Way Walkers: Tangled Paths (The Tazu Saga)

by Leigh, J.

  “I’m just fine, Jathen.” She waved him away. “Go lure your charm master out. If you can.”

  The workshop was a tighter version of the one back in Kidwellith. Hatori stood on a stepladder, fiddling with the wires to the overhead charm lamps. “You left your pack down here when you left.” He snorted, not looking down from his work. “Mind on other things? Or other someone, to be specific?”

  “You still upset over Ishane?” Jathen asked, slipping onto the nearest table to sit beside his pack.

  “Mei can be trouble to fall for,” Hatori said, then cursed as a charm slipped through his fingers. He caught it before it hit the floor then returned it overhead, muttering.

  “So warn both you and Ass’shiri,” Jathen replied, riffling through his pack. He’d unpacked most of his essentials upstairs, but his bag still held a few monetary notes and his sketchbook, along with some other odds and ends.

  “Well, the kasior and I finally agree on something.”

  “You don’t trust my judgment?”

  Hatori stopped and stared at him. “I trust you a lot more than I used to, to be honest. Not to say I ever thought you to be involved in anything untoward, but let’s just say the raging hormones of a first love can… distort your view of reality.”

  “So I’ve been told.” Then, on a whim, he decided to speak candidly. “As we’re talking about honesty and trust, Hatori, there are some things I’ve been meaning to speak to you about.”

  Jathen went through his list: the strange glances, the thieves, Charmed Wind, the bizarre flood. The whole of his worries, dreams included, came tumbling out in one gushing rush. Hatori listened patiently, silver-green eyes unreadable.

  When Jathen finished, Hatori nodded slightly. “There are some things in life, Jathen, that one must wait to know until they are ready to hear it.”

  “But—”

  Hatori raised his hand and smiled slightly. “I think, perhaps, you are ready.”

  “Really?”

  Hatori chuckled. “Yes, boy, I mean it. You’ve grown up a lot in the last months, and while I must admit I don’t have all the answers, I think it is time to share some certain… suspicions I’ve been having about you. Nothing dire, I assure you.” Stepping down off the ladder, he patted Jathen’s shoulder. “Just an idea I’ve been pursuing. For now, go do your sightseeing, and we’ll discuss it tonight, after I’ve got these ruddy lights working. Yes?”

  Jathen felt his hopes rise. “Hatori, thank you.”

  “You are welcome,” he replied, his eyes softening. “I never had the pleasure of having children, at least not by blood. In my heart, though, I’ve only had one son.”

  “Hatori,” Jathen choked, his throat constricted by emotion.

  “Oh shush, before we both start whimpering worse than Jephue.” Hatori then surprised Jathen even further by pulling him into a half hug. “Now, go be with your friend and your girl,” he ordered, releasing him with an affectionate ruffling of his hair.

  “Right.” Jathen grinned and grabbed his pack off the table. “We’ll talk more tonight.”

  Ass’shiri was downstairs and ready when Jathen emerged, and from the looks of things, he was getting on with Ishane fairly well. Good. I knew they could get along if Ass’shiri allowed it.

  Turning to Jephue, Jathen asked, “You sure we can’t tempt you to come with us?”

  “No, no.” Kerchief back on his head, Jephue was wrists deep in some sort of cement mix, his hands caked in terracotta brown. “I’ve finally decided on the tiles, and now I want to start laying them. We’ll meet up with you three for dinner at Yuta’s.”

  Zirconia’s interior was everything Jathen had imagined it would be—sleek and modern with slips of magic, Tar’citadel-esque frosted glass, and shimmering walls. Walking through it, he found it impossible to tell that space was layered.

  Ass’shiri and Ishane seemed more intrigued by the plethora of oddities in the museum itself than with the architecture that encased the various collections. Prowling through the spatial rooms, they saw magnificent gemstones, the continent’s largest collection of seashells—some larger than Skaniss in tyrn-form—and a unique display on the erosion of the continental coastline over the last six thousand years.

