The Light of Life

by Edward W. Robertson

  "Assuming it's got any connection to his first body—and, just as a reminder, assuming that this first body even exists—it'd be slightly easier than searching every square inch of swamp."

  "Easy enough to find out. Suppose we've got any of his blood left on our swords?"

  Gladdic had been sitting cross-legged, head bowed and shoulders slumped. Now, he lifted his chin, eyes gleaming faintly. "What do you mean? Are you hounds, that his blood might lead you to his other body?"

  Dante laughed. "You don't know about blood tracking? What kind of a sorcerer are you?"

  "It's very easy to be as learned as you when you belong to an institution of heathenous warlocks. When one must learn on one's own, every step is a struggle."

  "You're the reason people in Mallon can't learn the nether in the first place!"

  "I'm but a drop amongst the ocean. Even if I favored permitting the study of the shadows, if I were to express such beliefs, my reward would be my execution."

  "Do you favor letting your people learn the nether?"

  Gladdic's eyes tracked across the landscape. "I no longer know what I believe—and it no longer matters. Bressel has fallen to the Drakebane's conspiracy, and is under his law now."

  Blays tipped back his head. "Can we discuss Bressel's theological policy after we heroically save Tanar Atain?"

  "All of the blood in your body shares a nethereal connection to itself," Dante said, spreading his hands as if to trace a net. "If you have one drop of someone's blood, you can follow the nether in it to the rest of it. We're talking about doing the same to the White Lich. Everyone, check your weapons."

  They drew their swords, the Odo Sein blades circled with sinuous patterns of nether. Seeing no stains on his weapon, Dante delved into the nether, searching for specks of it glommed onto the steel, but found nothing out of place. He inspected the others' swords to similar results.

  "But we cut him," Naran said. "All of us saw it."

  Dante pressed his knuckles to his forehead. "It isn't the same blood that you and I have. It could have boiled away. Melted into the ether. Or maybe our swords drank it up. Doesn't matter, really."

  "It surely does," Gladdic said. "If the blood is unstable, then even if we were to acquire a fresh sample, it would vanish before we were able to use it to locate the prime body."

  Dante swore, sensing the whole idea was about to go up in smoke. But there was an obvious test. He set his blade against the pad of his left pinky finger—gently; even a touch of the Odo Sein weapon was enough to open a deep cut—spilling blood onto the steel. He withdrew his wounded hand. The blood rested on the steel. Dante continued to watch. At last, the droplets started to shrink. Within a minute, they had vanished completely, absorbed by the whirling nether of the sword.

  "That's a relief," Blays said. "If we can be reasonably sure the lich's blood doesn't just spontaneously disappear, then our only problems are everything else that's wrong with this plan."

  Volo tossed a small rock to herself. "Like how to get blood out of the Eiden Rane without getting added to the Blighted?"

  "I propose one of you fights him. A good knock on the nose should have him bleeding like any other man."

  "All right," Dante said. "Then you can hold the jar under him."

  Gladdic made a murmuring sound. "We will have to find another way. To fight him directly would mean death."

  They tossed forth one idea after another, only for each one to be battered down. The sun died away, leaving them in the perfect stillness of the lifeless night, the only motion the twinkle of the stars overhead. In the middle of their discussion, Dante realized Volo was snoring.

  "That looks like the best idea anyone's had all day." Blays stretched his arms over his head. "What say we figure out how to stop the unspeakable darkness once we're not so damn tired?"

  They drew up a watch schedule. Before bedding down, Blays took Dante with him to make a quick check of the island's perimeter.

  Blays weaved through the pale trees, dropping his voice about as far as it would go. "Are we really going to do this?"

  "Stop the mad sorcerer from turning everyone in Tanar Atain into living zombies?"

  "You know what I mean."

  Dante was quiet for a moment. "We'll work with him until the threat is under control. Then we'll see he gets the justice he deserves."

  "You swear to me?"

  "You've got my word."

  Blays nodded, looking satisfied. "Also, it's your responsibility to make sure he doesn't murder us in our sleep."

