Shards of Time

by Lynn Flewelling

  MIKA squatted on the dry brown grass with his good arm wrapped around his knees, too scared to move. He hadn’t meant to go anywhere. One minute he was standing behind Master Micum, the next he was here in this strange place, all alone. He was smart enough to guess that this was probably where Alec had gone when he disappeared.

  And Alec found his way out.

  Mika clung to that thought as he slowly looked around. There were sheep nearby, and he saw two boys on the far side of the flock. They hadn’t noticed him yet, so Mika rose on shaky legs and hurried away in the opposite direction before anyone set the dogs on him. Seregil had taught him the dog charm, too, but it hadn’t worked for Alec and Mika was terrified at the thought of it not working for him if he needed it. Even if he didn’t have a broken arm, he’d be no match for them.

  He kept glancing back over his shoulder to make sure he hadn’t been seen. Fortunately the direction he’d taken was downhill and soon he was safely out of sight. A long way down the hill he saw a river and the town Alec had described, or one just like it. It had some kind of wall around it, and a tower in the middle. It was risky to go there, after what had happened to Alec, but he had no choice but to follow the river past it. That’s what Alec had done to get back to their own plane and Mika didn’t know what else to do. He just hoped it was the same town.

  The hillside was rocky and uneven, and cut with little rills. His broken arm ached as he jolted over the rough ground. The grass was brown and the sky was cloudy, just as Alec had described. By the time Mika finally reached the river road he was tired, hungry, and very thirsty. The town was still a long way off and even though the road that ran along the riverbank was smooth, he felt like he was walking up a steep hill. It grew harder and harder to keep putting one foot in front of another. He fell and cried out in pain as his arm jerked in the sling. He managed to get up after a moment, though it was an effort, went a little farther, only to fall again. His stomach cramped, his tongue felt swollen in his mouth, and he hurt all over as he forced himself up again. How many times had he told his mother he was so hungry he could die, when all he’d wanted was a sweet? He wondered if this was what it really felt like.

  I could die.

  The thought brought him to his knees again, wishing with all his heart that his mama was there. Or better yet, Master Thero, who’d saved him from magic once before. Tears ran into the corners of his mouth and he licked at them in desperation, but they were salty and only inflamed his terrible thirst. Try as he might, he couldn’t get up, or keep his eyes open any longer. With a choked sob, he curled up in the dust to die alone and far from home.

  Thero and Seregil watched in disbelief from different ends of the corridor as Alec disappeared into thin air. Seregil went white, but before Thero could say anything something horrible oozed into being where Alec had disappeared. Made of smoke and as large as a dog, it floated in midair, wisps of it curling on the air like sea grass. It hung there for a moment, then flew at Seregil too quickly for him to avoid it and wrapped itself around his head and chest, bearing him to the ground. Seregil struggled, screaming; Thero had never heard him scream before, not like this.

  “Avah! Aravah! Arasaaavah tula reso!” Thero shouted, frantically searching his pockets for something to bind it to, all too aware that he had no protection this time. He found a small red river stone Mika had given him and held it up. “Avah! Aravah! Arasaaavah tula reso!”

  The black cloud lifted from Seregil’s motionless body and was on Thero with impossible speed. It lifted him into the air and blood flew from the wizard’s arms and chest as invisible blades or claws raked him, cross-hatching the healing marks of the last attack, for this certainly was the same monstrous thing he’d released from Sedge back at Mirror Moon. Searing pain blossomed across his left cheek and his forehead.

  “Avah! Aravah! Arasaaavah tula reso!” he shouted a third time, trying to shield his eyes with one arm as he held the stone up.

  The floor came up to meet him, hard, and it was a moment before Thero realized that the binding had worked. The stone clutched in his right hand burned like a live coal and vibrated with evil presence. The binding was fragile; he could feel that. Finding his chalk, he willed his hand to stop shaking enough to inscribe the holding symbol on the stone. It went cool, leaving only blisters on Thero’s palm and fingers.

  “Thero, Seregil!” Micum shouted, running back to join them. “By the Four, what happened to you?”

