Dragon and Phoenix (74 page)

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Authors: Joanne Bertin

BOOK: Dragon and Phoenix
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It looks just like a giant, upside-down bowl!
She nearly giggled at the thought. Somehow, she’d always pictured a palace like the imperial palace, with the Phoenix perched upon a tower. This was, she had to admit, somewhat of a disappointment—just an upside-down bowl of light, like the smaller ones that held the crowns, that hid whatever was—
Something moved inside the light. Shei-Luin gasped. Whatever it was, it had been huge. No, not a whatever—she had seen the Phoenix. She bowed to it, but the shadow was gone.
When she returned to the temple, Shei-Luin said to the high priest, “I wish my sons to see this, to receive the blessing of the Phoenix. I will await them here. Murohshei, go to the palace and bring Xahnu and Xu to me when they awaken from their naps.”
The head priest bowed to her and said, “This way, then, Phoenix Lady. There’s a set of chambers for the use of the imperial family when they visit; I shall bring you there.”
As Murohshei departed on his errand, Shei-Luin followed the priest.
 
The tunnel ended in a huge cavern. Maurynna jumped down to the cavern floor. She held the coldfire before her, but the space was so huge that its light was but a feeble glow that revealed nothing.
Then, once again, the will of the Other slammed against her, and the coldfire died.
Once more Shima set his
shoulder to the round boulder. This time he pushed so hard that his joints cracked and his vision swam.
Nothing.
Perhaps it was the almost superhuman effort; perhaps not. But suddenly the world was too sharp, too clear once more. Startled, Shima heaved one last time.
The boulder tumbled from its precarious base with an ease that sent him reeling. He went down on hands and knees. Somehow he kept his wits about him long enough to look below.
The boulder picked up speed as it hurtled down the slope. With a sound like thunder, it swept other boulders and rocks before it. In moments, the single stone had become an avalanche.
The looks of horror on the faces of the leading men cut Shima to his soul. The poor wretches barely had time to scream before they were crushed like insects.
He felt sick. This was not the first time he’d killed a man; even though he was no warrior, he’d once fought to defend himself, his family, and the others in the spring pilgrimage to the Holy Mountain of the Lady when they’d been attacked by a stray patrol of Jehangli warriors. But that time it had been face-to-face. This …
He shook his head. He’d had no choice but to use whatever weapons he could lay hand to; now he’d best take thought to saving his own skin. With the boulder gone, so was his concealment. And not all of the Jehangli had been caught; he could see at least two who, being lower down, had cast themselves to the sides and safety. Now the faces that turned up to him revealed animal fury and a lust for revenge; a lust that would not be satisfied until they had spitted him on the ends of their spears and watched his blood flow while he thrashed in a lingering death.
Shima jumped to his feet and ran.
 
Murohshei sat in the nursery, waiting patiently for the children to waken. He knew from bitter experience that, if woken early, Xahnu would be cranky for
the rest of the day. He smiled down at the little emperor-to-be, sleeping peacefully with his thumb in his mouth, the dark fringe of his lashes like crescent moons upon his cheeks. His brother lay beside him, a smile on his plump-cheeked face.
Zyuzin plopped down on the cushions beside him. “It will be a while,” he whispered ruefully, “because we just got them settled a short time ago.” He nodded at the children’s nurses, who sat a little ways off, gossiping with their heads together. “Took me
ages
to sing them to sleep.”
Murohshei shrugged. “So? The temple will still be there, and our lady understands.”
 
