It was the price he paid for turning against his Master.
He had defied Xerys when he’d repaired the conduit, an act in direct contradiction with his Master’s objectives. In retaliation, his connection with the Netherworld had been severed. The Onslaught was denied him now. The Soulstone was the only reason his soul hadn’t been banished to Oblivion. The medallion had returned the Gift to him. He was truly alive, now, and beyond Xerys’ reach.
Quin felt Naia’s fingers tighten around his own. She stood next to him on the balcony, clothed in a blue gown. Her auburn hair spilled down her back, ruffled by a breeze that moved over the bowl-shaped valley. The air was warm. The curse of winter had been lifted from the isle. Athera’s Crescent was sustained by its conduits now. It no longer needed to harvest energy directly from the air.
“How are you feeling?” Naia asked.
Quin smiled, turning his attention to her. “Better. I feel alive. Really alive.”
“Which is unfortunate.”
He whirled to find Tsula behind them. The Harbinger wore the same affectless look she always had. She stood with her hands clasped in front of her, a feathered turban on her head. Quin was mildly surprised to see her. She had been missing from the castle for nine days, ever since the conduits had been repaired.
“What an unpleasant thing to say,” he remarked. “Does this mean you wish me to leave your ungracious hospitality?”
“It means that hope for the world has just been reduced significantly,” she said.
Quin turned to Naia. “Did you hear that, darling? My very existence saps hope from the world. I believe that’s rather an accomplishment, don’t you think?”
The Harbinger stamped her foot on the flagstones. “It is no time for sarcasm, Quinlan Reis! There is still opportunity to recover, but it will take much sacrifice on both our parts.”
“Would you rather I just jumped off the balcony?”
“If you are so inclined.” Her cat-like eyes gazed at him impassively.
Letting go of his hand, Naia stepped between Quin and the Harbinger. “This is what you feared from the beginning,” she accused. “Why you wanted to leave me frozen. You knew I could bring him back—and you feared that possibility.”
The woman’s eyebrows flicked upward in confirmation of Naia’s guess. “That is part of the reason, yes.”
“What’s the other part?” Quin asked.
Turning to him, the Harbinger said flatly, “There is a great chance Naia will destroy the rule of the gods.”
Quin blinked. That wasn’t the answer he’d been expecting. He looked to Naia and smiled apologetically. “I’m sorry, darling. My penchant for disaster seems to be rubbing off.”
Naia shook her head. “I don’t understand.”
“It is but one possibility.” Tsula beckoned them toward the stairs. “Come. We have much to speak of. And you have much to learn.”
Quin wasn’t certain he wanted to hear anything the woman had to say. It seemed that every conversation he had with Tsula was becoming progressively grimmer. It was getting to the point he feared anything that came out of her mouth, especially now that the Crescent was fully operational. He wondered what information Tsula had managed to garner during the nine days of her absence.
She led them to the vast chamber that occupied the entire bottom floor of the castle and invited them to sit with her in a small cluster of chairs with over-stuffed cushions. Quin gazed around the enormous hall, at its hundreds of empty chairs, and felt a pang of sadness. The castle had once been bustling with mages and their attendant staff, all gathered here to serve the Crescent. All gone now. All gone because of him.
“Please, take a seat.” Tsula extended her hand. “There is much for us to discuss.”
With the slightest narrowing of her eyes, she ignited a fire in the hearth behind them, even though the room didn’t need the warmth. Rays of sunlight glistened down from windows high above, lighting the hall and warming the air.
Quin took a seat beside Naia, holding her hand. Tsula stared down at their hands, her face darkening in irritation. It was the first emotion Quin remembered seeing on her face. He found himself enjoying it. Just to provoke her, he raised Naia’s hand to his lips and kissed it, grinning in triumph at the seething look on Tsula’s face.
She went deliberately about smoothing her gown, as if using the action to compose herself. Then she looked up with a flat expression and told them, “For nine days, I have been analyzing the information harvested by the Crescent. There has been much to take in.”
“And what did you discover?” he asked.
