The Light of Burning Shadows (6 page)

Her Emissary, an elf from the same tribe as Her, had been like Gwyn once, Viceroy to the Queen of Calahr. And like Gwyn he, too, had chosen the path of serving two masters in the belief that he could find the balance and ride the storm that was growing between these two worlds.

Both had been brought to ruin by the same despised elf—Konowa Swift Dragon of the Iron Elves.

Anger almost overcame fear as thoughts of the elf and his friend, the Duke of Rakestraw, ran through Gwyn’s mind. They were the architects of his fall. If there was justice in the world then they both would burn, and then after an agonizing period of suffering, they would be put to death. First, however, he had to survive the Shadow Monarch.

“My Emissary and my Viceroy come to me in failure.”

Gwyn gave up trying to control the shaking. He was absolutely terrified at the sound of Her voice. To hear it in person was to know fear unlike any he had ever known. He raised his head, though he did not look directly at Her, and held out his hands. “I…I
have
failed you, my Queen. I deserve whatever judgment you see fit.”

The words galled him to say, yet at a certain level he believed them. This was indeed failure, though in it there was opportunity for power. Fear still gripped him in a steel claw, but he spied a way to use it now. He allowed his head to touch the icy ground again.

The trees crackled as branches flexed, shedding ice as they interlaced themselves above his head. It was a ceiling of dangling swords, each hanging by a thread She controlled. Only Her will kept the branches from slicing Gwyn to ribbons.

The Shadow Monarch remained silent for a long time. Sleet continued to fall. Gwyn knew if nothing else happened, he would still die from simple exposure to the elements.

After what felt like an eternity, the Shadow Monarch spoke.

“And you?”

Her Emissary radiated confidence. He had been arrogant in life and had found little humility in death. Gwyn had once marveled at such power, but now in proximity to Her, he understood its limitations. Her Emissary was a tool, a blunt, heavy weapon. There was no subtlety, no finesse. There was but one path for it to take, but if that path diverged such a weapon no longer had any use. Yes, this was a game Gwyn knew how to play. The question was, did Her Emissary?

“As you desired, Konowa Swift Dragon is bound by his oath, as are they all. Many have already succumbed and now inhabit the world between. Losing the Star was unavoidable. There was unforeseen interference.”

“I am aware of her presence.”

Gwyn marshaled all of his remaining energy to not raise his head in surprise. He was trained to detect the slightest wrong note in an opposing diplomat, and he heard one now. Was that annoyance in Her voice? He refused to believe it could be something more powerful, yet if it weren’t for the fact he was freezing to death, he would have sworn he detected a hint of worry.

The Silver Wolf Oak shuddered. A branch untangled itself from the forest and came to rest gently on the Shadow Monarch’s shoulder.

Her Emissary continued as if it heard nothing, which Gwyn suspected was precisely the case.

“Were it not for the power of the Star, Elfkyna would be yours now. It is strong, but it can be overcome.”

Gwyn felt Her Emissary’s gaze upon him and knew the accusation that hung in the air. He refused to take the bait. Gwyn had already offered his life to Her, accepting whatever fate She decreed. He would play this hand to the end.

“My forest in Elfkyna was destroyed. Even now, Konowa hunts them down wherever they grow.”

“I will stop him.”

“No. The elves I seek are not yet found.”

“Then I will find them.”

“No, you will not.”

Gwyn felt more than heard Her command. The branch around Her shoulder lashed out. Shards of ice flew in all directions. Gwyn threw up his hands to cover his face. A single brief scream was lost to the sleet. No echo, no reverberation.

It took a moment for Gwyn to realize the scream wasn’t his, that he was still alive. He lowered his arms and looked up. The body of Her Emissary hung in midair, impaled on the branch. Frost fire raged over it, the flames gouging deeply. The tree flung the body into the waiting branches of its offspring, which set about tearing what was left to shreds.

The branch slowly returned to the Shadow Monarch, curling itself around Her shoulders. Something wet now glistened on its tip and Gwyn saw that it was a blood-soaked obsidian acorn ripped from the chest of Her Emissary.

“Rise.”

Gwyn climbed to his feet, shaking, freezing, unsure of his balance. He dared to look in Her eyes, then found he could not look away.

“Will you accept my gift?”

There was but one answer, and Gwyn found voice enough to give it. “Yes, with all my heart.”

The Shadow Monarch did something then that the former Viceroy of Elfkyna would remember for the rest of his life.

She smiled.

The branch of the Silver Wolf Oak uncoiled itself again from around her and snaked its way toward him.

Slowly.

“Where he failed you will succeed. You will did my child.”

Gwyn wasn’t sure he understood.

The branch inched closer, twisting in the night air.

“Your…child?” The branch continued to come toward him, as Gwyn’s gaze tore away from Hers. Blood still dripped from the acorn.

