“I’m sorry. I’ll get us out of this somehow. Just hang tight.” I’ll never let anything bad happen to you, Sarn promised in the silence between them.
“Sarn, wait for me! I’m coming with you.”
Sarn wanted to argue the point, but Saveen tromped around the bend destroying his attempts to be quiet. Thank Fate, the echoes of many shouts were also growing louder. Hopefully, they drowned out Saveen’s heavy gait.
“Fine, stay close and keep up.”
Can’t Touch This
“Come, sinner, thy time is nigh. Coins buy the apple of your eye. At my side, thy time is nigh.”
No way. Been there, done that and what did it get me? Nothing but death and an eternity of serving the ultimate bad guy. No thank you. Gore fought the seductive pull of that voice, but it was like walking upstream in a torrential rainstorm. He ceded more ground than he gained.
A lone woman traversed the long, twisting dark of the maze. Rose lumir lit her pretty face as she spun seeking the source of the chanting.
Fool, that’s the Adversary calling.
Somehow, the woman resisted his summons. Instead of turning into a blank-eyed puppet shuffling toward her doom, she pocketed her light and vanished. Where are you girlie? Not even his wraith-enhanced eyes could pick her out.
Anger burned through Gore. How could she resist the Adversary? We’re all damned dearie and I’ll make sure you end up as screwed as I am. He charged her last known position, raking it with his claws. He struck something metallic and oh God it burned. Fire shot up his claws into his hands. He screamed and lashed out again. His claws struck something hard, and they melted.
Gore stared at his ichor-dripping hands. This couldn’t be happening. He was the predator. She was the prey, but she was winning. And the goddamned Adversary kept calling not just with his voice but with his power. Shadows seized Gore as she reappeared crouched on the ground with her gauntleted wrists crossed over her head. The ornate things had a fell gleam as she lowered them.
He struggled to get free. Just one pass and I’ll get her. Just one pass—
“The master calls,” said the nearest shadow as it stuffed him into a murder hole.
Being a wraith had its perks. Gore slipped sideways through the rock and escaped those shadows and the voice. I’m not ready yet to report to you, master. Not when he had nothing to show for his brief liberty.
Where are you, girlie? Gore drifted downward until his head passed through the ceiling. She was slinking along, feeling her way barefoot in the dark, but at least she was unarmed. Gore readied himself for another attack.
“Come, sinner, to your dark Father fly. At my side, thy time is nigh.”
The Adversary’s voice hit Gore hard and the command lacing his words pulled Gore toward his master. Shadows reached for him again.
“The master calls,” they said.
No! Gore reversed course and sank back into the ceiling before those nebulous things could grab him. The Adversary’s voice cut off. Relieved, he floated there, insubstantial, but trapped. There was no escape from the Adversary. Or was there?
What is a demon exactly? And why does the Adversary need one? If the Adversary needed a demon, then perhaps he did too—even if it was only to use the creature against his new master. Gore smiled for the first time since his bizarre resurrection and slipped through the rock core of the mountain to the one place where everything was for sale—even a demon.
Inari followed the North-South transept blind to everyone and everything she passed until the well-lit corridor gave way to darkness. She halted, realized with a shock she still held her dagger and pocketed it. After another minute’s fumbling, she palmed a lumir stone. Rose light wreathed her hand as she withdrew it from her pocket. Recalling the old lore, she held the glowing stone at the level of her eyes, squared her shoulders and entered the maze.
The builders of this place had queer notions about security. Maybe they’d had as much trouble guarding the entrance as the current administration did. Inari smiled, recalling comments her best friend had made on that subject until a voice threaded through the darkness.
“Come, sinner, thy time is nigh. Coins buy the apple of your eye. Come, sinner, thy time is nigh.”
“Who goes there?”
Without waiting for an answer, Inari slid the rose lumir stone into her pocket and slunk around the bend ahead on cat feet. She put her back to the stone wall and fumbled her knife out of her pocket while she listened with every fiber of her being. But the blood thundering through her veins made it hard to hear anything at all.
