He was the watcher.
Thoughts of Siduri came to him unbidden and unexpected, followed by a great rushing sensation as if all of creation was passing through his consciousness at once. In the next moment, he was standing on a riverbank, whole and unharmed, yet somehow different, more like a memory than a man.
A family was playing in the water at the edge of the river not far from where he stood, three boys and their parents. Siduri looked up with a start when Alexander approached, his eyes going wide for a moment as if he suddenly remembered the truth of the world … and his part in its plight.
“How did you get here?” he asked, standing to face Alexander, fear and guilt staining his complex colors.
“I’m not entirely sure. I think I might be dead.”
Siduri slowly shook his head. “You wouldn’t be here if you were dead. There’s really only one way.”
His wife and children vanished, followed a moment later by the little cabin set away from the river.
“What is this place?”
“This is where I live. It’s my home. I created it from my memories.”
“A construct,” Alexander said.
“Yes.”
“But it’s not real.”
Siduri poked him in the chest. “It’s as real as anything else.”
“No, it’s not,” Alexander said. “The real world is out there. Real people are suffering and dying in the real world and they don’t have the luxury of such a well-crafted fantasy.”
Siduri looked down at the mud along the riverbank.
“When I took the blood of the earth, you judged me,” Alexander said. “And perhaps rightfully so. But now you’re judging yourself. You can’t even look at me.”
“You don’t belong here, Alexander,” Siduri said without looking up. “Go back to your world; leave me to mine.”
“This isn’t the real world, it’s make-believe. Come back with me,” Alexander said.
“There’s nothing for me there.”
“Then why do you watch?”
Siduri looked down again.
“You watch because you know that what happens in the real world matters—it matters to countless families like the one you used to have. Help me.”
“You know what happened the last time I interfered. I won’t risk that again.”
“Yes … I know exactly what you did. You doomed the world, and only you can fix that.”
“What do you mean?” Siduri asked, horror vying with hope in his colors.
“The Taker is a creature of bargains. He brought your children back from death, but you never paid his price. Until you do, the shades will torment the world every chance they get, and one day they will win.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that your children will never be free of the Taker until you pay his price.”
Siduri shook his head in denial. “You can’t know that.”
Alexander held him with his eyes, waiting for Siduri to work through the magnitude of what he was asking.
“No, you’re wrong. My children are lost. Sacrificing myself won’t bring them back.”
“No, it won’t, but it might set them free.”
“No … you have to leave, now!” Siduri said, his fear morphing into anger. “You have no right to intrude like this.”
Alexander opened his hands helplessly. “I don’t know how to leave.”
Siduri grabbed him by the wrist and the façade of his past life vanished. They moved through the part of the firmament where Alexander had felt so detached and into the roiling, ever-changing surface where creation happened, and then Alexander was back in the cell, and the pain was back, except the collar was lying on the floor nearby, still closed.
Alexander crumpled to his knees, the agony overtaking him once again, then he rolled onto his side and moaned in renewed suffering.
“You’re back,” Chloe nearly shouted in his mind. “I thought you were dead, except you were just gone. Please don’t leave me like that. I can’t live without you. I almost went home.” She broke down crying.
“I’m right here, Little One,” he managed to think through the pain. “But I have to send my mind away again for a while, it’ll help me survive the poison they gave me.”
“You’re coming back, right?”
“Yes,” Alexander said, slipping into the firmament again, but only with his mind. The pain vanished like a cool breeze. He savored the relief of it while watching his body tremble, curled up in the fetal position on the floor. His transition into the firmament was easy, almost like second nature. He’d had so few opportunities to use his magic to its fullest since he’d arrived in Mithel Dour. It was as if resting his magic had strengthened it, like muscles given time to recover after a strenuous effort. Free of the collar, he decided to use the time to coordinate with his allies.
He thought of Isabel and the world rushed by in an instant before he found himself in an overly decorated room. Isabel was beaten and bruised, lying unconscious in bed. A severe-looking woman was sitting vigil beside her. Isabel’s colors told an even more troubling story. She was weak, beaten nearly to death and just barely holding on to life. Emotions tumbled through Alexander: fear, sympathy, love, rage.
He materialized at the foot of the bed, fixing the startled woman with a murderous glare. “Who did this to her?”
She stood up, knocking her chair over, looking at him as if he were a ghost.
“Answer my question!”
“Prince Phane,” she said, fear coursing through her colors.
“Will she survive?”
“Yes,” the woman said, nodding tightly. “Prince Phane has commanded that she must survive.”
Alexander vanished and reappeared just a step in front of her, causing her fear to spike even more. “See to it that she does, or you will answer to me as well.”
He faded from sight and slipped into Isabel’s mind, finding his way into her dreams. She was struggling against the Wraith Queen, fighting with all her strength, but losing the battle bit by bit, giving ground to avoid injury. Alexander imposed his will on the scene, but this was not a normal nightmare, it was induced by Azugorath, so he wasn’t able to dispel her so easily. Realizing the true nature of the fight Isabel was locked in, he chose to attack the construct rather than the demon, casting away the deep, dark cavern where they fought and transforming it into a bright sunny day in the meadows of Glen Morillian.
