The Light of Burning Shadows

TWENTY-SEVEN

Visyna ran as fast as she could, trying to keep up with Tyul and Jir, but the elf and bengar were much too swift for her.

With her breath coming in gasps and blood pounding in her ears, she stopped and bent over, clutching her sides. She leaned against the tunnel wall and stayed there for a minute.

Finally able to breathe normally, she straightened up and noticed the construction of the tunnel for the first time. The stones were placed so precisely that no mortar had been used. More curious, however, was its size and condition. Once she had traveled a hundred yards or so from the opening at the oasis, it opened up to the width of a small cart, and a fascinating moss grew on the ceiling that gave off a soft glow, allowing her enough light to see where she was going.

The image of the skull with flaming eyes was seared into her memory. She well knew of necromancy, but thought it a relic of a dark past. Could it be true, she wondered, was it possible that Kaman Rhal had returned? The thought chilled her. Her Emissary had fooled her once by pretending to be the power of the Star of Sillra. Perhaps something-or someone-was using Kaman Rhal’s power. Whatever the case, she had been so focused on keeping the Shadow Monarch from obtaining a Star that she had given little thought that there might be other ancient powers out there waiting for just such an opportunity to rise again.

“Miss Tekoy!”

Visyna turned as Private Hrem Vulhber appeared out of the dark. Frost fire tinged his bayonet, and he, too, was panting heavily. A moment later Zwitty appeared. Visyna loathed the weasely faced soldier, but under the circumstances she knew he could kill, and that was a skill they would almost certainly need. Teeter hobbled into view a few seconds later.

“Where are the others?” Visyna asked, looking back down the tunnel.

Teeter shook his head. “We’re it. Sergeant Arkhorn sent us in after you, then the entrance caved in.”

Visyna had faith that Chayii and Rallie could fend for themselves, knowing their powers and Sergeant Arkhorn’s skills were a match for most anything, including those fire-spitting monsters. For many reasons, she worried more about Private Renwar.

“Then we must press on. Tyul is already well ahead of us. He still needs our help,” she said.

“Who’s going to help us?” Zwitty muttered from behind.

A good question, Visyna thought.

As the sun began to slide down the sky, the shadows of the marching column stretched and flowed out across the sand. Konowa found the image disturbing. It made the regiment’s shadows look twenty feet tall. He focused on the path ahead.

Wagon tracks cut neat furrows in the dirt, heading more or less straight south. Konowa knew the tracks had to be Rallie’s-enough reports had already reached the regiment of a wagon ablaze in black fire being pulled by armor-plated beasts that it could be no other.

The Suljak confirmed that the track’s course aimed directly toward a place called the Canyon of Bones, which lay somewhat to the south and west of Nazalla.

“Why do they call it that?” Konowa asked, adjusting himself in the saddle to spread the pain around. He winced as he found a particularly tender spot on his backside. He vowed never to ride another beast again-the Prince could have him shot if he wanted, as long as it wasn’t done in a saddle.

“It is a blighted place. Centuries ago, there was once a forest there, but Kaman Rhal’s she-drake is said to have burned it all because it offended her.” The Suljak looked apologetic as he said this. “I can’t imagine why.”

Konowa shifted in the saddle again. “I can. Trees have a way of doing that.”

The Suljak was momentarily nonplussed, then seemed to gather his wits and continued. “Yes, so I’ve heard. Whatever the cause, all that remains today are withered tree trunks bleached white by the sun and scoured by the sand-giving the land the appearance of an unearthed mass grave.”

“Charming,” Konowa said.

“It’s actually rather fascinating,” the Prince said, trotting his camel into line with theirs. He no longer had the parasol up, and looked surprisingly fresh.

A knot formed in Konowa’s stomach. He wondered if all his bottled-up anger was slowly, inexorably eating him up from the inside. Repressing a sigh, Konowa tried to look interested. “Really, Your Highness, how’s that?”

The Prince smiled, obviously pleased to impart some newly attained knowledge. “The legend surrounding the canyon fits perfectly with the level of sophistication of the tribes out here, but a new theory in archeology argues that given the right conditions, a tree can absorb enough minerals to essentially become hard as rock. They actually transform. So you see, it seems far more likely that these trunks weren’t burned by some legendary dragon at all, but simply succumbed to the natural effects of the desert.”

“But how could a forest grow out here in the first place?” Konowa asked, deciding it might be best to put some space between the Prince’s comments about the tribes. “How does anything grow out here?” He wasn’t disappointed that no trees blocked his path. The unimpeded sight lines meant a leader could manipulate and direct his troops in a battle while being able to keep an eye on his forces. The frustration of a communication’s not making it to an officer some distance away and out of direct sight would not be as challenging in this place.

