The Labyrinth of Flame

by Courtney Schafer

  That safety was only because Ruslan didn’t know I cared about Janek. If Ruslan was as ignorant of Melly, I’d have made her leave too. Cara and I had a whispered argument about it before the climb. She thought I was crazy for letting Melly stay. I probably was. I just couldn’t shake the gut-deep fear that the moment I let her leave my sight, Ruslan would swoop in and grab her the way he had in Ninavel.

  Climbing to the canyon rim, Zadikah ignored my glowering and obeyed my every order with the same crisp efficiency she’d displayed when we scaled the Khalat. She didn’t speak beyond what was necessary for the ascent until we levered Janek over a final lip of rock onto sand seared hot by the pitiless afternoon sun. Watching me untie him from the rope, she said, “You don’t trust me. I understand why. But Kiran’s enemy is now mine. I would tear out my own throat rather than do anything that might aid Ruslan or his allies.”

  Her hatred of Ruslan, I could believe. Yet the very ferocity of that hatred set off all manner of warning bells. “You want Ruslan to pay for burning Prosul Akheba, then you stay well clear of him. You’re no mage to fight him. Kiran’s the only one who can.”

  “I know it,” Zadikah said, bitterly enough that I dared to hope she understood how stupid she’d be to try some scheme on her own. “But you listen: if Kiran discovers he needs anything the Khalat’s survivors can provide, send me word, and I’ll make sure he gets it.”

  “Just remember your promise to keep Janek safe.” I had the rope off him, but all he’d done was huddle closer to me, doubtless suffering second thoughts about going off with a stranger. Dried tear tracks streaked his face; he’d begged Melly to change her mind and come with him.

  Zadikah looked down at Janek, and her fierce expression softened. “You’ll have to be patient with me, adhiya. It’s been long years since I last traveled with anyone as young as you. But I will guard your life as if you were my clan-brother.”

  Janek flung his skinny arms around me in a hug so brief I barely had time to return it before he pulled away.

  “You’ve been kind to me,” he said, staring at his boots. “I’ll pray to every god I know that you’ll stay safe too.”

  He didn’t think those prayers would be answered. Understandable, when every other adult who’d cared for him had died. I wished I could promise him I’d survive, but I wasn’t such a fool as to invite the touch of Khalmet’s bad hand.

  “Prayers are good,” I said. “When we’re done with Ruslan, we’ll find you.”

  Janek nodded, his small face pinched. Zadikah led him eastward, and they vanished amid fat turrets of rock. I mopped my brow and took a hasty swig from a waterskin. The desert felt a thousand times hotter up here in the open sun; one reason I’d agreed to Kiran’s insistence we keep traveling the canyon. In the slot’s shadowed depths, we wouldn’t risk collapse from sun sickness, and the ebbing flood would leave behind pockets of water.

  By the time I rejoined the rest of our little crew, all that was left of the raging flume that’d filled the lower slot were a few murky pools and a boot-sucking morass of mud that soon had me cursing our choice to stay in the canyon. The mud caked so thick that we kept having to stop to knock great clots of it off our legs. Melly hadn’t the strength to pull free of the worst of the mire. Cara and I had to yank her from the mud’s grasp, again and again.

  Too late to change our route now. I was way too tired to haul anybody else out of the canyon. Kiran’s eyes were glazed, his walk closer to a stagger, and he flinched back any time Teo got within ten feet of him. Even Cara had lines graven deep around her mouth and an armored distance in her eyes that brought me an uneasy cramp of guilt. If I hadn’t dragged her into this mess, she’d be happily guiding convoys and climbing peaks instead of slogging down a neverending nightmare of a canyon.

  Worst was when we reached far grislier obstacles than mud and rocks. Dead clanfolk lay half-buried in the mire and wedged under chockstones, the white of bone sometimes showing where limbs had snapped in the force of the flood. Teo paused at each corpse to sing a brief, hauntingly melancholic chant not far different than what I’d heard drovers use to summon Noshet’s spirit guardians for fallen convoy folk. Lena stopped with him, but not to mourn. Her bearing soldier-stiff, she sought out any charms still on the bodies. Anything not made by blood magic, she took. The shield charms she left alone, insisting it was dangerous to even touch anything created by Ruslan.

