Hearing the eloquent inflection of the Saldarian nobility coming out of that visage sent a chill coursing down the spy’s spine. He wetted his lips. “The wielder wants the prince alive and unsullied,” he reminded him.
Raliax barked a caustic laugh, threw open his arms and demanded of the heavens, “What more can he do to me?”
The inhuman cry roused gooseflesh on the spy’s entire body.
Abruptly Raliax affixed a cold stone hand around the spy’s throat and pulled his face close, nearly nose to nose with his own, near enough for the spy to see a dark glimmer in the depths of the warlord’s eyes—either that, or the choking hand was already pushing stars before his vision.
He pressed his cold mouth against the spy’s ear. “I feel nothing,” he whispered in a voice deceptively human, softly absent of the clattering ratchet brought about by words forced through petrified vocal cords. “Not the breath in my lungs or the beating of my heart. The sun is a cold thing in the sky. Touch, taste...they shun my advances. Lust abhors me. My flesh parts only to Merdanti, and even then I cannot feel the blade.”
He released the spy’s throat to stroke his fingers down his face instead. The mockery of intimacy made the spy shudder.
“He did this to me.” Raliax’s gaze instilled fear so deeply that the spy’s insides quivered. “He hauled me back from a clean death to enslave me in this hell. So I tell you...” he finished, still with that ghostly, almost-human voice, “if my actions anger him, I. Don’t. Care.”
Two palms thrust into the spy’s chest sent him flying backwards. He hit the stones, tumbled, rolled to a stop just shy of the knot of watching guards. Not a one bent to help him to his feet.
The warlord aimed a demon stare at him. “Dare to come here again, and by the dark power that fuels me, you will see the same fate.” He spun in a rattle of his bone cloak and stalked back down the wall.
Shaken, the spy struggled to stand, straightened his garments before the we-told-you-so and be-grateful-you-got-off-easy stares of the guards, and made a hasty retreat down the bastion stairs. Hours passed before he’d stopped trembling. He did not sleep that night, nor would he for many nights thereafter.
***
Trell had just roused from a couple hours’ sleep and departed his sleeping quarters, only to find Rami stretched out across the corridor. The boy scrambled to his feet as Trell emerged.
“Sidi, one of the al-Amir’s sentries is waiting outside for you.”
Trell immediately turned and headed for the front of his tent.
“I would’ve woken you,” the boy said, chasing after him while rubbing his eyes, “but Prince Lamodaar threatened to cut my throat if I woke you before the dawn, and my mother taught me to listen to my elders, especially when they’re capable of carrying out their threats without even the repercussions of conscience, and which certainly applies to Rolan Lamodaar, so I thought perhaps it was best if—”
Trell angled a smile over his shoulder. “I’m not upset, Rami.”
“Balé, Sidi. I thank the Seventeen for you daily.”
“Hopefully you’re praying to them for me, too.”
“By the hour, Sidi,” the boy expressed fervently.
Outside, Trell found Lazar’s sentry waiting beside his two guards. The former straightened to attention as Trell emerged. “A’dal, may I have a word?”
Trell motioned him inside and followed after him through the flaps. “What news?”
The sentry paused to report, “The al-Amir told us to be alert for anyone leaving camp and to follow them secretly if we saw someone. A man passed my partner and me—was about two turns of the glass ago now. We followed him into the trees, taking care he didn’t see us, as the al-Amir ordered, and we watched him vanish into an elm.”
“Vanish into a tree?”
“In Jai’Gar’s holy name, I swear it.”
“And you know which tree?”
“Assuredly, A’dal.”
Trell broke into a wide smile. They’d found their spy at last.
Thirty-one
“What is possible is the domain of mortals.
Ours is the business of gods.”
–The Adept Nodefinder Voss di Alera,
to Cristien Tagliaferro
Tanis emerged through Khanjar’s portal into glaring daylight. The sun’s rays always seemed brighter and harsher in the desert, especially after spending all day in the inter-dimensional half-light of the Pattern of the World, and even more so from atop the butte where his uncle had built his command center.
