Angel of Storms

by Trudi Canavan

  He felt sick with dread. I wish I’d tried harder to dissuade Yira from this, but how can I? If I speak out against every plan to fight she’ll wonder what I’m doing here. She knew that her leadership would falter if the rebels did not feel they were making progress. She had also admitted, privately, that she sympathised with the most impatient of them. Life in Aei was comfortable, but the constant fear of discovery and effort of keeping the rebels together made her long to take action.

  He knew she would never be persuaded to leave the rebels. Not by him, or anyone else. He’d begun to suspect he was pretending to be a rebel for the sake of protecting Yira as much as he was spying for the sake of restoring Vella.

  He had no idea what the Raen expected him to do. He couldn’t refuse or neglect to join the fight and remain with the rebels, yet if he did he would be attacking people who also served the Raen.

  My task is to spy, he told himself. Part of that is to not reveal that I am a spy. So if not fighting would do that, then I have to fight. By the same reasoning, even if the ally knew Tyen was the Raen’s spy, he couldn’t avoid attacking Tyen if it meant exposing the arrangement. I could die today.

  “Obey the orders of your leaders, as they know what to do next,” Yira told the crowd. “We must act quickly and decisively, my rebel friends. Fight well, fight hard.” She jumped off the column, landing beside Tyen. “Generals,” she said. “It’s time.”

  As the other three made their way forward, Tyen followed. He took a deep breath and tried, in vain, to will his heart to stop racing. His confrontation with Professor Kilraker had involved a tiny amount of magic, and the chase and confrontation with the Academy’s aircarts had been a small scuffle, compared to what he was likely to face next.

  “Nine worlds away,” Yira said in a low voice, “the Raen’s ally Preketai has a small palace, where he goes during the cold winters of his home world. He takes a few sorcerer underlings with him and some servants, but is otherwise alone unless entertaining guests. We’ll go in one group. Tyen will take us there, since he’s transported large numbers of people before.”

  “And after?” Frell asked.

  “Scatter and wait a few days before returning to the base.”

  Volk nodded. “And witnesses?”

  “Kill the sorcerers only if they read the location of the base from a rebel’s mind. Don’t kill the servants. This is to be an assassination, not a massacre.”

  She looked at each of them expectantly, then when no further questions came she nodded.

  “Get everyone into formation.”

  As they hurried away she looked at Tyen, her eyebrows rising.

  “Nervous?”

  He let out a short laugh. “Of course.”

  “Good. You should be. It’ll sharpen your reflexes.” Her expression softened. “I’m sorry, Tyen. I know you’d rather I didn’t put myself, or anyone else, in danger. No change comes without loss, and we are aiming for enormous change. A once-in-a-thousand-cycle change. That’s not going to come easily.”

  He nodded. “I know.” He sighed. “I guess I’m no warrior.”

  “You would look for a way to resolve this without bloodshed.” She smiled. “That makes you the best kind of warrior. And you are still here, despite your doubts.”

  He looked away to hide the guilt. If she knew the true reason I’m here would she be so understanding? He made himself look at her again. She was watching the generals move among the rebels, chewing her lip as was her habit, but with a savageness that suggested she might draw blood.

  What haven’t I thought of? she was asking herself. What have I missed? How will I forgive myself if…?

  “It is a good plan,” he told her, because it was true and she needed to hear it, and he may as well reassure her since he would never dissuade her from going into battle. “And I’ll whisk you away, if anything goes wrong,” he added quietly.

  Distracted, she glanced at him and smiled. “I think they’re ready.”

  Sure enough, the rebels now stood in linked concentric circles. Each had gathered magic in other worlds before the leader of their group had brought them here. Now the leaders drew in magic, and for the first time in many cycles Tyen experienced the sensation of being surrounded by Soot. When he considered how much magic all the rebels held, he shivered. And yet, we can’t be sure it is enough to defeat even one of the Raen’s allies.

  Yira walked out into the centre of the circle, Tyen following, and they joined the formation.

