“No!” Unaraq’s shout rang through the cave.
Ronyl sighed. “The confluence is ended.”
The lizard melted into a liquid black as ink. Hot wind blasted through the cave, bringing a stench of sulfur and scorching metal. The oily puddle oozed across the spring, flowing into Ronyl’s crystalline form.
Naasiha whirred long and low, sliding out of the water and rearing back to watch. “Impossible,” she gasped. “You were here all along?”
Ronyl met Munayair’s horrified gaze, black sediment settling over her eyes. Even a spirit cold as a mountain stream and strong as a riptide could not resist the invasion. The reek of decay intensified. Her slim form bulged and twisted. More and more inky black—surely it could not all have come from Onol—flowed into her.
“Say your name,” Naasiha snarled. “Your real name!”
Black sludge filled Ronyl now, hard-edged and adamant. “My—my name ...” she screamed, meeting Munayair’s gaze one last time. For an instant, her eyes glowed bright purple. Then she moved no more. Her last word hung in the air and rang off the walls, vast and anguished. “Oh Earthmother, I remember. I remember who I really am!”
Naasiha pushed, inexorable. “Your name, spirit.”
The sobs emerged from the rocks themselves. “I am Odde. Wretched, cowardly Odde. Do not make me remember, have mercy—”
Odde?
“Mercy?” Icy disdain dripped from Naasiha’s voice. “I embody justice, not mercy. You have hidden for long enough.”
“The time is come, Odde.” Naasiha’s tail writhed and her tongue flickered. “This world’s doom is at hand. Tear it down and the heavens with it.”
Realization hit like a horse’s hoof, driving the breath from Munayair’s lungs. “Mirth until the dragon comes,” she whispered.
Chapter 53: Last Unendee
The statue cracked. The floor rocked, and the spring sloshed over the sides. The black shape glowed violet between the cracks. The sobs mutated into shrieks, tearing through Munayair’s mind like a wildfire roaring before the wind. The shadows the statue cast lengthened, darkening, like claws curling to envelop her. Munayair screamed and fell back, yanking against Khuson’s grip. What have I done?
Ronyl and Onol had merged into an egg. A chrysalis, preparing to unleash its contents. Birthing struggles rippled across black stone as something within strove to shatter its prison. Another crack ran across the surface, and more violet light shone through. The black shadow of a bat-like wing stretched across the floor.
Naasiha’s eyes widened, so green they almost glowed. She slithered forward, black water sloshing around her. “Odde,” she sighed. “At last.”
“Windsinger,” a voice said in Munayair’s ear, “I thought that snake would never leave.”
The grip on her arm loosened. Gasping, she tore her eyes from the egg to look at Khuson. One golden eye winked at her. “You—how did you—”
“You still don’t understand how special I am, do you?” He glanced behind them. “We need to get out of here, fast.” He shifted to move her further away. As they stepped past the braziers, she saw Unaraq among the flames. His gaze fastened on the egg, teeth bared and fists clenched.
Wind blasted around the enclosed space with blinding force, and with it came the stench of corruption. The tachoul reacted, drifting towards the living creatures. Khuson raised his torch and they fell back a little.
“I knew,” Unaraq said from the brazier, voice heavy with irony and dread. “As soon as I saw that mark on your arm, I knew you would be the end of this place.”
Munayair looked from him to the shadows writhing across the branches of the cypress.
“We need to run.” Khuson’s hand around her arm tightened. More wings blotted out the sky.
“Lord Unaraq,” Munayair said, resisting Khuson’s tugging. “What can we do?”
“Odde may be the doom of the world, but she’s a spirit like any other,” Unaraq said. “Her power depends on the body she inhabits.”
“What’s her body?” Khuson reached for his sword.
“The spring itself,” Unaraq cried. “When that fool Ogodai trapped her here, he hoped over centuries the spring would wash away her wrath. As long she remains bonded to the spring, she will be unstoppable.”
“Hmm.” Khuson let go of his sword. “I can’t help with that.”
An idea struck Munayair. “Fire!” she said. “The path of fire!”
“Clever.” Unaraq’s eyes narrowed, and his upper lip twitched into a fierce snarl. “I can try. You lot, get the rest of the spirits out.” He sank back into his brazier, eyes fixed on the egg.
