Authors: Rachel Aaron
The snow around the mountain began to swirl angrily. “Such a thing was supposed to be impossible. We gave up our freedom and entered the shell specifically to keep their kind out, and yet here was a demon, right among us. To this day, no one knows how it got in,
but it destroyed half the world before the Shepherdess and her weapon, the Lord of Storms, cornered it. By that time the demon was so large the Shepherdess could not destroy it without breaking the world itself in the process. In the end, there was only one solution. It was my brother who made the sacrifice. He gave up his stone and his name to trap the demon so that we might live in peace. The Shepherdess took his body and buried the demon beneath it, fixing the prison in place with her seal. The moment the seal was in place, my brother’s verdant slopes were abandoned, and his corpse became what we now call the Dead Mountain.”
“Your twin brother,” Miranda said, her face pale and her eyes wide. “You mean a mountain as large as you died to trap the demon?”
“Not died,” the Shaper Mountain said. “Not entirely, though you would not recognize him if you saw him now.”
The snow swirled, and Miranda shuddered as the weight of the mountain’s full attention landed on them. “I tell you this, Heinricht, so that you may understand what those ill-gotten eyes of yours see. I may be her star, but it is the Shepherdess who rules this sphere, not us. Star or no, I am as much a slave to the Lady’s will as any broken pebble.”
“But you are no pebble,” Slorn said. “You are the greatest spirit left in the world. And if you will do nothing—”
“You are a Shaper, Heinricht,” the mountain said. “It is your nature to see a broken thing and wish to fix it. But this is our world, not a broken sword. We cannot simply reshape it into something better. We must live as the Shepherdess commands and hope things change before we all grow too sleepy and stupid to care.”
Slorn frowned. “Too sleepy?”
“This world you know is a sad, diminished shadow,” the mountain said. “Every year, more spirits fall asleep and do not wake. Of all my mountains, only a handful still answer when I call. The spirits grow small and stupid. They forget what lies beyond, what came
before. But those of us who were Shaped by the Creator himself, we remember. We know the truth…”
As the mountain’s voice faded, the landscape began to change. The snow slowed, and then stopped. The light shifted from slate gray to golden yellow as the icy clouds evaporated. Sunlight burst down onto the field, and the snowdrifts began to melt before Miranda’s eyes. As they melted, flowers pushed their heads through the ice, opening in tiny bursts of color as the shrinking snowbanks gave way to bright green grass. But the flowers died almost as quickly as they had bloomed, their petals dropping to the grass, which was now fading to dead brown. The mountains vanished beneath a blanket of snow yet again as the meadow withered. But no sooner was the snow on the ground than it began to vanish, and the cycle began again.
Each time it was faster. The meadow and the mountains flashed between snow and life, blooming flowers, withered grass, and crusted snow trading places in breathless transition. Miranda shrank back against Gin, clutching his fur, but the ghosthound offered no comfort. His orange eyes were shut tight, and he was whining deep in his throat as the landscape around them melted, greened, bloomed, withered, and froze over and over again until Miranda was nearly sick from change.
Unlike Gin, Slorn’s eyes were wide open. He was standing with his head tilted back, staring open-mouthed at the sky. Miranda swallowed and, against her better judgment, followed his gaze up. She was immediately sorry. The sky was changing just as fast as the world around them, flashing between day and night so rapidly it almost made her retch. But before she could look away, the cycle of dawn, day, dusk, and dark began to slow. At last, it stopped altogether, leaving her staring up at a night sky unlike anything she had ever seen.
She never knew how long they stared in silence. It felt like a
lifetime. When she finally found her voice, the words came out more air than sound.
“What are they?”
“I don’t know,” Slorn answered just as quietly.
High overhead, cast around the crescent moon like scattered sand, points of light shone against the black velvet curve of the night sky. There were thousands of them, millions, more than Miranda could count if she spent the rest of her life doing nothing else. The twinkling lights seemed to gather at the middle of the sky, forming a road of light so beautiful and enormous, it brought tears to her eyes.
