Whereupon, the tilting floor finally slammed down, level at last.
Tanis looked around at the desert world and knew suddenly that it had been abandoned, just like these revenants. The only ones owning the world now were the beings standing there at that moment—and possibly Baelfeir, elsewhere, via his overarching starpoints, his table to this book of worlds.
Baelfeir had made certain no one could coincide the starpoints of his universe. Thus he’d made it impossible to change the fabric of the desert world.
But what if the world itself was no longer a part of Wylde? Then they wouldn’t need to coincide Baelfeir’s starpoints at all.
Tanis thought about how he’d duplicated the starpoints of that world, and he wondered, what would happen if he just…shifted them? If he just ripped this page right out of the thousand-page world-book and put it down on a different table…would anyone even notice it was gone?
The Warlock who’d created the world clearly wasn’t owning it anymore, and Baelfeir obviously wasn’t paying attention, or he would’ve already come to find out what two foreign Warlocks and a child of Light were doing in Wylde.
So Tanis took a deep breath and concentrated….
A smile claimed his features.
So simple. Everything in Shadow was just so simple. It had all shifted while nothing at all had shifted. Yet Tanis looked at the revenants now and he knew them, the way Sinárr knew his mind when he brought Tanis into his own universe.
New understanding guided Tanis’s next intention. He framed starpoints down on the bed of rubble and opened a portal.
Light speared out in gleaming brilliance.
The sea of roiling inhumanity froze.
Then it surged through the portal in wave upon dark wave.
Instantly forgotten were the Warlocks, the Malorin’athgul, Prince Ean. Tanis’s portal shone more brightly than all of them, and the revenants shoveled themselves through it with unreserved abandon.
Sinárr soon reappeared at his side, molting smoke. “Tanis…” he was observably breathless, and not from fighting revenants. He took the lad’s shoulder sharply. “What did you do?”
Tanis tugged at one ear. “I guess you could say I, uh…stole it?” He scrubbed at the back of his head and gave Sinárr a culpable look.
“You stole it.” Sinárr’s golden gaze felt like heat burning his skin—a merciless, sun heat, the kind that melted planets. “You moved the entire world out of Wylde?” His pulsating shock could’ve pounded a mountain into chalk. “To where?”
“To my own universe.”
Sinárr gave some kind of choked curse in the language of stars. The words seared Tanis’s thoughts, such that they felt charred on all their edges. “And then?”
“Then…” Tanis let his breath out slowly, “I opened a portal into one of the new worlds we’ve been building together.”
Sinárr spun a swift and probing stare at Tanis’s portal. The revenants were still funneling through it in a flood that would likely continue for many hours. He looked bewildered when he turned back to the lad. “Why?”
“They only wanted the energy of life.”
“Tanis,” he sounded slightly frustrated, but more concerned, “you cannot restore life to these entities once they’ve been severed from their Warlock.”
Tanis watched the flood of creatures with a furrowed brow. “Maybe they’re just shadows of what they once were, Sinárr. I don’t know, but I doubt anyone has tried to restore them with elae,” he turned to him significantly, “and our world has both. Here, they’re only hungering. At least there they have a chance for something else.” He let his gaze stray across the revenant sea and added soberly, “It seemed more humane, in any case.”
Sinárr gripped his shoulder. “Baelfeir will eventually realize this world is gone, even if its own creator does not.”
“We don’t have to keep it, Sinárr. What would we do with it, in any case? As soon as the revenants are through the portal, I’ll move the world back to Wylde.”
Tanis’s attention drifted then to the others coming towards them on a bridge Rafael was unfurling across the open air. The Warlock was striding smoothly with his wings hovering in an almost possessive curl around the imposingly tall Darshan, seeming more jailor than rescuer. And walking a few paces in front of them…
Apprehension clogged Tanis’s chest and anticipation his throat. With his entire body suddenly tingling, he watched Ean approaching—
And saw that his prince was covered in welts and barely standing upright.
