The Barbed Coil

by J. V. Jones

  “Surely not, miss. Ilfaylen wasn’t a young man. He wouldn’t have tried to force himself through that.”

  Far in the distance an animal howled. Its cry cut through the cavern like a whiplash, killing all echoes stone dead.

  Tessa’s mouth went dry. Emith looked quickly to the ceiling, then down to his feet. Dropping the scribing bags, Tessa crossed the cavern. She was going through that opening come what may.

  Emith ran after her. “Miss—”

  “No, Emith.” Tessa shook her head without looking round. “Camron said he was just a boy when he got lost down here—and what are young boys famous for?” She answered her own question. “Squeezing themselves through every nook and cranny in sight.”

  Rolling up her tattered sleeves more for effect than any practical consideration, Tessa knelt by the opening. She tried not to think about what sort of creature could produce a sound so piercing that it cut through layers of rock. Purposely being rough with her body to dispel such thoughts, she launched herself at the opening.

  Rock grazed her cheek, then her jaw. Eyes closed, breath held, Tessa forced her shoulders and chest through the narrow fissure. Feeling cool air on her forehead, she opened her eyes. Everything was black. Bringing her arms forward, she felt for handholds to pull herself through to the other side. Her arm began bleeding again as it scraped against a rough edge. Sweat trickled into her eye. Feeling the beginnings of panic, Tessa kicked back with her feet, propelling her body forward.

  Losing hair, dress fabric, and skin in the process, she managed to push herself through the split in the rock and into the adjoining cavern. As soon as her legs and feet were free, she called out to Emith, “Pass me a light.”

  Seconds later Emith’s hand appeared in the gap, offering a single candle. Wiping sweat and rock dust from her face, Tessa took it from him. Swinging around, she then peered through the halo of light into the shadows and darkness beyond.

  The cavern was massive. Salt and quartz crystals glittered from the floor and walls. Towering pillars of rock rose toward the ceiling like fossilized trees. Below them strangely shaped boulders lay in heaps, as smooth and flat as giant pebbles. The cavern floor was a snarl of warped and fissured stone, and salt and other mineral deposits formed pale rings of white, blue, green, and amber around a dozen shallow pools.

  Holding the candle at arm’s length, Tessa drew a slow semicircle of light before her. Eyes straining to see into the shadows concealing much of the far wall, she traced the outline of the cavern. At some point during the arc, the hair on her arm began to prickle.

  She was in an oval-shaped chamber.

  Tessa swallowed hard. Tears ached in her eyes. She felt a great rush of emotion: fear for those defending the fortress, love for Ravis and Emith, and a deep aching grief for Mother Emith. Everything was true. Ephemeras, the Shedding, Ilfaylen’s illumination to bind the Barbed Coil. Everything.

  “Miss,” Emith called through the gap. “Are you all right? Please say something.”

  The worry in Emith’s voice forced Tessa to take control of herself. Now wasn’t the time to stand and wonder at how such things had come to be. She had to accept the truth and move on.

  “I’m fine, Emith,” she called, scanning the chamber for places likely to conceal a chest, sack, or manuscript press. “I’m in the oval chamber. The ground looks pretty treacherous—I’d stay where you are if I were you.”

  “No, miss. I can’t let you look on your own. I’ll just—”

  “Please, Emith,” Tessa cried, cutting him short, “stay where you are. Your shoulders are wider than mine—you might get trapped.” As she spoke, she moved away from the gap, gingerly testing the rock beneath her feet. It held firm, and she shifted her weight forward, choosing a path to take her into the center of the cavern.

  Stones and chips of rock rattled loose as she stepped around pools, over smooth-edged boulders, and beneath great columns of rock. Light from the candle revealed translucent, ear-shaped fungi growing in damp patches beneath boulders. Tessa didn’t like the look of them one bit and changed her path whenever she spied any.

  Scrambling from rock to rock, she became acutely aware that she was following in Ilfaylen’s footsteps. Somehow he had managed to force himself through the gap and into this chamber. He must have crossed it in much the same way as she did: wary of his footing, anxious to disturb as little of the peace as possible. It was a fitting resting place for the only copy of the pattern that bound the Barbed Coil. The cavern had all the scale and stillness of a mausoleum.

