Soul of Power

by G David Walker

  Which brought her back to their current situation. She knew if she would have dealt with Regor when she’d had the chance, this would all be over now. Something else that’s your fault, she thought to herself. Without Regor, Airam wouldn’t try anything on her own, especially knowing she would have to face Nyala, Nivek, and Jason together. She would have just found someplace to stay out of the way, and, most likely, no one would have ever heard from her again. But when it had come down to it, Nyala just couldn’t kill Regor, even after he had attacked Nivek. A part of her simply refused to believe there was nothing left of the man she had loved for so many years. Her rational mind knew letting him live was a mistake, but her heart wouldn’t let her do anything else.

  Maybe he would realize that facing all three of them together would be a mistake. Maybe he would just find a little corner of Teleria to call his own and leave them alone.

  She shook her head. She knew it wouldn’t be that easy. He was somewhere right now, trying to figure out a way to get his revenge and regain control of Teleria. In fact, with three of the Altered either gone or powerless, his share of Teleria would be even bigger than before. He would only have to share it with Airam. At least, until he figured out a way to get rid of her as well.

  No, she knew him far too well to think anything was over. She also knew the day would come when she would have to override her heart, and do what must be done. She wasn’t looking forward to that day.

  She gave the city one last look, centuries-old memories blurring her vision, and then the hilltop was empty once more.

  *****

  Reyga wiped stinging sweat from his eyes as he forced his feet to carry him forward, pushing on through the relentless heat. The Riftlands were constantly changing with no sense of order or predictability. Some days it felt like the middle of Landsleep. Today the air was oppressive, almost like a fiery beast trying to push him down into the dirt. Even the constant clouds hanging low overhead gave no relief. He raised his head to check his progress. Although he was now only a score of paces from it, the rock formation had been farther away than it looked, and he had yet to find another safe area.

  Since the first time he realized the Riftlands would not permanently rid him of Regor’s influence, he had never gone this long without relief. Each torturous step was a battle as the dark reservoir of power inside of him tried to force him to turn around, to go back to Lore’s Haven to find Jason and deliver Regor’s deadly greeting. But he had already come too far to return to the last safe area. He would never make it in time. He had to hope for something ahead. The only good thing was that something about the Riftlands prevented portals from being established. If Regor’s power did overcome him, he would still have to walk out of the Riftlands before he could create a portal to Lore’s Haven. If that were to happen, he could only hope that he would wander through a safe area and regain his senses before he made it out.

  He wondered what was happening at Lore’s Haven, and if they had been able to stop Regor’s attacks on Jason. You should go back and find out. No! No matter what happened to him, he had to stay away from Lore’s Haven. Away from Jason. Surely you can control the power long enough to see that everyone is well. They are, no doubt, also worried about you. He shook his head, lightly tapping his fist against his temple. The unwanted thoughts were becoming more pervasive, more difficult to ignore. If he did not find a safe area soon, he would lose this battle. And he knew if he went back, the power inside of him would force him to attack Jason, perhaps even kill him. The boy deserves nothing less! If he had never come here, none of this would be happening! He closed his eyes tightly, clenching his teeth as he fought to stay in control. Jason was the only reason they had been able to defeat Bodann. His arrival had saved them all! No. Jason’s arrival is what set everything in motion. Everything that has happened since he came to Teleria has been his fault!

  “No, no,” he said through gritted teeth. “I must not give in.”

  The boy is in league with the Altered. That is why Nyala needed him.

  “Then why does Regor attack him?” The words came out in a ragged gasp as he forced himself forward.

  Does he? How can you be certain? Because the bird said it? The bird does Jason’s bidding. He deceives you!

  “Jason would not do that.” Or would he? He had withheld information from the Circle before. Was Reyga so certain he was not holding something back now?

  Of course he is! He is a Far Planer, just like Bodann. Bodann’s blood runs through the boy’s veins. How can he not be just like him?

