Niko shoved Franco’s shoulder. “Well, go on then.”
Franco turned a black stare to Mir, letting the truthreader know by way of his unbroken gaze that no matter what Mir thought, no matter what evil he’d worked on his mind, this wasn’t over.
Mir smiled, very much the wolf that ate the cat that ate the canary. “After you, Franco.”
Franco exhaled a slow breath and took them across the node into T’khendar.
And that was one.
They emerged in a park overlooking Niyadbakir. The setting sun was bathing the white city in shades of gilded rose and limning the surrounding mountains in flame.
“No, no, this isn’t T’khendar.” Niko spun a furious look around. “T’khendar is fire and basalt, red skies and a boiling sun!” Niko grabbed Franco by his coat. “Where’ve you brought us, you conniving piece of—”
Franco slammed his fist into Niko’s jaw and heard a satisfying crack. Niko hit the ground at the same time that fiery pain stabbed through Franco’s stomach, doubling him over. He shoved hands on his knees and sucked in his breath, but despite the compulsion making a daggered agony in his gut, he still grinned up at Mir and managed, “Worth it.”
Mir sighed and motioned to the knights—Eltanin men all, and deep in Mir’s pocket. “Rouse the Vestal, if you would be so kind.” While a couple of them attended to Niko, Mir shifted his colorless gaze across the glowing vista. A faint smile touched his lips. “So he really did it.”
It seemed an odd sort of thing to say, under the circumstances.
Still doubled over, Franco sent a strained look up at him. “Satisfied?”
Mir shifted his eyes back to him. “Hardly. We’ve work to do yet, you and I.” Abruptly he caught Franco beneath his jaw and hauled him upright.
Franco felt like daggers were slicing his insides open—until suddenly they weren’t. Mir had removed whatever compulsion had been causing the pain.
The Eltanin Seat offered a chilly smile. “Can’t have you distracted from your important work, can we?” He looked to the knights awaiting his instruction—no one had any confusion about who was actually in charge. “You know what to do.”
Four of them turned and ran off. The fifth was still trying to rouse Niko. Franco really hoped he’d broken his jaw.
Mir released Franco’s throat and took his shoulder instead. “Ready when you are, Franco.”
Feeling very much like it was Cephrael’s portentous hand resting on his shoulder instead of Mir’s, Franco took them back across the Sylus node into Illume Belliel.
And that was two.
He blinked as they emerged into the cityworld and met the glaring sun, which was now angling directly at them from beneath the trees. He searched for Alshiba and caught her gaze just as the knight was helping Niko off the node behind him.
Alshiba saw Niko and her eyes widened. She covered her mouth and turned away to hide a smile. And that made it worth it, too.
Mir nodded meaningfully to the knights’ commander.
He drew his sword and raised it in the air. “Paladin Knights—onward!” A gauntleted fist clapped against his breastplate. Two hundred knights echoed him.
Mir held a hand to Franco. “Looks like that’s your cue. Don’t forget our little arrangement.”
As if he could. Mir had implanted a failsafe that would trigger if Franco tried to escape Illume Belliel while standing on the Pattern of the World—because this time, Franco wouldn’t be going so much as becoming. He would become the gateway, a bridge over the Pattern of the World, his mind alone holding the connections open between Illume Belliel and T’khendar, allowing the knights to cross between realms in a single step.
Franco almost wished Mir was going with them.
With a measured exhale, he stepped on the node and opened the route, watching silently as the Paladin Knights charged into T’khendar.
And that was three.
***
Alshiba stood between a brace of Paladin Knights, waiting with bated breath for Franco to step back off the node. The clearing felt empty without the massing tide of armed men, with just a pair of knights separating her from Mir and Niko.
“He might’ve broken my jaw, the sneaking weasel!” Niko was stomping back and forth like an irate child while Mir murmured calming words—or possibly threats. One never knew with Mir Arkadhi.
The moment Franco emerged off the node, Niko swung for him. Franco had no time to react. Alshiba saw Niko’s hand flash, saw Franco double over—
Fury exploded inside her. She grabbed the fourth and sent a bolt spearing at Niko.
