Kingdom Blades (A Pattern of Shadow & Light 4)

by McPhail, Melissa

  “Rafael, it is so.”

  Rafael swung back to Tanis and studied him twice as intently as before. His hair sparkled with dark embers, and his wings continued dripping deyjiin. A threatening energy coalesced around him. “And you…Tanis,” something in the way Rafael said his name made Tanis want to crawl under a couch, “what is your relationship with Pelasommáyurek?”

  Tanis sensed he was standing on very dangerous ground indeed. He had to work a little moisture back into his mouth. “We worked the Unbreakable Bond, sir.”

  Again the wings flapped their disbelief, raining a starfall of deyjiin. Rafael grabbed Tanis’s arm and pulled him close. “Pelasommáyurek bound himself to you?”

  Tanis was feeling bombarded by confusing parallels of power—Sinárr’s, Rafael’s, his own energies, perhaps—he didn’t understand the cause, but he felt bounced and jarred and torn in multiple directions, as if buffeted by a damaging wind.

  Rafael lifted his darkling gaze to Sinárr. “I would speak more of these matters. May I host you both?”

  Please, no!

  Sinárr bowed his head. “We would be honored, Rafael.”

  Whereupon Tanis felt a nudging at his mind and became aware suddenly of Rafael’s starpoints, as if the Warlock had just turned up the lamps to their fullest intensity.

  Sinárr wrapped his mind protectively around Tanis and directed him in duplicating Rafael’s starpoints, a master painter guiding an apprentice’s hand. Tanis knew how to do this on his own, yet he was grateful for Sinárr’s assistance, because something in the action…again, he perceived a definite etiquette involved.

  He sensed it in Rafael’s invitation, in Sinárr’s modest response, in the way they approximated each other’s starpoints with amity, tiptoeing with whisper touches. The interchange reminded Tanis of the propositions occurring on the fringes of a court ball, a polite flirtation of advance and withdrawal.

  Yet he perceived so much more surrounding these intricacies also, for he understood that these were vital details which differentiated an action that was essentially the same whether offered in amity or aggression. More interesting still was recognizing an intimacy in this duplication, as if Rafael had offered a coveted invitation to a private room, one refused at grave peril. They handled one another’s starpoints with kid gloves…and their universes combined.

  Existential planes shifted.

  Tanis felt a nearly toppling sense of imbalance.

  He blinked, and the world had changed.

  Now they stood among the brightly colored whorls of a nebula so vast it defied description. An obsidian glass bridge extended away into clouds studded with stars, worlds unto themselves, but Rafael directed them towards a staircase as wide as a river, which descended an incomprehensible length through star-clouds painted in gossamer hues.

  As they walked, Rafael placed a hand on Tanis’s shoulder, oozing power with his touch, guiding the lad possessively to his side. Tanis shot a rather desperate look at Sinárr, but the Warlock merely nodded for him to go with Rafael.

  What if I don’t want to go with Rafael? Tanis cast Sinárr a private plea.

  You invited him, Tanis. Sinárr sounded less irritated now, though a faint note of reprimand still underscored his tone, as that of a possessive friend suddenly forced to share his intimate meal with many unwelcome others. Tanis was fairly sure Sinárr thought of him as the meal more than the friend.

  You realize I didn’t mean to summon Rafael, right?

  And yet you did. These are the consequences you must bear. Warlocks don’t treat one another rudely. It simply is not done.

  Tanis cast a grumbling look over his shoulder. Punishment doesn’t seem beyond you, though.

  “Tanis, Tanis…” Rafael spoke his name as if trying to dissect its many flavors. “Imagine my surprise at learning that you summoned me—you, a child of Light, molding Shadow as though elae, duplicating my own starpoints?” His power called to Tanis differently than Sinárr’s, but no less coercively, and his obsidian gaze sparkled with beguiling invitation, compelling Tanis to partake of its dangerous darkness.

  Tanis didn’t think looking deeply into Rafael’s eyes would be at all a good idea. He observed the impossible starscape surrounding them instead. “I hope I didn’t offend you, sir.”

  “On the contrary, my curiosity knows no bounds.” Rafael shifted his wings behind him in a whisper of velvet fluttering that shed deyjiin in a chill mist. A kiss of burning ice laced across Tanis’s cheek. “And what did you think of my tree city of Taerenhal?”

