Kingdom Blades (A Pattern of Shadow & Light 4)

by McPhail, Melissa

  Tanis searched for those points again in that moment. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to find them, but they came to him as soon as he cast his mind in search of them, as soon as he decided to know.

  He expanded his mind to embrace Absolute Being, as taught by the Esoterics, making his own awareness large enough to encompass this vastly unknowable distance. Then, maintaining this larger awareness of the entire framework, he brought a part of his awareness back to his body.

  Now feeling immensely larger than the meager space his body occupied, Tanis placed one beam of his awareness on the end of the bridge and another beam on the mountain at his back. Then he pressed the two edges in opposite directions.

  The bridge instantly lengthened from a hundred steps to over a mile in length.

  Sinárr’s lips spread in a slow, approving smile.

  Tanis let go of the larger framework and returned his awareness to his body alone. He turned a look over his shoulder towards the mountains and found them much farther away than he’d expected. He couldn’t be sure if he’d stretched the bridge by moving it outwards or if he’d held the bridge in place and moved the mountains away from it. He didn’t have the clarity of perception to know which thing he’d changed, but he had achieved the end result he’d envisioned—the First Law, well applied.

  Tanis placed his hand on the Warlock’s chest. Immediately that resonance between them intensified. “Do you feel that?”

  Sinárr gave him such a look. “You know that I do.”

  A smile flickered on the lad’s lips. “What you feel, oh Maker of Worlds, is the third strand of elae.”

  Sinárr veritably hissed at him. “Tanis—” he took him by the shoulders.

  Tanis took his in return, mirroring Sinárr’s hold, effectively locking their forms together. “There are things you know, and there are things I know.” Tanis looked him firmly in the eye so there could be no mistaking his meaning or his seriousness about it. “What you perceived in Mérethe, what drew you to her, and what you perceive in me—the trait she and I share—is elae’s third strand.”

  Sinárr looked mystified. “But you’re a truthreader.”

  The flicker of a smile crossed Tanis’s lips. “And a Healer, a Nodefinder…” his smile turned wry, “…a Wildling.”

  The Warlock searched his gaze in open astonishment. “You work all of these strands natively?”

  “Yes.”

  “This is possible?”

  “It’s a rare variant trait.” Resonance hummed between them as they stood locked in each other’s hold. Tanis imagined he could see waves emitting through the aether. “I’m also trained as a wielder, and this has helped me understand the way you use energy and the other esoteric laws that you natively apply.”

  Sinárr held Tanis’s gaze while he pondered his words, golden eyes serious. After a moment, he said, “Explain to me why Warlocks are unable to reach your world if we share a third-strand association.”

  Tanis released him and took a step back—the resonance was becoming distractingly intense. “No strand is so wildly variant as the third,” he replied then, quoting his mother’s teaching. “I have my theories as to why, and possibly you and I can test them together, but for now, what I know is that the third strand has certain patterns associated with it—as do all the strands—but unlike the other strands, third-strand patterns are only workable inside the realm of their genesis.”

  Sinárr shook his head slightly. “I fear I’m no longer following your logic.”

  Tanis exhaled slowly to ease both the humming sensation in his head as well as his apprehension over what he intended. “Assume I’m right and follow this train of thought with me: Mérethe cannot take the form outside of Alorin—correct?”

  Sinárr looked surprised. “This is true. She shared this with you?”

  “No, but it logically follows. Third-strand patterns are only workable inside the realm where they naturally evolved. The pattern that allows her to innately shift forms only works within Alorin, which is why she can take the form there but not in Shadow.”

  “She claims her association with elae has left her. I have sensed this withering of elae’s light and her life.”

  “Hence your pact with Shail, so you could come and go from the realm at will.”

  Sinárr gave him an acknowledging nod.

  “But Mérethe’s connection to elae hasn’t entirely eroded, else she couldn’t take the form at all, and I saw her in Alorin in the form.” Tanis stroked his forehead and frowned slightly. “See, I had it all backwards. I thought her trouble stemmed from being bound to you—she obviously thinks the same—when actually it’s because you took her away from Alorin. The longer she’s stayed beyond reach of the realm, the more her connection to elae is deteriorating.”

