ARC: Sunstone

by Freya Robertson

  Julen’s father had only ever discussed his part in repelling the Darkwater invasion once. Oh, Chonrad had enjoyed relaying the events of the Last Stand at length after a few ales, and Julen had lost count of the number of times he had heard his father retelling the story to friends and family. But although he described the water warriors, the great battle at the end and the wonder with which they had all watched the Arbor grow, he had only recounted the moment he opened the fifth node in the depths of the labyrinth once.

  He had related how the Arbor had told him it required something from him. Chonrad had not known what he could possibly possess that the Arbor would need. But it had turned out to be his strength. Not his physical strength, although that was more impressive than most. But the strength of his heart. In spite of his fearsome ability in battle, Chonrad had been courageous, compassionate and kind, and the Arbor had seen this, and asked him for help when it needed him most.

  The pendant grew hot in Julen’s hand, and he inhaled as he let the love for his family sweep through him. He thought of his father – how much he had loved and admired him, and he thought of his siblings and his mother and how glad he was that he had been born into that family and no other, much as sometimes they clashed and drove each other mad.

  And as he thought of the Arbor, the love he bore for the tree and the land in which it grew, so the tree loomed large in his mind, as clear as if he stood beneath it in the shade of its leaves. He had only been to Heartwood on a few occasions, but as he knelt there holding the pendant carved from part of the holy tree, he connected with it as surely as if he stood there with his hands on its trunk, feeling its heart – the Pectoris that Dolosus had been compelled to dive to the bottom of the ocean to recover – beat beneath his fingertips.

  Energy shot from him, pure and clear, rushing along the Arbor’s roots to his family, enveloping them in his love, and carrying with it the message he carried in his heart.

  I love you. I am here for you.

  You are not alone.

  II

  The tunnels were stiflingly hot, the semi-darkness like a woollen blanket laying over them, thick and suffocating. Demitto wanted to push the damp air away from his mouth, almost choking on the humidity.

  Anguis’s weather had changed over the last few years, growing steadily more tropical. In the past, he had trekked through the jungle, descended into some of Hanaire’s deepest silver mines and spent a week in Wulfengar’s famous hot pools, so he was well aware of the changing climate. But he had never encountered anything like this.

  Catena held up a hand, and he stopped walking and closed his fist over the flame that had danced there. Atavus bumped his nose against his legs, subdued and uneasy underground. They plunged into darkness as if falling into a vat of black treacle, and he clutched hold of the rock wall, heart pounding at the sensation of being lost in an infinite void.

  “I have you,” Catena whispered, and her small hand crept into his. He said nothing but clutched hold of it gratefully, using the feel of her warm skin to anchor him to reality.

  “What can you sense?” he murmured, his mouth close to her ear.

  She moved beside him, and then a faint glow appeared around the hand she had pressed against the rock. Demitto watched her concentrate, admiring the way the silvery light painted her cheeks and nose.

  “We are getting closer,” she whispered.

  He didn’t bother to hide his sigh of relief. They had been walking for what seemed like hours, although he was sure it couldn’t have been that long. The intricate maze of tunnels led deep into the mountainside, and he had been lost within the first few minutes after half a dozen twists and turns. Numerous times they had had to duck into side passages to avoid people walking through the tunnels, and twice they walked around a corner straight into guards.

  He had been impressed with the way Catena handled a sword. Although in Laxony it wasn’t unusual for women to enter the standing army of a local lord, there had generally been peace in the four countries over the last hundred years. The world had grown lazy, and highly trained soldiers of either sex were few and far between.

  But Catena had defended herself and dispatched the Incendi guards with skill. He reminded himself she was Chief of the Guard at Harlton, in charge of training the castle watch, and clearly not to be underestimated.

