Shadowheart Part 33

-from "A Child's Book of the Orphan, and His Life and Death and Reward in Heaven"

BRIONY'S MOMENT OF HOPE was short-lived. As the Xixians on the waterfront fled from the attack of the airborne Rooftoppers and their birds, a force of the autarch's cavalry burst out from the town and came thundering down Market Road toward the harbor.

Briony joined Eneas and his remaining soldiers as they wheeled to face this new and deadly charge; all the nearby Qar quickly joined them. Some of the fairies were mounted on horses as beautiful and slender as the sticklike creatures she had seen in ancient mosaics, and the riders were even stranger than their mounts. Some of these new allies weren't even people, but foxes and wolves and wild forest cats whose very presence made the Syannese horses skittish.

"Do not lose heart!" Eneas cried to his men, who had begun to scatter in fear as the alien Qar came among them. "These are allies! Together we will bring the southern Falcon down!"

They met the charging Xixians at the place where Market Road crossed the dock road. As the two troops crashed together, the clamor of steel on steel and the screaming of both horses and men was so heart-breaking that Briony, still a dozen yards back from the fighting, wanted to clap her hands over her ears until the dreadful noise stopped.

Why was I so stubborn? Why did I think I should ride to war like a man? She was terrified. She was terrified.

But even the bravest of these knights must be frightened, she suddenly thought. Even Eneas himself. Even Eneas himself. It didn't matter why she was here-she was here. It didn't matter why she was here-she was here.

Briony had little time after that to think about anything except staying alive, dealing enough blows to defend herself, or to help an ally in need-she saved a bulky, bearlike creature from a mounted spearman by hammering the Xixian's helmet with her sword and knocking him out of the saddle. The bear-thing did not stop to thank her, but only hurried off to another part of the fray.

She stayed back from the thickest fighting where her smaller size and reach would be a disadvantage, striking only when she had to. If the southerners managed to push past on just one side, Briony's company and their allies would be caught between two halves of the autarch's forces and quickly squeezed to death. Torches were streaming toward Market Road from the fields and the town-hundreds, maybe thousands more of the autarch's foot soldiers still making their way to the battle. Eneas was too deep in the battle to see it, fighting for his life-without a miracle, there would be no escape from this nightmare except death.

Then the bay behind her exploded into flame.

No, not the bay, Briony saw as she struggled to turn her startled horse. Tongues of fire ran up the mast and along the furled sails of the nearest Xixian s.h.i.+p; as she stared, a dozen more vessels, large and small, kindled one after another. The flames seemed to leap across the bay like living things, two or three southern s.h.i.+ps catching fire at a time until dozens were ablaze and the wavering red light of their burning fell across the battlefield as brightly as if the setting sun had returned. All around her, voices called out in surprise, wonder, and horror.

In the midst of this apparent world's ending, both sides again flung themselves at each other in the scarlet glow. With their means of escape now gone, the Xixians fought with growing desperation. The line of battle moved like a living thing. One moment the Qar and Syannese seemed poised to overrun the Xixians and drive them out of their own camp, then a few moments later the shape of the struggle convulsed again and the Syannese and the Qar became the desperate ones as they were forced back to the edge of Brenn's Bay.

A crackling arc of fire leaped out from behind Briony and set one of the nearest Xixian tents ablaze. A dozen more fiery streaks followed and several struck buildings along the waterfront, setting flames in their rafters and roofs. A few even reached the town's watchtower and within moments it, too, was blazing like a great torch.

Fire arrows! Where was this attack coming from? The water? The bay was black and s.h.i.+ny as pitch, s.h.i.+ps and water both striped with smears of shuddering, blazing light. The autarch's s.h.i.+ps were all on fire now, the survivors swimming for their lives-who could be shooting arrows?

Her answer came a moment later as long, dark shapes began to slide up onto the beach, dozens of long, low boats pushed through the shallows by dark figures who whooped and shouted as they dropped the boats and came running up from the water, some already loosing more fiery arrows into the Xixian camp. Why were they helping? Who were they?

