The Sixth Strand

by Melissa McPhail

  Tannour looked first to Trell’s hand on his shoulder, then to Trell’s eyes. “I’m sorry.” He slipped out from beneath his touch and shoved his arms roughly back into his sleeves. “The tattoos are sensitive—”

  Trell held up a hand in apology. “You don’t have to explain.”

  He watched Tannour dress in silence, imagining what his life must’ve been like, what training in a place that produced Adepts like Taliah hal’Jaitar must’ve consisted of, what torture it must’ve been to be conscripted to a regime that bound Adepts against their will without the slightest compunction.

  The more he tried to understand Tannour, the greater grew Trell’s feeling that this path...this choice, this plan, involved both of them. No, it required both of them—not simply because their combined abilities would be necessary to overpower the wielder, but to serve some greater purpose in the game that he could barely sense yet believed suddenly with his whole heart.

  Returning his gaze to the constellation, Trell exhaled a slow breath. “Tannour, I won’t order you to come with me. But know this...” he looked back to him, capturing his gaze, “we are playing Cephrael’s game, and I think that somehow we both need to travel this road together.”

  Tannour bent to retrieve his scarf. Straightening, he met Trell’s gaze again. “I take your meaning, A’dal.”

  “Do you?”

  The Vestian cracked a half-smile. “I read you better than you think.” He began rewrapping his scarf around his head. “I’ve served the Emir for years, yet it wasn’t until I started serving you that my abilities returned.” He arched a challenging brow. “Am I reading you right?”

  Trell smiled. “So far.”

  Tannour considered him quietly. “A great leader makes his men more than they are alone. He lifts them up. He demands they achieve things they couldn’t conceive of accomplishing yet somehow manage just because he commanded it. You are that leader to us, A’dal. It’s not the same as following the commands of a poor leader, where everything you do feels useless, for naught. With you, no matter what happens, we know we won’t die for nothing.”

  Trell stood with gratitude thick in his throat. “Thank you.”

  A dry smile flickered on Tannour’s lips. “I’m only telling you this because I may not get another chance—and because I want you to know that we’d all follow you to the thirteenth hell. But this...” Tannour shook his head, “this plan is crazy.”

  Trell smiled softly. “I guess I spoke too soon.”

  Tannour finished securing his scarf and looked Trell over intently. “If you really mean to do this as you described, and it appears that you do—may the Ghost Kings overlook us—I must ask something of you. I warn you fairly: if you refuse, I won’t go through with it.”

  Trell chuckled. “That’s hardly fair warning.” When Tannour merely looked at him, waiting for his agreement, Trell nodded. “Well enough. What do you require of me, Tannour?”

  Tannour motioned to the stone Trell had been sitting on earlier. “Have a seat, A’dal.”

  Trell complied.

  Tannour bent a knee beside him and withdrew a small pouch from inside his vest. He unrolled it to reveal several long needles and a small vial of mercuric liquid. Seeing it, Trell quickly surmised his intent. “A tattoo?”

  “The mark will be permanent, but I’ll make it as small as I can. Roll up your sleeve.”

  Intrigued, Trell complied. “Might I inquire why you’re tattooing me?”

  “To be certain we stay together on this tenuous path of yours.”

  “It’s your path too, Tannour.”

  “So I gather.” Tannour uncapped the vial and tapped a needle in the fluid. Then he set to work on the inside of Trell’s arm, near his elbow. A lock of dark hair fell across his cheekbone, and as he worked he repeatedly tossed it from his face.

  The needle stung, and the ink burned. Trell’s entire forearm quickly felt like a hot poker was being held against his flesh. Yet the pattern Tannour was inking took up no more room than his thumbnail. If just that small amount burned so greatly...

  Trell thought of the extensive patterns covering Tannour’s body and what he must’ve endured in their inking. He kept his pain firmly in check behind a tightly clenched jaw.

  They didn’t speak again until it was done. Trell relaxed his fist to reveal bloody crescent marks across his palm where his nails had bitten down. His entire forearm was aflame. He asked as he gingerly rolled down his sleeve, “What’s this pattern going to do?”

