Fjon smiled, then disappeared into the throng of people.
As the darkness closed in. Hrathen discarded all questions. Instead his view and consciousness was filled with Sarene's worried face. The woman who had destroyed him. Because of her, he had finally rejected the lies he had believed all of his life.
She would never know that he had come to love her.
"Leave me," Lukel said with a pained tone. "I'm nearly dead-see to the oth"
Goodbye, my princess, he thought. Jaddeth, be merciful to my soul. I only did the best I could.
Sarene watched the light fading from Hrathen's eyes.
"No!" she cried, pressing her hand against his wound in a futile attempt to stop the blood. "Hrathen, don't you dare leave me alone here!"
He didn't respond. She had fought with him over the fate of two countries. but had never really known who he was. She never would.
A startled scream shocked Sarene back into the tangible world. People gathered around her, upset by the sight of a dying man in the street. Stunned, Sarene realized she had become the center of attention. She lifted her hand, pulled away as if to hide, but it was too late. Several bare-chested forms appeared from an alley to investigate the disturbance. One of them had blood on his face, the sign of a broken nose.
Fjon slipped away from the crowd, exulting at the ease of his first kill. They had told him that it would be simple: He needed only to knife a single man, and then he would be admitted into the monastery of Rathbore, where he would be trained as an assassin.
You were right, Hrathen, he thought. They did give me a new way to serve faddeth's empire-an important one.
How ironic that the man he had been ordered to kill had turned out to be Hrathen himself. How had Wyrn known that Fjon would find Hrathen here, on the streets of Teod of all places? Fjon would probably never know; Lord Jaddeth moved in ways beyond the understanding of men. But Fjon had performed his duty. His period of penance was over.
With a merry step, Fjon went back to his inn and ordered breakfast.
ers.
"Stop whining." Raoden said, drawing Aon Ten in the air above the wounded Lukel. He crossed it with the Chasm line, and the wound in the merchant's leg resealed instantly. Not only did Raoden know the proper modifiers this time, but his Aons had the power of Elantris behind them. With the resurrection of the city, AonDor had regained its legendary strength.
Lukel looked down, experimentally bending his leg and feeling where the cut had been. Then he frowned. "You know, you could have left a scar. I had to go through an awful lot to get that wound-you should have seen how courageous
I was. My grandchildren are going to be disappointed that I don't have any scars to show them."
"They'll live," Raoden said, rising and walking away.
"What's wrong with you?" Lukel said from behind. "I thought we won."
We won, Raoden thought. but Ifailed. They had searched the city-there was no sign of Sarene, Dilaf, or Hrathen. Raoden had captured a straggling Derethi soldier and demanded to know where they were, but the man had pled ignorance, and Raoden had released him with disgust.
He brooded, watching the people celebrate. Despite the deaths, despite the near-complete destruction of Kae, they were happy. Fjorden had been cast out and Elantris had returned. The days of the gods had come again. Unfortunately, Rao-den couldn't enjoy the sweetness of his victory. Not without Sarene.
Galladon approached slowly, ambling away from the group of Elantrians. The mass of sliver-skinned people were, for the most part. disoriented. Many of them had been Hoed for years, and knew nothing of current events.
"They're going to be-" the Dula began.
"My lord Raoden!" a voice suddenly interrupted-a voice Raoden recognized. "Ashe?" he asked anxiously, seeking out the Seon.
"Your Majesty!" Ashe said, zipping across the courtyard. "A Seon just spoke with me. The princess! She is in Teod, my lord. My kingdom is under attack as well!"
"Teod?" Raoden asked, dumbfounded. "How in Domi's name did she get there?"
Sarene backed away, wishing desperately for a weapon. The townspeople noticed Dilaf and his warriors and, seeing the Fjordells' odd twisted bodies and malevolent eyes, scattered in fright. Sarene's reflexes urged her to join them, but such a move would only put her directly in Dilaf's hands. The small monk's warriors quickly fanned out to cut off Sarene's escape.
Dilaf approached-his face stained with drying blood, his bare torso sweating in Teod's cold air, the intricate patterns beneath the skin on his arms and chest bulging. his lips curved in a wicked smile. At that moment, Sarene knew that this man was the most horrifying thing she would ever see.
