by Alec Hutson
“I’m not dragging this bag through the mountain.” She paused, admiring a circlet of twisted golden threads before dropping it back into her sack. “A weapon or two, and a few other surprises for whatever we find inside.”
“I’ll carry it,” Keilan offered, but Alyanna shook her head.
“To be true with you, I don’t want to bring most of what’s here within. I’m afraid of having to leave it all behind if we are forced to flee.” She withdrew a large ring of bladed metal, with a handle set into its curving edge that, when gripped, would create a crescent of gleaming silver above her fist. This weapon also disappeared into the folds of her robes, and it must have been the last of the items she wished to take because she cinched the drawstring of her sack shut and then tossed it in the snow. With a flicker of sorcery, she unceremoniously swept the rest of their bags off the chavenix, molded the disc back into a sphere, and then dropped it inside her sack of treasures.
“I’m ready,” she said, then arched an eyebrow at the Dymorians who had been watching her sidelong as she went through her artifacts. “And those of you not coming with us, don’t touch anything I’ve left behind. It would be rather . . . incendiary.”
“We must plan for spending a few days inside the mountain,” Nel said, changing the topic. “That means food and water. I know we want to hurry after the queen, but we should gather what we need for an expedition. I don’t want to be down there in the dark with nothing to eat or drink.”
Mutters of assent rippled among the soldiers. Alyanna pursed her lips in disapproval, but she must have agreed somewhat, as she voiced no opposition.
“My knife is correct,” Vhelan said, sounding resigned. “It would be foolish to brave the mountain without being prepared. Galen, have your men gather enough food and water for a few days. And torches, as well.”
No one moved after the magister had finished speaking, so he clapped his hands together sharply. “Quickly, Dymorians! Your queen is waiting for you.”
With characteristic efficiency, the soldiers scavenged what they could from the Skein stores and added it to their own supplies. Keilan watched them as they worked, and it was obvious that the longer they stayed in the shadow of the Burrow, the more they were affected by whatever slept below. Movements were becoming more sluggish, faces pinched as if by pain or exhaustion, and tempers had begun to fray. A tussle over a cloudy bottle of Dymorian wine that must have been looted from the queen’s stores nearly came to drawn swords, until Galen put himself between the men and gave them a tongue-lashing that taught Keilan several new Dymorian curses.
The scrabbling in his own head did not seem to be getting worse; if anything, he was learning to live with the strange feeling of having a great presence hovering on the edge of his awareness. It had almost begun to feel familiar, which was frightening. But the headaches and joint pain the soldiers were grousing about did not afflict him – or Alyanna, by the looks of it. He approached the sorceress while she waited for the soldiers to finish their preparations; she was stretched out on the reformed chavenix like a bored cat, watching from under heavy-lidded eyes.
“This is not a place for those without Talent,” she explained, her gaze lingering contemptuously on the soldiers. “The Ancients are not entirely of this world. I suspect they were birthed from the Void, or dwelled in it for ages, as they are infused with its essence. You and I have our own connection with the realm beyond. It was why we could feel the Ancient from so far away, but being close now does not affect us to the degree it does those who have never experienced the Void’s caresses.”
A thought occurred to Keilan, and he swallowed nervously. “Will they . . . will they be able to accompany us inside?”
Alyanna shrugged. “We shall see.”
That troubled him, and he wandered away to crouch in the snow to consider what the sorceress had said. He knew, in his heart, that the swords and shields of the soldiers would be of little use against the sorcery of the demons, but he felt safe among the Dymorians. What if only he and Alyanna could enter the Burrow? The thought made his heart beat faster. What if the fate of the world rested on him? Keilan scratched at the cut on his arm, struggling to keep his breathing calm.