  Approaching the center of the chamber, Tessa lowered the candle to waist height and began peering into the shadowed recesses beneath boulders and overhanging rocks. She felt certain the copy would be located somewhere close by—the speck of gold had been painted dead center in the blue oval. Finding nothing but mineral deposits and more fungus, she switched her search higher to the stone columns that spanned the chamber from ground to ceiling.

  Thick cords of rock twisting around each other created ridges of shadow, gaping hollows, and bolelike recesses in the stone. Fixing the candle in a pool of its own wax, Tessa began running her hands along the stone. It was cold and smooth, wet in parts where water trickled through gaps in the ceiling above. After finding nothing in the places she could reach, Tessa moved to the next column. Ilfaylen had obviously been a slight man—or he would never have been able to squeeze through the gap in the first place—so the copy probably wasn’t concealed at too great a height. Tessa dismissed the idea that he may have climbed the stone—weight on any part of the structure could cause the entire thing to collapse.

  The gray, amber-flecked stone of the second column was laced with fissures and cracks. The ground surrounding it consisted of loose boulders and fragments of rock that made Tessa nervous. As she circled the column looking for shadows marking recesses, she found it hard to keep her footing. Some of the fragments looked to have broken off from the column, and she wondered if her movements might cause others to fall. Glancing up toward the top of the column, she checked for any branches or swellings likely to break off. Spotting too many precarious-looking outcroppings for her liking, she took a step back.

  As soon as her toe alighted on the boulder, it rocked. Tessa felt herself falling. Springing forward quickly to regain her balance, she grabbed hold of the column to steady herself. The portion of rock her hand fastened on to broke off instantly, sending her body tumbling into the column. Tessa’s shoulder slammed into the stone. Something cracked. The entire column shuddered. Rock dust flew into her eyes. Chips of stone rained down from the column. The light went out. Then, as Tessa brought her hands over her head to protect herself from falling debris, a huge slab of rock crashed at her feet. Splitting on impact, it sent splinters of stone flying into the exposed side of her body.

  Dust choked the air. Echoes ringed the cavern. In the distance, Tessa was aware of Emith calling her name.

  Still. She kept herself very still, waiting for the echoes to subside and the cavern to return to normal. Her left arm and leg were bleeding, though she didn’t feel much pain. The dust agitated her lungs and throat, making breathing difficult. Even though she knew the best thing to do was not to move until Emith came with the light, she decided to shift her body to the left, away from the dust flying out from the rock. Not being able to breathe fresh air reminded her too much of the night in the cheese cave.

  Placing her left hand on the ground amid the jagged pieces of rock, she pushed her body round. Then, as she dragged her hand free of the dust, her fingers brushed against something that didn’t feel like stone.

  “Everyone get back while I pour the oil!” Ravis shouted over the clamor of splitting wood and thudding timbers. “Get back and stay back.” Cloth-covered bit between his teeth, flint swinging in a pouch at his belt, and a full barrel of lamp oil wedged against his chest, he took the last remaining steps to the gatehouse.

  Smoke choked the air—the creatures’ doing, not theirs—and Ravis’ eyes stung as he
came to stand directly above the pile of dry kindling, furniture, floor rushes, and wall coverings that Camron and his men had just finished building. Paces in front of the gate, on the cleared gravel ground of the inner courtyard, the makeshift fire had been built with the intent of slowing down the enemy. Any second now Izgard’s monsters would break through the gate. And it was high time they were given something to think about.

  So they wanted to play with fire, eh? Ravis dug his knife into the top of the barrel, prying the boards apart. Well, let’s see how fast they burn.

  Balancing the barrel over the battlement wall, Ravis poured the lamp oil onto the firewood below. As he shook out the last few drops, the entire gatehouse shook. The gate itself rocked forward. Metal hinges screamed. The holding bar creaked like a ship at sea. Ravis threw the barrel the way of the lamp oil and then freed the flint from its pouch. He didn’t take the wooden bit from his mouth. Not yet.

