The Light of Burning Shadows (13 page)

The Suljak laughed, and Konowa could tell it was sincere. “When Pimmer first arrived, the two of us talked by this fountain for hours. It was months before he went a hundred yards from the palace, and almost a year before he ventured out of the city. You, on the other hand, you are already out there. You stand here with me, yet in your heart you are roaming the desert now, no?”

He made as if to pat Konowa’s chest, but Konowa caught his arm and casually lowered it. The Suljak continued talking as if nothing had happened.

“You are a man of action, but tonight, well, tonight you stand among those who talk, and it is like pulling teeth, yes? Here you are, staring at a water fountain, talking to an old man, and wondering how long you have to humor him before you can make your excuses and get back among your soldiers. Or am I wrong?”

Konowa started to object, then saw no good reason to. “You aren’t wrong. However, I am sure I would enjoy our conversation more after I’ve done what we came here to do.”

The Suljak waved a hand to the sky. “There won’t be an after, I’m afraid.”

Something in his tone made Konowa turn. “What do you mean?”

“The fountain. See how the water gushes forth, forever filling the basin? That is the Empire, surging forth into uncharted—or at least little explored—lands in order to shine the light of civilization among the heathen and lift them up from their ignorance.”

“I’m not unfamiliar with this line of reasoning,” Konowa said.

The Suljak smiled. “I am sure you are not. I was most fortunate in that I had a lovely conversation with your mother and the delightful Miss Tekoy and Miss Synjyn earlier. I had hoped to engage them again, but it appears they had other business.”

Konowa groaned. “They always do. I’m also sure they informed you of my feelings about discussing the affairs of the Empire in general.”

“Indeed,” the Suljak said, his voice light with laughter, “but it is actually not the Empire I wish to speak to you about, but rather what comes next.”

Konowa gave a quick snort. “Despite what you’ve heard, I don’t think Calahr plans on going anywhere.”

Suljak Faydarr patted Konowa’s arm again. “I’m sure it doesn’t, but despite the Prince’s utmost faith in himself and your regiment, the wind of change he so boldly claims to harness is even now being hitched to other wagons.”

Konowa suddenly wished for another drink, no matter how foul. If he was going to have a headache, he’d rather it was from a hangover. “With all due respect, Your Grace, I have had my fill of riddles. You spoke with the three…women, so please, if you have something to tell me, just say it.”

The Suljak nodded. “I knew from the moment I saw you that you were an honest elf. Perhaps
too
honest for your own good, but I can see that Her Majesty’s faith in you is entirely justified.”

Konowa couldn’t keep his voice from rising. “You’ve spoken with the Queen?”

“Not directly, no, but through…intermediaries. She is an astute women. Her thirst for knowledge is insatiable.”

“Like her son’s,” Konowa said, looking over his shoulder and relaxing. There was no sign of the Prince.

The Suljak gave Konowa a sad smile. “No, not really. The Prince seeks knowledge—is quite fascinated by it—and dreams that the simple act of accumulating it will stimulate change. Her Majesty is more practical. Her accumulation of knowledge is always in service of an end.”

“And what is that end?”

“The peaceful dissolution of the Empire,” the Suljak said.

Konowa almost smiled, then realized the Suljak was serious. “She said this?”

“She is not stupid—far from it. This world is in flux, Major, the return of the Stars only exacerbates what lies underneath all these years. Tell me, are the elves of the Long Watch happy with Calahrian rule? Are the dwarves, the elfkynan, and all the other peoples? The Stars’ returning gives focus to something that already existed.”

“You’re talking about rebellion,” Konowa said. “Hundreds upon hundreds of elfkynan died when that Star fell. They died believing a lie. And the Empire still rules their land.”

“True, but thousands upon thousands did not perish. Elfkyna has already begun to change. The Red Star returned, and now
it,
not the Empire, is seen as the true guardian and ruler of Elfkyna. That one, simple notion is more powerful than a thousand cannons. The Star seed you planted there has given rise to much more than a magical tree. It has given birth to the idea of freedom.”

