The SoulNecklace Stories

by R. L. Stedman

  Once on the broken, damaged road, N’tombe took a deep breath. “Are you ready?”

  TeSin nodded, and rather reluctantly, Will nodded also.

  “Good,” she said briskly. “Let us go.”

  Will felt her mind take the road and twist it. And he felt, as he’d not felt before, the sound of the world breaking; a feeling of wrongness, a sense of change, of loss. As though something profound had been altered forever.

  “Will!” N’tombe said crisply. “Pay attention!”

  Her animal’s ears pricked up. It stepped forward, then again, and seemed to pause, locked forever into movement. The stasis of the moment changed. The road twisted like a live thing as the horse walked and walked. The landscape beside them flick-flick-flicked and the road passed beneath them while above, clouds streamed impossibly fast. The world folded and the plain disappeared.

  Chapter Eleven

  A Wound In The Earth

  Haze, dust, heat and cold passed in a blur. Barely had Will noticed a change when there came another, faster and faster. Broken towns and mountains and valleys and the silver snakes of rivers appeared in a blink, only to be whirled away. The beat of his heart, his breathing; these were the only gauges he had of time. On this path there seemed no day, no night.

  He could feel N’tombe’s frightful concentration; the focus in her mind as she twisted the road. One misstep, and they’d be cast from the path into the center of the world or some other place entirely. The neatly made highway lay like a wound across the skin of the steppes. That was why the enchantress needed it; the damage it created allowed her to find a path.

  Almost, he felt the pulsing of her commands. He could feel other things, too: the land, the sky, the sun. Faintly, he thought he heard the whisper of the stars. Gradually he adjusted to the trembling of the road and the way it shifted at N’tombe’s bidding and he realized that outside, in the real world, the day was passing; too quickly, it seemed, the sun sank below the mountains. N’tombe paused, lifted her face to the evening sky.

  “What is it?” he asked, alarmed.

  “I thought I felt–”

  “What?”

  She shook her head. “No. It was nothing.”

  “You must rest,” TeSin said firmly. “Sleep.”

  “I can go on,” she said, but her voice had an edge of fatigue.

  “Better you rest,” Will said gently. “Safer if you are alert.”

  Slowly, she nodded. “All right. We camp here, and tomorrow we continue.”

  Low shrubs, set near to the road, provided shelter from the wind. The horses, their low shapes silhouetted by stars, grazed on the sparse grass of the steppes. They seemed reluctant to stray too far from the firelight; almost, Will thought, as they could smell predators nearby. Now and again the animals stopped their feeding and lifted their face to the wind. Each time they did this, he felt for his weapon. As the night went on the animals seemed more relaxed, finally lying to sleep, and the tension passed.

  The travelers sat quietly about the small fire, each alone with their thoughts. After they’d eaten, N’tombe rolled herself into her blankets and fell asleep. Will took the first watch while the moon, three quarters full, danced its long slow path across the night sky. He spent the hours reaching out with his mind, trying to feel the world the way N’tombe had described. He felt nothing: only the wind and the faint crackle of the dying fire.

  In the early hours, after TeSin woke to take the watch, Will fell asleep almost at once. His dreams were like being awake: fire and starlight and once, he saw a shooting star. He woke then, blinking. There was a strange smell: rot, or corpses. He scrambled to his feet, saw N’tombe and TeSin awake.

  “What is it?” N’tombe asked.

  “I don’t know.” Will reached for a blade. Always, he slept with one drawn.

  TeSin stood quickly, seized his own weapons, but already the smell was fading. Will hesitated. The horses seemed calm enough; surely, if there was anything harmful, they would be on their feet? Slowly, he set his sword into its sheath and buckled on his weapons.

  “All right?” N’tombe asked.

  “Probably just imagination. Are we ready to go?”

  “Once you break your fast,” N’tombe held out a bowl of soaked grains and dried fruit,“we will leave.”

  As they reached the road, the breeze seemed to turn, so the wind blew from the North. It smelt of snow, and was bitterly cold.

