Chapter 26
A Love Dodecahedron
I never said you won. -Ec
--
Verica, in shadow form, followed Ravenna and Ec down the winding corridors of the Red Palace, towards the southwest gate. The portcullis was raised and Ember Haldur and his men were checking the contents and passengers of incoming wagons. Ec nodded at Haldur as they entered the Cubby. When the door closed behind her, letting the color slowly return to her flesh, shadows lightening to light brown and then pink.
“Can we trust Haldur?” Verica asked.
“Completely,” Ravenna said.
“How much did you trust Cyreves?”
Ravenna's face deflated. "Completely."
Verica frowned at the large wicker supply basket, hanging of the side of Ec's skywolf. Ec had been commissioned to fly to Dark Fist as a supply master, replacing the old supply master Cyreves.
Verica's stomach turned into wraith form just thinking about flying in a rickety old basket. “Will it hold my weight? The barrel plan didn’t fare very well. Now wicker baskets? Why would this work out any better?”
“Because I’ve seen it will,” Ec said. "You free your friend at Dark Fist, during the ritual."
“Did you see a vision of Cyreves betraying us and Jazlyn getting captured before your barrel plan?”
Ec looked down, red coloring her jade cheeks. “This one did not see.”
“Then how do you know this will go better?”
“I saw you getting out the basket at Dark Fist, playing an important role. All junctures lead to it. Even Cyreves betrayal played a role. Now that he is not supply master, they pick me to take his position. The Source guides us mysteriously.”
“A bit too mysteriously for my liking.” Verica chewed a nail. "This will be like sticking my head into the dragon's mouth, except slightly more dangerous.”
"The Source takes us to unexpected places,” Ec said. “Challenges us. This one trusts in the Source."
Verica had been surprised to learn that Ec was a Prophetess. The Source had told the Mantu to take the job in the scullery, foreseeing that she would play some role in helping bring down the Dracon's rule. And all this time, Verica had thought of her just as a source of lemon biscuits. Of course, that was an important role too…
"It’s a paradox," Lukor said. "If Ec hadn't told you that she’d seen you doing this, you wouldn’t be doing it. She foresaw you doing this and now you will do it.”
“I guess prophecies all have to do with junctures or something or other.”
“If you believe that.”
“Do you think she could be lying?”
“Or could the Source itself be deceitful? How far can we trust the Source? Do we know what it is? Who controls it? What its aims are?"
"You have a heretical mind," Verica thought. "I like it." She turned to Ec and asked aloud, “How can we know if we can trust the Source?”
Ec shrugged her bony shoulders. “If we can’t trust the Source then all is truly lost. What other choice do we have?”
Ec too made a valid point. The choice was she could let the Dracon murder Jazlyn, while she stood aside and did nothing. Then Asgaroth would emerge and start another Dark War, which would kill thousands. Or she could do her best to stop it.
There was no third option. She’d never set out to be a hero. She’d never wanted much of anything, except to play mumbly ball with Jazlyn and steal biscuits from Ec, and maybe, if she was truly daring, put some itch powder in Ko’s sleeping robes. But that was the extent of her wildest imaginings. Now fate had decided to throw the destiny of the world in her lap. Stupid fate.
Verica sighed. "Alright. I’ll do it. If I have to die, I'd rather go trying to stop the darkness, than waiting for it."
“Three Moons day is not the day you die,” Ec said. “I see you in the future falling down into a pit.”
“Falling into a pit? Ec, this is madness,” Ravenna protested. "You're sending Verica to her death."
Ec shook her head. "The pit is not an end, Ravenna, it’s a beginning. Verica has a crucial role to play on the Night of the Three Moons. If she doesn’t go, not only will Jazlyn, your parents, and others perish, but the whole world will be thrown into darkness.”
“Well, no worries then,” Verica said.
Ec flicked her tongue, the Mantu version of a smile.
Footsteps sounded from the corridor outside the storage room. Ec’s webbed hands shoved Verica’s head down and closed up the basket. A tight dark, space. Verica hated it. If a Flicker grabbed her like they grabbed Jazlyn, how could she escape? She was vulnerable. She started to breathe hard, panicking. If she breathed hard, would they hear her? The thought just made her panic all the more.