  After several hours, they discovered the signature exhibit at the bottom end of the magical loop of rooms: a collection revolving around the evolution of magical creatures in the time since the Great Fall. It included ancient animal skeletons juxtaposed with modern equivalents. Jathen found it mind boggling to see a tyrn amid them and how small it looked compared to the ones Jathen knew back home.

  “I didn’t realize how much Prothidian Altar’s insanity figured in the modern-day ecosystems,” Ass’shiri remarked. “I guess I always assumed he knocked out all of the major races, destroyed the world, and then was done after being imprisoned by Rhean.”

  “Well, it does stand to reason that his actions would reverberate,” Ishane said. “In fact, most don’t recognize how many more creatures he created in the eight hundred years after the Great Fall but before his imprisonment. And not just monsters, either.” She pointed out a few skeletons. “Stock animals like the hersha and ryml, slaga, elefil. He took a lot of the natural balance into account, despite being a madman.”

  “Yes, like the myth about the Tyr’sat,” Jathen said. “They were created by Prothidian after the Fall.”

  “Only to be enslaved by him,” Ass’shiri added.

  Ishane touched the glass case reverently. “It is fascinating how one man could so change the face of the world.”

  “You almost sound as if you admire him,” Ass’shiri said in an accusatory tone.

  “Only in that the mortal capacity for both good and evil is generally impressive.” She smiled. “I mean, can you imagine what this man would have been capable of if he’d taken a different path?”

  “Well, none of us would be here; that’s for certain,” Jathen pointed out.

  “Precisely.” Ishane nodded. “Our whole world wouldn’t exist.” She stared at the impressive fossil of an early wild dragon suspended above their heads. “If we didn’t all loathe him and his methods so much, we’d owe him.”

  Ass’shiri snorted. “Well, excuse me if I don’t go sending thank-you notes to Red Mage whackos.”

  Ishane replied, “I’m only saying that perhaps we can learn a lesson from Prothidian.”

  “And what lesson is that?” Jathen asked.

  She turned to meet his gaze. “That, perhaps, within our greatest tragedy lies our greatest strength.”

  Jathen shook his head. “Ishane, you are…” He kissed her hard, right there in the middle of the museum in front of Ass’shiri.

  She squeaked in surprise at first but then softened, returning the kiss with ardor. Jathen’s joy was too much to contain after such an amazing day. The world was ripe with possibility. I wonder if maybe a life like this, with good friends, a good mate, and happiness in the everyday moments would be enough. It feels like it could be enough.

  “It’s getting late,” Ass’shiri said. “We should start heading out if we’re going to meet up for dinner.”

  “Oh, must we?” Ishane said with a pout. “I so wanted to see more of the fossils predating the Great Fall. They have some trilobites from over two hundred twenty million years ago that they believe Prothidian used to create some of the monster trilorka that live off the coast.”

  “You mean those things that eat sharks and dolphins?” Ass’shiri asked, looking disgusted.

  “Yes!” Ishane laughed. “I hear the fossils are teeny tiny, but the trilorka are huge! I used to see them off the coast as a child, and I thought it’d be a lark to truly see the difference, especially since no one knows how Prothidian managed to alter them.”

  “No, Ass’shiri’s right,” Jathen said, glancing
at his watch, which began to buzz loudly. “We should—”

  The world heaved.

  The ground beneath their feet shook and stuttered. Ishane screamed as she fell into Jathen. Above their heads, the great skeletons swayed on their ropes.

  “Is this magic?” Jathen yelled over the shrieks of fear from the crowd and the rising wail of the quaking ground.

  “No magic can be this strong!” Ass’shiri shouted. “It has to be an earthquake!”

  Earthquake? How…? We don’t have earthquakes in the Clan Lands, Hatori had said. Outside is oddly a safe place to be in a thing like that, with no walls to fall on you.

  Jathen latched onto Ass’shiri’s arm and pulled Ishane against him with his free hand. “Door!” he tugged them in that direction.

  Leading the way, Jathen wove through the shivering maze of falling displays. He felt numb terror as the floor beside them cracked apart and was gone. Jathen and Ishane teetered at the edge, but Ass’shiri gripped Jathen’s wrist tightly and yanked them back from the abyss.