  “Take a breath,” she called, then she nodded to Tyen.

  Reaching far beyond the Soot, Tyen drew in what lay beyond. He heard gasps among the rebels, then the quick refilling of lungs as they remembered they were about to travel between worlds. Yira chuckled.

  Pushing away from the world, Tyen sent them skimming away from the ancient city up the valley it once guarded. At the top was an arrival place, surprisingly well used for the location. This world had many, and he could sense a multitude of newly travelled paths that the rebel groups had formed to reach the meeting place.

  From there he took them from world to world, staying on well-used paths and pausing only long enough for everyone to exhale and inhale. At the last world before their destination, he drew in more magic.

  As they emerged from the place between, a wide paved space surrounded by enormous, parasol-like trees started to appear. Several people walking within this found themselves surrounded by ghostly forms and hurried to move away before the sorcerers arrived. But Tyen did not plan to bring the rebels through here. He took them along a wide road through the low buildings.

  As they left the city the road narrowed, but remained paved and well maintained. It climbed slowly, and as they crested a ridge a wide valley spread before them. Dominating the centre of it was a house the size of a large town.

  The river winding down the valley had been captured and channelled into three huge, rectangular pools. Each of these lay at the centre of a courtyard large enough to hold the main temple of Aei, which in turn was surrounded by an enormous building. The three linked buildings must have contained hundreds, if not thousands, of rooms each. Boats–actual ships–floated on the pools and giant statues stood and sat and lounged around them.

  Tyen propelled them towards the complex. How are we going to even find Preketai here, let alone surprise him? He took the rebels down towards the first courtyard. People were everywhere, sweeping the pavement, polishing the statues and cleaning the pools. So much for “a few servants”. Several looked up, noticing the passing shadow of the rebel group and shrinking away in alarm. No hiding our arrival now. Tyen descended to the pavement and, in a gap between statues big enough to fit the whole rebel army, brought everyone into the world.

  The group sucked in a collective breath. “Search for minds,” Yira ordered. “Someone will know where he is.”

  “There!” a rebel shouted. Tyen sought the voice, saw an arm raised to point at an archway. He searched in that direction and found the mind of a servant hurrying away from the footsteps of the sorcerer. Preketai did not like to see servants, and had burned a woman to ash that morning when he had rounded a corner to find her dusting a vase.

  Nice man, Tyen thought. Maybe I won’t find it so hard to join in this battle after all.

  The woman was beginning to panic. It was her first visit to the mansion and she didn’t know her way around. As she turned a corner she found herself in the corridor that ran along the main hall. Through an open door she could see a huge, glittering space. Not there, she thought. Nowhere to hide in there.

  “He’s near the main hall,” Yira said. “It looks big enough for all of us. Take us there, Tyen. Everyone hold on!”

  He pulled them out of the world and skimmed towards the archway. Passing through a huge pair of doors, they entered a cavernous space. Hundreds of mirrors hung from the walls, which had been covered in elaborately carved silver panels. The floor was polished white stone inlaid with more silver. As they arrived he stilled the air around
them to form a shield, anticipating that some would be too stunned to remember their training. The rebels stood frozen, tense with expectation, some looking nervously around the hall, others gazing around in astonishment.

  “Our timing is fortunate,” Volk said. “The reason the servants are in such a hurry is the arrival of another ally tomorrow.”

  “One of his sorcerer underlings has been told of our arrival,” Frell said. “His mind just went silent so he must be in the place between.”

  A door opened in the hall and Tyen heard Yira draw in a quick breath. Following her gaze, he saw a man in a long coat of shimmering silver fabric standing about a hundred paces away, staring at them.

  “Is that him?” a rebel whispered.

  “Has to be,” another replied.

  “Either that, or the house servants’ uniforms are very expensive,” Volk muttered.

  “It’s Preketai!” another rebel said in a louder voice. “I’ll never forget that face.”