  “Let’s move,” said N’tombe, teeth chattering, and Will felt her mind reach past him, to the road. Abruptly, the light began to change, the scenery flickered as they stepped and stepped and stepped. The cold seemed to fall away, as though it couldn’t keep up with them while they sped across the plains.

  Finally, they reached the foothills, and the travel slowed. Will thought he caught the smell again, but no, it passed and they continued onward, slowing still more as they reached the mountains.

  “Is it much further?” he asked.

  N’tombe shrugged, said nothing. Beads of sweat trickled down her face, and her breathing was ragged.

  “Still long way,” said TeSin. A faint look of alarm crossed his face.

  “What is it?” Will asked sharply.

  Suddenly, there came a shock of pain; a sudden feel of burning in his eyes. Will screamed, and clutched his face. He would have fallen from the saddle had not TeSin grabbed him and pushed him upright.

  “Will!” the Noyan snapped. “What is it?”

  “They are here.” N’tombe groaned, like a man in pain.

  The Kamaye! Will could barely think above the burning across his face. They had two options: to run, or remain and fight. He didn’t think he could fight, not like this. But how could he run, when he could barely see?

  “A confident enemy is something to fear,” N’tombe said to him. “Think of animals. It’s not the largest or the strongest that wins; sometimes the one that stands firm is the victor.” She shook his shoulder. “Come, Will. The pain is not real. It is in your mind.”

  It felt real, though. His eyes were watering; he could barely see.

  “Take my hand,” she said impatiently. “Come!”

  He groped desperately in the fiery darkness for her hand, then catching it, he squeezed tight. He felt the enchantress: her power, her barely contained rage. He remembered the crackling roar of the wild-fire in the canyon, when Dana had made herself a hostage for him. Take me, she’d said, and the Kamaye had accepted her, and left Will alone. Now they were back. Will gripped the reins and braced for a strike.

  “You want to win?” N’tombe said harshly. He could only gasp in reply. “Then tell them: they cannot take you. Tell them that!”

  Will gripped his sword tight, sat tall in the saddle. I am a warrior, he thought, and I can fight, and I can win. Surprisingly, he felt better in himself for saying this. With me is an enchantress who can travel between the worlds, and a Noyan, commanding thousands into battle. We are strong, and we are to be feared.

  The burning in his face fell away, and he could see again. He felt dizzied by its departure.

  N’tombe let go of him. “Better?”

  “Better,” he gasped.

  “Good,” she said tightly. Then: “Hold on.”

  He felt her mind reach for the road again. She pulled it past her, so they took a great step forward. And another. And another. The world flicked and changed. Behind them, Will thought he heard a dry voice laughing.

  Finally, the world about them slowed and the breaks between the flickering changes seemed to grow longer. Then thud! Time changed back. The road stilled and the world slowed.

  They stood on a road made of fitted stone. Snow-capped peaks to either side; they were in the mountains, at the base of a low pass. In front of them a deep crack made a wide ditch across the road. It was too wide to jump the horses over.

  Will blinked stupidly at the barrier.

  “It must have been formed by the earthquake,” said N’tombe.

  She didn’t seem to be at all
out of breath from the effort she’d undertaken, but his own heart was pounding as though from a race.

  At the crest of a hill stood a stone tower.

  “Eagle Pass,” said TeSin.

  Will squinted at the pennant that fluttered like a signal against the blue sky. Birds spiraled overhead and the wind was so cold his chest ached. He pulled his scarf about his face so only his eyes could be seen.

  TeSin smiled. “Not far to the city now.”

  “How long?”

  “One day, maybe. Depending on weather and …” – he eyed the crack at their feet – “other obstacles.”

  “We can detour.” The wide crack, that cut into the mountainside like a scar, was only a mile or so long. Will pointed at the shingle slope. “We climb the horses up there, and make our way around it.” He pressed his heel to his horse’s flanks and pulled on the reins. The animal shifted in response.

  N’tombe lifted her head. “Wait!”

  The slopes held only stones and low shrubs – there seemed to be no one there. Then a wave of malice pushed against him like a dark fog. He heard a cackling laugh. A sudden stench: the same as the smell from the night before, but now so strong Will felt sick. Wind brushed Will’s cheek like a warrior’s feint. Again, he smelt it: corruption, decay.

