Shadows of Divinity

by Luke Mitchell

  I heard my incredulous bark of laughter from both my own mouth and Al’Kundesha’s. It was creepy.

  “Sure. This from the guy who was just trying to strangle me. This from…”

  I caught it then. Something familiar at the edge of Al’Kundesha’s senses. The source of his sudden change of tone. A scent, I realized. A scent that filled Al’Kundesha with an odd swirling of excitement and dread.

  Someone was coming. Someone who frightened even Al’Kundesha.

  I could feel them now. Three of them, marching briskly down the hall. Two humans, armed, and one mind that could only be a raknoth. A raknoth whose mental presence dwarfed even Al’Kundesha’s. Older. More expansive. It was like staring at the sun.

  Zar’Faenor.

  I withdrew my extended senses with a curse. It didn’t matter who it was. There was nowhere to go. Nowhere to hide. I was stuck right here, barely holding Al’Kundesha from murdering me on the spot. I needed to shut him down, but I had no idea how to go about doing that. Unless…

  On a burst of frantic hope, I took control of Al’Kundesha’s hands, gripped the chain, and tugged. The link snapped like cheap polymer under his fingers. Distantly, I felt my own bloodied arms falling limply to my sides.

  I caught my body with Al’Kundesha’s arms. Lowered myself to the floor. Then I turned Al’Kundesha, ready to command his tremendously strong raknoth body to plunge through the wall at Zar’Faenor and his men approaching outside. It wasn’t my best plan, but I was working with what I had.

  Except the moment Al’Kundesha took his first step away from my body, it was like my brain had been dunked in a river of liquid fire. I came back to my own body and senses, crying out with pain, clutching at my head. Beside me, Al’Kundesha staggered uncertainly, then turned to face me, baring his fangs in a satisfied sneer.

  I tried to scramble to my feet. Tried to reach out in preparation to fight.

  Fiery pain poured through my head again.

  Before I had time to question how or why, gravity itself seemed to reorient itself, and I was flying through the air toward the wall. Only it couldn’t be gravity, my brain dimly noted, because Al’Kundesha was falling the other way.

  We thudded to the walls—me hard enough that my vision swam, Al’Kundesha hard enough that the permacrete cracked—and hung there, pinned, facing each other.

  Telekinesis.

  It was a raknoth and two normal humans out there. I was sure of it. And yet someone was holding us with telekinesis. I didn’t understand.

  Hesitant to be scorched again, I reached out slowly, carefully. Or tried to, only to find I was no longer in control.

  The door swung open and two soldiers in the ivory armor of the Sanctum Guard marched into the room, followed by a third man in a dull gray robe. I took in the wild shock of gray hair and beard. The sharp cheekbones and lanky figure.

  My breath caught.

  I’d only ever seen a single image of the man, but there was no mistaking him.

  It was Cassius. Carlisle’s old master.

  Or his body, at least, claimed by Al’Kundesha’s master.

  He studied me with cold eyes for a long moment.

  “Yes,” he finally said, “you’ve figured it out. And yes, you are indeed quite doomed. Now do not struggle unless you desire pain.”

  His voice was smooth, almost tranquil. It reminded me of Carlisle. It made me feel ill.

  I hung helplessly against the wall as he rifled through my memories with lightning speed, surprisingly light-handed, but thorough and effective. Within a minute, he’d caught up on everything that had transpired between me and Al’Kundesha.

  He turned to Al’Kundesha, his expression cold and dispassionate. “You were careless.”

  “Yes, Master.” It was weird, seeing the monster in the High General’s uniform pinned to the wall, hanging his head like a guilty tyro. “But the child is strong, my Zar.”

  The unseen hands let me slide down the wall to the ground. Al’Kundesha remained pinned.

  “Young fool,” Zar’Faenor said, speaking the two words with finality.

  I thought it was directed at me until Al’Kundesha spoke.

  “Forgive me, Master.”

  Al’Kundesha, the creature I’d glimpsed through a hundred different lifetimes, a young fool?

