by Chris Evans
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.
“Why aren’t they attacking us?” Alwyn asked, slowly unclenching his fists.
Rallie pushed her hood all the way off her head and took another quick look to the sky. A deep blue tinge was forming above the canyon. She turned back to her drawing. “They no longer have any need. The Star is almost here, and their work is almost done.”
“Work, what work?”
Rallie flipped the page and began a new sketch. Alwyn lost his breath for a moment as the page turned over. He looked down at her drawing. He recognized the arrival of a Star in the night sky, but there was something below that forming on the canyon floor that he couldn’t make out. The lines Rallie drew kept shattering and reforming in an erratic pattern. “What is that thing?”
Her Majesty’s Scribe’s quill never stopped moving as she looked up at Alwyn. “That, my dear boy, is my next big story.”
TWENTY-NINE
Konowa fumed as they came upon the oasis. The sun had almost dipped below the horizon and a cold wind was blowing in from the north. The Suljak’s lies and gambits made his head spin. He tried to marshal an argument in his mind that would sway the Suljak to reconsider, then tried to think of a way to convince the Prince to ignore the agreement—he even considered using brute force to beat the old man into submission—but he knew with every second that it no longer mattered.
Her forest was huge. Sarka har stretched as far as the eye could see, and his elven eyes could see far. Everything to the north was a sea of seething bla
ck death. For centuries the elves of the Long Watch had kept this horror confined to a mountain peak. Even in Elfkyna it had amounted to only a few thousand at most, but now, it covered hundreds of miles. Konowa looked to the sky and found himself wishing he believed in a god so that he could pray. He tried anyway. “If anyone’s listening, it’s about bloody time you got off your damn cloud and did something useful.”
Just a few thousand yards away the lead elements of the Hasshugeb warrior army stood and waited. They looked impressive on top of their camels and seemed calm, despite the wall of black death approaching. The Prince and the Suljak rode around the oasis and toward the Suljak’s army. Konowa chose to stay back with the Iron Elves. He looked around, and on spying Color Sergeant Aguom motioned for him to come over. The sergeant jogged over and saluted. Konowa leaned over the side of the camel while trying to keep his balance.
“Get the men into the oasis, but I want them pushed right to the far edge and ready to march out the other side. We will not be staying here tonight.”
Sergeant Aguom looked over his shoulder at the approaching forest, then back to Konowa. “I hope it’s a bigger Star this time.”
Konowa could only nod. He dismissed him and guided his camel through the oasis. Signs of battle littered the ground. There were no bodies, but he wasn’t certain that was a good thing. He got to the other side of the oasis and then watched as the regiment marched through. Satisfied, he urged his camel forward.
The Shadow Monarch’s forest had come to the very edge of the right shoulder of the Canyon of Bones while the massed riders of the desert tribes had reached the left. Neither had yet engaged the other, but the gap between them would close within the hour. If Konowa was going to get the Iron Elves in the canyon it had to be now.
The Prince and the Suljak were talking with some of the Hasshugeb warriors. Konowa tried to urge his camel forward, but the animal jerked to a halt and refused to budge. He cursed and gave it a whack with the flat of his hand, but the animal would not move. The other camels began to act oddly as their riders fought to keep them under control. A moment later the sand around them geysered into the air and scaly beasts emerged, their jaws alight with white fire.
“My drakarri,” the Suljak said. He dismounted from his camel and walked toward the creatures.
The drakarri followed his movements, their heads moving in perfect time with his steps. White flame dribbled from their jaws and spilled onto the sand, where it fused the grains into blackened glass.
The Suljak turned and looked at Konowa. The acorn against Konowa’s chest crackled with frost as the two locked eyes.
“I told you, Major, that politics is a messy business! But in the end, power is what rules the day. And this,” he said, sweeping his hands to encompass the drakarri arrayed before him, “is my power! This is the power of the desert!”
The Suljak turned back to the creatures and began to speak. The wind picked up, and sand particles swirled into the air. The voice the Suljak spoke with was in a tongue that grated on Konowa’s ears. He knew without understanding that it was an ancient language. Hundreds more of the creatures clawed their way out of the sand. As each breached the surface it turned to look at the Suljak. His voice rose higher, and with it the wind began to howl. Konowa raised an arm to protect his face from the wind-whipped sand.
As one, the creatures turned and began to move toward the forest. They scrabbled forward on their stubby legs, their jaws snapping in anticipation. Frost fire engulfed the leading sarka har as the sand around them froze over.
It was nightmare against nightmare.
Then the drakarri stopped.
The Suljak’s voice rose above the howl of the wind, his arms high as he commanded the creatures. The drakarri started to move against Her forest again, then turned around and began crawling back toward the Hasshugeb warriors.
Ice crystals of warning seared Konowa’s senses as a new voice carried on the wind. It was coming from the Canyon of Bones. This voice rasped the very air, and Konowa shuddered. He sensed commotion in the ranks and turned. “Steady! Steady, lads.”
