Reign of Ash (50 page)

“Come now. Be quick,” the Wraith Lord said to the others who waited at the edge of the cairns.

As if he were physically holding back the storm, the Wraith Lord led the group past the rows of cairns as hundreds of angry ghosts stared at them, hungry for blood. Whether Blaine and the others could see the ghosts, Connor did not know, but they shrank from the edges of the path the Wraith Lord had cleared, as if on some primal level they understood the danger of what sight and sound could not communicate.

“If we must pass this way again, you will not threaten us,” the Wraith Lord instructed the ghosts. “You will do nothing to cause us misfortune. This is your command.”

“Yes, my lord,” the ghost soldier replied with a deep bow.

“Then be at rest,” the Wraith Lord said, holding up a hand in benediction. Connor could see the spectral soldiers melting into the shadows until the canyon appeared to be deserted except for his companions

They cleared the edge of the burying ground, and Connor felt the weight of the unseen power lift so he could breathe once more. Once the forbidding presence of the cairn ghosts was gone, Connor sank to his knees, burning up inside, gasping for air.

“You’ve got to let him go!” Kestel said, kneeling beside Connor and grasping his shoulders.

Zaryae knelt on Connor’s other side, and Connor could hear her chanting in a strange language. Blood thundered, making it impossible to think, but somewhere in the chaos, Connor thought he sensed Penhallow’s presence warning the Wraith Lord to withdraw.

I will leave you, for now
, the Wraith Lord’s voice spoke in Connor’s mind.
I regret if I have damaged you. The spirits of the cairns would not have been as gentle.
With that, the Wraith Lord’s presence vanished, and Connor fell forward as the world swam around him.

When Connor came around, he found his companions watching him worriedly. Zaryae and Kestel helped him sit up. “We need to keep going,” Connor said, his voice hoarse.

“We were waiting to make sure you were still alive,” Piran remarked. “It was a little iffy.”

Connor got to his feet, and although he was a bit unsteady he managed to stand without assistance. “I’ll live. We’ve got to get through the last Guardian.”

Zaryae eyed him as if she doubted his account but said nothing, although she stayed close behind him.

Blaine fell into step behind him. “Could we have gotten through the cairns without the Wraith Lord’s help?”

Connor was exhausted enough that he took a while to answer. He could feel Penhallow lending him energy, but he could also feel tension through the
kruvgaldur
and guessed that Penhallow himself was facing some kind of challenge.
Is he under attack? Maybe Pollard and Reese made their final assault.

“Not without cost,” Connor replied. “They intended to demand a blood price, either my life or Zaryae’s because our abilities called to them.” He paused. “If Nidhud had come with us, he might have been able to appease the spirits, since he was one of the Knights.” The memory of the spirit’s lust for blood came back to Connor, and he shivered. “Then again, maybe not.”

“We’ve got one more Guardian to pass,” Lowrey reminded them. Connor was surprised that the old scholar was still chipper, but he seemed to be reveling in the adventure when he wasn’t quailing with fright. “Did Quintrel leave you a clue?”

“Nothing yet,” Connor said, wondering if the others could hear the exhaustion in his voice. “Let’s hope I remember something useful once we get there.”

They did not have far to go. They were quite far back in the canyon, and the next turn brought them to a strange sight. The air shimmered above a crack in the stone, presenting waves of heat despite the cold day.

“How do we get past that?” Borya asked and cursed.

“The fissures go from side to side,” Blaine said. “And I don’t relish the idea of trying to jump across.”

“A narrow path through the flame,” Kestel murmured, recalling the knight’s riddle.

Connor had gone still, listening for the voice of Quintrel in his mind. He saw the stars burning overhead, then it seemed as if one constellation came into sharp contrast. Vessa, the Fire Bringer. The same constellation he had seen drawn on the star map in the king’s library in Quillarth Castle the night of the Great Fire. He saw the points of light in the sky that were Vessa’s constellation, and he knew.

“There’s a path through the fire,” Connor said. “It follows the outline of Vessa’s constellation. The path isn’t clear from the ground, but if you could see it from above, it would be the shape of the star figure.”

“Where’s the fire coming from? That’s what I want to know,” Piran said. “We never had volcanoes here in Donderath, not like we had in Edgeland.”