  They finished their circuit of the island, then rejoined the others in the center, where the spindly trees were just dense enough to conceal them. Dante took first watch, but even when his turn was done, he slept lightly, keeping hold of the nether like it was a dagger under his pillow, jerking awake at every flicker of shadows, real or imagined. Once, he woke to the sound of Gladdic muttering to himself, but the old man was dead asleep.

  Dante awoke with a start. He felt as though he'd been asleep for some time; to the east, the first hints of light shaded the sky in dark gray. Volo was gone—she had last watch—but so was Gladdic.

  Dante stood, gazing into the darkness, a cold sweat clamming his skin. He walked quickly to the water's edge. The swamp of the Go Kaza was as silent as ever. Dante drew his antler-handled knife, ready to lay open the back of his arm, and moved through the trees.

  Ahead, Gladdic crouched by the water's edge, washing what remained of his right arm. He'd healed the stump until it was as smooth as sanded wood. Seeing Dante, he rushed to tuck his stump against his chest and cover it with his robes. He stopped himself, mouth crooked in contempt.

  Absurdly, Dante felt a twinge of guilt. "Did you try to regrow it?"

  "It would likely have been too late."

  "But that wasn't worth finding out?"

  "Better to leave it as it is. So that I will always be reminded of the price of self-deceit."

  "Alternately, you could write yourself a note on the matter." Dante motioned to the water. "All clear?"

  "I would not make that assumption at this time. Yet sleep has aided my clarity of mind. I know a way to get the Eiden Rane's blood. I will send the Andrac to assault him."

  "They'll be able to last long enough to escape?"

  "If they strike with surprise, and flee as soon as their claws are bloodied? Perhaps."

  Dante rubbed grit from the corner of his eye. "Why don't we create a whole army of demons? Rip him apart with sheer numbers?"

  "'We'?"

  "I figured out how to make them for myself. That's how we were able to learn how to destroy them."

  "I wondered." Gladdic sounded as if they were discussing an inn he used to favor on his travels but which had closed up shop twenty years ago. "Each time you raise an Andrac, it takes something from within you. Something that is slow to recover. Even a sorcerer of vast power may control no more than a handful at a time. After my expenditure yesterday, I won't be able to summon more than one or two for some time."

  "Could I create enough to destroy him?"

  The priest looked him up and down. "Perhaps if we had been working in concert at the moment of his release. Now, he will already be too strong. Especially as we lack the Odo Sein's ability to neuter his sorcery."

  "What if we could do it? But you fear him too much to try?"

  "If you believe that, then I can guarantee that you do not fear him enough."

  They ate dried fish for breakfast, which Dante was getting extremely sick of, and loaded into the canoe. Volo struck northeast, back in the direction of the Wound. It was warmer than the day before, more humid, and sweat soon slipped down the back of her neck. Blays took up the other paddle, speeding them along through the lifeless and phantasmagoric reaches of the swamp.

  Taking in the bony white trees and blood red water, Dante glanced back at Gladdic. "How did you ever get involved here in the first place? Pursuing the Andrac?"

  "Correct."

  "How'd you hear about th
em? We had to dig through the archives of both Narashtovik and Collen. Even then, they barely had more than a few scraps of information."

  "Gashen's blood," Gladdic muttered. "I knew the Collen Basin maintained hidden archives. Where do they keep them?"

  "In Mallish temples," Blays said. "Better go burn them down."

  "I ask only from curiosity. The Collen Basin means nothing to me now. It was under the Drakebane's advice that I sought to purify it."

  Dante grunted. "To clear it out, you mean? Suppose he wanted to secure a safe place for his people to move to in case the White Lich broke free?"

  "It would have been much less costly and messy. Yet when that plan fell through, he executed his plan in Bressel instead. As for the Andrac, I located the information I required within the lore of the Shrouded Hand."

  "The Shrouded Hand?"

  "The institution that even now has spies in Narashtovik. Don't tell me you were unaware?"

  "That's a matter for my chief of espionage. Anyway, we were a little more concerned with rooting out spies from the Gaskan Empire to care about Mallon."