  “The Kamaye!” TeSin whispered.

  Again he heard the mocking laughter and, far to the east, a wave of darkness was spreading.

  “Look out!” TeSin shouted.

  As if in answer, the sky caught fire. A flash of light, trailing fire, streaked toward them.

  “A meteor!” N’tombe shouted.

  It seemed to be moving slowly, but Will knew it was moving many times faster than a horse could run.

  “Can you do anything?” His voice sounded panicked.

  N’tombe shook her head, and closed her eyes. The fireball grew closer and closer, and Will felt the mocking laughter grow. The wind was rising. N’tombe stood still and silent as the fireball grew closer. He turned the horse to flee, even though it was hopeless – how could he outrun a star? A quick glance over his shoulder. The sky was turning dark, as though a storm was coming. Not a storm; a cataclysm.

  The enchantress closed her eyes, lifted both arms above her head, spread her palms.

  “N’tombe!”

  The fire grew closer and closer still, until the sky seemed a spreading mass of flame. Tongues of white-hot fire spun from the center and trailed behind it. The ground shook and the world darkened. The road gleamed silver-gray in the half-light. The grass bent sideways in the hot air.

  Will’s mount whinnied in terror and he grabbed for the saddle bow as the animal reared. Slipping sideways from the saddle, Will fell hard onto the road. He lay stunned, staring as above, the sky turned to flame.

  Beside him N’tombe stood like an ebony statue, arms outstretched above her head. Her eyes gleamed. The enchantress held a dome in place above them, above the road, while she pulled – what was it? Was it energy? Power? – from the earth. The ground trembled. N’tombe’s arms shook, as above them, the fiery ball spun down, down, down, and seemed to slow.

  As though in a dream, Will got to his feet and walked toward her. He was aware of every movement; each footfall of his horse, now galloping away. The silent drift of snow on the mountains. The tremor of the earth, the fire in the sky. And, as if in a trance, Will lifted his hands and willed the star to stop.

  And it did.

  He studied it with interest; beneath the flames it was merely a rough, pockmarked ball of stone. Dimly, he felt the mocking laughter subside, but it was no longer of interest to him. Instead, it was the stone he saw. He stepped from the road, felt the land beneath his feet. The Earth spun on and on, turning through space; nothing and no one had the power to stop it. He reached into it, felt its energy, and gently, carefully, pulled it toward him. Not too much, just enough to effect a change.

  He thought of N’tombe, flicking the roadway and TeSin, fighting blindfolded on the deck. It was like setting an arrow against the bow string; the same sense of controlled recoil, the concentration of the archer.

  “Will!” N’tombe whispered. Her arms were shaking.

  Carefully, he aimed the energy at the fireball, and let the bowstring go.

  The laughter stopped; the ground shuddered softly. The spinning ball of fire sped up, up and away into the blue sky. A pause, then in a cascade of sparks, it broke apart, exploding like fireworks. N’tombe lowered her hands.

  This time he heard the quake before it arrived; a low growl that grew to a roar. The world shook. Their horses neighed in panic and TeSin screamed.

  “Look out!” shouted N’tombe.

  The ditch at their feet creaked as it widened still further. Will fought to keep his balance. Whirling his arms, he seemed to stand suspended on the edge of hole. For a brief moment, he had his balance. But the ground was too unsteady. With a cry, Will fell and struck his head hard. The world turned dark and slid away. Dimly, he thought he heard Dana call his name.

  Silence.

  Chapter Twelve

  The City On The Plain

  He came to himself slowly. It seemed like every bit of him ached. He blinked, put a hand to his head. Oh, the headache! It was pitch black. He couldn’t see anything! Had he gone blind?

  “N’tombe? Are you there?”

  Her fingers were cool on his forehead. “Ssh. Sleep, Will. Sleep.”

  He felt the pressure of her mind on his. Tried to struggle against it, but she was too strong. His eyes closed and he slid into restless dreams of death and fire.