“You’d be surprised at the amount of life teeming around us,” the Suljak said. “For instance, there is an oasis ahead where your soldiers and our mounts can drink. All manner of plants and animals thrive in such areas.” His voice rang with pride.

“What’s that?” the Prince asked, pointing toward the north and the coast.

Konowa turned and squinted. “Storm clouds. I wouldn’t have thought you get much rain here, Suljak,” Konowa said.

The Suljak sat up straighter in his saddle. He appeared visibly nervous for the first time Konowa could remember.

“We don’t. I have never seen clouds like that before.” He turned to look at the Prince. “Have you lied to me? Is that part of your army out there?”

“It most certainly is not,” the Prince said. He seemed equally ill at ease as he stared at the clouds.

“They’re moving awfully fast, even for storm clouds,” Konowa offered. “Much too fast.”

The Suljak worried at his beard. “Perhaps…perhaps it would be best if we increase our pace.”

“A good idea,” the Prince said. Konowa turned in his saddle and motioned to the drummer to pick up the beat. The man did so at once and the column lurched forward, the soldiers’ steps kicking up even more dust.

“Is that another storm ahead of us?” the Prince asked. He pulled out a brass telescope and held it up to his eye. After a minute, he passed it to Konowa, who took a quick look, already knowing what he would see.

“That, Your Highness, is the warrior tribes of the Hasshugeb Expanse moving to block our path,” Konowa said without emotion. He refrained from saying more, but it annoyed him no end to be caught in the middle of yet another diplomatic dance.

The Prince looked to the Suljak and then back to the dust cloud. “A moment ago you accused me of subterfuge and now you blatantly break our agreement. How dare you, sir. Do you truly wish to go to war with the Empire?”

The Suljak seemed genuinely shocked at the Prince’s response, though Konowa wasn’t. The Prince always expected things to go his way.

The Suljak waved away the question. “I assure you, as I have assured the Viceroy for months, the people of the Hasshugeb want only to be left alone to conduct their lives as they see fit. What you see on the horizon is merely our expression of that intent, to ensure the Star remains where it belongs.”

“And should other…things be uncovered?” the Prince asked, his voice casual.

Konowa marveled at how quickly the Prince could change emotion. One moment he was building into a fury and the next he was coolly calculating odds.

The Suljak was equally matter-of-fact. “The people of the Hasshugeb lay no claim to artifacts discovered that are not culturally tied to this land. I have no doubt arrangements can be made that satisfy all parties.”

Konowa thought the Suljak was giving away Kaman Rhal’s purported library rather easily, but as he pondered it more, he saw the genius in it. Were the Hasshugeb to lay a claim to the library and its holdings, they risked not just the Empire’s avarice, but that of every other nation and people from whom Rhal had stolen. The re-emergence of the library with its fabled treasure would draw thieves-both individuals and armies. By allowing the Empire to take away much of what resided in it, the Suljak was allowing the Empire to accept much of the burden. Oh, that’s really clever.

“I believe that’s the oasis up ahead,” the Prince said, choosing to change the subject.

Konowa’s eyes drifted back to the dark clouds coming in from the coast and felt another chill. That was no storm. He turned to the oasis and caught the slightest tinge of lingering magic from a battle that had taken place there only a short time ago. He flowed his senses outward to the oasis.

“What is it?” the Prince asked.

Konowa said nothing as he tried to concentrate. Power was everywhere in the air-so roiled that he could understand very little of it, but what he did comprehend filled him with dread.

“There’s no time to stop at the oasis. We have to push on now and reach the Canyon of Bones.” Konowa looked back at the column. It was spread out over several hundred yards and plodding along. They were going to have to move much, much faster than this.

The Suljak coughed. “Major, the Prince and I have an agreement. The Hasshugeb and the Empire are not enemies this day. This regiment has but to enjoy the hospitality of the oasis this evening and then proceed in the morning. By then, the Star will have arrived and much will be revealed.”

A cold jolt against his heart told Konowa exactly what he didn’t want to know. He smiled, and it wasn’t meant to give comfort. “There’s more than two moving pieces on this board, and She isn’t about to follow any gentleman’s agreement.” He pointed to the looming dark clouds. “That’s Her forest, and it will be here by nightfall.”

The Prince brought his brass telescope up to his eye. “What?”

He turned to look at Konowa and the Suljak, the telescope still pressed to his eye, before he blinked and lowered it. “This makes no sense. We cleared the islands. I have more of the fleet landing along the coast from Nazalla all the way west to Tel Mar-truk. There’s no way Her forest should have gotten through.”

