About them sounded a hum, a deep bass note that vibrated through Jariel. Through his touch on Pacer's body he could feel that thrumming. The light flaked away from walls and ceiling. Each sun-tinged mote spun in independent motion, casting its own light. Those gathered above the plinth formed an orange whirlwind. The tip of that sparkling mass spun down into the swirling body ashes, merging with them. Now the white-ice flames, edging the plinth, curved back from the magic storm, arching down like petals to almost touch the floor.
Jariel was aware of Pacer's claws piercing his leather breeks, but the pain did not distract him from what he saw forming from the mixture of body ashes and orange sparks.
Bones. With each rotation of the magic force, muscles, organs, breasts, then skin were layered on that skeletal foundation.
The sound changed, turned into the pulsating beat of a heart. Now the chest wall of the re-formed woman heaved, then the rhythm grew steady. The last of the sparks and ashes drifted down over her, leaving behind sun-silver body hair. Her eyes opened and focused on him.
Jariel leapt to his feet and raced toward her. For perhaps a count of three breaths no flames showed and she was free. She ventured to move, to speak. Like striking snakes the petals of flame curled back into place, fire dancing about her. She screamed.
Pacer! We must do something. Jariel stretched his hands out to wrench her from the plinth.
With a leap Pacer grabbed the back of the man's leather vest and jerked. No! Don't touch her. Pacer reared to set both paws on Jariel's chest, knocking him from his feet. Grief tinged her mind voice. There is nothing we can do. The cycle has begun again.
Dazed, Jariel asked, Cycle?
She'll be consumed, then reformed repeatedly. Pacer sat back, tail flicking back and forth. Her gray-gold eyes met his. There is more at stake here than just the woman.
Jariel tried to concentrate, but the woman's screams ripped through him. More important than preventing the death of a human being?
Pacer touched his face with her nose. That rare sign of affection comforted him. He breathed deeply and rolled on his side away from the plinth, refusing to look up. What are you trying to tell me? What did she say before the fire struck? Jariel suppressed the urge to wring Pacer's neck. How could she answer him with a question now? It didn't make much sense. She said to bring her her shadow. Pacer turned. Look behind you. He stood. Turned. Then froze. A shadow had formed on the wall, but not a human one. Across the rough stone the shadow's contortions were painful to behold. A great rack of antlers nearly touched its back and dark wings fought to fly from the torment consuming it. What's the shadow of an immortal Pierdon doing here? Memory stirred-what did he know-not enough! Jariel all but growled when Pacer spoke. What is its source?
Belldancer studied it. The Pierdon reared, shadow hooves slashing. From its back legs a fainter streak of darkness crossed the cave floor, flowed up the plinth to the woman! He cringed at the sight of her blackened flesh. Pacer, isn't there anything we can do? At this moment, no. Now, what is the shadow's source? She is. But why doesn't she cast her own? At that moment memory clicked in and he knew.
No. It's not possible. He knelt down, eyes level with Pacer's. Is this the lost one the Pierdon have searched forall these years?
It is. One of their own has carried the burden of the woman's shadow all this time. Now that the balance of power is broken Baltaz's doom is upon them both. Their eyes met with perfect understanding. Jariel quoted one of her teachings back to her. The one who sees a problem is responsible for its solution. Pacer butted his shoulder,
Come on, let's go.
Wait. I want to check something. Jariel walked over to the wall where the Pierdon's shadow crawled. This whole thing is odd, but should a shadow be so thick?
Don't touch it! Pacer sniffed the wall, nose almost touching the shadow. She growled. This is the outer shell of an evil more foul than you can imagine. Look at the hind legs.
A wave rippled up the shadow legs and on throughout the dark body. Where it moved, the shadow thickened. The wave then reversed its course, traveling back to the ashy remains from which it came. What does it mean?
It's her life force. Now let's get out of here.
Jariel paused long enough to pick up Tabler's lantern. Quickly he followed Pacer. She was difficult to see in this light. Because she was a camilacat, Pacer's fur took on the coloration of the objects nearest her. Now she was all shades of gray. Tiny threads of red coursed up and down her guard hairs where the lantern light touched her.
Jariel came to a complete stop. By the great sea, Pacer, how am I to get past the barrier?
Pacer slowed, looked at him over her shoulder. It's not as difficult a problem as you think.
I don't understand, he said, walking beside her. There's no difficulty in your passing through, but like Tabler and Marian, I won't make it.
They hold no magic in their bones. That is why they're bound.
Pacer, you're not implying I'm like Wizard Sanja, are you? I cannot perform feats of power. He flinched at the tone of her reply.
No. But you are more like him than the Tablers of this world. Think, Jariel. What are you?
I am Duval's Belldancer. I represent the honor of all her people, her justice and pride.
I am relieved to know your brain still works, she said dryly. Pacer let a few heartbeats pass, then said with a sigh. Haven't you realized, yet, that as you move through the phases of the dance you bring to it what no other Belldancer in Duval's history has?
Shaken by what she implied, Jariel paused. He rested his hand on her shoulder until she faced him. No. How could I? My training differed in no respect with those others who competed for Cavis Belldancer's place when she retired.
Jariel, your lack of knowledge is the fault of this teacher. Forgive me. I assumed you knew.
Knew what? he asked, and sighed when Pacer cocked her head quizzically. No. Not another question.
In dance practice you only reach Warrior level by first moving through all the phases which come before it. Why?
You know all that, he said in exasperation.
Even so, repeat it.
If I didn't, I would injure my body. But more importantly, my mind wouldn't be prepared. Each movement, from first to last, has a corresponding mental and emotional exercise. If I've done it correctly, my body, mind and emotions function as one-in tune with and an extension of my surroundings. I am unified, whole. Only when I reach that state can I function as Belldancer, make the judgments so Duval's Honor is maintained.
Pacer reared up, hooking her claws over the edge of his sword belt. Why else do I call you Minddancer, been willing to teach you the movements and thought patterns of the camilacats? No other Belldancer has reached this state of oneness with self and the world around you.
But we all were taught from childhood the dance would bring us to that point.
She freed him. Yes. A goal of perfection which broke the hearts of many who reached for it and found themselves lacking. Now, come. Begin such exercises as you can do walking. It's late and the doom Baltaz placed on the Pierdon and the woman will not wait for us.