The Armor of Light

by Karen E. Hoover

  The men saw her coming, and before she arrived, all three of them stood outside. The boy, Jayden, perched on the roof, his usual scowl in place.

  She pulled back on the reins so hard, the horses almost skidded on their backsides to obey her command. Under most circumstances, she would never treat an animal that way, but she was too distraught to care. As soon as she saw T’Kato, her eyes teared up. She wanted to throw herself into his arms for comfort, but she knew she wouldn’t receive it from him. T’Kato was all business where the flute and magic were concerned.

  She blinked furiously for a moment as the men approached and at least pushed the tears back, though she couldn’t ease the emptiness of her heart and soul.

  “What happened?” T’Kato demanded. “Where is Brant?”

  “Dead,” she answered, not sure if she could expound.

  The ride back had given her time to think, and she knew why the shadow weavers, or the Ne’Goi, as Brant had called them, had come.

  They heard the flute. Just like C’Tan, they had heard the flute and come to claim it.

  The shock on T’Kato’s face forced her to explain, though there wasn’t time for details. “Brant died at the hand of Jihong. I killed Jihong without meaning to and Niefusu took his body home. They are gone, but there is something more you need to know,” she said, interrupting him before he could ask questions. “Brant’s spirit was taken into the flute and he is turning into some kind of elemental. After I sealed his body in an ice casket, we were attacked by a shadowy figure. Brant appeared to fight him. I managed to paralyze the man with the stonefish spines Jihong used to kill my love.” She choked on that for a minute, then continued. “Brant said to tell you that the flute recognized our attacker. His last words were ‘the Ne’Goi have returned.’”

  T’Kato paled. Kayla was pretty sure she’d never seen him do that before. Even Hadril and Graylin went white as cotton at those words. They looked at one another, then turned in unison and sprinted for the wagon. They took down the awning that acted as a side cover, stowed the poles, sent Jayden to the inn with a load of items Graylin had repaired, then hitched up the other two horses to the wagon.

  Kayla started to object. “Wait, don’t those horses belong to the stable at the inn?”

  Graylin came around and opened the door in back for her. “They did. We are taking them as payment for the work done. Jayden will tell the innkeep, telling him to collect from those who still owe us money. It will work out, and to tell you the truth, the inn will make out better. We are losing money on this. Now get in the wagon. We need to go.”

  Kayla understood their fear. She still shook from her encounter with the shadow weaver. “But why so fast? Surely we have a few hours before the Ne’Goi come to investigate the absence of the one. He is frozen, paralyzed. How can he send word to others?”

  Graylin seemed exasperated. “We don’t know how it works, and it has been so long since the Ne’Goi have been here, I only know the tales, but from what I understand, their minds are like a hive. What one knows, all know. They will be here shortly. There is no time to waste. Get in.” He gestured tothe boxcar.

  This time Kayla listened. She hitched up her skirt and stepped into the wagon, the door shutting tightly behind her.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  DeMunth continued to strike at the stone wall as if he were cutting down a tree, sparks and rubble flying with each hit. Her first thought was, He’s going to destroy his sword if he doesn’t stop.

  Rather than say anything, she watched for a bit as fist-and-head-sized pieces of stone leaped from the wall with each strike. What he was doing shouldn’t be possible. The walls were granite. They should have shattered his sword with the first blow, but then, he didn’t have just any sword. His weapon was a piece of the Armor of Light, and that was a keystone. When she thought of it that way, it was completely reasonable that he could cut through rock.

  DeMunth stopped his swinging and stretched his back, arching for just a moment, then stiffened and held still. Ember knew he sensed her presence, and now his attack on the wall made sense. He knew she was in there somehow, and he was desperate to find her. How she knew that, she couldn’t say, but she knew.

  The instant he spun and charged her, she stepped back into the stone, suddenly afraid of him and what that sword could do. He pounded on the wall with his fists, clearly able to see and feel her. Ember slid to the right and he followed. She stepped back a few steps, and he took up his sword again, obviously determined to pull her out of the stone, if he didn’t kill her first.

  At first Ember was scared, her heart racing as she watched this man she cared for so much swing at the wall in fury. But after a moment, she found herself suddenly furious. Why couldn’t people just leave her alone? Couldn’t they trust that maybe she knew what she was doing? First her mother, and now DeMunth, thought she needed constant protecting. The anger built until she shoved a hand forward through the stone and pushed. Not physically, but with something inside her, perhaps even that chain that seemed to bind them. She shoved DeMunth away from her with more strength than she thought she had.

  The man sailed across the pathway and collided with the wall on the other side. The air escaped him in a rush, his eyes widening with evident surprise, then narrowed in anger. He rushed toward her again, leaping off the wall as if from a cliff. Ember’s hand caught him in the middle of the pathway once more and shoved him back against the opposing wall, but this time, she held him there. His muscles bulged, the tendons in his neck straining against her hold, but he wasn’t going anywhere, Armor of Light or not.

  Ember stepped from the rock, her hand still outstretched, and walked toward DeMunth, who still struggled. “What are you doing here?” she asked, but he didn’t answer.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked within her mind, and still, she got no response. Frustrated, she touched him, taking his sword arm in her hand, and sent the question a third time, both in her head and with her mouth. “What are you doing here?” she almost shouted.

