“Seri…”
She looked back down at Forerunner. His face had gone very pale. Nothing could help him now.
“Ask your… mother,” he whispered. “Your… heritage…”
“What?”
“They sent me, to prepare for their return. They… will come. And they will…”
“Yes?”
The four stars in Forerunner’s eyes faded and disappeared. His body went limp. A hint of gold colored light washed out from him into the ground. The soil around his body softened.
“No…” Seri moaned. She closed her eyes. At times, Forerunner had deceived her, inspired her, tempted her, encouraged her, and manipulated her. Yet here at the end, he seemed sincere. He had given his life for her. What more could anyone do?
“Wolf?” Victor’s voice made Seri open her eyes. He approached the now-standing Calu. “Wolf? It’s Victor. Are you all right?”
“I am home,” Calu said, his voice shaking with more magic than ever before. “Be thankful that I do not strike all of you down for her actions.” He pointed at Seri.
The old man stepped in the way. “I might have something to say about that.”
Calu looked him over with a quizzical expression. “Who are you, human?”
Victor turned to look at him as well, but his eyes widened as he looked beyond. “Theon’s wings!” He drew his sword and took a step.
Seri rose to her feet and turned as well. She gasped.
Kishin reached the stone walkway in time to see Ixchel charge toward Volraag. The Eldani warden fought the assassin. As for Volraag… he and Marshal looked to be locked in some kind of magical duel. Both held their hands out toward the other. The air between them seemed to warp and twist, distorting vision through it. The walkway between them crumbled.
But Ixchel… She was trying to attack Volraag from this side! Even as he moved in behind her, Kishin could see her mistake. Volraag had grown in power. He couldn’t miss her, could he?
Ixchel shouted as her sword came down toward Volraag. It ricocheted off an invisible barrier, knocking her off balance. She staggered back several steps.
Volraag laughed. One of his hands swung around toward her.
Kishin leaped into the way, holding the warpsteel sword up. A force struck it, almost tearing it from his grasp. But he held firm and stepped in closer. The sword continued to absorb magic. But how much could it take?
For the second time since arriving in the Otherworld, Victor found himself staring. This time, he felt no awe. Only horror.
An army approached. An army of extremely tall and dark beings. Some of them rode on fearsome creatures that made the curse-stalkers look small. Durunim. An entire army of them.
“Edin Na Zu,” he whispered.
“What?” Seri asked. “Where did you learn that? I don’t think it’s appropriate here, and…” She trailed off. “Or maybe it is.”
Victor looked to Wolf. “Friends of yours?”
Wolf smiled. “Our army approaches. Once the portal is fully opened, they will sweep into your world.”
“I thought… I thought you wanted to help people,” Seri said. “Forerunner talked that way. Why an army?”
“You have forgotten us,” Wolf answered. “Forerunner was one of those sent to begin restoration. And so we shall. We shall restore things the way they were before the Laws of Cursings and Bindings. Before Theon. Haven’t you and Marshal discussed this very thing?”
“You were listening to us?” Seri sputtered. “But, but this isn’t what we meant! It definitely doesn’t take an army!”
Victor tried to count the oncoming horde. He couldn’t tell much in the odd light here, but… thousands. Easily thousands of enemy soldiers. Far more than Varioch’s or Rasna’s forces at the other high place.
“No,” Wolf said. “It takes many armies. This is only one of them. A new age is about to begin.”
Only one? Victor’s heart sank. If that were true, it would take all of Antises united to stop them. And even then, it might not be enough.
“Not if I have anything to say about it.” The man in the tattered clothing started toward the army, holding his spear in both hands. “This is why I am here.”
Dravid pulled his crutch up onto the final step. He really was quite sick of these things. But his annoyance vanished at the sight of Marshal and Volraag engaged in some kind of magical combat.
It took only a moment to size things up and they did not look good for Marshal. His face looked tight, teeth gritted as he concentrated. Dravid could see his arms shaking. The stress must be immense.
