He could feel his breaths draw in little oxygen. It was such a contrast to the painful pressure he had been enduring only moments before.
Daylen had passed through the Barrier and had been touching his sunstone, if not also the darkstone. And I didn’t die, he thought to himself again.
He looked to his hand in shock, confirming what was already obvious: the stone was gone. And yet his hands looked different…
There were no sun spots or wrinkles. Smooth, clear, strong hands were at the end of his arms, arms that felt…sturdy.
Daylen realized that since the stones had disappeared he hadn’t been forcing his breaths to come, even with the extremely thin air.
Daylen breathed in deeply, trying to get more oxygen into his lungs, and was amazed at how easy it was even though the thin pressure gave little oxygen.
Daylen’s lungs were definitely working better; as good as they ever had, in fact.
He hesitantly touched his face and felt no wrinkles. No haggard and loose skin. Instead, he felt a strong jaw and a smooth face.
Hesitantly, Daylen raised a hand to the top of his head and felt hair—thick, plentiful hair that flapped in the wind. He pulled a few strands out. Even amidst the flails from the battering wind, Daylen could see the strands were dark blue.
Somehow, as impossible as it seemed, instead of dying, he had become young again!
This was a cruel joke! Daylen had finally reached the end of his life where he could have release from his guilt, and at the very moment when the blessed end had come, his life had instead returned in full. A tease of release and then a stab through the heart!
No, not a joke, Daylen thought suddenly. A punishment.
This was the punishment he had chosen for himself ever since coming to truly understand the magnitude of his crimes: to live with his self-loathing and guilt. And now, it seemed, the Light agreed with him. His punishment was to live, for what else could have done this to him but the Light itself?
But did that really matter? He was falling, and the wind currents had already carried him several kilometers away from the continent. It was true that an inward wind could carry things back over the continent, but that rarely ever happened when they were cast away with an outward continental drift.
Daylen would fall for eternity and starve to death. But then why hadn’t the Light just let him die when he passed through the Barrier?
The only possible answer was worse than he could imagine. The Light wanted him to live, because it was the worst thing that could be inflicted upon him.
It was what he deserved.
And the worst part about it was that knowing the Light’s chosen punishment, if Daylen was truly sorry for his crimes, he was obligated to do everything in his power to see it done—even if that meant trying to survive the fall.
Daylen was many things, but never a coward, and thus he would accept every lash pronounced upon him.
Not for the first time that fall, Daylen wept.
It took a long time for Daylen’s sorrow to dry, and even longer to steel himself to the reality of life.
Of course that still left the problem of falling to his death.
Hopefully that would still happen, but first Daylen had to try and prevent it. Then and only then would Daylen know it was the Light and not himself that had ended his torment. Giving up and letting himself be killed when he could have prevented it was as cowardly as ending his own life to escape the Light’s just punishment.
Daylen growled in acceptance, forcing his faculties awake. He had to at least try and survive.
Unless he fell into a new current that blew him back over the continent, his only hope would be if he fell near a trawling skyship and got their attention.
Then as if by providence Daylen fell into a new wind which blew in the opposite direction, pushing him back toward the continent.
Daylen could scarcely believe it. If this rare and ever so timely wind wasn’t a sign from the Light, then nothing was.
Countless people had fallen from the continent before; more by accident, of course, unless they had been pushed, which was known to happen. Several procedures had been put in place to prevent or save people from the fall.
For one, every edgeside structure or village had large safety nets constructed several meters below to catch those that fell.
Daylen could try and land on one of those nets, but it would be hard to hit them from such a height. Still, even if he missed the net, he would have a good chance of being noticed by someone as he fell past. If that happened, the people could try and dispatch a skyship to scoop him up or throw a skimmer down after him; and if none of that happened, Daylen could try and stop his fall by grabbing the thick side of the continent as he fell past. That would be damned hard when falling at terminal velocity, but it was something.
Daylen needed to measure his descent to reach the edge at the same time he reached the surface. If he overshot it, he would find nothing but an unceremonious union with the ground.
It was going to be tricky, but the Light seemed to be willing to lend an unwelcome hand.
This was all light-blindingly hard to swallow. Life, after being so ready for death. It would take months to truly come to terms with it but things were the way they were.
At least he had this new body. Daylen clenched his fists and flexed his muscles to test their strength.
The energy of youth filled him.
Aside from the soul-crushing reality of his punishment, physically Daylen felt incredible—better, even. His senses were awake and sharp, no more dulled by age and fatigue, and the glorious sunlight embraced him as if he were immersed in a warm bath… But he had never felt anything like that before.
Daylen could feel the light as if it were a physical thing. He was touching it with his hands; it was like he could grab hold of it if he wanted. It felt amazing; like the warmth one feels when embracing a loved one. Daylen wanted more of it, and tried to close his fist around the light. Of course, nothing happened, as he couldn’t just grab light.
It didn’t matter, for the light felt wonderful, and Daylen happily let the enjoyable sensation distract him from his bitter sorrow.