  “I will not,” Zar’Faenor said. “But you will learn.” He looked around the room distastefully. “I will turn the child over to the White Tower and have done with it. You will bring Sanctuary under control and await my orders. It is well past time we bring this petty drama to an end.”

  Al’Kundesha bowed his head. “As you command, Master.”

  My head was spinning as the Sanctum Guard fixed my shackled wrists together with a new chain. Sanctuary fallen to the hybrids. Zar’Faenor, who seemed to have adopted the abilities of Carlisle’s old mentor. Al’Kundesha, and his memories of Urth.

  It was all too much to process.

  On the bright side, I didn’t have to think about doing a thing myself at the moment. Not with Zar’Faenor in my head, forcing me to march like a good puppet. Out the door. Down the hall.

  Straight ahead to my own execution.

  40

  Long Shot

  This time, when the voice came to me and I couldn’t remember where I was or how I’d gotten there, some corner of my mind at least remembered to be on guard.

  “Haldin… Haldin…”

  I didn’t trust the call. And yet it beckoned to me. It was familiar. A patch of sunlight on a cold, cloudy day. It beckoned, and I wanted to answer. But it was so far. So hard to move toward that strip of warmth through the hazy malaise of—

  “Haldin.”

  I rose from darkness to blue sky and the sound of strong waters rushing over smooth stone.

  “Thank the fates,” someone breathed.

  “Carlisle?” I blinked and looked around.

  I was standing on a large, flat boulder that rose a good five feet from the racing river, white water roaring cheerfully along on either side, lush wilds rising from the banks beyond that.

  And there, standing across from me on the rock in the warm sun, was Carlisle. Which definitely meant…

  “We’re not really here, are we?”

  His gaze fell to the ground, and he shook his head. “I’m sorry.”

  I sighed. “It’s getting kinda confusing, all this waking up while I’m still sleeping. Not that I’m not happy to see you.” I glanced around the vibrant river basin. “This is definitely a lot better than the last time around.”

  Carlisle’s face was plastered with worry. “Kublich?”

  I nodded. “Kublich. Al’Kundesha. Whatever you want to call him.”

  “Are you hurt?”

  I couldn’t help but chuckle at that, thinking about the state my body was in.

  Carlisle was staring at my wrists, and, when I looked down, I saw deep bruises and lacerations where a moment ago there’d been pristine skin.

  “I’ve had better days,” I said.

  “I’m sorry, Haldin.” Carlisle’s expression was dire. “If I hadn’t taken so long—”

  “It’s not your fault, Carlisle.” It came out more heated than I intended. I tried to force a smile. “Besides, I learned a few things rolling around in Al’Kundesha’s head.”

  It was a rampant understatement, and one that caught Carlisle’s sincere attention, but I wasn’t really sure where to begin unloading everything I’d seen in Kublich’s mind. Aside from starting with the most dangerous point first.

  “Which reminds me,” I pushed on, “before we say anything else, I need to tell you…”

  The words hung in my throat, first out of uncertainty as to how I should drop the news about Zar’Faenor and Cassius’ body on him, then as another thought dawned on me.

  If this wasn’t real, how was I supposed to know this was even Carlisle I was talking to?

  “How are you reaching me right now?” I asked.

  “I’m asleep in a skimme
r, circling a sector out from the White Tower,” Carlisle said.

  I hesitated, trying to imagine the feasibility of that scenario, and what the raknoth would even stand to gain from tricking me at this point.

  Carlisle seemed to understand.

  “The first time we met,” he said slowly, “you gave my skimmer trunk some… creative modifications.”

  Tension poured out of my lungs. “Thank Alpha.”

  I supposed it was possible Al’Kundesha or Zar’Faenor could’ve gleaned that memory from my mind, but I doubted they’d spent time on such small details. And something about the way he said it…

  It was Carlisle. It had to be.

  I frowned. “But wait, if you’re just hovering around in a skimmer without a cloak…”

  He waved away my concern. “Phineas is flying, keeping an eye out. All the same, we should keep this brief. We need to get you out. Right now.”

  “That’s not gonna be easy.”

