The Light of Burning Shadows (22 page)

“And what if they don’t want to go back?”

“Ah, but you see, Major, you have already proven the argument. With the Red Star, you destroyed Her forest. With the Jewel of the Desert, I will do the same to everything not of this time and place.”

“The Prince won’t stand for this,” Konowa said, looking over at Prince Tykkin and realizing he wasn’t sure at all what the Prince would think. In a truly horrifying way, this changed absolutely nothing.

The Suljak shrugged. “Perhaps, but it is more likely he will. Why needlessly complicate matters that are already decided? I
will
get the Star, he
will
get his library, and you
will
be reunited with your elves.”

Konowa hated the logic of it. “It never works out that way. You should know that by now.”

“Oh, but, Major, I do. There are always variables that cannot be foreseen. The Queen is not the only one who plays things deep. You will be a good soldier and follow orders.”

“Why would I do that?” Konowa asked.

“Because as long as you do, your world makes sense. Without rules and orders there is only chaos. You broke the rules once, and look where it got you. I do not think you will do so again.”

The frost fire came unbidden to Konowa’s hands again. “Are you really that certain?”

“Come now, Major, you must understand how affairs of state are conducted. Agreements have already been made. You have but to wait a little longer and you will get what you want.”

The fire in Konowa’s hands burned colder. The temptation to lash out at the Suljak filled him until he couldn’t breathe. He’d been lied to and played for a fool again. A voice somewhere deep within him told him this is what happens when you rush blindly forward without thinking, but that voice got little attention from Konowa.

Slowly, agonizingly slowly, Konowa let the fire die. For now.

“Now you see, Major, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“No,” Konowa lied, “that wasn’t hard at all.”

V
isyna pushed herself as she led the soldiers through the tunnel under the oasis. Twice she thought she caught a glimpse of someone up ahead, but she could never get close enough to determine who or what it was.

“I…I need to rest,” Teeter said, slowing to a walk. “I’m sorry, but I can’t keep this up. We’re never going to catch that damned elf anyway, no matter how fast we go.”

Visyna slowed as well. She wanted to yell at the soldier, but she knew he was right. She wiped the sweat from her brow and then brought her hands in front of her, beginning to weave the air.

She hissed and stopped. The tips of her fingers burned—the natural order here was toxic. She flexed her fingers for another attempt, but had to stop as the magic stung her again.

“I feel it, too,” Hrem said, coming up to stand beside her. His face was red and he was breathing heavily. “Everything is wrong. It’s like something’s crawling on my skin and I can’t get it off.”

Zwitty stayed off to one side. “Then why keep going? Where is it written that we have to risk our necks and play hero? If we stay here, we’re safe,” Zwitty said, looking around at the tunnel.

“Do what you want,” Visyna said, “but I’m going on.”

Hrem stood up straight and looked over at Zwitty. “We’re all going.”

“Wait, did you hear something?” Visyna asked. She held up her hand for silence. Yes, there was definitely something up ahead.

The sound of hammers on muskets being pulled back echoed off the tunnel walls.

Visyna drew her dagger. Hrem and Teeter moved ahead of her, crouching low.

An indistinct shape cast a shadow on the wall up ahead. Something was coming toward them. Visyna gripped her dagger tighter and cursed the air around them. Without being able to weave the natural order, she was useless. In this instance, the soldiers’ muskets were far more powerful, despite the perversion of combining wood and metal. Her thoughts immediately turned to Konowa and she almost smiled, but then frowned. He was so full of rage that it was impossible to talk with him. If he couldn’t learn to control it she saw no future for him, or them.

“I hear it,” Hrem whispered. It was a noise like bone scraping against stone.

Visyna strained to see more. The shape took on more definition, but it made no sense to her. It was too low to the ground to be Tyul. She rotated her wrists and flexed the fingers in her left hand. She would weave if all else failed, no matter how much it hurt.

The scraping noise grew louder.

Visyna let her breath out slowly, aware that she had been holding it. The creature came on as the light from the moss finally revealed Jir dragging part of a skeleton in his mouth.

“It’s only J—” Visyna said as Zwitty fired.

The musket blast filled the tunnel. Orange and black flashed before Visyna’s eyes, followed by white-hot sparks. She cried out and ducked her head as the sound beat against her ears.

“—old your fire!” Hrem shouted.

Visyna shook her head and looked up.

Jir was lying on the ground. She ran to him, kicking pieces of bone out of the way.

“Oh, Jir.”

Tyul’s head was screaming in pain. Everything inside the tunnel was wrong. The power coursing through the rock felt like black tar in his lungs. He tried to keep track of Jir, but the bengar seemed unaffected by the magic, and was soon lost from sight. Jurwan chittered in Tyul’s ear and the elf reluctantly slowed to a walk. He pressed his hands against the side of his head, but the pressure didn’t help.

