Borne Rising
Page 38
Jero din’Dael cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders back. A visible change came over the man. He stood taller and the fury seemed to leave his eyes. The maddening, lackadaisical smile returned to his face. “Then he’s wasting valuable time and giving us an opportunity to regroup and kill him.” He threw his head back and laughed.
What the hell? “Jero—”
Will was cut off with a sharp gesture from his mentor.
“No, William. Much as it pains me to agree with her, my old friend Cephora is correct.” Jero broke out into a fit of chuckles. “My, how the world works. Our plans have not changed. The Lightborne move for the Nordoth. You shall accompany the Seekers to Greygarde and join us presently.” Despite the laughter, Jero seemed strained. “Determine the cause of all these things there.”
Why is he so adamant about making his stand in the Nordoth?
“Agreed,” Cephora said. “We’ll take the boy. We’ll return to Greygarde and retrieve what information we are able, then depart for Undermyre.”
“Do I get a goddam say in this?” Will snapped. All eyes turned to him.
“No,” Cephora and din’Dael said in unison. Shyldd gave a low “hmph,” while Morella bristled again at his side.
“It is settled then.” Din’Dael clapped his hands. “I’ll retrieve the balance of my forces and we shall rendezvous with the Crow.” He laughed again and shook his head. “Ah, yes. This shall be an event to remember, I’m certain.”
“It’s settled then.” Cephora stood and brushed back her cloak. “We’ll leave at once.”
“Already?” Will said incredulously. “Shouldn’t we—”
“Let’s just go, Will.” Morella sighed heavily. “They’re not interested in us when it comes to their scheming. They never have been.”
Will saw that neither din’Dael nor Cephora contradicted her. His gaze fell to the Relic in his hand. It’s like they’ve already forgotten about it. His mouth set in a thin line, he nodded to Morella. He stood, gingerly but solid. He took Morella’s hand and exited the tent without another word.
While they walked, Will began to test his frozen hand. More response came from his pinky and he was beginning to feel the slight tingling of sensation in his thumb. That they had recovered a Relic and no one seemed to question it at all was maddening. He glanced down at it. “Morella, did any of that seem strange to you? I mean, it’s as if everyone—”
“Will, I . . . I can’t go to Greygarde.”
Will paused in his tracks. “What? Why not?”
She bit her lip and looked away from him, not meeting his eye. “It’s . . . it’s a long story. Just—” she rolled her eyes and spoke very quickly “—not all of my research was obtained in the most noble of ways.”
A smile tugged at the corner of Will’s cheek. “You stole from the Seekers?”
Morella shrugged and met his smile with her own. “Something like that. The defenses they have in place at Greygarde though, they’ll know. I don’t know how they’ll know, but they’ll know.”
“I’m sure that Cephora and Shyldd would—”
“Would probably kill me on the spot if they knew.”
Something in her voice gave Will pause. The memory of her rage, the furious anger that overtook her. “Dammit, Morella. You killed Seekers, didn’t you?”
Her smile never wavered and her eyes showed no remorse. “Maybe one or two.”
“Jesus, Morella!”
“I told you I wasn’t always a historian.”
Will stared at her aghast. “I can’t—” He shook his head. “Look, fine. I get it. Shit happened and I don’t need to know about it . . . or something. I just—” He sighed in frustration. “Dammit, Morella.”
“You hardly have the right to judge me about numbers of dead.”
“No, no no. It’s not that. I just, gods, there’s still so much I don’t—” He stared at her, the words hanging on the tip of his tongue. So much I still don’t know about you. But he couldn’t find it in him to say it. He turned away. “It’s just a lot to take in, is all.”
“Will.” She turned his face back to her. “Go to Greygarde without me. Learn everything you can. I will wait for you in Undermyre. At the Street. At our place.”
Will was nodding despite himself. “Yeah, alright.”
“And if Madigan comes, I’ll let him know where you are.”
