There was no point in wallowing over what he could not change. The Lord Ascendant would ask his questions, thank Dayn for delivering the Seed, and send him home. Then I’ll set to restoring my family name. I may not be an Attendant, but I’ll work harder than whoever Misthaven chooses in my place.
“Excuse me, which way to the Crystal Walk?” Dayn called to one of the Ring servants. He believed Eriya's directions were best, but wanted to confirm them. The attendant looked at him curiously.
“Lost your escort have you? That’s not good, not good. Let me see to assigning you another.”
“No, I haven't lost her,” Dayn said hastily. He did not want Eriya in any trouble on his account. “I'm to meet her after the Preceptor Lurec speaks with me.”
Several heads in the dining hall bobbed up in sudden interest, and Dayn winced. Poor lies from poor liars find the hottest coals in the fire. The old saying came unbidden to his mind. “Only the Preceptor has not shown.”
“Not surprising,” the attendant murmured as he pointed. “You see the plants? Follow it to the first left turn, then right up the ramp. Another right will bring you to the Crystal Walk. You should really take an escort, it’s not wise to go without—”
“Thank you,” Dayn said.
As he set out a voice behind him demanded, “Here, you. What did he want?”
Dayn walked even faster from the hall. Passing under the frieze, he saw a scene of tall, fern-like plants with a viper hidden among the leaves. An engraving on the frieze read: “The Kemarahan Grass.” That’s what Eriya said, good. Dayn wondered at a world where grass could grow as tall as a man, it looked completely unnatural. Thankfully, no one pursued him, and he set to recalling the rest of the directions to his quarters.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The Crystal Walk
And so the man stood upon his dying world and wept his vow upon the earth. The heart of his world heard him, and released him to the sky as it died. He went to and fro amidst the torrent, and came upon the broken Ring. The Penitent Ones received him, and saw his pure heart, and taught him of their ways. And they named him Lord Ascendant, for he rose to lead the Ring and watch over the new worlds. Every Force Lord since was named thusly, and swore the vow to serve.
-fragment from the Book of Lost Days
Dayn hoped to see murals or pictures along the way, but the Ring’s halls still offered only unadorned rock. Occasionally he passed some old coat of battered armor with a description of the soul who once wore it. Dayn cared little for such things, and so did not tarry.
The attendant's directions brought him to an especially narrow hallway with ceilings carved high overhead, and one side made entirely of thick crystal. Beyond that lay an endless night of stars. Alcoves were built into the opposite wall, harboring chairs, pillows, unlit candles and incense.
The Crystal Walk held a soothing air, as if centuries of prayer and meditation had seeped into the very stone. Every alcove Dayn passed lay empty, though. He reminded himself that most of the Ringmen slumbered in the dead of morning, although his body still held to the midday of Shard.
The Walk ended in a descending ramp that split into three different directions. Dayn stopped to dwell upon the stars outside. They shone brighter and more numerous than he ever thought possible from the ground. He wondered where the Ring lay in the World Belt, for he could not see Shard, nor the moon. He longed for a glimpse of the torrent, but suspected this to be a poor place to see it.
Dayn caught sight of some movement in the darkness and squinted hopefully. Torrent? No, a shadowed reflection in the crystal. A low voice rasped behind him. “Your presence is forbidden in these halls, Beltbound.”
Dayn spun around, startled to see two hulking Defenders standing within arm's reach. Armor swallowed each man from crown to heel, and the masks they wore made Dayn question the nature of the men beneath. One mask looked like a snarling ridgecat, with spots etched into the visage instead of stripes. The other wore a leering fool's face, twisted into a painful grin.
Dayn cowered, heart pounding. Cold crystal touched his back. “I've gotten lost. If you can show me―”
“Why are you sneaking through Defender halls? What world are you from?”
“I…I’m from Shard. I’m supposed to speak with the Lord Ascendant. She’s supposed to ask me about—” Dayn cut off, remembering Lurec’s words about the Seed.
The two Ringmen glanced at each other. “What would the Force Lord want with a farmer?”
“Nothing, unless…” Fool-mask stepped forward threateningly. “What do you know of Thar’Kur, Beltbound?”
