Xander found Nakvin’s claim slightly less shocking than meeting Thera herself. “How can you be mother to the Mother of Demons?”
Nakvin rubbed her temples and sighed. “I thought the Nesshin loved propriety. Never mind. You know how they remade Thera’s soul from parts of other people’s? Well, my daughter was the host.”
“I…I’m sorry,” said Cook.
“That was Sulaiman’s plan,” Tefler said, his face aglow with newfound admiration. “He went back to kill your daughter before she was Thera.”
Nakvin slumped down onto a bed. “Sulaiman went back to kill Elena on the Exodus. He almost succeeded before Vaun killed him. That’s how I remember it, so it still must’ve happened that way.”
“You knew,” said Tefler. “You sent out spies to watch him; to stop him when they’d learned how he planned to do it. The only thing you didn’t count on…”
Nakvin fixed chastened eyes on Tefler. “…Was you.”
“Damus and Nahel,” said Xander, “they were your spies as well?”
“Officially I had them looking for other people, but they were backups, yes.”
“And now that they have failed, you’ll make us change history to suit you—with Astlin as your bargaining chip.”
“No,” said Nakvin. A tear rolled down her cheek, though her face was defiant. “I remember Sulaiman’s attempt on Elena. She said she wished he’d succeeded. I’m done changing history—especially with a goddess against me. But I had to try.”
Xander planted himself before her. “How can we help Astlin? What do you want from us?”
“I want you to use Smith’s gate—not to change destiny, but to fulfill it.”
“How do we know you won’t try to take Smith while we’re gone?” asked Tefler.
Nakvin’s glare blazed like a winter moon. “Ruling a place where you can actually make time is ideal for self-improvement. If I wanted Smith I’d take him, and none of you could stop me. So how about we stifle the accusations and work together?”
Silence fell. Xander was the first to break it. “Tell us your plan.”
“There’s only one weapon that can kill a god,” said Nakvin. “And I know just the time and place where you can get it.”
51
Xander stays close to Tefler as they wander between vast blocks of whirring gears. The thought of losing himself in the clockwork canyons makes him shiver.
“If you’re hoping to find Sulaiman in here, I hope you packed a lunch,” says Tefler.
“I just want the sword,” Xander says. “What is this place we’re looking for?”
“Smith called it the terminus.”
Xander shudders again to recall the pranaphage leering down as he stepped through the gate formed of Smith’s body. “We can reach the point Nakvin spoke of from there?”
“Unless she’s leading us into a trap. Or Smith is. Or Thera. Or pretty much anyone else we’ve dealt with.”
Cook’s promise to keep an eye on the souldancer gives Xander small comfort. A resounding noise like thunder on a metal mountain raises a deeper concern. He points to a tower of gears gone suddenly still. “That whole block just stopped moving.”
“That’s bad, right?” asks Tefler.
Xander presses on. Tefler follows. Gear blocks grind to a halt around them with increasing frequency until they leave the ordered grid of clockwork towers.
A narrow bridge spans the abyss that lies ahead. On the far side, stairs rise to a broad platform and darkness beyond.
“That has to be it,” Tefler says.
They cross the white bridge single file and ascend the steps side by side. Anticipation and foreboding besiege Xander at the threshold of the infinite. A thought comes to him, its simple power too seductive to ignore.
“We could stop it—all of it.”
“All of what?” Tefler asks.
“We could stop Zan from being possessed. From killing Astlin.”
“He’d probably appreciate it.”
“Why settle for that?” asks Xander. “I could go back to Keth before the Cataclysm; stop them from taking her; prevent all her suffering.”
Xander feels Tefler’s hand on his shoulder. “I’d be right there with you, but it can’t happen.”
“Why not?”
“You know why,” Tefler says. “Changing the past removes the reason to change it.”
Weariness weighs down Xander’s soul. “Then how can this plan succeed?”
“Nakvin said the sword was taken from the Exodus, so who’s to say we didn’t take it?”
Xander pauses in mid-stride. “Your logic seems questionable.”
