A Sea of Broken Glass

by Sonya M Black

  A woman stood where the Darkness had been, a gaping bullet hole in her forehead. She rolled her shoulders and shook off the wound. The hole closed over, leaving oily, black blood and viscera trailing down her gaunt face. Tangled, dark hair covered her head, and her eyes glowed with an eerie green light. Pustular sores covered the skin exposed by her tattered and filthy dress.

  Aeron and Michel scrambled to their feet the moment she appeared.

  “Hello, my brothers, it’s been a long time.” The woman’s smile revealed blackened stubs of teeth.

  “Elecia,” Michel growled.

  “Elecia is dead. I am Plague now.” She waved her hand through the air to dissipate the rest of the mirage. Demons replaced the people, lined up on either side of her.

  The creatures waited silently, their hungry stares enough to curdle the blood. Their fingers ended in extra-long claws that dripped venom and their mouths nearly split their faces in two. Black tongues darted out past razor-sharp teeth to lick the poisonous saliva that trailed from their lips.

  I inhaled and steadied myself. I could do this. I had faced Ruin and survived. In spite of everything that had been thrown at me, I had overcome.

  Something inside of me cowered in fear. I was weak and broken.

  My heart thumped painfully in my chest.

  I was alone.

  Memories of digging in the sand filled my mind.

  Broken. Alone. Full of despair. I would die here.

  Michel placed a hand on my shoulder and squeezed.

  No. I wasn’t alone.

  “Give me the healer and the Heart, and I’ll let you live,” Plague purred.

  A verbal response wasn’t required. I pulled deeply on my magic, winding fire and water into a deadly combination. Aeron and Michel threw up barriers as I pulled the corruption from the closest demon. It exploded and rained wet ash onto the sand.

  Plague’s eyes widened, then a gruesome grin split her face. “You’ve learned a new trick, but I have a few of my own.”

  I couldn’t focus on the demons. I needed to use all of my power to destroy Plague.

  My magic rose in an ecstatic song, demanding that I heal the land. Cleanse everything around me. It called, but I didn’t listen. Instead, I grabbed hold of the bonds that tied me to Aeron, Michel, and Bran, and anchored my sense of self and purpose into the braided rope that stretched between us. I refused to hurt them again.

  I was fire and water, but I was also a friend, sister, daughter, and maybe something more.

  Magic didn’t define me.

  I defined it.

  Michel drew his rapier and Aeron crouched next to me, daggers at the ready. Green and blue flames spread along the edges of their blades. They were prepared to face death. Michel circled left, and Aeron went right. Their shields of water and earth magic glittered in the sunlight as they approached the pestilence demons. Wet pops filled the air as they attacked.

  My healer’s fire knew what to do. How to rid Plague of her Darkness. Corruption. Poison. I could do it without killing myself or Aeron and Michel. I had to.

  This time, I was ready.

  Tension gathered in the air, the bated breath of the storm before it released its fury. I latched onto it, wove it into my song. Aeron and Michel danced around me, protecting me from the claws of the demons while I wove the song into a weapon.

  Plague locked her gaze on me, constructing her own savage magic, bitter and discordant notes that soured the surrounding air.

  I needed more notes of the song to complete my symphony. I drew deeply on the well of my power. It came readily when I called, spiraling toward me. It built, note upon note, measure upon measure.

  Melody and harmony.

  Lifting.

  Curling.

  Dancing.

  Creating a spear of fire and water aimed at Plague’s heart. She threw up a shield of poison and Darkness as I flung the spear at her. It hovered for a breath before it dissolved.

  Plague tossed her head back and laughed. “Good try, healer. But, not good enough.”

  Venom flew from her hands, aimed at Michel and Aeron. Their shields would never hold against the shadow magic that wound its way through her poison. Their paladin’s fire flared as it hit, bursting the shields into green and blue sparks that fell like rain to the ground.

  Plague’s magic raced forward ready to devour them.

  Panic kicked me in the chest. I couldn’t let it touch them. I grabbed the deadly magic, pulled it to me, and wrapped it in fire.