  Tanis recalled Sinárr’s lecture on the importance of admiration. “I thought it a wondrous work, sir.”

  A half-smile tugged at Rafael’s mouth. “I see Sinárr has been instructing you in our ways…how to charm a Warlock and win his benevolence.”

  The lad managed an uncomfortable swallow. “I rather think it’s the other way around, sir.” He had no doubt that Rafael was trying to charm him and likely would’ve already had him in thrall if not for the protection of Sinárr’s binding.

  Rafael turned forward again wearing that hint of a smile. He was undeniably bewitching and outrageously intimidating. Tanis didn’t wonder that Pelas had made friends with him.

  As if reading of his thoughts—and perhaps he had, for they were in his universe after all—Rafael posed, “Pelasommáyurek…” he arched a brow in fey challenge, “you know him well?”

  Tanis was starting to wonder if Rafael might perceive him as a rival for Pelas’s affections. He might not have understood the complicated etiquette of Warlocks, but it didn’t take a genius to observe how jealously possessive they were. “I haven’t known him long, sir…not nearly so long as you have.”

  Rafael clasped hands behind his back and turned an unreadable look off into the vista.

  They floated on together—there was no other way of describing the motion of their progress, for Tanis felt none of gravity’s pull, yet some force assuredly held their feet to the dark-glass steps—with Rafael’s wings flowing once more as a cloak behind them.

  Tanis watched the Warlock striding along, a god strolling within the universe of his own creation, and saw himself in Rafael’s eyes—a mortal Adept boy, yet one that had somehow claimed the heart of an immortal who Rafael himself desired… It was like one of those theatrical Cyrenaic dramas that pitted mortals against their gods, the kind of play that never ended well for the mortal.

  “I admit my bemusement at learning that Pelas bound himself to you.” Rafael’s tone implied more than bemusement; more like complete bewilderment.

  Tanis felt the world shifting beneath him again, hinting of portentous change. He gave the Warlock a wan smile. “I’m still coming to grips with it myself, sir.”

  Rafael frowned. “I sense an earnest candor beneath this confession, yet my impression was that your binding with Pelas was mutual. Did you not bind yourself to him in the same working? Why, if you were so uncertain of him?”

  Tanis rubbed at one eye. “It seemed like the right thing to do at the time.”

  Rafael drew back with a faint flutter of wings. “That’s quite a risk to take with your eternity, mortal child.” He looked him over speculatively. “And now what is your view of this decision?”

  “Now…” Tanis exhaled a slow breath, “now I’m sure of it.”

  Rafael paused mid-stride to observe him. Then he lifted his gaze to Sinárr, who was just coming up on Tanis’s other side. “However did you come across this boy, Sinárr?”

  “Shailabanáchtran had him in hand, a lure for his brother.”

  “Shailabanáchtran.” Rafael’s tone made the name sound unclean. His gaze narrowed dangerously. “Pelas would’ve been in a dire crisis if I hadn’t come to his aid—after you coincided his starpoints, Sinárr. I assume to retrieve your treasured Tanis here.”

  “Whenever have you not come to Pelas’s aid, Rafael?”

  Dark flames shot through Rafael’s hair, shedding bright embers into the firmament, as with sparks in the s
moke tumbling upwards from a fire. He leaned closer to Sinárr with his wings rising threateningly behind him. “Do you know what Shailabanáchtran did to his brother after you coincided Pelas’s starpoints?”

  Sinárr shook his head slightly, keen to Rafael’s ire. “He didn’t discuss his intentions with me.”

  Rafael’s aggressively shivering wings riled deyjiin into massive silver clouds. “He left Pelas prey to a clutch of revenants.”

  Sinárr drew back. “I had no idea—”

  “That your ally would stoop so low?”

  Sinárr’s gaze darkened to a smoldering consideration. “We are allies no longer, Rafael. My bond with Tanis makes any pact with Shailabanáchtran unnecessary.”

  Rafael’s wings abruptly calmed. “That is well,” he turned away, “for I find the offense unforgivable.”

  The world shifted again.

