Fires of the Desert (Children of the Desert Book 4) (2 page)

The stairs seemed to go on forever, yet ended far too soon. Deiq was waiting for her, leaning against the wall beside the lowest door to be found in the entire tower: a heavy metal door, studded with black rivets and radiating an underground chill. A lantern hung on a hook by the door provided barely enough light to see Deiq’s taut expression.

Veils of shadow gathered in every crease and hollow of his lean face, threaded along the long strands of ebony hair. His black eyes gave away nothing in bright light; and here, masked in uncertain illumination, they conveyed even less than usual.

She stopped three steps from the bottom, staring down at him with a sudden bright hatred blossoming in her chest.

He glanced at her, then put his attention to the floor before him. “I’ve never been inside,” he said, voice muted.

Her rage damped instantly.

Deiq knew what had happened in the room beyond that metal door as well as she did; had his own weight of pain over the matter, obviously, although he’d never shared that with her. The rooms above their heads were almost entirely decorated with breathtaking murals of sunny days and vast landscapes, images that portrayed only joy and love and beauty. Images done by a master’s hand.

Deiq’s hand.

He’d painted the inside walls of the former Northern Church tower with an eye to the good that had gone on here, not the evil that had slowly wormed through the previous inhabitants. It had to have taken him months of unsleeping, unrelenting effort and attention—and he’d never come below the first floor? Not once?

What had happened to him here? She knew better than to ask aloud, and the slight, sharp movement of his head told her that he’d heard the thought and wasn’t answering.

Alyea came the rest of the way to his side and said, hoarse with conflicting pains, “Get it over with, then.”

He let out a long breath and raised a hand. The door shifted in its frame, opening as though on its own. A fetid stench spilled out. Alyea put a hand over her nose, gagging.

Deiq gripped Alyea’s shoulder hard. Fine tremors ran through his muscles, and he breathed in great, rasping gasps.

“Ah, gods,” he muttered.
“Bad
idea—”

“Focus,” she said sharply, prodding him in the stomach; his eyes popped open, and he stared at her as though shocked from a dream. “Focus, damnit!”

He wet his lips, his gaze fixed on her with disconcerting intensity. “Yes,” he said. “Focus. Thank you.” He swallowed hard, raising his head to stare at the darkness beyond the now-wide-open door. After a moment, he let go of Alyea’s shoulder and said, “I can’t do it. It’s—I can’t explain right now.”

He raised his hand again; the door began to swing ponderously shut.

Alyea put out a foot and stopped it. “No,” she said, black fury suddenly surging through her. “I’m not walking away. I’m not letting what that ta-karne did stop me.”

“Alyea—”

“No.”
She swung to face the doorway and
willed
any candles in the room to light.

Deiq let out a sharp, pained hiss.

The room beyond flared into bright detail. Multiple lanterns along each wall, as many thick candles in arrays and singles; a loose pile of candles had been dropped atop a rumpled mound of dark cloth. The cloth went up a moment later, kindling that had only been waiting for an invitation.

Alyea spared the growing blaze a disinterested glance, enough to be sure it was only cloth and not a body left behind. She advanced a step into the room, studying the contents with growing anger.

The walls were a pale yellow, a mild and obscenely pleasant color compared to what lay within their bounds. Alyea recognized a number of the tools laid on the small tray stand by each table; Tevin had used most of them on her. She’d only been spared from the items too large to fit into Tevin’s work chest, and there weren’t many of those.

Worst of all, the tools were, one and all,
clean;
even shining, as though the occupants had scrubbed them and polished them with meticulous care before setting them in neat rows and walking away to some other, more reputable way of making a living.

The stench of the room had no clear source; no blood staining the tables, no urine sprayed against the walls. But Alyea could
hear
the screaming that had happened here, could
feel
the pain washing through the air like a dark rip-current.

For just a moment, she thought she could smell rosemary and garlic.

“Fuck
this!”

She didn’t realize she’d said it aloud—no,
shouted—
until she felt the strain tickling through her throat in its wake. A heartbeat later, the candles and lanterns—

—just—

—exploded,
throwing a white flare of heat across the room; she staggered back a step, felt Deiq’s hands lock onto her, drawing her out of the way. The metal door slammed shut, leaving them outside the room. A series of muffled
booms
shook the ground.

“Gods
damn,”
Deiq said, his whole body trembling, and pulled her close against him.

Alyea heard something sizzling inside the room. A thick heat began to emanate from the metal door. The booming faded to a sharp, erratic popping.

It took her a few more moments to realize that Deiq was shaking, not with fear, but with laughter. She jerked free and glared up at him.

“Well done,” he said, grinning openly. “Now, about the difference between a candle and a bonfire—”

“You—”
Bastard
never made it out. A wave of dizziness crashed over her, and she fell forward into complete darkness.

“The difference,” someone said in a grey haze, “is the anger. Fire needs strong emotions; the stronger the emotion, the stronger the fire.”

She blinked. The grey stayed, blocking her vision.

“To work with water needs an entirely different approach,” Deiq’s voice went on, placid and even. “As does air, and earth, and spirit. And each one takes a different toll on you.”

“Bastard,” she managed to croak.

“Don’t waste your time with being angry at me,” he said, tone mildly amused. “Pay attention.” A snapping noise in front of her; then he asked, “Can you see me?”

Abrupt terror washed through her. “No!”

He grunted. “Give it some time. You did the hells’ own job on that room. I doubt we’ll find anything left besides melted slag once we open the door. That took a huge effort on your part, and it had to come from somewhere. You’re paying that price I mentioned.”

“You
tricked
me!”

“I taught you something important.”