  Plague launched another attack aimed only at the men. I countered, splitting my focus between defending Aeron and Michel and attacking her.

  Another spear of water and fire blocked. Another ball of poison and Darkness burned to ash.

  The magic flew between us, fast and uncompromising. More spears. More balls of poison. Back and forth it sang through the air as sweat poured down my face and back. My hands trembled with the strain of splitting my focus between attack and defense.

  “What’s wrong, little healer? Not up to the challenge?” Plague licked her blackened lips. “I long to taste your fear. I imagine it’s delicious.”

  I held my ground, shaping more spears to fling at her.

  A cloud of Darkness and poison surrounded Michel and Aeron. Pain flooded the bond I shared with them, nearly driving me to my knees with its intensity. Plague was killing them. I had to do something.

  “How long do you think they’ll last, little healer?” She laughed, revealing the stubs of her rotted teeth.

  I needed to distract her. Three spears of fire and water hovered in front of me. My hands shook with fatigue. I flung the spears, two at first, and one a breath later. The first two shattered against Plague’s shield, but the third pierced it, creating a pinprick of a hole.

  Her eyes narrowed. I set myself, dug my feet into the sand, and let my magic loose. I indulged the temptation to heal the corruption around me. Breathing it in and exhaling new life. The taint filled me, a skirling of off-key bag pipes that I transformed into a pleasant lullaby.

  The noxious poison that surrounded Michel and Aeron dissipated. They lay curled on the sand, bloody froth speckling their lips. Demons closed in. The men were sitting ducks in their vulnerable, wounded state.

  My shoulders heaved as I sucked in breaths. I needed to end this fight.

  Plague raised a hand and more demons appeared, stepping out of a twist of shadow.

  Light! How was I going to stop them all?

  Michel stood, his body swaying with the effort. His rapier wavered as he faced the creatures, but he planted himself between me and them.

  Plague smirked. “My, my, so brave, but ultimately futile.”

  “Perhaps. Perhaps not.” Blue paladin flames raced down the blade of his rapier. He saluted her with it before plunging into the nearest demon.

  I did what I could to help, ripping the corruption from the demons while I held off Plague’s attacks.

  Tangled balls of poison and Darkness roared toward me before Plague hurled a few toward Michel and Aeron. I burned them. One after another. My knees wobbled with the strain, but I kept going.

  Aeron pushed himself to his feet and joined Michel, his daggers flashing with green flames.

  I sent five more spears pounding into Plague’s shield, aiming for the tiny hole I’d created.

  Five more followed immediately after. The hole widened.

  More spears.

  More balls of Darkness and poison.

  The hole in Plague’s shield grew. My knees shook. It wouldn’t be long before I didn’t have the strength to continue.

  A final spear drove through the hole and into Plague’s chest. Her eyes went wide, and her mouth formed an ‘o.’ With a wave of her hand, a ripple Darkness surrounded her, and she disappeared in a clap of thunder.

  I blinked. Where had she gone? What had happened? It couldn’t be over. She couldn’t be dead.

  Magic drained
from me like water from a tub, and I dropped to my knees. Exhaustion pounded through me. The well that had felt endless was suddenly dry.

  I collapsed, barely able to register the rest of the fight. My eyes slid closed, and I took several deep breaths, praying that a demon didn’t attack.

  After a few heartbeats, I opened my eyes, and a little thrill of relief ran through me. Michel and Aeron were alive. The demons were dead.

  Michel knelt beside me and handed me a flask of water. I drained it in three gulps. Aeron took it from my shaking hand and gave me another, which I drank down as well.

  “Well, that was interesting.” Aeron dropped to the sand next to me with a grunt.

  “Which part?” I asked. “Plague getting pulled into a hole made of Darkness or me throwing spears made of magic?”

  Aeron ruffled my hair. “Both. Good job, imp.”

  “I don’t think she’s dead,” I said.

  “I believe you’re right,” Aeron replied, “but it will be awhile before she is able to attack us.”

  Pain beat through my head like a drum. I pressed my palms into my eyes to stop the thudding beat. “My head hurts.”

