The Black Tower (32 page)

“So what now?” Ijanna asked.

Good question
, Dane thought.

The three of them had made as much progress as they could over the days that followed the fall of Chul Gaerog, but it was slow going and difficult, especially since Dane kept Argus bound with a pair of Veilcrafted shackles the man had been carrying, doubtless meant to contain Ijanna if he’d decided to take her prisoner instead of just outright killing her.  Dane didn’t like having to restrain the man, but he was dangerous to them, at least for the moment.  Especially to Ijanna.

The Veilwarden had spoken little since their flight from the Black Tower.  For a while Dane hadn’t even been sure the man would ever wake up, and when he did he’d been none-too-thrilled to see Ijanna still alive.

The Heartfang Wastes were vast and dead, a desolate and dangerous place Dane had heard stories of but had only ventured into once, back in his early days with the White Dragon Army.  Rich red soil stretched for as far as the eye could see.  The earth was pitted with bones and the rusted remains of weapons, old scraps of armor and twisted trees, the moldered skeletons of the Rift War still visible beneath the thin lair of crimson dust.  The sky was as red as the land, a constant and unsettling hue of blood.  Breathing that leaden air was exhausting.

Dane was weary from head to toe.  His eyes burned with fatigue, and just the weight of his armor seemed too much to bear.  Sweat poured down his face, and his spine jarred like it was being struck with metal. 

Goddess, some reprieve would be nice.

But there was no Goddess to ask favor of.  There hadn’t been, not in his lifetime, nor in those of his parents or grandparents or long before that.  He knew that now, accepted it, though he knew many wouldn’t.  The purpose of the Skullborn hadn’t been to end life so Corvinia would be reborn, as Ijanna herself had believed, because both the One Goddess and the Unmarker were dead, and they weren’t coming back.  Ijanna had learned the truth from the Janus Tree, the true source and intelligence behind the Veil, a mad entity twisted by pain and rage and determined to drive humanity to destroy it.  

Ijanna had been forced to subdue the Tree.  She’d wanted to prevent it from doing further harm, but how?  To seal the Tree off so it couldn’t be Touched was beyond even her capabilities, and while she could keep herself from becoming the Blood Queen she couldn’t prevent Veilwardens from using magic, or Bloodspeakers from being born.  Even if she’d had the ability to do so, cutting Malzaria off from magic would have caused irreparable damage. 

“Dane?” she said.

They’d stopped for the night and made camp near a cluster of shattered granite and shale that glittered like dark diamonds.  There was no moon, no sound save for that they made.  The small fire sputtered light into the sea of darkness, and the wind was bitterly cold and smelled of carrion. 

They’d been forced to rely on magic for food and water, even to spark the small fire.  Even knowing what they did, there was little else they could do if they wanted to survive. 

“Sorry,” he said.  Dane looked at her from across the firelight.  She seemed none the worse for wear, especially considering all she’d been through.  Her eyes shone with a subtle crimson radiance, filled with resolve and power.  If anything the harrowing journey she’d undergone seemed to have made her stronger.  “We keep moving,” he said.  “We won’t last long out here, magic or no, and if we don’t stay ahead of the predators and Tuscars we’re done for.  We’ve been lucky so far, but our luck won’t hold out forever.”

“No, it won’t,” Argus said.  He was seated close by, his shackles secure but his hands in front of him so he could eat the Veilcrafted gruel Dane had conjured.  He was dirty and clearly tired, his shoulders slumped, his eyes locked on something distant that only he could see.  “It’s a wonder we’ve made it this far without being devoured.”

Argus didn’t look at them.  Dane understood that Argus felt responsible for the people he’d lost inside the Tower, especially the lady Veilwarden.  Some part of Argus had died in there with them.

“That’s not what I meant,” Ijanna said.  “I mean...what now?”

“I thought you already had some ideas about that,” Dane said after a moment. 

Ijanna nodded.

“I was brought up believing a lie,” she said.  “I won’t help the Tree destroy itself.  Nor will I let any others.”

