Visioner

by K K Ness

  24

  The sun sat low on the horizon the following day when they docked at an Eyrie village.

  A handful of locals fished from the dock and watched with wary eyes as Danil and Hafryn were ushered off the ship. With Viren at the head of the party, they followed a cobbled path that wound between stunted trees and huts made of somber grey stone. An uneasy quiet held over the village, its occupants furtive in the shadows.

  The path led them into a central courtyard where a stone tower squatted like a lichen-stained toad. Dead grass pushed up through cracks in the stone. The tower’s shadow seemed overlong, its black spire missing tile in places. Danil uneasily eyed the heavy door at the base of the tower, its ancient wood warped with disuse.

  Viren motioned a handful of guards forward.

  A burly shifter rammed his shoulder against the wooden door. It creaked and groaned under the attack. A few more shoves and it splintered apart.

  Merlias entered with a number of other shifters to disappear into the gloom.

  Hafryn watched on with obvious apprehension. “I thought we were going to the great repository at Reppa,” he said edgily.

  Viren placed hands on his hips as he peered up at the spire. “Many villages once held places of learning such as this. When Kaul attacked the great repository and took our glyphs, our learning centers suffered a similar fate.” He turned to Danil, green eyes serene. “You’re of no use to me if at Reppa if you cannot find the glyphs here.”

  Gulping, Danil knew he was scarcely ready for such a task, not when his grip on his burgeoning abilities was so tenuous.

  Merlias emerged moments later to nod at Viren.

  “Inside, custodian,” Viren said. “Find my glyphs, and I will ensure Hafryn lives.”

  Brushing off the guard who made to grab his arm, Danil strode up the single step into the tower. To his surprise, the interior comprised of a hollow room that reached the full height of the building. It was empty save for a stone platform, which Danil imagined was once used for teaching younglings and would-be enchanters.

  Glancing at Hafryn, Danil shifted his vision to see his Trueform pace agitatedly in front of the platform. Behind him, all but Viren’s great wolf had backed up close to the entrance.

  At Viren’s nod, a pair of Eyrie moved up behind Hafryn. Hafryn turned to face them, his expression bland.

  “By all means, Danil, take your ease,” Viren said serenely.

  Message received, Danil set about examining the damp walls. Moss grew in patches on the wet stone. To his growing apprehension, he spied no markings or flashes of kiandrite. He took a slow turn about the room, desperate to buy himself time.

  “Mayhap you underestimated his abilities, my lord,” Merlias suggested, her voice bored.

  “It does appear so,” Viren replied. He motioned to the guards.

  “Wait!” Danil said with hand raised as Hafryn bared his teeth in readiness for an attack. Gripping the crystal about his neck, Danil tried to calm his racing mind. The kiandrite sent him an inquisitive trill.

  ‘Help us,’ he begged.

  It shivered against his palm.

  ‘Please…’

  A strange flickering passed over Danil’s vision, and suddenly a ghost-like glyph floated above the platform. It cast a dark red film over the walls and floor, with spidery red tendrils reaching out in an ugly web to almost every corner of the tower. He glanced about in astonishment, but no one else seemed to notice it.

  The crystal whispered urgently to him.

  Danil’s eyes followed the thickest line to a niche in the wall, where the blood-red web sat anchored to a set of undulating spirals. On closer examination, Danil found that each anchor point rested over similar engravings on the wall.

  They’re glyphs, he realized with an excited jolt. The red glyph floating above the center of the platform seemed almost to be feeding off them, draining the last remnants of kiandrite stored within.

  These had to be the lost glyphs of Eyrie. But how to free them?

  Danil gazed again at the thickest rope of menacing red light. It pulsed darkly, and for a moment he smelled a fetid burning. A wrongness lay over this glyph. Strangely, it reminded him of parts of Kailon where even the leylines wouldn’t go, and every instinct warned Danil not to approach.

  ‘Trust,’ the crystal on his chest suddenly murmured in his mind

  Startled, Danil glanced down to see it aglow with vibrant hues of azure and green.

  “You test my patience, custodian,” Viren growled nearby.

  Knowing he had little time, Danil gave his trust to the crystal and reached out with a halting breath. His fingers brushed the malevolent web.

