Rylan nodded. “Aye.”
The Warlord stood staring at him, bony hands clasped together. For the first time, Rylan noticed the glowing silver band Shiro wore about his wrist. It had to be an artifact. He wondered what kind of character it was imbued with.
Shiro reached out his hand. Another mage—a woman—moved forward and handed him a set of shackles connected by an iron chain that draped from his hand. Shiro smiled down at the sinister artifact. Then he aimed that smile at Rylan.
“This is for you,” he said, holding up one of the bands. “You must put it on willingly.”
“No.” Rylan shook his head. “Not until I see Amina.” And even then, he wouldn’t be wearing that sinister chain. He would be using it to strangle Shiro as he watched the Warlord’s flesh melt off his bones.
Gazing levelly at Rylan, Shiro said, “Get the girl.”
One of his pet mages left immediately, striding out of the room through the silk partition. Rylan felt his pulse quicken. Amina was here, somewhere within the fortress. She was alive, and they were bringing her to him. Soon, he would be able to hold and hug his baby girl. His hands trembled in their restraints.
He stared harder at Shiro, trying to probe Keio’s memories to find out what he knew of the man. But Keio was buried deep within him, in a remote, inaccessible place. Sometimes his memories churned to the surface, but those times were becoming less frequent. And not when he needed them.
He felt a tugging at his wrists. Turning, he realized that Xiana had stepped behind him and was loosening the sash that bound his arms behind his back. When she drew the sash off him, he could feel the warmth of blood flowing back into his wrists. He raised his hands and wiggled his fingers, but he couldn’t feel any sensation in them. Dropping his hands, he glanced at Shiro. He wanted to kill him. He had to kill him. The moment he saw Amina—the moment he could be sure she was safe—he would strike out and end this demon. He couldn’t hesitate, couldn’t give him a chance to react.
But what if he failed?
What if Shiro retaliated by killing Amina?
Rylan’s numb hands started to tingle as they awakened. Soon, pins and needles were jabbing his fingers, making him grit his teeth. At that moment, the door of the hall groaned open, then quickly shut again. The sound made him flinch. He squeezed his eyes shut, his heart ice-cold with fear and anticipation. He couldn’t turn around. He was too afraid to look.
So he listened, instead, to the sound of approaching footsteps that spoke with more urgency than any words he’d ever heard. The closer those footsteps came, the harder his hands trembled.
At last, after eternity, the footsteps stopped.
Rylan opened his eyes and turned around.
And found a man standing behind him, holding a little girl with a cherub face haloed by dark curls.
Rylan’s heart broke open, and he gasped.
He started forward, but two of Shiro’s mages caught his arms, holding him back even as he fought against their grasp. His little girl reached out for him and started whimpering.
“Gods damn you!” Rylan shouted. “Let me go!”
A hand reached up and caught his chin, wrenching his head around until he was forced to stare into Shiro Nagato’s eyes. The man’s fingers dug deeply into his skin, squeezing harder, as he glared cold malice into Rylan’s face.
“Don the chain,” he said softly. “Only then will you be reunited with your daughter. Not before.”
He let go of Rylan and stepped back, extending one of the iron bands toward him. The pair of mages restraining him released his arms. Sweat broke out on his brow. His insides turned to stone. He glanced at Xiana and found her looking at him, eyes moist with compassion. He looked at Amina, his mind counting his options. It didn’t take him long to realize he didn’t have any.
He couldn’t attack Shiro. Not without risking Amina.
He felt Xiana’s hand on his arm, but he didn’t look at her. She had lied to him. Betrayed him. Everything she’d done, every hope she’d ever planted in him, it was all lies. False promises. Overcome by an aching hurt that stabbed deep into his bones, he dropped his gaze to the ground.
“Take it,” Shiro urged. “Put it on.”
He realized the Warlord wasn’t speaking to him; he was speaking to Xiana.