Malevolence lurked in that darkness; if she took one more step into it, it would be on her like a snowcat on its prey. She dared not create another ball of coldfire. Until she had a better idea of what was in here, she would not reveal her position. She had never been afraid of the dark before, but this terrified her. If only Linden was here with her … . If only
someone
could be here with her.
But the darkness was not the worst of it. For now the stench of the place attacked like a living, malignant thing. It nearly overwhelmed her; she clapped a hand over her mouth and fought her rebellious stomach down. The acrid reek wound around her and brought tears to her eyes. She wondered if she’d ever be able to scrub the stink off.
Gods help me,
she thought, wiping her eyes, concentrating on breathing through her mouth, though it was little better,
has poor Pirakos lived in his own filth all this time?
Her stomach did another slow flip.
She took a cautious breath, shallow and experimental. The stench of excrement was nearly overwhelming, but, worse yet, under it she could smell festering flesh and old, rotting blood. She breathed through her mouth again, sickened. Morlen had been right; Pirakos’s chains had dug into his flesh as a rope knotted around a young tree is covered by the growing wood. The thought of his agony made her knees tremble.
Still, there was no gain in standing here. She shuffled a little further into the cavern.
Something caught Maurynna’s foot; she stumbled. In catching herself, her foot came down heavily on a lump that splintered with a dry crack and threw her off balance. She staggered and fell.
Her hand came down on a round rock. But when her fingers closed over it, they slid into two openings. Holding her breath, Maurynna explored further.
It wasn’t a rock. It was a skull. A human skull.
 
“I must see how my brother fares,” Tefira insisted. “I know which way he went. Even I’ve learned the ways through this badland. I listened when the
scouts talked, studied the maps they scratched in the dirt. I—just never learned where the slave camp was.”
Raven knew it was dangerous. Worse, it was useless. Unarmed as they were, they could give Shima no aid. But neither could he gainsay Tefira’s right. This was a matter of kin. So he nodded sharply and said, “So be it.”
Tefira was off like a racehorse. Raven scrambled after him, only his long legs enabling him to keep up with the boy. Up and down and around they ran, dodging boulders and prickly plants, until they reached a ridge. There they hunkered down among the rocks so that they wouldn’t stand out against the skyline. Below them, the earth formed a rock-strewn hollow. Raven cleared a space of some sharp stones and laid down on his stomach, careful to keep his head in a patch of shadow so that the sun wouldn’t flame in his hair.
“See the path that runs just below the ridge on the other side? I think Shima will make for that; it leads down to a maze of trails that the Jehangli won’t go through if they can help it. Sometimes our young warriors hunt there. We can reach it from this side as well.”
Tefira did not, Raven noted, say just what the warriors came to hunt. He suspected it wasn’t rabbits.
“Here he comes!” Joy and relief flooded the boy’s voice.
Raven saw Shima crest the ridge and slither down to the trail. One moment all was well; the Tah’nehsieh ran along the path like a mountain goat. The next, Shima was tumbling down the slope in a cloud of dust.
Then Raven heard the faint sound of shouted orders and knew that the soldiers would be there any moment.
 
“Thank you for letting Yesuin ride with us again,” Linden said, reining Shan alongside Dzeduin’s horse as they rode on the banks of the Black River.
The Zharmatian shrugged and smiled ruefully. “Since Yemal’s not here now … . It just seems cruel, making him stay in Ghulla’s tent all the time. Even she enjoys riding still,” Dzeduin said, glancing over at the ancient Seer, who kept up easily with the group.
Lleld said something to her, gesturing to Jekkanadar and Otter, and the Seer burst into cackling laughter.
“How old is she, anyway?” Linden asked.
“Old. Very old. I don’t think she’s changed since I was a child.” Dzeduin shivered. “I don’t ask how she does it. I don’t think I want to know.”
They rode on a little longer side-by-side. Then Dzeduin burst out, “I wonder when she’s going to tell Yesuin—she won’t let me do it.”
“Tell him what?”
“That Xiane Ma Jhi—the emperor, the one who saved his life; his friend—is dead. She said he needs to find Zhantse in Nisayeh first.”
Linden looked over at Yesuin, who had joined the laughing group in their joke.
“Poor beggar,” he said.
 
