He stiffened beside her. “I never want to give you reason to doubt me, Jasside.” He sighed, head drooping. “I’m just not sure if I know how.”
She looked up at him, pouring compassion into her gaze. “Oh, Mevon, you must know I wasn’t being serious. Please, forgive me.”
“There’s nothing to forgive. And besides, the point still stands. When it comes to relationships, I don’t have the first clue what I’m doing. I’m afraid I’ll disappoint you.”
“Really? Because to me, it looks like you’re doing just fine so far.”
“How so?”
“For one, you’re being honest.”
He bent a quizzical gaze at her. “Is . . . there any other way?”
She leaned her head on his arm, chuckling under her breath. “You’d be surprised.”
Mevon grunted.
“And,” Jasside said, continuing her earlier statement, “there’s another thing I think you’re doing right.”
“Which is?”
“Choice, Mevon. Whatever it was that made you leave everyone behind—”
“I didn’t—”
“You can tell me the story later, when you’re good and ready. As much or as little as you see fit to share. I wasn’t trying to berate you for what you did. I was merely trying to point out that, through all of it, you still chose me.”
He nodded. “And you chose me.”
“I did. I do. So long as we both continue to choose each other every day, nothing in this or any other world can pull us apart.”
“You make it sound so easy.”
“It may very well be the most difficult thing in the world.” She smiled up at him. “Feeling up to the challenge?”
Mevon smiled back. “Always.”
“Jump!”
Tassariel didn’t need to be told twice.
Following Draevenus’s advice, she turned from her pursuers, who were scissoring towards her from three separate passages, and leapt through the quickly closing portal into open sky. She unfurled her wings, their glow nearly invisible under a three-way assault of sunlight: the harsh midday sun overhead, the shimmering glare from the sea a thousand paces below, and the reflection from the multifaceted surface of the ruvaki skyship, its hull studded with countless sparkling minerals. Emerging from the dark corridors into such an environment, she was all but blinded.
“Gah!”
She spied Draevenus less than ten paces away, just below her but getting farther away by the beat. His palms were pressed against his eye sockets as he tumbled through the air. If the sudden infusion of light affected her this much, she couldn’t imagine what it was doing to him.
“Wings!” she called, hoping her voice could cut through the whistling wind. You’d think that after more than half a year, he’d develop an instinct for the things. “Don’t forget about your wings!”
The words must have gotten through, for a moment later he arched his back, dark shapes emerging like a splash of black water. Wings spreading, he righted himself and halted his descent, coming abreast of her.
“Thanks,” he said. “What now?”
“What now? This was your plan!”
“I know. But I can barely see. I think we may have to improvise from here on out.”
“And by ‘we’ you mean ‘me,’ right?”
Draevenus at least possessed grace enough to grimace.
Tassariel groaned. “All right. Just find a place to hide. I’ll keep them occupied until you’ve recovered enough of your sight to be useful.”
“We’re a thousand paces above the sea. Where the abyss am I going to hide?”
“Here.” She reached out and grabbed his hand. “I’ll show you.”
Flying in connection with another was never an easy proposition, and it wasn’t helped by the fact that he couldn’t anticipate her motions. After a few beats, however, he relaxed, allowing her to guide him. If she hadn’t exactly been the star pupil she knew he’d hoped for, there was no shortage of familiarity between them now, the ease and comfort found in tandem actions, a trust that grew deeper by the day.
I’d almost call it . . . intimacy.
Her breath caught, palms growing slick with sweat at the thought.
She heard Draevenus sigh in relief as they fell under the massive vessel’s shadow, cutting out at least two of the three sources of light. Guiding him up under its belly, she found a crevice just large enough to hold him and shoved him inside.
“Wait here,” she ordered.
“Are you sure you’ll be all right?” he said.
Tassariel grunted laughter. “This will be just like playing Serpent back home.”
“Playing what?”
“A game favored by valynkar youths.” She smiled. “A game I never lost.”
Sighing, he nodded. “Be careful.” His eyes darted to one side, then quickly to the other. “They’re coming.”
Tassariel pushed away, banking back into the light as eleven ruvaki skyships swarmed into view. Though barely larger than a covered wagon, the escort vessels for the flagship above more than made up for their diminutive stature with their speed and maneuverability.
Let’s see if you can keep up with me.
She dove straight down, leading them away from her companion’s hiding place, then swooped upwards in a broad, predictable arc. She didn’t look behind her. Doing so would only distract her, and was pointless besides. Her first glance at them confirmed they’d already encompassed themselves in their signature muted glow. She knew they wouldn’t be where they appeared.
A strange rasping sensation pulled at her mind. She jerked to one side. A moment later, a greenish beam, warping the very air, passed through the space she’d just vacated.
She felt two more gathering their chaotic energy. Energizing, she expelled a burst of power in front of her, propelling herself backwards ten paces instantaneously and dodging the new attacks with ease.
The others readied their assaults, noses pointed every direction to diminish her chances of evading. Before they could get their barrage off, however, Tassariel curled around the top of the flagship’s hull with speed they could not match, obstructing their angle. Moments later, she sensed only half still behind her in pursuit. The rest had dipped under the hulking skyship, approaching now from the front.