  Swallowing a mouthful of naphtha-tainted saliva, Ravis glanced across the courtyard. The drawn bows of all four longbowsmen caught the light, the men themselves mere shadows behind the string. To either side of them, the eight remaining swordsmen waited, weapons unsheathed, shields up. Most wore either chainmail or breastplates. All had helmets. None wore full armor. With the bit in his mouth, Ravis couldn’t smile, so he shook his head instead. Camron and his men had finally seen sense.

  As if aware of the reason Ravis was shaking his head, Camron raised his hand in salute. Of all the men forming a loose semicircle around the fire and the gate, he was the most focused, standing forward a few paces ahead of his men, his knuckles white around the haft of his sword. He didn’t want to fight his countrymen, yet he would do so, hoping to prevent a greater number of deaths later, when Izgard’s army arrived in Bay’Zell. Ravis didn’t know if such a thing were possible, yet he had no mind to dissuade Camron from his beliefs. He was just beginning to remember what it felt like to have some himself.

  A tearing sound rose from behind the gate. Hearing it, Ravis took the bit from his mouth where the naphtha soaking the cloth had remained damp while he climbed the steps—held in his hand, it would have evaporated within seconds—and dropped it onto the floor while he lit the flint. As he struck the flintstone at arm’s length from his body, a shot of cool air pushed past his face.

  Crack!

  Just as the flint sparked, something smacked into the gate. The holding beam exploded from its casing, snapping in two. The gatehouse and bailey shook. The gate caved, metal staves popping like dislocated bones as it fell. The air was filled with the sound of cracking and splintering wood.

  Ravis grabbed the wall for support as he bent to pick up the wooden bit. Drier than seconds earlier, it ignited with a soft snap, bursting into white blue flames. Keeping his face well back, lest traces of naphtha around his mouth catch any wayward sparks, Ravis held the bit over the wall, holding back until the first creature emerged from the other side.

  He didn’t have long to wait. A fraction of a second later, a dark shadow blasted through what remained of the gate. Calling on the old gods—all five of them, the devil included—Ravis dropped the flaming bit onto the oil-primed fire below.

  The moment the bit left his hand, he raced across the battlements, heading for the stairs. Even before his foot hit the first step, the fire took the spark. Less volatile than naphtha, the lamp oil ignited with a short gasp, spilling channels of hot yellow flames into the heart of the fire. Drapery and soft furnishings kindled instantly, creating a fierce wall of flame.

  Something howled. Glancing down as he descended the steps, Ravis saw a creature thrashing through the flames. A second one followed, also alight. And farther back, in the shadows behind the gate, others moved forward.

  Ravis ran a knuckle over his scar. What in God’s name were they?

  So dark they defied even the light from the fire, they sucked away at the very fabric of the night, consuming space and air and light. Massive, but liquid fast, they seemed the complete opposite of everything warmed by the sun. Ravis’ mouth went dry. He tried to make out details, but somehow the creatures resisted scrutiny, like reflections cast on a rippling lake.

  More creatures moved through the gate and into the flames. Some caught light, some didn’t, yet the fire slowed none of them down.

  As Ravis stepped onto the gravel of the courtyard, Camron shouted an order and the longbowsmen released their strings. Arrows shredded the air: gray flecks tunneling through the darkness, humming as they sped toward the gate. Ravis felt their breath on his skin. A wafer-thin second later, he heard them thudding into the meat of the creatures’ chests.

  Bone cracked. Punctured skin hissed. The creatures brayed and howled. None went down.

  Hit full in the chest by broad-headed arrows shot from a longbow at a hundred paces, and not even one man fell. Ravis licked the cold wire of his scar. As he watched, more creatures broke through the warped remains of the gate. Stamping through the flames, they dampened the fire with their bodies, making the area a fraction more passable for the creatures following after. Paying no heed to burns and arrow shots even though their flesh bled and seared, they advanced into the fortress.

  Ravis drew his sword and knife simultaneously, making his way to Camron’s side. It had been twenty-one years since he’d last fought with the odds stacked so firmly against him.

  “No, miss. You open it.” Emith pushed the leather pouch toward Tessa. “It’s only right and fitting.”

