Firebrand

  He glanced over his shoulder at Magged playing with rocks, piling them so they balanced. When they fell, she started over. He did not know if Magged had been born simple, or if her captivity in this place made her so. Then there was Nari staring trancelike into the pool of water. She had been Slee’s captive, he sensed, for centuries. How could she stand it?

  No, he would not allow Slee to imprison his wife and children here. Somehow it had to be stopped, and the first step was escape. On impulse, he stalked off to the passage that led into the upper chamber with the throne and all the natural dripstone formations. Magged looked up as he passed by. Nari awoke from her trance.

  “Where are you going?” they asked him.

  He walked on without answering and only paused once he reached the upper chamber. He’d already searched it and looked through all the art treasures Slee had collected, but he found nothing of use and no exit.

  He removed his borrowed cloak and started piling glowstone pebbles into it. Magged helped as if it were a game. When he’d amassed a satisfactory quantity, he gathered up the cloak and hoisted it over his shoulder like a sack, hissing at the pain it caused his ribs. He then looked over the stalactites and found a likely one that was not too large, but produced an ample amount of glow. He broke it off the ceiling with a good hard yank. It was to be his torch.

  “I do not understand,” Nari said, “what it is you intend to do.”

  “I am going to find my way out.” He strode off then, and headed down past their living chamber, down past the hot spring pools on the lower level. He heard Magged whispering worriedly to Nari as they followed.

  “Others have tried this,” Nari said, “but a way has never been found.”

  “Perhaps they missed something.”

  They soon entered parts of the cave where little or no glowstone shone, his stalactite the main source of light. If others had come this way before him, he saw no evidence.

  “Zachary,” Nari said sharply. She grabbed his arm before he took his next step.

  “What?” he asked in surprise.

  “You must take care,” she said. “There are pits underfoot.”

  He lowered his stalactite and saw that he’d almost stepped into a gaping abyss. He swallowed hard. The shaft was deep enough that no light reached the bottom. He did find scrape marks along its lip.

  “Thank you,” he said finally, a quaver in his voice. “You knew it was here . . . ?”

  “It is a grave,” Nari explained. “The dead ones must go someplace.”

  The dead ones, Slee’s victims. He had almost joined them. How many were down there? How many children and mothers? Fathers, brothers, and sisters? From how many lands and what peoples? He took a glowing rock from his cloak and set it on the rim of the pit.

  “What is that for?” Magged asked.

  “It’s a marker,” he replied, and he stepped around the opening and continued down the passage, careful to watch his footing. Every so often he set a pebble down to mark where they’d been.

  Did Magged and Nari follow him out of curiosity? For a change in routine from their dreary existence? Perhaps for companionship?

  “Zachary,” Nari said, “how do you expect to find a way out?”

  “There could be a change of air current,” he replied, “and that underwater stream has to come from somewhere and go somewhere.”

  He poked his “torch” into side passages. Some were just nooks, while others went beyond the glow of his light. Some were so narrow that he’d have to crawl through them, and the thought of it made beads of sweat break out on his brow. He decided to keep on this main passage first, then systematically check the side passages.

  The footing was often a fine silt, but there were places where they had to clamber over rocks that clattered beneath their feet. Despite the light he carried, Zachary found the dark of the cave oppressive as it bore down on them. He kept leaving pebbles along their route should he decide to turn from it. He glanced over his shoulder to ensure he could see them.

  After what felt like hours, they paused to rest, sitting on boulders. Magged drew in the dirt with her finger and hummed to herself. She seemed completely at ease in this subterranean world. To Zachary, it was an unnatural place for a person to exist, with no sunlight, no contact with the outer world. There was no bird song, no wind in the branches of trees.

  “How have you survived here so long?” he asked Nari.

