Darklight 6: Darkbirth

by Forrest, Bella

  "How could they have missed such obvious evidence that the planes are melding?" I wondered aloud.

  Dorian grunted. "No clue, but I'll be damned if they think we won't try to do something about it once we tell them.”

  He was right about that.

  Chapter Nine

  It was clear that the arbiters either didn’t know what was going on or didn’t care. Either way, they weren’t paying enough attention to their job, so Dorian and I needed to inform them of how dire the situation really was. A small flame of determination burned inside me. Like the purifying sensation I’d felt when Dorian drained me of the pocket of darkness, I rose up with new energy, ready to seek out the arbiters again to warn them of this threat.

  The only problem I saw with our plan to involve the arbiters was… well, the arbiters. The very creatures who refused to pay attention to us. Even Sen, the sole arbiter who’d shown a smidgen of interest, came off as more condescending than interested in taking any action. After our chilly reception so far, it didn’t seem likely that the arbiters would even take us seriously. So far, only Gate Maker had, and to say that was a complex relationship would be an understatement.

  "Gate Maker is probably the only one we can connect with at this point," I said. “No, that’s not true. We could try to find Xiu… but I’m worried she may have a hidden agenda with our constant surveillance.” I tried not to look in Jia’s direction even though I knew he wouldn’t think anything of it. It was outside his programming.

  Dorian shot me a wary and reluctant look. "He betrayed our trust," he pointed out.

  "I know,” I assured him. “He's not exactly trustworthy, but we still have the pact binding us together, even if he’s not exactly in a rush to get to it. We can maybe make him a useful ally if we can find a way to exert that power over him. Which we might be able to do with our walking encyclopedia here." I jerked a thumb at Jia.

  Dorian hummed irritably, puzzling over what I said. "True, but we don't know if the pact was even real. What if the binding was a lie? He could've been using it to manipulate us so he could get us back to the Higher Plane for his own reasons."

  “Well, let’s find out.” I turned to Jia. "Are magically binding pacts something arbiters actually use, or was Gate Maker lying to us about the agreement we made?"

  "He was not lying," Jia said automatically. "Pact magic and favors are common currency in the Higher Plane." He stared down at his stubby hands with the ghost of an uncomfortable expression.

  "Jia?" I asked, my curiosity especially engaged because it was a change from his usual blank face. Had we accidentally found something of a hidden loophole in the prerogative given to him by Xiu? Perhaps it was information that revealed one of the arbiters’ weaknesses. “Is there something you can’t tell us?”

  "I can answer your question further, but it requires your consent," he explained.

  Dorian and I exchanged a glance. He nodded.

  We stooped, and Jia placed his hands on our shoulders. His touch was neither hot nor cold, damp nor dry. It just was, and only had a slight weight.

  "I can tell through this contact that you two are indeed connected to Ruk through an energy bond. I cannot see the exact terms of your agreement, but breaking it would certainly incur magical consequences for all of you."

  I clicked my tongue. "So that part was true, at least. That means we have a little power over him because he does have to follow the pact at some point.” I sighed. “It’s the ‘at some point’ that is causing us problems.”

  "At least he’s not a complete liar," Dorian muttered. "We'll need to start seeking out the arbiters. We need to know if they’re aware that the tear is spreading through all three planes." His jaw clenched. The idea was difficult to imagine after our experiences with arbiters. Would they even believe us?

  "Maybe the two of us pleading the case will help them realize what’s at stake. They’ve been separated from the lower planes for so long that it might take some mortals to give them context," I mused. "We can offer to help them. We already know more about this tear issue than anyone else, after all. The arbiters weren't the ones fighting Irrikus in order to clean up the mess they left behind." I let out an agitated sigh, the memories of the struggles we’d had to endure because of the tear putting a sour taste in my mouth. All because the Bureau had hated vampires enough to try to break into the Immortal Plane.

