Forever the Road (A Rucksack Universe Fantasy Novel) Page 29

  Is my father still alive? Jigme wondered. Did he die long ago?

  Looking down at his mother, Jigme kissed her head. “You’re all I have,” he said. “I can’t lose you too.”

  The darkness ate the last gleam of light in the sky.

  With a final breath, Jigme forced away all pain and weariness and started walking them forward once more. Asha stumbled when they passed the statues. Jigme didn’t know where he found the strength, but he caught her, lifted her up so her body lay across his outstretched arms, her limbs and head dangling. Her weight had faded with the sunlight. She was so much easier to carry now. Ragged, slow breaths rasped in and out of her as the entrance to the temple appeared before them. Jigme stepped forward, crossing a foot over the threshold.

  “Turn around!”

  Jigme froze. The cry in his mind echoed then repeated.

  “Turn around!”

  The voice reminded him of his own. But it was also clearer, bolder, yet old, full of fear and worry.

  “You can still leave here, leave him, and never return to this place,” said the voice. “This is your last chance. Leave, Jigme. Let life happen as life will happen. Let him fade. Do not take her to him.”

  “Who are you?” he said.

  “One who wants to help,” the voice replied.

  “You are too late to help,” Jigme said. “She is nearly dead, and this is my only chance to save the one person who cares about me.”

  “Do you really believe he’s going to help you? Help her?”

  “I don’t even know who you are,” Jigme said. “I have no reason to listen to you.”

  The voice said nothing else.

  With another step forward, Jigme and Asha were inside the temple. The entrance sealed as it normally did, yet something seemed different.

  The air felt hotter than Jigme had ever known it before. Sweat beaded on his face. He carried Asha forward, toward the center of the temple. In the red-and-black glare, a long, low block of black rock rose from the floor. Despite the dimness, the obsidian’s faces and edges gleamed sharp and bright.

  “Lay her there.” The Smiling Fire’s red-and-black eyes emerged from the darkness behind the block. More of his shape became visible. Jigme could just make out the shadows that covered much of his face, the ragged thin limbs, the darkness that hung off of the Smiling Fire like robes made of night, smoke, and storm clouds.

  In his right hand, the Smiling Fire held a long, thin knife, black and shiny as the obsidian of the temple. Jigme took a step back. “What’s that?”

  “Fear not.” The Smiling Fire tucked the knife into his robes. “It is not for you.”

  Jigme nodded and realized he’d been holding his breath. He kissed his mother’s forehead then gently set her on the block. “Will it hurt?” he asked.

  “Not for long.”

  Below the eyes, the scythe-like smile widened. Jigme had never noticed before, but the red-and-black grin looked more like a tunnel than a mouth, deep and endless, covered in sharp points.

  “Will we then go where the other children are?”

  “Yes.”

  The Smiling Fire spread his arms over Asha then leaned down. His grin stretched and yawned wider.

  “Why haven’t I gotten any letters?” Jigme asked.

  The Smiling Fire stopped. “Letters?”

  “From the children I brought to you,” Jigme said. “I thought they would write, but there have never been any letters, and you don’t say anything about how they’re doing.”

  “Stupid child,” the Smiling Fire replied. “The children are dead. The fires they stole have returned to me.”

  “Dead?”

  “I do not understand these schools and letters, these flowers and grasses that give you such hope and happiness in your mind.” The Smiling Fire glared at Jigme. “They helped you bring me what I needed, but they are not useful anymore.”

  “You killed them?”

  “You know what I did. You have known from the first. You chose to try to believe something else.”

  “No,” Jigme said, feeling the truth of the rasping words inside. I’ve always known, he thought. From the first I took here, poor child. He’s dead. Poor… Don’t say the name! Don’t ever say the name!

  “It is time for you and your mother to return your stolen fires to me. Once I have your fires, then it is only a matter of time until the fires of all the world come back to their rightful owner. Soon it will all be over.”

  “Amma!” Jigme shouted. “No! Mum!”

  “Jigme?”

