“After the final ingredient for the potion that will save Isabel,” he said. “No one can know what it is, or even that it exists, so I have to do this alone. Watch over everyone and let me know if they discover I’m missing.”
“I will, My Love. Be careful.”
After he woke Horace for his turn at guard duty, he went to his bunk, but instead of lying down, he grasped the hilt of Mindbender and released a vision into the sword.
Alexander vanished from view as an illusionary version of himself lay down and adjusted the covers. He held the illusion, watching Horace’s colors carefully and waiting. After several minutes, he crept past Horace into the cave beyond, all the while maintaining an illusion that obscured his presence, rendering him invisible. Once he was down the passage leading to the blood of the earth, he stopped and sent his all around sight back to see if Horace had noticed him, but he was unaware of Alexander’s ruse.
He wound deeper through the gut rock of the mountain. The volcanic passage gave way to cut stone. Alexander hadn’t examined the room very closely when he’d searched for the blood of the earth through his clairvoyance. Now that he was here, he realized the place had been made by someone long ago. It was carefully cut and ancient. He proceeded with a mixture of awe and caution.
The passage led down at a shallow angle, passing through hundreds of feet of solid stone and opening into one end of a large rectangular room, thirty feet wide, a hundred feet long, and precisely carved from the heart of the mountain.
A raised platform with a large crystal bowl occupied the far end. The colors flowing from the bowl were almost blinding. They radiated away in undulating waves of power. Alexander stood motionless for a long time, trying to work up the courage to approach a thing of such surpassing power.
Finally, need drove him forward. As he neared the center of the room, the walls transitioned from black basalt to crystal shot with gold, creating a dazzlingly beautiful web of light, the colors radiating from the blood of the earth mingling with the pure white light of his night-wisp dust.
Within a few steps of the bowl he could see the blood of the earth itself. It seemed to exist with deliberate certitude, as if the rest of the world was ephemeral and incorporeal by comparison, and it knew it. Alexander was struck by the complexity of its colors and awed by the sheer power of it.
“Please don’t do this, Alexander,” a voice said from behind him.
Alexander whirled, drawing Mindbender in one fluid motion, leveling the blade at a lone man dressed in a simple robe, standing not ten steps away. He looked young, like a man in his midtwenties … except he wasn’t young at all. Alexander could see a timeless wisdom in his eyes, but more than that, his colors were expansive and very subtly refined, as if he existed at a higher state than everyone else. Alexander wasn’t sure what to make of him.
“Who are you? How did you get here? And how do you know my name?” he asked.
“My name is Siduri,” he said. “I will not harm you.”
Alexander lowered the tip of Mindbender slightly. Siduri’s colors said he was telling the truth, but Alexander almost suspected that this man could make his colors lie.
“Are you working for the dragons?”
“No,” Siduri said. He spoke deliberately, intentionally, as if he was remembering how to speak after being silent for a very long time.
“Did Phane send you?”
“No, I represent no one … and everyone,” Siduri said.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Siduri shrugged. “I am not in league with any of your enemies, Alexander.”
Alexander frowned. “Have you been following me?”
“In a manner of speaking.”
Exasperation started to build in the pit of Alexander’s stomach. “I don’t have time for this,” he said. “Answer my question.”
“I have been watching you for your entire life,” Siduri said. “We are alike, you and I—one with source.”
“You’re not making any sense,” Alexander said, turning back toward the blood of the earth.
“Please, don’t do that, Alexander.”
“Why not?”
“The blood of the earth is too powerful,” Siduri said. “Leave it be. Find another way.”
“What do you know about it?”
“A great deal and very little, I’m afraid,” Siduri said.
Alexander clenched his jaw. His blind eyes started glittering.
“It is powerful beyond measure,” Siduri said. “Surely you can see this as clearly as I, yet I have never touched it, so I do not know its true nature any more than I know the true nature of death, having never experienced it.”
“I only need one drop,” Alexander said.
“One drop contains the power of all that it is,” Siduri said. “Find another way.”
“There is no other way,” Alexander said. “At least not one that I can hope to accomplish.”
“This path leads to destruction,” Siduri said. “Such power should be left alone.”
“Ordinarily, I would agree with you,” Alexander said, “but this is the only way I can save my wife.”
“It is one way,” Siduri said. “There are others.”
“What others? And how do you know anything about this? And … how did you get down here?”
“Kill the wraith queen,” Siduri said, holding up one finger. “I have been watching,” he said, holding up a second finger. “I am one with source, hence I am everywhere,” he said, holding up a third finger.
“There’s virtually no chance that I can reach the wraith queen,” Alexander said. “And even if I could, I don’t have the power to banish her. I need the blood of the earth to save Isabel. Do you intend to stop me?” he asked, raising the point of Mindbender.
Siduri smiled, as if noticing something for the first time. “Do you know the true nature and history of your sword?”
“What?” Alexander said. “You aren’t making any sense. What’s my sword got to do with this?”
“It is a unique blade, forged by one like us,” Siduri said.
Curiosity ignited within Alexander’s mind. He lowered Mindbender again and stared at Siduri, trying to formulate a question that he thought might get a straight answer.