  “What is long?” she asked. “For me, Magged’s arrival and her growth are but the blinking of an eye. Such as she have come and gone, but I have learned how mortals value time with their short lives running out. When I was taken from the world, it was long before the one called Mornhavon came upon these shores, and your folk were but tribes roaming the lands. I am to understand there has been much change in the world. Slee has deigned to tell me some of it, and those it has brought here have told me more. For me, it does not seem so very long, but yes, I know for mortals it would.

  “Magged knows no other life. The cave is her home and always has been, as it has been for other children. They never get to know their families, so they never miss what they have never known.”

  “I want a family,” Magged chirped.

  Zachary gazed sadly at her.

  “Magged did not know her family,” Nari said, “but she understands the concept. I taught her to read the walls, and of course, she asked questions.”

  “It is wrong,” Zachary said vehemently. “This is all wrong, what the aureas slee does.”

  “It is the nature of elementals to love that which they find beautiful.”

  “Are you defending it?”

  “You misunderstand.” Nari’s eyes were dark, like midnight over the ocean, but for the glow of his light glimmering in them. “I wish to escape this place, to return to the ones I have left behind. But I am afraid, too. I am of Argenthyne, Zachary, and I have heard of its fall.”

  “That was a thousand years ago or more,” Zachary said softly.

  “Yes. I was told there were many who did not escape.”

  “Queen Laurelyn kept some of the Sleepers of Castle Argenthyne safe in a piece of time, and they were taken to Eletia.”

  Nari’s gaze sharpened. “Truly? You must tell me how this happened.”

  It was strange recounting what was really Karigan’s story, but to see the joy in Nari’s face was more than worth it.

  “Had you kin among the Sleepers?” he asked.

  “I do not know who may have been asleep after the time of my taking. Some may have awakened before Mornhavon, and others fallen asleep. But to know that some of my people are safe in Eletia? It is the most precious piece of news I’ve heard since Slee brought me here.”

  “I am glad I could tell you. It would not have been possible without your queen’s foresight and . . .”

  “Your Karigan,” Nari filled in. “I can see she is of some importance to you. Was she not one of the forms Slee took to taunt you?”

  “Yes.” He looked away.

  “She is a remarkable person to do what she did for my people, and I am grateful to her for it.”

  Zachary knew Karigan was remarkable, had known from the moment they met. But if he were to succeed in escaping the aureas slee, he must not allow thoughts of her to distract him. He stood, ready to go on.

  “Zachary,” Nari said, “you now understand that I have been here a very long time, yes?”

  He nodded.

  “I have searched these caves thoroughly, myself. I have had the time to do so. I can tell you this passage ends in rubble, a dead end. All of them do, or they turn round and open into the same passage elsewhere. Even the crawlways. Slee has blocked all the openings so its pets cannot escape.”

  “I don’t want you to leave,” Magged suddenly burst out. “I want a family.”

  Zachary closed his eyes, trembled. He cou
ld see that Nari did not lie. He would not let it stop him, though. He could not. He could not give up.

  “Your words about Argenthyne and the Sleepers,” Nari told him, “have given me hope that I have not known since I became trapped here. I wonder if there is a way that we are not seeing.”

  “We can only keep looking.” He took up his bundle of glowstones and his torch. As they walked on, he considered Nari’s words about hope. Perhaps he was wrong to shunt away thoughts of Karigan. Perhaps, thinking of her and her impossible accomplishments was what he needed to escape the lair of the aureas slee.

  JUST DESSERT

  “Hmm,” the innkeeper said, “had someone like that come through here a couple years ago. Wish he’d come back, too. Folks traveled from miles around just to hear him sing.”

  “Thank you,” Estral said.

  Karigan could tell she was trying to hide her disappointment. Along their journey, thus far, if they chanced across villages, Karigan and Estral asked at the local inn or tavern if a minstrel of Aaron Fiori’s description had been seen there in recent months. Of the few inquiries they’d made, including this one at the sign of the Painted Turtle, they had no luck.

