by Garth Nix
"Who took your Sunstone?" asked Crow.
"I do not know," replied Lokar. "Someone who could pass the barriers and the bells of the Tower. Someone with ancient knowledge, a true adept of Light magic."
"The Dark Vizier?" asked Tal. "Sushin?"
"Sushin is the Dark Vizier?" asked Lokar, obviously startled. "I did not think… surely the Empress would not appoint someone like him… What is happening in the Castle?"
"There's no time to talk about that," Crow interrupted. "Can I take the Keystone out of here?"
"Yes," said Lokar. "But it needs to be here to power the veil. It might be lost or destroyed outside the Tower. Leave it here and find my Sunstone."
"I don't take orders from the Chosen," said Crow. He shifted his weight again, and reached between the silver hands to take the Keystone.
"No!" shouted Tal. "Leave it!"
Crow ignored him. As he lifted the Keystone free, the silver hands opened, palms up.
Crow lost his balance. Desperately, he clutched at the plinth with his knees and tried to keep hold of the Keystone as well.
He failed. One foot slid down the plinth and pressed hard on a red tile.
Tal saw it about to happen and jumped at the branch that held the appropriate bell. Or what he thought was the right bell. But it was the wrong branch and even as Tal grabbed the wire, another bell sounded only half a stretch away.
The bell jangled discordantly, the sound echoing throughout the room. Then the bell next to it started to sound, and the next. Within a few seconds every bell in the tree was ringing furiously, save the one Tal had in his grip.
He let it go, hung from his hands, and jumped down. Crow was already running to the walkway, the Keystone in his hand. Tal followed him. They would have to climb down as quickly as they could, before whatever was alerted by the bell came up the stairs.
Adras had clearly been asleep as they burst out of the archway. The Spiritshadow was lying on the floor of the walkway like a thick blanket of shadow fog, and it took him a few seconds to pull himself together.
"What's happening?" he boomed.
Tal ignored him and rushed to the rail, ready to climb over. Crow was already there, but he had stopped and was staring down.
Tal looked.
His heart seemed to stop.
Light was pouring out of every window, stark shafts of light spreading in all directions. It grew brighter as he watched, as Sunstones inside the Tower activated.
It was not the light that scared Tal.
It was the shadows.
Hundreds of Spiritshadows were issuing out of the windows. All kinds of Spiritshadows, all manner of Aeniran beasts. Most of them were creatures Tal had never seen before outside of a game of
Beastmaker, and they were certainly not companions of Chosen.
Tal couldn't believe his eyes. The Red Tower was housing Free Shadows, Aeniran creatures that should not have been there, but were.
Now they were all swarming up in answer to the tree of bells.
Tal shouted, "Adras!" ready to order the Spiritshadow to fly them across and away. But the command died on his lips as he saw two Waspwyrm shadows launch themselves out of a window and up.
There would be no escape by flying.
They were trapped.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Everything happened very quickly for Milla once the Crones came to their decision. She was cut free from the chair, but told to stay sitting there. Odris was ordered to stand behind her.
Then the Crones quickly moved to form a circle around them both. Milla tried looking out at them, but all the strange eyes focused on her were too much and she had to look down.
When the circle was complete, the Crone Mother of the Ruin Ship slowly raised one scarred, pallid hand.
A wind rose with her hand, though this was unnatural inside the Ship. It grew stronger as the hand rose.
A whistling, howling wind circled all around Milla, coming from no single direction. It was strangely cold and hot by turns, unlike any breeze Milla had ever felt upon the Ice.
Milla looked up and saw that the Crones were whistling, their lips pursed, their glowing eyes all centered on her.
Somehow they had called up the wind.
The wind grew stronger, and the lanterns blew out.
The Crones' eyes kept glowing in the darkness. Then they all spoke together, in a giant voice that was even louder than the wind.
"Milla of the Far-Raiders," roared the collective voice. "For the first time, you are cast out!"
Milla felt the wind pick her up, out of the chair. She was hurled high into the air, above the Crones, almost to the ceiling. Her clothes were stripped from her body, and she flew naked through the air.
