Angel of Storms

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Angel of Storms Page 48

by Trudi Canavan


  There was no other sound.

  “I’m almost too afraid to make a light,” Baluka admitted in a whisper.

  “Do it,” Tyen said. “We have to know.”

  A small spark appeared. It illuminated a black floor under their feet, smooth and dull. As the light brightened it revealed the surface was flat and circular, wide enough for four or five people to stand on, and it was recessed a hand span or so into the rest of the floor.

  From there the surface was smooth in all directions. As Baluka’s light brightened it only revealed more of the dull black surface, stretching into infinity. The darkness above them did not yield to the light. There could have been a roof far overhead, or sky.

  “Tyen.” Baluka’s voice was sharp with warning, and with a hint of hysteria that Tyen had never heard before. “We’re sinking.”

  Tyen’s heart lurched. He looked down. Sure enough, the flat circle beneath their feet had receded further. The curved edge of the higher ground had become a bulge, bending and threatening to spill inwards.

  “Liquid,” Baluka said. “It’s some kind of ocean, so thick that–we have to get out of here.” Though he was already grasping Tyen with one hand he now grabbed Tyen’s shoulder with the other.

  The darkness slowly, reluctantly withdrew.

  Baluka’s expression grew calm as he took them back to the bright world. He let go of Tyen’s shoulder when they arrived and propelled them onward, through all four previous worlds to the tower.

  “We only… have to… levitate,” Baluka said with his first breath when they emerged.

  Tyen nodded. “The liquid… is natural… I’m guessing. The arrival… platform was probably brought in… to make it easier for visitors.”

  “Easier! It was sinking!”

  “Yes. A defence, I’d say. It is buoyant enough to stay in place until someone stands on it. Most people would stop only long enough to breathe.” Tyen frowned. “Curious that there was breathable air there. It looked too alien a place to support life. I wonder what the liquid is. A form of mercury, perhaps?”

  Baluka was staring at him. The rebel leader opened his mouth, then closed it, shook his head and walked over to the edge of the tower.

  “What?” Tyen asked, following.

  “Nothing… nothing important,” the rebel leader said. There was no railing, and after a quick glance over the edge he recoiled. “How are you with heights?”

  “Fine. No aircart driver would live long if he did not have a head for them.”

  “‘Aircart’?” Baluka repeated.

  “I’ll tell you about them one day.”

  Tyen grasped the rebel leader’s shoulder, took them out of the world and sent them skimming downwards. The tower was an enormous structure. No seams marred the circular wall. Is it made of one piece of stone? He looked up and down, searching for signs of cracks, and found none. Tiny movements around the base of the tower caught his attention. A shifting collection of small dots. People. The army. Apprehension shivered through him. Their short journey of exploration was over. The path had thrown up no obstacles. The battle would not be delayed much longer.

  He slowed as they neared the ground. Baluka’s eyes had been closed, but now he opened them. He waited until his feet were almost on the ground before he glanced downwards. By then they had been seen and recognised, and the fighters had made a space for them to arrive in next to the wall.

  As soon as air surrounded Baluka he stepped away from Tyen and faced the waiting sorcerers.

  “You’re all here? Good. Where are Frell and Hapre?” he asked, then he smiled as the pair emerged from the crowd. “Ah! There they are.”

  The two generals moved to his side.

  “Did you make it all the way through?” Hapre asked.

  “Not all the way, of course,” Baluka replied. “Just to the sixth world and back.”

  “And you weren’t detected?” Frell asked.

  “Not that we noticed, but that may mean nothing. Which is why we must go straight away.” He looked up at the fighters. “Everyone, gather close. This is what we will encounter between here and the Raen’s world.”

  After a short, concise explanation, Baluka gave them one last chance to change their minds. None did. He ordered them to stand in rows as close together as could comfortably be managed. Each grasped the arm of the sorcerer in front with one hand and whoever was within reach to their right. Linked to two others, if one connection was broken the other ought to keep them in the group. Instead of standing at the centre of this square of sorcerers, where his view would be blocked on all sides, Baluka took a position at the centre of one edge. Tyen stood at the middle of the opposite side, and Frell and Hapre took their places on the other two sides.

