Requiem of Silence Read online

  “Stop what?”

  “Death.” Her eyes sparkle mischievously. “There is a way to live forever. To become one with the spirits who hover at the edge of dreams. All we are searching for, all we have ever been searching for, can be found via the wisdom of those who have already passed over. The portal we will open to the World After will allow us to commune with the spirits and discover the secrets of eternal life.”

  You had thought her cunning and wily, but perhaps she is just mad. “Impossible.”

  “Oh, quite possible. We have gained many insights from individual spirits over the years, enough to know that they can avoid the Eternal Flame and exist indefinitely in the World After. While the Flame still pulls the majority of the dead into it, a few resist. It is difficult, but mastery of the technique will provide an important link in the chain of immortality.”

  “Did you not try such a thing before with disastrous consequences?”

  She looks surprised that you know anything, but your sister insisted on visiting you daily, telling you the news of the day, including what had happened when the Physicks had first attempted to commune with the spirits.

  “We learn through trial and error, that is the way of knowledge.” Nikora spreads her arms. “The first spirits who answered our call were angry. We are refining the technique, seeking to assert a larger degree of control over them when they arrive.”

  “And how will the Wailers help with this?” It’s all madness, but your curiosity has been piqued.

  She motions to one of the tattooed attendants standing by the door. He leaves briefly and returns with another man in tow—this one dressed similarly to Nikora, wearing a billowing red robe. Dark, fathomless black eyes peer at you curiously from a milk-pale face.

  “Bring it over here, Cayro,” Nikora says, and the newcomer approaches bearing a large wooden box. You scoop up your teacup to avoid it being knocked over as he sets it on the table.

  The box is adorned with an image of a waterfall carved into the lid. Cayro steps out of the way as Nikora leans forward to open the box reverently and pull out a glass jar. Inside the jar is a bit of what looks like scorched, shriveled leather.

  “This is all that is left of the great power of the Physicks. All that remains of the Great Machine, the source of Dahlia’s breath.”

  “In her name do we work,” Cayro intones.

  “By her grace do we prosper,” Nikora whispers, lifting the jar and pressing her forehead to it, eyes closed. “Saint Dahlia’s flesh. A bit of her left behind and holy enough to catalyze the power of the machine.”

  Revulsion swamps you as you regard the contents of the jar more closely. It is actually the remains of a hand, four grotesquely curved, blackened fingers, mummified in some way.

  Nikora opens her eyes, gazing adoringly at the disgusting remains of her goddess. “The Great Machine preserved the flesh, extended its power, focused and amplified it. But we can still perform certain rites with the flesh alone—though each attempt will sacrifice more, and there is little enough left. That is why it is imperative that we succeed quickly.”

  You shudder at the zealotry evident in her voice. A gaze at Cayro standing stiffly beside her reveals nothing in his expression. Is he as much of a fanatic as she?

  “So you want me to control the Wailers and use their Earthsong to tear open another portal into the World After? What about when the angry spirits come through?”

  “We do not know that is what will happen.”

  “You have the evidence of it happening before, do you not?”

  She places the jar back in the box and closes it, much to your relief. “In our excitement to test the process, the summoning spell did not contain enough precautions. The next time, we will be better able to control the spirits.”

  You have your doubts about that, but do not voice them. “Teach me how to summon them. Perhaps I can help to strengthen the spell.”

  Her eyes narrow. “I will teach you your part, the part requiring Earthsong. That is all you need to know.”

  “As an ally,” you begin, teeth clenched, “I must have information in order to hold up my end of the bargain.”

  “You will know what you need and no more.” Her eyes flash.

  The spark inside you rises, longing to lash out, unused to being suppressed for so long. But you lean back. Force yourself to relax. Take a breath, sip some tea.

  Playing this her way is against your nature, but you have been patient before. Nothing worth having comes easily.

  You shrug. “Very well then.” The words sting coming out, but it is all a means to an end. Breaking the chains she thinks she’s bound you in will be sweet.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Our footsteps are a map

  for others to follow.

  Walk well.

  —THE HARMONY OF BEING

  Kyara left Ella’s home with a vow to return at dawn. The woman had secured space on a Sisterhood transport leaving for the eastern army base the next morning. On the drive back to the cottage, Kyara wondered how she could discourage Darvyn from coming with her. She didn’t think it was possible, but didn’t want him anywhere near the Cavefolk again. Her options were few.

  The cottage was dark when she entered. Good, he was still in town. She located the carpetbag he’d acquired for her when they left the palace. She didn’t have many belongings, just a few donated dresses, an extra pair of shoes, a nightgown, some toiletries. Still, it was more than she’d ever really owned in her life.

  The last item she packed was a small, wrapped bundle, but she wavered for long minutes before deciding to place it into the bag. The coldness of the stone inside radiated out through the soft fabric to chill her hand. It wasn’t exactly something she could leave behind, though its oddness both frightened and enticed her.

  The bundle had been left in her bedroom in the palace before she’d left, with no note or instruction, though as soon as she’d approached and felt the Nethersong pulsing within, she’d known it must have come from the Goddess Awoken.

