Straymos gripped the parapet until his knuckles split and claws popped out gashing the coping. Where are you? He waited. but the mage he’d almost run down didn’t appear.
You and I will dance the danse macabre. Your magic-infused blood will soothe the beast and oh how we’ll feast. Oh, how we’ll feast. A laugh rolled out of Straymos as he felt a spectral hand on his shoulder, calling him back from the edge of madness. It was Mosel’s hand, the guilt-ridden summoner who’d tried to tame the demonic child his order had created. But Mos was too late, always too late.
“Come back now, we have an important party to attend,” Mosel reminded him.
Indeed, they did. Straymos watched for a moment longer then set his cap at a jaunty angle and left the balcony for nobler pursuits.
“Did you see who hit me?” Sarn stayed away from the wall, but that didn’t stop the murmurs from undercutting his sanity.
Light us, every stone he passed whispered. Sarn shook his head and bumped into people he couldn’t see.
“Just a guy, but he’s gone. He was in an awful hurry.” Saveen tugged Sarn to the left. His side just brushed a column, and its cold touch sent a voice cleaving through his skull.
Kindle us.
No.
“Papa? It’s so dark here. Can I have a light? I won’t drop it.” Ran shuddered and laid his hand over Sarn’s heart, where his pendant lay under his tunic.
Oh Fate, was it glowing? It was too risky to check. Sarn angled his body toward what he hoped was a wall in case it was shining.
“Don’t take it out.”
Were people staring at him? Had they glimpsed the glow of his pendant through his clothes?
“Why?”
“It’ll draw too much attention. Leave it be.”
The echoes of a hundred conversations drowned out any response Ran might have made. The sudden increase in noise assaulted Sarn as he followed Saveen around another bend. A thousand voices cried out, disorienting him.
“Kindle us!”
“Light-bringer, give us your light!”
“Papa, watch out!”
Ran’s warning came a second too late. Sarn banged into something and pain shot through his arm, making his hand throb. Thank Fate, he had broad shoulders, so whatever he’d struck missed the boy squirming in his arms. Too bad he was so bony. A little padding might have absorbed the blow better.
“It was a column.”
Ever helpful, Ran rubbed the sore spot, but that just ground the pain in.
“Ow, just leave it be. It’ll heal.” Sarn staggered as his map formed and shattered, hammering a nail of pain right between his eyes with each abortive attempt. But it refused to stop.
“Light us.”
“Kindle us! Light bringer!” begged the darkened lumir crystals he passed.
Something caught his foot. Sarn stumbled and almost fell but Saveen grabbed a handful of his tunic and hauled him upright.
“Are you okay, Sarn?”
“Light us!” screamed the spent lumir to his right and left. They reached out for Sarn, but he backed away, shaking his head.
I can’t. I need my magic. I must get out of here.
“Maybe we should go back. You don’t look so good. I can lead us.” Saveen edged around Sarn sounding more confident with each step toward the Foundlings.
“No, I want to go out. Papa promised. I want to go where the light is.”
If the sun was still up. Sarn bit his lip and pushed on. He’d lost all track of time but since the oaths he’d sworn weren’t compelling him to seek out his master, twentieth bell hadn’t rung yet. When would it?
“Do either of you know what time it is?”
“No.”
Great, that was one more question added to the pile.
Restore us!
Crystals surrounded Sarn. They were dark and devoid of magic, all calling for him. Sarn pushed down the rising panic as he pivoted seeking a way free of voices and crowds, but there wasn't one. I’m not trapped.
Other voices joined in, raising a demanding chorus that beat against his ears. Sarn backed away as their pleas swelled to a deafening roar. He staggered into Saveen almost knocking the youth over.
“We must go. I can’t stay down here.” I’ll go mad if I do. “Please lead on.”
The crystals they passed screamed Sarn’s name until he thought his ears would bleed from their cries.
“Which way?”
Light bringer! Share your light with us!
“Sarn? Which way should I go—back to the Foundlings?”
“No, I want to go outside where the light is,” Ran said.