  Michel rested a hand on my shoulder, his magic mixing with mine. The pounding in my head eased with his touch.

  I grabbed his hand and curled onto my side. “I’m so tired.”

  Michel settled next to me. His magic wrapped around me like a warm blanket. My body felt hot and heavy. The world lurched sickeningly for a moment before it settled back to normal.

  Aeron knelt nearby. “Are you okay, imp?”

  “Just tired. How are you feeling?” I touched Aeron’s knee. “I’m sorry for dragging you out here, fox-face.”

  “Don’t.” Aeron pushed my hand away. “It’s too late to doubt yourself.”

  “I know.” I rolled to my other side, putting my back to him. “Let’s focus on finding the Heart so we can leave this place.”

  29

  Aeron continued digging, the heat of the sun blocked by the walls of sand that rose around him. His shirt clung to his skin, and he itched from head to toe. He couldn’t even smell his own stink anymore, but he was sure it was powerful.

  He blinked a few times to clear the grit and sweat from his eyes, then got back to work. He shaped the notes of his magic, lifting sand out of the hole and piling it nearby. As he dug, he fused the sand on the sides of the hole to keep it from falling back in and formed a ramp for easy access.

  Hours passed. His body ached. His head felt heavy. The aftereffects of endless days slogging through heat and desert had taken its toll.

  “It’s here,” Ris muttered, over and over as she paced the length of the excavation, one hand pressed to her chest. “I have to find it. Have to.”

  Michel hovered nearby, his eyes tracking every movement she made.

  Aeron turned back to the task of digging. He wasn’t sure whether or not to believe Ris. On the one hand, Plague had attacked shortly after they’d started digging. On the other, Aeron had dug deep enough that they should have found some trace of the Heart. It couldn’t be buried that deeply, could it?

  Light, he wasn’t even sure if it was still intact. It had to still exist in some form, or the world would have died. It was the Heart of Creation after all. Infused with Light, it contained the power to build worlds. Or destroy them if the Darkness got his hands on it.

  Paladins had touched the Heart for centuries, swearing their vows to the Light on it. Touching it changed them. Stopped them from aging and getting sick. It allowed them access to more magic. It burned their oaths into their souls, destroying any corruption or taint of Darkness. The world and everything in it was tied to the Heart.

  Only the Lady or her progeny could wield the magic of it. The power of creation and destruction. What would Ris create if they found the Heart? What could she destroy?

  Aeron’s magic brushed against something cool and smooth. He swept away the sand that covered it, revealing a pool of fused black glass half as wide as he was tall. Something pulsed with a light deep inside. The Heart, held firmly in the grip of the boulder, taunted them with its proximity. So close, but still out of reach.

  He touched the glass, and the thrum of his magic filled the air with a slow rhythm. The ponderous beat increased in speed. He raised his arm and struck at the glass boulder with a hammer stroke of song meant to shatter it and release the Heart. Like a blacksmith at a forge, Aeron beat on the black lump, blow after blow rebounding through his arm and soul. The glass shuddered, but refused to give up its prize.

  The Heart pulsed in time to the silent tempo of his song, flashing deep within the glass. He let the song fade, bitter disappointment burning like a hot coal in his stomach. Nothing. Not even a scratch. How in the Light were they going to get to the Heart?

  “This is ridiculous!“ Ris kicked the boulder. “We’ve come all this way for nothing.”

  Michel glared at the pulsing light. “We’ll keep trying until we find a way to get the Heart out.”

  Keep trying?

  Did Aeron have it in him? He was so tired, but they were so close. The hope that had nearly been extinguished by the trek through the Bonelands and the ever-present taint flared to life.

  “Let’s see if we can get this out of here. Then maybe we can chip some of the glass off.” Aeron pulled the sand away and with his magic lifted the oblong mass from the earth. It tilted precariously as a wave of sand boosted it into the air. The narrower bottom made the weight uneven, and Aeron compensated by shifting more of the sand to make up for the lack of mass as he moved toward their campsite.

  Aeron paused and rested every few feet.

  “We can try pushing it,” Ris suggested.