  Her soft voice for a moment made the temple brighter, tamed the heat of the air. Asha looked up at the Smiling Fire. At first fear blazed through her face with a grief and sadness that almost made the temple cold. But as she stared into the eyes of the Smiling Fire, she calmed down. The fear faded. Slowly, with a shudder that almost seemed like a laugh, Asha began to smile. She turned to Jigme.

  “My son,” she said. “My beautiful son. I should have been there for you better. I’m sorry.”

  Behind her, the mouth of the Smiling Fire opened wider. “Return the fire to me,” he said.

  She looked at him again. “You’ll have it in a little while,” she replied. Some hope filled her face, her eyes, her voice. “But you can’t keep what isn’t yours.”

  “It is all mine. It always has been. As you will now learn.” The Smiling Fire began descending again.

  Asha turned back to Jigme. “It’s okay, son,” she said. “Do not be afraid. Run, if you can. Know that I love you. I forgive you. And I will see you again. Your father—”

  Her words cut off. The fiery grin covered her, head to toe, voice to soul. Darkness became all Jigme could see.

  When the Smiling Fire rose, the obsidian block was empty. He stepped forward, rose over the block, and moved toward Jigme. “Her fire is mine. The mother is no more. And now, it is time for the son. You will have your reward now, Jigme. Death. Finality. An end to all those things that pain you.”

  Jigme looked behind him, saw where he had entered the temple. No doorway opened. He hobbled to the entry, felt along the stone for a latch, a crack—something he could use to open the way out. He longed for the world beyond the black temple, for every ounce of existence and life.

  Better the pain than this, he thought.

  But there was no way out, nowhere to run. Jigme turned around. Something in his leg snapped.

  Fresh pain ripped through his body and mind. I couldn’t run now anyway, he thought.

  He slipped to one knee.

  “Amma,” he said, “I’m sorry. I was wrong about everything. I lost you. They’re all lost. Because of me.”

  He saw her face. He saw all their faces.

  The tears came back.

  The Smiling Fire stood over him now, and his heat seared Jigme’s face and skin. He winced. My eyebrows are gone, he thought. The flesh of his nose began to char.

  Jigme stared into the eyes of the Smiling Fire. “I love you, Mum,” he said. “I want to make it right.” He looked deeper. “I’m sorry,” he said. “All of you, I’m sorry.”

  I hope that counts for something, he thought, staring into the red-and-black blaze.

  Fire happened.

  When the fire was gone, so was Jigme.

  The Smiling Fire rose, his mouth shrinking to its sharp curved grin.

  “At last,” he said, raising his arms.

  The black temple exploded.

  Barely visible against the dark night, shards of obsidian burned as they rained back down.

  Surrounded now by the night over Agamuskara, the white walls of the city dimmed and tried to shrink away. The Smiling Fire felt all life around him, all the stolen fires. But they did not steal from him now. They never would again.

  “You are all coming back to me,” he said, moving forward into the alley.

  Where he walked, the ground smoldered.

  He sensed it before him, the sleeping promise of the dia ubh.

  “With you, it be
gins,” he said.

  The Smiling Fire moved forward into the world, wondering how long it would take to burn the city to the ground.

  NIGHT HAD FALLEN, and when Jade woke she realized she had no idea how long she had been asleep at the table outside Everest Base Camp. Her numb legs and arse certainly weren’t telling her anything other than they weren’t awake yet.

  As the last tendrils of light faded from the sky, she looked at the quiet, bare streets. It was only just past sundown, but the city was more deserted than the middle of the night, when at least there were people sleeping outside.

  Even without her Jade abilities, she sensed some fear, some foreboding, everywhere. Every soul in Agamuskara wanted to hide.

  She shifted back her chair and reached down for her pack. Her hand swept through empty air.

  Her pack was gone.

  Jade shook her head. That was everything I own, she thought. Her eyes opened wide. My passport. My cash. That was all in my money belt.

  Which I had stashed in my pack until I was ready to leave.

  Now I really don’t have anything but myself, she thought. No ID. No money. Nowhere to go and no way to get there.

  What the hell do I do now?