  Lightning scorched across his palm. From one heartbeat to the next, Danil felt the shattering of Merlias’ glyph on his skin, along with the eradication of the last remnants of his connection to the House of Corros. He screamed in agony. He felt something drain from him like the tapping of blood from a vein.

  “Danil!”

  Hafryn caught him as he collapsed. His palm was afire with excruciating agony. The acrid stench of burning, wrongness, and death was so strong Danil could taste it.

  “Great gods,” Merlias breathed, wheeling about. She gave a delighted laugh.

  Blinking through tears of pain, Danil looked up to see the walls alight with glyphs. There were dozens, hundreds, spanning all sides of the tower. They shone in a rainbow of colors as a radiant hum vibrated through the air.

  “Remarkable. It is more beautiful than I ever imagined,” Viren murmured, green eyes awestruck. About them, Eyrie stared up in slack-jawed wonder.

  Crouched beside him, Hafryn seemed to care little for the vista. He gently turned Danil’s hand up. An ugly, writhing mess of a red glyph blistered his palm. Hafryn swore.

  Shuddering, Danil realized it was the same sullen red glyph that had held all those others under its thrall. Its wrongness sent bile to his throat. “No,” he choked out. His hand trembled.

  “This is just the beginning, my lord,” Merlias announced grandly, all but dancing in her glee. “We must continue on to the next village and all others until Eyrie is returned to glory!”

  Danil tried to stagger to his feet but had no strength. He crumpled to his knees, shaking. “You gave your word, Viren,” he gasped with an effort. “The glyphs are free—grant us the same.”

  Drawing his gaze from the shimmering walls, Viren looked them both over contemplatively. “That was not part of our bargain, videre.”

  Danil stared at him, miserable and shaking. In his despair, he realized Viren spoke truly—on their first day in the hold, he’d agreed to Hafryn’s safety but had been tricked out of ensuring their freedom as well.

  “You conniving bastard!” Hafryn hissed. He had one arm over Danil’s shoulders, holding him close. “What more can you ask of him?”

  Viren raised an eloquent eyebrow. “Can you assure me that all the glyphs of Eyrie are awakened, Hafryn? We have no way telling.”

  “You’ve got more than your blood’s worth here!” Hafryn snarled.

  “You’re overwrought,” the councilor observed with almost courtly solicitude. He beckoned to Merlias. “Perhaps you’re in need of rest to get over your understandable disappointment at this misunderstanding.”

  Merlias skipped to the wall to Danil’s left, tracing her fingers over one glyph before traipsing to another. She paused at one made of concentric circles. “How about this one, my lord?”

  Viren shook his head. “I’d prefer an enchantment whose purpose you already know, Merlias. And no permanent damage, if you will.”

  She stepped away from the wall with a pout. “Fine,” she sighed, hands weaving.

  Nauseous with fear, Danil found himself pulled close by Hafryn, head tucked under his friend’s chin. He squeezed his eyes shut as he felt the enchantment spread over them.

  ‘Trust,’ the crystal whispered again.

  The first crystal flared so bright that it burned past Danil’s clenched eyelids. A boom
of power swept through him, shaking him to the core.

  Shouting and cries rang about the tower. Bodies fell heavily around them, and Danil opened his eyes to see Merlias among those convulsing with pain. The crystal was a throbbing beat of light against his chest as it rebounded and magnified Merlias’ spell.

  Hafryn looked about in astonishment. “What—?” Mouth hardening with resolve, he grabbed the fabric of Danil’s tunic. “Here’s our chance, fala!”

  He hauled Danil up by main force, half carrying him through the broken doorway. Danil saw Viren blindly reach out toward them, fury on his contorted face.

  The courtyard was empty as Hafryn lugged him toward the cobbled path. Danil could hardly keep his feet, gasping for breath as the pain of the glyph on his hand sharpened again. Glowering red light snaked across his flesh.

  “The ship’s too big for us to take,” Hafryn muttered, lowering Danil at the back of a hut. The river burbled a short distance away. “I saw a few fishing skiffs as we came in—fala, can you make it?”

  Danil pushed down the pain and acrid bile burning his throat. “I’m fine,” he managed.