“Look,”
she said. The pool of ichor shimmered once more. A vast ocean appeared. A single ship raced ahead of a growing storm. Soldiers were grouped on the deck around four flag-draped bodies. A ceremony was taking place. Gwyn recognized it at once.

“Konowa Swift Dragon. He is the key. He seeks his brothers, the Iron Elves, and through him you will find the rest of my children and bring them home to me.”

Gwyn nodded. “I will find the Iron Elves for you. I will bring them home.” As he said this, the pool of ichor flared with frost fire as the bodies of the Iron Elves were consigned to the depths. The black flame rose, then settled down, but deep in the center for one brief moment, a pure white flame burned. The Shadow Monarch said nothing, but the air around them grew colder. He gasped for breath as the freezing air bit into his lungs.

Shades now stood where only a moment ago the black of night had filled the spaces between the trees. Their forms were hazy, as if uncertain or unwilling to commit further to the darkness around them. Gwyn counted only three.

“Many have begun the journey already, but there is still a long way to go. Aid me in this, and you will have…my gratitude.”

Gwyn had no time to ponder what that might mean. He wanted to ask what the white flame meant, but the branch shot forth the rest of the distance, piercing his chest. The force of the impact flung his head forward like a snapped twig. He felt the blood-soaked acorn lodge deep within his heart, and tried to scream as pain blossomed through his body. Just as quickly, the branch withdrew, leaving something new in its place.

Life as Gwyn knew it ceased. His body collapsed to the ground. Magic thick and raw coursed through him. His wounds froze over and healed as the remnants of his robe fell away in ash and frost fire consumed him.

When the flames burned out he stood, wrapped in a cloak of night.

“Bring my children home,”
she said,
“and yours is the world.”

“As you wish,”
Her Emissary said.

T
he sky turned slate, blackening at the horizon as storm clouds formed in the distance. The cries from a flock of birds fleeing before the coming weather carried farther as the air grew colder. The wind picked up, rushing ahead of the towering clouds, churning everything in its path.

The three women ignored this, or at least gave no outward sign that they cared the weather was turning. Their attention was fixed solidly on the simmering pot before them. A gust of wind whistled between them, tearing away tendrils of steam long enough to reveal the contents therein. Each leaned closer to look. To their credit, none of them recoiled. A green, glutinous mass bubbled fiercely, giving off an odor quickly borne away by the wind.

None appeared willing to speak first. Their eyes glistened with tears as they strained to discern something knowable from the contents. The cast-iron vessel hung from a leather strap above a blazing fire attached to a tripod of three muskets. A fire burned fat and orange underneath it, oblivious to the wind, and no sign of fuel could be seen within its flames. More amazingly, the wooden deck of the
Black Spike
remained uncharred.

After several more moments of quiet contemplation, Rallie pushed back the hood of her cloak. “Perhaps the honor should go to the eldest among us.” She continued to look down at the pot and so avoided the eyes of the other two women, which now turned to her.

“And that would be?” Chayii Red Owl asked, the tone in her voice not entirely lost on the wind.

Visyna looked from Rallie to Chayii and held her tongue. Chayii was elf, and they were known to live incredibly long lives. Rallie, on the other hand, was unlike any human Visyna had ever met. She spoke with a wisdom gained by much experience over a very great expanse of time. They were—by any measure Visyna could see—witches. That should have bonded them together like sisters—each a powerful wielder of magic in her own right, each using her skills to prevent the Shadow Monarch from destroying them all.

On further thought, perhaps they were too much like sisters.

“Perhaps you can decide, Visyna,” Chayii said.

Visyna knew a trap when she saw it. Chayii had been more or less cordial since their first meeting, but Visyna knew Chayii was aware of the relationship between her and her son, Konowa—no matter how strained and untenable it might currently be. Chayii had yet to express her opinion on the matter, but Visyna was more than convinced she did not approve.

“Yes, child, do tell,” Rallie said.

What was it,
Visyna wondered,
with old witches and their need to play games?
Well, three could play as easily as two.

Without a word, Visyna took a spoon, bent over the pot and scooped out a mouthful. She smiled at both of them as she brought the spoon to her lips, proud of avoiding a no-win situation.

Then she tasted it.

Tears welled in Visyna’s eyes and trickled down her cheek, where they dried in the wind. Time ceased as her world constricted to a shining white light exploding behind her eyes. It felt as if the top of her head had been blown off.

“Well?” Yimt asked. The dwarf stood nervously across from the women. It would be his distinct honor, he had said, to cook for three such fine ladies. Apparently his fellow soldiers were not entirely appreciative of his culinary efforts. He paced a few steps one way, then back again, all the while tugging on his beard.

