On the far side of the abyss, a row of torches were mounted to the cave wall. They lit the room painfully well, illuminating the assorted array of bones and bloated body parts floating in the mix.
My stomach on the move, I swallowed it back down and studied the bridge. Of rope and plank design, the lead ropes were secured to heavy, iron bolts jammed into the cave floor. The bolts on my side were rusted, but in pretty deep. It gave me hope the ones on the far side were equally secure. It was everything in between the anchors that worried me. Apparently, when Krillos said ‘really fucking old’, what he meant was: threadbare, rickety, deathtrap.
The braided ropes holding the bridge together were frayed. The handrails were attached only by a few sporadic vertical pieces. More boards than I cared to count were missing, and I wasn’t sure I trusted the warped, narrow ones that were still attached. I wanted to step out a few feet and test it, but there was so much stale blood, rot, shit, and decaying flesh wafting up from the bottom of the Gullet that my eyes were stinging. The fumes burned my nose.
Gagging on the taste, I fled the chamber. I hurried back to Krillos and Liel, and motioned at the boy. “Bandages.”
Liel dug in his pack. He pulled out a roll of cloth, I pulled a knife, and we cut three strips off the roll. After tying one over my nose and mouth, I did the same for Krillos. Liel took care of himself, and we went on together to the Gullet.
Tethering my rope to one of the anchors, I tied the other end around my waist. “Stay here. I’ll go first and fasten the rope on the other side. That way, if this thing comes down, we won’t go down with it.”
In the tunnel behind me, Krillos peered in. “Where’d you learn a knot like that?”
“From an expert,” I said, recalling a long ago evening in the Kaelish woods when Malaq insisted on educating us in the tedious art of knot making.
“You sure it’ll hold?” he asked.
“It’ll hold.” Though I’d given up the pursuit in favor of hunting, Jarryd had stayed until he got it right. His memory of the steps was all I needed. “You’re carrying more than the rest of us, Krillos. Why don’t you trade packs with Liel. It’ll balance out the weight better.”
He narrowed his dark eyes. “You saying I’m too heavy, Shinree?”
“No. I’m saying Liel is too light.” My smile hid behind the cloth, I put my sore hands on the rails and stepped out onto the bridge. The first plank sagged noticeably. The second creaked. There wasn’t a third. Continuing on, I stretched my stride over the distances. I tried not to linger on any one plank and avoided putting weight in their middle; distributing it instead on the outer edges where the wood was fastened to the rope. The covering over my mouth and nose decreased the stench, but the stagnant vat of bodily waste below wasn’t easy to ignore.
Motivated to be gone from the room, the bridge swayed with my hasty pace, and I was genuinely surprised when I made it to the other side. Removing the rope from my waist, I fastened it to one of the anchor bolts and waved the all clear to Liel.
His first steps were cautious, but he held onto my safety rope and traversed the bridge without incident. Helping him off, Liel wandered past me a few steps. He let out a groan as he dropped Krillos’ hefty pack to the ground.
“Damn,” he huffed. “That thing’s like a bag of bricks.” Liel wiped the sleeve of his grungy tunic across his forehead; replacing the sweat with a streak of dirt. “No wonder the man complains so much.”
Grinning, I tossed my pack in his direction. “See if there’s room behind those rocks.” I gestured at a fall of boulders off to one side. “We’re leaving all nonessentials behind.” Liel gave me a weary nod, and I turned back to watch Krillos cross.
Aside from owning a larger frame than me, he had only one hand to grip the rail. His clothes and boots were heavier as well, and the unsteady bridge rocked considerably.
Watching him, I muttered to myself. “Come on… Come on…”
He had ten planks to go; then four.
I was about to let go of the breath I’d been holding, when I heard: crack.
Freezing in place, Krillos’ head shot up. We made eye contact.
Another crack; and his boot went through the wood.
Wedged up to his ankle, Krillos tried to slide his boot back out past the jagged wood. The bridge rocked as he struggled to wrestle free; harder as he grew impatient.
He teetered. His balance was failing.