  Baluka propelled them away from the world. Darkness greeted them as they neared the world of water. It resolved into a rippling texture, which suddenly slipped downwards to reveal the ocean, the wave that had surrounded them dropping away. From his side of the group, Tyen could see another rushing towards them. Cold air touched his skin. His boots rested on something firm but invisible. He exhaled and inhaled quickly, and heard the sound of hundreds of others doing the same.

  The wave arrived and washed through them, leaving all untouched. Its watery interior faded from sight. A darker landscape replaced it. Rivers of bright red splashed a small distance underfoot. Baking heat blasted Tyen’s skin, then the scorched ground lightened to white again.

  The sharp, colourless world came and went as quickly. Tyen held his breath, avoiding the painfully cold air. The green, bubbling marsh replaced it. Still holding his breath, he listened for the sound of an intake of breath or a gasp of pain. None came. All remembered the warning. The poisoned world faded.

  They knew they had arrived at the bright world only by their sudden ability to breathe, which many took advantage of. As planned, Baluka paused a little longer, allowing all to recover. Tyen closed his eyes against the brightness until the sound of breathing was silenced. Their surroundings began to darken. Tyen knew some would be apprehensive, since most of the fighters had noted the horror in the rebel leader’s voice as he’d described what he’d seen.

  Blackness embraced them. It was too easy to imagine it was thick and cloying, like the strange liquid that surrounded the arrival place. Baluka did not stop to illuminate the world, however, but moved them straight onward, only a fleeting impression of cool air confirming they’d arrived at all.

  And now: the Raen’s world. A different kind of dread grew within Tyen. He was glad of the lack of physical sensation between worlds. Without it, he’d be feeling as sick with fear as Baluka had been when they’d first tested the path. He recalled what the Raen had advised:

  “I suggest you find a reason not to be there.”

  But he had promised himself he’d try to prevent as many rebel deaths as possible. To do that, he had to be at the battle. The rebels were relying on him to transport them away again.

  “I advise you to choose your moment of betrayal carefully,” the Raen had also said.

  Baluka’s decision that Tyen should not fight, so his strength was reserved for transporting everyone away, had also presented the possibility that Tyen could continue to hide his true role among them. Since Tyen would not be actively taking part in the battle it would not be strange if the Raen did not attack him.

  But if the situation got desperate, Baluka might change his mind and order Tyen to fight. Tyen wasn’t sure what he’d do then. Refuse? If he did, he doubted the rebel leader would forgive him. Obey? Could he pretend, convincingly, to fight the Raen? Would the Raen oblige by pretending in return? How could they end such a mock battle?

  The scenario he hoped for was one where the rebels expelled all their energy and realised the fight was hopeless, and Baluka gave the order to take them away, which Tyen managed without anyone being harmed. This fantasy also included them giving up, going home and living safe and long lives.

  No matter how unlikely that is, he thought, if I do
n’t try to make it happen it never will. Though the last part is up to them. I can’t protect them from what comes after the battle.

  Shapes were emerging from the whiteness. Walls, floor and ceiling grew discernible. The hall had plenty of room for a few hundred rebels to arrive in while huddled together, but the arrangement would be too constrictive in battle. Even standing close together, there was not enough space for the thousands that had gathered earlier.

  A huge timepiece filled the wall in front of him, which he did not recall from Resca’s or Javox’s mind. The mechanism didn’t appear to be moving, however, locked at some point of time relevant to those who lived in the Raen’s palace. Below it was a raised area, a half-circle a step higher than the rest of the hall. On it was a chair.

  The chair was occupied.

  Tyen recognised the sitter, though the man was only a dark shape in a dimly lit room, and a shiver ran down his spine.

  The Raen. Trust my luck that I’m on the side of the army facing him.

  The ruler of worlds was watching calmly, one elbow resting on the arm of the chair. His chin was propped on his hand. As everything sharpened into full focus Tyen saw the man’s expression was… unconcerned.

