The Seedbearing Prince: Part I
Page 43
“No!” Somewhere above him, he heard Moridos, but a massive rumbling sound drowned out the voidwalker’s shout.
“Clusterthorn!” Dayn slipped out into a huge vertical shaft. The space looked to stretch the height of the entire tower. Hundreds of spans below him lay the blades of a massive fan. Each a hundred feet wide, the metal blades whirled fast enough to cut him in two. He plummeted straight for them.
Dayn dug for his wingline. One good throw was all he needed. Plenty of ledges stood within reach of his talon. He twisted his torso, giving his back to the spinning blades below.
Moridos spilled out of the chute above, chest shattered and bleeding. The voidwalker fell after him. His eyes blazed with rage as he watched Dayn’s toss.
The talon struck true, latching onto another of the shaft’s crawlspace openings in a shower of sparks. Dayn’s wingline pulled taut. He swung sharply to one side, and smashed into the wall of the shaft. His ribs quaked with the impact, but he managed to cling to the edge of a rusted panel, though the metal sliced into his fingers.
The voidwalker flipped himself in the air like a cat. His hand reached out for a metal ledge just in time to catch himself, howling in pain. The voidwalker began to pull himself up and into another crawlspace.
Dayn eyed the wingline above him. His talon clutched near another vent, but he did not climb for it. He let go of his handhold and pushed off the wall. The wingline held him as he swung back across the shaft to where the wounded voidwalker was pulling himself up.
His boots smashed into the voidwalker’s carapace right at the ribs. Pieces of shattered armor flew everywhere, and Moridos lost his grip. The voidwalker swept downward, screaming. Dayn held on to his wingline and looked in time to see Moridos hit the spinning fan below.
“Shardian!” The entire tower shuddered. The fan continued spinning, but sparks flared as Moridos continued to descend, striking more blades beyond the first. The tower pounded the voidwalker’s armor relentlessly, grinding him to gibbets. Moridos screamed and screamed. Dayn averted his eyes. When the voidwalker’s deathscream finally rushed over him, he could not help but mutter peace’s prayer over the monster. It was a horrible way to die.
He began to climb his wingline, exhausted. A clatter of boots jerked his eyes up. Nassir appeared, clutch held at the ready. “Shardian! Peace be praised. I felt the scream and thought the worst.”
The Defender pulled him up. “He said you were dead,” Dayn rasped. “I believed him.”
“No, the bondleader fled the tower. There are Prevailers everywhere outside.” Nassir examined Dayn closely, then clapped him on the shoulder. “The evidence of a slain voidwalker in the bowels of their own tower, and the Seed still to show. When the worlds learn of this, they will finally be forced to accept the truth. One way or another, Shardian, you’ve completed your task.”
The Defender’s words finally penetrated Dayn’s exhausted thoughts. He means it. I can go home. “We did everything, didn’t we? Everything the Lord Ascendant asked.”
“Everything and more. No reason to stand around talking. Let’s leave this place. There’s still the Consuls to consider.” Nassir led him back into the tower. “After this, the Regents will no doubt join them. Your deeds will be on every tongue in Montollos by week’s end. Dayn Ro’Halan, Seedbearer. The Binder of Worlds, the Beltbound will call you. The Regents are fond of naming things.”
“I’m sure you’ll be around to remind me that I’m just a farmer.” Dayn allowed himself a small smile. The fear of being chased, of Moridos’s vengeance...all of it was finally gone. More than anything, he just wanted to rest.
Nassir glanced back at him, a touch of warmth in his eyes. “We’re nearly to the other side of the tower.”
Dayn felt like weeks had passed since he first staggered out of the Rain Shoppe. He was filthy, his once-fine Aran clothes caked in dust.
“I'm surprised it isn't crawling with Prevailers by now.”
Nassir snorted. “The Regents do not watch over all of Montollos equally.”
Up ahead Dayn spied red lights, flickering dully. “The way out,” he exhaled in relief. “I can see it up ahead.”
He walked full on into the Defender’s back. Why did he stop, we’re... Squinting, Dayn suddenly understood. Those were red eyes glowing, blinking in the dark. A flash of amber near the ground confirmed his fears. The fleshweep!