  But at that moment, her skill with the sword was not the most impressive thing about her. He knew of the Saxum and their skill in reading stone, but he had never seen one in action before. Catena appeared as surprised as he by her new talent and had initially been reluctant to use it, sure Cinereo had been mistaken. But Demitto had encouraged her to try it, and just moments after she placed her hands on the wall of the tunnel, her eyes had widened, and he knew she was receiving sensations through the rock.

  She opened her eyes and her hand dropped. “This way,” she whispered, “the passage is clear.”

  He formed a flame on his palm and then they were off again, turning seemingly indiscriminately this way and that into the heart of the mountain. He buried his hand in Atavus’s fur the same way Tahir had done, finding comfort in the presence of the dog beside him.

  Once again, it seemed as if they walked for hours. Demitto was glad he wasn’t wearing his armour. The sweat ran down him in rivulets, dripped into his eyes and made his palms slippery. They drank regularly from their leather water bottles, but he worried they would eventually run out, and that would not be good. The only way out of these tunnels would be by walking; he didn’t think he would be strong enough to carry Catena if he was dehydrated, and there was certainly no way she could carry him!

  Catena slowed and then stopped, and turned to look up at him, puzzled. “Can you hear that?”

  He could, and had been aware of it for some time – a low rumble through the rock, almost more of a sensation than a sound, vibrating up through his feet and legs, up his spine, making his head and teeth ache.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “I do not know.” He had a feeling it couldn’t be something good. He didn’t think he had to put that into words though – the look on Catena’s face expressed his thoughts.

  As they moved forward, he stumbled on some loose rock and reached out to get his balance. Then he exclaimed out loud.

  She turned, eyes wide. “What is it?”

  “The wall.” He rested his palm on it. Ever since they had entered the tunnels, he had been surprised that the rock was warm rather than cool. When delving into Anguis’s depths, the mines and caves usually became dryer and colder the deeper one went.

  But this time, the rock was hot. He could not leave his palm there for longer than a few seconds before having to pull it away.

  Catena did the same, concern flickering in her eyes. “What does it mean?”

  He shook his head, unease filtering through him.

  They walked down a long passage, met another at the end, and she turned right. The air grew thick and moist, as if someone had placed a damp cloth over his mouth and nose. The rumbling increased, and the heat became intense.

  They rounded the corner, and both of them stopped dead in shock. His hand tightened in Atavus’s fur, stopping the dog from leaping forward. The passageway opened into a large chamber, the pathway running around the edge of the room several feet above the floor. The reason for this was that the entire floor consisted of rock heated to such a temperature that it became liquid, flowing in a scarlet river that burped and boiled and spat.

  “Arbor’s roots,” Catena swore. “I have never seen anything like it.”

  Demitto just stared. She had never seen anything like it because there had never been anything like it in Anguis before. The country was not – nor had ever been in written history – a volcanic one. He had read of such places in far distant lands, where the rock turned molten and mountains spat ash and lava that ran down into the valleys to cool eventually into folds of grey stone, but he had never seen such a phenomenon himself.

  The magma fascinated
him, and he could not tear his eyes away from it. Although the heat seared his skin and it was hard to breathe, the moving liquefied rock hypnotised him. It swirled in ridges of yellow and gold, and darkened in the centre to a deep red-black. It was almost like smoke, and he could imagining it wreathing around him, entwining him like tree roots, loving and tender in its touch…

  “Demitto!” Catena shrieked and grabbed his arm, and at the same time Atavus leapt forward and sank his teeth into his tunic, holding him back. With alarm, he realised he was teetering on the edge of the platform, about to plunge into the fiery depths. The river spat sparks at him that burned into his clothing. His face flared with pain, and he was sure his eyebrows had been seared off.

  He fell backwards, and Catena rushed to flick off the hot rock eating into his clothes like acid, squealing as her hand touched it. Atavus licked his ear.

  “What were you doing?” Her heartfelt sobs wrenched at him.

  “I do not know.” He lay back, panting, heart pounding at the thought of what he had nearly done.

  “I nearly lost you.” Tears ran down her face, drying instantly on her cheeks. “You cannot leave me – I cannot do this without you.”