The wind took her toward the far wall, and for a moment Milla thought she would smash into it. At the last moment, the wind dropped and she was hurled through a fur-curtained doorway instead, into a corridor.
Still the wind carried her, and the Crones came in a great mass behind, filling the corridor.
"Milla of the Far-Raiders!" shouted the vast voice again. "For the second time, you are cast out!"
Milla was hurled through another doorway. She felt the wind that carried her meet another, more natural breeze, and for a moment she hovered as the two forces of air did battle. But the Crones' gale was stronger, and Milla was pushed on again.
She came to another doorway closed by hung furs. The Ice lay outside, Milla could feel.
"Milla of the Far-Raiders! For the third time, you are cast out!"
The wind cast Milla out through the door, and left her. She catapulted through the air and came crashing down into a deep snowdrift.
The shock of the sudden cold knocked the breath out of her. She lay in the snow, the natural wind spraying ice crystals through her hair. Her skin burned with the cold, and a deep pain stabbed her through the deep Merwin-horn scar on her stomach.
Her heart seemed to slow down and she felt the blood pumping deep in her ears. It grew slower and slower, but she wasn't frightened or worried. Whatever was happening now, this is what was meant to be. Here, out on the Ice.
Milla's heart stopped.
All was silent. She could no longer hear even the wind.
The silence continued for one second. Two seconds. Three seconds.
Then the Crones spoke again.
"Milla of the Ruin Ship, come to your clan!" Milla's heart restarted with a shiver she felt from the top of her head to her toes.
Hands delved into the snow and gripped Milla, pulling her from the snow. Her arms were put through a coat of silver Ursek fur one fit for a Sword-Thane of legend--and it was pulled over her head.
Ice crystals were brushed from her hair and a circlet of Selski bone set there, even as she was momentarily lifted up so her feet could be put into thick boots of fur-lined hide. A belt was tied around her waist, silver and black, with a golden buckle in the shape of a leaping Merwin.
Still dazed, Milla was rushed back inside in the middle of a great crowd of Crones. She felt curiously light, almost as if the wind that had carried her was still doing so. The weight of her past worries had disappeared. She no longer felt that she should go to the Ice and die for her misdeeds.
Back in the judging chamber, Odris rushed to meet her, the Spiritshadow babbling with relief.
"What happened, Milla? I felt you… disappear
… and then you were back. I don't like it here. When can we go back to Aenir? It's better there, for both of us…"
"Hush, Odris," said Milla calmly. "We are not finished here. Come stand by me."
She walked to the chair and sat upon it. But in her silver fur and bone circlet, with the Talon of Danir shining on her finger, she did not look like someone come for judgment.
"Welcome, Milla of the Ruin Ship," said the Mother Crone. "We have a heavy responsibility to lay upon you. Do you accept it, for you and your shadow?"
"I do," answered Milla regally. She raised her hand to quiet Odris,
who was about to speak.
"Then we shall speak the Prayer of Asteyr to bind you to it," announced the Mother Crone.
Again, the Crones spoke together as a single, giant voice.
A woman's voice.
The power of the voice overwhelmed Milla and Odris, so that after the first few words they did not hear them, but rather felt themselves being caught up in a poem or song, one that reached into their very bones, real and shadow.
With the prayer came a deep instruction, one that they could never break. It spoke of absolute loyalty to the Icecarl people, a loyalty that would be defined by the voice of the Icecarls.
The Crones. They would speak together in their silent way, and make their decisions in the great mind they shared. Whatever decisions they made would be laid upon Milla, and she must obey, as must the shadow that was bound to her.
The Prayer changed, and the voice grew quieter. Finally only the Mother Crone of the Ruin Ship spoke. Even alone, her voice was binding.
"Three things we lay upon you," said the Mother Crone. "The first is your life-name, so I call you Milla Talon-Hand. The second is the office I have held before you, that of the Living Sword of Asteyr. The third is a title and a responsibility that no Icecarl has borne for two thousand circlings."