Azugorath shrieked at the sunlight, vanishing with a roar of fury and hate.
“Hi,” he said, appearing in front of Isabel.
“Is that really you?” she asked, hope and wariness in her voice.
“It’s really me,” he said, willing the scene to change, transforming the fields of Glen Morillian into the simple little altar where they were married in the Valley of the Fairy Queen.
She threw her arms around him, crying uncontrollably. He just held her, giving her as much love and strength as she could take in.
“I don’t know how much longer I can fight her,” she whispered.
“Just hold on,” Alexander said. “I’m coming as soon as I can.”
She nodded into his shoulder. “Lacy’s here.”
Alexander held her out at arm’s length, new fear flooding into him. “Has she opened the box?”
Isabel shook her head. “I sent Wren to tell her the truth about everything and help her escape, but I don’t know if they got out. The last thing I remember was Phane beating me senseless for breaking his magic mirror.”
Alexander frowned questioningly.
“He used it to spy on us,” Isabel said. “When he turned his back on me, I smashed it. He was so mad, I thought he was going to kill me.”
“Fortunately, he doesn’t want you dead. You’re in bed right now, healing. Just focus on that.”
She nodded, slipping into his embrace again. “I wish you could stay with me.”
“Me too.”
He held her for a long time, content to
be in her soothing presence, even if it was just a dream.
“There’s more,” she whispered, as if she was afraid of breaking the spell by talking too loudly. “Hector’s turned against us. He’s helping Phane retrieve the Goiri bones.”
“Why? Why would he do that?”
“Phane promised to bring his brother back from the dead.”
“Oh, Dear Maker,” Alexander said, looking up at the make-believe sky. “Hector better hope Phane doesn’t make good on that promise. It’ll be the worst thing that ever happened to him.”
Isabel stepped back, looking up at him. “Are you safe? Are you well?”
“Let’s just say I’m still alive and fighting,” he said with a reassuring smile. “I wish I could tell you more.”
“Me too, but I understand.”
“I have to go now. I love you, Isabel.”
“I love you too.”
“Be strong. We’re going to get through this. We’re going to win. Hold on to that, no matter what.”
“I will. Stay safe,” she said, as he faded from her dream.
Alexander rose above the fortress city, considering his next move, and deciding, perhaps against his better judgment, to visit Phane. Floating through a window in one of the upper levels of the black tower, Alexander found him standing in a magic circle set into the stone just adjacent to another magic circle. He was chanting under his breath, dark magic roiling in his colors.
Alexander appeared nearby without drawing his attention.
“Hey!”
Phane snapped out of his spell, power draining from his colors.
“Do you have any idea how many hours I spent on that spell?”
“I hope it was a lot,” Alexander said.
“I have nothing to say to you,” Phane snapped, gesturing dismissively.
Alexander felt his psyche scatter into the firmament, but this time it was different. Always before, he’d felt fear at being scattered, fear that he would become lost, that the firmament would claim him, but this time he knew better. But more than that, after his recent experience, he seemed to have much greater control of how he experienced the firmament.
Not more than a second after Phane sent him away, he reappeared, smiling.
“You’re losing your touch, Phane.”
The Reishi Prince looked at Alexander’s illusion with disbelief. For the first time Alexander saw something in Phane’s colors that gave him hope—he saw a faint glimmer of fear.
“How?” Phane demanded.
“I think I’ll just let you fret about that. I stopped by to let you know that I’ll be watching you and there’s nothing you can do about it.”
“There’s where you’re wrong,” Phane said. “As I understand it, you’re sitting in a cage somewhere in Mithel Dour as we speak. It won’t be long before Nero brings you to me and then I’ll be able to do a great deal.”
“Nero overestimates himself, and the Babachenko has his own agenda—one that doesn’t seem to coincide with yours. I wouldn’t count on my arrival anytime soon.”
“I’m well aware of my servants’ limitations,” Phane said. “But I’m quite certain that both of them will do exactly as they’ve been instructed to do.”
“And both will fail,” Alexander said. “In fact, I put a knife into the Babachenko just a few hours ago. Tragically, I missed his heart by a couple of inches, but I did make him bleed. If I can kill their king and put a knife in the Andalian puppet master while I’m their prisoner, just imagine what I’m going to do to them once I escape.”
“Now who’s overestimating themselves? No, Dear Cousin, the Babachenko will hand you over to Nero and he will deliver you to me … and then your wife will kill you for me.”
“Speaking of Isabel, I see you’ve taken to beating women. I mean, I knew you were a coward and a thug, but really?”
“She behaved very badly, so I punished her. There’s a lesson to be learned there, Alexander. The price for peace is obedience.”
“So much for the Old Law,” Alexander said.
“Your precious Old Law is a relic. Times have changed and the law must change with them.”
