The Stone of Sorrows

by Greg James

  The air was bitter and ripe. She could hear her father breathing in short, wet gasps. A whisperer in the darkness, sucking in small amounts of air through his teeth and then letting it go too soon. Ianna led Jedda to the bedside, where she took her hand and held it out to the old man. The king’s flesh was flaccid and failing. Thin traceries of spittle ran from the slack, drooping left corner of his mouth into his salt-and-pepper beard. The fever was far advanced and would soon come to an end—an ugly end.

  He watched Jedda with one eye. The other was closed. Jedda loved her father, but she didn’t want to be here. She felt this was more for Ianna’s benefit than for her own. There was little love in the polluted air. Her aunt was showing Jedda her power. How weak the King had become. How little time he had left. How little time Jedda had left. Ferra’s body was a dull shape under the heavy blankets that wrapped his torso. The Herb-Sisters had been unable to find a cure for his ailment, a fact that had shamed them and their order greatly. There were mutterings about the court of foul magic. Some said Ianna. Others said Jedda. None dared accuse either of them in person, however. Such an act could lead to Plainstown Square, to burning at the stake for treason.

  But despite his sickness, Jedda could see that her father’s one eye was alert, and it shone with the ebb and flow of his life. Intelligence played behind it, and love, also. And the understanding that this fever was some manipulating spider’s spite against him.

  Come into my parlour, Jedda thought, casting a wary glance at Ianna.

  She did not know for certain, but she could guess. And she could do nothing until her father’s death; that was the horrible irony. If he rallied and survived, and even now she hoped he would, then the power would rest with him. But until then, it hung in the air between the three of them. Power unclaimed. Strength unwielded. Love and violence in balance, in check. The bedsheets outlined his body. Jedda could see how thin he had become. She wanted to weep. When he breathed, it sounded as if his insides had become a dry, barren wilderness.

  There were not many breaths left in him

  Could she save him from the web that was being spun around him?

  From the spider’s vile bite?

  Jedda had thought she could. Back then.

  She remembered going back and peering into her father’s bedroom after dark. He was quiet as he slept in the shadows. She stood by the door, listening for his wet breathing. It was comforting, knowing he was still alive. Long minutes passed before she was disturbed by the sound of someone coming towards the room.

  Jedda hurried inside and hid herself in the shelter of an ornate wardrobe. She held her breath and kept as still as she could, so as not to disturb the robes and stately clothes she was crushed against. The wardrobe smelled of must and mothballs. Its contents had been unused for so long. A sound came out of the dark. Jedda watched the sound repeat itself again and again as it resolved into the form of Ianna.

  Jedda, feeling her skin tighten, gripped her fingertips tight against the wood of the wardrobe door. Her fingernails began to hurt as she saw Ianna reach out a hand and take hold of the king’s slack jaw, easing it open.

  Jedda shook at what she was seeing.

  He didn’t move when Ianna took a phial from the folds of her nightclothes and tilted its end over his open mouth. Jedda saw the dark droplets fall in, and as Ianna was closing his mouth and then wiping her hands as if she had touched something dirty, Jedda found she could contain herself no longer.

  She slammed the doors of the wardrobe open, and the echo ricocheted around the bedchamber as she strode to the bed.

  “I have seen what you have done!”

  “So you have, and what will you do now?”

  “You will be arrested for poisoning my father. The king!”

  “I think not.”

  “Father will hear me over you.”

  “You think so. Look again at your beloved father.”

  Jedda did. She leaned over him, bringing her face close to his. His eyes were wide but they did not see. His mouth had fallen open again, but no breath issued from it. Jedda’s own jaw worked up and down, mouthing in mechanical silence. Then she snapped up from the quilt and turned, grabbing Ianna’s wrists, pulling her close. Jedda’s mouth shaped itself into a snarl.

  Ianna shook, unable to break away. She had not planned this.

  “I will kill you for this.”

  Ianna, still shaking, relaxed a little.

  “But not now. You should have come armed, Jedda. Too many are under my sway for you to win.”

