The Light of Burning Shadows (21 page)

One of his eyes was liquid black, the other white flame.

“I…I don’t understand. What’s happened to me?”

“You have both magics in you now,” Rallie said. “In trying to harness the white flame, you brought it into you. Think of it as if you took a second oath.”

Alwyn held out his hands and called on the frost fire. Black flames burst to life in his right hand, but in his left a pure white flame flickered and burned.

Alwyn screamed. Immediately, the two magics warred inside him, tearing and burning, twisting and ripping every fiber of his being. His lungs froze while his head burned.

Scolly yelped and let go of Alwyn.

The flames went out. Alwyn staggered but did not fall. He smelled smoke and looked down to witness his wooden leg smoldering. Terrified, he turned to see if he had accidentally lit Scolly’s shadow on fire. Alwyn was relieved to see that he hadn’t.

That’s when he noticed his own shadow. It was still there, but instead of the black denseness of everyone else’s, his was gray and insubstantial.

“This can’t be, I—I didn’t mean for this…” Alwyn was at a loss for words.
What had he done?

“No time to worry about that now, because we’ve got bigger problems,” Yimt said.

Alwyn raised his head and followed Yimt’s gaze. A dust cloud to the south smudged the horizon, and it was moving fast.

“That’s the regiment,” Alwyn said, “isn’t it?” His head felt light and heavy at the same time. His right knee started to buckle, but he caught himself and stood up straight. He noticed no one came close to steady him.

“No, that ain’t the Iron Elves,” Yimt replied. “They’ll be coming down from the north following the same route we took. Whoever that is is heading northwest. My guess is that’s the tribes of the Expanse. If the people in Nazalla know a Star is returning, you can bet their desert kin will, too.”

“Our quarrel is not with them,” Miss Red Owl said. “Surely they will see we share their desire to restore the natural order.”

“Chayii, you forget we’re part and parcel of the Iron Elves now,” Rallie said, “and that means we’re seen as agents of the Empire.”

Miss Red Owl looked as if she’d been slapped. “But that’s absurd! I oppose the Empire and its wanton acts of destruction. I side with it now only because we share a common enemy in the Shadow Monarch that threatens all our existence. Surely these people can be made to see reason.”

“Another time, perhaps,” Yimt said, “but I wouldn’t bet my life on it today.”

Rallie brought out the map. “The Canyon of Bones is just ahead. We should head for it now while we still can.”

“We’d be exposed if we got caught out there. Here we have defensible positions,” Yimt said. “Those huts are sturdy and give us a good line of fire.”

“We can’t stay here,” Alwyn said, “we have to go after Kester. Wherever they’re taking him is where we have to be as well.”

“We still have Hrem and Visyna and the others in that tunnel. I don’t know about just leaving them behind,” Yimt said.

“But the Star isn’t coming here. Can’t you feel it?” Alwyn said. “I don’t know how to explain this, but…”

“He’s right,” Rallie said. “Power fills the air, Sergeant, power from a time long past. When that power arrives, we need to be there. Private Renwar needs to be there.”

“You’re probably right,” Yimt said, “but it don’t do us any good if we’re killed before we get there.”

“Sergeant,” Scolly said, coming up to stand near Yimt.

“Not now, Scolly, we’re busy. If you’re hungry go check the wagon. Now,” Yimt said, turning back to them, “I don’t see that we have a ch—”

“Sergeant,” Scolly said again, this time tugging on Yimt’s sleeve.

Yimt spun around and looked up at Scolly. “What?”

“I don’t want to go into the forest,” Scolly said. His voice was quiet with fear.

Yimt kneaded his forehead with his fingers. “Other than four bloody palm trees and a couple of fig trees, there ain’t a forest for a thousand miles around here.”

“Yes, there is,” Scolly said, pointing northwest toward the distant coast.

Alwyn almost reached for his spectacles, but there was no longer any need. He felt the forest before he saw it. Twenty, perhaps thirty, miles away a cold, obsidian stain was spreading out across the desert floor. It was a mass of black
sarka har
crawling across the sand. Frost fire sparkled in its depth. It spread out as far as the eye could see. Miles upon miles of
sarka har.
This was nothing like the small forest that had ringed Luuguth Jor. This was enormous.

