Unbroken Chain (single books)

by Jaleigh Johnson

  “I’m trying,” Ashok said. The nightmare still wouldn’t move. With his head down, the beast stamped the ground with his fetlocks burning. The few strands of green grass around his feet curled up into black husks.

  The rustling sound came again, that time from behind them. Vedoran sliced the grass with his blade. Ashok twisted to look, but there was nothing there. Vedoran took two steps forward, then two more and sliced again.

  “Vedoran,” Ashok said, “Don’t stray too far-”

  Then it came. A dark shape burst from the grass to Vedoran’s right and completely enveloped the shadar-kai. Vedoran fell into the high grass and disappeared from view. A breath later, the grass crumpled in a line moving away from them, as if something were eating a path through it.

  “Form a line behind me!” Ashok called out. He jerked the nightmare around by the reins and showed the beast his target. With an enemy in sight, the nightmare charged, burning up the ground with Skagi and the others running behind them.

  The nightmare got close enough for Ashok to see Vedoran being dragged through the grass by a small humanoid figure. Green-skinned, with ragged strands of black hair plastered to her back, the hag blended with the undergrowth and moved with preternatural speed. She dragged Vedoran by his left lower leg, her talons encasing his boot and twisting until Vedoran cried out.

  When she heard the nightmare’s hoofbeats approaching, the hag spun and hissed up at Ashok, exposing her black teeth. Her eyes were a deep, burnt orange and full of hate.

  Ashok released the nightmare and fell upon the hag with his chain outstretched.

  The hag dropped Vedoran and reached up, grabbing Ashok’s spiked weapon even as her body absorbed the impact of his. They rolled into the underbrush, Negala hissing, biting, and spitting black ichor in his face.

  Ashok pushed back, and his chain dug into the hag’s flesh. He wrapped it around her body once and tightened his grip. Her skin was like stone, but she still felt the pain. She shrieked in a voice that rang shrilly in Ashok’s ears. The cry cut off abruptly, and Ashok felt a blaze of heat against his back.

  He saw the hag’s eyes widen. Quickly, Ashok rolled to the side as the nightmare reared up, his flaming hooves poised to come down and cave in the hag’s skull.

  The trees and the grass warped around them and turned white. Ashok heard briefly the howl of the Shadowfell wind and saw the open plain spread before him in all its colorless magnitude. Then the scene disappeared, the bog heat swelled around him, and the hag was no longer wrapped in his chain.

  The spikes dripped blood, but Negala had disappeared. Ashok looked around frantically. She couldn’t have escaped behind him; the others were closing the gap. In front of him Vedoran had his blade out, but he looked disoriented. He stood up and wavered on his feet.

  “Did you see that?” Vedoran said.

  Ashok nodded. “The illusion broke for a moment, when I cut her, and the nightmare had her cornered,” he said.

  “Was it a fatal wound?” Vedoran asked.

  “I don’t think so,” Ashok said. “But it and the nightmare were enough to make her run.”

  “We need to get out of this grass,” Vedoran said. The nightmare paced back and forth between them, snorting. The beast nudged Ashok’s shoulder as if in accusation.

  “Sorry,” Ashok said, and reached up absently to touch the beast’s forehead. “Next time, we’ll have her.”

  He noticed Vedoran watching him. “Are you all right?” Ashok asked.

  “Fine,” Vedoran said. “My thanks.”

  Before Ashok could reply, the others ran up. Skagi looked furious.

  “If you killed the godsdamned thing without us, I’ll take your head right now,” he said.

  “She got away,” Vedoran said. “Ashok and his beast nearly had her.”

  “We should keep moving,” Ashok said. “Take advantage of the time while she nurses her wounds.”

  “Agreed,” Vedoran said. “Same formation as before.”

  They fell into line, and Ashok mounted the nightmare. As they pressed on, the tall grass thinned, and the air gradually turned colder. Ashok’s breath fogged, and he found himself holding his hands closer to the nightmare’s warm body.

  “She’s trying to freeze us out now,” Skagi said. “Ugly bitch,” he added, pitching his voice louder.