Skimmers! she realized in astonishment as the first of the long-armed newcomers came sprinting up the beach and threw themselves onto the nearest Xixians. she realized in astonishment as the first of the long-armed newcomers came sprinting up the beach and threw themselves onto the nearest Xixians.

"Egye-Var!" they screamed, jabbing with their fis.h.i.+ng spears and slas.h.i.+ng with strange swords as short and heavy bladed as butcher's cleavers. The southerners staggered back in dismay at this latest and most unexpected a.s.sault.

Briony felt a cry well up in her own throat. "Erivor-and Eddon!" she screamed, spurring her horse back into the thick of the fighting.

Barrick watched the girl crawling through the maze as though he were a bird hovering high above her, distant and detached. He could see how hopelessly far she was from the way out, but he could not find his voice to tell her and was not even certain he should bother. The black-haired girl looked familiar but he could not summon her name. That disappointed him, although he did not know why.

She is precious, a voice told him. More precious than even you know. More precious than even you know. It was the blind king speaking, he knew, but he did not understand why this nameless young woman should mean anything to him. It was the blind king speaking, he knew, but he did not understand why this nameless young woman should mean anything to him.

First of the last, the king told him. Last of the first. Last of the first.

What did that mean? Why was it so hard to think?

Do not forsake her, the king said.

He tried to ask, What do you mean? What do you mean? But nothing would pa.s.s his lips. He might have been some mute creature, a bird, a horse, watching things far beyond its understanding. But nothing would pa.s.s his lips. He might have been some mute creature, a bird, a horse, watching things far beyond its understanding.

First of the last, the voice said, quieter this time, farther away. Last of the first. Marriage of the dead. Hope for the living ... Last of the first. Marriage of the dead. Hope for the living ...

What does it mean? But still he could not speak; the words were only in his own head, only in his own lonely, friendless thoughts. But still he could not speak; the words were only in his own head, only in his own lonely, friendless thoughts.

No, Barrick Eddon.

The voice sounded different this time, closer-and it was a woman's voice. Could it be the dark-haired girl? Was she aware of him at last?

Come back to us, Barrick Eddon. Come back. It is not time for this journey yet. The roads are wrong. The darkness began to slip away like sand through an hourgla.s.s and a different, brighter world began to appear behind it. The darkness began to slip away like sand through an hourgla.s.s and a different, brighter world began to appear behind it.

"No!" Barrick cried, finding his voice at last. "She'll be lost! She'll be lost ..."

"She still has a chance," someone said to him-another female voice, this one deeper and also more familiar than the first. "Do not give up hope."

A face was looking down at him, a pale oval with black eyes and an expression so calmly patient it might have been carved in marble-Saqri, the queen of the Fay.

"Hope ... ?" he asked. He felt light-headed, but at the same time his body ached badly. A shadow, he remembered-a great shadow had fallen over him and pushed him into the darkness. "So dark ...!"

"It is all one thing," Saqri said. "What you saw, what you fear, what you fought. All one thing concealed in a thousand, thousand guises. And that one thing is oblivion oblivion. Remember that, Barrick Eddon. The worst that can happen is that you cease to exist. Is that so bad?" Saqri had shed her battle armor and now wore a robe of s.h.i.+ning white silk. A smaller Qar woman stood beside her, her angular features and animal eyes making her seem both less human and less frightening than the queen. "This is Sunset Pearl," Saqri said. "She is a healer."

Urayanu, the Fireflower voices murmured. She of the Strengthening Touch. She of the Strengthening Touch.

"What happened?" Something was missing. How had he come here?

"You destroyed the Stone Swallower, then you fell."

"That thing, that woman or ... monster.... Who was she?"