  "This might be what we need to persuade them to help us leave," Dorian added, following my line of logic. "We can offer to go do all the dirty work that they don't want to be involved with. Maybe it'll sway the upcoming judgment they keep talking about in our favor."

  I debated asking Jia if he thought we could get through to the arbiters, but the question was likely too abstract for him to answer. And honestly, I wanted to hold on to the hope that we might finally connect with the arbiters. If we could just get them to understand our side, this would be so simple.

  "All right, so we seek out the arbiters. We ask them for help and get enough of them together to form some kind of democratic vote." Dorian paused, then arched a curious brow at Jia. "Can we ask all of them? How many arbiters are there exactly—orbs and all?"

  "There are two hundred and fifty-one arbiters. Forty-three of these are in a physical form or non-orb, as you have suggested. One hundred and ninety-four are in non-physical form."

  I wasn’t the best at math, but that seemed a little off to me. There was a moment of silence as I worked out the arithmetic. That left… fourteen unaccounted for.

  "Where are the other fourteen arbiters?" I asked. "Did they will themselves out of existence, like you told us about, or did they go somewhere else?"

  Jia stared away for a moment, and I saw his eyes flicker slightly, as if he were processing or looking far beyond me. "I cannot say with any accuracy, as my senses do not extend far enough to sense those specific arbiters. The Higher Plane is infinite. The missing arbiters may simply be out of my range."

  An infinite plane hiding unknown arbiters sounded like yet another headache, but it scratched at my curiosity. "Can you guide us, Jia, to an arbiter that we haven't met yet?"

  Jia flattened his mouth into a single thin line. "That does not seem as though it would fit the terms of my directive."

  "Technically, you would be observing us while you do it," I pointed out. "That would fulfill your directive, right? Your job is to safeguard us." If Jia had the capacity to be influenced, we needed to win his trust. Or at least his logic. I crouched down close to him and gently put a hand on his arm. He stared at the contact, unknowable thoughts running through his small head. "It would mean a lot if you helped us."

  "I was not designed to help you," Jia replied bluntly. I bit back a groan of annoyance as the proxy paused, seemingly pondering something. "But nothing prevents me from giving you information, and this is simply another method of doing so. All right. I can direct you to a number of individuals that you have yet to meet, but I cannot promise any help from them."

  "Fair enough." I grinned and gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder. "Thank you."

  He looked down at his shoulder and said nothing. My thanks were clearly a mystery to our strange companion. I glanced back at Dorian, and he shrugged, but his own face had lightened slightly with hope. This was good news.

  Jia took off without another word. Oh, I guess we're leaving!

  Dorian and I followed Jia as he began to lead us into the gray distance, leaving the cliff's edge and the swirling vortex behind. I wondered how he oriented himself in this plane. He’d said that he had an apparatus of senses, but it seemed to have limits.

  Jia tottered into the distance with surprising speed for such a small creature. Most of the other proxies floated over the ground in imitation of the arbiters, but perhaps observing Dorian and me had influenced him. He appeared to be picking up a few of our mannerisms. Over his head, I saw a vast greatness of gray extending in front of us. It was a wonder the arbiters could ever find each other in this mess.

 
"I have brought you to the one known as Ari," Jia announced. As he did, the mist parted to reveal a circular structure. It was a dome, not unlike the gorgeous but destroyed golden ones of Gate Maker's estate, but this was only a dome. It was made of shiny silver material. A humanoid figure outside attended to a complex structure that resembled some form of melting female humanoid, circling it with appraising eyes. As was the case for many of the arbiters we’d seen, he was entirely hairless, with the exception of a sole braid running down his back from the top of his skull. He didn't look up as we arrived. Jia said nothing and made no introduction, but I’d expected that.

  "Hello, Ari," Dorian began, smoothing his voice into its most charming timbre. "I've come here with my companion to bring you a warning of great importance."

  "A warning?" Ari repeated, then sighed. He crossed his arms and scowled sourly at his statue. "The only thing I need to be warned about is my own artistic genius growing too great. Off with you." He spared Jia one tired glance. "Don't come back to me."