“Hey, watch where you’re going Bean Pole.” The speaker elbowed Sarn and trod on his foot as he shoved his way past.
“Sarn, which way should I go? I think the tunnel branches ahead.”
“I think left, but everything’s all jumbled up in my head.” Between his map’s inability to spawn and the lumir crystals screaming in his head, Sarn had lost all track of their location—not good.
“Come, sinner, to your dark Father fly. At my side, thy time is nigh.”
“Who said that?” Sarn shook his head to clear it, but the black spots kept eating the glow of his closed eyes.
“This I, your only ally, say to the sky: come, sinner, thy time is nigh.”
The dark voice slammed into Sarn, driving him to his knees. His hand burned, and its flames ran up his forearm. Your hand is not on fire. You’re imagining it.
As he fell forward, he freed a hand from his son and caught himself, but those black spots were swelling and everything else was fading. Not again.
“Who said what? I didn’t hear anything, Papa. Papa!”
Chasing Sky Beams
Aralore spun taking in the trail of devastation in her wake while her acolytes rested. They broke out bread, cheese and cured meat and filled their flagons in the cool stream flowing by her feet. Much as she hated stopping for any reason, her loyal followers were footsore and in need of a short break.
But Aralore didn’t partake of anything but the cup of water Somnya pressed on her. After she drained the cup and handed it back, she glared at the trees barring her path. Brave of them, but useless in the long run. With a flick of her wrist, she opened the box. The trees in front of her exploded into a shower of sparks and splinters. If she must stop, she could at least have some entertainment while she plotted her next move.
Smiling, Aralore watched the next rank of trees sidle out of the way, creating a hole in the forest. As if that could placate her. Aralore turned the box, panning it so its black beam cut across the fleeing trees. But she moved with it, keeping the lid of the box between her and the crystal. Like a shield, that mirrored slab reflected those deadly black rays at her victims, magnifying their potency. Trees struck by that double helping of nullification exploded. Even that failed to soothe the pain burning in her breast.
“Where is it?” Aralore demanded. She didn’t take her eyes off her fleeing prey. There was nowhere for those giant plants to go, no place they could hide from the black lumir crystal. Or was there?
Aralore looked south-southwest at Mount Eredren’s bent cone. Could she hit the mountain from here?
“Where is what, Preceptor?” Somnya touched the lid. Her sister-of-the-cloth wanted to close the box and shut off its unnerving hum.
“That’s what I want to know. You remember that sky-beam we saw last month?” Aralore tore her gaze away from the mountain and regarded her seneschal and friend.
Somnya nodded. Behind her, Velor also nodded though he looked grimmer than usual. Likely it was Hutel’s death weighing on him. Well, there was nothing she could do about that. Hutel gave his life to the cause. Continuing was the best way to honor his sacrifice.
“I remember that.” Velor suppressed a shudder.
“Well, it originated from somewhere around here.” Aralore propped the mirrored lid against the box so the area behind it, where she and her acolytes stood, remained free of its influence.
Then she gestured to the felled trees around them. “I thought I’d see something—some sign of what caused it.”
But there was no sign that a magical event had transpired here, and that depressed her. This was supposed to be the site of her ultimate test. Where was the magical thingamabob that had created the sky-beam? Why was it not here for her to destroy?
Aralore kicked a downed tree in frustration. It moaned and that just made her angrier. What right did a giant plant have to complain? Where were your vaunted rules when my sister needed help? Why didn’t you save her?
Horns called in the distance—hunting horns. Aralore clawed her way up a boulder. Where are you?
A wizened branch pawed the earth as the downed tree tried to crawl away. Aralore nudged the box with her foot until a black ray sheared off the offending branch.
Beyond the devastation encircling her, more enchanted trees stood, refusing to be intimidated. A lone horn sounded again in the eerie quiet gripping the area.
Anger roared deep in her soul staining everything she looked at red—like the blood of her slain sister. Tears pricked Aralore’s eyes. As she spun seeking the horn player, the world faded into a silent night full of winter’s bite.