“Your Highness!” Tanis ran to him.
“I’m all right, Tanis.” Ean took hold of the lad and looked him over, his grey eyes incredulous and so full of warmth. His fingers gripped and released on Tanis’s shoulders as if to reassure himself the lad was actually there. “I can’t believe it’s really you.”
Suddenly Tanis felt his younger self again, that youth of Calgaryn who wore admiration for his prince as proudly as the coat Ean had gifted him. He thought of the impossible road he’d traveled since they’d last seen each other, thought of everything he’d learned about them both in that time, and gave a quiet smile. “It’s been a long time, Your Highness.”
Ean just gazed at him, still smiling, his eyes glassy.
Tanis had so many things to say to him, to tell him—ask him—but all he seemed able to do just then was grin.
“Words can’t communicate how overwhelmed I am to see you.” Ean ran his hand along Tanis’s arm. “Shadow is all illusion, but you are here, aren’t you? I’m not dreaming you up in some wild hallucination from the bottom of a pile of revenants?”
“I’m here.” Tanis managed a smile despite the unnerving perception that the prince had been speaking from recent experience; that would also explain why he seemed so unstable on his feet.
Ean was still gripping his shoulders, looking mildly haunted but at the same time amazed. “Darshan said that Balance pervaded the cosmos. I’m ashamed to say I doubted him, but now—well, what else explains this impossible meeting than that Cephrael brought us together?” He shook his head with slow incredulity. “Lady’s light…Tanis—how did you find me?”
Because you called. Tanis stared wordlessly at him, wondering with a pang of uncertainty why Ean wasn’t aware of their bond. Was it because the prince was cut off from elae?
Into their reunion Rafael and Darshan arrived, with the former murmuring, “…should not have happened—would not have happened unless all of the Warlocks had withdrawn their vitality from these worlds.”
Whereupon Tanis heard Darshan’s deep voice inquire, “It begs the question, Rafael, if they’re not here, where have they gone?”
As if the Malorin’athgul’s arrival had enervated him, Ean looked to the others. “Forgive me, I think—”
His knees buckled.
Darshan caught him in his arms.
“Sinárr!” Tanis spun urgently to the Warlock, who shifted them immediately away.
Seventy-seven
“The most glorious moments are not those of success, but rather those moments when out of despair you feel rise in you a challenge posed to life itself.”
–Errodan val Lorian, Queen of Dannym
Nassar abin’Ahram watched the dark death moving through the Akkadian ranks, feeling gravely conflicted. Jai’Gar instructed loyalty, but He also said that a pious man must look upon his neighbor as his own brother. When Nassar’s time on this earth was done and Inithiya brought his spirit before Jai’Gar, the Prime God would call forth all men whom Nassar had treated with in his life. ‘Were you treated well, treated fairly?’ the Prime God would ask them. ‘How fared you by this man once called Nassar abin’Ahram?’ Jai’Gar would hear their claims and judge Nassar by his acts.
He would be judging Radov abin’Hadorin, too. In death, all men stood humbled before their gods, whether or not they’d ever known humility in life.
Now Nassar looked upon the battle waged by his Ruling Prince, and he wondered what virtue Jai�
�Gar would deem in this act. Would He find prudence in waging war to claim power for power’s sake? Would He see justice in making abominations of men, or temperance in allowing them to slash and slay unhindered, unrestricted, as wild animals on a rampage?
He had no idea what was happening with the creatures Radov had loosed directly on the oasis, but the twenty-five pushing through the front lines were leaving a frightful wake of death.
Nassar was no stranger to battle. As a pious man, he always prayed for peaceful resolution, but there were times when peace must be carved from the immobile mass of fanaticism, and when the only possible justice required an eye for an eye. He saw a crude balance in men fighting men, in the clean combat of swords and shields; and though brutal and always tragic, there had been moments in his career when those dark and smoking clashes held a sort of dark majesty for him. Battle was man at his basest and shouted of the failure of higher reason, but he admitted it was sometimes necessary.
