Somnya had a point, so Aralore took the bread and nibbled on it. Hunger roused at the first bite and within minutes, she’d eaten the entire snack and drained the cup of water Somnya handed her.
“Thank you. I needed that.”
“And we need you,” Somnya squeezed her hand in passing. “Shall I get everyone ready to move out?”
“Not yet. I still haven’t found what created that damned sky-beam we saw last month. I wanted to test this rock against it.” Aralore tapped the box in frustration as she scanned the stumps of her victims. “It has to be here.”
Don’t be hasty, my dear one, chided her lying Mama. You’re always so quick to jump to conclusions. Why can’t you be more patient like your sister?
Yes, like her perfect sister Inari who never put a foot or a word wrong in her life. Inari the paragon, how she hated her. Aralore ground her teeth. Stop that. You’re a grown woman. Jealousy doesn’t become you, and it’s against the Lord’s edicts.
And yet, her mother had a point. Perhaps she was being a bit too hasty. Aralore cocked her head to one side as she considered the trees dying around her. “If they can moan, can they speak too?”
Somnya shrugged. “How will you make them talk?”
Aralore ignored the question as she approached a writhing oak tree. “What happened here last month? Tell me, and I might leave your friends alone.” Aralore waved to the enchanted trees still standing, but they were more than a mile away.
She hadn’t knocked all of them down, though not for lack of trying. There was a limit to how far the black lumir crystal’s rays could reach, but that limit was increasing each time she used it. Of course, the tree didn’t need to know that. She needed to keep some information to herself.
“Well? No human mage could have created that eyesore last month, so what was its true cause?”
The tree moaned but formed no actual words.
“Tell me!” Aralore struck it, but her fists didn’t do any damage. She pulled her fist back for another blow, but a hand landed on her arm, stopping her.
“Allow me.” The look in Velor’s eyes convinced her to back away and let him try. He nodded to her and raised his sword.
Aralore rubbed her hands together unable to contain her glee as his sword flash down and severed a limb. The black branch landed on the magic-leeched ground and rolled while the tree screamed in protest. Other trees screamed and, in the distance, a few trees still upright and animated with magic, charged forward, but they stopped when Aralore laid her hand on the box.
“Give me a reason to open it,” she hissed. “Or tell us what we want to know, and we’ll go.”
A soft sound drew Aralore’s attention as Velor hacked off another branch. She pivoted but nothing new met her searching gaze. Behind her was flattened foliage drained of its enchantments. But she’d heard something—a snatch of song on the wind maybe, but it was gone now.
Enchanted trees glared at her with their eyeless trunks, but none dared raise a branch to stop her—the fools! They remained stock-still despite the breeze ruffling Aralore’s braid. God, they were so unnatural!
They must be purged. She stroked the lacquered lid of the box resting on the boulder. Velor didn’t raise his sword again. There were no more branches to cut off and the tree was no longer writhing. A gray shape floated out of the oak as its trunk collapsed in on itself. Who knew trees had ghosts?
A smile cleaved her lips as Aralore opened the box and unleashed the devil’s rock. It caught the gray shape and gobbled it up as Aralore held back laughter. Who cares if this is the right spot? I’ll make Mount Eredren my test. I’ll drain its rocks of magic and see how long that monstrosity stands.
Yes, eradicate it.
Aralore started at the strange voice in her head and lowered the lid. Was the Queen of All Trees in her mind again? Spinning on her heel, she scanned the clearing.
Grass grew, and shrubs soaked in the sun. But there was nothing indicating a column of white light had speared the sky from this spot nor was there a certain thousand-foot tall silver monstrosity either. Pity, she couldn’t wait to turn the black lumir stone on her.
Could her calculations be off? Aralore chewed her lip. It was possible since she’d viewed the sky-beam from a considerable distance away. What was the harm in walking for a few more miles?
With a shrug, Aralore opened the box again. Darkness hammered the trees across from her. They screamed as they fell, and she laughed until she remembered this was just the warm-up. The main event couldn't commence until the guest of honor arrived—Prelate Zyantalus Arron. Aralore faced southward, but there was still no signal yet.
