Season of the Dragon, page 30
Quen gawked at what seemed like a thousand steps. The icy steps creaked and moaned as if they were breaking apart.
“Hurry. The Path will remain open for you only a short time.”
Quen slapped her thigh. “Come, Nivi.” She was astride the snow tiger in seconds. His long limbs took the steps by twos, and soon they were on solid, beautiful stone stairs.
Her heart fluttered like a crow stuck in a net. She slid off Nivi, her legs still shaky. Quen peered over the edge to find Aldewin below. The icy stairs they’d climbed melted, the water falling back to the river below. Aldewin would have to forge his own path.
Quen’s head swam, dizzy from looking over the precipice. She grabbed a clump of Nivi’s mane to steady herself. I don’t think I can fly on a dragon like a Rajani. She looked up and ahead, and the swooning feeling subsided. “Hurry, Aldewin. If I keep looking down, I fear I’ll fall off these damnable steps.”
He said something, but Juka’s breath latched onto his voice and carried it away. Aldewin waved at her before kneeling at the edge as she had. From her vantage point, he looked serene, without the rigid tension she’d felt. His hands hung at his sides, palms up. With eyes closed, he spoke, but Quen couldn’t understand what he said. He’s probably saying something like what I said.
As she’d experienced, the ground rumbled, and first a void, then a coalescence of water and ice appeared. Though she couldn’t hear Aldewin, Hooxaura’s voice sounded as though the spirit whispered into Quen’s ear as she spoke.
“Aldewin di Partha. The Archon’s Assassin. Successful in his mission, but tainted.”
Archon’s Assassin? What in Vay’Nada is this water spirit talking about?
Aldewin shook his head furiously. Only a few words were audible. “No… faithful servant… must—”
The water spirit was a white-blue blur, spinning and spewing needle-like ice shards. “Your directive was to secure the Nixan for the Archon, not taint yourself by coupling with it.”
Icicles as long and sharp as knives were flung in every direction. Aldewin rose and stepped back, his palms out, trying to shield himself. His hands were soon bloody.
“Aldewin!” Fear of tumbling off the stone ledge gave way to worry that the pissed-off ice spirit would shred her beloved. Vatra fires roiled, and her fingertips burned. “Leave off him, you icy bitch.”
“Quen, no. Don’t interfere. You’ll—”
She lost his words in the high-pitched, piercing whine of the spinning ice. Hooxaura’s voice was no longer serene but crackling like a bolt of sky-fire and rumbling Quen’s chest. Hooxaura spoke to Aldewin. “You are Supplicant at Val’Enara no longer.” Hooxaura’s orb advanced on Aldewin, moving with the preternatural speed Quen knew well.
Quen had leaped inhumanly high and far when she served justice on Druvna’s killer. But even she couldn’t survive a jump from this height. The mountain’s edge trapped her, unable to reach Aldewin. But he couldn’t outpace the swift Hooxaura. “What can we do, Nivi?” Quen couldn’t watch the icy monster tear Aldewin to shreds or get sucked into its whirling vortex. Her neck ridge burned white-hot, and she screamed in agony.
The inner voice—the shadow-spawn’s—called to her. Embrace Vay’Nada. Allow Vatra and call me forth. Over and over, it spoke these words. Quen’s head felt like it would split open, gnashing friction like Menauld beneath her when Hooxaura appeared. Her insides burned. Heat emanated from her and seared away the frozen morning mist. The snow melted in a perfect circle around her, its vapor rising as steam. Plants dripped with thawing frost.
The tips of her fingers felt like someone had shoved wood splinters under her nails. Over the sound of dripping water and the high-pitched whir of spinning Hooxaura, bones cracked, and Quen yowled in pain. Razor-sharp, talon-like claws erupted from the tips of her fingers, her fingernails popping off, plinking on the stone. The skin on her hands became mottled and scaly, like a pale-blue version of the skin around a chicken’s legs. Her fingers had become talons.
The Nixan was forcing its way into control. It’s clawing through my core like a thrasher shearing a field. Blackness played at the edges of her vision. Quen’s guttural scream echoed in the canyon below.
Aldewin dropped his hand shield down and glanced up. “Quen!”
Quen’s bloodcurdling scream distracted Hooxaura. Though Hooxaura spun, the knife-like shards stopped.
The air ahead shimmered like she’d seen when Vahgrin and his rider vanished. Movement around her slowed as if a dewy web had snagged all of Menauld. The odor of sky-fire permeated the air, and every hair on her body stood on end. Within the shimmering air, a window of darkest night. Like everything in the cosmos has vanished. “Vay’Nada,” she whispered.
