The Fractured Sky

by Thomas M. Reid

  “Or,” Kaanyr countered, “it could give us four times as much information.”

  “The cambion is right,” Kael said. “If we each seek our own way and return with a more complete picture, won’t that improve our chances of finding and stopping the priest?”

  Tauran thought for a few moments more then nodded. “If each of you is even half as certain of your paths as I am of this one, then I can’t see preventing you from chasing it. Go.” He motioned to them. “Find what we seek, and I will see you on the dock.”

  Aliisza smiled and stood. “I will be the first one back.” She took to the air.

  As she left the boat behind, she got an even greater sense of the vastness of the cavern. It grew absolutely quiet around her, without the gentle lapping of the water against the sides of the craft. All she could hear was the faint beating of her wings. It reminded her a great deal of her time back in Amarindar, when she and Kaanyr ruled over the armies of tanarruks in that fallen dwarven city. There were quiet places in the abandoned halls there, places where she could almost hear time creeping forward.

  The Eye felt like that, but there was something more there, within those caverns. A buzz pervaded everything. It was no physical sound, but rather a soft undercurrent of … something. An expectation, perhaps. Aliisza came to realize it was the connection between her own expectations and the knowledge the vast cavern had to offer.

  As she flew, that buzz grew stronger.

  The alu let that sensation guide her. She followed it like a trail, somehow sensing that she needed to travel to a small set of lights ahead and slightly above herself. It did not take her long to reach them, and when she did, she hesitated.

  A great stalagmite jutted forth from the water, a towering edifice of natural stone larger than any wizard’s tower. Caves riddled its surface, some very natural in shape, others looking freshly dug. A pair of torches flanked each entrance. The flames flickered and danced, but none had burned out, as far as she could tell. An idle thought swept through her about the insanity of trying to keep so many lit.

  They must be magical, she decided. Perhaps they burn forever.

  Shrugging off the nonsensical notion, Aliisza focused her mind once more on the quarry of knowledge. Her sense guided her to a particular cavern—one up high, near the tip of the stalagmite. She landed upon the small shelf jutting out from the cave entrance and stood there, listening.

  Her wariness increased as her innate sense of danger tickled the back of her mind.

  Unlike before, when she had known something threatening would be coming through the door, her sense was different, more vague. It also wasn’t quite so imminent. Something about it told her that the threat came from within, a weakness of herself, rather than from some external source.

  I have too many questions, she realized. About Tauran, and Kaanyr, and Kael, and how I fit into each of their lives. Put them out of your mind, Aliisza, she told herself. Don’t let them distract you from finding Zasian. If you don’t, you might never get out of here.

  Heeding that warning, she stepped forward cautiously, still trying to detect some noise or other evidence of something beyond. When she failed to discern anything, Aliisza took a steadying breath and stepped across the threshold.

  A bombardment of thoughts assaulted her mind. She spun out of control, lost in a haze of spinning, whirling notions. Ideas cascaded one atop another, making her dizzy. She lost track of her own physical existence while caught up in the mental cacophony of concepts, images, and realizations.

  Stop it! she wanted to scream, and she pressed her hands against her own ears, trying in vain to block out the crashing, relentless thoughts. Get out of my head!

  But the assault did not waver, and she fell to her knees, buffeted into a stupor.

  The boat rocked a bit as the others pushed off and flew into the darkness. Tauran watched them go until he could no longer see any of them. Each one winged in a different direction. None was the path he would follow.

  No truer, more prophetic words, he thought.

  For a moment, weariness overwhelmed the angel. He couldn’t fathom how he had managed to keep the disparate pieces of the group together as long as he had. Every moment, something cropped up—an argument, a scowl or brusque word, a battle of wills—that threatened all he worked for.

  The world balances upon the tip of a high, steep pinnacle, in danger of tipping and falling, he thought, and Tyr cannot see it. The High Council and Micus cannot see it. Only I try to hold it in place, and my mighty army consists of three half-fiends who cannot get along. He rubbed his hands across his eyes. How did it come to this?