  “It is all right, I am still here.” He put his arms around her, trying not to wince at the tenderness of his burned skin, and held her close. “I will not leave you.”

  She buried her face in his shoulder and cried. “I have to find Tahir. He will be so scared without me. I cannot leave him to the Incendi.”

  “We will find him,” he assured her. Once again, the feel of her soft skin, the smell of her hair, grounded him, and pulled him back to reality.

  She lifted her head to look at him. Her tears had dried immediately, leaving her cheeks streaked, her eyes red, but she was so beautiful she took his breath away.

  He pushed away Atavus’s inquisitive nose, slipped a hand into Catena’s hair, and kissed her.

  She didn’t return it, but neither did she pull away. He pressed his lips against hers once, twice, then lay back.

  They stared at each other for a moment. Then they looked at the bubbling magma.

  “We should go,” she said, and he nodded and let her pull him to his feet.

  They made their way up the platform through the chamber of molten rock. Demitto cursed himself under his breath, keeping well to the side away from the edge. What in Arbor’s name was wrong with him? Why had he been entranced by the magma, and why in all Anguis had he kissed Catena? That had been the last thing on his mind, with his hair singed and his skin raw from the heat.

  Uneasy, slightly embarrassed and thoroughly fed up with being drenched with his own sweat, he followed her, Atavus hot on his heels, as the platform sloped upwards and led through a doorway.

  And once again, they came shuddering to a halt, astounded at the view in front of them.

  This time, the room wasn’t just big – it was vast. The platform they stood on jutted out from the rock halfway up the wall, and ran around three sides of the roughly square cavern. Dark doorways led from it on all sides into more passageways, leading off into what Demitto now realised was a complex far greater than he had imagined lay beneath the Spina Mountains.

  The fourth wall was partly obscured by a gigantic pyramid.

  Demitto stared, mouth open, stunned into silence. Formed by rectangular blocks of stone, the pyramid’s three walls reached up to a point only feet from the roof of the cavern. The entrance on the side facing him looked ten times taller than a man, fronted with huge doors that stood open to reveal a glittering, golden interior. The doors were flanked by two massive statues, painted and decorated in gold leaf to look like leaping flames.

  All four walls of the chamber were also covered in paintings. Demitto had seen ancient art in caves in Hanaire, and tree carvings from hundreds of years ago in Komis, but again, nothing like this. Bright colours covered faded pictures, building layer upon layer of Incendi history. Hundreds of scenes showed battles between tribes, worship of gods, kings rising and falling, sacrifices and deaths. The cavern portrayed a whole civilisation, which had obviously existed for thousands of years.

  But what chilled him more than the thought of this whole world existing beneath his own were the thousands of men and women working in the cavern below them. On the far side, he could see numerous furnaces making armour and weapons, and people training with those weapons, building up their strength and skill. Even from up high, he could see their red eyes, and he knew they had all been possessed by Incendi.

  It was an army in the making, and although sweat still rolled off him and steam swirled in the air, he felt as if he had swallowed ice.

  “Arbor help us,” Catena whispered, and he knew she had also realised what was happening. He had known the elementals were now taking over people, but he had not realised the extent of their possession. They were building an army to take to the surface, to take over Anguis and defeat the element of earth for good.

  Catena’s hand crept into his, and his fingers tightened on it. Cinereo and the Nox Aves had no idea. They had sent him to save Tahir so he could help save the world, but how was he to find him and rescue him now?

  Demitto knew he was a confident man – maybe even an arrogant one. He had great faith in his own abilities, and when the Nox Aves had approached him during one of his random visits to Heartwood, he had accepted their mission without giving it much thought. His initiation into the group and their stories about how events were unfolding had shocked and fascinated him, but even though he believed everything they told him, it had not affected him on a deep level.