Madigan. Will groaned. How the hell did I forget about my brother? “Jesus, I haven’t even been thinking about him.”
“A lot has been happening, Will.”
He shook his head. “No, I know but that’s not, that’s no excuse. I can’t believe that—”
“Stop,” Morella snapped. “It’s been a hellish day and neither of us need you descending into self-recrimination.” Will gave a brief nod and her expression calmed. She leaned up then kissed him and squeezed his hand. “I’ll stay at the Street. In our room. You know how to reach me there and”—she bit her lip and squeezed harder—“and I’ll do what I can.”
“Din’Dael. You’ll watch him? Whatever’s going on with him and the Nordoth, he hasn’t let me in.”
“I’m three steps ahead of you, Will.”
“And if Madigan comes back, you’ll get word to me, won’t you?”
“Of course.” She looked at him aghast. “Why would you even ask that?”
“It’s just . . .” He shook his head, dropping his gaze to his frozen hand and the strange object held within. “I don’t know. I don’t like this, Morella. Not one bit.”
She kissed his free hand and held his palm to her face. “You and your brother will figure this out. I’ll watch din’Dael.” Her mouth twisted in distaste. “Just don’t stay away too long. I don’t know if even the Crow will be able to keep that bastard’s ego in check.”
More feeling was returning to the frozen fingers. “I’ll be there as soon as I can. As soon as I figure out what the hell this is.”
“What the hell what—” She followed his gaze down to the Relic. A sudden darkness flickered across her face. Her eyes snapped back up to him, seeming to contain both anger and awe. Then it was gone. She was laughing and smiling and Will wondered if he had imagined her expression. She kissed her fingers and pressed them against his lips. “Oh, I always knew you were something special, Will. I think they’re right about this course.”
“I daresay I do believe that none of us care in the slightest what your opinions are on this matter.”
Will and Morella both whirled. Jero din’Dael had approached and was staring at Will once more with the same earlier intensity. He looked as though he were trying to prevent himself from even blinking as his eye bore into Will’s.
“Dammit, Jero. Can’t you just, for one goddam minute, act like a goddam human being?”
“Come, young Burner—or whatever the hell you are,” he muttered. “I require words. In private.”
“Well you can bloody well have them.” Morella spat at din’Dael’s feet. The man did not shift his gaze to her for even a moment. Obviously annoyed by the lack of reaction, she turned back to Will and kissed him. “Find me when this putrid excuse for existence is done speaking his insanity, will you?” Without waiting for an answer, she walked away.
Will glared at din’Dael. “What the hell is your problem?”
“Stop talking,” din’Dael snapped. “Do you even know how hard it is to focus on you?” He closed the distance to Will and reached out, clamping his fingers around Will’s forearm. He yanked the hand holding the Relic up to eye level. Only then did he seem to relax slightly.
“What the hell, Jero?” Will tried to wrench his arm away, but the man’s grip was like a vice. “Dammit, let go.”
“I cannot forget, William. I refuse.”
“Forget? Dammit, will you just say what the hell is going on?”
“It’s impossible, but it is possible. Yes, I see it. Damn the damned Hesperawn and Velier’s damn folly, I see it.” His eye darted between Will’s hand and face, back and forth.
“Do you not understand, William? Do you not see it?” He shook his head, giving Will no time to answer. “You don’t know, Burner, you don’t know. But I see it, plain as day.”
“Jero.” Will struggled in the large man’s grasp. “Let me go, will you? I’ll listen, alright?”
“Flint, yes, it started with Flint. No, no it was before that. But it started there, Flint is proof. The binding, you should be dead. But you live and breathe. You should be dead and you are not. Bound to Flint, yes, but also to this. No one else sees it, but I see it. I remember. Do you not see it?”
“So you had the wrong information about binding, so what?” The brief sensation that had returned to Will’s hand was fading in din’Dael’s iron grip.