  Playing it cautious was fine with me. I was more grateful than I wanted to admit that Lena had taken on the task of picking over the bodies. In death, the black-daggers had lost all menace. Passing their contorted remnants didn’t bring any triumph, only a surge of dark memories I was too tired to stop. I’d seen too many friends lying dead after mountain disasters. Melly’s father Sethan chief among them.

  Yet I didn’t avert my eyes from the bodies I passed. One corpse I was too anxious to see. When Teo found Gavila crammed between a pair of boulders, I veered over to look, just so I could make damn sure she was dead. Her body was folded in a way no living person could manage, but her slack face was unmarred and oddly serene, which pissed me off. She’d gotten half her clan killed and come close to ruining any chance we had of taking down Ruslan. She didn’t deserve an instant’s worth of peace.

  “Don’t you sing for her,” I told Teo.

  Teo gave me a flat look. “I sing for them all. Their souls are their gods’ to judge.”

  That was rich, coming from someone who constantly judged the hell out of Kiran, but I was too exhausted to argue. I crouched beside Lena, who was frowning at the spiked bronze loops of the charm that still hung around Gavila’s neck.

  I said, “The charm glowed when Gavila touched me with it. It’s how she knew I was born Tainted. You think it does anything more useful?”

  “There’s quite a reservoir of magic bound into the metal,” Lena said. “The spell itself appears old, even crude, but the power that fuels it feels strange. Cold, and wild, and the charm’s maker did not shield it properly. Safer to leave it, I think.”

  “No.”

  I turned, surprised. Kiran was right behind me, apparently uncaring of his proximity to Teo.

  “Unshielded power I can take by touch, just like ikilhia, and Ruslan won’t know.” The glaze of exhaustion left his eyes, replaced by naked, ravening hunger.

  “Kiran, wait.” Lena grabbed for his arm, but Kiran ripped the charm from Gavila’s neck. He shuddered, his head falling back, and the taut lines of his face softened into blissful relief. Bruises and cuts alike vanished. When he opened his eyes again, they glittered with a hectic new vitality.

  “Shall I give you some? The charm holds more than enough to share.” He looked from Lena to Teo, holding out his hand.

  Teo backed up so fast he nearly fell on his ass. Apparently his oath-breaking hadn’t totally reordered his opinion of magic. Lena stood her ground, but she didn’t take Kiran’s hand, and her face went all shuttered and cold in that way Alathians got when they were seriously angry.

  She said, each word icily precise, “Kiran, that was reckless. Ruslan’s spells are not the only magic that can harm you.”

  “I wouldn’t have drawn from the charm if I wasn’t certain it was safe,” Kiran said. “Besides, I didn’t just take the power for me. This way, if we come across a spell that doesn’t yield to Zadikah’s release words, I can give you the strength to break it.”

  More like, his need had been so great it’d swamped all thought of risk, but it wasn’t like I could point fingers about reckless gambles. Lena, however, looked angrier yet.

  “Your reasons aren’t the issue. Your haste is. You can’t afford to be so foolish.”

  Kiran had a stubborn set to his jaw I recognized all too well. When he dug in his heels, it took a miracle of the gods to make him see sense.

  “What’s done is done,” I announced, and pulled Kiran away. “I’m hoping you feel perky enough now to take this pack off my hands.” Then I could help Melly far more easily and give Cara a bit of respite
.

  “Of course.” Kiran reached for my pack with fluid ease. I’d never envied him before, but I did then. Mother of maidens, what I wouldn’t give to have my aches and bruises vanish in an eyeblink.

  “Just make sure you keep watching for spells.” We hadn’t hit another of the bone mage’s little surprises yet, but I doubted we’d seen the end of them. The slot had opened out enough to reveal a fat strip of brutally cloudless afternoon sky. The walls had become sheer cliffs, cut razor-clean. Reflected sunlight painted their higher reaches rich shades of orange. The shadow we walked in was no longer the twilight gloom of the tunnel, but even with the better light, the flood had left enough muck smearing the lower cliffs to hide any sign of inlaid bone. I had to hope Kiran and Lena would sense any hostile spells before we triggered them.

