The Labyrinth of Flame

by Courtney Schafer

  “Excellent plan.” Cara leaned over and muttered to me, “You said you’d be the one to ask him. So ask, while you’re filling those skins. If you suddenly forget how to use your tongue, I’ll eat every one of the spice cakes and leave none for you.”

  “Don’t you dare touch those cakes.” I straightened, my arms laden with skins. “Come on, Kiran.”

  But walking across the meadow, the quiet between us felt so companionable, the evening so still and clear and perfect, that I couldn’t bring myself to break the silence. It was Kiran who spoke, while we knelt on a shelf of rock and dunked our skins into water so cold it instantly numbed my hands.

  “I went to meet the madrek-zal.”

  “What?” I nearly dropped my waterskin. “You didn’t tell us you were going!”

  “I told Lena,” he said. “I didn’t want to worry you and Cara. You’d been looking forward to climbing Stormfang with her for weeks. And now you needn’t worry. The madrek-zal were polite enough—by demon standards, anyway. They took me to their vadanakh—that’s like a citadel but made of magic, not stone. It was amazing, Dev, truly…”

  He showed me an immense structure made of swirling veils of power, its form constantly changing like water flowing in a rapid. The colors were so vivid in his sight they put the brightest paints to shame. The demon citadel was beautiful, yeah, and utterly foreign in a way no human city could be.

  “What did they ask of you?” If the demons were being so nice to him, they wanted something.

  “Nothing yet,” he said. “They’re being cautious, I think. As am I. But did you know, they’ve explored other realms entirely? Even met other creatures, totally different than either demons or humans…” Excitement spilled down the bond, mixed with a wanderlust I well recognized.

  What if he left entirely? Decided to explore these other realms and forgot us all, going where we could never follow? Hard enough to think of Melly taking a different path than I imagined. But this…the pang that struck me was sharp as a stab of Mikail’s knife.

  You needn’t fear I’ll leave you, Kiran said.

  I looked aside, embarrassed, wishing I had better control over what I shared with him. “That was stupid of me. You’re free now. Whatever path you choose shouldn’t depend on me.”

  He looked at me as if I were moon-brained. Then took my shoulders and leaned his forehead against mine. Words came through the bond, so certain I couldn’t doubt them: You are my anchor stone; abandoning you would mean ripping out the best part of myself. You and Cara are my mage-family now. No matter how far I travel, I will always return.

  “I’m glad to hear that,” I said. “Very glad. Since Cara and I wanted to ask you—we didn’t finish writing our contract, because—we thought you might like to be part of it. Our partner, I mean. With us.” Gods, could that have come out in any more of a jumbled mess?

  Joy blazed so wild out of Kiran that I thought the entire world must surely feel his delight. Yes. Yes, I want that. Oh, I have to show you, I can’t wait any longer!

  “Show me what?”

  He held out a hand and shut his eyes. He was concentrating hard, but not in the cold, clear way I remembered. He was taking all his joy and yearning and hope, and—braiding them, somehow, pulling in strands of wild magic and working shimmering threads through the ghostly tracery of his hand until it shone bright as a star in his inner sight.

  In my sight, his hand looked…different. Still pale, but not the flawless, gleaming pallor of the rest of his skin. More like a real hand, though it was hard to tell in the gathering dusk.

  “Take my hand,” he said.

  I did, and gasped, because he felt the cold of my water-chilled fingers. Not as sharply as I did—more like he was feeling the cold through a muffling layer of wool—but he felt it.

  “Kiran! You—does that mean—” I was so stunned and excited I couldn’t frame a proper question.

  “I can’t yet layer the spell over all of me.” His concentration broke, and both magic and sensation slipped away. “Even once I perfect the casting, this won’t let me leave the demon realm. I don’t know if I’ll ever climb peaks with you and Cara. But maybe one day I could share…other things.”