Daylen stretched out, controlling his fall as he had been taught to do so many years ago, the light seeming to immerse his whole body. He breathed in deeply, wanting to take in this incredible feeling; but this time as air filled his lungs, light flowed inside of him, filling his body.
Energy surged inside. Somehow that feeling on his skin was now within every fiber of his being.
It felt wonderful, and Daylen wanted more. He drew in more light, which caused it to push on him from the inside, like it needed to go somewhere.
Hesitantly, Daylen drew in more light, and as he did a pressure grew until it began to hurt.
This might not have been a good idea, Daylen thought to himself.
Daylen tried to breathe the light out, but it didn’t leave. He tensed, pushed, and stretched his limbs, but nothing happened.
The pain grew.
Could I put it into something else? he thought. Not release it back into the world, but put it into something like I brought it into me?
Daylen looked around, but there was nothing even remotely near. He grabbed his coat and tried to breathe the light into it. Nothing happened. Pressing his palm onto it and even slapping it did nothing.
Part of him wanted to draw in more light to see if it would tear him apart, but Daylen would fight to live, as much as he hated it. If life was what the Light had inflicted on him, he would embrace it and make sure to meet every measure he deserved.
Daylen groaned, trying to think of a way to release the light. He looked about as he thought in a vain attempt to see anything that could give him an idea, his eyes straining as they gazed down at the land far below, barely visible through the clouds and the blue haze of the air.
Suddenly Daylen felt all the light inside him flow into his eyes. His vision became amazingly clear.
He could see thin
gs at an incredible distance and make out details at least ten times as minute and fine.
The giant continent was still very far beneath him, stretching out in the distance as far as he could see, which right then was very, very far. Daylen was awed by the sight.
Then his vision returned to normal, all the light in him gone.
Daylen couldn’t believe what he’d just done, let alone what had just happened to him! He was young again, though how young he didn’t know until he could see his reflection; and on top of that, he had this strange new ability.
“The stones!” Daylen said in realization, but stopped at hearing his own voice.
It was muffled by the wind, of course, but it had still rung in his ears. It hadn’t been old and croaky, but young and clear.
I haven’t heard that voice in years, Daylen thought.
This change must have happened because he had been touching both a darkstone and a sunstone. Could that also be the reason why he’d become young?
He doubted it. There was too much poetic justice in the transformation for it to have been chance. The Light had a cruel sense of humor.
But touching the stones might have been the thing that had enabled him to feel the light and draw it into himself.
Had anyone else discovered this? Daylen could understand if they hadn’t. It was a fact known worldwide that passing through the Barrier while touching one of the stones would kill you, just like knowing the bite of a jutterbug was poisonous—so who in their right mind would knowingly touch both? Well, Daylen, as it turned out.
Hesitantly, Daylen drew light into himself once more and tried to channel the light into his eyes.
It worked, and his vision sharpened briefly and then returned to normal.
Daylen tried again, but this time continued to draw in light as he channeled it into his eyes. His vision sharpened again, bringing the world into remarkable focus, and this time the clarity remained. It seemed that, for as long as he drew in the light, he could channel it into his eyes, and they would be empowered by it.
But could he channel the light into anything else?
Daylen stopped drawing in light and his vision quickly returned to normal. He drew on the light again, and this time tried to channel it into his ears.
The loud torrent of wind became deafening.
Screaming, Daylen covered his ears and stopped drawing on the light.
Okay, not such a good idea. But it had worked—he could channel the light into other parts of his body.
Still falling through the air, Daylen tested his strength; and though there wasn’t really anything to test his strength on, he did feel stronger. He tried his nose next and was amazed at how dusty his coat smelled.
Could I do more than one? he wondered.
Daylen drew in light once more and this time tried to channel it into both his eyes and nose. His vision sharpened and his scent became keen.
He could smell the dirt on the soles of his shoes and the air had a sharp, damp scent that was nearly overpowering.
Daylen then tried to add another path for the light, and then another. It stopped at four. He could bond light to four different parts of his body.
Bond, Daylen thought. To bind light. To lightbind. That’s the very name of the power the Archknights possess! Do I have the powers of the Archknights?
That should have been impossible, because a person was supposed to make the knight’s pledge to fight evil for the rest of their lives in order to receive this magic. It was the same way the holy Lightbringers received their powers after dedicating their lives to helping others.
People had speculated there might be other magics in the world that would come from different oaths and lifelong dedications. None had been discovered. So far there were only three known magics: lightbringing, lightbinding, and lightblaring, the last being the power of the Shade.
What Daylen was doing certainly fit the description of lightbinding, but he hadn’t made any vow.
Many years ago Daylen had sent spies to try and discover how the knights received their powers. All he had found was that they performed a ritual, called the Vigil, on a ceremonial skyship that flew toward the sun. He was never able to get a spy on the ship itself.
