"So this is it, huh," Saryana said into the heavy silence. "There's only six of us now."
She said it quietly, gravely but calmly, with the stoic resolve of someone who had led many parties into missions where not all had come back alive and knew the mission had to go on. "You won't like to hear this," she said, "but don't think about it too much. You'll still have time to mourn later."
Rising to her feet, she set her jaw, letting her dark gaze roam over the remaining party, looking each of them in the eyes. "I can lead you from here," she said. "Let's go."
One by one they rose. No one looked willing, but no one protested. Aithal placed both hands over his chest and bowed to the empty gate from which they had come. Then he joined the others, taking over Saryana's position at the rear.
With ever-quickening strides they cut through the Jadirian landscape. More and more grassy hills rose in front of their eyes, houses and villages standing amid groves of olive trees. An unfamiliar bird circled high up in the sky, not beating its wings. Its cry rang through the air and was carried away by the wind.
Jolette tried to follow Saryana's advice. Trying not to think of Lisha, she stared into the landscape as she walked, trying to take in every new sight, observe everything. Just a short while ago she had been looking forward to coming here. She had been looking forward to seeing the world and exploring this country she had never been to before, climbing every tree, turning every rock, taking in everything it had to offer.
But that had been...before.
Lisha was gone, and she couldn't shake it. No matter how much she looked at the gray-green trees, the rustling grass, the blue sky, she couldn't shake the knowledge that she was gone, and she wasn't returning.
It wasn't even that she had been so close to Lisha or had known her so well. She must have known the old sorceress for less than a season, and the more she thought about it, the less she realized she had never known anything about her. Not her powers, not her history, nothing. She had lived in the world for so long, seen so much, taught so many. And Jolette hadn't bothered learning anything from her at all.
She would never know now, she realized. All the things she had thought of asking Lisha she would never get to ask.
Could she not have done anything to change all this? Could she not have saved her?
If only she had been stronger, she thought. If only she and Edmian had been able to speak up in time, warn everyone before it was too late. Maybe together they could have done something. All together, all seven of them...maybe with their combined strength she would still be alive.
Maybe if she had done more than jump in front of Lisha and slash at the shadow...maybe if she had some kind of power, some kind of magic she could have used...
Her eyes strayed to Edmian's chest, where she knew the pendant hung. Her fingernails dug into her palms.
She was so weak. So weak. And now Lisha was gone.
Who else would she lose to her weakness?
Who else would she fail to save before she was strong enough to protect those she cared about?
Throwing snowballs and slashing at shadows was one thing. But it wasn't enough. Not for Lisha. Not for anyone. Not...
Not...for her parents?
Lisha had been right next to her until she died, ready to talk to, ready to be asked all the questions she wanted. But her parents...they were somewhere out there. Maybe alive. Maybe long dead. Maybe transformed into unrecognizability by the magic of the Colorless.
Would she ever get to tell them all the things she had wanted to tell them someday later? Would she ever get to ask them all the questions she still had?
What if she had already missed her chance?
What if she never saw her parents again, even if they found the dragons and undid all the spells? What if it would be too late? What if, by the time she could finally do something, they would be dead and gone?
She stared more intensely at the landscape, the road they followed through the hills, the greens of the grass and the yellow of the stones and the blue of the sky. But all the colors around her never made it past her eyes. On the inside she was fading into white, hollowed out and consumed by guilt and dread and despair.
And ever on the edge of her consciousness, hovering and pulsating, was the temptation of all-defeating blue.
~ ~ ~
They slept in a small town that night, in an inn, unafraid of being followed for the first time in many weeks.
Jolette pretended to sleep, but her mind was awake. Lisha's face, Evariel's words, the fingers of the unnamed shadow circled on and on in her head, and no soft beds or cotton sheets could put her at ease. Not far from her Edmian's breaths rose and fell gently, peacefully, promising that at least he was asleep. The others were in different rooms. Jolette could only assume what they were doing.
Carefully opening one eye, then the other, she peered into the dark room. The moon shone in through the window. All around it stars glistened in the cloudless sky, but the constellations were unfamiliar. Somewhere along their journey the very sky had changed.
Slowly, gently, Jolette turned around and sat up. Edmian did not react. He really did seem to be asleep. She relaxed slightly. Good. That meant she could sneak out in peace without having to worry about him noticing.
