Dragon and Phoenix (72 page)

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Authors: Joanne Bertin

BOOK: Dragon and Phoenix
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No, she was stuck with him and he with her, and they both were stuck with this tunnel. “Are you well enough to go on?”
“Yes. Just,” he said, then hesitated. Maurynna waited. The next words spilled out in a rush and made Shima sound much younger than he was. “Next time—please warn me first?” he said.
Maurynna smiled. “Fair enough. If I can, I shall. Come.”
This time she insisted on going first. Shima argued briefly but futilely. Maurynna was not in a mood to be gainsaid; thank all the gods, the man had sense enough to recognize that and recognize it quickly.
If only Linden would be so sensible … .
Once again she sent the coldfire around the bulge of stone. But this time she followed it closely, not letting it get more than a few steps away from her. After squeezing around the obstruction, Maurynna paused and poured more energy into the coldfire. It blazed up.
The light showed only more tunnel like the path they had already journeyed through. There was nothing that might explain what happened to her other globe of coldfire. Had she somehow extinguished it by accident? For a moment she almost convinced herself; then she remembered what she’d felt as it had disappeared. She shivered.
But there was nothing for it but to go on. Step by cautious step, they advanced; the coldfire glowed steadily.
There was only an instant’s warning—but it was enough. This time Maurynna was ready. She felt the coldfire flicker even before she saw it happen, and poured more energy into it, willing the glowing ball to stay lit.
It was a battle like no other she’d ever faced. Once, while serving as second mate on Aunt Maleid’s ship, she’d helped fight off pirates, and she’d defended herself against footpads more than once. But this was no battle of the flesh; this was of mind and will alone. She gritted her teeth against the unaccustomed strain and wished for a sword in her hand and a simple fight.
Die!
The command beat at the coldfire and through it, at her. The coldfire flickered and dimmed.
Live!
she ordered, recklessly pouring yet more energy into the coldfire. It was, damn it all,
her
coldfire and would go out when
she
bade it do so.
And. Not. Till. Then.
The coldfire blazed up like a tiny sun under the lash of her anger. She felt the other will retreat, sensed something like confusion, then it was back, slamming into her like a wall of hate. She pushed back with every bit of strength she had.
Dimly, she felt Shima’s hands on her shoulders; somehow she knew that he lent her his own strength, knew that he sometimes did this for Zhantse when the shaman went into trance. She seized that strength and wielded it against the Other.
It was unbearable, like being buried under a fall of boulders, each burning hot and all jagged edges. She struggled to hold from heartbeat to heartbeat.
Just when she thought she would fail, it stopped. The Other was gone. Maurynna went to her knees in relief. The coldfire hung in the air before her, glowing softly as if nothing had happened.
She shook her head, dazed. Had she imagined the whole thing? She looked back over her shoulder at Shima. By the look on his face, it had been as real as the rock beneath her.
He said, “What—what was that?” His voice shook with weariness as he held out a hand to her.
“I don’t know,” said Maurynna. She refused his hand. “Not yet; I must rest.” She leaned back against a smooth bit of wall and closed her eyes. Gods help her, she’d never felt this tired—nay, exhausted—before. This was not just a weariness of the body; she knew
that
feeling well enough. This was of the mind and spirit as well. She wanted nothing more than to curl up in Linden’s arms and sleep for a year. She wrapped her arms around her bent legs and rested her head on her knees. “Just a little while,” she said. She shut her eyes against the world.
Too short a time later, Shima touched her hand. “We must be away,” he said. “I don’t know if it’s safe in these tunnels.”
Oh, gods. Move? She was still so tired. Even the tiny effort to keep the coldfire alive was a drain. Still, she wavered to her feet.
“Are you well?” he asked anxiously.
“Well enough,” Maurynna said. Even to herself she sounded miles away. “Let’s go on for as long as I can.”
So on and on they went. The tunnel twisted now like a snake and was no longer the relatively smooth path it had been. Where before the floor had been solid—if strewn with rocks—now they had to jump from rock to rock and scramble up, down, and around. Many times it narrowed so much that they had to turn sideways and exhale before working a way through.
Once Maurynna thought she was caught. But she found that she could empty her lungs just a tiny bit more, and she squeezed through, thanking the gods all the while that she was not a big-breasted woman. Still, it was hideously uncomfortable.
Her head swam as she escaped at last. Dazed and gasping, she looked around as Shima emerged behind her.
Here the tunnel opened out into a good-sized “room.” That was good; she needed to sit once more. But to her horror, the coldfire’s now faint and wavering light revealed numerous exits from the room.
Panic nearly claimed her. Then she remembered that Zhantse had warned them of this place; at least, she hoped it was the spot he’d told them about. Behind her she heard Shima counting.
“One, two, three,” he said. He sounded unutterably weary. “Four … . There; that must be the exit. Shall we see if the blazes are there?”
They supported one another in the seemingly endless journey to cross the room. At last they reached it.
“Right hand wall,” Shima muttered. “There should be—” He stopped.
The wall was blank.
Maurynna’s stomach churned. Had they taken a wrong turn somewhere? If so, could they ever get out again? An image flashed across her mind: she and Shima wandering lost beneath the mountain until their food and water ran out. Would some other brave Tah’nehsieh explorer find their bones someday?
“Let’s look again,” she said, suddenly glad she was so tired. Otherwise, she’d be in hysterics.
They looked. Nothing. They even went down the low-ceiling tunnel a short way, although Zhantse had told them the blazes were just inside the opening. But the walls were as nature had left them.
“Where did we go wrong?” Maurynna said at last. Then, “Shima, I must sit down. Now.”
She leaned on his shoulder as he led her back to the center of the room. It was the only clear spot large enough for them to sprawl in exhaustion.
Shima opened the pouch hanging at his side and pulled out a
pyamah
cake. He carefully broke it in half and held it out to her. Their eyes met; Maurynna nodded, understanding the reason for the meager rations. It made her skin crawl. As she reached to take her portion, a wave of faintness spread over her and the coldfire flickered alarmingly.
All at once Maurynna remembered last summer, when she’d found Linden felled by an attack of combined sorcery and poisoning. She recalled now how Kief Shaeldar had taken the little globe of coldfire Linden had conjured up before the attack and returned it to him. For even the tiny expenditure of energy to keep the coldfire lit, the older Dragonlord had said, was too much for the stricken man.
She closed her eyes and concentrated as she ate. Yes; now that she paid attention to it, she could feel the drain. She could not keep the coldfire lit.
But neither can I douse it; what will that do to Shima?
Two impossibilities to reconcile; she wanted to howl her frustration and weariness to the world. Instead, she made herself say calmly, “Shima, I can’t keep the coldfire lit. Not now; not after … what happened back there.”
He swallowed hard, she saw, as if the last mouthful of
pyamah
cake had turned to ashes on his tongue. Then, slowly, reluctantly, he nodded. “I—I understand. It must be near dawn by now. We should try to sleep, I suppose … .” His voice trailed off miserably.
Sleep. Somehow the word had never sounded so beautiful before. Had the lord of all demons appeared before her and offered her gold and pearls, Maurynna would have told him to take such trash away and bring her a feather bed instead. Swallowing the last bit of
pyamah
cake, she curled up on the dusty floor of the cave, and drew her
jelah
closer.
Shima did the same. “Ready?” she asked.
A long pause. “Yes.” He squeezed his eyes shut.
She bade the coldfire go out, hoping that “tomorrow” she’d have the strength to bring it forth once more.
Yet even if she did, they were still lost. Her heart quailed at the sudden reminder. Resolutely, she thrust the knowledge from her. Things would work themselves out when she woke.
She hoped.
 