If that skyship crossed the Barrier during its flight, Daylen might have finally discovered the real way they received their powers. But they certainly didn’t become young from it; indeed, many initiates died from the ritual.
Still falling, but now with greater control, Daylen tried to test his powers again. He had seen one knight fly once. Such an ability would prove most useful in Daylen’s current predicament. He drew in light and tried to channel it into…flying. Nothing happened.
Maybe they flew through manipulating the element.
Daylen tried to push the light into the wind. Nothing worked. Maybe the knight had flown through manipulating gravity? Daylen tried to bond the light to gravity, not really knowing how except to will it. Again, nothing.
Daylen had seen an Archknight call down a storm of lightning once that had destroyed a whole fleet of skyships—his skyships, in fact, during the Empire War. Daylen didn’t exactly want to strike himself with lightning by accident, so he skipped that one. In any case it appeared that Daylen could only bond light to his physical abilities and senses. If it was in his body, it seemed to work. Perhaps the Archknights’ power, lightbinding, manifested differently from knight to knight. Most of them generally seemed stronger and faster than the average person, but he had only seen a couple do the lightning trick, while those same knights never seemed to do things other knights could, like lift a wagon or move incredibly fast. Maybe each knight could only bond light to one thing? But if that was the case, why could Daylen apparently bond light to any physical attribute? Maybe he wasn’t a Lightbinder, but rather something similar yet different?
The constant rushing wind brought Daylen’s mind back to what was happening around him. He was falling…and all the power in the world wouldn’t count for squat if he became a smear on the ground.
With the continent so far beneath him, it was hard to tell how close he was to its edge. It seemed he was approaching at a good pace, but he was still too high to make out a village or town.
Well I have these powers now, so I might as well use them, Daylen thought and bonded light to his sight. Everything became so much clearer. It was like he could zoom in and see things closer than they were. With his enhanced sight, he quickly found the closest edge-side village.
“Close” was a relative term, for it was very far from him and against the wind. He had already overshot the side of the continent and now fell towards solid ground.
Well that ruins my plans, Daylen thought, and was surprised that he felt disappointed. Even though he wanted to die, surviving this fall was a unique challenge Daylen had set out to achieve, and he hated losing.
But from the time he had formulated his plan to land on an Edge Net, he had discovered some significant things, such as these new powers. So, could he use them to survive the fall?
He could bond light into attributes of his body, like his strength and senses, but could he channel light into more specific qualities, like his ability to heal or his weight? Though Daylen had only seen a few Archknights fly, most could jump great distances. Was it by manipulating their weight that they were able to jump so far, or was this due to brute strength?
Daylen cautiously drew in light and tried to bond it to his body’s weight with the intent to make himself lighter. Nothing happened.
Thinking, Daylen remembered that weight was itself the result of gravity and he had already tried bonding light to gravity. No, if he wanted to affect his weight by altering an internal property, he would need to alter his mass, not his weight. So Daylen tried to will the light he drew in to infuse his mass, with the intent to reduce it.
Daylen suddenly fell faster with a great burst, a strong gust of wind smacking his face, but then Daylen felt his velocity decrease significantly from the wind pushing back
against him.
“That was weird,” Daylen said. “Why did I get a sudden burst of speed?” At least apart from the initial anomaly, the final result was what he expected. He knew that gravity didn’t pull on him any less—gravity pulled on all things at the same rate regardless of their mass—but with less mass, he was effectively lighter, and therefore the drag from the wind affected him to a far greater degree, causing him to fall slower: the very same reason why a feather fell so slowly.
His weight must have changed significantly to produce such an effect, light his body felt like a sail in the wind.
If he reduced his mass like this and then increased the strength of his muscles, bones and fortitude, he might actually survive hitting the ground. It was a risk and would probably hurt like a bastard, but it might work.
“Amazing!” Daylen said, able to hear his voice much better now that he was falling at a slower rate. Light, he sounded like a pup.
Daylen stretched out his arms and legs, creating more drag, and this slowed him even further, almost to a gentle drift.
“But at this rate it’ll take two falls to reach the ground…unless it works in reverse.”
Daylen tried to switch the path of his light from reducing his mass to increasing it.
Suddenly the wind blowing in his face ceased. For a fraction of a second he had stopped in midair, as attested by his clothes which whipped down.
Then he fell and gained speed rapidly. Very rapidly.
“What in Light’s end?” Daylen said, trying to understand what had just happened. He was moving fast now, very fast, but why had the initial increase in mass slowed him and the decrease in mass given him a momentary burst of speed?
Maybe increasing his mass was like trying to pick up a boulder from the ground while running past it. If his momentum wasn’t enough to overcome his new mass’s stationary inertia, he would be brought to a standstill before gravity accelerated him.
“That’s it!” Daylen said in realization. “The new mass has no kinetic energy.”
And now because Daylen had far greater mass, it took more wind resistance to level out his acceleration from gravity, meaning his terminal velocity was much higher and he fell faster than before.
Shadow of the Conqueror Page 5