  He was a man who lived for the moment, who appreciated the food, drink, people, countryside and events occurring right in front of him. He wasn’t prone to analysing life, and concentrated on the physical world rather than the emotional or metaphysical one. He understood what was happening with the Incendi and desired to stop them, but his faith wasn’t deep or strong and thus hadn’t been threatened by what he’d learned.

  For the first time, though, real, true panic flared inside him. This threat wasn’t some imaginary force dreamt up by scholars interpreting Arbor-knew-what from ancient tomes and fabricating threats. This was real. Anguis was in huge danger.

  And he and Catena were the only ones standing in the way of the Incendi.

  He gritted his teeth. Good to know there was no pressure.

  III

  Although a burning fear filled Sarra that pushed her to keep on moving, she reluctantly agreed they had to stop for a while to rest. Even though she did her daily perambulation of the Embers’ main roads the same as many of its citizens, she had never walked so far for so long. Her leg muscles ached, and she felt that if she sat for too long, her eyes would close and she would probably sleep for weeks.

  Part of her tiredness was due to a matter that had become apparent the further they walked from the Embers. At first she had thought she was imagining it, conjuring it up out of a combination of tiredness, fear and panic about the fact that she was supposed to be leading the group, and she had no idea where she was going. She tried to concentrate on her surroundings, her fingers trailing over the paintings on the walls as they walked, her ears straining for any sounds of others ahead, but she grew to realise that although the drawings spoke of an ancient civilisation, they were there no longer, and the place felt deserted, the corridors silent and cold.

  And because there was little else to distract her, her companions as silent and withdrawn as herself, she couldn’t help but notice the changes in her body, and eventually had to admit the truth.

  The baby was growing.

  And not just that – the baby was growing fast.

  It had been moving for a while, but since they left the city its kicks had grown stronger, and her bump had grown to the point that she had to loosen the belt around her waist. She had not been with child before, but she had observed many pregnancies in those around her, and she knew enough about the process to understand that what she was experiencing was unnatur
al.

  Still, she kept the news to herself, aware that her condition was the least of their worries at that moment. For Kytte – who had struck the rock during the fall from the Cataracta into the pool and almost certainly broken a couple of ribs, if not more – was in great pain and obviously finding it difficult to walk at any speed.

  Sarra watched Geve and Amabil tend to her while Betune stood beside them, holding up the bag she carried around her neck. Sarra’s gaze was drawn by the bag, which glowed with a golden light, illuminating the small party where they sat in the corner of an empty room.

  To the amazement of everyone – including Betune – she had emerged from the pool to find herself lit up, and on realising the glow came from the bag, she had withdrawn the acorn inside and held it on her palm for them all to see. It was almost too bright to look at, shimmering as if sprinkled with golden dust, a lantern for them to follow in the darkness of the caves.

  None of them had had an answer as to why it had reacted in such a way. As they gathered initially, supporting Kytte and trying to bind up her ribs to ease her pain, they speculated that the Arbor knew they were coming and was trying to guide them, leading them on to their new life. The thought gave them hope at a time when despair kept rising inside them, and made them feel the Arbor was there, supporting them, and that this wasn’t a futile journey – that the reward was there waiting for them. It had lifted their spirits as they comforted Kytte, and had given Sarra heart.

  But even though the acorn still glowed, Sarra’s heart was beginning to sink. She had heard a bellow far off in the distance, and although she couldn’t be sure, instinct told her it was Comminor. He had followed them down the rope. He would not let them go free, and the thought of his anger and what he would do to her if he found her had kept her heart pumping and her legs moving with the intent of putting as much distance between them as they could.

  But they couldn’t walk forever, and she had no idea how far it was to the Surface. She had hoped that once they left the Embers, the knowledge would flower in her mind and she would receive the image of some sort of map, or at least a strong instinct of which way was correct. But so far nothing had happened to guide her. She had wandered along the maze of passages blindly, turning randomly, too worried to admit to the others that she didn’t know the way, and too afraid to stop and wait for the knowledge to come.