Shoreseeker

by Brandon M. Lindsay

  He glanced behind him. Tiny pale forms loped in the distance, to his eyes getting larger as they approached. The sheggam. In the burgeoning light of dawn, their skin was stark white. They were still far off, but much closer than Tharadis had hoped. Whatever advantage he’d gained because of his disk was disappearing with each passing moment. He didn’t think they’d reach him before he crossed over the Rift, but he wasn’t going to take any chances. Tenderly avoiding the broken tip of his middle finger, Tharadis adjusted his grip on Shoreseeker and ran for the Rift.

  A large black shape lay still in the middle of the Runeway, an unnatural number of legs sprawled out beside it. It had to be the mount that the sheggam ambassador rode out of Garoshmir on. Flies buzzed around its unmoving form. Tharadis ignored it as he passed, focusing on the task ahead.

  Whatever that might be.

  His bandaged left hand throbbed the nearer Tharadis came to the Rift, and once he reached the section of Runeway spanning the Rift, the pain brought tears to his eyes. A quick backward glance showed the sheggam much closer. Closer than he’d expected. Already he could make out the shape of their limbs, even through his pain-blurred vision.

  He turned forward to stare down the length of the Runeway. What would he find on the other side? What would he do once he was there? He had no idea. But an uncertain fate was better than certain death, which was all he would find if he waited around for the sheggam to catch up to him.

  Taking a deep breath, he ran across the Rift.

  Chapter 85: Glimmer

  What Tharadis saw on the other side of the Rift took his breath away.

  At first, his mind couldn’t make sense of it. Sprawling in every direction was a thick blanket of pale, fleshy material, hugging the ground in places, built up in thick, hill-like mounds in others. Before his eyes, it grew and spread, its surface twitching all over. Once he got over the shock of seeing it, Tharadis realized that this thing was alive.

  The increased throbbing in his left hand confirmed what his instincts told him: this was the thing that had called to him, telling him to go south. This was what the sheggam Patterner had become.

  The light of the Rift bathed it. In fact, much of whatever this thing was had already spilled over the edge. Yet instead of the destruction that was usually the fate resulting from touching the Rift, this creature seemed empowered by it. The parts nearest the Rift expanded, pushing the rest of its mass outward in slow-moving waves.

  A chill swept through Tharadis. How could he hope to stop something like this, something he couldn’t even comprehend? How could he kill something as strange and vast as this? Shoreseeker, as remarkable as it was, was still only a sword. Tharadis thought merely cutting this monstrosity would only serve to make it angry. There was simply too much of it.

  As horrible a vision as this was, Tharadis felt his gaze drawn to the end of the Runeway, not twenty feet from where he stood.

  It looked … different. Somehow, he knew that it was finished. He didn’t know how that could be; he had seen the original plans, and they looked nothing like it did now. Yet he couldn’t pull his eyes away, and there was something in the air, like a humming, but one he couldn’t hear with ears, only feel in his skin. And in that humming there was a sense of completion, like the final notes at the end of a song.

  A roar from behind made Tharadis spin. He ducked as a sheggam’s claws swept through the air where his head had been. Shoreseeker’s edge hacked through the sheggam’s rib cage. Tharadis shoved it away as it died, spraying bloody foam from its lips. A dozen more sheggam were past the Rift already, shaking their heads as if just waking up. Two groups of three broke off from the main group, stepping out onto that fleshy mass covering the ground and heading out to either side, their eyes fixed on Tharadis. They were flanking him.

  Such a thing seemed impossible. These weren’t the more intelligent sheggam; these were little more than animals. Ferals, he remembered them being called. Yet they didn’t seem feral now. Their actions were far too coordinated.

  Almost as if they were following orders.

  He knew he couldn’t fight them all, not like this. His only chance was to kill the one giving the orders. It wasn’t much of a chance, but he knew that he was doomed unless he could find a way to destroy what the Patterner had become.

  As if on cue, the main group rushed forward. Tharadis leapt off the Runeway and onto the sheggam Patterner’s back. It shifted under his feet as if he were standing on a vast waterskin. Without hesitation, he stabbed down.