Mir blocked it with his own working and spun her an are-you-out-of-your-mind? stare. He pulled Niko roughly off Franco. “By the seven scales,” he hissed, “you have all the intellect of a dull-witted bovine.” He shoved Niko far from Franco.
That’s when Alshiba saw the bloodied dagger in Niko’s hand.
Franco collapsed to his knees and then onto his side.
“Franco!” She rushed towards him, but the knights caught her by both arms and held her back. She flung them a glare and a command with compulsion beneath it, “Release me!” But they held her fast, probably because they were both shielding themselves with the fifth. “I am the Alorin Seat. You will do as I command—”
“Actually, Lady Torinin,” Mir approached wearing a chilling smile, “these knights only follow my commands.”
Niko wiped his dagger on a handkerchief and tossed the bloodied linen onto Franco. “We don’t need the traitor now. Your men will find the weldmap, Mir.”
‘Your men...’
A dreadful understanding crashed over Alshiba. The pod of knights that had accompanied Niko and Mir across the node…so they’d been Eltanin men too, and obviously loyal to Mir. And ‘the weldmap’ could only be referring to Dagmar’s infamous map.
No wonder Mir Arkadhi was involved! You could buy an entire realm with the money Dagmar’s weldmap would fetch on Eltanin’s black market.
Suddenly it became so clear to her, Mir’s plan. Sending the Paladin Knights after Björn was just a diversion, a bit of trickery to turn the Speaker’s attention—and Björn’s attention—in one direction while Mir’s goons stole a priceless treasure in another.
She settled a corrosive stare on Mir and tried not to think about Franco lying frighteningly still. “Do you care at all if Björn is brought to justice? Or was this entire affair just smoke-screens and artifice?”
Mir’s expression resolved into dark admiration. “Oh, well done, Alshiba.”
Niko meanwhile crossed to her and grabbed her hand. There was a terrible light in his eyes, or perhaps a terrible darkness. He leaned improperly close, forcing Alshiba to turn her face away, and murmured into her ear, “I’ve been wanting to do this for a very long time.” Then he tore her oath-ring off her finger.
Stepping back, he held up the ring and eyed it triumphantly before shifting a narrow glare to the knights holding her. “Bind her and the traitor in goracrosta.”
Abruptly, rough hands pulled Alshiba’s arms behind her back, and a static bite quickly tightened around her wrists. She felt her connection to elae slowly draining off.
The other knight grabbed Franco’s unresisting arms and started winding silver rope around his wrists. He looked up beneath his helm as he did so. “What do you want to do with this one?”
Niko considered Franco’s fallen form while sucking on a tooth. His gaze took on a vengeful gleam. “Throw him on the node.”
Alshiba gasped. “Niko, please!” Bound in goracrosta, Franco wouldn’t be able to navigate the Pattern of the World. It would rip him apart.
Niko pocketed her ring. “Don’t worry, Your Excellency. You won’t have long to mourn him.” He nodded pointedly to the knight standing behind Alshiba, and he dragged her into motion. “Get rid of her somewhere deep,” Niko called after them. “For good this time!”
Alshiba turned a desperate look over her shoulder. The other knight had Franco up on his feet. As she watched,
he gave him a hard shove. Franco fell onto the node and vanished.
***
Popular theory describes a plus-crossed node as four leylines pinned to one nodepoint. But such was technically not a plus-crossing, because four leylines could mean traveling the nodepoint eight times, if the four leylines were traveled in both directions.
Plus-crossing actually meant the node was set with four specific lines of travel that could only be traveled in one direction before switching to the next line of travel.
But since Franco and Dagmar were the only two Nodefinders to have ever successfully plus-crossed a node, and since said nodes had always been constructed for questionable purposes, they felt the less their brethren understood about plus-crossing, the better.
When Franco was plus-crossing the Sylus node, he programmed the node to switch to different destinations each time it was traveled, said destination set per Isabel’s instructions.
