Apostate's Pilgrimage: An Epic Fantasy Saga (Empire of Resonance Book 3)

by L. W. Jacobs

  “The real question, I would say,” Avery said after a pause, “is why your friend Nauro didn’t say anything about Marea. He had to know.”

  More glances around the room. Marea swore Ella and Tai had some kind of personal mindsight that involved looking into each other’s eyes. She needed to remember to never do that with Avery.

  “He was against her coming,” Tai said at last, talking about her like she wasn’t there. “Even when leaving her meant she’d probably die. Maybe he was afraid of what she could do.”

  “He refused me for my resonance,” Marea said, not sure how she felt about it. Other than powerful. “And he didn’t want to tell you guys.”

  Ella gave a secret-mindseye glance at Tai again. “Looks like it. Though I don’t know why he wouldn’t say anything.”

  Tai shrugged. “He must have had his reasons.”

  “More importantly,” Ella said, “we’ll have some time now, before we get to Aran. About eight days if I remember right, to float down to Fenschurch, and probably that many to paddle up the Oxheart to Califf. We need to keep studying shamanism, and Marea and I need different revenants. Avery, you said you could help us with that?”

  “I can,” he said. “I don’t know what Nauro taught you, but I used to train initiates in our cell in Yatiport. I’m sure I can at least get you ready for the kind of attacks we might face around the stone.”

  “And no… reservations about doing that?” Ella asked.

  Avery frowned. “No. The better you can protect yourselves, the better chance we have of getting the stone open. Right?”

  Another mindreading look from Ella to Tai. “Right,” she said. “Well, no time like the present, right?”

  Avery glanced back toward the docks, though the door was shut so there was nothing to see. “Right. But I’ll need to concentrate for this, so watch what you say, I won’t be able to shield us.”

  “And y’know them rat-cockers got their ears to the walls,” Feynrick grinned.

  Marea unfocused her eyes, and felt inside as Nauro had taught them. Being a fatewalker was pearly, but she was determined to be a good shaman, too. To show Avery she was more than just lucky.

  And to keep him from spending all his time with Ella and Tai.

  When he turned to her, blue eyes intense, there was just a slight peeling sensation, none of the roar and drama of the times she’d overcome her revenants in the caves. None of the rush of power, either—guess you had to do it yourself for that. But she felt something gone, like the lightness on her skin once she’d shed her furs after a long day.

  Then a cool sensation, almost a cutting—she remembered this from before, when Nauro gave them revenants. And yes—there! She could see the thing, wafting through the wall toward her, feel it latching on to her somewhere where her head met her neck, starting to feed.

  Panic struck her. What if this wasn’t what Avery said it was? What if he was trying to thrall her, to thrall all of them?

  But no. This was Avery, not Nauro. Marea watched with fascination as he repeated the process with Ella, a drawn-out wisp drifting out of the ceiling, almost like heavy smoke, then seeping partway into her back.

  “There,” he said. “Give them a few days to seat and we should be ready to really begin. Till then we can practice the five senses—Nauro showed you those, right?”

  Marea frowned. “He showed us how to see and feel them,” she said. “And smell them, I guess. Can you taste and touch them too?”

  “You can,” Avery said, eyes a little distant. “There, barrier’s back. Revenants are just barely physical, but it’s enough to feel them, if you’re paying attention. And they get stronger the more uai they’re fed. If you’ve ever met a hermit who’s losing control to their revenant you can almost see the other person in their eyes.”

  “Prophets,” Ella shuddered. “And this is all common knowledge? Something your initiates would know?”

  Avery gave an apologetic smile. “More like aspirants. Initiates have usually been practicing this stuff for years.”

  “So, we’re a long ways from being able to defend ourselves, in other words?” Tai asked.

  “Especially against what we’re likely to face at Aran?” Ella asked. They were always finishing each other’s thoughts.

  Avery licked his lips, and a rock formed in Marea’s gut. He was looking for the nicest way to tell them they were all going to die.