“The Skullborn,” Dane said.

Argus lifted his head then and looked at Ijanna. 

“You’re going to kill the Witch Mother,” he said.

“Yes,” Ijanna said.  “She can’t be allowed to do what I didn’t.  If the Tree finds a way to summon her, she can drain the Veil and end us all.”

“Killing her won’t solve things,” Dane said. 

“It’s a start,” she said.

Silence.  They might have been sitting on the surface of the moon.  Dane shivered in spite of the heat.  He still felt the Tower all around him, and the sensation made his flesh crawl.  So much of what had happened there seemed little more than a half-remembered nightmare, yet it would stay with him for the rest of his life.  The screams, the blood.  His violent self, the embodiment of all of that evil he’d so desperately tried to purge, that he’d desperately hoped to wipe away by helping Ijanna, had taken control.  He’d tasted the world through the lips of the black avatar of his own soul, and it terrified him. 

Argus looked at Ijanna, and smiled knowingly.

“What?” Dane asked him threateningly.

“He’s right,” Argus said to her.  “Killing the Witch Mother won’t stop the Janus Tree.  You’ll eventually die, and another Blood Queen will be born.  If you destroy the Veil, it wins, and we all die.  If you let things run their course, eventually the Veil will be used up, and we all die.  If you destroy the Tree, it wins, and we die.”  Argus turned back to the fire.  Angry tears ran down his face.  Dane heard his sharp breaths.  “It’s pointless.  No matter what we do, one way or another the Tree wins.”

Ijanna moved to say something, but swallowed her words.  She stood and walked out to the edge of the firelight, where she was just a silhouette against the backdrop of the night.

“There’s always a way,” Dane said.  “Always.”  He stood and walked towards Ijanna, no longer concerned with Argus Saam’siir in the least.  “Ijanna?”

She stood with her arms wrapped around her.  Her cloak fluttered in the dank breeze.

“I don’t know what to do, Azander,” she said quietly.  “All my life I was told to do this, promised I was serving the greater good.  That my sacrifice would mean something, that I’d be saving lives.”  She choked back tears.  “It was all a lie.  My whole life.”

Dane stood next to her.  He wanted to reach out and take her in his arms, but he doubted she’d welcome that.  What had happened between them had been unnatural.  He was still the man who’d murdered her son.  He didn’t think he could ever be redeemed, not in her eyes, and not in his own.  He shivered, and looked into the darkness with her. 

You don’t deserve forgiveness
, he told himself. 
This cursed life is better than no life at all.  The dead’s worries are over.  You have to keep going, and deal with the mess that’s left behind.

“You called me to help you,” he said.  “Back in the Tower.”

“Yes,” she said.  “I don’t know how I did it.  I don’t know if I was even aware that it was happening.”  She looked at him, and smiled that same tearful smile.  “I’ve bonded men to me before.  They’ve all died, bound by the Veil to protect me, or to perish.  I used to think it was the Veil’s doing, but now I know it was my own.  They protected me from myself.  They were there to keep me from carrying out the Tree’s will.”  She looked down, and her tears stained the ground.  “The first man I bonded became the father of my child.  The second was a young man who lost everything because of me.”  She looked at him with pain in her eyes.  “And now you.”

“You saved the worst for last,” he said with a grim smile.

“You saved me.”

“After I stole everything you had.”  He shivered again, a lance of cold caught in his veins.  He swallowed, his earlier calm gone.  If he’d thought there was a Goddess to see him he’d have crossed himself; if he’d been of the Den’nari faith he’d have drawn a circle at his feet and knelt to it for guidance.  But there was no Goddess, and he didn’t believe in the Den’nari faith, so he did nothing, just stood there and felt the weight of his life press down on him. 

“You’re a good man, Dane,” she said.  “No matter what you think.”

“I can’t be forgiven,” he said.  He felt a tear stain his cheek, lost in the grime of his stubble. 

