by Brandon Mull
“Cole Bryant Randolph,” she intoned, her voice resonant and solemn, her eyes staying fixed on the horizon.
“That’s me,” he said.
“You have traveled an improbable path to reach me,” she said.
“I guess so,” Cole said. “What are you staring at?”
“I gaze out beyond the fringe, awaiting the supreme evil that departed ages ago. One day it shall return. We will destroy each other, and I will at long last leave the echolands behind. Until then, I assist where I am able.”
“Can you help my friends?” Cole asked. “I left them at the bottom of your mountain.”
“The attack occurred beyond my reach,” she said. Her words remained in a solemn monotone. “Your assailants seemed to know the irregular boundaries of my influence. Your friend Harvan has been taken. The strain was too much for the other one, Winston. His lifespark has fled to the next phase. The shapecrafters kept his lifeless echo.”
Cole bowed his head and fell to his knees. Winston was already gone? And Harvan was captured! Everything kept getting worse!
“I understand your grief,” the woman said. “Your comrades sacrificed much to deliver you to me.”
Cole looked up at the woman. Her face remained impassive. Her eyes gazed into the distance.
“You never look away?” Cole asked.
“The evil I await will come swiftly,” she said. “I must never divert my attention.”
“You’ve been doing this for a long time?” Cole asked.
“Since not long after the Outskirts began,” she replied.
“Who are you?” Cole asked.
“You already know,” she replied. “I am She Who Stands at the Summit.”
“But who were you before?”
“I am one of a small number who framed the Outskirts,” she said.
“You helped shape the Outskirts? Did you know Dandalus?”
“You met a shadow of him connected to the Founding Stone,” she said. “He was the greatest of us.”
“He told me his job was to make the Founding Stone,” Cole said.
“Which also meant his job was to physically create the Outskirts,” she said. “The Founding Stone initiated the process.”
“You must be powerful,” Cole said. “I know you’re waiting for some evil, but there are already lots of problems in the Outskirts. Before long there might be nothing left to protect.”
“You wish for my direct intervention,” she said. “Even if I would risk turning my back on the evil I await, I cannot leave this post.”
“Why not?” Cole asked.
“I wield considerable power,” the woman said. “But no matter how great your power, there is a price to remaining in the echolands. I have lingered for a very long time. I established a sanctuary here upon this mountain. Were I to depart, the call of the Other would immediately claim me.”
“You?” Cole asked.
“The call accumulates influence over time,” she said. “The echolands were never meant as a permanent home for anyone. This is a place of transition, a place to let go of one existence and move on to another. Your comrade Winston has graduated to a wondrous realm. We will all eventually follow.”
Cole stared at the woman. “Do you know where I can find Destiny?”
“I do not. But I know who can provide the information you seek.”
Cole pounded his fists against his forehead. “No offense, but do you know how many times I’ve heard this?”
“I know all that you know. Knowledge is power in the echolands. Few endeavors can benefit you more than finding those who guard it. You hoped to find Destiny at Deepwell. Harvan took you to Prescia in search of an answer. Prescia referred you to me. My Weaver’s Beacon enabled you to reach this summit.”
“Your Weaver’s Beacon?”
“As the first Grand Shaper of Necronum, I created it long ago.”
Cole held up the lantern. “Well, good job. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. It was made to be used. Now you have one last person to visit. He will have the answers you desire.”
“He’ll know where to find Destiny? For sure?”
“He knows where to find her. He can reveal how you might return to your home. He can advise you on how to confront Nazeem.”
“That sounds worth the trip,” Cole said. “But what can you tell me?”
“You have not yet realized the nature of your enemy,” she said.
“Nazeem? I saw him.”
“But you do not yet comprehend his identity.”
“Should I?”
“You have sufficient clues to understand.”
Cole thought for a minute. “I know Owandell works for him. I know Nazeem taught people shapecraft. I know he kept himself a secret for a long time. I know he’s imprisoned at the Fallen Temple. I know he wants the princesses and is also after me. I know he plans to break free soon. Do you know more?”
“I am one of the six who imprisoned him long ago,” she said, unblinking eyes staring into the distance.
“You imprisoned Nazeem?”
“With the help of the other founders of the Outskirts.”
“What do you know about him?”
“You have met the only other of his kind in this world,” she said. “We imprisoned him as well.”
Cole’s jaw dropped. “Trillian? Wait a minute. Nazeem is the other torivor?”
“He has not always used the name Nazeem. When we faced him, he went by Ramarro.”
Cole’s mind raced. It made sense. Trillian didn’t know the fate of the other torivor, only that he must have been captured. Trillian could shape differently and more powerfully than anyone Cole had met. Trillian had believed the rules of shaping could be changed. And that’s what shapecraft did—shape the shaping power.
Of course Nazeem was the other torivor! The Fallen Temple was equivalent to the Lost Palace. Like Trillian, Nazeem had been manipulating people from within his prison. If Nazeem got free, it would be like Trillian getting free. It would mean the end of the Outskirts.