Volraag, on the other hand, did not look the least bit stressed. In fact, he looked pleased with himself. He waved one hand at two other figures Dravid couldn’t make out through the warped air. Then he returned his full focus to Marshal. He pulled both hands back a bit, then thrust them forward.
The stone walkway between the two combatants had already crumbled apart in many places. But as Volraag focused, the stone at his feet not only crumbled; it turned to powder that spread into the air around him. Inch by inch, Volraag’s power pushed forward, pulverizing the stone. Inexorable, it moved toward Marshal.
Marshal began to yell, something Dravid couldn’t make out, but it didn’t seem to make any difference. Volraag’s power continued on its way, drawing closer and closer to its target.
Marshal wouldn’t give up and couldn’t stop Volraag. Dravid had only moments to make yet another fatal decision.
He shoved himself forward in a dive, dropping his crutch.
He crashed into Marshal and both of them tumbled off the walkway.
As they struck the portal, the stone behind them erupted.
The world vanished, and Dravid saw… stars.
CHAPTER EIGHTY-TWO
VOLRAAG LOWERED HIS hands. Once again, Marshal eluded him. He watched the gravel rain down on the portal. Interesting. Most of it no longer fell through into the Otherworld. The portal had reached its limits, perhaps. It might not let anything else through again for a day, a week… or until he opened it like he had the other one.
He turned to see who remained. “Kishin. Still alive, I see.” His last burst of power had knocked his former assassin back a few steps, but he resumed his pose, defiant as ever. Behind him stood… “Ah, Holcan. I regret that your lady seems to have left us. I wished to speak with her.”
“Then why did you send your assassin after her?” Ixchel demanded, gesturing toward Rathri.
Volraag watched Rathri duel an Eldani. Where had he come from? They seemed quite equally matched.
“I gave no such command. Rathri exceeded his orders. I will speak to him about that. Rathri! To me!”
Rathri dodged and flipped backwards away from the Eldani. He ran around the other side of the walkway, but paused when he came to the destroyed platform.
“Enough of this,” Ixchel growled. She jumped down to the portal.
Her bare feet landed on its surface and went no further. As Volraag anticipated.
“What is this?” Ixchel looked about in confusion. She stomped a few times.
The Eldani stepped to the edge and looked down. “The portal is closed,” he said. “This one does that.”
“When will it open again?” Ixchel asked.
“I don’t know.” The Eldani shook his head. “Hours. Days. It is unpredictable.”
Volraag kept part of his attention focused on Kishin, the most dangerous opponent left. He seemed to be struggling with his sword. Odd.
“There is another possibility,” he announced, and moved to the spot in the platform wall he had discovered.
“What do you mean?” the Eldani asked.
Volraag placed one of his hands into position. “I can open the portal for good.”
Marshal rolled to a stop. What just happened? He shook his head and blinked. His eyes first focused on Dravid, pulling himself up onto his elbows a few feet away.
“Why did you do that?” he called.
Dravid looked at him
with confusion on his face. “I saved your life,” he said. “He was about to destroy you!”
“You don’t—” Only then did Marshal realize his environment. He immediately looked up and lost himself in the stars.
Days ago, when he saw them with Seri, it had awakened his desire to be here far more than he anticipated. Now, at last, the light of the stars shone on his face once more. The beauty overwhelmed him, as it had done the first time. He could only stare. He lay still in the dirt, eyes fixed on the blazing heavens.
Seri’s face intruded in his vision. “I suppose this is where you leave us?” she asked. “You could at least acknowledge what’s going on around you for a moment.”
Marshal scrambled up. “Seri! I—” He broke off, looking around at the others. Victor helped Dravid up, handing him a staff to replace his missing crutch.
“What about the others?” Victor asked. “Are they all right?”
“Ixchel and the Eldani were fighting,” Dravid said.