  “No! I will…not…listen!” A manic shriek of laughter ripped from his lips as the thought of what he must look like flashed through his mind. An old man, covered in dirt and sweat, wandering through the Riftlands shouting at nothing. A madman. At last, he reached the fist-shaped rock. He spread his arms and clung to the rough stone as if it had the power to save him.

  Even now, the boy could be destroying everything you love. All that you hold dear. Teleria is falling to a Far Planer while you wander in this desert.

  “Nooo!” He slid down the rock face, falling to his knees and pounding at the dirt with both fists as he fought to excise the voice from his thoughts. “Leave me be!”

  “Loremaster Reyga.”

  “I said leave me be! I will not listen!” Then he realized the voice was not in his head, but in his ears. He jerked his head up. Three men on horseback looked down at him. One had partially healed scrapes on the side of his face. Another held the lead to a fourth horse. He felt anger rising up in the back of his mind. Who were they and how dare they interrupt him? Three fools. Deal with them so we can go back and stop the boy. He shook his head again. They had to go before he lost control. “You must leave! Please! I do not wish to harm you.” His head dropped as he saw the front rider dismount. “I said go! Leave me be!” Even as the words left his lips, a dark shadow of power blossomed around his hand. He tried to will it away, but it continued to grow in strength until his hand could no longer be seen.

  “You will come with us,” the man said.

  Reyga rose to his feet. “I warned you!” Although everything in his being screamed at him to stop, he watched his hand rise, seemingly of its own volition, and send a gout of murky emerald power straight into the man’s chest…where it vanished without a trace.

  The man glanced at his chest and then at Reyga, a ghost of a smile on his face. “Your power is useless here, Loremaster.”

  “How…?” Even the inner voice seemed at a loss to explain what had just happened.

  The man ignored Reyga’s surprise, instead taking a pair of shackles out of a bag attached to the saddle. He turned to Reyga. “You will come with us,” he repeated, as he took a step forward.

  The same black rage he had felt at Lenara’s home descended upon him again, brushing aside his attempts to quell it. The next thing he knew, the man was standing in front of him, fastening the second shackle around his wrist. Dust and grit filled the air, and one horse lay dead, a charred hole in its side, acrid smoke rising from the burned flesh. Its rider, the one with the wounds on his face, was just picking himself up off the ground where he had apparently been thrown from his former mount. The other man was trying to calm his horse and the horse on the lead.

  “Wha…?” How could this be? His mind was clear. No voices clamored for his attention. He gaped at the man, ignoring the sweat burning his wide eyes. “What did you do?”

  “These will prevent you from using your power,” the man said, “while we decide your fate.”

  “Truly? These will negate dimsai?” Reyga grabbed the man’s arm. “Then you must never remove them!”

  The man frowned. Clearly he had never heard this particular request. “We do not intend to,” he said, pulling his arm free.

  “Who are you? How is it that dimsai has no effect on you?”

  “We are nasaiken,” the man answered, raising his chin. “We are those you cast out because we are not like you. I am Bartel, chosen to lead the nas
aiken.”

  “Cast out? Nasaiken?” Reyga shook his head sharply. “No, you are mistaken. The Circle put an end to that horrid practice many years ago.”

  “Oh, he is mistaken, is he?” The man who had been thrown limped forward to face Reyga. “Tell that to the youngest among us. She is only sixteen, sent into exile by her village less than a cycle ago. Her own parents turned their backs on her. She cried herself to sleep for two sixdays after we brought her here.” He spat at Reyga’s feet. “Tell her how the Circle ‘put an end’ to banishment.”

  Reyga stared at the man, hearing the words run through his mind again. The custom of exiling those without the ability to use dimsai had been fueled by superstition and fear since before he had been born. If a nasaiken, as they had come to be called, was nearby when anything bad happened, the poor unfortunate was inevitably blamed. And because dimsai would not work on someone who was nasaiken, they were seen as a threat. The only dimsai that would work was portals, and even they collapsed immediately after a nasaiken passed through, regardless if the creator of the portal had released it or not.