  Tessa nodded once. Her throat felt so dry, it ached when she breathed. As she raised her hand toward the brown, age-wrinkled pouch, blood from a stray puncture wound rolled down her arm. Pausing to press her palm against the wound, she took a moment to pull herself together.

  Everything had happened so fast: the column breaking up, the rock smashing to the ground, the darkness, fingers feeling the soft patina of old leather amid the debris of stone, then Emith making his way into the cavern to save her, bringing light for her eyes and water for her throat and rubbing alcohol for her wounds. Emith had been so gentle with her—just the way he used to be with his mother. Watching him bandaging the worst of her wounds, always mindful that he cause no further pain, Tessa realized he needed someone to take care of. He was that sort of man.

  Together they had cleared the area around the column of rock chips and boulders and pulled the leather pouch from the dust. Tessa didn’t know if the pouch had been lodged against the chunk of rock that had broken off or had been somewhere else within the column when the impact occurred and simply fallen out. It didn’t matter. Ilfaylen’s mark was stamped upon it, and from the minute she had seen the highly stylized I to right now, where she and Emith sat cross-legged in the small, low-ceilinged chamber adjacent to the oval cavern, everything else had been a blur.

  Here, on the ground before her, was a leather portfolio that had once belonged to Ilfaylen.

  “There, miss,” Emith said, placing both candelabras on the ground before Tessa. “I’ve relit all the candles. It should be bright enough to paint by now.”

  Paint? Tessa swallowed. That was what the ring had brought her here to do: paint an illumination to free the Coil. Fingers rising automatically to her neck to check for the golden barbs, Tessa met and held Emith’s gaze. “I’ll need your help, Emith,” she said. “I know so little.”

  Emith didn’t hesitate. “Miss, the strength in my body, the wit in my hands, and the knowledge in my head is yours. I don’t claim to be a great man with a great mind, but what skills I have managed to acquire in my time, as an assistant first to Brother Avaccus and then Master Deveric, I willingly offer to you.” He smiled gently, his eyes very bright. “Mother would have stood for no less.”

  Tessa pressed her lips together, unable to smile or speak. First Ravis, now Emith. What had she done to deserve love from one man and complete loyalty from another?

  Holding that question in her mind, she turned to the portfolio, cut the binding with the sharp-bladed lunular knife Emith carried in his pack, and pulle
d the covers apart.

  Rock dust and leather dust wafted up from the crease. Smells five hundred years in the keeping rose along with the dust: sweat, the warm itchy scent of old leather, and the chemical bloom of dozens of pigments. Tessa smelled copper, arsenic, sulfates, ammonia, and many more. Hands trembling, heart beating hard in her chest, she pinned apart the covers and looked upon the contents of the pouch. A manuscript rested in a makeshift press of two beechwood boards held together by string. A letter folded in four, then sealed with a thumb of wax, rested on top of the press. Beneath the press was something that looked to be a length of wool or some other material, also folded and packed neatly. Flecks of dark powder sparkled within the weft of the fabric.

  Tessa drew in a deep breath. To her side, Emith held as still as the stone that surrounded him. Flames from the candles flickered, creating an ever-changing sequence of light. Quartz glittered. The sound of the sea throbbed through the chamber like a pulse. Tessa picked up the letter and broke the seal. The script was sepia ink, the lettering sparse and readable.

  Friend,

  Do not despise me. There is no need to name the wrong that was done by my hand, we both know the nature of the act. I am an old man with many oaths broken: think not of the pride that drove me forward, think instead of the Faith that led me back.

  Act swiftly upon the matter within. I swear it is as accurate a transcription as the One God gave me leave to make. Follow it well and it will lead you to the four places you need to be.

  May your paints flow smoothly from your brush and your achievements begin and end within your heart.

  I will be a long time awaiting forgiveness,

  Ilfaylen

  Tessa closed her eyes, a pressure pain ringing her forehead. She felt Emith take the letter from hand. Everything except the sea was silent as he read.

  A minute or so later he spoke, his voice low and uneven. “Oh, miss. He had such a terrible burden to bear.”