ARC: Sunstone (23 page)

II

Tahir’s bottom had gone numb. Standing up made his legs ache, and besides, he couldn’t move far from where his manacles were linked to an iron ring in the wall, so he ended up sitting most of the time. But he couldn’t lie down, and consequently he was beginning to feel sore. He didn’t have a lot of meat on his bones anyway, he thought, pushing his back up against the wall and crossing his legs, and he had even less now as he had hardly eaten anything over the last few days.

Hunger gnawed at his stomach, but he was too tired and dispirited to worry about it. Standing up to the Incendi king had been uplifting and thrilling, but Pyra had promptly thrown him in a cell and forgotten about him. Nobody had come in for hours, maybe days – he had no way of telling. He had no light, no food, and no water. His mouth felt as if it were full of sand, and he was so tired he could barely lift his head up.

Pyra might not be able to kill him directly, he mused, but he was doing a pretty good job indirectly. At this rate, he would be dead before the end of the day. And for the first time, he thought he might welcome it.

He leaned his head against the stone and dozed.

A muffled yell from further down the corridor snapped him awake. How long had he slept? It could have been minutes or hours. And who had yelled? Since being in the cell, he had heard tortured screams and people crying, but this sounded different – nearby, an oath, cut off quickly. He sat up, tried to get to his feet and failed, too weak to rise.

Feet scuffed outside the door and a voice whispered, “Tahir?”

His heart swelled. He knew that voice! “Catena? It is I!”

A key turned in the lock and the door opened. The familiar form of Catena came through. She looked tired and dishevelled, streaked with sweat and dust, odd in the clothes of an Incendi guard, but her face lit up as she saw him.

She dropped to her knees before him and cupped his face. “Tahir? What have they done to you?”

He tried to shake his head. “I am all right.”

“You are not all right.” Her voice hitched. “My young prince. How could they?”

He felt too emotional to answer, and instead turned as Atavus pushed under her arm, tail wagging furiously, and shoved his nose into Tahir’s face. The dog’s warm tongue licked him, and Tahir threw his arms around Atavus’s neck and buried his face in the dog’s fur. “Oh I have missed you,” he murmured, only then realising how much.

A dark shape filled the doorway, and Tahir pulled back as Demitto appeared. He looked down at the boy silently. Tahir looked up, seeing the emissary’s handsome face and his dark eyes. The man also wore Incendi garb.

A twinge of doubt made Tahir stiffen in Catena’s hands. “How do I know it is you?” he whispered.

She frowned and stroked his cheeks. “It is me, Tahir. Can you not tell?”

“I…” He swallowed. “He plays tricks on me.”

Demitto lowered his bag from his back and retrieved his leather water bag. He passed it to Catena. “The boy’s dehydrated and probably delirious. Do not let him drink it all. Just a bit at first.”

Pushing the eager Atavus out of the way, she tipped up the bottle and the water slid between Tahir’s lips. It was warm, but he drank it like it was cold and clear, fresh from a mountain stream, and he had never tasted anything so fine.

She lowered the bottle and handed it back to Demitto, who sank to his haunches before the Prince.

“We must go,” he stated. “Can you stand?”

Tahir looked up at him. Embarrassment and shame filled him at the fantasy that Pyra had used to taunt and tempt him with. He could not shake the memory of the man’s lips pressed against his. “How do I know it is you?” he whispered.

Demitto frowned. “If you ask me that again, I am going to slap you. Now get up. We have to go.”

The man’s obvious impatience filled him with relief and convinced him that this was the real Demitto more than anything else could have done.

He tried to push himself to his feet again, but his limbs shook and he fell to his knees. “I do not think I can walk…” His lip trembled. “I am sorry.”

Demitto put an arm around his shoulders, bent and slid a hand under his knees, and hefted him into his arms. “You weigh almost nothing,” he said, gesturing with his head for Catena to check the corridor. “We need to get you to eat.”

Tahir leaned his head on Demitto’s shoulder and let the tears trickle down his cheeks. They had risked their lives to find him and rescue him. He felt so humble he could not put it into words.

They rounded a corner and Demitto stopped at the sight of two guards in the corridor ahead of them. Catena passed him and drew her sword. Even before Atavus could leap at them, the guards were dead.