  Suddenly Tanis stood in a palace of darkly translucent glass floating within a nebula. He looked down to the singularly unnerving experience of watching gaseous clouds of every imaginable color churning beneath his feet, stars shifting in and out of view with the shifting vapors, and of realizing that he was looking upon entire worlds, yet so distant as to seem as pearls, or pebbles, or naught but specks of glittering dust.

  Tanis understood better of Warlocks in that moment. Their courtship of admiration involved elaborate displays of imagination. The result was world upon world, each more ingenious and inventive than the last.

  Sinárr clasped hands behind his back and cast an admiring gaze around the palace. Its walls and vaulted ceiling held just enough solidity to discern their elegant shape without blocking the view of the immense star-clouds surrounding them. “You have outdone yourself, Rafael.”

  In the shift from stairway to palace, Rafael’s wings had become a velvet cloak again. It draped long now from his gilded shoulders and trailed across the floor. “I thank you graciously, Sinárr.”

  Tanis added, “My admiration knows no bounds, sir.” It seemed obvious that he’d never seen its like, so he didn’t say this, though he certainly thought it.

  Rafael arched a brow. “He speaks on two planes, this one, as a zanthyr’s duplicitous speech, yet with earnest intent.”

  “Tanis speaks with wisdom beyond his years, Rafael. You needn’t hold it against him.”

  “If I were to hold anything against your Tanis, Sinárr, wisdom it would not be.” Rafael settled Tanis an unnerving smile, then led away through an arcade of arches, out onto a terrace formed of the same darkly translucent glass.

  Sinárr held a hand for Tanis to lead the way.

  The lad pushed his feet into motion after Rafael and his gaze in a protest towards Sinárr. You’re enjoying this far too much.

  Sinárr clasped hands behind his back. I admit a certain satisfaction in this instructive lesson, Tanis-mine.

  Instructive in what—how petulant you can be about sharing me?

  Sinárr gave a mental chuckle. It is my hope you will gain more yet than this understanding alone.

  Beyond the terrace, an extravagant staircase led down to a fountain spewing diamond waters, only…the gleaming droplets were too viscous for water; more like melted glass. And beyond the huge fountain, the churning rose-violet-blue-green nebula blocked the starscape like the imposing mountains of the Navárrel.

  Surreal did not begin to describe it.

  “A wielder is limited by what he can envision.” Rafael appeared beside Tanis and extended a goblet filled with a darkly sparkling drink—though his gaze was more darkly alluring still. “Is that not the saying in your Alorin?”

  The liquid whispered effervescently in Tanis’s thoughts, promising experiences unimagined. Rafael’s gaze promised more.

  Sinárr took the drink out of Rafael’s hand, breaking the momentary enchantment. Tanis sucked in a relieved breath.

  “Tanis isn’t ready for your heady enthrallment, Rafael.” Sinárr held up the cup in gratitude and then drank deeply of it. His golden eyes shone more brightly thereafter.

  Rafael smiled wryly while trailing a liquid gaze across Tanis. “He seemed desirous enough.”

  “As if you gave him any choice.”

  Rafael turned his smile on Sinárr. “As much choice as you likely gave the lad in binding with you.” He seated himself in a chair.

  Sinárr took a chair across from the other Warlock. “We needn’t argue over which of us is more humane, Rafael. You will always win that debate.”

  “That’s encouraging,” Tanis muttered.

  Rafael’s dark eyes danced between them. “The lad is wondering now if he bound himself to the right Warlock. Perhaps he should bind with me also, that he might make a more informed decision.”

  Tanis perceived a terrifying invitation in this offer. He felt suddenly like the Warlocks had declared open season on his affections—though surely Rafael’s only interest in binding with him was to become bound to Pelas by extension.

  “I think three immortals is my limit, sir.” Tanis sank down on a chair between the two of them, wondering if he should’ve accepted that drink.

  “Three?” Rafael turned a portentous stare upon Sinárr.

  Who gave a resigned sigh. “There is a zanthyr as well.”

  Rafael clapped a hand to his cheek and fell back to regard Tanis with intense speculation. “Malorin’athgul, zanthyr, Warlock…each bound to you, and by extension your cause, whatever it may be…”

  Sinárr nodded to the edge on his tone, demanding answer, as much as to his perception. “In return for Tanis’s binding, I’ve promised to protect the Realms of Light.”

