Looking at himself from Dragana’s perspective, he was more like the kind of man who’d earned his fate upon Aeo’s sword.
“You’re quiet today,” Dragana said. They had risen at sunrise and been on the road for well over an hour, but Aeo hadn’t said a word since last night.
His entire world had been turned upside down—again. He’d thought he’d had it all as an assassin. He’d been happy in that life … hadn’t he? The satisfaction after each contract, the excitement of the chase, those had been real. But happiness? He couldn’t say. Could he have been that wrong?
Normally Dragana’s small spark of satisfaction would have flared his temper, but this morning it embarrassed him. He’d hoped he wouldn’t have to share any of this with her. He didn’t want to have to admit there was a possibility she might be right.
She cleared her throat.
Right. He didn’t have to explain anything. As he mulled things over, she’d have heard it all. She already knew.
Aeo hadn’t felt this awkward in a long, long time. He’d have fiddled with a sheath strap or clomped off to collect firewood he didn’t need if he could have, just to avoid this. Dragana was bad enough as it was. If she won this battle, she’d never let him live it down.
But he couldn’t shake the feeling she might be right.
“Maybe there’s something to you besides arrogance and greed, after all,” she said.
Aeo grumbled, but didn’t reply.
“There’s still time to right the wrongs of a past life,” Dragana offered. “The spirit of Aeo doesn’t have to follow the life Aeo’s flesh led.”
I may not have had much choice in the way I lived, but I still followed the assassin’s path. Even though my body is gone, I’m still the same person.
“People can change.”
Changing isn’t easy, Aeo said.
“I never said it would be. I just said it was possible.”
And what? Do you expect me to change overnight? To decide my past life was a waste and become all stubborn and honorable, like you? I can’t do that, Dragana. The ways of an assassin might have been wrong, but they’re the only ways I know. I loved that life once, and part of me still does. I can’t just walk away and change in a moment.
“Well, you may not become honorable like me, but you already have the stubborn part down,” she said, smiling. She paused, then continued in a more serious tone. “If you’d be more willing to sacrifice, you might find that change comes quicker than you’d think.”
Because giving up my life wasn’t enough?
“That wasn’t a sacrifice. It was cowardice and a just repayment for what you did to the Bok’Tarong.”
Aeo’s temper flared. Don’t tell me what it was! You have no idea what it was like! It was a greater sacrifice than anything that’s ever been asked of you.
“How dare you presume to know what’s been asked of me? I’ve made more sacrifices than you can know,” she replied.
Aeo scoffed. All you’ve ever wanted to do is wield the Bok’Tarong. Here I am, in your hands. What kind of sacrifice is that?
“To wield the Bok'Tarong is both an honor and a curse. A warrior spends many years training—sometimes an entire lifetime—but once the blade is taken up, they have only a short time before it claims them.”
What’s that supposed to mean?
“It means in less than a year, the Bok’Tarong will take my life just as it took yours.”
Aeo found himself in the rare position of being speechless. Dragana had spoken of her impending death with such cool calmness, as easily as saying it would snow this winter. He detected the barest flutter of anxiety in her mind. You spent your entire life earning the right to die? Aeo asked.
“Not to die,” Dragana replied, “but to fight. I trained so I could wield the Bok’Tarong and rid the world of a terrible evil. It’s an honor to defend my home and my people, and one I would gladly give my life for.”
I can’t think of anything I’d be willing to give my life for.
“And that’s why your life has always been so shallow.”
Aeo was dumbfounded by the simple, blunt truth of her statement. He couldn’t imagine having the kind of conviction Dragana did to sacrifice her future to serve the Bok’Tarong.
Why would the blades force death upon its wielder? It would make much more sense to allow someone who trained for so long to continue fighting, rather than just killing them.
“It’s the cost of the enchantment. No one, not even the makers of the Bok’Tarong, could create life from nothing. It needs energy in order to continue living. So in order to have life, the Bok’Tarong must first take life.”
Then why doesn’t it take the life of the people it kills, instead of its wielder?
“Because it can’t steal life,” Dragana clarified. “It can only take a life that is freely given, and in wielding the Bok’Tarong you’re giving it your life.”
Aeo thought back to the time when he’d wielded the sword and had to agree. He had devoted himself to the blades and been willing to sacrifice everything for them—including his life. At the time he hadn’t known that would literally be the cost. But would it have even mattered? He’d been obsessed, had given up his entire lifestyle in order to wield the Bok’Tarong. Offering his actual life to the blades had been a mere technicality at that point.
“The Taronese warrior who wields the Bok’Tarong is sapped of their life energy to support the blades. During the communion of battle that energy is shared by both the warrior and the Bok’Tarong, but otherwise they age at a rapid pace. The more they fight, the faster they die. With the -taken problem we’re facing, I’ll be lucky to last a year.”
Aeo remembered his encounter with the previous wielder of the Bok’Tarong. He had seemed old and rheumy until they began to fight. Then he had been a warrior of utmost skill.
“So don’t tell me I know nothing about sacrifice. You still live because I am giving you my life-force. As much as I hate it, you’re alive because of me.”
Aeo couldn’t think of anything to say to that.
8
Raeb and Saydee sat across from each other, a small fire between them. They’d spent most of the afternoon clearing the area of scrub and cactus, and the rest of it pulling thorns and cactus needles from their hands. That had been the easy part of the job.
Raeb had scribed runes into the dirt with bloody hands until after sunset. Saydee had hounded him with endless questions about this ritual—questions he either could not or would not answer. He didn’t know how it worked. He didn’t understand why every single ingredient was important. And he would not explain to her how he’d learned it in the first place. It had taken most of the afternoon for her to realize he wouldn’t give in and be quiet.