Tahir blinked at the speed with which she had despatched them. He had never seen her kill anyone before, had not been certain she was capable of it. He had always thought of her role as Captain of the Guard a sedentary one. Little happened down in Harlton – there had been no great invasions of the castle or local wars in Tahir’s lifetime. She practised her sword skills on a daily basis and he had often watched her putting the guards through their paces, laughing as they tripped over their swords or dazed each other with mis-hits. The thought of them fighting in battle had amused him. And now here she was, fending off the enemy with ease.

She cleaned her sword on the guard’s jerkin, stood and sheathed the blade, and looked down at the bodies for a moment. “I wonder where they were from,” she murmured. “They were probably just farmers, brought here by the Incendi – their training could not match a Laxonian knight’s.”

“They hope to overwhelm with numbers,” Demitto said. He nodded down the corridor. “Keep going.”

She led the way, and the emissary followed. Tahir curled in the man’s arms, drawing his feet in so they didn’t knock against the walls of the passage. He let his hand drop, however, and felt Atavus’s nose bump against it from time to time.

He had seen the elemental army preparing for battle, had counted their numbers. Anguis had not known a war like this for five hundred years. Heartwood had few defences. The people had grown soft and lazy after years of peace. What would happen when the Incendi rose?

Ahead of them, Catena paused, her palm resting on the wall. She bent her head in concentration, her dark hair falling across her face.

“What is she doing?” Tahir whispered.

“Listening to the rock,” Demitto replied. “She is a Saxum.”

Two revelations about Catena in the space of a few moments. Tahir watched her, seeing her hand glow with silver light. Her father was a miner, and his father before him. Had she somehow inherited a love of the rock in the blood?

She lifted her head and looked up at them. “Something is happening.”

“Can you be more specific?” Demitto sounded exasperated. Tahir could feel the tenseness of the man’s body, and an irritation that teetered on fear. He didn’t like being underground.

She frowned. “Can you not feel it?”

Demitto opened his mouth to reply, then paused.

Tahir lifted his head. “What is it?”

The emissary slid his arm from under the boy’s knees to let his feet drop to the floor. Tahir stood, albeit unsteadily, one hand resting on Atavus’s neck as he came forward to support him. As he did so, he felt what the others had been able to feel – a deep vibration in the ground.

At the same time, the air about them turned crystalline, as if it were freezing cold, although the temperature and humidity remained so high that sweat poured down their faces. Tahir passed his hand in front of him, watching the sparkling dust move and swirl. “What is it?”

“I do not know.” Demitto took his hand and moved forward. They walked to the end of the corridor and stood at the entrance to the next room.

They were in the heart of the enormous pyramid, Tahir thought, in some kind of large ceremonial room, with high ceilings and flat, polished walls painted in bright colours, highlighted with gold and silver, studded with sparkling gems. Magma ran in a channel around the edge, and steam curled from the boiling rock, lending the whole chamber a hazy air. It was empty of Incendi, as if the room were only used for important occasions. Tahir lived in a king’s castle, but he had never seen anything as splendid as this place.

“We should go,” Catena said, but Tahir pushed past her and, on shaky legs, walked into the room.

The air felt thick, like walking through honey. He could remember being taken to the sea once by a nurse, and she had led him out into the ocean until he could not touch the bottom. He had played often in the local river and could swim well enough, but the sensation of being out of his depth had made him panic, and it was a similar feeling now. He moved his arms, watching the silver dust swirl around them, conscious of breathing it in, although it did not appear to be affecting his lungs. He splayed his fingers, and spirals of silver wove between them, entrancing and terrifying at the same time.

“Tahir.” Demitto spoke firmly. “We are leaving.”

But Tahir ignored him. He felt a strange attraction to the centre of the room, as if he were being drawn there by invisible hands. He walked down the wide steps to the tiled floor, hands brushing the elaborately carved statues and stone furniture.

“Tahir,” Catena snapped in her best do-as-I-say-or-there-will-be-trouble voice, but he ignored her too.

Something was shifting inside him. He stopped in the middle of the floor, heart pounding, slightly dizzy. Was that just the lack of food and water or something more? He raised his hands in front of him. They sparkled too; in fact as he looked down he could see the whole of him sparkling.

“Tahir…” Catena’s voice sounded as if from a long way away.

He closed his eyes.

The world turned. He felt as if he were sinking into the ground, into the earth, separating into a billion tiny pieces that were travelling along the energy channels from the Arbor to all corners of Anguis.