You’re imagining things. There hasn’t been an incident in here in years. Inari shook her head at herself and slid the knife back into her skirt pocket.
“The sorrowful sigh; the envious fly. Come, sinner, thy time is nigh.”
Inari froze. The voice didn’t echo. All sounds reverberated in this stone fortress, but not this one. She took a careful step to the right or was it left? How many lefts had she made since entering the long dark of the maze?
I hate this place. Inari patted her pockets seeking her rose lumir crystal but stopped when that base voice spoke again.
“Come, sinner, to your dark Father fly. At my side, thy time is nigh. You won’t die, nor in my fire fry. Come, sinner, thy time is nigh.”
Something moved to her right. Inari spun and brought both her bladed hands up in defense. She fought the question rising to her lips. Making any noise at all right now would give away her position and she’d lose the upper hand.
This time the voice came from her left. Inari dropped into a crouch but kept one leg extended to trip whoever was toying with her. Nothing touched her leg, but something flew passed her and clawed the arms she crossed over her head.
Bell sleeves hid twin bracers. Each had silver and cold iron bands crisscrossing the hand-tooled leather. Iron for the Fae-born, silver for the Darfierie, the moon-spawned monsters that still hunted the wilder parts of Shayari. There were charms, sigils and miniature icons from all the major religions worked into the leather and the design. Each one lent protection from a different old-world monster because nothing was ever truly extinct in Shayari. The land was too magical to permit that. At least that’s what her father always said.
I’m many things beastie, but I’m not prey. And I never will be. Inari thought in triumph as her attacker screeched in pain. Whatever it was, it fell silent as something else took its place. The temperature plummeted, and Inari resisted the urge to move. Don’t draw attention to yourself. Most creatures can’t see in the dark any better than you can. But if you move, it’ll see you, so stay down.
Movement caught her eye as the voice spoke again, this time it was laced with a seductive command:
“Though you try, my ally, you lie. Come, sinner, thy time is nigh.”
Yes, I must go to him. Inari rose from her crouch and crossed to the shadowy arm extended to her, but something pulsed in her chest, stopping her halfway. She touched the warm spot right over her heart where a shard of magic rested. Her fingertips glowed a soft green, and their light muted the voice.
It was Sarn’s magic in her chest and in its light, memories flowered. Her strong, slender hands tied bandages, cleaned wounds and later, cooked food, week in and week out for a half-dead boy. Sarn’s alive because of you.
“Come, sinner, to your dark Father fly. At my side, thy time is nigh.”
Inari shook her head. “No, I’ve done my penance.”
She turned on her heel as the glow receded from her fingers ready to repel another attack, but her attacker was gone—good riddance.
Inari left her lumir crystal in her pocket just in case there were eyes still watching her. She felt along the wall and hoped her feet knew the way because her mind was coming up blank. That rhythmic chanting kept pushing all other thoughts save one out of mind.
“O, Sinner, come, thy time is nigh: this I, your only ally, say to the sky.”
Inari shook her head. I won’t go to you, so stop cal
ling. She touched her forehead. Every time that chant repeated, its summons bludgeoned her. She held to the wall as her knees weakened. I just need to get outside. Sunshine sets everything to rights.
But Inari couldn’t remember where she was in the maze separating the main areas of habitation from the doors set in the mountain’s side. Her hands touched air. She hesitated at the intersection.
Which way now, right or left? How many rights and lefts did I take already? It doesn’t matter. I need to get out of here. And following the wall around this bend then down that tunnel moved her away from the voice.
Inari pulled off her boots and stuffed them into her basket. Now she could feel the cold stone under her feet. If I’m wrong, I’ll backtrack. I’ll just go slow and feel my way to avoid traps, sudden drops and whatever else the Litherians left behind.
The correct path through the maze covered about a mile because it looped around obstacles instead of boring through them. I can do this. I’ve been this way plenty of times before. Then, she’d used a lumir stone to light her path but after what had happened, she dared not risk any light at all. So she shuffled forward into the pitch darkness, clinging to the wall.
