She stumbled on, still clenching the crystal, leaving behind the sickening atmosphere of the basin as she scaled the slope to the rim. Tauros crept toward the western horizon. Evening shadows lengthened in the basin, as if even the sun sought to hide his face from the slaughter.
Beyond the rim, she came across Eirnin, sprawled in the grass. His breathing was ragged, melody fading, but he lived.
Beneath the sweep of his hair, his eyes flickered up to her. “So, love, we meet again.” The words trembled upon his lips. “Don’t suppose you’ve come to heal me, have you? Pity.”
“Why did you do it, Eirnin?”
He just blinked at her.
“You knew about the slaughter. You must have known. Why did you lead them here?”
The Shantren shook his head. “No, but it would have made no difference if I had. You chose your allegiance, child, and I chose mine.”
The weight of it all pressed into her shoulders, drove her to the ground. She sat on the grassy hillside beside him and closed her eyes to the chaos below. “You know what he’s planning, don’t you? The Takhran. All this time, you’ve known.”
“Jealous, love?” A muffled chuckle shook his frame. “This is why you have lost. You know nothing. Your Emhran didn’t see fit to explain. You race to stop something you cannot even understand. How can you carry on when you’re so alone?”
Birdie held her hand out to show him the crystal in her palm. “Crystal mines. More talavs in the making. But those tunnels are more than that, aren’t they? It’s all connected . . .”
“Of course it is.” Eirnin gestured weakly toward the basin. Words punctuated by pauses to gasp for breath. “All part of the grand scheme. The diggings open up the tunnels, clear out passageways that have been filled in over time, connect the slave camps—like Tal Ethel and Drengreth and the Hollow Cave were already connected by the hidden waterway. Everything in place, everything strategically stationed.”
“Stationed for what?”
“The release of the river of melody and its journey beneath Leira. For centuries he has tried, you know . . . Attacked that dome of rock with every weapon known to man. Ryree blasting teams . . . Monsters unleashed . . . Nothing has broken it.”
The crystal slipped between her fingers. Here, at last, they were getting somewhere. “Why would the Takhran want to release it?” His words awakened a nagging recollection of something the Takhran had said to her in the Pit. But that whole night had been such a blur of fear and horror and rage that many of the words themselves were buried beneath it.
“Because, Songkeeper . . .” Eirnin struggled for breath. His head sank back. “Like you, he loves it . . . and he hates it. It is a power that eludes him . . . and yet he must control it, whatever the cost.” His eyes flickered shut.
Birdie remained at his side until his labored breathing and the broken notes of his melody drifted away. The moment of silence that swallowed the dismal notes of his song seemed an endless thing. At last the Song stirred within her again, an insistent plucking that recalled her from the chasm of doubt and despair and led her forth to face whatever deeds awaited. This battle was not the end. It was only the beginning.
She rose and descended into the valley as Tauros slipped behind the western rim.
•••
No air stirred in the basin. No breath of wind to stir the damp hair clinging to his forehead or ease the stench of smoke and death. Ky stood alone in the midst of chaos, and his limbs seemed turned to stone. Feet rooted to the valley floor, hands dangling limp at his sides, he blotted out the noise of the dying and the shouts of the dwarves as they searched for wounded. Jirkar and Cade led the charge. Their voices rang out over the din.
By rights, he should be helping them. But he just stood there. Watching as shadows crept over the basin floor and torches and fire pits sprang to life.
A soft footstep stirred behind him. He did not turn.
A small hand crept into his.
He looked down. Gazed uncomprehending at the small figure with wispy brown hair blinking tearfully up at him. Then Meli’s arms seized him about the waist, and her head was buried against his chest, and he scooped her up, holding her tight, while her tears ran down his neck.
“Meli . . .”
•••
Fear. Sorrow. Despair.
A somber fog strangled the valley. Birdie gazed at the masses huddled around the fire pits. She sat among them—slaves, dwarves, raiders, warriors—drinking in the bitter flow of their melodies. They knew as well as she that this was no victory. The Khelari were dead. But their numbers were nothing in comparison with the bodies lifted from the slaughter grounds and laid to rest in one of the tunnels that the slaves had carved from the rock.
