Shards of History

by Rebecca Roland

  Malia ached along with the female. Yet, how did the female end up helping the Maddion if this was what they did to her?

  Then she got her answer. The Maddion spoke in his harsh, guttural language. Through the female Jegudun’s understanding, Malia realized he wanted her to return with a Taakwa. Then he would let the other captured Jeguduns free. If she didn’t return with one, he’d kill another. He indicated the Jegudun sitting next to her—her mate.

  The female warred with herself. If it was just her, she’d let them kill her. But she couldn’t bear the thought of the Maddion brutally killing her mate. She hated the Maddion, but she knew this one spoke the truth. All she had to do was bring a Taakwa to save her mate.

  Yet bringing a Taakwa would mean the Maddion could destroy the barrier. It would be better to save the masses and let a few die than to save these few. She couldn’t do it, though. She had to save her mate. So she nodded. She’d bring a Taakwa and worry about the consequences later.

  The pull on Malia’s mind loosened and then let go. She slipped her hand from the Jegudun’s, stood, and paced to the other side of the tiny room. She rubbed her arms against the chill.

  “You tried to bring that boy to them to save your mate,” she said.

  The female nodded.

  “But he died anyway, didn’t he? When you didn’t go back with a Taakwa?”

  She trilled mournfully and ducked her head.

  Malia tried to understand the female’s decision. She risked the entire valley and her people to save one Jegudun. Faced with what could happen to him, she had panicked. She could think only of saving him. Malia couldn’t even begin to know what she would do in the same circumstance.

  “Do you want a chance to make up for what you did and save the valley?” she asked.

  The Jegudun’s head jerked up and cocked to one side.

  “All we have to do is get to the barrier at the top of the cliff and we have a chance of saving everybody. We’ll risk exposing ourselves on the way up there, and my plan might not even work, but it’s all we’ve got right now. Will you help me?”

  The female nodded vigorously.

  “Then let’s get going.”

  Chapter 27

  Malia barreled over the arguments Enuwal and Rasmus presented when she showed up with the Jegudun in tow. Time was running out. The shattered bits of the barrier fell faster now, clean, white, sharp slivers in a hazy sky. Some lay scattered on the ground, her passage kicking them up as if they were goose down. If her idea was going to work, she’d have to act on it soon.

  Rasmus insisted on leading the way up the trail. Malia followed him, then came the Jegudun, and Enuwal took up the rear. The trail was barely wide enough for them to walk single file. Tiny loose rocks covered it, and they often had to clamber over larger ones. Malia tried not to imagine what would happen if her foot slipped just a little too far to the edge.

  Smoke rose from the woods where the Taakwa and Jegudun had been working together, and flames licked the sky here and there. Most of the screams had stopped.

  The Maddion had moved farther into the valley. Somewhere out there, Vedran and others from Selu probably fought against them. Malia hoped they had cover from the Maddions’ aerial attack. If they could force the Maddion off their dragons and onto the ground, they stood a better chance.

  Her foot slipped and shot out. She fell to her hands and knees. Burning pain blossomed on both palms, and the pain in the knee she’d injured on the bridge reawakened. She admonished herself. She should be paying attention to the trail, not to what was happening in the valley.

  Rasmus helped her to her feet. Her legs trembled as much from fear as from fatigue. A quick glance back reassured her that the Jegudun and Enuwal were safe. The healer frowned in concern.

  “I’m fine,” she called back to Enuwal.

  The winding trail was never going to end. Sweat trickled down Malia’s spine and formed a line along her forehead.

  For a moment, the sun broke through the haze, and sunlight winked off the falling shards. Some sparkled from the trees and the ground like white beads. It would be beautiful if it didn’t mean the valley’s destruction. Malia focused on the trail again, choosing where to set her feet.

  Along a flatter part of the trail, Rasmus stopped. “We’ll rest here for a moment.”

  Malia considered sitting but thought she wouldn’t be able to rise again if she did so. She settled for leaning against the cliff. The rock had captured the sun’s warmth, and it seeped through her tunic to her skin. It eased some of her body’s aches.