Raoden climbed to the top of Elantris's wall, taking the steps two at a time, his restored Elantrian muscles moving more quickly and tirelessly than even those of his pre-Shaod self.
"Sule!" Galladon called with concern, rushing up behind him.
Raoden didn't respond. He topped the wall, pushing his way through the crowds of people who stood looking over the remains of Kae. They parted as they
realized who he was, some kneeling and mumbling "Your Majesty." Their voices were awed. In him they saw a return to their former lives. Hopeful, luxurious lives filled with ample food and time. Lives nearly forgotten over a decade of tyranny.
Raoden gave them no heed. continuing until he stood on the northern wall, which overlooked the broad blue Sea of Fjorden. On the other side of those waters lay Teod. And Sarene.
"Seon," Raoden ordered, "show me the exact direction Teod's capital is from this point."
Ashe hovered for a moment, then moved to a spot in front of Raoden, marking a point on the horizon. "If you wanted to sail to Teod, my lord, you would go in this direction."
Raoden nodded, trusting the Seon's innate sense of direction. He began to draw. He constructed Aon Tia with frantic hands, his fingers tracing patterns he had learned by rote, never thinking they would do any good. Now, with Elantris somehow feeding the Aons' strength, lines no longer simply appeared in the air when he drew-they exploded. Light streamed from the Aon, as if his fingers were ripping tiny holes through a mighty dam, allowing only some of the water to squirt through.
"Stile!" Galladon said, finally catching up to him. "Sule. what is going on?" Then, apparently recognizing the Aon, he cursed. "Doloken, Raoden. you don't know what you're doing!"
"I am going to Teod," Raoden said, continuing to draw.
"But sule," Galladon protested. "You yourself told me how dangerous Aon Tia can be. What was it you said? If you don't know the exact distance you need to travel, you could be killed. You can't go into this blind. Kolo?"
"It's the only way. Galladon," Raoden said. "I have to at least try."
Galladon shook his head. laying a hand on Raoden's shoulder. "Sule, a meaningless attempt won't prove anything but your stupidity. Do you even know how far it is to Teod?"
Raoden's hand fell slowly to his side. He was no geographer; he knew Teod was about four days' sail, but he had no practical knowledge of how many miles or feet that was. He had to work a frame of reference into Aon Tia, give it some sort of measurement, so that it knew how far to send him.
Galladon nodded, clapping Raoden on the shoulder. "Prepare a ship!" the Dula ordered to a group of soldiers-the last remnants of the Elantris City Guard.
It will be too late! Raoden thought with sorrow. What good is power, what good is Elantris, if I can't use it to protect the one I love?
"One million, three hundred twenty-seven thousand. forty-two," said a voice from behind Raoden.
Raoden turned with surprise. Adien stood a short distance away, his skin shining with a silvery Elantrian glow. His eyes betrayed none of the mental retardation that had eursed him since birth: instead they stared lucidly ahead.
"Adien," Raoden said with surprise. "You're…"
The young man, looking strikingly like Lukel now that he was healed, stepped forward. "I… I feel like my entire life has been a dream, Raoden. I remember ev
erything that happened. But. 1 eouldn't interact-I couldn't say anything. That's changed now, but one thing remains the same. My mind… I've always been able to figure numbers…"
"Footsteps." Raoden whispered.
"One million. three hundred twenty-seven thousand, forty-two," Adien repeated. "That is how many steps it is to Teod. Measure my stride. and use that as your unit."
"Hurry, my lord!" Ashe exclaimed with fear. "She's in danger. Mai-he's watching the princess now. He says she's surrounded. Oh, Domi! Hurry!"
"Where, Seon!" Raoden snapped, kneeling down and measuring Adien's stride with a strip of cloth.
"Near the docks, my lord," Ashe said. "She's standing on the main road leading to the docks!"
"Adien!" Raoden said, drawing a line in his Aon that duplicated the length of the boy's stride.
