The Seedbearing Prince: Part I

by DaVaun Sanders

  “Moridos!” The voidwalker shouted as Dayn rushed toward Nerlin. Dayn did not look back. He spit on the blade and set to cutting the gravespinner threads for all he was worth.

  “That’s it, that’s it!” The silk was frayed, in a way they were fortunate to be caught in older dens. Dayn finally pulled Nerlin free, then wrenched at his staff. It came loose of the gravespinner den on the first tug.

  “Moridos, I’m here!” Gravespinners covered the voidwalker, his hands were stained with their guts. For every one he crushed, two more appeared to take its place. “Brother, help me!”

  “Let’s go,” Dayn urged. A spinner sunk its mandibles into the voidwalker’s shoulder above the armor. He screamed.

  “Moridos!”

  Distant crashing to the south jerked them into action. They scooped up their packs and bounded in the opposite direction. They left the voidwalker screaming, as the gravespinners set about cocooning him into the redbranch.

  Dayn and Nerlin bounded perhaps half a mile, driven by blind fear. Nerlin’s ragged call drew Dayn up short. “May Shard be forever kind to her sons,” Nerlin rasped. “Look there.”

  A bowl-shaped valley stretched before them for miles, cradling the ruins of some ancient city. Crumbling towers and spires rose from the mist, forming a forest of broken, shadows.

  “What is this place?” Dayn whispered.

  “Terabin Round.” Nerlin said. He cocked his head for a moment, listening for pursuit. Only gravespinner infested lands could offer such total silence. Nothing sounded behind them, not even a cricket's chirp.

  “Not all of the great cities were in the Highlands. This was one of the largest cities in the World Belt, thousands of years ago. Right here in the Mistlands.” Nerlin picked his way down the slope, moving with new confidence. He kept his voice low and spared sharp looks for Dayn whenever one of his exhausted steps sent loose rock tumbling down the slope.

  “None of my lessons from the Elders speak of this place,” Dayn said. The ruins appeared to offer little safety. “We can't be that far away from Wia Wells, and I've never seen this on a map. Why would people leave?”

  “There's more to history than what an Elder sees fit to tell you, boy,” Nerlin replied gruffly. “The torrent could fall on some worlds in the Belt, those days. The people searched out cliffs that could shelter them better, in places like Greenshadow and Sheercrest. Otherwise, this might still be the capital of Shard.”

  “Misthaveners sure wouldn't like to hear that.”

  “No, I imagine they wouldn't.” Redbranch stopped well short of a once proud wall, which lay in ruins beneath the mist, crunching underfoot. In past glory, the city easily held ten times the splendor of Misthaven. “I was a bit of an explorer in my day, before Shard saw fit to slow me down.”

  Dayn heard a hollow wooden thunk. He could not see below his knees in the mist, but knew Nerlin had tapped his wooden boot. “Makes you wonder, doesn't it? How different things would be if Shardians lasted longer here? Maybe we would boss all the councils around, and Misthaven would be the village with bad luck.”

  The notion almost made Dayn laugh. He wondered how much exploring Nerlin had done in his past. “Are there other cities like this on Shard?”

  “Not a one. I never meant to cut through the nidus to reach this place again. I approached it from the northern side, years ago. There’s good land all around here, enough for Wia Wells, Southforte and Kohr Springs combined. But Terabin Round might as well be on another world, with all of the gravespinners surrounding it.”

  Dayn nodded, his eyes fixed on the ruins. The buildings were all crafted from the same white stonework, which glittered proudly in the moonlight. Only a few of the taller structures still stood, with crumbling holes in their upper heights, large enough to fit a wagon through. Dayn supposed those were old wounds from the torrent.

  “I mean to thank you for back there,” Nerlin said. “I’ll meet my end one day, but watching my bones get sucked out of me like soup is the last way I’d choose. I almost feel bad for that thing chasing us.”

  “That’s because you didn’t see what he almost did to you,” Dayn said. “And think nothing of it. If it weren’t for you, we’d never have gotten away from them on the road. Were they...in your head, too?” Nerlin nodded. “How did you free yourself?”

