by Sean Hinn
“Dammit!” Aria said. “That was me. Sorry. Come on, I have an idea.” Aria pulled Lucan back from the bars and led him back down the tunnel.
“Where are we going?”
“We have to figure out where the walls are weak. Burn through. Find another tunnel. Put a hand on the wall, like me. See what you can feel.”
“I feel cold iron. And rust.”
“I thought we were sorcerers,” Aria replied, trying her own smirk. “We can’t see through a bit of metal?”
“Ah, now that’s an idea. Better hurry, though. They’ll be back soon.”
“Well, if you can manage to be quiet for a turn…”
Lucan smiled at Aria and turned to his side of the tunnel.
Aria had no idea what she was doing, but she felt like it could be done. Just a matter of will. Try as she might however, no amount of will allowed her to see anything but the darkness in front of her.
Lucan fared no better. “Nothing,” he said.
“Me neither.”
“Maybe we’re doing it wrong.”
“Clearly.”
“No,” Lucan said. “I mean, I have quite a bit of experience with metal. Iron, in particular. Iron locks, specifically.”
“I’m not sure I want to know this.”
“You don’t. But there are four ways to open an iron lock without a key. You pick it, you get a big, strong, long iron bar and pry it, you bash the Fury out of it with a hammer, or, in winter, you freeze it.”
“Freeze it?”
“Yep. A thimble of hot water in the keyhole and let Brother Winter do his work. The water expands as it freezes, and if you’re lucky, the lock will snap right open.”
“But we don’t have a door.”
“Sure we do. We just don’t know where it is.” Lucan took Aria’s hand in his own and moved it to the wall. “There. Feel that little crack? Who knows how deep it goes?”
“That’s not much of a crack.”
“Freeze some water inside it, it might be bigger than you think.”
Aria was skeptical. “Assuming you’re right, we don’t have any water.”
“There’s water everywhere. Even in this awful air. There has to be; Cindra’s hands were caked in frost after her last spell. We just have to, I don’t know, pull it out, get it into the cracks, and freeze it.”
“I don’t know, Lucan—”
“Watch.”
Lucan closed his eyes and held his hands out before him, cupped together. Aria could see he was concentrating, gathering his will. His brow furrowed as he strained to do… something. A few moments later, Lucan opened his hands.
“See!”
A thimbleful of water, perhaps two, rested in Lucan’s hands.
“Go ahead,” he said. Aria brought his hands to her lips and drank. Salty, but good. She had been so afraid for so long that she forgot how thirsty she was.
“Clever, but we’ll need a whole lot more than that.”
Lucan sighed. “That wasn’t very easy. Maybe if you help—”
The sound of an explosion, from somewhere, rumbled through the tunnels. The others. Flakes of loosened rust fell down on the pair from above. A memory from Lady Lor’s life flashed in her mind… Airies singing, shaping a great tree…
“I have a better idea.”
Aria placed both hands on the wall. She sent a deep, powerful, tone into the iron, its frequency too low to hear. More rust fell from the walls and ceiling. The tunnel began to vibrate. She let her mind’s eye follow the waves of sound into the walls, across the floors, through empty caverns… when she finally gained control of the spell, she began to sense where the iron and stone of Fury was… and was not.
“It’s working! Help me!”
Lucan placed a hand on Aria’s shoulder and fed her his own power. The range of their sonic vision increased, wider and further. Aria could see a vein of empty space running from just beyond the cavern where they had last been with the others, far deeper into the ground, left, right, then up, then a long, long drop…
Lucan gasped. “Oh, wow… I can see it!”
“Memorize it! That’s our way out!”
“I don’t think that will get us out, Ar—”
~YOU SEEK ME, LIESPEAKER? COME, THEN. PLAY WITH ME.~
Aria stepped back from the wall, cutting the flow of magic. Her voice bore an edge of determination. “We have to get through those bars.”
“Through the bars? Are you out of your mind? That’s where they’re coming from!”
