The Exalting

by Dan Allen

  “Can I . . . save the rest for later?” A wry smile played at the edge of Ryke’s lips. “Also, if we don’t hurry, we’re going to be late for dinner—and that I definitely don’t save for later.”

  “Perfect—both ideas.”

  Dana struggled to keep up with Ryke as he walked through the dark passage. He walked quickly it seemed, with a spring in his step that hadn’t been there before.

  “You’re going to love it here.” Ryke came to a chiseled shelf where he lifted a single lantern. “Looks like we got the only lamp left—we’ll definitely be the last ones to the table.”

  Ryke drew a small vial from his pocket and tapped a single drop onto on the lantern wick. It flamed to life instantly.

  Pyrophor elixir. It was a rare thing in Norr, only used in the mines.

  So they have alchemists here as well, Dana realized. The sanctum probably had acolytes of all four varieties: warlock, enchanter, druid, and alchemist.

  “What makes you say I’m going to love it here?” Dana had no clue as to what she was about to get herself into.

  “The people are great.”

  Dana gave a delighted giggle. “Well if they’re all like you . . .”

  “I can tell you there’s no one like you,” Ryke said.

  “How am I different?” Dana sincerely wondered whether there was something seriously off about herself.

  Ryke opened his mouth to say something, then shut it. He was utterly at a loss for words. It was cute to see the hulk of a guy held up by his own tongue. “I don’t really know.”

  Dana laughed. “At least you didn’t say I’m unforgivably ugly.” She brushed her arm, and a swarm of dust particles scintillated in a narrow shaft of light running from a crack in the ceiling. “Or that I’m as dirty as a brown toad on a road.”

  Ryke’s stomach tightened as he stifled a chuckle. “I might have thought one of those.”

  “Just one? Well, that’s good. I was worrying you might make me take a bath before I could join the sanctum.”

  Ryke let out a deep laugh that boomed through cavern, and Dana laughed so hard she nearly cried.

  “I won’t say anything about it, if you won’t,” he finally managed as they turned into a much tighter section of cave and had to turn shoulders sideways to face each other as they squeezed in.

  “Okay,” Dana whispered.

  There was a connection between them, something as real as stone under her feet, as real as the tips of her sifa that spread at the memory of the embrace they had shared.

  Dana wished she were an enchanter. What did he feel when she had kissed his cheek? She could only imagine it was something close to what she had felt.

  One step from heaven.

  Right now, she could be one step from anywhere. She didn’t know who was inside the sanctum or what would happen when she got there.

  “Ryke,” she said as he paused to let her step in front. “Am I doing the right thing?”

  “You mean becoming an acolyte?” He grabbed the back of his neck. “That’s an awkward question.”

  Dana gave an awkward laugh. “Uh, yeah, probably.” She bit her lip. “Is it too late to go back?”

  “Kinda sorta.”

  “So I’m stuck with you . . . and the rest?”

  “Kinda sorta.”

  “Well I’m definitely okay with one of those.”

  “Oh good.” Ryke gave a heavy sigh of relief. “I was beginning to worry I might have to spend time with you.”

  “Hey!”

  “Now if you’re done trying to undo the best decision you ever made,” Ryke gestured to the shadowed gap in the stone. “Welcome to the sanctum.”

  Chapter 17

  Dana stepped past Ryke into a vaulted cavern. The walls joined in a cathedral-like shape to where light filtered through gaps in the formation. Tree roots trailed down the walls following water that trickled from seams in the stone.

  The way nature and the rock merged, it was beautiful.

  This is where my new life begins.

  But that life was a lie until she turned over the bloodstone.

  Yet, she couldn’t just give it to the first kazen she saw. She might hand the stone over to the very person Sindar was trying to avoid.

  I can’t tell them yet.

  Running her other hand on the cave wall, Dana flinched away at the touch of wet stone.

  Sayathi lived in the limestone caverns that riddled the mountainside.

  Ryke stopped in the cavern. “I think I’m supposed to give you an oath of loyalty, but I can’t remember it. I’ve been here since I was very young.”

