by Jason Denzel
Vlenar ducked and weaved between the fay, slicing them with his sword. The blade swept through the fay as if they were smoke. Realizing the ineffectiveness of his attacks, the laghart dodged and hissed.
“Run!” Pomella called to him. “Take the others!”
Vlenar obeyed without hesitation. He snatched Lal’s hand and dragged him out the door and up the tunnel beyond.
After initially recoiling at the sudden violence, Vivianna gathered herself enough to banish several axthos. With a look from Pomella, she followed Vlenar and Lal.
Sim pulled at Pomella’s arm. “Come on.”
Pomella shook him off as another hyena axthos leaped at them. She clubbed it with her staff but had to lurch to her side and slam one of the owl-faces swooping toward her. Each time she struck her staff, the fay exploded with light and smoke and vanished.
“Get out of here, Sim! I’ll follow!”
On the opposite side of the long table, Shevia shifted from axthos to axthos, incinerating them. Somewhere in Pomella’s mind it registered that Shevia was destroying the axthos, not simply banishing them back to Fayün. The other woman moved with inhuman grace, dancing through the fay creatures like a wind scattering dandelions.
Pomella wondered where Shevia had learned to move like that. Her movements were as sinuous as a snake gliding across the ground.
At the far table, the strange laghart Mystic waited, its spine straight, and dead face unmoving except for the silvery eyes that darted back and forth in otherwise-scarred sockets.
A deafening roar filled the hall, stunning Pomella down to her bones. Vlenar, Vivianna, and Lal all paused at the exit to stare at the wolf-bear howling atop one of the long tables.
It charged. The already-obliterated feast of laghart flesh flew everywhere as the wolf-bear bore down on her. Pomella narrowed her eyes and punched out a banishment, but it broke harmlessly against the beast like a wave against a mountain cliff.
“Pomella!” Vivianna cried from just beyond the feast hall’s entrance.
The wolf-bear snapped at Pomella, but she spun out of the way just in time. A cat-faced axthos hurled itself at her, but she cut through it as it was still in midair.
The wolf-bear rose onto its hind legs and snarled, just an arm length from Pomella. It raised a massive paw to cut her down but suddenly bellowed in pain.
Sim leaned into the creature, one of his blades driven deep into its torso. Nearby, Shevia whipped her head around as the wolf-bear howled. It towered over Sim and swatted a claw toward him, but Sim ducked and somehow managed to yank the blade free.
Pomella ran for the exit, stumbling slightly in her red travel dress. Her hair tumbled in front of her face, but she ignored it as she scrambled away from the assault of fay.
Two hyena-faces tumbled into her path, blocking the exit. Pomella slammed through them with her staff. She stopped for one last look at the dining hall.
Sim still faced the wolf-bear, standing in a wide stance with his blades held aloft. In an instant Shevia was there. She threw her hand forward again, fingers splayed wide, and the wolf-bear burst into flames that surged across its body. The heat from the inferno made Pomella recoil. The wolf-bear rose to its hind legs, stumbled backward, and crashed into the wall. A ruined tapestry ignited immediately. Pomella watched in horror as the flames raced around the walls, and leaped to the feast tables.
“Let it burn,” Sim said to her.
Only now, as the wolf-bear collapsed, kicking up a cloud of sparks, and with the fire raging all around the room, did the laghart Mystic move closer to them. Its movements were jerky, as if it didn’t know how to control its own body.
“Sssshe comesss,” hacked the laghart. “You cccannot ssstop ittt.”
“Who?” Pomella demanded, stepping forward. She grimaced as one of the tables collapsed and flared fire beside her. Thick smoke stung her eyes, but she ignored it. “Why did you destroy these people?”
“Blessssed is she,” the laghart said, “ttthe one who bringsss Reunion. What wasss tttorn asssunder will be mennnded.”
Flames leaped onto the laghart Mystic, consuming what remained of its robes and flesh. It raised its arms as smoke and fire wrapped around it. Its silver eyes remained visible, however, and stared from Pomella to Shevia.
Sim hustled the others out of the hall and down the entrance hall toward the surface stairway. Pomella followed him reluctantly as smoke burned her eyes.
