The New World

by Michael A. Stackpole

  Jorim frowned. “How are you restrained?”

  “It’s a minor thing, really. I have my power back, I can travel to the heavens for a bit, but am still anchored here. I cannot reach the physical world, so my work must be accomplished through agents.” Nessagafel held his hand up. “Just slip this ring from my finger and my will shall be done.”

  “There is one thing I don’t understand.” Jorim chewed his lower lip.

  Impatience crept into Nessagafel’s voice. “What is it, then?”

  “If you created me in your image; if I am powerful enough to defeat the others, then I am powerful enough to challenge you. Perhaps even to defeat you. Aren’t I the greatest threat you face?”

  “You see? That’s why it was perfect. You and I strive against each other. We push each other to be better.”

  “But don’t you fear that I will someday depose you?”

  Nessagafel shook his head. “No. I made you my equal in all things, and then I gave you something I have no use for.”

  “What?”

  “Compassion.”

  The child’s fist came around, changing from a pudgy hand to a Viruk claw. Nessagafel thrust his talons into Jorim’s stomach and yanked. Blood splashed and entrails gushed.

  Jorim dropped to his knees, scrambling to stuff his intestines back in. As he reached down, his hands filled with glass needles that punctured his bowels. He tried to scream, but thorned ivy shot up from the meadow and threaded its way through his body. A green tendril grew out through one nostril, then wrapped around his head, closing his jaw tight.

  All around him the ground rippled. Anthills erupted like little volcanoes. Bright copper ants swarmed toward him, like spokes on a wheel. Each tore out a little piece of his flesh.

  Dark birds circled overhead. Their fierce cries split his head with lightning. The ants traveled the ivy, crawling within. Their fire coursed through him. Their venom melted his liver and its dark nectar nourished and encouraged the vine.

  Nessagafel, once again a Viruk, eclipsed his view of the birds. “Study the vultures while you can, Wentoki. They will come and eat your eyes soon enough. Then all you will be able to do is linger in darkness, feeling the ants pick you apart. The agony should be exquisite and without end.”

  The Viruk again raised a hand, and the ring around the smallest finger now appeared in white. “Unlock this and I shall unlock you. There is no escaping Wangaxan or me, Wentoki, save through granting me my freedom. The sooner you do this, the better for everything you have ever cherished.”

  Nessagafel vanished.

  The pain did not.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  2nd day, Month of the Eagle, Year of the Rat

  Last Year of Imperial Prince Cyron’s Court

  163rd Year of the Komyr Dynasty

  737th Year since the Cataclysm

  Kunjiqui, Anturasixan

  Nirati woke with a start. Lingering traces of fire faded from her hand. She glanced down. An ant was walking across her knuckles. It tickled, and she laughed at the panic that had jolted her awake.

  Takwee, a small furry primate that had been nestled against her stomach, picked the ant off her hand and ate it.

  “I imagine there are plenty more of them to devour here.”

  Takwee rolled away and scratched at her golden fur. She stretched, then rolled onto her stomach. She crept along stealthfully, stalking more ants. She exaggerated her movements and glanced back, puzzlement slowly replacing the expectant delight on her face.

  Nirati smiled and sat up, rubbing her hand. Normally the little creature’s antics sparked laughter, but Nirati could not set aside the sensation of pain. Something had happened somewhere and echoes of it had reached her.

  She looked around, half-expecting to see the ghost of her twin, Keles. She’d met him before, here in her paradise, while he was dreaming. That encounter had had a dreamy quality to it for her as well. Their being twins, and the blood link they shared as members of the Anturasi family, had enabled them to communicate—though she’d never managed it before coming to Kunjiqui.

  Before dying to get here.

  She shivered and Takwee ran over to hug her. “Nothing is wrong, little one.” Nirati kept her voice even, but it could not hide the lie. Something was wrong. Someone was in pain. It wasn’t Keles, but it was someone to whom she was close.

  Holding Takwee tightly, Nirati stood and began to walk to the west. It really didn’t matter which route she took. Here, in Kunjiqui, it was enough that she desired to go west. Her intent would take her there, and the length of the journey would only last as long as necessary.