  “How are you doing?” she asked the Jegudun.

  She nodded in reply and followed Malia’s lead, leaning against the rock and closing her eyes.

  It must be difficult for the Jegudun to climb the trail on those squat legs. How she must miss her wings and her freedom. Not just at this moment, but her clipped wings must serve as a constant reminder of her dead mate and her poor decision in trying to take that boy.

  Malia said, “It doesn’t seem as if any of the Maddion have noticed us yet.”

  “They’re so far away,” Rasmus replied, “that they probably wouldn’t see us even if they were looking right at this spot.”

  “And they’re too busy fighting,” Enuwal added.

  Malia allowed a tiny bit of hope to seep into her thoughts. If the Maddion were too busy fighting and too far away to spot them, they might have a chance to see if her idea would work. She pushed herself from the warm rock.

  They continued up the trail, their pace a little faster. The world shrank until Malia’s only focus was where to put her feet next. One foot after the other, scramble over the occasional rock, turn when the trail turns, always climbing, don’t stop, don’t look over the edge, keep going—

  “Malia,” Rasmus said quietly. “We’ve made it.”

  She looked up, rubbing the ache from the back of her neck. They stood just below the rim of the cliffs. Grass clung to the edge and jutted over. She hadn’t realized she’d been blocking even the roar of the waterfalls until the sound came rushing back to her. The trail had brought them gradually closer to where the river plunged off the cliff, although they remained just out of reach of the mist.

  We’ve almost made it. Shards of the barrier rained lazily around them, and they lay thicker on the ground here than they did on the valley floor. Malia hoped it wasn’t too late to fix it. And if it is? She shoved the nagging voice of doubt from her mind. She’d deal with it when the time came.

  “I’ll look before any of us steps up,” Rasmus said. He climbed the last few paces and peered over the rock and grass. He stayed that way for a long moment before turning back. “Maddion are breaking down the remains of a large camp. It seems to be mostly boys. They’re several stones’ throws away. They might notice us.”

  “Is there anything we can use for cover?” Malia asked.

  “We could stay low in the grass.”

  “What about dragons? Are there any dragons up there?” Cover wouldn’t do them any good if the beasts could fly over them.

  Rasmus shook his head. “It looks like they’re all involved with the fighting. But Malia, even though it’s just boys, they’re all probably warriors in training. They outnumber us by a lot. If they spot us, we have nowhere to go but back down the trail.”

  And they wouldn’t be able to retreat quickly down the narrow trail without risking a fall.

  “What are you suggesting?” she asked.

  “There are woods to our left. We could use them for cover and get away, put some distance between us and the Maddion.”

  She shook her head. “I already told you, we have to try to fix the barrier.”

  “This might be our only chance to escape,” Enuwal added.

  To the Jegudun Malia said, “And you? Do you prefer to run or to help me?”

  She laid her hand in Malia’s and nodded firmly. She would stay to help.

  “Then you two can run. She and I will stay and do what we can.”


  Enuwal sighed. “No, I’m not leaving you behind. If you insist on trying to fix the barrier, I’m staying with you. I’ll do whatever I can.”

  She turned to Rasmus. “And you?”

  He frowned, the expression tugging at the harsh white scar on his cheek. “I think we should run, but I’m with Enuwal. I’ll stay too, as long as you’re willing to stay. Which brings us to the next question … what exactly are we going to do now that we’re here?”

  Malia reached out and caught a shard in her hand. It was cold as ice and opaque. The edges appeared sharp but did not cut her finger when she ran her thumb over it. She turned it over and over. One tiny piece among so many. It would be like trying to weave together the tapestry of the night sky after all the stars had fallen out of it. For one moment she was tempted to tell them she’d prefer to run while they had the chance.

  But the hundreds upon hundreds of dragon swarming over the valley stopped the words. What good would it do for the few of them to escape while all the other Taakwa were killed? Her home would be destroyed, almost everybody she cared for gone. What kind of life could she start?

