Stonewiser (70 page)

Sariah felt lonely. Just as it had happened with the stone of creation generations ago, the friendships that had brought her this far had broken up into separate pieces. Life had scattered them like seed in the wind and the crop was far from assured.

Kael came up to stand beside her so quietly that Sariah felt him before she heard a sound from him. He was a commanding sight, shouldering the bags Delis had prepared for them, dressed for traveling and fully armed, Meliahs’ treasure.

“How did you figure it out?” he asked. “How did you know to use the stone in that way?”

“Remember when I wised the tale of the stone of creation? I realized that we were looking at Tirsis's blood print then. In the tale, Tirsis said that the prism's purpose had been to be a witness to the Blood. Belana had told me that before Grimly, the prism had been only a hound for the blood. That's when I realized that the tale I sought, the proof we needed, was the blood print itself.”

It was her turn to ask. “Would it matter to you if my blood was just like Belana's?”

“You mean if you were one of Grimly's creations?” He thought about it. “Would it matter to you?”

Sariah shrugged. She was so many things that she never thought she would be. She was stonewiser and mate, friend and mother. She was teacher, foe, aunt, wall-breaker, rot-fighter, sister, seal-spreading plague and who knew what else. Some she had dreamed of, some she had never wanted, yet fate didn't make a distinction. “What's one more brand for the iron-kissed?”

“You're thinking about the lines on that parchment that Grimly had,” Kael said. “I can't know how they connected or not as they approached your name, but this you ought to know—you are Meliahs’ own, made by her command and for her pleasure, an excellent sample of her fondness for beauty.”

Sariah smiled.
“Wise is he whose tongue spreads joy, for he will taste happiness.”

“The goddess is sparse with her blessings,” Kael said. “Whatever you are made of is great and fair to me.”

He kissed her and she knew the answer for sure. No. He didn't care.

“Will you really walk away from all of this?” he asked.

“This?” Sariah surveyed the hectic keep, the crowded roads, the bustling town, the burning countryside. “Easily.”

“You know what I mean.” Kael straightened the brooch on her shoulder. “You've been elected. You've got houses pledged to your name, troops sworn to your command. You are the Bastions’ anointed saba. You could reclaim your Hounds and send them to search in your stead.”

“If I thought the Hounds would give us some advantage, I wouldn't hesitate to bring some with us. But numbers will not help this hunt. Stealth will. Besides, this is my duty, my search.”

“Our search,” Kael said. “You might yet find some advantages to rule.”

“There are many others well suited for this kind of thing. I'm not walking from it, I'm more like running.”

“They'll have a tantrum when they find out.”

“They're all needed here.”

“Still, Lorian will be livid. Malord will be even worse. The keeper, well, I can't even begin to imagine the howling.”

“That's why we're not telling them.” Sariah pulled the hefty ladder out of the sack she fetched from the stone gutter. “That's why I asked Delis to plan our escape.”

“The wench did well.” Kael hooked the ladder on the cleverly disguised iron spikes protruding from the crenels. “An old-fashioned escape. No one would expect that at the keep. Won't the wising in the wall be a problem?”

“It would be, if our bodies were to make contact with the wall directly. The wall is wised to repel human flesh. See this?” She ran her fingers through the ladder's thickly padded sides. “Domainer gutweed. With a little bit of care, it should keep us clear of the stone.”

“She did well, our Madame executioner. But how did Delis manage that?” He gestured towards the guardhouse, where the extraordinary sight of four Hounds snoring placidly would have shocked Meliahs herself.

“She fed them her blood, fortified with a large dose of sleeping oil rubbed on her skin. Blood is the one temptation Hounds can't resist.”

Kael was still laughing when he dropped the ladder. It unraveled against the wall for quite some time. “It's a high wall. Are you sure you can handle the climb down?”

Sariah sighed.
“What's rest but a short reprieve?
I'll be fine.”

“We'll find time for you to regain your strength on the road.”

“No, nay, no. We've got to hurry, Kael. She might be hurting him. She might break him. She could kill him, or worse—”

“She could turn him into one of hers.” He knew the risks as well as she did. He shared her fear as well, the dread lodged in the pit of her soul.

