Paths of Alir (A Pattern of Shadow & Light Book 3)

by Melissa McPhail

  Sebastian looked slightly taken aback. “Your sister has displayed only the utmost propriety in our interactions, Dareios.”

  The truthreader rubbed at one eyebrow. “Perhaps that is the problem.” He dropped his hand and frowned at Sebastian. “If I sent her to you dressed as a dancing girl, might you take her off my hands?”

  Sebastian barked an incredulous laugh. “A Princess of Kandori? Why would she go anywhere with me?”

  Dareios arched brows. “I believe you undersell yourself, Prince of Dannym. But matchmaking will have to wait for your return.” He waved them towards the doors and moved to walk between them. Draping an arm around Sebastian’s shoulders, Dareios added low in his ear, “Think upon it. Ehsan is a skilled Healer and the most beautiful of all my sisters—but don’t let her know you heard me say it, or they’ll all come nipping at my heels in indignation.”

  Sebastian chuckled.

  “Of course, if Ehsan isn’t to your taste, there are seven more where she came from.”

  Ean cast Dareios a reproving grin. “You’re incorrigible. What would your mother think?”

  “If she was doing her job properly, it wouldn’t fall to me.” He turned Ean a desperate look. “They’ve descended upon my palace, Ean. I must take steps.” He glanced back to Sebastian and looked him over appreciatively. “And a handsome prince of Dannym is a most eligible choice.”

  Sebastian looked appalled by this description. He opened palms and offered a lament to the ceiling, “What world have I been reborn into? It hardly seems like the one I left eight years ago.”

  Dareios took Sebastian’s hands and pressed his palms together instructively. “There. Kandori’s gods only listen if you pray in this wise.” Dareios rolled his eyes heavenward and exhaled a resigned sigh. “At least, this is what my mother in her infinite wisdom will tell you. This, she explains, is the reason all of my prayers remain unanswered.”

  Ean chuckled. “Because you’re lacking penitence?”

  Dareios’s eyes danced. “I believe my lack of faith is likely the larger issue. Mind, it could have something to do with the fact that I pray every day for my sisters to find husbands and my mother prays for exactly the opposite, thus confusing our gods, who were never very attentive listeners to begin with. But as for Ehsan, Sebastian…”

  As they continued down the hall, Dareios extolling his sister Ehsan’s virtues in great detail while Sebastian stared straight ahead rather red-faced, Ean felt an overwhelming gratitude to the truthreader.

  They were all trying to keep their manner buoyant; perhaps overly so in their need to feel a lightness where only a heavy, hollow anticipation lurked. Necessity demanded they find this felicity, for were any of them to think too deeply upon the coming night, the horrors they expected to face would only cloud their last hours and bring a sorrowful cast to the day.

  It was foolhardy and reckless, their plan, but they’d reached no better solution, and Ean had promised on the night he saved Sebastian that he would only envision greatness in himself.

  It was going to require greatness of a monumental nature to get out of Ivarnen alive.

  Ean stood in the nodecourt watching the sun diving towards the palace walls. Sebastian stood behind him fingering the Merdanti blade that Dareios had placed in his hands earlier that day. They were waiting for Isabel.

  Ean would’ve been content to wait forever—he would’ve been content to live out his life with her in Kandori and never leave—were he not so worried for his men.

  Sebastian grunted. “It feels strange to me.”

  Ean cast him a look over his shoulder. They both wore the drachwyr’s style of fighting blacks, with bindings at elbows, thighs and knees, but Ean didn’t think Sebastian was referring to his clothes. “What feels strange?”

  Sebastian held out the blade before him and eyed along its razor edge. “Having a weapon sing in your head.”

  Ean smiled and turned back to the node. In his mind he held the route they meant to travel. Part of him already felt far down those ethereal paths. “Sentient blades are far superior to dormant ones.” He glanced over his shoulder again. “You’ll get used to it.”

  “Dore never would’ve trusted me with a sentient weapon—and rightly so.” Sebastian moved his blade through the first few motions of the cortata. “He never would’ve trusted me with the fifth—not with anything that I might’ve used to harm him…” He lowered the weapon and his gaze darkened. “Or to escape.”