Rallie took her spoon and dipped it into the pot, with Chayii following suit. Each looked at Visyna, but she was no help, her nostrils flaring and her cheeks flushing pink. With a nod to each other, they both tasted Yimt’s concoction.

For what seemed an eternity there was only the sound of the wind and the crashing of waves as the ship made all haste to outpace the storm. Yimt tugged so hard on his beard that he pulled several strands of hair out.

Visyna found her voice first.

“What…what do you call this?”

“It’s me old mum’s recipe for rat dragon. She got it from her mum and so on down the line.” He stopped tugging his beard and started waving his hand around. “I realize it’s in an iron pot and that kind of thing don’t sit right with you fey folk, so maybe it doesn’t taste quite the way it should…”

“Why is it green?” Chayii asked, her words coming out slightly slurred.

“Ah, well, as you might have guessed, we don’t have any rat dragons on board. Honestly, what kind of vessel goes to sea without a good supply of rat dragon in its stores? I checked with the cook, that one-armed fellow with the glass eye and peg leg, but while he’s got barrels of salted pork, salted beef, salted goat, and I swear salted salt, not one of rat dragon. He did, however, point out that the ship had a large supply of
regular
rats.”

Visyna knew the color in her face was now gone. “You mean…”

Yimt crossed his heart. “Regular rats in a stew? Me mum’d have me strung up by my ears. Not on your life. Nope, I hung a line off the back of the front there and caught me a few fish. At least they looked like fish, sort of. They were a bright blue when I hauled ’em on board, but looks like they go green when you put the heat to them. Oh, and I did add a little drake sweat to sort of bring out the flavors,” he said, indicating a small canteen filled with the stone-eating home brew.

While he was talking, Yimt kept casting glances at Rallie, who had yet to speak. Visyna had been watching her too, worried she might topple over.

“That,” Rallie began, then had to stop as she blinked and dabbed at the corners of her eyes. “That, Sergeant Arkhorn, is without a doubt the most divine stew it has ever been my good fortune to taste. You, my dear sir, are a chef of sublime talent.”

Visyna looked at Chayii and saw her mouth was as agape as hers.

“You like it?” Chayii asked.

“Like it? I want to tear off my clothes and go swimming in it!” Rallie said, taking a proffered bowl from Yimt and holding it steady while he ladled out a steaming helping. If there was any doubt, she began to spoon the stew into her mouth while making soft moaning sounds. Through mouthfuls Visyna heard words like “brilliant,” “exquisite,” and several more she wasn’t sure were ever appropriate for describing food.

Yimt beamed like a father seeing his newborn child for the first time. “You are too sweet by half, Ms. Synjyn. You honor this old warhorse. I can’t tell you how it warms my heart to hear you say that.”

Rallie smiled back at him and raised her spoon in salute. “My compliments to the chef. You are as enticing as your wares.”

A word jumped into Visyna’s mind, and no matter how hard she tried, she could not shake it loose. By all that was holy, Rallie and Yimt were flirting.

She was saved from further contemplation of the subject by the telltale thump of Private Renwar’s wooden leg on the ship’s deck. Alwyn limped up and stopped short when he saw the pot. His hand went to his mouth, but he quickly recovered.

“Good evening, ladies,” he said, barely looking at them as he kept a wary eye on the bubbling pot. “Major Swift Dragon sends his compliments and asks that Miss Red Owl, Miss Tekoy, and Miss Synjyn join him on the quarterdeck.”

“You two run along,” Rallie said, waving them away as she held out her now-empty bowl for a refill. “Tell the major I’m still formulating my thoughts on the events of earlier. When I’ve had time to marshal them, I shall seek him out.”

Visyna looked at Chayii, who nodded. “Thank you, Yimt of the Warm Breeze. In the brief time we have traveled the same path, you have never once ceased to amaze.”

Yimt grinned a metallic smile, his pewter-colored teeth shining in the firelight. “One more compliment like that and I’ll blush,” he said, casually turning his gaze to Visyna.

“I can think of no higher one than to say it’s a shame we’ve been called away and won’t be able to stay and eat with you,” she said. She stood a little straighter and smiled, pleased with another quick reaction. It was an effort to keep her smile there a moment later.

“Well, that settles it. I am officially tickled,” Yimt said. He produced two more bowls and quickly ladled them full. Rallie helpfully took them and handed one each to Chayii and Visyna. Rallie’s eyes positively sparkled as she bade them farewell.

“How is your leg, Alwyn of the Empire?” Chayii asked as the three of them navigated the deck toward the middle of the ship and the bridge. “Your balance appears much improved.”

Alwyn nodded. He lifted the hem of his caerna slightly so that the women could see his wooden leg better. Where the magically woven wood wrapped around the stump of his leg, the flesh was bright red. A flicker of frost fire jumped from his skin to the wood, but the wood, burnished until it shone like warm brass, pulsed with a soft energy that quenched the flame before it could take hold.