Obasi they had buried on the rim, far from the caves that had reminded him of the Pit. When Cade stumbled across Slack’s lifeless form beneath a dead slavekeeper, his face had gone white, and his eyes burned with wrath. Without a word he gathered her limp form to his chest and placed her beside the others in the tunnel.
Now he sat across the fire pit from Birdie, sword unsheathed across his knees as he stared into the embers. Jirkar was there. Gull and Syd too. Tymon bustled about, distributing hardtack rations around the fire.
Birdie had not seen Ky since she arrived. Perhaps he too lay in that monstrous pile of the slain.
“We should leave.” Gull broke the silence.
“We cannot.” Impatience sharpened Jirkar’s voice. This was ground that had been covered many times since the fight waned and the initial rush of tending the wounded abated. “There are too many wounded. A march would scatter us. Make us easy prey. We stay here.”
Gull twisted a broken arrow between his fingers. “It ain’t like we can defend this place.”
“No, but we can cover the approach from the watchtowers. Serrin Vroi and Khelari reinforcements are a day’s march away around the side of the mountain. The Caran and the main force cannot be far behind, and the Saari should be arriving soon from the south. Better we wait here and plan our next move. This is only the beginning.”
Gull snapped the arrow in half and threw both pieces into the fire. “Yeah, an’ what have we accomplished?”
“We freed them. We were fortunate that any survived.”
“Fortunate?” Cade snapped. “Are we to be content with such victories? This is how the Takhran triumphs. We are convinced that we can do no better, and so we are content with less. What now? Do we fall back? Lie down and let the Khelari trample us into the muck?”
His words flamed the resolve burning in Birdie’s soul. “No.” She met his startled gaze. “No, we move forward. We strike. And we strike hard.”
A sneer curled his lip. “Bold words mean nothing without actions.”
“Excuse me. Beg pardon. Watch your toes.” Tymon jostled his way into their midst, lugging a large cauldron that he slung over the fire pit with a grunt, sending up a volley of sparks. He stepped back, armed with a massive ladle and a mischievous grin. “The slavekeepers kept a very nicely stocked larder. Anyone care to feast courtesy of the Takhran’s pocket?”
His offer eased the tension, more so as the smell began to rise from the sizzling contents of the pot. It wafted through the valley, and Birdie sensed a sort of stirring in the melodies as the sense of doom shifted and a glimmer of hope seeped in. She blinked at the dwarf stirring the cauldron and squirmed beneath a twinge of shame. While she sat there wallowing in her own doubt, the dwarf awakened hope with nothing more than the scent of roasting meat.
Jirkar chuckled wryly. “As a matter of fact, Tymon, I think I would.”
“Excellent! Bowls in the storeroom—should be plenty. Care to lend a hand?”
Birdie arose with the others as they hastened to fetch the bowls, but she broke off after a few steps. Let the others enjoy this moment of peace and fellowship. She had another mission. Sifting through the chorus of melodies, she searched the night for one familiar melody and traced it to him. Ky sat upon the rim overlooking the valley ben
eath a blanket of stars. Meli was curled beside him like a sleeping burrow cat with her head in his lap. Relief eased Birdie’s heart. They had survived, both of them.
He looked up at her approach.
“The fight isn’t over, Ky.” The words tumbled from her lips. She knotted her fingers together, inexplicably nervous. Amos had refused to help her. Perhaps Ky would too. “Will you come with me? Into the Pit?”
Unblinking, he looked at her, then stood abruptly and eased Meli into his arms. Without a word he strode off down the slope into the camp. A shuddering breath escaped her lips. Alone. Again. So be it. Steeling herself, she started toward the nearest tunnel . . . only to see Ky coming back toward her, torch in hand.
Without Meli.
He adjusted the sling belted around his waist and nodded at her. “Lead on.”
Birdie halted before the gaping tunnel mouth, eyes closed, tuning her ears and heart to the melody whispering from within the dark. It beckoned her to set aside fear and doubt and simply follow. She had come this far, and it had not led her astray. But the thought of this next step into the unknown left her nerves raw and shivering.