  “Ollen wasn’t the strongest shaman,” Avery said, “but he was smart. He knew he couldn’t stand up to many of the elders, so he took his cell to the Wanderer stone, knowing it was a long shot, so there’d be less competition there. He mentioned thinking the Yershire stone was a better bet, and not going because other shamans were likely to be there.”

  “Stronger shamans,” Ella said. “Older ones. Elders, you said? Like Nauro?”

  “I didn’t get much chance to meet Nauro,” Avery said, “but yes, if he held off Ollen’s party that long, I would guess he is an elder. Was.”

  Tai’s face went pale. “So we’ll be facing worse than what Ollen’s party did?”

  Avery pursed his lips. “Yeah. Probably.”

  “And we have half a moon to get ready for that,” Ella said flatly.

  And her man was determined to go into the middle of it. The rock got heavier in Marea’s belly. Still, there was no way she was leaving him. Maybe she could still convince him to give it up.

  “Well then,” Feynrick said, rubbing his hands. “Up and at ‘em. Best not be wasting any time, right?”

  37

  News comes on the current—swiftly downstream and slowly up. Even the richest Councilor cannot learn faster than the Ein flows.

  —Sewto Talweth, A Captain’s Tract

  The Wandering Argot was not nearly so grand as its name: a tarred and patched rectangle of wooden barge, forty paces long and twenty wide with a weathered stack of room on the prow. The deck stank of Yati cured pork at the moment, sweet and smoky, but the wood had a deeper smell, of salt and brine and spice and all the thousand things it had hauled in its long career. Of river life, in other words.

  Ella breathed deep. Ralhen’s ship had not smelled nearly so strong, but still it reminded her of her old life, of mornings spent on the back rail watching the world slide by, reading books and dreaming about what was out there. She knew some of that now, had experienced some of the wonders, witnessed sights strange enough even Markels and LeTwi would marvel. She’d had that wonder tempered by cruelty too, by a knowledge of how dangerous the world was. In fact the more she learned of its mysteries, the more dangerous it seemed: Broken, shamans, arch-revenants, waystones—even her own resonance was a danger to her.

  Ella sighed, remembering again the face that had stared back at her from the bowl of water that morning, as she held it still aboard the rolling vessel. Her face, and yet not. A face somewhere between her and her mother. A face she didn’t want to be hers, with its sagging skin and spreading lines and faded spots where once there had only been smooth complexion.

  How long had she been stuck in Credelen’s super-slowed time? How many months or years of her life had passed as time stopped and the air turned to clay in her lungs? Would she have choked or died of old age first, if that barrel stave hadn’t speared Credelen?

  She shuddered, not wanting to think about it. Everyone died, but she did not want to die alone, did not want to die now, when she had finally found a person and a calling she loved. But if she hadn’t used her resonance, hadn’t distracted Credelen even for that half-second, who knew if any of them would have survived?

  So she had to keep using it, at least as long as they were up against shamans and gods. But she wouldn’t kill herself doing it. She had a plan.

  An arm circled her waist. “Deep thoughts this morning?” Tai asked, following her gaze out to the rocky western shoreline, Seinjial peaks rising in the distance.

  “Deep enough,” she said, leaning into him. “Is that… real food I smell?”

  “Real enough,�
� he said, waving a bowl. “Millet porridge with goat’s fat, a little crunchy but a lot better than wintergrass soup.”

  She laughed. “Anything is better than wintergrass soup. They serving it up top?”

  He nodded and glanced at her. “You sure you’re fine?”

  “Never better,” she said, offering him a smile. Wondering if he still saw her smiling, or the old woman that was taking her place.

  Sunrise found Ella standing on one of the tight-stacked barrels lining the aft deck, in a rough circle with Tai, Marea, and Avery. The chill wind whipped her hair straight back, but it felt good, made her feel alive, made her focus.

  Avery started their training much as Nauro had, guiding them to see the wisps of revenants and smell their dead-leaf smell, moving quickly on to feeling them internally as they passed through, then to extend that sensation to their skin and hands, chill or friction or occasionally heat.