  Near the end of a street, a shadow appeared. Jade sat back in her chair, watching the shadow grow larger as it came toward Everest Base Camp. No one even woke me to ask about the pub, she thought. How long have the streets been so empty? And who the hell is coming toward me? Should I even be afraid?

  The figure moved fast, fading in and out of sight as it passed by the occasional light, suddenly now all but floating along the side of the hostel.

  It was coming toward Jade. Fear rose in her and she started to move her chair back so she could stand.

  “Oy! Jade!” Rucksack shouted, coming to a stop at the table. “I’m so glad I found you. We may be too late, but we have to move fast. It’s Jay. He’s, Jade, this is hard to say, but he found out I had his passport. He got mad and—”

  “He’s gone.” Tears welled up again, but Jade forced them back. I’ve cried enough for the next ten years, she thought.

  “When did you see him?” Rucksack pulled out a chair. “Tell me fast, while I have a sit. Believe me when I say it’s been a hell o’ an afternoon getting back here.”

  “I don’t know how long it’s been.” She quickly told him all that had happened, from The Management sacking her to packing to Jay leaving.

  “The bastards did what?”

  “I disobeyed orders and influenced Jay so he could never be influenced again.”

  “Wait,” Rucksack said. “This was your doing? You know what’s coming, what Jay’s role is supposed to be. And you allowed him to steer himself away from it?”

  “The world will have far better chances if it can be saved by someone acting of his own free will.”

  “This is bigger than all o’ us. This isn’t some blind coercive destiny, Jade. This is destiny and decision working in unison—or at least it’s bloody well supposed to be. But if Jay’s left Agamuskara, he’s left the world to this fate. Because o’ you.”

  Jade stood. The metal chair sounded oddly muffled when it fell to the cement walkway.

  “Because of me?” she said, anger rising in her voice. “Who’s been here for months, wallowing in his stout? Who glommed onto Jay the moment he arrived, believing every bit of what his mummy said about destiny? And who not only hung on to something that wasn’t his, but then, however the hell it happened, managed to let Jay then find out you’ve had his passport all this time the two of you were supposed to be hunting for it?”

  Rucksack’s chair fell over as he stood up. When it hit the ground, the sound seemed impossibly big, as if the chair had not so much fallen but exploded. “Always heard you were the best o’ the best, the Jade o’ Jades. Hell, you never knew it, but I was there the day you were chose and chosen.”

  “What?”

  “I’ll never forget the certainty on your face. You didn’t hesitate to go off with those hooded wanks, leaving your man—ring in his outstretched hand, and him feeling like the world’s biggest eejit. You were supposed to be the one whose sense o’ duty never wavered. But look at you now. Sacked. All your stuff nicked. Alone. Full o’ doubt and fear and worry. And all because you didn’t do what you were supposed to do. Because you just had to fall for someone you weren’t supposed to have. This didn’t happen because o’ me, Jade formerly Agamuskara Bluegold. This happened because you put yourself above your duty.”

  “I chose love.”

  “Love was never an option. Unless you want a planet that has a striking resemblance to the universe’s biggest ash heap.”

  “If destiny’s destiny, what does it matter? It’s not like we have choice.”

  “Oh, we have choice.” Rucksack reached into his pocket and slammed the dia ubh onto the table. The sound was like flames crackling far off in the distance.

  “We have this. Jay abandoned the dia ubh,” Rucksack said. “He’s gone and it’s here. Your decisions have thrown the entire world off the rails and into the fire, Jade.”

  “All this time I thought you’d be helpful,” Jade said. “But you’re just in this for yourself, for some days gone by that you can’t have anymore.”

  “And I thought you’d live up to who you are. Or who you were, rather.”

  “I’ve had it with you,” Jade said. “I may have nothing. I may have nowhere to go, but I’ll be damned if I’ll have anything else to do with you and your laugh and your beer and your damn accent.”

  Jade reached for the dia ubh. “If I can’t have Jay, I’ll just keep this as a souvenir.”

  But her hand closed on empty air. In a blink, the dia ubh was gone.