  She made a fist, closing her hand tight over the shard. “We need to get to the river and find some clay to begin with. Then I’ll mix my blood and the Jegudun’s blood with it and begin trying to piece the barrier together again.”

  “How will you do that exactly?” Rasmus asked.

  “I figure, if it’s going to work, the magic will guide us like it does when Taakwa work with Jeguduns.”

  “And if it doesn’t work?”

  “That’s when we run.”

  * * *

  Malia insisted on leading them to the river. She crept along in a half-crouch, ignoring the sharp pain in her knee and the soreness of her body. Every so often she’d stop and Rasmus would peek over the top of the grass to make sure they hadn’t been spotted.

  The Jegudun had the hardest time. Her limbs weren’t made for a whole lot of walking, much less crawling along on the ground. Enuwal murmured encouragement to her as they moved along.

  The odor of crushed grass and earth filled Malia’s nostrils. Gradually, the sound of the river plunging off the cliffs grew louder. She knew they neared it when a breeze whipped fine mist onto her skin, cooling her.

  The grass thinned and gave way to gray stones and then the river. It was wide, a good two hundred paces across at least. Just a few paces upriver, shards of the barrier lay strewn on the ground. The rest of it floated down lazily all around her like jagged chunks of snow.

  Enuwal joined her. “Do you have to get to the river?”

  “I need some clay to start binding together pieces of the barrier, and I need something to soak up the blood.”

  “Do you have to do it? I could go out there and get what you need.”

  “It’s better if I do it, yes. You and Rasmus need to stay hidden in case some of the Maddion spot us and attack. You need to keep us safe as long as possible.”

  “How long will it take?”

  “I don’t know.” There was a lot she still didn’t know. She was running on instinct.

  “I don’t like this. I don’t like you risking your life.”

  She laid a hand on his arm. “We have a chance to save the valley.”

  He sighed. “I know.” He pulled his dagger free and handed it to her hilt first. “Make a small cut when you’re ready. You don’t want to bleed too much or too fast in case you have to run.”

  Her hand moved from his arm to his face and cupped it gently. “Everything will be all right.” But even as she spoke the words, she didn’t believe them. This idea might work, or it might not, but either way she was sure she’d end up dead. Already she’d cheated death with her illness last summer and in the forest fire. She doubted the ability to do so a third time.

  Before she could think over her actions, she leaned forward and laid her lips on Enuwal’s, softly at first. They were warm and tasted faintly of honey. He met her kiss and, when his tongue sought to part her lips, she let it. She leaned into him and his kiss as if she could devour him and pull him into her. Her free arm slipped around his neck and pulled him closer, and it still wasn’t close enough. She wanted all of him. There wasn’t enough time, though. Curse it all, she wanted just a little more time.

  Rasmus cleared his throat.

  Malia pulled back, breaking the connection. She panted, surprised at the intensity that had built in such a short moment.

  Enuwal blinked a few times, managing to look both surprised and pleased all at once.

  Rasmus made a show of checking the Maddion one last time. “They’re still busy. Now’s as good a time as any.”

  Malia nodded. Before she could change her mind, she grabbed the Jegudun’s hand. “We’ll move fast.”

  The Jegudun nodded.

  Together they ran across the rocks and to the river’s edge where the thickest line of barrier shards lay like a small snow drift. Malia dug her hands into the silt and began gathering the shards, piecing them together as best she could with the clay. Some swirled into the air and drifted away like feathers. She grasped at them, fingers sticky with mud, and they clung to her.

  “Your arm,” she said.

  The Jegudun presented her left, down-covered arm.

  Malia hesitated with the blade’s edge over it. “Where should I cut?”

  The creature pointed to a spot halfway between her elbow and wrist.

  Quickly, Malia made a deft cut in the flesh. “Hold your arm over the clay and shards. Let it soak in.”

  Then she pressed the tip of the blade to her own arm and hissed at the sharp line of pain. Blood welled and poured from the cut, joining the steady trickle from the Jegudun’s arm. It soaked into the clay, slowly darkening it.