  “We have a plan. Franco had a contact.”

  “Had?”

  “Suffice it to say both sides felt this favor, small as their role will be, more than balances whatever debts were owed between them. The important thing is that we have a way in. All I need to know is what floor they’re keeping you on.”

  The beginnings of hope fluttered in my chest. I opened my mouth to answer—I’d been sure to pay attention to every detail on the somber trip over with Zar’Faenor and his Sanctum Guard—but I paused, thinking about Sanctuary. About everything Al’Kundesha had said.

  “Is it true our broadcast didn’t make it outside of Sanctuary?” I asked.

  He grew somber, like he could smell the direction my thoughts were heading. “Hal, we can discuss that once you’re safe.”

  “So it is true.”

  He studied me for a long moment before giving in and nodding. “It seems Kublich had some manner of kill switch installed in preparation for just such a contingency. Foolish of us not to expect it, but the damage is done.”

  “You can’t pull me out of here,” I said before I could second-guess myself.

  The words lit a fire in Carlisle’s eyes I’d never seen before, frighteningly intense. “I assure you, I can. And I will.”

  I hesitated, searching for the right words to make him understand.

  “Whatever you’re thinking,” Carlisle said, “we’ll find another way.”

  “No.” I shook my head. “No, I don’t think we will. This is it, Carlisle. Sanctuary was just the opening act. They’re getting ready to mobilize on Haven and Oasis, too. Maybe more from the way they were talking. And my execution is the launch pad that’s supposed to win them enough public confidence that no one blinks about any troubling stories they might hear in the next few days.”

  “All the more reason we should deprive them of that launch pad, clearly.”

  “Or we let them think they’ve won and turn it against them right when it’ll hurt the most.”

  To Carlisle’s credit, he did seem to consider my words for at least a few seconds before rejecting them. “Hal, it’s not worth risking—”

  He perked as if some distant point in the sky had drawn his attention.

  “Trouble?” I asked.

  “Perhaps.” He grimaced. “Hard to tell from in here. Phineas will wake me if it’s serious.” He fixed me with a level stare. “Your floor Haldin. Tell me.”

  I swallowed, “I met their master, Carlisle.”

  He watched me cautiously, like I’d just stepped on a trip mine.

  “His name’s Zar’Faenor. But…”

  I clenched my jaw, not wanting to say the words. Not wanting to give Carlisle the pain of knowing.

  But he had to find out at some point, didn’t he?

  “Dammit. He’s… Zar’Faenor is using Cassius’ body, Carlisle. His abilities too. It’s…”

  I hesitated. A hundred different things on my tongue, and I didn’t want to say a single one of them. I was scared to even look at Carlisle.

  But when I did, he was simply standing there, his eyes distant. Vacant, almost.

  “I see,” he finally said.

  “We have to stop him,” I said when it became apparent he’d said what he had to say. “He’s strong, Carlisle. I think he even knows how to make your runes. They’ve got my abilities shut down with a pendant sort of like yours.”

  I absentmindedly fingered the spot where I knew the new little scorcher pendant would be resting on my sleeping chest. Similar as it was to Carlisle’s cloaking pendant, I hadn’t noticed it until they’d left me alone in my new cell beneath the White Tower. But I’d tested it this way and that before finally collapsing to exhausted sleep, and now I was positive the cursed little device was responsible for the liquid fire that scorched my brain every time I tried to reach out with my senses. Hence my nickname. The scorcher.

  When I looked back up, Carlisle was just staring into nothingness.

  Finally, he stirred slightly, though his eyes remained distant. “What did you have in mind?”

  That was a damn good question. One I’d been furiously trying to work through since the unfortunate idea had planted itself in my head.

  “Johnny’s still with you guys?”

  Carlisle nodded.

  “And Franco has connections, right?”

  “Severely limited ones at the moment, given our current reputations. But he does know people.”

  “Right then.” I laid a hand on his shoulder, and he finally broke out of his fugue to meet my gaze. “I’ve got a plan, teacher.”

