Song of Leira

by Gillian Bronte Adams

  “Is this it?” Cade hissed in her ear. “Is this the Pit?”

  She drew in a long breath. “Yes.”

  Ky lowered the torch. “Reckon I should ditch the light?”

  “No.” Her answer was a breath too quick, a touch too sharp, for the confidence she hoped to portray. But she could not imagine making this journey without the light. Even now, the dark encroached upon the flame too much. It hovered over them, a living, breathing thing, charged with danger, infused with death. And yet . . . with the Song to direct her feet, she would not walk blindly. “Yes . . . Yes. Better we go unnoticed for now.”

  The Takhran would learn of their coming soon enough.

  “Right-o.” Ky muttered and then knocked the torch against the ground.

  One sharp rap.

  The light winked out.

  Somewhere in the vast expanse of the Pit, a deep note sounded. It vibrated through their bones and coursed through the rock until the stone shivered from its bed. A pulse shook the ground beneath their feet, drove them to their knees, and spread out behind like a wave. Rock shattered. Boulders crashed. Dust clogged the air.

  Birdie’s eyes stung. She coughed as she staggered upright. Even without the light, she knew that the path they had entered through was blocked. Whatever other tunnels might remain, there was no going back that way.

  Still the Song called her onward.

  “Earthshaker.” Cade uttered the name like a curse.

  His voice came from somewhere to her left. Hands outstretched, she inched toward him.

  “Reckon the Takhran knows we’re here yet?” Ky this time, speaking directly behind her. His hand brushed her shoulder, and she bit back a yelp. “Or is that a common occurrence here?”

  “It doesn’t matter.” Strangely, Birdie heard herself answering them though she had not intended to speak. Her voice sounded thin and brittle in the deepness of the expanse. “We’re here. It’s too late to turn back now.”

  Grounded by her words, they managed to find one another after what seemed an eternity of fumbling in the dark, bumping into one another and then linking arms instinctively with a muffled curse from Cade and a disgusted snort from Ky. Perhaps it was foolish, but it steadied Birdie. She welcomed the knowledge of the pulse beating beneath her grip, a simple reminder of life in this place that reeked of death. Arm in arm, they pressed on into the emptiness of the Pit. With every step she took she strained her ears for signs of lurking enemies. Hundreds of the broken, five-noted melodies drifted through the cavern. Some seemed mere echoes of long-forgotten songs. Others still seemed to dwell within living, breathing forms. But all were muted by distance. None near enough to seem a threat.

  Yet.

  Once her feet struck the dry streambed, they made swift progress. Soon the thrashing melody of the bound river heralded their approach to Tal Ethel. As before, she heard no melodies from the twelve chained to the columns, but if she strained her ears to hear beneath the roar of the river and the oily melody leeching through the Pit, she could hear them breathing.

  Faint, shallow breaths. Her lungs felt tight, and she realized that she had unconsciously aligned her breathing with theirs.

  The two boys marched alongside, weapons drawn in their free hands, muscles taut as bowstrings. And yet they gave no sign that they knew they were not alone. In this, the darkness was their ally. She envied their ignorance.

  The steady drops falling from Artair’s corpse caught her ears, and she halted. The sword’s thin, skirling melody emanated from somewhere nearby. She focused on the sound. “Ky?” She barely breathed his name, and still the ring of her own voice set her heart hammering against her ribs. “The torch?”

  His hand left her arm, leaving the spot strangely chilled. He fumbled in his jacket pockets. “Got a tinderbox here somewhere.”

  “No need for that.” The Takhran’s familiar, quiet voice caused Birdie to freeze.

  With a muffled whump, two torches flared on either side of the dome of rock, flooding the surrounding area with orange light. Ky and Cade tensed behind her. Tal Ethel had changed since she last stood upon this spot. An enormous throne had been carved from stone, embellished with iron plating, and fashioned at the peak of an arch that reared over the dome, behind the veil of dripping blood. Two massive jagged columns of crystal flanked the steps that climbed both ends of the arch toward the throne, and a chimera crouched beside each one. Twelve eyes blazed hatred toward Birdie.