Konowa paced a few steps, looking about the garden and feeling as if he was back in the Elfkynan wilderness. It wasn’t a pleasant feeling. “Even if you’re right, and the next Star—the Jewel of the Desert—returns here to the desert, then what? There are still grave dangers out there only the Empire can truly oppose…or do you think the Shadow Monarch will not venture so far south?”

“I have every confidence that She will. In this regard She is less astute than Her Majesty. The Queen knows the days of empires and one rule are coming to an end. The Shadow Monarch does not.”

Konowa shook his head. “I’ve seen what the Shadow Monarch is capable of. If She gains a foothold in your desert, it will take the Empire to dig Her out again.”

“How fortunate you are here then,” the Suljak said. There was no trace of sarcasm in his voice. “Alas, the Shadow Monarch’s coming to these lands is thousands of years too late. A deadly power already exists here that threatens all.”

“You mean Kaman Rhal?” Konowa asked, walking back to stand close to the Suljak. He debated mentioning what had happened on the island, but decided against it. “I know the story, at least some of it. Are you saying he has returned?”

“I don’t know. There are stirrings in the desert. Rumors abound. It is a fact that his body and that of his reported wife, the she-drake, were never recovered, but buried along with his library and the city of Urjalla. How much is real and how much is superstition I cannot say, but enough darkness has risen as of late to suggest that what was once thought impossible is now only improbable.”

“My fight is against the Shadow Monarch…and all enemies of the Empire,” Konowa added. “If Kaman Rhal or any remnant of his power attempts to interfere with us, it will be dealt with. More ships are coming. The Prince is keen to find Kaman Rhal’s resting place.”

“I hope he does,” the Suljak said.

“Really? You aren’t concerned with the Empire looting the accumulated knowledge and treasure of your people?”

“I harbor many concerns. I am concerned about the return of Kaman Rhal and the encroachment of the Shadow Monarch, but these worries pale in comparison to my greatest concern.”

“And what is that?”

“You.”

“Me?”

The Suljak nodded. “Earlier, you mentioned you slept well. Alas, I do not. My dreams have been haunted lately. Do you know what I see in them? You, Major. You with the Jewel of the Desert in your hands, just as you held the fate of the Red Star in Elfkyna. You gave up that power once in order to preserve the lands of the elfkynans. A very selfless act, Major. Tell me, could you do so again?”

“My duty is to defend the Empire, and that is what I intend to do.”

The Suljak bowed his head for a moment, then raised it and looked straight at Konowa. There was no longer any mirth in the Suljak’s eyes.

“And my duty is to defend my people and their land. I will do so, no matter what the cost.”

Konowa understood. “My quarrel is not with you, Faydarr. I’m here for my elves. Once I have them, I have my own enemy to defeat, and She isn’t you.”

For a long moment, neither one spoke. The water in the fountain gurgled and splashed as the excess sloshed over the sides and ran down the stone and onto the cobbles.
What a waste,
Konowa thought,
all this water for a fountain in a land as dry as bone.
As the water seeped between the cracks, an image of spilled blood came unbidden to him. The fountain
was
like the Empire.
All those dead, and for what? If the Empire really was breaking up, what had it all been for?
Konowa looked at the Suljak. “The Queen isn’t the only one who plays a deep game around here.”

The Suljak of the Hasshugeb winked at Konowa and patted his arm. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He let go and turned to leave. “Oh, if a person were looking for a quiet way to leave the festivities, he might want to take a walk around behind the fountain. He’d find a path that leads him to a side gate and back to the main grounds without having to walk through the courtyard.”

Back at the party, the guests were momentarily startled by a loud whoop from somewhere off the main courtyard. Conversation quickly resumed, as there was clearly no need for alarm; the shout had been one of pure joy.

H
aving marshaled enough of his courage to make it up the stairs of the Blue Scorpion, Alwyn pushed aside a silk curtain and stepped into a room unlike any he had ever been in before, or smelled before. He had no idea what scents were floating on the air, but everything was soft and inviting. He blinked and looked around. There was nothing remarkable about the furniture, just more pillows, but it was who was sitting on the pillows that put a wobble in his one remaining knee.