But what he was witnessing that morning on the Khalim Plains wasn’t battle. It was slaughter.
***
Farid felt the impact when Dannym’s king barreled into one of the creatures trying to throttle him. He twisted to avoid its clawing fingers and brought up his legs around the demon’s chest. Then he threw himself over backwards, threw it over backwards, somersaulting as the thing flew off him. It dove back for Farid at the same time that Farid dove for his sword. By Jai’Gar’s will, Farid moved faster.
He brought up his blade just as the creature fell atop him. His breath left him in a painful expulsion, and he watched through pinpoint stars as whatever dark life possessed the creature expired. Not a strain of humanity remained in its dying stare.
Farid finally regained his breath and managed to shove the creature off of him. The one he’d clashed with earlier was regaining itself. Half of its arm was missing. It hardly seemed to notice.
Behind Farid, the others were still fighting, but far fewer of them were on their feet than had first begun.
Farid pushed his boot into the dead creature’s shoulder and yanked his blade free. Then he did a fast scan of the scene. Several demons had seen him rise and were coming towards him now, but another truth struck far more forcefully and with immediate alarm.
Where was the king?
***
Ramu…?
Jaya…?
Náiir…?
Rhakar…?
Amithaiya’geshwen, the Bosom of God’s Nectar, opened her eyes, and her large pupils flashed to slits, forming a narrow band among crystals of variegated blue, their lenses reacting to the boiling corona that loomed so massively in the otherwise black sky.
She lifted her snout and inhaled the solar wind, and her body shivered to wakefulness, gilded scales riffling from head to spiked tail. She tested her wings and found them strong. The star inside her combusted with restored vigor.
Balaji…
She cast the thought to the brother whose voice had awoken her. Doubtless they’d all been wondering where she’d gone, what had happened after Darshan had dared invade the Mage’s sa’reyth, dared accost her with his power, shaking the world fabric as a storm whips a flag. How long had she been asleep on that metal planet, healing from the wounds he’d inflicted? She hoped her lesson in kind had shown him the better of some manners.
Balaji…?
He should’ve answered her by now.
She cast a hook for his awareness along the bond they shared, a polite summons for his attention…
Still no answer? Had he not just called to her?
Something was very wrong. Mithaiya reassessed the timbre of Balaji’s first address. She’d thought the faint distress was concern for her, but what if it derived from some other cause?
Had Darshan found his way back to the world faster than she had?
Balaji! Ramu! Rhakar! Náiir! Jaya!
She sent summonses spearing towards all of her siblings, and after a startlingly lengthy breath of time, she perceived a faint reply.
…aiya…
Ramu’s call. So distant, yet…
Mithaiya challenged her own perceptions. Ramu seemed to be calling to her not across the cosmos but across the years. Had she been gone so long?
But no, something had to have been done to shift her and her siblings out of the same time stream. Darshan hadn’t manipulated time during their altercation, and neither had she, which meant…
Mithaiya shook the third strand to get its attention and sent it seeking her siblings. She found her favorite brother first. Ramu!
Mithaiya. Relief coursed his mental tone. Where are you? Do you remain in Alorin’s time?
Yes. I’ve been asleep—healing.
Well that you were, else we’d all be scattered across the ages and might never find our way back to the same moment. I’ve anchored to you now and will seek the others.
Confusion spun rings in Mithaiya’s head. Ramu, whatever hap—
Later, my sister, for if I’m not mistaken, you’re desperately needed in Raku.
Mithaiya roused to at once.
Be certain of what course you take there, Mithaiya. Balance hinges by a thread.
Mithaiya shook out her wings. I will, brother. Find the others. She launched herself towards the node.
***
Spinning a fast look around, Farid saw the rippling pool and the shadow beneath the surface and felt his heart sinking with it. For the space of an indrawn breath, he debated. It was hardly a deliberation. He sheathed his sword and dove in.
