by Ryk E. Spoor
Poplock rolled his eyes, but repeated his cleansing spell; the table and Rion were neat again, though there was a sparkling mass of broken glass in front of his seat.
Rion smiled weakly. “Wasn’t even aware I was doing that.”
“Don’t concern yourself with it,” Lady Shae said, and gestured; the glass vanished. “Continue, please.”
He nodded. “Of course.” He swallowed, then went on. “I called on Myrionar, of course, and for a moment I felt stronger…but as we fought I felt my power draining away and I finally understood what kind of a monster Thornfalcon was. But that was far too late, and his sword started carving me apart—one cut at a time, and with every cut I felt my strength departing, my endurance failing, the night growing darker, with him laughing, laughing all the time…”
He paused. “…or was he? Part of me says he stopped laughing at the very end, but another part says I heard that laughter for a long, long time.”
“You don’t remember me reaching you? I talked to you, Rion! You tried to tell me what was going on, you just couldn’t before…” Her voice wavered and she stopped.
Rion’s brow furrowed and he was silent a moment. “N-no. I’m sorry, I can’t remember a thing. And I wanted to see you, so much, Kyri. You and Urelle and Aunt Victoria. But it just went black, with that laughter…”
He trailed off again, but this time thinking. “The laughter did go on a long time. But then…I don’t know how long, I wasn’t really conscious I think, these are more impressions than memories, if you know what I mean?” He looked anxiously at Hiriista, who gave a slow assenting nod.
“So after a long time the laughing faded, and I felt cold, icy cold, and…I don’t know, I felt as though I had suddenly been brought into a gigantic chamber, a chamber filled with the essence of ice. But there was fire, too. And it wasn’t either. Myrionar’s Blade, I can’t say what I mean.”
“You mean to say that these were impressions, analogies, not literal truths,” Hiriista said. “You do not, for instance, believe you were brought into an actual giant chamber.”
“Yes, that’s it. I’d been somewhere…warm yet deadly, with laughter, and now I was somewhere huge and both hot and lethally cold, and instead of laughter the cold was amused and then…”
Kyri was so tense she realized her nails were digging into her palms. She forced her hands to relax. “Then?”
Rion stared into unguessable distances. “Then…I was forgotten, I think. Or put aside? I don’t know. I can’t make sense of these sensations. My words just aren’t…it’s something I feel but it wasn’t real, not like here. But after some time I can’t guess I finally I felt something change around me, more darkness, but with feelings that weren’t all dark and laughing and hate-filled, and then everything faded away completely…” he glanced to her, “…until I opened my eyes and saw you.”
Kyri didn’t know what to think, and from his frown neither did Tobimar. But Poplock and Hiriista were exchanging glances, and she saw both Miri and Lady Shae nodding slowly.
“All right, it seems that made sense to most of you,” she said finally. “What did that mean? What happened? Is he Rion?”
The four looked at each other, then the others nodded at Hiriista, who rose and bowed slightly.
“There are…tests I would like to do, but I believe that we all have a good idea what happened…and if we are correct, then he is, indeed, Rion—or a part of him.”
“A part of me?” Rion echoed.
“A new body—manufactured from what I cannot be sure—but with a fragment of your soul placed within, to grow and heal. If we interpret those images correctly, Thornfalcon had taken parts of your soul, but instead of simply consuming them, gave them to someone else, I would presume this Patron—”
“Who is almost certainly Viedraverion,” Miri put in.
“—as I said, his Patron, possibly the Demonlord she has named, and certainly a being of far greater power than Thornfalcon. The Patron kept your spirit-fragment intact within himself or possibly some sort of spirit container, and eventually placed it into the body you now wear and shipped you off to Wieran. For what purpose I cannot fathom, but this would appear to be the likely scenario.”
Rion was studying his arms and hands as though they would give him a clue as to how this had all happened. Kyri was however more interested in something else. “Miri, who is ‘Viedraverion’? You’ve mentioned him to us earlier but in all the other work we’ve been doing we didn’t have time to talk.”