“What? Nothing.” Dayn shifted into Lout in the Square, a deceptive stance for fooling aggressors, and hoped the rest of Milchamah's training felt as effortless. He made his voice match how these Defenders must see him, a moonstruck farmer, offworld for the first time. “Is that a world? Will I see it from the transport?”
The Ringmen looked at each other for a moment, hesitating. For one hopeful second Dayn thought his ruse worked. “He lies!” the fool-mask growled, reaching for Dayn. He moved carelessly, as though Dayn carried a mere walking stick.
Dayn twisted one of his packs around to fill the Defender's grasping hands. He sidestepped and took a middle hold on his staff, crouching into Wreathweaver's Coil. The Defender tossed aside his pack and rushed him again. His wrists were vulnerable.
Dayn swung weakly for his ankles, anticipating that a trained fighter would dodge. The fool-masked Defender leaped mockingly over the feint, just as he had hoped. Dayn noted how the Ring's weak ground slowed his descent.
“Stupid farmer―”
Dayn pulled his torso through the form. For one fearful breath he exposed his back as his momentum carried him around, but then the high end of his staff struck home. The loud crack of silverpine against the Defender's mask echoed through the Crystal Walk. The Ringman stumbled, grasping his head.
Dayn pivoted smoothly to meet the ridgecat-masked Defender, already two steps into a charge. Dayn brought his staff up solidly between the Ringman's legs. The brute grunted, then yanked at Dayn's staff with an enraged growl. The armor covered him entirely. The first Defender regained his feet.
Run.
Dayn freed his staff with a quick twitch of his wrist that made the Defender howl in anger. He shot off down the hall. He would rather be lost in the Ring than cornered.
Hope of escape abandoned Dayn as one of them tackled him from behind. A gauntleted hand closed on his calf so powerfully that Dayn cried out in pain. The Defender slapped away his staff thrust and slammed him into the crystal. Dayn felt the air rush from his lungs on the impact. The Ringman's strength astonished him.
“Now we get to bruise you, farmboy,” the ridgecat-masked Defender said in an ugly voice. A knee in the stomach bent Dayn in two. Black spots swallowed his vision. The Defender pulled him upright and placed a cold hand across Dayn's throat.
“Careful,” fool mask warned in a hoarse voice. “He nearly broke my jaw with that!” Dayn's captor squeezed until he saw dark circles and shapes in the shadows of the Crystal Walk. His staff clattered to the floor. He struggled uselessly, but the Defender's arm felt as though it were carved from the Ring's very stone.
Silver flecks swam in Dayn's vision. Moments from blacking out, his heels drummed on the crystal. Some of the spots in his eyes floated in unison, stirring in one of the shadowed alcoves behind Dayn's assailants.
“Is the Ring's guestright so empty?” A woman's voice filled the Crystal Walk. The grip on his neck spasmed open instantly, and Dayn sucked in air with a gasp. He could breathe again, but the Defender still held him pinned against the crystal wall.
“He claims the Force Lord means to question him.” The voice behind the fool's mask held a defensive quality about it now. “Yet we find him here in Defender halls, instead of waiting to be summoned to the Veiled Throne. Now he’s sneaking away―”
“To tell Thar’Kur all he’s learned of the Ring’s secrets?” the woman cut in. Day
n could just make her out within the alcove. She sat crosslegged, her open hands resting on her knees and two middle fingers touching each thumb. Her silken robe glowed faintly white in the shadows. The woman was barely clothed, yet the fully armored men regarded her as warily as a pack of crater wolves. But Dayn's biggest shock came when she leaned forward to say more. The woman wore a blindfold!
“My blade is not sheathed,” she said warningly. “Release him.”
Only then did Dayn see what lay on the ground before her, concealed in the folds of silk. A long, one-sided blade rested upon the alcove's wool rug. It added a venomous radiance to the woman, and Dayn could not decide which was more dangerous, or beautiful. The metal looked wrought of moonlight and spun rather than forged, reminding him of an elegant lace.
“You would raise your hand against a fellow Defender?” Ridgecat mask demanded, peering back at the woman. The grip on Dayn's neck loosened even more.