  At the entrance, Jathen’s heart fluttered when he spotted a dozen people huddled under the huge door frame. “Make room!” he yelled, but smashing masonry drowned out his voice.

  He plowed into them, unable to stop. There were yelled protests as Ass’shiri tried to keep going, pushing his way outside.

  Practically jumping onto the Clansman’s back, Jathen shrieked into his ear, “Hold!”

  Ass’shiri obeyed, though his eyes were white ringed in terror. Jathen held onto him, and he returned the embrace. On his other side, Ishane buried her head into Jathen’s chest, her hands clawing at his shirt collar.

  Forever they stood there; forever the world shook. Jathen’s universe constricted to a narrow riot of wobbling colors and bobbing bodies. The tension of Ass’shiri’s arms was tight enough to bruise or break ribs, and Ishane’s nails bit through the shirt fabric and into his skin, but he welcomed the pain that meant they were alive.

  When the earth finally stopped moving, someone cried, “Stay! Aftershocks!”

  After a few moments, the shaking came again, crisp and wicked in the wake of their terror. More walls fell in a swirl of masonry dust, the sound a hundred times louder than the fireworks Jathen had once witnessed. Somewhere in the madness, Ishane was screaming, but his arms were pinned by Ass’shiri, and he could not hold her. A sob burst from Jathen’s lips: fear, pain, and motion sickness erupting from the crux of his soul.

  It stopped again.

  A breath, then two, and more shaking.

  Three more times, the world heaved. Each time the earth’s protests were a little less furious. When all was truly still, Jathen looked about and was awed, both by the fact that they were alive and by the sheer damage done. Dazed and rumpled, Ishane took a few stumbling steps away, staring out into the remains of Fauve with a frighteningly blank expression.

  Jathen went over and hugged her. “Are you all right?”

  Surveying the shattered city, she babbled, “I don’t know what… I didn’t expect…” Her eyes were very wide and her skin pale. She took in a deep, shuddering breath, then another. “I’m well enough for the wear.” She looked up at him and frowned. “How did you know we’d be safe under the door?”

  “I didn’t at first,” Jathen said, relieved her shock seemed to be passing. “Then I remembered door frames are usually the most structurally sound part of any building.” He shook his head. “Thank Spirit I remembered what Master Hatori had told me about when he was in the Kidwellith earthquake, or I’d never have thought—” Jathen’s stomach turned. “Oh Spirit! Hatori and Jephue! We need to see if they’re okay.”

  It seemed to take forever to cross those five blocks. Havoc reigned in the devastated streets. They had to climb over fallen lampposts and squeeze through narrow alleys of rubble. Ishane lost her parasol and hat and Jathen his pack, though Ass’shiri kept his crossbow in hand.

  Ominous black smoke hovered larger and larger in the sky as they moved closer to the shop. Ass’shiri broke into a run when they reached their corner. Jathen wasn’t less than a step behind him, for all the Clansman’s extra speed. Thoughts of Hatori’s earthquake stories played maniacally through his mind. “That was what was so devastating—those damn fires. Everyone was lighting candles en masse. Candles and aftershocks are never a good mix.”

  Ass’shiri halted at the door, but Jathen dove into the gray interior. He was immediately punished with a debilitating wave of heat and smoke. The force of it sent him to his knees, coughing and sputtering. Eyes watering, he saw something that made his blood run cold.

  Oh Spirit. It’s the tiles. Gazing down beneath his hands and feet, he was transfixed by the crumbled inlay that had to have been Jephue’s great renovation. The tiles contained a simple design of delicate blue flowers on a yellow glaze. The damn dream is coming true, the one from when I was little.

  “We need to get to them,” Jathen yelled, half hysterical. “There’s another one coming!”

  “How can you know?” Ass’shiri asked.

  Jathen didn’t pause to answer. Everything was on fire. It was impossible to wade through the molten chaos, impossible to see, impossible to help. Another tremor began before he reached the back, then there was a crash and a burst of heat. In the flickering of the fire, shapes of smoke collided, and he thought he saw a person through the ash. He cried out, but the shape didn’t turn. Another sound, one he knew was coming but dreaded to hear, filled his ears.