  “Not all are loyal to you.”

  “Not all, but enough.”

  “We shall see. I will have your head.”

  Something wicked glinted in Jedda’s eyes, and for a moment, Ianna’s face became drawn with fear again.

  Then, Jedda had stormed away.

  She was right, Jedda thought, I should have slain her then.

  None of this would have happened.

  ~ ~ ~

  Jedda went to the kitchens and then down to the dungeons, where the Lady Warden had been confined. Jedda wished the Herb-Sisters’ magic had not touched the Lady Warden. From the kitchens, Jedda had taken a knife, wrapped in the folds of her nightrobe.

  It is time to do what I should have done long ago.

  Ianna was sitting in the corner of her cell. Jedda could see that she had been waiting for her. Her knees were drawn up against her chest, her voice strained and ragged from crying.

  Their eyes met.

  Jedda asked the question she had never been able to before.

  “Ianna,” Jedda said, licking her dry lips, “why did you do it?”

  “Why do you think I did it, Jedda? Do you care?”

  “I do. I want to know.”

  “No, you don’t. You don’t care. You don’t at all. You loved him, Jedda. He did not love me. He loved you and that little brat more than me.” she sobbed. “Not me! Never me! You did this to me. You made me do it. You made me kill him. Now, he is killing me. You could have left me, out there in the darkness, empty, but you didn’t. You had to save me. Bring me back to remember.”

  “I didn’t have to save you.”

  “Look at me, Jedda. Do you see what I am? What we all are, those of us that have been touched by Him and His servants? I never knew it would be like this.”

  “Neither did I,” Jedda said, sincerely.

  “Are you going to kill me yourself? You said that you would, after what I did. I’m weak. You can do it if you want to. Kill me. Death. It’s easy. I’ve done it. You’ve done it. We’re both killers. You remember. You know how good it feels to do it.”

  “That’s enough.”

  Jedda’s hand was raised, the beginning of an arc that would send it lashing across Ianna’s face. Her other hand was poised to draw out the knife in her sleeve.

  “Pain. Pleasure. They’re much the same to me now. I feel so little. It’s getting cold. Dark too,” Ianna said. “No, that’s not right. Not true. I can’t die. It was promised. He said I would live.”

  “No, Ianna. He wishes for all things to die.”

  “Liar! You’re not so different from me. He got inside you as well. He brought you back from death. He won’t let you go now.” She laughed, bitterly. “He’s letting me go, but he won’t let you go. You run, you hide, you run from the truth. But He will find you every time. The burden is forever yours. I’ll never forgive you, Jedda. And you will never forgive yourself for the things that you have done. The things you will do. People out there are going to die for you. I can see it in your face. You know and you can’t stand the thought. You’re a killer with a conscience. The worst kind.”

  A smile split Ianna’s face although her eyes were flooded with tears. Jedda felt her stomach tighten, and tears prickled at her eyes too. She wanted to do it. Her fingers tightened on the hilt of the knife. She wanted to do it so much.

  But she could not.

  She left the cell. The Lady Warden howled. It was the sound of someone completely br
oken.

  Death was too good for her.

  ~ ~ ~

  Jedda returned to the kitchens to put the knife back where it had come from. As she did, she felt a strange sensation of cold pass over her … and something else.

  A voice, a jumble of thoughts cascaded through her mind.

  Lick her bones clean. Drink her marrow. Peel her skull. Eat her heart. Tentacles strangle. Claws cut. Mouths, teeth, hungry, gnawing-gnawing-gnawing.

  It came scuttling out of the shadows to face her, the texture of its hide running with a horrid slime. Its unblinking eyes fastened on Jedda. She pressed the back of her hand to her mouth. The stench of the thing was overpowering. Jedda closed her eyes and shook her head, hoping to banish the sight she was seeing. It lurched towards her, leaving a slug-trail smear on the ground.

  Biting-gnawing-eating-killyou-killyou-killyou.

  Jedda stumbled backwards, her mind dull with shock. Her heart was hot and sharp in her chest. The kitchen’s knife rack clattered behind her.