“You are reaching the correct conclusions,” the woman said.
“We’re in the echolands. Is Nazeem an echo?”
“He is not, though we imprisoned him here. Thankfully, we did not confront the torivors at the same time. We went up against Nazeem first, in Necronum. The battle was close. We had practiced our craft for centuries, and Nazeem was new to this world, or else the outcome might have been different. We managed to lure him into the echolands and imprison him here.”
“So if he gets out, he can come back to life?” Cole asked.
“If he can find a way beyond the barriers that imprison him and cross to the other side, yes, he could fully return to life. He brought his physical body here. His body and lifespark are joined in a way I do not understand. We tried to imprison Trillian in the echolands as well, but he refused to cross, and the six framers together lacked the power to force him. We settled for entombing him beneath the Lost Palace. Similar barriers that hold Trillian contain Nazeem.”
“Can Nazeem defeat your barriers?”
“The two torivors are the most talented natural shapers we have ever encountered. Given enough time, anything is possible, no matter how securely we bound them. Our top priority must be to keep Nazeem imprisoned. If he breaks loose, no power in this world will be able to stop him.”
Cole thought about that. “Supposedly, he’s almost free. What should we do if he gets out?”
Her voice remained solemn and calm. “We could fight and perish. Or we could surrender and watch as he remakes the Outskirts according to his desires.”
“You don’t sound too bothered by that,” Cole said. “Or anything, really.”
“Do not mistake my focus on the distant evil for indifference,” the woman said. “I have suppressed much of who I was to stand at this post.”
“What evil?” Cole asked.
“A fiend unconnected to the torivors,” she said. “Something older, inherent to the ech
olands. Only I can stop it. Harbor no concerns. I will do my duty.”
“Did you have a name?”
“Once, long ago. Perhaps I will again after I finally move on. Until then, I am She Who Stands at the Summit.”
“There isn’t a way to destroy Nazeem?” Cole asked.
“If we knew how to destroy him, we would have done it without hesitation.”
Cole considered what else he needed to know.
“I have compassion for you, Cole,” she said. “I understand what you have lost. I know what you hope to regain. I can see your memories as if I lived them, including the lost memories of your brother, Hunter.”
“I still have those memories?” Cole asked.
“Yes. They are veiled from your conscious mind, but they remain. I used them to show you his room.”
Cole took a deep breath. A small corner of his mind had patiently waited for Hunter’s identity to be an elaborate hoax. He believed Hunter was his brother, it had to be true, but he couldn’t help leaving some defenses up in case it was all a ruthless trick. It was nice to have Hunter’s identity confirmed from an outside source.
“Was that a test?” Cole asked. “Making me choose to come to the Outskirts again?”
“I had to confirm your level of commitment,” she said.
“What if I had failed?”
“I could have sent you to the Other. I could have sent you down the mountain. I could have still permitted you to speak with me.”
“It felt so real,” Cole said.
“In some of the ways that matter most, it was real,” she intoned.
“Trillian sent a message to me that the Outskirts might fall without my help,” Cole said.
“I’m aware.”
“Was that true?”
“The torivor cannot lie. He believed what he told you. Given all you have achieved, and your presence here, it seems he could be right.”
“He also thought I could get my power back.”
“You have a unique and remarkable talent,” she said. “I am sorry it was desecrated by Morgassa. You hope that I can heal you, but I cannot.”
“What about the guy you’re sending me to visit?”
“If anyone can help, he can.”
Cole frowned. “Prescia said you were the wisest person in the echolands.”
“Very few know about the Warden of the Light. His existence is perhaps the greatest secret in the echolands. I only send you to him because of the import of your mission.”
“What if he sends me to some new secret person?” Cole asked, feeling frustrated again. “Somebody you don’t know. How many mountains am I going to climb?”
“As many as you must,” she answered. “But I do not believe he will send you to another. He will help as he is able. Normally, he permits three questions. Hopefully, it will be enough.”
“Not even the Grand Shaper knows about him?” Cole asked.
“No. Only one other person in the echolands knows of his existence.”
“And you can give me directions?”
“I can have the Weaver’s Beacon lead you to him.”
“I’m being chased,” Cole said.
“I am aware. And you have lost your companions. I can help you get away.”
“How?” Cole asked.
“I will send you a good distance from my mountain,” she said. “As I mentioned, my boundaries are irregular. My influence extends farther than you might guess along a few routes in certain directions. Far enough that those flying shapecrafters will struggle to follow. The beacon will conceal you from their weaving and their songreading.”
“How do they fly?” Cole asked.
“Shapecraft. They whistle up an artificial wind with their abilities. It should not be possible. But this is what shapecraft does. It manipulates the rules.”
“Can they come up here?” Cole asked.
“I control the skies near the mountain,” she said. “They ambushed you just beyond one of my nearest borders.”
“What about my other friends?” Cole asked. “Can you see them?”
