Chris Evans - The Light of Burning Shadows

Miss Red Owl went to help her. Once they had the animals unhitched, the women took off the brindos’ harnesses and Rallie slapped them on the rear. “Take them to safety, Baby, get them out of here.”

Baby raised his head and brayed and the other brindos tossed their heads and took off back out of the canyon at full gallop. In moments they were gone, although the sound of their thudding hooves continued to echo off the canyon walls for several seconds after.

“We need to find some cover,” Yimt said, reaching out a hand to help Alwyn out of the wagon.

“You’d better not touch me, Sergeant-I don’t know what will happen.” Alwyn slowly got to his feet, each movement sending new ribbons of pain twisting through his body. He climbed down and steadied himself against the wagon. He shivered with chills as a wave of frost fire surged inside him, then swayed as the heat of the white flame pushed back.

“Hang on, Ally, hang on,” Yimt said, reaching out to him, then stopping. “Aw, lad, I wish I knew what to do.”

Alwyn tried to smile, but all he could manage was a small nod of his head. He realized Yimt was now more father to him than the stepfather he had grown up with. He was going to miss him.

“Where are we going to hide?” Inkermon asked. He was alternating between peering around rocks and looking back toward the canyon opening. “At least at the oasis we might have held the forest off…for a bit.”

“Inkermon…just keep looking and keep your observations to yourself,” Yimt said. “No one said this was going to be easy, but-”

“There’s an opening in the rocks over there,” Miss Red Owl shouted. Alwyn turned to see where she was pointing. At first all he saw was a thin fissure in the rock, but as he examined it more closely he noticed that a trick of the light made it appear smaller than it really was. A person could easily fit through that gap.

Miss Red Owl started to walk toward it, but Yimt held out his hand.

“Easy. The others chased those skeleton things into a tunnel.” He looked around the canyon floor. “This Canyon of Bones seems like just the sort of place a bunch of walking skeletons would be heading to. Scolly, Inkermon, get in there and see if it’s clear.”

Inkermon took a step back. “Are you mad? You bring us to a canyon filled with bones and now you tell me those hellish skeleton creatures are probably coming here, too? So what, you want us to just stroll in there and poke around?” Inkermon asked.

Yimt stomped the few yards separating him from Inkermon and grabbed the soldier by the front of his tunic, yanking him down until they were eye to eye.

“You can deal with whatever is in that tunnel, or you can deal with me.”

Inkermon’s mouth opened and closed. He nodded. Yimt released his grasp.

“Hey, there’s lights in here,” Scolly said from a few feet inside. I can see just fine.”

Yimt pointed at Inkermon, then at the opening. Inkermon kicked at the dirt, but followed after Scolly. Yimt turned to the women. “Let’s get you inside. Ally and I will bring up the rear.”

Miss Red Owl ducked into the tunnel. Miss Synjyn started to, then stopped and turned. “Yimt, I heard shouting, I think there’s something in there!”

“If Inkermon’s acting the fool again I’ll have his hide.”

“It sounds like Scolly,” Rallie said.

Yimt looked from the tunnel entrance back to Alwyn, then to Rallie. “Okay, I’m going in. Help Alwyn inside,” he said, and ran into the tunnel with his shatterbow at the ready.

Alwyn began to stumble toward the opening when Rallie pulled out a quill and small sheaf of papers from her cloak. She began to draw. Alwyn felt a new power in the air. It was different from the two that were slowly tearing him apart. This was subtle and controlled, like a sculptor precisely chipping away at a block of marble one little piece at a time.

The walls of the canyon shook, and a moment later rocks and dirt tumbled down to bury the entrance. Alwyn expected the entire rock face to come crashing down on top of them, but the slide was focused on just the one small area above the tunnel entrance.

Alwyn turned to Rallie, then looked down at what she had drawn. The canyon wall and rock slide were perfectly illustrated on the page. The lines pulsed with energy. “You…you just drew that rockslide.”

Rallie lifted the quill from the paper and the power that was in the air vanished. “In my duties as Her Majesty’s Scribe, I pride myself on being on the scene as interesting things happen.”

Alwyn shook his head. “No, I mean you drew it. You made it happen.”

Rallie took a fresh sheet of paper and placed it on top, then held the quill above the page. “Let’s just say the timing was…impeccable.”

More pain wracked Alwyn’s body. The power of the oath struggled against the white fire. Glimpses of the Shadow Monarch’s mountain flashed in Alwyn’s mind, interspersed with an endless sea of burning sand. It felt like being immersed in ice, then flame. There was no longer any haven in Alwyn, no place where he could simply be himself. The two warring magics were going to destroy him in their quest to dominate him. Only one could win, but Alwyn knew either way he was going to lose. “Get out of here, Miss Synjyn. I can’t hold on.”

“Please, dear, call me Rallie.” Her quill touched the page and she began drawing. She winced, but then smiled and kept going. “They say knowledge is power, did you know that? Well of course, power is power. A punch in the gut still hurts even if you know it’s coming, but if you know it’s coming then you can avoid it or at least prepare for it. Do you understand?”

Alwyn shook his head no. The fire in his left eye flared as the black one sparkled with frost. His stump bled as the magic in the wood thrashed and tightened around it as it fought to survive. The power of the white fire was killing the magic in his leg.

“What I’m trying to say is we know the Star is coming, so we need to get ready. I will do what I can to help you until it arrives, but after that I’m afraid it will be up to you.”

Alwyn still didn’t understand. “Rallie…I-” he paused. The pain in his body subsided. He took a shuddering breath and stood up a little straighter. “What did you do?”

Rallie’s quill was moving slowly across the page, her hand trembling with the effort. Sweat beaded on her forehead. Alwyn looked down at the page. It was him, but nothing like how he looked now. In the drawing he looked younger, happier. His eyes were normal and he still had both legs.

“I’m simply using my powers of observation to assist you. You are a good man, Alwyn Renwar, and that is what I’m drawing. I want you to remember that. You are a good man.”

Alwyn wasn’t sure what to say. “I don’t know, Rallie. I don’t know what I am anymore.” He walked over to a rock and sat down as she continued to draw. Every muscle ached, and his vision kept going in and out of focus, but the pain was manageable.

“If life was easy, everyone would be doing it,” Rallie said, trying to chuckle. The effort clearly hurt her. She bent over the paper and pressed even harder with her quill.

“I can’t ask you to do this for me,” he said, taking a breath and standing back up. He wobbled and a few of the limbs in his wooden leg snapped. “This is my burden. I want this to end, Rallie, I just want it all to end.”

Rallie pressed so hard that the paper tore. Alwyn felt a sharp stab of pain. “I’m sorry, dear, I slipped.” She lifted her head briefly to look at him, then looked to the sky. “It won’t be much longer now. You’re going to need your strength soon, and that I can give you.” With her other hand she reached into her cloak and pulled out a cigar. She placed it in her mouth and took in a breath as the cigar lit itself. She smiled and looked back at her drawing. “I really should give these up one of these days.”