Because ultimately, she did know where this path led.
It led beneath Mount Eiphyr, to the Pit, to Tal Ethel . . .
Ky fidgeted beside her. “You know where we’re going?”
“Yes.” She gave a shuddering laugh. “I’m afraid so.” Deep breath. She took a step forward and then paused, distracted by the approach of Cade’s melody a split second before his voice broke behind them.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
Ky whipped around, hand flying toward his sling. “Cade? What are you doing here?”
“Following you. Hadn’t seen hide nor hair of you since the fight ended, and then all of a sudden you come jogging up to the fire, drop Meli off with Gull without even waking her up, and then take off again. What are you up to?”
The older boy actually sounded concerned. He concealed it well beneath a layer of arrogance and disdain. Well enough that Ky did not seem to notice. He started forward, bristling.
She spoke before he could. “It’s time, Cade. We need to end this.” Shock registered on his face. “We seek the Songkeeper’s sword in the Pit. Without it, there’s no hope of defeating the Takhran. But if I can find it, perhaps then I can release the Song and the land can be saved.”
A tendril of the Song settled around her, sparking her heart to courage and rest, a reminder that whatever might befall, the master melody would lead her.
“You go to the Pit?” His voice was deathly quiet, and yet the echoes skittered down the tunnel ahead of them. “To face the Takhran alone?”
She lifted her chin. “Yes.”
Cade turned to Ky for confirmation. “You’re mad.”
“Yeah.”
Hand clenched around the hilt of his sword, Cade cast an appraising glance at them and then the passage beyond. “Fine, then. I’m coming too.”
•••
Torch flaring in her hand, Sym led the way down the uneven surface of the tunnel at a swift yet boggswogglingly graceful stride that left Amos gasping to keep up. Pain lanced through his chest with each ragged breath. Chimeras were foul beasts to kill, and even fouler beasts to be almost killed by. The goat’s horns and lion’s claws had left a weave of scars across his chest. Somehow being here in a tunnel—even though it wasn’t the Pit—brought the pain to his mind as sharp and present as if the injuries had happened moments ago instead of months. He put a hand to his chest and kept right on running.
“Hawkness, are you all right?”
Beneath his pumping elbow, he caught just a glimpse of Nisus’s knotted brow. “Aye, just grand.” Managed to grit the words out through his teeth and tried not to resent the fact that this path had been chosen by the dwarf. He had insisted that trailing Birdie through the tunnels would be quicker than the overland route toward Serrin Vroi, since they didn’t know Dacheren’s exact location in the foothills. Or even if that was where Birdie had gone.
Not one of Amos’s objections had held any sway. The dwarf hadn’t even been deterred by the maze of tunnels that they found. Just congratulated himself on happening to bring “the finest tracker in the desert,” as if the whole seaswoggled business hadn’t been his plan all along.
Devious Xanthen nonsense.
Still, mayhap Nisus had been right to choose this route. With Sym sniffing out their trail—or however the desert trackers worked their magic—they had made good time. Didn’t mean Amos couldn’t blame the dwarf for any discomfort along the way.
“Come on.” Sym called from the front. “More running. Less talking.”
Cursing inwardly, Amos limped on into the dark. It was a heavy darkness, even with the torch. The kind that lurked at the corners of a man’s vision, felt like it was creeping up behind, and deadened all sound save for the dull slap of their feet, the clink of armor and weaponry, the rustling of the torch, and the rasp of their own heavy breathing.
In short, it was a stroll through moonlit fields compared to the Pit.
He was not sure how long they had been alternately running, then walking, then running again—days it seemed—when Sym halted abruptly and crouched to examine the ground. Balancing on the balls of her feet, she held the torch near the rock and turned in a shuffling circle. Beyond, the passage split into three narrower passageways, but they had already passed through several such splits since leaving the well behind, and Sym had never hesitated for more than a breath or two. Now, she looked fair stymied.
“Somethin’ amiss, Sym?”
A curt wave of the torch dismissed his question. Still crawling, she eased down the right passage. Amos glanced at Nisus, unsure if they should follow, but he just shrugged. An instant later, she was back, bending double to examine the ground again before ducking down the left passage. Amos gave it a full minute. Counted it out in the tapping of his fingers against the misshapen pommel of his borrowed sword. Then he wheeled down the left passageway.
