Chris Evans - The Light of Burning Shadows

“What are you doing?” Inkermon asked, looking at him with horror. “Put those flames out! You’ll burn us all.”

Alwyn tried to speak, but the effort to keep the fires under control made it too difficult. He grimaced and closed his eyes.

A bright, blue Star beckoned him. It hung motionless in a silk-black sky.

It was almost here. He just had to hang on a little longer.

He opened his eyes and looked at Inkermon. Inkermon still crouched before him, but all Alwyn saw was a dark outline of a man with a core of smoldering frost fire. He turned to Scolly and saw the same thing. Then he looked down at himself. Frost fire and white flame twisted and burned within him, pulsating with an energy he couldn’t control much longer.

“Hurry,” Alwyn said to no one in particular. “Please hurry.”

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.