  “I honestly couldn’t say. The only thought that came into my head was remembering how badly my wife wanted to plant, before the fever took her. Twelve years ago, and I’m still sitting on fallow ground. I thought to myself, ‘you can’t die on this road. What would she think?’ I suppose that’s what kept them from splitting my head open, I didn’t want them to badly enough. She helped me remember it wasn’t my time to go.”

  “Peace keep her wreath,” Dayn said quietly. They fell silent for a while, taking in the broken city.

  Even in ruin, Terabin Round held more grandeur than Misthaven could ever hope for. Buildings were sometimes crowned with domes, or precise six-sided spires. Dayn felt a connection to this place he could not explain, and found himself constantly angling his neck upward to see the heights of every tower they walked past.

  Nerlin led him across a main thoroughfare wider than the Wustl Square. Every so often he gave Dayn a considering glance. They heard no sound save their own breathing and muffled footfalls.

  “You’re not as soft as I thought,” Nerlin said finally. A collapsed building lay in their chosen road, with no clue as to whether it fell yesterday or a hundred years ago. Jagged stone of every size filled the street. As Nerlin slowed to pick the easiest way through the rubble, his next words took Dayn by surprise. “You truly mean to cut your luck in the Course of Blades?”

  “I did. I mean I do. Peace, I don't know what I mean!” Dayn grimaced. “A week ago, that's all I wanted.” The farmer waited as though he would actually hear him out, so Dayn continued. “There will never be an Attendant from Wia Wells again, thanks to me. The Village Council won’t see me fit to haul water after this. One day, I could have gone to Montollos for the staff, but now...coursing doesn't even seem like a good idea anymore.”

  “Time will tell,” Nerlin replied. He abruptly turned left into a side street, leaving Dayn to wonder at his private thoughts. Crumbling walls lined the narrow way, threatening collapse at any moment. Nerlin knew his way around, and took pains to follow a circuitous route.

  “You don't think we've escaped them, do you?” Dayn’s heart sank when the farmer shook his head no.

  “You heard them in the redbranch. They don’t bound, boy. Every offworlder I know of labors on Shardian ground.” Nerlin scratched his chin. “They didn't look tired at all to me. No bet on if the spinners slowed them down, either.”

  “I hope they’re both wrapped in silk for good,” Dayn said. He did not remember seeing any cuts on the skin of either voidwalker after the redbranch. They may not even breathe, he reminded himself. The Defenders in the Square did not tire after fighting a fire, and quelling a riot. If those were ordinary men, what further strengths did the voidwalkers possess?

  Nerlin stopped and peered into the recesses of a building with somewhat sturdier walls. “We'll wait here until morning, and then strike out again. Let the gravespinners do what they do best.”

  “But the Ringmen will be gone by then!” Dayn protested. Things would get better, once he was rid of the Seed. He clung to the notion, regardless of how foolish it seemed. “You heard the voidwalkers, back on the road. The village might have been burned down because of me! If we don’t get it back to Lurec, all of that was for nothing.”

  Nerlin kissed his teeth in exasperation. “They warned me you were stubborn, but this is bordering on rock-stupid. I'd wager those Preceptors couldn't jump a transport fast enough after their little picnic in the Mistlands.” He eyed Dayn's pack. “Whatever that thing is, it's not worth waking up in a cocoon. And if those fine fellows from the road survive, I intend to see them coming from a good long way off. We wait.”

  “Morning, then.” Dayn said r
eluctantly. He followed as Nerlin dipped inside. He really had no other choice, these wilds were completely unknown to him.

  Little of the building's interior revealed itself to Dayn's eyes, but at Nerlin's call he padded toward some stairs near the wall. Most of the second floor and upper walls had given way under the weight of the collapsed roof, but a portion remained intact enough to walk upon.

  The entire top now lay open to the stars, but more importantly, they could see nearly half a mile in every direction across the ruins. Old char marks marred the white rock in one corner, proof of Nerlin's past campfires.

  The farmer saw him notice and shook his head. “Not tonight.” Dayn pulled his cloak tighter and suppressed a shiver. His clothes were sodden after running through the mist, and Terabin Round's white stone seemed to suck the heat from his body. Without panic surging through him, aches and pains announced themselves throughout his limbs, and every cut and scrape bickered for attention.