Women. As in several. As in more than Alwyn had ever seen in one place at one time. He wasn’t sure how many, however, because he’d closed his eyes almost as soon as he realized they were wearing sheer robes.
You could see their bodies underneath, and they weren’t wearing anything at all!
The first time he heard the mewling cry of a rakke hadn’t terrified him as much as this.

With his eyes still closed, he took off his spectacles and cleaned them on his jacket before putting them back on. He risked opening an eye. They were still there, still staring at him. One giggled behind a jeweled hand and Alwyn riveted his gaze on her face. She looked magical. Everything about her was perfect. Her skin, her long dark hair, her bright green eyes…the graceful line of her arm as it rested near her—Alwyn brought his eyes back up to hers.

“I think, that is, um, I think I’m supposed to…choose. One of you, I mean. Uh, if that’s okay?” He was certain that wasn’t okay.
Why hadn’t Yimt told him there would be so many!
“Oh, I’m Private Renwar, I mean, Alwyn…hi.”

Now several of the women laughed and Alwyn could have sworn his wooden leg began to shake.
This had been a terrible idea.

“You do not choose us, Private Renwar Alwyn,” one of the women said, rising to stand. His eyes traced her outline from her feet to her head while his heart roared in his ears. Curves. All he could think of was curves. “It is we that choose you, and I can see that Nafeesah has already chosen.”

The woman who had giggled earlier now stood, and Alwyn found his hand clenching air, remembering Yimt had taken his musket from him. Not that he thought he needed it, but not having it at hand made him feel naked, which only compounded his nervousness. He hadn’t been without his musket since joining the Iron Elves.

“Come with me,” Nafeesah said, holding out a hand.

Alwyn gulped, took a look over his shoulder at the exit, then reached out to take her hand. It was soft and warm. To Alwyn’s amazement, not even the hint of frost fire sparked at her touch. She smiled and led him past the other women and into another, much smaller room through three sets of beaded curtains.

Nafeesah motioned Alwyn to sit on yet more pillows, and he did so, carefully easing himself to the floor so that his caerna didn’t reveal more than he wanted. It was a courtesy Yimt was utterly incapable of mastering.

Candles burned merrily in several small alcoves notched into the plaster walls, giving off a warm light and a scent of pine trees. A long, flat pillow lay in one corner, which Alwyn assumed was the bed. He immediately felt his cheeks grow hot.

“You are an Elf of Iron, yes?” Nafeesah said, tucking her legs underneath her as she sat down in front of him. A sizable chunk of her thigh was revealed, the skin smooth and unmarred.

“Yes!” Alwyn said, surprised at the loudness of his own voice. “Uh, yes, Iron Elf actually, although we’re not really elves, but I guess you knew that. Well, except the major really
is
an elf. Then there’s his mother, Miss Red Owl, and Tyul Mountain Spring, and the major’s father, the wizard, only he’s not exactly himself right now. Oh, and there was Corporal Kritton, but he ran off back in Elfkyna and we haven’t seen—”

Nafeesah’s finger rested against his lips. “And you are nervous, yes.”

This wasn’t a question.

“What, no. I mean, maybe a little. Is it hot in here? It feels hot in here. Have you tried a hookah before? I just did, earlier I mean, and that smoke really gets to you.”
Did his voice really sound that high? And why was he talking so fast?

Nafeesah smiled. “So you’ve done this before then.”

Alwyn nodded several times. “Yes, of course, I mean lots of times…well, no, not yet, not with a woman.”

Nafeesah raised an eyebrow.

“Or a man, or anything else either, I mean!”

Her smile widened. “Then I am honored I will be your first, Renwar.” She reached out her hands and began unbuttoning his tunic.

“That’s my last name,” Alwyn said, not sure what to do with his hands. “My first name is Alwyn, not that it…matters…doesn’t my leg bother you?”

Nafeesah sat back and looked at him, tilting her head to one side. Curly locks of black hair fell across her face and Alwyn wondered if this was what falling in love felt like. He felt as if he was going to be sick, faint, and break out in hysterical laughter all at the same time.