  Centuries ago, it would not have been uncommon for a nasaiken to be executed. That had gradually changed to banishment, but even that was unacceptable in the eyes of the Circle. He remembered the day they had sent word out to all of the villages that the practice was to cease. He thought at the time that would be the end of it. Clearly, he had been naïve. Here was the proof, standing right in front of him.

  He studied the man’s face. There was something familiar about him. Something in the eyes. “What is your name?” he asked.

  “I am not surprised you do not recognize me, Loremaster Reyga. I am not the young boy I once was. My name is Elam.”

  Elam. He remembered the name. But surely this could not be the same boy. “Elam? I have only known one Elam, and you cannot be him. He died years ago.”

  “I assure you I am very much alive, Loremaster Reyga. I am Elam Vardyn. I am the High One’s son.”

  Scouting the Territory

  Jason watched as, once again, Seerka moved around the group to walk beside Nekoor. And, as in each of the times before, he watched as Nekoor casually moved to the side that Seerka had just vacated. The Yellowtooth showed no outward sign of irritation, merely moved calmly away from the group’s Ferrin member. The process had been repeated numerous times over the last hour or so, enough that Jason had lost count. They would switch places; Seerka would wait for a while, and then try again. He wondered how long it would be before Nekoor lost it. Then he tried to imagine what a Yellowtooth that lost it would look like.

  As it happened, the question would remain unanswered, at least for the time being. After a brief pause, Seerka once more began his slow trek to the other side of the group. This time, Gatlor moved to block his path.

  “Enough,” Gatlor said, adjusting his stride to match Seerka’s, as the cat-man tried to maneuver around him. He sounded as if he were speaking to an unruly child. “Stop trying to annoy Nekoor.”

  Seerka’s eyes widened. “Annoy Nekoor?” he said, assuming an expression of supreme innocence. “Why, Gatlor, do you truly believe that to be my intent? I assure you, nothing could be further from the truth. No, I am merely trying to determine which side of the road has the best scenery. I assumed our new Yellowtooth friend was doing the same thing, and did not wish to miss any interesting sights.” Nekoor appeared to be ignoring them, although Jason saw one of the furry ears twitch. Seerka shook his head. “Annoy Nekoor. Indeed!”

  Calador gave a snort from the back of the group. “As one who can see both sides of our way at the same time, I can assure you, neither looks any different from the other.”

  Seerka waved his hand dismissively. “I would expect such an assessment from the untrained eye of a mountainous Dokal,” he said. “Your people’s sense of beauty is as blunt as the weapons you wield. We Ferrin have a much more refined eye.”

  “Perhaps you and your ‘refined eye’ should choose one side or the other and stay on it,” Gatlor said.

  “Hmph!” Seerka sniffed. “I am still shocked that you would think that of me.”

  “Shocked that you were not as subtle as you thought, is what you mean,” Calador said, with his rumbling laugh. Beside him, Jason heard Meryl try to suppress a giggle.

  “Very well then, oh master of all that is beautiful and wondrous,” Seerka said to Calador, “which side would you suggest with your all-seeing gaze?”

  Jason glanced around them. Over the centuries, the foliage had crowded what was left of the roadway. Fortunately, the road was fairly wide. Otherwise, they might have found themselves walking through a gloomy tunnel of leaves. As it was, the arching branches of the trees lining the road could only cover a fraction of where the road lay. Past that, the trees gradually grew thick enough to shroud the forest beyond in shadows, even in the afternoon sun.

  Depressions that may have once been craters could be seen from time to time, but the surrounding forest and grasses had reclaimed these areas over the course of the last millennia. Only their sunken appearance betrayed what they might have once been. The group had detoured around a particularly deep one that intersected the road, pushing their way through the trees and brush along the edge of the sunken area. Just as at Reyga’s home, green was not the only color represented in the undergrowth, although the hues of red, blue, and pink here seemed more muted, as if afraid to draw too much attention to themselves.