“Topleb and Rufus?”
Marshal looked at Victor helplessly. He didn’t know what to say. Somehow, Victor understood. He bowed his head in grief. Marshal groaned, then noticed Forerunner’s still body on the ground. Dead? Marshal looked closer. He saw tiny springs of green growing all around Forerunner’s body. Living plants? Here?
A snort from Wolf drew his attention. The big man stood nearby, a smile of triumph on his face. Marshal followed his gaze.
“Who’s that?” He watched the lone figure moving out toward the approaching army.
“We don’t know his name,” Victor said. “But he’s the one who claimed to be the King of Antises.”
Marshal felt a sudden pull within him toward the stranger. He took a step. The stranger paused and looked back over his shoulder at Marshal. Something about him seemed familiar, somehow.
“This is for you.” Marshal read the stranger’s lips more than heard him, as a mighty roar came from the army.
“Grandfather?” he whispered.
Seri gasped. Of course the old man, the King, must be Marshal’s grandfather! It made perfect sense! Varion must have blasted him into the Otherworld instead of killing him, and he’d been here ever since. But why had he never returned? Why stay here all these years? He could have returned to his daughter and grandson, helping them through their hard life, using his power if needed, and…
Oh. Of course. Every Lord and every mage and countless other people were constantly searching Antises for the lost King. If he had returned, he would have been found eventually. Here in the Otherworld, no one could find him. Why had Varion not recognized him all those years ago? Had his arrogance blinded him?
All of this rushed through Seri’s mind in seconds, the time it took for the King to turn back to the army, take a deep breath, and lift his spear into the air.
With her star-sight active, Seri watched enormous power, hundreds of beams of colored light, flow out of the King’s upraised spear, shattering it in the process. The power rushed up into the air, something she had never seen a magic-user of any kind do before. The sheer spectacle of the beams of light exploding upward into the vast star-filled sky blinded Seri for a moment. She rubbed her eyes.
And then the power came back down, swirling in multiple tornadoes of light, each of them composed of dozens and dozens of beams spinning in a cacophony of colors. Where each tornado struck the ground within the Durunim army, massive eruptions exploded, scattering dozens of soldiers in every direction. In just a few seconds, the King took down hundreds of Durunim.
The rest of the army halted, some of them even backing away.
The King lowered his arms and collapsed like a rag doll.
Dravid could not stop staring. From the moment they fell through the portal, he experienced wonder after wonder.
First, the stars. Seri had undersold them. They were magnificent. Dravid joined Marshal in admiring them for a moment before Seri’s interruption. Victor helped him get up, handing him a smooth staff to use in place of his crutch. Curious. The staff looked identical to the one the strange pilgrim carried.
And then… then the King—he had to be the King with that kind of power!—tore apart the front lines of an entire army! Dravid barely had time to recognize that an army approached before it happened.
As Seri and Marshal ran toward the fallen King, Dravid and Victor both turned to Calu to see what he would do now. They glanced at each other, then back at the supposed god.
To their surprise, Calu stood still, as if unconcerned. He continued smiling.
Calu noticed them watching him. “Your time has almost come,” he said, looking at Dravid.
“What does that mean, Wolf?” Victor asked.
Calu rolled his eyes. “My patience with you is nearing its end, Victor. I forgave much due to your kindness while I was… not myself. But that has a limit. My name is Calu. Should you need to address me, you will use it. And soon, you will use it in worship.”
While Calu spoke, Dravid’s eye caught a movement in the air, silhouetted against the stars. Another wonder: a tall figure soared through the air. In a burst of dirt and gravel, he came to a landing near Calu. Though his form looked much different here in the Otherworld, Dravid recognized him immediately. Curasir.
Dravid shifted awkwardly. The staff was a poor substitute for his crutch. And he was so tired.
Curasir bowed to Calu, then turned toward the humans. “Oh, good. You’re all here.” He glanced toward the portal. “And my other pawn moves into position. Everything… is as it should be.”