  “Consider me sworn-in,” Dana said. “Besides, I’d rather not know what I promised.” She wiped the water from her palm onto her pant leg. “Less to worry about.”

  Ryke laughed. “Well, you can make your own rules if they choose you for the next ka.”

  Dana’s heart skipped a beat. That was an actual possibility now.

  Ryke led the way through into a hewn tunnel. “What part of Shoul Falls are you from? I’m pretty sure I haven’t seen you before.”

  Oh great. Dana stretched the thin webbing that ran across the base of her fingers. She couldn’t tell him she was the Norrian. And she didn’t want to lie—not to him.

  Truth, then . . . some of it.

  “My father trades with the Norrian miners. I haven’t spent much time in Shoul Falls itself.”

  “And the citizen council nominated you to be an acolyte?” he asked.

  Dana shrugged. She consciously moved her hand away from the pouch tied to her waist where it was accustomed to holding the bloodstone to keep it from banging against her hip. She had come seeking refuge. And now, the bloodstone was in the very place the Vetas-kazen would have first sought for it, the place Sindar had fled.

  The place his enemy likely still waited.

  Was she still headed into the back of a trap?

  Dana had no choice. She couldn’t go back, both because of what would be waiting for her outside and because she had just effectively sworn herself to the sanctum.

  Ryke’s lateral sifa suddenly flared in greeting, and Dana looked up to see a guard standing in the shadows.

  She flared her own inferior sifa briefly—she didn’t outrank the guard—and stepped past into a brilliantly lit room. The walls of the chamber were dry and draped with bright-colored banners with ornately spelled mantras. The floor was wood, like the decking of a ship. It almost felt like the inside of a real building rather than a cavern. There were large tables and people seated at them wearing a variety of clothing styles from jackets and trousers to robes and wraps. Some looked hand-spun.

  But Dana’s eyes were drawn to what was on the tables.

  Real food. Her stomach grumbled with excitement.

  “Perfect—there’s still some dinner left,” Ryke said. “Come on.”

  But Dana’s arm slid from Ryke’s as thirty heads turned in unison to stare. Her sifa dropped unceremoniously.

  A gray-robed man stood at the head of a long table. His black hair was tied at the back of his head. “Who is this?” There was no hint of welcome in his tone.

  A single utensil clanked at one of the smaller tables, ruining the silence.

  Dana clasped her hands together. “Sorry. I forgot to make introductions.” It was a decidedly awkward moment. Announcing herself felt like some sort of intrusion. So she gestured to her companion. “This is Ryke. He’s a really good warlock.”

  The kazen looked dumbstruck.

  Most of young acolytes of Shoul Falls burst into laughter.

  Ryke gave a short bow to the kazen. “Korren, this is Dana. She is a new acolyte.”

  Korren’s eyes narrowed.

  “Long story,” Dana added.

  Korren gestured to a table beside his own. His eyes never strayed from her. Ryke took a chair at the head of the table, and Dana took the only other available seat at the opposite end.

  She sat.

  He sat.

  Nobod
y else moved. Nobody spoke.

  “We have a new arrival,” Korren said at last. “We should all be grateful to learn how this came to be.”

  “He saved my life,” Dana said. She reached for a handful of tarberries and shoved them into her mouth. She chewed and swallowed the syrupy berries, feeling strength flow into her almost instantly.

  “And that was the longest fast of my life.” Dana glanced at Korren, who was still standing.

  Nobody else had touched their food. Dana looked to Ryke, who had his back to Korren and was pulling a bone of roast marmar monkey toward himself.

  Dana’s sifa bounced playfully. “Well, it’s great to finally be here.” She reached for a bowl of milled nut porridge. The scent of the sour spice was nearly overpowering.

  But before she could take a bite, the kazen put out his hand and lifted her chin, staring into her eyes.

  Dana tried to look away, but even though his grip was not firm, she couldn’t move, like she was buried in sand.

  Just like when Omren attacked. He’s a warlock.

