“Come on, Windrunner,” she said, tucking the Remnant under one arm and using the other to help Windrunner to his feet. He seemed groggy, as if drunk, and a mad smile was plastered on his face. No time to worry about that now. “We have to get out of here!”
A chunk of stone crashed down beside them. It snapped Windrunner out of his daze. He glanced at the stone, then at her, and they dashed toward the tunnel that would lead them out of here. He was still a little unsteady on his feet, but he was fast enough to keep up. Right now, that was all that mattered.
As Brinelle raced through the cavern, a sound more ominous than rumbling, cracking stone reached her ears. Falling sand.
The columns of sand, magically bound to hold up the ceiling, were raining down on their heads.
Brinelle drew on the power of the Remnant. She’d long since become accustomed to the feeling of magic surging through her body, but this was so intense it overpowered her. It was more dizzying than her first major attempts at magic when she was a child. Brinelle had never dreamed of anything like the sheer wealth of magic in the Remnant.
She focused on one of the disintegrating pillars and willed it to become stone. The sand hardened, growing cohesive, becoming sandstone. The pillar stood. Awkwardly, like a partially melted candle, but it would be enough to buy them a little time.
And it had taken so little effort.
Normally magic of that scale would have drained her, if she could have even done it in the first place. But now she felt nothing but powerful. She focused on another pillar and Created solid sandstone from it as well. Large sections of the ceiling behind them started to fall, shaking the ground and filling the air with dust, but their path remained clear.
The noise was tremendous. Brinelle could feel every falling stone in her feet, the impacts reverberating through her chest hard enough to make her heart skip beats. Individual sounds were next to meaningless in the cacophony of the collapsing room.
They were close now. Brinelle could see the glimmer of water ahead. She Created another pillar. If she hadn’t had the Remnant’s magic flowing through her, she’d have collapsed by now. And the ceiling along with her.
A resounding crack, deeper and louder than thunder, sounded over their heads. Brinelle looked up to see a massive stone falling toward them. There was no way they could dodge it.
Windrunner yelled beside her, and dark magic rushed from him. The boulder vanished. He grabbed her hand and pulled her forward.
There was no time to stop and think. Windrunner pushed her ahead and she dove into the water, holding the Remnant in one arm and grabbing onto anything she could reach to pull herself down with the other. The darkness and silence was eerie after the earth-shattering din. Brinelle was little comforted by it. If something happened they’d have little, if any, warning. They couldn’t even be certain the ice cavern ahead was still clear. One cave-in was all it would take to leave them stranded.
Brinelle’s lungs burned and her limbs tingled as the water grew colder. She’d been out of breath from running and hadn’t paused to take much more into her lungs before diving. She’d barely made it through when she’d prepared herself last time. In her current state she wasn’t sure how much farther she could go.
Not that she had much choice.
She clawed her way forward, thoughts growing fuzzy as she ran out of oxygen. She could hardly feel her arms or legs anymore. She hoped they were still moving. Was she still clinging to the Remnant?
Her thoughts went black.
23
Windrunner pushed Brinelle up the final shaft. She’d started slowing halfway through the tunnel. Lack of air, most likely. Not surprising. He was almost out, too.
She hadn’t lost consciousness, which was good, but he suspected she wasn’t aware of their situation anymore. She wasn’t used to things like holding her breath or diving. His own experiences were limited, but he knew what could happen if you stayed under too long.
Brinelle’s weight increased as her head broke the surface, then disappeared as Fi’ar pulled her out of the water. Windrunner followed, hoisting himself up without the urn warrior’s help. He went to Brinelle. She was coughing and breathing. Good. At least she hadn’t lost consciousness long enough for her lungs to fill with too much water.
He looked around her. The Remnant was still tucked under her arm. Also good.
“We have no time to delay,” Fi’ar said. “The Shahadán has arrived, and the land is already collapsing. We’re not safe here.”
“Right. Just give her a minute to recover.”
Fi’ar scowled and stalked off.