  Seated upon the throne in resplendent blue robes and silver armor, with the wide collar of the multilayered talav about his neck and a raven perched on his shoulder, was the Takhran. He looked nothing like the young man she recalled. Wrinkles webbed his face. His eyes burned into hers from dark hollows. His broad-shouldered frame seemed to have shriveled in on itself. Like a tree withering during a long drought.

  “Songkeeper, at last.” A hum of satisfaction droned through his words. She could not break free of his gaze. One word from the Takhran, and it seemed her courage melted away. “I expected you sooner.”

  The words dropped like a stone into the ocean. Birdie struggled to gather her scattered thoughts around the melodies battling inside her skull. Expected. That was no surprise. Like Eirnin said, the Takhran had ever been a mile ahead of them. But regardless of his scheme, regardless of what he believed was happening here, she had come at the behest of the Song.

  And yet his words shook her, raised a shiver of doubt.

  Screeching, the raven shot from the Takhran’s shoulder and soared over their heads. Birdie instinctively ducked. Torches blazed to light behind her. Jagged crystal columns had been planted on either side of the streambed, winding away across the Pit, spaced with a distance of a hundred feet or so between each one. Beside each column, one of the Shantren held a torch.

  “We have been waiting for you.”

  Ky shoved past her, unlit torch falling from his hand. His sling snapped, sending a sling-bullet whirling through the air. It slammed into the Takhran’s forehead with a crack that whipped his head back. But he did not fall. He raised a bony hand to his brow and wiped away a smear of blood. But it had no other effect on him. And why should it, so long as the talav hung about his neck? Why should a sling-bullet succeed where even the Songkeeper’s blade had failed?

  The blade . . .

  The Takhran’s appearance had driven all thought of her purpose from her mind. She looked furtively for the sword, gaze sweeping the ground in vain, then closed her eyes in an effort to isolate the melody. It was nearby. She knew that. But just as she caught the metallic wail of the sword, two dischordant melodies broke free of the tumultuous symphony, claiming her attention.

  Two Shantren approached.

  Humor laced the Takhran’s voice. “You are familiar with Earthshaker and Seabringer, are you not?” His eyes flickered downward, directing her gaze to two blue-robed figures emerging from the shadows beneath the arch.

  Rounding the dome, they angled toward her. On the left, the massive broad-shouldered form of the Shantren she had seen before the gate of Cadel-Gidhar—Earthshaker. Knotted arms and fists crossed his bulging chest, and a scowl twisted his face beneath a braided tangle of hair. On the right, a lean, bearded man with eyes sunken behind cheekbones so sharp they pressed his weathered skin taut—Seabringer. Both wore heavy silver collars around their necks, inlaid with half a dozen crystals. And a long, thin, cloth-wrapped bundle rested in Seabringer’s arms.

  The wailing melody strengthened.

  It was the sword.

  So close and yet still beyond reach. A rapid pulse in her throat demanded that she sing, strike, attack, do something. But the Song had not yet offered guidance. Just whispered an unbroken strain of peace, be still in her ears.

  Her mouth went dry.

  Had the melody led her all this way only to leave her on her own now?

  •••

  Ky looked on the face of the Takhran, the tyrant who had ordered the destruction of his city, taken his friends as slaves, and command
ed the slaughter at Dacheren, and he couldn’t muster anger. Not even when he had sent that sling-bullet flying at the man’s skull. He felt nothing. Nothing more than a desire to see it done.

  His fingers beat a restless tattoo against his loaded sling. The plan had seemed simple in the tunnel. Sneak in and steal the sword. It got a little hazy after that, but what plan didn’t benefit from a little improvisation? And this was why he hated plans.

  He sought Cade’s eyes over Birdie’s head, but Cade didn’t acknowledge him. The older boy’s mouth pressed into a thin, hard line, hand white knuckled on his sword hilt. You could almost see the anger heating up inside him.

  Ky fidgeted with his sling. This was the worst sort of standoff—the sort weighted so heavily to one side that it was bound to break at any instant into all-out, do-or-die war. He recalled the barrel of ryree powder at Dizzier’s back. Would have come in handy. One spark could have blown this wretched cavern off the map. That would have been a plan he could get behind, because no matter what happened, no matter what threats were made, the fuse would go off. Might take you with it. But it would be done.

