The Flames of Shadam Khoreh (The Lays of Anuskaya) by Bradley Beaulieu Page B
Authors: Bradley Beaulieu
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she’s found.
She shrugs off her pack and motions for him to do the same.
He complies—there is no choice but to obey—and he follows her into the opening. It is not deep. They come quickly to the end of it. Creeping vines grow here, and it is clear they’re covering something. Kaleh pulls at them. Unbidden, he does the same, and slowly a figure is revealed, a figure carved into the stone itself: a woman, her eyes closed, her arms crossed over her chest as if she’s been laid to rest. His first thought is that this is a grave, a marker of someone’s passing, but somehow that doesn’t seem right.
Kaleh, holding the Atalayina in her left hand, touches the statue with her right. No more do her fingertips brush the statue than the stone begins to crumble. It seems improper to tear down what someone took so long to create, but in mere moments it is done and the rocks look like nothing more than some forgotten remnant of man.
Revealed is a passageway into the mountain.
Kaleh stares into that deep darkness. Her grip on the Atalayina is not merely tight; her hand shakes from it. For the first time he can remember, she seems fearful—truly fearful. For some reason this place has shaken her to her very core. She notices him watching and tries to calm herself, but the strength of her emotions cannot be buried so easily. He can hear it through the quaver in her voice as she utters a single word. “Come.” And with that, she heads into the passageway, holding the glowing Atalayina above her head as if it would protect her from whatever dark things lie ahead.
He follows, and the cool night becomes infinitely more chill. It saps his strength, makes him shiver uncontrollably. Something about this place tells him not to call upon a suurahezhan, a spirit of fire. He knows not what would happen—perhaps nothing—but at the moment he’s unwilling to tempt the fates.
The passageway slopes upward, then downward, and then it begins to curve until he’s sure that they’ve completed several full circuits. All the while, Kaleh seems more nervous.
“We can return to the forest,” he suggests, “and try again in the morning.”
She stares at him, the light from the stone shining up and across her face like shadows in a vale. “Do not speak again,” she says, turning away and continuing.
At last the passage stops at a dead end. The face of the stone is embossed. It shows the image of the same person who stood at the entrance, except instead of her arms being crossed, they are spread wide, as qiram do when they commune with hezhan. Her eyes are open, and they stare at Kaleh with a look of stony judgment. Kaleh inspects the slab, which is nearly double her height. She presses her hand against it as she did outside, but this time, the stone does not change. Nothing happens at all.
She tries again, her face growing concerned as she does so. Her jaw sets. The tendons on her hand stand out even more than the veins on her forehead. The light in the Atalayina fades and goes black.
For long moments he hears only the sound of her labored breathing. It smells of winter here. Of a cold so deep it might be left from the forming of the world.
The wall begins to glow, a dull orange light centered on Kaleh’s hand. It spreads, and the light brightens until there’s a yellow burning around the outline of her hand that fades to orange and red and black as it radiates outward. Kaleh is pressing harder than he’s ever seen her. Her head quivers. Her shoulders shake. A long groan comes from somewhere deep inside her and it grows as the wall turns white at its center, and then she screams, a sound of pain and rage and frustration, and still she tries harder.
And then it becomes too much.
Kaleh collapses, and the Atalayina slips from her grasp, the stone rolling away with the bright sound of rattling crystal.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Immediately, the glowing wall begins to dull, but before it dies completely, he kneels by her side and checks her
She shrugs off her pack and motions for him to do the same.
He complies—there is no choice but to obey—and he follows her into the opening. It is not deep. They come quickly to the end of it. Creeping vines grow here, and it is clear they’re covering something. Kaleh pulls at them. Unbidden, he does the same, and slowly a figure is revealed, a figure carved into the stone itself: a woman, her eyes closed, her arms crossed over her chest as if she’s been laid to rest. His first thought is that this is a grave, a marker of someone’s passing, but somehow that doesn’t seem right.
Kaleh, holding the Atalayina in her left hand, touches the statue with her right. No more do her fingertips brush the statue than the stone begins to crumble. It seems improper to tear down what someone took so long to create, but in mere moments it is done and the rocks look like nothing more than some forgotten remnant of man.
Revealed is a passageway into the mountain.
Kaleh stares into that deep darkness. Her grip on the Atalayina is not merely tight; her hand shakes from it. For the first time he can remember, she seems fearful—truly fearful. For some reason this place has shaken her to her very core. She notices him watching and tries to calm herself, but the strength of her emotions cannot be buried so easily. He can hear it through the quaver in her voice as she utters a single word. “Come.” And with that, she heads into the passageway, holding the glowing Atalayina above her head as if it would protect her from whatever dark things lie ahead.
He follows, and the cool night becomes infinitely more chill. It saps his strength, makes him shiver uncontrollably. Something about this place tells him not to call upon a suurahezhan, a spirit of fire. He knows not what would happen—perhaps nothing—but at the moment he’s unwilling to tempt the fates.
The passageway slopes upward, then downward, and then it begins to curve until he’s sure that they’ve completed several full circuits. All the while, Kaleh seems more nervous.
“We can return to the forest,” he suggests, “and try again in the morning.”
She stares at him, the light from the stone shining up and across her face like shadows in a vale. “Do not speak again,” she says, turning away and continuing.
At last the passage stops at a dead end. The face of the stone is embossed. It shows the image of the same person who stood at the entrance, except instead of her arms being crossed, they are spread wide, as qiram do when they commune with hezhan. Her eyes are open, and they stare at Kaleh with a look of stony judgment. Kaleh inspects the slab, which is nearly double her height. She presses her hand against it as she did outside, but this time, the stone does not change. Nothing happens at all.
She tries again, her face growing concerned as she does so. Her jaw sets. The tendons on her hand stand out even more than the veins on her forehead. The light in the Atalayina fades and goes black.
For long moments he hears only the sound of her labored breathing. It smells of winter here. Of a cold so deep it might be left from the forming of the world.
The wall begins to glow, a dull orange light centered on Kaleh’s hand. It spreads, and the light brightens until there’s a yellow burning around the outline of her hand that fades to orange and red and black as it radiates outward. Kaleh is pressing harder than he’s ever seen her. Her head quivers. Her shoulders shake. A long groan comes from somewhere deep inside her and it grows as the wall turns white at its center, and then she screams, a sound of pain and rage and frustration, and still she tries harder.
And then it becomes too much.
Kaleh collapses, and the Atalayina slips from her grasp, the stone rolling away with the bright sound of rattling crystal.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Immediately, the glowing wall begins to dull, but before it dies completely, he kneels by her side and checks her
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