“Mira was taken to the Fallen Temple. I can’t see inside that location. Nothing blinds my vision like excess shapecraft. Honor was taken to Gamat Rue. Jace and Joe never left there. I can’t see into Gamat Rue, either. I only know your friends were taken there through your memories. Desmond, Ferrin, and Drake are nearing Gamat Rue. As is Prescia. Durny was captured and brought inside the Fallen Temple.”
“Can you see into Necronum?” Cole asked.
“Only the echolands,” she replied.
“You can’t see Destiny?” Cole wondered.
“I saw her earlier. She could have been on her way to Deepwell. Then she disappeared.”
“Could she have gone to the Other?”
“I would have sensed that. She is hidden somewhere. The Warden of the Light should be able to help.”
“Do you need to do something to the Weaver’s Beacon?” Cole asked.
“It is done,” she said. “The beacon will direct you to the Warden of the Light. The most direct route would take you across some of the central echolands. Instead, I designed a route that will keep you far from other echoes.”
“Probably smart,” Cole said.
“Use caution. As you approach the warden’s dwelling, you will venture far into the fringe. Resist the call of the Other. The beacon will let you avoid most hazards, but you will have to cross the Pass of Visions. You will see things that frighten you. Ignore them. Do not fight them. They can only attack if you touch them. You may also see people who want your help. Again, ignore them. If you touch them, it will be taken as permission for them to engage with you.”
“Sounds like a fun place,” Cole said.
“Trust the beacon,” she said. “It will not fail you. Are you ready to go?”
“Is there anything else I should know?”
“If the Warden of the Light chooses to help you, he will have many of the answers you seek.”
“Wait,” Cole said. “If?”
“Be brave. I believe he will aid you. Please give him my regards.”
Cole sighed. “Fine. I guess I’m ready. What do I need to do?”
“Give me permission to send you,” she said. “It makes the experience more comfortable.”
“You have my permission.”
“Farewell.”
CHAPTER
28
VISIONS
Cole felt like he simultaneously shrank and stretched. Everything became a sideways blur. His insides lurched like he was accelerating, but it looked more like he remained still while the world streaked by.
A feeling of nausea hit, and the frantic motion stopped abruptly. He stood near a bridge over a slipstream. The gray, powdery ground seemed inhospitable to plants. Only a few small, tidy trees grew within view.
The beacon gently pulled toward the bridge. Evidently, he was supposed to cross it.
Cole turned in a circle, eyes searching the horizon. The Farthest Mountain was nowhere in view. Her domain apparently included some far-flung tentacles.
Hopefully, he had enough of a head start to baffle Sando.
His eyes swept the sky, but he spotted no gliders.
Cole started running.
He tried not to dwell on Harvan and Winston. There was nothing to do about Winston. It was horrible, but irreversible. He had to be rational about it. And he would worry about Harvan later. His list of people to rescue was getting absurd.
As he ran, Cole could not help missing his companions. Unreasonable or not, he wished there was some way to undo Winston going to the Other. He wished he could save Harvan now, partly for selfish reasons. It was no fun to run alone. The lack of company left him feeling desolate and vulnerable.
At least he possessed the beacon. He had a crucial mission and a way to reach his destination. That was big. Maybe he would finally learn where to find Destiny. And maybe he could get some information about how to get home. Was that too greedy to hope? Base
d on what he had learned from She Who Stands at the Summit, if anybody could help him, it would be the Warden of the Light.
Cole wondered how Jace, Joe, and Honor were faring at Gamat Rue. Hopefully, they got to see one another sometimes. Hopefully, Desmond would manage to free them.
He worried about Mira. If she was at the Fallen Temple, she was with Nazeem. Would he try to take her power again? Would he play games with her mind? Was she suffering?
He tried not to envision the possibilities too vividly.
Cole also thought about Dalton and Hunter. Were they looking for Jenna? Could they have found her by now? Everything seemed so bleak, it was encouraging to imagine something good happening.
There was plenty to wonder about and worry over.
But mostly he had to keep running.
He also kept an eye on the sky.
Just in case.
The terrain changed as he ran. Cole traversed deserts and climbed hills. He crossed plains and passed through woods. In one forest the enormous trees had thick trunks and looked as tall as skyscrapers. It made Cole feel out of scale, as if he had become tiny.
He sprinted across a landscape of smooth, black pebbles. He followed a trail through a jagged range of yellow and red mountains. He plunged blindly across an ocean of grass more than twice his height.
Occasionally, he crossed channels, but thanks to the beacon, he always arrived where a bridge was present. The beacon steered him away from intimidating music and sometimes guided him away from inviting songs as well.
While crossing a wide plain made of transparent crystal, Cole began to discern the call of the Other more powerfully than he had yet heard it. The more detail he could apprehend, the more beautiful it sounded. The music felt familiar, as if he had somehow forgotten his favorite song along with his most cherished feelings, and they were all connected. The homesong promised wholeness and rest and joy.
He reminded himself about Winston losing his lifeforce to the Other. He concentrated on his duties and the people depending on him. He thought about Destiny and Mira and Dalton and Jenna.