“One like us? You mean you and I are alike? We’re the same as Benesh Reishi?”
“Yes, we are one with source,” Siduri said.
“Source? What’s that?”
“You call it the firmament,” Siduri said.
“You’re an adept?”
“Benesh Reishi used that term to describe himself,” Siduri said.
“I thought I was the only living adept,” Alexander said. “The sovereigns told me there have only been two others like me.”
“They are mistaken,” Siduri said. “I am aware of seven, though there may have been others that came before me.”
“Wait … so you’re saying you’re the first of seven,” Alexander said. “How can that be? How old are you?”
“I am many thousands of years old,” Siduri said.
“How’s that possible?” Alexander asked, reeling slightly from the implications.
Siduri shrugged.
Alexander shook his head and absentmindedly sheathed Mindbender, questions and possibilities tumbling through his mind.
“If what you’re saying is true, there’s so much you could teach me,” Alexander said. “You’ve asked me not to use the blood of the earth, but I need it to save my wife. Help me understand. Help me find another way.”
“It is not my place to interfere,” Siduri said. “Your free will is your own, use it as you will. I am simply here to warn you of the danger, to ask you to find another way.”
“All right, you’re still not helping me understand,” Alexander said. “Let’s back up and take things one at a time. Tell me about Mindbender.”
“Benesh Reishi created your sword using a process that he invented,” Siduri said. “He was hoping to replicate his link wit
h source and impart it on the sword, but he failed. Instead, he stripped himself of his link with source and transferred it to the sword. As a result, the normal aging process resumed and claimed his life. It was tragic really, the solution was so simple and yet he never saw it.”
“What do you mean?”
“A link with source needs a place to reside,” Siduri said.
Alexander sighed in exasperation. “I don’t have time for riddles. If you aren’t going to answer my questions, then let me do what I came here to do.”
“I won’t stop you,” Siduri said, “but I beg you to reconsider. You’re tampering with a power beyond your understanding. The result could be disastrous, and not just for you and your wife but for all of the Seven Isles.”
“What will happen if I use it to help her?” Alexander asked.
“I cannot be sure, but I would have you consider the possibilities,” Siduri said. “Using power always has consequences, often unforeseen. It may cure her. It may kill her. It may confer upon her a power so great that she would transcend her human existence. But then, she is in the grip of one of the Taker’s minions, and so that power would pass to him.”
“Wait … who’s the Taker?”
“He is the enemy of the light, the Taker of life, the bringer of darkness,” Siduri said. “He is the timeless and formless master of the netherworld.”
Alexander felt a chill race up his spine. He stood stock-still, processing what he’d just learned. Before he could respond, Siduri continued.
“The Taker is always looking for a way into the world of time and substance. In the netherworld he cannot have substance, yet he craves it. Only in this world can he manifest in physical form, yet he is denied access by the very nature of the world of time and substance itself. The blood of the earth has the power to alter that essential nature, to unmake the rules of reality. This remedy you seek could deliver into the Taker’s hands the power to come forth and consume the world.”
Alexander swallowed hard as the magnitude of Siduri’s words sank in.
“I have to try,” he said. “I can’t just let Phane take her from me.” His voice broke as the weight of his emotional distress threatened to overwhelm him. “She’s my wife. I love her more than anything. I have to save her.”
“Find another way,” Siduri said.
“The other way is beyond me!” Alexander said. “I’ll do whatever it takes to save her.”
“That will be your folly, Alexander. I speak from experience. Heed my words.”
“No,” Alexander said, his resolve hardening. He’d come this far. The last ingredient he needed was within reach. “I have to do this. I’ll look for another way, but right now, I need this option if all else fails.”
Siduri took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
“Let me tell you a story,” he said. “Perhaps you will learn a valuable lesson from my mistake.”
Alexander nodded, deflated and emotionally exhausted.
“I was born in a small village on what you call the Reishi Isle. My grandfather was the shaman. He took me as his apprentice because I demonstrated a keen insight at a very young age. Much like you, Alexander, I could see colors. Others have no concept of the power such vision confers. The insight is priceless.
“I studied diligently and learned quickly. When I was ready, I undertook my vision quest. From full moon to full moon I fasted, drinking only the water of a sacred and secluded mountain lake revered by our people as a place of magic. I faced pain and despair and fear like nothing I could have imagined, yet I survived. When I returned, my grandfather was disappointed that I couldn’t learn the simple spells he wished to teach me, yet my insight increased. I could see farther and deeper than any other. Eventually, when my grandfather passed from this world, I became the shaman.
“I served my village for nearly three hundred years. Over those years my abilities developed. I gained the ability to see at a great distance, to become one with source, to see all around me even with my eyes closed, even the ability to walk with the spirits.
“Eventually, the people became fearful of me because I did not age as others do. It’s expected that a shaman will live much longer than others, but I was different. I remained young, even though centuries passed.
“Seeing the fear in their colors was painful for me. I had served my people faithfully for my whole life but I realized that I could remain with them no longer, so I left my village and walked the world, exploring the Seven Isles for over a century. Still I did not age.
