Chris Evans - The Light of Burning Shadows

“That’s all well and good,” Yimt said, “but I’m not letting you go out there alone.”

“I don’t think we could go back even if we wanted to,” Miss Red Owl said. An artificial daylight was rising up from Nazalla, as now thousands of people were simultaneously lighting lanterns and coming out into the streets. Raised voices could be heard in the distance. Alwyn strained to hear what was being said.

“I don’t understand the language, but that really doesn’t sound good,” he said. Anger, an emotion he was all too familiar with, drove the voices through the streets with growing force. The people of Nazalla were not going to let the Empire take their Star.

“I do,” Rallie said, “and you’re right, it isn’t good.”

“All right, let’s get this little band on the road. Get your arses on the wagon, now,” Yimt said, “we’re moving out.”

A small group of people had formed a line in the street twenty yards away in front of the wagon. They were talking quietly amongst themselves while keeping a watchful eye on the soldiers. Alwyn didn’t see any weapons, but with the loose robes they wore, they could have all manner of them tucked away. More people kept arriving as the crowd built. As they did their whispers became louder. With numbers came courage. This wasn’t going to end well. Before long, the street would be so jammed with people they would never be able to get the wagon through.

“Listen up,” Yimt said, “no one do anything stupid and fire a shot. They aren’t prepared to openly attack the Empire…yet. Let’s see if we can’t ease our way out of here and not give them an excuse. Stay calm, no shouting, no sudden movements, and for the love of whatever creator you pray to, no frost fire. ”

Inkermon began to pull out his bayonet, but Yimt motioned for him to stop. “No bayonets either. Accidentally stabbing someone won’t help our cause one bit. Right now we’re outnumbered about thirty thousand to ten, so let’s keep our heads on straight and we’ll get through this just fine.”

“You cannot take our Star!”

Alwyn tried to see who had shouted that, but it was impossible to tell. He saw people nod. A few even raised their fists. It felt like the first drop of rain. The air hummed. A storm was about to break.

“Go back to Calahr and leave us alone!”

“We can’t, we’re going into the desert to-”

Yimt slapped Scolly on the back. “Did you hear anything I said? We’re trying to prevent a riot,” he hissed.

“It’s true!” someone shouted. “They are here to take the Star! They must be stopped!”

“Time to go,” Rallie said. “I’d suggest everyone hold on tight. Visyna, be a dear and give us a little light?”

The surge of voices around them grew, as did the size of the crowd. Nothing had been thrown, yet, but Alwyn could see clenched fists. The anger of an entire people was boiling to the surface in Nazalla, and they were right in the middle of it.

Visyna climbed up to stand on top of the canvas-covered cages in the back of the wagon and began weaving the air with her hands. “I’ll steady you,” Alwyn said, climbing back to help.

“Thank you, Alwyn, but you can’t. The power in you is…not compatible with mine. Chayii will steady me.” Alwyn started to object, but realized she was right. He doubted there was anything in the world that was compatible with the power the Iron Elves had acquired. He crouched on top of the wagon and brought his musket around to face forward.

The crowd grew even louder as more shouts rose up. They were no longer simply directing them to go home. Alwyn saw more than one man make a cutting motion across his neck, then point at him. The meaning was clear.

A brilliant, white light suddenly appeared a few hundred yards to the west. It hovered a hundred feet or so above the ground, the light so strong it was impossible to look straight at it. Joyous cries of “The Star, the Jewel of the Desert!” rose from the crowd, and the Nazalla citizenry turned and stampeded toward it.

“And that would be my cue,” Rallie said, snapping the reins. The wagon lurched forward as the brindos responded. People still lined the street in front of them, but now their attention was riveted on the appearance of the “Star. A charging wagon with fearsome-looking creatures pulling it was something interesting only insofar as they were concerned about getting out of its way.

Rallie never let up as they thundered through the narrow streets of Nazalla. The breeze felt wonderful on Alwyn’s face, but it was hard to enjoy as he fought to keep his shako on his head and himself on the wagon as it bumped and swayed over the cobbles.

“I can’t do this much longer!” Visyna shouted.

Alwyn turned and looked up at her. She was still weaving the air, but every time the wagon jolted, the pattern would falter and the “Star” she had created would flicker. Rumblings from the crowd in the street suggested they were beginning to have their doubts as well.

“Just a little bit more!” Rallie shouted, slapping the reins hard as the brindos broke into a full gallop.

Alwyn gave up any pretense of trying to watch for trouble and clung to the canvas with everything he had. Buildings and clusters of people flashed by in a blur. The light from Visyna’s “Star” fluttered, then went out. A roar went up from the crowd.

All eyes became firmly fixed on the wagon and its occupants. Suddenly, like a boulder perched on the side of a mountain, all the repressed rage and resentment of a people ruled by a foreign sovereignty tumbled forth.

As new voices were added, the anger grew. This land belonged to the people, not the outlanders from across the sea. The soldiers in the wagon were the force behind the Prince’s insulting and threatening proclamation. If they couldn’t attack the Prince, they would avenge themselves on the soldiers in their midst.

A brick, or perhaps a cobblestone, bounced off the side of the wagon. The sreexes squawked and shrieked and Jir growled. Alwyn risked lifting his head and saw several people pointing at them. In the light of the lanterns many were carrying, he saw others tearing up the cobblestone street behind them.

“We’re still not clear!” Rallie shouted, urging her brindos on. “We need one more diversion to get us through.”

“Ally, can you do anything?” Yimt asked, pointing up ahead where another crowd barred their path. Beyond them, Alwyn could see open desert.

“Like what?” Alwyn asked. “I don’t want to hurt anyone!”

“Just do like Miss Tekoy and give ’em a light show.”

Alwyn shook his head, then realized Yimt couldn’t see him. “I’ve never used the magic that way. I don’t know how!”

More and more citizens were running to block their escape. A flaming torch bounced off the side of the wagon, showering the crowd in sparks. People screamed. Up ahead another group was dragging and pushing a wooden cart toward the street. If they got that in place, there was no way the brindos would be able to get through.

“None of us can control it the way you can. You saw what happened to Zwitty. Do something or we’ll have to shoot!” Yimt shouted.

Alwyn saw Yimt start to wrestle his shatterbow into position as the wagon careened around a broken pot in the middle of the street. The side of a building loomed toward Alwyn, then retreated.

“I’ll try!” he shouted, and got to his hands and knees. Hrem reached out a hand to steady him. “Thanks.” Alwyn raised himself up off his hands and held them out before him. Frost fire burst to flame in his palms, but he already knew he couldn’t throw it.

And then he remembered Nafeesah’s room.

“Meri, I need your help,” Alwyn called out.

The shades of the dead instantly appeared as shadows projected on the walls of the buildings, keeping pace with the wagon as it raced toward the growing crowd. Alwyn focused on the power. The brindos’ breath turned to white clouds and frost sparkled wherever their hooves hit the ground. Jir roared from inside the wagon while the sreexes shrieked in terror. Miss Tekoy and Miss Red Owl cried out, but Alwyn couldn’t stop.