  “I’m fine. See to Seregil.” The ’faie lay silent and motionless now.

  Micum went to him and Thero heard him cursing under his breath as he knelt by their friend.

  Thero pushed himself up enough to get out his wand. Blinking blood out of his eyes, he wove an invisible cocoon of magic around the stone to preserve the chalk markings until he could get it into a proper container. “How is he, Micum?”

  “You’d best come see for yourself.”

  Thero’s legs wouldn’t support him. He crawled down the corridor, leaving a blood trail on the dusty stone.

  Maker’s Mercy, his back is broken! Thero thought as he reached them, seeing how twisted Seregil’s body was. He’d apparently gotten his arms over his face to shield it, but his scalp was lacerated in two places and his dark hair was sodden with blood. A small corona of it was spreading around his head. His coat and shirt were slashed to pieces. His upper body, covered with welts and cuts, looked like he’d been flogged.

  Micum felt Seregil’s throat for a pulse and let out a hoarse cry of relief. “Thank the Maker, he’s alive. We need help, and fast. Send word to the camp. Hurry!”

  It took every bit of Thero’s remaining strength to summon the tiny message sphere and send it streaking off to the drysian. With a mumbled apology, he fainted.

  Alec burst through the portal onto a dreary plain. It looked very much like the place he’d fallen in sheep shit, though it was hard to be sure in daylight. There were sheep nearby, though, with boys watching over them, and to his left he saw a cluster of cottages. In daylight they were mere tumbledown hovels. Of Mika there was no sign.

  Putting himself into Mika’s shoes, he tried to imagine what direction the boy would have chosen. He’d listened carefully to Alec when he’d told of his adventure here, so it seemed unlikely that Mika would approach anyone, or look to the householders for help.

  “So that only leaves the rest of the world,” he muttered. But Mika was a smart lad. Chances were he’d try to get out the same way Alec had, since there was no other known way. Alec looked around again, getting his bearings. The land sloped away in the distance; that should be the direction for the river.

  He suddenly heard shouting from the direction of the flock. The shepherds had caught sight of him. Hoping that the dogs were safely tied up at some cottage, he ran for the river. As he hoped, he soon reached the lip of the hill and saw the river in the distance. It was farther away than he recalled, but then, he’d entered this world from a different place, so perhaps it made sense.

  The going was easier in daylight. He loped and slid down the hill, then paused halfway to scan the landscape again, surprised at how suddenly tired he felt. Shaking that off, and trying to ignore how thirsty he was, he scanned the road below. There, perhaps half a mile away, not far from the town gate, something small lay in the road.

  “Mika!” Alec set off again, more slowly this time. The last time he’d been here he’d blamed the dog attack for his exhaustion, but he felt it again now. His legs grew heavy and his breath came in hollow gasps.

  Never mind, he told himself as he struggled on. Mika’s there and I’ll get him out.

  He hadn’t gone far, however, when the gates opened and a woman in a flowing red gown rode out on a black horse with a white mane, like Klia’s Moonshine. She cantered to where Mika lay and Alec watched in horror as she waved a hand, levitating the boy’s limp form up into her arms. Even if he’d had his bow—now lying uselessly in that corridor in Menosi—it would have been too long a shot to chance. Wheeling her ho
rse, the woman galloped back into the town, hair streaming like a black banner on the wind, and the gates closed after her.

  Alec fell to his knees. He didn’t know if Mika was alive or dead but now he was beyond reach and Alec felt too weak to go after him.

  It’s this place! he thought. It’s sucking the life out of me. The thirst was unbearable and his belly felt like it was wrapped around his backbone. Groping in his pocket, he pulled out one of the turnips Micum had given him and took a bite. The sharp taste and moisture made his entire mouth ache and brought tears to his eyes. The intensity of the flavor and texture surpassed anything he’d ever experienced. He looked at the turnip, then took another bite. His stomach unknotted. His thirst was slaked. The sweetness seemed to flow through his very veins. A lightstone might not fare well here, but the humblest of vegetables was apparently unaffected. Tempted as he was to eat the whole thing, he saved half and the other one for later. He felt reinvigorated, but there was no telling how long it would last. As much as he’d have preferred to wait for dark, he was going to have to find his way into the town now.