  "And what of the decade since your war with Gask?" Gladdic rolled back his eyes. "How can someone as oblivious as you have defeated me?"

  Blays shrugged. "The gods must think you're a jerk, and seek to help us."

  "I expect they do believe that of me. But if you believe they care anything for you, I can only pray they will wait to punish you for your hubris until after we're done working together." Gladdic moved on while Blays was still mid-snort. "The Shrouded Hand keeps watch on all of the heretics that surround Mallon. Gask. Narashtovik. The Collen Basin. And lands far beyond these. Additionally, they keep records of your atrocities, and the dark magics through which you discharge them."

  Dante perked up his ears. "You catalogue our abilities? I thought studying the nether was the sort of thing that earned your body a burial in Whetton and your head a grave in Bressel."

  "Its study is banished from all common use, yes. Only those who prove themselves beyond corruption are allowed access to the forbidden materials of the Hand." Gladdic laughed raucously, the sound hanging in the damp air. "An 'incorruptible person'! What a contradiction of terms. Since such people do not exist, the Hand's rules guarantee that it is staffed by those who are happy to lie about being beyond corruption. Hence their insistence on purity only makes them more impure."

  "Pretty ironic, all right. Why do they study us? So you can hone your ability to fight our sorcerers?"

  "That is a part of it. Another part is so that we will be aware of what your corruption looks like before it can taint us. Regardless, we wander from the original question. Within the Hand's records were accounts of invincible demons from the swamps of Tanar Atain. Through deft negotiations, I acquired an audience with one of the Drakebane's secretaries, and then with the Drakebane himself. We struck a bargain. He was allowed access to certain resources in Bressel. Things that seemed harmless at the time, but were vital to his coup. And I was allowed access to his priests.

  "They had forgotten how to give life to the Andrac themselves. Even their stories of the demons' origin were confused—some said they were created to wage war on the Eiden Rane, while others claimed they were the soldiers of the Eiden Rane. Yet from their disparate lore and tales, I was able to scrape the grime from the window of truth and reveal the lost secrets of how the Andrac were made."

  "You should be very proud of yourself," Blays said. "It isn't often you get to take a piece of scholarship and turn it into a war crime."

  "Condemn me as you will. Yet it is through these efforts that I came to know the Drakebane, and to assist him against the White Lich. If not for my quest, you would already be dead by the lich's cold hands."

  They glided onward. The clouds held position overhead, muting the sun. Dante kept his eyes on the water. While they were still at least three miles away from the Wound, a pale face broke the surface, staring angrily. Dante cried out and struck it down with a lash of nether.

  He leaned over the gunwale, hunting for more. "The White Lich makes the Blighted. Can he can see through their eyes?"

  Behind him, he felt Gladdic extend his perception into the nether in the water. "It is possible."

  "Don't you think that might have been a good thing to mention before we blundered into his enormous spy network?"

  "It is possible."

  Blays thrust out his arm toward another Blighted snarling at them from the water. "He looks unpleasant, but you suppose he'd warm up if we invited him over for tea?"

  He was only halfway through his words by the time Dante and Gladdic had each flung a sorcerous bolt, one nether and one ether. They crashed into the Blighted, sending blood hissing into the water. The body keeled over backwards and landed with a foamy crash. Blays and Volo paddled hard, bringing them up against the flank of an island.

  Dante swiveled his head, watching for any disruption of the water's surface. "There's only going to be more of them the closer we get to the Wound. If just one of them signals the White Lich, he'll be waiting for us."

  Gladdic rubbed his hand up and down his jaw. "I should have expected him to move this quickly. Yet if we don't press on now, he will only have more time to strengthen himself."

  "You said this will only work if we have the element of surprise. What's the point of pressing on if we're doomed to fail?"

  "Because there remains a chance that we won't!" Gladdic pounded his fist on his thigh, but rather than punctuating his defiance, the gesture seemed to deflate it. "Why are we ever compelled to lie to ourselves? If we attempt to sneak forward, we will surely be caught; if we slaughter every Blighted we see, we will only declare ourselves more loudly. There is no winning. We might as well wage war on the sky."