“Come, sinner, thy time is nigh.”
No. Call someone else.
“He has light. Get him!”
The crowd was gaining. Sarn put on a burst of speed. He must get around that next bend.
“Sarn, wait for me!” Saveen shouted from somewhere behind.
“Papa, slow down.”
“I can’t, or they’ll catch us. I’m sorry.”
If he stopped, the mob might tear his precious son to pieces to get to him. So Sarn held Ran tight and hurried around another bend, but the left branch was blocked by a rockfall.
“What now?”
“We keep going. I’ll find some way to lose them.”
“What about Saveen?”
Sarn shook his head and ran on. His map became suddenly opaque, and Sarn tripped over the rubble strewn in his path. Ahead, another crowd approached but it was breaking apart as if something forced a path through it. What the hell is happening?
Sarn stumbled to a halt. His chest constricted with fear. He was surrounded. Ahead, another mob was coalescing and hurrying this way—so was the one behind him. Run before they get you. But there was nowhere to run. His only escape was blocked.
Panic froze Sarn. Shadows closed in on him, reaching for the light pouring out of his eyes.
Give us your light.
Light-bringer!
Kindle us!
“Look, Papa, it's a rat. Is it Rat Woman’s?”
“I don't—"
Kindle us! Kindle us! Kindle us. Give us your light.
No. Sarn shut his eyes, but the voices kept screaming inside his mind.
“Why’d you close your eyes? I don’t like the dark. Make light Papa.” Ran’s cool fingers touched his closed eyes.
“No, they’ll see. They’ll know.”
“Sarn? Is that you? I still need to talk to you,” Jersten shouted. “Damn candles, they snuff out so easily.”
Oh no, what did that conman want now? Hearing the miner-turned-con artist’s voice galvanized Sarn. He backed away wanting nothing to do with Jersten or his schemes. But he was trapped between two mobs.
“Wait, I need to talk to you. You blew me off earlier, so you owe me a chat.”
“I can’t right now.” Sarn turned on his heel and almost ran into Saveen.
Jersten laughed. “You’re Indentured. You’re not allowed to go anywhere. Sarn? Sarn!”
But Sarn was already running in the opposite direction—this time with his traitorous eyes closed. He passed Saveen, who called after him.
“Where are we going now?”
Sarn didn't answer. He wove around several collapsed columns and crashed into a wall of bodies. Where did they come from? Did they see my eyes?
Sarn knocked several people down before the crush stopped his headlong dash. He was surrounded, and Jersten was still shouting his name. His pulse raced, and his breaths shortened. Just keep your damned eyes closed and maybe you’ll pass for normal.
Except Ran’s life hung on that maybe and so did Saveen’s. Sarn squeezed his luminous eyes closed and hoped no light leaked out to give him away. He hugged his son tight against his racing heart, and Ran wrapped his arms around his neck. Saveen clung to his waist as many hands latched onto Sarn and shoved him deeper into the crowd.
“Where is it? I saw a green light ahead,” a woman shouted at Sarn, but he was too stunned to answer.
Didn’t they know he was the light? Weren’t they here to kill him and collect the bounty on his head? Possession of magic was a capital offense—one punishable by death.
“Well? Can’t you speak?”
Sarn said nothing, he just held his son tight and tried to cut through the crowd, but it refused to part. Saveen stayed with him, but he remained quiet too.
“Search him. He must have the light we saw.”
That voice—it was familiar. Sarn tried to place it as he dodged the hands plucking at his clothes. Was the man a former Foundling? In the almost seven years he'd lived on and off with them, many had come and gone. And some had despised him.
“Leave us alone.” Ran batted at the hands pulling the arms holding him. There were tears in his voice.
“Don’t touch my son.” Magic uncurled inside Sarn and rolled over his skin.
Oh, Fate, please don’t glow, Sarn begged his magic as it wrapped around Ran. His cloak also shifted so it covered most of his son's body. It blocked the hands still groping for pockets. Safe now, Ran buried his face in Sarn’s chest. I won't let them take you away from me. Sarn hugged his son tight, and a tear dampened his collar.