“Viedraverion,” Lady Shae answered, “is one of the most powerful Demonlords—a Child of the First to Kerlamion himself. In fact, Viedra is supposedly the actual first child of Kerlamion, which would make him vastly more powerful than any Child of the Second and even most other Firsts.”
“He…helped us a lot,” Miri said hesitantly, something which caused Rion’s head to snap up in consternation.
“Sorry, Rion. You’re not the only mixed-up entity here,” Poplock said. “Our two good friends over there used to be Demonlords themselves before they changed their minds. And that wasn’t all that long ago.”
Rion blinked. “Used to be Demonlords?”
“It’s a long story,” Miri said uncomfortably. “And I’ll tell it to you, later. But let me finish. He was…well, not a direct ally, but a resource. He sent Weiran to us, let us know you were coming, verified that Tobimar was the Key, all that sort of thing, but that’s not really the important thing. The really important thing is that he’s the architect of Kerlamion’s grand invasion.”
Kyri felt her mouth drop open. It took a moment to close it again. “Wait. Are you saying that…that the monster responsible for making Thornfalcon, for corrupting the Justiciars, is also the one who arranged the Sauran King’s assassination, the invasion of Artania and Aegia and—”
“—yes. I am saying exactly that. He has been living in Evanwyl most of the time, and I think his private project is there, somehow, but he’s been directing almost everything that Father and his forces have been doing.”
“Terian’s Light,” Tobimar murmured. “I remember talking with King Toron about all this; we couldn’t figure out who was responsible for the coordinated unrest; we even contemplated it being one of the Great Wolves that assassinated the prior Sauran King, because of the perfection of the disguise.”
Poplock bounced assent. “But we knew that couldn’t be the case because this was an assault by demons and lots of other nasties, all across the continent, and the Wolves don’t work for anyone except—”
“Yes,” Miri said. “Except the Godslayer, Virigar, their own king. They do not work with any other creatures, which is just as well.”
“But it being the first child of Kerlamion, one of the most powerful of all demons? That fits, especially with the tricks he might have gotten from Master Wieran along the way. And this all connects to Evanwyl somehow.”
“I presume so,” Miri said. “I’ve seen his current human guise many times; would you like to see it?”
Kyri’s hands tightened into fists. “See the monster responsible for all this? Oh, yes. I want to know him when I see him.”
Miri concentrated for a moment, then touched one of the gems set in her left armlet.
Light shimmered in the air between them, coalesced into a human figure.
Kyri found herself on her feet, her chair clattering away unnoticed, feeling as though a terrible abyss had opened at her feet; Rion had risen too, and Tobimar as well, all of them staring in disbelieving shock. “Oh, drought,” Poplock finally said, and his tone was utterly devoid of his usual humor.
Before them, floating perfectly defined in midair, was the handsome, blond-haired figure of Jeridan Velion, Watchland of Evanwyl.
Chapter 5
“It makes all too much sense,” Tobimar said quietly.
He saw Kyri nod, still pale under her dark skin. Rion had nearly collapsed after that last revelation, and it was clear that he needed rest badly. Now he and Kyri stood at the edge
of Valatar, and he rested a hand on her shoulder.
She started at that, then nodded again. “Of course. And fits perfectly with that sensation I had around him—the one that first led me to be suspicious of the Unity Guard.”
“That’s right, you sometimes really liked him and sometimes got a creepy feeling about him,” Poplock said, nibbling on a beetle he’d caught bumbling by.
“Exactly. Just like the Unity Guard when they were being switched from their real selves to their other…mode of operation, I guess?”
“But if that’s the case…this Demonlord isn’t a simple Eternal Servant type simulacrum or anything,” Tobimar said, trying to make some sense out of the situation. “What does this…two sided sense mean?”
Kyri shook her head. “I can’t say for sure. Just…there were times that I’m absolutely sure that the man I was talking to was a man, and one who sincerely cared about me and my family. Perhaps the demon possesses him on occasion? Maybe this Viedraverion has trapped the soul of the original Jeridan? I don’t know, but I’m sure that it’s not as simple as the demon simply pretending.”