Aria pulled Lucan close and kissed him. Their lips met violently, too quickly for Aria to know whether Lucan might have kissed her back, but she did not care. The kiss was not for him. “You said it yourself, Luc. This is not the end. I trust you.”
Aria turned and ran down the tunnel, not entirely sure if she meant what she had just said, but she knew this much: if they were to make their way through these tunnels, they would first need to abandon all fear.
XVI: HIGHMORLAND
WHAT WAS that?” Emma asked, jumping to her feet.
Mila rushed to the door.
“Which way is the privy?”
“Around the cabin to the right,” said Emma, her voice quaking. “Behind the barn. Was that—”
“I’ll be right back.”
Mila stepped out into the cold night to find the light of the Twins mostly obscured by Fang’s belching discharge, adequate only to cast the snowy landscape in hues of darkest violet. She listened for a moment, hearing nothing, the forest utterly devoid of sound, even her own next crunching steps muted and hushed. She stepped off the porch to the right, falling into a knee-high drift of snow and ash. Dammit. She thought to blast the drift away with a spell, but Kalashagon had already sensed her; more magic, she assumed, would only help guide him. A barn lay before her. Mila clambered forward, high-stepping through the deep snow. After a few clumsy steps her feet found the worn path to the privy. Rays of light from what must have been Fillip’s lantern flickered on the far side of the dark building.
“Fillip! Can you hear me?”
A gust of icy air buffeted the sorceress. Another. The third nearly knocked her from her feet.
The weight of the dragon came crashing down on the barn. Mila had no time to cry out before Fillip’s own screams shredded the silence of the night. They lasted but a breath. The mournful wail from inside the cabin lasted far longer.
The door to the cabin flew open, slamming against the building. Mila turned to see snow cascade from the roof as Emma spilled out onto the porch. The woman rounded the corner of the cabin, still wailing, loud and long, her sharp keening heavy with will and resolve, as if the force of her cries might undo what had just been done. Behind her, Mila could hear Kalashagon tearing through the beams and walls of the barn, thrashing violently, no doubt clearing a path towards her, but she could bear neither to look nor act. Her eyes and heart sought only Emma. The light was insufficient for the sorceress to see the expression on the old woman’s face, but it did not matter. In her mind’s eye, she saw the mask of horror etched there as if it were brightest noonday.
Mila stood motionless as the thrashing stopped and Emma pushed past her on the path. She did not immediately turn, her eyes still fixed in the direction of the cabin, seeing nothing, dazed by the dawning of one ineffable truth: all goodness, if there ever had been such a thing, had truly gone from the world.
A booming step turned her head reflexively. Twenty paces separated her and the mighty jaws of Kalashagon, and between them, the still-hollering widow of Fillip Manchele, former innmaster and purveyor of fine candles, honey, and honey-baked goods cursed the beast to Fury.
Mila readied a spell to protect the woman, to pull her back to safety, but the dragon was far too fast. Kalashagon lunged forward and snatched the woman from her feet as a bird might snatch a fish from water, tossing his head back, mercifully swallowing her whole.
When the dragon brought his head down again, Mila saw a hint of orange light begin to glow at the ba
ck of his throat. The thick, wafting scent of sulfur nearly gagged her. Her emerald eyes began to emit a glow of their own; she knew what came next and did not delay.
The casting came naturally, instinctively, cascades and sheets of snow flowing in from all directions, concentrated shards of ice flowing out of the sorceress as if she were a living blizzard. All the frozen might of her magic, however, melted upon clashing with Kalashagon’s river of flame. She circled left; the dragon circled right. With a roar, Kalashagon’s deluge of fire doubled in power; with a cry of rage, Mila met its intensity. The battle raged for a full turn, longer, but Mila had no illusions after the scene at the bridge. Kalashagon toyed with her. She would need more power. Far more.
My gems.
She had not tried the spell since Kehrlia. She had never tried it without the stored power of a gem. It would either work, or she would not live long enough to know it failed.
