by Adam Thomas
“Not to worry,” Tuvala said. “I just want to make sure you’re not hurt.”
Rhys held up his hand. The skin was heavily callused from years of swordplay and labor. A few pieces of glass had opened small cuts, but there was no major damage. “I’m fine. Please, can I help clean this up?”
“No, no. I’ll tell my replacement to alert the staff.” Tuvala turned to Sorvek. “Are you ready?”
Sorvek leapt to his feet. “Yes, indeed, I am. I was born ready. Let’s go!”
Behind his back, Emric mouthed to Shonasir, “Born ready?” Shonasir grimaced.
“You two kids have fun,” Alurel said. “We won’t wait up.”
Tuvala put their hand on the small of Sorvek’s back and steered him away from his friends. The two stepped out into the fresh seaside air of Ravenest and walked up the street, talking animatedly all the while.
Back in the Shade Tree, the rest of the B-Team had vacated their table to allow the maintenance staff to clean up the broken glass. Standing at the bar, Rhys said to Alurel, “You know how I promised not to try any more of my mushroom stash without you present.”
“I know you made the promise. I don’t know if you’ve kept it.”
“I have, I swear.” Rhys put his undamaged hand on his heart and held up the other one, which still bled from the glass. Alurel took it in hers and cast a minor healing spell. The cuts vanished.
“So you want to try a new mushroom?” Alurel prompted.
Rhys pulled an orange-gray, dome-topped fungus from his bag. “Can you identify this one?”
Alurel chuckled and shook her head in disbelief. “It’s called ‘End of Path.’ Do you really want to try a mushroom with a name like that?”
Rhys drew her aside, out of earshot of the others. “Look, there’s something I have to tell you. It’s about the sword Tyrevane.”
“It has a name?” Alurel whispered harshly. “How do you know that?”
“It...it told me,” Rhys said, surprising himself with the ease of this confession. Perhaps the sword’s power was less now that he wasn’t wearing it. But, oh, he wanted to. He needed to. He would go back to his room and –
Rhys felt a tug on his wrist. Alurel had a grip on him, and he was three steps farther away from the bar than he remembered being. He tensed all his muscles against the compulsion to go retrieve the sword, and the desire lessened...for the moment.
“So Shonasir was right to be worried about you and...and Tyrevane,” Alurel said.
“The sword has been talking to me,” Rhys said, speaking quickly lest the blade’s power silence him. “Driving me to kill, to slaughter really. I have never felt so powerful, but it scares me. I’ve never particularly enjoyed violence. I’ve always just been so big that people assume…” Rhys threw back the rest of his drink. “I feel like I’m losing myself, like the sword is drinking me in along with all the blood.”
“So you want to eat this obviously poisonous mushroom, why?”
“I thought if I drugged myself, then maybe I could break free of Tyrevane’s hold.”
“Substituting one drug for another. Great.”
“At least with the mushroom, I’m the only one I’m hurting. Please, Alurel.”
Alurel looked up into Rhys’s kind face. His locs were unbound following his bath, and they framed his clean-shaven cheeks. Anxious lines wrinkled his forehead. His lips were parted slightly, allowing short, whistling breaths to escape. Alurel had never before seen fear flitting behind his dark brown eyes, but she saw it now.
“Fine,” she conceded. “But I’m watching you the whole time, and if you start dying, I won’t let you.”
Rhys nodded silently, and Alurel pulled him toward the exit, explaining to Shonasir and Emric that Rhys needed some air. Once outside, she handed him the orange mushroom. “Maybe not the whole thing,” she said, tearing off a chunk of the dome.
Without another word, Rhys popped it in his mouth, chewed, and swallowed. A moment later, his world exploded. His body tensed and flung itself against the side of the building, where his limbs splayed out like they were being racked.
Then he is hurtling forward, yanked by some invisible force.
Fog swirls around him.
Shadows flash past.
He is sitting on a throne surrounded by dead bodies.
Tyrevane rests on his lap.