  Each of his companions—his tools, if he was bluntly honest with himself—presented a different challenge.

  Kael, he could trust. Though the champion could be headstrong and volatile at times, Tauran knew the half-drow’s heart, knew that he was as dedicated to their success as the deva himself. But he was young and naïve, and Tauran had to be wary of coming to rely overly much on him for sound judgment.

  He’d lay down his life defending me, but there will come a point where he might need to sacrifice me, instead. Will he know when that is? Will he understand the necessity of it? Will he do it, even if I command him to?

  Vhok was precisely the opposite; he would never be trustworthy. In some ways, that made it easier. So long as the angel kept firmly in mind that the cambion served only his own interests and tried in every way imaginable to circumvent his authority, Tauran could be ready for his tricks. But it still made him dangerous. The deva had nearly slipped a few times, letting his emotions get the better of him, or he had been caught off guard, like with that sword. Must force him to get rid of that vile thing, he reminded himself. But each time, he had recovered. No, the danger lay not in what Vhok could do to him, but in what he could do to the other two. His actions threatened to rip the cohesion of the group apart. He required the greatest amount of attention and care.

  And then there was Aliisza. She was the enigma. He had expected her to flee long before, but she had not. He wasn’t certain what possessed her to continue. She showed inklings of dedication, hints of coming to understand the value of loyalty and self-sacrifice, but she was no angel, hadn’t been among them nearly long enough.

  Kael sees himself as one of us, even if he has no celestial blood, but Aliisza … I cannot see into her heart, he realized. And because of that, she is the one most likely to be my undoing.

  Tauran blinked and came out of his lamentations. He remembered where he was and what he was striving to stop. Guilt forced the weariness from his thoughts and made him renew his determination. The boat sat still in the black waters of the cavern. The boatman stood just as still, waiting for him.

  With a deep breath, the angel refocused. What is Zasian planning? Where will he try to lead us? How can we stop him?

  The boat began to glide forward in the water.

  Aliisza stood in a great rotunda that was dim with the light of a few faint candles. The large, circular room echoed with the sounds of voices, but those voices were indistinct, illogical. She stood away from the center, behind a thick, ornate column.

  No. I am hiding, she heard herself think.

  It was not the alu’s own inner voice that spoke, though. She was also someone else.

  She looked through the other’s eyes, peered carefully around the side of the column toward the center. She glanced down at herself and gasped.

  She was a thing of shadow, midnight black and indistinguishable from all the other shadows that filled the room. Cloaked.

  In the center of the room, three figures stood, deep in conversation. She could see them only indistinctly, as though they were blurred, not solid. But somehow, she knew they were gods.

  They argued.

  One was a woman, coldly beautiful and tall. Black flowing hair. Pale radiant skin. Imbued with magic.

  Aliisza felt jealousy. She desired the end of that one.

  The pale, magic-infused woman stood beside
a man, elderly, wizened. His flowing white hair joined with his thick, full beard and moustache, a mantle of authority upon his shoulders. He, too, seemed the embodiment of all that was arcane.

  Together, they faced the third. A thin man, emaciated, craven. His chalk white skin stood in stark contrast to his fierce black eyes. He cringed before the pair, listening as they seemed to berate him, a wisp of a secret smile on his face.

  Aliisza felt drawn to him, thought him handsome.

  Another figure appeared, also on the periphery of the chamber. She, too, was indistinct, a thing of shimmering light. Nearly naked, her jet black skin covered the curves and litheness of a streetwalker, a night dancer. She was beautiful.

  Aliisza wanted to fall on her knees, worship the dancer, bathe in her beauty, serve her forever.

  But she must not.

  There was work to do. She would do her job, perform her task, and curry favor from both the dark dancer and the craven one.

  Yes.