“This is a good place to camp,” Tefira said. “See the
dilanqui
vines? We can get water from them.”
Raven looked around and nodded; the spot was sheltered, with plenty of vines crawling over the rock. “Well enough,” he said and swung out of the saddle. He rested a hand on the Llysanyin’s shoulder while he stretched the kinks out of his back.
“And a good place to leave the horses,” Tefira continued as he jumped to the ground.
“What?” Raven demanded. Leave Stormwind?
Stormwind stamped a foot as if echoing his thoughts.
Tefira nodded. “From here on the trail is too broken and narrow for them; remember, I’ve listened to the scouts talking. And see that big rock there? The one like a woman wearing a
jelah
and carrying a basket on her head?”
With a jut of his chin, the boy indicated a rock formation about a half mile away from them. After a moment Raven remembered that pointing was considered impolite among the tribe. It took him a moment to tell which rock Tefira spoke of, for he was unused to seeing images in the bones of this land the way the Tah’nehsieh did. But then something in his vision shifted, and he saw it clearly.
“That means that we’re nearing the rim of the valley. On horseback, we would be silhouetted against the sky—and those silhouettes would be wrong.
We don’t look like Jehangli soldiers, and our mounts don’t look like Jehangli horses, especially Stormwind.”
Raven met the Llysanyin’s gaze. “He’s right, boy,” Raven said reluctantly.
Stormwind’s ears went back.
“You know he’s right.”
Stormwind looked away. He snorted, a sound of pure and unadulterated disgust.
Thank the gods he can’t talk, Raven thought. He’s just said plenty, and I don’t think I’d like to hear it in words.
 
Maurynna woke to a darkness so complete that for a moment she thought she’d gone blind. But before she had time to panic, she remembered where she was—and that was enough to bring on a second rush of fear.
She forced it away and sat up, hugging her knees. The unnatural fatigue was gone; she must have slept deeply indeed to feel this rested. It was time to go on—if they could.
At a word from her, a globe of coldfire appeared in the air, spinning slowly. As its light fell on Shima’s face, he awoke.
He blinked up at her, then, as he remembered their plight, sat up as well, his expression grim.
“Shima, I hate to ask this, but are you certain you remembered correctly?”
He nodded. “The tunnel that goes to—” He stopped, his eyes unfocused. Then, so suddenly it startled her, he jumped to his feet. “I didn’t count the tunnel we came in through, did I?”
Maurynna pointed. “It was that one; I remember the knob on that little outcropping.” She sent the coldfire to him and watched, holding her breath, as the Tah’nehsieh strode along the wall, counting.
Stopping before another opening, Shima seized the coldfire and examined the walls. One look at the grinning face he turned back to her, and she was on her feet. Scooping up their shoulder pouches, she said, “Let’s get out of here.”
They set off down the tunnel.
 
“So where will they be?” Raven whispered as he and Tefira scuttled among the rocks.
“They would have gone to my cousin Amura,” Tefira answered. “He knows the entrance.”
“So where’s Amura?”
Tefira didn’t answer. Alarmed, Raven said, “Don’t you know where—”
“No! All I know is that he’s in the slave camp, but I don’t know where that is. This is further than I’ve ever been before.” The boy scrambled ahead.
Raven stood rooted to the ground in shock. “You mean we’ve come all this way, and you don’t even know how to find—”
With something that sounded suspiciously like a sob, Tefira broke into a run and disappeared around an outcropping. Desperate not to lose the only guide he had, Raven raced after.
As he came around the outcropping, he heard Tefira cry out, but it was too late. He ran straight into the Jehangli patrol. An armored fist caught him on the side of the head; he went to his knees, hearing the cries of “Dakka! Dakka!” that he’d heard too often in Jehanglan whenever someone saw his hair or Lleld’s for the first time.

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