  Looking dubious, Hafryn nonetheless nodded. At his urging, they staggered for the dock. A handful of small skiffs bobbed in the gentle waves. Hafryn pointed to one devoid of fish traps and nets. “That one.”

  He half carried, half dragged Danil to it and eased him down onto the wooden boards. It smelled rankly of fish and dirty bilge water, but Danil ignored it and stumbled to the tiller.

  Hafryn ran the length of the dock, slicing the moorings of other skiffs and small boats.

  Taking a steadying breath, Danil nervously waited for Eyrie to reveal themselves on the cobbled path, but no outcry came. The repository towered over the village. It seemed brighter somehow, no longer shadowed and looming. Danil watched Hafryn cut loose the moorings of the Viren’s ship and push hard on its port side until the vessel became caught in the current.

  Running along the dock, Hafryn similarly cut their own skiff free and jumped aboard. He took the tiller as the current quickly gripped the small craft. He navigated them past an unmanned boat with ease.

  “Stay low, fala,” Hafryn muttered. “We may not have much time before they shake loose of that enchantment.”

  Heartbeats later, movement along the bank caught Danil’s eye. Viren’s ghostly Trueform pushed through the reeds and settled on its haunches. It watched their journey downstream with dry bemusement. There was no activity from the village.

  Danil continued to stare until the skiff rounded the bend of the river, and the wolf was lost from sight.

  25

  The heated glyph pulled Danil from a sweaty dream filled with burning forests, blackened rocks and a tunnel that went deep into the earth. Mouth dry, he awkwardly pushed himself up into sitting position at the prow of the skiff. His hand was a raw ache under its makeshift bandage, and he held it close to his chest as he glanced about.

  Dawn turned the sky pink above the tree canopy and snow-tipped mountains. A lone deer stood on the pebbled bank to Danil’s right, poised for flight as the skiff drifted silently past. Glancing at the tiller, Danil saw weariness under Hafryn’s eyes, but he recognized the determined set of his friend’s jaw, also. Hafryn acknowledged him with a warm look as he expertly navigated past a series of exposed rocks. They’d traveled the river for the entire night, knowing that to stop would surely mean capture.

  Already other skiffs and boats were on the water, carrying goods for trade upstream or setting out to fish in the estuaries and streams feeding off the river. Their occupants studied Danil and Hafryn with unwelcoming or cautious eyes. Hafryn seemed intent on ignoring them, and Danil knew there was no avoiding being seen. Regardless, their journey could come as no surprise to Viren and his party. There was only one place the custodian would go.

  Home, Danil thought with a sudden yearning for the deep gullies and murmuring leylines of Kailon.

  But with the foul glyph on his palm, Danil was no longer sure of his welcome. There was a wrongness to it that made him loathe to enter the sacred groves.

  The crystal glowed apologetic yellow against his tunic. Danil glanced at it with a mix of confusion and betrayal, wondering if it had known what would happen when it directed him to touch the malignant red web. But doing so had released Eyrie’s lost glyphs, and the crystal had been the sole instigator of their escape in the moments afterward.

  Danil lifted the crystal with his uninjured hand. It released a cautious trill as if it, too, was uncertain of belonging. That softened Danil a little, and he stroked its smooth edges. The crystal warmed to pink with striations of gold and something settled within Danil. No matter what lay on his palm, they had to return to Kailon. The leylines were counting on him to keep them safe. The crystal changed to a resolute blue.

  “Here,” Hafryn abruptly said in the quiet, leaning forward to take Danil’s wrist. “Let me see, fala.” He gently upturned Danil’s injured hand and unwound the makeshift bandage.

  The skin about the glyph appeared blistered and raw, but thankfully showed no lines of infection. The glyph itself flooded the skiff with surly red light. It writhed when Danil wiggled his fingers.

  Hafryn dabbed the wound clean, careful not to touch the glyph. A deep frown marred his forehead.

  “It’s of Kaul’s making, isn’t it?” Danil asked, feeling an unnamable dread just from looking upon it.

  Hafryn’s mouth tightened. “Not my field of expertise, I’m afraid. But from the way you described things back at the village—” He stopped to nod grimly.