  “Where is the one you call Jay?”

  The rasping voice stopped Jade’s breath. She and Rucksack stared at each other, mirroring the same shocked eyes and slack mouths. Slowly they each turned.

  Neither had seen the shadowy figure come down the dark, empty street. Now she and Rucksack saw the dull glow of fires burning in the distance, burning outward from the heart of the city. Smoke already choked the clouds from the sky and smothered the cries of fear and pain that rose out of the dark.

  Jade stared at the figure before them, but a dull, dark red glow obscured its face instead of illuminating it.

  A shadowy hand held the dia ubh in front of its body.

  “Jay is gone from your reach, old enemy,” Rucksack said. He nodded at the dia ubh. “That will do you no good now.”

  “Old enemy?” the Smiling Fire replied. “I have enemies only for a moment. Then there is nothing left of them but ash.”

  “Oh, we go back a long way,” Rucksack said. “Though it did take only a moment for me to help ruin you. But I suppose you could say we’ve never been formally introduced.”

  “I have all I need now,” the Smiling Fire said. “Whoever you are, it doesn’t matter. Your lives are finished.” He held the dia ubh with his hands and raised it high.

  A sudden heat made Jade sweat. Her skin felt seared.

  Behind her, she heard a click and a creak.

  She turned her head. The Everest Base Camp’s front door was opening. In her mind, she heard the pub cry out to her: “Run!”

  She grabbed Rucksack’s hand. “Come on!”

  As they dashed inside the Everest Base Camp, the door slammed shut behind them.

  “I thought you couldn’t come in here anymore,” Rucksack said.

  “So did I,” Jade replied. She ran to the door to the hostel. “If the pub is willing to break the rules so we don’t die, I’m not going to argue.”

  “Fair point,” Rucksack said.

  A sound made Jade look back. The front door splintered, smoldered, blackened, and vanished in a cloud of ash. A heartbeat later, the Smiling Fire stepped through it and into the Everest Base Camp.

  “Where are we going?” Rucksack said as he followed Jade into the foyer.

  Jade pulled the door closed behind her.
If the front door couldn’t stop him, she thought, this one certainly won’t. She shook the doubts out of her head. Shut up. Doubt later. Live now.

  “Okay, Rucksack,” she said. “Now jump through that wall.”

  “What?”

  “Dammit, Rucksack!” Jade shoved him with all her strength.

  If The Management won’t let us through, she thought, at least he’ll be the one to bounce off the wall.

  But Rucksack sailed through the illusion. Jade leaped behind him.

  They ran down the short hallway, and Jade pulled open the door to her former room. When she closed it behind them, the door closed as it always did with more than just locks.

  “Where are we?” Rucksack said.

  “This used to be my room,” Jade replied. “It’s virtually impregnable. The Management make a Jake or Jade’s room so it’s a fortress, cut off from the rest of the world. You have to know it’s here to get to it, and even then you can only come inside if the pub or The Management let you. There’s no way the Smiling Fire can find us here. Even if he did, there’s no way he could get to us. We’re safe.”

  “You mean we’re trapped in a small room with someone we’re furious at.”

  “Better than being on fire.”

  “A moderate improvement, aye.”

  They fell silent. No sounds reached through the void beyond the door.

  The quiet moments fell and lengthened. A small hope flickered in Jade.

  Maybe he couldn’t find us, she thought. Maybe he left.

  The first blow made the door rattle in its frame.

  The hope winked out.

  “Jade?” Rucksack said.

  “He’s more powerful than I would have expected,” she replied. “If this is him before the dia ubh opens, he’s already more powerful than the pub, even more powerful than The Management.”

  “I don’t know how,” Rucksack said, “but he was powerful enough to free himself from the temple.” He sighed. “Jade, we can’t stop him.”

  “Then until we can figure out a way, we’d better run like hell.” Jade unlocked the window.

  As Rucksack followed, the door blackened and fell to ash. The Smiling Fire stepped into the room.

  “You humans are so interesting,” he said. “You’ve come so far since I last walked the world. You’ve given me so much more to burn.”