A second yank, and he is racing again through the fog.
A boat riding at anchor near the unpatterned madness of the Storm Curtain.
Rhys tries to throw the sword into the water.
Does it leave his hand?
Before he knows, he is speeding forth a third time into the fog.
He is kneeling before the luciens of the Cathedral of Light.
“Help me, please! I must be rid of it.”
But the blade surges forth towards the throat of the high lucien.
Rhys collapsed against the wall, shaking and fighting the urge to vomit. Alurel touched his clammy cheek and poured her restorative magic into him. The vomit came, orange and sludgy. Rhys rolled onto his hands and knees. He hacked and coughed. Alurel rubbed his back and held his locs away from his face.
When he had forcibly ejected the mushroom, Rhys wiped his mouth on his sleeve and fell back against the wall. “I know why they call it End of Path.”
Alurel smirked at him. “Because you almost just died?”
“No. It showed me possible futures. They all had to do with the sword.”
“I don’t suppose in any of them you got rid of it.”
“I was trying, but it wasn’t easy. How long was I out?”
“About fifteen seconds.”
“That’s all? It felt like forever.” Rhys tried to breathe deeply, but his stomach threatened to send up a second round of bile. “Forever and instantly both.” He turned his head and looked down at his friend. “Don’t let me eat that one again.”
“Deal.”
Across the city, Sorvek and Tuvala had finished their late night drink and were standing at the front door of Tuvala’s home, a small apartment at one end of a row of stone houses.
“You’ve been asking about elven mysticism all night, Sorvek. I’m sorry that my answers to your questions were less than satisfactory,” Tuvala said. “Spiritual entry to Karanathan isn’t exactly something I can describe with words. I don’t know if someone with less than full elven blood can reach Karanathan through the Trance, but I can help you try.”
“Do you think possession of this will help?” Sorvek tapped the black karest he wore around his neck.
Tuvala’s eyes sparkled as they took in the beauty of the amulet. “I can sense its magic, redolent of Karanathan. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“There are five kaerest. My companions and I wear them. Well, one was stolen by a vampire, but that’s another story.”
“I’d like to hear it someday,” Tuvala said. “For now, let’s try the Trance.” They opened their door and ushered Sorvek inside.
Being an elf, they owned no bed and their meditation cushion was not big enough for two. So Tuvala sat Sorvek down on the floor atop a folded towel and directed him to cross his legs. They sat across from him, close enough for their knees to touch.
“Why don’t you try holding the karest in your hand,” Tuvala prompted.
They rested their hands palms up on their knees, and Sorvek placed his on top of theirs, the karest between his left and Tuvala’s right.
“Now, try to relax and let the energy of your body flow where it will.”
Sorvek couldn’t help himself saying, “I know where I want it to flow.”
“Focus, Sorvek. If you want to enter the Trance, you’ll need to release such desires.” They paused, considered. “At least for now.”
Sorvek arched his eyebrows and smiled rakishly. “Why, Tuvala, I believe you are trying to seduce me
.”
The elf leaned forward, and Sorvek matched their movement. Their foreheads touched. “Breathe with me,” Tuvala whispered. “Focus only on my breath.”
It was odd being so close to the mouth of another person without kissing them, but Sorvek resisted. Closing his eyes, he breathed in time with them. A minute passed, then five, then ten. Tuvala’s body went slightly limp against him. Their breathing slowed even more, and Sorvek slowed his to match. The karest felt warm in his hand.
Then hot.
Then scalding.
Then he was no longer sitting in Tuvala’s apartment. He was striding through a forest of shining trees below a star-strewn sky. The trees were many-colored, like a painter had chosen their hues at random. The whole world was a painting, with each element its own source of light.
Tuvala walked by his side, and the karest was once again around his neck, glowing brightly and pulsing in time with his heart. When Tuvala spoke, their voice was far away and full of echoes.
“You’re here. I can’t believe it.”
“It’s the karest,” Sorvek said.