  Ean scowled at the stones beyond his feet. “Dore’s concept of trust pertains solely to its use in manipulating others.”

  Sebastian glanced up under his brows…frowned. “It’s so odd. You clearly know him, but you can’t really know him—it’s like you truly are two people. On the one hand, you’re just my little brother, but on the other you’re…” he made a circular motion with his blade and flashed a smile. “Well, as Dore would say, you’re the magnificent Arion Tavestra.”

  Ean gave him a pained look.

  Sebastian’s gaze softened. “But I get it, Ean. I understand what that’s like. I know the feeling of duality…of having memories that don’t and yet somehow do belong to you.” He walked over and placed a strong hand on Ean’s shoulder. “You saved me from that living hell.” Sebastian held his gaze pointedly. “Not Arion Tavestra.”

  “You have the right of it again, Sebastian val Lorian.”

  Ean and Sebastian both turned at Isabel’s words.

  Ean tried not to frown as she came across the court dressed in her fighting blacks and carrying her Merdanti staff—since learning Phaedor had made it for her, the staff ever gave Ean the sensation that somehow the zanthyr lurked nearby, waiting for the opportune moment to appear and chastise him for some new stupidity.

  Ean took her hand and drew her close. He tucked her head beneath his chin and murmured, “Now that you’re here, I know we’ll succeed.”

  Isabel drew back and cupped his cheek with her hand. “Your success has never depended on me, my lord. You only liked to imagine it so.” She added with a slight turn of her head towards Sebastian, “For my benefit, I think, but a general need not be a gentleman.”

  Sebastian waved his sword idly towards Ean. “Only at heart, perhaps, for a lady deserves no less.”

  She arched a brow at him, but her lips hinted with humor. “Oh, you are both in league together already, I see. Very well. I submit to being treated like a lady.”

  Ean cast her a smile and captured her hand in his again. “There are worse offenses.”

  This brief respite of levity was all they could manage. It ended as Ean turned his gaze to the node. He exhaled forcefully, feeling the pull of the Pattern of the World as well as his conscience, as if both were already anchored in Ivarnen. Staring at the tiles of the court, he saw only the lines of power he meant to travel upon. “Ready?”

  Sebastian came and grasped his other hand.

  “Lead us on, my lord.” Isabel squeezed his fingers and gave him a smile. “Valor calls her champion.”

  Ean opened himself to the currents and stepped on the node.

  Swirling light blinded him, but he knew the channel he needed to find and sought it among the rushing brilliance. Down then, towards a new vortex they fell, surrounded by blinding lines like streaming stars.

  Ean found the next channel before the first one ended, and he felt himself pulled in a new direction while the universe swam around him. He held tight to the others’ hands, hardly realizing the ache in his cheeks came from the size of his smile, for he saw—he really saw it.

  I can travel the Pattern of the World.

  He found the last channel—the leis he’d forged with the fifth—and dragged them onto it before the current swept them past its tiny opening.

  The next thing he knew, the Pattern of the World was behind him. It hadn’t quite spit him out of its door—he could still feel it, like a raging river on the other side of a hill—but the noise in his ears had quieted.

  Before him, a twilight world
waited.

  Sunset still flamed in the far west—it remained afternoon in Kandori—but there on the far eastern coast of Saldaria, night’s first stars were appearing.

  “Well, that was…something.” Sebastian extracted his hand from Ean’s and shook it out. Ean had been holding on perhaps a bit tighter than was strictly necessary.

  “Well done, Ean.” Isabel moved towards the edge of a cliff overlooking a broad estuary. Twilight bathed the surrounding mountains in violet and turned the estuary’s glassy waters darkly mercuric. “Where have you brought us?”

  Ean reclaimed her hand and led her westward around the hill rising behind them. Eventually the view cleared and they looked out over a mountainous isle sitting in the middle of the estuary where river met sea. Lights burned within the massive castle that crowned the mountain’s summit, and also along a tumbling wall that stretched to the water’s edge. The effect was akin to a stone dragon huddling atop the mountain and trailing its tail down the back.