“They’ve forgotten, William. Forgotten the Relic. Forgotten that you hold it. You, yourself, may be fading from their minds. Oh, they’ll remember William, or Noctis, or whatever name you may have claimed, but they won’t remember you. You fade from memory. Do you not see it?”
Will glanced at the Relic, uncertain. He really is mad. “Because of this?”
“Yes!” He shook Will’s arm. “Yes, because of this. Bound to Flint. Bound to this. Flint’s power of possession was known to me, but this? Unknown, William. Forgotten. Like you.” He shook his head. “I must not forget. I mustn’t. You, you must learn from it. Learn to control it, William. None of us will know, otherwise.”
Will finally succeeded in wrenching his arm away from din’Dael. Immediately, the Revenant tensed and bent over, staring hard at Will.
“Yeah,” Will said, “that’s why I’m going to Greygarde. To learn.”
“Greygarde?” Jero’s eye was wild with confusion. “Yes, yes of course. Learn to control it, young Burner. We need you. All of us.”
“Jero.” Will took a breath. “Do you really think this can help us stop Valmont?”
For a moment, din’Dael stared at him, his expression blank. A vein pulsed in his temple and his eye twitched. Then, all the strain released from his face and he took a deep breath. He looked at Will soberly and Will recognized one of the brief bouts of time where Jero din’Dael’s madness abated completely. Before him stood the brilliant commander who had led the forces of Radiance during their golden age.
“William, you must listen. The world is vastly more different than you believe, than your grandfather knew. The Seekers, the Crow, our brethren within the Sapholux. They do not see it. Even Dorian, for all his foolishness, doesn’t understand what is ultimately at stake here.” He placed a huge hand on Will’s shoulder and looked at him imploringly. “You must understand, Will, you are a great asset. But you are far from the most powerful asset the Hesperawn have to contend with.”
The Hesperawn? Will looked at him askance. “Jero, I’m not trying to contend the Hesperawn, they have nothing to—Wait, what do you mean? Of course I’m not the most powerful. You and Valmont are by far the—”
“As I said, you don’t truly know what is at stake here, Will. No one does. Go to the Seekers’ haven. Learn what you can as quickly as you can. Do not kill yourself in the process. I need you back whole.”
“Jero, I know you. I know there’s something going on with you. Tell me.” But it was too late. Already, Will could see the change coming over his mentor, the nearly imperceptible slouch, the gleam in his eye. Whatever voices wrenched at the Revenant’s sanity had returned.
“Do not”—Jero shook his head—“Do not let . . .”
Will reached up and placed his hand on din’Dael’s arm. “You’re a good man, Jero din’Dael.” Even as he spoke the words, he wasn’t sure if he believed them. “I won’t let you down.”
Din’Dael threw back his head in laughter. “But of course, young Burner! For ever more, you and I shall reign triumphant!”
Will said nothing. He turned away and scanned the makeshift camp, looking for Morella. Sighting her, he walked over and stood close, din’Dael’s laughter haunting his mind. “He’s finished.”
She snorted. “One can only hope.”
“Will,” Cephora called out. “It’s nearly time.”
Will cursed. “I’d hoped we’d have a chance to talk before I left.”
“Talk?” Morella brushed her arm against his suggestively. “Is that really what you had in mind?” She traced her fingers along his chest and he saw something catch her eye. Dropping her gaze, she peered intently at it, her eyes widening. “Well, that’s new.”
“What?” His hands jumped to the place she looked.
“Quite an interesting scar you have there. It looks like that key of yours left an impression.”
Tracing his fingers along the spot she looked, his fingers felt nothing. The tingling electricity, or at least the memory of it, remained. Gone, but not completely. “Yeah, well. Something always gets lost in these events, it seems.”
“Will!” Cephora called again.
“You’ll be safe?” Will looked deep into Morella’s eyes. “You’ll look out for yourself?”
Morella smiled and gave a slight nod. “I will. And if they try anything, I’ll kill them where they stand.”
“I don’t doubt it.” Will smiled back. “Just . . . keep a low profile.”