Without bothering to put on shoes or a jacket, she slipped through the room, out the door and into the dark corridor beyond. The carpeted floor creaked faintly under her feet. On the walls hung woven tapestries she couldn't make out in the dark, the kind that would have been reserved for nobles in Firland. The air smelled faintly of herbs she didn't recognize.
Little by little her feet led her down the stairs and out of the building, until at last she stood in the middle of the Jadirian town under the light of the moon and stars. Everyone else was asleep. The only thing moving was the wind, breathing through the trees and carrying with it the faint scent of unknown places.
Taking a deep breath, Jolette looked up at the sky, gazing at the unfamiliar stars, trying to find patterns. She wondered what they were, exactly. How far away they were, if they could ever be reached. The darkness felt soothing somehow. As if, for the first time in an eternity, she could breathe properly.
Her footsteps led her around the house to the back of the inn. A small garden lay here, peacefully dreaming, olive trees and a well and a bit of grass. She sat down, wondering if Lisha had ever been here. Somehow wishing she could have showed her this place if she hadn't.
On the side of the well sat a figure. Jolette could not make out the details between the dark shadows from this distance, but it seemed to be a woman, her long hair blowing faintly in the wind. Snippets of her voice carried over. Mutters...no...sobs?
"I knew I would find you here," Aithal's voice emerged from the shadows.
Instinctively Jolette hid in an evergreen bush, peering between blossoms and leaves as she crept closer. Part of her chided herself for snooping. The other part of her knew there was no way she could leave now without being seen.
The woman on the edge of the well turned around, and with a start Jolette realized it was Saryana. She had only ever seen her so composed that she hadn't recognized her voice when she was crying.
"Why are you here?" she asked, not bothering to hide the crack of her voice. "You should be sleeping."
Aithal crossed the distance to sit down beside her, gazing up at the sky just as Jolette had done. "I doubt anyone can sleep much tonight."
There was a pause. Saryana wiped her eyes.
"I wish I'd done something," she said quietly.
Aithal sighed with the sympathetic frustration of one who had had this conversation with her many times before. "There was nothing for any of us to do," he said. "You know it as well as I do."
Saryana swallowed audibly. "I know," she said, trying to laugh. "But...I hate this. People dying...getting left behind...having to leave them behind when I was responsible for their lives..." Another sob shook her, and she brought up a hand to cover her eyes.
Carefully, gently, Aithal draped an arm around her shoulders. "You cannot always save everyone."
Saryana swallowed again. "I know."
"I would tell you not to be so strict on yourself," Aithal continued, "but I won't. That strictness is the reason why you're such a good leader...such a good general."
Saryana made a noise that was half sob, half laugh. "Could be better."
"Could be a million times worse."
"That's no excuse." Saryana leaned her head against his shoulder. "I've failed. I should at least be punished. But I won't be in trouble for this. I don't even have to break the news to any relatives...because there are none. Because all the other spirits have long left the world."
Aithal was quiet.
"But I'm rambling," Saryana said at length, a faint smile in her voice. "Don't tell the others I said all of this. Someone's got to be strong."
Someone's got to be strong.
Jolette swallowed. She felt that sentence, that sentiment deep within her soul.
Aithal brushed a hand through her braids. "Not a word."
"I'll just make amends." Pushing herself off him, Saryana straightened, assuming the determined posture of a soldier. "From now on I'll keep everyone safe, I promise."
Jolette slipped away from the bush and back towards the building. Something in her was shaking. So even Saryana was afraid, she thought. Even Saryana, who had seemed so strong and confident, was terrified and guilty and beating herself up over something that hadn't been her fault. Even Saryana was putting on a brave face to comfort everyone else.
Who else was doing the same, she wondered?
Was there anyone who wasn't?
"What about your family?" Saryana's voice reached her from behind, and for a moment she thought she had been caught eavesdropping.
Glancing back, she realized the question had not been directed at her. She was still talking to Aithal, who gave a faint laugh that didn't sound happy at all.
"You ever wonder what they're doing right now...if you can still save them?" Saryana went on, quieter than before. "If you've made the wrong choice?"
"Always."
Aithal's voice had taken an odd tone, one that sounded entirely unlike the witty, confident diplomat. If anything it sounded like that first night at the inn in the Snowy Mountains, unsure about his course. He didn't sound like an ambassador. He didn't sound like royalty. This was the voice of an ordinary man, faint and hesitant and very afraid.