Years fell away. Aralore knocked over the box, but she didn’t notice because she was back there, staggering up a hill through deep snow searching for her sister while a horn taunted her.
Fat snowflakes swirled around Ayoma’s twisted body and her frozen eyes stared skyward from the mirror image of Aralore’s face. Her twin lay dead with a fist-sized hole punched through her chest, and those goddamned trees just stood by and allowed it to happen. I’ll destroy all of you then there’ll be nowhere for the Wild Hunt to hide. I’ll wipe them off the face of Shayari.
“Preceptor?” Somnya touched Aralore’s shoulder, but she pulled away, not yet ready to let go of her dead sister, her twin.
But that wintry night was fading back into the recesses of her mind. Aralore seized the box, but it was too heavy to lift. They must pay. I’ll make them all pay for letting my sweet sister die.
“Preceptor?” Velor stepped in front of her, and she blinked at him.
“Three rules they have.” Aralore gestured to the enchanted trees standing beyond the mile-wide cleared area as she ticked them off on her fingers. “Start no fires. Do no harm. Carry no weapons. But those rules don’t apply to the Wild Hunt.”
Another horn joined the first, but it was far off in the distance and getting further away with every passing moment—too far to chase for now.
“I’ve heard stories of the Wild Hunt.” Somnya perched on a boulder across from Aralore.
“But you didn’t believe them.” Velor remained standing, but he didn't meet Aralore’s eyes.
Oh, but he knew the Wild Hunt was more than just a story. Aralore tucked a stray lock behind her ear. Somehow it had escaped the clips confining her hair to a tight braid.
“In spring, they court both boys and girls. In summer, they seduce. In fall, they lure their lovers into the forest, and in winter, they hunt.” Aralore paused as the image of her dead sister, pale as the snow she lay in, hung between them. “And they do nothing.” She pointed at the distant trees waiting for her to fell them. “Because their rules don’t apply to the Wild Hunt, but not for much longer.”
Pausing her quiet diatribe, Aralore caught the eyes of each of her acolytes in turn and held their gazes. She must make them understand. “That’s why we’re out here. Our holy mission is to rid our country of a pack of supernatural murdering thugs and the enchanted weeds that give them sanctuary. So no one else will lose a loved one to their machinations.”
Aralore counted to twenty as the import of her words sunk in. She had them now. The flame of justice kindled in their eyes and fired their souls with determination—at last.
“The stakes are high. But with this stone,” Aralore stroked the box. “We’ll kill the Wild Hunt and save countless lives. That is our holy commission. God himself demands justice, and we’re the instruments of His Divine Will.”
Three fading notes drifted on the wind—the perfect accompaniment to her proclamation. Did the Wild Hunt know she was coming? Revel while you can. I will destroy you and scatter your ashes to the four winds.
Saveen squared his shoulders and his chest puffed out as the gravity of their situation registered. Sarn—his idol—needed his help, and he wasn’t letting a little darkness stop him. Strong, powerful, quiet and kind, Sarn was the best role model anyone could have, and his son made a wonderful playmate.
Taking a cautious step forward, Saveen blinked until his eyes changed. His human guise peeled away just enough to let the far superior eyes of a dragon peer out. Of course, he was just a baby dragon, one that just happened to be the same size as a human teenager. With a little glamor going, no one noticed except Sarn and his son. Every so often they gave him speculative looks as if they knew something about him was abnormal, but they never commented on it.
What are you doing, son? Her voice was sleepy with overtones of pain before she hid it. She said she was healing but was she really?
Helping a friend, Mama.
The darkness lightened as his eyes pulled in the magic radiating off Sarn in concentric waves and used them to boost his sight. There wasn’t much to see, just miles of rock formations and people.
Which friend?
Sarn—the mage—I told you about him. I like his son. We play together often.
Mama was quiet for a bit, no doubt mulling over his report. She was buried deep under Mount Eredren in an abandoned series of tunnels accessible only if you had stubby wings and could glide across a wide chasm, which Saveen could.
Getting Sarn there would be hard without telling him things Mama had made him promise not to tell. Doubly so since this tunnel looked familiar. Were they walking in circles? Yes, the Lower Quarters was a maze, but they should have reached a landmark or something by now.
