Chapter 24
Kian’s diminished company rode in heavy silence along the faded ruts of an ancient supply road running south and east. They formed a group, yet each member of the party rode in self-imposed isolation, keeping grim company with their own dire thoughts. Kian, used to days spent chiding his companions while they guarded their charges, and nights lounging about campfires recounting stories of past adventures and humorous mishaps, inherently knew he could not allow his company to continue on as they were. Such constant introspection was as dangerous as an open pit to a midnight rider, and all the more so when dangers could lurk anywhere.
For the time being, he ignored his own instincts, and let the grave mood hold, if only because there were too many dark things to consider for himself. Things that did not bring smiles to men’s faces.
After many days under thick clouds of dust, smoke, and ash, an unnatural chill now gripped the Kaliayth. Not having proper coats or cloaks, all had donned an extra set of clothing and wrapped blankets about their shoulders, giving them the look of vagabonds. For himself, Kian found the lack of heat pleasant, despite knowing there was something terribly wrong with it, given that it was the height of summer. Winters in the desert were nothing like those in Izutar, where snow fell continuously during the long dark months, piling up to the height of a man, even in the lowlands. The Kaliayth did grow cold on occasion, especially through the winter nights, but if it was so cold now, and that chill held until winter set in, Aradan’s people would suffer greatly for lack of preparedness.
If Aradan still exists come winter, he thought.
Though he was not given to pessimism, he could not help but feel besieged when he surveyed the broken lands they rode through. As far as the eye could see, the desert had been transformed into more of a wasteland than it had ever been before. Since they had begun travelling east, they’d often had to ride around great rents and chasms in the earth. In other places, mile after mile, deep and smoking craters pocked the lands, creating impassible areas of blasted rock and heaped sand. In other places, the heat of falling stars-what Ellonlef named the Tears of Pa’amadin-had melted the desert sands and left behind wide, thin sheets of crumbly glass.
Considering Ellonlef, he peered about in the reddish haze and found her riding some distance back, her head bowed as if in prayer. If she were praying, he could not fault her. Though his people considered Pa’amadin a god of silence, lately of a night he often looked heavenward, wondering if he cried out if the Creator of All would hear him.
As if sensing his scrutiny, Ellonlef looked up with a small, secretive smile. Discomfited, Kian nodded to her, then turned in the saddle to study the desert. For no reason he could see, she seemed to have warmed to him. Strange as it seemed, he almost wished she would treat him as she had initially, as if he were a crude but useful utensil. Being irritated with her was easier than sharing the occasional grin, or even a laugh. Simply put, there was a bond growing between them that he did not entirely trust or understand.
Mostly, however, when he thought of Ellonlef, he recalled the words of protection he had spoken to her. Not merely spoken, though. He had fairly wailed his vow, even while holding her dead in his arms. Thinking back on that moment, and those that had followed, little of what had happened made sense to him. Somehow, despite being buried under a darkness so pure and thick as to drive a man insane, he had seen her reaching for him. His mind showed a memory in which all had been bathed in a ghostly light. The next he knew, the cramped space had exploded with a flickering glare and flying rock. Before he could throw himself over her, a large stone had crashed into her brow, crushing-
Kian tried to shake the image away, but failed. He tried to drown it with a drink from his waterskin, focusing on the sour grittiness of water they had dug from the ground. He told himself that he could not-would not-relive the moment Ellonlef had perished, but his will failed.
He had heaved the stone off her head and jammed it deeper into the recess, still able to see Ellonlef with his strange sight, but wishing he could not. She glowed with a fading silvery radiance, and somehow he knew that once that glow was gone, she would be gone, as well. What had nearly broken his mind, and still kept him awake at night, was the terrible wet heat of her blood pouring over his hands as he lay over her, cradling her head. He could still feel her trembling, dying, even as more rock crushed down from above. Pinned though he had been, he strained against that smothering layer of death, holding it off her. He whispered words of comfort, offering what solace he could, despite knowing the futility. When she went still, her luminescence dimmed further. At that moment, a wholly unfamiliar sense of despair spread over him like a great black wing, beating at him with a torment unlike any he had ever known. It was then that he had felt something inside of him, something he wanted-needed-to set free. The desire of that emotion was more than anything he had ever wanted before.
It was then that a queer but not unpleasant sensation had begun coursing through his being, pulsing with his heart, growing stronger with each new breath. The sensation became a searing heat that wormed its way through his bones and sank deep into his very soul. At once he recognized the sensation as the same that had assailed him when the tongue of blue fire had streaked from Varis’s accursed temple and slammed into him. At the temple, he had believed he was dying. With Ellonlef lifeless in his hands, the feeling of his own demise did not come, but rather a growing feeling of indomitable strength. Lest he burst under the rapturous pressure he somehow poured some measure of himself into Ellonlef, even as he cried his vow to her.
Almost at once, warmth had flooded back into her limbs, and her radiance blossomed like a silver rose. After that, Kian recalled falling into a numb stupor, aware, but separate from himself. During that time, he continued to speak to Ellonlef, though she was unconscious. Even now, he did not know all that he said.
When Hazad dragged them free, Ellonlef’s face was covered in a crust of dried blood and dirt. But when Kian wiped her face clean, there were no wounds upon her, not even a scar. Somehow, he had given back her life … the same way that Varis had given back the lives of the folk of Krevar. At first this troubled Kian, but after Ellonlef snapped at him about fetching and carrying instead of worshipping him as some kind of Life Giver, he realized there must be a difference between what he had done for Ellonlef, and what Varis had done to the people of Krevar….
Kian firmly set aside the recollection of Ellonlef’s death and rebirth.
Feeling a little shaky, he scrubbed a hand over his dusty face. His one regret on that day had been his inability to save the Asra a’Shah. As he had watched Ellonlef work, he sensed the desire to help, much as he had revived her, but nothing had come. For all he knew, what he had done for Ellonlef was the first and last time he would ever be able to use the power of the gods. Much like a stick of wood thrown onto a fire, he considered, once it became ash, it stayed ash. Deep in his heart, a part of him hoped that was so. Lesser powers by far than those wielded by gods had destroyed men’s souls.
“It’ll be getting dark soon,” Azuri said, riding up next to Kian. “Do you want to order a halt and set camp?”
Thankful for the distraction, Kian took in the hazed desert. A ridge of broken hills rose up not far to the east, and farther south a tall cliff of sheer red rock sprouted from the desert floor.
“If I am not mistaken,” he said, as Hazad joined them, “the ruins of Salev are just over those hills.”
Hazad, his eyes as bloodshot as everyone’s for the smoke and drifting ash, nodded toward two outcrops on either side of the road. “I believe you are right.”