The Tainted City (68 page)

Kiran fell to his knees, shuddering. He wanted desperately to deny the memory of Alisa’s death, to believe it was false, some Alathian trick…but he couldn’t. He’d sensed not one false note in the thoughts of his past self. That was
him.
He’d watched her die…and then he’d forgotten her, let Ruslan seduce him into betraying everything she believed in. Even now, his soul hungered to cast again, to taste once more that delirious, unleashed flood of magic…he covered his face, a hoarse, anguished cry escaping him.

“Kiran.” Lena laid gentle hands on his back. “It’s in the past. You cannot change it. But you can change yourself.”

Deep in his mind, a soft, insistent voice whispered,
Remember.
Something rose from the depths, pushing toward his consciousness—

No.
With force born of terror and instinct, he shoved it back. He wanted no more revelations, no more horrors. He shook off Lena’s hands and staggered to his feet. “You want me to forswear blood magic, yet you want me to burn out your memory. To…to hurt you, as Ruslan did me. How can you ask it of me, after this?”

Dev, Cara, and the children were watching him with wide, worried eyes. Lena said, “I do not ask it lightly. I’m sorry, Kiran. But come…spark your amulet, and I’ll take you through the border.”

He drew out the jeweled disc on its chain. The pattern within was intact, ready to be kindled and fueled with his own
ikilhia.
He sent a burst of power into the charm. It flared blue, spitting sparks, reacting against the magic of the border wards. He’d have to move away quickly once on the border’s far side, lest the pattern be damaged to the point of failure.

Thinking of practicalities, he could block out the morass of confusion and pain that threatened to swallow him. One step at a time; he dared not think beyond that.

Lena took Kiran’s hands again. Her magic washed over him, shrouding him in a shimmering wash of green. She backed, drawing him with her. The immense wall of power parted around them without even a flicker as she led him through. He hastily retreated from the border until the amulet cooled against his skin, its energies flowing smoothly again.

Lena brought the others to him, one by one. Dev said to Cara, “Take the kids and start; I’ll follow with Kiran when we’re done here.”

He must not want Melly and Janek to watch Kiran hurt Lena. Just imagining it made Kiran cringe.

Lena handed him a warded silver flask and a folded piece of paper. “Here is all we had of the drug at the camp. Swallow one capful a day, and it should be enough to last you six weeks if you stay clear of confluences and spellcasting. I fear only Marten knows the drug’s exact formulation, but I wrote down what information I could. I suggest you go to Prosul Akheba—the scholars there know enough of herbal and healing lore they may be able to safely wean you from the drug.”

Prosul Akheba was just over the Varkevian border, in the red-rock desert beyond the southern end of the Whitefires. To travel so far south would eat up a frighteningly large chunk of time, but Kiran knew he had little choice. Six weeks’ supply of the drug wasn’t enough to ensure success against Ruslan.

Kiran still couldn’t believe he hadn’t realized something was wrong in Ninavel. The sickness he’d felt after spellcasting, that had gotten worse with time instead of better—but he’d been so focused on his struggle to accept blood magic that he’d never thought to look for a physical cause for his discomfort.

He felt sick now, but it wasn’t from the drug. Cara and the children had gone. Lena’s face was calm, but he could see her
ikilhia
flickering. She was afraid.

“Don’t,” he said. “Don’t ask this of me. Come with us.”

Dev nodded. “It’s not too late. We’ve enough supplies we could manage with you along.”

Lena said, “No. This is my choice.” She put her hands on Kiran’s shoulders. “Not all gifts are pleasant, but this is a gift you give me, nonetheless.” She leaned close and kissed his mouth before he could react, her lips butterfly-soft. “Twin gods preserve you, Kiran. I hope you find peace.”

Kiran didn’t think he’d ever find peace again, but he nodded tightly.

She released her defenses, leaving her mind wide open.
Do it.

The echo of Stevannes’s words stabbed him to the quick. Yet while he could feel Lena’s fear, he also felt her determination, hard as spelled iron. He eased into her mind, cautious, reluctant. She did not flinch. He sought her memories, found them unguarded.

She’d asked him to destroy everything since they’d translocated from the cirque. He slid backward through her memory, searching for the translocation—and found a memory of Marten, sitting on a cot with his face buried in his hands, utter defeat in the slump of his shoulders.