Mount Eredren’s snowpack flashed in the westering sun until something occluded it. A black shape circled the peak. It was too large to be any bird she’d ever seen, and its profile was all wrong. Aralore shaded her eyes.
“What is that?” she asked as Somnya flanked her.
“It looks man-shaped, but I see wings. It must be a mirage.”
But as Somnya stopped speaking, a dark voice whispered on the wind. “Come, sinners, to your dark Father fly. At my side, thy time is nigh.”
Somnya took a step toward Mount Eredren and Aralore almost did too, so strong was the pull of that voice. It was a magnet drawing them back.
“I know what that thing is.”
“What?” Somnya asked in a daze.
“The enemy of our God—the last war is upon us! Don’t you see? We’re called to fight.” Aralore crowed with glee. At last, the war all her teachers had spoken of was here. She drew her sword then stopped when its mirrored length reflected a large white box.
A cold hand gripped her wrist. She tried to shake it off. It was manacling her sword hand and preventing her from rushing off to join the war to end all wars.
Avenge me, my sister, my twin, Ayoma whispered in her ear. So long as a single enchanted tree stands, the hunt will have a refuge. I can’t rest until they’re all dead. Kill them, my sister, my twin. Avenge all those loved and lost to their insatiable bloodlust. Kill them all, for me.
That cold stole down her arm numbing it as a translucent hand forced Aralore to sheathe her blade. More and more ghosts flocked to her. They gripped her arms and turned her toward the boulder and the box. It swelled until she could see only the box and its dark passenger.
Avenge us. Kill the Wild Hunt. They urged.
Aralore nodded and reached for the box.
Unnatural, murmured his magic as Sarn regarded the menhirs towering over him, and he agreed.
Those pale stones standing sentinel at the edge of the meadow were altered somehow since he’d last saw them a month ago. Sarn touched the nearest one, and it oscillated under his hand. Were they emitting the low hum vibrating his bones?
Had they done that last month? Sarn searched his memory, but Shade’s veiled face surfaced and fixed sorrowful eyes on him until he stopped. It was no good. His friend’s death loomed too large in his memory of that day obscuring everything else.
“Papa? What are you doing?” Ran tugged his pant leg, and the sight disoriented Sarn who was used to seeing his son at close range.
Halfway across the meadow, Ran had decided to run alongside him and Saveen like an eager puppy. Saveen was also looking at him, waiting for answers. Sarn scrubbed a hand over his face then regarded those stones again. They didn’t feel right, but neither did he. His hand still hurt, but it was down to a dull, ignorable throb now. With luck, it would stay that way until he found his Queen and asked her to fix it.
Her call was high and sweet, lilting just on the edge of perception as her song tugged him along in its wake but under it, dark voices throbbed, and they too had their hooks in him.
“Come, sinner, to your dark Father fly. At my side, thy time is nigh.”
That voice—it seized his marked hand and jerked Sarn hard to the left. He almost fell as the command lacing it mastered him until her wordless summon muted that fell voice. Sarn shook his aching head. Blood dripped from his nose on
to his hand—not a good sign. Getting outside was supposed to quiet the voices tearing his sanity apart, but their tug-of-war only increased with every step he took away from the mountain.
What the hell is wrong with me? His head was so crowded, but he stepped between his son and those damned stones just in the nick of time. His ever-curious son walked into the backs of his legs instead of into the field those stones generated. It hovered on the edge of sight, but squinting didn’t bring its rainbow-hued moiré into focus.
Ran waited a moment more before cutting left, but Sarn stuck out a hand and his son walked into his waiting palm.
“Let me see, Papa.” Ran pried his fingers apart, so he could peer through them. “Oh, look at the pretty colors. Why’re they so dim?”
“I don’t know. The stones seem different.”
A fat green band of magic rotated from top to bottom in an endless circle teasing Sarn. As he stared, it flared and faded, and his magic matched its rhythm, making him dizzy.