“But he's strong,” Kael said. “He'll fight the witch. I know he will.”

“He's just a little child.”

“I can go. I can travel fast. I can do this on my own.”

“Not a chance.”

He grinned his furious smile. “I thought you might say that. Are you ready, then?”

Sariah took the hand he put out, brought it to her lips and kissed it. “I'm ready, love. Let's go find our son.”

The End

D
ESOLATION AWAITED
K
AEL
at the top of his steep climb. The trail he had been following for the last few days ended abruptly in a barren landscape. He crouched at the edge of a sloping crater. A sterile field of shattered stone sprawled beneath him. The stones were strewn in all directions, as if crumpled by a giant hand. But it wasn't only the gray vision of fractured rock blending with the leaden sky burdening his senses. It was the silence, the total absence of movement and life stifling the air. Doom had a silent way of claiming its territory. Death stalked this place like a curse, hovering over him like an ax ready to split his skull.

He followed the footprints to the stone field. The drizzle had washed away some of the tracks, but he was well practiced in the sport of the hunt. A few days. That's all that stood between him and the beast who had stolen from him. He crouched when he spied the sandaled footprint. Not only was it smaller than the others, but it was also fainter, as if its owner walked above the rest of mankind, as if she deigned not step over the same path everyone else followed. She could not run forever. And he would be waiting for her when forever ended, preferably tomorrow or the day after that.

He surveyed the trampled place where the party split. The bulk of the warriors had waited here, although for what, he wasn't sure. There were no signs of camps or fires, no traces of idle lingering or carelessness. But there had been a late addition to the group, a man who had traveled here from a different direction. Someone of means, Kael noticed, examining the prints of a pair of doubly stitched soles that sported the faint outline of the Guild's master cobbler's seal. It was this new man who had gone into the barren stone field accompanied by a guard. It made perfect sense. She would have never taken the risk herself.

What did Grimly expect to find there? Kael knew firsthand the folly of trying to guess the cunning crone's purposes. The Guild's former Prime Hand was the most dangerous foe a man could face; driven, devious, brilliant, as skilled at intricate deception as she was brutal. He couldn't afford to guess Grimly's game. He had to do better. He had to
know
her game.

The stones crunched under his cautious steps. The one-way tracks led him into a deepening gulch and stopped at the gully's end, as if the men had suddenly vanished. Kael inspected the rocks. They were crammed together and solid. There were no dragging marks, no signs of struggle, no indication of hidden entrances.

He ran his hands over the harsh granite. He was no stonewiser. Like most people, he was deaf to the stones. But the curse of his Domainer blood offered a slight advantage. Because he was a Domainer, he was able to imprint the stones with tales. Moreover, after years of rebelling against the Guild's brutal rule, he had developed the common skill into a rare but convenient talent. These days he was able to imbue the stones with his most violent emotions making them burst at will.

He wagered he could adapt his singular talent to try to trick an answer from even the sneakiest of stones. That's what he did now, carefully imbuing the piles with a pulse of measured curiosity to unmask the wised stones hiding among all that senseless rock. The stones would never grant him a tale, he knew that, but maybe they would react to his query, betraying their presence and confirming his suspicions that he treaded in wised territory.

Had he been someone else, he might have missed the stones’ discreet reply. It came in the form of a smoldering flash, so quick and sudden it could have been his body's own doing. But he was not easily deceived. Born to a stonewiser and mated to another, he was accustomed to the stones’ mysterious ways. The heat that flashed through his body reminded him of his lover's fiery embrace. Loving her was like loving the flame. He craved the fire's sizzling blaze. A lick of that familiar flare had taunted him a moment ago. These stones were wised. He was sure.

But even he was surprised when a small burrow began to open up at the foot of the shifting rocks. It hadn't been there a moment ago. His modest skills with the stones couldn't begin to account for the widening passageway. Could they?