The Nixan soul urged. Jump. Jump. JUMP.
Below, Hooxaura resumed her twirling advance. Gaining speed, Aldewin couldn’t hope to outrun the water spirit.
JUMP. JUMP. JUMP.
Quen propelled herself into the terrible black maw.
Chapter 22
Robbed
Robbed of bodily sensation. Quen’s gamble on Vay’Nada’s Void left her paralyzed. Gone was the odor of wet leaves and water and Nivi’s fur. The Void smelled like a cold, dark night. Soon, even that odor faded, as did sound.
Vay’Nada stole her senses, but Quen could still think. I wish Vay’Nada took my mind as well. Vay’Nada opened the locked chest of dark thoughts hidden deep within. Out poured memories of past hurts, bitter and inky black like the boiling tars of the Phisma pits. Quen had told Imbica that Sulmére people never treated her with contempt, as she’d experienced in Qülla. A half-truth. While she was growing up, children taunted her, and parents from visiting herdclans pulled their tots away. Whispered about her behind kefflas. Memories of offenses fueled her desire for revenge. To wound others as they’d hurt her.
This is unquelled Vatra, the fuel of warriors and murderous people. She’d seen this darkness in Earnôt, the slave trader, and it clung to Vahgrin and Nevara like a wet cloak.
She leaped into the Void, intending to emerge at Aldewin’s side. To protect him from the crazed guardian spirit. Her time in Vay’Nada’s Void was like an eternity, and she feared it would be too late when she emerged. But when she surfaced back in Menauld, Aldewin still ran from Hooxaura. It had been mere seconds, though what she understood while in the Void was worth lifetimes. Opening this pocket of Oblivion must be a Rajani trick. She couldn’t have explained how she’d accomplished it, but it left her feeling wrapped in a dark storm cloud. If this is a hint of Rajani sorcery, I dislike its lingering effect. But the Rajani magic had successfully propelled her in virtually no time from the stony shelf to the river’s edge beneath her, face-to-face with Hooxaura.
The bizarre black chasm remained open, and she kept one foot in its maw. The Void sucked at her and threatened to pull her in. Though she had only a foot still in the Void, Quen felt its effects and it heightened her perception of Hooxaura.
Deep within Hooxaura’s swirling blue water, a woman’s face appeared. It was the face of a wee child, sweet, wide-eyed, and innocent. The waters swirled and showed an elderly crone like a skeleton covered in thin onionskin. Is Hooxaura truly a spirit? Or a manipulation of Menaris? If it was a magical manipulation, it was so masterful, only a Pillar Zenith could create it. Archon Kine.
As soon as she formed the thought, Hooxaura rounded on her. The water spirit spun off icy spears, but Quen was a boiling mass of Vatra. Hooxaura’s frozen assault became steam, feeding the misty air and obscuring Quen’s vision.
Quen’s face was wet with melted ice, steam, and salty tears. “You are no better than Xa’Vatra.” Her voice trembled. “You put Aldewin into more danger than he knew. Sent him to gather me like a skein of dreyskin to be bartered.” Anger shook her. “I tell you what I told Xa’Vatra. I am Quen Tomo Santu, a free person of the Sulmére, and I obey no master.”
Hooxaura spun furiously and sped toward her with unbelievable speed. Still holding a toe in the shadow realm, Quen considered jumping wholly back into the Void to escape the spirit’s icy assault.
Now only a few paces away, Hooxaura slowed and hovered, her interior waters peaceful. The child’s face emerged, a watery replica of its original. “I do not intend to be your master. Val’Enara seeks only to assist you in that which you hold as your deepest desire.”
Hooxaura ambled closer still, and Quen eased another toe into the Void. Her foot was numb, and she fought off despair. From the ledge above her, Nivi’s low growl kept her tethered to Menauld.
“I will not harm you.” Hooxaura was so close, Quen saw that the pulsing light within the orb was an icy-blue heart beating and fueling the creature. “If I intended to kill you, Quen Tomo Santu, I would have ended you by now.”
Still trembling with cold and fury, Quen stood her ground. “You truly have the power to separate the two souls within me?”
“We have not attempted a soul fissure. But we know a Nixan can learn to live peacefully with two hearts. After all, Archon Kine is Nixan.” The watery visage morphed, melting into a grotesque head of a darmanitong. The gruesome creature Fano told of. Changeling sea monsters that lured men to their deaths.