  “Tanis, this doesn’t follow logically.” Sinárr clasped hands behind his back and began to pace in an agitated fashion. “If the third strand is so weak outside of the realm, then how can this connection between us be so strong?”

  Tanis walked to the other side of the bridge and leaned back against the railing, crossing his arms. “The third strand connects me to Alorin and attracts you to me, but the intensity we feel together, the resonance…” He was still trying to extrapolate the reason for the resonance.

  Sinárr turned Tanis a look of focused concentration while he continued pacing. “Taking your argument as fact, my bond should’ve kept Mérethe’s link to Alorin strong. Why has she withered?”

  “Because she’s an Avieth. Look, Sinárr,” Tanis held up a hand to entreat his understanding, “all things in my world are formed of patterns. Mérethe is formed of patterns. Her life pattern has two halves—a human half and an Avieth half—but the Avieth half is natively associated with Alorin. When Mérethe departs Alorin, half of what she innately is remains in the realm of her birth.”

  Tanis smoothed a lock of hair back from his eyes and tried to capture Sinárr’s brooding gaze. “Being third strand, Mérethe can survive on the ephemeral presence of the third strand in Shadow, but it’s not enough to sustain her connection to Alorin. And your bond…I suspect your working only commands the human half of her.”

  Sinárr considered this deeply as he paced. Then he pressed his lips together and shook his head. “No…it still has holes, your theory.” He spun in a sanguineous swirl and started pacing back in the other direction. “You claim the link that connects the three of us is the third strand. You claim it is too weak of a thread for Warlocks to follow back into the realm of its attachment.”

  He cast Tanis a speculative eye, deliberately dubious. “Let us pretend this is true—that the third is too weak to sustain you. Yet Adepts from other strands have perished within hours of coming to Shadow. They must be bound quickly lest they be lost. Do you take the position then that the other strands in your native composition are sustaining you as the sole exception?”

  “No, Sinárr.” Tanis exhaled a measured breath. “I can survive here because I’m bound to a Malorin’athgul.”

  Sinárr stopped and stared at him. Then he sat down on the opposite railing and frowned deeply instead.

  Tanis stood up. “I can see your starpoints innately because I’m third strand, like you.” He slowly crossed the distance between them. “And I can make changes to your world—even with such little understanding of Shadow—because I’m a wielder trained in the manifestations of energy.” He stopped in front of the astonished Warlock. “And for all of these reasons, and countless others, I would bind myself to you, Sinárr, if you would equally bind yourself to me.”

  “Tanis…” Sinárr shook his head slowly, holding the lad’s gaze, “it has never been done.”

  “Do you fear it?”

  The Warlock cracked a smile. “I more have no idea how to accomplish it, but I admit a certain apprehension.”

  Tanis arched a brow. “Why?”

  Sinárr stood to better meet his challenging gaze—or rather, to stare down at him, for he was a head taller than the lad—but
his eyes were dancing with a sort of dark promise. He fingered the placket on Tanis’s coat with a smile hinting on his lips. “Bound to a reckless wielder?”

  “Reckless?” Tanis protested.

  Sinárr gave him a telling look. “You did not see the results of your last working in Shail’s temple that night. Many eidola remain buried beneath the mountain.”

  Tanis had almost forgotten about his desperate attempt to escape Shail or die trying. “Oh…right.”

  Sinárr stepped closer to Tanis, a looming shadow with eyes of golden light. “But I do not think you make this proposition to me so cavalierly as you would have me believe.” He trailed his hand down the lapel of Tanis’s coat while leveling a beacon gaze upon the lad. “What is the rest of it?”

  Tanis reminded himself that for all he found the cloak of boldness a better fit than timidity, he was throwing down his gauntlet before an immortal who could crush him with a thought. His only real defense was Sinárr’s innate sense of restraint.

  He had to work some moisture back into his mouth. “A binding between Adepts is a troth.”

  Sinárr still had hold of the cloth of his coat and was stroking it with his thumb. “So I’ve been told.”