“This is my memory,” the mountain said, its voice drifting on the gentle wind. “Here at my center, I am free of what the Shepherdess would have us forget. Here I remember the world as it was before, when time moved forward, when there were seasons and lights in the sky beside the sun and the moon. Back when there was no need for a Shepherdess. Back when every spirit woke and slept as it chose, when there were no humans, no wizards, and we hunted our own demons.”
As the mountain spoke, the beautiful night sky full of lights faded. The valley faded, too, so did the mountains, and Miranda found herself standing beside Slorn and Gin in the plain white room.
“But that world is gone,” the mountain said, his disembodied voice echoing through the empty chamber. “Broken, eaten, lost forever. We live in the Shepherdess’s world now. If I question her methods, even to bring a new idea, even I could end up like Gredit.”
“Gredit?” Slorn said, stepping forward. “You know what happened to the Great Bear?”
“We all know,” the mountain said. “Before, stars were named so because they were the greatest, the only spirits large enough to watch over their own. But the Shepherdess picks her own stars now. Small spirits, creatures not even worthy of the name, elevated only
because the Shepherdess found them beautiful. Even now she ignores the world to play her favorites against each other for no reason other than she likes to be fought over. Gredit, stubborn, noble old bear, thought he could make her see sense. To that end, he made the mistake of threatening her current favorite darling, and she killed him for it.”
Slorn made a keening sound deep in his throat. Miranda flinched. It was the most animal sound she’d ever heard him make.
“With my twin dead, I am the last of the great mountains,” the Teacher said. “I cannot leave my sleeping brothers without guidance. I cannot risk sharing Gredit’s fate, no matter how noble the cause. I do not know if the Shepherdess is mad or simply foolish, but she has shown that she will kill an ancient spirit if the fancy strikes her, and we do not have so many stars that we can throw them away on your theories, Heinricht. Do you understand?”
“I understand, Teacher,” Slorn said. “But I do not agree. I cannot accept that a Shepherdess who kills her flock when they question her is worthy of such worship.”
“Then you should keep that opinion to yourself,” the mountain rumbled. “I have heard your knowledge, Shaper. This hearing is adjourned. Go and make peace with your father. I cannot help you.”
“Wait!” Miranda cried, but it was too late. The mountain’s voice vanished without even an echo. A second later, the platform under their feet shook, and they began to descend. Miranda turned to Slorn, burning with questions, but one look at his face was enough to kill them on her tongue. She’d never seen him so angry. Behind her, Gin was still on the ground with his eyes closed, breathing the deep, measured breaths he used to keep himself calm when he was injured. Even Mellinor would not speak.
They emerged from the ceiling of the Hall of the Shapers to find the Guildmaster waiting for them with half a dozen Shapers spread out in a circle around the descending pillar.
“Heinricht Slorn,” the Guildmaster said. “The Teacher has declared you a threat to the safety of the mountain. You will be taken back to your cell, there to live out the rest of your natural life.”
“What?” Miranda said. “The mountain just said he couldn’t do anything. How is Slorn a threat?”
“Do not speak!” one of the Shapers shouted, but he stopped when the Guildmaster raised his hand.
“Outsiders do not have a voice within the mountain,” the Guildmaster said. Miranda glowered, but the old man wasn’t talking to her. He was talking to Slorn. “The Teacher did not like your knowledge, it seems.”
“Knowledge worth having is rarely pleasant,” Slorn answered. “But I am not convinced the Teacher has truly made his decision.”
The Guildmaster stiffened. “Was the Teacher not clear?”
“He was very clear,” Slorn answered. “But he showed us much before throwing us out. The Mountain has and will always be our teacher, and a teacher does not show his students the truth if he does not wish them to learn. If he truly had no use for Nivel’s and my work, or Miranda’s presence, he would never have called us up in the first place.”
“A wise observation,” the Guildmaster said. “Though you may spend the rest of your life waiting to learn the Teacher’s true intentions.”
“I am prepared,” Slorn said.
“But what about your companion?” the Guildmaster said, turning to face Miranda. “Is she ready? Or have you not told her yet?”
Slorn’s jaw clenched, and a tremor of fear ran up Miranda’s spine. “Told me what?”
“I’m afraid my son has done you a great disservice,” the Guildmaster said. “You see, no outsider who has seen the secrets of the Shaper Mountain is ever allowed to leave.”