  The first thing Seregil had taught Alec about nightrunning in the daytime was to blend in. Assuming it was his clothing that had given him away last time, he took off his coat and tossed it into a ditch well before he reached the town. There was no hiding his weapons, but he wasn’t about to let go of those.

  Avoiding the road, he approached across the grassy plain, praying there were no guards on the top of the palisade to spy him. At the back he found another road leading to a smaller gate, where a line of people and wagons were going in and out past a pair of inattentive guards. Hoping for the best, Alec joined the throng on the road and mingled in with them, doing his best to look nondescript. He listened to the voices around him, but didn’t understand a word. A young woman with dust-brown hair caught his eye and said something, but Alec just shrugged and looked away, losing himself in the crowd. Fortunately there were other swordsmen around, but he did catch a few more people stealing curious glances at him. All the same, he made it inside the palisade and quickly dodged down an empty side street. It was a modest neighborhood of tenements, patchy, sickly-looking garden plots and—as he’d hoped—clotheslines. There didn’t seem to be anyone around, so he grabbed a tunic and some breeches off a line and put them on in an alleyway, then ate the remaining half of the first turnip. Feeling considerably less conspicuous, he went back to the busy street and began his search.

  The town was a mean, dispirited-looking place, and the grey light from the clouded-over sky cast a sickly pall over the faces of the people around him. Passing through a market square he saw farmers selling chickens, and wagons with gibbets from which swung dead, gutted pigs, skinned rabbits, and cats, all for sale, though no one seemed to be buying. Alec hurried on toward the tower at the center of town. There had been no sign of any rich merchants or nobles so far. The woman who’d taken Mika had been on a fine horse, dressed in a vividly dyed gown. That all said wealth.

  The town was not a large one. By nightfall Alec had familiarized himself with the major streets and squares, and had seen no dwelling that would suit a wealthy woman except for the tower at the center of town. Under different circumstances he’d have made inquiries, but that wasn’t an option here so he instead made a slow circuit of the tower, studying it from all angles. The only entrance was a pair of heavy oak doors overlooking a cobbled courtyard. There were only a few windows on the ground floor, and they were barred on the outside, and dark, besides. Lights showed at two of the upper windows, however, which appeared to be bedchambers, going by what he could see of the draperies. Just then a woman appeared at the left-hand window. She wore a scarlet gown and her long, thick black hair fell in lush waves to her waist. She looked down at him and Alec walked slowly away, as if he were just out for an evening stroll, but he could swear he felt her watching him. At least he knew where Mika was, but how in Bilairy’s name was he going to get to him?

  His stomach growled loudly as a wave of dizziness threatened to overwhelm him. Taking shelter in an alleyway, he squatted down with his back to the wall and ate half the remaining turnip. Feeling a bit better, he started back for the tower when a tall woman stepped from the shadows and held out her arms to block his way. The alley was dark, but he could make out the pale oval of her face and her silhouette against the brighter street beyond. She was slender, wearing a gown, and a cascade of dark hair fell in waves to her waist.

  The woman from the tower window.

  “Who are you?” he whispered, reaching for his sword.

  She stayed his hand with gentle fingers and said something unintelligible.

  “I’m sorry, I don’t understand you. I need to go.” When he tried to push past her, however, she gripped his arm with unexpected strength and before he could pull away, she raised her other hand to his cheek.

  Wait, friend.

  He heard it in his mind, rather than his ears. “Who are you? What are you?” he whispered.

  The grip on his arm tightened, but the touch on his face remained light and cool. Come with me.

  “Will you take me to my friend, the little boy you took?”

  The child is beyond your reach, man of two bloods and two lives.

  Alec’s heart missed a beat. She was not the first to call him that.

  Only the dead can walk with the dead, she whispered in his mind.