“There are many things going wrong in the world, and very few going right. There are too many variables in play to guess the outcome of it all. But one thing is for certain: we must destroy the magic field. It is the only way to break the Curse over the Black Lands. And it is the only way to destroy the Well of Tears.”
Quin looked at her sideways. “Destroy the Well of Tears. I thought that wasn’t possible.”
“It is possible. Difficult, but possible.”
“How?” he demanded. Naia squeezed his fingers. She looked just as confused as Quin felt.
Tsula crossed her legs, folding her hands over her knees. “For you to understand, we must discuss the nature of the Well itself.”
“I’m listening.” Quin glanced at Naia, seeing the intense frown on her face that had to mirror his own.
The Harbinger nodded. “The Well of Tears unlocks the Gateway between worlds. Think of it as a tunnel between two realms: our realm, and the realm of Xerys.”
Quin frowned. “You mean hell.”
Tsula waved her hand dismissively. “Hell is a religious concept. I do not speak of religion. What you know of as the Netherworld is simply one facet of an infinite number of realms that define existence. It is the realm most closely associated with our own plane.”
Her concept of the universe was so far removed from anything in Quin’s experience, that her statements seemed preposterous. “I’ve been to the Netherworld,” he reminded her. “For a thousand years, I existed there in torment. Now you’re telling me I wasn’t damned?”
Tsula shrugged. “Damnation is simply the consignment of a soul to the realm of Xerys. Your soul, unfortunately, was imprisoned there and subjected to torture.”
He demanded, “Why? Why was I tortured?”
“Because you defied the will of Xerys.”
Quin felt the heat of outrage flush his cheeks. Stewing in bitterness, he asked, “So what is the Gateway, exactly?”
Tsula crossed her arms. “The Gateway is like a tunnel with two openings: one in our own realm, and the other in the Netherworld. It is a rip in the fabric which separates those two planes.”
“How was the tunnel created?” Naia asked.
“It was created by harvesting an extraordinary amount of vitrus in the eye of a vortex, then focusing that vitrus on Xerys’ plane.”
Quin frowned as he thought about it. Vitrus was an archaic term used to describe the Gift that was passed from a dying mage to their successor—a mage’s life force. The creation of the Well of Tears must have required the slaughter of dozens of mages.
Tsula continued, “This act opened the mouth of the tunnel in our world. The other end was bored by Xerys using the Hellpower. The manipulation of the Gateway requires tremendous amounts of vitrus. That is why a Grand Master must be sacrificed to seal the Well of Tears—the sacrifice has to be great enough; elsewise, it will fail.”
“So a thousand years ago, I was the sacrifice,” Quin concluded.
“Yes.” Tsula nodded. “Just as Darien Lauchlin sealed it more recently.”
Quin exchanged looks with Naia. Despite his reservations, he believed Tsula. She came from a perspective that contradicted every religious doctrine he had ever heard. But her explanations were too rational to deny. If she was correct, then Xerys was not necessarily a god of evil. He was merely the ruler of his own domain.
Baffled, Quin asked, �
�So how do we destroy the Gateway?”
“The Gateway is unstable. Its natural tendency is to collapse. It is maintained by the Well of Tears, which draws its power from the magic field. In the Netherworld, there is another Well that is powered by the Onslaught.”
Tsula leaned forward, her black eyes taking in both of them with a look of grave portent. “To collapse the Gateway, we must destroy the stabilizer that holds it open: we must destroy the Well of Tears. And the only way to do that is to destroy the power that feeds it.”
Quin understood. He understood completely. “Destroy the magic field,” he concluded in a whisper.
“Yes.”
His head spun. He felt the dizzying sensation of his headache returning. He asked, “And there’s no other way?”
The Harbinger nodded. “There is no other way.”
11
The Naturalist
Kyel gestured at Alexa, demanding, “Let me see your arm.”
She pulled her right sleeve back, exposing the glistening mark of the Mage’s Oath. Kyel glared down at the emblem, not trusting it. Perhaps Renquist had found a way to replicate it. His hand lingered on the talisman’s haft while Alexa tugged her sleeve back down.