He was not the only one who seemed troubled. Cho Lin waited away from the rest of them, kneeling in the snow, her chin lifted so that she was staring up at the great gaping maw set in the side of the mountain. The hood of her furs had been thrown back, and the cold wind was making her long black hair dance. She was holding something in her hands: a length of gleaming metal. She looked deep in thought, and they were not pleasant thoughts. As he watched, she glanced at where Alyanna perched atop her chavenix, and the look she gave the sorceress chilled Keilan. Something had happened between them. He could only hope it wouldn’t endanger the already difficult task ahead.
The first soldier faltered before they’d made it halfway to the door. The going was difficult, steep and stony with patches of ice hidden beneath the snow, but they had overcome similarly harsh terrain during their trek north. Keilan saw how the soldiers were struggling and feared that one would topple backwards and crack their skull or start a cascade of rocks and snow, but the soldier who collapsed merely sank to his knees before flopping face-first into a drift. His companions pulled him out, cursing him in the colorful language of the Dymorian army. He did not seem to hear them, staring straight ahead with glazed eyes.
When the second soldier stumbled and fell, hurting his wrist as he tried to catch himself, Galen called for a halt. The grizzled veteran looked exhausted, his face creased with pain as he approached Vhelan. Behind him his men found places for a respite; most found rocks to perch on, their heads hanging, while others braced themselves against the harsh wind with their hands on their knees. Galen took a moment to collect himself before he addressed Vhelan, as he was visibly swaying.
“Magister Vhelan,” Galen began, his voice thick. “The men . . . they need to rest. We’re going to start losing them. Half can barely walk, and the . . . the evil that’s coming outta that hole is just getting worse.” He licked his lips. “Maybe . . . maybe we can try again tomorrow. Go back down, sleep for a night. Get our strength back.”
Keilan saw the glance Vhelan cast towards Nel, and the barely perceptible shake of her head that she returned. The magister put his hand on the old soldier’s shoulder, nearly causing him to lose his balance. Vhelan smiled, though Keilan could see the strain he was under as well.
“All of you are truly men of the queen, Captain. But this is not a fight that will be won with steel, and I believe this foulness afflicting you will only get worse.” He leaned in closer to Galen, holding his gaze. “Return to the Skein camp and wait for us. We will rescue Cein d’Kara, I promise.”
Tears trickled down the soldier’s pockmarked cheeks. “My lord magister, we just need to rest . . .”
“No,” Vhelan said firmly, grabbing the back of Galen’s neck and giving him a slight shake. “It was foolish to believe that those without sorcery could enter the Burrow. That was no doubt why the Skein warriors were camped below. Now, I command you – go back down and wait for us.”
Galen hesitated, and he looked like he might argue further, but then he nodded in resignation and turned away. The other soldiers watched him with hollow eyes as he explained that they would head back down the slope; Keilan wasn’t sure what reaction he was expecting from the Dymorians – shame or relief, he supposed – but most of them just looked on blankly. With some effort, they slid from where they’d been resting and began to shuffle back the way they’d come.
Vhelan watched them depart with pursed lips. Then he shook his head, as if trying to clear it.
“How are you?” Keilan asked, and the magister sighed deeply.
“Truly, Keilan, I am suffering as well. The pain in my head . . . it is like a metal spike has been driven into my skull.”
“It will only get worse,” Alyanna said. She h
ad observed what had happened between Galen and Vhelan, and now she drifted closer. “There was a reason only Min-Ceruthans with Talent could enter the Burrow. By the time you passed through that door you’d be a gibbering wreck.”
“What about them?” Keilan asked, pointing at Nel, who had scrambled up a small outcropping to get a better view of the path ahead, and Cho Lin, who was hovering nearby, her face turned away from them.
“I’m not sure,” Alyanna said, and from her tone she was curious why they hadn’t suffered as much as the soldiers. “Shan!” she said loudly, and Cho Lin slowly turned to face them. Keilan sucked in his breath when he saw her sunken features and the dried blood crusted beneath her nose. Despite this, her black eyes were hard and glittering.
“I suffer, sorceress,” Cho Lin said softly. “This place is not meant for mortals.”