  Sebastian exhaled forcefully. “Ivarnen.”

  Isabel gripped Ean’s hand. “Do you see, Ean?”

  “Verily, my lady.” The currents washing away from the castle were churning with a darkness every bit as violent as what they’d witnessed in Tal’Afaq. “Dore’s card of calling.”

  Isabel twisted her staff in one hand. “He’s there.”

  “I expected he would be.”

  She looked to him, and he sensed a sharp urgency crossing the bond. “I cannot interfere. Not in this. Not again. The illusion we discussed is as much as I dare.”

  “I know, Isabel.”

  Sebastian cleared his throat. “My lady, we’ve got this.”

  Isabel turned and laid her hand lightly against Sebastian’s chest. “Yes…” She ran her fingers along the baldric that held his blade and then pressed harder to feel the enchanted mail he wore beneath his coat. “I believe that you do.”

  Ean saw a brief flare as the sun fell finally beneath the curve of the world. “It’s time.” He led them down the side of the sandy hill towards the sea far below.

  “Ean…” Sebastian called Ean’s gaze back to him as he brought up the rear, but when their eyes met, he gave a frustrated exhalation. “Never mind.”

  Isabel glanced over her shoulder as they continued their descent. “What is it?”

  Sebastian stared hard at the trail, obviously seeing something other than their feet. “I feel…I don’t know…like something important is missing—some oath or vow or sacred troth that will doom us for lack of having spoken it.” He gave her a rueful look. “We’re heading into gods know what kind of hell on an insane quest, and I don’t even have a lady’s kerchief to stuff beneath my armor.”

  “You’re not wearing armor,” Ean pointed out from the lead.

  “Near enough.” Sebastian pulled at the golden collar partially hidden beneath his coat.

  Isabel turned him an amused look. “If you say you desire to give an oath, Sebastian, do so.”

  “To whom, my lady? I get the sense your brother is the one who carries the burden of oaths.”

  She blessed him with an admiring smile. “Again…you’ve the right of it.”

  Sebastian fell quiet for a time. Then he said, “I would give it, Isabel.”

  She glanced back at him. “And he would accept it, Sebastian, providing you knew what you were giving.”

  Yet he wouldn’t accept mine… Ean clenched his jaw. He didn’t want to think on that memory. His own lack of an oath remained a wound that continuously throbbed, a reminder that he hadn’t been worthy of pledging what he felt deep down was rightly his to give. He knew exactly how Sebastian was feeling.

  Sebastian thought on this as they continued their descent. “I should know him.” His words came softly, musingly. “I would know him—I mean, I will. I intend to, and yet…I hardly feel I need to.” He happened to catch Ean’s eye as the prince glanced over his shoulder, and Sebastian’s expression held boundless gratitude. “I know you, Isabel,” Sebastian continued, looking back to her, “and I know Ean. I know what you’ve both done for me and what you’ve told me of your brother’s game. I shouldn’t desire to know more than that.”

  “If you do, he will provide it, Sebastian.” Isabel stopped as they navigated a sudden drop in the path. Sebastian took her hand and helped her over the edge. She nodded him to lead on and said, “When you do meet my brother, you’ll find that he’s an easy man to admire but a hard man to love.”

  Walking silently in the lead, Ean felt this truth echo painfully in his chest, though he couldn’t tell from which of his many losses the pain originated. Sometimes thoughts of the First Lord brought an ache similar to what he experienced around his missing oath, only…deeper. The two felt connected somehow. He didn’t know why.

  “Why do you say that?” Sebastian asked meanwhile.

  Isabel slipped her arm through his elbow. “One can admire from afar, but to love someone we need intimacy. Beyond admiring each other’s strengths, we desire also to share our loved-ones’ fears and failures—for our weaknesses and inadequacies append us to each other in critical ways.” She turned Sebastian a pointed look. “Björn will never show you this side of himself.”

  Ean grunted at this. He recalled so well the torture of enduring the First Lord’s benevolent gaze leveled in forbearance. He stopped at the next ledge and retrieved Isabel’s hand from his brother’s arm. He could only take so much.