  “To you, nothing.” Tannour finished stowing his needles and returned the pouch to the inside of his vest. “Your arm should stop burning in an hour or two.”

  “What will it do to you?”

  Tannour’s gaze slowly lifted to meet his. “It awakens...an awareness of you.”

  Catching his intimation, Trell arched a brow. “How much of an awareness?”

  Tannour turned a culpable smile off into the night. “Are you sure you want to know?”

  “Apparently I don’t.”

  A dark laugh escaped Tannour. He got to his feet and looked down at Trell. “We’d best be getting back. You promised Lamodaar you’d sleep tonight.”

  Trell cast him a suspicious eye as they started off together. “I don’t recall your being there when I said that.”

  “Air conceals no secrets, A’dal.”

  “Good to know.”

  Twenty-seven

  “The greatest unsolved mystery of life is

  why rivers aren’t made of wine.”

  –The royal cousin Fynnlar val Lorian

  “You know, I could be in bed right now.”

  Pelas glanced to Tanis as they trudged together through the deep sand of the dune. The night was fully upon them, but the moon was high, the stars bright, and the desert air was so clear, Pelas fancied he could see all the way to Chaos.

  “I’m supposed to be in bed right now.” Tanis puffed a lock of hair from his eyes. “If I miss my dawn appointment with the Eltanese on the world pattern, I’ll have to deal with my mother, and dealing with my mother is something I never want to have to do.”

  “An intelligent decision.”

  Tanis eyed him suspiciously. “I’m not sure yet how smart I could be, letting you drag me halfway through the desert in the dead of night with no explanation.”

  Pelas darted a smile at him. “Aren’t Nodefinders supposed to have an irrepressible appetite for adventure?”

  “You think I need more excitement in my life?” Tanis pushed hands to his knees as the dune steepened and their climb became more strenuous. “It’ll be hazardous enough just trying to explain to my mother why I spent all night on a fool’s errand.”

  “Your mother is being well occupied by Ean, I think,” Pelas murmured with a shadowy smile.

  Tanis gave him a pained look. “Thank you so much for that reminder.”

  Pelas chuckled. “I’ve heard that envisioning sexual intercourse between one’s parents becomes easier after one has partaken of the activity himself.” He looked Tanis over amusedly. “We should probably take care of that for you sometime soon.”

  “Sure. I’ll just slot in losing my virginity right here between breakfast and saving the world.”

  “Don’t sell yourself short, Tanis. You might need a bit more time than that,” and Pelas added with a wink, “especially with me for a mentor.”

  They gained the summit of the dune, and Pelas paused to let Tanis catch his breath. Moonlight limned an undulating sea of sand in every direction save north, where the hulk of Björn’s volcanic mountain towered darkly.

  Pelas gauged them far enough from the mountain’s base that his change wouldn’t disturb anything important. It would’ve been quite the embarrassment having to explain to Björn how an inadvertent swing of his tail had taken out his temple complex.

  “Well, here we are, miles from anywhere...” Tanis shifted the strap of his satchel across his chest and looked pointedly at Pelas.

  Pelas smiled as he slip
ped out of his boots. He didn’t actually know what would happen when he abandoned his shell—whether he could make it manifest again in the clothes he’d put on that morning or if they would simply vanish in the flood of energies he was about to unleash.

  Darshan probably had the transition mapped down to the molecule and could reassume his shell garbed in any outfit he chose. If Pelas decided to make a habit of moving in and out of the form, he would need to solve that process for himself. For now, he disrobed, because, well...he was rather fond of that shirt.

  He eyed Tanis as he undid the buttons. “Earlier today, while you and the Eltanese were frolicking on T’khendar’s pattern of the world, your uncle and I had a chat.”

  Tanis’s face fell slack. “You spent the day with my uncle and didn’t tell me?”

  “It would’ve ruined the surprise.”

  Tanis must’ve glimpsed his intent from somewhere among his thoughts, for the lad’s eyes widened considerably. “Are you about do what I think you’re about to do?”

