Blackveil (88 page)

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Authors: Kristen Britain

Tags: #General, #Fiction, #fantasy, #Epic

BOOK: Blackveil
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Stand on the moon.
Laurelyn’s image fluctuated again.
Stand on the moon and I will show you. Hurry! They will soon be upon us.
Lynx cried out as one of the nythlings dove and attacked. Lhean leaped to aid him.
“I can’t abandon my friends.”
If you hesitate, that which has awakened will swarm out of Blackveil and into your country, a terrible, savage enemy. Do you wish this?
“No, but . . .” She glanced at her friends hacking at the flying creatures. Telagioth cut one out of the air.
Stand on the moon, child. We haven’t the time to debate!
Ealdaen ran toward Karigan, grabbed her arm and dragged her to the very center of the chamber to stand directly on the crystalline moon.
“Do as she says, Galadheon,” he hissed, “or else all is lost. We will protect you as well as we can.”
Sleepers poured from the corridor into the chamber like a dark wave, thin and ragged and wild, but unmistakably Eletian. Ealdaen did not pause, but pivoted and dashed back to face them. Karigan screamed when they started to tear Solan apart.
Child!
cried Laurelyn.
Your moonstone.
Karigan turned her back on the savagery to face Laurelyn’s dim form. “I want to help my friends.”
No. You’d be lost alongside them. You still have time to help others beyond Blackveil, and it may be, that by doing as I ask, you will change the outcome for your friends.
Karigan’s heart leaped with that kernel of hope and she removed the moonstone from her pocket. Unwavering light flared up around her. The nythlings flew away from it, the Sleepers did not cross it.
I need you to stand just so, for you will be the gnomon. The moonstone will cast your shadow on the correct phase.
Karigan tried to block the cries and screams of her companions while obeying Laurelyn’s instructions, stretching one arm straight out in front of her and adjusting her stance.
Use your ability, daughter of Kariny, it is the key. Use your ability to cross the threshold, the liminal line.
Karigan touched her brooch and the world changed around her, like the turning of a key. The winged statues rotated, grinding on their pedestals like the tumblers of a lock, so they all gazed down on her. The walls of the tower revolved and at its apex, it irised open to the sky. Blackveil’s vapor tumbled inside.
Karigan’s chest cramped and she fell to her knees gasping. The light flaring up around her turned blinding, absorbing Laurelyn so that she was barely perceptible.
The sky above had changed, cleared. A silver moon shined down on them.
“What . . . what?” Karigan didn’t even know what to ask.
Laurelyn smiled.
A piece of time. You have crossed the liminal to a piece of time graced by a silver full moon, a gift of the Moonman.
The Moonman, legend. Karigan’s mind raced. It was too much.
Let us go,
Laurelyn said.
“Where?”
To the grove.
She extended a hand. Karigan clasped it and found it surprisingly solid, warm. She rose and Laurelyn led her from the moondial and through the wall of light.
Karigan recoiled at her double vision, the vision of the tower as she left it, with her companions clashing with the Sleepers, layered over by the vision of the tower still and peaceful, the walls brilliantly aglow, the obsidian floor free of dust, like black ice.
She felt as though a boulder pressed against her chest as she abandoned her companions, as Lynx was thrown against the wall, claw marks striating his face. Ealdaen’s armor was splashed with blood as he relentlessly slashed at the horde of Sleepers, a nythling latched to his neck, wings flapping, tail lashing. Ealdaen tore it off and smashed it to the floor, along with a chunk of his own flesh. She could not see Yates.
“Oh, Yates,” she murmured.
Even as she saw these things, it was as though a great distance separated them from her, layered over by the serene, silver washed chamber. Her tears fell on the dusty floor strewn with footprints and blood. She left tears on pristine obsidian.
She followed Laurelyn into the winding corridor.
It grieves me,
Laurelyn said,
that your companions should suffer, but we cannot allow an army of tainted Sleepers to enter the world outside Blackveil. There would be much more suffering in your land and beyond. And as I said, this unfolding may change the fates of your friends.
“The Sleepers are awakened,” Karigan said. “I don’t know what you expect me to do.”
You shall see.
Laurelyn’s gown trailed along the floor. More Sleepers, feral, snarling things, ran by them, through them, emanating darkness that brushed against the light of Karigan’s moonstone. The layering of visions nauseated her.
“Then tell me,” she said, trying to ignore her stomach, “did you give my mother this moonstone?”
Laurelyn hesitated before answering.
Yes.
“Why?”
It contains the radiance of the moon we now walk beneath. It helped you find this piece of time.
“B-but I wasn’t even born when my mother received this!”
Laurelyn kept striding along.
You know by now Eletians can sometimes see beyond the present. Ours is not always a linear existence, but seeing is different from being able to move through the layers of the world. I knew Kariny would conceive one with your ability. I visited with her in that glade, and I sang to her. I had
not
foreseen that your father was going to be a descendent of one of Mornhavon’s folk, but there was a symmetry in it I could appreciate.
“But you—”
I am mostly not here,
Laurelyn replied.
I am here less and less as time passes and the forest assaults my strength. You see only the shadow of light.
