Page 85 of Beyond the Shadowed Earth
“You have come to the end of the Hall of Memory,” said the figure, its voice brittle as ice and piercing as high bells. “You may not go farther.”
“You are a spirit.” Morin’s voice was hushed with awe. “A servant from the beginning of time, one of the few who did not betray the gods.”
“I guard the door, by command of the Lord of the Mountain.”
Eda set her jaw. “We’re here for Tuer. Take us to him.”
“The Lord of the Mountain is out of your reach. The doors are sealed. Not even he can pass through.”
The spirit brushed a translucent hand across Eda’s forehead. She felt that familiar pulse of heat under her skin, and also the faint touch of the spirit’s fingers, soft as rain. “You are gods-touched, bright one. There is Starlight in you.”
“Starlight?”
“You burn with it. Can’t you feel it?”
Eda shuddered where she stood. She thought of the shattered ice wall, the light that had guarded her through the dark. The spot in her forehead grew suddenly, unbearably hot, as if there were a live coal under her skin.
“What god was it who touched you?” asked the spirit. “I have not seen one such as you in millennia.”
“I spoke with Tuer’s Shadow when I was young.”
“It was not Tuer’s Shadow—Rudion has not that power. Perhaps one of the gods looked in on you when you were born. Perhaps that is why you do not remember.”
Eda brushed its comments off, even though they made her roil with a sense of uncertainty and violation. “If Tuer is behind that door, that’s where we’re going. Now let us pass.”
The spirit seemed to shake its head. “You may pass, bright one. The others may not. They have no Starlight in them. They could not bear to step through that door. It would rip them apart, and not even a Bearer of Souls in all her rightful power could save them.”
Morin caught Eda’s arm. “You can’t go in there alone.” There was panic in his face, a desperate helplessness.
She fractured inside, felt every break, every splinter. Her soul cried out for his, but she thought of Raiva, calling Tuer’s name in the dark, and she closed herself off. She couldn’t do that to him. Shewouldn’t.“I started this journey alone, Morin. It’s only fitting I should end it that way, too.”
Behind and around them, the throng of ghosts began to scream and wail, and Eda glanced back. Her heart nearly stopped. The dark spirits must have battered down the door in the passageway; they were flooding into the cavernous hall, shrieking with triumph, cutting through the ghosts with their bone swords as they careened toward the greater door. Rudion stood in the midst of them, fire licking his crown and raging all down his sword. His eyes met Eda’s. He smiled.
And suddenly Eda couldn’t step through. Couldn’t leave Morin and Tainir here to face Rudion, and their death. “Morin—”
But his expression hardened. He touched her cheek, the barest pressure of warm fingers against her skin. “Go. Tainir and I will be fine.”
“But—”
“I’ll see you again.” He pushed her, gently, toward the door. He smiled, and the smile broke her yet again. “Go,” he said. “Go!”
The dark spirits shrieked and dove at Morin and Tainir, Rudion at their head.
Eda let out a fierce cry and leapt through the door.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
SHE WAS STANDING ON A DARK HILLbeneath a sky strewn with stars. Beyond her sprawled a wide, endless land, all hills and valleys and broad-leafed trees that smelled of rich honey and the tang of fire.
It was …
It wasbeautiful, and its beauty pierced her through. The darkness was deep, but not all-consuming, and it made her feel strangely at peace. She stretched her free hand out in front of her, her fingertips buzzing at the icy touch of the air. She knew it must be frigid enough to shatter bone, and yet her body pulsed with the heat emanating from her forehead. The cold couldn’t touch her.
Starlight, the spirit at the door had told her—there was Starlight inside of her. Her whole body hummed with it.
She descended the hill and strode through a wooded valley, the broad trunks of the honey-fire trees shimmering violet and silver in the faint light emanating from her forehead. She touched one of the trees as she passed, and yanked her hand back with a startled cry—it was sharp as teeth, and blood dripped red from her fingers.
After that, she was more wary.