The floor in front of him showed just the faintest scuff marks arcing out in a curve from the right side of the tunnel wall. Tyul knew little of masonry, but he was an expert tracker, and this was a sign. Jurwan leaped from his shoulder and landed on the wall, clinging to the stones with his tiny claws. He sniffed at the minute cracks between the stones as he crawled over them, until he stopped and bushed his tail.

Tyul stood up and placed a hand on the stone Jurwan was gripping. It depressed a quarter of an inch, and a section of the wall slid open like a door. A new tunnel was exposed, leading away, going deeper into the canyon.

Jurwan jumped off the wall and took a few steps into the opening, then paused and looked back at Tyul. The elf shook his head and pointed down the main tunnel where Jir had gone.

Jurwan squeaked and took a few more steps into the side tunnel. Tyul knew he should follow the bengar and the skeleton, but Jurwan was a wizard.

Tyul took one last look down the main tunnel, then stepped in through the entrance and began following Jurwan.

There wasn’t as much glowing moss here, but there was enough. Behind him, the tunnel wall closed back up without a sound.

“Hang on, Ally, hang on,” Yimt was saying. Alwyn nodded and tried to keep his focus.

The flames would not go out.

The wagon flew over the sand. The sound of the wheels changed and Alwyn felt shadow. He opened his eyes. They were passing through the opening of the Canyon of Bones. The pain increased. He saw clearer out of his left eye as his right fogged over.

The wagon shook to a stop as the brindos suddenly dug in their hooves. Rallie snapped the reins several times, but the brindos refused to go any farther.

They were stopped among what looked like a pile of bones sticking out of the canyon floor. Huge, curving chunks of the white material rose up at odd angles, some towering more than thirty feet in the air. More lay scattered all about the canyon floor, as if a giant predator had fed here, leaving behind the remains of its kill.

Rallie tied off the reins, stepped down from the wagon, and immediately began to unhitch the brindos.

“What are you doing?” An alarmed Inkermon was jumping down from the wagon. “We’ll be stranded here without them.”

Rallie kept working at the harnesses. “They aren’t going to take us any farther, so this is as far as they go. Baby has a nose for danger, and he’s clearly smelled his fill.”

Miss Red Owl went to help her. Once they had the animals unhitched, the women took off the brindos’ harnesses and Rallie slapped them on the rear. “Take them to safety, Baby, get them out of here.”

Baby raised his head and brayed and the other brindos tossed their heads and took off back out of the canyon at full gallop. In moments they were gone, although the sound of their thudding hooves continued to echo off the canyon walls for several seconds after.

“We need to find some cover,” Yimt said, reaching out a hand to help Alwyn out of the wagon.

“You’d better not touch me, Sergeant—I don’t know what will happen.” Alwyn slowly got to his feet, each movement sending new ribbons of pain twisting through his body. He climbed down and steadied himself against the wagon. He shivered with chills as a wave of frost fire surged inside him, then swayed as the heat of the white flame pushed back.

“Hang on, Ally, hang on,” Yimt said, reaching out to him, then stopping. “Aw, lad, I wish I knew what to do.”

Alwyn tried to smile, but all he could manage was a small nod of his head. He realized Yimt was now more father to him than the stepfather he had grown up with. He was going to miss him.

“Where are we going to hide?” Inkermon asked. He was alternating between peering around rocks and looking back toward the canyon opening. “At least at the oasis we might have held the forest off…for a bit.”

“Inkermon…just keep looking and keep your observations to yourself,” Yimt said. “No one said this was going to be easy, but—”

“There’s an opening in the rocks over there,” Miss Red Owl shouted. Alwyn turned to see where she was pointing. At first all he saw was a thin fissure in the rock, but as he examined it more closely he noticed that a trick of the light made it appear smaller than it really was. A person could easily fit through that gap.

Miss Red Owl started to walk toward it, but Yimt held out his hand.

“Easy. The others chased those skeleton things into a tunnel.” He looked around the canyon floor. “This Canyon of Bones seems like just the sort of place a bunch of walking skeletons would be heading to. Scolly, Inkermon, get in there and see if it’s clear.”

Inkermon took a step back. “Are you mad? You bring us to a canyon filled with bones and now you tell me those hellish skeleton creatures are probably coming here, too? So what, you want us to just stroll in there and poke around?” Inkermon asked.

Yimt stomped the few yards separating him from Inkermon and grabbed the soldier by the front of his tunic, yanking him down until they were eye to eye.

“You can deal with whatever is in that tunnel, or you can deal with me.”

Inkermon’s mouth opened and closed. He nodded. Yimt released his grasp.

“Hey, there’s lights in here,” Scolly said from a few feet inside. I can see just fine.”

Yimt pointed at Inkermon, then at the opening. Inkermon kicked at the dirt, but followed after Scolly. Yimt turned to the women. “Let’s get you inside. Ally and I will bring up the rear.”