"I often wonder," he said. "If I lost my chance. If, through all our detours, I have robbed us of time we could have used to save them."
"You haven't given up on them?"
"Not yet." Aithal lowered his head. "If there is any way at all, I still hope to rescue them before the end."
"Let's hope it comes to that," said Saryana.
Jolette turned around and disappeared back into the building.
Only to almost collide with Edmian on the staircase.
"Hey!" she whispered, staggering back. "Why're you awake?"
Instead of answering, Edmian only blinked up at her with wide, concerned eyes.
"Is everything all right?" he asked faintly.
Jolette frowned. For a moment she was tempted to tell him.
Someone's got to be strong.
"I'm fine," she said, putting on a smile. "Just needed a bit of fresh air."
Edmian didn't answer at once. He looked at her like he wanted to ask more, like he could tell she was lying, like he was worried. Jolette hoped it was only her overactive imagination. The last thing she needed was Edmian worrying about her of all people.
"I woke up and you weren't there," he said at last. "So I went out to look."
"And now you found me. Everything's fine," Jolette replied, brushing past him to march back towards their room. "Let's go back to sleep."
This was more like it, she thought. Edmian relying on her, depending on her. But never having to worry about her. Never taking care of her. That was her job.
They both crawled back into bed, but it was some time before she could fall asleep.
~ ~ ~
"May?" Nellary asked through the wall of her cell. "Maithea, can you hear me?"
They had both been taken captive, but everything after was blurry. One moment they had been taken away by the Colorless guards, and the next she had woken up in this cell, not remembering how she had come here. All she knew was that Maithea had to be on the other side of this wall. It was the only clear memory she had.
As hard as she could, she knocked on the white marble wall, waiting for an answer. She wondered if the sound of her knocks reached through. Maybe the wall was too thick. And even if it wasn't, maybe Maithea couldn't hear her for some other reason.
Nellary closed her eyes. She only hoped Maithea really was there, alive and conscious. She had to be. If she wasn't, if something had happened to her...
She wouldn't think about it. Maithea had to be safe and sound, just like Jolette was, somewhere out there. She wouldn't accept any other possibility. She refused to.
"May, it's me!" she shouted. "Can you hear me? Answer me!"
Her voice was growing desperate. She banged on the wall, once, twice. Her arms and fists hurt. She tried to kick it, then slam her whole body against the hard stone.
Nothing. No response. Only hurting bones and a bitter cold creeping throughout her body.
Nellary sank to her knees. Her hands were bruised, but not yet bloodied. The marble walls were too smooth to scrape open her skin. She almost wished they weren't. Seeing red would be comforting as everything around her seemed to fade into white.
Maithea wasn't responding.
Nellary was alone.
She took a deep breath, swallowing the panic. Maithea wouldn't panic, she told herself. She would tell her to think, to look at the situation and figure something out. Make a plan. And then rescue her and get out of her, if she could.
Nellary had never been good at such things. She had always been the one to follow her instinct. Making plans, thinking things through...that had always been Maithea's specialty.
But Maithea isn't here. Think!
Nellary took a step back. Her eyes roamed around the cell. It was almost perfectly empty. The floor, walls and ceiling were all made of the same smooth white marble. Even the door fit perfectly, showing no crack she could use to break it open. If she didn't pay attention to the lock, she regularly forgot it was there. In the corner stood a bench, naked and made of the same stone and geometrical shapes as the rest of the cell.
What were they keeping her here for? And for how long?
Was there a point in asking?
Nellary looked around again. It was cold. The cell was hard and empty. There was no sign of anyone being outside the door. Maybe there were no guards, since she clearly couldn't break out. But she should try anyway. Maithea would.
"Hello?" she shouted into the crack around the door. "Is anyone out there?"
She pressed her ear close and listened, but there was no answer.
"Hey!" she tried again, louder and more irritable. "Bastards! I'm awake and I have questions!"
This time there was a rustle, the echo of footsteps. "This one is awake," said a cold Colorless voice.
"Damn right I am!" Nellary yelled. "What are you doing with me and where is my wife?"
No one answered her. From a distance, cold and unfeeling, a voice spoke.
"Just as planned," it said. "Open the gates."
There was a creak, then a hiss. Nellary looked up. Everywhere in the walls small cracks had opened, countless sharp, dark lines cutting through the white of the stone.
Then something began to emerge from them.
And abruptly Nellary understood what they were trying to do.