  Rafael’s eyes widened upon Tanis. “You are a portentous youth.” He studied him for a moment longer before aiming a considering look at Sinárr. “Speaking of joined realms, do you have recent cognizance of Wylde?”

  “I have not seen it since its genus, when Baelfeir invited my involvement and I declined.”

  “As did I, suspecting his motives, but many did not, as you know.”

  Hearing the true name for the Demon Lord Belloth spoken with camaraderie made all the hairs stand up on the back of Tanis’s neck. That sense of unbalance exponentially worsened. Tanis croaked out, “Baelfeir, sir?”

  “There are two camps among us, Tanis-mine.” Sinárr traced the arm of his glass chair with a forefinger while a slight furrow narrowed his ebony brows. “Rafael and I have always shared the view that a Warlock should act responsibly for his creations—that is, when they no longer claim his interest or admiration, he should efface them back into the aether. But there are those among our kind who, when bored with it, simply abandon a thing they’ve given life to. Sometimes such worlds have gained admiration from other Warlocks, which imparts a permanence, or even a solidity, to them; yet they discard those creations without care to what happens to them thereafter. You might say that Baelfeir heads this other camp.”

  Rafael’s dark hair became as riotous flames. “His games darken the aether.” Coming from a Warlock of Shadow, this was an ominous accusation indeed.

  Tanis was starting to feel a little queasy from the way the world had started pitching—to the left, to the right, forward and back, as if he was pinned upon a spinning top that was winding itself unevenly down. “What games might these be, sir?”

  Rafael suddenly speared a look at him—

  And Tanis found himself seated with the Warlocks at a dark glass table in the center of a rotunda. Obsidian columns soared in a circle around them, so tall as to appear to be holding up the nebula’s shifting, striated clouds.

  “Now, Tanis,” Rafael’s gaze sent hooks of inquiry into the lad’s mind to snare the thoughts he sought, while a formidable smile reeled them all to the surface, “what is this you keep doing to my floors?”

  Tanis realized that his perceptions must be impinging on Rafael’s universe; the Warlock was simply preventing the disruption from actually altering the space.

  Rafael reached for a decanter of crystalline liquid. “This time, I think you would
do well to imbibe my offering, Tanis.”

  Tanis shot a rather desperate look at Sinárr.

  Sinárr merely nodded accommodatingly. “As you will, Rafael.”

  Rafael pushed a goblet over to Tanis, then clasped hands in his lap and observed him with dark fascination.

  Tanis felt suddenly like a penned prisoner waiting for some dangerous predator to be released while spectators looked on with riveted attention. The lad lifted the goblet like the prisoner might take up his uncertain spear. Then he cast a defeated look between the two immortals and drank the contents.

  The fluid had about as much flavor as liquid light, but sensation permeated it. One swallow wakened senses Tanis didn’t know he could experience, and in parts of him he’d hardly ever noticed before. Just one sip left him flushing and embarrassed—for as Rafael had perceived Tanis’s feelings of imbalance, so would he certainly have shared in his experience of that drink.

  Rafael was eyeing him with veiled amusement.

  Tanis quickly set down the goblet again and lifted bright eyes—the heat behind them made them feel like burning lamps—and a flushed expression to Rafael. “I’m sorry about tilting the floors, sir.”

  The Warlock gave him a wry smile. “I’m merely impressed you can manipulate Shadow. No mortal has proven capable in the past.”

  “The boy just intuits it,” Sinárr remarked.

  Rafael pushed the goblet insistently back towards Tanis. “But why are you tilting my floors?”

  That one swallow was still stirring uniquely unsettling sensations; Tanis couldn’t imagine taking another draught of it. “I have feelings I can’t explain, sir,” much like what the drink was doing to him, only less disturbing, “a sort of unbalanced, tipping sensation—as you perceived—that sometimes inclines in a certain direction,” Tanis managed a swallow against the effervescence in his stomach, “…or not.”

  “Inclines you in a direction towards…?”

  The lad lifted a frown to Rafael. “Action, I suppose? Choices. It’s rather ambiguous, this feeling.”