The Fractured Sky (19 page)

Feeling a little bit sorry for herself, Aliisza tried to relax and wait. Tired, aching muscles reminded her of the harsh fight she had endured against the archons. She wanted more than anything to sleep for a short while, but her worries about being caught kept her on edge, unable to give in to her weariness.

Despite her angst, Aliisza must have drifted off for a least a few moments, for the next thing she knew she was startled awake by a noise. She jerked forward, then remembered her situation and froze, listening for the sounds of discovery. Whatever had roused her did not come for her in her hiding place, but she could clearly hear something rummaging around near her concealment.

She peered from deep within the shadow of her secret lair but saw nothing. Worried about capture but hating not knowing what was out there even more, Aliisza moved to get a better look. Very slowly, she inched her way forward to the edge of the hollow until she could widen her view.

A pair of hound archons worked nearby, gathering the bodies of the humanoids that had been slain alongside Tekthyrios. The two creatures seemed to be stacking them, perhaps for some form of funeral pyre or similar last rites.

As she studied them, several more arrived in the clearing, appearing magically. The creatures spoke to one another as they worked, but their words were too soft to be understood.

How long before they decide to do something about this dragon? Aliisza wondered. I can’t stay here.

But there was nowhere for the alu to flee, at least not yet. A far greater number of the archons were unaccounted for, most likely still roaming the forest around the clearing. And regardless, she had no clue where any of her companions might be.

Careful to remain quiet, Aliisza crept back into the depths of her hiding place and waited. She continued to watch the work being done beyond her shadowy enclave as the celestial warriors passed in front of her field of vision.

Eventually, it grew dark. The warriors never bothered to light lamps or torches, and as Aliisza watched, it became clear that they could see perfectly well without the need for such illumination.

So much for sneaking out under cover of darkness, the alu thought. What a wretched mess this has become.

Aliisza remained huddled in her secret sanctuary. She hoped the angels and their soldiers would eventually move on or settle in for the night and she could find the means to slip away undetected. She dozed from time to time, but always some noise, some shout or shuffling near her spot, jerked her awake again, heart thumping rapidly. Each time she would curse her circumstances, but the celestial warriors were still hard at work, moving around the clearing.

Aliisza, came Tauran’s voice. Aliisza, can you hear me?

The alu was hesitant at first, leery that it might be a trick. But she knew the sort of magic being employed, and she doubted it could be used to determine her location.

Yes, she answered. I hear you. Where are you? the angel asked. How do I know it’s really you? Well spoken, Tauran replied.

There was a long moment’s silence, and Aliisza began to grow worried that she had miscalculated, that it was a trick, that soldiers with nets were closing in on her position right at that moment.

Just when the alu was on the verge of bolting from her hiding place in panic, Tauran said, How can I prove it to you?

Answer me this, Aliisza said. Tell me the name of the boy I saved, in the dream world where you kept me imprisoned. The one who worked for the tailor. Who was he?

It was no boy, Tauran replied without hesitation. Lizel was a girl.

Aliisza’s relief cascaded through her. She sank back into the cool earth and sighed. Yes, she said. It’s you. How did you find me—reach me?

A little trinket Eirwyn gave me before we parted ways. I had forgotten about it until just now. Where are you? Canyon come to us?

I don’t know where you are. I am hiding within the clearing. There are devas and archons everywhere. What’s happened?

Kael and I are safe, the angel replied. We are watching Micus. He and some of his warriors are concealed near the passage to the World Tree. Probably expecting us to make a break for it. There was a pause, and then, Where are you hiding?

Under Tekthyrios’s wing, she answered. Then, biting her lip, she asked, What about Kaanyr?

There was another, longer pause. Micus’s troops captured him. He’s there, in the camp, very near you. I’m sorry.

Sorry? You didn’t help them, did you?

No, Tauran answered. But I’m sorry they turned against you. I’m sorry it all fell apart like this. The angel sounded tired and defeated. Kael and I are considering offering a trade: me for Vhok.

No, Aliisza replied. They won’t agree, and you know it. They are sworn to uphold your many and sometimes ridiculous laws.