Windrunner stood and shook off as much water as he could. The hot air in the last cavern had begun to dry out his clothes. Now he was sopping wet again and shivering in the icy cavern. He collected a few of the Tsenian crystals and placed them around Brinelle, keeping one for himself.
“Fi’ar’s right,” Brinelle said between coughs. “We must leave before everything collapses around us.”
“We can’t do that if you’re about to collapse,” he said. “We won’t be long. Catch your breath. It won’t do us any good if you pass out halfway to safety.”
He collected their supplies, slinging his cloak around his shoulders. He was still dripping water everywhere, but at least it might help him stay a bit warmer.
His hand hovered over his staff. It had felt cold and dead since he’d banished his magic. Would it return to life now? He was terrified to check. What if the heat would never return?
His hand brushed the blood-soaked wood. The faintest trace of warmth met his fingers. Windrunner breathed a sigh of relief and hoisted the staff, grateful for its reassuring heft and magic.
Brinelle was sitting up when he brought her pack and cloak to her. She stood, shakily, but managed to stay on her feet. She was still gripping the Remnant.
Windrunner opened his pack and took out the first piece they’d collected. “Here. You might need this.”
The two pieces glowed brighter as Brinelle held them. It was easy to see where they had broken apart—Brinelle fit them together and the seam was invisible. One tiny chunk was missing.
A rumble overhead broke the moment. “We’ve got to go.”
Brinelle nodded, grabbing her cloak from Windrunner. She put the Remnants in her pack and they ran for the cave entrance.
Windrunner had expected the air to feel warm, the sun to be blinding. But they emerged from the cave into … nothing.
The landscape was completely grey. The sun was little more than a faint spot in the sky. It didn’t feel warm, or cold, or anything. It was like they’d entered a land that was but a shadow of the one they’d left.
The mushrooms growing around the waterfall looked different, somehow. More like pervasive fungus. Rot, no doubt spread from the Shahadán’s foul breath. Even as he watched more were sprouting, spreading the rot faster than he could believe possible.
Silent lightning seared the sky. The deep thunder of the Shahadán was gone. As was the rumble of the collapsing earth.
Windrunner’s heart stopped. He dashed away from the waterfall—also eerily silent—and into the maze of boulders. The ground was solid here, far enough away from the cave or supported well enough by the granite to survive the sandstone collapse.
“Don’t let him do anything stupid,” he heard Fi’ar call. At least their voices hadn’t been affected by the Shahadán’s magic.
“I won’t,” Brinelle’s voice replied. He heard her scrambling after him, but didn’t slow. He kept moving until he reached a high point. He climbed atop the tallest boulder he could find to get a view of the Farmlands.
What was left of the Farmlands.
He didn’t want to see it, but he couldn’t look away. That was his home down there. He couldn’t turn away as it crumbled because of his actions.
“Crumbled” was the best word for it. In this silent black-and-white world, the Farmlands fell apart like a mud pie left out to dry. Entire crops were swallowed and houses
fell away before his eyes. Great swathes of land gone in a blink. Windrunner watched the destruction through his tears.
He did this. All those lives lost or ruined, all this land gone forever. It was his fault.
It didn’t matter that he couldn’t hear the screams. He felt them in his soul. Everyone he’d known for his entire life. Friends. Neighbors. He’d never have another chance to catch up on gossip while bartering his crops. He’d never get a chance to prove himself to Maddox. All that was gone now.
The Shahadán blocked the meager sunlight. Windrunner clenched his fist, no longer fighting the rage building inside him. Yes, he was the one who’d destroyed his homeland, but that thing was truly to blame. He had to do it because that damned monster had come.
He’d brought it here.
He had to send it away.
He looked up. The Shahadán circled, drawing closer to where he stood. He didn’t care why. All he cared about was getting close enough to Destroy it.
“Windrunner,” Brinelle said, climbing up to stand beside him, “we have to leave. The Shahadán will see you.”
“Let it,” Windrunner replied. He didn’t look at her. His eyes were locked on the Shahadán, obscured by the dust of the Farmland’s destruction.