  "Understood."

  I frowned at Jia, feeling a pulse of sympathy that his whole existence was constrained by the arbiters’ orders.

  As we retreated, Dorian let out a low growl of annoyance. "Why do I get the feeling that our arbiter friends will continue their habit of being less than helpful?"

  I kept my mouth shut because I didn't want to jinx us. Turns out, I needn't have worried because Dorian was right. We visited a series of arbiters, some orbs and some humanoids, and none of them were interested in our news. We tried different methods. I even shouted of extreme danger, like someone in a busy street yelling at people to warn them about the apocalypse. We got some minor eyebrow raises—or at least their foreheads crinkled, since most lacked brows. The ones that bothered to listen at all gave us the same spiel after we explained about the planes being connected and the tear threatening everyone's existence.

  "So what?" asked an arbiter in physical form. Diax lounged on a fainting couch made entirely of glass while her proxies, two glass goblins, attended her. Her mild interest in having two supposed vampires showing up at her temple was dwindling fast. "You speak of the tear crossing from the Mortal all the way up to the Higher Plane… You have no idea how any of this works." She let out a throaty laugh.

  "We've seen it," I insisted, and pointed to Jia. "He's seen it!"

  She gave me a disdainful look without even bothering to acknowledge Jia. "Lower beings such as yourselves know so little of existence."

  Dorian took a deep breath to steady his frustration. "We've seen this problem from all three planes. We've been dealing with it for months now. We'd help you all if someone would just listen."

  Diax gave us a blank stare. "My proxies will show you out. Don't cut your weak skin on the glass door."

  My frustrations grew, and our hope dwindled. Diax wasn’t the last to be somewhat interested in us, but the reactions always turned as soon as we told them why we were there.

  On our last visit, a rude ball of energy by the name of Yon kicked us out of his immaculate wooden lodge after informing us that time and space allowed an eternity for the arbiters to decide. There was no need to do anything. It was an echo I'd heard in at least four other arbiters' replies. Dorian found a very different name other than Yon to call the arbiter under his breath as we left. The door slammed behind us. Jia, Dorian, and I were left standing on the porch of a bizarre cabin in the middle of the mist.

  I sighed, discouraged, and gestured to the distance. "Another?"

  Dorian grunted. "We'll find one who will listen. Won't we, Jia?"

  Jia silently lifted his head to assess Dorian. If he'd been capable of laughing in our faces, I think he would have, by this point. "I am unable to ascertain that."

  Even Jia thinks we're doomed.

  "If I have to hear the same line about how much time they have, I'm going to scream until every arbiter in this plane hears me," I lamented to Dorian. “Maybe disrupting their precious peace and order will make them pay attention.”

  He shot me a sympathetic look and nodded, rubbing his eyes. We'd been walking a long time in the mist, and it was beginning to strain our senses.

  I counted on my fingers the number of arbiters we tried to approach. Jia was such a help with leading us to the arbiters, but like he said, he couldn't help us communicate with them. The arbiters, for their part, wanted little to do with us. It was the same story as the first time we’d gone around asking them for help. Eight tries already, according to my count. I let my hands drop to my sides. My feet felt no pain, even after endless walking. Oddly, I missed the feeling of exhaustion. At least it felt like living.

  Jia perked up suddenly. "Ahead, there is a large gathering. It will fulfill your request to meet new arbiters."

  I shot a surprised look at Dorian. "That’s odd. I got the impression that arbiters like their personal space," I noted dryly.

  "There are reasons for arbiters to gather. One of these is for the Games." Jia's reply made little sense to me, but Dorian and I followed him dutifully.

  In the distance, a group of figures began to take shape through the misty gray. As the gathering crowd grew closer, so did the strange contraption they surrounded. "There are forty-one beings in this location. Some you have already met, but many others you have not." He stopped abruptly.

  "What is it?" Dorian prodded.