  Kiran touched my shoulder, a quick, apologetic brush of his fingers. “I wish you were a mage, so I could give you strength so easily.” He set off, tackling another stretch of mud with more energy than I’d seen him display in weeks.

  But my envy had died. I didn’t want to be a mage. Not after seeing how every one of them who kept a conscience lived in either fear or bondage thanks to their talent. For long years after I’d Changed, I’d have done anything to be Tainted again. These days, I was starting to appreciate being ordinary.

  Lena stalked after Kiran. Her expression remained glacial and her back so stiff I winced to see it. As she passed me, I said, “You saw how ragged he was getting. At least now we don’t have to worry he’ll hurt Teo by accident.”

  “That was never my concern.” She marched even faster after him.

  I had the uneasy sense I was missing something. I’d never seen Lena’s steadfast calm fracture so sharply. Yeah, Kiran took a risk he probably shouldn’t have, but heading to the temple was a far larger danger and she hadn’t been upset over that. Maybe it was bad temper brought on by exhaustion. I’d seen even the mellowest of outriders turn snappish and irritable when forced to the limits of their endurance.

  “Kiran seems fine to me,” I muttered to the air, hoping it was true.

  “That’s because you’re not a mage,” Teo said in my ear. I jumped, startled anew, and annoyed at myself for it. I had to stay alert, not let weariness dull my senses to the point I didn’t even notice people standing right at my shoulder.

  Teo went on. “What Kiran took has healed his injuries and restored his body, but it’s done nothing to ease mental exhaustion. He’ll be all the more prone to errors of judgment, and that’s not the only issue. When I first met him, his soul’s energies were dangerously unbalanced, but they still felt natural. Human. But since his return from the demon realm, his soul feels…different. What he took from the charm just now has enhanced that difference.”

  My stomach rolled over. I’d been all worried about what Ruslan might’ve done to Kiran, but maybe I’d been worrying over the wrong enemy.

  I said, “When he was a kid, the bone mage put some demon magic inside him, right? Maybe it’s more noticeable now because he had to use it to survive. But from what he said, he’s had demon-stuff in his soul a long time.”

  “An ember of demon magic, perhaps,” Teo said. “But before, the ember was well hidden. Now it has been given fuel to grow. Before you ask, I don’t know what that means for Kiran. All I can tell you is Lena is afraid for him. As am I.”

  He really did look worried for Kiran. That unsettled me all the more, given that I’d thought Teo too tangled up in blaming Kiran to be capable of concern for him.

  “So why tell me and not Kiran? Sounds like he’s the one who needs to hear this.”

  “He does,” Teo said. “And if he hears it from you, perhaps he will listen.”

  He had an inflated opinion of my influence. Kiran sure hadn’t been listening to my concerns over what might await us at the temple. But I sighed and said, “I’ll talk to him.”

  Teo retreated to Gavila’s body. Gods all damn it, he was still going to sing for her. I reined in my temper and turned to check on Melly. She’d caught up at last, herded by a stern, weary Cara.

  I reached for Cara’s pack. “Here, let me take that.”

  “Dev.” The uncharacteristic heaviness of Cara’s tone made my heart sink. Now what?

  “We have to stop and rest,” she said, tipping her head at Melly.

  Melly aimed a death glare at Cara. “I keep telling you, I’m fine,” she snapped. “I can keep going.” She was drooping as she stood.

  Shit. Cara was right, much as I hated to stop before darkness forced us into it. Gods only knew what ambush Ruslan was cooking up while we plodded along this canyon.

  “Glad to hear your legs haven’t yet turned to jelly,” I said to Melly. “Mine could use a rest, though. How about we keep walking and look for a ledge or boulder high enough to be clear of the mud? Then we can lie down and rest properly.” An hour’s sleep might be enough to let us cover more ground before nightfall.

  Melly gave a grudging nod. “It’d be good to sit down somewhere without mud. Or dead people.”

  Oh, gods. She shouldn’t have to endure this. I shot Cara a look of helpless regret.