Brinelle followed his line of sight, reading his intent. “You can’t. We can’t. Windrunner, it’s too strong!”
He looked at her. She flinched.
“We have two pieces of the Remnant. I saw how powerful they made you. And now that I have my magic back …” He looked back to the Shahadán. He took a deep breath, trying to corral—not calm—the rage. He was going to need it. “We have to do something. If we don’t, more places are going to end up like this.” He swept his arm over what remained of the Farmlands. “And who knows? This fate might have been a mercy compared to what that thing would do.”
Brinelle looked from him to the Shahadán. She didn’t seem convinced, until her eyes fell to the destroyed land before them. Like the scattered crumbs of a forgotten cake. “Do you think we can hurt it?” she asked. Her voice was quiet, and he could tell she was scared.
He watched the Shahadán circle closer. In all honesty, he wasn’t sure. It was probably a crazy risk that would get them all killed. But he couldn’t let this one go. Not after what it had forced him to do.
Fi’ar climbed up behind them. He spent a moment looking at them, then leveled a glare at Brinelle. “You said you would stop him from doing anything stupid.”
She shrugged. “I guess I lied.”
The urn warrior grumbled, but pulled his bone knives from their sheathes. “It isn’t bravery to pick a fight you cannot win, funny man.”
“Then we’ll have to find a way to win.”
“This is a Shahadán,” the urn warrior said. “It is far beyond your power, or any Varyah’s.”
Windrunner glanced at him, never letting his attention fully leave the Shahadán. “That’s why I’m not doing it alone.”
Fi’ar said something in his native tongue that sounded like a curse. “You’ll get us all killed.”
Windrunner shook his head. After everything they’d gone through, the power they’d exhibited … they had to be able to do something. Something that would make a difference. So far their journey had been a lot of minor obstacles and hoping. But they couldn’t take forever gathering their strength. The Shahadán would consume this world long before they felt ready.
“Fi’ar, you’ll be in charge of keeping any mazahnen that come off our backs. If you see an opening and think you can hurt the Shahadán, go for it. But Brinelle and I won’t be able to pause and defend ourselves.”
The urn warrior nodded, serious once again. He may have doubted the sanity of the battle, but he’d never back away once the orders were given.
“I’ll draw the thing close and do my best to make sure none of its power gets down to us. Brinelle, that’ll leave you on the offense.” She looked at him uncertainly. “The Remnants should give you enough power to hurt it, at least. Do enough damage and Fi’ar and I can jump in and help finish it off.”
She nodded, dropping her staff and pack to the ground beside her and pulling out the Remnants, one in each hand. She seemed a bit more confident with them in her grasp.
“All right,” Windrunner said, looking up one more time. “Time to get the bastard’s attention.”
Brinelle cleared her throat. “I think we already have it.”
The Shahadán had gotten close in the last moments—too close. Windrunner could smell it now, a nauseating mixture of sulphur and rotting flesh.
It seemed too enormous to notice something as tiny as them, but the Shahadán slowed its swim and hovered over them. It stared down with dead, milky eyes. Windrunner could feel the power wafting off it, not so much rage-fueled Destruction magic like his, but corruption and decay-fueled. This was a beast of rot, as surely a means of destruction as any.
Windrunner summoned his magic, drinking in the rage. He kept it corralled, though, not letting the anger get to his head and rob him of his judgment. He used it to stoke his magic high, to channel more power through his body than he’d ever called before. He was brimming with it. He gathered his strength, took a breath, and thrust it straight up, a javelin of magic straight at the Shahadán.
His power shattered against the monster’s skin as if it had been as brittle as ice.
Windrunner didn’t let that discourage him. He hadn’t expected it to be successful, anyway.
Brinelle took her cue. She summoned her own magic and shot it at the Shahadán. It blazed forward like a miniature sun, so potent it took Windrunner’s breath away. He braced himself, feeling the grin spread across his face as her Creation magic met its antithesis.