Perfect.
Aided by three already glaring sources, Tassariel filled the surrounding sky with light.
The panic of those piloting the enemy vessels was almost palpable, the air tensing as they fought through their sudden blindness in an attempt to escape. An impact concussed nearby, pulverized stone careening in all directions as two of them collided. The rest veered away, showing her their exposed, illuminated backs.
Tassariel pounced on the nearest one. Her left hand gripped the hull. The right pulled her mace, slamming it down, once, twice, thrice, finally breaking through the thin, rocky skin. Pushing into the hole she’d made, she opened up her palm, filling the interior of the skyship with fire.
She jumped free as the vessel died beneath her, falling a moment before crashing into the flagship just below.
There was little time to admire her handiwork; the rest of her opponents had flown out of her sphere of light and were now firing back into it. Blindly, but the volume and frequency of their assaults ensured they’d get lucky eventually. She was already cringing as chaos cut through her light, encroaching in around her.
Once more, she dove, close enough to the flagship’s glittering hull to reach out and touch it if she chose. This time, all the remaining ruvaki escort ships followed. This time, it was exactly what she wanted.
I hope you’re ready, Draevenus.
Tassariel eased off her speed, keeping herself just in her pursuers’ sight. Angling upwards now, her dive became a swoop, passing back into the shadows beneath the massive vessel. Once directly beneath it, she dipped briefly, then bounced up, losing all velocity as she energized fully and turned to face her attackers.
“Now!” she shout
ed.
Brilliant rays licked outward from her hands, locking on to each of the eight skyships. Power held them, attuning them to light.
Darkness scythed through from above, unhindered.
One by one, the enemy vessels cracked apart before Draevenus’s black, spinning razors. Incredibly, a lone skyship managed to escape the trap, veering away shakily from both sorcerous sources.
The mierothi swept out of the crevice, extending a hand. Dark lightning arced from his fingertips, encasing the skyship trying to get away. He turned his face to her. “Will you do the honors?”
Tassariel nodded, remolding her energy. “Gladly.”
She thrust her palm forward. A scintillating orb shot forth. It hit the vulnerable vessel, which in turn exploded in a shower of scorched stone and metal.
Draevenus retrieved his hand, black wings flapping silently. “Well done,” he said. “Ready for the big one?”
Tassariel tore her eyes away from the falling wreckage. “Absolutely.”
They dove away from the flagship, distancing themselves by several hundred paces before spinning around and hovering. Draevenus began counting backwards from three.
Two days ago, they’d identified this skyship, the largest one for a thousand leagues around. They’d spent most of that time preparing a pair of devices, storing energy in them bit by agonizing bit in order to avoid detection.
As her companion uttered “one” they both raised their arms and directed a tiny amount of energy toward those devices, which they’d placed aboard the flagship during their insertion. Their power reached the devices, each pent up with hoards of energy, and instructed them to release it.
Twin concussions blasted the sky. The ruvaki skyship ripped apart between compounding exhalations of darkness and light. Debris fell, cracking apart like brittle stone as it tumbled down and splashed into the distant waves.
Draevenus turned to her, smiling. “Satisfied?”
Tassariel nodded.
“Good. Then would you mind telling me what this was all about?”
She jerked her head back, surprised by the bite in the question. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Yes, you do. You seemed very keen to make this our next target, even though others might have made more sense.”
She sighed. “Very well. I wanted it out of the way because it guarded the strait between Mataroa and Yusan. I didn’t want it pestering our back when we cross.”
“Cross? Are you mad? We’re already deep enough as it is. Yusan has been occupied from the very start of their . . . reclamation. It’s their abyss-taken stronghold!”
“True. But how do you explain the fact that a resistance group has been operating freely within their borders this entire time?”
It was Draevenus’s turn to look surprised. “That’s . . . impossible.”
She shook her head. “I confirmed it just last week.”
“How?”
“Commune, of course. There are scores of casters on their central island, and as far as I can tell, they’ve yet to be captured. We’re looking for ways to defeat the ruvak, right? That has to be worth investigating.”
Draevenus took in a deep breath, exhaling slowly. “I can’t argue with that.” He chuckled in obvious disbelief. “I wonder who’s mad enough to lead a resistance for this long.”
Tassariel trembled, lowering her head. “My father.”
Chapter 14
From the shadows, of course, Vashodia watched them gather.
All the pretty little figures milled about by the base of the voltensus, exchanging greetings with those they hadn’t seen in weeks or months or years. Or ever. Whether it was Yandumar wrapping Jasside in a fatherly embrace, Gilshamed hesitantly shaking Mevon’s hand, Chase whispering harshly to his brother Daye, mother dearest showing off her mewling babe to anyone nearby, or Arivana and her advisor introducing themselves to the royal couple of Weskara, every face remained plastered in smiles, every word and gesture molded to fit polite company. Each interaction told a tale, and as the figures rotated, bringing them all a new partner for the dance, every thread of the story changed but one.
“Ah, civility,” she said, to no one in particular. “How poignantly you smooth out the jagged edges that form between our messy souls. How well you make liars of us all.”