  Jedda snatched up the knife she had just returned. The creature darted towards her, and she kicked out at it, catching it with her foot. Glass shattered as she sent the thing flying backwards into a cabinet. The creature thumped to the ground with an ugly squelch. Jedda approached it, holding the knife downwards to deliver the killing blow. It leapt, latching onto her. Its limbs clamped onto her body. Its claws cut into her back and sides. Yelling, Jedda stabbed at it with the knife.

  Death for you. Death for me. Die-together. The-end. End-end-end. Die.

  She felt a coldness spreading through her, a numbness that chilled down to her toes and out to her fingers. Her brain screamed as nerves became still and silent. It reached her heart, making it spasm and begin to ache.

  Her legs gave out and she fell backwards. As its fangs caught her in the side, the sudden pain cleared her head. Jedda dropped the knife and grabbed at the creature with both hands. Her fingers sank into it. Needles of frostbite stung her palms. Jedda endured it, struggling to her feet. The creature squirmed and thrashed against her, grazing her with its dagger-sharp limbs. Her vision was swimming. She could not see straight.

  Almost there, she thought, just a moment more.

  Jedda tore one hand free from where it had been sucked into the body of the beast, reached out for her salvation, and heaved it open. With the other hand, she thrust the creature away from her body, feeling its claws tearing some meat from her side. Eyes closed tight against the flow of pain, she let it fall from her hands, down into the refuse pit, its claws scrabbling wildly against the slick stone. Jedda let the cover of the pit close with a harsh crack. It would drown down there, in the muck and filth. She slumped to the floor, shivering and leaning against a cupboard. Through thinning vision, she watched as the kitchen faded away from her. Had she been too slow and too late? Had the creature’s claws and poison already done enough harm to kill her? She huffed out one breath after another, trying to focus. She failed.

  Unconsciousness swept over her.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Sarah’s eye snapped open. The first face that came into focus was Orraea’s.

  “How long have I been gone?”

  “Long enough. I’ve been watching over you.”

  “The Kay’lo?”

  “They have been waiting.”

  “I must speak to them.” Sarah rubbed at her neck ruefully. There was no sign of strangulation, and there should have been.

  I’ve got enough scars to be going on with as it is, she thought.

  “What happened to you, Sarah? What did you see?”

  “I-I’m not sure. It’s all blurry now, fading away. I know I was there – Erebus. It felt less like a place than Seythe or the Wood Beneath the Worlds. Everything was composed of shadows and darkness. It felt like the dreams created by Rosara carna, but I know it wasn’t that. It was a place that was not a place. Weird. And there was someone there – she was a part of me and ... I think ... she gave me the rest of me. We become one. Whole again. I became myself, I think.”

  Sarah could see that she was back in her alcove. The Kay’lo and Orraea must have brought her back here.

  “You didn’t help me when I called out for you,” she said, “when they tried to hang me.”

  “They did not try. They succeeded.” Orraea said.

  Sarah grimaced, “I know. I remember. But why didn’t you tell me what was going to happen? I thought you hated me, that you had abandoned me.”

  “Sarah, do you think that you would have been able to survive Erebus if someone had told you what to expect?”

  “I don’t know. I might.”

  “You would not be here. You would not have allowed the hanging. You would have become angry and unleashed the Flame. Your fear kept the Flame from you before you were hung. It had to be that way. If I had told you what was going to happen, you would still be wandering, lost, in Erebus. Fear gave you a reason to fight and survive. And now, it is over.”

  “No, it isn’t. I’ve still got to fight the Fallen One and ... everything. It’s all out there waiting for me.”

  Orraea smiled for the first time that Sarah could remember.

  “I have faith in you. You have proven yourself stronger then Death. You have the power within you to overcome His Shadow. Now, come, the Elders are waiting for you.”

  Sarah got to her feet and dressed slowly before following Orraea.

  What do I do? Can I betray them to E’blis now?