“Easy!” I called as Krillos bounced hard into one side of the handrail. He rebounded off into the other—and broke right through the worn fibers. The rope fell away. Its pieces swung down into the Gullet. The vertical supports unraveled, and the entire side of the bridge tilted.
One boot still lodged, the other sliding down the severely slanted plank, Krillos clung frantically to the rope I’d stretched across. With one hand, he couldn’t hang on long. I had a breath or two at most to think of a way to right the bridge. Only there was nothing under it, nothing to magically reinforcement it but empty air.
Air…
“Liel!” I reached back for him. Clasping hands with the boy and grabbing hold of the guide rope, I pulled in the amethyst and the diamond on my right brace, and the red tourmaline on the left. I aimed my thoughts at the fibers of the rope and the diamond’s aura flowed from my palm, out across the line where Krillos gripped it; connecting us. I focused then on the air beneath the almost vertical bridge. I hadn’t done wind before. I didn’t know if I could truly keep Liel and Krillos from being drained. But I wanted the bridge straight, and I wanted the bastard across and both of them alive. So I trusted what Jillyan told me—that magic was more sensitive to an erudite’s intentions—and I puckered up and blew the auras out in a reddish-purple blast of air that tilted the bridge back up in place so fast, Krillos went flying. He soared past me onto solid ground and landed with a heavy thump and a groan.
He was safe. I didn’t need the magic anymore. It was time to let it go and bask in the reward that was due.
Only, as I looked down at the shimmering braid of white, red, and purple auras bleeding out from my bandaged palm, I realized I wasn’t so anxious for the after-glow. The allure wasn’t simply about being magic-blind. Not anymore. Not for me. It was also in the wielding of the magic. It was in the bounty of power sliding through me; the scope of possibilities setting my thoughts afire. There were so many spells I hadn’t tried. So many ways I hadn’t tested my erudite abilities. With the obsidian living inside me, I could be so much.
Liel’s hand twitched in mine. His fingers were loosening.
I looked at him, weak-kneed and pale. He might not survive if I cast again. And my connection to Krillos was broken when he let go of the rope. If I couldn’t bring him into the working, he would die.
Liel’s eyes fluttered closed.
Look how he trusts you, I thought. Maybe more than any of them.
I couldn’t throw that away.
I released the auras. Liel pulled out of my grip as he fell. I had a second’s concern for him. Then a great wave of pleasure swept in, and nothing else existed.
THIRTY TWO
It took me four hard tries to shake Liel awake. By the time he opened his eyes, I’d convinced myself he never would. “Gods, boy,” I breathed, lifting Liel’s limp body up and clutching him to me in a tight hug. “Don’t do that again.”
He muttered groggily into my shoulder. “Do what?”
I laughed and pulled back to look at him. “You okay?”
His pale face half hidden behind a shroud of dusty hair, Liel nodded.
“Don’t get up too fast,” I warned him, and went to check on Krillos. Awake, lying on his side, his hand was pressed to a bloody gash on his temple. I squatted and signaled for him to let me see. “You’ll be fine. It’s not deep.”
“Good. Then it only feels like one of your eldring friends stomped on my head.” Grunting as he sat up, Krillos pulled the covering from his mouth and nose to let me see exactly how unhappy he was. “The last spell you aim
ed my way blasted me through a thicket of thorns and left me lying in a pile of bear shit. And now this.” His dark eyes flashed. “I don’t like the pattern.”
“The pattern of you nearly dying? Me neither.” Liel’s pack was beside him. I pulled out the roll of cloth and ripped off a section. “Here.”
Krillos pressed the wad to his forehead. “So how many years of my life did that spell of yours steal, Shinree?”
It didn’t work that way and he knew it. “Don’t worry. You’ll still live to be a crotchety old man.” I smiled. He didn’t. And I was done playing nice. “Magic isn’t free, Krillos. I protected you as best I could.”
I wasn’t sure he agreed, but as he employed the wall in an effort to stand, his gaze moved past me to the bridge where a strong wind still blew beneath the planks. The tempest was loud and churning, spinning like a miniature cyclone beneath the bridge.