“Strange days dance, why should the Ring be spared? Protecting the Belt is my sworn purpose, even if it must be protected from your stupidity. I would not kill you, but you may bleed to death before a healer is found.”
“We'll let the mudfoot go, but not before I show him the price of trespassing in our halls.” The fool-masked Defender drew back a gauntleted fist and swung. Dayn wrenched his head as far to the side as his neck allowed.
Crystal exploded by his left ear. Light flashed throughout the Crystal Walk. A great roaring rush of air filled the hallway. His throat suddenly free, Dayn scrambled away, hands over his ears. The Defender's fist had smashed through the crystal, which looked to be at least five inches thick.
The gusting wind began to lessen. Dayn stared in disbelief as the crystal slowly sealed over the ragged hole, like ice forming over the banks of a river.
“You witless fool, There’s sheath on your gloves!” The ridgecat-masked Defender shouted. “His brains would’ve been scattered across the torrent!”
Instead of replying, the fool-masked Defender began to scream. He sunk to his knees, clutching his hand.
His fellow moved to help him, but never came close.
The woman had finally risen, only to take hold of the Defender from behind as tenderly as an embracing lover, with her delicate sword poised upon his throat. He stood perfectly motionless. Dayn could see the whites of his eyes through the holes in his mask as he searched for the blade resting beneath his chin.
“You know who I am,” the woman whispered in his ear. “I have not seen your face yet, nor your mask. I do not know your voice. You may speak softly in the Ring now, and pray we never meet again.”
“Yes...yes, Pararsha.” The man fell away at a stumble as she released him, and helped his still screaming cohort from the floor.
“See to your friend quickly, or his hand will be wasted!” She called after them down the hall.
Serenity returned to the Crystal Walk as the retreating Defender's howls faded. “Peace if I won't forget your masks,” Dayn muttered. The stars shone clearly once more. Not so much as a crack marred the great crystal panes.
“The crystal used to forge much of the Ring is sentient, in the barest sense of the word. It knows its purpose is to seal. It doesn’t consider intervening flesh.” Dayn turned to his mysterious benefactor, then just as quickly jerked his eyes back to the stars. This new Defender―for she must be that―stood behind him thoughtfully, her reflection faintly visible behind his own. Dayn's face grew hot. He heard the sound of rustling silk.
“I thought Shardians to be well-mannered folk,” she said. Pararsha, the Defender had called her.
Flushing even more, Dayn slowly turned. With a sigh of relief, he saw that her robe was properly closed.
“I do thank you,” Dayn said, staring in spite of himself. The sheer cascades of the woman's robe hinted at hard muscles beneath as she finally removed the blindfold. Pararsha's dark eyes held a challenging fire that looked impossible to quell. Her dreadlocks were the color of aged amber, and her skin reminded Dayn of the way sunrise lit the Silk River near Kohr Springs, when silt floods turned the waters gold.
“Heed me, Shardian. Your presence is not fully understood here, after what happened on your world.” She paused, but Dayn held his silence, unsure of whether to trust this mysterious Defender. Pararsha continued in a voice like frozen chimes as she returned to her alcove, melting back into the shadows. “You would do well to keep your own counsel on the news you carry, and never again walk these halls alone.”
The Defender methodically wrapped her blindfold around her strange blade and closed her eyes. Realizing she would say no more, Dayn reclaimed his scattered possessions and departed with a head full of unanswered questions.
Eriya's directions were fuddled more than ever in his mind. He took the ramp up, caring little which way he went. He could not stop thinking about the two Defenders, and Pararsha's words of warning. Maybe coming here was a mistake. Mother was right, better to throw the Seed back into the Dreadfall. Such were Dayn's thoughts as he searched for Eriya’s landmarks.
He spied movement ahead of him in this latest hall, and his hands tensed on his staff. A frail-looking man in attendant's blue bounded toward him, taking in his staff and clothes with hopeful eyes.
“Dayn? Dayn Ro'Halan of Shard?” the attendant asked breathlessly.
“I've been searching all over for you! You are summoned to the Lord Ascendant!”
Dayn permitted the insistent little man to lead him. They bounded through more passages―Dayn hoped never again to see so many halls―past more attendants who ignored them both, busy about their own duties.