  Sebastian grinned at him.

  Isabel kissed Sebastian’ cheek and squeezed his hand, and said to him over her shoulder as Ean led her away, “Never will you meet a man more driven by purpose, Sebastian. People have said of me that I see the future along many paths, but my brother doesn’t seek to know the future; he seeks to cause it.

  “Ever he watches the threads of the tapestry to determine the ramifications of choice—both his Players’ choices and his own. He’s too many times witnessed his own failure bring death, even were that failure a simple crack in his composure.” She pressed her lips together and shook her head. “One hairline fracture in my brother’s self-control caused the Citadel to fall—at least, so he feels.”

  Ean opened his mouth to protest, but she headed him off.

  “Yes, I know you blame yourself equally, Ean, but do you see how both of you strive to take responsibility for the entire game as if no other Players existed? As if none of them had any choice, and the only choice that mattered was your own?”

  Ean clenched his teeth and held his tongue. Her correction, gentle though it was, echoed too closely Markal’s caustic reprimands.

  Looking over her shoulder at Sebastian, Isabel finished, “When you come to know my brother, Sebastian, do not look in him to find mortal failings. The maker of the game cannot afford the luxury, and it only weakens all of us to clamor for weakness in our leader.”

  The waves lapped languidly at the land when they reached the estuary’s rim, which was part marshland, part sandy shore. With the tide in, nearly a mile of deep water separated them from the isle and the stone dragon called Ivarnen.

  Sebastian came to stand beside Ean at the water’s edge. “Remind me how you planned to get us across?”

  Ean cast him a devious look. “That’s the easy part.” He formed his intention and stepped down upon the water, feeling it go instantly solid beneath his feet. Smiling, he cast a spear of the fifth through the water towards the isle, making solid what was fluid, binding molecule to molecule with thought and intent and just a little pinch of pride.

  He watched the water forming into his nearly invisible bridge until he knew its far end touched the isle. Then he looked back to Isabel and held out his hand.

  She took it and stepped down on the water that wasn’t quite water anymore. Her staff clicked against the glossy surface as if against ice, and she set off in the lead.

  Sebastian stepped down beside Ean with an arched brow. “Oddly, I don’t recall your sharing this part of the plan.”

  “I don’t like to br
ag.” Ean set off behind Isabel with a grin on his face.

  “Gloating doesn’t seem to be beneath you though.” Sebastian stomped a couple of times at the watery bridge. “And you’re sure Dore won’t see this working on the currents?”

  “It’s native to Ean,” Isabel replied from the lead. “If you or I had compelled the elements thusly, Sebastian, Dore would instantly find the mark on elae’s tides, but Ean is an Adept of the fifth. He would have to command far more of the lifeforce than this requires for the currents to show the working.”

  Sebastian shook his head and dropped his gaze to watch his feet treading on water that wasn’t. “There’s so much to learn…” After a moment, a brilliant smile lifted his features.

  Ean caught the look and smiled to himself. Every time he expected his brother to fall into melancholy at a thought, or to sink beneath waves of regret over everything that had been taken from him, Sebastian managed somehow to see the brightness instead.

  Ean wondered if his brother knew how he admired him, how much of an inspiration he was. Between his own promise to look for greatness in himself and Sebastian’s already living it, Ean was coming to believe he might one day actually achieve his goal.

  Forty-Five

  “Talent is often developed at the expense of character. The greater the talent, the more the mischief.”

  – Liam van Gheller, Endoge of the Sormitáge

  Tanis stood in the shadow of a column along the Grand Passáge watching his roommate, Felix, doing the same.

  He’d woken that morning still unnerved from his encounter with N’abranaacht the night before. It had shaken him on a number of levels, but it had also roused a terrible suspicion.

  Tanis had lain in bed for a while staring at a crack in the ceiling and wishing he had someone to talk to…just anyone who could advise him. He’d thought of asking Vincenzé, but he didn’t think the Caladrian knew much about the particular type of demons that were stalking through his thoughts, and the lad just wasn’t comfortable opening up to the High Lord or anyone at the Sormitáge about his suspicions.