  If he were still human, he’d have been blushing as red as a canyon cliff. But he wasn’t thinking at all of the past, only of the future, with a shy but eager anticipation that assured me he wanted this—wanted us—for the right kind of reasons. I was tempted to kiss him like Cara had, but no. I wanted to save that for the day he could enjoy it properly. A day my imagination was already busy picturing. I grinned wide, grabbed the waterskins, and slung an arm around Kiran’s shoulders, steering him back toward the shelter.

  “Best news of the night yet, and Cara’s sure to agree with me. Let’s go tell her, shall we? Then we can start off our partnership right, with a celebration even the gods would envy.”

  Acknowledgments

  When I sat down way back in 2007 to write the very first sentence of The Whitefire Crossing, I never imagined where the tale would take me—or how long it would take to finish Dev and Kiran’s story! These last years have been a combination of thrilling rollercoaster ride and grueling endurance marathon. There were days when I despaired of ever seeing this final volume of the trilogy reach reader’s hands. That makes my joy and satisfaction now all the greater, along with my gratitude to the many people who have helped The Labyrinth of Flame become a reality.

  Thanks to Kate Elliott and Alison Croggon, without whose steadfast encouragement I might still be struggling through Labyrinth of Flame’s first draft, and to Teresa Frohock and Helen Mazarakis, whose sage advice and sympathetic ears helped me ride out the lows of the publishing rollercoaster.

  I am dead certain that Becca Stumpf of Prospect Literary should win a “Best Agent Ever” trophy for her efforts on my behalf. No matter how stressful and difficult the publishing crisis, she’s ready to handle it; it’s wonderful to know that she always has my back. I am not sure my sanity would have survived these last years without her cheerful encouragement and unflagging dedication.

  Thank you to the critiquers and editors who helped me go from raw first draft to polished final product: Brian Tobias, Carol Berg, Catherine Montrose, Curt Craddock, Saytchyn Maddux-Creech, Susan Smith, Marty Halpern, and Helen Mazarakis. Each of them not only pointed out flaws but pushed me to dig deeper and make every part of the story better, and that’s a gift beyond price. Special thanks to Susan for all the conversations in the car on our way to and from critique, in which she helped me hash out plot problems and character issues. (And because Susan is just generally awesome!)

  Thank you to Dave Palumbo for his gorgeous cover art, to Martha Wade for the cover design, to Kristina Carroll for bringing my scenes and characters to life, to Curt Craddock for turning my rough scrawls into excellent maps, and to layout guru Ross Lockhart for pulling everything together to make a beautiful physical edition.

  Enormous thanks to my husband and son for tolerating all the countless hours I’ve spent chained to the keyboard, and for insisting I step away from the computer on occasion. Thanks also to Sue Hagerty and the rest of the gang at the day job for their understanding and support. The next book will be shorter, I promise!

  I’m indebted to Robin and Michael Sullivan and Brad Beaulieu for their Kickstarter advice, to Tim Marquitz for his help with ebook production, and to J.M. Martin for pointing me to a good printer.

  Last but very definitely not least, I am forever grateful to everyone who backed The Labyrinth of Flame’s Kickstarter. This book would not exist without the following generous people:

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  About the Author

  Courtney Schafer was born in Georgia, raised in Virginia, and spent her childhood dreaming of adventures in the jagged mountains and sweeping deserts of her favorite fantasy novels. She escaped the East Coast by attending Caltech for college, where she obtained a B.S. in electrical engineering, and also learned how to rock climb, backpack, ski, scuba dive, and stack her massive book collection so it wouldn’t crush anyone in an earthquake. After college she moved to the climber’s paradise of Boulder, Colorado, and somehow managed to get a masters degree in electrical engineering from the University of Colorado in between racking up ski days and peak climbs.

  She now works in the aerospace industry and is married to an Australian scientist who shares her love for speculative fiction and mountain climbing. She’s had to slow down a little on the adrenaline sports since the birth of her son, but only until he’s old enough to join in. She writes every spare moment she’s not working or adventuring with her family.

  Visit her online at www.courtneyschafer.com.