Waiting was not in his nature.
The torch flared in his face as he rounded the first bend. He jerked back before the flame could singe his beard and scowled at the Saari warrior until she lowered the spear aimed at his chest. “What’s the meanin’ o’ this? Who did ye think I was?”
“I could not be certain. The trail is confused.”
“Indeed? An’ t’ think I was goin’ t’ say the same about ye.”
Sym’s eyes glinted like steel. “The Songkeeper’s original trail—the one we followed from Drengreth—continues down the other tunnel. But fresher tracks journey down this one. She came back this way with at least two others. And there are other tracks too. Older but larger.”
The emphasis she put on that last phrase brought a sheen of sweat to his brow. He dashed it away and forced a sickly sort of grin to his face. Such tracks were only to be expected. And if anyone knew what to expect from a stroll through the deep places of the world, he should.
“What say you, Hawkness?” Even Nisus’s face looked ghastly and drawn in the light of the torch. “Which trail do we follow?”
Why ask him? “This was your blaggardly idea, dwarf.” Amos pitched in a circle, but whatever signs had led Sym here were invisible to him. “We should follow the most recent trail. Stands t’ reason that wherever the lass is goin’, that’s where we want t’ be. Can’t help her by goin’ back t’ where she’s been.”
“Right.” Sym flashed a smile at him. “Whatever you say, pappy.”
Then, with a flutter of flapping skins and braids, she whirled around and started off down the tunnel again with Nisus at her heels. Leaving Amos to clench his jaw and press on at the rear, wondering how he could deserve such boggswoggling trust.
35
“We’re almost there.”
Even as the words left her lips, Birdie broke into a run, leaning into each stride as if it could consume the distance that remained between her and Tal Ethel. Her limbs ached beneath the weight of
the dwarf-made armor, but she pressed on. The Song thundered in her ears with such overwhelming force that she felt rather than heard Cade and Ky’s melodies fall into stride behind her. All else had become dim and muffled in comparison.
It was a multilayered mingling of the master melody. The call of the Song resonated within her chest, a pull that guided her on smooth paths over the rough and pitted ground while the boys stumbled behind her, half blind even with the sputtering torchlight. Somewhere ahead, the deeper thrum of the spring strained to be loosed, surging against the bindings that held it within Tal Ethel. And then a metallic keening, a thin, shivery wail, brought images of howling cold and shards of ice to the forefront of Birdie’s mind.
An all-consuming summons.
Her pace did not slacken, though the breath caught in her throat and she could hear the boys huffing at her heels. Time was difficult to track beneath the earth. But they had slept twice since leaving the killing grounds of Dacheren behind, and that was time enough for reckless anger to abate, for wild grief to be tempered by reason, and for fiery impulse to cool. But Birdie’s resolve had not shaken, nor had the guiding pulse of the Song in her heart slackened. The suffering of Leira consumed her. Each slave they had rescued, each wound she had bound, each soul she had sung to sleep only served to stoke the embers of her wrath to flame. The Takhran’s time had come to an end.
The Song must be released.
With an abrupt turn to the right, the tunnel spilled them out into the wide space of the Pit. The thick, gurgling tones of the dark melody oozed out to meet them. Birdie halted as the stench swept over her and fought the urge to vomit. Behind, she could hear Cade and Ky gagging. The reek was overpowering. A hundred times worse than it had been the last time she’d been here.
Fear snaked through her stomach. One whiff, and it seemed she was catapulted back to that night only a few months ago. Only it wasn’t months ago, and here she stood again, no better equipped to face the Takhran or the horrors of this place.
Listen, Songkeeper.
A gentle chiding focused the notes of the Song and gave peace to her mind. She took stock of their location in the weak light of Ky’s torch. They had entered through one of the many side tunnels that converged on the central cavern, leaving them with a ways to travel yet before they reached the dry streambed, let alone the dome that shielded Tal Ethel or the circle of the twelve. She suppressed a shudder at the memory.
Song of Leira Page 36