  There was a cost to keeping folk safe.

  The Takhran flicked his hand. “Take them.”

  Earthshaker and Seabringer drew weapons—a hammer and a sword—and advanced. Ky whipped off a shot that clanged off the talav about Seabringer’s neck. Always quick on the attack, Cade leapt past with a low cut angling up toward Earthshaker’s rib cage. The war hammer slammed into the blade, knocking the sword clean out of Cade’s hand.

  That was a first. Ky had never seen him disarmed on the first stroke.

  Shock swept Cade’s face. His body twisted to follow the path of his sword. Earthshaker’s backstroke caught him in the chest and knocked him down. All in a breath. Ky barely reloaded his sling in time to send a shot winging for Earthshaker’s head before a second strike could crash into Cade.

  Too hasty. The sling-bullet only grazed Earthshaker’s forehead. Brought him wheeling around, teeth clenched, hammer raised. Movement flashed in the corner of Ky’s eye. Seabringer lunged at his side. Forced him to spin to evade the blade. Even hampered by the cloth-bound sword clutched in his right hand, Seabringer moved with a fluidity that baffled Ky. Left him feeling two steps behind. He needed distance for his sling.

  On impulse, he swung to the man’s right. Ducked a weak stroke, circled behind, and hammered his loaded sling into the back of the Shantren’s head. By the time Seabringer lurched around, Ky was a dozen paces away and slinging. Caught the man with a solid shot to the chest. He stumbled back, wheezing. A second shot smashed his right hand.

  The cloth-bound sword fell.

  Birdie darted past him, intent upon the sword.

  “Wait!” Ky scrambled to guard her but lost his footing. Went down on one knee. Hard. He put his hands out to balance himself and realized that the earth quivered beneath his palms. Earthshaker stood with his arms spread wide. Singing. A heavy note filled the air, and the ground bucked beneath Ky’s feet as he lurched after Birdie again. His ankle turned, sending a crunch of pain up his leg, pitching him to the side. He crashed shoulder first into someone’s chest. Pulse thundering in his ears, he jerked away, lashing out with his loaded sling to defend himself.

  It struck with a wet thud.

  That snagged his attention. He stared up into the bloodless face of a man chained with iron bands to a column of stone. Unmoving. Throat split. Dead.

  His heart pummeled his chest in protest. Another quake jarred his insides as he scanned his surroundings, taking it all in for the first time, one mind-numbing image after another. Twelve columns. Twelve dead Leirans displayed like trophies. Countless bodies clumped at the bases. The horror of it collected inside him, rising like bile surging in his throat.

  Then the earth shook again, knocking his feet out from under him. Falling, his gaze snagged on a boy bound to a column on the far side of the circle. Thin frame. Freckled face. Red hair.

  “Paddy!”

  The cry ripped from his lungs, dashed unanswered against the rock. In the wake of his cry, everything within him went quiet. Without, the quake still tossed him around like a leaf. But within, it felt as if a ryree explosion had burst inside his chest. But instead of blowing his ribs out, it sucked everything in. Swallowed it whole.

  Until there was nothing left.

  36

  His ears rang.

  That was the first thing that crossed Amos’s mind when he jolted awake. Boggswoggling ringing wouldn’t stop. Just kept clanging away inside his skull until he felt his ears would bleed from the din. And the sensations just got worse from there. Dust clogged his throat. Something heavy crushed his legs. Shifting sent pain spiking through his right knee. And his eyes . . . He blinked, wincing at the feel of grit rubbing beneath his eyelids. He could see. At least he could see. There was a light coming from somewhere. Flickering, orange light.

  Torchlight.

  Last he recalled, he’d been loping down the tunnel at Sym’s heels with Nisus at his side, dead set on finding Birdie and helping her complete whatever fool mission she had embarked on. Next thing he knew, that hideous note of music struck—the one that still rang in his ears—and the blast had torn through rock, shivered stone, and brought the ceiling crashing down.

  He craned his neck. A mound of caved-in earth extended before him, walling off the forward passage. A boulder wedged his legs. Beside him, Sym lay on her stomach, eyes closed, a thin trail of blood trickling from her lip.

  “Sym?” He croaked the names. “Nisus?”