  Warm air touched Tyen’s skin. As one, all the rebels dragged in a much-needed breath and bright flames sparked into life and filled the room with light. The sound of shuffling feet came from behind Tyen as the rebels spread out and turned to face their enemy. He created a shield. Parts of it failed or bent around air already controlled by the sorcerers either side of him.

  Silence followed.

  “Attack!” Baluka shouted.

  The air sizzled with magic. Tyen’s mouth went dry and his heart began to pound, and the sick feeling he’d anticipated made his stomach tighten. The Raen remained seated, only straightening a little, his arm unbending and hand falling to rest on the arm of the chair.

  Tyen glanced behind. Lines of rebels stood between him and Baluka. He began to move through them. As the sorcerers continued to spread out so that they did not have to attack over the heads of the fighters in front, they seemed to melt out of his path. Stepping around the last of them he met Baluka advancing from the rear, keeping close behind his army. Tyen moved to the rebel leader’s side.

  “Just as I thought,” Baluka said, not taking his eyes off the Raen. “There is no magic here.”

  Tyen stretched out, finding nothing. The entire world was…

  “No. There is some, far, far away,” he corrected. “There’s not much. It would get us out of this world and maybe through a few others, but not all the way back to the tower.”

  “What’s his game, do you think?”

  “By leaving a little magic? I don’t know.”

  “Not that.” Baluka frowned. “Why isn’t he fighting back?”

  The Raen had shifted position again, and was now leaning forward, elbows planted on his knees. His gaze moved over the fighters.

  “I don’t know,” Tyen said, truthfully.

  “And why is he alone?” Baluka added. “I’d have thought he’d have some allies with him. Can you sense other minds in the palace?”

  Reaching out again, Tyen looked for thoughts. He found one close by–a man anxiously hurrying to open a box with a complicated lock, which he knew contained instructions from the Raen. Moving on, Tyen stretched further and further but heard only silence.

  “Just one, that I can detect,” Tyen replied.

  “Nobody?”

  “Not even servants.”

  Baluka turned to stare at him. “That’s…” He stopped and looked at the Raen, his brow deeply furrowed. Had he emptied the palace to protect his people? he thought. Or is this a trap?

  The Raen’s gaze was moving across the spread of fighters, from face to face. Soon he would see Baluka and Tyen. Look away, Tyen told himself as the man he’d been working for since Liftre had closed began to look his way. Don’t let him see you. But the Raen’s gaze skipped over several rebels and locked onto his.

  And stayed. The Raen smiled and nodded. Deliberately. Then he closed his eyes and looked down.

  And burst into flames.

  A hundred shouts of surprise and horror rang out. Tyen realised one had come from him. Beside him, Baluka was swearing. They both backed away as the rebels recoiled from the radiating heat and reek of burning flesh spilling from the incandescent figure, now unrecognisable, still sitting in a rapidly blackening chair. Before they came to a stop the flames began to die, shrinking as quickly as they had grown. A grotesque, eyeless statue of charcoal regarded them from the burning seat.

  Then it and the chair slumped into a pile of ash.

  CHAPTER 21

  Utter silence followed.

  And was followed by the sound of hundreds of people breathing, rough and fearful.

  Then whispered questions filled the hall. Is he dead? Did we win? Did I really just see that?

  “Looks dead to me,” someone said. “No doubt about it.”

  “The Raen is dead!” another exclaimed.

  “We killed the Raen!” Several whoops and cheers followed, and the great hall filled with the trills and whistles and yells of victory. Rebels began to dance about, slapping each other on the back or embracing each other.

  Tyen felt a hand grasp his shoulder and jumped.

  “We did it,” he heard Baluka say. “We are free of him.”

  Tyen tore his eyes away from the pile of ash. “It was too easy,” he replied.

  “It was,” Baluka agreed quietly. “Let’s take a closer look.”

  They started towards the chair. Tyen realised he was shaking. His stomach was in knots. Who is going to restore Vella now? He half hated himself for thinking it. Nobody died. That’s what matters.

  At least one of his goals had been achieved. The most important one.

