The Harpers - The Night Parade Part 18

They were stopped before a bare section of sienna rock. The rich blue sky played host to soft white mushroom clouds that might have been kingdoms for fairy folk, or so Krystin had imagined them, to help relieve the boredom of the journey. Far below, white foam licked at the rocks that composed the sea's pleasant sh.o.r.eline.

There's nothing here, Myrmeen thought, then realized, that's exactly the point. Shandower would not hide an object that could cripple an entire race of beings where people were likely to stumble' upon it every day.

"Prepare yourselves," Shandower said as he leaned forward and kissed the closest stone. Before any of the travelers could wonder if he had lost his mind, the rocks faded, revealing a huge black mouth on the cliffs surface. One of the mounts reared, and Reisz quickly brought the creature under control, though the unexpected proximity of sorcery had set his own nerves jangling.

Krystin's eyes adjusted first to the sudden darkness before them. "Caverns," she said.

At the sound of her voice, the darkness was replaced by a soft yellow light that intensified asthousands of candles suddenly were lighted, one by one, in a pattern not unlike falling dominoes. The light revealed a breathtaking expanse of towering columns and branching pathways that were the soft brownish white of a dust storm, or memories faded by time. Myriad dripping stalact.i.tes, resembling icicles made of soft, burnished stone, hung from above. Craggy depressions interrupted the fine line work wrought by nature within the main gallery.

Shandower led them inside, where they found an area laid out for the mounts to graze upon.

"We'll have to carry everything from here."

The friends gathered their supplies and followed Shandower as he led them through the labyrinthine depths of the caves that had served as his home when he was not waging his war.

"Can anyone follow us?" Myrmeen asked.

"No," Shandower said calmly. "The winds will wipe away our tracks, and the magic that allowed us to come inside is very particular. I don't think any of the Night Parade will be able to get past its test for admittance."

"Why's that?" Myrmeen asked.

"Because only love can open this doorway," he whispered.

He guided the party to a small cavern where a boat sat upon a small pool of water. Ord and Reisz handled the rows for the one-armed man and soon they were floating across the waters in Shandower's boat. They pa.s.sed beneath a canopy of ra-pierlike stalact.i.tes and drifted into a darkened pa.s.sage.

Krystin gasped as they entered a grotto that was lighted, not by arcane fires, but by something that appeared more majestic from a distance, and somewhat distasteful up close. "Glowworms," Ord said with a laugh. Krystin ignored his words. The view was spectacular. The chamber's jet-black, craggy roof was covered with tiny greenish white lights that sometimes flickered like stars and were grouped in patterns as beautiful as the constellations.

"The fibers are sticky. They attract flies. That's why the lights flicker, when a fly is caught," Ord said. Krystin sighed. She had not heard a word. "The wall sealed itself behind us when we came in,"

Myrmeen said. "If this place is secure and there is no other way in or out, why is the air so fresh?"

"There is a pit at the center of the caverns," Shandower said. "It drops to an incredible depth and the walls are un-climbable, the shaft very slick and nearly bottomless. Air comes in from a small crevice at the base and through tiny cracks all about this place."

"What about the apparatus?" Ord said sharply. "You said it's here, didn't you?"

"There's a niche on the wall of the pit," Shandower said as they pa.s.sed into a well-lighted chamber. There they anch.o.r.ed the boat and walked to a heavy, wooden door that opened when Shandower raised his hand before it. "The apparatus rests in a box jammed into the niche." "That's all the protection it has?" Reisz asked. "No, it's guarded by spells purchased from the finest sorcerers in the Realms. Even I cannot touch it."

They spent several hours exploring the wing that Shandower had secured for himself, surprised by the furnis.h.i.+ngs in many rooms. There were silk sheets, plush bedspreads, and ornate chairs, tables, and bureaus. These items stood out in sharp contrast to the frequently arched ceilings. Some of the chambers had flat ceilings, others were adorned with stalact.i.tes, and many were blasted smooth by hand or magic.

Reisz urged Krystin to follow him through a small keyhole-shaped opening. They promised the others that they would return shortly, then departed. Reisz was concerned with the sudden change he had noted in Krystin's behavior toward Myrmeen. He had been encouraging Myrmeen to make peace with the girl, but now his instincts were warning him that perhaps Krystin was not to be trusted. Her acidic tongue had relaxed to allow gentle and kind words to leave the girl's mouth, and that unnerved him terribly.