“It must have bridged your consciousness to mine,” Tuvala reasoned.
“So this is Karanathan?”
“No, this is the spiritual approximation of the reality of Karanathan. I cannot visit the true plane until my death. But this is more than enough for now.”
“So, we’re not in Karanathan?”
“Yes and no,” Tuvala said, their voice continuing to echo. “We see Karanathan as our limited perception allows us to –”
Tuvala’s eyes went wide and they took a step back. “Sorvek, what is happening?”
Sorvek looked down at his body. Gray-black smoke was pouring from his extremities and coiling around Tuvala. The elf gasped, and when they inhaled, the smoke forced its way down their throat. Their body went as limp as a marionette and then jerked upright, as if the puppeteer had grasped their strings. Their eyes looked at Sorvek with neither recognition nor comprehension.
“My pet,” Tuvala said, and their voice was a grating hiss. “What brings you to this place so far from the Realm of Shadow?”
“Let them go!” Sorvek shouted. “I wasn’t trying to escape you. Please, I beg you, let them go!”
“You lie! I see your mind. You have been imagining this moment since you found your way back to that pathetic sack of meat you call your body. You have given voice to the thought. You have dreamt of ending your fealty to me.”
“Dreams are idle things. I have no control over them. Please, release Tuvala!”
“Ah, are you replacing me with this fragile creature? Shall I break the elf’s neck? Would that teach you the lesson you deserve?”
“No!” Sorvek screamed, and his magic erupted from him. But the Shadow was holding Tuvala; it was no longer in him. Sorvek should not have had any magic at all. And yet it was there, and more powerful than before. Sorvek bent his mind at the Shadow and forced it out of Tuvala. It surged toward him, but he vanished and reappeared a distance away.
The Shadow swept his direction again. At the same time, a rumble began building in the trees. Before the Shadow could reach him, a herd of unicorns stampeded past, and each gored the Shadow with their horns. A dozen, two dozen, fifty or more unicorns of all colors and breeds thundered by and ripped the Shadow to shreds. Last of all, a unicorn foal chasing after the rest stamped Sorvek’s patron out of existence.
The foal circled Sorvek and Tuvala and stopped before them. Tuvala dropped to their knees and reached out with both arms. “Archfey? Is that you?”
“You know me?” The foal spoke, and its voice was butterfly wings flapping and, at the same time, an avalanche coursing down a mountain.
“I have sought you in my Trance for many years. How could I not know you?”
“Your quest honors me,” the Archfey said. “And you have brought a curiosity with you.”
“This is Sorvek, milord.”
“A thrall of a lesser shadow, yes,” the Archfey said.
Sorvek had fallen silent when the unicorns appeared, but now he found his voice. “Lesser shadow? It told me it was the Shadow.”
“It lied,” the Archfey said simply, and the foal tossed its head mirthfully. “None of the Seven would be destroyed so easily. Nor would Lasht itself ever venture from the Umbral Palace in the Deep Shadow.”
“Deep Shadow? Umbral Palace? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“No one ever does,” the Archfey said. “The mortal mind could never plumb the depths of one such as I.”
The foal trotted forward and nuzzled into Tuvala’s outstretched hand. “The mind cannot fathom, but feelings are altogether different things. What do your hearts tell you?”
Tuvala could not form words, such was their ecstasy. But Sorvek said, “I have been contending with that being for so long, ever since it gave me the power to escape captivity. Now that it’s gone, I find that I have gotten used to my magic, despite its demonic origin.”
The foal touched Sorvek in the middle of his torso with the stub of its growing horn. A golden ball of light expanded out from the horn and engulfed Sorvek. Then the light sucked itself inward and filled the space the shadow had been.
“Your new patron I shall be,” the Archfey said. “I’m always looking to dabble in your world, but few elves own a mischievous enough nature to tempt me. Return now and use my magic well.”