Lowrey had ventured close enough that the hem of his cloak smoldered and as he ambled back to the group, his beard smelled of smoke. “Take a good whiff,” he said, raising his nose and breathing in. “What do you smell?”

“Smells like a coal fire to me,” Verran said.

Lowrey nodded. “Aye. And that’s what’s burning. One huge coal fire.” At their blank looks, he went on. “You’ve never heard of a coal seam catching on fire? Oh, it doesn’t happen often, I grant you, but a burst of lightning can do it. Sometimes it just happens and no one knows why. Magic could start one, back when there was magic to be used. Once it began, it would go by itself, without the magic.” He pushed his spectacles back up his nose. “I’ve heard tell of fires that have been burning for a hundred years without going out.” He chuckled. “Very clever, using it as a trap.”

“If I may intrude?” They looked up to see Illarion, flanked by Borya and Desya, who appeared to be quietly arguing. “Since the last Guardian was very taxing for Connor, I wanted to volunteer to take the lead this time. I was accustomed to juggling and tumbling with fire. I will scout the path.”

“Let us go,” Desya protested angrily. “Borya and I can do it.” His yellow, catlike eyes flashed in the firelight.

Illarion drew himself up to his full height and straightened the tall hat he insisted on wearing. “You insult me.”

“No, we don’t want to see you get hurt,” Borya shot back. “Before we were caught in the magic storm, you could make any jump, scale any wall. You’ve never gotten over what the storm did to you.” His eyes, altered in that storm, glowed an eerie yellow.

Illarion turned away. “Then I am most expendable.”

“You are never expendable!” Zaryae protested, pushing forward. “This is a foolish risk to take, especially when my dreams have been dark.”

Illarion turned to her with a pained expression and reached out to touch his niece’s cheek. “No, Zaryae. This is exactly the risk to take when your dreams are dark. Because I have the least to offer the group, while Borya and Desya are young and strong. Let me do this. Please, indulge my pride.”

Zaryae looked as if she was holding back tears. She turned his palm and kissed it, then folded his fingers into a fist. “For luck,” she said, although the look in her eyes was sad.

“For luck,” Illarion replied. He gave a look of challenge to the twins, but Borya gave an audible sigh and shook his head.

“There’s no stopping you when you’re in a mood like this,” he conceded. “But be careful. We’ve got many roads to follow together.”

Desya’s expression made his objection plain. “If you do this and die, I will refuse to mourn you,” he threatened.

Illarion took the threat in stride. “Let’s hope that’s not necessary.” He eyed the darkening sky. “Let’s get moving. We’re nearly out of daylight.”

They had been cold all day, nearly frozen in the winter chill. But as they got closer to the split ground and the growing fire within, the canyon rapidly became uncomfortably hot. Connor insisted on walking near the front, in case another of Quintrel’s memories awakened. He walked along the wall, keeping a careful distance from the fissures.

“There!” he said, pointing. “You hardly see it as an opening, because there’s another seam offset from the first making it look as if the split goes all the way across. But there’s a gap.”

Illarion nodded, eyeing the space. “Aye. A bit tight, but there’s an opening for sure.” He looked back to the others. “Follow carefully. I’ll call out what I find as I go. You’ll excuse me if I’ve got no desire to make a return trip once I reach the other side.”

“Let’s get you into a harness,” Borya said, catching Illarion by the shoulder.

Illarion looked at the cracked landscape and the fiery glow. “A rope won’t hold in that. I’ll find my way.”

Zaryae tore a piece of fabric from her clothing and wet it in a pool of slush. She wrung it out and offered it to Illarion. “Put this across your nose and mouth. And be careful,” she said, stretching up to give him a kiss on the cheek.

“I’ll see you again,” he said, bending to kiss her forehead. Then he took the wet cloth and made his way amid the fissures. The air shimmered with the heat, making it difficult to see far ahead. The others, taking a cue from Zaryae, soaked scarves or kerchiefs and also covered their faces against the fumes and heat.

“I don’t think I can cross that.” Lowrey’s voice was barely audible. Blaine turned to the scholar, who was ashen with fear. “Leave me here. I’ll never make it.”

“Climb on my back,” Borya said. “I’ll carry you.”