  Boots scuffed behind. Nisus’s filthy face peered down at him. “Hawkness, you are awake. Good. I have been trying to pull you out since the collapse. If we work together, I think we can do it.” Grunting, the dwarf shoved a long rod beneath the boulder pinning Amos’s legs and then kicked a head-sized stone beneath it, forming a fulcrum and lever. “When I lift, you’ll have to pull yourself out.”

  Amos’s gaze latched onto the rod. It was one of Sym’s spears. He swallowed a mouthful of grit. “Sym . . . How is she?”

  “Ready, pull!” Nisus threw his weight onto the lever. The boulder shifted. Amos groaned at the pain. Another inch. He scrambled back and lurched to his feet, hopping on his good left leg. The right knee was shot. Bandaged tight, he should be able to put weight on it, maybe even limp along at a decent pace, but it wouldn’t be pleasant.

  So much for a nice stroll to the Pit.

  The boulder thudded back into place. Nisus handed him a strip torn from his cloak, and Amos swiftly bound the injured joint, clenching his teeth to take his mind off the pain. He jerked his chin toward Sym, didn’t allow himself to flinch from the gravity of the word. “Dead?”

  “Soon enough, I am afraid.”

  Soon enough wasn’t dead yet. Amos glared at the dwarf and limped to her side. Eased himself to the ground. “We’re getting her out.” Barehanded, he tore at the broken stone, digging pieces free and tossing them aside. They clattered off the cave floor. Nisus didn’t speak but knelt a moment later and pitched in as well. Together they dragged Sym’s limp form free of the rubble and laid her in the middle of the tunnel.

  She did not awaken.

  And there was naught they could do. Broken limbs could be set. Wounds could be bandaged. But injuries so deep within, the result of the cumulative weight of falling stone—those they could not heal. She was dying.

  Amos tottered back to his feet, driving the fear and the worry from his mind. If Nisus was right and this was the end of all their fighting, there was more at stake here than Sym. More than any of them. His lass, Birdie, needed their help. He rubbed the grit from his eyes and examined the tunnel. “How likely d’ ye think this collapse was pure happenstance?”

  “How likely? In truth?” Nisus sat back on his heels, and a worn laugh spilled from his throat. “We seek the Pit, Hawkness. We have lost our guide, the way is blocked, the Songkeeper is on her own. There is no happenstance anywhere in that.”

  “Aye .
. . afraid I’m with ye on that.”

  “What can we do now?”

  “We go on.” Amos shifted his eyes away from the injured Saari warrior. Swallowed hard. “Return for her later.” He didn’t speak it, but the look in Nisus’s eyes acknowledged that their chances of returning were even slimmer than Sym’s chances of surviving her injuries.

  The dwarf slid the cloak from his shoulders and laid it across Sym.

  Amos spun on his good leg and marched down the tunnel, away from the collapse, supporting his weak knee with a hand on the wall. Bloodwuthering blodknockers, the world was a cruel place. Why Sym?

  Why couldn’t it have been him?

  “Hawkness?”

  He didn’t wait for the dwarf to catch up. Just drove himself forward, one relentless, pain-wrenching step after another. “C’mon. We’re too bloody close t’ give up now.”

  “But Hawkness, the way forward is blocked.”

  “There’s always a way, Nisus.” A breath of air stirred across his clammy skin. Brought the stench of death to his nostrils. He swung into the next cross passage. “I know these tunnels. Sooner or later, they all lead t’ the Pit.”

  •••

  In the past, when the Song had risen to her call, Birdie had reached out to the well of melody flowing beneath the water of the earth and called upon it to rise. On the deck of the Langorian slave ship, in the heights overlooking Cadel-Gidhar, and again when she stood upon the shores of the sea. She sang the melody, and the water answered the Song. But the Pit was a dry and barren land. The last remnants of the river were caged within the rock surrounding Tal Ethel. It churned against its bonds.

  But it did not rise to her summons.

  Chaos raged around her. Cade had been tossed aside; Ky had been struck down. She had started for the sword, but the earth trembled with Earthshaker’s song, driving her to her knees, outstretched hand reaching for the blade that was still too far away. The vibrations of the earth set the blade ringing, filling her ears with its metallic humming.