  “This is yours,” Nerlin said. He thrust the spare pack toward Dayn. “I'm tired of carrying it.”

  He returned to his silent watch of the surrounding ruins as Dayn opened the bag. His eyebrows climbed as he took in a harness, wingline...my coursing gear!

  “I don't understand,” Dayn said numbly. “I could get skinned just for having most of this.”

  “Your father gathered what he could from the Dreadfall,” Nerlin replied. “He doesn't know a lick about coursing, but there are good cliffs near Greenshadow. He thought this might help your summer pass quickly.”

  Dayn closed the pack, flooded with guilt over his father's parting kindness. “He would have let me go if I'd only asked,” he mumbled. Laman had even packed the sealer. “He stood by me at every turn. He let me train with Joam, and my mother hates the staff, Nerlin. I made him look like the biggest fool in the Mistlands.”

  “The Village Council is a fine assortment of fools,” Nerlin said judiciously. “But Laman is one of the most fair minded farmers I’ve known. You could have done better by him, boy.”

  “I will.” Being rid of the Seed loomed that much more important in his mind now. “As the mist rises, somehow I will.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The Leap Point

  The Seedbearer laughed and rain fell to quench the forest. Seeds sprouted and took leaf to catch his footfalls, and flowers bloomed when he came near, in case his gaze might fall on them.

  -Master Irwin Dosay's Compendium of Seedlore

  They rested on the caved in roof for some time. Dayn worked his ankle to keep it from growing stiff, while Nerlin kept a silent vigil of the surrounding ruins. A frenzied scrabbling in the distance pulled Dayn from his thoughts.

  Nerlin stared off to the west, worry etching deep lines into his brow. “What new trickery is this?” he muttered.

  “Shardians!” A roar echoed among the buildings. “Show yourselves!”

  “Moridos,” Dayn whispered. Fear tightened his chest, but Nerlin just shrugged.

  “Guess his brother didn’t make it.”

  The redbranch lining the valley rim roiled and twisted with unnatural movement for a mile across. Dayn's mouth dried at the thought of how many voidwalkers hunted them now. Nerlin glanced at Dayn's pack again. “Still not too late to toss it.”

  “No,” Dayn said firmly. “I have to return it.” He locked eyes with the farmer, who sighed before hefting his own pack.

  In the distance, the tree line suddenly erupted. Confused animals tumbled down the slope and scattered into Terabin Round, several herds of antelope, fluttering birds, even a yowling ridgecat.

  A seething mass of gravespinners rushed after them, a river of hard, shiny bodies on spindly black legs. They easily numbered in the hundreds, enough to churn the mist to froth. Seeing so many made Dayn's skin creep. The spinners lunged halfheartedly at the animals in their midst, but seemed intent only on fleeing the redbranch.

  “Peace protect us. Even the animals are afraid of them,” Dayn whispered. The thought of another voidwalker encounter left him sick with dread. “I don't know if I can face them again!”

  “Me neither. We cannot bound all the way to Misthaven.” After a few tense moments of thought, Nerlin turned back to the steps. “I have an idea. This way!”

  The old farmer scampered down, and Dayn followed, perplexed at his words. He kept a wary eye out as he followed Nerlin’s sprint through the ruins of Terabin Round. Thankfully they crossed paths with nothing save a terrified antelope. The poor creature bounded over a wall as soon as they chanced upon it.

  “Shardians!” Moridos’s voice thundered from every corner. “Face me, cowards!”

  After several twists and turns through the streets, the farmer stopped. An impressive circular plaza spread before them, large enough to fit their entire village with room to spare. The mist here streamed over their boots, pulled thin by an unseen current.

  Beneath their feet, the white stone looked flawless. Diamond-shaped tiles spiraled inward toward a shadowed hole in the center about twenty paces across. Mist from the entire plaza poured into it.

  “Peace send it still works!” Nerlin exclaimed. He ducked into a small, lone structure on the edge of the plaza, with Dayn fast behind. Pure darkness swallowed Dayn as he followed the farmer down a curving hallway.

  “Do you mean for us to hide in here?”