His dive brought him close to the king. Farid grabbed him around the chest and kicked hard for the surface while also taking them deeper into the pool, towards Jai’Gar’s pillars at the center. The creatures had avoided the pool thus far, probably because they couldn’t swim. More likely they would sink like stones.
Farid surged to the surface with Gydryn heavy in his arms, wondering by what odd twist of will the Prime God had made him the protector of Dannym’s king, and kicked backwards towards the pillars, hugging Gydryn against his chest.
By some miracle of luck he got the king’s limp form up onto the stone platform where the pillars rested. The creatures that had been chasing him were standing at the pool’s edge making an unholy row with their clattering shrieks and ratchet screams. But since they were on the edge and he was beneath Jai’Gar’s eye, Farid mostly ignored them.
The king was bleeding heavily from a gash along his neck. Farid tore a strip from his robes to stanch the wound, then tried rousing the king. After several attempts, Gydryn’s eyes fluttered. Then followed a perilous bout of choking and coughing, during which Farid did his best to keep pressure on the king’s wound.
Finally, Gydryn inhaled a shuddering breath and lifted bloodshot eyes to him. Farid saw gratitude there, and amazement, and not a little disbelief. “You already saved my life once,” the king managed with a choked gasp.
“And you saved mine, Your Majesty.”
Gydryn lifted his eyes to the pillars overhead. “Either there’s divine will in this, Farid, or one of us needs to find a new line of work.”
That’s when one of the creatures jumping up and down in fury on the pool’s stone rim slipped and fell in with a gigantic splash. Farid watched it sink instantly to the bottom. It laid there for a moment as if startled, or confused. Then, horrifyingly, it found its feet and started walking.
Gydryn looked grimly to Farid. “That could be a problem.”
***
Mithaiya flew off the node into the sere Nadori daylight, banked her wings and flew south towards the thunderhead of smoke roiling above the walls of Raku. Her anger had already been roused by the emotions seeping across the bond from Ramu and her siblings. Seeing the currents, that simmering fury geysered to all new heights.
What atrocities against the lifeforce were being worked here, and by whom?
She intended to discover those answers. She intended many things that day.
Mithaiya studied the currents as she soared towards the oas
is, seeing much of what had come before and what was still to come if she took no action. Ramu had urged caution from her, warning that the Balance hung by a thread, but the creatures wreaking havoc on the currents were offenses against Nature itself. She would be justified even if she erased every one of them from the aether.
Which was exactly what she intended to do.
***
Gydryn pressed the wad of cloth to his neck and watched the creatures lining up at the rim of the pool. Beyond them, the Converted who’d rushed the courtyard had either found their end in blood or fled anew. Now the seven remaining demons were free to stare at Farid and Gydryn—or more unnervingly, at the creature wading across the bottom of the pool towards them.
Farid doffed his soaking cloak and shrugged out of his wet layers until he wore only a linen tunic and pants. He squatted on his heels beside Gydryn then, his hand resting on the hilt of his blade. Both of their gazes went to the creature beneath the water.
“It won’t be able to reach this platform,” Farid said, though he sounded too uncertain for Gydryn to take his words to heart. “We’re at least ten feet above the bottom.”
“What if it tries to climb the supports? Or knocks them down and us with them?”
Farid exhaled a slow breath of unease. “Jai’Gar willing, it’s not that smart.”
As it happened, the creature on the pool floor stood in the shadow of the pillars staring up at them for a long while. Eventually a clattering racket erupted amid the demons on shore, and then one of them jumped into the pool after the first. The others quickly followed.
“What are they—” Farid stared down into the water, watching with a puzzled frown as they strode across the pool floor. Then his eyes widened. “Your Majesty, hurry away from the edge—please.” He took Gydryn’s arm and half-supported, half-hauled him back to the safety of the pillars.
Gydryn leaned against the stone, keeping pressure on the wound at his neck, and tried to ignore the queasiness in his stomach. He managed a rather sickly swallow. “What are they doing, Farid?”
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