  Nothing was happening. Malia stared unblinking at the dormant clay, shard, and blood mixture as if she could force the magic to begin. “Come on,” she muttered through clenched teeth.

  Shouts rose from the Maddions’ camp.

  Malia’s head whipped up. They had been spotted. The boys—most of them would have soon reached manhood if they had been Taakwa—were running towards them with weapons in their hands.

  “Malia,” hissed Enuwal from the grass. “Time to run.”

  “No,” she called over her shoulder. “Give us some time.”

  Something was missing. What was missing? She had clay to bind the shards, her blood, the Jegudun’s blood.

  Maybe they needed a connection. Maybe the Jegudun needed to use Malia’s power as a Taakwa to get things going. She grabbed the creature’s hand.

  “Pull power from me and use it on the shards. Make them start to come together.”

  The Jegudun trilled, her gaze flickering anxiously behind Malia.

  She grasped the creature’s hand tighter. “Do it,” she hissed. “It’s our only chance. If the barrier starts coming back together, they won’t be able to get at us.”

  The air hummed around them as the Jegudun began to gather power from Malia.

  “Don’t hold back. Take everything you need.”

  The humming grew louder until it drowned the sound of the river and the Maddions’ shouts. The air smelled like a lightning strike. The hairs along Malia’s arms rose, and her skin tingled all over. She closed her eyes and focused on letting the power flow easily from her to the Jegudun.

  Her free hand went to the clay and shards and blood. Her fingers dug into the mixture, seeking a way to pull the jagged ends back together. Here, she sent her thoughts to the Jegudun. Concentrate the power at the shards’ edges. Bind them together.

  Power flowed into the mixture. The shards quivered, then moved together, then locked. The cut edges disappeared beneath Malia’s fingertips as if they’d never existed, forming a larger, solid piece. A thrill ran through her. It was working!

  She let the Jegudun take more from her. She opened her eyes and gasped at the swirls of light as her blood and the Jegudun’s blood drew together pieces of the barrier. The pieces flew up
from the ground and the air, clinking together. First they formed an opaque wall. Then the wall grew to either side and up in a gentle arc.

  Shouts and the clang of weapons rang out behind her, but her mind hardly registered the commotion. She focused instead on the swirling lights that ran through the barrier like blood through veins. Warmth filled her body like a fever. Wave after wave of tremors shook her. All the world fell away until only the barrier consumed her thoughts. It had grown until it towered over her and part of the valley like a huge, inverted bowl.

  But the Jegudun’s strength was waning. Malia had more power to give, but the creature couldn’t handle much more.

  You must keep going. She didn’t know whether she spoke aloud or in her mind.

  The Jegudun’s strength waned. The repairs to the barrier slowed.

  No, no, no. They had accomplished so much. Malia wouldn’t let it go. She couldn’t let it go. If she kept sending power to the Jegudun, she’d kill her soon, but she couldn’t stop. There had to be some way the creature could draw more power from her.

  And then there was another Jegudun with them. He had come from the direction of the Maddions’ camp. He freed Malia’s hand from the other creature’s. The female Jegudun collapsed in a heap.

  With fresh strength, the creature pulled more power from Malia. The barrier continued to reform over the valley, stretching to the far end.

  A horde of Maddion approached them through the air. They had spotted the barrier and would be upon them in moments.

  Hurry. Malia tried to open herself even more. Power rolled from her to the Jegudun as the river had surged when it had overtaken the bridge. Her head throbbed. It felt swollen, as if it couldn’t contain itself any longer. My memories. They’ll all be gone at this rate. But the valley would be safe. Her people would be safe. And if she kept going like this, she would probably die anyway.

  She couldn’t stand the vise on her head any longer. She let her head back and screamed, sure she was dying. The world turned gray, and still she let the Jegudun take power from her.

  The last fragment of the barrier clicked into place. It was like the click she felt when she created a piece of pottery in which everything came together to work perfectly. The vise on her head let go abruptly. The Jegudun let go.