I succeeded in our mission, Lena. Yet in every other way, I have failed. Alathia is in far worse danger now…and Niskenntal is right. If I had said nothing in the cirque and let Kiran die, Ruslan might never have realized the reason, and Alathia would remain safe. But I couldn’t bear to let Kiran die, not when I was the one to cast him into darkness. I thought I could save him, as I couldn’t save Reshannis…but now my oaths bind me, just as they did then, and I must watch Kiran’s soulfire burn to ash.

Lena had said,
You chose rightly in the cirque. If we build our country’s safety on the blood of sacrifices, how are we any different than mages like Ruslan?

Marten had given a pained laugh.
I think we are not. Stevan’s blood is already spilled…he would curse me for my choice, and I’m not sure he is wrong. But it is Talmaddis that I see when I close my eyes…he tells me that if only I hadn’t been so blind, I could have turned him from his path in time to save them all. Talmaddis…How is it that I hate him for his deceit, and yet I miss him more than my own breath?

Lena had said nothing, only wrapped her arms around Marten, her heart full of regret and concern and a deep, abiding friendship. He had returned her grip, desperate as if he clutched a lifeline.
I only thank the gods you survived, Lena. If I had lost you with all the others, I don’t think I could bear it. Though if you choose to leave my Watch for another…I will understand. I think it better if you do…Niskenntal intends to destroy me over this, and I don’t want to see you burned in the spillover.

Lena had replied,
I will not leave, Marten. Do you think the bond of our friendship is so easily broken? I will stand by you in this fight, both against Ruslan and enemies closer to home. More than that…you need not shoulder your grief alone. I didn’t love Talmaddis as you did, but I miss him too.

That was the truth of her decision. She loved her country, yes; but she would not abandon her friend in his time of need. No more than Dev had abandoned Kiran.

A loyalty that still humbled Kiran, even as it lightened a little of the black chasm in his heart. He could only hope that one day he might repay it.

Kiran focused, readied himself. He couldn’t cast to take Lena’s pain, not without alerting Ruslan.
I’m sorry,
he told Lena.
This will hurt.

I know.
Acceptance radiated from her mind, stronger than her fear.

He took a piece of his own
ikilhia
and stoked it until it was a searingly bright coal. He touched the coal to Lena’s memories.

A piece of her mind seared away; she screamed in agony, arching backward. Quickly, he siphoned power from her
ikilhia
, enough so she slumped unconscious in his arms.

“Is it done?” Dev’s voice was tight.

“Yes.” Kiran laid her gently on moonlit pine needles. “Forgive me,” he whispered to her. He didn’t know if he’d ever see her again. Perhaps…perhaps in some distant future they might meet in the peace she’d wished upon him.

Dev crouched at Lena’s other side. He traced her cheek, drew his hand back. “She’ll be all right?”

Kiran nodded, though it felt like a lie. If he didn’t stop Ruslan, no Alathian would be all right. Nor would Dev, Cara, and Melly.

Dev stood and said shortly, “We should get moving.”

Kiran followed, clinging to determination. Lena had wanted him to live. He would make certain she didn’t regret her choice.

* * *

(Dev)

I waded through knee-deep wildflowers, a quartet of empty waterskins dangling from my hands. The sun was rising, golden light spreading down the pale cliffs rearing high over the meadow. The wildflowers’ riot of color ended in a lake whose water was so still as to be a perfect mirror for the fanged, snow-streaked peaks circling it. The sky above was a deep, pure blue, the air chill but holding the promise of warmth to come.

Kiran stood on a slanting mica-flecked boulder at lake’s edge, looking out over the water. He was huddled into his overjacket, his arms crossed tight over his chest. I knelt beside his boulder and started filling the waterskins. Hushed voices broke the meadow’s silence. Back at our campsite beneath a gaggle of stunted little pines, Cara was helping Melly and Janek pack up their sleeping blankets.

We hadn’t yet hashed out this business of Ruslan and demons, what with Kiran needing all his breath and energy just to keep up. The drug might’ve saved his life, but he was still weak, slower even than the kids. We’d pressed hard for two days, snatching only brief moments of rest as we climbed ever higher into the mountains. By the time we reached timberline, Kiran was stumbling and glassy-eyed with exhaustion. Cara and I had judged it best to catch up on sleep before pushing on into terrain where a stumble from tiredness could mean a fall that would kill.