  “Who are you?” the man demanded, then his eyes narrowed. “Rebels!” he sneered. “Haven’t you learned your lesson yet?”

  “Shield and attack!” Yira shouted.

  Tyen stopped stilling the air around the rebels just in time as a magical onslaught burst from them. He could not possibly anticipate and let through every attack, so they would have to rely on their own shields. Preketai did not even flinch. His eyebrows rose and he glared at them imperiously.

  Then all the magic around them rushed towards Preketai, leaving the hall dark with Soot.

  The rebels closest to the man cringed, and as their shields failed others stepped forward to protect them.

  “Formation!” Yira yelled. “Shield us all when he attacks, Tyen,” she added in a quieter tone. “Save your strength for it. Stay here at the back, so he doesn’t guess who is doing it.” She moved away, wending through the crowd towards the front.

  A traitorous relief that he would not have to strike the Raen’s ally was followed by concern for Yira. He stilled the air between Preketai and the rebels again, allowing them to shift into battle positions, moving to surround the lone figure. The ally stopped attacking and waited. In the pause that followed, Tyen looked around. It was hard to believe so many sorcerers combined couldn’t overcome the man. But though they’d gathered their magic in other worlds, they could not replace it now that Preketai removed all the magic around them. He could also continue to take the magic that flowed into the void he’d made.

  “Attack!” Yira called. Tyen dropped his shield as the rebels struck again. Preketai sneered, amused by their efforts.

  How strong is he? Tyen sought the edge of the Soot. What he saw chilled him. He’d never encountered an area empty of magic that he could not instantly see the edges of.

  That one man could be so powerful was terrifying. It also meant that Preketai could read every rebel’s thoughts and anticipate their moves, including Tyen’s. How could the rebels win with such a disadvantage? He focused on Preketai, wishing he could see something behind the silence where the man’s mind ought to be.

  And slipped through the block.

  … grown faster than before, and aren’t as disorganised, Preketai was thinking as he considered their formation. Perhaps the schools of magic do make a difference. I always thought they couldn’t do much harm.

  Tyen stared at the ally in astonishment.

  I must be stronger than him! But that means…

  His entire body went cold. That meant who won and lost this battle could be entirely up to Tyen.

  … may be smarter, but they don’t have hundreds of cycles of battle experience… Preketai thought, then shaped magic into a new attack.

  Tyen hastily shielded the rebels. I can’t be a spy and a hero of the rebels. The Raen might accept that I couldn’t stop the rebels killing one of his allies, but he won’t want me to be the one to kill the man. And yet he’d only ever said that Tyen must not reveal his true purpose among the rebels. That means killing Preketai if I have to…

  Which meant the rebels would win, but only if Tyen made the killing strike. Or did it…?

  A shout interrupted his thoughts, then flashes of light came from the other side of the hall to Preketai.

  “Two sorcerers!” someone shouted. “They’re attacking.”

  He heard a warning shout from Preketai, but it was drowned out by whoops of triumph from the rebels and the sound of shattering glass. Tyen saw one of the underlings lying, body twisted in an impossible way, against a wall, and the other backing away only to collapse a few steps later.

  Anger bloomed in Preketai’s mind. The sorcerers had been competent and efficient, qualities not guaranteed to come with magical ability. The damage to the hall could not be repaired before the guest arrived. Preketai narrowed his eyes. Seeing the man’s intentions, Tyen sucked in a breath.

  “Hold your shields still,” he shouted. The closest group leaders glanced at him, none understanding the danger but most obeying. Three did not, and the rebels within their shields were jerked into the air as Preketai seized control of and shook the air around them. Bodies slammed against each other and the inside of the barriers meant to protect them. Two of the leaders regained control, while neighbouring group leaders extended their shields to protect the third group, whose leader was unconscious.

  Shock turned to anger as Preketai laughed. The man’s smile vanished, and as the rebels attacked again he began scanning their ranks. Which one is it? Who is the strong one?