“I’m sure too.” Tobimar remembered how accurate her senses were; he wasn’t sure if that was because she was the Justiciar of Myrionar, or if one of the reasons Myrionar had chosen her to begin with was that she had such a keen ability to see through deception. “Though Thornfalcon fooled you.”
“That’s been bothering me a lot, too,” Kyri admitted. “But I think I know why. I’d been raised with him around—much more than the Watchland, too—and with everyone treating him on face value. I think I’d learned to shove those warnings away even when I was very young, because it was obvious that he couldn’t really be a bad man. And by the time I was older, he’d really perfected his role and, maybe, could use his powers to hide his very nature.”
He saw her face suddenly lighten with surprise. “What is it?”
Kyri looked both angry and sad. “Just remembered another clue that I missed. When the Justiciars came into the house and gave me their…apology, something I guess was almost honest for some and less so for others…they kept glancing back, through the door, watching someone else. I thought it was just worry about privacy, and later I wondered for a while if it was Mist Owl they were watching…but now I realize it was the Watchland.”
She looked up towards the green-shadowed leaves of the trees before them, slightly touched with gray as a huge cloud changed the sunlight to dusk. “We can’t wait much longer.”
“No, we can’t,” agreed Poplock. “Tobimar’s solved his riddle, you’ve paid us back for our help, it’s time for us to help get to the bottom of yours. And with what we just found out…”
Tobimar cursed. “Great Terian. The Watchland’s in charge of your entire country, and we just left him there while we walked off into what everyone thought was a deathtrap!” He had a sudden vision of what could have happened to that tiny, isolated country with a Demonlord in charge, one who now had no one to hold him back and whose plans were now well underway. Even Kyri’s Sho-ka-taida Lythos would be no match for such a creature; Tobimar remembered the other people he had met and come to know during the weeks he’d remained in Evanwyl—Arbiter Kelsley, priest of the Balance and one of the most truly holy men Tobimar had ever been privileged to meet; little Sasha Rithair, Evanwyl’s resident Summoner and all-purpose magician who’d done her best to teach Poplock her craft; Master of House Vanstell, dryly competent and faithful retainer; Minuzi, tall, dark-haired apothecary and housewife who despite her business found time to visit Kyri often as a neighbor and family friend rather than someone looking for the “Justiciar Phoenix.”
The thought of them under the rule—or worse—of the demonlord who had planned the assassination of the Sauran King was almost more than he could bear. “You’re right, we have to get back. With us out of the way, there’s no telling what he’s been doing since we left.”
“Yeah,” Poplock agreed, “and even our friend Xavier might be in trouble. He said he’d be trying to meet up with us once he finished his trip, right?”
“Balance, you’re right. And he started out weeks before we left for the Spiritsmith. If he actually made it to the Mountain…” Kyri trailed off. “Well, he either did or he didn’t. But he could easily be on his way back right now. And if he gets there and doesn’t know what Jeridan is…”
“…things could get real ugly,” the Toad finished. “Lots of reasons to go, not too many to stay.”
Tobimar could see her hesitation, and took her hand. “I know—Rion. Don’t worry, Kyri. Do you think I’d tell you to just leave your brother—if that’s what he really is—behind?”
She looked embarrassed. “I…don’t want to make other people wait just for—”
“It’s not just for you. Or him, for that matter,” Tobimar said emphatically. “His presence here can’t be a coincidence. Maybe what they planned was to have him sent back to Evanwyl at a certain point. Wieran would have been able to implant all sorts of directives in him without him even knowing. But Wieran never got around to it, not with his main project consuming his time. Maybe Rion was a backup plan. But there’s no way this doesn’t connect to you, and we’re not ignoring it, or making you ignore it either.”
She looked at them both gratefully, and then hugged him tightly; Tobimar could see one of her hands give Poplock a pat, including him in the embrace. “Thank you both. And if you’re right…if Hiriista’s right, and that really is Rion…”
“…then we’d be plain stupid to leave behind another real honest-to-gods Justiciar of Myrionar when we’re going to face down a demonlord,” Poplock finished for her. “If their country didn’t need ’em so bad right now, I’d be begging Miri and Shae to come with us.”