A magical gag enforced Mama’s wishes when he opened his mouth to confess his nonhuman nature. The words “I’m a baby dragon,” changed en route to his mouth to “are you, all right?” Though ‘are we going in circles’ would have been a better question.
Sarn staggered like a drunk man into Saveen again and his preternatural eyes picked up the thin line of blood snaking down the long column of his throat. He was pale and sweating and Ran’s worried eyes were fixed on him.
“I just need to get outside. I think my magic will behave if I can just get away from all the spent lumir crystals.”
“I can carry Ran for a while.”
Ran shook his head and continued patting the magic as if he could calm it with a touch. Maybe he could. Ran was an unusual child. “No, I stay with Papa.”
Don’t come here, Mama said, and her voice echoed in Saveen’s head. He’s not a healer. He can’t help me. It’s better he doesn’t know about us. I know you trust him, but he’s a mage and mages have their own agenda.
Saveen scowled. Not Sarn, he’s the nicest person I know. He’s always helping people.
Sarn fell to his knees, breathing hard. He seemed on the verge of a fit. The mage was prone to seizures. Please don’t have one now.
“Sarn?”
But Sarn was already passing out. His limbs jerked involuntarily, and his eyes opened and closed, alternatively blinding Saveen with their strobing glow. Ran held tight, screaming for his Papa to get up. But Sarn didn’t respond.
Oh no, no, no, please don’t have a seizure now. I don’t know what to do. Saveen backed away. Sarn was an amazing person but he had one flaw—he was afflicted by a strange condition.
People noticed the green light flashing on and off. It was a green beacon in the oppressive darkness and they turned toward it, hands outstretched to take the light they craved.
“There’s light!” someone shouted, followed by, “get it!” The crowd surged toward them. Saveen almost tripped over Sarn’s long legs as he moved between his friends and the mob. I must protect them.
&nbs
p; “Papa!” Ran clamped both his hands over Sarn’s eyes covering them, but his hands were too small, so enough light leaked out to spur the crowd on. “Help me!”
Sarn was too big to carry. Even if he was strong enough to try, the young mage was convulsing. Through his fluttering eyes, images projected on the tunnel’s ceiling—curved lines and converging symbols.
“What do we do?” Saveen worried his four-digit hands.
“I don’t know.” Ran bit his lip and a tear rolled down his pale cheek.
“What is that?” Saveen gestured forgetting his Mama couldn’t see what he was seeing. Before Saveen could elaborate, a bearded man shoved him hard, but Saveen pushed back.
I don’t know—
Her mind voice cut off mid-sentence as a dark voice rode the crowd, rallying it. It spoke in a guttural language of grunts that rose from a whisper to a shout, but it was unintelligible.
“You there! Give us your light!” A hand grasped Saveen’s shoulder and shoved him hard, but he stood his ground.
“Leave us alone!” Saveen shouted and his bellow shook the tunnel and sifted dust onto their heads.
But the crowd ignored it. They’d been wandering in darkness since the lumir crystals winked out hours ago and it was wearing on them.
“Give us your light. We just want to see.”
“Go away. Leave my Papa alone.”
A ball whizzed past Saveen’s ear as he tried to stay between the grasping crowd and the downed Sarn. He turned his head and saw Ran draw back his slingshot for another volley then an elbow mashed his nose. Saveen rocked backward from the blow but his tail lashed out, counterbalancing him. He turned and whipped his tail across the front rank of the advancing mob, knocking them down.
Hopefully, between the flickering light, the general mayhem and the illusion rendering his tail and stubby wings invisible, no one saw anything amiss. Saveen glanced at Ran. The clever boy shoved a metal ball into the green light pouring out of his seizing father then fitted the ball to his slingshot and fired at a cracking stalactite. Some of Sarn’s power must have passed into that ball because it emitted a green flash on contact reducing the stalactite to falling rubble. People screamed as they threw their arms over their heads and backed away, but the determined kept coming.
Falls Page 10