  His tests were different than Nauro’s, though. “I’m going to test your touch now,” the young man said, eyes distant as he called forth a revenant. “Close your eyes, and remember what I said: shamanic battles are not all about speed. Each revenant has its own strengths and weaknesses, and needs its own approach. You need to be accurate as well as fast. The first to feel the revenant gets one point. The first to describe it accurately gets two.”

  Ella closed her eyes, glancing as she did at Captain Selwin, who scowled at them from the rudder. He had to wonder what they were doing, even if Avery’s power masked their words. No matter. By the time he had a real inkling they’d be gone.

  Ella felt something in her left hand, but before she could react Marea was crying “There! A—chill!”

  Tai called out “Chill!” at the same moment, while Ella was still searching for the word.

  “Cockstains,” she growled as they opened their eyes, the last wisps of the revenant retreating.

  Marea grinned and patted her on the shoulder. “You’ll catch up, don’t worry.”

  The girl had been sharp before, nearly her and Tai’s equal, but she was a razor’s edge today. Ella felt dull in comparison, her reactions always too late. Tai gave her a sympathetic smile and she ignored him, bending sideways to stretch her hip. They’d been at it for hours, and her joints hurt.

  Prophets. Like her mother’s used to during wet season. She really was getting old.

  Avery glanced at her. “Should we take a break?”

  “No,” Ella snapped, angry they had noticed, angry there was anything to notice. “Again.”

  They pushed on through the morning, Ella keeping up with the others through sheer determination. Avery guided them through increasingly difficult tests, using more and more ephemeral revenants. She was exhausted when Feynrick came from the fore with lunch. She didn’t argue when Avery glanced at her and called a break.

  They sat in a circle on the stout wooden barrels, southern breeze pulling away the Argot’s stink to bring them scents of forest and river and a chill that made her glad for her furs, even if the air had warmed from Yati country. Tai and Marea were joking about their tied scores, the competition apparently overcoming Marea’s frosty attitude toward him, but Ella couldn’t bring herself to look at Avery’s chalk tallies. She was woefully behind.

  How was she ever going to learn what she needed to if she couldn’t keep up?

  “So what’s next?” she asked Avery, trying not to sound too interested. It helped that the morning’s practice had worn her out. “Thralling revenants?”

  The fyelocke’s eyebrows rose. “That’s a long ways off. You have to be very precise about what you thrall, even with all Semeca’s revenants. Thrall the wrong thing and—” He shook his head.

  Ella nodded. “Nauro talked about that. Said you could draw an archrevenant’s attention.”

  “Draw your own death, more like,” Avery said. “I saw it happen once. Was in the front range hunting spirits with a cellmate, and he thought he’d found an unaligned revenant. Those were all you could safely thrall, back in the day.”

  “And?” Marea asked. She was pressed against him on the same barrel, slender legs sticking from her furs to rest on a separate barrel. Interesting choice of dress for a chilly day, but Ella guessed the girl had other priorities.

  “And he was dead in thirty seconds,” Avery said soberly. “I never even saw it coming. He just—fell over. The arch-revenant could have taken me as well, maybe didn’t realize we were together.” He shuddered. “So since then I’ve been pretty careful about what I thrall, and I’d advise you to do the same.”

  “Did you get any of Credelen’s revenants?” Tai asked. “The man seemed pretty powerful.”

  Avery grimaced. “There was no time. Thralling a revenant is like luring a wild animal. You can’t do it fast, and once the host dies they get spooked, streaming off in all directions.”

  “Which is why Nauro always took so long,” Ella said, thinking back. “When we were attacked on the road, he just stood there. I thought he was just bad at what he did, but he was probably trying to thrall the other shaman’s revenants.”

  “Very good,” Avery said. Marea scowled.

  “When you are in a position of advantage,” he went on, “if you have a larger uai stream, or a lot more knowledge, thralling away their power is usually the best option. When you’re not, a direct attack and a little support usually works better.” He winked at Marea, and she blushed.