She took the iron band from Shiro’s hand and, without hesitation, fastened it to her own wrist. Rylan looked at her sadly, his heart breaking at the sight of her chained. He didn’t understand how she could have done it—how Ilia could have done it. How they had both betrayed him so.
Amina started whimpering. Then crying.
Rylan’s eyes blurred as he stared down at the other bracelet in Shiro’s hands, the one meant for him. He knew what would happen if he put that band around his wrist. He would lose himself. The part of him that was Rylan Marshall would cease to exist.
And what would be left? He tried imagining a life lived in blissful ignorance, a life lived in contentment, not knowing anything different. Not knowing he was supposed to be someone else, another man with dreams and hopes and desires. Perhaps he could find happiness in a future with Amina and Xiana to call family, with people like Gralish and Laira to call friends. Such a future didn’t sound so terribly bad. Or he could strike out and slay Shiro with the Onslaught, hoping he could carry his daughter away fast enough to get her to safety.
More likely, such and attempt would end with them both dead.
He didn’t know what to do.
Everything that mattered to him was there in that room.
He remembered the words of the man in the cornfield, the man who had forced him to pledge his soul: If you value your daughter’s life, you must swear the oath. Remember the oath, and chains will never bind you.
He looked at the chain, then back up at Amina. It wasn’t much to pin his hopes on. But it was the only hope he had.
He reached out his hand. “Give it here.”
The joyous smile on Xiana’s face tore him apart. He didn’t understand how she could be looking at him that way. Keio Matu had destroyed an entire city—the city he was charged with protecting—to keep Shiro’s venom from infecting the world. And now Xiana was betraying everything Keio and Ilia had ever stood for and asking him to do the same.
He studied the rust-eaten band in his hand, contemplating it gravely. It didn’t look like an object capable of destroying him. But he knew it was. Amina squirmed, red-faced and whimpering in the gray mage’s grasp. Rylan turned away from her, unable to look.
Xiana smiled at him sadly. She had to know how much this hurt. And yet she was doing it to him anyway. Rylan’s vision blurred. He wiped the tears off his face with the back of his hand.
Trembling, he opened the shackle and slipped the iron band around his wrist. He took one last look at his sweet baby girl, wanting her face to be the last thing he saw. She was beautiful. The most beautiful thing in an ugly world.
He closed his eyes and snapped the band shut.
There was silence.
He was no longer in the room.
He was spiraling down into a vortex, and the further he went, the more it became clear that he wasn’t alone. As he twisted downward, a soothing feeling unfolded within him. It swelled inside him, chasing away all doubts and fears, replacing them with a warm sense of belonging. He knew he no longer had to bear his pains and burdens alone; there were many others with him now. He could feel them there, welcoming him with intense relief and joy. They were many. So very many. They were more than a populace.
They were legion.
Thousands of souls, some alive. Most already passed; they had transcended and become something more. Heedless, he rushed toward the beacon of their flames without sparing a thought to caution. There was no need for it. These souls were a part of him now, just as he was a part of them. They were all joined together in a core far greater than the sum of the millions that composed it. It was an essence much greater than himself, greater than everything he was leaving behind.
&
nbsp; For the first time in his life, Rylan knew what it was like to be whole. To be complete. To be loved unconditionally, despite all his failures and faults. A feeling of security wrapped around him, and he opened himself wide to it. He let it melt and run into him. Become him. Consume him.
As his mind spiraled back into himself, he brought all that with him.
Rylan blinked as the world returned, rushing up to meet him.
The first thing he saw was Xiana. He could feel her love for him, her joy and excitement at seeing him born anew. Closing his eyes, he opened himself to her, inviting her in further than any human had ever gone. He bared his soul to her, exposing all of what he was, all that he had ever been. Every hope. Every failure. Every success and every shame. He handed it all to her.
And she accepted him completely.
He could feel her moving into him, deeper than his heart, her soul entwining and invigorating his. Until every breath, he breathed for her. With her. Through her. He was terrified. Joyous. Overwhelmed. Astounded.
Complete.