  The Raen would disagree. He held back a bitter laugh. Some spy I turned out to be. Perhaps it was his fault the Raen was dead. But he knew everything I knew. Since they’d met only a few days ago none of Baluka’s plans had changed. Aside from switching to bringing a few hundred sorcerers rather than a thousand. That had been a last-moment chance. He could not have warned the Raen about it.

  Had that made all the difference?

  Even if it had, surely the Raen had realised he was about to lose. Why hadn’t he fled? Had he not done so in order to avoid looking weak? Tyen doubted anyone would live for a thousand cycles if they were willing to die for their pride. At some point a situation like this would arise.

  Tyen shook his head. It was like he let it happen. Did he want to die?

  Why did he smile at me?

  The chair was now more charcoal than wood. Baluka climbed the stairs and stopped before it. He nudged the pile of ash and charred wood with the toe of his shoe. Tyen moved to his side. Something protruded from beneath a fragment of the chair seat. It looked like the tip of a blackened, shrivelled finger, beckoning him to lift the covering and see if he was right. Tyen shuddered and looked away.

  “Tyen,” Baluka said, but did not continue.

  Tyen did not look up. He’d remembered the sole ally in the palace–the man who had been hurrying to open a box of instructions. Had the instructions been relevant to the battle? Was that the reason the Raen had lost, not Tyen? Whether that were true or not, an ally could be poised, waiting for an opportunity to attack them. Stretching out his senses, Tyen sought the mind of the lone man.

  “There was a—” he began.

  “Tyen!” Baluka shouted.

  Jolted out of his search, he looked at Baluka. The rebel leader was backing away towards the timepiece, mouth set in a grim line and gaze roving around the raised dais.

  “Allies!”

  The call echoed throughout the hall. Something moved a mere arm’s length away from Tyen: a shadowy human figure, growing rapidly more distinct. The rebel leader was running backwards, hurrying to get out of the way of the arriving sorcerers. Sorcerers who surrounded Tyen on all sides.

  Tye
n had no time to run. Instead he pushed out of the world and skimmed, dodging between the allies, towards Baluka. The rebel leader was headed towards a doorway. Tyen slipped through the wall and emerged in the corridor beyond. Baluka cursed as he almost collided with Tyen.

  From the hall came the sounds of shouting. They looked back through the door. The rebels had formed a line again, ready to fight.

  “I’ll take you back to the others,” Tyen offered.

  Baluka shook his head. “I have almost no magic left, so I won’t be of any help. We killed the Raen much faster than I anticipated, so the rest of the fighters must have plenty of magic to spare. Go back and tell Frell and Hapre to lead them, and see if we can get rid of a few allies as well. I need to look for someone.”

  “Rielle?” Tyen guessed. “She’s not here. I only sensed one other.”

  “She’s strong,” Baluka reminded him as he turned to hurry away. “You might not have been able to read her mind.”

  “Balu—”

  “Go back,” Baluka tossed over his shoulder. He moved to a door, pushed it open and glanced around the room beyond. “The allies don’t know what they’re taking on. If the rebels finish them off before I get back, take everyone to safety then return for me.” He paused to look at Tyen. “That’s an order.” He turned away and broke into a run.

  Tyen took a step to follow, but a scream from the hall brought him up short. Returning to the doorway, he took in the scene again. In moments it had changed from order to chaos. The allies had skimmed from the dais to positions all over the hall, and more were still appearing. The rebels, having spread into a line to attack them, had been forced into smaller groups. Some were holding their own easily, but others were outmatched. As he watched, a pair buckled under the onslaught from five allies who had surrounded them. They sank to the floor and lay still.

  He stared at them in horror. His only achievement–nobody being harmed in the battle–had been shattered in a moment.

  It was too much to hope for. Well, I can still fulfil my promise to Baluka–get as many of them safely away as possible. Moving out of the world, Tyen skimmed back into the hall. Baluka might be right about the rebels’ strength, but scattered like this they were at a disadvantage. It would be a terrible irony if they killed the Raen only to be slaughtered by his allies.

 

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