These were tears that had been buried, and buried deeply. They’d sat under years of pain and anguish, festering in the coldest chamber of the heart. Now they’d finally come bursting out.

And Kyleigh wasn’t sure how to comfort them.

“You’ve been a good mother to Hessa,” Elena said, squeezing Nadine’s hands tightly. “I would’ve killed to have a mother as kind as you.”

“And if I ever meet that Holthan, I will gladly beat him with my spear,” Nadine promised. “The black will never fade from his bruises.”

Elena wiped at her eyes. “That’s the kindest thing anybody’s ever said to me …”

While they sniffled and dried their tears, Kyleigh quickly poured the rest of the wine into the nearest rice field. “I think we all need to get some sleep,” she said, gathering them up. “We’ve got a long day ahead of us tomorrow.”

“I agree,” Nadine murmured.

Kyleigh lay back, and she was surprised when she felt Nadine bury her head against her shoulder. Elena stared at them for a moment, swaying. Then she tried to stand up.

Kyleigh grabbed her by the front of her jerkin. “Come here, you,” she growled, pulling Elena down on her other side.

She struggled at first, but couldn’t wriggle out from under Kyleigh’s arm. In the end, she seemed to give up. It wasn’t long before both women were breathing heavily into Kyleigh’s neck. And the minute they fell asleep … her own tears began to fall.

Her friends were such fragile things. She could’ve crushed them both on accident. Yet, they held so much hurt — more hurt than Kyleigh thought she ever might’ve been able to bear. She cried because she happened to want someone who didn’t want her back. But these women had lost so much more. They’d endured so much more. And it had taken nearly an entire jar of wine to coax their sorrows out.

As the night stretched towards dawn, Kyleigh couldn’t help but think that perhaps she wasn’t as strong as she thought she was. She held her little friends tightly, and swore by the stars above them that she would protect them.