This is the way it had been once, long ago, with Ilia. The way it was supposed to be. After centuries apart, they were blessedly reunited, blessedly whole.
The Warlord stepped between them.
Looking in his eyes, Rylan felt overcome by a terrible guilt. He saw the Warlord staring back at him, gazing into that lonely place inside where his darkest secrets lay entombed. He saw the change that came over Shiro’s face as he realized the truths that lay buried there. The darkness. The evil. He saw it all.
Rylan bowed his head. Shiro knew who he was: a soldier sworn to evil, a man who had been ready to turn that taint into a weapon to use against him. He could feel the weight of the Warlord’s disappointment. Scalding guild heated his cheeks.
The Warlord pressed his palm against Rylan’s brow. Closing his eyes, he whispered, “I forgive you, my son.”
Rylan choked on an overwhelming surge of gratitude, a relief greater than anything he’d ever felt before.
The Warlord removed his hand. As he did, something snapped inside. There was an instant of terrible pain. And then a gush of magic flooded into him, filling him the way a river fills an empty basin. He could feel the magic field again. He reached out and touched it, his eyes widening in wonder.
Shiro had removed the block Naia had put on him. He’d removed the block—but not the Word. That, he’d reset. Rylan could still feel it there waiting, a wound to his heart that would never heal.
He gasped and staggered back, lurching into Xiana’s arms. She caught him up, embracing him tightly. He sobbed silently, his tears wetting her face. Through the link he shared with her, he could feel the depths of love she bore for him. When they placed his daughter in his arms, Rylan broke completely. He hugged Amina against him, breathing in the scent of her hair, reveling in the feel of her soft skin.
“Papa!” she squealed.
It was the first word he had ever heard her speak.
The man who had once been Rylan Marshall stood wrapped in the arms of the people he cared most about, and that was all that mattered. He no longer had any use for his old life, his old identity. It was worthless and irrelevant.
Xiana drew back, smiling at him with joy in her eyes. “Come with me,” she urged. “There are so many people who want to meet you.”
Her words brought Rylan to the edge of panic. Everything was so overwhelming. His mind was already bursting with the multitudes that already occupied it. He didn’t think he could handle any more. “I can’t,” he gasped. “It’s too much….”
She smiled her understanding and kissed him softly. “Then come. Bring your daughter. Let’s get you to a place where you can fall in love with her again.”
Nothing else in the world could ever make him happier. He let Xiana lead him forward by the hand, the chain connecting them hanging slack from his wrist. He hugged his daughter against him, her arms wrapped tight around his neck, her little legs clinging to his body.
He walked in a fog, his mind unable to grapple with all that had just happened to him, what was still happening. He could still sense all the others he was connected to, who were now just as much a part of him as his soul. Xiana led him through winding hallways, down long flights of stairs. The walls closed in on them, and the air cooled. Flickering candlelight added its own surreal texture to the world, making it seem as though he moved within a dream.
There was a metallic groan, and the shudder of a door opening.
Blinking, Rylan stopped and looked around, confused by what he saw.
They were in a dungeon.
A dungeon filled with people and fabric and color. It seemed so impossible; for a moment, all he could do was stand in shock, hugging his daughter close against him. Every person in the room was staring at him. Dozens of faces smiled, dozens of voices greeted him. He could feel their warmth and joy enfolding him.
The dungeon was filled with bright rugs and tapestries, colorful lanterns and gauzy draperies. The doors to the cells stood open and people moved freely in and out. It was bizarre, as though the prisoners had taken over the prison and were determined to convert their circumstances into a festive occasion.
People spilled forward, encircling them. As they did, their emotions flooded into him. Rylan cringed back, overawed. It was too much, too soon.
“Give him some room,” Xiana said, smiling. “He’s overwhelmed.”
Sympathy flowed toward him in waves, and the crowd retreated. But then his eyes fell on a person he recognized.
“Ashra,” Rylan whispered.