  When she’d dared to look inside, she’d found a caldera. Embedded within the red, gemlike stone was a small object, though she couldn’t identify what it was. Calderas could be created from anything: a lock of hair, a bit of jewelry, a broken shard of pottery—she’d once witnessed the Cantor create one from a discarded shoe. She’d guessed at the purpose of this one, given the large quantity of Nethersong it held. In all likelihood, this was what the Cavefolk had called the death stone.

  The Physicks had been searching for the death stone, wanting to harness its power, and now she had it, but did not know what to do with it. Shaking off the strange feelings it evoked, she buried the bundle under her clothing. The thing was too dangerous to remain here, so she’d keep it with her until she knew more.

  Her packing complete, she sat at the rolltop desk situated next to the picture window and pulled out a sheet of paper. She was going to embrace her cowardice and write Darvyn a note to let him know where she’d gone. Certainly he’d be upset when he returned home that evening to find her explanation, but there would be nothing he could do. He could not track her with his Song and even if he did come to the mountain, he couldn’t sing inside the caves. When she returned, he would either forgive her or not—she just hoped he would be able to.

  Now she just had to figure out what to say.

  She’d never been a wordsmith; though she loved to read, she had very little experience writing down her own thoughts. The pencil in her hand shook, causing the letters to waver as she tried to compose words that matched her feelings. She was on her second attempt when the front door opened, taking her by surprise. Darvyn was back far too soon.

  Guilt squeezed her chest. She didn’t have time to hide the note and so merely turned the page she’d been working on facedown.

  “How was the party?” she asked, trying not to appear guilty.

  Darvyn looked exhausted. “I don’t think the twins enjoyed it very much. They were both absent for large port
ions of the evening. I had a long chat with Clove and Vanesse, though. They’re talking of traveling, heading down to the southern continent for a while, once things settle a bit more. Whenever that is. Sounds nice though.” He scrubbed a hand down his face. “I’m surprised you’re still up.”

  He pushed off the door and crossed the room to her. She stood to greet him properly with a hug and kiss. She scented something perfumed and vaguely soapy on his clothes, but underneath, the familiar smell of his skin grounded her. Home. This felt like home, like something she didn’t want to leave. But she had committed to this trip and must see it through, for Tana’s sake if nothing else.

  “There’s more, of course.” He led her to the couch and relayed what had happened during his two meetings with Queen Jasminda. “The last thing she told me, what she hadn’t wanted to say over the telephone…” He paused, looking pained, then took a deep breath. “The True Father has escaped.”

  A vast hollow space opened up within her chest. She blinked, unseeing for a long moment before focusing back on Darvyn. “It really is beginning, then,” she finally said.

  “What?”

  “The war. Murmur said that the living, the dead, and those in between will battle. He saw the vision centuries ago and has been waiting for this day. The dead have returned and our great enemy is somewhere out there. Those two things cannot be unconnected.”

  “No, I suppose you’re right. The True Father must be involved somehow.”

  The cavity in her chest yawned wider. Bottomless. A great weariness overtook her at the thought of the journey before her. But with the True Father out in the world once again, it was more important than ever that she hone her skills. She hated to admit that Mooriah had been right.

  Darvyn squeezed her hand, bringing her back to the present. “We should go to bed,” he said. “Let’s hope the war does not begin before morning.”

  Kyara nodded and allowed him to pull her to her feet. He entered the bedroom ahead of her and stopped short. She murmured a curse when she saw what had caught his attention. She’d left the lamp on low and the carpetbag still sat on the bed. Having been so concerned with the note, she’d lost track of time.

  He turned slowly and fixed her with a stare full of hurt that melted her insides. “Are you leaving?”

  Oh, she was so stupid. What must this look like? “I’m coming back,” she rushed to say, moving to him and grabbing his arm. “I—I just—”

  “You’ve decided to go with Mooriah.”

  She swallowed. “Yes.”

  His shoulders loosened. “Why didn’t you just tell me?” He looked back toward the desk. “Were you … Were you going to leave a note?”

  Kyara didn’t answer; her mouth hung open wordlessly. “I don’t like good-byes,” she finally whispered.

  Darvyn scrubbed a hand down his face again, groaning softly. “What makes you think a good-bye is necessary? We’re leaving in the morning, I take it? I’ll just make some calls before we go to alert the others that I’ll be away. It’s too late to do so now.”

  She tightened her grip on his arm. “You can’t come.”

  His muscles turned to stone.

  “Darvyn, we’re going inside the mountain. Mooriah is determined for Murmur to train us. You can’t sing there; remember what happened last time?”

  A vision of Murmur’s power pushing Darvyn out of a cliff opening, his fall to the toxic waters of the Poison River below. Carcasses and mummified creatures along its banks telling of its deadliness. Darvyn’s labored breathing as he pulled himself to the shore and then stopped breathing altogether. She shivered.

  “Mooriah may trust the Cavefolk, but I don’t. And I don’t want you anywhere near them again.” She shook her head and took a step back.