Windrunner wasn’t sure what he’d expected to happen. Would the magics cancel each other out? Explode?
The Creation magic struck the Shahadán, forcing it skyward with a tremendous howl. In the otherwise silent world, the sound was disorienting and more than a little terrifying.
Windrunner watched as the Creation magic ate away great gobbets of flesh from the Shahadán, the magics meeting and negating each other like he’d thought. But the feeling they left behind wasn’t what he’d expected. He still felt magic in the air, aside from Brinelle’s and the Shahadán’s. It was as if the magics had met and melded together, becoming whole. Like they used to be.
Smoke rose from the wound. Windrunner could see where globs of flesh had vanished, exposing ribs and muscle. Thick ichor, like congealed blood, oozed from it. Windrunner hadn’t thought it possible, but the stench grew worse.
The sky flashed with erratic lightning. Large chunks of the landscape shriveled beneath the monster’s putrid rot-breath. The Shahadán’s wailing was the only sound aside from their breathing.
Brinelle shot more Creation magic at the beast, opening more wounds along its rotting hide. The Shahadán swam up and away, ichor falling like rain around them. Wherever it hit, the ground sizzled.
Black spots converged on the Shahadán. Windrunner watched as they grew larger at an alarming rate. “Mazahnen!”
Another spot streaked up toward the monsters, from behind. It hit one of the falling mazahnen and the creature’s plummet became a freefall. Windrunner glanced behind him. Fi’ar was hefting a fist-sized rock, eyeing the mazahnen. He spared a moment to flash Windrunner a triumphant grin before throwing. The rock sped away like an arrow and killed another incoming mazahnen.
It was easy to redirect Windrunner’s hatred to the mazahnen. The creatures had hounded their journey since the beginning like deadly gnats. He despised them. The world would be a better place without them.
He focused his magic on the mazahnen and willed them away. Several of the creatures disappeared, while more crumbled away in the wind. By the time they reached the ground only a dozen or so remained. Fi’ar would be insulted if Windrunner even hinted he couldn’t handle that many with his knives.
The Shahadán was circling back now. Windrunner braced h
imself. Beside him he felt Brinelle do the same. A surge of warm Creation power told him she’d pulled more power from the Remnants. Windrunner felt so full of power he didn’t need to call upon his magic. His anger was so strong, so consuming, he was bursting with power without having to work at bringing it to the ready.
The Shahadán dove low, no more than a few feet over their heads. Windrunner blasted its lightning and rot with his magic, Destroying it before it could do any damage, while Brinelle hit the monster in the face with a blast of Creation magic. It howled again, loud and abrasive enough to make Windrunner’s bones rattle. His ears rang.
Windrunner heard a shout from Fi’ar, and one of the urn warrior’s knives appeared in the Shahadán’s eye.
Brinelle raised both arms and held the Remnants aloft. A circle of color emanated from them, bleeding life into the dismal landscape. Windrunner felt better in its presence, as if he’d been suffocating and this aura was full of oxygen.
The Shahadán bellowed and swam harder, trying to escape the Remnants’ glow. Its flesh bubbled and melted wherever the Creation light touched it. It rose, just high enough to break free.
Windrunner climbed atop a large boulder until he was eye level with the Shahadán. He had to hold his breath this close to the beast or its sheer stench would have knocked him out. Windrunner spun his staff, once, then held it before him. He crouched, gathered his strength, and leapt for the monster.
The staff impacted the Shahadán right between the eyes. The blow would have done nothing if Windrunner’s Destruction magic hadn’t poured out of the wood, scorching hot.
The Shahadán howled as the staff melted flesh and bone beneath it. It howled even louder as it sunk back into the Remnants’ glow. Its entire belly was afire, flesh shriveling from bones. It seemed to have a harder time gaining altitude now. Most of the muscles controlling its fin-wings were gone. A huge dent creased its skull, ichor and smoke streaming from the wound. Lightning scorched the ground around them as it shot in erratic, panicked bolts.
Remnant Page 24