“Nel, come here,” said Vhelan, gesturing for his knife to join them. Nel slid down the rocks she’d climbed and leapt lightly into the snow. Keilan was surprised to see how untroubled she looked – there was no indication of the strain that was affecting everyone save Alyanna and himself.
“Yes, boss?”
“The soldiers are turning back. Whatever is flowing from the mountain is causing them great distress. How do you feel?”
Nel shrugged. “Fine, I suppose. I mean, I feel something kind of hovering just out of sight, but it’s not painful.”
Vhelan’s face crinkled in confusion. “How? You have no sorcery.”
“But you do have something,” Alyanna said, nodding with dawning realization. “You are wearing the fingerbone of Tethys, are you not?”
Nel’s hand drifted to her furred collar. “Yes. To protect against you.”
“A wise decision,” Alyanna said blandly. “I do find you quite annoying.”
Nel sighed, pulling from under her furs the silver chain and the chunk of yellowed bone. She ducked her head as she slipped it over her hood, and Keilan could immediately see a change come over her.
“Oh, gods,” she murmured hoarsely. “This is what the rest of you have been feeling?” She dangled the amulet in front of her face, squinting at the bone as it slowly spun.
“Tethys was the first and the greatest of the Pure,” Alyanna explained. “His power lingers here, protecting against what seeps in from the Void, whether that is sorcery or the dreams of a slumbering Ancient.”
“Then I can accompany you inside?” Nel asked, raising the amulet as if to put it on again. She paused as Keilan held up his hand to stop her.
“Wait,” he said. When she glanced at him quizzically, he pointed at Cho Lin, who was holding her sleeve to her nose. He saw that the fur was stained dark by fresh blood.
“She has the dagger. You said yourself that among us she is the most dangerous warrior.”
Nel frowned, her face clouding. “Are you trying to protect me, Keilan? I’m the only one who has killed one of those things.”
Keilan shook his head. “No. Cho Lin has spent her life training for this moment. We need her more than we need you.”
He felt a little flush of shame when he saw the hurt in her face. Of course he was trying to keep her safe – he’d already lost Pelos and Xin and Lady Numil – but if he was going to convince Nel, he’d have to appeal to her reason.
The knife turned to Cho Lin, who was still dabbing at her nose as she watched this exchange. “Can you withstand the pain?”
Cho Lin’s pale face showed no emotion. “I am going inside, with or without whatever magic you have.”
“You’ll die,” Alyanna said with finality. “I did not know how strong these emanations would be; already you are bleeding, and it will only get stronger when we pass within. You brain will rupture long before we find the Chosen.”
“The Betrayers,” Cho Lin said through gritted teeth. Despite the sorceress’s words, she did not look deterred.
“Give her the amulet,” Keilan urged, seeing the conflict in Nel’s face.
“And let you go inside by yourself?” Nel hissed angrily, her eyes flashing. “It wasn’t so long ago I found you draped like a sack of grain across the paladin’s saddle. You’re no warrior. You’re no sorcerer. Not yet, anyway. You’re a fisherman’s son, Keilan! What can you do in there?” She looked at Alyanna almost imploringly. “He’s a boy, sorceress.”
“He is a Talent,” she replied evenly. “One of the few in the world who can enter the Burrow.” Her gaze slid over to Keilan. “And I need his help.”
“I’m going inside,” he said, stepping closer to Nel and reaching out to touch her arm. To his surprise, he thought he saw tears in her eyes. She scowled, pulling away to wipe at her face angrily.
“It’s not fair, Keilan,” she said. “This shouldn’t be your duty.”
There wasn’t much he could say to that, so he merely shrugged helplessly. He certainly wouldn’t have chosen to venture inside. He remembered the sensation when he’d disturbed the Ancient deep under the ocean – just the briefest flicker of its attention had felt like being flayed alive. But he had no choice. He was different; he had power that others lacked. He would go into the Burrow and stop the children from waking this creature, because if he did not, everyone he cared about would die.