The Suljak shouted again, but the creatures were no longer listening. Their heads were cocked as the voice from the canyon called to them. Their jaws snapped open and closed as more white flame dripped down to splatter on the sand.
Then the voice from the canyon ripped through the air like a cannon volley.
The drakarri shrieked, and half of them wheeled and charged toward Her forest. The others charged at the Hasshugeb warriors.
“No!” the Suljak screamed, as white fire began to arc among the assembled warriors. The Hasshugeb muskets crackled to life. Konowa called up the frost fire and smacked the camel again. This time it moved.
He held on as it galloped across the sand toward the Prince. When they got close, Konowa pulled back on the reins and shut his eyes. Miraculously, the camel stopped, perhaps finding some small comfort in being around others of its kind.
The Suljak was slowly walking backward, shaking his head. “No, this cannot be. I command the power! The Shadow Monarch cannot be this strong so far from Her mountain.” He used the ancient language again, but the drakarri paid him no heed. They were listening to a voice much, much older.
Konowa looked around them. Men screamed and sarka har flailed as the white fire scorched the sand and everything on it. “Isn’t it obvious? You didn’t just call back Kaman Rhal’s power—you got him back as well!”
“No, that’s not possible. The power flows through me, I command it,” the Suljak said, looking down at his own hands. He raised his eyes and pointed at Konowa. “You! You’ve done this. It’s your corrupting influence that has caused this to happen.”
“The major is a loyal officer, and I will not have him slandered,” the Prince said, striding forward to come between the Suljak and Konowa. “Get those abominations under control.”
The Suljak glared at Konowa. “You conspire with the Shadow Monarch. Before your arrival my control was complete. I underestimated you and the power you wield, but I will not make that mistake again.” He brought both hands together and closed his eyes. Wind roared around the three of them as the sand beneath their feet began to shift.
Konowa reached inside himself for the frost fire, but the power of the Suljak’s magic made it difficult to bring it forth. He tried again, but all he could manage was a small flicker.
Prince Tykkin glanced over at Konowa, then at the Suljak. Without a word, the Prince cocked his right fist back and slammed it into the Suljak’s face. The old man flew backward and landed on his back. The wind died down.
“In light of current circumstances, our agreement,” the Prince said, “is null and void.”
The voice from the canyon grew louder. The white fire on the desert floor burned brighter. The sound of screaming intensified.
Konowa looked at the Prince, and for a moment couldn’t find the words. Finally, he turned back to the Suljak, who was slowly climbing to his feet. He was no longer a powerful manipulator, but a scared old man. “It looks as if your game wasn’t deep enough,” Konowa said. He spat the words, unable to keep his disgust in check. He turned back to the Prince. “Once that gap closes we have no chance of breaking through, sir. We need to move now while there’s enough chaos out there.”
The Prince studied the gap. “Can we get them through?”
Konowa nodded. He’d get them through if he had to kill every living and dead thing in his path. The time for gambits was over. “Yes, but we have to go now.”
The Suljak looked at them both, a mad light in his eyes. “We are still part of the Empire. It is your duty to save my people. I…I command you to save my people! Call forth your soldiers and rid the desert of these defilers! You brought all of this upon us. You must fix it!” His calm demeanor was gone. In its place was something Konowa recognized all too clearly.
“Your people’s only hope is if we get to the Star before anything else,” Konowa said. “They can’t get to the canyon now, an
d Her forest is held at bay, but that won’t last for long.”
The Suljak watched the battle and wrung his hands. “The Jewel of the Desert is returning. It must be protected. It cannot fall into the wrong…hands.”
“It won’t, if you get your men out of here,” Konowa said. “If they stay on the field of battle, they die.” He grabbed the Suljak by his robes and spun him around. “Look at what’s happening. I don’t give a damn about how messy politics might be. This is a battle now. The time for the finer points of manipulation are over. This is slaughter!”
White fire burned in patches all over the sand, marking the bodies of fallen Hasshugeb warriors. Riderless camels galloped past in fear, some on fire. They left ghostly images of flame and terror on Konowa’s mind as they disappeared into the night. A few sarka har snaked forward until their branches were able to stab down at the drakarri spitting fire at them. White and black flame exploded wherever the two powers met. The space between became an inferno of swirling tremendous magics. Men screamed, animals shrieked and howled, and over it all a voice of ancient power drove the fire creatures to ever greater frenzy.
“You are still the Suljak of the Hasshugeb,” the Prince said, his face white as he watched the destruction unfold. “Do your duty and save your men. I will determine the fate of the Star later.”
Konowa shook the Suljak. “Tell your men to fall back from the canyon opening. If they keep dying where they are we’re going to have a hard time walking over all the bodies,” Konowa said, knowing it was cruel and not giving a damn.
The Suljak began to shake. “This is not how it was supposed to happen. It was planned so well. It was…beautiful.”
The musket fire of the Hasshugeb warriors grew more controlled, but Konowa doubted that would last for long. The voice from the canyon directing the drakarri kept growing louder. Thoughts of controlling that voice vanished from Konowa’s mind.