  The wizened man turned to the dark dancer, seemed startled that she had appeared. The pale woman with the dark hair and radiant skin also turned, and she seemed more angry than before. She and the dark dancer confronted one another as the wizened man looked on.

  It was time.

  Aliisza crept out from the shadows. She glided, step by step, behind the wizened man. She was nearly within reach, standing just behind him.

  No one seemed to notice.

  She waited.

  The dark, beautiful one danced. She moved to some unheard rhythm, gyrated to a beat that did not reverberate within the rotunda. She was awesome to behold, undulating before the wizened man and the radiant woman.

  The old one’s posture changed. He seemed to lose his focus, becoming enamored of the dark dancer. He leaned forward, drawn to her.

  In his enthrallment, he let his staff slip from his hands.

  Aliisza knew it was her moment.

  She reached out, prevented the wizened one’s staff from falling, kept it upright so no one would see.

  She grasped it in her hands, felt its power.

  Long and wooden, each end shod in iron, it pulsed with arcane energy. Runes and sigils of every type shimmered and danced along its entire length. They had life and magic of their own. At the top, a brilliant sapphire as large as Aliisza’s fist pulsed and hummed, vibrating with even more energies.

  The magic that coursed through the staff was almost too much to bear. She hated that magic, wanted to beat the staff against the floor, rid it of the horrible power.

  But she must not.

  She had another purpose. She was a tool, like the staff was a tool.

  So Aliisza remained still, just behind the wizened man. She held the staff, kept it from falling.

  No one noticed her, the shimmering shadow.

  A commotion arose at the periphery of the rotunda, away from Aliisza. Others had come, lesser creatures, hated creatures. Aliisza spotted the first, and though she recognized him as friend, companion, she also hated him. An angel—a fallen angel.

  Tauran.

  Kaanyr appeared then, and also Kael.

  Aliisza knew them, wanted to go to them, but at the same time, she wanted to hurt them, to see them suffer. She hated them.

  The three of them called, trying to get the attention of the wizened man and the radiant woman, but neither of them would look over, neither of them could see or hear the newcomers.

  Then Tauran tried to enter the center of the rotunda, tried to go to the wizened one, but there were others there, blocking his way.

  Zasian had come.

  Aliisza gasped again, seeing the priest. She felt hatred, but also appreciation. Obligation. Hope.

  Zasian stood before Tauran and prevented him from crossing to the gods. Tauran tried to push past him, but Micus appeared, then, and Micus took hold of Tauran, too.

  Tauran struggled, fought against them both. He shouted, called to the wizened one and the radiant one.

  The gods noticed. They turned toward the commotion, seeing the newcomers for the first time.

  All eyes were elsewhere, watching the angels and Zasian struggle.

  Very carefully, Aliisza stepped back, away from the wizened man, creeping so as not to be seen, and took the staff with her. With each step, she stopped and looked back, checking to see if the wizened man or the radiant woman had taken note of her presence.

  They had not.

  She turned, finally, to the chalk white man.

  He smiled at her and held out his hand.

  Aliisza smiled back, though she knew he could not see her face, for it was cloaked in shadow. It was shadow. But she smiled at him just the same, for she liked him and wanted him to be happy.

  She handed him the staff.

  The chalk white man raised the staff, looked at it. He nodded in approval. Then he raised it high, holding it in both hands. He stepped right behind the radiant woman, the being who embodied magic.

  The chalk white man brought the staff down, slamming it on the radiant woman’s head.

  He struck her so hard the staff cracked.

  There was blinding light.

  Aliisza screamed.

  The alu came to, huddled in a ball within darkness. Her head throbbed, but she no longer felt the assault of knowledge upon her. She could hear herself panting, but otherwise, all was quiet. She was drenched in sweat.

  The images of the rotunda, of the trickery, came back to Aliisza. She did not understand it all, wasn’t even sure who it was she had witnessed, but she knew one thing: Tauran and Micus would feud, and Zasian would use it to his advantage.

