A Sword from Red Ice

Raising his sights he scanned the cinder cones beyond the dunes. He did not expect to spot anything amongst the ancient, deteriorating vents. That wasn't the point. Something was waiting in the dunes. Until it moved it could not be spotted… and it would not move until it could strike. The cones were still. The peculiar quality of starlight made it impossible to accurately gauge their height or distance. To Raif they were evidence of the doom that had been laid on the Want. The earth's crust was not stable here. Fissures undermined it, molten rock charged it and things had a nasty habit of forcing their way out. Kahl Barranon the Fortress of Grey Ice, had been built on flawed mountain rock. It could be a thousand leagues from here, or maybe less than ten. Slowly, Raif was coming to understand that distance didn't matter in this place. What mattered was the Want was wounded. Its skin was riddled with cracks and the Shatan Maer had tried to push itself through the largest. Raif had sealed that breach, but looking out across the cones he guessed it was not the only one, "Go no further," he murmured, dropping his gaze to the lamb brother on the dunes. The man was about twenty paces from the dis-turbed dust. Both hands were on his spear and he was moving forward slowly, stabbing air. Raif scanned the space directly in front of him. Nothing. As he panned wider, muscles in his draw arm started to quake as the twine began to slice into the joint of his index finger. Ballic the Red had once told him that holding a longbow at full draw was the equivalent of lifting a grown man one-handed "Release quickly," the master bowman had advised. "Every second you wait power and accuracy are lost."

At the edge of his vision something moved. A section of air rippled and for an instant a shape was revealed. Behind the lamb brothel's back, dust smoked from the dune.

"Watch out!" Raif screamed, angling his bow. As the lamb brother spun around, the dunes exploded. Dust sprayed up in a footstep pattern heading straight toward the lamb brother. Pumice glittered in the air, making it difficult to see. Raif glimpsed something dark and not quite human. As soon as he had it in his sights it was gone. The lamb brother's robes began to flap as air rushed against htm. Bracing himself he distributed his weight evenly between his legs, stabilizing the spear at his waist.

A high metallic screech sounded, and then everything was obscured by whirling.dust. Raif fought down panic. He couldn't see. Part of him wanted to run away, save himself while he still had time. Noises spat from the dust cloud like sparks. Something grunted. A wailing gasp was followed by the weird harmony of metal meeting metal on a sweet spot. Blades clashed. Raif spied the shadowy outline of a head between curling lanes of dust. Dropping his sights, he searched for a heart.

An invisible line spooled from the center of his eye, slipping effortlessly through the swirling pumice. Straightaway it found a heart. Hot and red, it hammered in imperfect time. Raif recognized it and switched his gaze. The lamb brother. Both combatants were moving frantically, their torsos jerking back and forth. Raif felt the sickening suction of an unmade heart, but as he tried to lock it in his sights, the lamb brother stepped across his line of view.

Move, he mouthed, experiencing something close to shock as utter cold was replaced with heat.

Suddenly the hot heart faltered. A thin cry sounded, and for a moment all fell quiet. Raif knew he could not afford to think about what it meant. Pushing his awareness forward, he locked on to the second heart. It was like plunging into icy black water. He could not see or breathe; just feel the coldness seize his chest. His first instinct was to get out—this was not a living organ and he had no place here— but the suction he'd felt earlier pulled him in.

A river of darkness flowed through the heart's malformed chambers, its slow, muscular current animating the meat and teeth and membranes of the Unmade. Raif s own heart fell in time so quickly it was as if it had been waiting all along to match the rhythm of the dead. The moment loosened. He thought of Drey and Effie, and could not imagine a time when loving them wouldn't hurt. Follow the current and it would no longer matter. He wouldn't have to feel or think.

Ma-dum. Ma-dum. Ma-dum. The current tugged him under. Downriver all was shadow, a darkly welcoming place. Raif's middle and index fingers twitched, easing his grip on the arrow. All he had to do was let go.

"Will you come back?" Stillborn's question, spoken all those weeks ago at Black Hole, broke the rhythm.

Raif blinked. He was bone cold, almost frozen in place. The unmade heart contracted strongly, powering the surrounding flesh. Raif smelled the raw blackness of the void…and remembered what he had to do.