Saqri shook her head. "Some minion of the autarch's. But the stone she had from her master-that was a great weapon indeed. A broken bit of tile, a small piece of Silvergleam's ruined moon-palace-a kulik Khors kulik Khors, as some mortals named them. As the greater Tiles can open a door across the roads of Grandmother Void, so too can one of those bits of stone. But it only opens doors to a very unpleasant place, and when the way is open, one of the things that lives there comes through to inhabit the body of the Stone Swallower. That is what you saw. That is what you fought." She turned to the other Qar woman. "How are the manchild's wounds?"

"The worst was that the thing fell on him in its death throes," the small woman said. "He will survive, my lady, but he needs rest."

"And that he will have. Thank you, Sunset Pearl." Saqri reached down and touched her cool fingers to Barrick's brow. "You did a brave thing, manchild. You set yourself against a terrible, pitiless foe who would have killed many. ..."

He suddenly remembered what had been happening before his encounter with the Stone Swallower. "The autarch-all those soldiers-what happened? Did we beat him?"

"The southern king is no longer in the camp by the bay," Saqri told him. "But I think you guessed that already. He has taken his strongest forces and gone into the depths, so the danger is as great as ever. We and our unexpected mortal allies only had to fight troops he left behind, though even those were many times our number." She told him of the success of their plan, how the bird-mounted archers and the Skimmers with their flaming arrows and their small, silent boats had astonished the Xixians. "Only the surprise of our cousins' attacks saved us," Saqri finished. "The southerners broke and the survivors fled into the hills, so for the moment we are safe." She shook her head so gently her glossy black hair barely moved. "My husband was right. He often told me that one day we would fight beside our sundered kin again. I was certain he was only hoping for something that could never be."

"And you?" Barrick asked. He was tired and in pain, but he felt a stronger connection to the queen than ever before. "Are you well, Saqri? Have you rested?"

"I have just risen from a hundred years spent in unwilling sleep, Barrick Eddon. I will not need to rest again until my race is run." She touched her fingers together to form Spider's Sleep Spider's Sleep, which announced a moment of change. "Time is important to us now ... and time is short. I am going now to meet with the mortal soldiers who aided us and talk with them of what will come next. I would be glad to have you with me." She looked at him for a long moment. "But I think Sunset Pearl would be angry with me if I brought you out. You have been near the edge and are only just back." She hesitated, something he did not remember seeing from her. "Unless it is that you miss the chance to speak with your own kind?"

Barrick shook his head. Just the thought was exhausting. "I scarcely remember speaking with my own kind, and I don't feel any strong urge to do it again. Who are they, anyway? Do you know yet?"

Again Saqri seemed to consider. "They are commanded by a prince of Syan. I am told his name is Eneas."

"Enander's son? I know of him. He is said to be a good man." Barrick let his head sag back down onto the cus.h.i.+on. "If I am truly needed, I'll manage. I'll come. ..."

"You have convinced me," said the queen. "Stay. Rest and grow stronger." She bent and kissed his forehead with a touch dry as paper.

When Saqri had gone the healer named Sunset Pearl came back to Barrick's bedside with a cup in her hand. "Drink this," she said. "I think it will do you no harm, and it may do you much good."

He stared at her. He was feeling truly tired now, struggling to keep his eyes open. "You think think it will do me no harm?" it will do me no harm?"

She looked back at him sourly. There was something catlike about her, but it was a cat that had seen many years and many disappointments. "I have never plied my craft on a mortal man. Content yourself that if you die in terrible agony I will at least know what not to do with the next mortal."

He laughed a bit despite himself. "And who do you think will recommend any other mortals come to you if you kill me?" He lifted the cup to his lips, closing his eyes to try to make sense out of the unexpected but not wholly unpleasant flavors.

"You did not come to me by choice, Barrick Eddon," the healer said, "and I doubt the others needing my help in days ahead will be any different." Her look was less amused than resigned. "In truth, I expect to see more than a few dead and dying mortals here. Now drink up, Redling."