  The closer they got to the city, the more complete the road became. What had begun as semi-organized rubble when they first set out, had now changed to an almost unbroken lane, although a maze of cracks across the surface showed this would not be true forever. The widened road also helped push the trees back, giving them an unobstructed view of Ishadon as it drew ever closer. Looking at the city, Jason figured they would reach the outer edges about the time the sun went down.

  “Hmm.” Calador examined both sides of the road. “I think, perhaps, that side,” he said, pointing to the left.

  “Thank you,” Seerka answered, promptly moving to the right, which also happened to be the side where Nekoor was walking. “Humans and Dokal,” he said to Nekoor in a low voice clearly intended to be overheard. “Each has about as much appreciation for the finer points of natural beauty as a charnoth. Would you not agree?”

  “As you say,” Nekoor said. “If you will please excuse me.” With that, the Yellowtooth moved once again to the side opposite Seerka. The Ferrin warrior started to follow, but Gatlor cleared his throat loudly and shook his head. With another indignant sniff, Seerka turned his attention back to the right side of the road.

  A little while later, Gatlor stopped and glanced at the sky. “The sun will be setting soon.” He gave a shrill whistle, and then waited until Lenai appeared. As with their journey from Drey’s Glenn to Lore’s Haven, she had been using her natural camouflage to scout ahead and to the sides of the road. Crin had also been keeping watch from above, but hadn’t reported anything that appeared threatening so far. “Without knowing what we may face in Ishadon,” Gatlor continued, “I would prefer not to be within its borders when darkness falls. We will find a place to make camp for the night, and Lenai can scout the city. At first light, we will enter to find the diamond.”

  ~~~

  Just as the setting sun dropped behind the highest of the city’s spires, they found a spot where the trees had retreated back from the road, leaving enough open area to prevent anyone, or anything, from approaching undetected.

  “We will set up camp here,” Gatlor ordered, his gaze sweeping the tree line.

  Everyone moved to unpack the supplies and get the campsite set up. Before long, the camp was ready, and a crackling fire danced in the center of the roadway to ward against the lengthening shadows. Jason looked up as he set the last bag down and saw Meryl and Lenai talking on the far side of the camp. From the looks on their faces, it was not simply a casual chat. He started walking toward them when Lenai looked across the camp at him. She r
aised her hand in a wave, gave him a slight smile, and then took a step toward Ishadon and vanished.

  “Lenai, wait!” He trotted over to where Meryl stood and peered into the gloom surrounding the campsite, but there was no sign of her. He thought about using his aura vision to find her, but decided against it. She’s going to scout the city. When she wants to talk, she’ll talk. It would have been nice if she would have at least waited long enough to tell him goodbye. He thought about sending Crin to keep an eye on her, but unless the bird could see through the Shanthi invisibility, which he doubted, there was really no point. He turned to Meryl.

  “That looked like a pretty serious conversation,” he said. “What were you two talking about?” He knew it was a little rude, but he couldn’t help himself.

  “Talking about? Oh. Um…well, actually, we were speaking about you,” she answered.

  “Me? What about me? What did she say?”

  “Lenai is worried about you. She knows this mission must succeed if you are to have any hope of defeating the Shadow Lord.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m a little worried about her too. There’s no telling what she might run into out there.”

  “Have no fear, Jason. For a task such as this, there is none more qualified than a Shanthi, and Lenai is well trained.” When Jason didn’t answer, she laid her hand on his arm. “I told her to be careful.” She searched his eyes, and then gave him a smile. “Have faith. She will be well.”

  Jason knew she was probably right, but that didn’t stop him from worrying. He stared into the darkness, acutely aware of the warmth of Meryl’s hand still on his arm.