Karigan squinted as she gazed at Laurelyn’s brightness. She could not say what she did or did not see. She’d encountered so many strange things since becoming a Rider that she shook her head and took whatever Laurelyn was as one more for the list.
“I should just go back in time to tell myself not to become a Green Rider,” Karigan said.
But would you listen to yourself?
Laurelyn asked with a glint of amusement in her eyes.
“Probably not. But, if I can do this, I could stop my mother from going to that fair where she caught fever. I . . . I could have a sister or brother. I—”
No.
Laurelyn’s voice cracked like thunder, all hint of amusement gone.
It would be disastrous, such meddling.
“It hasn’t stopped
you.
”
I have not changed the course of what is to come.
“You gave my mother a moonstone.”
They stared at one another, but Laurelyn’s brightness hurt Karigan’s eyes and she glanced away.
They continued on, emerging into the first tower. Karigan saw it filled with Sleepers, Sleepers climbing the stairs, crossing bridges on the heights above. Miraculously they had not touched Graelalea’s body or moonstone. Its light reached out to Laurelyn and her, then faded.
The Queen of Argenthyne touched the feather in Karigan’s hair.
Enmorial,
she murmured.
Remember.
Karigan paused thinking back to that snowy evening in Arrowdale, a question niggling at the back of her mind. “Why did you make me forget?” she asked. “Why did you make me forget our first meeting?”
At first Laurelyn did not answer. Then:
I feared that if you carried the memory of it, it would have left too great a burden of dread upon you, perhaps causing you to resist my plea to come here.
“Then why bother appearing to me in the first place?”
I left my plea with you as an undercurrent, a summoning that would bolster the wishes of those who command you. Now that I see you, I know my fears were unfounded, and I am sorry I hid the truth from you.
Karigan sighed, beyond anger, at least for the moment, and she thought it true Laurelyn had spared her the burden for a time.
Above all else, I wished to see
you,
Kariny’s daughter.
Laurelyn extended her hand and caressed Karigan with light.
The one I awaited for so long, and on whom all my hopes rested. Kariny, too, was my heart friend and meeting you in the place where I so often visited her answered a yearning of my spirit.
She paused.
You are very much your mother’s mirror.
The two worlds Karigan traveled in, past and present, wavered and stormed in her vision. She closed her eyes against it, and against the tempest rising within herself.
I sang to Kariny unto her ending days, and when she was gone, I was hollow with loneliness. Do know that as brief as your mother’s time in this world was,
Laurelyn said,
she loved her life, and she loved you.
“Thank you,” Karigan whispered, and when she opened her eyes once again, the vision of the empty, shining tower folded over the dark one and obscured it, the tower’s doors wide open to the grove awash in the light of the silver moon.
A FACE IN THE
FIRE
S
o exhausted was Grandmother from casting spells that she had nearly collapsed. Cole carried her away from the bodies of Deglin and Sarat, with Min trailing behind and weeping. Lala walked beside them, casting Grandmother anxious looks.
Cole halted at the edge of the grove and gently set her down. Immediately he collected wood for another fire. Min produced a blanket with which she covered Grandmother.
“I’m fine, truly I am,” she insisted.
“Are we . . . are we safe here from those Sleeper creatures?” Min asked, fretting with the hem of her cloak.
“I do not know,” Grandmother replied. “I should think, however, what is in the castle is of more interest to them than we are. At least for now. Lala will make some wards, won’t you, Lala?”
The child nodded solemnly.
“Be sparing with the yarn, child. It is all we’ve got left.”
While Lala set to work, Grandmother huddled beneath her blanket and dozed off, dreaming of sunny, drier days in her little kitchen garden in Sacor City, the birds twittering in the trees, and the smell of savory herbs and soil on her hands.
She stirred when Min gave her a cup of broth, startled to find it darker out and a campfire blazing. She closed her eyes and felt the protections Lala had placed around them—even without words, she’d given them the power to work.
“My dear child, you are a wonder! Your wards are very good.” She reached out and clasped her granddaughter’s hand.
How old my hand looks next to hers,
Grandmother reflected.
It is good she has taken so well to the art.
Grandmother knew she would not be around to lead Second Empire forever. She hoped she’d have enough time to train Lala to take her place.
The girl beamed at her, then pulled her ratty piece of string out of her pocket with which to play games.
“What’s next?” Cole asked, sipping from his own cup of broth. “Are we leaving?”
Grandmother heard the weariness in his voice. She would like nothing better than to leave Blackveil herself, though the mere idea of trekking all the way back home deepened her fatigue.
“Since we’ve a good fire, I would like to see what is happening in the world, and perhaps God will speak to me and provide us with instructions.”
In the guise of teaching Lala knots, Grandmother sat back and rested while her granddaughter did all the work. Lala encapsulated one of Birch’s fingernails into a knot and tossed the yarn into the fire.
Grandmother stared into the flames, putting her intent into seeing through Birch’s eyes. How did the training with his soldiers go? What was happening on the northern border?

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