  At her touch, he relaxed, and his eyes came into focus. “Ember?” he asked in his mind.

  Ember nodded. “Ezeker is going to have your hide for destroying the halls.”

  DeMunth looked at her, his mouth quirked and head tilted, before he started to laugh. “Ezeker’s going to have my hide? He’s been nearly panicked since you disappeared. Only my reassurance that I could feel you somewhere near has kept him from destroying the academy looking for you. Your mother has been constantly harping at him, alternating between fits of fury and tears, and your step-brothers are interrogating everyone, terrorizing the students in their search. And to top that off, you were caught in the act of stealing away our prisoner. Do you have any idea how much trouble you are in?”

  Ember refused to hang her head, though the shame she felt would normally have had her doing so. Instead she nodded, solemn and accepting. DeMunth stopped laughing. Some of the anger was still there, but she could feel through whatever bound them that it was because he feared for her safety, not because he was truly upset.

  She wanted so much to tell him everything that had happened, starting with the spies within their midst, how she’d found the birthplace of the keystones, and that Mahal himself was training her, but she couldn’t find the words. She stood there looking at him, helpless. If she told him a Guardian made her do it, he would think she was absolutely insane.

  “Explain yourself, Ember Shandae,” DeMunth said, crossing his arms over his chest.

  Ember squeezed the back of her neck with frustration. “I can’t.” A realization dawned on her, and she only hoped her idea would work. “But I can show you. Come on,” she said, taking him by the hand and stepping into the wall. He pulled against her, objecting, but she didn’t listen. She threw out her magical hook into the crystal sphere and pulled, taking him with her just as she had the shadow weaver, though much more gently. They flew through the stone at a normal rate, DeMunth choking behind her, probably in fear, though she
wasn’t sure.

  Soon they were through the wall and into the birthplace of the keystones. DeMunth quit trying to speak, though his mouth was agape.

  “This is why I’ve been gone. I’ll explain more later, but while we’re here where it’s safe, I need you to know why I left without telling anyone.” They sat on the edge of the bed that was still in the middle of the room, and Ember told him almost everything—about popping out of her body, the strands she followed, Rahdnee and Brendae and how they worked for C’Tan. For some reason she didn’t tell him about Lily. It didn’t feel necessary.

  When Ember was done, DeMunth was pacing the floor, oblivious to his surroundings. He stopped and faced her. “And all this happened while I was asleep?”

  Ember nodded. “Most of it, yes.”

  “How could Ezeker not realize he had traitors in his midst? And why would he assign them to you? When I met them, even I could feel the darkness oozing from those two, and Ezeker is supposed to be able to feel things like that. Lily has a little of that too, as does one of the other students in your class.”

  That surprised Ember. She hadn’t felt that from any of her other classmates.

  “How could others have not seen this? Those two have been here for nearly twenty years. Surely someone noticed!” DeMunth was nearly out of his mind with fury. Ember stood and went to him, taking his hands in her own.

  “Calm down, would you? We’ll get it figured out. I wanted to tell you earlier, but I was afraid they would hurt you and you wouldn’t be strong enough to handle them, having just awakened from a coma. I kept quiet for you.”

  DeMunth stilled at that. He froze, as if he had instantly turned to stone. Then he raised his arm, cupped her face in his hand, and spoke her name aloud. “Ember, you did that for me?” When she looked at the floor and nodded, he raised her chin so she would meet his eyes and asked one simple question. “Why?”

  She didn’t have an answer. Or, she had one, but she wasn’t ready to express it yet. She tried to tear her eyes away from his, but she was locked in his magnetic gaze and couldn’t look away.

  “Why?” he asked again, his voice nearly a whisper.

  “I . . .” she couldn’t say it. She barely knew him—how could she feel the emotions that rocked her to the soul? How could her heart be chained to a man she’d met only a week ago? That thought made her pause and she realized that he hadn’t chained them together. She had done it—her heart had done it.

  His thumb stroked her eyebrow and he asked one last time. “Why, Ember? Why?”

  She crumbled under his gaze. “Because I love you.” Her knees gave out and she collapsed to the stone floor, her back propped against the bed. Ember hung her head and tears dripped from her chin to her knees as she waited for him to step away from her in disgust. Instead, he sat at her side, put an arm around her, and pulled her to him. Her head safely on his shoulder, she let out the emotion that had been bottled inside her for much too long. The fear, the sorrow, the frustration all poured out with her tears, and DeMunth held her until the storm passed and she could lean quietly against him. This is what love was. Real love, whether from mother to child, friend to friend, or soul mates. Love was about being there for one another, and Ember felt her heart finally acknowledge the fact that she was in love with DeMunth.

  They sat quietly a little longer before curiosity got the best of her, and she asked, “How old are you?”

  DeMunth chuckled and answered in his musical voice, “Twenty-two.”

  Ember sat up and looked at him. “Really? I would have thought you older.”

  The chuckle answered her again. “Well, thanks a lot. Do I really look that old?”