They entered a glowing crystal cave. The walls and unusual formations lining the cave appeared to have been carefully sculpted from gla.s.s and lighted by a secret inner fire. Even the ground beneath them radiated a pure silver light that glowed bright in places then dimmed and resurfaced several feet from its last manifestation.Reisz swallowed hard. He was not certain how to get what he wanted from this situation, or exactly what he hoped to prove. You're overreacting, he scolded himself. The child's been through every h.e.l.l imaginable, fought at your side. She deserves better than an old warrior's suspicion.

Krystin surprised him by asking a series of questions about Myrmeen. She wanted to know when he first had met her and what Myrmeen had been like as a child. With a little coaxing, she even managed to get Reisz to relate the tale of Myrmeen's embarra.s.sing first mission as a ranger. She wanted to know everything, and the lights in her eyes danced with fascination at Reisz's every word. When they were finished, he knew his suspicions were misplaced.

Krystin had stared into his face as he had spoken. He had beamed with pride, and the tiny scars marring his face had seemed much less noticeable. His face was relaxed, his eyes dancing with fire.

"You're still in love with her, aren't you?" Krystin said.

Watching his expression, she immediately understood her mistake. His eyes once again became dark, and he seized her wrist and dragged her from the crystal cave without saying another word.

They rejoined the others and spent what remained of the day becoming acclimated to their surroundings and enjoying a feast that Shandower prepared with their a.s.sistance from his well-stocked food stores. After eveningfeast, the Harpers and Shandower discussed the future of his private war, which he agreed could no longer remain as such. It was decided that Ord and Reisz would be sent to Berdusk in the morning to enlist the aid of the Harpers at Twilight Hall.

That evening, Shandower sat on a polished crystal bench in his chamber. He flexed the muscles in his remaining hand, darkly contemplating the magically charged gauntlet, which gleamed in the semidarkness. He whispered, "I wonder how many this one will kill?"

The a.s.sa.s.sin sat alone in the gloom for several minutes, until a sudden panic consumed him. He raced through the room, lighting every torch and candle, then he checked the oil in his lanterns and fired each one. Soon the room was bathed in light, the shadows fully dispelled. He paused, realizing that he was acting like a child who was afraid of the dark, or a madman.

Suddenly, he heard a sound from the corner of the room. His heart racing, he turned and held the gauntlet before him, the weapon suddenly wreathed in blue-white fire. A woman dressed in a beautiful white gown stood before him. She pulled back the shroud covering her face as she slowly approached him.

"Mahrissah," he whispered, his senses rebelling at the sight of his dead wife. A trick! he thought.

The monsters know everything. They are using the past to trick me.

The woman did not slow, even when green strands of lightning flared from the glove. Her face was stunning, if slightly pale, her dark eyes reflecting the light s.h.i.+ning from his weapon. Her eyebrows moved together as she gave him a mock frown. Then she laughed, her almost red lips pulled back in a wicked smile that he had seen many times.

"Erin," she said as she took his hand in hers, the arcane fires from his weapon snaking across her skin to no ill effect, "You don't have to worry. I've come for you. It's time for us. Finally, my love, our time may begin."

"You're not real," he said.

She touched the side of his face with her free hand. Gently she raised his hand until the gauntlet was at eye level. "Take this thing off, that I may kiss your fingers, one by one. Then you may tell me if I am real."

Shandower felt his legs weaken, and Mahrissah guided him to the bed they once had shared. "It can't come off. Don't you see, it's fused to my skin. The magic-"

"The power does as you command," she said. "You are afraid to be parted from your weapon and so it makes that a near impossibility. Will it and it may be so. Anything you will, anything you desire, may be made so. You have only to want it, only to want me."

His lips trembled as he said, "Mahrissah, you died!""Yes," she said as she caressed his fingers, touching only metal that was now cooling, the magic fading like the surrender of twilight to the darkness. "bu buried me here, and you vowed that when it was your time, you would return here and we would be together. Erin, that time has come."

"The battle-"

"Will be fought and won," she said as she touched the stump of his severed arm. "You have already given too much. Come with me and be whole."

"I don't know," he whispered in anguish. "I can still feel it, do you understand? My hand, the one that is gone, I can still feel it."

She leaned forward and kissed the gauntlet. "Surrender your avenging sword, Erin. You have done enough. Your reward has come. Do not torture yourself anymore."

"Am I dying?" he asked dully.

