by Chris Evans
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 tha
t 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.”
“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.”
TWENTY-EIGHT
Visyna 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 jumpin
g 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.