“Oh, hell…” Yimt said.

It was like watching an incoming tide. “It’ll be here by nightfall.”

“It’s the end,” Inkermon said, closing his eyes and praying.

Yimt stomped the dirt. “You might not be too far off, Inkermon, but let’s see if we can’t postpone that for a bit, if it’s all the same to you.”

Rallie walked briskly to the wagon and mounted it in one leap. She picked up the reins in her hands and looked down at the soldiers. “We need to get moving. My team can make the canyon before either the Hasshugeb or the
sarka har.
We’ll find a place to hole up once we’re inside, but we need to go, now.”

“Rallie’s right, we must go forward,” Miss Red Owl said. “The risk is great, but to do nothing is to risk so much more. You know this, Yimt of the Warm Breeze. The others in the tunnel are capable of fending for themselves. Visyna is with them, and her power is strong. We must trust to things greater than ourselves now.”

Yimt got a firmer grip on his shatterbow and looked toward the forest of
sarka har
spreading toward them, then to the dust cloud rapidly closing from the other direction. “Are you sure your brindos can outrun that forest? If we get caught in that there’s no amount of frost fire that’s going to pull us through.”

Rallie pulled a cigar from her cloak and stuck it in her mouth. The cigar lit itself. She took a puff and then cracked her neck, first to the left, then to the right. She looked up to the whirling sreexes and whistled. The birds squawked once in return and wheeled and headed north. “Every second we delay casts the possibility in further doubt, so we had better move now.”

“Mount up!” Yimt ordered.

Alwyn limped to the wagon and climbed into the back with the empty cages. Scolly and Inkermon came in after him, while Yimt and Miss Red Owl sat up front. The wagon was already moving while Alwyn was still looking for a place to get comfortable, a search that he quickly realized was pointless. “Hang on to whatever jiggles because this ride is going to be a tad bumpier than last night!” Rallie shouted back to them.

The wagon flew over a small crest and plunged down the other side. Dust flew into the air and the wind whistled past Alwyn’s ears. At another time this would have been exhilarating if terrifying. Now, it felt too slow. He looked over the side and watched the approaching forest. It crawled like a broken-legged spider, the trunks and limbs of the
sarka har
thrusting out of the sand and clawing forward with ragged, uneven lunges.

Dark clouds grew taller above it. A single bolt of lightning slashed down among the trees, setting off a cascade of frost fire. This forest was a sick and angry thing. Alwyn felt the pain radiate out from the trees.

And the hunger.

He turned away, casting his glance to the oncoming tribes of the Hasshugeb. He could just make out dark shapes at the base of the towering dust cloud above them.

The wagon was now between closing pincers. He looked forward.

Wind buffeted Alwyn’s face and grit got into his nose, ears, and mouth, but not his eyes. Whatever grit touched his eyes burned with either white flame or black. It was an odd sensation, but it helped to take his mind off the roiling forces inside him.
Was he like those creatures he’d killed just a few hours ago? Two magics joined that should never have existed in the first place?

Finally, there in the distance the land sloped upward and became two rocky shoulders overlooking a narrow passage between them—the Canyon of Bones.

Alwyn slumped in the wagon and held on as best he could. The sun continued to sink and shadows lengthened as they raced for the opening and whatever waited for them there.

Alwyn silently urged the brindos on. Another bout of pain racked his body. The new Star was coming. It pulled at his senses as if tied to his very soul. The world was about to change again.

He studied his hands as they held his musket and knew he could not go on like this.

Tentatively, he tried to call up the frost fire, just a little. Immediately, the white flame responded as well, and the magics scissored through him. He tried to extinguish the flames as he gasped for breath, but he couldn’t put them out. He focused harder. The flames came under control, but they would not die.

“What are you doing?” Inkermon asked, looking at him with horror. “Put those flames out! You’ll burn us all.”

Alwyn tried to speak, but the effort to keep the fires under control made it too difficult. He grimaced and closed his eyes.

A bright, blue Star beckoned him. It hung motionless in a silk-black sky.

It was almost here. He just had to hang on a little longer.

He opened his eyes and looked at Inkermon. Inkermon still crouched before him, but all Alwyn saw was a dark outline of a man with a core of smoldering frost fire. He turned to Scolly and saw the same thing. Then he looked down at himself. Frost fire and white flame twisted and burned within him, pulsating with an energy he couldn’t control much longer.