Miss Red Owl ducked into the tunnel. Miss Synjyn started to, then stopped and turned. “Yimt, I heard shouting, I think there’s something in there!”

“If Inkermon’s acting the fool again I’ll have his hide.”

“It sounds like Scolly,” Rallie said.

Yimt looked from the tunnel entrance back to Alwyn, then to Rallie. “Okay, I’m going in. Help Alwyn inside,” he said, and ran into the tunnel with his shatterbow at the ready.

Alwyn began to stumble toward the opening when Rallie pulled out a quill and small sheaf of papers from her cloak. She began to draw. Alwyn felt a new power in the air. It was different from the two that were slowly tearing him apart. This was subtle and controlled, like a sculptor precisely chipping away at a block of marble one little piece at a time.

The walls of the canyon shook, and a moment later rocks and dirt tumbled down to bury the entrance. Alwyn expected the entire rock face to come crashing down on top of them, but the slide was focused on just the one small area above the tunnel entrance.

Alwyn turned to Rallie, then looked down at what she had drawn. The canyon wall and rock slide were perfectly illustrated on the page. The lines pulsed with energy. “You…you just drew that rockslide.”

Rallie lifted the quill from the paper and the power that was in the air vanished. “In my duties as Her Majesty’s Scribe, I pride myself on being on the scene as interesting things happen.”

Alwyn shook his head. “No, I mean you
drew
it. You
made
it happen.”

Rallie took a fresh sheet of paper and placed it on top, then held the quill above the page. “Let’s just say the timing was…impeccable.”

More pain wracked Alwyn’s body. The power of the oath struggled against the white fire. Glimpses of the Shadow Monarch’s mountain flashed in Alwyn’s mind, interspersed with an endless sea of burning sand. It felt like being immersed in ice, then flame. There was no longer any haven in Alwyn, no place where he could simply be himself. The two warring magics were going to destroy him in their quest to dominate him. Only one could win, but Alwyn knew either way he was going to lose. “Get out of here, Miss Synjyn. I can’t hold on.”

“Please, dear, call me Rallie.” Her quill touched the page and she began drawing. She winced, but then smiled and kept going. “They say knowledge is power, did you know that? Well of course, power is power. A punch in the gut still hurts even if you know it’s coming, but if you know it’s coming then you can avoid it or at least prepare for it. Do you understand?”

Alwyn shook his head no. The fire in his left eye flared as the black one sparkled with frost. His stump bled as the magic in the wood thrashed and tightened around it as it fought to survive. The power of the white fire was killing the magic in his leg.

“What I’m trying to say is we know the Star is coming, so we need to get ready. I will do what I can to help you until it arrives, but after that I’m afraid it will be up to you.”

Alwyn still didn’t understand. “Rallie…I—” he paused. The pain in his body subsided. He took a shuddering breath and stood up a little straighter. “What did you do?”

Rallie’s quill was moving slowly across the page, her hand trembling with the effort. Sweat beaded on her forehead. Alwyn looked down at the page. It was him, but nothing like how he looked now. In the drawing he looked younger, happier. His eyes were normal and he still had both legs.

“I’m simply using my powers of observation to assist you. You are a good man, Alwyn Renwar, and that is what I’m drawing. I want you to remember that.
You are a good man.”

Alwyn wasn’t sure what to say. “I don’t know, Rallie. I don’t know what I am anymore.” He walked over to a rock and sat down as she continued to draw. Every muscle ached, and his vision kept going in and out of focus, but the pain was manageable.

“If life was easy, everyone would be doing it,” Rallie said, trying to chuckle. The effort clearly hurt her. She bent over the paper and pressed even harder with her quill.

“I can’t ask you to do this for me,” he said, taking a breath and standing back up. He wobbled and a few of the limbs in his wooden leg snapped. “This is my burden. I want this to end, Rallie, I just want it all to end.”

Rallie pressed so hard that the paper tore. Alwyn felt a sharp stab of pain. “I’m sorry, dear, I slipped.” She lifted her head briefly to look at him, then looked to the sky. “It won’t be much longer now. You’re going to need your strength soon, and that I can give you.” With her other hand she reached into her cloak and pulled out a cigar. She placed it in her mouth and took in a breath as the cigar lit itself. She smiled and looked back at her drawing. “I really should give these up one of these days.”

The ground beneath their feet vibrated. Alwyn used his musket to balance himself. “What was that?”

The canyon floor continued to shake. The bleached-white trunks trembled and began to work themselves loose. Cracks opened in the canyon walls all around them. Cloaked figures began emerging from the cracks.

“Rallie,” Alwyn hissed. He clenched his fists in preparation. A skeleton turned to look at them, then walked farther down the canyon floor, where it disappeared from view behind a rocky outcropping. More figures emerged, and many of them carried bodies, or parts of bodies, and all headed in the same direction. None came toward them.