“
What?
” Miranda shouted, turning to stare at Slorn. “What does he—”
The stone beneath their feet erupted, cutting her off. Great hands of white rock burst from the ground and clutched her body, crushing the air from her lungs. She fought the hold on instinct, but all she managed was to hurt her neck, the only part of her body she could still move. Slorn and Gin were caught as well, but when she snapped her head around to look at the Guildmaster, his old face was truly pitying.
“I am sorry,” he said. “But Shaper secrets must be maintained. Out of respect for the great good your order has done for the world, I promise that your life with us will not be uncomfortable.” He gave her a sad smile. “Good-bye, Spiritualist.”
Miranda opened her mouth to tell him exactly what she thought of that, but the stone closed over her head before the words could form, yanking her down into the mountain.
D
awn had barely broken when Eli woke to the feeling of something cold tracing a burning line across his cheek. He gasped before he could stop himself, his body going rigid. Slowly, deliberately, he forced himself to take deep, calm breaths. Only when he was sure his voice was neutral did he dare to speak.
“I asked you not to do that,” he said, opening his eyes.
Beautiful, hated laughter floated through the glowing air as the too-white hand left his face and moved to linger on his chest. Eli swallowed against the bile that rose in his throat. Not now. He couldn’t lose it now.
Benehime lay stretched out in the bed beside him, her white body pressed against his. Eli could feel every spirit in the room watching, their souls bowed in reverence to the White Lady, but the Shepherdess didn’t seem to notice. Her attention was entirely on Eli as she buried her face in the hollow of his throat.
Remember when we used to spend every morning this way?
she whispered, nipping at his windpipe with a little burst of the painless fire he’d learned to loathe.
You were so happy then.
“I was very young then,” Eli said, shifting away from her as much as he dared. “Why are you here, Benehime?”
Do I need a reason?
she said, pushing up so that she was looking at him.
Eli said nothing, and Benehime relaxed against him with a long sigh.
If you must know, I’ve brought you some news. You always did love a bit of gossip.
She smiled, her hand tracing Karon’s burn. Deep in his chest, Eli felt the lava spirit roll over in fear. Benehime felt it, too, and she laughed, leaning forward so her white hair fell across them both.
Nara’s embraced her power again
, she said, moving her hands up to play with his tousled hair.
She’s putting together quite the little show. I have to say I’m impressed. She hasn’t been this Empress-like in centuries. I’m beginning to remember why I loved her.
She paused, watching his face for jealousy, but Eli flashed her a genuine smile.
“What a marvelous turn for everyone if she should manage it,” he said. “The Empress always did adore you more than I ever could with my black heart.”
Benehime’s smile faded, and her fingers tangled painfully in his hair.
Don’t be cold, Eliton
, she whispered, dragging his head back.
You need to remember that my love is something to be coveted, not taken for granted. I’ve played your game for many years now, watching you run free, chasing your ridiculous dream of that absurd bounty. It’s been an adorable show, but the time for play is over, and I grow tired of waiting.
“Why are you waiting for me?” Eli said. “Surely there’s someone else who can keep you company. The whole world loves you.”
What do I care about the world?
Benehime said, her beautiful face falling into a sullen frown.
You’re the only soul that matters to me, love. That’s why I came to warn you.
She released her grip on his hair, pulling her hands down to cup his face instead.
Nara is coming to take me from you
, she whispered.
She’s marshaled an army like none I’ve ever seen. There’s no way you can beat her alone.
Eli had to grit his teeth to keep from flinching as she stroked his cheeks. “With all due respect, Shepherdess, there have been a lot of things you’ve said I couldn’t do, and I’ve done most of them.”
Benehime stiffened, her hands tightening on his face, and for a moment Eli was afraid she was going to rip his head clean off. But then she smiled and leaned in, pressing a soft, burning kiss against his lips.
So arrogant
, she whispered, moving up to kiss the tip of his nose.
So self-assured. That’s why I love you.
She kissed him one last time and pulled back.
Really, though, Eliton, you’ve never been an idiot. For all your puffed-up talk, you must know you’ll lose in the end. Nara commands half the world, and now that she’s got her spine back, she means to control the whole thing.