  Aeron shook his head, and after a quick breather, tried again.

  The sun had slid closer to the horizon by the time Aeron made it out of the hole and to the camp. As soon as he dropped the boulder, he sat and leaned back on his hands, grateful for a moment of rest.

  Ris walked around the mass, hand trailing over the dips and ripples in the glass. “In my dream, I saw the Heart sink into a pool of something after the Lady cast her curse. I didn’t imagine it was this.”

  Michel dug through the saddlebags and packs, coming up with the tools they’d confiscated from the paladins that had been digging in the wrong place. He took a pickax and swung it at the glass boulder. It bounced off with a sharp thwack but didn’t chip it.

  Light, what would it take to make a dent in the thing?

  Aeron joined him, and they took turns beating on the glass. His shoulders ached, and his arms shook. Still nothing.

  “This isn’t working,” Michel growled.

  “We have to get it out.” Magic built around Ris, a mix of trombones and violins that wove a song of fire and water. It wrapped around the boulder, the notes poking and prodding for a weakness.

  Aeron joined his magic to hers, letting the drumbeats provide a syncopated rhythm. A moment later, Michel added the deeper tone of cellos, plucking the notes in time to Aeron’s beat. Their music chipped away at the glass, a note here, a measure there.

  Effortlessly, the three blended their magic into a zippy quick-time song that crescendoed and finally died out. Tiny cracks appeared, spreading across the surface of the glass.

  Aeron brushed at it and the thinnest layer crumbled off. “Well, that’s something, I guess.” He lay back in the sand and threw an arm over his eyes. At the rate they were going, it would take a month to reach it. Exhaustion thrummed in his bones, but they were so close. He sat back up and glared at the obstacle that held their treasure.

  Ris laid a hand on the boulder, a deep crease forming between her brows as she glared at it.

  “This is going to take forever,” Michel murmured. “I don’t know if we’ll last. Could we move the whole thing? Take it out of the Bonelands as it is.”

  “Maybe,” Aeron replied. “It would take a lot of magic to drag it that far, and we’d be
vulnerable to attack. I’m not sure we have enough supplies. If Cre were here, maybe we could do it.”

  “We’re vulnerable whether the Heart is in the glass or out of it.” Michel rapped the boulder with his knuckles. “But, if it’s out, then maybe Ris can use it.”

  Aeron pressed his lips together. The question wasn’t could she use it, but should she? The Heart had been corrupted according to Ris and her visions of the Lady. What would freeing it do?

  “I have to get it out.” Ris pressed both hands to the glass, and a flurry of notes surrounded her. The song pounded futilely against the boulder.

  Michel wrapped his arms around Ris, whispering something into her ear. Their magic coiled together, mixing water and fire in a dangerous dance that would eventually kill them.

  Aeron looked away. He couldn’t bear to watch them. Couldn’t stomach seeing them tempt fate. He’d given up trying to discourage them from it. They’d stopped caring. Stopped even trying to pull back. A small part of him understood. In the vast emptiness that surrounded them, with the constant pull of the taint, the temptation of opposing magic was too great to resist. The rest of him worried what would become of them if they escaped the Bonelands.

  “What now?” Aeron asked.

  Michel placed a hand on the boulder. “Let’s see if we can chip more of the outside off. Even if we can’t get the Heart out completely, if we remove enough of the glass, we could pack it up and take it with us.”

  Aeron sighed. “Two more days, then we’ll leave. Any more than that and we’re sure to die out here.”

  “Then we better get to work,” Michel said. “Come on, Ris.”

  Aeron sat up, offering his hands to Ris and Michel. “On the upbeat.”

  The sun nearly touched the horizon as they picked up the song where they’d left off. Two more days, then they would head home, regardless of how much progress they made. What else would go wrong? Aeron’s stomach knotted.

  Lady, he prayed, let us make it out of this alive.

  30

  Bran drove himself harder. Ris was close. The bond tugged at him, urging him to fly faster. Night and day bled together as he raced toward her, traveling for as long as his wings allowed. His thoughts spun out of control as he flew. Where was the Darkness and had it truly let him go?