She paused and took a deep breath before continuing.
"Milla Talon-Hand, we name you War-Chief of the Icecarls, and charge you to finish what was begun long ago. We charge you to secure our world forever from the Shadows of Aenir."
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Tal looked at the great tide of Spiritshadows rising toward them. They only had a few minutes before they would swarm over him.
He looked at Crow, but the older boy was paralyzed, staring down at their enemies, the Red Keystone loose in his hand.
Tal saw it and had a sudden thought. He acted quickly, snatching the Keystone from Crow's slack grip.
Instantly, Crow turned, his knife in his hand. "Give it back!" he snarled.
"What's happening?" came a plaintive voice from the Keystone, as Tal backed away.
"I need it to get us out of here," Tal explained, speaking as fast as he could. "Unless you want to meet those Spiritshadows?"
Crow hesitated, then lowered his knife.
Tal stared at the Keystone. He could see Lokar, suspended in Red light. She looked like she was treading water. Obviously it took some effort to make contact with the outside world.
"Lokar," he said urgently, "there are heaps of Spiritshadows coming up the outside of the tower. Is there anywhere here we can hide, that will be safe from them? Can they come through the arches?"
"Yes, if they have been given the Words," said Lokar, frowning in thought. "You will not be safe here. What is your Spiritshadow? Can it fly?"
"A Storm Shepherd, so yes, but there are flying shadows, so we will be pursued." Tal looked up at Crow, who was still standing there, watching him suspiciously. "Crow! Keep watch. Tell me when they're about fifty stretches away!"
Crow reluctantly went to look over the side. "You look young," said Lokar. "Have you mastery of the seven colors?"
"Not exactly mastery," replied Tal. "But I can do things… I've done things…"
"Ninety stretches," shouted Crow. "There are hundreds of them!" "Can you combine all seven?" asked Lokar.
"Yes," said Tal, almost before Lokar'd stopped speaking.
"Then you can make a miniature dark veil to hide beneath," said Lokar. "Find a corner, crouch in it, and I will tell you how to weave a veil. Quickly!"
Tal looked around widely.
"Fifty stretches!" shouted Crow. He looked at Tal, wide-eyed and clearly frightened. "Whatever you're going to do, do it quickly."
"Let's fight!" boomed Adras. He leaned over the railing and fired off a bolt of shadow-lightning. A sudden, ghastly squeal announced that it had found its mark.
"No, Adras!" shouted Tal. He went to the wall and tugged at a downpipe that carried rainwater from the dome high above. "Help me pull this off!"
The downpipe was set into a recess in the wall. If they could crouch down there and weave a veil, there was a chance the Spiritshadows wouldn't be able to find them.
Crow didn't know what he planned, but he rushed to Tal's side and pulled at the pipe, too. It gave a little, but it wasn't until Adras reached above them both and tugged that it tore away with the screech of metal on stone.
"Quick!" instructed Tal. "Crouch down here, as close as we can get!"
He pushed into the recess with Crow. Adras made himself as thin as possible and slid in behind Tal and up the wall.
"What now?" said Crow.
Tal didn't answer. He was looking at the Keystone, watching Lokar, and focusing on his own Sunstone at the same time.
Crow and Adras watched the railing, expecting to see a Spiritshadow leap over and attack at any moment.
"Hurry up!" Crow murmured. Tendrils of differently colored light were starting to rise out of Tal's Sunstone, but very slowly.
The tendrils issued out and wove together in front of the pressed-in trio. As they wove together, a patch of darkness formed in the air. It spread rapidly, curving up, down, and around.
"Faster," whispered Crow. He saw a taloned shadow-hand grip the railing, behind the forming veil. "Faster!"
A Spiritshadow leapt over the railing--a huge Waspwyrm, shadow-wings still beating, sting looking all too solid in the Red light.
Crow saw it, and he stopped breathing as its head slowly swiveled in his direction. The veil was almost blocking his view. It would be so close. Would the Spiritshadow look first or would the veil be formed in time?