  “I don’t think it’s for us,” Ashok said. “I think it’s the nightmare she’s attacking.” He noticed the beast’s stiff-legged movements. The cold dimmed the nightmare’s fire and made his red eyes dull. The beast snorted and pranced, forcing the blood down his legs for warmth.

  “The nightmare almost crushed her,” Vedoran said. “Makes sense she’d want to return the favor.”

  “Sounds like she’s not threatened by us at all,” Skagi said, laughing. “She only fears the pony.”

  Ashok and Vedoran exchanged a glance. “I don’t know whether to be comforted by that or not,” Vedoran remarked.

  “They are similar creatures,” Ashok said. “They manipulate the mind.”

  Snow began to fall. The swampy pools iced over, and the sounds of the animals were gone. There was no pretense that it was a bog anymore. Soon they were all covered in a thick coating of freezing wet snow.

  “I complained about the dust, but this is intolerable,” Cree said, shaking out his wet hair.

  The nightmare slowed his steps until he was barely keeping pace with the group. Breath wheezed in and out of the beast’s chest.

  Ashok leaned forward to whisper in his ear.

  “You’re not going to be felled by this,” he scoffed. “By a small, ugly creature that howls and shrieks. You are fire. You will burn a path through this false wilderness and take us out the other side.” He heard the echo of Uwan’s words in his own. “Her flesh awaits you. Don’t disappoint me now.”

  The nightmare snorted-a sound of amusement, Ashok imagined. The beast didn’t need his encouragement.

  The wind blew cold into Ashok’s face, but suddenly his legs were burning, his skin slick with sweat. He looked down and saw the snow melting, running in rivers off the Nightmare’s flanks.

  Ashok didn’t need further warning. He slid off the nightmare and backed the others a safe distance away.

  “What’s he doing?” Skagi asked.

  “Sending a message,” Ashok said, and before he’d finished speaking, the nightmare burst into flames.

  The beast’s mane, fetlocks, and tail were all ablaze, but the flames didn’t stop there. They spread to consume the rest of the nightmare’s body until the beast had transformed into a walking fireball. At his feet the snow melted and turned back to swampy water. The nightmare reared up and snorted gouts of flame into the frozen air.

  “Godsdamn, will you look at that?” Chanoch said. “Did you know he could do that?”

  Ashok shook his head. “I’ve never seen anything like it before.”

  “Hard to be cold with that striding beside you,” Skagi said.

  Negala must have thought so as well, for the snow stopped falling, and abruptly the white scene faded, the swamp disappeared, and the group found themselves standing on an open expanse of the Shadowfell. The wind plucked at their clothing and hair, carrying away the smells of rot.

  Skagi looked around. “That’s it, then?” he said, sounding disappointed. “She’s giving up?”

  “Don’t question it,” Vedoran said. “Let’s move along while the beast is still aflame.”

  Ashok walked beside the nightmare. In the wake of the beast’s footsteps, fire surged ten feet or more into the air. Heat from the flames beat against his face, but Ashok didn’t care. He was fascinated by the orange and deep blue glows that played in waves across the nightmare’s flesh.

  “Your fire burns as your soul burns,” Ashok said. “But right now, in this place, you are our light.”

  What would Tempus think of such a guide? Ashok wondered.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  "Are you sure that’s the place?” Cree asked Vedoran.<
br />
  A narrow valley of jagged rock lay below them. At the bottom a silt stream cut a path to the east.

  “It has to be,” Vedoran said. “Uwan claimed we would find our destination on the other side of the bog. This valley is the only landmark for miles.”

  “Look,” Ashok said, pointing at a spot several feet away from where they stood. “The rocks look like stairs. I think they’ve been shaped, and not by the weather.”

  They went to the spot, and Vedoran bent to examine the rock. “You’re right,” he said. “There’s a path going down to the bottom.” He glanced up at Ashok. “You have good eyes.”

  Ashok said nothing. Tension suffused his body, no matter how hard he tried to force himself to relax. But Vedoran’s compliment seemed genuine. He didn’t sound suspicious.

  Vedoran took Chanoch, and the two of them went down the steps to scout the bottom of the valley while Ashok, Skagi, and Cree stayed with the nightmare and kept watch.