“Hurry,”
Alwyn said to no one in particular.
“Please hurry.”

V
isyna ran as fast as she could, trying to keep up with Tyul and Jir, but the elf and bengar were much too swift for her.

With her breath coming in gasps and blood pounding in her ears, she stopped and bent over, clutching her sides. She leaned against the tunnel wall and stayed there for a minute.

Finally able to breathe normally, she straightened up and noticed the construction of the tunnel for the first time. The stones were placed so precisely that no mortar had been used. More curious, however, was its size and condition. Once she had traveled a hundred yards or so from the opening at the oasis, it opened up to the width of a small cart, and a fascinating moss grew on the ceiling that gave off a soft glow, allowing her enough light to see where she was going.

The image of the skull with flaming eyes was seared into her memory. She well knew of necromancy, but thought it a relic of a dark past.
Could it be true,
she wondered,
was it possible that Kaman Rhal had returned?
The thought chilled her. Her Emissary had fooled her once by pretending to be the power of the Star of Sillra. Perhaps something—or someone—was using Kaman Rhal’s power. Whatever the case, she had been so focused on keeping the Shadow Monarch from obtaining a Star that she had given little thought that there might be other ancient powers out there waiting for just such an opportunity to rise again.

“Miss Tekoy!”

Visyna turned as Private Hrem Vulhber appeared out of the dark. Frost fire tinged his bayonet, and he, too, was panting heavily. A moment later Zwitty appeared. Visyna loathed the weasely faced soldier, but under the circumstances she knew he could kill, and that was a skill they would almost certainly need. Teeter hobbled into view a few seconds later.

“Where are the others?” Visyna asked, looking back down the tunnel.

Teeter shook his head. “We’re it. Sergeant Arkhorn sent us in after you, then the entrance caved in.”

Visyna had faith that Chayii and Rallie could fend for themselves, knowing their powers and Sergeant Arkhorn’s skills were a match for most anything, including those fire-spitting monsters. For many reasons, she worried more about Private Renwar.

“Then we must press on. Tyul is already well ahead of us. He still needs our help,” she said.

“Who’s going to help us?” Zwitty muttered from behind.

A good question,
Visyna thought.

As the sun began to slide down the sky, the shadows of the marching column stretched and flowed out across the sand. Konowa found the image disturbing. It made the regiment’s shadows look twenty feet tall. He focused on the path ahead.

Wagon tracks cut neat furrows in the dirt, heading more or less straight south. Konowa knew the tracks had to be Rallie’s—enough reports had already reached the regiment of a wagon ablaze in black fire being pulled by armor-plated beasts that it could be no other.

The Suljak confirmed that the track’s course aimed directly toward a place called the Canyon of Bones, which lay somewhat to the south and west of Nazalla.

“Why do they call it that?” Konowa asked, adjusting himself in the saddle to spread the pain around. He winced as he found a particularly tender spot on his backside. He vowed never to ride another beast again—the Prince could have him shot if he wanted, as long as it wasn’t done in a saddle.

“It is a blighted place. Centuries ago, there was once a forest there, but Kaman Rhal’s she-drake is said to have burned it all because it
offended
her.” The Suljak looked apologetic as he said this. “I can’t imagine why.”

Konowa shifted in the saddle again. “I can. Trees have a way of doing that.”

The Suljak was momentarily nonplussed, then seemed to gather his wits and continued. “Yes, so I’ve heard. Whatever the cause, all that remains today are withered tree trunks bleached white by the sun and scoured by the sand—giving the land the appearance of an unearthed mass grave.”

“Charming,” Konowa said.

“It’s actually rather fascinating,” the Prince said, trotting his camel into line with theirs. He no longer had the parasol up, and looked surprisingly fresh.

A knot formed in Konowa’s stomach. He wondered if all his bottled-up anger was slowly, inexorably eating him up from the inside. Repressing a sigh, Konowa tried to look interested. “Really, Your Highness, how’s that?”

