The SoulNecklace Stories

by R. L. Stedman

  The Emperor lifted the black knife high, as if acknowledging the crowd. Silently, desperately, I called for the other Guardians – where were they? Why could they not come, now I had most need of them? Inside my head, the Kamaye laughed.

  Then, quite suddenly, Will stood beside me. Will! I called as loud as I could, but my mouth would not move; I could not make as much as a croak. He held the jade knife aloft and its blade gleamed in the morning half-light. I tried to fight the bindings, but they held me fast.

  As the crowd roared the gong sounded, so loud it drove away thought. The Kamaye snarled; the guards gestured to one another. They surged forward, tried to grab Will, but he was fast, so fast and he slipped beneath their hands. The Kamaye shouted, and sprang at him, but even they seemed slow in comparison. How had he learned to move like that? He leapt across the platform, so fast he seemed to blur, and stood beside the Emperor. The old man shouted but his voice was lost in the chaos.

  The Emperor turned to run, to flee, but Will grabbed him. With one arm about his throat, he pulled the old man back. He kicked out, tried to struggle. The Kamaye hissed.

  “Will!” I shouted.

  Will looked at me, and smiled. Then, with one smooth movement he drew the jade knife along the Emperor’s throat. The old man tottered, hand to the red wound that grew and grew. His hands clutched at his neck, as though trying to pin the gaping hole closed, but the blood welled through his fingers. It dripped between the cracks in the wooden floor, and I watched as it fell, drop by drop, onto the grass beneath, just as the sun lifted above the mountains, and bathed the world in its light.

  The Kamaye seemed paralyzed; as though they could not believe what they had seen.

  “Dana!” Will shouted.

  He cut through my bonds, and I sat up. There was no time to take stock of my surroundings, for all at once the Guardians were with me. Will grabbed my shoulders, shook me hard. “Dana! Dana! Can you hear me?”

  Did you miss us? Phileas whispered.

  The Kamaye, wings outspread, hurtled across the stage. Claws reached for me, but Will had the knife, and as he stabbed with it they drew back. But they regrouped, and with their swords they came for him. He dodged, slipping in the sticky blood. They laughed as he fell. One raised a sword high. They were going to kill him!

  “No!” I screamed and leapt from the altar.

  We have you, Wynne said.

  The creatures drew back, their faces full of dreadful hunger. “You are ours,” they whispered.

  But the sun was bright on my back, and I was not afraid. I laughed at them. “Come and get me then.”

  They looked at each other, as if in doubt.

  Then, just as it had been in the canyon, there was no longer I; there was only We, and the earth could not hold us, nor could the sky. Together, we flew from the wooden platform, hurtling toward the clouds.

  The black shadows of the Kamaye followed, and they might have reached us (for I was still only half-awake), but N’tombe threw a net of light at them, and caught their wingtips in its golden cords. She tugged hard, and they fell, but drawing their swords, they cut the net. She staggered as though wounded, and far below, I saw TeSin catch her and lower her gently to the ground. And then Will was with her and he threw what seemed to be spears of light at the darkness. (Will? I thought confusedly. How can he do that?) So the Kamaye returned to the sky, and followed me.

  To fly through the sky, aware only of the stroke of the wind and the song of the stars, ah, that is not a feeling I will lightly forget. Wings of gold lifted me high, and for a moment I ignored even the Kamaye beneath me and gloried in the moment.

  But the Guardians called. All were with me now – not just the five about my wrist but all, even Rosa, and they drew me onwards, leading me toward the sun. On and on I flew, and when I tired they fed me strength. Grimly the Kamaye followed. We flew above the land, and then as the land ended, we flew above the sea, and beneath us were the small dots of islands and rings of coral, until finally we reached land again. Beneath us lay dark green forest and a snow-topped mountain, with a plume of steam issuing from its top. Here I folded my wings and fell, fell, fell.

  I landed inside the mountain.