As he walked away from the portal, Tanis pushed his hair from his eyes and scanned the heavens, but Pelas was nowhere in sight.
Where are you?
A moment’s pause, and then his bond-brother replied across their binding, Somewhere between the ninth and seventeenth meridians.
I’ll pretend that means something to me.
Pelas’s mental chuckle floated to him. I’ll be there shortly.
Tanis puffed a weary exhale and sank down on an obsidian bench to wait. He set his satchel in his lap, wishing it might’ve held a tasty snack instead of Pelas’s clothing.
He missed being in Shadow, where he could conjure a meal upon a whim, or better yet, have Sinárr do it for him. It didn’t matter that the food wasn’t real. It had always sated his hunger—or at least he believed that it had, which was practically the same thing.
Because he’d been flying with Pelas all night, Tanis had been forced to run to make his morning meeting on the Pattern of the World and had therefore missed breakfast. Then the Eltanese had been adamant that they finish the grid the four of them had been dredging, so Tanis had missed lunch. His stomach was holding him in high treason.
He was still on the world grid when Pelas contacted him to say that he was heading back. Tanis knew the Eltanese would want to see him in the form, but because he wanted to surprise them with the truth, he’d had to do some serious finagling to get them to follow him.
The lad pressed palms to tired eyes and suppressed a yawn. All things considered, he’d done good work that day. His anchor hadn’t slipped, even when Jude overshot his aim and bounced off a ley line into the aether.
But then, his mother had taught him how to construct his anchors, and Tanis doubted even the Great Master could cast a shadow over Isabel’s skill.
Anchoring to the pattern of the world was like pinning your attention to a particular point in a room, kind of the way you could keep your eye on a pretty girl at a party, even while circulating around and talking to others.
But a Nodefinder’s anchor had the added complexity of pinning something mental to something physical when the two were not of the same order of thing. Where they achieved symbiosis, where they connected, was that both the pattern’s physicality and the Nodefinder’s intent were formed of the same second strand energy.
It was important in establishing an anchor that such understanding informed a Nodefinder’s actions. Tanis could attach his anchors innately and had done so many times that day, but he knew he needed to understand the procedure both in practice and in theory—because very soon, he was going to be anchoring himself and three others on Alorin’s pattern, where they wouldn’t have harnesses if they lost consciousness, where they would be dredging lines into the aether between dimensions, and where his every choice would mean the difference between life and death.
The Eltanese were understandably apprehensive about his skills. They would be entrusting him with their lives, after all. So the four of them were spending as much time on T’khendar’s pattern as they could, building bonds of trust while Tanis built a foundation of experiential data, all within the safety zone of harnesses that would rescue any of them if things went awry.
“...don’t get why they’ll swarm the welds.” Jude was scratching his head as he and Gadovan stepped through the portal gate.
“It’s like the Second Vestal explained, Jude. As soon as we reconnect one of these welds to Shadow, the Powers That Be will notice what
we’re doing. That’s why he said we have to be ready to face considerable opposition.”
Jude’s hand hung in his unruly auburn hair. “Yeah...I hear you, but I still don’t get it.”
“Criim, Jude, were you listening at all?” Gadovan led his cousin over to where Tanis was sitting. “Maybe you can explain it to him better, Tanis.”
Tanis shaded his eyes with his hand as he looked up at Jude. “It’s because the cosmic Balance is really just an equilibrium of energies constantly tugging and pulling on each other. By reopening the channels between Shadow and the Realms of Light, we’re going to be doing a lot of tugging and pulling in one direction. Basically, we’ll be shouting to the cosmos that we’re setting things to rights, and sort of pulling everything in on us at the same time.”
Jude sidestepped to block the sun from blinding Tanis’s eyes. “But we’ll be restoring Balance, Tanis, so why would it be like everyone is turning against us?”
Gadovan gave a frustrated exhale. “That’s not what the Vestal said—”
“That was the gist of his warning, Gad, you have to admit.”