  Darvyn’s stare was full of dismay. He cupped her cheek in a palm. “When I got you off that table in the Physicks’ headquarters, I made a promise to myself that we wouldn’t be separated. I couldn’t keep it when I was collared while you awaited execution, but I bloody well sure am going to keep it now. When I said that we weren’t sleeping apart, I meant it.” He released her face and crossed his arms to match her stance, digging his heels in.

  Kyara’s jaw tightened as he continued. “I know I can’t sing in the caves, I understand all of that, but it doesn’t matter. If you’re going, I’m going, too.”

  “But what about your work here? The refugees, the queen’s plan for unification? You can’t just up and leave with no notice.”

  “Who says I can’t? I’m not a Keeper anymore, I choose what I do now. There are others who can help.”

  “I just mean…” She took a breath. “It’s dangerous, and I can’t have anything happening to you.” Her breathing was getting more difficult, she stuttered and almost choked on the words. “I can’t risk you.”

  He pulled her to him, touching their foreheads. “I feel the same way. Which is why I can’t let you go off to train with strangers you distrust by yourself.”

  “But you’ll be powerless there.”

  “Are you saying you don’t want me to come?”

  Her jaw trembled; she tried to breathe deeply. The thought of being without him for so long was terrifying, but she’d lived a whole life before she met him. If she told him she didn’t want him, maybe he would listen and back off. But she couldn’t give voice to the lie.

  “I didn’t think so,” he said.

  “It doesn’t matter what I want, I won’t let you come.”

  He tilted his head back and grinned, reminding her of the first time she’d seen him in a small, darkened pub a world away. She’d felt it even then, this pull. It hadn’t gotten any weaker.

  “You’ll disable me? Knock me out and sever my connection to my Song?”

  She pressed her lips together. He knew very well she’d never do that again.

  “I know how to go east.” His voice was gentle. “I remember where the crystal city was, at the edge of Serpent’s Gorge. If you try to leave me here, I’ll go back there. Wander through the caves until I find you. You can’t leave me behind so easily.”

  “You don’t understand,” she began.

  “No, I think I do. I understand very well. I lost you twice.” His dark eyes flashed, all mirth gone from them. “I won’t do it again. It would be different if you truly didn’t want me there, but barring that, you’re going to have a hard time getting rid of me, Kyara.”

  The pendant around his neck glinted in the low lamplight. He’d had it soldered back together, the two halves of the Master of Jackals sigil that had brought them together. Responsible and courageous, the Jackal was. Just like Darvyn.

  He leaned toward her, capturing her lips. Relief bled through her worry for him. He was the Shadowfox, but stripped of his Song in the caves, he was just a man. And she would have to ensure his safety. No matter what the Cavefolk or anyone else tried to do, she couldn’t allow him to come to harm.

  Not when he was all she had.

  * * *

  They rose in the predawn hours and got ready silently. Kyara packed food for the journey, while Darvyn made his telephone calls, organizing things during his absence. Soon enough Erryl arrived and drove them back to the city. He dropped them off once again at Ella’s townhome.

  Little Ulani’s face when she met the Shadowfox was priceless. Her joy cut through the pall of gloom and worry for her sister, and for that, Kyara was glad.

  “You decided to let her come?” Kyara asked Ella, as Ulani fawned all over Darvyn.

  “She told me she had a dream that she needed to be there when we find Tana.” Ella shook her head. “If it was any other child I’d think she was making things up to get her way, but Ulani doesn’t lie. She often knows or senses things that I can’t explain. I’m not sure if it’s because of her Song or something else, but I told her she could come. Honestly, I don’t want either of them out of my sight.”

  Kyara pursed her lips. “She won’t be able to sing in the caves, but I will watch out for her, too.” Ella
gave a grateful smile. Kyara wasn’t certain of the wisdom of allowing a small child to join them, but it wasn’t her call. Darvyn would help protect them until they crossed into the mountain, then it would be on Kyara’s shoulders.

  Erryl drove them all to the Eastern temple before bidding his farewell, and the small group boarded a Sisterhood transport headed east. Ella had arranged passage through connections of hers within the organization. She seemed to be quite a resourceful woman.

  As the kilometers went by, even though apprehension tied Kyara’s stomach in knots, the view of the countryside kept her calm. She’d never seen this much of Elsira, having only glimpsed a tiny bit from overhead in the airship ride from Yaly. Since then, she’d been either in the capital or the seaside cottage, but the beauty of the land took her breath away.

  She could almost understand why the people here were so afraid of their country being taken over by outsiders and why they kept such a tight hold on it—every bucolic meter of rolling hills and farmland was precious, even as the scenery before her crisped and languished, preparing for winter.

  They rode in a small bus with seating for twelve, with the remaining seats occupied by Sisters. The women chatted to themselves, occasionally looking curiously at the motley group of foreigners sharing the ride. But no one was hostile.

  Eventually, Ella began a friendly conversation with a couple of the Sisters, which lasted much of the rest of the trip. She hid the strain of not knowing exactly where her daughter was fairly well, though Kyara could see it was taking a toll.

  Their final stop was an army base in the shadow of the looming mountains, where a dozen soldiers observed them stoically. Kyara disembarked from the vehicle with some trepidation, but a young man approached Ella and greeted her warmly. They began a rapid-fire conversation.