Above him, the stars wheeled, the sun rose and set, clouds scudded across the sky and birds dipped and soared on the currents. Trees grew, and died; animals lived, and died. Their energy seeped into the channels, circled the world, joined with him in this journey from coast to coast. Men loved women, made babies; they grew in the womb, were born. It was all a circle – a cycle – and Tahir felt a part of it for the first time in his life. No longer was he a small, thin, rather insignificant young man – he was the food for the world, the breath of life.

This can all be yours…

The Arbor loomed large in his mind, towering over him. The rich, thick leaves rustled in the breeze. Tahir put his arms around the trunk and rested his cheek on the bark. The heartbeat sounded in his ears, slow and steady. Faces flashed through his mind, including one similar to his own, with dark hair, golden eyes. Was it someone else or was he looking into a mirror?

Overhead, the sky rumbled. Thunder – a storm coming. He watched the clouds gather, curling, darkening, brooding. The tree rustled. Something was coming. His breathing quickened, and he stepped away from the trunk. He felt empty inside, like a mother whose newborn has been snatched from her arms. The tree faded, and his consciousness withdrew like a sailor pulling in the mooring ropes before setting sail.

Once again, he became aware of the ground trembling beneath his feet. The air swirled around him, thick and humid. Voices whispered in the darkness, tugging at his mind. The world spun.

Tahir opened his eyes.

III

Comminor walked down the steps into the large ceremonial room. He glanced around it briefly, seeing the faded paint, the beautifully carved statues, the stone furniture. Ice settled in his stomach. He hated it, hated all of it. He wished he could tear it down with his bare hands.

The five members of the Veris stood in a line on the other side of the room. They had all drawn small blades and held them like dining knives. They would be no match for his trained Umbra. The journey was over.

He moved closer and noticed with shock that Sarra’s pregnancy had advanced far more than it should have done in the days since they had left the Embers. Why was that? What strange phenomenon could be causing the baby to grow?

She saw him looking at her bump and crossed her arms over it protectively. “Please do not harm the baby,” she whispered.

He frowned. “I will not harm it if you do as you are told.” His gaze rested on her face and he could not stop the sweep of longing that overcame him. He loved her – he could not deny it. “I do not want to harm any of you. You are my citizens. I just want you to return with me.” He thought briefly of the waterfall and the hanging rope, then brushed it away. He would worry about how they were to return later.

“We are not going back,” the apothecary known as Nele said.

Comminor turned his hard gaze to him. “I will not let you leave.”

Frustration filled the other man’s face. “What are we to you? Nothing. Why can you not just let us go?”

“You belong to me. And it is my duty to keep you all safe.”

Sarra moved forward. “You do not understand. There is a way out, Comminor. A way to the Surface. The baby knows – it is a bard. I have spoken to him. He is connected to the Arbor – he is showing me the way out! Do you not want to see the Surface? To know what is out there? To see the Arbor?”

Comminor kept his face impassive. “You must come back with me.”

She walked up to him and stood before him, then took his hands in hers. “Please.”

He looked into her eyes. Love swept over him, and he wished he could just pick her up and carry her back, and live with her in his palace for the rest of his days. He cupped her cheek, brushing it with his thumb, aching to hold her, wishing he didn’t have to say the words. “I cannot.”

Geve came down the steps and took Sarra’s hand. “Come on.”

“You are not taking her anywhere,” Comminor said, moving to confront the other man.

They faced each other, Geve’s face showing determination. “I will fight you. I will not let you take her.”

Behind Comminor, Viel, Josse and Paronel fanned out to meet the other members of the Veris as they came down the steps, swords drawn.

“I would like to see you try,” Comminor said, amused.

Geve opened his mouth to reply. And then the ground trembled.

Comminor’s eyes met Sarra’s again, and she must have read the uncertainty in his because it mirrored in her own. “What was that?”

“I do not know.” They looked around as the trembling continued, seeing clouds of dust arising from the statues and pillars, the vibration travelling up through their feet into their bones.

The air became thick and filled with glistening dust, and as Comminor moved his hand in front of him, the glitter stirred in whorls of silver and gold.

He held his breath, shocked. Surely not…

He had read about this in the
Quercetum
. This happened when time was being manipulated. And it had happened when the Apex had occurred.

The
Quercetum
had stated that the third phase of the Apex would occur in the future. Of course the book had been written in the First and Second Age, and those who played a part in the second phase had not been able to tell how far in the future the third phase would be. Comminor had assumed it was hundreds if not thousands of years ahead – had never thought to play a role in it.

Was it really happening now?