I didn’t have the slightest idea how long it would last, or what the repercussions were. But elemental magic was costly in more ways than one. And with the hornblende…
I’d just left one hell of a calling card.
Krillos was thinking the same thing. “I thought you said no magic? And now you’re throwing it around—throwing me around—healing that damn eldring, using its memories for a guide. What the hell has gotten into you?”
“I said I’d use magic only when necessary. I think you drowning in a river of shit would qualify as pretty damn necessary.” Angry now, I pulled the cloth off my face and ripped the bandages from my hands. The abrasions left behind by my battle with the gate were completely healed. I didn’t even remember asking for that. “And if it wasn’t for my magic and their memories,” I added, throwing the bloody cloth down, “we wouldn’t have gotten this far.”
“I won’t argue that,” Krillos conceded. “And I won’t mention that the way you talk about the beasts is starting to get a tad scary—or that there’s a pint-sized spring tornado twirling round and round right over there,” he gestured crossly. “I won’t even complain that my knees are still shaking because your greedy little spell sucked all the strength out of them. But don’t you think a speck of caution and restraint might be in order? We are right under Draken’s house.”
“A house,” I snarled, “that I could bring down without even breaking fucking a sweat. So don’t you dare stand there and tell me I’m not restraining myself. Because that little bit of wooziness you’re feeling right now is nothing. If I hadn’t held back, if I did what I wanted, what I needed, Captain, you would be lying over there like a husk.”
He hauled back and punched me.
Staggering into the cave wall, I pushed off it and glared at him behind the hair in my face. “Feel better?”
“Not yet.” He threw a jab at my nose, followed by a swift uppercut that clipped me good in the jaw. Krillos landed a couple more decent hits before we got interrupted.
“Captain, stop!” Liel darted in front of me with a hand on the hilt of his sword.
Krillos grinned at him. “You planning on drawing that thing, boy? Or just fondling it a while?”
“It’s all right.” My face throbbing, I gripped Liel’s shoulder. “If we’re going to get past the guards, it has to look like I put up a fight.”
Liel nodded unhappily. “It does.”
“Good.” Dabbing at the blood on my lip, I stared into the dimly lit tunnel ahead. At the end, a tight curve to the right blocked my view. But from my eldring memories, I knew we were getting close. “Krillos, you should get ready.”
He found his pack. Pulling out the Langorian guard uniform that had been making his bag so heavy, Krillos changed into it quickly (gray trousers, tunic, mail undershirt, and a hefty leather breastplate). He took a few drinks of coura from his flask then spilled the rest down the front of him. Rubbing handfuls of dirt on his face and hair, Krillos tousled his curls until it looked like they hadn’t been combed in weeks. After, he removed the claw appendage fastened to his empty wrist and replaced it with a stuffed, leather glove. There were no fingers to bend, but if he kept his arm down it was good enough. Using his teeth, he tugged the matching glove onto his hand.
My clothes were already a dirty mess from the eldring den. I could feel the bruises forming that would help camouflage the magic-scars on my face. The ones in my hair were well known, so I separated the dark strands and tied them back. Then I stuck a cap on my head. It wasn’t perfect, but it would do for a quick glance.
Giving Krillos back his weapon, I unbuckled my sword belt and handed it to Liel. I caught his eyes. “One pack only—water and bandages. Everything else stays here.”
Liel took a moment to stash the rest of our belongings and we left the Gullet. Not surprisingly, the odor trailed after us. The light didn’t. The only torch in the tunnel was positioned at the very end. As we reached it, the flames spilled enough indirect light into the room that followed to illuminate the emaciated bodies of two Langorian guardsmen sprawled out on the sandy ground. A third was alive and squatting between them.
Krillos stepped in and unsheathed his blade. Hearing the distinct sound, the guard leapt to his feet. Tall, wide, and wary-looking, he flaunted the heavy club in his hand. “Who’s there? Come out of the shadows and identify yourself!”
Shock in his voice, Krillos said, “Aram?”
The guardsman recoiled at his name. He stepped closer. “Captain?”