“Looks like my new leg and my old one don’t exactly see eye to eye.”

“Is there much pain?” Visyna said, kneeling beside him and beginning to weave the air in front of her. Alwyn gently but firmly pushed her hands away. She stood back up.

“It helps me, if that makes sense. When things start to get too confusing, I can concentrate on the pain and block out everything else, at least for a while.”

Chayii’s expression did not change, but her hand reached out and rested on Alwyn’s shoulder. A flicker of black flame met her touch, but she kept her hand still. “We will find a way. You will be free of this one day.”

Alwyn smiled, though Visyna didn’t find comfort in it.

“Speaking of being free of curses,” Alwyn said, moving on, “we’re out of sight of Sergeant Arkhorn now if you want to toss your bowls overboard.”

Visyna looked down at hers and then let it fly. Chayii’s followed.

“Sergeant Arkhorn’s been cooking again,” Konowa said, walking along the railing toward them. He wobbled slightly on his feet and his eyes had a wild look about them only partially explained by the ever-worsening seas.

Visyna fought the urge to reach out and steady him. This was his doing. Perhaps the addition of seasickness would help bring him to his senses.

“I thought we were going to talk on the quarterdeck?” Visyna asked.

The first patter of rain washed over the deck. “Bit crowded up there at the moment,” said Konowa.

Visyna could tell from the expression on his face the Prince was on deck.

“I think it best we talk somewhere less…populated,” Konowa continued.

“I’ll leave you to your conversation then,” Alwyn said, saluting and turning to leave.

“Actually, Private, you’re the reason for our conversation. You saw something on that island, and you quenched the white fire, or whatever it was. We saw what happened at the funeral, and I’ve already talked with Private Vulhber, so now I’m talking to you. What was that magic back on the island?” Konowa motioned them all over to an area somewhat protected from the wind.

“White fire? I know of no such magic,” Visyna said, looking at Chayii, who shook her head in agreement.

“It was white, pure white,” Konowa said, “but it was burning the soldier’s shadow…Private Kester Harkon’s shadow.”

Alwyn tensed slightly, then relaxed, but clearly something had happened between him and Konowa on that island.

“I don’t know what I can add,” Alwyn said. His voice was calm and steady, but Visyna could see in his eyes the subject was an emotionally dangerous one for him.

“Perhaps this could wait for—” was all she managed to get out before Konowa interrupted.

“Tell them, Private, tell them what happened.”

Alwyn looked at Konowa. The hurt on Alwyn’s face was so clear the urge to cradle him in her arms was overwhelming. He stood up straight, almost at attention, and slowly, reluctantly, began to relate what had happened. His voice never betrayed any emotion throughout the retelling, even when he himself, through his shadow, was on fire.

“But this is terrible,” Visyna said when he finished. This time she did reach out and pat his arm. “It kills a person by burning his shadow. And you think this broke the oath?”

“Even if it does, it is no remedy,” Chayii said, her voice grave. “Whatever happened to Private Harkon sounds a terrible fate.”

“We don’t know what happened,” Konowa said. “And whether it truly broke the oath remains to be seen. What we do know is that it kills what She creates. It had killed many of the
sarka har
before we even arrived. It is a bane to Her.” Konowa’s eyes brightened. “It might mean we have an ally.”

“I do not think this is a friend you want, my son,” Chayii said. “There is much in this world even now we do not understand. Of what lived before, we know even less.”

Konowa tapped a boot against the decking. “Before? Maybe. I sensed something incredibly ancient, but what of it? It was killing Her forest. No, this is a force that hates Her power as much as we do. If we can find it, we can use it.”

“As you do with darkness pressed against your heart?” Visyna said. “How well has that worked out for you? For them?” she asked, pointing at Alwyn, then quickly lowering her hand.

“I did what had to be done,” Konowa said through clenched teeth. “I saved your precious land and gave up a chance to be free and this is the thanks I get? The point is, Private Renwar proved it can be controlled. He stopped it. Imagine what women of your skills could do.”

Chayii cleared her throat before Visyna could respond. The color in Chayii’s face surely matched Visyna’s.

“We strive to aid the natural order, to restore balance and harmony,” Chayii said. “I would never use such a power even if I could, and I know Visyna wouldn’t either.”

Visyna nodded. “This is madness. You have chosen a dangerous path and made poor choices while on it. You sought our counsel. Will you not heed it?”

Konowa looked to Alwyn for help. “Tell them, explain to them. You felt it. You controlled it.”

“I don’t know what I did,” Alwyn said. This time, his voice couldn’t hide the wounds. “The pain of the fire was unlike anything I’ve ever felt. When I stepped into their shadows I started burning deep inside me in places I didn’t know existed,” Alwyn said. “I…I don’t know if this is something we can use. The price might be too high.”