  The innkeeper must have sensed Estral’s distress, as well, for he invited them to sit for a cup of hot spiced apple cider and a wedge of butter cream pie with, of course, the ulterior motive of hearing the latest news from Sacor City. It was worth it, Karigan thought, and Enver was missing out. He had insisted upon waiting for them out in the woods. He must be communing with the trees, or whatever it was that Eletians did.

  The village was off the beaten track and rarely received current news. It turned out that word of the queen’s pregnancy had reached the village, but not that she was expecting twins. The village of Red Rock wasn’t much. It boasted the inn, a chapel of the moon, and little else. The residents were far-flung, scratching crops out of rocky patches in the Green Cloak in the warm months, and doing small-scale lumbering in winter. Some harvested cranberries from nearby bogs.

  “Now, that is something,” the innkeeper said, and he sipped from his own mug of cider. Custom was nonexistent at this hour, so he could give Karigan and Estral his full attention. Karigan could tell he was hankering to spread the news. “Never thought the king would get around to taking a wife, and when he finally does?” He chuckled. “Making up for lost time.”

  Karigan had become somewhat used to the speculation and comments about the intimate lives of the king and queen, some of which could be rather coarse. She’d learned to face it all with a forced smile, and tried not to think too deeply about it.

  Estral remained silent as she picked at her pie. If she wouldn’t eat it, Karigan would.

  “Haven’t seen a Green Rider out this way in years,” the innkeeper said. “Which way you heading?”

  “North,” Karigan replied.

  “Town of North?”

  “No.” At least Karigan hoped not. It wasn’t the friendliest of towns for Green Riders.

  “Maybe we should,” Estral murmured. “Someone may have heard something there.”

  “I ask,” the innkeeper said, “because folk traveling north of here have had run-ins with groundmites. Winter’s been hard on ’em and they’ve been bold. Getting bolder every year, it seems. You should tell the king next time you see him.”

  “I will.” Karigan frowned. He was right. The groundmites were getting bold—desperate—if they were traveling this far into Sacoridia’s borders. Encountering a band of the beasts was something she would rather avoid.

  When the innkeeper left them to attend to some chores, Karigan turned to Estral and pointed at her pie. “You should really eat that. It will give you energy against the cold.”

  Estral sighed and pushed the plate toward Karigan. “You have it.”

  Karigan did not argue. At least Estral drank her cider. “You know, just because the innkeeper hasn’t seen your father doesn’t mean anything. We don’t even know for sure he’s gone north.”

  “I know. It just seems so hopeless.”

  It was not that long ago that Estral had been the one with hope. Perhaps the fatigue of traveling in the cold had gotten to her.

  “We will keep looking,” Karigan said. “He’ll turn up.”

  Estral nodded. “Thank you for helping with this. I don’t think I could do it on my own.”

  “You,” Karigan said, gazing at the last bite of pie on her fork, “are capable of a great deal more than you think.” She was rewarded by a brief smile from Estral.

  As they left, the innkeeper’s wife, overjoyed by the news of royal twins forthcoming, gave them a gift of a dozen cranberry nut muffins still warm from the oven. Estral swiped the sack of muffins from Karigan’s grasp.

  “I won’t eat them all,” Karigan protested.

  “I want to make sure there are some left for Enver,” Estral replied.

  They left the inn and mounted up, riding down the road a fair piece before turning off into the woods where Enver awaited them. If it weren’t so early in the day with hours of daylight left in which to travel, Karigan and Estral might have chosen to spend the night at the inn, but it appeared they’d be sleeping beneath the stars again.

  Bane, the pack pony, nickered in greeting as they approached. Enver stood beside him while Mist ranged nearby.

  “We have brought cranberry nut muffins, courtesy of the innkeeper’s wife,” Estral announced.

  Enver looked intrigued. When Estral produced one and handed it to him, he looked it over and sniffed it like a connoisseur. After a nibble, his eyebrows shot up. “Ah, it is good. Sweet and tart.” Then he gazed at Estral. “There was no sign of Lord Fiori?”