  41

  Civility

  In the past few cycles, the meaning of the word hopeless had begun to take on new depths to me. When we’d been caught at Vantage in an underground death trap. When I’d lain bleeding out in the streets of Divinity. When I’d woken in Sanctuary, shackled and face-to-face with the monster who’d killed my parents. Those had all felt like hopeless situations at the time.

  Yet, each time, when it came down to the nails, I’d glimpse it. Some fighting chance. Survival, it seemed, was not a matter of hope, but of willpower and firmly grit teeth. The drive to slog on, no matter what.

  So now, though I couldn’t move—thought I was alone behind enemy lines, trapped and rendered powerless by that damn little scorcher pendant—I didn’t give in to despair.

  In just a few hours, when the sun set, I was supposed to die.

  I didn’t have any plans of satisfying that expectation, of course. Not while the raknoth were still free to run wild on Enochia like the forces of destruction they were.

  Of course, no amount of planning and mental fortitude could stop the panic attacks. I was facing execution, after all. All I had for those was the deep breathing. It even helped a little.

  The shackles didn’t.

  They’d done a full-body job on me—arms crossed in the front, shackled at the wrists with a chain that wrapped first around my back and then down to my shackled ankles. Another infuriatingly short chain joined ankle to ankle. Just in case.

  At least I wasn’t hanging by my wrists anymore. Given the throbbing aches from my wounds, I half-thought my hands might’ve just popped right off if they’d tried.

  And then, tucked safe and secure beneath the robes they’d dressed me in a few hours ago, there was the confounded scorcher pendant. The one thing ensuring I was powerless to escape my bindings. I scowled at the place on my chest where I could feel its cool weight beneath the robe, resisting the urge to try for the hundredth time to rip the thing off with telekinesis.

  It wasn’t worth the pain. Not yet.

  The robe itself was no great comfort, either. A flagrant reminder of my impending demise. The dark garment ran from my neck all the way down to my bare feet, covered in intricate red workings across the shoulders and chest. Had it been of white and gold tones, it would have been quite similar to a cleric’s robes, but for one key difference.

  Where a cleric’s robe bore the triumphant arch of Alpha’s sigil, mine portrayed a great red s
erpent. The sigil of the heretics. The apostates. Deceivers, liars, traitors to the Word of Alpha, and all other manner of unsavory sorts. Above all else, it marked me as someone who was to be ceremonially hanged to death in the Great Hall for all the world to see. Just like Andre Kovaks.

  Scud, this might’ve even been the same robe he’d been wearing.

  I couldn’t help but think back to the night I’d watched Kovaks’ execution on the WAN, sitting between my parents, unaware that in just three cycles—barely a full season—they’d both be dead and I’d be the one whose life and crimes Barbara Sanders was somberly recounting to the watching eyes of Enochia in the final moments.

  It didn’t seem real.

  The faint sound of voices outside drew my attention a second before the door hissed open to reveal my two Sanctum Guard sentinels.

  “—alk to my supervisors if you have a problem with it,” a woman was saying somewhere behind them, “but for now, what harm’s it going to do?”

  I recognized the voice even before I saw the woman with the wavy dark hair and the cute little upturned nose that Enochia so loved. It was Barbara Sanders.

  My heart beat faster.

  She was craning past the guards, her dark brown eyes studying me curiously. I’d always thought she had kind eyes. But maybe that was just part of her appeal. When it came to public figures, who knew? Just look at Alton Parker.

  The Sanctum Guard she’d been speaking to glanced back and forth between me and her, then finally shrugged. “You have a visitor, Raish.”

  I made a show of struggling to sit up only to flop back to the cot with an exasperated sigh. “If only I could sit up to receive her…” I raised my legs and jangled my ankle chains. “Are these really necessary?”

  The guards said nothing. Just scowled first at me, then at the back of Barbara’s head as she slipped into the holding cell without waiting for any additional permission. Pointedly, they moved into the corners of the cell to stand quiet watch.

  “Haldin Raish? I’m Barbara Sanders with the WAN. I wanted to meet you before the ceremony.”