“You miss the point of it entirely,” Alexander said, “The principles defined by the Old Law are timeless precisely because they are derived from our very nature. Only those who wish to abuse the life, liberty, or property of others need fear it.”
“It is you who fail to understand, I am the rightful sovereign, and as such, the lives, liberty, and property of every single person in the Seven Isles belong to me. You are the criminal. You stole the Stone from my father’s corpse and took my birthright with it. I will not rest until I get it back. I will have justice, Alexander.”
“You wouldn’t know justice if it hit you in the head,” Alexander said, fading into the firmament.
He thought of Lacy and found himself floating over a carriage escorted by at least a hundred of Phane’s soldiers, but before he could look inside, he snapped back into his body, pain flooding into him like a tidal wave.
He was convulsing, spasming from the constantly clenched muscles which were constricting his chest and nearly suffocating him. He struggled to impose order on himself, casting back to his memories of the mana fast and the trial of pain for guidance. It was an ordeal like few he’d ever endured, but he finally regained control over his body, realizing after he did that he needed to be present to manage the torment wracking his body or it would overwhelm him again.
When the Babachenko returned many hours later, left arm in a sling, Alexander was sitting on the edge of his bed. Most of the burning pain he’d suffered over the past day had subsided, leaving a raw, hollow feeling in his arms and legs. He sat calmly meditating.
He watched the Babachenko closely as his colors flowed from smug certainty through confusion, doubt, disbelief, and finally, fear.
“How’s the shoulder?” Alexander said, without opening his eyes or making any move to get up.
There was a long pause, the Babachenko scrutinizing Alexander as if he were trying to comprehend what had happened during the preceding hours, yet failing for lack of some crucial piece of information.
Alexander held up the collar, still clasped shut, and tossed it through the bars without opening his eyes. The Babachenko caught it, blinking with a mixture of disbelief and incredulity. Alexander was happy to see fresh fear ripple through his colors.
“How is this possible?”
Alexander ignored him, sitting quietly, legs crossed, eyes closed as if he was deep in meditation.
“The slave collars cannot be removed without the consent of the collar’s master, unless you had help. Who did this?”
Alexander chuckled softly, opening his eyes but not bothering to get up.
“I’ve heard rumors that you are bound to a fairy,” the Babachenko said, “but I never believed them.” He started casting a spell. It seemed to take a long time, his colors undulating with power, before he completed the spell and looked straight at Chloe sitting atop the cabinet, hiding in the aether.
“He can see you, Little One. Hide!”
She darted through the ceiling and out of the room, taking refuge in the small spaces where no one could follow.
“So it is true, and yet …” he paused, frowning to himself, shaking his head. “She couldn’t have passed into the cage, even in the aether; the wards would have stopped her. So how then?”
He paced for nearly a minute.
“I have a traitor in my inner sanctum,” he said to himself before facing Alexander again. “They gave you the antidote to the poison as well. That’s it, isn’t it? It’s the only explanation that makes sense.”
Alexander answered with a humorless smile.
“If you think your accomplice will be here to help you tonight, you’re sadly mistaken. By helping you, they’ve revealed themselves to me. You see, I have a very special spell that I cast in areas I wish to monitor. It creates a perfect record of everything that happens in that space—a record that I
can observe any time I wish.”
“Huh, I wondered what those points of light were.”
The Babachenko seemed startled. “You can see them?”
“I think you’d be surprised at what I can see.”
His colors shifted abruptly to greed and power lust. Again, Alexander got the feeling that the Babachenko had plans for him beyond what he’d already revealed.
After a moment of internal struggle, the Babachenko set a stone on the floor and whispered a few words. The space over the stone shimmered briefly before a perfect, albeit somewhat translucent, image of Alexander appeared. It took only a moment to realize that it was a representation of what had transpired the day before, starting with the cage door opening and Alexander killing one guard and wounding the Babachenko.
With a word, the images sped up, moving through many minutes in just seconds. Alexander thought he was past being awed by magic, but this was truly impressive, and remarkably dangerous in the hands of someone like the Babachenko.
When Alexander simply vanished from within the cage, leaving the collar clattering to the floor, the Babachenko took a sharp breath and slowed the progression of the image through time, then reversed it so he could watch more closely.
Both he and Alexander stood stock-still when they saw Alexander’s body vanish, holding their breath until he reappeared a few minutes later.
Alexander’s mind raced, trying to make sense of this new development of his unpredictable power. Given that he had visited Siduri, the only explanation that made any sense was that he had transitioned bodily into the firmament just as the first adept had learned to do so long ago. The implications were staggering, but the challenge of mastering such profound power seemed somehow much more formidable than anything he’d faced thus far.
“How did you do that?” the Babachenko demanded, greed and lust shining brightly in his colors.
Alexander just shrugged.
“I will have that power,” the Babachenko snapped, cutting off his words, realizing only a moment too late that he’d revealed too much.
“So the stories are true,” Alexander said. “I was wondering what you weren’t telling me.”
Linkershim (Sovereign of the Seven Isles: Book Six) Page 33