The miniature veil spread across and seamlessly joined to form a perfect sphere around them, a fraction of a second before the Spiritshadow turned its head.
Crow shivered and was startled to find he needed to take a very deep breath.
"Don't do that," said Tal sharply.
"What?" Crow asked softly. He wasn't sure if sound traveled through the veil.
"It's fine to talk," said Tal. He touched the veil, and his finger rebounded as if the veil were tightly stretched cloth. "Just don't breathe too much."
"Why?" asked Crow. "I was in a hurry--" Tal started to explain. "What?" asked Crow.
"I made it too solid," said Tal. "I don't think there's any air getting through."
"What?" Crow gasped. He reached out and his fingernails scraped down the veil.
It was solid.
"We have to get out," Crow whispered. "We'll die in here."
"There's enough air for a while," said Tal. He was fighting to stay calm. Just knowing that their air was running out was making him feel terrible. Weak and pathetic. "We have to be still."
Crow looked at him, panic in his eyes. He raised his hand and Tal cringed thinking he was going to punch him. Then Crow pulled back.
"Sorry," he said. "I'll… I'll be still."
They sat in silence for a while, then Crow suddenly looked at Tal.
"Where's Adras?" he asked, craning his head around. There was no sign of the Spiritshadow.
All the color drained from Tal's face. No wonder he felt so terrible.
"He must be outside! They're killing him!"
"No, he isn't!" said a small voice from the Keystone. Tal hurriedly peered down at it.
"He's in your veil!" exclaimed Lokar. "You wove him into it and he has no light!"
CHAPTER THIRTY "No air for us, no light for Adras," muttered Crow.
"It's better than getting killed by Spiritshadows!" Tal retorted. "Besides, we only have to wait till they're gone."
"We might be dead by then," said Crow. "How will we know when they do go, anyway?"
Lokar said something both boys missed. They leaned down at the same time to hear better, and cracked their heads.
"Dark!" swore Crow. He snatched the Keystone back and said, "Be more careful!"
Tal raised his Sunstone for a second, then thought better of it. He didn't want Crow to have the Keystone but the
re wasn't much he could do about it now.
"What was that?" Crow asked Lokar. Tal leaned forward again, more carefully.
"You both need to save your breath," said Lokar. "As far as I can tell from in here, Tal has made this veil too well."
"What do you mean?" asked Tal.
"Not only is it too solid," said Lokar. "I doubt that you can unthread it. You'll have to wait till it frays of its own accord."
Tal and Crow looked at each other. Words seemed at the tips of their tongues, but neither spoke. Instead they settled back and exhaled slowly at the same time.
I wish I'd learned Milla's Rovkir breathing, thought Tal as the minutes slowly passed, marked by the spark of his Sunstone. It was getting warmer and stuffier, and it seemed to him that Crow was using up too much of their air.
He glanced across and saw Crow's eyes glittering. His hand was on his knife. Clearly he had the same thought. There, might only be enough air for one of them to survive.
One must die for the other to live. Crow pulled his knife out an inch.
Tal raised his Sunstone though it felt like a great weight and shook his head.
Crow eased the knife back in. Tal lowered his hand. Both kept watching each other, alert for the slightest movement.
At least Tal thought he was alert. But he suddenly realized his head was on his chest. He snapped it up, only to see Crow's head lolling sideways.
The Freefolk boy seemed to be unconscious.
For a moment Tal was tempted to finish him off, so he would have more air. But only for a moment. What was it his great-uncle had said to him?
"Do not be a caveroach."
It would be a caveroach thing to do, to kill Crow for a few breaths that might not be enough anyway.
Instead, Tal feebly pressed at the dark veil. As before, his fingers bounced off it. It seemed as strong as ever, and he could feel
Adras trapped inside. Fading with every moment.
Tal took a shallow breath and closed his eyes. It was much easier just to go to sleep.
As Tal's eyes closed, Crow's opened. He touched his knife once… twice… then slowly closed his eyes again.