The foal turned and galloped away. Tuvala rose, unsteadily, to their feet and wordlessly took Sorvek’s hands. The karest flashed, and they were back in Tuvala’s apartment. Sorvek felt a new power glittering within him. Gone was the poisonous sludge of the shadow. Now he was luminous.
Tears of joy at meeting the Archfey of Karanathan streamed down Tuvala’s cheeks. They reached their hand behind Sorvek’s head and pulled him in.
twenty-nine
Cloudchaser
Hand in hand, Sorvek walked Tuvala to the Shade Tree the next morning. They found the rest of the B-Team sitting down to breakfast. Rhys looked a little worse for wear, but the other three were chipper and well rested. Indeed, their grins were a little too wide while they watched Sorvek kiss Tuvala as the elf took their post at the concierge’s desk.
Sorvek was met with silence, then tittering laughter when he sat down at the table. “Very mature,” he said.
Alurel’s smile vanished, replaced by mock seriousness. “How, uh, was your night, Sorvek?”
“Transformative, thank you.”
“They’re that good?” Alurel shot a glance at Tuvala, then looked away because the elf was coming towards the table.
Tuvala handed Shonasir a letter. “This was delivered for you with the morning post.”
Shonasir traced their finger over the wax sealing the message. “How would anyone know I’m here?”
“The Shade Tree and other inns provide the League Postal Service’s local office with a list of guests each evening,” Tuvala explained. “If any of our guests have letters waiting for them, they are delivered the next day.”
“Efficient,” Emric said.
Shonasir broke the seal and read the letter to themselves. “It’s from Dressa, my flatmate at the University. ‘Dear Shonasir, I hope this message finds you. I sent it to all the cities I could think of trusting you would turn up in one eventually. It’s Professor Cloudchaser. Something’s wrong with him since your last visit. You need to come back as soon as you can.’”
Shonasir looked up from the note. “I last saw him a few weeks ago. It was right before we killed the vampire. He did seem a little off, but he’s always been eccentric.”
“What did you talk about?” Emric asked.
“I told him about my ability to awaken the elements and how I was better able to control it after the experiment in his storm chamber. If Dressa went through the expense to send letters all over Sularil
looking for me, it must be serious. I’ve got to go check on him.”
“What about the ironwood seed?” Alurel asked.
“It’s safe in the glass. Can it wait a day or two?”
“I suppose.”
“Then let’s go now.”
“But my breakfast just arrived,” Sorvek said.
Emric grabbed a fistful of bacon and pushed it into Sorvek’s hand. “Eat on the way.”
The B-Team gathered their gear, Sorvek bid a hasty farewell to Tuvala, and the party headed for the gateway. A few minutes later, they exited the runegate in the northwestern corner of Thousand Spires on the beautifully manicured grounds of the University of Sularil.
“I’ve always wanted to visit this place,” Emric said. “Especially Canlas College to explore their historical archive. Which college do you attend, Shonasir?”
“I take classes across several of the colleges, but we’re heading to Grenadin, the college of engineering and applied sciences. Cloudchaser’s work is all about harnessing the electrical power of storms.”
“I thought he was your meteorology teacher.”
“No, I’m a meteorology student interested in his experiments with the weather.”
They walked along past students studying in the open quads, past street vendors selling easily portable meals, past old sandstone buildings, many hailing from the late Eldasin period when the university was founded.
“The term should be over any day now,” Shonasir said. “Exams happen right before Festival.” They raised their hand in a wave and hurried their steps. “There’s Dressa!”
A young, human woman with pale skin and dark hair was walking across the quad, a stack of books in hand. “Shonasir,” she called out. “Am I glad to see you.”
“I got your letter in Ravenest. What’s going on?”
Dressa wouldn’t meet Shonasir’s eyes. “You need to go see Cloudchaser. He canceled all his classes for the end of term and barricaded himself in his lab. Something’s wrong!”
“I’ll go right away. Dressa, these are my friends. Friends, this is Dressa.” And with that abbreviated introduction, Shonasir dashed off the way Dressa had come.