The Prince smiled, obviously pleased to impart some newly attained knowledge. “The legend surrounding the canyon fits perfectly with the level of sophistication of the tribes out here, but a new theory in archeology argues that given the right conditions, a tree can absorb enough minerals to essentially become hard as rock. They actually
transform.
So you see, it seems far more likely that these trunks weren’t burned by some legendary dragon at all, but simply succumbed to the natural effects of the desert.”

“But how could a forest grow out here in the first place?” Konowa asked, deciding it might be best to put some space between the Prince’s comments about the tribes. “How does
anything
grow out here?” He wasn’t disappointed that no trees blocked his path. The unimpeded sight lines meant a leader could manipulate and direct his troops in a battle while being able to keep an eye on his forces. The frustration of a communication’s not making it to an officer some distance away and out of direct sight would not be as challenging in this place.

“You’d be surprised at the amount of life teeming around us,” the Suljak said. “For instance, there is an oasis ahead where your soldiers and our mounts can drink. All manner of plants and animals thrive in such areas.” His voice rang with pride.

“What’s that?” the Prince asked, pointing toward the north and the coast.

Konowa turned and squinted. “Storm clouds. I wouldn’t have thought you get much rain here, Suljak,” Konowa said.

The Suljak sat up straighter in his saddle. He appeared visibly nervous for the first time Konowa could remember.

“We don’t. I have never seen clouds like that before.” He turned to look at the Prince. “Have you lied to me? Is that part of your army out there?”

“It most certainly is not,” the Prince said. He seemed equally ill at ease as he stared at the clouds.

“They’re moving awfully fast, even for storm clouds,” Konowa offered. “Much too fast.”

The Suljak worried at his beard. “Perhaps…perhaps it would be best if we increase our pace.”

“A good idea,” the Prince said. Konowa turned in his saddle and motioned to the drummer to pick up the beat. The man did so at once and the column lurched forward, the soldiers’ steps kicking up even more dust.

“Is that another storm
ahead
of us?” the Prince asked. He pulled out a brass telescope and held it up to his eye. After a minute, he passed it to Konowa, who took a quick look, already knowing what he would see.

“That, Your Highness, is the warrior tribes of the Hasshugeb Expanse moving to block our path,” Konowa said without emotion. He refrained from saying more, but it annoyed him no end to be caught in the middle of yet another diplomatic dance.

The Prince looked to the Suljak and then back to the dust cloud. “A moment ago you accused me of subterfuge and now you blatantly break our agreement. How dare you, sir. Do you truly wish to go to war with the Empire?”

The Suljak seemed genuinely shocked at the Prince’s response, though Konowa wasn’t. The Prince always expected things to go his way.

The Suljak waved away the question. “I assure you, as I have assured the Viceroy for months, the people of the Hasshugeb want only to be left alone to conduct their lives as they see fit. What you see on the horizon is merely our expression of that intent, to ensure the Star remains where it belongs.”

“And should other…things be uncovered?” the Prince asked, his voice casual.

Konowa marveled at how quickly the Prince could change emotion. One moment he was building into a fury and the next he was coolly calculating odds.

The Suljak was equally matter-of-fact. “The people of the Hasshugeb lay no claim to artifacts discovered that are not culturally tied to this land. I have no doubt arrangements can be made that satisfy all parties.”

Konowa thought the Suljak was giving away Kaman Rhal’s purported library rather easily, but as he pondered it more, he saw the genius in it. Were the Hasshugeb to lay a claim to the library and its holdings, they risked not just the Empire’s avarice, but that of every other nation and people from whom Rhal had stolen. The re-emergence of the library with its fabled treasure would draw thieves—both individuals and armies. By allowing the Empire to take away much of what resided in it, the Suljak was allowing the Empire to accept much of the burden.
Oh, that’s really clever.

“I believe that’s the oasis up ahead,” the Prince said, choosing to change the subject.

Konowa’s eyes drifted back to the dark clouds coming in from the coast and felt another chill. That was no storm. He turned to the oasis and caught the slightest tinge of lingering magic from a battle that had taken place there only a short time ago. He flowed his senses outward to the oasis.

“What is it?” the Prince asked.

Konowa said nothing as he tried to concentrate. Power was everywhere in the air—so roiled that he could understand very little of it, but what he did comprehend filled him with dread.