“Different how?” Ran moved to stand beside him. Sarn put his son behind him again, but Ran didn’t stay there.
“That’s what I’m trying to figure out. Both of you stay back.”
Sarn waited for a nod from both his charges, but he only received one from Saveen. Ran frowned up at him.
“What will you do?”
“See if they’ll let us cross.”
“Where’s the Queen Tree?”
“Out there.” Sarn gestured to the enchanted forest which stood sentinel about ten-feet from the second circle of menhirs. Maybe it was the spell weaving between the stones towering over him that made the forest seem darker and less magical than usual.
I must go to her, but what about my son? Is it safe for Ran to accompany me? His gut said no but staying behind wasn’t any safer for the boy. Hell, the stones might not even let him pass with the Adversary's mark on his palm. They’d rejected him last month. They could do so again.
Sarn extended his hand to check but stopped when a brown-skinned man stepped out from behind one of the stones in the outer ring. Something about his bearing reminded Sarn of Nolo, his other master and he dropped his hand back to his side.
“Where did you come from?” Ran poked his head around Sarn’s leg and made eye contact with the stranger.
Fear choked Sarn, but it was too late. The man had already seen his glowing eyes and his son. He braced for the usual reaction. Which would it be this time—hatred or fear? But the fellow just smiled at Ran and pointed to the sky.
“Heaven, but I think you came from that mountain.” He pointed to Mount Eredren about a mile behind them.
“Where are you going?”
“To that mountain, but they won’t let me cross.” Still smiling, the man gestured to the two rings of menhirs.
“Why not?”
The man shrugged, and a boxy shadow appeared then disappeared over his right shoulder.
I’m seeing things again. Sarn rubbed his eyes with the hand not corralling his curious son.
“I was hoping you could help me cross.” The fellow regarded Sarn now, and he took a step back.
Why wasn’t this man freaking out about his glowing eyes? This deviation from the norm jarred Sarn. There was something otherworldly about this man. And it made his magic sit up and take notice.
“Who are you?” Sarn asked.
“I have many names, but you can call me J.C.”
“I’m Ran. This is Saveen and that’s Papa, but you can call him Sarn. Only I get to call him Papa.” Ran gestured as he made introductions before Sarn could stop him.
J.C. crouched so he was on Ran’s level and waved. “Hello, Ran. It’s nice to meet you and your friend and father. Will you help me cross?”
Ran was nodding, of course, before the question was out of J.C.’s mouth. “Yes.”
“Thank you, but I need your father’s okay on that.” J.C. smiled and extended his hand to Sarn, but he struck an invisible barrier instead. Behind him, a wooden spar appeared, and J.C. staggered under its weight. Blood seeped into the fabric of his white tunic as he went down on one knee.
Unable to watch another man suffer, Sarn stepped forward and that voice crashed into him, staggering him.
“Come, sinner, to your dark Father fly. At my side, thy time is nigh.”
Shadows boiled out of the ground. They reached for Sarn as he thrust a wide-eyed Ran at Saveen. “Run!”
“Papa, behind you!” Ran screamed. He pointed at the standing stones.
And a man-shaped negative space appeared between them. It seized his upper arms and pulled. Sarn hit the wall of magic and it broke over him like a wave, lighting him up from the inside.
Unclean. You are tainted, shouted a voice inside Sarn’s head.
“I’m trying to fix that,” Sovvan said then lightning struck him.
“Papa!”
The Cards Don’t Lie
“Where are you off to?” Ranispara asked as she fell into step with Inari.
In answer, Inari held up the blood smeared tarot card. After her ordeal in the maze, she didn’t feel like speaking, not even to her best friend. In the hot afternoon, what had just happened seemed more a dream than reality. There are no Wild Things here at Mount Eredren. This place is too civilized for their tastes.
Ranispara took the card and smoothed it out then she dropped it on the ground. Her hand flew to her lips. “She—Aralore’s here?”
Inari bent to retrieve that benighted card and noted she’d failed to tie her left boot. But as she set her basket down to rectify that, she heard that voice again. This is crazy. Thinking about my sister has addled my mind.