With a flourish and in a blink, Mila vanished, appearing again in the cabin. Whew. She could see the glow of dragonfire through the window as she quickly tied her cloak around her neck. When the light went out, Kalashagon roared.
~You hide from me, witch? We have not yet begun to play!~
She withdrew two gems from her pocket. Any would do but the largest, the diamond, which she would keep in reserve, for now, hoping beyond hope that she would not need it. She chose her two rubies and quickly probed them, pleased to discover both filled to bursting with concentrated magic. Perfect. In another blink, Mila appeared behind the dragon, just off his right hind leg, where his missing right eye would prevent him from glimpsing her. She took the gems in each fist and thrust her hands forward with a loathsome scream.
“You’re damned right we haven’t!”
An explosion of boiling steam caught the dragon wholly off guard, blasting him into a roll to his left. As he struggled to gain his footing, Mila vanished again, appearing directly behind him. Another blast. Blink, to the right. Another. Blink. Another.
The gems were nearly empty, but Mila had done what was needed. Clouds of steam surrounded the confused and battered Kalashagon, and a simple spell froze the droplets of water in place. She could not see beyond the thick clouds… and so neither could the dragon. She dropped the rubies in the snow along with a third gem from her pocket—one of two remaining sapphires—and, using the last of the stored power in the rubies, she blinked away again, this time hundreds of yards to the north.
Mila’s heart hammered as she ducked behind a tree, waiting in silence for some sign that Kalashagon had chosen a direction. Her last spell came wholly from the rubies; there would be no residue of magic, she hoped, clinging to her when she reappeared. If she could only just keep herself hidden, for just a while—
~Again, you hide. So unworthy of a witch of your power.~
Now the game would begin.
~Is that so? Well then, come punish me, mighty dragon.~
Mila waited in silence. She was rewarded by a roar moments later. He had found the sapphire.
~Clever girl.~
~Don’t you think? You won’t find me now, beast.~
And he would not, at least not by tracing her magic, or so she hoped. The sapphire in her pocket would quietly convey her thoughts to the other she had left behind. It, in turn, would amplify those thoughts a hundredfold, making it near impossible to determine her location. Its magic would, hopefully, drown out any inadvertent signals she herself sent. At least as long as the magic held.
~I should shatter your little trinket, witch. Crush it between my fangs and come find you.~
Mila conveyed a mirthless laugh through the gem.
~Be my guest.~
She should have said nothing. She should have allowed the dragon to try—the explosion would be heard for miles—but her hatred for the beast got the better of her. Let’s see how he likes being mocked.
~Very well. I will play this game with you, witch. For now. It is a good game.~
~I am no witch.~
~Still you deny it? Poor little witch. Why do you resist your nature? Why deny the truth of what you are?~
~You do not define what I am, devil.~
~Devil? Please. No devil in Fury can match my potency. No hundred devils. But what you say is true. I do not define you. Your actions do, Mila Felsin. Or would you prefer Freya? No, it does not suit you, does it?~
~You have no right to use that name! How do you know me?! Speak true!~
~I always speak true, little witch. Lies are the refuge of the weak. Why might I lie? None can defeat me. I require no guile nor deception to protect me. It is the one promise I will make you: in the hours you have left alive, you shall hear no lie from me.~
~A promise? You speak like a great liar, dragon. I have known many.~
~Believe what you will. You know nothing of me. But I know a great deal about you. All there is. My master has taught me. Told me of your secrets, he has.~
Mila fumed at the thought of this beast knowing anything at all about her. No one did! No one alive! Save Earl, she reminded herself. But even he knew so very, very little. She would not, however, give Kalashagon the satisfaction of realizing how much his familiarity offended her.
~Your master, you say. So, you are but a slave, then?~
A slight pause before the dragon replied told her all she needed to know on the subject.