Nay. There was something else in play here, something dangerous. He examined the opening carefully. The footprints disappeared into the darkness. He cringed when he caught a whiff of the foul stink. A revolting scent lingered in the stale air, sweet, noxious and repellant. He listened carefully before he started down the passageway. No noise came from the inside. The only sound he heard was the drizzle, tapping a steady rustle on the rocks, whispering a warning for his ears alone.

Kael proceeded with caution. Wised stone could be gift or curse, friend or foe, wonder or deception. Like Grimly, wised stones could be treacherous too. He crawled along a narrow tunnel, until it widened enough for him to stand beneath a small arch marking an entrance of sorts. He tested the lintel, running his fingers up and down the ledges, finding no ropes, door traps, or hidden mechanisms. His steps made no sound as he advanced down the sloping corridor.

The stagnant air grew steamy as he descended, damp and rich with the foul scents trapped below. A hint of soft, diffused glow issued from somewhere ahead, allowing him to make out the outline of the long winding stairs his feet negotiated. Where was the light coming from? Opaque shadows paraded in his peripheral vision. He ran a hand over the dilapidated paintings that had once decorated the walls. A dank coating of mold feasted on the decrepit plaster and smeared his fingertips.

This had to be an Old World ruin, one of those abandoned places occasionally discovered in the Goodlands, a wreck of the past, a reminder of all that had been lost and destroyed. What was it doing here, so far removed from other known sites? And why was Grimly interested in this place?

The luminescent glow spilled from what appeared to be a larger chamber at the bottom of the stairs. Kael flattened against the wall. With his twin swords poised, he crept down the last few steps. His heartbeat remained steady. Fear had long since been silenced by determination. The child of his heart deserved nothing less than freedom and care. To retrieve the son he had lost, he would challenge Meliahs herself.

The chamber was an ode to destruction. Huge beams fractured the ancient walls. Bursts of long blades skewered the mountain like enormous swords, creating a striking garden of dark fallen stars. The beams had crushed the tiered marble benches, decapitating the gilded statues and shattering the ruined frescoes. Kael's trained eye identified a pattern right away. The jagged beams seemed to radiate from an unseen center. The footprints he tracked veered in the same direction.

At last he was able to identify the source of the strange glow. The place was alight with an odd phosphorescent gleam emanating from the beams. He ventured a touch. The surface was warm to his hand. Remarkable. Were these giant formations made of rock? And if they were indeed stones, were the light and warmth they offered indications of a powerful wising?

He scratched one of the radiant beams with his blade. A thin lustrous layer broke off into a long, smooth plane, a perfect cleavage. The glassy surface reflected the puzzle in his green and black eyes. It was soft and flexible between his fingers. It didn't feel like any rock he knew.

The land healer in him wished he could linger to investigate the odd beams. The roamer in him wanted to survey the entire, extensive place. Observation was a prolific teacher, always willing to speak to the attentive pupil. Not today. He snapped the sample he had taken into smaller pieces and tucked them in his pouch. Perhaps someday he could come back to investigate this place. Right now, his life was pledged to one purpose only—to find his son.

Kael made his way through the beams. The humid heat was hard on the lungs. A man would do well to shorten his exposure to such hostile conditions. He was sweating by the time he reached the ruins’ center. The bulk of the columns radiated from a single point, a hollow core, an empty space marked by a low sheaf of needle-sharp blades bursting from the earth. Light issued from these blades, a purple glow pulsing in the sheaf's center. The footprints stopped before a pile of ashes, the source of the awful stink permeating the air.

Kael poked at the ash pile with the tip of his sword. A scorched, brittle pike point clinked against his blade. A charred skull had managed to retain its form. The guard had died a sudden, fiery death. This place was not just treacherous. It was deadly.

The distant clunk of wooden soles heightened his alarm. It seemed impossible, but the sound appeared to be coming from the sheaf itself. A tiny shadow distorted the light's dark hue. A miniscule shape reflected on the blades, a vision of bustling skirts growing in size with every step, gaining color and definition. Kael was hard-pressed to believe his eyes. A woman sprang from the sheaf and marched toward a rustic farm table that materialized out of nowhere in the ruins’ center.