  The Kamaye followed. Like me, they had joined together, becoming a creature of darkness, just as I had become a thing of light. We fought together in that mountain: light and dark, dark and light. Except the light may banish darkness, but the dark can never remove the light.

  The exact form I – and the Guardians within me – took, I do not know. I suspect we were something large, with teeth and certainly we had wings (for how else would we have flown). I do remember that I felt such intensity of hate toward this creature of the Kamaye that if I could, I would have bitten off its head, yes and eaten it too with relish. Such was my loathing.

  This was an old, old hatred. Older than this mountain, older than my homeland; quite possibly, our rivalry had lasted longer than the world. Looking back through the haze, I have a sense that we – the Kamaye and I – were ancient enemies; our fight was preordained, the resumption of a battle long interrupted.

  The inside of the mountain was hot, as hot as a furnace, and the energy within it was vast.

  It was a vicious, desperate fight. I struggled, biting, clawing. Hunks of flesh came free, and thick black blood fell, oozing. My opponent racked claws across my chest, and oh, how they burned. My feet slithered on the blood-spattered rock. I felt like a lizard, a creature of slime. I thought I was going to die.

  Stop it! Rosa’s voice sounded inside my head. Dana! Remember who you are.

  The truth of the world? Rinpoche’s voice sounded amused. There is no truth.

  The ferryman reached a hand into firelit water, and splashed it over his head. He smiled. “Princess,” his voice was deep and full of calm certainty. “Do not give up.”

  And then I was inside another mountain, the castle mount at my kingdom’s heart, and I heard again the deep breathing, and the regular pulse and the gentle wash of the waves in the pool. Inside the pool something called to me, gently, and I smiled. Of course.

  “We have you now!” The Kamaye’s teeth bit down, but they closed on empty air, for I was already gone.

  I felt their confusion and their anger.

  “Come back!” They threw the thought at me. “Come back!”

  Too late, I thought, and the world shifted sideways.

  The heat within the mountain grew. The furnace blazed bright as the sun. Tendrils, great fingers of fire leaped. Then, just as the heat threatened to overwhelm, the mountain exploded. Sparks shot into the sky, turning into stars. I followed, flying out to the stars. I became the stars, for I was the fire also. Floating into the sky, I splintered into light.

  And the Kamaye? The blast caught them. They screamed, but only briefly. Then the fire consumed them, tearing them apart. Screaming, they withered and died. The wind blew, and scattered them about the land as ash. And there was only peace.

  Slowly, the mountain calmed. The fire cooled as the lava that had poured from its side hardened into black rock. I circled, gliding on the thermals, until I tired. A clearing in the forest beckoned; tucking in my wings, I landed on green grass. The westering sun cast long shadows; soon, the evening would be on us. I took a deep drink from a spring, and breathed in the fresh air. Then, setting my head on the ground, I slept.

  And as I slept, I dreamed.

  “We are with you still,” whispered Adianna.

  “When you need us,” Rob muttered.

  “If you need us,” Suzanna added.

  Wynne patted my arm and I caught the faint scent of cherry blossom.

  But from Phileas came this song:

  “Far below, beneath the ground

  She dreams, alone in sorrow.

  She will wake, her call will sound

  And you will ache to follow.”

  “Child,” he whispered. “Beware.”

  The dream shifted.

  Rosa walked in light. “Hello,” she
said, smiling.

  We stood in a long white hallway, the walls obscured by silver-gray fog. “Where am I?”

  She seemed amused by the question. “Does it matter? We won.”

  Dust danced in the passage, whirling like stars. Perhaps I had died, and this hallway was the afterlife. If so, this place was not spoken of by the priests.

  “Am I dead?”

  She laughed. “Of course not.” She gestured to a low bench of dazzling white marble. “Please, sit.”

  My aunt seemed different. As always in the dreamscape she seemed both older and younger than real life; but it wasn’t that which dragged at the mind. No. Something else. She no longer wore the ruby.

  “You saw … Ah, how to describe it? My dear, you just witnessed – in fact, you participated in – the final act of a very, very long play.”