  “That very much depends on what you think I’m about to do.” Smiling, Pelas handed his shirt over to Tanis. “I thought you might want to share in the experience.”

  Tanis gave an astonished laugh. “As if you need ask to know my answer!”

  “I don’t know...” Pelas stripped out of his pants, “that bed of yours seemed awfully important a moment ago.”

  “What bed?”

  “Yes, well...” Pelas eyed him amusedly, “this won’t be like riding a horse. I’ll have to bind you with the fifth to keep you safe.”

  Tanis beamed at him. “At this point, you’d have to haul me away in chains to keep me from coming along.”

  “You might change your mind after you see what I become.”

  “I seriously doubt that.”

  Chuckling, Pelas handed his pants to the lad, who stowed them in his satchel. Then Pelas stood for a moment in stillness, letting his bare flesh drink in the starlight, feeling the occasional sting of sand as a breeze abraded his skin, thinking about the Void and T’khendar’s fabric, and feeling oddly mixed emotions about exposing this virgin realm to his Chaos form.

  At least Tanis would enjoy it.

  He cocooned the lad in the fifth. Then he slung a strand of his attention to a distant ley line and magnetized the connection. An instant later, he stood a quarter-mile away from Tanis. He felt the lad’s surprise humming across the bond.

  Tell me again why we just hiked out here when you could’ve done that from the campsite? Tanis protested, laughing in wonder.

  The lad appeared a small figure atop the distant dune to Pelas now. He sent Tanis a mental smile. You tell me, Nodefinder. You might’ve brought us here just as easily.

  Sure, if you’d told me where we were going.

  Well...there is that.

  Smiling to himself, Pelas drew Tanis’s awareness close within the sphere of his own to protect the lad’s mind from the energies he was about to unleash while he maintained his cocoon of the fifth to protect the lad’s body from the same. Then he let his head fall back, let the wind claim his long hair and the starlight his skin...and surrendered to the impulse to expand.

  Always he felt the pressure of holding the immensity of his being within a fraction of its necessary space. He was the oak fully grown within the acorn; the conch sheltering all the waters of the sea.

  Upon his intent, power unfolded. He unfolded, the seas of his being unleashed. Liquid energy poured into the realm, illuminating the night in undulating waves, innately seeking a cosmic alignment of particles along a vast and divine pattern.

  Becoming.

  Pelas’s unformed essence took the shape of eyes, a head, a jaw... Soon he was tasting of the finite elements of that realm as he would’ve tasted of a world before unmaking it: the metallic tang of metals layered deep through atmosphere and earth; the crisp, clean inhalation of gasses with their particles as soft as butter upon his senses, or others with the corrosive spice of acids; the combustive energy of motion, gravitation, elemental interaction...

  It had been a very long time.

  Pelas had forgotten the intimacy of this connection to the elemental composition of a world, this communion before unmaking, the feeling of the world’s essence bowing in homage to him. The exchange was less a sundering than a surrendering, the aether parting in a sensual and breathtaking sacrifice of itself. And oh, how delicious was that surrender!

  He might consciously act against his nature in pursuing creation, but there was no denying that he’d been made as its antithesis.

  Deep within his consciousness, Pelas felt Tanis tremble, and understand.

  Bonded particles of elae and deyjiin flowed into wings, then coalesced to form his massive, muscular body. Every solidifying inch of him drank in the starlight in a tingling, tantalizing, revitalizing rush. The sand fled in rivers beneath his congregating form.

  When Pelas felt the end of his daggered tail slicing both sand and air and his claws sinking deeply, when the dunes lay flattened beneath him, he swung his head to look at Björn’s mountain.

  Eyes made to dissect the radiance of stars saw the energies collected in that place. Surging tides of the lifeforce flowed there, while a wellspring of elae gushed beneath the mountain, fueling the portals linking Björn’s command center to elsewhere in T’khendar.

  Deep in Pelas’s mind, Tanis bubbled with effervescent wonder.

  Well...Pelas knew he was something to see.

