Chris Evans - The Light of Burning Shadows

“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.”

Visyna pushed herself as she led the soldiers through the tunnel under the oasis. Twice she thought she caught a glimpse of someone up ahead, but she could never get close enough to determine who or what it was.

“I…I need to rest,” Teeter said, slowing to a walk. “I’m sorry, but I can’t keep this up. We’re never going to catch that damned elf anyway, no matter how fast we go.”

Visyna slowed as well. She wanted to yell at the soldier, but she knew he was right. She wiped the sweat from her brow and then brought her hands in front of her, beginning to weave the air.

She hissed and stopped. The tips of her fingers burned-the natural order here was toxic. She flexed her fingers for another attempt, but had to stop as the magic stung her again.

“I feel it, too,” Hrem said, coming up to stand beside her. His face was red and he was breathing heavily. “Everything is wrong. It’s like something’s crawling on my skin and I can’t get it off.”

Zwitty stayed off to one side. “Then why keep going? Where is it written that we have to risk our necks and play hero? If we stay here, we’re safe,” Zwitty said, looking around at the tunnel.

“Do what you want,” Visyna said, “but I’m going on.”

Hrem stood up straight and looked over at Zwitty. “We’re all going.”

“Wait, did you hear something?” Visyna asked. She held up her hand for silence. Yes, there was definitely something up ahead.

The sound of hammers on muskets being pulled back echoed off the tunnel walls.

Visyna drew her dagger. Hrem and Teeter moved ahead of her, crouching low.

An indistinct shape cast a shadow on the wall up ahead. Something was coming toward them. Visyna gripped her dagger tighter and cursed the air around them. Without being able to weave the natural order, she was useless. In this instance, the soldiers’ muskets were far more powerful, despite the perversion of combining wood and metal. Her thoughts immediately turned to Konowa and she almost smiled, but then frowned. He was so full of rage that it was impossible to talk with him. If he couldn’t learn to control it she saw no future for him, or them.

“I hear it,” Hrem whispered. It was a noise like bone scraping against stone.

Visyna strained to see more. The shape took on more definition, but it made no sense to her. It was too low to the ground to be Tyul. She rotated her wrists and flexed the fingers in her left hand. She would weave if all else failed, no matter how much it hurt.

The scraping noise grew louder.

Visyna let her breath out slowly, aware that she had been holding it. The creature came on as the light from the moss finally revealed Jir dragging part of a skeleton in his mouth.

“It’s only J-” Visyna said as Zwitty fired.

The musket blast filled the tunnel. Orange and black flashed before Visyna’s eyes, followed by white-hot sparks. She cried out and ducked her head as the sound beat against her ears.

“-old your fire!” Hrem shouted.

Visyna shook her head and looked up.

Jir was lying on the ground. She ran to him, kicking pieces of bone out of the way.

“Oh, Jir.”

Tyul’s head was screaming in pain. Everything inside the tunnel was wrong. The power coursing through the rock felt like black tar in his lungs. He tried to keep track of Jir, but the bengar seemed unaffected by the magic, and was soon lost from sight. Jurwan chittered in Tyul’s ear and the elf reluctantly slowed to a walk. He pressed his hands against the side of his head, but the pressure didn’t help.

The floor in front of him showed just the faintest scuff marks arcing out in a curve from the right side of the tunnel wall. Tyul knew little of masonry, but he was an expert tracker, and this was a sign. Jurwan leaped from his shoulder and landed on the wall, clinging to the stones with his tiny claws. He sniffed at the minute cracks between the stones as he crawled over them, until he stopped and bushed his tail.

Tyul stood up and placed a hand on the stone Jurwan was gripping. It depressed a quarter of an inch, and a section of the wall slid open like a door. A new tunnel was exposed, leading away, going deeper into the canyon.

Jurwan jumped off the wall and took a few steps into the opening, then paused and looked back at Tyul. The elf shook his head and pointed down the main tunnel where Jir had gone.

Jurwan squeaked and took a few more steps into the side tunnel. Tyul knew he should follow the bengar and the skeleton, but Jurwan was a wizard.

Tyul took one last look down the main tunnel, then stepped in through the entrance and began following Jurwan.

There wasn’t as much glowing moss here, but there was enough. Behind him, the tunnel wall closed back up without a sound.

“Hang on, Ally, hang on,” Yimt was saying. Alwyn nodded and tried to keep his focus.

The flames would not go out.

The wagon flew over the sand. The sound of the wheels changed and Alwyn felt shadow. He opened his eyes. They were passing through the opening of the Canyon of Bones. The pain increased. He saw clearer out of his left eye as his right fogged over.

The wagon shook to a stop as the brindos suddenly dug in their hooves. Rallie snapped the reins several times, but the brindos refused to go any farther.

They were stopped among what looked like a pile of bones sticking out of the canyon floor. Huge, curving chunks of the white material rose up at odd angles, some towering more than thirty feet in the air. More lay scattered all about the canyon floor, as if a giant predator had fed here, leaving behind the remains of its kill.

Rallie tied off the reins, stepped down from the wagon, and immediately began to unhitch the brindos.

“What are you doing?” An alarmed Inkermon was jumping down from the wagon. “We’ll be stranded here without them.”

Rallie kept working at the harnesses. “They aren’t going to take us any farther, so this is as far as they go. Baby has a nose for danger, and he’s clearly smelled his fill.”