  Dana’s eyelids opened wide, ignoring her commands to close.

  “You are a drale!”

  “I’m not!” Dana lied.

  “The punishment for the unbound to enter the sanctum of Togata-ka is death.”

  “Seriously? You’re going to do this?”

  Two sets of arms grabbed Dana from behind. She screamed as she was hauled backwards. Korren looked at Ryke. “You brought a drale into the sanctum?”

  Ryke gestured at Dana. “She said she was from Shoul Falls.”

  “Did you not see her eyes? . . . Or were your attentions elsewhere?”

  “She’s famished. A band of men just tried to—”

  “Enough. Bring her to the pool. The water will tell.”

  Dana was dragged through a door and marched deeper into the mountain. “Stop this,” she pleaded, to no avail. She struggled in vain against the strong arms that held her.

  After passing through several more barred doors and past an array of rooms hewn into the rock with leather curtains for doors, Dana was dropped onto the cool ground of a chamber. A familiar blue-green glow covered the walls and ceiling, and in the center lay a wide pool of clear water, laden with sayathenite nodules, missing only a bloodstone at the center.

  A constant stream of water ran out and into a channel that likely fed into the falls and the lake below—the source of sayathi for the entire city of Shoul Falls.

  Dana could hear scuffles behind her as Ryke no doubt tried to reach her.

  Korren swept alongside Dana. “Show me.” A kazen tore back Dana’s sleeve and held her arm out over the water.

  “Nothing—no glow of fealty. She’s a drale. Throw her from the falls!”

  “No.”

  “Then you choose the other way?”

  Dana had no idea what the man was talking about, but it couldn’t be worse than being thrown from the falls.

  “Yes.”

  Korren, with one arm tucked behind his back, walked to a shrine in the corner of the room. He opened a small cabinet and drew out a chalice.

  “Wait . . . uh.”

  Ryke burst through the doors. His eyes searched for hers, perhaps wondering how she had deceived him, or if he had led her to her death.

  Korren scooped the chalice into the pool. He lifted it and held it out to Dana.

  There was no way around this. She couldn’t hope to live in a mountain sanctum dedicated to the next chosen supreme of Shoul Falls and not drink their water.

  Again, the burning sensation of the dying greeder passed over her. Dying by sayathi was not how she wanted to die.

  But perhaps . . .

  Dana stood, shaking off the hands that held her. She gave Ryke her best attempt at a consoling smile. Then she grasped the chalice with both hands.

  “To the last drop,” Korren ordered.

  “At least you aren’t stingy.”

  Korren’s jaw dropped, and Dana raised the glass.

  Ryke stepped forward, but Korren held out his arm, blocking him.

  Dana tipped the chalice into her mouth and swallowed.

  The water was clean but carried a taste almost like . . . like blood.

  Oh no.

  Dana swallowed more and more until the cool liquid filled her already queasy stomach. She fell to her knees, coughing.

  She stayed there for a minute, hoping her gamble was not a death sentence.

  This should work. It has to work.

  Moments passed. Each beat of her heart pounded out a thousand worries and memories of Loka’s last moments.

  But there was no telltale stab of pain from her stomach.

  Dana stood up.

  “Well, that was certainly dramatic.” She waved her arm over the pool, and a feeble blue glow shone from her arm. “Can I keep the—”

  Korren yanked the cup from Dana’s hands.

  “Guess not.”

  “New acolyte . . .” Korren grumbled under his breath.

  Dana turned to Ryke. “I’m sorry for scaring you.”

  “I wasn’t scared.”

  Dana tipped her head. “Really?”

  “I mean, I was scared. But . . . I trusted you.”

  Dana smiled.

  “One can’t be too careful,” said a kazen a bit younger than Korren. “It was the right thing to do.”

  “When I found her there were men from Torsica who were—” Ryke began, before Korren cut him off.

  “Back to dinner, everybody. We’ve had enough disturbance for one night.”

  He stopped in front of Ryke. “I’m holding you responsible for anything that happens in regards to this . . . this . . .”