  He turned Void-black eyes on the small, distant figure surrounded by a nimbus of the fifth. For all Tanis had grown so tall, Pelas could have flattened him with his slightest exhale. Instead, he swung around, spawning a minor sandstorm, and carefully scooped up Tanis in one clawed hand.

  The lad’s thoughts were giddy.

  Pelas clutched his bond-brother close to his form, cupped safely within his sphere of the fifth. Unprotected, the touch of Pelas’s carbon-black skin would have drained the boy of life in the space of a breath.

  Ready?

  Tanis practically shouted, Go-go-go!

  Pelas laughed in his thoughts. He threw up his wings, sank into his powerful hind legs and leapt into the sky.

  ***

  We should talk.

  Ean rolled over in bed with this thought tinkling as a bell in his awareness.

  Outside, the wind was howling. A constant barrage of sand hissed across the canvas of the tent he shared with Isabel. Inside their bedchamber, the only light came from the corner, where she stood studying her reflection in a tall mirror. It was hours yet before the dawn.

  Her side of the bond was quiet, which told Ean that she was brooding, else she would’ve let the waters of their minds blend in confluence instead of channeling hers elsewhere.

  They’d spent the last few days entwined in body and mind, bringing each other through the story of their months apart. But in this one concern, Isabel maintained her silence. She seemed determined to shoulder the burden on her own.

  “I didn’t want to wake you,” she said in response to his thought, which he hadn’t tried to hide from her. “My dreams are very dark of late.”

  Ean perceived the fears plaguing her, even if she refused to fully share them with him—much as she had perceived his fears when he was so preoccupied with losing her to Pelas. How different the reality had become from what he’d envisioned.

  He propped his head in his hand. “You shine as brightly on the currents as you ever have, my lady.”

  The ghost of a smile teased at her lips. “Liar.”

  “I would never lie to Epiphany’s Prophet...” he angled her a look, “but I believe you’re trying to.”

  He could tell he’d hit upon a truth by the way she stared at him. After a moment, she refocused her gaze on her own reflection. “I chose this path, Ean.”

  “That doesn’t mean you have to walk it by yourself. Take a friend, perhaps. Or an acquaintance. Someone at least partially benevolent towards you.”

  She gave him withering loo
k, though it hinted of amusement.

  “Isabel, we’re not going to let you face this alone.”

  Her even gaze, reflected in the mirror, said, In the end, we all meet death alone.

  Ean climbed from the bed and crossed the room to her. She turned as he approached, and he saw something come into her gaze as she looked upon him. For a moment, it chased away the shadows haunting her eyes.

  He knew what about him was eliciting such a look from her. Between all the sparring he’d done with Sebastian, Pelas and errant eidola, he’d packed over a stone and a half of muscle onto his frame in the many months they’d spent apart. He gave her a wry half-smile. “What?”

  “Am I not allowed to admire my husband?”

  “Assuredly.” He turned her to face the mirror again and swept her chestnut hair back across one bare shoulder. “So long as I’m granted the same allowance.” He cradled her arms with his own while he studied the patterns tattooed on her skin.

  Chaos patterns.

  Knowing the importance of understanding them, Ean had studied the patterns until he knew them all by heart. Now he traced a finger along the maze of silvery arabesques on Isabel’s arm, following their course in his thoughts, perceiving what he could of the elemental shifts the pattern was engendering, trying to discern its purpose. “Is it hubris to imagine I might see something in these patterns than Bjorn cannot?”

  Isabel exhaled slowly. “My brother doesn’t know everything.”

  Something in the way she said this...Ean lifted his gaze to meet hers in the mirror. “No,” he agreed with a frown, trying to divine the deeper implications underlying her tone, which had seemed both resigned and faintly apocalyptic.

  My brother doesn’t know everything.

  She hadn’t emphasized this word, yet he heard emphasis in her meaning.

  As Ean thought it over, it occurred to him that even had Bjorn the capability to know everything about the game, he likely would’ve chosen not to know it, in order to have a game to play. For if a man knew everything, he would know his opponent’s intent also, and therefore find no obstacles before him. Without obstacles, he couldn’t have a game.