“Here,” the man panted. He wrung his hands and produced a handkerchief from his blue overcoat. “Here we are.”
The last hallway terminated in a major anteroom with a high arched ceiling and large tapestries all around. Two tall, imposing metal doors lay directly across from them, buried in rough stone. The attendant dabbed sweat from his face and composed himself somewhat, then reached for Dayn’s staff. He yanked it away. “What are you doing? Stop that.”
“Young sir, it’s not permitted! No weapons are allowed before the Veiled Throne.” Dayn relented, leaning his staff on the wall next to one of the paintings. Dayn did not want to offend the Lord Ascendant. After all, his favor might gain a kind word back home. The attendant sighed in relief.
Dayn took a moment to brush himself off despite the Ringman’s impatience. His red cloak and his trousers were a lost cause. He could do little to hide the fact that he had bounded through miles of redbranch, not without more time to clean up. Dayn glanced at one of the tapestries absently as he checked his braids for bits of twig.
It showed a lone Defender wearing a hawk-faced mask, wielding his wingline in the torrent. The Ring hovered protectively in the background, but still a safe distance from the field of variegated rock, which threatened to crush the Defender. His wingline disappeared into a house-sized crater on the largest of the rocks. Eerie creatures like rippling pillowcases were also pictured, perched on many of the rocks. They did not look particularly menacing, but barbed tendrils trailed after them, and dead animals were trapped within the rope-like coils. Flowing script at the bottom of the tapestry read 'Crell's Knot'. Looking at the scene, 'knot' looked to be putting it nicely. Most stories claimed that creatures in the torrent were ten times more dangerous than their cousins on the worlds of the Belt, because conditions were so harsh. Dayn supposed that measure held true for Defenders, too, and now he was to meet the leader of them all.
“Please, young sir!” The attendant whispered urgently.
At Dayn’s nod, the man touched his palm to the massive double doors, and they silently swung apart.
Dayn stepped inside a chamber covered with six-sided crystal columns growing haphazardly from every inch of the walls and arched ceiling. Thick as tree trunks and glowing a vivid turquoise, the columns made him feel as though he stood inside a gigantic geode. A great marble disk covered the open floor before him, carved all around wit
h sigils and crests, none of which Dayn recognized. His feet rang upon its surface as the attendant led him further inside. Nassir and Lurec stood upon the disk, waiting. Neither looked at all happy.
A gossamer swath of blue fabric hung from the ceiling, dividing the room in half and separating them from the Veiled Throne. Dayn could only glimpse the barest shadow of the Lord Ascendant, for the room’s sole light source blazed from behind his seat. The shadowed Lord rested in a formidable stillness, like a dark moon eclipsing the sun.
Dayn licked his lips nervously as the attendant directed him forward. The man looked positively terrified. Dayn wondered that his own knees did not tremble, he felt as though he were stepping into a red bear's den.
“Finally, you are here,” Nassir growled under his breath. “You could have at least washed yourself. This wasn’t an invitation to come play in the village tangletoy, farmer.”
Dayn glowered at the Defender as memories of the Wustl Square and Tela's horrible burns came flooding back to him. His hand ached for his staff, leaning uselessly outside.
“He’s here, that is enough,” Lurec whispered with an irritated look. He appeared sullen, likely eager to return back to the study and his precious Seed. Dayn suddenly could not wait to be away from this place.
Six more Defenders entered past the wide-eyed attendant and stood informally off to their right. They watched Dayn imperiously, two women and four men. Dayn wondered if his own knot would be as bad as the picture of the courser outside.
“Do you intend to linger, after performing your task so poorly?” The attendant jumped as the Lord Ascendant's voice sounded behind the blue veil. Dayn chided himself for being surprised. He should hardly blink to discover the voice coming from the Veiled Throne belonged to a woman. An extremely angry woman.
“Apologies, Lord Ascendant!”
The attendant backpedaled out, bowing himself in two. He shot an accusing look at Dayn as the doors closed in front of him. The Lord Ascendant muttered to herself in disgust. “Lingerers.”
The Seedbearing Prince: Part I Page 18