  She thought immediately of Nelesquin, but she knew he was in no pain. She loved him—or, at least, she believed she did. Or had… Since his departure for the Nine, she found it harder to remember him. It was as if he faded from importance as physical distance between them grew.

  “But then, the dead are not known for their imagination.” The details of her death had evaporated, but she knew that she had died. Nelesquin had returned to the land of the living, but she had been barred from accompanying him. This made her wonder if their love never should have been.

  Her grandfather’s condition was the next logical source of anxiety. Qiro had created Anturasixan and, within it, Kunjiqui, as a sanctuary for her. Nelesquin had used her grandfather’s magical abilities to make Anturasixan into a womb for the forces he would use to conquer the Nine Principalities and reunite the Empire. He’d driven Qiro hard, wearing the man down until, in his free moments, he shaped armies of mud and set them loose on the sea.

  But her grandfather was not in pain. That she would have known directly. As he cared for her, so she did for him. She cared for everything abandoned on Anturasixan—including the remnants of the nations and races Nelesquin had used to shape his army. If something was amiss, she would know, but the only thing out of place was the pain.

  Nirati turned a corner and the landscape shifted. She stood on the edge of a mile-high cliff staring out at a huge, circular bay. An island sat in the middle; it looked completely out of place, as if a jagged stone thorn had pierced Anturasixan. Even the seabirds wanted nothing to do with it.

  And below, dead fish washed up thickly on the beaches.

  She caught sight of her grandfather down below and waved. The man waved back, then in three impossible strides was at her side. He smiled, lifting his head, letting his white mane dance in the breeze. Gone were any signs of fatigue. Instead his pale eyes pulsed with life.

  “What is this, Grandfather?”

  The old man glanced at the mountain as if he’d forgotten its presence. “You have heard of Mount Shanfa in Moryth?”

  She nodded. “You said it was the tallest mountain there.”

  “Very good.” He stroked her brown hair. “I was never satisfied with Jorim’s measurement of its height. I brought it here so I could do the work myself.”

  “Jorim?” She rubbed at her hand again.

  “Yes, he always relished the trips south. He pleased the Prince by bringing back animals to be caged—much as I was caged.” Qiro peered past the mountain toward the Nine. “Cyron has yet to pay for the outrages he visited upon us. Yet I could have abided all of them, save for what he did to you, my pet.”

  “Grandfather…”

  Qiro turned, caressing her cheek. “What is it, Nirati? I’ve disturbed you. Is it the mountain?”

  Before she could reply, he gestured and the mountain slowly sank into a boiling sea.

  “No, Grandfather. It’s Jorim.” She showed him her hand, but no physical evidence of the ant’s passing remained. “I awoke feeling pain, Grandfather. Jorim is hurt. I have to help him.”

  Anger gathered on Qiro’s face. “No, child. What you felt wasn’t real. Don’t I know your brothers better than you? Don’t I share that special link with them; share their thoughts? Wouldn’t I know better than you if Jorim was hurt?”

  “Yes, but…”

  “Do not question me.” He open
ed his arms wide. “Have you forgotten what I have given you? Others abandoned you, but I did not. I built for you this paradise. Are you so ungrateful? Do my gifts mean so little to you?”

  Nirati stepped away. “No, Grandfather. I love you—I love all you have done for me. So do my brothers.”

  Qiro laughed, but Nirati found no pleasure in the sound. “They have no idea what I have done or what I can do. They have no chance of understanding. Not your brothers, not Nelesquin, none of them. Even you refuse to understand who I am and what I am.”

  With a contemptuous flick of a finger, Qiro made the mountain rise again from the ocean depths. With another gesture he sliced the top from the mountain as cleanly as if he wielded an invisible sword. The stone rose in the air. It flattened into a thick disk, which hollowed itself into a wheel. Spokes connected the exterior with a hollow hub. In it hung a platform linked to the hub’s rim by slender spokes and wheels. As the large wheel rolled through the air, the platform remained stable.