  I could tell what she was thinking: you should have made her leave with Janek. Because she was a far better person than I was, she didn’t say that outright. She merely handed me her pack, slid a supportive arm under Melly’s, and said, “A little longer, then.”

  Trudging along, I couldn’t take my eyes from Cara. She was coated in muck, her face drawn in exhaustion, yet her spirit remained as indomitable as ever. My heart seized in a pang so fierce it near dropped me in my tracks.

  “No better partner,” I said to her, in echo of what she’d told me after we’d saved each other’s lives in the Cirque of the Knives.

  She rewarded me with a smile that made my leaden legs feel feather-light. “I hope we’ll be partners a long time.”

  In all the years I’d known Cara, she’d never made formal promises of partnership to anyone. She’d kept bedplay carefully casual and never taken the same lover for long. Maybe that was thanks to the fear of loss that had kept her from bedding outriders. The same fear she’d told me she meant to move past; just like I was ready to let go of the fear Jylla had left in me.

  My heartbeat suddenly loud in my ears, I said to Cara, “If we make it through this, would you like to form a real partnership? Contracted, I mean?”

  Cara’s eyes widened. I was already kicking myself. Why had I let that fall out of my mouth? She loved me, I didn’t doubt that, but she’d admitted taking that risk had been hard for her. The permanence of a contract might not be something she’d ever want. If by asking I fucked up the unwritten partnership we did have, I would cut out my idiot tongue.

  Melly shoved in front of Cara. “Dev, stop! You’re doing it wrong.” The death glare was back, aimed straight at me.

  “He’s not doing anything wrong,” said Cara.

  Sudden hope dizzied me, but Melly’s scowl grew blacker yet. “Yes, he is. I’ve read the tales. I know how it’s supposed to be.” She pointed a finger at me, stern as a ganglord disciplining one of her crew. “You don’t ask someone to join a partnership in the middle of some awful muddy canyon. If you want Cara as a contracted partner, you’ve got to take her somewhere she likes—on top of her favorite peak, maybe—and offer her a gift to show that your promises count, and she has to give you one to show hers do too, and how can you do any of that here? You’re ruining everything.”

  The last was said with such an air of wrathful doom you’d think I’d asked Cara to slaughter babies with me, not merely consider an official partnership. I eyed Melly, torn between amusement and irritation. Had I ever been this touchy with Sethan?

  Cara had the look of someone struggling not to laugh, but when she spoke, her voice was grave. “Melly, life’s not like tales. Partnership’s about trust and love, not bribes. The only part the tales get right is that contracts should never be agreed to in haste. The best gift to offer a potential partner is the time and
space to consider terms.”

  She turned to me. “So you’d best stay alive, understand? When Ruslan’s done for, we can take the time to hash out terms properly. Assuming you still want a partnership after you hear mine.”

  There was no laughter in her eyes now. Was it just that she was scared we wouldn’t survive this? Or did she seriously think I’d balk at whatever terms she laid out?

  I couldn’t imagine balking. My blood sang through my veins. I hitched the pack higher on my back and grinned at her like a moon-brained fool.

  “Well, no need to go against the tales. You always said you’d like to climb Stormfang Spire. Maybe we could hash out terms up there. I know you need a new set of ice tools…” I glanced at Melly. “Unless the tales say that’s not enough of a bribe?”

  “Now you’re making fun of me,” Melly growled. “I—gaaah, I hate this mud!” Her right foot had sunk in almost to the knee. She yanked at her leg, her breath coming in gasps perilously close to sobs.

  “You’re not the only one,” Cara muttered. She locked her arms under Melly’s and heaved. Melly popped free. Her boot didn’t.

  Cara spat out a stream of curses so inventive that Melly twisted to goggle at her. I smothered a crazed chuckle before somebody punched me. Losing the boot wasn’t funny. The mud had already oozed back together to hide the hole. Digging would be a slimy, frustrating, time-consuming chore.

  I slung my pack off. “If you hold this, I’ll find the boot.”

  Teo had been hanging back—perhaps because he’d realized the gist of our prior conversation—but now he hustled up. “Wait. I’ll dig.” He squatted and plunged his arms into the mud.