  Ember rolled her eyes. “No, it’s not about looks. It’s your wisdom. Your strength. The small lines by your eyes.”

  “That’s just bad eyesight,” he said.

  Ember laughed now. “No, it’s not. They’re laugh lines. But you have a position of such power. Most members of the mage council are at least forty. Why are you on the council so young?”

  DeMunth was quiet for a long moment before answering. “The council keeps itself as varied as possible so as to have a broad range of experience to draw from. That is how they try to maintain balance. They seek members who are diverse in experience, religion, gender, and age, though the age thing has been overlooked for a long time. The only reason they chose me was because of my experience being a priest of Sha’iim. I am okay with that. They needed my knowledge, and I needed to be accepted and belong to a group. Once the priests threw me out, I was lost. It was only in joining the mage council that I found myself once more.”

  “Well, however it came about, I’m glad you found yourself.” Ember looked down at her lap and very shyly asked, “Now that you have your tongue back, could you sing for me? Sing the words to your prayer song for me at last?”

  DeMunth leaned over and kissed the top of her head. She could feel his smile through her hair before he stood and walked a short distance from her, kneeling and opening himself up to the heavens. He began his song, wordless, as usual, the magestone picking up the magic of it and beginning a soft glow that pulsed with his song.

  Ember didn’t close her eyes, though she probably should have. He was praying, after all, but she couldn’t take her eyes from him and the effect he was having on the magestone. She didn’t know if it was because of the Armor of Light, that it recognized a piece of itself, or if it was responding to the song, but it liked it one way or the other, that much was obvious.

  After several minutes of wordlessness, DeMunth began to sing the words—words that Ember had felt in her heart when he sang all this time, but hadn’t recognized them as being what they were. Interestingly enough, the words didn’t matter. The song was the same, the meaning was the same with or without them. She just listened to the song, to the divine gift given to DeMunth—his voice.

  When he was done, Ember sighed. She had missed hearing him sing. “I think I prefer it wordless, don’t you?” he asked.

  Ember was reluctant to admit it, but she nodded. He looked ponderous for a moment. “When I don’t use the words, I put the meaning into the song itself. It feels more sincere, more genuine when I sing the melody alone. It astounds me.” He came back to her and sat at her side. “I don’t know why, but I am genuinely surprised.”

  A white light grew above their heads and DeMunth jumped, then scrambled to the wall and stood, his sword at the ready and his armor immediately springing into place. Ember went after him and put her hand on his arm. “Easy, DeMunth. Believe me, there’s nothing to fear.”

  He growled at the light descending to the ground. “Then what do you call that?”

  The light disappeared and a man stepped forward. “She calls that her Guardian,” Mahal said. “Welcome, DeMunth. Welcome to my home.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  With nothing to do and little light in the apothecary’s boxcar, Kayla lay on one of the sleeping mats stuffed beneath the counter and stared at the roof she could barely see. She replayed the events of the last twenty-four hours in her mind over and over again, wondering what she could have done differently, and was still pondering the question when the rocking motion of the boxcar sent her to sleep. It was no wonder, really. She had been up the entire night before and had been running on adrenaline most of those hours.

  Thankfully, she didn’t have to be alone, even in her dreams.

  The familiar cave greeted her almost as soon as she shut her eyes, and for once, she didn’t have to wait for him. Her father sat on a boulder—or he did until she entered the room. As soon as she walked out of the water and into the cave, he stood and came to her. Without a single word, he took her gently in his arms and held her as if he knew all that had transpired.

  The barrier between them broke. The lid she had put on her emotions shattered into a million pieces and everything came boiling up. Her anger at Jihong. Her fear for Brant. Her terror at being unable to do anything to help while she was held captive. Grief
over losing Brant and not knowing what was to become of him now that he was a tool of the flute. Fear, anger, loss, and grief. They boiled from her and she sobbed into her father’s shoulder like she’d never had the chance before.

  After the initial burst of tears, she pounded on his chest, and still he held her. “Why?” she screamed. “Why did this have to happen? Why? Why? Why?” Pounding on his chest wasn’t enough, nor was screaming, so she pushed herself away from him, picked up a handful of rocks and threw it at the cave wall, then a larger stone, and a larger, until they were too big for her to lift.

  Then she pulled on her magic while her father stood by and watched, letting her release her anger. She picked up a large boulder, drawing on the power of the flute, and guided it with her hand, smashing it against the wall again and again and again, until even that wasn’t enough, and with a heart-wrenching scream, she made the boulder explode into a billion pieces.

  None of the pieces touched either of them—she made sure of that. She may have been out of her mind with grief, but she wasn’t crazy.

  With stones pinging around her, she collapsed to the ground, exhausted from the emotional release. The sobs had turned to whimpers, though the tears fell just as hard. She lay there but a moment before she felt strong arms curl under her shoulders and knees and pick her up, holding her tight. Unable to move after her tantrum, she tucked her face into her father’s chest as he walked up the hill and exited the cave.

  There was mist everywhere, and she could see nothing. It was the thickest fog she had ever seen. For now she only knew her heart was broken and her father held her. She still hurt, but being so near and feeling his love and touch was balm to her wounded soul.