Morella rolled her eyes. “I don’t need you telling me how to spy, lover. I’m quite able to handle myself.”
“Of that I have no doubt.”
She squeezed his hand and kissed him once more. “Go, lover. Go save the world.”
Will smiled and shook his head, then turned back to the gathering Seekers. “I’ll see you soon enough.”
“Go, Will.”
He went.
Epilogue
The cool breeze of an Aerillian evening gusted through the open curtains. Ynarra shivered in her sleep and curled closer into herself, lost in her world of dreams. Madigan smiled and stroked her bare arm gently before bending down and kissing her lightly on the forehead. He watched her for a moment, then rose and made his way to the window.
The night was not dark—it never was—but Madigan could feel the quiet of sleep drifting away from Undermyre below. Time was different here than back home. He’d heard it time and time again but hadn’t really known what was meant by it until he’d seen his brother. Until he’d returned to Aeril. He hadn’t known what to expect, choosing instead to picture things that would have been better suited for the movies and stories back home. But that wasn’t it at all.
A world of immortals and a city where the sun never fully sets. No way to differentiate one day from another. No way to track time.
It wasn’t that time was different here, it was that time didn’t matter here. How long had he lain there, curled up with Ynarra? How many hours had passed? How many days since Valmont’s appearance in the Nordoth?
One year, that bastard said. How much time has already gone?
Was a year to Valmont the same as a year to Madigan? There was so much that Grandda never told us.
Us.
At the thought of his brother, Madigan frowned. Time had not been kind to Will. Their time apart had created a rift between them, something Madigan didn’t know how to undo.
A rift created from something that barely even exists here. Madigan stared out at the city below, to the cracked statues and decaying buildings. Is this what happens when time doesn’t exist? With no urgency, the world falls into decay? Is that what’s happening to Will?
It pained him to think of his brother in that way. Under the lasting influence of din’Dael and Morella, without the influence of someone who knew the real Will, what would happen to him? Would his mind remain his own? Grandda tried to warn us, in his own way. He’d have known how to handle Will.
How to handle Will. Mad felt the sour taste of the idea as a physical thing. Was Will someone who was going to need handling? He didn’t want to believe that. But so many things had happened while they’d been separated, so much had changed. Was his brother still the same good kid deep down?
Except he’s not a kid. Neither of us are.
“I told you not to do anything rash.”
Madigan froze. The voice came from above him, up near the rafters. He whirled defensively—it didn’t matter that he knew to whom the voice belonged, there was cruel anger in her words.
Mad wasn’t fast enough. Her knee drove into his sternum and sent him stumbling backward. He grasped at the curtains with his hands as his Shade sought to brace the wall behind him. Only, there was no wall. There was only the city. Before he could find his footing, a second strike from Ileta sent him flying through the window.
Will was right.
His fingers closed around the curtain and he heard it tear. He slammed against the Nordoth, the thick, torn cord the only thing preventing him from plunging to the courtyard below. His hands scrambled against the stony face of the fortress. A quick glance showed him that he could make his way back up to the window easily enough if he could just get a solid grip.
“I told you not to do anything rash,” Ileta repeated.
“What in the goddam hell are you talking about?” He grit his teeth and clung tighter to the fortress. I can get there. I can get past her. His thoughts jumped to Ynarra, unprotected, asleep in his bed. If she lays one goddam finger on her . . .
Ileta stood at the window, gazing down on him in spite. Her noctori was bared in the shape of a small, sleek dagger. “You fool, do you have any idea what you’ve done?”
Madigan’s chest ached from her strike. He stared up at her and shifted more of his weight from the curtain to the stones. “Something to disappoint you, it would seem.”
Ileta grabbed the taut curtain and, with a flick of her wrist, slashed clean through it. Madigan felt the line begin to slacken almost before his eyes registered the act. He shifted his weight entirely onto the building and dug his fingers into the stone. He shot his Shade down and angled it against the Nordoth to give him leverage. His heart slammed within his chest.