Tanis tried to make the truth sound more encouraging than it really was. “Even though Balance will ultimately be restored by what we’re doing, the inertia that has been carrying the cosmos down a dwindling spiral still has to be overcome. That force will fight back at us.”
“Which will be evidenced by the arrival of those trying to stop us,” Gadovan emphasized.
“And then there are the opponents in the game playing out on the mortal tapestry,” said an arriving Mathias. “We mustn’t forget them. They’ll try to stop us because we’ll be interfering with their games, otherwise.”
“So, basically, people are going to be coming at us from all directions. That’s what you’re saying?”
His cousins nodded.
Jude blew out his breath. “Outstanding.” He squinted around at the soaring structures of solid obsidian. The sun shining through the volcanic glass glinted golden deep within the translucent stone. “Never can get used to this place—the whole bloody thing just raised right out of the rock?”
“Björn van Gelderan is a legend,” Mat said. “You think they just made everything up about him?”
“Well...yeah. It’s Illume Belliel.”
“Jude wasn’t there when the Vestal encased us all in celantias and disintegrated the floor to escape,” Gadovan reminded Mat.
“I wish I had been,” Jude said.
Mat snorted. “No you don’t. Getting stuck in celantias is hell.” He handed Tanis a wrapped linen bundle that was warm to the touch. “For you, lad. I noticed you were a little peaked during that last run.”
Tanis unwrapped the linen to find a sandwich of juicy roasted meat on a toasted bun hot from the oven. His eyes flew back to Mat’s. “You’re my hero.”
“You’re absolutely mine too, Mat.” Jude hugged Mathias sloppily. Mat absently shoved him away.
Gadovan shifted his gaze to Tanis. “So, we’re all collected, lad. What’s this important thing you have to show us?”
Devouring his sandwich with a fervor that would doubtless have elicited a raised eyebrow from his mother and probably a lecture from Madaé Giselle, Tanis murmured, “This way,” through a mouthful and walked them towards the obsidian wall. He cast the thought, Where are you?
Look up, little spy.
Tanis lifted his gaze to the heavens, instinctively knowing where to look for his bond-brother. The others followed his gaze.
“Is that what I think it is?” Mathias moved in on Tanis’s right.
“Looks like it.” Gadovan joined his left.
Dagmar emerged from the shadows of the pavilion and noted them all staring up into the sky. “What do we have here?” He joined them also.
“Pelas is in the form,” Tanis told him.
“Whaaaaaaaat?” Jude shoved in between Mat and Tanis and stared out across the sea of dunes. “Where is he? Did I miss him?”
“I doubt even you could miss this, Jude,” Dagmar remarked.
Mathias moved down to give everyone room at the wall. “We’re talking about a dragon, remember?”
Dagmar nodded. “Yeah. A really big one.”
Whereupon all eyes affixed themselves to the speck of darkness rapidly growing larger as it speared down from on high.
Pelas’s Chaos form drank in the light without reflection, yet at the same time it shimmered with its own blue-black resonance, like starlight on the sea. Tanis had never seen anything so completely black outside of Shadow’s void. But what impressed him most about his bond-brother’s dragon form were the icicle spires slicing off of every plane.
Massive spires the size of ancient trees angled backwards from the foreplate of his elongated skull, while even larger ones formed a mane around his neck and along his spine. Other spires in varying lengths speared out from the planes of his arms, wings and body...all of them shedding power like Rafael dripped deyjiin.
Tanis envisioned those darkly formidable stalactites being formed by magnetic dust as the stars gave up their embers in unmaking. Pelas said he wasn’t far off the mark. He was still several miles distant, but these details of his form were already plain to the eye.
“So...they’re giant dragons, then.” Mathias was wearing an unreadable expression. Jude was staring in open-mouthed wonder.
“They were created to unmake stars, Mat.” Gadovan’s voice was low, threaded with wary respect.
“But Criim, Gad,” Mat threw him an incredulous look, “the thing’s got to be three hundred feet from nose to tail!”
Dagmar grunted. “More like five.”
“That’s what’s out there causing the storm?” Jude finally found his words.