Quen recoiled in disgust from the ugly beast, even though it was only a watery copy of an actual darmanitong. If this sea monster is Archon Kine’s Nixan soul, how did Kine survive? People exterminate Nixan even when their shadow soul is a sleek cat or harmless raven.
Hooxaura’s voice was again a soothing warble. “The answer to your question is Vaya d’Enara, Quen.” Kine’s visage returned, again with the innocence of a child. “The Way is the Path. Permit me to teach you—to train you. You, too, can learn to quiet the shadow soul calling within you.”
Vay’Nada’s darkness sucked at her leg, threatening to wrench her from Menauld and back into Oblivion. No longer spewing icy spindrils, Archon Kine exuded tranquility and kindness. She had two choices. The soul-wrenching darkness of Vay’Nada or the loving kindness exuded by Hooxaura, representative of Val’Enara. I should choose Val’Enara, shouldn’t I?
Nivi was unimpressed with Kine, no matter how sweet her voice or innocent her visage. He raised his hackles, and his growl was low but insistent. Is he merely wary of the spirit? Or does he sense something about Hooxaura that I don’t?
And then there was her lover. “What of Aldewin? His only crime was to love me.” She wiped at her tears. “Val’Enara must not be committed to kindness if it finds fault with love.”
“Aldewin Kensai took oaths and submitted himself to rule by a master. He knew the conditions of his vows and the penalty for disobedience. Val’Enara treats its adherents with fairness. The Pillar makes no exceptions.”
“He followed his passions, and now he has to die?” Quen’s voice was tremulous. “If this is how you treat your Kensai, no wonder the Pillars have difficulty filling their halls these days.”
Quen glanced beyond the swirling orb in search of Aldewin. He knelt, eyes closed, lips moving as he murmured. Perhaps we are all devout in the end.
Standing with one foot in Oblivion, Quen faced an ancient Zenith, the ultimate master of Menaris. In comparison, Aldewin appeared fragile. Human. And like all humans, capable of causing death, but also of making beautiful love. She’d felt it. Millions of souls walked on Menauld’s back, but only one knew her—loved her—as Aldewin did. I can’t allow Kine to take him from me.
The Nixan urged. “Hooxaura linzini Vay’Nada.”
Quen shouldn’t have understood the internal whisperings in an ancient tongue, but she did. One leg anchored in the swirling eddy of Vay’Nada, Quen grabbed for Hooxaura. She ignored the knife-like icy shards Hooxaura flung at her. Quen seized the beating center of the spinning orb. Quen extended her new talons and ripped Hooxaura’s frozen heart from its watery home. “To Vay’Nada with you!” she screamed.
Back into the formless abyss. Numb. Still. Alone and despondent.
In the paralyzing Void, without sensation, she couldn’t be sure if she held Hooxaura’s icy heart. She should have yearned to escape Vay’Nada’s realm, but misery can be a comfort. Familiar agony becomes a friend. Best to remain in Vay’Nada’s abyss than seek an unknown path on Menauld. Melancholy was Quen’s new best friend. Wretchedness her new home.
Resigned, Quen found peace in the Void. But the nagging Nixan voice wasn’t content. Like the insistent ping of hurled sand against a tent in a Sulmére sandstorm, it said, “Jump.” And “escape.” The Nixan persevered until it finally roused Quen from the Shadow’s hold.
“Aldewin,” it said.
Aldewin. I must go to him.
As before, Quen emerged from the Void onto the firm ground of Menauld. Bloodied and soaked through, Aldewin still knelt in prayer. He likely didn’t expect a talon-clawed lover to emerge from Vay’Nada and rescue him from the icy assault. But Quen had learned that the gods rarely answer prayers in expected ways.
Her fingertips still aching and sticky with drying blood, Quen snatched Aldewin in her talons and pulled him into the Void. Now more familiar with the soul-sucking feeling of the Shadow’s realm, Quen didn’t linger. She emerged onto the stone steps of the Path of a Thousand Waters, dragging Aldewin through with haste. Did Aldewin feel Vay’Nada’s pull into the dark abyss?
As soon as Quen dropped him onto the stone steps, Aldewin rounded on her. “Suda, Quen! What did you do?” He trembled, his voice sharp enough to cut fog.
Quen moved to wipe the blood from his face. “Are you all right, sol’dishi?”
Aldewin drew his staff and stepped away from her touch. “You destroyed the guardian of my Pillar.”