Kyel looked at her. “Start talking. Right now.”
Alexa nodded, her gaze dropping to the ground. “I was away when Aerysius fell. But I returned … and I was captured.”
“By Zavier Renquist?” he asked skeptically.
“No. By Cyrus Krane.” She reached up and brushed a lock of hair out of her face. “They took me to Bryn Calazar and made me a slave. I was there for two years….” Her voice shook. She looked like she was close to crying.
He didn’t care; she was lying to him again. “You’re a mage. How could they keep you as a slave?”
She cast an injured pout his way. “They took me into the vortex. There was nothing I could do.” The look on her face begged him to believe her.
He didn’t. Kyel paced away, one hand on his hip, the other on Thar’gon. “So how did you end up in Creek Hollow?”
“Cyrus Krane came back. He took my baby.” Her voice shook harder. “He told me he’d kill her if I didn’t do what he said.”
Kyel gritted his teeth. That was a lie. She couldn’t possibly have a baby if she’d been a slave in the Black Lands for two years—
The thought staggered to a halt. It suddenly occurred to him how such a child could have been conceived. He turned back to her, hoping for her sake she was lying. More gently, he asked, “And what did Krane tell you to do?”
“Krane told me you were Darien’s acolyte. And that Renquist wanted you. He didn’t say why, but I can guess.”
“Then guess!” Kyel’s voice was harsher than he’d intended.
She pointed at the weapon hanging from his belt. “You’re carrying the most powerful talisman in the world. I’m sure Renquist wants it. And there’s only one way he can get it.”
“By killing me,” Kyel concluded, feeling his anger rising. Not specifically at Alexa, but at the whole situation. Almost, he thought he could believe her. Almost. But not quite. He glanced down at the ground, at the shadows of the pine trees laced with sunlight. A cool breeze swayed the branches overhead and moved the fronds of the bracken around them.
“Thar’gon binds to only one person at a time,” Alexa explained. “Right now, it’s bound to you. There’s only two ways it could ever abandon you. First, you could die. Or if the Warden of Battlemages ever touches it, then Thar’gon will transfer to his hand.”
“Byron Connel’s dead,” Kyel said, feeling relieved.
“Who took his place?”
Jarred, Kyel stared unblinking at Alexa. He hadn’t thought of that. “There’s only four Servants left. Renquist, Krane, Quin Reis … and Darien.”
Alexa spread her hands. “Then you have your answer. Darien Lauchlin is the new Warden of Battlemages. And if he ever gets his hands on that weapon—”
“Oh, gods…” Kyel let out a slow sigh, realizing the likelihood of that danger. He remembered the atrocious means Darien had used to escape the dungeon of Greystone Keep. And the implacable ease with which he’d killed.
“I can’t let him get it,” Kyel said. No matter what. He looked at Alexa, realizing it didn’t matter whether or not he trusted her. He couldn't take the risk of bringing her along. “I’m going to leave you with your horse. Don’t follow me.”
“I thought you—”
Kyel shook his head. “I can’t trust you.” He went to his mount and threw the saddle blanket over the animal’s back. Alexa dashed after him, shaking her head, her eyes wide and desperate.
“I made my bargain with Krane before I ever knew you had Thar’gon!” she gasped. “Now … the stakes are too high.” Her eyes fill with tears. “I’ll teach you how to use it!”
Kyel paused in the action of lifting his saddle off the ground. He set it back down. “You know how it works?”
“I’m a Naturalist … pushing the boundaries of Natural Law is my area of expertise. And that talisman you’re holding bends Natural Law far beyond the limits of what should ever be possible. Thar’gon is every Naturalist’s dream. We studied it exhaustively, at least as much as we could from historical records.”
Kyel’s eyes narrowed in distrust. “Then show me something. Show me something I can do with it.”
Alexa spread her hands. “What do you want to know?”
“I don’t care!” He flung his arms up in frustration. “Show me anything!”