I know, Tauran replied. His voice was without hope. But we have no other choice. There are too many of them. We can’t free him by force, and I will honor my word to him to let him go back to Sundabar.

Aliisza thought for a moment, then inspiration struck.
have a better idea, she said.p>

How do you know they aren’t hostile?” Myshik asked. Kashada saw the half-dragon reach for his war axe out of the corner of her eye. “They don’t look like they’re very happy to see us.”

The figures approaching them did seem wary. As they drew closer, Kashada saw that they resembled elves in appearance, though they had eschewed clothing and their deep brown skin mimicked the bark of a tree.

Dryads, the Sharan thought with a mixture of distaste and surprise. A whole colony of them. Annoying little fey.

On her other side, Zasian chuckled. “You leave that to me, young Morueme. In a moment, they will be falling all over themselves to please us.” The priest pulled a pendant from his shirt and rubbed it between his thumb and forefinger, chanting softly.

When Kashada saw that it was the silver skull of Cyric, she grimaced. Though she was grateful to Zasian for his timely rescue of her at the hands of the ghaele, it only made her further resent the necessity of associating with one of his ilk. He is merely a tool, she reminded herself. As Cyric is Shar’s.

Use him to achieve the ends you desire. Such thoughts were of little comfort when she felt so dependent upon him for seeing the plot through.

Zasian completed whatever divine invocation he had engaged in and paused expectantly. The half-dozen dryads, who had slowed and stopped once they were within a few paces of the trio, broke into shy grins and closed the remainder of the gap, arms outstretched. They fawned all over the strangers in their midst, gently pawing at buckles, jewelry, and other shiny bits of outfit. They, chattered and giggled like young girls, but Kashada could understand none of it.

Zasian began another spell, murmuring softly as he caressed his pendant. When he finished that one, he let the thing slip back inside the folds of his shirt. He began speaking words that Kashada did not understand, but whatever the priest was saying, it made the dryads beam all the more. One of them replied, and Zasian nodded.

“They are more than happy to lead us where we need to go,” he explained to his companions. “But they would welcome us to their village as guests first. They have invited us to rest and partake of whatever meager fare they can provide.”

As if it somehow understood, Myshik’s stomach let out a pronounced rumble.

Zasian and the dryads chuckled. “I think they’re taking that as a yes,” the priest said.

“Is that truly necessary?” Kashada grumbled. She did not relish the idea of spending any more time than needed among the pesky creatures. She was already fighting the urge to fling their infuriating little hands away from herself. “We will lose precious time.”

Zasian turned toward her. “It is, in fact,” he said, “for reasons you will come to understand soon enough.”

Kashada sighed, thankful that her veil hid the frown she knew she wore. His smugness and condescension were wearing thin. “I suppose a bit of rest would do me good,” she said, hoping she sounded agreeable. “My body’s just not used to all this activity after so long confined within my prison.” She batted her eyes at the priest, hoping he got her little dig.

Zasian’s level stare told her he had, but otherwise, he did not react. “Very well, then,” he said, turning to the dryads. He said something with a warm smile, and the dryads eagerly led the three of them into the village.

?#

The entire population of the little woodland community could not have numbered more than two dozen or so, but they were more than enough to make the tiny hut feel crammed beyond reason after a couple more of Zasian’s charming spells brought them all merrily under his sway. The dryads prepared a simple meal for their guests that consisted of some type of greenish paste served on sections of thick leaves and garnished with giant ant abdomens.

Kashada watched as Myshik looked at his for a few moments, then shrugged and grabbed up an ant abdomen. He split the carapace with his teeth, sucked out the soft flesh within, then used half of it as a scoop to shovel mouthfuls of the green stuff as fast as he could past his lips and tongue. He hardly seemed to taste the fare at all.

Kashada tried not to make a face as she turned to Zasian. “The fact that he seems to think it delicious gives me pause,” she said. “What exactly is this?”

The priest looked thoughtful as he finished a bite, then he said, “I think it’s some sort of fermented moss.” Kashada

nodded and had a bite halfway to her mouth when he added, “But it also might be caterpillar flesh.”