As she left the hall, a light flashed behind her, and a tentacle of silver smoke lashed out and grabbed her ankle. She grunted as she fell, cracking her chin on the dirt tunnel. The metallic taste of blood filled her mouth.
The tendril of Myst dug into her ankle harder, cutting her skin. Sim was there in a heartbeat, swinging one of his blades, but the metal passed right through the smoke and clanged against the ground underneath.
Pomella tried to stand, but the tentacle pulled her back toward the now fully consumed room of fire. Black smoke poured from the doorway, filling the staircase above. Between the blood in her mouth and thick smoke, Pomella could hardly draw a breath.
“Take her,” said a voice. Pomella tried to focus her mind and senses enough to understand who had spoken. Through her confusion and the smoke she saw Lal looming over her. Sim lifted her to her feet and hurried her toward the stairway. Somehow, the tentacle of Myst had been lifted from her foot. She looked back toward the door and saw Lal silhouetted against the light. “Lal?” Pomella managed through the ringing pain in her head. “Lal, what are you doing?”
“We need to go, Pomella,” Sim said insistently.
“But Lal…”
Sim had her at the stairs and hurried her up. “He’s a grandmaster,” he said, as if that should satiate her worries.
“You don’t understand,” Pomella said, turning back once more. “He doesn’t have—” She cut off as something inside the large hall—a tapestry perhaps—crashed down.
Sim’s blue eyes found hers. “Respect his choice.”
The rising fear in Pomella shifted to deep terror. Her heart thundered. “No,” she whispered. “No, Lal.”
A wave of scorching heat roared from the entrance. Pomella blinked and realized she was on the ground, trying to catch a breath. The world spun around her and for a moment she didn’t know where she was.
“Pomella!” said a voice.
Pomella shook her head to clear it. Vivianna bent over her. “Are you OK?”
“Lal,” she said as memory rushed back to her.
They were outside now, in the middle of the velten, well away from the entrance to the burning feast hall. Smoke poured from the stone entrance, rising into the sky, and filled the otherwise-clear blue sky.
Tibron offered his arm to her. She accepted it, and steadied herself on her feet. The rest of the group looked at her with concern. The other ranger brothers still had their swords drawn.
“I have to find him,” Pomella said.
There was no movement inside the tunnel. She covered her mouth and nose with her elbow and started toward the entrance again.
“We need to—”
Tibron stopped her. “If you go in,” he said, “you’ll die.”
Vivianna placed her hand on Pomella’s shoulder. “He’s right.”
“Vlenar,” Pomella said, looking for somebody to agree with her. Lal was down there, and they needed to help him.
Vlenar’s gaze went beyond her to the smoking entrance. “Lookkk,” he said.
Hope filled Pomella’s heart as she saw a figure emerging from the entrance. It was Lal, but his crimson robes were singed and patches of his tan skin shone with an angry shade of red. She rushed to him as he stumbled, and managed to catch him as he collapsed. Vlenar and Tibron joined her a heartbeat later.
“Lal,” Pomella said, looking for severe wounds or burns.
“We ssshould gettt him away from the entranccce,” Vlenar said.
“Yes,” Pomella said. “Let’s—”
Lal lifted his face. Pomella st
opped. Silver light shone from Lal’s eyes. They looked past her, toward the sky. He began to convulse, his mouth working and biting at air.
“Vivianna!” Pomella called. “I need you!”
Pomella didn’t wait for her friend to rush to her side. She drew the Myst to her, and spread it across Lal, trying to find the link that bound Lal to whatever had gripped him.
Suddenly he stopped convulsing and turned his gaze to Pomella. A vicious grin that she’d never seen spread across her master’s face.
“Lal?” Pomella said.
He shouted an indecipherable word and once more Pomella found herself lying on the ground without remembering how she got there. Her whole body ached and this time she could feel a gash dripping blood from her forehead into one of her eyebrows.
Pomella pushed herself to her feet. She wobbled a bit, and had to use her staff for balance. She hadn’t been the only one to have been knocked back by whatever Lal had done. Vivianna and Tibron were both struggling to stand, having been thrown a dozen steps from where they’d been standing. Vlenar, too, had been cast aside, but he’d already found his feet and seemed otherwise unaffected.