The name and its hint of the familiar puzzled him for a moment. He lay back and closed his eyes. "Strange," he told the healer, if she was still there. "I'm certain someone used to call me that ... but I can't remember who ..."

The Xixian carrack, or what remained of it, had been driven far onto the sand by the tide, but the big s.h.i.+p still blazed like a Zosimia bonfire, outs.h.i.+ning the smaller but still sizable campfire that the Syannese soldiers had made near the water's edge.

Southmarch Castle lay just across the water. Briony could not quite accustom herself to that thought after so much time away-her home home waited just across the bay. Just as the burning s.h.i.+p dwarfed the fire Briony shared with Eneas and his commanders, so the torches on the castle's battlements shone much brighter than the stars above the smoke-shrouded bay. waited just across the bay. Just as the burning s.h.i.+p dwarfed the fire Briony shared with Eneas and his commanders, so the torches on the castle's battlements shone much brighter than the stars above the smoke-shrouded bay.

"Are you warm enough, Princess?" Eneas asked.

She almost laughed. Only a couple of hours before, men had been trying to murder her with spears and swords. "I am quite well, thank you. When are they coming?"

"The messenger said ..." Eneas paused. "Look. They come."

A strange procession was making its way along the strand toward them by the light of burning Xixian s.h.i.+ps that still smoldered on the bay. Some of the Syannese soldiers camped around their own small fires got up and scrambled away, although the Qar did not come close to any of them. Briony could understand their alarm. No one could see so many weird shapes and gaits go past or meet the gaze of those glowing eyes-orange, yellow, green as a will-o'-the-wisp-without feeling that something had changed forever, and not necessarily for the best.

The newcomers slipped up to the edge of the prince's fire and then stopped. At first Briony wondered why, but then a slender figure dressed in white stepped forward.

"May we share your fire?" The woman's voice had a strange music-Briony did not understand her words until a moment after she had finished. "I am Saqri, mistress of Qul-na-Qar. You would call me the queen of these folk."

"Of course, Majesty," Eneas said. "You are welcome here."

Saqri beckoned a small group of her own people to accompany her to the fire; the rest, perhaps two or three dozen at the most, promptly sat down on the ground. Relieved, the prince's soldiers went back to eating their well-earned meals and bandaging their wounds. They had already buried their dead. The Syannese had lost many men, but the Xixians had lost far more.

The fairy queen was not quite what Briony had expected. She was beautiful, of course, with skin as translucent as snow and eyes so wide and black that Briony was frightened to look into them for more than an instant. But although Saqri's beauty, preternatural stillness, and calm bearing lifted her above any mortal monarch, she was not tall. Briony was at least half a span taller. And even the Qar-woman's grace did not entirely hide the fact that she was sore and weary.

Eneas offered wine, and to Briony's surprise Saqri and most of her companions accepted it, although some of them had trouble drinking from cups. When they had been served, Eneas cleared his throat.

"So, Queen Saqri," he said, "we are grateful for your help today fighting the Xixians, but before we talk of anything else, I must know something. Are we still at war, your people and mine?"

The fairy queen's mouth pulled tight for a moment in what might have been a smile. "You ask a good question." For a brief moment the Qar woman's penetrating gaze left him and turned to Briony, who could not face it and looked away; instantly, she was angry with herself. "The answer, Prince Eneas," Saqri told him, "is that we are what we make of ourselves tonight, at this fire. But know this ...! Even though we may continue as allies, we will never be friends." She was looking at Briony again. "Your people-and particularly those who live in this castle-have taken things from me that cannot be replaced or forgiven." The fairy queen spoke with such feeling that Briony sensed the Syannese knights around her growing wary. "But I am not Yasammez, the dark lady you have already met and whom you already fear," Saqri told them, her voice turning measured once more. "She is the one who warred on Southmarch ... although I admit I did not discourage her. Her bitterness toward your kind will never heal. But on this matter I have broken from her, and the People follow me." Saqri spread her hands. "So, Prince of Syan, our peoples are at peace as long as we fight together. There will be no treachery. Not from my folk, at least."