  “A promise to each other and to each other’s causes.”

  Sinárr lifted his gaze to meet Tanis’s. “And what is this cause you would bind me to, through you?”

  Tanis took a deep breath. “The protection of the Realms of Light from any who seek to harm them.”

  Sinárr gave a deep and haunting chuckle. He looked Tanis over again with a hungering gaze. “I accept.”

  Tanis gulped a swallow.

  “But you knew that I would,” Sinárr eyed his discomfiture amusedly, “for I’ve already told you I would go to any lengths to bind with you.” The Warlock ran his hand over Tanis’s shoulder and down his arm, his manner both predatory and possessive. “And if you’re wrong, and no third-strand link exists…” his hand closed around Tanis’s arm while his gaze bound the lad’s attention like the sun binding a planet to its orbit, “…we have a troth, regardless.”

  “Yes,” Tanis scraped out.

  Sinárr released him. “This is a pleasing arrangement.” He clasped hands behind his back and stepped out over the abyss. The bridge lengthened to receive his lowering foot.

  Beset by a sudden hollow and nervous energy, Tanis watched the Warlock striding away. “There’s one more thing I would ask.”

  Sinárr eyed him over his shoulder. “We’ve already concluded our accord.”

  “This isn’t a condition, Sinárr, it’s a request.”

  “Very well, Tanis. Make your appeal.”

  Tanis watched him strolling on, taking each step as if into nothing, only to find the marble bridge beneath his foot when it landed. “Return Mérethe to Alorin.”

  Sinárr stilled.

  Tanis slowly walked down the bridge to join him. “Mérethe isn’t eidola. If you return her to Alorin and release her from your bond, she may yet recover her connection to elae.”

  Sinárr frowned deeply at this. “And if she does not?”

  “She’ll die a natural death.”

  “Or so you believe.” Sinárr searched his gaze, looking troubled by the prospect. “You’ve spoken to her about this?”

  “Yes. I didn’t ask her about severing her bond with you, but there’s little chance she’ll regain her connection with elae unless you release her from it, because while it once tied you to Alorin, it certainly still ties her to Shadow.”

  “And you believe this is draining her due to her Avieth nature.”

  Tanis nodded.

  The Warlock sank into a thoughtful silence. Then he exhaled a slow breath. “I will put the offer to her, but now let us proceed with our collaboration. I’ve enjoyed the tantalizing promise of you long enough.” He moved towards Tanis.

  The lad pushed a hand hastily against Sinárr’s chest. “I need elae to work my side of the binding.”

  Sinárr frowned at this.

  Tanis shook his head to deny the things the Warlock was thinking. “We trust each other now or never.”

  Sinárr looked the lad over, tasting him with his eyes. “You are a prodigious creature. Very well, I will give you access to elae and trust that you won’t use it to try to escape me, but…” he arched a curious brow, “have you any idea how to forge this connection? A Warlock and a mortal have never been mutually bound.”

  “I have an idea of how to begin.” Tanis tried not to think on what would happen if he was wrong. “For the rest…?” he shrugged.

  Sinárr radiated a sort of dark admiration. “You gamble everything on a guess.”

  “The greater the risk, the greater the reward.” Tanis wished he felt more comfortable with those odds.

  The Warlock chuckled. “Your mouth says one thing and your expression quite another. Come then, let’s see which of us your Cephrael will serve.”

  “If I do this right, He’ll serve us both.” Tanis braced himself mentally for what was to come and blew out an explosive breath. “Give me your hand.”

  Looking amused, Sinárr placed his hand into Tanis’s palm. Tanis knew the Warlock thought he would fail in his attempt. He just wished Sinárr didn’t have to act so smug about it.

  In the next moment, Tanis felt a shift, like a window opening in the frame of Sinárr’s universe, and elae flooded in. Tanis closed his eyes and let the lifeforce’s warmth wash over him, into him. He reveled in the exquisite sensation of fullness after so many barren days, like a withered plant restored of vitality by a hearty watering.