The Defender drew his sword and rushed into the dark, angling to Dayn's left. The eyes blazed red, as they swung to follow him, leaving streaks across Dayn’s vision. He heard a voidwalker snarl right before a crash of metal on cold stone.
“Run, Shardian!” Dayn found himself moving, willing his legs toward the sounds of struggle. “The entrance is behind the weep!”
Dayn veered away from the red eyes as they whipped back and forth, holding his hands straight out before him so he did not kiss a wall running at full speed. The fleshweep roared, a terrifying sound like cartilage being rent from the bone. It stood to his back now. He heard metal crash again. The Defender shouted in triumph.
A cool surface embraced Dayn's fingertips. He followed the wall away from the fight. Indistinct gray in the distance led him away from the darkened room. The outline of a door revealed itself, and he ran for it, ashamed of his own fear.
Finally his hand felt an edge, a handle that must be part of the larger portal. Almost out! The voidwalker shouted behind him in what sounded like frustration―Nassir was getting the best of him. We're going to make it, we are―
Something slammed into Dayn from behind and sent him sprawling. He blinked dully as his eyes strained to adjust to the Montollos sky, nearing twilight. A huge hole stood in place of the tower portal, and steel-banded chunks of stone lay all around him, strewn about like a child's blocks.
A famed Montollene sunset painted the sky in beautiful reds and golds. The distant towers looked like half submerged reeds in some fiery lake. But the beauty was lost on Dayn, for all he could see was the horrible amber glow of another weep’s underbelly.
The voidwalker perched on the creature's back wore dark armor from head to heel, including a black helmet that looked like a worn scarab shell. The fleshweep's wide head boasted six eyes, and bony protrusions that could have been teeth poking from its purple skin. Two smaller appendages with dripping hooks at their ends moved incessantly, like an insect's antennae.
The voidwalker's thrall rushed over Dayn so powerfully that all he could think of was escape. He scrambled back mindlessly.
Nassir's warning came too late. “Dayn, stop! The one behind you!”
Horrible heat and light enveloped him in a rush. Foul juices slicked over his clothes, and pressed his pack tightly against his body. Dayn felt a horrible pain in his knees and shoulders, as if starving wolves were fighting over his limbs.
He held his breath, pounding with all his might on the translucent surface before him. His eyes burned so fiercely he was forced to squeeze them shut. A vile, amber liquid crept steadily past his pinched fingers, grown too weak to squeeze his nostrils shut any longer. The liquid pushed down his throat until his spasms ceased. Dayn lay still, trapped in the belly of the fleshweep.
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About the Author
If imagination was a mutant power, DaVaun Sanders could have enrolled at 1407 Graymalkin Lane. Instead, he went the safe route and earned a Bachelor's degree from Washington University in St. Louis in 2002. He eventually acquiesced to the student loan gods and took up architecture in Phoenix. Yet his passion for the field faded as he spent more free time writing and performing spoken word poetry.
The Seedbearing Prince began as a dream vivid enough to play like a movie trailer. Deciding to write the debut novel took some time, as it wasn't part of "The Plan," but the housing market collapse forced DaVaun's small design firm under in 2008. He decided to plunge into writing full-time, and is loving every minute of it. When the keyboard cramps his fingers, DaVaun gets lost in the great outdoors of Arizona or hits up open mic spots in the Val
ley. He responds to email from fans, but postcards are even better!
DaVaun is currently hard at work editing Part II of The Seedbearing Prince. Follow him on Twitter and like on Facebook for updates and giveaways!
twitter.com/davaunwrites
facebook.com/davaunsanders
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Acknowledgements
I owe thanks to so many for the completion of this first novel. Here are a precious few. My muse and my light, Tamika Lamb. Sharla and Ian White, for your endless support. Tremaine Jasper and Isham Bennett for the opportunities you both provided. Tynesha White, for your enthusiasm and encouragement. Jaan-Paul Van Eeden, my godsend of a cover artist. Susan Sernau, my brilliant editor who always finds a way to squeeze a little more awesome out of the story. Also Neil Wade, Teesha Borum, Ikram Abdulmajeed, Jonathan and Jessica Standifird, Jordan Sanders, Nikita Ortiz and Anthony Haskins. You are appreciated more than you know!