"One million, three hundred twenty-six thousand, eight hundred and five." Adien said. "That will take you to the docks." He looked up, frowning. "I… I'm not sure how I know that. I went there as a child once, but…"
It'll have to be enough, Raoden thought. He reached up and wrote a modifier beside his Aon, telling it to transport him one million, three hundred twenty-six thousand, eight hundred and five lengths of the line.
"Sule. this is insane!" Galladon said.
Raoden looked at his friend, nodded in agreement, then with a broad stroke drew the Chasm line across his Aon.
"You are in charge of Arelon until I return, my friend," Raoden said as Aon Tia began to shake. spewing light before him. He reached up and grabbed the center of the trembling Aon, and his fingers latched on to it, as if it were solid.
'dos Domi, he prayed, if you have ever heard my prayers before, direct my path 710W. Then, hoping Ashe had the angle correct, he felt the Aon's power rush through and envelop his body. A moment later the world disappeared.
Sarene pressed her back against the hard brick wall. Dilaf approached with gleeful eyes. He crept forward, his line of monks closing on Sarene.
It was over. There was nowhere for her to run.
Suddenly, a spray of light crashed into one of the monks, throwing the creature into the air. Stupefied, Sarene watched the monk's body as it arced before her, then fell to the ground with a thud. The other monks paused, stunned.
A figure dashed between the surprised line of monks, scrambling toward Sarene. His skin was silvery, his hair a blazing white, his face…
"Raoden?" she asked with shock.
Dilaf growled, and Sarene yelped as the priest dove at Raoden, moving supernaturally quickly. Yet somehow Raoden reacted just as quickly. spinning and backing away before Dilaf's attack. The king's hand whipped out, scrawling a quick Aon in the air.
A burst of light shot from the Aon, the air warping and twisting around it. The bolt took DiIaf in the chest and exploded, throwing the monk backward. Dilaf crashed into the side of a building and collapsed to the ground. Then, however, the priest groaned, stumbling back to his feet.
Raoden cursed. He dashed the short distance and grabbed Sarene. "Hold on." he ordered, his free hand tracing another Aon. The designs Raoden crafted around Aon Tia were complex, but his hand moved dexterously. He finished it just as Dilaf's men reached them.
Sarene's body lurched, much as it had when Dilaf had brought them to Teod. Light surrounded her. shaking and pulsing. A brief second later the world returned. Sarene stumbled in confusion. falling against the familiar Teoish cobblestones.
She looked up with surprise. About fifty feet down the street she could see the bare chests of Dilaf's monks standing in a confused circle. One of them raised a hand, pointing at Raoden and Sarene.
"Idos Domi!" Raoden cursed. "I forgot what the books said! The Aons grow weaker the farther one goes from Elantris."
"You can't get us home?" Sarene asked, climbing to her feet.
"Not by Aon, I can't," Raoden said. Then, taking her hand, he started running.
Her mind was so full of questions the entire world seemed a confused jumble. What had happened to Raoden? How had he recovered from the wound Dilaf gave him? She choked the questions back. It was enough that he had come.
Frantic, Raoden searched for a means of escape. Perhaps alone he could have outrun Dilaf's men, but never with Sarene in tow. Their street emptied onto the docks, where Teod's large warships were ponderously moving from the bay to engage a fleet bearing Fjorden's flag. A man in royal green robes stood at the far side of the docks, conversing with a couple of adjuncts. King Eventeo-Sarene's father. The king didn't see them, instead turning to walk in a rushed step down a side alley.
"Father!" Sarene yelled out, but the distance was too far.
Raoden could hear footsteps approaching. He spun. thrusting Sarene behind
him, and raised his arms to begin an Aon Daa with each hand. The Aons were weaker in Teod, but they weren't ineffectual.
Dilaf held up a hand, slowing his men. Raoden froze, unwilling to commit himself to a final battle unless he had to. What was Dilaf waiting for?
Bare-chested monks poured from alleys and streets. Dilaf smiled, waiting as his warriors gathered. Within a few minutes his group had grown from twelve to fifty, and Raoden's odds had plummeted from bad to hopeless.