“Please leave us alone. We don’t have any light,” Saveen lied.
The truth rose inside Sarn and fought to leap off his tongue to correct his friend, but Sarn bit down hard on it and tasted blood.
“There’s a guy with a candle back there. It went out, but I’m sure you can relight it.” Saveen’s arm brushed Sarn’s as he pointed to where he’d last heard Jersten.
“I still say we should search him. Candles don’t give off green light.”
“This one did. Go see for yourselves,” lied Saveen, and Sarn wanted to hug him because it took all his concentration to keep the truth from spilling out.
“Let’s go. There must be some light. The whole mountain can't go dark. Our rich masters would never allow it.”
“She's right. Some lumir crystals must still be glowing somewhere under this mountain.”
“Everyone stay close together. Anything could be hiding in the dark,” said that familiar male voice, but Sarn still couldn’t place him.
As the crowd moved off, Sarn and Saveen wove through the press of bodies until they reached a wall.
“I’m so sorry. Everything’s—” Sarn started to say, ‘okay now,’ but the words twisted on his tongue, putting the lie to the reassurance he wanted so badly to say. Everything was not okay.
Judging by what he'd overheard, the crowd wasn’t hunting for him yet. But they would. It was only a matter of time.
“They’re after you ‘cause you can make things glow.” Ran whispered into his good ear.
“Yes, but they might not know that yet. So keep that to yourself.”
“It’s a secret?” Ran perked up at that news.
Sarn nodded.
“I won’t tell anyone. Your secret’s safe with me.” Ran fidgeted, no doubt crossing his heart. What a treasure he was.
“And me,” Saveen squeezed Sarn’s bicep.
“Thanks.”
How many people had heard their whispered conference? Hopefully, not many since they were at the edge of the crowd and the people passing them were engaged in their own conversations.
How long before they discover I can relight the spent lumir crystals?
The Rangers knew and so did the Foundlings, Jersten, and quite a few miners. How long before one
of them tells someone? If the lumir crystals were out all over Mount Eredren, it wouldn’t be long before everyone was hunting for him.
Sarn swallowed the rising fear before it could incapacitate him again. “We’d better go.”
Find Him
Find him, he says. Ragnes huffed. Find a friggin’ mage? How? Being a shade of his former self, Ragnes could move as swift as thought but only if he had a destination. Where are you, freak?
Ragnes ghosted through the tunnels moving so fast the people also using this tunnel blurred and screamed as his cold essence knifed through them. It did no lasting harm other than to give them a fright.
Idiots milled about in his wake certain they’d felt the brush of something unnatural, but he was already gone when the shouts and punches flew. They were cattle so easily spooked by a flyby here and a feel copped there.
Stupid mortals, was I ever like you?
A memory flowered, but he crushed it. Yeah, I was just as scared of my own shadow as they are.
The thought should have made him let up on the abuse, but instead, it angered him. Ragnes tore through another tunnel and another knocking the people traversing them down like pins in that game Dirk liked to play. Though there were many, many more than nine pins moaning on the ground.
Some people succeeded in avoiding his attention. Like the sheep they were, they turned tail and ran. He didn’t give chase because they weren’t his quarry and all this people-bowling had netted him nothing, not even a frigging clue.
While you’re futzing around, Chris is in danger. Pull your head out of your ass and think. Where’s that freak Sarn most likely to be?
He had no idea. Other than the time he’d run into the jerk in the storeroom, he hadn’t seen hide nor hair of that lout in the last four weeks. Something about that incident stuck in his craw. Ragnes kicked a rock, but it didn’t budge. He’d spent all his frustration and had nothing left to throw at that stupid stone, so he glared at it. It was small and round like a child’s fist—or the balls Sarn’s brat had lobbed at his friends. Sarn’s brat—Beku’s son—Ragnes smiled. It was time he paid the Foundlings a visit.
Falls Page 8