  The ground shook when the black wheel touched down and rolled toward them. Takwee squealed and Nirati dropped to her knees. The wheel rumbled forward, stopping when Qiro raised his hand. Somehow the towering device remained upright and the platform slowly swung to a stop.

  Qiro nodded at her. “They think of me as a cartographer. They cannot see more, even though I understand far more than they can even imagine. Jorim brought animals back for the Prince, and wrote reports. Did he think I could not understand them? And Keles, when he surveyed the Gold River, I understood. I understood how he wanted to transform the river, making it passable to commerce. Yet everyone thought I was just the one who made maps. Worse, they thought I was the one who presided over a workshop of others who made maps. They forgot that I had traveled, I had seen the world.

  “They dared not imagine that I understood it.” Qiro smiled. “And because I understood, I have been able to change it.”

  “Yes, Grandfather.”

  Qiro’s eyelid twitched. “There are things going on, Nirati, that need not concern you. You should remain free of them, but I cannot. I am going to have to leave you here. I need to return to the Nine and set things to rights.”

  “You will stop Nelesquin?”

  “Oh no, I have no desire to do that. He has value, your Nelesquin, and I shall use him.”

  Nirati looked up at him. “I don’t understand, Grandfather. Nelesquin used you badly. You were…”

  “Broken? Crushed?” The old man nodded. “I can remember that, but dimly. I was not myself then. But I do not expect you to understand.”

  “No, Grandfather.”

  “But I do expect you to obey me, however, so that the Anturasi family may take its rightful place in creation.”

  She nodded. “Yes, Grandfather, I shall obey. What would you have me do?”

  “Nothing, child, nothing at all.” Qiro bent down and kissed her on the forehead. “Knowing that you are here and safe will grant me the peace I need to deal with what I face. Will you do that for me, Nirati?”

  “Yes, Grandfather.”

  “Very good. Thank you.” He smiled. “Await my return, child, and all shall be well.”

  Qiro turned and rose in the air. White hair flowing, white robe flapping, he settled on the platform at the wheel’s heart. The wheel lurched forward, then turned, leaning over. Nirati feared it would fall and her grandfather would be crushed, but then it righted itself and plunged down the cliff.

  She scrambled to her feet and rushed to the cliff’s edge. The wheel hit halfway down. The tremor dropped her back onto her knees again. The wheel bounced forward and splashed into the water. It continued to roll past the decapitated mountain, then sank beneath the waves.

  Her hand rose to her mouth. Her grandfather would drown. Or will he? He clearly did not think he was in danger. Yet to travel from Anturasixan to the mainland rolling along the bottom of the ocean had to kill a man.

  “But he is no longer a man.”

  Nirati shivered and Takwee hugged her tightly. She stroked the creature’s fur, hoping its warmth would transfer to her, but to no avail.

  Then something burned her foot. Another ant—this one bigger and copper-colored—walked across her foot. Its mandibles closed, tearing away flesh. Nirati smashed it with her hand.

  She rose and backed away from the cliff’s edge. Where the wheel had slammed into the ground, a rift had opened. Copper ants were pouring from it.

  Already they were devouring the dead fish.

  The pain began to fade and the blood to dry, but the impression of Jorim that seeped in intensified. The pain was his pain. She wanted to scream for him, but she couldn’t. This frustrated her, but she knew it was for the best. If she gave voice to his agony, it would drive her mad.

  But as Nirati stepped away from the cliff, a thorned vine caught at her ankle. The vine grew thicker, then tightened. Thorns pierced her flesh.

  Takwee leaped from her back and uprooted the plant, tossing it away, but the vine stabbed its roots back into the earth and began to grow toward Nirati again. Takwee squealed in terror, extending bleeding paws to Nirati. The woman took the creature into her arms, stroking her fur, refusing to panic.

  “This is my place. This is my paradise.”

  She drew a crescent-shaped line through the air with a finger. The section of the cliff described by her gesture broke away and slid into the ocean. It swept away the copper ants and the vine. It took everything save for the sense of her brother’s pain.

  Nirati looked off in the direction her grandfather had gone. “You didn’t feel Jorim’s pain because you cannot, Grandfather. I am closer to him now. I am dead. I belong in the Underworld, and this is where Jorim is trapped.”