Lal rose with unhumanly jerky movements. He stretched, arcing his back and looking skyward as if to bask in the sun.
A horrible feeling gripped Pomella’s heart. This was no longer her master. In place of his normally kind brown eyes she saw silver eyes that flicked around haphazardly, jumping from one point to the next. It was as if he’d never seen the world before and was getting used to the sense of vision for the first time. A thousand knives stabbed Pomella’s heart. “No,” she said to herself.
Her master was gone, replaced by a wivan.
Vlenar, approaching Lal, gazed at Vivianna and Tibron lying on the ground. Before Pomella could shout to warn him, Lal leaped toward the ranger and struck with inhuman speed. Vlenar somehow dodged it with his own natural quickness, but Lal came at him again.
Sim and the other rangers swarmed toward Lal. His head whipped around as they approached. He let out what sounded like a choke or a snarl, then backflipped high into the air, his feet rising twice the height of a tall man. He landed on his feet nearly ten steps behind them. With another scream he punched his hands forward, his fingers curled like claws, toward the rangers.
The ground erupted below the rangers’ feet, sending them flying into the air. Dirt cascaded down around Pomella. One of the brothers, Tibron, landed hard nearby. She bent over him and saw him clutching his ribs and wincing though clenched teeth.
Shevia stepped through the dust from the attack. “Ahlala,” she said, speaking Lal’s full name. With her Qina accent, the name sounded more natural, more melodious than when Pomella spoke it.
Lal bent low, twisted with his arms wide, and hissed at Shevia. He punched a hand toward her, and a chest-sized clump of dirt that had been torn up flew at her.
Shevia swung her staff, and despite its skinniness, it smashed through the boulder, scattering dirt in every direction. She spoke again, in Qina, so Pomella could not understand what she was saying, but Pomella clearly heard her repeat Lal’s name.
The creature inhabiting Lal snarled and replied in Qina.
“What’s he saying?” Pomella called to Shevia. She risked a glance behind her and saw Vivianna helping Vlenar to his feet. Sim was on his hands and knees, shaking his head to clear it. Typhos helped Tevon to his feet while Tibron continued to try to catch his breath.
Shevia ignored Pomella’s question and snapped something in return to Lal. She sneered as she spoke, then spun in a full circle and swung her staff in a wide arc parallel to the ground. A sudden gale, tinged with ashes and the smell of sulfur, slammed against Pomella, rippling her hair and robes.
Lal punched a hand out, diverting visible streams of air around him like a rock parting water. He spoke again in a voice that both sounded like Lal yet did not truly come from him. He looked directly at Shevia and said, “Lagnaraste summons you.”
The words rippled through Pomella like a curse. The scent of sulfur surged around her again, mixed with a new, unexpected hint of sandalwood.
The blood drained from Shevia’s face. Her eyes widened and even from a distance Pomella could see her white-knuckled grip on her staff.
Suddenly Shevia screamed, and ran at Lal, assaulting him with a flurry of blows from her staff. The creature inhabiting Lal dodged every time, ducking or sidestepping her strikes perfectly.
“Don’t hurt him!” Pomella screamed, and ran forward.
Shevia either didn’t hear or ignored Pomella entirely and continued thrashing her staff. The creature inside Lal cackled, enjoying the game. A heartbeat later the end of Shevia’s staff connected, slamming into Lal’s ribs. He bent double, and with lightning speed Shevia jammed her staff upward, slamming into his chin and knocking him off his feet and onto his back.
Pomella covered her mouth with her free hand and gasped. Rage and fear boiled in Shevia’s eyes as she lifted her staff above her head in order to slam it down onto Lal.
Pomella moved without thought. She was one with the Myst, one with everything, and in that moment she became energy itself. All movement around her slowed as though time had decided to pass with the patience of a blossoming rose. In that seemingly endless heartbeat, she shifted herself, as pure force, toward Shevia.
Time raced back to normal, and Shevia flew backward as though punched by a boulder-sized fist. She rolled once and somehow managed to skid to a halt on her feet. Blood leaked from her nose, but wild rage roared in her eyes.