“All right.” She walked away from him a few paces. Then she lifted her hand, gesturing around at the forest and the rocky outcrop behind them. “First, get a good look at your surroundings. Notice things like the horses, the rocks, these particular trees. Are you doing it?”
Kyel nodded, following her directions sourly, even though he didn’t understand why he was doing any of it. For all he knew, Alexa could be tricking him into killing himself.
“Now think of somewhere nearby. Somewhere you’ve been and can easily visualize.”
Curious now, Kyel forgot his reservations. The campsite where they’d left the remains of the dead leapt into mind. The fallen tree. The rotting body parts. Cadmus’ ashes. He remembered all of it.
“Now what?” he grumbled.
Alexa approached him slowly. “Try to see it in your mind. Every detail that you can remember, as clearly as you can.”
“I am.” It wasn’t difficult.
She stopped beside him. “I’m going to hold your hand.”
He felt her fingers clasp his own. He almost flinched away. But he gripped her hand, far too curious to stop now.
“Hold your weapon,” she instructed softly. “Bring it up. There. Now, say this word: Vergis.”
“Vergis,” Kyel echoed.
The forest shivered and disappeared … and another appeared. Startled, Kyel broke away from Alexa’s grip and spun in a slow circle, taking in the sight of the grove complete with its rotting smell and decomposing flesh. Lowering Thar’gon to his side, Kyel blinked, feeling dizzy.
“How is that possible?” he gasped.
“It’s called transferring,” Alexa informed him with a smile. “Thar’gon is imbued with several motive characters. That’s one.” She gestured around expansively. “Do you trust me now?”
“No.”
The smile collapsed, replaced by a scowl of frustration. She stalked away through the bracken then whirled back, planting her hands on her hips.
“Use logic,” she snapped. “If I was trying to hurt you, why would I be showing you how to use the most powerful talisman in the world?”
“I don’t know, but I’m sure there’s a reason.”
Kyel moved to the nearest corpse, nudging it with his boot. Flies swarmed up to buzz him angrily before settling back down again. The stench that rose from the rotting tissue made him gag. He moved away quickly.
“What else can it do?” He set off through the trees toward the little brook he knew was there.
Alexa rushed to keep up. “Thar’gon was crafted to enhance a war mage’s effectiveness in battle. Mobility. Communication. Defense. It anticipates its master’s needs and reacts accordingly.”
“What else?” Kyel paused, looking around for familiar landmarks.
Alexa said to his back, “Several of its motive characters are powerful offensive strikes. It also has an amplification character I’m sure you’ve discovered.”
“I have.”
He stopped by the brook and looked down sadly at Cadmus’ ashes. He turned to Alexa, gesturing with the talisman as anger tightened his throat. “This is your fault. If it wasn’t for you, he’d be alive now. I needed him. And now he’s dead.”
A look of regret filled the woman’s eyes. “I’m sorry, Kyel. It wasn’t my intent to get him killed.”
“No. Your intent was to get me killed.” He glared at her. “What were those things back there? The dead people?”
She clasped her hands together. “They are the men of Creek Hollow. Or what’s left of them. The women and children were carried off. I don’t know what happened to them.”
“They didn’t look like rotten meat in Creek Hollow.” The men of the town had been alive. Awkward and strange, but definitely not decomposing. But she was right; there’d been no sign of women or children. He’d thought that odd at the time.
Alexa explained, “The ward of preservation ended the moment they left the town.” She lifted her arm, offering her hand out to him. “Please. Take us back.”
Grudgingly, he took her hand. He looked back at Cadmus’ ashes. “Vergis.”
The world spun and lurched. Kyel staggered as the ground stabilized beneath his feet. The horses tossed their heads, rolling their eyes at their sudden appearance. Kyel released his grip on Alexa’s hand and moved to reclaim his mount. He tossed the saddle over the animal’s back, then bent to tighten the girth strap.
Alexa rushed up behind him, grabbing his arm. “Please, Kyel! Take me with you! I’m the only chance you have!”
The Complete Rhenwars Saga: An Epic Fantasy Pentalogy Page 120