“Then let’s test it.”
The steel-paneled hallway might have been on the Serapis but for the palpable gloom. An oppressive sense of menace penetrated the thinning veil of Kairos.
Xander looked down the rows of identical steel plates. “Which one hides Mordechai’s chamber?”
“If Nakvin didn’t know,” Tefler said, “how should I?”
“Searching them all will take forever. Even Kairos does not have that long.”
“What else can we do? Ask for directions?”
“Anyone we meet could unravel our plan,” said Xander, “but not if we hide in the ether.”
Tefler frowned. “Can we do that from here?”
“We are still on the verge of Kairos. Any point in space and time, remember?”
“Okay, but if we mess up and end the world, I’m telling everyone it’s your fault.”
Xander pictured himself fading into the ether. The corridor filled with rosy haze.
“Are we stuck in the past now?” asked Tefler.
“I do not know,” Xander said. “Let’s find the sword.”
Searching behind ethereal walls quickly uncovered a small vestibule. Beyond the far door lay a larger room dominated by a table resting on the backs of dead men. Human bones—and furnishings made from bones—cluttered the chamber.
“He stole my idea,” Tefler said.
“We are in the past,” said Xander. “Vaun thought of it first.”
“Good thing the ship goes down.”
Xander scanned the room’s grisly contents. “Mordechai must have the sword here somewhere.”
“I just thought of something,” Tefler said. “This stuff has been here for a few weeks at most. We shouldn’t be able to see it in the ether.”
“That is true,” said Xander. “Perhaps this is what Nakvin meant when she said the ether seemed more real aboard the Exodus than elsewhere.”
“Let’s toss the place and be done with it. I’ll search the real room while you look here.” Without waiting for a response, Tefler faded from view.
Xander’s search ended abruptly when he turned and saw a white scimitar floating above a shelf. Approaching for a closer look, he discerned a ghostly concrete block surrounding the blade. His fingers passed easily through the block, but the sword’s mirrored surface felt solid as steel.
A muted golden flash made Xander wheel around. His mind conjured images of a masked figure wielding the Void, but he was still alone. Then he remembered the room beyond his sight where Tefler searched. He left the ether for Mordechai’s frigid chambers.
Tefler stood panting amid a pile of mummified corpses. He smiled weakly at Xander. “Do you think Vaun will notice?”
“It is too late to worry about that,” Xander said, brandishing the white scimitar he’d pulled from the ether.
Footsteps in the vestibule sent a chill down Xander’s spine.
Tefler grabbed Xander’s arm. “It’s Mordechai. Run!”
They ran. Xander’s fear hindered his focus. He’d only faded halfway into the ether by the time he reached the wall. Passing through the steel panels was like running against a strong wind, but he managed.
Finding himself back in the gloomy corridor gave Xander little comfort. Seeing that Tefler stood beside him gave slightly more.
Softer footsteps, and the whisper of silk on steel, approa
ched from the end of the hall. Xander exchanged a look with Tefler. Moving in concert, they fled back to Kairos.
“I’ll do it if you won’t,” said Tefler.
His words barely penetrated Xander’s contemplation of the silver cord that crossed the rosy mist to a vortex in space over Keth. On the edge of Kairos and the ether, Xander ran the white blade across Zan’s life cord, unharmed by the lightning that danced along its silver span. For a moment, the vibrations running through the blade sounded like screams.
“I should leave you like this,” Xander said in reply.
“It would serve him right,” agreed Tefler, “and save us some time.”
Altor Sykes had been entrusted with his clan’s survival in harsh times. All of his lessons on justice flashed through Xander’s mind before he brought the scimitar down on Zan’s life cord.
More screams—louder this time—reverberated through the blade, but Xander persisted; cutting twice more until the cord was severed. The screaming stopped, but the vortex remained.
“Those souldancer cords are tough,” Tefler said. “I doubt any other blade would’ve scratched it. Are you alright?”
Xander didn’t know he was shaking until he saw the sword wavering in his hand. He stared transfixed at his own lavender reflection before finding the strength to face the second gate that must also have screamed silently in the endless night.