  "I am pausing. Should I lead you to those you already know? Perhaps this group does not fit your request. You wanted to meet only those you did not know."

  "It's fine," I assured him hurriedly. “As long as we’re meeting new people, it’s all right if we see some familiar faces.” More importantly, I was dying to know what exactly had interested the usually apathetic arbiters enough to bring them together. What were these Games?

  I looked at the odd structure. From afar, I almost mistook it for the bizarre remains of a circus. A giant roller coaster frame dipped and dove to extreme angles, gleaming in an unnatural iridescent silver color that burned my eyes. Squinting, I realized that the scattered bits were actually all connected, though it had no visible support; it merely floated over a pool of silvery liquid. My eyebrows shot up in surprise. It was the strangest construction we'd come across since entering the Higher Plane, and that was saying something.

  And the arbiters? They were much livelier than the ones we'd seen so far. One figure leaned against another, jostling and shouting about something. Another gave a victorious whoop. A tall humanoid with at least a hundred tiny braids on his head repeatedly nodded, sending the braids flying in a mesmerizing pattern.

  "Interesting," Dorian muttered, equally surprised. There was no sense of solemn gravity here; it was a party of sorts for the arbiters.

  "What's happening?" I asked Jia.

  Jia stared forward blankly. "The Games."

  Dorian and I exchanged a suspicious look. Considering our warped experiences over the last few months, "games" sounded ominous. I doubted our luck would improve here, given the engrossed attention the arbiters paid their odd structure and event. The last eight arbiters had ignored the hell out of us. But they weren't quite so lively…

  We approached the crowd cautiously, making sure to keep a little distance in order to observe what was actually happening. The phrase “the Games” brought to mind the Olympics or ancient gladiator battles. At one point, I peered between a group of tall arbiters all wearing matching blue robes. A few glanced our way but quickly turned back to the Games. We were, as per usual, considered invisible.

  Not interested in the arbiters right now, I focused on the structure. From this closer position, I saw its true components and nature. It was a series of slides and ladders, some almost like narrow train tracks, that floated above us in the air. The tracks twisted and turned around each other, much like a wooden roller coaster, with the occasional section of red tubing. One long racetrack ran the length of most of the course. There were no rails for vehicles, though, or a car of any kind. On these tracks, a great wall of flaming spike
s started off the first section. I grimaced. What kind of sick game was this?

  A sudden bustle of movement caught my eye, and I finally realized who the players of this game were. Six proxies raced to vault themselves over the flaming spikes, fighting to be the fastest.

  The proxies were all shapes and sizes. Two appeared similar to Jia, one made of a dull blue clay studded with diamond-like gems. Another resembled a stout, rectangular dog with spider legs branching out from its furry sides, two beady eye stalks extending from its head, and a curved stinger curling up at the back. One proxy was shaped vaguely like a cat, with a serpentine tail that it used as a spring to launch itself over the spikes.

  Impressive, even if these Games are pretty barbaric.

  Running beside it—or rather, sliding—was a slug-like beast that doused the flames with its trail of ooze to make it over the spikes. The last resembled a small chimp with violet fur and stubby horns, its eyes a kaleidoscope of rainbow colors. Each had their own strengths, and they all made it over the first obstacle.

  At the second obstacle, the tracks turned into impossibly thin ropes that extended over a dark pit. Something vile with sharp teeth snapped in the pit, jumping up just enough for me to see the glint of fangs flashing above the silvery ground. I held my breath as the proxies raced over the ropes, the slug nearly falling to its death, or whatever equivalent awaited proxies. With the spider still in the lead, the proxies headed for a third obstacle—a line of wooden posts they had to leap across. One of the golem proxies stumbled and fell into the silvery liquid below, earning a chorus of boos from the crowd around us. The poor thing thrashed, trying desperately to get out of the liquid and back to the track. It didn't look likely.

  "Pay up, Bez," snapped a nearby arbiter. He smirked haughtily at the light orb beside him. "You should've known better than to pit your proxy against mine."