  “And there’s no way you can thrall revenants before you get your shamanic resonance?” Ella asked.

  Avery hesitated. “Theoretically thralls can be given to someone else, but I’ve never heard of anyone doing it. Before, ah, what happened at Ayugen, most shamans could only hope to thrall a few revenants in their lifetime, so it never really came up.”

  Good. Because Ella didn’t have time to wait for her first revenant to seat, then her second revenant to attach from somewhere, and to seat, and to overcome both of those. She needed power now.

  So after a few more rounds in the afternoon, when the sun set and the wind grew bitter, she stayed out on the barrels, unfocusing her eyes, listening with every sense in her body, seeking for the souls that were drifting out there, that were drifting everywhere once you learned to look, even in the water. She was exhausted, but Avery had said it was possible, and that was all she needed. All she’d ever needed.

  “Hey,” a voice said, startling her from deep concentration, watching the shreds of something no longer alive drift through the needleaves along the rocky coast.

  Tai. “Hey there,” she said, voice a little rough. How long had she been out here? The star was nearly set to the west, fires coming out on the Yati hilltops.

  “You—coming inside soon? Selwin brought us some coals, it’s nice and warm.”

  “Yes! Soon. I just want to—” Wanted to what? Prophets, she was tired.

  Tai crawled up on the barrel next to her. “You still practicing what Avery showed us?”

  She nodded, shame rising. He’d figured out her plan, or he was going to.

  “Plenty of time for that,” he said. “Revenants take days to seat, and then even if we use the harmonies—”

  She nodded. “A week at best before we could access the shamanic resonance without yura. Probably more like two.”

  He shook his head. “The trip’ll take longer than that. We have time. Come inside, love.”

  “We don’t have time,” she said. “I don’t, anyway.” She couldn’t keep the bitterness from her voice.

  And that was all he needed to figure it out. Tai went still beside her, then she felt his shoulders slump. “The uai stream,” he said. “The longevity. You want to start thralling so the cost of slipping doesn’t kill you.”

  “So it doesn’t kill us,” she said, ashamed he’d figured her out but still passionate. “I don’t know how much more I can slip before I’m—”

  “Before you’re old?” he asked. “Before you die?”

  “I almost did, back there,” she said. “You can see it on my f
ace.”

  “I think you’re a long way from dying, still,” he said. “Unless it’s from cold out here.”

  “I’m a long way from living too, if I want to keep up with you and Marea,” she said bitterly. “You saw how I am today. How my reactions are slower, my senses duller, how my bones hurt. I’m old, Tai.”

  “You’re not old,” he said. “Not to me. You’re Ella. The woman I love.”

  “Even if you don’t want to see her naked?”

  He laughed. “Small chance of that happening on the ship anyway.”

  Worry warred with love in her, one side wanting to stay out all night and one side wanting to smile with him, to trust that it would be alright. Her mother would have stayed out, would have held on to her fear and shame.

  Ella sighed, letting go of it. What was shame anyway, between them? “You’re too good for me, you know that?”

  He laughed. “How do you think I feel? When my woman would stay out in the dark and cold just to look a little younger for me?”

  “To keep you alive when you fight shamans and arch-revenants more like.”

  “Thank you,” he said, meeting her eyes, his smile dropping a little. “But freezing out here and losing sleep is not going to help with practice tomorrow. Come inside?”

  Ella took one last glance at the water. Her spirit was still ready to sit out here all night, but her body said a brazier of coals and some sleep was definitely the best option.

  “You win,” she said. “Help an old lady down from these barrels?”

  38

  The days passed quickly aboard the Wandering Argot, Tai taken at first with the novelty of ship travel, and then just with the size of the world. Ayugen, Ninefingers Pass, the Yati hinterlands he could understand, could walk there with his own feet—that was a scale to the world that made sense, like the distance to Gendrys. Even the float down the Yanu hadn’t seemed that different than a long waft over the southern forests, searching for Nauro.

  But the Ein river was endless.