"Not much of a rescue." Sarene muttered, stepping forward to stand next to Raoden, staring down the group of monstrosities with a contemptuous air.
Her defiant irony brought a smile to Raoden's lips. "Next time, I'll remember to bring an army with me."
Dilaf's monks charged. Raoden completed his duplicate Aons-sending out a pair of powerful energy blasts-then quickly began drawing again. Yet, holding to his waist with tense hands, Sarene could see that Raoden wouldn't finish before the supernaturally quick warriors arrived.
The docks shook with a powerful force. Wood cracked and stone shattered, and an explosion of wind blasted across her. She had to cling to Raoden's somehow more stable body to keep from being thrown to the ground. When she finally dared open her eyes, they were surrounded by hundreds of silver-skinned forms.
"Aon Daa!" Galladon ordered with a booming voice.
Two hundred hands raised in the air. scribbling Aons. About half of them made mistakes, their Aons evaporating. Enough finished, however, to send a wave of destruction toward Dilaf's men that was so powerful it tore completely through the first few monks.
Bodies collapsed and others were thrown backward. The remaining monks paused in shock, staring at the Elantrians.
Then the Dakhor scattered in an offensive charge, turning from Raoden and Sarene to attack this new foe.
Dilaf was the only one of his men who thought to duck. The rest, confidently arrogant in their strength, simply allowed the powerful blasts to hit them.
Fools! Dilaf thought as he rolled away. Every Dakhor was blessed with special skills and powers. They all had increased strength and nearly indestructible bones, but only Dilaf bore the power that made him resistant to attacks by the Dor-a power that had required the deaths of fifty men to create. He felt. rather than saw, as his men were torn apart by the Elantrians' attack.
The remaining monks were horribly outnumbered. They attacked bravely,
trying to kill as many of the vile Elantrians as they could. They had been trained well. They would die fighting. Dilaf yearned to join them.
But he did not. Some thought him mad, but he was not a fool. The screams in his head demanded revenge, and there was still a way left. One way to get vengeance on the Teoish princess and her Elantrians. One way to fulfill Wyrn's commands. One way to turn the tide of this battle.
Dilaf scrambled away. stumbling slightly as a bolt of energy sprayed against his back. His bone wardings held, and he was left unharmed by the attack.
When he had entered the docks a few moments before, he had seen King Eventeo disappear down a side alley. He now dashed toward that same alley.
His prey would follow.
"Raoden!" Sarene said. pointing at the fleeing Dilaf.
"Let him go," Raoden said. "He can do no
more damage."
"But that's the way my father went!" Sarene said, tugging him toward the alley.
She's right, Raoden thought with a curse. He took off behind Dilaf. Sarene waved him on. and he left her behind. letting his newly reconditioned Elantrian legs carry him to the alleyway at an extraordinary speed. The other Elantrians didn't see him go, but continued to fight the monks.
Raoden entered the alleyway, barely puffing. Dilaf tackled him a second later. The monk's powerful body appeared out of a shadowed corner, slamming Raoden into the alley wall.
Raoden cried out, feeling his ribs crack. Dilaf backed away, unsheathing his sword with a smile. The priest lunged forward, and Raoden barely rolled away in time to avoid being impaled. As it was, Dilaf's attack sliced through the flesh of Raoden's left forearm, spilling silvery-white Elantrian blood.
Raoden gasped as pain washed through his arm. This pain, however, was weak and dull compared to his former agonies. He forgot it quickly. rolling again as Dilaf 's blade sought his heart. If his heart stopped again. Raoden would die. Elantrians were strong and quick-healing, but they were not immortal.
As he dodged. Raoden searched through his memory of Aons. Thinking quickly, he rolled to his feet, rapidly scribbling Aon Edo before him. It was a simple character, requiring only six strokes, and he finished it before Dilaf could make a third attack. The Aon flashed briefly, and then a thin wall of light appeared between himself and Dilaf.
Dilaf tested the wall hesitantly with the tip of his sword, and the wall resisted. The more one pressed against it, the more it drew from the Dor. pressing back with equal strength. Dilaf could not reach him.
Casually. Dilaf reached up and tapped the wall with his bare hand. His palm
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