  She turned from the ocean and began walking. It took her no more than a dozen steps before she turned to the right and arrived at her destination. Takwee leaped free, hooting delightedly. The creature crept up to the edge of the spring-fed pool and watched as little fish flashed gold and silver beneath her shadow.

  Takwee circled the pond so she would not have the sun at her back, but Nirati remained, her shadow stabbing across the glassy surface. “From these depths Nelesquin emerged. I doubtless came to Kunjiqui through this portal as well.”

  She stared into the shimmering water and the pond began to drain. The water eroded a tunnel through the earth. Fish flopped. Springwater trickled down one wall. The tunnel opened out and spiraled down into darkness. A fetid breeze rose, smelling of things worse than dying fish.

  Takwee backed slowly away from the tunnel’s mouth.

  Nirati smiled. “I want to go down there even less than you, but I have no choice. My brother suffers. I cannot allow this.”

  Takwee drew another step back.

  Nirati laughed. “I understand what I am doing, Takwee. Though I may be dead, I am not stupid. We are off to lay siege to the Nine Hells, and we shall not go alone.”

  Chapter Twenty-four

  4th day, Month of the Eagle, Year of the Rat

  Last Year of Imperial Prince Cyron’s Court

  163rd Year of the Komyr Dynasty

  737th Year since the Cataclysm

  Kelewan, Erumvirine

  It occurred to Nelesquin, as an afterthought, that leaving the crucified soldiers high on the city’s walls might not give his visitors the correct impression of Kelewan. Yet, if any of the vanyesh noticed, they gave no sign. They had sailed across the Dark Sea and down the Green River, arriving at the quays with little ceremony. Dockworkers had known something was amiss when a ship came down the river faster than the current could have taken it, yet without oars, sails, or draft animals in sight. Most of them fled, making the sign of a circle to ward off magic, but one brave soul brought word of the ship’s arrival to the palace.

  Nelesquin made for the docks immediately, but without apparent haste. It would not do for him to seem anxious—though, in truth, he was. Kaerinus appeared unchanged despite the years. Nelesquin wondered how time had treated those who had waited wi
th him in the Wastes.

  The first of the vanyesh bounded from the ship, vaulting over the wales to land on the docks in a crouch. He appeared to be nothing more than a skeleton, his bones wrapped in silver. The metal had been etched with fine sigils and symbols. The creature—Nelesquin could hardly think of it as a man—rose to eight feet, and a second pair of whiplike arms uncoiled themselves from around his spine. A knot of fine silvery filaments rose from his skull like a warrior’s topknot, and a pair of long swords crisscrossed at his back.

  The only recognizable thing about him was his face. A metal mask replaced his flesh but moved with a fluid reality. The creature smiled and slowly stalked forward. When he reached a respectful dozen paces from Nelesquin, he dropped to a knee and bowed deeply, holding it for a very long time.

  Nelesquin smiled. “Rise, Pravak Helos. Be welcome in Kelewan.”

  The metal man’s head came up. “You are the dawn after a terrible night, Highness. We came as quickly as we could.”

  “And I am pleased to have you here.” Nelesquin looked past him at the ship bobbing quayside. “How many of you are there?”

  The giant lowered his head again. “Seventy-two. We had numbered more, but some did not survive the journey.”

  Nelesquin glanced at Kaerinus. “See what you can do for them.”

  “It has been a long time, brother.” Pravak gave Kaerinus a smile. “Many will need bearers. If you take them to the circle outside the city, they will get better. In our form, we need the wild magic.”

  Kaerinus smiled, then headed back toward the gate to order bearers and other helpers.

  Pravak stood and looked longingly at the small stone circle near the city gate. “If I could trouble you, Highness?”

  Nelesquin smiled and led the way to the stone circle. Pravak stepped over the white stone rim and smiled with the satisfaction of a man entering a warm bath. “We stopped at a few small towns on the way downriver, but they have little enough magic trapped in their circles to help. We almost put in at Dreonath, for magic lingers there, but we could not countenance a delay.”