  “Druid,” Dana volunteered.

  “Problem,” Korren finished.

  On the way back to dinner Ryke leaned over. “So you aren’t a drale?”

  Dana shrugged. “Well, not anymore.”

  “How did you survive that?”

  “Family secret.” Dana punched him playfully in his rock-solid abs. She turned away, blushing as her superior sifa spread in a moment of heated attraction.

  But there was something else within her, something entirely new.

  Dana took in a deep breath as another layer of sensation spread through her. She could sense not only her own body but the sayathi rapidly spreading through her. Already her arms felt lighter, her feet less tired.

  “I feel incredible.” She had the urge to grab Ryke’s hand and skip dinner in favor of some thank-you’s. But the food and the company—Korren excepted—were too inviting.

  “By the bloodstone,” whispered an acolyte from nearby as she entered the common room. “It looks like she still glowing, and she’s nowhere near the pool. How is that possible?”

  Dana ignored the whispered comments. She put the rest of her attention on finishing the nut porridge.

  Korren shortly dismissed everyone from dinner. The acolytes began carrying away their dishes. Dana shoved one more cracker into her mouth and went to stand, but Korren’s hand descended on her shoulder like a lead counterweight, keeping her in seat.

  He waited until the gathered faithful, including Ryke, had left.

  “I know who you are.”

  “You do? Ah, you’re an enchanter, too?”

  Korren looked aside. “No. And that is beside the point. You are wanted for greeder theft in Norr.”

  “I was practically a prisoner in my own city. I had to escape.”

  “You took the animal out of a selfish desire and gave no hint of intention to compensate the owner.”

  “Well I didn’t know who the owner was.”

  “As is often the case with theft.” Korren placed his hands on the table and loomed over her. “What to do with you?”

  “I risked my life to come here!”

  “No, you risked all our lives. You were followed by our enemies.”

  “I didn’t ask anyone to follow me—they were trying to kill me. Anyway it’s a good thing Ryke was there.”r />
  But she saw something calculated in Korren’s eyes.

  “You sent Ryke to watch the canyon. Didn’t you?”

  Korren nodded.

  No wonder Ryke hadn’t pressed her about why the men were after her; Korren had sent him to watch for new arrivals. Korren would only have sent someone like Ryke if he was expecting something another acolyte couldn’t handle.

  But what was Korren’s motive? Had he caught news over the message wires of a druid adept from Norr on the run?

  A sanctum was a likely place to flee.

  Regardless, having him as an enemy wouldn’t work. She forced herself to say something kind. “Thank you.”

  He flinched at the words, his composure shifting only momentarily.

  So, he didn’t want thanks for saving me.

  What did he want?

  Things obviously hadn’t gone as planned.

  Dana’s breath froze in her lungs.

  Was Korren a sellout? Had Vetas-ka somehow bought his allegiance?

  And I came right to him.

  Korren could be the traitor Sindar had fled from. Dana had to admit having someone inside the sanctum was a brilliant stroke. If she got past the Vetas-kazen, then Ryke would collect her, and Korren could kill her with sayathi water.

  Having Ryke bring her in was brilliant because if Korren had brought her in, he wouldn’t have had a reason to kill her—without revealing that she had the stone. Instead, he could claim she had defiled their sanctum, kill her, and then take the stone.

  But he had made one critical mistake.

  Sayathi kept the memory of a blood oath for four generations. After that time, either the sayathi lost the immunity to the family blood or the blood was so intermingled that the sayathi recognized more foe than friend.

  Thanks to her grandfather, Dana was family. And though she had yet to give her own blood oath which would pass on the immunity to a succeeding generation, she had the symbiotes in her system.

  Korren leaned back and turned away. “You’ll finish your dishes and then report to Ritsen for examination in the morning. He is our senior druid.”

  “Thank you, kazen.”

  He clasped his hands behind his back and strode back the way Dana had first come in.

  If he knows the Vetas-kazen were after me, why didn’t he search me for the bloodstone?