Eneas nodded. "Nor mine, I swear. So then, let us put the past aside and talk only of things that matter now. What do you plan? Has the autarch truly gone down into the ground under the castle, as I hear?"

"Tomorrow's sun brings Midsummer's Eve," Saqri said. "The day after is Midsummer, and when Midsummer ends, the hour we fear will be upon us. The year begins to die. The sun begins its slow journey away from the earth and the spirits of discord rejoice." She raised her hand as if in warning. "If the southern king, Sulepis the Autarch, defeats the few Funderlings who still resist him and reaches his goal in the depths beneath the castle by midnight of Midsummer's Day, he will be able to perform the ritual. He will open the gate of dream and free the G.o.ds."

"I have never heard of such a thing, not even in old tales," said Eneas. "Why would he do it?"

"It is said the southern king wishes to command a G.o.d ... but this Sulepis may not wield as much power as he thinks." The Qar woman spoke quietly, but everyone at the fire strained to hear. "He may open a door that cannot be shut again. And there is nothing ... nothing ... to give us promise that the G.o.ds who come through will be awake and sane." Saqri made an odd gesture, hands spread on either side of her face. "In any case, though, it is certain that if the way to the G.o.ds is opened, it is this world-our world-that will suffer." world-that will suffer."

"Then we will help you, of course," said Eneas. "Strange as it all still seems, I have seen much to convince me today. We must fight with you to keep the autarch from his goal."

"Yes, you must fight with us," Saqri said. "But not beside beside us, I think. Your knights are not best suited for the battle beneath the castle ..." us, I think. Your knights are not best suited for the battle beneath the castle ..."

"Why this slander?" Lord Helkis demanded. "Our good men of Syan have held a wooden guard tower against a Xixian army ten times their number-you saw them on the field today! They fear nothing!"

"You misunderstand me." Saqri held the Syannese n.o.ble's stare for a moment until he dropped his head in a mixture of fury and shame. "I did not say they were not capable or brave, I said they were not best suited not best suited. Can they see in near-darkness like our Changing tribe? Can they make their own light in the depths like the Elementals? Can they break stone with their fingers like the Deep Ettins?" She extended her own hand, palm up. "Your men are brave, but the best of them are hors.e.m.e.n. In the steep black depths they would quickly become less than their best. Here beneath the sky, in Southmarch itself, they can make certain that Tolly the Protector does not throw in his forces on the side of the autarch."

"Surely no northerner, no matter how corrupt, would do such a thing," protested Eneas.

"But he already has." She said it with such calm that Briony knew even Eneas would believe her. "Our luck was good, though, and the two of them fell out over something. But when a creature like Hendon Tolly sees how things are going, he will fight fiercely to preserve his own life. If he attacks us from behind, that alone could slow us enough to allow the autarch the time he needs ..."

"But how do you know so much about the plans and doings of mortals?" Briony asked. "About Tolly and the Xixians?"

"I know much about you, too, Briony Eddon," said the fairy queen. "Do not forget, until this moment our peoples have been at war. You may know little of the Qar, but it does not follow that the Qar also know little of you. We have long had ..." She trailed off.

"Spies?" Briony demanded. "So-you, too? Is there anyone in this failing world who has not not made my family's business their own? And why should I trust you, madam, to decide how my own castle is to be defended?" made my family's business their own? And why should I trust you, madam, to decide how my own castle is to be defended?"

"Trust? I have told you nothing that you cannot see for yourself. Prince Eneas, your men are hors.e.m.e.n-they would be wasted in the dark, cramped tunnels. Go to the castle. Find Tolly and kill him or imprison him. If you can do that, then feel free to send help to us through the gate to Funderling Town."