“Rinokh is bigger than Pelas,” Tanis said absently.
Three sets of identical eyes locked onto him.
“Rinokh is the oldest,” the lad explained. “They keep growing as they unmake the cosmos...it’s some kind of differential Pelas tried to explain to me. Darshan is the only one close to Rinokh’s size.”
Like what you see, little spy? Pelas lifted a wing and dove into an impressive spiral.
Don’t vamp, Tanis chastised with a mental grin. They’re astounded enough as it is.
No, Tanis...this is for you.
Suddenly Pelas opened his mind to him and the lad knew the experience through Pelas’s perception—the whirling velocity of his spin; the wind electrifying his skin with magnetic resonance; the tension of the layered atmosphere supporting his flight; the air blasting around and beneath his wings and body, crystallizing with every exhalation.
“So...you’re bonded to...that,” Mat said.
“Bound, actually.”
Jude choked out, “Bound?”
“With the fifth?” Gadovan for once had lost his composure. He gaped openly at Tanis.
Tanis was still mostly hovering within Pelas’s awareness, so the conversation felt vague and slightly dreamlike to him. “What we call the Unbreakable Bond.”
Mathias regarded him in frank disbelief. “You’re bound forever and all time to an immortal birthed in Chaos?”
Tanis pulled at one ear. “Three, actually.”
Jude looked to Mathias. “Why would anyone need three unbreakable bonds?”
“Three immortals, you idiot,” Gadovan muttered.
“Technically, my binding with Sinárr isn’t eternal,” Tanis admitted, trying to focus on the conversation over the roar of wind echoing across the bond, “but it can’t be broken easily.” Or safely.
“Sinárr...” Gadovan looked him over. “The Warlock you mentioned.”
“You’re bound to a Warlock too?” Mathias was practically vibrating with stupefaction.
“It’s a mutual binding.” Tanis felt that was important to note.
Gadovan gave an incredulous exhale. “And who’s the other immortal? Cephrael Himself?”
“A zanthyr named Phaedor.”
“What’s a zanthyr?” Jude asked.
Tanis pulled his mind free of Pelas’s hold long enough to form some coherent thought. He looked between Gadovan and Mat. “Do you have an immortal race on your world which has a human and an animal form and is really insufferable?”
Gadovan crossed his arms. “We have something called a Lyr. Fifth strand. Every one of them’s a royal pain in the arse.”
“Green-eyed? Black? Winged?” Tanis asked.
“Pompous,” Mathias added. “Infuriating on principle.”
Tanis nodded. “That’s a zanthyr.”
Pelas chucked into Tanis’s mind. Phaedor would be so pleased by these descriptions.
Well, he has worked hard to cultivate them.
While the rest of them were watching Pelas do aeronautic feats for the benefit of Tanis’s perception, two figures approached from the far end of the plateau. Tanis knew them by their resonance on the currents as much as the way the Eltanese suddenly all stood up straighter.
His uncle was saying as they neared, “...key is not to elect him as an opponent, and to think in terms of consequences far in advance of today.”
Ean nodded his understanding. “How will I find him?”
“Oh,” Björn winked at him, “I think he’ll find you.”
Pelas just then flew in a lazy circle, and his dragon gaze surveyed Rinokh’s storm. Tanis saw the red clouds as layers of magnetically charged particles bouncing in polarity; and beyond these, high and far, the black line of a rift in the firmament, around which the sky had become fissured with cracks. It was the malignant contusion spreading disease into the host. He felt chilled just looking at it.
Ah, but it is much smaller after today’s work, little spy. You should’ve seen it this morning.
Tanis felt Ean come to stand behind him. Then he felt his wonder rippling the currents. “Is that...?”
“He made excellent progress today,” Björn noted agreeably.
“Only about a month’s effort in the space of a morning,” Dagmar rumbled. “Can’t we keep him a little longer?”
Björn eyed the other Vestal amusedly. “How could I deny you the opportunity to engage in daily death-defying feats of skill and still call myself your friend?”
The Sixth Strand Page 52