  Blood, pus, and other fluids he couldn’t name spilled out of the quivering flesh. The twelve sheggam roared at once, as if in agony. With Shoreseeker’s tip plunged down, Tharadis ran farther out, opening up a long gash.

  The ground—or whatever it was—twitched violently beneath him, throwing him on his back. He scrambled to his feet with just enough time to raise his sword and plunge it into another sheggam’s face, lodging it into its skull. Yanking Shoreseeker free made Tharadis lose his footing. He collapsed to his knees. The remaining sheggam encircled him now, watching him. He noticed more had crossed the Rift and joined their ranks.

  One lunged forward, jaws wide, before ducking back out of Shoreseeker’s reach. Tharadis staggered to his feet, and another one came in. Again, his blade cut only air as the beast sprang backward. So, they were planning to tire him out. At least that meant they still thought he was dangerous.

  Yet Tharadis knew their strategy would work. His lungs burned. Blood dripped from countless wounds. Broken bones screamed in agony. He had been fighting for his life the entire night with barely a moment to rest. He would die here.

  But he’d be damned if he died on the back of this monster.

  Tharadis rose to his feet, every muscle protesting the action, telling him instead to just collapse and be done with it. The sheggam seemed content to let him stagger over to the hard, unyielding surface of the Runeway. It wasn’t as if he were a threat anymore. All they had to do was wait for Shoreseeker to slip from his numb fingers and they would rush in all at once. At least it would be over quickly.

  Killing the Patterner was impossible. So was killing the crowd of sheggam that surrounded him. He was no closer to stopping this, whatever it was, than if he had never come at all.

  As dark despair threatened to swallow him, one thing glimmered in his mind.

  At least he wouldn’t have to live without Serena anymore.

  Chapter 86: A Delicate System

  Though his eyes were closed, Tharadis could feel the gazes of the sheggam surrounding him. There had to be more than thirty by now, encircling where he knelt on the Runeway. Watching him.

  He wondered what they were waiting for. He knew he was at his end; he knew he couldn’t fight anymore. And if he knew it, so would they.

  Perhaps it wasn’t his time to die after all.

  Off to the side, one of the sheggam spoke. “You are no mere warrior.”

  The words were clearly articulated. Completely at odds with the demeanor of any of the sheggam he had seen at the Rift. He had been right. That … thing, whatever it was that the sheggam Patterner had become, was controlling them now.

  Tharadis opened his eyes. He didn’t know which one had spoken, but he supposed it didn’t matter, so his eyes locked on the one in front of him. Though the sheggam’s face was calm, its body twitched with anticipation. It seemed its master’s control only went so far.

  “You’re right.” Tharadis nodded wearily. “I’m no mere warrior.” Grimacing in pain, he slowly levered himself to his feet with Shoreseeker’s help. Then he held his sword high, gripping the hilt with what little of his strength remained. “I am the Warden of this land, and I have sworn to protect it.”

  “How quaint.” Another one had spoken, this time directly behind him. “Yet that doesn’t explain how you knew to come here, nor does it explain how you outran my ferals.” Every few words, the speaker changed, though it was so seamless Tharadis almost thought it was a trick of the air. He was surprised
to find that, even now, he could be unsettled.

  “I wish I knew.” Tharadis let his arm fall. It was all he could do to keep Shoreseeker in his grip.

  The sheggam in front of him looked down at his bandage-wrapped hand. “I hear a faint echo of the song within you. Yet incomplete you remain.”

  “Incomplete, you say.” Of course. This sheggam obviously thought of itself as the pinnacle of human development. Seeing what it had become, Tharadis wasn’t sure he would agree. “I can’t explain that either.”

  “The fundamental aspect of the World Pattern is balance,” said the sheggam, all of them, in unison. “Darkness is the balance to light. Death, too, is the balance to life. This Rift is the balance to the hated Wall. Each defines the other. Without one, the other cannot exist.” A single voice, almost plaintive, added, “What are you the balance to?”