Anjita and Bast ran over, surrounded by an honor guard of ulger, Dashjin among them. He let out a cry of joy when he saw Munayair and she held out a hand for him to land. “Naya!” Anjita cried. “What in the five names of the gods is going on here? As if that thunderstorm spirit wasn’t bad enough!”
“We need to leave,” Khuson whispered, glancing between the egg and Naasiha. Sighing with relief, Bast turned to run.
Heavily, Munayair shook her head. With a sigh, Anjita grabbed the back of Bast’s tunic and pulled him to a halt. Wind roared past them, blasting hair across her face. “I can’t.”
Khuson’s eyes widened. “What?” he said.
“I’m staying. I did this.” Gently, she took her hand back.
“Naya, Ronyl is gone!” Anjita cried. “We’re way out of our depth here.” Bast nodded frantically without listening, eyes wide as he gawked at the monster of legend, emerging from her egg only a few dozen paces away.
“It doesn’t matter,” Munayair said. “I can’t leave. The rest of you should.”
They watched her in silence. Even Bast had torn his eyes away from the dragon as a frown line deepened between his eyebrows. “Kid, be reasonable,” he muttered.
Khuson grabbed her by the shoulders and turned her to face him. “You think death will ease your conscience? Live, and keep fighting. Remember, you still owe me.”
She couldn’t look at any of them, for fear they would see the cowardice lurking in her heart. Slowly, she raised a hand to push Khuson away. Tears blurred her vision as he stumbled back. “It’s my fault.” Her fingers clenched around the mark. “I brought my doom to this place. I can’t let Unaraq fight both dragon and snake alone.”
“Well then.” Bast bent to grab a stone from the ground. He hefted it and sent it hurtling across the length of the spring to bounce off Naasiha’s head with a solid thunk. She whirled, scales scraping on stone.
“What are you doing?” Munayair cried.
Bast shrugged. “You wanted to distract it, right?”
“Since we’re being silly, maybe it’s my doom to get talked to death by a giant snake.” Khuson took her hand again. His eyes glittered under lowered brows, and sweat plastered his hair to his forehead. She gazed at their clasped hands, warmth spreading through her chest.
He came back, she marveled.
A chuckle escaped Bast, and Anjita thumped him on the back. “We’re all in agreement, for a change.” She shoved back her sleeves. “Although I want to say this is still a daft idea.”
“Don’t look her in the eyes,” Munayair warned.
Sinuously, Naasiha scraped across the stony floor, green gaze unwavering and emotionless. Sword held low, Khuson shifted in front of Munayair without letting go of her hand. She pushed back her sleeve with her free hand and threw down a shield chelka. The snake passed through the magical barrier without pause.
“Cunning as ever, uneg,” Naasiha whispered, raising her head to look once more into Khuson’s eyes. He met her gaze without fear, quirking one eyebrow. “I should have known I wouldn’t catch you with so easy a trick.”
“Enough.” Munayair stepped forward, blocking their eye contact. She glared at Naasiha’s throat, glossy scales in shades of black, white, and gold. “This is between us.”
Naasiha hissed, low and amused. “Such bravery. I wonder how long that will last.” She slippe
d across the floor with a dry scritch of scales. Munayair took an involuntary step back, all thought evaporating under the scorching face of fear. “There she is. The coward. I’m still dying to try my little test.”
“Hah! Coward!” Anjita laughed, brandishing her torch. “Why don’t you say that to me and see what you get?”
Naasiha reared away from the fire. Her gaze focused on Anjita, who dropped her eyes and weaved around, dragging Bast behind her. He gaped at the serpent, eyes round as dinner plates.
“Don’t be so eager, journeyer,” Naasiha sneered. “The braver you are, the more traps you spring.”
Munayair risked a glance around the room. A dozen wings now whirred above the curve of a spine-covered neck. Water from the spring lapped through the cracked rocks in black waves across the floor. A few firebugs drifted over dark, steaming braziers. The protective glyphs and walls of water were dark. The remaining spirits gathered, facing outward against the overwhelming numbers of tachoul. The torches they held sputtered and the remaining ulger lights flickered. They would not last long, and once the dragon emerged it would be over. For them, and the rest of the world.