Talinir reached down a hand and helped Ixchel back onto the walkway. Still reeling from the revelation of Rathri’s nature, he tried to reason through Volraag’s arguments.
“I don’t trust you, son of Varion,” he declared. “Why should we let you do this?”
In truth, Talinir alone could see what took place in the Starlit Realm. He saw the death of Forerunner, Janaab’s decimation of the Durunim army, and Curasir’s arrival. And on this side, he couldn’t understand the appearance of a second leper assassin: the one who had tried to kill Marshal. Yet this time he seemed to be on their side.
“You will not ‘let’ me do anything, Eldani,” Volraag said. “You have no way to stop me. However, I speak the truth. If I open the portal, your friends can return. If I do not…” He shrugged. “They stay there.”
“And if he does, it opens the way for an invading army,” Talinir said in a low voice for Ixchel to hear.
But the leper assassin heard him too. “I cannot allow that,” he said.
Volraag placed his second hand against the stone. A vibration rose from the portal itself.
“Why are you here, assassin?” Talinir demanded. “Who are you?”
He turned those life-filled eyes surrounded by death toward Talinir. “I am Kishin the Cursed,” he said. “I was the greatest assassin Antises has known.” He turned his eyes to Ixchel. “But once, long ago, I was merely Kishin… a father.”
Ixchel’s intake of breath seemed louder than the portal’s shaking.
Kishin turned and launched himself at Volraag.
Marshal knelt beside the old man. The King. His grandfather. It had to be. But he looked like every last bit of energy had flowed out of him. Knowing how tired he felt after using magic, Marshal wasn’t surprised.
“Are you… are you Evander?” he whispered. “Aelia’s father?”
The old man lifted a shaking hand. Strange black patches dotted his skin. He touched Marshal’s face, tracing one of the rope-like scars.
“I haven’t heard either of those names in so long,” he answered in a quiet voice. “Evander was once my name. I’ve gone by others since then.”
“Then you’re my grandfather!”
Evander nodded.
Marshal had another realization. “You’re the one who helped me after my battle with Curasir!”
“Yes. I took care of you, though I don’t think you ever saw me.”
“Don’t look now,” Seri’s v
oice intruded. “But Curasir is here now.”
“Help me up,” Evander said.
Marshal lifted his grandfather to his feet, surprised by how little he weighed. They both turned to face the others. Evander’s eyes first went to Dravid and Victor.
“All four of you? Together already? That… but no. Three of the four.”
“What—?” Seri began.
“Oh, how delightful!” Curasir called. “You’ve found each other. I must say, that was quite a demonstration there, old man. But I still have over half of my army left. And I don’t think you have another one of those in you.”
“I slowed you down,” Evander said, then coughed violently. “That’s… all that matters.”
Curasir spread his hands. “For what purpose? Volraag is about to open the portal permanently. Then I can bring this army through, and as many more as I want.” He nodded to Calu. “In service to our masters, of course.”
“Masters?” Victor asked.
Curasir rolled his eye. “You are the most obtuse of all these humans. It’s not even amusing. How do the others even stand you?”
Marshal let Evander sit down against a large rock, then turned to Curasir. “I beat you once already. Shall we go again?”
Curasir snorted. “You had help.” He gestured at Seri. “But I am not here alone this time. If we were to fight, it would not go well for you. But that is not my purpose here now.”
“Then what is?”
Curasir looked toward the portal. “I am here to watch this open and reward my faithful pawn.”
“Your pawn stole some of my power,” Wolf growled.
“Did he? Then nothing can stand in his way now.”
Kishin crashed into Volraag, knocking him off balance. He whipped his sword up and across, cutting a gash across Volraag’s chest and right arm.
The young Lord staggered against the stone wall. But even as he regained his balance, the wounds began to close. Impossible!
Until All Bonds Are Broken Page 41