The Suljak lost some of his calm. “Another fleet! You did not tell me your fleet was traveling so far west, Your Highness. An oversight, no doubt? And yet even with this fleet the Empire has proven unable to defend its people, laying them bare without defenses to this coming monstrosity.” He paused and regained his composure. “No matter, the Shadow Monarch is known here, as are Her failed attempts to gain the Red Star in Elfkyna. You both defeated Her with this very regiment. This night, the warriors of the deep desert stand guard, and they are twenty thousand strong. Bring what She may, we will prevail.”

The Prince was back to looking at the looming ebony forest and the storm, mumbling about how huge the storm was. Konowa was certain the number of desert warriors the Suljak referred to was inflated, but something else was bothering him. “By the looks of that storm, Her forest could be hundreds of thousands strong. And where there are blood trees, there are the creatures it pulls from the depths. That’s a lot of faith to place in your warriors, Suljak. And what of Kaman Rhal? You don’t seem overly concerned about that possibility.”

The Suljak smiled. “You forget, Major, that whatever else Kaman Rhal is, he is first and foremost of the Hasshugeb. If he has returned, he will no more let the Shadow Monarch take the Jewel of the Desert than will you.”

Konowa leaned back in his saddle. He looked to the Prince, expecting him to jump in, but he’d let his camel stray several yards away. Prince Tykkin was absolutely fixated by what he saw through his telescope. “You think you can use the power of Kaman Rhal?” Konowa asked.

The Suljak leaned forward. “A question equally pertinent to you, yes? The Shadow Monarch is an enemy to us both. Kaman Rhal’s power can be harnessed.” The Suljak’s eyes gleamed. “Major, I should know…”

The truth hit Konowa hard. “You…called him back. You called back the power of Kaman Rhal.”

The Suljak bowed slightly. “Power is power, Major. I knew the Empire would come when the first Star returned. I had to prepare for any contingency. Our warriors are brave, but they are no match for the Empire, not yet. So I dug deep…and I found the threads of something long lost…and I began to pull them back.”

Konowa raised a fist covered in frost fire. The urge to reach out and kill the Suljak raced through his veins. The fool! Did he not see how dangerous it was to play with power you didn’t understand? “I lost a soldier because of you. He died in agony on that island.” With an extreme effort Konowa unclenched his fist and let the frost fire die.

The Suljak held out his hands, his eyes wide. “I will defend my people. I have done my best to keep power contained, but it is challenging even for me. But do not worry-the creature that killed your soldier was the only one that escaped my grasp. Even then, it only ventured across the water because it sensed the coming of Her forest. Now that Her forest has invaded this land, the creatures will destroy it, no matter how large it grows.”

“You mean there are more than one?”

“Hundreds, perhaps thousands by now,” the Suljak said.

The casualness with which the Suljak said it made Konowa wonder how much control he really exerted over these monsters. “And Kaman Rhal? Where does he fit in all of this?”

“He doesn’t. Major, Kaman Rhal is dead. His power is that of the desert. He only harnessed it and became lost in his avarice-and it cost him his life and everything he possessed. I have not made the same mistake. I simply used enough power to secure the Star and my land. When this is done, the creatures of his power will be returned from whence they came.”

“And what if they don’t want to go back?”

“Ah, but you see, Major, you have already proven the argument. With the Red Star, you destroyed Her forest. With the Jewel of the Desert, I will do the same to everything not of this time and place.”

“The Prince won’t stand for this,” Konowa said, looking over at Prince Tykkin and realizing he wasn’t sure at all what the Prince would think. In a truly horrifying way, this changed absolutely nothing.

The Suljak shrugged. “Perhaps, but it is more likely he will. Why needlessly complicate matters that are already decided? I will get the Star, he will get his library, and you will be reunited with your elves.”

Konowa hated the logic of it. “It never works out that way. You should know that by now.”

“Oh, but, Major, I do. There are always variables that cannot be foreseen. The Queen is not the only one who plays things deep. You will be a good soldier and follow orders.”

“Why would I do that?” Konowa asked.

“Because as long as you do, your world makes sense. Without rules and orders there is only chaos. You broke the rules once, and look where it got you. I do not think you will do so again.”

The frost fire came unbidden to Konowa’s hands again. “Are you really that certain?”

“Come now, Major, you must understand how affairs of state are conducted. Agreements have already been made. You have but to wait a little longer and you will get what you want.”

The fire in Konowa’s hands burned colder. The temptation to lash out at the Suljak filled him until he couldn’t breathe. He’d been lied to and played for a fool again. A voice somewhere deep within him told him this is what happens when you rush blindly forward without thinking, but that voice got little attention from Konowa.

Slowly, agonizingly slowly, Konowa let the fire die. For now.

“Now you see, Major, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“No,” Konowa lied, “that wasn’t hard at all.”