  And another god would die.

  I have to warn Tauran!

  She sat up and peered around. She was just inside the cave mouth. It was a small chamber, no larger than a couple of paces on a side. The light of the torches shone dimly from just beyond the entrance. She had no idea where it came from, but a terrible sense of urgency overcame her. She had to hurry, though she did not understand why.

  Aliisza heaved herself to her feet and ran. She launched herself out of the small cave and into the air, pumping her wings as hard as she could.

  There was so little time.

  Please be there, she thought, imagining her companions waiting at the dock for her.

  She didn’t want to be the first one back. She wanted them to be finished already, to know what she knew, to be ready to go when she returned.

  So little time!

  Though she had lost track of the way back to the dock during their passage, she knew the direction intimately during the return trip. She kept seeing her companions standing on the dock, waiting for her, and that kept it clear in her head. She fixated on that, thought of nothing else.

  Get to the docks. Warn Tauran.

  She saw the dock lights from a great distance away. They were nothing but a set of tiny glowing pinpricks, but she knew without a doubt that they were her beacons. She increased her speed, flying for all she was worth. Aliisza gasped for breath, fighting the weariness in her wings. The lights grew slowly larger.

  At last, she began to make out features. She saw the boats first, moored to the docks, then the docks themselves.

  There was no sign of her three companions.

  Where are they? she wondered in dismay. We have to hurry!

  She landed upon the docks and rushed over to the hound archon that had greeted them. It was the same one, his gray muzzle familiar.

  “My companions,” she gasped. “I must find them, now. Can you help me bring them back here?”

  The celestial creature looked at her in surprise. “They have already gone,” he said. “You have been missing for four days.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  This is unacceptable!” Tauran shouted. “You have done nothing but throw bureaucratic barriers in front of us since we got here. It’s been three days!” He jabbed a forefinger into the archon’s chest to drive home his point. “Now let me speak to someone who can do something about this!”
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  The archon stood straighter and glared at the angel. He reached up and straightened his white tunic so that the emblem of a hand wreathed in blue fire on his chest showed a little bit more prominently. “Do not touch me again,” the dog-headed creature warned. “Or I will call for help, and you will be escorted out of here.”

  The clerk’s officious tone made Tauran want to punch him. I’ve been around Vhok for too long, the angel thought. I’m too quick to lash out. He took a deep, calming breath and tried again.

  “I’m very sorry,” he said in gentler tones. “I am weary and it has been a long, perilous journey. But I have explained my urgency to you, and you do not seem to heed it.”

  “As I told you three times already,” the archon said, “everyone is very busy. The proper people have been notified of your request, and when one of them gets a free moment, he or she will be happy to meet with you to discuss your concerns. Until then, you … must … wait!” The archon punctuated the last three words with little jabs of his finger, though he did not touch Tauran when he did so.

  The angel sighed and turned away. “This is getting us nowhere,” he muttered to Kael and Vhok. “We’re going to have to find another way. Come.”

  He led the other two out of Azuth’s Hall of Petitions. He stopped when they stood upon the street running in front of it and turned to look back. The edifice was immense, filling the cavern like some monolithic mountain. Tauran swept his gaze up, taking measure of the seemingly endless levels, plazas, and towers that rose by turns toward the ceiling of the great chamber. Near the top, surrounded by walls and minarets, a very large dome sat, the most splendid part of the structure.

  Right there, the angel thought. That’s where it happens. And if we could just get inside and warn someone, we could stop it. That would be it. Zasian’s plot would be foiled.

  “A lot of good it did us to leave Aliisza behind,” Vhok grumbled from behind the deva.

  Tauran resisted the urge to whirl on the cambion and glare at him. He could feel it all crumbling apart. We’re so close, but I can’t hold this together much longer. My sanity teeters on the edge of oblivion.