Planting her feet, Munayair defied her own fear. Ignoring the trembling of every limb, she concentrated instead on Khuson’s hand clamped around her fingers. “I’m not here for you to test me. I’m here to stop you.”
“So brave.” Naasiha mocked. “How do you plan to do that?”
“Ronyl! You liar!”
Munayair jerked in surprise. The shout rolled through the cavern like an explosion. Unaraq rose from the brazier, flames running the length of his body. He charged the egg in a blur of flaming light. His voice rose as the howl of a firestorm, his eyes flames. Where he ran, his nimbus rivalled the noonday sun.
“You promised I would never serve a demon again!”
He hit the egg with a crash, shaking the earth. The unborn dragon roared and her wings flared. Shrieking wind fed Unaraq’s flames until they sprang up hot and blinding, licking the ceiling.
Munayair allowed herself a little smirk. “By distracting you while the Lord of Hunger purifies your dragon.”
A strange choking sound emerged from Naasiha’s mouth. It took a moment for Munayair to recognize the sound as laughter. “Waveroarer, you mortals are funny,” she said. “Guess again.”
“Lady Moon,” Dashjin whispered, “Is the mad imp attempting to walk the path of fire with Odde? It won’t work, not while she’s bonded to the spring. I’m surprised he didn’t realize that.”
Munayair looked around, heart sinking. Cradled in the blinding inferno, Odde’s egg cracked again, violet light spreading. Fiery lines spiraled across the stone, ever more detailed and intricate. The ground shook, and a rent opened along the floor, shimmering heat lighting the walls with an eerie red glow. They had not won. They hadn’t stopped any of it.
Naasiha bunched into a knot. “Did you really believe a mere fire elemental could defeat the embodiment of creativity?”
Over the shriek of the wind, a howl built in pitch and intensity. Through a blurring heat haze, two titanic forces clashed. Fire roared, wind whirled, and the earth heaved as Unaraq strove with Odde, the dragon. Even unborn, it was obvious the dragon would win.
Munayair started forward. “Unaraq!” she cried.
“Stay back!” Ennai cried from overhead. “They are walking the path of fire!”
The tree stood between the rest of the spirits and the flames burning through the sky. Ennai’s tiny form clung to the bark, face tense with concentration and fear. But even the power of the Great Cypress and the Lord of Hunger combined could not hold back the dragon for long. Already smoke wafted from the tree’s blackening bark and her boughs smoldered at the ends.
Naasiha watched with satisfaction in her hooded eyes. “Soon we will bring our wrath to those who abandoned us, and an end to this disgusting world.” Her mouth gaped, revealing terrible fangs dripping with poison. The stench of her magic thickened, and a strange pressure pressed on them.
“Unaraq,” Munayair whispered, blinded by tears. “Ennai.”
Naasiha laughed again, a dry scraping that set Munayair’s teeth on edge. “Tell me, girl, how is it that those who love you, trust you, always end dead or maimed?”
Tears pricked Munayair’s eyes. She choked on a tongue grown thick and heavy in her mouth, fingers tightening around Khuson’s hand. She had nothing to say in her own defense. After all, Naasiha spoke only the truth.
“Why else would I permit you to escape my clutches in the first place? This was destined from the beginning. You are the villain in this story, the one who will destroy everything good in the world. Your doom suits my purpose, that is all.” Naasiha’s tongue flickered over the mark, and Munayair flinched. The pressure surrounding them increased, like sinking into deep water.
With a sudden start, Munayair recognized the sensation. “I thought unendee was only possible on Dhinse Unen.”
Naasiha’s eyes narrowed. “Like all things, the unendee has a deeper meaning mortals have forgotten. Now my sacred ritual has degraded to screaming matches between witless fools.” Her tail lashed back and forth, eyes glowing with an inner light. This close, a layer of black was visible overlaying the brilliant green, a thin scum like oil on clear water.
The cypress shuddered as a fresh wave of flame engulfed her. Ennai clung to the bark with hands and feet, eyes wide with terror, hair smoking at the ends.
Naasiha regained herself, although her tail continued to twitch. “Today the Unendee will fulfill its true purpose. Justice.”