The plus-cross initially triggered when Franco took Mir and Niko across to T’khendar. The second line triggered when they returned to Illume Belliel. The third switched on when the Paladin Knights crossed into T’khendar, and the fourth…
Franco had always been concerned about the fourth switch, because Isabel had directed him to make the leyline charge on the instant it recognized his life pattern. This bothered Franco immensely, because all the wrong people would need was the right combination of mishaps, and he could simply fall across the node directly into Björn’s palace in Niyadbakir.
Which is, in fact, what occurred.
Franco landed in a crumpled pile of agony, suffering in that moment as much from Mir’s implanted failsafe than the dagger Niko had shoved in his gut.
Alarms were sounding, resounding, echoing off the city’s alabaster walls. He heard shouting and running footsteps coming closer. Then soft hands cradled his head—Isabel.
A shadow fell across his brow. Franco opened his eyes see the First Lord bending over him. “Alshiba—” Franco gasped to him.
“Don’t worry. Mir will keep her safe.”
“Mir!” Franco could barely choke out the words past the compulsion clenching his chest, “he’s with Nik—”
Abruptly something tore inside him, another of Mir’s traps waiting for the right trigger.
“He’s losing too much blood.” Isabel’s voice, out of Franco’s view.
Björn nodded to her.
Strong hands lifted Franco up. Swooning darkness spilled across his vision.
“Be well, my friend,” Björn said, but all Franco saw as they rushed him away was the look of concern in the First Lord’s eyes.
***
Alshiba walked in a dream, a nightmare veiled in loss and treachery, where her steps only dragged her backwards and her furious screams emerged as strangled, threadbare gasps.
Björn gone. Franco gone. Elae gone. Her ring stolen, her Seat likely soon usurped, and no one the wiser thanks to Mir Arkadhi’s devious scheming.
He was following her now, probably to make certain the knight actually carried out his assignment and threw her off a very high cliff. This time, she knew unequivocally that Björn would not be there to save her.
The location the knight chose was on her own estate. The better to make it look a suicide, no doubt. She could hear the gossip-mongers now: ‘Alorin Seat Takes Her Own Life After Node to Forbidden Realm Discovered Beneath her Nose.’
You have quite the sense of humor, Alshiba. Mir’s quiet mental laughter made the hairs stand up on her arms. It really will be a shame to see you gone, and without even that dinner I’d hoped for.
Alshiba clenched her jaw. It did no good to spar with Mir. He enjoyed the tussle as much as the teasing.
Alshiba, do you have any idea how many Seats want you removed from the Council? Mir bent his head to capture her gaze. Any idea at all? It’s not personal. It’s simply that the Speaker has his mind set on you chairing the Interrealm Trade Committee, and a great many others find that a terribly unmanageable arrangement.
“And I suppose you’re better suited?” Her gaze made a daggered accusation of her words.
Mir arched an amused brow. “Most anyone else would be better suited, my dear. A woman whose only desire is the man who abandoned her three centuries ago is hardly a candidate for extortion or bribery. Imagine, someone with actual moral fiber chairing the most important committee on the Council? Everyone would be forced to treat honestly and above-board with one another. The Council’s entire infrastructure would probably implode.”
The knight stopped on a bridge nestled in the bosom of two hills, a high overlook where the sea sluiced through a natural arch and made a churning cauldron of the rocky inlet far below. He dragged Alshiba to the bridge’s edge and hefted her into his arms.
This can’t be happening!
She was fighting a debilitating incredulity, unreality at war with desperation, a sense of Fate reaching out for her while she scrambled frantically backwards from its obdurate hand. Surely, surely there was something she could do! But when the knight readied himself to dump her into the abyss, all of her ideas fled like night shadows beneath the dawn.
“Over so fast?” Mir came up beside the knight. “Let’s make it interesting, shall we?” He reached for her.
“Damn you, Mir!” She fought against him but only made herself look ridiculous.
Mir sliced through the rope binding her arms behind her back—though the goracrosta still cuffed her wrists, ensuring elae remained far from her grasp. She struggled desperately then, but the knight quickly pinned her arms anew, and Mir only laughed.
Then he grabbed her wrists and yanked her out of the knight’s hold and over the edge—
Alshiba gave a choked cry.