  I had no idea what she was talking about, but she clapped her hands on her thighs as though I had, and stood up. “Excellent! Are you ready?”

  “Ready? What for?”

  She held out her hand. “We need you, Dana.”

  I looked at her hand and did not move. “You need me? Why?”

  “There are things we need to do.” She sounded impatient. “I need you to come home. So, take my hand dear, and I’ll guide you.”

  “But what about Will?”

  She looked at me blankly. “Will? The baker’s son? What about him?”

  “He saved me.”

  She laughed. “You saved yourself.”

  “He killed the Emperor. I saw him.” And he had cut my bonds, he set me free; without him I would have died. “I can’t just leave him.”

  She shrugged. “He’s resourceful. He’ll survive.”

  This was wrong! I stood up, stepped away from my aunt, into the silver fog. “What about N’Tombe?” I asked. “I suppose you expect me to leave her, too?”

  “Why not?” she said lightly, as though my tutor had not traveled halfway around a world for her, as though she had not given up her home and family to aid my family.

  “Goodbye, Rosa.” I turned and ran as fast as I could, away from this woman who appeared to be my aunt. This thing, this creature, was not Rosa.

  “Dana! Wait!”

  About me, light fractured and split, and whirled like sharp-edged crystal. I stood inside a globe made of glass.

  “Is it time?” I asked.

  Rosa stood beside me, the ruby at her chest. The stone weighed her down, but it provided strength, and who knew where such strength might lead?

  “Nearly,” she said. She considered me. “Are you ready?”

  “To come home?” I shook my head. “Not yet.”

  She smiled. “I thought you’d say that.”

  “I have a job to do,” I said.

  “As do I.”

  And she was gone, and I woke. I was alone. Far to the east the sun was rising, golden above the mountains, and the sky was turning pink. The breeze smelt of smoke and new spring grass.

  Interlude

  Will sat, back propped against the stone altar. Some of the torches still smoked. Now and again the breeze blew the smoke toward him, and the smell of pitch made him cough.

  He stroked the knife’s grip. So smooth! Where had it been made? It fitted into his hand so neatly, as though made for him. The blade felt just right: its weight exact, the balance precisely as he liked it. And sharp, so sharp! He’d barely needed any force at all to slit the old man’s throat.

  He glanced at the residue of blood. Slaves had washed the dais, but hints of clotted gore still remained, baked in place by the hot sun.

  “Mai-Long. How is she?” he asked N’Tombe. He wished the girl hadn’t put herself in his way.

  The enchantress settled herself beside him. “I do not know. The surgeons are still with her.”

  “I didn’t want to hurt her,” Will said. “You know that.”

  Mai-Long had been taken away on a stretcher. “She may yet live,” N’tombe said.

  “And TeSin?”

  Realizing that TeSin was the highest-ranked officer at the altar, the guards had obeyed TeSin without question. Even – and this had been amazing to see – to the point of arresting the magic workers. TeSin, it appeared, did not like the magicians. The magicians, shocked by the disappearance of the Kamaye and the Emperor’s death, had made little protest at being thrust into prison. Seemed they almost appreciated the thick stone walls of the citadel. Perhaps they were right to feel like that. Who knew what might happen next?

  “Where he always wanted to be. In charge.”

  “I don’t think that was what he wanted,” Will said.

  “Don’t you?”

  “No.” But how could he be sure? One could never truly know another’s desires. One could only know one’s own. He glanced at the knife in his hand. It was beautiful, yes, but it was only stone. He shifted restlessly. Will knew what he wanted: Dana. To be with her, and know she was safe, and to see her smile. Yet, despite everything he’d done, every pain, the entire journey, he had failed. She had gone, again, and he could not follow.

  “What now?” Will said.

  N’Tombe, watching the sky, said nothing. Will nudged her. “Lady?”

  “Will Baker,” she said, finally, “right now, I am enjoying being alive. Look, see the eagle there?” She pointed at a black speck, soaring against the clouds. “What do you think it sees, when it looks at us?”