She’d expected gratitude, not anger. Aldewin’s reaction puzzled her. Is he still suffering from Vay’Nada’s dark pull on his heart? “Hooxaura was about to kill you.” He’s freezing and wounded. Quen moved closer, wanting to encircle him in her warmth and comfort him as he had comforted her.
He took another step back. His voice was tremulous, scratchy, and strained. “I took vows, Quen—offered my life in service to the Archon. To Val’Enara Pillar. My life was Hooxaura’s to take.”
“But you were running—not submitting.”
Aldewin leaned on his staff. Tears welled. “I should not have. I was afraid and unworthy.” He wiped his eyes with a shaky hand. “A thriving pillar is more valuable than one man’s life.”
Quen stepped closer, her hand outstretched into the space between them. Hot tears welled in her eyes, too. “Aldewin—sol’dishi—”
Aldewin shook his head.
“Please. I couldn’t stand like a helpless newborn drey and watch that monster murder my beloved. You would have done the same for me, wouldn’t you?”
His face softened. “I would, and that’s how I know Hooxaura rightly pronounced me no longer fit to enter the Moon Gate. I vowed to put the needs of Val’Enara first. Instead, I put my desires ahead.”
Before Quen responded, the air cracked with thunder, though the sky was clear. Ice groaned against ice. Juka’s breath swirled, wet and cold.
A grey-blue cloud materialized a few steps above as enormous icy shards crashed onto the stone. In a blur of white-grey like a dirty snowball, a man appeared, standing on a column of ice.
Nearly as tall as Aldewin, with skin dark as night, the man had icy eyes that glared beneath bushy snow-white eyebrows. Pristine pale-blue robes flew behind him as he somersaulted from his icy tower and landed gracefully on the step above them.
His voice boomed like an earthquake and erupted like a volcano. “By the Sister’s holy light, I will ice-burn you into Oblivion.” The man wound his hands the way Imbica did. But ice-blue crystals hovered there instead of a warm golden glow.
Still shaky, Aldewin stepped in front of Quen. “Prelate Hrabke, please. She did not know the ramifications of her actions. She only meant to—”
Prelate Hrabke flicked a hand, sending an icy shard to Aldewin’s feet. Hrabke’s voice was an angry hiss. “Hold your tongue, Kensai. Or have you forsworn all allegiance to Val’Enara Pillar and now swear fealty to Vay’Nada?”
Aldewin shook his head. “Vay’Nada? How can you say that, Master?” His voice shook with rage. “I left the Pillar—my home. Risked my life.” Bitter acid tinged his words. “I added scars to my heart—something I vowed I would never do again. All so I could fulfill the task the Archon set upon me.” He wiped at the water, blood, sweat, and tears with the back of his soaked sleeve. “Now that I succeeded—brought this woman to Val’Enara as the Archon ordered—you claim I am at fault for the same action.” He trembled and shook his head. “I do not understand, Master.”
Hrabke’s face softened, but only slightly. “Your true Master, Archon Kine, lay ill, Kensai. Kine and Hooxaura, their souls intertwined. And now that—” He raised an arm and pointed at Quen, his voice accusing. “The shadow-spawn creature you brought to our gate destroyed the loving heart of our guardian, and our Pillar will probably lose its Archon as well.”
Aldewin fell to his knees, his voice a whisper. “No. My Master…”
“You are not the first Kensai a shadow-spawn has seduced. Though likely not a slint, this vile shadow-spawn pulled you in just the same—promised love and affection, no doubt. Beguiled you as only the Shadow can.” Hrabke’s voice rose again, and he thrust an icy shard toward Quen. It shattered on the stone steps at her feet. “Look, Kensai Aldewin. Gaze upon Vay’Nada’s child. See her through eyes illumined by Lumine’s light. This is what you broke your vows for. What you thrust Val’Enara itself into chaos for.”
Aldewin raised watery, red-rimmed eyes to Quen. His eyes grew wide as he noticed her talon-tipped fingers, perhaps truly seeing them for the first time. His mouth twisted in agony as if pulled like a dreyskin being stretched taut for drying. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.” He stared at her with eyes like blue-grey stones in a pool of clear water. “Are you of the Shadow?”
Quen shook her head. “No.” Her heart—the human heart—thumped like a spooked herd. “You know what we have is real. I am Quen. You know me.” She took his hand and meant to place it on her chest. But she was unused to having claws, and she accidentally scratched his hand, drawing blood.