Her body swung in a frightening arc. Mir held her up, dangling beyond the railing, himself leaning precariously over it, holding her arms while her feet kicked the empty air and her head went numb with fear. Her stomach had already fallen to the rocks below.
Alshiba gave him a violent look of terror. “Mir—”
“Goodbye, Alshiba.”
And he dropped her.
Seventy-five
“The pattern weaves as it wills.”
–Dhábu’balaji’şridanaí, He Who Walks the Edge of the World
Caught by the swift current, Trell saw the opening looming in the fortress wall, spilling into a cavern and the deep darkness of the mountainside. Whatever hidden entrapment had bound his foot to the Nadoriin’s was acting as a powerful undertow and preventing Trell from using his feet to kick out of the current. The officer was keeping himself afloat, but his flailing arms testified to an unfamiliarity with water’s ways.
Suddenly Trell’s back struck up against something blunt—a post of some kind. An instant later the Nadoriin slammed into him. Trell grabbed him before the current could rip him off and away.
The officer glared as though insulted. “You shall never be forgiven for what you’ve done!”
It took Trell an embarrassing second to process his words. “You think we caused this flood?”
The Nadoriin struggled against Trell’s anchoring hold. “I would strike you down in Inanna’s name!”
“The wielder did this!”
“He claimed the same of you!” He swung for Trell.
Trell dodged and in so doing nearly lost his footing. He grabbed for the wood behind him again, and the Nadoriin’s next fist connected with his jaw.
Stars blanketed his vision. The current surged greedily around them, clutching at them both. If not for the pole, the river would’ve already swept them over the falls.
The Nadoriin threw another punch at him. Trell caught the man’s fist in his hand and used the officer’s momentum to pull him close. He held his gaze and said fiercely in the desert tongue, “We mean no harm to you and your men. We came for Dannym’s soldiers only!”
“Mutineers.” The Nadoriin’s fury overruled his reason. He grabbed for Trell’s throat, and they fell into the river.
Y
et…as the brown water surged over his face and Trell went down beneath the officer’s heavy form, he glimpsed possibility—unlikely, improbable, yet an opportunity presented with such clarity that it wiped all other possibilities from his mind.
The last time Trell had experienced such a moment, he’d been in the Kutsamak facing similar overwhelming odds. The vision then had been but a breath glimpsed, but it had bolstered his resolve through all that was yet to come. That first vision had retreated into the obscurity of shadowed memories now, but Trell recalled that moment. He remembered that feeling.
He and the Nadoriin came up together, sputtering, with Trell still clutching the larger man and the latter still trying to choke him. The current was sweeping them towards the falls again. Trell could see in the Nadoriin’s gaze that he’d abandoned hope of all save vengeance.
Trell clutched him as they bobbed, just feet now from the hole emptying into the mountain’s belly. What could he do? Nothing. Whether or not Jai’Gar’s justice was served, they were both going over.
The cavern loomed.
They shot through the opening. Trell fell amid whitewater into darkness—
A hand caught his arm. Hope surged and then shattered as momentum ripped him away—
Only to be caught again by—not a hand, no, but some other force. His body slammed against the rock wall, and then the netting still tangled around his ankles slammed the Nadoriin around upside down beneath him. Agony flamed up and down his side. The officer gave a muted cry and went still.
They were both dangling there on the waterfall’s edge, hung in the darkness by an invisible force.
Trell blinked up through the spray.
Tannour was clinging to the rough stone of the cavern wall with one hand and one foot jammed in a crevice. The other hand was reaching towards Trell, as if holding the invisible rope wrapped around his wrist and arm.
“Your Highness.” Tannour’s expression mirrored that same mixture of panic and horror that had liquefied Trell’s insides.
“Tannour.” The name rather exploded out of him, loud with gratitude, thrumming with relief. They were far from saved, yet had it been Náiir smiling above him, he would’ve known no more hope than he felt in seeing Tannour holding him up with what could only be elae’s fifth strand.
Kingdom Blades (A Pattern of Shadow & Light 4) Page 118