“She must be. The cards don’t lie. Though I wish they did.” Inari fought the urge to reach into her basket and draw a card—any card—to change her fortune. Instead, she tied her shoe then picked up her basket.
“Aralore—she’s the sister who joined—” Ranispara swallowed then continued in a lowered voice, “the Seekers?”
“That’s her, my dear little sister.” Inari shoved the card into her basket. Just seeing it rammed a hot poker into her chest. She rubbed the spot, but the pain refused to diminish. “I hate that card.”
“You don’t hate anyone.” Ranispara bumped her hip into Inari’s. “Now, me, I’m the hater.”
“Heh, don’t be silly. You haven’t got a hateful bone in your body. That’s what makes us such good friends.” Inari returned the hip bump.
“And all this time I thought we’d bonded over archery, wine, and cookies.” Ranispara hooked a lock that had escaped her braid behind her ear.
Her bracer was showing. It was the twin of Inari’s and a Christmas gift from years past. Seeing it made something inside Inari unclench. If she had run into a remnant of something old and dangerous, rather than a hallucination, then at least her friend was prepared to meet it.
“Come, sinner, sing my battle cry: come, sinner, thy time is nigh.”
Inari flinched and the religious runes on Ranispara’s bracer glowed a soft white. But her friend’s gaze was fixed on the distant forest and scanning it for problems. I’m imagining things.
“So where is your infamous sister? I’ve heard so much about her. I’d like to meet her.”
Inari pointed. Both women regarded the standing stones ringing the meadow. Beyond them, the River Nirthal flowed and on its banks, silhouetted men moved about.
“You think she’s on there?” Ranispara pointed to the longboat.
Inari nodded. “I know she is.” Certainty had crystallized on the long walk here.
“Right, magic-haters don’t hike through enchanted forests. Point taken.” Ranispara settled her hands on her utility belt. It was the same tawny as her boots and both contrasted with her forest green Ranger’s uniform. “So, you’ll walk on there and do what? You haven’t seen her in years.”
“True but she’s my sister and I failed her.” Inari kneaded a handful of her multicolored skirt.
Ranispara caught her arm and turned Inari
to face her. “It’s not your fault. You weren’t even there when it happened.”
“I should have been.” Inari yanked her arm free. Her friend meant well, but this was something she must do alone.
“Bullshit. You were caring for a young child at the time. What could you have done? Strapped Nerule to your back and hared off after your crazy sister? Be reasonable.”
Inari nodded conceding the point. Maybe her friend was right, but her heart still clamored for her to do something. Well, she was here now, so was Aralore according to the cards. No time like the present to fix things between them. Assuming, of course, things were fixable.
“I’m coming with you.”
Before Inari could argue, raised voices drew both their attention to the enchanted forest crouched on the far side of the standing stones. Shapes writhed. They rose and fell as they entwined.
“What the hell is that?” Ranispara pointed as she jogged toward it, Inari on her heels.
“I don’t know, but it looks person-sized. Maybe someone’s in trouble.” Inari shook her head as she drew even with her best friend. The air seemed to thicken, slowing their progress to a crawl.
“Come, sinner, thy time is nigh.”
Ranispara winced and covered her ears. Their steps slowed even more. The very ground seemed to flow toward the mountain. “Did you hear that?”
Inari nodded. “I heard it. I’m so glad you hear it too. I thought I was going crazy.”
“Well, you are but not because you hear voices.”
Inari elbowed her friend in the ribs.
“I was just kidding. Since you have the religious husband, would you mind telling me what a ‘sinner’ is?”
“Someone who turns away from God by not upholding his commandments.”
“Oh, I know about those. Jerlo has them posted in his office. I think he made a few amendments to the original ten. I wonder what he’d make of all this.”
Ranispara grabbed her arm and yanked Inari to the left as something darted past.
“Oh, dear God, was that a snake?” Inari halted and fought down the urge to run away. “I hate snakes.”
Falls Page 13