“Finally.” Krillos slid his sword away. “A bit of luck.” Approaching the larger man, Krillos gave him a vigorous slap on the arm. “Good to see you, old friend.”
“You as well,” Aram nodded. “Where have you been? We were supposed to meet days ago. And not here.” Confusion warped his rugged features. “Where the hell did you come from?”
“Never mind that,” I said. “What are you doing in here?”
“Simmer down,” Krillos scolded. “He’s one of ours.”
“It’s all right, Captain.” Aram turned to me. There was no surprise on his face. The big Langorian knew exactly who I was. “I was just finishing my rounds and wanted to make sure no one snuck in here for a bottle and a nap. It may smell like a year old chamber pot, but there aren’t many places for these lazy slugs to hide down here. Only, these two,” Aram tossed a hand at the bodies, “aren’t drunk. They’re dead.” He narrowed his dark eyes at my white ones. “I’m guessing that was you?”
Clearly, it was; their skin was gray and withered. But their deaths were the reason Krillos and Liel were still alive. So I moved on. “Is there anyone else on rounds? What are the exact positions of the other guards?”
Beneath a nest of dark beard, Aram’s expression lightened. “That’s easy. They’re all up top in the courtyard.”
“Why?” I said. “What’s going on?”
“Doratae has announced an alliance with the true Arullan government. They’re planning a shit storm of a counterstrike if Langor invades. And King Draken is damn furious. He’s about to address everyone outside with his usual off the cuff, inspirational, kill-them-or-I’ll-kill-you speech. I’m telling you, Captain,” Aram chuckled; a deep, throaty rumble. “I haven’t seen that loony, son of a bitch this worked up in a long time. He didn’t expect this kind of resistance. Thought he would sail in and the whole lot of them northern bastards would bend over and let him slide his boot up their ass.”
“How many guards are assembled for Draken’s speech?” I asked him.
“Pretty much all of ‘em,” Aram said, prompting Krillos to whistle in delight.
I talked over the sound. “Are you telling me the entire prison is unguarded?”
“The whole damn keep is out there, Shinree. But don’t get cocky. You only got an hour at most. And there’s still some new recruits stationed about. They’re scattered and green and jumpy enough to be dangerous. The work details are suspended for the night. Most of the prisoners are in their cells, but there’s a couple smithies and an apprentice or two working in the forge. Your man though, the one Krillos said you’re here for…” Aram
paused. He sucked in a long breath of air between his teeth and blew it out. “He’s got himself thrown in the cage. Again.”
“The cage?” I tried to keep the unease from my voice. “What’s that?”
“Punishment. The guy practically lives in there these days. Not his fault though. Don’t know how they expect him to work after what they done to the poor bastard. Rellan or not, I’m glad he’s getting out. Gives me the creeps just looking at him.”
“Aram.” Krillos said quickly. It was a warning, a polite way to tell the man to shut his mouth before I got any ideas about shutting it for him.
It was too late.
Hands clenched at my sides, a tantalizing tingle was running across my scarred shoulder and down my arm—a clear pledge that if I opened up and let the obsidian have its way with me, I could abolish the man right along with his words.
Teeth clamped against the strain of resisting, I said, “Where is he?”
Feeling the rage coming off me, Aram took an uncertain step back. “The forge. He’s got another two days left. If you’re bent on doing this now, you’ll have to come up with a reason for getting him out.”
“I’ll give them a reason,” I promised.
Krillos put a hand on Aram. “You better go.” He walked the man to the exit. They spoke quietly a moment before Aram went out in a blast of light and heat that lessened as the door closed. Coming back to us, Krillos unhooked a set of shackles from his belt and showed them to me. “They’ve been weakened right here.” He indicated a section on the underside. “All you have to do is yank.” Slipping off my braces, I tossed them to Liel for safekeeping and Krillos closed the shackles over my wrists. “When we reach the forge I’ll have to go in alone. With the work crew pared down for Draken’s speech, you’ll both stand out too much. If I can talk Kane out of that cage, I will. But be ready if I can’t.”
The Crown of Stones: Magic-Scars Page 25