  They were all silent for a moment. Softly, Volo said, "Maybe we should leave. So what if he takes Tanar Atain? The Monsoon already owns the country. And the Eiden Rane owns the Monsoon."

  "There is no land to where we might flee that—"

  "He won't come to and gut us like perch. Yeah, I get that. What I don't get is if it's all so inevitable, why not go enjoy whatever time we got left?"

  "We could sail the seas," Naran mused. "They are much larger than the earthly world. Let him try to catch us when we travel with the winds."

  Blays shot them all a look of contempt. "Haven't any of you ever burgled a manor before? Or been forbidden from seeing a nobleman's daughter? You don't come to the front door dressed as yourself. Gladdic, these Blighted things, just how smart are they?"

  "They can obey simple commands, but they are barely capable of wielding weapons."

  "So most of them are as dumb as a wet shoe?"

  "If your shoe possessed a primal desire to separate you from your limbs."

  "Right. Then all Dante has to do is disguise us."

  "With illusions?" Dante said.

  "With your world-renowned dressmaking skills. Although yes, it might be a little bit faster to snap your fingers and make us look like a log."

  "We'd have to travel at a most un-log-like speed. I won't be able to sustain the illusion for too long."

  Gladdic moved his finger across the air as if underlining invisible words. "Then I will forge the Andrac now. It has no need for air, and may travel along beneath us."

  "How will you find the traces out here?"

  "Why, I suppose that I shall look for them."

  The priest instructed them to move on. Volo and Blays steered them through the small rocky islands and the grasping white branches of half-submerged trees. Dante's heart beat steadily as he searched the surroundings for any glimpse of ripples or pale faces.

  "There." Gladdic pointed to an island to port. "Let us make landfall."

  They pulled up beside the island. Debarking from a canoe onto higher ground wasn't the easiest task in the world, but Gladdic stepped out as lightly as a sailor a third of his age. Whispering to himself under his breath, he bent over, passing his hand a few inches above the ground. He ma
de an irregular circuit, then came to a stop.

  He bowed his head. Light shined from his left hand, then winked off. The air around him darkened as if the sun was falling into an eclipse. Nether dashed about like angry black wasps. These slowed, dancing gracefully, then converged on a single point and disappeared. While Dante was still trying to figure out what in the world Gladdic was doing, a tube of shadows coalesced eight feet above the ground, extended horizontally, and unfurled into an Andrac.

  The Star-Eater opened its mouth and hissed like water poured on embers. Within its throat, light shined like purest ether.

  "How did you know where the traces were?" Dante said. "And for that matter, how did you illuminate them?"

  Gladdic cranked his head around. "How do you do it?"

  "With a hell of a lot more difficulty than that!"

  The old man smiled smugly. "Perhaps I shall tell you that when you tell me the secrets of how you have learned to fight them."

  "So you can figure out how to make it so I can't kill them?"

  "Such knowledge might also aid our plight against the Eiden Rane."

  "We'll see about that if we can't find the prime body." Across from them, the towering demon flexed its claws. It looked potent enough, but compared to the staggering power of the lich, it no longer felt so fearsome. "How loyal are they? Will it really challenge the Eiden Rane by itself?"

  Gladdic regarded the demon with a strange mixture of sadness, pride, and some deeper emotion that might have been regret. "They exist to challenge. To fight. To shed blood, and kill what they can. For isn't that the essence of the nether that shapes it?"

  "Not in the slightest."

  "But isn't—"

  "Whatever it is, you're both wrong," Blays said. "Now can we get on our way?"

  Volo edged back a step. "It isn't getting in the boat with us, right?"

  Gladdic motioned to the demon. It cocked its head. Still gesturing, Gladdic said, "Follow beneath the boat. Do not be seen. Soon, you will face a great foe."

  The Andrac grinned, flashing its long fangs, and waded into the water, which it barely seemed to disturb. It vanished beneath the surface without so much as a bubble. Dante stared after it for a moment, struck by the strangeness of working alongside one of the very monsters he and Blays had shed so much blood and sweat learning to combat.