  He thought he heard a woman calling in a high, loud, voice. Was it an invocation, or a prayer? Although he struggled to hear her, he could not make out the words. Then, quite clearly, Will heard Dana’s voice whisper: Don’t forget, in the courtyard stands a tree made of silver. Remember, Will. Remember.

  Time slid away into movement and light.

  * * *

  Much later, he opened his eyes. He lay on his back. Above him hung gold-tinged clouds. Far in the distance the horizon glowed pink and cold. I can see! He pressed freezing hands to his eyes. “Sunrise!” he whispered.

  N’tombe’s face appeared. “No. Sunset.”

  A fire nearby smoldered gently; he turned his face away from the smoke. Slowly, he sat up. The sky was fading to black. N’tombe spoke truth; the sun was indeed setting. He’d lost a whole day? Behind him he heard footsteps and the jingle of metal.

  “How is he?” TeSin’s voice asked.

  “Better,” replied N’tombe.

  “He’s awake?”

  “I can hear you.” Will said, not turning his head.

  “And how do you feel?”

  Will considered this question. Could he be well, when each movement of his head seemed to make the world beat in agony? “Better, I suppose.”

  “Good. We ride out soon.”

  “Please, can’t we just rest here?” Will muttered. “I’m not that great.”

  Gods, how he ached. He felt as though he’d been beaten relentlessly or had spent a night sleeping on rocks. It would be nice, he thought longingly, to be under shelter – in something with walls and a roof. A cave perhaps. Or a tent. Any hovel would be satisfactory.

  “Time passes,” N’tombe said.

  Will groaned. His mare, gray under the moonlight, neighed softly and mouthed his hair. Pushing the soft nose away, he frowned at the animal. “I thought you ran away.”

  “She did. TeSin found her.” N’tombe handed him some dried meat and a water bladder. “Eat. Drink. We leave soon.”

  Will chewed slowly while N’tombe explained what had happened, and where they were. It turned out that once the earthquake had subsided, TeSin galloped after the mare.

  “She not go far,” TeSin said. “Just to water.”

  “Is she all right?” Will asked.

  “Of course,” TeSin said. “She happy to see you.”

  As if in answer, the mare blew at him, and Will smiled. He looked up at the
stars, seemingly so close in the clear air.

  “We had to move you.” N’tombe sounded apologetic. “We needed to get away from the tower.”

  They had strapped Will – still unconscious – to his saddle and ridden onwards until the sun slipped from the sky. Then they had ridden cross-country into the hills until, finding this small campsite, they stopped to rest.

  “What happened?” Will remembered: fire and smoke and the road twisting like a snake.

  “We were hoping you could tell us.”

  “I don’t …” He shook his head, winced at the pain. “I don’t really remember.”

  “You saved us, Will Baker.” N’tombe stood up. Silhouetted against the stars, she seemed imposing. “When it suits you to tell what took place, you may do so.”

  TeSin kicked soil on the fire. “But now must leave.”

  With a sigh, Will rose awkwardly to his feet.

  * * *

  This was TeSin’s land. Familiar with every rock and stream-bed, he led them through the night without hesitation. The moon was high. Brooks steamed in the frosty air. The only sounds were the running water and the cry of the night hunters: the bark of a fox, the soft hoot of an owl.

  “Every summer my mother take tent out here, to grass. I boy – I come with her.” The Noyan sounded sad.

  Will shifted uncomfortably. He ached all over. He didn’t want Dana to see him like this, dust-covered and travel-weary. Say he found her, and they both survived. What then? She was a princess, and he … I’m just a servant. No future for the likes of him with her. He remembered their training fights; the autumn leaves in her hair, Dana laughing as she slipped under his guard. We only recognize happiness once it’s gone.

  The horse’s rhythmic gait was soothing. Nodding in the saddle, Will slipped in and out of sleep, his dreams threaded with melancholy and memory.

  Remember … Dana’s whisper merged with the breeze, the fountain.

  They rode through the night while the stars turned slowly overhead until, just as the horizon glowed pink with sunrise, they reached a track leading along the hilltop. The travelers turned onto it and after a short while they reached a low pine amid a tangle of gorse bushes.