Kashada did make a face, then, and she set the food back down uneaten. “I am no longer hungry,” she said as gently as she could. “Perhaps one of you two would like to finish mine? I think I’d like to rest for a bit, now.”

Myshik had his face pressed against his leaf, licking the last dregs of the paste from it. “I’ll take yours,” he said. He leaned over and snatched the leaf from her lap and began devouring it.

Zasian laughed. “Suit yourself,” he said. “There will be plenty to eat that’s more to your liking when we get where we are going next.”

Kashada rose to her feet and glared down at the priest. “Just let me know when it’s time to go,” she said, hoping her sour tone conveyed her overall displeasure. “The sooner, the better.”

At a word from Zasian, two of the dryads took Kashada by the hands. The mystic allowed them to lead her out of the overcrowded hut. She was forced to tread carefully so as to avoid stepping on anyone’s feet. She followed her escort along a curving, swaying rope bridge to another shelter.

Not rope, Kashada realized as she ran her hand along one of the flexible rails of the bridge. What is this? Woven silk? Webbing? How odd!

The dryads showed her into the hut, where a soft mat made of more of the thick, soft leafy material lay in the middle of it. They gestured and said several things, but Kashada just tried to smile and nod, then shooed them out of her way.

She lay down on the mat, and weariness washed over her at once. She had not realized how exhausted she was until that moment. She knew she would not be able to sleep so long

as the constant, silvery glow of the environment intruded on her. The chattering dryad dinner party a stone’s throw away only made it worse.

Kashada gestured and muttered a phrase of arcane power. The illusory shadows surrounding her grew and thickened. She gestured again, and the shadows wrapped themselves around her like a cocoon. Once safely inside their embrace, Kashada smiled and drifted off.

?

Kashada did not know how long she had slept when she came awake to gentle shaking. Disorientation made her start, but she gathered her wits quickly and unfurled her shadows to see who was disturbing her rest.

Zasian loomed over her. “It’s time,” he said softly. “There is work to do.”

Kashada sat up, rubbing her eyes. “Very well,” she said. “Give me a moment to collect myself.”

Zasian rocked back and stood up. “Take a few moments,” he said: “Myshik and I are journeying on ahead, but I want you to remain behind for a bit longer.”

Kashada gave the priest a sharp glare. “What scheme are you concocting? This was not part of our plan.”

Zasian gestured in the air, trying to reassure her. “I only want to get a little bit ahead, so that our guides cannot see what you are doing.”

Kashada did not stop glaring. “And what would that be?”

Zasian smiled. “I want you to leave behind a little surprise for our pursuers,” he said. “Something to make sure they don’t catch up too fast, but also to make it clear that they are on the right path.”

Kashada thought for a moment, then she returned the priests smile. “I think I know just what to do.”

Zasian and Myshik departed with a pair of dryads to guide them along their way. Before leaving, the priest had explained to the remaining dryads that Kashada wished to remain for a while longer in order to learn how to prepare the fermented moss.

You will pay for that, Kashada fumed. She watched as her companions departed, then she turned to her hosts. They had gathered together, cooking supplies in hand, and awaited her with eager, expectant expressions. She resisted rolling her eyes and motioned for them to begin.

The dryads swarmed around, chattering and laughing incessantly. Kashada pretended to watch. She began a spell, keeping her movements subtle and whispering the arcane words. The shadows draped across her body darkened and spread out. They grew thicker, more rigid, more substantial. They cocooned her body, but unlike before, when she had manipulated them merely to aid in her rest, the new ones hardened and formed a shell of darkness. She breathed another phrase, and the gloom deepened. It began to glow very faintly in the silvery light of the plane, a purple hue that was nearly black.

One of the dryads stopped her work and stared at Kashada, mouth agape. When she noticed the mystic returning her gaze, her eyes grew wide and she cowered, shouting something in a shrill voice. The other fey creatures halted their tasks. Some watched their guest, dumbfounded, while others began to scramble to escape her presence.