  She shook her head, and Karigan said, “It sounds as if he came this way a couple years ago, but nothing more recently.”

  “That is unfortunate.” Enver had neatly finished his muffin and mounted Mist. “Shall we continue, then?”

  Enver led on, Bane right alongside him, followed by Estral. Karigan took the rear. The brightness of the sky, the weak warmth of the sun, dispelled concern about groundmites and she simply enjoyed the woods, the fragrance of spruce and fir, the damp of melting snow. Nuthatches crept up and down the trunks of pines, and chickadees called out. Being immersed in the Green Cloak settled her in a way that being stuck in Sacor City could not. She left behind a certain darkness in the castle, shadows that dissipated beneath the open sky. She did not forget Cade; she could not, especially with the reopening of that part of her still so raw, but in the woods she could feel some peace. She wished he could be there with her and see his world before it became the hard brick cities of the future, before the Green Cloak turned into a forgotten memory. Wishing for it brought sorrow, but it did not break her down or drown her in grief as it might have mere weeks ago.

  Condor liked the journey, as well, walking on with eager steps as they went. It helped that Enver followed his Eletian path where the footing was even and easy.

  As the day wore on and hot spiced cider and butter cream pie became distant memories, and the white, gray, and green of the winter woods took on a sameness, Karigan fell into a sort of trance watching the hind end of Coda with his tail swishing back and forth in hypnotic fashion. The flutter of crow wings among the branches became indistinct whispers, constant murmurings.

  Or, was it the sound of the stream they followed? But when their path diverted from the stream, the susurrations only increased in volume and breaths of wind came at her from odd angles. At times she felt as if insects were crawling over her skin, which was unlikely this time of year, but she still tried to brush them off.

  Enver suddenly halted and Karigan reined Condor around Coda to him. “What is it?”

  “Cairns of the dead,” he said, pointing to some snow-covered mounds ahead. Leafless trees and brush grew out of them, and Karigan might not have even seen them if Enver had not called attention to them
.

  “Makes sense,” Estral said. “There were some large battles of the Clan Wars out this way.”

  “They lie across our path,” Enver said. “We must go around.”

  Now that the mounds had been pointed out, Karigan saw there were many. Too many. Who lay forgotten beneath the cairns?

  I do, I do, I do . . . ghostly voices whispered to her.

  She shuddered and hastened to follow Enver and Estral. Once they picked their way around and were again on the path, she felt compelled to pause and look back. All was still.

  Until it was not. Her senses filled with the clash of arms, shouting, the blowing of horns, the beating of drums, the shrill screams of dying men and horses, the stench of viscera. Pennants streamed in the wind, blood soaked into the earth. A thousand voices filled her mind and she swayed in her saddle. A spectral wind gusted over her bringing the voices in a deafening surge into her mind, and she thought she’d lose herself in the cacophony. Lose herself and become one of them.

  A mist clouded her sight. You have the command of them, came the memory of Lhean as he spoke to her back in the castle.

  Taken over by a force she could not explain, she sat tall in her saddle, and commanded, “Sleep.”

  The clamor quieted, but did not silence. The voice of command welled up inside her once again, as if from the depths of the heavens. “You have earned your rest. Sleep.”

  Then she found herself just sitting there, staring back the way they had come, the cairns all around her in the woods quiet, at peace.

  “Galadheon?”

  She jumped a little in her saddle. It was as if she had napped and dreamed of ghosts, but she suspected it had not been a dream at all, not the way her life tended to go.

  “Do you wish to linger?” Enver asked with more curiosity than the question warranted. “Or, would you rather go on?”

  “Let’s go on.”

  Estral awaited them some distance through the woods. Apparently Karigan had been caught in her reverie, or whatever it was, for quite some time before they realized she was not with them.