  “No more hiding.” The sound of water pouring onto stone reached Dayn's ears. He heard the distinct leathery flop of an empty waterskin being tossed to the ground.

  “What...what are you doing?” Dayn blurted out. “We need that!”

  “Saving your hide. Keep quiet while I figure this out. I know it's dark, but find that sealer. What I wouldn't give for my lantern back.”

  Dayn dug through his pack and quickly found the wooden cask. He could only hear faint splashing in the dark. He began to wonder if the voidwalker’s assault on their minds had stolen Nerlin’s wits.

  “I...I have the sealer, there's more than half left.”

  “Good. You’ll need it all.” Blue and green light suddenly illuminated the center of the room. Water rippled upon a circular slab of stone that stood waist high, glowing brilliantly. A mixture of relief and triumph shone on Nerlin's face as the stone surface grew steadily brighter. Dayn backed away from the glowing water despite the farmer’s ease.

  “What is that?”

  “It’s called a leap point,” Nerlin explained, as he gingerly touched the stone surface. Light jumped to his fingers in an electric texture of green and reddish bronze. The farmer worked his fingers over the water as though he were writing, or painting with finger dyes. The thin layer of moisture rippled outward in three perfect circles across the slab, and he stepped back.

  “Before the Ringmen found the transports, traders used leap points to travel short distances through the Belt―or great distances on a single world. Peace only knows what the old builders made them for in the first place. If this works, I can send you to Greenshadow in a blink. No need to bother with Misthaven, now that the Ringmen are gone. Stand back, it works the same as a transport’s vapor array.”

  The water abruptly jumped from the slab, gliding outward into the chamber in a spray that dampened Dayn's face. Countless pinpoints of vapor, finer than his eyes could account for, filled the entire room, floating in the air. They rippled through a range of colors, reflecting off the walls in a rhythm akin to a heartbeat.

  “Peace,” Dayn breathed. He recalled stories of rainbows upon other worlds or in the torrent, but never imagined he would stand in the middle of one. Colors swirled before his face as the droplets floated away from his breath.

  “We’ll need to find a spot away from the northern road, but not so far that you'll get lost ,” Nerlin said. He held his fist outstretched above the stone and rotated it slowly. The fine spray pinwheeled oddly throughout the chamber, following the turn of his hand like a flock of birds.

  He slowly pulled back, as if readying to break a man’s nose with his open palm. Dayn gasped as th
e fine spray rippled, then finally coalesced into an image of a firmly packed road. Majestic silverpine towered on either side.

  “So it's like a map?” Dayn asked. Nerlin nodded, intent on the image, guiding it with his hand to follow the road closer to Misthaven. The vapor painted such a clear image, Dayn could almost see the needles on the individual trees. A ruffle of movement passed through the scene, blurring it, then disappeared. “What was that?”

  “I'm not sure. Let's see.” Nerlin pointed two fingers at the slab and circled his wrist. The scene shimmered, pulling away from the road to show more of the surrounding forest. “There’s not enough water to keep this up for long.”

  “Peace, look there! It's a transport!”

  “Blind me, but you have the most upside down luck I've ever seen,” Nerlin groaned. “To find the Preceptors, just as they’re leaving for the Ring. Peace!” More details came into focus as Nerlin manipulated the vapor. The transport reminded Dayn of a dragonfly with no wings, but flattened and angular. A small crystal partition rested between the 'eyes', but drab, gray metal formed the rest of the long hull.

  Nerlin made a twisting motion with his wrist, and let his hands fall. The vapor remained centered on the transport. Dayn's eyes widened. He could see Lurec's face through the front crystal of the craft! The image began to brighten enough to make them both squint.

  “Dawn’s coming,” Dayn said. The night had felt like an eternity that would never end. “Those grassy hills beneath them are west of the road from Kohr Springs. Maybe they’re coming back to Wia Wells.”

  “No, see the angle? They’re climbing.” Nerlin looked at the water droplets around them in consternation. They were steadily evaporating, the image growing dim at the edges of the room. Whatever powered the ancient leap point, the water Nerlin needed would soon be spent.

  “If this thing can send me to Greenshadow—”

  “Shoot you, like a slingshot.”