Tobimar thought of that and smiled. “And I think we could probably convince them even so; they owe us a lot, and I can tell that Miri, at least, would rather like to see Evanwyl and the rest of the world as it is now, rather than the way it was thousands of years ago.” He shook his head. “But that wouldn’t be the right thing to do.”
“No,” agreed Kyri, still not quite letting him go. “Kaizatenzei does need them, and I think they need Kaizatenzei.”
“Oh yeah,” Poplock agreed. “We don’t want them away from the bright shininess and going back to being demons. They only changed their minds a little while ago. Let that set a bit, I think, kinda like pourstone. ’Course, I don’t know how long that shiny perfection’s going to last now that the Sun’s gone poof.”
Tobimar shrugged. “You’re probably right that it will fade in time,” he said, finally stepping away from Kyri after a quick kiss. “But I’d guess that’ll take quite a while, especially since the force that was causing all the corruption beneath was probably Sanamaveridion, and he’s gone.”
“I hope so,” Kyri said, looking out at the peaceful shining of stars above the city. “I’d like to think it will always be like this.”
“So do I,” Poplock said, but his tone was serious. “But that’s sure not gonna happen if we wait much longer.”
Tobimar nodded. It had been a wonderful, terrifying, and in some ways healing journey through Kaizatenzei. But now they knew that they had left the architect of the world’s disasters—of what in fact must be the next Chaoswar—behind them, and Viedraverion was surely not idle.
Time was running out.
Chapter 6
“They…they seem to be exactly as they were,” Bolthawk murmured, in a tone of mingled fear and awe.
It followed the false Justiciar’s gaze to where Mist Owl stood in conversation with the earlier Silver Eagle, Gareth Lamell, and Skyharrier. “Oh, indeed, they are exactly as they were.” It chuckled. “I suppose your surprise comes from your first reintroduction to your fallen comrades?”
Assured by its tone that this was not a dangerous subject, Bolthawk nodded. “They stank of the grave, their eyes were dull, they seemed graverisen, nothing more. But over the last week…”
“Yes, they ha
ve perked up quite a bit since then, haven’t they?” It gestured for Bolthawk to take a firmer grip on the damaged piece of Silver Eagle’s raiment which was currently on the creature’s workbench, and then began gently hammering on the metal; faint ripples of green and shadow flickered from the armor as the being worked on it, bringing the armor back together. Ahh, Spiritsmith, your work is supernal; a shame it had to be marred so. My repairs will be serviceable, but hardly up to your standard. Then again, you would rather they were not repaired at all than serving my purposes, so I suppose that’s as you’d prefer it.
“The fact is that for one such as myself, bringing the dead back fully takes a bit of time,” it said, continuing the discussion. “The body must be either repaired or in some cases rebuilt, the soul brought back, and the connection between the two must heal as the body…learns, I suppose is the best term, how to live again. By now, that process is quite complete.”
“You mean…they are not just wraiths or revenants?”
“They are as fully alive as they were before they met their deaths, yes. If I were somehow felled tomorrow, they would not collapse and turn to moldering corpses or anything of that nature. They are not imitations of their prior selves, Bolthawk. They are precisely who they appear to be…just with some rather unique experiences that you have been fortunate enough to avoid thus far.”
Bolthawk’s expression was a delicious mingling of awe and fear. “Never have I heard of anyone reviving the dead after so long a span of time, in the case of Gareth, many years indeed. Not even the gods.”
“It does, in truth, require some rather unique circumstances, I admit. But more than that you have no need to know.”
“Where is Thornfalcon, then? Surely you would have wanted him back more than the rest of us.”
Your stolid exterior, Child of Odin, is rather misleading when you show so clear an evaluation of the world around you. “You are of course correct, Bolthawk; he had the best overall…mindset for the job as I envisioned it. Unfortunately, and rather ironically, his journey along the path to become one of my people led to him meeting the final death, one from which even I could not retrieve him.”