It happened as he jumped over a small crack in the dried ground. Shima’s foot came down on a loose rock and he tumbled down the slope in a painful tangle of sharp little stones and sand. He fetched up at the bottom of the basin with a painful thump that knocked the wind out of him. His head spun.
He sat up, shaking his head, then took stock. Bruises, yes; scrapes, yes—even a deep cut or two. And a bump on his head that hurt like blazes. But there was nothing broken or even sprained.
“Hwah!” he said as he lurched to his feet and limped off. “That was lu—Ouch!” He’d found a new bruise.
He scuttled across the bottom of the basin as fast as he could, intending to be over the far ridge before the Jehangli soldiers climbed the one he’d fallen from.
But the basin was wider than he’d thought, and the way was so broken that he was only partway up the other side when he heard the clash of armor. Ahead was a tiny “cave” formed by a tumble of boulders. Shima threw himself at it and wormed a way inside, fervently hoping there were no snakes hiding there from the sun.
He curled up, turning so that he could look back the way he came, the opening etched stark and bright beyond the darkness that sheltered him. At once his body began to complain. Shima ignored it, concentrating on breathing lightly so that he might hear the soldiers.
Let them take the path!
he prayed over and over.
At first all he heard was a distant murmur of voices. Then, once again, his hearing played tricks on him.
“HERE! A TRAIL!”
The words clanged in his head. For a moment he thought they would shatter his skull. He moaned and clutched his head against the pain.
“WHAT IF HE WENT DOWN?”
Then it was upon him again, worse than ever. The Feeling thrashed within his chest like a hawk throwing itself against the bars of a cage.
OutOutOutOutOutOutOut!
Even knowing it was Death that drove him, Shima scrambled frantically for the opening.
 
Bones. The floor of the cavern was littered with cracked and shattered bones. Maurynna’s hands searched around her almost without her willing it. Her head spun; had the Jehangli priestmages fed Pirakos on criminals and those suspected of harboring a dragonsoul? She licked dry lips.
Gods, what that must have done to Pirakos, forced to eat human flesh. She prayed that the unfortunates were dead before they’d been thrown in. Her mind quailed at the thought of what terror they’d faced otherwise. Then she realized: these were the ones that got away, only to die a long, lingering death in the darkness.
She had to have a light; she’d been lucky before. Some of the fragments she’d touched were sharp as a spear. If she’d landed wrong … .
Cupping her hands, Maurynna called up a tiny flicker of coldfire, barely more than a candle’s flame. It cast the feeblest of glows.
Yet it was enough, with her dragonsight, to reveal that an arched opening lay before her, and that the cavern she followed curved away beyond it.
She stood up once more and held the coldfire cupped in her hands. What she sought lay beyond that arch, and seek it she must.
From nowhere a voice hissed through her mind like a wind of cold evil.
*Truuuuehuuuuumaaaaan.*
She walked through the archway as one bespelled.
 
Shima staggered as the harsh desert sunlight beat down on him. The brightness seared his eyes as if someone had thrust a torch into them. He groped his way along the rock-strewn ground, the Feeling driving him into the open. On he went, hearing the triumphant cries of the soldiers, but as if from a distance, as if they had nothing to do with him.
But they did, and part of him knew it and fought to get away. The war went on in his mind but his feet led him unerringly to the center of the basin.
He saw the Jehangli soldiers reach the bottom of the slope—and he could do nothing. The Feeling ruled him, devoured him, would kill him.
Spirits—no! This is madness! They’ll kill me—please let me go,
he begged it.
One soldier’s arm drew back; Shima saw the sunlight blaze along the spearhead. In another instant it would bury itself in his heart. But there was nothing he could do.
For he—he was melting! Shima cried out in terror as the world faded, but there was no sound.
 
Maurynna went forward, step by slow step. Bones blanketed the cavern floor. She never knew at what point she became aware of the slow, heavy breathing. At first it seemed to be the ebb and flow of her own heart’s blood in her ears. Then she realized the sound came from without, but that it demanded her heart match its rhythm even as her feet moved to its time.
Then she was past the turning and climbing up a wall into a cavern even larger than the one before, and shaped like a long, deep bowl, blackened in places. A narrow path, level with the entrance, ran around the the sides. At the far end were four pillars hewn from glittering quartz, their tops level with the
path, each surrounded by a nimbus of golden light; in the center of the square they formed was a huge, oddly shaped rock. Two of the pillars were beyond the rock; but of the two that she could see, the heaviest chains Maurynna had ever seen led from their bases to the rock in the center. She walked along the path, looking down into the bowl and wondering at the strange scene, forgetting all else: her fear, the terrible stench of the place, the malevolence that flooded this hollow heart of the mountain.
Then, with a rattle of those cruel chains, the strange rock moved. A great eye opened, glowing red and insane in the light of the pillars as the huge head peered up at her. Long white fangs shone as Pirakos laughed silently, horribly.

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