The four humans looked at each other’s pale, frightened faces. Dashjin flickered on Khuson’s shoulder, terror stark in the lines of his tiny body. One of Hadad’s ancestors had foretold deep water as his doom, Munayair remembered. The unendee resembled water. Her heart thudded.
“I could force you to reveal your darkest secrets to anyone,” Naasiha hummed, for Munayair’s ears alone. “The ulger prince, perhaps? What would he think of his precious Lady Moon’s secret past? Or the boatman? You forgave him his many sins, can he forgive you? The uneg already knows most of it ... pity. Not all. Or ... yes,” she sighed gleefully, “The journeyer. Of course.”
Munayair’s gaze fell on Anjita not far away, wide dark eyes in a pale face. Vomit rose in her throat. “Please,” she whispered.
“How you tremble,” Naasiha chuckled. “It’s delicious, watching the worm struggle before the jaws of the fish close around it. Don’t forget, my dear, I still haven’t tried my test.”
Odde had almost torn free from her imprisonment, now. A sinuous neck lined with rows of spikes. Floundering tail tearing chunks from the rock wall as a hungry man tears bread. Lines of fire buckled the ground, filling the cave with flickering light and dizzying shadows.
Scanning the frightened faces, Naasiha rose. “Night Watcher, it’s time.”
Khuson’s brown face grew ashen as sweat streamed down his temples. He gulped, throat bobbing while his eyes darted from side to side. Hand of the goddess, he had called himself. Compelled to strike down evildoers, even those he cared about. Munayair looked again at his hand clasped around hers. All this time, keeping her close. Close enough to strike.
The cypress stood in silence, a flaming skeleton of what she had once been. Ashes drifted around like burning snowflakes. Other trees had caught fire, smearing the stars with writhing red mist. Stones around the spring buckled, and the black water foamed and seethed. More and more red light poured through the ground, and heat rose in shimmering waves.
Naasiha wound herself around Munayair. “Do you finally understand the brilliance of my test, child?” she hissed. “In this unendee, you will speak all your sins. The Night Watcher will hear them. And he will kill you.”
Chapter 54: Fire and Water
“Kill Naya?” Anjita frowned. “What for?”
Bast’s eyes shifted silently between Munayair and Khuson. He crouched a little, preparing. His eyes met Munayair’s and she saw his determination t
o protect her, however futile it might be.
“Oh, journeyer.” Naasiha’s neck swayed mesmerizingly. “So eager. Do not fret. Your bosom friend’s truths will soon be liberated.”
“If this is a truth like the one you put into my head the other day,” Anjita growled, yanking at the white moon on her collar, “I’m not sure how interested I am in hearing it.”
“It is not I who will speak,” Naasiha said soothingly. “Your friends will. The lonesome warrior, the drunken boatman. You, the journeyer with doubts. And finally, your friend, who fears the truth most of all.”
Anjita fell silent, eyes huge. She glanced quickly at Munayair, then away.
Naasiha turned to Khuson. “You first, Night Watcher,” she purred.
Gently, Munayair tugged against Khuson’s hand, trying to pull herself free. His fingers tightened, and she looked around in surprise. Slowly, deliberately, he winked one golden eye. Her stomach sank just before he spoke.
“I sometimes wear the same underwear several days in a row.”
For a moment silence reigned. Naasiha coiled tighter, eyes glinting with rage, and Anjita’s nose wrinkled. Then a snort escaped Bast as he bent double with laughter.
Khuson spread his hands. “What? In the forest, no one can smell me but the cat.”
“Night Watcher, you make a mockery of my sacred ritual!” Naasiha seethed. The unendee pressed harder, and her eyes glowed brighter. The stench increased chokingly. “Try again.”
“Fine.” He pointed at Bast. “I don’t know what this guy’s first name is, and at this point it’s too embarrassing to ask.”
Bast’s laughter cut short and he straightened, looking offended. Naasiha’s enraged lashing increased.
Khuson hurried on. “I have my future wedding all planned out. Flowers, vows, everything. All that’s left is finding the right woman.” He winked broadly at Munayair, who tried to ignore the heat rising to her cheeks.
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