The room – already in a half-light that Comminor noticed now came from a bag around Betune’s neck – darkened. His stomach knotted the way it did when he jumped into the palace pool from the diving board, as if he were falling. Around them, the air stirred, grew thick as stew, shone silver.

And then figures appeared out of the darkness, standing beside them, their shimmering forms hardening, solidifying, until the room was full of people, staring at each other in shocked disbelief.

Comminor looked at the men and women who had appeared and knew immediately that they were those mentioned in the
Quercetum
as having taken part in the Apex. The blonde, small young woman was Horada, the angry dark-haired man her brother Julen, both children of Chonrad, the great knight who had helped to save the Arbor from the Darkwater Lords. And the boy with the black hair and golden eyes the same as his own was the young prince, Tahir, while the couple standing by him must be the emissary and the boy’s guard, Demitto and Catena. Next to the Prince stood the dog that the
Quercetum
had stated was the father of all the dogs who had lived in the Embers ever since.

Comminor stared at them all, shocked into silence, confused beyond belief. The Apex had occurred outside, hadn’t it? In front of the Arbor, at Heartwood. How could it be happening now, underground?

Horada grabbed hold of her brother. “The Apex,” she said urgently. “He is trying to move the Apex. To force it to happen now!”

“Who is?” Comminor demanded.

Julen studied him cautiously, then stepped forward. “Pyra, the King of the Incendi.”

“We cannot let it happen,” Demitto said.

“I think it is too late.” Prince Tahir dropped to his knees as the ground shook again. “We have failed.”

“No!” Comminor let out a bellow. He had not worked all these years to protect his people only to have them destroyed. “We must call for help.”

“I have tried,” said Demitto, “but the Arbor cannot help us in here. It cannot hear us.”

“Yes, it can.” Julen’s eyes lit up. “I thought the same, but it has just helped me turn the Incendi elementals to ice and it freed me from the manacles.” He looked down and clasped the wooden pendant around his neck. “It was this. It is a part of the Arbor.”

The trembling increased, and to their left a statue tumbled to the ground, breaking into half a dozen pieces. Amabil, standing nearby, squealed and rubbed her arm where the rock had struck her. Everyone moved, clustering in the centre.

Demitto fumbled in his linen shirt and withdrew his own pendant. “Here is mine.”

Comminor pulled out his. “And mine.”

“What do we do with them?”

“I do not know.” Comminor lifted the cord over his head, as did the others. They tightened their fists and placed their hands together. “Think of the Arbor,” he commanded.

They all concentrated, but nothing happened. To his surprise, he felt Sarra’s hand creep into his. “What is happening?” she whispered.

He realised she knew nothing of the Apex, nor of the time before the Embers. But it would take too long to explain now. “You must believe me,” he said. “We have to stop this convergence. It is not time.”

She met his gaze. He saw it dawn in her eyes that he knew more than he had revealed to her. Slowly, she nodded. “Betune,” she murmured.

Comminor’s head snapped around to the woman who held the tiny bag in her hand. “What is in there?”

Betune’s gaze flicked to Nele, who nodded. “It is an acorn from the Arbor,” she said reluctantly, as if worried he would take it away from her.

But Comminor just beckoned her forward. “Hold it here.”

It was becoming hard to stand upright, and everyone reached out to hold onto one of the stone blocks as the tremors increased and more statues fell, the dust making everyone cough.

Betune stumbled to them, opening the tiny bag, and let the acorn drop onto her palm. She closed her fingers around it and placed her hand on top of the others.

Comminor waited, but nothing happened. Huge chunks of stone fell all around them, as if the whole world were breaking apart. Sarra’s hand tightened in his, and beside her he heard Geve curse under his breath as fragments of falling stone chipped and flew to sting their skin.

They couldn’t die here, not after everything he had done. He had worked so hard, studied the histories, made decisions that had kept him awake at night just to keep the Embers at peace.
Please
, he thought.
Do not let us all die here. I have kept us safe for so long.
He thought of the Arbor.
Please, help us.

His pendant grew warm. He opened his eyes and stared at their hands. Demitto and Julen were doing the same. A glow emitted from the acorn, passing through the sunstones in the pendants. All three brightened, first to an orange glow, then to a brilliant white light.

Suddenly, beside them all, a figure appeared, making them jump. A tall man in a long grey cloak, the hood pulled over his head, arms covered with leather bracers, body criss-crossed with leather straps. A holy man who nevertheless was ready for action.