Shevia touched her bloody nose, then looked at her fingers. Her eyes found Pomella. “So we do it this way,” she said, then attacked.
Pomella barely had time to raise her staff in defense as Shevia jabbed her own at her. She knew little to nothing of fighting, but she knew enough to keep her staff up in order to not get smashed in the face. She found herself retreating backward as Shevia struck and spun. The woman’s movements were surreal in their grace and strength.
Out of the corner of her eye, Pomella saw a figure rushing toward them. She risked a glance that way and saw Sim running toward them. “No, Sim, stay—”
Shevia’s staff exploded into Pomella’s chest, knocking every breath she ever took out of her body. She tripped backward and hit her head on the ground.
Sim raised his blades as Shevia spun to him. Quick as a luck’n, and once more without thinking, Pomella forced the Myst at both of them, knocking Sim aside and throwing Shevia off-balance.
Pomella gasped for air and scrambled to her feet just as Shevia regained herself. They circled each other four strides apart, staves at the ready. Shevia moved the tip of her staff in a slow arc, mixing Myst and fire.
“I won’t let you hurt him,” Pomella said.
“Your master is gone!” Shevia snapped. “What is left will kill us both.”
“What did he say to you?” Pomella said, keeping both hands firmly gripped on her staff. For once she was glad for the oak’s thickness and weight. Her chest burned like fire and breath was hard to find. She needed to keep Shevia distracted. The other woman was faster than her, and probably more powerful with the Myst. She needed to end this quickly.
In reply, Shevia spun in place and hurled a jet of flame from the tip of her staff toward Lal’s still-motionless body.
Pomella moved in the same heartbeat and tapped the empty air beside her with her finger. A single silvery chime sounded through the velten.
Before Shevia’s flames managed to reach Lal’s body, the ground rumbled beside him and tore itself open. Dirt and stone raced upward to form the familiar towering shape of the Green Man. The flames from Shevia’s staff blasted into him, but Oxillian shrugged it off like wind. His bearded face bore an expression of anger. Pomella had seen that look only once before, in a cave far away, atop MagDoon when he’d taken a form of hardened stone pulled from the mountain. Now he towered protectively over Lal, his body shaped from dirt that still bore dried blood from the laghart massacre.
Vivianna stepped beside Pomella, staring at Shevia, her staff ready. Sim joined her on Pomella’s opposite side.
Two of Shevia’s brothers, Tevon and Typhos, placed themselves between Shevia and the Green Man. The leather of Typhos’ gloved hands creaked as he tightened his grip on his sword. Tevon held his, too, but turned an angry glare at Pomella.
A silent stalemate lingered in the air. Finally, Tibron sheathed his sword and approached Oxillian.
“Green Man,” he said. “Something unnatural controls Grandmaster. Help us constrain him.”
“He’s hurt, Ox,” Pomella added.
“There will be no more blood or fire,” Ox said, sweeping his gaze across all of them like a mother scolding her children.
“No, Green Man, you are wrong,” Shevia said, her voice suddenly distant and strange. “Crow Tallin is upon us, and none of you understand it. There will be much blood and fire to come. This I foresee, as clear as the Mystic Star is bright.”
She fixed her lavender eyes on Pomella. “You are at the heart of this, again,” Shevia said to her. She retreated two steps, turned, and fled the velten.
NINETEEN
A PATH OF SILVER LIGHT
Four Months Before Crow Tallin
For three days the man known as the Woodsmith—who had lived in the silent highlands of Qin for four years—tried to put the strange events at the ruined slave caravan behind him. In the early morning of the first day he went out to check his traps, which were scattered throughout the forest. He’d caught a hare, which he cleaned and prepared for his meal that night.
He tried to lose himself in his regular day-to-day routine. Familiar habits allowed him to forget, to remain frozen and lost. It was safer there, in the quiet seclusion of mountains, where pain and memory couldn’t find him.
The burned face of the Mothic Unclaimed flashed in his mind. The Woodsmith shook it away, banishing it to the deep recesses of his heart where he couldn’t see.