  With elae’s return, Tanis instantly perceived Pelas’s mind again. Reaching him would’ve been as simple as a thought; yet while the urge to contact Pelas was instinctive and strong, Tanis knew it wasn’t yet time for their paths to rejoin.

  Still holding Sinárr’s hand in his, the lad opened his eyes and drew his dagger—wait, dagger?—and before the Warlock could wonder at it, he’d pulled the Merdanti tip across Sinárr’s palm.

  Red blood welled against black skin. Tanis cut his own palm across his own earlier, still-healing scar. Then he mashed his hand into the Warlock’s and met Sinárr’s gaze. “Open your mind to me.”

  A flicker of uncertainty crossed the Warlock’s brow. “Tanis…you don’t know what you’re asking.”

  Tanis forced the thought insistently across to him, Open your mind to me as mine is open to you, or we can’t forge this binding.

  Perhaps it was the tone of Tanis’s mental command, or perhaps the fourth flooding into him gave additional weight to his request, but Sinárr shook his head and complied, albeit with a don’t say I didn’t warn you look.

  Then Tanis perceived—

  Dear Epiphany…

  Had he not already conceived of the plane of Chaos through his connection to Pelas—and what a mind-altering experience that had proven to be—the vastness of a mind linked to Shadow might’ve overwhelmed him, even to the point of madness. Sinárr had been right to caution him on this course.

  Tanis saw the space Sinárr had framed—an immense, unknowable distance of galactic proportions, encompassing entire solar systems—yet Sinárr’s universe became but a speck of dust compared to Shadow’s infinity. The mortal mind couldn’t conceive of so much space with absolutely nothing in it.

  Tanis felt immeasurably miniscule against such an enormity of nonexistence. The weight of it pressed powerfully against his consciousness. He felt himself shrinking beneath it, dwindling into insignificance, as if the empty space was the Divine All and him, nothing…

  No disappearing on me now, Tanis… Sinárr’s amused voice recalled him as a wayward kite, reeling him rapidly back from an oblivion of unbeing. You’ll not escape this binding so easily as that.

  Sinárr drew Tanis’s consciousness back within his own universe, and Tanis once again perceived the Warlock’s starpoints framing space. They anchored and reoriented him. Tanis regained his equilibrium and managed a smile. Nor you, Sinárr.
<
br />   The Warlock nodded accommodatingly. Let us proceed then.

  Tanis shook off the lingering sensation of unbeing and focused back on his task. His foray into Shadow’s void had at least shown him that no energy existed outside of the space the Warlock himself had framed. Which meant he’d been wrong in one of his conclusions, but he still believed he was right overall. He would just have to seek the third stand elsewhere than Shadow’s void.

  Blood is the catalyst…forming a bond of connection…

  With his mother’s words as a guide, Tanis dove into the first strand and followed its course, curious as to what he would find. He’d been taught that deyjiin was a consumptive power and antipathetic to life and elae. Yet Tanis had seen Sinárr create universes with deyjiin, and it obviously sustained him the way elae sustained Adepts.

  Tanis let his awareness drift upon the strands of the first.

  Without currents to pull the energy along established channels, elae drifted and coalesced according to its own attractive properties. Tanis sank into the energy, letting it curl and undulate around him, and assessed everything he perceived.

  He soon observed that his life energy and the Warlock’s mingled, even seemed to somehow embrace the other’s particles, yet couldn’t combine.

  But where is the third?

  Every strand of elae had a unique aspect to its energy: the fifth was elemental, the second kinetic, and so on. Scholars had been warring over the nature of the ‘wildly variant’ third strand for eons. But Tanis had developed his own theory. He suspected it had something to do with time.

  Time, which binds everything and nothing. Time, which exists only as the rate of change or the rate of energy decay. Time, which exists only in our perception because we have decided that things should endure.

  If this theory was correct, however, Tanis knew the likelihood of finding a trace of the third strand without the currents of elae to channel it was slim to none. This presented a problem, because unless he could find the third strand as a connecting point between himself and Sinárr, he had no way of pinning elae to the Warlock, no way of binding Sinárr to him.