She flashed him a joyous smile, and he could feel her excitement even from across the room. But she respected his need for space and kept her distance, greeting him instead with feelings of welcome and warmth.
“Come this way,” Xiana urged, tugging on his arm.
Rylan followed her through a sea of people to a staircase that wound upward, spiraling into a tower. Carrying Amina, he followed her up the steps and into a circular room at the top covered in rugs, lit by the light of many candles that lined the walls.
Xiana took a seat on one of the rugs, patting the floor beside her. Rylan sank down next to her, settling his daughter in his lap. He cuddled Amina in his arms, reveling in the feel of her. Xiana leaned into him, pressing her forehead against his. She stroked her hands through his hair.
“How do you feel?” she asked softly.
Rylan gazed into her eyes, unable to break away.
“Happier than I’ve ever been in my life,” he whispered. And it was true.
“I knew you would be,” she said, and kissed him deeply.
40
Alqazar Citadel
As Gil walked through the Andibar Quarter, he realized that Judhi had been right; there were scarcely any civilians about, and those that were appeared anxious about being on the streets. Squads of soldiers patrolled the avenues, and guards were stationed at every intersection. It didn’t take Gil more than a block to realize he had already gathered attention. At first, he wondered why. Then he realized: every civilian on the street was engaged in some task. He was the only one that wasn’t.
He couldn’t just walk up to the citadel, he realized. He would need a reason for being there. At this rate, he doubted he could even reach it. He glanced at one of the guards and saw the man staring back at him. Sighing heavily, he looked away and tried to move with a sense of purpose in his stride. He turned a corner onto a side street.
Ahead of him was a cart loaded with wine casks that had become mired in a rut. Gil almost walked around it. But then it occurred to him that he had just been presented with the perfect opportunity. The driver was standing in front of the two horses hitched to the cart, tugging on the reins as if trying to pull them physically forward.
“Do you need help?” Gil asked, crossing the street toward him.
The driver looked up, his face red and wet with sweat.
“Can you push?” he gasped.
“I’ll try!” Gil said, and mov
ed around to the back of the cart.
He waited until the cart pitched forward again, then leaned into it and pushed, putting all his weight into the endeavor. Still, the cart didn’t budge. Instead, his boots just started slipping. The cart lurched again, and Gil scrambled forward with it, pushing and groaning with all his might. With a jerk, the wheels came free of the rut, and the cart leaped forward. Gil lost his balance and fell, plunging his hands into the muck of the road. He struggled to his knees, his shirt and pants slicked with mud. People moving by them on the street stared at him, but no one offered to help. Gil gazed down at his ruined clothes, realizing he was attracting exactly the kind of attention he’d been meaning to avoid.
“Oh, I’m sorry!” the driver exclaimed, coming around the end of the cart. Extending his hand, he helped Gil to his feet. “Where’re you headed, Brother? If it’s on my way, I’ll get you there.”
Gil’s hopes lifted. “The citadel,” he answered. “If you take me there, I’ll help you out if you get mired again.”
“That’s a deal,” the driver said with a grin, clapping him on the back with a grimy hand.
Gil followed him up into the seat. With a snap of the reins, the cart staggered forward.
Amina was sleeping.
It was the most beautiful sight Rylan had ever seen. Her plump lips were slightly open, her face peaceful, her chest moving in a slow rhythm. One little hand was curled next to her face. He stroked his fingers through her soft hair. She was bigger than he remembered.
He couldn’t stop looking at her.
His mind echoed with the feelings of others that were with him now, a constant and comforting refrain. Xiana touched his hand. He didn’t want to look at her—didn’t want to break his attention from his daughter—but he did. She smiled at him kindly and scooted closer. Leaning over, she kissed his lips.
“You are deizu-kan, just as I am,” she said as she drew back, her eyes glinting with pride. “We will work together, as kaiden, a joined pair. Everything we do, we will do together. We will share all of ourselves with each other. You will never be alone again. My heart will always be open to you. Can you feel it?”
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