"Remain calm," Lukor said. "Picture a peaceful place." She pictured herself in a boat with Jazlyn upon a calm lake. The sun was shining and they were just two normal girls, no wraiths, no Immortals. They were laughing and singing under a gentle sun. Jazlyn stripped down and leapt into the water. Verica reached for her, but Jazlyn was drifting away, taken by the currents. Verica paddled harder to catch up to her, but the currents were pushing them in opposite directions. A seagull cawed overhead. “Wake up.”
She didn’t realize she’d fallen asleep, until Ec’s voice awoke her.
"Wake, little one. We've landed for the night. We’re in Deep Woods. If you use Shadow Form, you can come out and stretch for a moment.”
Ec acted as if she were straightening something in the basket, as Verica used her as a ladder to pull herself out. Verica was so wobbly and bow-legged, she had a near miss, almost crashing into a Flicker.
The Mantu led her out past the make-shift spear fence, towards a stone ruin, overgrown with brown, shriveled vines. Carvings of dancing horsemen decorated the remaining walls. The roof had collapsed long ago and Verica could see the stars through it. A large mirror tree, with its glassy bark, was growing over what had once been the doorway. A faint sound beat from below the tiled floor. A Heart Stone?
Ec sat on what had likely once been the base of a pillar. "Remember, Verica how you received your scar."
"I'm not likely to forget." Verica ran her finger down the length of her scar, feeling the coolness of it.
"It must happen again," Ec whispered.
“What?” Verica grabbed Ec and shook her. “What did you foresee, you green-skinned lunatic?”
“I saw you with the Sword of Luminescence, fighting Asgaroth,” Ec answered.
Verica’s jaw dropped. "You’re insane. I’m going to die."
Ec placed a webbed hand on Verica’s hand and squeezed. "You must learn to trust the Source, little one."
“Oh, just fight Asgaroth?” Verica rolled her eyes. “The Bone King just has, let’s see… telekinesis, invulnerable, super-human strength and agility. Should be easy. I’ve taken a few jousting lessons. So I can beat an Immortal who crossed swords with the Dragonking himself, no problem.”
Ec’s eyes met Verica’s, and Verica felt like she was drowning in their molten gold. “Beat? I never said you won.”
--
The heartbeat pervaded even Mavik’s dreams. In the dream, he was sure the thunderous boom emanated from behind a glowing blue bed curtain. He slid the drape open slowly. There was a lump in the bed. He called, "Emerelda? Is that you?"
He pulled back the blanket and in the bed lay his mother, pale-faced and clutching a red rose. Her eyes popped open. "She's coming."
Mavik awoke to find he was still in a nightmare. A female half-Mantu Woven One held a blade against his neck.
"A Woven One," Jijari said. "Servants of the Weaver."
A red-eyed, light-skinned Ozac held Emerelda. Emerelda's eyes were bulging and her feet kicking. She mumbled muffled curses.
“Is this girl the Guardian, Finder?” the Ozac asked.
An eerie girl’s voice echoed off the cavernous walls. "Of course, Anaz. Do you doubt the Weaver?"
"I doubt my aunt often, Finder, and so would you
if you weren’t such a blind fool. And who do we have…by the light of the Eye…Wayden is that you?" Anaz asked.
"Wayden? You know my brother?" Mavik exclaimed.
"Brother?” Anaz’s face paled. “Twin-brother?”
“That’s right. You know him?”
“Source save us," Anaz said. "Twins! Oh, what have I done?” The gray man turned to the half-Mantu. “Queranos, forgive me. I’m a damned fool.”
“That's why he didn't have the burn mark in the vision,” Queranos said, holding up a webbed hand. "Let me think." The Mantu paced, all eyes following her webbed feet, which were bare except for linen wrapped around them. Finally, she halted and turned to Anaz. “This changes nothing.”
The girl known as Finder approached Mavik. With a start, Mavik realized he felt the Connection towards her. Finder’s hands glowed yellow, with images of a blue fish and an amber snake dancing across her palms.
“A child with the powers of a Magic-finder. She must host…Zaburn,” Jijari thought.
A memory flashed past Mavik's eyes of Jijari embracing and kissing Zaburn by the base of an enormous waterfall. Jijari pushed him away, but not without regret.
Finder moved her face close to Mavik. “You’re scared.” She placed a glowing finger and pushed on his forehead. “Good.” She laughed and grabbed his arm, leading him forward. Anaz held Emerelda’s wrist as the Woven Ones led them down a dimly lit corridor.
"Where are you taking us?" Mavik asked. "How do you know Wayden? What did you mean you have the wrong one? Where is Wayden?"
“So many questions from the Splasher’s host,” Finder replied. “Why should the water ask, when the water can see?”