  “Food,” he said sourly.

  “Enjoy the present, Will. It is truly a gift.”

  “You heard that somewhere,” Will said accusingly.

  She shrugged and returned her attention to the eagle. “That does not make it less true.”

  Will put his head against the rock altar. It was warm from the sun. Perhaps N’tombe was right. Dana was still alive, and the Emperor was dead, and the Kamaye had gone. He hadn’t completely failed. The knife gleamed, pale green, in the sunlight. He felt sleepy and curiously at peace.

  He woke, sometime later.

  Dana was curled beside him. He blinked at her sleeping face. “Dana?” Was that really her?

  Her eyelids flickered. She was dreaming. He propped himself on an elbow, just watching her. Tendrils of hair fell across her face. They stirred as she breathed. Will brushed them away, and her eyes opened.

  “Hello,” he whispered.

  They were in a small room. Plain, empty. Walls of unpainted stone. A thick wooden door with a metal latch; a jug; a mattress; a woolen blanket that smelt of livestock. No light, save a crack under the door. And Dana, and him.

  Her clear skin was almost translucent, ghost-like in the dim light, but when she smiled her gray-green eyes sparkled.

  “I was dreaming,” she whispered.

  “What about?”

  “I was flying.” She pushed her hair away from her forehead. Her arms were thin, almost bird-like. “I saw a mountain …” She glanced at him. “Where are we?”

  “I don’t know,” he said honestly.

  Dana peered under the blanket. Her foot touched his knee. “Will?”

  “Uh-huh?” He could look at her for hours.

  “Where are your clothes?”

  “What?” He looked under the blanket. Her legs were white, sylph-like. He ran his hand up her thigh. Smooth.

  She shivered, wrapped her legs about his. “Perhaps we’re in a dream.” She kissed him, softly. Her breath was soft and sweet; her mouth tasted of smoke.

  Tentatively, Will kissed her back. Her lips opened and she rolled toward him, put her arms about him. He swallowed. She, too, was naked.

  “You’re different,” he said.

  “You too.”

  “Does it matter?”

  She shook her head. “Not really.”

  “How am I different?”

  She pulled her hand back. “I don’t know. Just – something in your face, maybe.”

  Her fingers interlaced his. They lay together, silent, looking up at nothing. Will could barely speak, for the burning in his mind, his body.
He was conscious of everything; the room, the dim light under the door, the hard mattress beneath his body. But mostly, he was aware of Dana, of her breathing, and the warmth of her skin.

  “Where have you been?” he whispered.

  “Does it matter?” She propped herself on an elbow, looked down at him. Her hair tickled his chest. “I’m here now.”

  She moved closer and he closed his eyes. Carefully, gently, she kissed his lips. Will felt the world spinning, felt himself falling, down, down, like there was no ground beneath him. Like he was flying; like they were flying together. He ran his hand up her arm, amazed at the frailty of the bones beneath her skin.

  She grabbed his hands, pushed them to the mattress. Not that frail, then. Bending her head, she kissed his throat. Moved lower.

  He sighed.

  And the world turned.

  * * *

  Much later, they lay together, Will’s arm about Dana’s shoulders, her head on his chest. “I can hear your heart,” she said lazily.

  “Good to know I’m still alive.”

  She tipped her head. “You happy?”

  He kissed her, slowly at first, then harder. When they stopped, he felt breathless.

  “I guess so,” he said.

  She laughed.

  Sometimes, between the loving, they talked.

  Dana told of being held in captivity: the drugs, the strange dreams, the sense of seeing the world at a distance. Will recounted his journey: the long road, the dust, the strange food. This made her laugh.

  “What’s so funny?” he asked.

  “You,” she said. “You always talk about food.”

  “Do I? Really?”

  “I like it,” she said. “It’s nice.”

  She didn’t ask about Jed, but Will told her anyway, and she nodded. “I thought it was something like that.”