  “It destroyed Merlias’ glyph,” Danil muttered as a rush of misery gripped him. “Sonnen’s, too.” The loss of the latter he felt keenly. He’d only been part of the House of Corros for a few months, but such belonging had proven a source of comfort in the recent upheavals of his life.

  Danil stared uneasily at the hard, spiked lines of the glyph, wishing that will alone could see it gone. He dreaded what would happen if he inadvertently activated it.

  The glyph darkened with malevolent knowing.

  Suddenly, a roar of flames filled his ears, and for a moment Danil saw the mine shaft leading down to the Temple of Kaul. An angry, primal beat drummed through his veins.

  “Danil!” Hafryn hissed in alarm.

  Danil recoiled, momentarily dizzy.

  Hafryn gripped his shoulder, eyes wide and terrified. “You started to go…somewhere.”

  Sucking in a tight, cloying breath, Danil waited for the thundering in his ears to diminish. The glyph returned to a brooding red.

  “Let’s keep this covered, eh?” Hafryn said, shaken. He bandaged the wound once again with strips of his tunic. “At least until folk more knowledgeable than us can free you of it.”

  Setting his aching hand on his knee, Danil said, “We have to get back to Kailon, Hafryn.” There was something about the Temple of Kaul; something important. The crystal murmured urgently, glowing dark blue in agreement.

  “We will,” Hafryn promised, giving Danil’s shoulder a final squeeze. He returned to the tiller, gazing upstream where small rapids glittered in the early morning light. A handful of boats navigated the river, but none drew close to them with any sort of intent.

  It reminded Danil of their other problem. “Can Viren’s party get ahead of us?”

  Hafryn shook his head, his troubled expression easing slightly. “The mountain passes are too difficult to travel with any sort of speed.” His eyes swept the forest canopy. “Wings are another matter.”

  Danil eyed the trees nervously for owls. He feared what would happen if they were captured once more. “Viren was going to torture you again.”

  Hafryn snorted. “The Eyrie aren’t driven by sentiment. Viren’s no exception.”

  “But you are.”

  Hafryn’s attention flicked back to him, eyes wide with surprise. “I suppose I am,” he mused. “A consequence of living outside my House, I expect.”

  Danil suspected it was more than that
. Based in recent experience, the Eyrie seemed a wholly suspicious and cruel people. Hafryn, however secretive at times, was fiercely loyal and protective of those he loved.

  Hafryn’s mouth pulled downwards as he admitted, “I’d hoped Viren would surprise me. Stupid, even after all this time.” He rubbed his eyes.

  “Anyone who calls you kin—it can have a powerful hold,” Danil murmured.

  Hafryn’s throat worked. “Aye, despite all common sense and past misdeeds.” He shook himself with obvious effort. “I’ve no regrets for being exiled, fala. Not when it has brought me to you.”

  Warmth coiled in Danil’s belly. From the moment he fled the magi in Farin, he’d lurched from one unknown to another. But his one constant sat before him, together with his unlikely friendship with Sonnen, Elania, and Blutark.

  “Your crystal is glowing, fala.”

  It swirled with dots of light against Danil’s chest. Startled, he raised it high. Specks of orange light danced along the length of the skiff like floating embers from a fire. Under the bandage, his palm grew hot.

  “Danil?” Freyna’s startled, disembodied voice came from the crystal.

  He almost dropped it, fingers scrabbling for purchase.

  Hafryn leaned close. “Freyna!” He threw Danil an astonished glance. “How in the gods did you find us?”

  “I believe you found me, my dears.” Amusement threaded her voice. “There are many searching for you.”

  “We’re in Eyrie,” Danil said. He cupped the crystal in both hands.

  “Eyrie!” Freyna gasped. “Sonnen had his suspicions, but—”

  “We need help if you can muster it,” Hafryn interrupted. “There’s no telling how long we have before Viren’s party are upon us again.”

  Danil glanced again at the forest sprawling close to the banks.

  “Of course.” A rustling sound echoed about the skiff, and suddenly a new voice rumbled from the crystal.

  “Hafryn. Danil,” Sonnen rumbled. “It is good to hear you both well.”