“There’s no time to stop at the oasis. We have to push on now and reach the Canyon of Bones.” Konowa looked back at the column. It was spread out over several hundred yards and plodding along. They were going to have to move much, much faster than this.

The Suljak coughed. “Major, the Prince and I have an agreement. The Hasshugeb and the Empire are not enemies this day. This regiment has but to enjoy the hospitality of the oasis this evening and then proceed in the morning. By then, the Star will have arrived and much will be revealed.”

A cold jolt against his heart told Konowa exactly what he didn’t want to know. He smiled, and it wasn’t meant to give comfort. “There’s more than two moving pieces on this board, and She isn’t about to follow any gentleman’s agreement.” He pointed to the looming dark clouds. “That’s Her forest, and it will be here by nightfall.”

The Prince brought his brass telescope up to his eye. “What?”

He turned to look at Konowa and the Suljak, the telescope still pressed to his eye, before he blinked and lowered it. “This makes no sense. We cleared the islands. I have more of the fleet landing along the coast from Nazalla all the way west to Tel Mar-truk. There’s no way Her forest should have gotten through.”

The Suljak lost some of his calm. “Another fleet! You did not tell me your fleet was traveling so far west, Your Highness. An oversight, no doubt? And yet even with this fleet the Empire has proven unable to defend its people, laying them bare without defenses to this coming monstrosity.” He paused and regained his composure. “No matter, the Shadow Monarch is known here, as are Her failed attempts to gain the Red Star in Elfkyna. You both defeated Her with this very regiment. This night, the warriors of the deep desert stand guard, and they are twenty thousand strong. Bring what She may, we will prevail.”

The Prince was back to looking at the looming ebony forest and the storm, mumbling about how huge the storm was. Konowa was certain the number of desert warriors the Suljak referred to was inflated, but something else was bothering him. “By the looks of that storm, Her forest could be hundreds of thousands strong. And where there are blood trees, there are the creatures it pulls from the depths. That’s a lot of faith to place in your warriors, Suljak. And what of Kaman Rhal? You don’t seem overly concerned about that possibility.”

The Suljak smiled. “You forget, Major, that whatever else Kaman Rhal is, he is first and foremost of the Hasshugeb. If he has returned, he will no more let the Shadow Monarch take the Jewel of the Desert than will you.”

Konowa leaned back in his saddle. He looked to the Prince, expecting him to jump in, but he’d let his camel stray several yards away. Prince Tykkin was absolutely fixated by what he saw through his telescope. “You think you can use the power of Kaman Rhal?” Konowa asked.

The Suljak leaned forward. “A question equally pertinent to you, yes? The Shadow Monarch is an enemy to us both. Kaman Rhal’s power can be harnessed.” The Suljak’s eyes gleamed. “Major, I should know…”

The truth hit Konowa hard. “You…called him back. You called back the power of Kaman Rhal.”

The Suljak bowed slightly. “Power is power, Major. I knew the Empire would come when the first Star returned. I had to prepare for any contingency. Our warriors are brave, but they are no match for the Empire, not yet. So I dug deep…and I found the threads of something long lost…and I began to pull them back.”

Konowa raised a fist covered in frost fire. The urge to reach out and kill the Suljak raced through his veins.
The fool! Did he not see how dangerous it was to play with power you didn’t understand?
“I lost a soldier because of you. He died in agony on that island.” With an extreme effort Konowa unclenched his fist and let the frost fire die.

The Suljak held out his hands, his eyes wide. “I will defend my people. I have done my best to keep power contained, but it is challenging even for me. But do not worry—the creature that killed your soldier was the only one that escaped my grasp. Even then, it only ventured across the water because it sensed the coming of Her forest. Now that Her forest has invaded this land, the creatures will destroy it, no matter how large it grows.”

“You mean there are more than one?”

“Hundreds, perhaps thousands by now,” the Suljak said.

The casualness with which the Suljak said it made Konowa wonder how much control he really exerted over these monsters. “And Kaman Rhal? Where does he fit in all of this?”

“He doesn’t. Major, Kaman Rhal is dead. His power is that of the desert. He only harnessed it and became lost in his avarice—and it cost him his life and everything he possessed. I have not made the same mistake. I simply used enough power to secure the Star and my land. When this is done, the creatures of his power will be returned from whence they came.”