  Alec reached out and steadied himself against the alley wall. “How do you know those words?”

  I know what you are. Come away. You must see.

  “Not until you tell me who you are and where you want me to go.”

  You must see what must not be seen.

  “Not until you give me the child.”

  The tips of her fingers dug into his muscles like talons. He reached for his dagger but suddenly he was in cold darkness. He couldn’t see the woman, but he could still feel her painful grip biting into his forearm.

  You must see.

  “I can’t see a damn thing! Where are we?” His voice reverberated eerily around him.

  And suddenly there was light, soft and bright as a lightstone, but much wider in range. He blinked in the sudden glow, then looked around. “Illior’s Light!”

  He was in the third cave—no, that wasn’t right. The stone floor under his boots was dry, and he couldn’t hear any water dripping. The most telling differences, however, were the paintings on the wall, distasteful and perverse parodies of the wonders of the oracle’s cave.

  She stood beside him, glowing brightly. She was beautiful, fair-skinned and blue-eyed, with hair the color of night. And she looked inexpressibly sad.

  You must see.

  He looked back at her and she was pointing to the far wall. There was something there—something round about eye level that shone softly in the pale light.

  She followed him as he walked across the echoing cave. The glow came from a large, glittering black opal about the size of a small apricot fixed to the wall in a heavy golden boss. The stone was carved with a web of symbols that looked strangely familiar. As he reached out to touch it, the woman whispered something to him. It didn’t sound like a warning, but before he could touch the stone, everything went black.

  Mika floated in the dark, formless, voiceless void of the sleeping death. There was nothing to touch, no sense of up or down. He didn’t feel cold. He didn’t feel anything at all.

  Child.

  Mika strained to hear the faint voice. Was it Master Thero, saving him again from this terrible place?

  Child, open your eyes.

  He smelled dead leaves and incense. Something scratchy and cold as a dead leaf stroked his cheek. He could feel! Slowly he came back into his body. He was warm, and lying on something very soft. Something wet and delicious flowed over his tongue. He swallowed, choked, and opened his eyes.

  He was in a fancy bedchamber lit by lots of candles. A beautiful lady in a red velvet gown sat on the edge of the bed where he lay, smiling down at him and hold
ing a clay cup and small wooden spoon. She had thick, wavy black hair so long it almost touched the counterpane where she sat. He resisted the urge to reach out and touch it; he’d never seen hair like this before.

  “There you are, child,” she said. “I was so worried about you! Here, have some more cider. It’s nice and cool.”

  She dipped the spoon in the cup and gave him another sip.

  “More, please,” he whispered with dry, cracked lips.

  “Of course, my dear, but not too much at first.” She gave him a few more spoonfuls, and each one made him feel better and better. He still felt terribly weak, as he had out on the road, but he wasn’t thirsty anymore, and that was a blessing. His arm didn’t hurt, either.

  “Where am I?” he croaked.

  “You are in my castle, my dear.”

  “Castle?”

  She laughed softly. “You may not think so much of it, when you are up and about, but someday I will have a proper castle again. My name is Queen Rhazat. What’s yours?”

  “Mika of Rhíminee, Your Majesty.”

  “Ah, Rhíminee. And where is that?”

  “In Skala, my lady. It’s the greatest city in the Three Lands.”

  “I see.” She offered him another spoonful of cider, and he swallowed it gratefully. “Do you want to sleep some more, my dear?”

  “No, I was having a bad dream.”

  She gave him a sympathetic look as she stroked his cheek with cool fingers. “I have those, too.”

  He sat up and looked around. He was in a big fancy bed in a large bedchamber with lots of silk hangings and lady furniture. It was a nice room, with pretty hangings. A tall window across from the bed showed nothing but darkness.

  “Where am I, Majesty?” he asked. Had the place of dead grass and grey sky been part of his bad dream?

  “You are in my tower, as I told you. There’s a bathing tub in the next room, and some clothes laid out for you. A big boy like you doesn’t need help washing, does he?”

  “No, Majesty!” Mika replied, blushing.