After several days of captivity she became aware of the dark jade nestled at the center of her granite being. It was the amulet given to her by Indreyah the Mer-Queen. She had forgotten it, but had worn it when Elhathym’s sorcery overcame her own. The words of Indreyah echoed in the chambers of her stone brain.
And if you wear it while you sleep, we may speak together in dreams.
As an entity of living rock, she could not truly sleep, but neither was she fully awake. She lingered somewhere along the line between Life and Death, near the drowsy kingdom of Sleep. She pulled her attention away from the tyrant’s bleak hall toward the crossroads of Dream and Death. The shard of jade thrummed inside the granite effigy. Elhathym’s attention was elsewhere, so she hoped he could not hearould not it.
She swam through the dark emerald waters of dream, across aqueous gardens thick with anemone and iridescent schools of fish. The coral palace opened before her, and she saw the Sea Queen on her oyster-shell throne. Her silvery scales were phosphorescent, and she turned the amber slits of her eyes toward her visitor. Here Sharadza was no longer stone, but neither was she flesh and blood. This was her dream-self, an extension of her bodiless consciousness. And this was not truly the Mer-Queen’s hall, but a dream place created by their thoughts.
“Princess,” Indreyah greeted her with a pearly smile. “It pleases me to see you again. You have learned to use the trinket I gave you.”
“I have,” said Sharadza. “There is little else I could do in my present state. I seek your aid.”
“Let us walk in the gardens as we did before,” said the Queen. Now they stood among the waving sea-plants and gliding manta rays of her aquatic courtyards. Sharadza told her of Iardu and Khama. She spoke of the confrontation with Elhathym that had killed them both and left her a prisoner of stone in the conquered palace of Yaskatha. Indreyah listened intently, strands of green-black hair swirling in a halo above her heart-shaped face.
The orbs of the Queen’s eyes grew wide when she heard Iardu’s fate. “You say the Shaper… Iardu… is dead?”
Sharadza bowed her head. Dream tears floated like diamonds from her eyes, rising like bubbles of air. Iardu had loved Indreyah, and perhaps she had once loved him. Sharadza hated to be the bringer of bad news. Yet what other news was there in these times?
“No,” said Indreyah. She looked toward the distant surface of the sea as a land woman might stare into the sky. Perhaps her senses extended far beyond the roof of her sunken kingdom. She seemed to observe some distant vista or scene before turning back to Sharadza. “No. Iardu cannot be dead. If he were, I would feel it. We once shared a bond… that I cannot explain. We are linked in subtle ways that have more to do with spirit than flesh. He might eventually perish in some distant eon, but he lives now. This I can tell you without doubt.”
Sharadza told her about the black void spewing from Elhathym’s mouth, and Iardu’s plunge into that vortex of darkness. It had utterly consumed him. She saw it herself. Unless…
“Iardu lingers somewhere,” said the Mer-Queen. “Perhaps he is imprisoned as you are. You must find him if you can. Tell me more of this Elhathym.”
She told Indreyah about the enchanted mirror. “He keeps it near his throne and peers into it every day. It brings him visions. I could not understand most of these, but I did see the Empress of Khyrei reflected there, and I heard her speak to him. There were flames, and bloody shadows swirled about her… the Spirits of Vakai.”
“Did you hear their words, child?”
“He demanded she return something to him… some things he had given her. She refused, saying she needed them for her own plans, and he grew angry. Next I saw him conjure an image of Uurz in the glass. Emperor Dairon assembled his legions there, preparing fo preparir war.”
“You are clever,” said the Mer-Queen. “Here is what you must do. When Elhathym next leaves his chamber, you must take command of this mirror. It is a Glass of Eternity. Only two are said to exist in this world. Concentrate your will upon it, and it will show what you wish to see. Use its power to find Iardu.”
Sharadza stepped over the coils of a lazy octopus crossing the garden. “But I am caught in a cage of granite,” she said. “How can I-”
“Give me your hand,” said Indreyah. “Sorcery is driven by willpower. Elhathym’s is far greater than yours, so he keeps you locked in this granite form. That is his will. Yours must only be greater than his and the spell will break.” She held Sharadza’s dream-hands and put her scaled forehead against the girl’s own. “My will added to yours, child… through the power of our dreaming minds… together we may bend the elements to our will.”
The dream garden fell away and she was again inside her granite body. She looked not at the throne room but inward, harnessing the consciousness of her intent, focusing her will as the sculptor focuses on his marble block, or the painter his canvas. Gradually the cold stone grew warm and soft, pink replacing granite, black curls falling across her shoulders. The musty grave-scent of the chamber entered her nostrils, and she felt some invisible presence remove itself from her. The dreaming connection with the Mer-Queen was broken, but she was flesh and blood again.
Upon his high seat Elhathym stirred and turned his head from the black mirror. She caught a glimpse of glinting metal in the glass, a sea of spears that could only be an advancing army – legions in war formation. In a blink she turned herself to stone again before his dark eyes fell upon her. He came down the dais then and his dark robes shifted, hardened into the plates of a dark armor. He spread his hands and pulled strands of shadow into the shape of a great black sword. He walked near enough to impale her with the black blade, but he only caressed her stone cheek. Stone by her will now, not his.
“I must ride among my legions to finally kill the Son of Trimesqua,” he whispered. “When I return from the field of battle, I will grant you fleshly form, and we will celebrate my victory. If you please me, I will keep you as my Queen… not that faithless whore of Khyrei.”
He kissed her stone lips, took up a helm of silvered metal, and walked through the chamber doors. They slammed shut behind him.
She willed herself to flesh again the moment he was gone, wiping a hand across her lips. She crept across the floor, stepping between the concentric runes and sigils, up onto the dais, and stood before the Glass of Eternity. Miniscule gargoyles peered at her from the intricate frame of blackened wood. She brought an image of Iardu into her mind, and closed her eyes, concentrating. When she opened them again, the surface of the mirror swirled with darkness. It was like Elhathym’s vortex-mouth, the void into which Iardu had fallen. The mirror grew darker, all light fading from its slick surface, and now it was an oval of dull black.
There… in the center of the darkness… a blot of pale orange, growing larger as she looked upon it. It took the shape of a red-garbed figure, careening toward her as if falling sideways toward the mirror. A blumirror. e flame danced on his chest, illuminating the face of Iardu. His eyes opened wide and he seemed to see her through the glass. He slowed and floated nearer, as if swimming through a sea of black ink that did not stain or drown him. He spoke, but she heard no sound from the glass.
“Iardu…” she whispered. He floated now on the other side of the mirror, as large as if he were in the room with her. He shouted soundlessly. His hand reached forward, but could not break the invisible plane between them. “Iardu!” she shouted. If Elhathym lingered nearby, he might hear her. But she must reach Iardu. And if not now, then when?
He mouthed something, again and again. She tried to read his lips.
Pull… me…
True?
Pull… me…
Through.
Pull… me… through.
Her fingers trembled as she raised them to the surface of the glass. It was like a window, and he floated just outside it. She touched it with the tip of a single finger, and it rippled like ebony water. Iardu hovered behind the ripples.
Pull me through, he mouthed.
She took a deep breath and pushed her hand into the mirror’s liquid surface. Cold… terribly cold. The mirror tugged at her. She set her feet firmly on the marble. Now her entire arm was inside that dark void. Something grabbed it and she almost screamed. But it was only Iardu, his fingers locking about her wrist. She stuck her other arm through, and he took her other hand.
She pulled, straining against the gravity of the mirror and the void beyond. It was like lifting someone out of