  ~ ~ ~

  The Kay’lo Elders had gathered beneath the Great Tree once more and Sarah cast an uneasy glance at the roots hanging there, swaying in the wind that arose from below.

  “You are the Flame,” T’Yuua declared. “The Kay’lo accept you.”

  “The Kay’lo will fight for Highmount?”

  “The Kay’lo will follow the Flame into battle. We will slay the Fellspawn, even if it means the end of us. We will fight until the last of our blood runs dry.”

  “You honour me with your decision, T’Yuu -”

  Sarah stopped and rubbed at her brow. There was pain there, piercing like a hot knife cutting through her skull and into her brain. There was a voice too, one that she had come to loathe.

  Now, O Flame. You will betray them now. Or, your sister will die at my hand.

  A scream rang out from the highest balconies in Lo’a’pan. Then there was another, another and another. Sarah looked up and saw the snake-like forms of Dionin bursting through the rocks and the earth. Their deformed human faces trailing showers of grit and soil from their mouths.

  “Dionin! The worms are here! Warriors, to arms!”

  T’Yuua cried out, “How can this be? The Great Tree wards Lo’a’pan from the worms! Its roots can not be so easily eaten through by Fellspawn!”

  He turned to Sarah, “Flame-bearer, you must help us. Please. We entreat you.”

  There were tears flowing from his aged eyes as growing numbers of Dionin poured from holes burrowed through the walls of the underground city. The screams and cries were growing and the echoes would soon become deafening. She made fists of her fingers, but did nothing. Orraea looked down at her searchingly, the empathy in the Wayfarer’s eyes, since Sarah’s recovery, steadily leaching away.

  Sarah averted her eyes.

  Did she know?

  Sarah’s mouth opened. She had to say something. Do something.

  But Kiley ...

  T’Yuua’s face fell, “Will you betray us, Flame-bearer? Have you been corrupted by His Shadow? Have you brought the worms to Lo’a’pan? Speak! Now! I would know if this doom is your work.”

  No ... I’m not ... I don’t want this ... Kiley ...

  “What do I do?”

  She turned to Orraea.

  “You know what to do, Sarah.”

  My sister, I can’t lose her.

  ...

  But if I let these people die, will I be able to look her in the eye again—ever?

  Sarah felt as though the ground was giving way be
neath her. She looked around and saw Dionin everywhere. The ancient city of Lo’a’pan was becoming a foul nest for the worms. The monsters were feasting. She heard so many voices screaming, so many, and then she heard one voice alone.

  E’blis.

  And he was laughing.

  “Flame-bearer-” T’Yuua began.

  There was no more to be said.

  If you do not obey my will, O Flame, your sister dies.

  “And, if I do as you say, I may as well be dead to her anyway.”

  Sarah opened her eyes and she unleashed the Flame.

  She will die, O Flame. She will die at my hand.

  “I defy you, E’blis, and I will come for you.”

  Sarah opened herself to the Flame.

  This time, it was not the unguided explosion of rage that she had created before. This time, Sarah was in control of it. The shade of A’aron in Erebus had given her understanding of what she possessed. The Flame was Life; Creation itself, and now it flowed forth from her as finely spun threads of fire. A web of silent flames was spinning out, spreading across Lo’a’pan. It was a beautiful net that fell, ensnaring only Dionin, wrapping them tightly in its bindings and then burning them away to nothing. In her mind, Sarah thought of each Dionin, pictured them clearly. They became a part of the Flame, reducing back to the seeds of Life that they first sprang from. And, as she withdrew the glowing threads into herself, the last traces of the Dionin fell like a gossamer rain over Lo’a’pan. The screaming ceased.

  Sarah opened her eyes.

  The Dionin were gone.

  It had been the work of a moment, a single thought.

  She had done it.

  She was terrified and giddy. It had been so easy. Too easy. She had undone the swarm of Dionin in less time than it took to take a breath. The power of the Flame staggered her like never before. As she sat on the ground, trying to grasp what had just happened, she heard cries start to break out across the city again – but they were not sounds of pain or suffering, they were of joy.