~I am far more than a slave, witch.~
~But a slave nonetheless. Who is your master, slave?~
~Do you truly not know? Why do you ask foolish questions? Come now. You will bore me of this game.~
Mila did know. This was a beast of Fury, from the Hand of Disorder’s own realm.
~Fine. Then tell me this: why are you here? Why chase me, of all the people in Tahr?~
~Another boring question. One you should be able to answer without my help.~
~Very well. A more interesting one, then. Why the rest?~
Silence.
~Why these two, this old man, this old woman. They have done you no harm!~
~I must eat, witch. I am not unlike you in this.~
~You said you would not lie to me.~
~I do not!~
Mila sensed the dragon’s rage at the accusation. This, too, told her much.
~I saw the carnage you left on the road. You didn’t eat a tenth of the people you killed.~
~I said that I must eat. I did not say it is my only reason for killing your kind. I did not lie to you.~
Again… the insistence at his own honesty. Why? Does this beast actually possess some code of honor? Surely not.
~Very well. You did not lie. But you did not tell the whole truth.~
~Nor must I, witch.~
~No. But what is the harm in telling me? As you say, none can defeat you. You need not deceive. Tell me why you kill as you do.~
~You seek to manipulate me. I am no fool.~
A pause.
~But I will tell you, because it is as you say. I need not bother to deceive. I kill your kind, Mila Felsin, because you are evil.~
Mila sat in silence, thoroughly baffled by the dragon’s preposterous reply.
~You can’t be serious.~
~Do not again question my words, witch, or when I kill you I will spend days at the task!~
Mila had never sensed such wrath, not in all her life. Not even her own.
~Forgive me,~ she said, immediately ashamed to be apologizing to the beast, but she knew then with certainty that he spoke to her the truth, as he believed it, and to accuse him of falsehood in this game was, somehow, bad form.
~It does not matter if I forgive you. You will be dead soon, witch.~
Mila continued. ~You must understand my perspective. You are born, what, of the fires of Fury? Willing slave to the master of the very prison to which all evil beings are sent upon death? You rise from the mouth of Fang and wreak death and havoc on the world. How can—~
~And what of you, witch? What have you done? How many have died for your ambition, for your meaningless campaign of revenge?~<
br />
~Those are my sins. You would not understand—~
~Your sins? They are the sins of humanity, repeated over and over throughout the ages, without end. I understand perfectly, witch. I have seen the flow of souls into Fury. I have counted the horrors your kind commit. For a thousand years I have sampled the taint of humanity. I know its flavor. I tasted it on these two, these whose innocence you foolishly proclaim. It is you who do not understand!~
Mila made no reply for several turns as she huddled in the cold beneath a pine. She could not argue for humanity. Certainly not for her own. Who was innocent, truly? Her parents? She could not say. What crimes might they have committed? What harms might they have been responsible for? Darrin, the man who took her in, the man who might have become a father, only to seek to defile her when she came of age? No. Her peers at Kehrlia? The very embodiment of selfish ambition. Who, then? Who had she ever met, in all her life, who she could name innocent and true?
An image of Earl flashed in Mila’s mind.
Some. Some are.
~There are good people in this world.~
~Show me one, so that I might taste them and tell you if you speak true.~
Bastard. Why does he hate us all so? Why does his hatred seem so… so personal?
~There is more.~
~Why must there be more? Are the truths I have told you insufficient?~
~They are. Even if what you say is true—~
~It is.~
~Fine. Assuming that, why do you care? All-powerful as you are, why trouble yourself with the morality of humanity?~
~I do as my master commands me. It is why I am here.~
~No. There is more.~
~Why? Why must there be more? Do not presume to know me, witch! I grow tired of this game!~
Mila barely had time to sense the change in the air before the dragon crashed down through the pines. She was not surprised he had found her. She was ready.
~Now you die, witch.~
Mila stood, holding the fist-sized diamond before her.
“Then we both die!”
XVII: THE GRAND BARRACKS
T’M GOING TO NEED you to stay here, miss…?”