"The water shows us what it will,” Mavik said. “How did you know I hosted Jijari?"
"The Connector knows the Connections better than any,” Finder said. “Each tug is a different signature.” Finder put her hands on her ears and laughed. “Alright Zaburn!” She turned back to Mavik again. “Zaburn wants to tell you he misses Jijari." Finder ran a finger across Mavik's cheek mockingly tender. Then she dug her nail into his cheek. "He loves her so." Finder laughed, as Mavik winced.
Zaburn loves Jijari, Jijari is inside Mavik, Mavik loved Emerelda, Emerelda hosted Solita, Solita loved Kolram, and his brother hosted Kolram. It wasn't a love triangle, it was a love dodecahedron. And the fact that half of them were dead just made it even more tangled.
Mavik decided to change focus. “Why does the Weaver need us?”
Finder leaned so close to Mavik he could smell a sweet, but unfamiliar scent upon her breath. Her swirling eyes were hypnotic. “The Weaver keeps her patterns secret.” Finder’s hands flashed silver and gold images. "Enemies are nearby. Hurry.”
Anaz grabbed Mavik’s arm. He was forced along at a fast clip, racing through twisting corridors. Mavik didn't trust the Weaver, but he didn't see another way to find an exit to this maze. Besides, Anaz’s grip was quite strong.
Finder's hands glowed and wolves appeared in them. "We must move before the Guardians take us."
“So the Guardians are still here,” Jijari said. “Warring against the Woven Ones.”
He wondered how long they had slept. His stomach rumbled, but he didn't suppose they would stop for a meal with Guardians on their trail. They continued their silent trek through dark tunnels. The beating sound intensified.
They passed a large chamber decorated with murals. There were stars and lines painted between them. When they reached the exit, Finder pointed at a doorway and said, “You must go alone.”
The glow stones in the ceiling flickered.
“Why aren't you coming with us? What are we to do?” Mavik asked, but Finder and the others were gone, as if they were shadow wraiths.
“Should we be happy or scared that they be leaving us?” Emerelda’s asked, the word ‘us’ echoing off the cavernous walls. The drip-drip-drip of water played over the bass notes of the heart sound, creating an eerie orchestra.
"We better keep moving," Mavik said.
The corridor emptied out into a large cavernous room. The stone ceiling bore a ring of amber Guardian magic embedded into it. In the center of the room lay a beating Heart Stone, with metal tendrils attached to a milk-white woman, enshrouded in a Guardian field. Around the room were hundreds of woven linen sculptures: bird men, goat men, horse men, deer men, wolf men, every other combination of animal and man. They were wrought of plaster, mud, and clay, tightly wrapped in linens. Mavik was unnerved by how life-like they were.
The Source emanated from the Heart Stone with a taste so strong Mavik wanted to gag. Wayden had expressed it best, when he told Mavik the Source tasted like dirt. Thinking of his brother made him realize something that had been tugging at the back of his mind. He could faintly feel Wayden's Pull. His brother was close!
Mavik stared at the woman in the Guardian shield. A dozen shadows wriggled at her feet. "Who are you?" Mavik asked. The woman didn't answer. Mavik turned to Emerelda. "Can you release her?"
"Should I be trying?" Emerelda asked. "Solita says not to. She thinks this be the Shadow Queen."
"Solita is right,” Jijari said. “This is that unholy she-devil.”
“Maybe she can help us. We need someone to get us out of here. This is where the Source led us. How do you know she’s bad?”
“She fought against the holy Raylar and the other Immortals.”
“She fought against people like Asgaroth? That makes her bad? It doesn’t seem to me the Immortals were particularly good. I don't think anything is simple. Why are shadows bad and light good? Light can blind, shadows can cool.”
The ground beneath their feet lurched. Mavik’s heart beat as loud as the pulsating stone in the center of the room. It lurched again and began to vibrate. Clawing sounds drew nearer.
"More scagazi," Mavik said. "I think we have to release her or we'll be their dinner."
“No. She is the Devil of the Dark. Don’t do this,” Jijari said.
Emerelda touched the Guardian shield. She shook her filthy blonde hair. “It’s not budging."
The floor rattled hard. A dozen brown pincer-like claws emerged from the dirt.
Emerelda chewed her lip. "There sure be a lot of ‘em." Her hands glowed amber, ready with her Guardian magic. "I be gettin' really tired of these buggers."
Soul Hosts Page 26