Connor was just a few steps behind Illarion, followed by Borya and Desya, and then Blaine. Illarion seemed to disappear into the shimmering air, but when Connor ventured after him, he realized that the path between the fissures was wider than it looked.
A good thing, or we’d be cooked before we made it out
, Connor thought.

Once inside the first set of fissures, a large patch of cracked stone stretched several wagon-lengths across the floor of the canyon. From between the cracks, plumes of smoke rose from the burning seam. Past the cracked stone area, the canyon floor appeared to return to its normal appearance.

It was dangerously hot among the fissures, and the fumes from the burning coal made the air difficult to breathe. Illarion traced the six-star figure of the Vessa constellation in the air to remind himself, then peered at the field of cracked stone and finally nodded.

“I think I see the path,” he said. “It’s narrow. There are places where it widens a bit. My bet is that the wide places form the same figure as the constellation’s stars, and it’s the way to safely navigate the trap.”

“Are you certain?” Blaine asked, eyeing the burning cracks with concern. “If you’re wrong —”

“If I’m wrong, I die, and Borya or Desya takes my place,” Illarion said. “I respect the fire, but I’m not afraid.” He chuckled. “I don’t plan to die today. You watch. I will find the path.”

Illarion eyed the pattern of the burning coal seams one more time, then carefully began to make his way, surrounded by smoking fissures.

Illarion tottered, and Connor feared he might lose his balance, but he straightened and surveyed the ground in front of him. Vessa’s constellation was a zigzag of bright stars, which the ancient astronomers had fancied to be a woman with wild hair streaming behind her and flames flaring from a burning brand held in her right hand.

Illarion turned sharply to follow the narrow path to what would be the lowest point of the flames from Vessa’s burning brand. The rock ridge that was the path through the glowing cracks was as narrow as an acrobat’s balancing beam. Next, Illarion tacked in the other direction, to a point that made up the body of the astronomer’s fanciful figure. Borya followed, carrying Lowrey on his back, and Desya found safe footing.

“Our turn,” Blaine muttered. He motioned to Piran behind him, the signal for a few more of the group to cross over.

Illarion made another diagonal move to a point of the constellation that was Vessa’s long, unbound hair. There was just one final stretch to the last point in the constellation, Vessa’s head. From there, he had a short leap to unbroken stone. He turned to encourage Borya, who was close behind him.

The edge of the narrow ridge of stone began to crumble, and Borya lost his footing. Illarion caught him by the back of his cloak and hauled him upright. With Lowrey on his back, Borya lacked the agility that should have made the crossing simple.

They tottered for an instant, but the thin ridge of stone was too narrow for them both to secure a solid footing. Illarion twisted, giving Borya a shove toward the next wide place in the path. More rock crumbled from the narrow ridge and Illarion toppled backward, flailing, into the glowing fissure.

“Illarion!” Borya and Desya cried out.

“You’ve got to keep moving,” Connor grated. He could see the grief in the twins’ faces, and he was not immune to their sorrow, but intense heat, coupled with his heavy traveling clothes, was beginning to make him light-headed, and he was certain the same was true for the rest of the party. “We’ll lose everyone if we don’t keep moving.”

Trying not to think about the burning coal in the fissures all around him, Connor inched his way toward the first widening in the path. Even though he had watched Illarion and the twins closely, it was difficult in the fiery glow to spot the islands of safety. “We’d better move people through one island at a time!” he shouted back to Blaine. “It’s not easy to spot the path, and it can’t bear much weight.”

Blaine nodded. Connor had to heel-toe his feet to cross the narrow ridge.

“Keep your eyes on a focal point!” Desya shouted back to him. “Don’t look at the path, look at something on the wide place.”

Connor held his breath and fixed his gaze on a rock in the middle of the wide place. He moved with a combination of caution and panic, knowing that his delay was costing his companions endurance time. With a gasp of relief, he made it to the landing, and Blaine followed to the spot he had just vacated. Kestel was next in line, followed by Zaryae.

Connor moved to step onto the next ridge and realized too late that he had eyed the wrong spot. He twisted mid-step, and for a horrible instant, saw nothing but the gaping stone fissure and a burning maw of coal. Regaining his balance, Connor took a deep breath and stepped again, this time making sure not to take his eyes from the spot Desya left.