  Ashok tried to look at the valley with fresh eyes, but he had been over every stone of the place since he was a child. He knew what Vedoran and Chanoch would find at the bottom, and as he marked their progress down the stone steps, he knew the instant they would see the entrance to his enclave.

  He didn’t know how much longer he would be able to hide his ignorance.

  When the pair returned, Vedoran said, “We found it. On the opposite bank of the stream there’s a cave entrance. It’s hidden unless you climb down the valley.”

  They camped for a short rest, their last chance to sleep and prepare themselves before the second part of their mission commenced. Ashok stood apart from the others, waiting to begin his watch. His thoughts were eaten up with how to proceed.

  By showing Vedoran the path to the caves, Ashok had betrayed his enclave. He would have their blood on his hands, unless he could convince Vedoran and the others to barter for the missing party members.

  He dismissed the possibility almost as soon as it occurred to him. Even if by some grace of Tempus the captives were still alive, Vedoran would never bargain for his people’s release. With so much to prove to Uwan, he would accept nothing less than an all-out annihilation of the captors. Similarly, Ashok’s father would never agree to release his prisoners, nor would he allow a hostile force to know the location of his enclave.

  No matter what Ashok did, in the end there were only two options: betray Ikemmu, or betray his father and the rest of his enclave.

  “Ashok,” called a voice.

  Ashok turned. “Yes, Chanoch?”

  The young one grinned and said, “Good hunting, eh?”

  Ashok nodded stiffly. “Good hunting.”

  “Wake us before you become weary,” Vedoran said. He lay down on the hard ground and propped his head on one arm. They were all asleep within breaths. As eager as they were for the challenge ahead, they wanted to be as fresh and alert as possible when the time came.

  Ashok watched them all at rest, their faces slack. Sleep took the stress and wildness from their expressions, so that Ashok barely recognized them as the warriors he knew.

  A memory surfaced, of the few journeys Ashok had undertaken to the Shadowfell with his father and brothers. There were no watches, no long marches across the open plain. They traveled only so far and did only so much as they could do without sleep. Sleep on the unguarded plain was as good as a death sentence, if you failed to hear the dagger coming for you in the dark.

  Ashok stared down at the cave entrance. There was no movement, though he knew there were guards just inside the cave mouth. He would have to find a way to alert Vedoran to their presence, if his other companions didn’t detect them.

  Restless, he stood and paced the camp. He went to the nightmare, tied to a cluster of kindling trees a few feet away. The beast’s hair appeared flat black now, with only a feathering of blue at the roots of his mane and tail. The heat had dulled enough that Ashok felt confident running his hand up and down the beast’s neck.

  They’re all good, Ashok thought, Vedoran and the rest-warriors to equal any in the enclave. But his enclave had numbers in the caves. They knew where there was enough space to swing a sword, and where the passages narrowed so two shadar-kai couldn’t walk abreast. There was a reason they’d survived in the valley so long.

  The nightmare’s ears twitched. He whickered and nudged Ashok with his body when he ceased the gentle rubbing.

  “You’ve done your part,” Ashok said, “and have my thanks. It’s time for me to return the favor.”

  He untangled the reins from the needle branches. The nightmare lowered his head, and Ashok removed the bridle and bit. The metal was hot in his hands.

  “Go,” he said, slapping the beast on the rump. The nightmare whinnied in indignation and took off at a gallop across the plain. When the beast was almost out of sight, Ashok saw the flames burst from his mane. Streaks of fire cut the ground in the wake of his passage. Ashok watched until the flames disappeared.

  He turned back to the camp. The others slept on, their dreams unfettered by the nightmare’s influence.

  Some time later, Ashok woke Skagi and took his place. The ground was still warm from the heat of his body. Ashok closed his eyes, but he didn’t sleep.

  He planned.

  Natan woke in a sweat in his small chamber. His skin was hot as if flames had grazed him while he slept. Had he been dreaming, or was there vital portent he’d missed?

  Cursing himself, Natan got up but went almost immediately to his knees by a small wooden altar, bearing only a candle and a dagger with a ruby set in the hilt. The weapon had been a gift, long before, from Ilvani. He touched the hilt and called for Tempus.