“You feel any more spellwork seeking us?” I asked Kiran.

“None strong enough to pierce the amulet’s warding.” His voice sounded husky, and when he turned to me, his eyes were wet. He twitched a hand at the lake and its backdrop of soaring mountains. “I wish Alisa could have seen this.”

It was as much an admission as an expression of regret. If he’d accepted that Alisa was real…“You believe us, then? You won’t go running off to Ruslan the moment my back’s turned?” Cara and I had been worried enough about it that we’d slept in shifts to keep a constant eye on him.

“No.” Kiran hugged himself all the tighter. “You, Lena, Cara—all of you have such faith in me. But…Ruslan is so strong. I know I must stop him, but I keep fearing…what if I can’t?”

“You can,” I said. “Know why? Because you won’t be taking him on alone. Ruslan’s scary as shit, I’ll give you that. But I’m telling you: together, we’ll find a way to send him to Shaikar’s hells, no matter how strong his magic.” Standing in the heart of the Whitefires’ wild beauty, I believed anything was possible. Hell, look at Melly…these last months I’d despaired about a thousand times over that I’d never save her, and yet here she was, alive and whole.

Kiran slanted me a glance, and a little of the tension eased from his body. “I hope you’re right,” he said softly. “Regardless…I thank you. It does help, to know I’m not alone.”

I’d learned that lesson thanks to Cara. Thinking of our coming parting, my throat tightened. I took a deep breath of crisp mountain air and put aside sadness. Cara was here now, and so was Melly; I’d make the most of the time we had left. I stood with Kiran, watching sunlight spill down stone, and let the new day fill my heart with hope.

* * *

Acknowledgements

Thanks to the long-suffering members of my critique group: Carol Berg, Curt Craddock, Catherine Montrose, Susan Smith, and Brian Tobias. They waded through massive chunks of horrifically rough draft without a single word of complaint over the work involved, all while providing their usual stellar critique. I still can’t believe how lucky I am to have critique partners with such keen eyes for flaws and such patience for dispensing advice to an excitable newbie author. Susan in particular deserves more thanks than I could possibly express for providing critiques of re-written chapters on super-short notice and listening so readily to all my worries and woes.

Similarly, thanks once again to Teresa Frohock, who sprang to my aid whenever I needed it and has been a font of friendship and support. Thanks also to Jeanne Atwell, not only for her steadfast friendship but her excellent reading recommendations. And thanks to fellow moms Maria Mitchell and Karen Hodgekinson-Price for their generous offers to watch my son when I lacked other childcare; without them, I might never have finished this book.

Enormous thanks to my hardworking agent, Becca Stumpf, who helped me weather many a crisis with her usual mix of patience, creativity, and enthusiasm. And it takes a lot of work to turn a manuscript into a book: thanks to Jeremy Lassen, Ross Lockhart, Liz Upson, Tomra Palmer, Amy Popovich, and the rest of the Night Shade gang for all their efforts behind the scenes. Special thanks to Dave Palumbo, for his stunning art and his patience and responsiveness to requests.

Thanks to everyone out there who read and enjoyed The Whitefire Crossing, especially those who sent emails to tell me how much you loved the book. It’s truly amazing how an email like that can brighten even the darkest of days.

My undying gratitude and love to my husband Robert, who continues to hang in there no matter how crazy our lives get. Life is truly sweeter when shared with a partner, and there’s none better than you.

About the Author

Courtney Schafer was born in Georgia, raised in Virginia, and spent her childhood dreaming of adventures in the jagged mountains and sweeping deserts of her favorite fantasy novels. She escaped the East Coast by attending Caltech for college, where she obtained a B.S. in electrical engineering, and also learned how to rock climb, backpack, ski, scuba dive, and stack her massive book collection so it wouldn’t crush anyone in an earthquake. After college she moved to the climber’s paradise of Boulder, Colorado, and somehow managed to get a masters degree in electrical engineering from the University of Colorado in between racking up ski days and peak climbs.

She now works in the aerospace industry and is married to an Australian scientist who shares her love for speculative fiction and mountain climbing. She’s had to slow down a little on the adrenaline sports since the birth of her son, but only until he’s old enough to join in. She writes every spare moment she’s not working or adventuring with her family.