“You are a soldier. These things happen in battle. You survived, and you are now here with me. Is this not a good thing?”

She leaned forward again, but Alwyn caught her hands in his. “I guess, I mean yes, yes it is,” he quickly said as a glint of steel flared in her eyes. “It’s just that so much has happened and I don’t…I don’t know who I am anymore.”

What’s wrong with me?
Alwyn released his grip and started to get back up. Nafeesah pushed him hard in the chest, pinning his back to the wall. Alwyn half-smiled and tried to sit forward, then stopped. Her green eyes blazed with something that stilled his tongue.

“Who you are is someone who needs to relax.” She sat back and then reached for a small wooden box that had been between the large pillow and the wall. The wood of the box was very worn and its brass furnishings polished smooth with much use. She set it down between them.

“I’m not sure I feel like smoking or drinking anything else right now,” Alwyn said, hoping he didn’t offend her. “It’s just that my head’s a bit fuzzy at the moment.”

Nafeesah smiled at him. “Then we will fix that.” She waved a hand over the box and the lid popped open on its own.

“Neat trick,” Alwyn said, trying to peer inside.

Nafeesah said nothing, but reached into the box and pulled out a cloth-covered orb. Alwyn tried to keep the disappointment off his face. He wasn’t sure what she might have in the box, but it looked as if it was just a plain old crystal ball, and that didn’t seem all that…exciting.

She held the cloth-covered object in one hand while she waved the other over the box. Again, the lid operated on its own and closed without a sound. She then placed the orb above the lid and removed her hand. The ball, with its cloth covering over it, floated a few inches above the box.

“Okay, really neat trick,” Alwyn said, still not that impressed.

Nafeesah looked at him with an expression Alwyn couldn’t read. Finally, she smiled. “These are not…tricks.” She brought both her hands forward and began weaving them over the ball much in the way Miss Tekoy did when she practiced magic. The realization surprised Alwyn.

“Are you a witch?”

Nafeesah continued to weave the air. After a few more moments she spoke. “Remove the cloth, please.”

Alwyn reached out, grabbed the cloth in one hand, and pulled. A perfectly round ball of sand particles floated above the box. Alwyn looked closer. He could see grains of sand shifting and moving in every direction. He gently reached out a finger and touched the surface, expecting to find a thin glass shell, but his finger passed right through and into the ball itself. The sand swirled around his finger with a warm, ticklish sensation. “How are you doing this?”

“Put both your hands out, palms up,” she said, ignoring his question.

Alwyn complied. The orb of sand fell into his open hands and formed a thin sheet that wrapped around his hands as it continued to swirl. “That tickles,” Alwyn said, lifting his hands up to take a closer look.

“Keep your hands flat,” Nafeesah said, her voice stern. “If you move too much, you will break the spell.”

Alwyn brought his hands back down. “Sorry. So, this is magic, which means you are a witch of some kind, right?”

“I have some skills. Now, let’s see if we can find a way to relax you. I am going to slowly remove your worries and your pain until you are completely at ease, Alwyn.”

Alwyn started to object, but Nafeesah made a pushing motion with her hand. A small portion of the sand broke away from the mass and flowed up the sleeve of his jacket and formed a small circle on his chest. Pressure built at that spot until Alwyn was pinned against the wall. “Wait, you—”

Nafeesah made another gesture and another small amount of sand flew up his arm and stopped at his throat. He could still breathe, but he could no longer speak.

Alwyn struggled to free himself, but now his hands were immobile as well. He looked at Nafeesah, trying to make her understand, but she only smiled and concentrated on the swirling sand.

“Now, we will banish this pain you carry.” She stared intently at the sand as her fingers traced increasingly complicated designs above it. Frost fire sparkled among the sand. “Ah, you are a wielder of the black flame,” she said. “You are one of the oath takers. I have heard rumors about this, but did not think it true.”

Alwyn tried to shake his head, but the pressure against his chest and neck made it impossible.

Nafeesah smiled and leaned in close. The smell of her perfume washed over Alwyn and he felt the heat of her skin on his. Her lips brushed his right ear. “There is more here than meets the eye, but I will set things right.” She pulled back and held out her hands.