“Then I met a woman. She was beautiful and kind. I fell in love with her and discovered a joy like nothing I’d known before. For several short years we enjoyed happiness together, living a simple life in a little house. We had three sons and they were the center of our world. They were bright and full of life, exuberant and curious about everything.”
Siduri stopped and took a deep breath, centering himself before he continued.
“One bright summer day, my sons went fishing in a little boat on the river. I found them washed up on the bank. All three had drowned. I can’t express with words the depth of the pain I felt. The loss was total and all-consuming. The pain of the vision quest was a trivial thing compared to the limitless agony of such loss.
“As devastating as it was for me, it was doubly difficult for my wife. She was hysterical, simply unable to face a world without her children. Fearing she would harm herself, I gave her an herbal mixture to make her sleep.”
He paused and fixed Alexander with a penetrating stare before continuing.
“Then I set out to bring my children back from the dead.”
Alexander swallowed hard.
“I had not used my power for anything of consequence since meeting my wife. But now I slipped free of my mortal bonds and walked in the silvery world of the spirits. I sought out my sons and found them before they passed into the light. I beseeched their ghosts to wait, to remain in the spirit world. I told them that I could bring them back, that I would find a way.
“From there I found my way into the realm of light and begged the Lords of Light to help me, to grant a reprieve to my sons. I implored them to give my children life again. With great compassion and boundless sympathy, they refused to alter the natural order of the world to spare my wife and me the heartache we were suffering. I wept.”
Siduri stopped again, staring off into the distance, a haunted look in his eyes.
“What I did next was driven by madness, desperation, and above all, hubris. Having failed to gain the aid I sought from the realm of light, I turned to the darkness. I would undo my children’s deaths, no matter the cost.” He fixed Alexander with a hard look.
He felt a tingle of dread wash over his entire body. He stood still, hanging on Siduri’s every word.
“I traveled into the cold and lifeless void of the netherworld and was met by the broken souls that reside there. They assailed me, tearing at my living light with almost desperate viciousness, but I held my place and called out for the Taker. And he answered my summons.
“In abject desperation, I offered to pay any price if he would bring my children back to life.
“He named his price. It was what I had expected and I agreed willingly: When I die, he will claim my soul. In that moment, I believed it to be a triumph. I thought I had cheated death, overcome the natural order of the world to save my family. The price would be paid much later, and I was willing to bear it if it would bring my children back.”
Siduri fell silent, wrestling with an ancient emotional burden that still haunted him.
“The Taker fulfilled his part of the bargain, in a manner of speaking. My children returned from the dead, but they were changed, tainted by the Taker’s darkness. Would you like to know their names, Alexander?” Siduri looked up, his gaze boring into Alexander.
He couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. He tried to swallow but his mouth was too dry. Cold dread rippled over his skin.
“My eldest son is named Shivini … m
y middle son is named Rankosi … and my youngest son is named Jinzeri.”
Chapter 36
Lacy shivered with fear as the dragon’s shadow passed over her hiding place beneath a large pine tree. Drogan was beside her, looking through the boughs toward the sky. They’d been on the run for days and Lacy was cold, tired, and hungry.
“There’s the second one,” he whispered as another shadow flickered overhead.
The dragons were new. She’d been hunted by soldiers since her home was overrun. She’d been hunted by something out of a nightmare since she’d recovered the obscure little black box from her family crypt. The dragons had only been hunting her since the previous day.
“I still don’t understand why dragons are hunting me,” she said, having difficulty reconciling her understanding of reality with the words coming out of her mouth.
“Zuhl has collared a number of dragons to serve him,” Drogan said. “We’ll have to move at night from now on.”
Lacy nodded. Drogan had been her protector for only a couple of weeks but he had already saved her life at least three times. She knew with chilling certainty that she wouldn’t have made it through the night they met if he hadn’t been there to help her.
She didn’t quite trust him, though. There was something odd about him, something she couldn’t put her finger on. She reminded herself yet again to be vigilant.
She had a duty to fulfill. Her father had trusted her in his moment of greatest need and she meant to live up to that trust no matter what. Drogan was necessary. She couldn’t survive alone. Even without the soldiers, demons, and dragons hunting her, she wasn’t prepared to live on the road. She was learning quickly, though.
They had encountered a group of three thugs in the first days after Drogan had come to her aid. Lacy had heard stories about such men, but she wasn’t prepared for the reality of meeting them on a deserted road. She knew without a doubt how her life would end if they’d had their way. Drogan had killed them with a kind of detached efficiency that both fascinated and frightened her.
The three ruffians were armed with rudimentary weapons: a woodsman’s axe, a stout club of Iron Oak, and a knife. They spread out to surround them. Drogan simply waited, watching them casually, as if they posed no real threat. The man with the axe brought it over his head in an attempt to split Drogan’s skull. He simply stepped aside at just the right moment. As the thug lunged forward, pulled by the momentum of his swing, Drogan grabbed him by the chin with one large hand and the back of the head with the other, a quick snapping twist and the man crumpled to the ground.
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