  Ass’shiri called his name then appeared next to him. “Come on, brother.” He grasped Jathen around the chest. “There’s nothing to do for them. We need to get out of here.”

  Tears born from smoke and despair flowed freely as Jathen allowed his blood brother to pull him along. It all happened exactly as I saw it. And yet none of it was how I imagined it would be.

  Outside, they watched the shop burn. They stayed through the arrival of the disorganized fire brigade and the failed attempt to save the block. They stayed until there was nothing left but an empty shell speckled with red embers glowing amid the char. As dusk gathered and the wails of the mourning survivors filled the air, Jathen crouched in the street, unable to tear his eyes away. He was vaguely aware of Ass’shiri standing guard beside him. He only somewhat registered Ishane’s absence and return.

  “I asked the fire chief.” Her voice sounded so far away. “They didn’t make it out.”

  Maybe they think I didn’t hear, he thought when his friends made no attempt to move him. Piecing it all together was too hard. He didn’t care; he just stayed. Some official came over to ask questions. Ass’shiri and Ishane answered. Two indigo-draped lumps were pulled from the rubble.

  Jathen began to sob. Ass’shiri and Ishane knelt and put their arms around him. Long after the crying was done, they held him.

  Chapter 34

  Jathen was numb.

  “It’s the shock,” he overheard Ishane explain to Ass’shiri. There was no forced pretense to their conversations anymore, and deep inside his shell of placid obedience, Jathen found it lightly amusing.

  All it took was a massive tragedy, and they’re best friends.

  Jathen hadn’t spoken since they’d brought him to the shelter. He simply had nothing to say. He helped in small doses, folding blankets and beating the dirt from beds, but avoided the food lines. His loss was reflected back at him in every victim’s hollow eyes, and he knew too much of that would break him. So he moved silently, purposefully, but with no more forethought than the moment at hand.

  “Will he snap out of it?” Ass’shiri asked, voice low.

  “Hopefully,” Ishane replied. From the corner of his eye, Jathen watched her washing bandages. Her face was grim when she looked up at Ass’shiri. “This is a big loss. I know he’s had little brothers and sisters pass stillborn over the years, but this…” She shook
her head. “We’re all in shock. We’ll all deal with it differently. He’s just dealing with it now, in the moment, and in a way, he might turn out stronger for it.”

  Ass’shiri sighed, sounding forlorn. “I hope so.”

  Aftershocks came sporadically throughout the next few days. “Just depends on how the plates settle, apparently,” Ass’shiri explained.

  Tar’citadel had been quick to send assistance to Fauve, and they were setting up shelters with supplies almost hourly. It was still nothing more than a bandage on a broken leg. Thousands were dead, and ten times as many were homeless, wandering the streets in hopeless abandon. Jathen stayed silent, sweeping the ever-rising tide of dust from the shelter floor, while Ishane busied herself with helping the wounded. Ass’shiri never left Jathen’s side.

  Grimmer news was reported: a tsunami had occurred in the wake of the quake.

  “They didn’t realize what was happening when the waters receded,” a broken-spirited Lu’shun shared. “A hundred-foot wave crashed into the shoreline. Half the coastal cities are underwater, and what’s not submerged is rubble. Casualties are estimated in the thousands, but it will be weeks before we really know.”

  “What of Ca’june?” Ishane asked.

  “Gone,” the Lu’shun said. “The epicenter was on the dormant fault line along the off-islands. Everything is underwater. They’re saying we may never see the islands again.”

  That night, Ishane cried on Jathen’s shoulder. “I never thought something like this could happen. Clemi, everyone… just gone.” She hiccupped. “I never thought…”

  She spent the rest of the night in his arms, but though they shared a bed, neither shared their thoughts. Jathen was slowly losing his sense of time, despite the constant attention he paid to his watch. The piece was Hatori’s work and his mother’s scales in one, and he kept staring at it, watching the minute hand’s slow progress across the black face. As silent as he was, it neither ticked nor buzzed. It probably saved my life that day, the protective ward defending against fire and quakes.