  The sheggam’s words triggered something deep within Tharadis, some knowledge he had, on some level, already gained but had yet to fully accept. Understanding flooded through him. Not about himself or what was happening to him, but about the Patterner and what it intended.

  The Rift. The Runeway. Andrin’s Wall. They were all connected. An intricate system of parts, fitting together.

  A Pattern. A fragile Pattern. And Tharadis could see it all.

  But what did that change? His mind raced. He spoke if only to buy him a few more moments to think of something. “Why haven’t you killed me yet?” Probably not the wisest question to ask then, but it was all that came to mind.

  “I’m not sure what will happen if I do,” came the chorus again.

  Tharadis looked beyond the ring of sheggam to the writhing mass of flesh at the Rift’s edge. With every moment it was immersed in the flood of power, it grew.

  It was all connected. A fragile Pattern. A delicate spiderweb.

  Tharadis smiled inwardly. He knew which thread to cut to bring it all down.

  He also knew that if he so much as twitched, the sheggam would shred him apart. In order for his plan to work, he’d have to kill them all. Which meant he had to do something they would not expect.

  He knew exactly what he had to do. He squeezed his eyes so tightly they hurt.

  Then he used his newfound power to summon a light brighter than a hundred suns directly over his head.

  The sheggam snarled as they backed away from the light. Even with his eyes closed, it was almost too much for Tharadis himself to bear.

  But he didn’t hesitate. He moved among the sheggam, cutting them down. As their brethren cried out in death, the others began blindly lashing out. Chaos erupted. Yet even though Tharadis couldn’t see his enemies, he still knew where they were and where they would be next as if their attacks were a dance he’d seen performed a hundred times—as if he’d created the dance himself. It was all so obvious to him then. Every breath of the wind told him of their movements before they even made them. Why were his enemies so careless? How had they ever defeated anybody?

  Once he sensed all of the sheggam were dead, Tharadis spun to a halt in the center of the Runeway and extinguished the light. He opened his eyes.

  Blood-drenched chunks of sheggam lay everywhere.

  Panting frantically, Tharadis collapsed to a knee. The only thing that kept him from falling flat on his face was Shoreseeker as he jammed its tip down into the swirling metal designs of the Runeway. It took everything he had just to hang on to the hilt.

  As he realized what he’d just done, the feeling he’d had just a moment ago, that sense of heightened awareness, was gone—fled as if he’d only imagined it. Fear crashed back into him, even though all his enemies were dead.

  Save for one.

  “Impressive.”

  Tharadis frowned, wondering if he’d actually heard the word. Then he found the speaker, a sheggam that had been cut in half at the shoulder. Its neck was bent at a painful angle, its eyes fixed on him as its lips peeled back. With each word, blood oozed out from between its teeth. “Skill … beyond that … of a mere swordsman … A true … Blade Patterner …”

  Tharadis said nothing, but simply leaned against Shoreseeker. He was too exhausted to do anything else.

  “… and magic … I have never … before witnessed.” Blood spurted out of the sheggam’s wound as it swallowed. “Alas … for I must … destroy you now …”

  A pale, fleshy tentacle lashed out at Tharadis, nearly faster than his eyes could track. The blow threw him through the air and sent him sprawling onto his stomach. His chest ached where it had hit him, and he coughed blood as he crawled back towards Shoreseeker. More and more fleshy protuberances rose up out the monster, some like tentacles, others more like human limbs, still others simply shapeless knobs. There had been bones in the tentacle that struck him; Tharadis had felt them. He could see bones in the other nightmare shapes rising up all around him.

  He stopped crawling when he was a pace away from Shoreseeker, which still stood where he had plunged it into the Runeway. It stood straight, looking immutable and formidable, the flats of the blade perfectly parallel to the length of the Runeway. But no matter what anyone else said, it was still just a sword. Without a hand to wield it …

  Feeling his bruised rib cage creaking, Tharadis stretched his hand towards it. Shadows fell over him as more of the Patterner’s limbs towered above him, poised to strike. He knew his hand wouldn’t reach the hilt, not from this distance. But it wasn’t the hilt he needed to grasp.