  “Forgive me,” he said aloud. “I was weary and slept. I shall not be weak again. Show me your will, I pray you.”

  Uwan had been the one to send him to his rest. Natan didn’t fault his leader for it; Uwan only meant to help. He could see that Natan had been fasting and holding vigil. He’d done so almost since the day Ilvani had disappeared, and the exhaustion was starting to take its toll on his body.

  What Uwan did not understand was that Natan cared nothing for his own health. Wherever Ilvani was Natan sensed she suffered far worse. He would not be well until she came home.

  “Tempus,” he prayed, and repeated his wish for the god to speak, to give him some sign that Ashok and the others walked the right path. Was the fire an ill omen or a promise of rebirth? “Tell me that this has all not been in vain.”

  “Is it wise, brother, to chatter so much at your god’s mind that he forsakes all others for your entreaties? Isn’t it selfish?”

  Natan gasped and clutched his chest. He didn’t dare look behind him for fear he might break at last, but the voice was so familiar and beloved he couldn’t dismiss it as a phantom.

  He shifted on his knees and saw her, sitting cross-legged in the corner of his chamber. It was such a familiar pose when she came to see him that Natan almost wept. She looked exactly as she had when she’d left, her pale skin and garnet hair-the red he’d hated on himself but that suited her so well.

  “Ilvani,” he said.

  “You look terrible, brother,” Ilvani said. She pretended to sniff the air. “Have you been bathing?”

  He chuckled. “This is what I’m reduced to when you’re not around to look after me,” he said. He wanted to go to her, but he was terrified that if he moved she would vanish.

  It wasn’t truly Ilvani. Natan knew that, though he ached to admit it. It was prophecy, Tempus’s visions given a voice and a face that wouldn’t frighten or overwhelm a mortal. But Natan felt overwhelmed, and full of joy, hope. Surely Tempus would not be so cruel as to send him a vision of his sister if she were gone?

  “You’re watching the wrong things, brother,” Ilvani said seriously. “You’re too much on your knees and not enough in Ikemmu. You’re missing it.”

  “I can’t just sit by and not look for you,” Natan said. “How can Tempus ask that of me?”

  “You see the
fire,” Ilvani said, “but you have no idea how it shapes them. It may forge or destroy, save them or damn them. Why do you force them to choose one or the other?”

  She sounded like the Ilvani that Natan remembered, the beloved sister with her mind in two worlds, though where or what the other was, no one knew. At times Natan thought it was a safe harbor for her mind, but at others it seemed a prison she’d created for herself.

  He wondered if he should have told Ashok about his and Ilvani’s unique heritage. It did not matter. The others would tell him, if they felt he needed to know.

  “Ilvani, can you tell me where you are?” Natan asked. “There are shadar-kai warriors seeking you. Can you feel their presence?”

  “Yes,” she said. She stood up and walked past him.

  “Wait!” Natan called as he jumped to his feet and went after her. She passed through the wall, a phantom. Natan fumbled with the door latch and ran out to the stairs.

  She was already walking up the spiral, her long black cloak with its overlay of tiny chains clinking behind her. Natan followed her.

  “Everything is turning,” Ilvani said.

  “What do you mean?” Natan said. He felt dizzy looking up at her while they turned on the stair. “What’s turning?”

  “Don’t you feel it, brother?” Ilvani said, scoffing and fluttering her hands impatiently. “You should be feeling them, every one. They will change everything, and you won’t stop to see it until it’s too late. Then the fire will come.”

  “Ilvani!” Natan cried. “Tempus, what are you trying to tell me!”

  Ilvani stopped so fast that Natan passed through her. He collapsed on the stairs, breathless, and looked up at her. The light shone through her flesh, and she was a specter with his sister’s voice.

  “He will bear the burden of Ikemmu,” she said, and her voice reverberated off the walls, deep and angry. “The faithless will guide the faithful, but by then it may already be too late. You must look to your people.”

  She tipped her head back and spread her arms. White wings burst from her spine and spread out behind her. She brought them down, and in a rush of air that Natan felt on his face, she took flight.