  We need to finish this quickly, before he can try anything else, Yira was thinking. If you can hear me, Tyen, don’t forget to keep enough magic in reserve to get everyone out.

  Stretching outwards, Tyen reached beyond the void, drawing in the magic that had begun to replace what Preketai had taken, and more.

  “All at once,” Yira yelled. “Be ready to link when we’re done.”

  The rebels obeyed.

  Preketai abandoned his search of their minds. Time to end this. Most of them have run out of magic, anyway. He briefly considered keeping a few alive to punish, starting with the woman who was giving the orders. Perhaps he would drag her into the place between worlds and hold her there until she suffocated. He reached for the magic flowing in to fill the void.

  And found none.

  In disbelief, Preketai tried in vain to stretch further. He grew frightened as he sensed the void extending further than his reach. Knowing he was now too weak to even push out of the world, he cast about, looking for the sorcerer whose mind he could not read. His eyes met Tyen’s.

  Then he jerked into the air.

  A crack and gasp escaped him as his mouth widened in pain. He began to fall, but further strikes tossed him one way and the next as the rebels were seized by a crazed excitement, each wanting to make a strike that mattered, or else ensure the man was truly, absolutely defeated. By the time he landed on the floor his mind was silent. He lay still.

  The hall echoed with shouts of triumph.

  “Enough! Enough!” Yira yelled over and again. As nearby rebels heard, they repeated the call, and soon all quietened. Yira’s eyes met Tyen’s, and she beckoned. Reluctantly he pushed through the crowd and joined her as she inspected the fallen ally. A circle of rebels had formed about the corpse, hovering a few strides away in fear that some life might still linger.

  Nausea rose as Tyen saw the body. It was twisted and broken, flesh torn and peeled away. Bones protruded through a gash in one arm of the fine silver coat. Blood still pumped out of wounds and seeped from beneath the oddly bent torso, but it was slowing. The eyes were vacant, and as Yira bent to place a finger against the man’s throat she nodded.

  “Dead,” she confirmed.

  Tyen looked away. I can’t reason away my part in this, he thought. But the guilt and horror did not feel as savage as he expected, and as he recalled the servant woman’s memory of her colleague’s ashes being tipped on the garden bed it faded further. He truly was the monster they said he was. The worlds are better off without
him.

  Whether the Raen agreed remained to be seen. A part of Tyen didn’t care.

  “We are victorious!” Yira yelled, making him jump.

  The rebels cheered. Tyen let their thoughts wash over him, full of relief and elation and not a little horror at what they had done. A few had already begun to fear the Raen’s retaliation.

  “But we can’t celebrate yet,” Yira continued. “First, what of the injured?”

  Five of the group that had been flung about inside their shield were injured, including the unconscious leader. One was dead of a broken neck. A rebel volunteered to take the deceased man to his home world, another said she would care for the leader. Once the rest of the injured were paired with a carer, Yira ordered all to prepare to leave.

  “Tyen will take us beyond the void so you can gather magic to travel. After that, scatter. Wait a while if you can, then go to the meeting places and return to the base in small groups. Take care to ensure you are not followed. Once the news of this spreads, the Raen and his allies will be looking for us. Now, into formation.”

  Eager to leave, the rebels linked arms. Tyen took them to the next world, as it was safer than searching for the physical edge of the void. The rebels immediately began to vanish. When all had disappeared, Yira took Tyen’s hand and propelled them into the space between.

  She brought them in and out of several worlds, keeping to well-used paths, circling and backtracking to confuse anyone who might try to track them. When they arrived in a muddy street on the outskirts of a city, outside a sprawling wooden building he remembered from his days as a student, Tyen groaned.

  “Not here,” he complained.

  She grinned. “Crowded places are the best places to hide. And we need to celebrate.”

  “But the food is terrible.”

  “Food’s not what we’re here for.”

  She grabbed his arm and pulled him through the open front of the building. Squeezing onto the edge of a bench beside an unconscious man, she gestured to a rickety chair. Tyen pulled it up to the end of the table and sat down.