"Yes. A clot of blood is racing to your brain. Your wounds were more severe than you knew. In moments your life will pa.s.s. Please, Erin," she said as she bit her lip, "You cannot face what comes next if you are determined to bring the tools of slaughter with you."

Shandower stared at the skin surrounding the base of the gauntlet. The weave of flesh connecting the two was coming apart, and suddenly his hand was no longer fused to the weapon. "Take it off for me," he said in desperation, "Hurry!"

Mahrissah did as he asked, her eyes alight with rapture as she discarded the weapon and allowed the bare flesh of his hand to close around hers. Suddenly her grip became too tight and she said, "Watch my eyes, Erin, and see the truth."

Within her eyes he saw a particular patch of darkness, which the light had not been able to ward off, a tiny splash of shadow that threatened to grow and fill the canvas of his thoughts with nightmares engineered to drive him to the point of madness and beyond.

"Kill yourself," a voice whispered from the darkness.

Shandower rose and walked to a display of edged weapons he had collected from the corpses of the monsters he had killed. His fingers were inches from the hilt of a dagger, which he planned to ram into his own throat, when he identified the owner of that voice.

By then it was too late.

Seventeen.

Myrmeen found Krystin sitting at the edge of the pit where Shandower had secreted the apparatus. Her long legs hung over the edge and she kicked absently as if she were trying to swim through the darkness that seemed to rise from below. Myrmeen sat beside her, tucking her legs beneath her, afraid of the abyss waiting beyond the shaft's cleanly polished lip.

The locket was in Krystin's hand, and she stared at its emerald surface in frustration. "So close,"

she whispered. "I'm sorry?" Myrmeen asked. "I didn't hear you." "Nothing," Krystin said as she slipped the locket into her breast pocket and looked at Myrmeen with eyes that mirrored the older woman's sadness and exhaustion.

They sat quietly, appreciating each other's company, when a sudden flicker of memory came to Myrmeen, chilling her. "By the G.o.ds," she whispered. "What's wrong?" Krystin asked.

Myrmeen hesitated, then decided she would never keep secrets from Krystin again. Haltingly, she began her story.

"Fourteen years ago I did something terrible. It was the night of the great storm. I guess I was delirious with pain. I couldn't think clearly. I know that's no excuse, but-"

"Go on," Krystin urged.

"It was a few seconds after the delivery. My mind was swimming. Dak said the baby was gone.

In that moment, a nightmare came to me. I saw a madwoman in red carrying her dead child in her arms.

The woman wailed her agony for all to hear as she shambled through the streets. She begged anyone who came close to her for the smallest gesture of rea.s.surance, a hint of kindness, a compliment for thenoisome, bloated body she cradled in her arms.

" 'My child,' the woman whispered, 'my child is beautiful.'

"But it wasn't a nightmare. I had seen that scarlet woman wandering the marketplace when I was a little girl. A handful of drunken guards, evil men, all of them, had threatened to arrest her for making a public spectacle of herself-and, more importantly, for frightening off the tourists and their much needed gold.

"The woman had ignored them, and finally a guard s.n.a.t.c.hed the corpse from her hands and threw it to one of his comrades. The scarlet woman chased after her child, but it was kept out of her reach.

When she attacked one of the men, clawing at him with her bony hands, her fingernails sc.r.a.ped away, the guard ran her through and left her to die slowly in an alley. He stood there and waited until she was dead before he gave her back the child."

Myrmeen shuddered at the horror of that distant morning. She looked at Krystin. "Dak told me you were gone, and all I could think about was the scarlet woman. I suppose I thought that if I had seen the baby, I would have become her. My sanity would have been lost, so I didn't ask to see the baby. I just let it go.

"I made a mistake, a horrible mistake. I allowed my fear to overtake me. If I hadn't, I might have saved you."

"Or you might have died in the attempt," Krystin said. "Besides, you don't know for sure that I'm your daughter."

Myrmeen thought about her next words carefully, afraid to say the first thing that came to her mind. That doesn't matter, she wanted to say, but she knew those words would ring false, because it mattered to a great degree. There was something, however, that had equal importance.

"Krystin, all I can say is that if something were to happen to you, I would feel as if I had lost my daughter a second time."

The young woman stared at Myrmeen in shock. She was unprepared for such an admission and had no idea how to react. With a cry of longing, Krystin threw her arms around Myrmeen and began to weep.

Myrmeen's arms closed over Krystin, gently caressing her hair and the flowing line of her back.