Briony turned to Eneas. "Don't do it!" The look on his face made her want to shout. Surely he could not so easily trust these fairies, who only weeks before had tried to throw down Southmarch and had killed so many of its citizens!

"Wait, I begin to understand," said the fairy queen. "It is your father, is it not, child? He is the true matter we discuss." Saqri pinned her with her gaze, and this time Briony could not escape it. "You want to march with us into the depths because your father is there-because you hope to save him from the autarch's clutches."

"No!" Briony said, although the fairy woman was absolutely right. "You know nothing about him ...!"

"On the contrary-I know more about your father than I know of almost any other mortal. But that is not the point." Saqri reached out and clutched her arm. Briony tried to shake herself free but felt suddenly weak as an infant. The fairy woman's voice took on a harsher edge. "Look at me, child! Your family is at the center of many things, but I can tell you this-it is not held for you to save your father. I am not one of my people's Gray Egrets-I cannot peer through the future's veil-but I feel strongly and clearly enough how things must be how things must be to tell you that. Do not waste your warriors' lives on a selfish gamble, Briony Eddon. It could be that we Qar will find him and free him, but his fate will come to him whether you are beside him or not." to tell you that. Do not waste your warriors' lives on a selfish gamble, Briony Eddon. It could be that we Qar will find him and free him, but his fate will come to him whether you are beside him or not."

Tears filled Briony's eyes; she blinked, then wiped them away. Saqri's voice grew quieter now, almost kind. "I cannot say I feel sorry for you-not after what your family has done to mine-but I do know something of loss, and I also know something of confusion. For a long time I did not know whether to hate or forget. I have come now to believe hate is useless ... but so is forgetting. Those who forget too easily are the toys of fate."

Briony's tears threatened to overspill again. "But what should I do do?" she asked, and was not even certain to whom she spoke.

"Live, Briony Eddon," the fairy queen told her. "Live and remember. Remember and learn learn."

The dark-haired girl was running from him now. No matter how he tried to call out to her, to calm her, she wouldn't stop, as if he himself had become the thing she feared. He didn't immediately know where they were-at first he was not certain it was was a place-but as he pursued her, he began to recognize the walls and stone floors of Southmarch. a place-but as he pursued her, he began to recognize the walls and stone floors of Southmarch.

He was in the Portrait Hall now, in front of the picture of Queen Sanasu that had so often caught his attention. Now, as he looked into his ancestor's dark eyes, he saw for the first time that her expression was not the distant, superior thing he had always thought, but a combination of many things-loss, fear, anger, and perhaps a little hope; even stranger, though, the portrait was moving, rippling as though something behind it was struggling to emerge.

He stretched out his hands toward the red-haired queen and began to sc.r.a.pe away what lay on the surface. It was not a picture at all, he realized-it was dirt, only dirt, but the more he sc.r.a.ped, the more dirt he found. He could still feel the movement just below his hands, so he doubled his effort, digging faster and faster until his fingers curled around something small and hard and cool to the touch. He pulled it out of the clinging earth and found he was holding a stone statue of the dark-haired girl, her face frozen in a look of terror. But even as he stared at it, the statue fell apart into a clump of s.h.i.+ny beetles that tumbled from his hands and began to crawl and fly away like a handful of spilled jewels. He cried out and tried to catch them, but within moments they had all vanished into the earth once more.

"Time grows short, Eneas Karallios," the queen of the fairies said. The light of the burning s.h.i.+ps made the shadows of those gathered jump and caper like demons. "Have you come to a decision?"

"Please, do not trust them so easily, Eneas!" Briony pleaded.

"I am sorry, Princess," he said. "Truly sorry, you must believe me, but I must consider the safety of my own men first and, ultimately, my own country. That means I must also trust my own instincts, and those tell me that the fairy folk are right ..." He raised his voice. "We will do as you say, Queen Saqri."

"Good. Then we have done all we can do here," Saqri said. "The rest of the southerners are scattered through the hills. They will not come back soon."