  He summoned another tiny point of light—too weak to blind anything, and besides, he wasn’t sure the Patterner even had eyes anymore. Tharadis fought to keep his own eyes open, to stare at the point of light as it traced a Pattern around Shoreseeker’s blade.

  The hearthsflame.

  The disk formed in the air, with Shoreseeker’s crossguard and hilt protruding out the center. The edge of the disk formed right beneath Tharadis’s hand.

  He seized the edge of the disk and shoved it upward before rolling himself off the Runeway.

  Metal groaned as the disk tried to move. Shoreseeker, with its blade in both the disk and the Runeway, wouldn’t let it—nor would the torque of the disk’s relentless motion snap Shoreseeker’s indestructible blade.

  The disk and the sword were virtually indestructible. The Runeway was not.

  Like a massive tree being yanked out of the ground, the edge of the Runeway nearest Tharadis lifted out of the ground, spraying him with loose dirt and pebbles with a deafening shriek. Levered by the combined force of Shoreseeker and the disk, the mangled and bent form of the Runeway dragged across the ground, grinding and ripping through the creature’s vast body.

  As Tharadis watched from where he lay, he had thought—no, hoped—that he had finally defeated it.

  But then the ear-splitting racket suddenly stopped.

  The movement of the Runeway also stopped.

  Tharadis realized why. Just like the last disk, which had gotten too close to the Rift, the torrent of shegasti power had untangled its Pattern.

  The creature’s scream was inaudible, yet it shook the ground beneath Tharadis. The Runeway hadn’t killed it. Only wounded and enraged it. He rolled to his back to stare up at the fleshy limbs flailing in agony all around him. He knew that wouldn’t last. If the creature took control of its body once more, it wouldn’t hesitate to pulverize Tharadis.

  But that didn’t matter anymore. A small smile formed on his lips as he shut his eyes. Whatever happened to him, at least he had won. He had the made the world a little safer for Nina.

  * * *

  Even though the sun was now fully above the horizon, Sherin Firnaleos just wanted to sleep. She couldn’t, however. The overturned hay cart she had found and now lay under couldn’t stop the daylight from reaching her and keeping her awake.

  And after all that had happened the night before, she wasn’t sure if she’d rather never sleep again or never wake again. Each was too terrible to contemplate.

  The constant chatter, though, was what really kept her up. She wa
s sure that everyone who had come to the caravan—which, at last count, was over twenty thousand, spilling out far beyond the outer ring of wagons—was awake now and chatting away.

  Sherin hugged her knees to her chest, tugging the edges of the cloak she had found so it covered her still-booted feet. She had no interest in listening, but a single word, uttered over and over, made her ears perk up.

  “Look! Andrin’s Wall! It’s changing—”

  “No, that’s just a trick of the light. The Wall is … wait.”

  “Shores take me. Has this ever happened before? Has the Wall ever turned yellow?”

  “It’s getting darker! The Wall—”

  A groan from deep within the earth shook the ground. Sherin threw the cloak off her and sat up quickly, eyes wide now. Metallic shrieking, like a million tons of metal twisting, abruptly split the air. Only one thing could sound like that. The Runeway.

  But that was not what had captured Sherin’s attention. She stared, mouth hanging open, as the first crack formed in Andrin’s Wall.

  Then the Wall began to rain chunks of stone.

  * * *

  Enslavement was no longer the plan.

  No. Orthkalu wanted to destroy everything.

  The rage he felt as the Runeway tore free from the ground and swept through his corporeal form, ruining half of it, was immense. He wasn’t certain how the Runeway had been turned against him so easily, but it was clear he had underestimated this human—and overestimated his own power. He had been too cautious, merely sipping from the deep well of shegasti in the Rift, when what he truly needed to do was drink deep. He needed torrents of power, not only to repair the damage done to him, but to ensure the human’s absolute annihilation.

  Consequences be damned.

  Orthkalu shifted his sprawling form towards the Rift. Agony shot through him as shegasti energy poured into his open wounds, but he was beyond caring. With a final heave, he threw the rest of himself into the Rift, completely submerging himself in concentrated shegasti power.