Comminor’s heart leapt.
Cinereo?

The figure brought his hand down in a sharp slash and, at the same time, the world exploded. Bright light from the sunstones shot out across the room, which crumbled around them, and all of them instinctively ducked and covered their heads as stone rained down. Comminor pulled Sarra into his arms and they crouched by the side of a huge stone block that didn’t look as if an earthquake could move it. Well, they would soon find out, Comminor thought, because it felt as if they were having an earthquake. The ground shook, pillars fell and dust rose to choke them all. The noise was deafening, and for a while he was sure it was only a matter of time before a huge lump of stone would squash them flat.

He covered Sarra’s body with his own, and did his best to protect the baby.

It felt as if the earthquake went on forever. But gradually, the noise and commotion died down. The trembling stopped. The clouds of dust settled.

Comminor waited to make sure it was really over. Then he lifted his head.

The other people who had slipped through the barrier of time had disappeared.

He pushed himself to his feet and lifted Sarra with him, relieved to see she was unharmed. Around them, the others stirred too, coughing and groaning as they checked damaged limbs and found blood. Viel’s left hand had been damaged in the falling debris and he cradled it to his chest, wincing with pain. Amabil’s left arm was covered in blood where a sharp piece of chipped rock had wounded her shoulder. But amazingly, nobody had been killed.

Comminor looked around the room. Debris littered the floor, and statues and pillars had fallen everywhere, but the most shocking sight was the far wall. It had completely crumbled, and behind it, a staircase of stone steps curved upwards, out of sight to the right.

Comminor’s gaze met Sarra’s. Defiance leapt in her eyes.

“No!” He drew his sword and made a grab for her, but she was already moving away to the stairs. “Sarra, wait!”

“This way!” she yelled to the others.

Viel, Josse and Paronel moved to stop the Veris as they scrambled to follow her. Geve vaulted over a fallen statue, but Comminor moved to meet him, blocking his exit.

“Get out of my way,” Geve snarled, drawing his own sword.

“Do not go up there,” Comminor said, unable to stop the desperation entering his voice. “Please.”

Geve’s brow flickered with confusion, but Comminor saw him look past to where Sarra was already mounting the staircase, pushing bits of stone aside as she climbed.

“This is the way out!” Her voice rang with excitement. “Hurry!”

Comminor met Geve’s blade with a parry of his own and pushed him back, and the two men circled. To his right, the others scuffled, but the Veris were no match for the trained Umbra and were quickly restrained.

Angry now, Comminor swung his sword and knocked Geve’s aside, but the young man leapt out of his way before he could attack again, regaining his balance and crouching as Comminor approached for another blow.

“We have to protect Sarra,” Geve said. “This is madness. Why do we not all go with her?”

Comminor hesitated. It was true that it did not matter whether one or all of them made it to the Surface. However many, it was the beginning of the end. He opened his mouth to speak, and at that moment, a scream cut through the silence.

As one, the two men turned and raced up the staircase, the others close behind. Comminor ran beside Geve, taking two steps at a time, holding onto the wall as the staircase curved up and to the right.

“We are coming, Sarra!” yelled Geve, but there was no reply.

They climbed higher and higher, Comminor privately musing at Sarra’s sprightliness at climbing so quickly considering she was so heavily pregnant.

More steps and yet more, and then they turned the corner and saw above them the end of the steps. They climbed the last few and found themselves in a large room.

They came to a halt. In front of them, Sarra had collapsed onto the floor, faced with the scene on the far side. Comminor stared, vaguely aware of the Veris and the Umbra coming up behind him and fanning out to his left and right. Everyone fell silent and stared too.

The wall on the opposite side of the room had crumbled and fallen down a slope, leaving the view wide open. They stood about a third of the way up a mountain, the panorama before them stretching away as far as the eye could see. Comminor’s head spun and he almost fell over as his brain tried to make sense of the perspective. He had never seen such a vast distance.

He had known what to expect – the
Quercetum
had made it quite clear what had happened after the second phase of the Apex. He had known that the bards of the Embers saw not the present, but the glorious past: a time when there were birds and the grass and trees, when the land was whole and the Arbor still existed, when Anguis was a place for the living.

He had known it had all come to an end, but even so, seeing it was almost the hardest thing he had ever done. Except for watching the others around him see it too. Especially the Veris – those who had also dreamed of the land of green and blue.

Because the vista before them held only one colour.

The brilliant red of fire.