The orange-red cord joining the fire gate to the Nexus—the same that had joined Astlin to him—blazed against the rose-tinted stars.
Moving himself within striking distance of Astlin’s final tie to life required only an act of will. Xander raised the sword; placed his other hand on the hilt to guide the blow.
And let the blade fall harmlessly to his side.
“You have to do this,” Tefler said. “She helped us.”
Xander wheeled on the priest. “This is not help. It’s betrayal.”
“She’s suffering.”
“And for that crime she deserves death?”
“Don’t change the subject,” said Tefler. “You know why we came here. Don’t leave the job half done.”
“I have done justice to Zan. Why should I give his victim the same reward as her killer?”
Tefler rolled his strange eyes. “Th’ix already evened that score. Leaving her like this means she’s worse off than Zan.”
“I felt her on the Fire Stratum,” Xander said. “She is alive.”
“That’s the problem.” Tefler held out his hand. “No shame admitting you’re too squeamish to solve it. Leave this one to me.”
Xander slowly extended the scimitar, hilt-first. Tefler grasped the white metal for only an instant before tearing his hand away with a curse and the stench of seared skin.
“The damn thing burned me!”
Xander tucked the sword back into his belt. “There is another solution.”
“Oh yeah?” said Tefler, fanning his injured hand. “What?”
“Zadok is waking in Kairos. We’ll petition him for Astlin’s life.”
52
What was a cacophony of turning gears is now a few scattered ticks as Xander and Tefler emerge from the terminus. They stand upon the platform and look out over the eerily still clockwork realm.
“Kairos has almost stopped,” says Xander.
Tefler points out a lone figure guarding the bridge below. “Who’s that?”
Xander’s eye widens. Szodrin’s face is unmistakable though his black hair has gone shock white. His uniform is reduced to a ragged pair of tan pants and a torn black shirt.
“I’d thought you dead,” says Xander as he approaches the Night Gen with Tefler in tow.
Szodrin’s eyes are more yellow than green now, and cold. “I escaped death. I did not cheat it, unlike you.”
Xander stops several paces from Szodrin. “You speak as if I cheated you.”
“You name your own crime, Xander Sykes. He whom the Nexus reclaims is not meant to walk the world again, unless by chance the Well spins his silver cord again in a far age. But now the fullness of ages is come.”
Awe and dread fill Xander’s heart. “Who are you?”
“You do not err to call me Szodrin of the Night Gen, for Kairos decrees him my instrument. Throughout time men have called me many names, invoking what they knew only vaguely through myth—Nexus, Faerda, Teth, Zadok.”
An impulse more primal than hunger drives Xander to his knees. “The Righteous One.”
Xander knows that Nessh preached the fear of God, but just as often lauded the peace that flowed from his presence. Kneeling before Szodrin, Xander feels only terror.
Tefler walks past him to stand before God incarnate. “Go easy on him,” he says, nodding toward Xander. “It’s his first time.”
“Flippant words conceal much evil,” declares Szodrin. “I know your petition. Neither you nor this Nesshin can sway my will.”
Xander’s love for Astlin overcomes his fear of God long enough for him to raise his trembling voice. “If you will it, make my beloved whole. Save her from torment.”
“You do well to call me righteous,” says Szodrin, “but sentiment clouds your judgment. The penalty you meted out to Zan was just, yet his crimes paled before hers.”
Szodrin reaches into empty space and draws forth a thread that glows like wire in a forge. “Therefore, I take back the life her sins have rendered forfeit.”
The fiery thread dissolves. Its remnants fall from Szodrin’s hand like stardust.
An echo of fear and sorrow whispers to Xander’s soul and fades. He leaps to his feet. Though unsure of what he says, his voice is raw and his face tear-streaked before he finishes.
Tefler lightly elbows Xander. “No sense making him mad. Let’s leave while we can.”
Szodrin turns to watch as the last gears slow. “Stay or go as you will. Nothing can escape my judgment. Neither the least mote of ether nor Thera herself.”