She told Krystin how their lives would be in Arabel, of the palace they would live in, the luxury and splendor, the people who would be her friends, the subjects who would adore her. "An education,"

Myrmeen said excitedly, "a proper one. The finest tutors, only the best. You will have everything you want. Everything."

Krystin pulled back slowly and Myrmeen wiped away the child's tears. "It sounds wonderful."

"It will be," Myrmeen promised. "Believe me, it will."

Krystin touched Myrmeen's hand. "You're shaking."

The older woman rose and kissed Krystin on the forehead. "I need to talk with Reisz and Ord.

Then I'm going to get some sleep. Will you be all right here?"

"Yes, Myrmeen," she said, fighting back the urge to call the magnificent woman before her by the name they both desperately needed to hear: "Mother." Instead, she said something that rocked them both even more. "I love you."

Myrmeen dropped to her knees and hugged Krystin so tightly that she feared she would hurt the girl. "Sweet dreams," she said as she pulled away and covered her face with her hands to mask the tears that were welling up in her eyes as she walked away. She found the tunnel that led to the chamber shared by the Harpers, and disappeared from view, leaving only the slight echo of her boots on the stone floor in her wake.

Krystin sat alone, waiting for the sudden wave of sickness that had overcome her to pa.s.s. When she no longer felt the pain behind her eyes, and when the cold, metallic taste in her mouth finally vanished, Krystin removed the heavy, dead weight of the locket from her blouse and stared at its seductive, gleaming emerald surface.

There was a good reason why she could not call Myrmeen her mother: It would have been a lie.

Lord Sixx had helped her remember the truth, unlocking her buried memories with his power. Itwas a simple enough task, considering he was the one who planted her false memories in the first place.

Exposure to the magic of the apparatus, when she took Shandower's hand in the safe house to prove that she was not a member of the Night Parade, had created fissures in the walls that Sixx had erected in her mind. Through those cracks had come glimpses of her true life, memories of friends and family.

A part of her had feared that these new memories could also be a lie, and so during the ride to Shandower's retreat, Krystin had spoken to the a.s.sa.s.sin several times, making excuses to be near him.

She had found reasons to take his hand in hers, allowing the gauntlet's energy to course through her. This time, the magic had not affected her. Although Sixx had not restored all he had taken when his emissaries had kidnapped her and arranged for the desert slavers to find her, these memories were true, and he had promised that once the apparatus was in his hands, he would restore all her memories.

The images that had been haunting her were so easily explained that they almost appeared to be mundane facts glimpsed on a tired afternoon rather than sleek, sharp-as-steel revelations cutting across her darkened field of memory like swords meeting, their metal cras.h.i.+ng during a death duel, the rain of sparks adding much needed illumination.

Her life, all the G.o.ds help her, had been dull.

Her name was Krystin Devlaine. She had never been a hunter for the Night Parade. In fact, she had never known that such creatures existed outside of tales she had heard in harsh whispers at the boarding school where she had been sent by her parents. Those stories were generally used to frighten the younger children who believed in all manner of haunts and demons who knew their names and would come for them if they misbehaved.

The kindly old man she had glimpsed had been her grandfather, who had died several years ago.

He had lived in Calim-port and had visited her much more frequently than her own mother and father, who were restless travelers and explorers. They had relegated the task of raising Krystin to others for most of her life. The vulgar, dark-haired man with rotted teeth, who had tried to club her with a shattered table leg, had been a nameless drunk in a tavern. She had crept away from the school and had been trapped in the bar when a brawl erupted. Physical fitness had been stressed at the school, and she had been an especially apt pupil during the lessons on self-defense. Those hours of instruction had benefited her that night. She had crushed the man's instep, left him howling in pain, and ran from the tavern with a strange girl she had met, a homeless child.

Melaine.

That night had been her only true evening of adventure until she was s.n.a.t.c.hed by the Night Parade. The false memories Sixx had implanted had given her a sense of bravado that had accounted for her unbearable ego, her p.r.i.c.kly nature, and her caustic tongue. They also had made her so much like Myrmeen that it was not surprising that there had been tension between them from the outset.

Sixx also had briefly tasted Myrmeen's memories on one of the woman's first nights in the city. It had been after Myrmeen's narrow escape from death at Kracauer's "orphanage." Sixx had been disgusted with Zeal's decision to leave the humans alive, and so he had gone to Myrmeen's quarters to finish the Harpers himself. He had found Myrmeen sitting before her open window, sound asleep. He had entered her mind to kill her, but soon reversed that decision when he learned who she was and the power she had at her command.