“None of us can,” she said.  She turned back and stared out at the night.  Argus was still at the fireside, quietly looking up at the sky.  “I’m in charge of my own fate now,” she said, sounding terrified and empowered at once.  “I’ll do what I choose...and I choose to put a stop to the Tree’s agenda.  I just don’t know how.”

“There might not be a way,” Dane said after a moment.

“I know,” she said.  “But I have to try.”  She looked at him.  “Help me.”

Dane released a shuddering breath.  That weight, growing heavier.  It would never be lifted, not so long as he lived.  He heard the screams, felt the flames, tasted the air thick with innocent blood.  He saw the boy, felt a mother’s pain.  Tears fell.  He was hollow inside. 

This is what you deserve.

“I will,” he said.  “Or I’ll die trying.”

Ijanna looked back to the fire.

“What of Argus?”

“I’ll let him decide what happens to him,” Dane said.  “We could use his help, but I’m not sure he’ll offer it.”  Dane swallowed hard.  “I won’t kill him.  I’ve condemned too many to death already.”

Ijanna just nodded. 

Dane wasn’t sure how long they stood there, two silhouettes in the night.  He knew only that his breath slowed and his body cooled, and when the first stars burned through the atmosphere they took him by surprise, for the world had grown even darker, like they’d waded into a sea of pitch.  Ijanna’s hood slipped in that time, and pale blonde strands of her hair blew across her face.  He was lost in the sight of her.

After a time, they returned to the fire.

It was a new day.  Cold, but filled with light.

Kyver and Genna made their way north out of Ebonmark on the merchant vessel
Goliath
, a gigantic sailing barge bound west for the Grey Sea.  Kyver had been glad, at least, to have picked up some of his mother’s trade, for all it took was a few picked pockets and the two of them had enough gold to buy passage all of the way to Ral Tanneth, though he doubted they’d go that far.  It was probably unwise to leave the city at all, at least if he ever wanted to find Vellexa, but more than anything he wanted to get out of the shadow of Colonel Blackhall and whatever was left of the Black Guild.  Either of them might be searching for him, and he didn’t want to put Genna in danger, especially since she seemed intent on sticking with him as they took off on this new adventure. 

I’ll find Vellexa when things quiet down
, he thought. 
Or else she’ll find me.

Goliath
, for all of its vastness and double masts and sprawling storage space, was a cargo ship, not a passenger vessel.  Kyver purchased new clothes for them both before they’d left the city, which had earned some strange looks from both the proprietors of
Marrin’s Fineries
and
the captain of the cargo vessel, but money was money, and Kyver’s was as good as anyone else’s.

Ebonmark faded behind them, a fat dark spot on the water.  The sun was bright and the air was clear, and Kyver and Genna sat huddled together on a stack of crates on the deck, wrapped in a thick woolen blanket.  There were no other passengers on board, just Captain Torek and his crew, but for all of the horrible tales Kyver had heard about sailors they seemed an amiable enough lot, full of swagger and song and tall tales about the rivers and seas, but ultimately harmless.  So long as he Genna stayed out of the way he guessed it would be a pleasant voyage.

They sat together and watched the sky bleed color into the world.  The Razortooth Mountains lie to the north, tall and terrible peaks capped with snow, while to the south lay Ravenwood, miles of densely packed forest filled with horrors. 

Neither of them had ever been outside of Ebonmark.  They were leaving their world, entering something so much larger and full of danger.

“Kyver?” Genna said after they’d sailed for a time.  They’d both been nearly lulled to sleep by the lap of waves against the sides of the ship, the rhythm of the rocking vessel, the creak of ropes and wood and the calls of gulls.

“Yes?”

“Thank you,” she said.

“For what?”

“For getting me out.”

“You’re welcome,” he said.  “Thank you for coming with me.”  It was all he could think to say, though he wanted to say much more.

They sailed, not really sure where it was they planned to go, but certain they would get there.

Dane and Ijanna’s story will continue in
BLACK FIRE,
the first book of The Veilfire Trilogy, coming soon.