“I know,” says a female voice. “So I didn’t come by myself.”
The Mother of Demons crosses the bridge from the clockwork canyons, her white skirts gathered in one pale hand. Xander’s wrath flares, but bereft of hope, his fear is stronger.
Szodrin’s withering glare passes from Tefler to Thera. “You think it clever to trespass through your priest? Do not hope to succeed where the mortals you sent have failed.”
“They’re not the only ones I brought,” Thera says, approaching to stand at Szodrin’s right. “If I’m here, so is my brother.”
She waves a hand at the dark sky overhead. A rosy haze descends, outlining three shapes vaster than worlds—a pyramid, a diamond, and now a cube. A distant light shines above them, and infinite darkness broods below.
A storm of golden light erupts from the cube. A pale, grey-robed figure descends to hover opposite Thera at Szodrin’s left. The newcomer’s theatrics reach an anticlimax when he lowers his cowl to reveal a gaunt face under drab brown hair.
The new arrival fixes dead eyes on Thera, and when he speaks, the absolute malice in his voice instills a cold horror to eclipse Xander’s dread of the others.
“You could not bind me forever, sister,” the gaunt man says. “Now the Void shall bathe the cosmos in sublime peace.”
“You mistake the meaning of Shaiel,” Szodrin says. “You claim to embody perfect law, but the Void is not immune to judgment.”
Shaiel glares at Szodrin. “By what right do you judge me?”
“By the craftsman’s right to appraise his work. Thera knew this, but she is divided between you both. I founded this order for good; not evil, reasoning that to give evil substance would allow men to destroy it. I set the Well above and the Void below and bade all choose between them. I was to rise and judge their works when the Well emptied, but my wayward children delayed the appointed time. Yet justice is not denied. The law which the Well forgot is inscribed on the heart of Kairos.”
Standing witness to a dispute among beings that fashioned the world, a question occurs to Xander. He does not kn
ow if utter despair or newfound courage compels him to ask, “What is your verdict?”
Szodrin turns. His face betrays no emotion as he stretches out his arms to Thera and Shaiel. “The light has failed. The Void goes astray. Behold your condemnation.”
“Behold yours,” says the Lord of the Void. The rosy sky turns sickly gold. Xander throws himself and Tefler down at Szodrin’s feet as the sallow sky falls on the terminus.
Szodrin bends under the Void’s icy weight. His upraised arms blacken. For an instant he seems about to collapse, but with a final effort he stands upright, and darkness returns.
“You served me in the beginning,” Szodrin tells the lesser gods. “Thera’s power shattered my harmony into warring fragments. She was to aid me again if the shards failed to purge her corruption. This order is fit only to be leveled brick by brick. This is your sentence—return now to your first purpose and carry out my will.”
“You shall not thwart my perfect order,” Shaiel swears.
“I’m not your slave,” says Thera. “You should have learned that by now.”
A look passes between the divine siblings.
Blazing white and hellish gold light divide Kairos in half. The mountainous gear blocks on Thera’s side glow red; then orange, while the clockwork towers behind Shaiel crack under a rime of frost. Standing between extremes, Zadok burns and freezes.
Xander huddles on the ground, awaiting death by fire or ice. Somehow neither prana nor Void touches him.
Tefler kneels beside him, white and gold light streaming from his hands to deflect their opposites. Unbearable strain etches his face.
Laughter splits the roar of colliding primal forces. The lights fade. Szodrin still stands, his scarred chest heaving.
Silver glints in the dark hazy sky. Countless threads stream from the Well to pierce the cube, diamond, and pyramid. Many pass through more than one, and some traverse all three.
Xander traces his own life cord through both pyramid and diamond. He senses the echo again. It is faint, as if receding into the sky, through the Nexus.
Like a rain cloud over the horizon.
Tefler pulls on Xander’s arm, diverting his train of thought. “Now!” Thera’s priest urges him in a harsh whisper. “The sword!”
Souldancer (Soul Cycle Book 2) Page 37