Two perfectly round orbs of white flame danced in her palms. She gently blew on one and it tumbled from her hand and floated down to land on the burning sand covering his hands.

White fire!
Alwyn tensed, expecting the pain he’d felt on the island. The black and white flame danced across the sand, intertwining but never becoming one. The sensation was as if Nafeesah herself were massaging his hands in hers.

“Stop fighting it,” Nafeesah said, directing her focus to the flames in his hands. She made a quick motion with one finger and the sand on his throat flew back to his hands.

“You have to stop…you don’t know what you’re dealing with!”

Nafeesah pouted, but continued to weave, tightening her pattern as she did so. The white flame grew, clearly trying to overwhelm the frost fire. “I have never seen anything like this, but do not worry, I can help you. Mine is a subtle power, but potent nonetheless.”

Alwyn banged his head against the wall and let out his breath with a huff. Mist formed in the air. “You need to stop, now, before it’s too late.”

Sweat beaded on Nafeesah’s forehead, but she refused. “Just a little bit…longer…”

“Please, stop. I can’t control this much longer.”

“…I can help you…”

“No
,” Alwyn said. The room grew frigid. Shadows stretched out on the walls looming over them. Alwyn recognized Meri, and saw the black blade in his dead hand. The other shadows moved closer. Alwyn knew he had to stop Nafeesah now or the shades would. He willed the power to him and black flames surged in his hands, consuming the white fire in a flash. The sand on his chest froze with black frost and shattered, as did the sand covering his hands.

“What are you?” Nafeesah asked, looking between Alwyn and the shadows around her.

Alwyn closed his eyes and the frost fire died and went out. The shades lingered, but Alwyn shook his head and they, too, vanished. When he opened his eyes again, Nafessah was still looking at him. She had not backed away.

“I am bound by an oath,” he said, the enormity of it coming back to him in a rush. “I wish I’d never…I just…” Tears filled his eyes and began to run down his cheeks, which only added to his misery. Faces of the dead swam in and out of his vision, and he couldn’t tell if it was memory or hallucination.
So much death. So much pain. And for what
?

Alwyn expected Nafeesah to run, or call for help, or yell at him to leave, but she did the most unexpected thing: She leaned forward and kissed him.

“I don’t understand,” Alwyn said, wiping the tears from his eyes.

“You didn’t ask for this, and that is why I am still here,” she said.

Alwyn nodded. He felt thin, as if the only thing keeping him together was the sound of Nafeesah’s voice.

“What…what is your power?” he asked. He had to keep talking to her. Her voice was the last anchor keeping him here, keeping him sane.

Nafeesah dipped her head, then brushed the hair from her face. “Nothing like yours. We use it to cure small injuries and to soothe troubled spirits. We call it
KamRha,
after the ancient Kaman Rhal, ruler of the Expanse.”

Alwyn’s heart beat a little faster. “Wait, wasn’t he the one who built that library? Our Prince talks about stuff like that all the time.”

Nafeesah brightened. “Yes, one and the same. Kaman Rhal was a sorcerer and pursued knowledge wherever he found it, no matter what the cost.”

Alwyn closed his eyes. “Seems everything old is new again.”

“I hope not,” Nafeesah said. “Rhal was a great king, but also a terrible one. It was said that in his day he could command the power of the sun to burn his enemy’s shadows to ash, capturing their souls for all eternity.”

Alwyn opened his eyes and sat forward. “He had this power?”

Nafeesah nodded, her eyes wide as she looked into Alwyn’s. “He was most feared for this, but that was hundreds, perhaps thousands of years ago. Then a great sandstorm is said to have raged for a hundred days and a hundred nights, and when it was over Kaman Rhal, his great library, and even the town of Urjalla were gone. His power, however, is said to have been carried on the wind of that storm, and those of us who practice the art today are said to possess a little bit of it, but it is nothing to what he once wielded.”

Alwyn pressed his left fist into the side of his stump, using the pain to help him focus. “Are there any wizards or witches with more of this power, enough to be able to kill someone? Could enough users band together to do it?”