“Who are you talking to?”
Vashodia spun, startled by the proximity of the voice.
A child stood before her, not five paces away, face smeared in dirt and framed by mangy sweeps of hair. The worn if warm-looking coat and lanky body gave no clear indication of age or sex, but Vashodia guessed it to be between six and twelve, and probably a boy.
But really, who can tell with the wretched things?
Vashodia turned so that her hood blocked most of the creature. “Go away, child.”
“Who are you to call me ‘child’? You don’t look much older than I do.”
“One of the few drawbacks to eternal youth. But well outweighed by the benefits, I assure you.”
“Huh?”
“Leave. Now. There are few in this world I consider worthy of my patience. I have none for your kind.”
“Got something against Amebites, then?”
“No. Children.”
“Hmph!” The child placed hands on its hips, making Vashodia reexamine her assessment of its gender. “Well, if you think you’re so much more mature than the rest of us, then you can just forget about playing with me and my friends.”
Vashodia burst out laughing. “You came to invite me to play?”
The—girl?—nodded. “We were over around the corner, and I saw you standing here all by yourself. You looked so . . . lonely.”
Vashodia felt her heart beat just a little bit louder in response to what felt an accusation. She sneered. “There are worse things to be.”
“Like what?”
“Like . . . ignorant.”
“Oh, please. What’s the point of knowing everything if you don’t have any friends to share it with?”
“Friends are a weakness that will forever hold you to expectations you cannot but fail to meet. It’s much less agonizing to simply do without.”
“Yes, but I love my friends. And they love me. And sometimes it feels like they’re all I’ve got in this whole world, and I wouldn’t give them up for anything!”
“Ah, but what if one of them hurts you? Or betrays you? Or dies? How would that make you feel?”
The girl—Vashodia was sure of it now—hung her head. “I . . . don’t know. Not good. Not good at all. But you can’t let that stop you from trying. You can’t go your whole life being afraid of getting hurt.”
Fire roared to life within her. This didn’t just feel like an accusation anymore; now, there was no doubt.
Vashodia twisted towards the child, throwing back her hood and lunging forward. “Get away from me, you filthy bundle of rags!”
The girl’s eyes went wide and her mouth hung open in obvious awe . . . but it wasn’t quite the reaction Vashodia had been expecting. “Cool scales. Where’d you get them from? Can I touch them?”
“What? No, you can’t touch them!”
“Why not?”
Vashodia energized, glaring. Shadows began coalescing around her. “Because there are many monsters in this world, my child. And all of them are afraid of me.”
Finally, the girl spun, nearly tripping over herself as she ran away.
For some reason—the why of which disturbed her greatly—Vashodia did not feel like laughing.
She turned back towards the voltensus, sweeping her eyes across the figures there, many of whom now bore confused expressions. Vashodia knew why, of course: they were waiting for the one who had invited them to begin the meeting. But of course, that person had not yet arrived.
Vashodia knew as well as anyone when conditions were ripe for making an entrance.
Emerging from the shadows between two of the houses along the innermost circle, she glided down the gentle, grassy slop
e. All eyes turned as she approached: some knowing, others curious, all expectant.
Pushing aside the encounter with the child, she shivered in joy.
It’s nice to be back among minds that acknowledge my genius. I can’t even image what the world would be like without an audience this appreciative. I do believe I’ll keep it.
“Greetings, one and all,” she said, not intending to give anyone the chance to speak before her. Or at all. “How splendid of you to make it. You’re probably all thinking I invited you here so I could get your opinion on important matters, but really it’s only because this was the quickest way to get the word out.”
Vashodia paused for breath, growing giddy from all the sharp stares shot her way. “By now you’ve surely heard the rumor that the obelisk behind you will provide some measure of protection against anything powered by ruvaki sorcery, including their skyships. Let me assure you that this is true. I have it from, what you might call, the lowest authority. Former authority, anyway. You can all put your fears of the sky to rest.
“As for our stay here, everything has already been taken care of. The glaciers nearby will provide all the clean drinking water we could possibly need, and more than enough land is undergoing accelerated harvest to fill every belly until bursting. The defenses erected so far are adequate to withstand ground assault, though I’m sure those militarily minded among you can find ways to improve them.
“So calm any dissent stemming from the news about our enemy’s origin. Train your young to get them ready for when the enemy decides to test our stronghold—and believe me, they shall. But until then, we have a chance to breathe. Sit back and relax. Lick your wounds. Pack on a layer of fat for the winter to come. Put any last affairs, personal or otherwise, in order.
“Right now, this is the safest place on the planet. To be clear, though, that doesn’t mean we should feel content here. I, for one, am not too keen on the idea of the ruvak possessing the rest of our world. So even as we rest, we must also ready ourselves for taking it back.”
Spinning on her heel, Vashodia began striding back up the hill immediately, seeking the comforting shadows once more. Behind her, she heard the murmurs begin. Though distant, and growing farther by the step, one voice, deepest and loudest of them all, managed to reach her ears with something approaching clarity. Like the location of the meeting, she knew it to be no accident.
The Light That Binds Page 23