Nel seemed to see that in his face. She thrust the amulet towards Cho Lin. “Here,” she said softly. “Please keep him alive, Shan.”
Cho Lin accepted the artifact solemnly, ducking her head to show she understood Nel’s concerns. Hesitating for only the briefest of moments, she slipped the chain over her head and tucked the chunk of bone beneath her furs. As soon as the amulet settled against her skin, her eyes widened and she breathed in sharply. Her brow smoothed and her jaw unclenched. She said something in Shan, blinking rapidly.
“You feel better,” Vhelan stated.
Cho Lin nodded, drawing herself up. Keilan hadn’t realized she’d been holding herself hunched over, probably from pain. “Yes. My mind is clear.” She closed her eyes, and when she opened them again after a long moment she smiled in fierce exultation. “I feel unsullied by the taint of this place.”
Nel was clearly suffering now. She put a hand out to steady herself on Keilan’s shoulder, her face ashen.
“Go back down,” he said softly. Vhelan appeared beside her and gently shifted her weight from Keilan to himself. The magister seemed to be dealing with the oppressive emanations better than those without sorcery, but the strain was still showing. He reached out to clasp Keilan’s forearm.
“May fortune favor you,” he said simply, offering Keilan a strained smile. “We’ll be waiting for you.”
He began to guide Nel back down the slope, but before they had taken more than a few steps, she broke free of his grip and whirled around. “You come back from there, Keilan,” she said fiercely. “Don’t you dare do anything heroic. Remember that there’s no shame in running away.”
Keilan’s lips twitched, and he had to struggle not to smile. “I’ll remember,” he said.
Nel likely would have continued holding his gaze to ensure he understood how serious this all was, but suddenly she doubled over and retched in the snow. If not for Vhelan’s hold on her, she would have surely collapsed.
“I need to take her down,” the magister said, and Keilan knew what he really meant was that he should continue up the slope, as Nel wasn’t about to move first.
With a last look at his friends, he turned away. Alyanna and Cho Lin were already slightly ahead, picking their way among the tumbled scree. Taking a deep, steadying breath, Keilan followed them.
One of Cho Lin’s earliest memories was of when she’d nearly drowned. She wasn’t sure how old she had been at the time – old enough to walk and escape her minders, at least, but before her father had gained the ear of the old emperor and moved his household into the imperial district of Tsai Yin. She remembered peering at him from between tangled branches as he s
at in the pagoda at the center of the Cho gardens, studying an unrolled scroll in the early morning light. In her hand she’d clutched a handful of rice stolen from the kitchens, and as stealthily as she could she had crept close to one of the koi ponds and tossed it into the water. The red and white fish – which usually drifted so serenely – had churned the murk in a frenzy, and she’d crouched at the edge of the pond to watch. Their fins and scales had broken the water as they thrashed, and she’d always wanted to know what these felt like, so she’d leaned out and tried to brush her fingers against the fish.
She’d lost her balance, toppling forward into the water, and the koi had instantly scattered. Through her terror and shock she distinctly remembered feeling indignation that they would abandon her when she’d always shown them such kindness. She had flailed her arms, trying to rise back up through the darkness, but the water had poured into her mouth and nose and she’d sunk deeper and deeper, her panic and pain blotting out everything else. A great weight had crushed her, both inside and out. Her vision had faded; the last thing she clearly remembered was the sunlight dappling the water’s surface above her like a scattering of golden coins.
Her father had pulled her from the water soon after. She had only indistinct, stuttering images of him sitting her down on the stone pathway and pounding her back until she coughed up the darkness clotting in her chest. She remembered his face, though. Before that day, she had only seen two emotions from him: approval and disapproval. Anger, joy, affection – these were the province of her brother and the aya that cared for her. But that day, as she struggled to breathe while spitting up what she’d swallowed, she’d seen such fear in her father’s face that she’d known, in a moment of clarity, that he truly did love her.
