Free The Light of Burning Shadows by Chris Evans Page A

of the towering clouds, churning everything in its path.
    The three women ignored this, or at least gave no outward sign that they cared the weather was turning. Their attention was fixed solidly on the simmering pot before them. A gust of wind whistled between them, tearing away tendrils of steam long enough to reveal the contents therein. Each leaned closer to look. To their credit, none of them recoiled. A green, glutinous mass bubbled fiercely, giving off an odor quickly borne away by the wind.
    None appeared willing to speak first. Their eyes glistened with tears as they strained to discern something knowable from the contents. The cast-iron vessel hung from a leather strap above a blazing fire attached to a tripod of three muskets. A fire burned fat and orange underneath it, oblivious to the wind, and no sign of fuel could be seen within its flames. More amazingly, the wooden deck of the Black Spike remained uncharred.
    After several more moments of quiet contemplation, Rallie pushed back the hood of her cloak. “Perhaps the honor should go to the eldest among us.” She continued to look down at the pot and so avoided the eyes of the other two women, which now turned to her.
    “And that would be?” Chayii Red Owl asked, the tone in her voice not entirely lost on the wind.
    Visyna looked from Rallie to Chayii and held her tongue. Chayii was elf, and they were known to live incredibly long lives. Rallie, on the other hand, was unlike any human Visyna had ever met. She spoke with a wisdom gained by much experience over a very great expanse of time. They were—by any measure Visyna could see—witches. That should have bonded them together like sisters—each a powerful wielder of magic in her own right, each using her skills to prevent the Shadow Monarch from destroying them all.
    On further thought, perhaps they were too much like sisters.
    “Perhaps you can decide, Visyna,” Chayii said.
    Visyna knew a trap when she saw it. Chayii had been more or less cordial since their first meeting, but Visyna knew Chayii was aware of the relationship between her and her son, Konowa—no matter how strained and untenable it might currently be. Chayii had yet to express her opinion on the matter, but Visyna was more than convinced she did not approve.
    “Yes, child, do tell,” Rallie said.
    What was it, Visyna wondered, with old witches and their need to play games? Well, three could play as easily as two.
    Without a word, Visyna took a spoon, bent over the pot and scooped out a mouthful. She smiled at both of them as she brought the spoon to her lips, proud of avoiding a no-win situation.
    Then she tasted it.
    Tears welled in Visyna’s eyes and trickled down her cheek, where they dried in the wind. Time ceased as her world constricted to a shining white light exploding behind her eyes. It felt as if the top of her head had been blown off.
    “Well?” Yimt asked. The dwarf stood nervously across from the women. It would be his distinct honor, he had said, to cook for three such fine ladies. Apparently his fellow soldiers were not entirely appreciative of his culinary efforts. He paced a few steps one way, then back again, all the while tugging on his beard.
    Rallie took her spoon and dipped it into the pot, with Chayii following suit. Each looked at Visyna, but she was no help, her nostrils flaring and her cheeks flushing pink. With a nod to each other, they both tasted Yimt’s concoction.
    For what seemed an eternity there was only the sound of the wind and the crashing of waves as the ship made all haste to outpace the storm. Yimt tugged so hard on his beard that he pulled several strands of hair out.
    Visyna found her voice first.
    “What…what do you call this?”
    “It’s me old mum’s recipe for rat dragon. She got it from her mum and so on down the line.” He stopped tugging his beard and started waving his hand around. “I realize it’s in an iron pot and that kind of thing don’t sit right with you fey