Sensations resolved: the feel of the thick bed-mat beneath her, her clothes hot and scratchy, muscles from wrist to shoulder quivering as though just released from an incredible strain. Air currents chilled one side, warmth radiated on her other. Deiq had to be the source of the warmth.

She punched out to the left, hard. He caught her hand in his own and laughed.

“You’re wasting your energy,” he said, moving her hand to rest on her chest. “There’s no
point
being angry at me, Alyea. What emotion do you think you need to work with water? What’s opposite from anger and hate?”

She drew in a long breath, squeezing her eyes shut, and made herself be calm and still. “Grief,” she said at last.

“No.”

She considered a while longer; at last said, tentatively, “Love?”

He hummed to himself for a moment, then, “Not exactly. But that’s a mistake most humans make. Do you know what hatred is? You know what it
feels
like. But what
is
it, really?”

She opened her eyes; the grey haze blocked vision, so she shut them again and lay still, thinking about that. Anger still simmered through her, a desire to shout and scold Deiq until he
understood
that he’d been
wrong—

“Think about what you’re thinking,” Deiq said. “That’s your answer.”

“I’m not thinking that—”

She stopped, considering, and finally abandoned her initial protest of
I’m not thinking that I hate you;
that was too obvious an interpretation, and Deiq rarely did that. So he meant her to see something else. She thought about her anger, her desire to argue with him, and slowly sorted through to what he had more probably meant her to see.

“I don’t—have the words,” she said at last. “Something about...not wanting to understand the other point of view. Shutting out anything but your own belief.”

“Good.” Deiq hitched around to sit directly behind her. He leaned forward, his breath warm on her forehead; worked his fingers into her hair, rubbing Alyea’s scalp lightly. His hands slid around to just behind her ears, then he hooked his fingers gently under the base of her skull, to either side of her spine, and tensed into a slight pull.

Alyea moaned as knots of tension dissolved, and relaxed into his hands without hesitation.

Deiq released his hold, massaged her scalp again briefly, then splayed his hands along her cheeks and said, “You’re doing very well, Alyea. I mean that. Most desert lord trainees are already aware of what I’m teaching you before they ever reach the trials. I’m doing things the hard way because we’re having to skip over years of training in a hurry.”

She listened to the thudding pulse working through his hands and said, “Is that an apology?”

His hands tightened a little, then pulled away.

“No,” he said. “I don’t have anything to apologize for.”

Annoyance flared tension back into her body. “I’m blind! You could have
warned
me.”

“It’s temporary, and it’s only one of several possible consequences. You’re in a safe place to experience any of them. Stand up.” He shifted position again. His hands tucked under her shoulders, urging her up, then wrapped around her arms, steadying her as she stumbled to her feet. The grey haze remained unrelenting, and terror chilled her again as Deiq let her go and stepped away.

“Don’t—” she said involuntarily, taking a cautious step forward; one arm out ahead, the other to the side, fingers spread wide.

“I’m right here,” he said. “Stand still. Shut your eyes. Where am I?”

She caught control of bubbling panic and forced herself to look without her eyes, as he’d taught her. His presence was a dark bulk, more sensed than seen, to her right.

He said, “Focus. I’m reaching out to touch—”

“Right side,” she said immediately, and put her hand out without hesitation, grasping his fingers tightly.

“Good. See, blindness isn’t important.” He tugged his hand free. She could
feel
him moving another step away and to her left; she turned, eyes still shut, to find him in his new location. “It won’t last long, in any case. Less than a day, I think.”

“You
think?”

“Mm. Stay there.”

She stood still, eyes shut, and listened carefully to the small sounds he made over the next few moments; at last she said, “You’re—undressing?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Why not?” The laughter had returned to his voice. He returned to stand in front of her.

She blinked, unable to find an answer to that. His fingertips stroked the sides of her face, then continued down the sides of her neck, shoulders; down her arms to her wrists, which he took in a gentle grip and lifted upwards, over her head.

“Reach up,” he said. “Stretch.” His hands trailed down her arms, along her sides, lifted the bottom edge of her shirt; she sucked in a breath and arched her back as he set his mouth against her stomach, sending hot chills through her entire body.

“Is this another lesson?” she rasped, bringing her hands down to rest on his head.

“You could call it that,” he said. “Or a way to pass the time until the next one. Whichever you prefer.” He stood, tugging her shirt over her head as he moved.

“We have
got
to get you some kathain,” she said, grinning into the grey haze.

“No,” he said, voice suddenly rough, “we don’t. Not while you’re around—”

His hands caught into her hair, then moved to other areas. Surprise at that comment faded fast, and soon even the comment was forgotten completely.

The Northern Church Tower seemed almost to glow with vitality around Deiq, as though it had absorbed the tremendous energies thrown forth over the days of his seclusion with Alyea. The last trace of the evil that had once lingered within the stone walls had been comprehensively washed away, leaving only an entirely unexpected sense of wholeness, of healing, of release in the air. Deiq couldn’t bring himself to leave any more than a child in a comfortable, loving womb could bear to expel itself prematurely.

Once her eyesight returned, Alyea had gone out twice, to bring back food. She hadn’t gone far, and returned quickly, clearly feeling the same reluctance to face the outside world. He knew that wouldn’t last. Her human nature meant that she sensed every day as part of her life escaping, at a level far below consciousness. Ironically, many desert lords, with their extended life-spans, felt that urgency more, rather than less, strongly: Deiq suspected that tied into their higher sex drive.

He saw her restlessness beginning to grow as she recovered from the strain of incinerating the cellar contents. Only time would tell if the release of her anger had eased the internal pressure of what Kippin and Tevin had done to her. He might have to set her loose on something else, to burn off the rest of it. He was back on familiar ground now, with the time and privacy to handle her training as he liked; and she wasn’t
fighting
him any longer.