Now the only light came from their flickering fire and the cold, distant stars. “We can still stop this,” he said.
Saydee shook her head. “I’m ready.”
Given the dangers they were walking into, and the very real chance they wouldn’t learn anything helpful from Saydee’s Entana, the girl was remarkably calm. Raeb wished he were half as ready as Saydee sounded.
He took a deep breath and double-checked everything. The runes were in their proper places, the fire burned low, the herbs mixed and waiting. He looked down at the last, vital key that would hopefully give him his answers.
He held the magnificent blade in a white-knuckled grip. Five dagger blades were arrayed in a half-sun pattern, radiating from the horizontal hilt in his fist. The silvery metal shone in the firelight and sparkles of magic glittered from its depths. He could feel that magic keenly, in the ice crystals creeping up his fingers and the blade’s gnawing hunger begging him for release. Baring this blade was always a test of willpower. If he didn’t hold the hunger in check …
That was the real danger of this blade. It wasn’t the physical wounds it could inflict, terrible as those were. No. There was an even darker side it that, even after all this time, terrified him. It was the reaso
n Raeb carried it, and the reason he so despised it.
It was also why he’d been running for so many centuries.
Raeb took another deep breath and tore his thoughts from the blade. The ritual was ready, and Saydee was waiting.
He started chanting and threw the herbs into the fire. The smoke curled into strange patterns that reminded him of snakes and eels and almost looked like letters, or words. He closed his eyes and gripped his enchanted blade hard—if its magic didn’t work now, he might as well sign both of their death warrants.
Raeb felt ripples in the spirit-world as the Entana in Saydee’s mind was roused by the scent of the herbs. He willed a little of his blade’s magic into the smoke, shivering against the suddenly frigid night. Ice coated the blade as it brought the invisible magicks surrounding them into view.
Raeb repressed a shudder as the tendrils of Saydee’s Entana parasite appeared. A moment later, he let out a tension-filled sigh.
He’d been right. Next to the dark connection from the Entana to her mind was a gossamer-thin strand of golden energy flowing from Saydee’s mind back into spirit world. It was a tenuous trail, but Raeb was confident—mostly—that his weightless spirit wouldn’t damage it.
He was just about to separate his spirit from his body and leap out to the connection when Saydee shuddered. She grabbed her head in her hands and started to scream, but the sound was cut short. She convulsed a few times before raising her head and letting her hands drop to her lap. She looked at Raeb and grinned, but it felt more like a sneer to him.
Raeb’s heart fluttered with horror. Her eyes were solid black but for a sickly brown, elongated pupil.
Full Entana eyes.
He dropped his strange blade and drew his sword.
“You ignore us, blade-bearer,” Saydee said in a deep man’s voice.
“No,” Raeb said. “I defy you, Keeper of Secrets.”
Saydee chuckled. The sound sent shivers down Raeb’s spine, like a skeleton had dragged bony fingers along it. “I’m flattered you remember me.”
“How could I forget? I still have the scars from our last encounter.”
“You bear the marks, but you seem to have forgotten the lessons.”
“Forgotten, or denied?”
Murderous anger flashed in the Keeper of Secrets’ expression. For a moment, the face no longer held any resemblance to Saydee’s. “Either way, it was foolish to turn away from the Entana.”
“Not all of us are willing to be used by them, ambassador.”
The Keeper of Secrets’ eyes glittered in the firelight. “You spit the word like a curse, when I above all -taken have been given the greatest of gifts.”
“The power to invade our minds and deliver orders isn’t a gift. It makes you nothing more than a carrier pigeon, running messages for the Entana. You betray your own race to serve the parasites that would consume us. That isn’t an honor, Keeper of Secrets. If you were halfway sane, you would know that.”
“And if you had any sense in that skull of yours, you would realize your days are numbered if you refuse to serve.”
Raeb covered his fear with an angry growl. “What do you want?”
“You contacted me, blade-bearer. After such a long silence, I was beginning to think you had forgotten the mission we gave you. Is it finished?”
“No.”
The Keeper of Secrets twisted Saydee’s face into a scowl. “Then why did you contact me?”
“I didn’t want to talk to you, Keeper of Secrets.”
“Yet you seduced an Entana with the ritual I taught you. If you don’t wish to speak to me, why did you use my magic?”
Raeb hoped the Keeper of Secrets couldn’t feel his thoughts race as he groped for an answer—one that wouldn’t reveal his intentions, and wouldn’t get him killed on the spot. “Research,” he said at last.
“Research?”
“Yes. This vessel has a small amount of magical powers. I was trying to determine how an Entana had managed to take a minor mage.”
The Keeper of Secrets paused at this, stretching Saydee’s face into an expression that looked confused and, to Raeb’s disbelief, a little worried.
“Does this news trouble you?” he asked, trying to keep the mocking tone from his voice.
“Not at all.”
Raeb didn’t believe that, but he kept his thoughts to himself. “Perhaps this could begin an era where mages are no longer immune to the Entana.”
“And what have you discovered?”
He hardened his glare. “Nothing. Someone interrupted my study before I could begin.”
The Keeper of Secrets eyed Raeb. “You cannot fool me, blade-bearer. You have never had the Entana’s interests in mind. Besides, the -taking of mages is not as impossible as you believe.”
Raeb nearly dropped his sword. “How is that possible?”
“That does not concern you,” the Keeper of Secrets snapped. “What should concern you is the mission you were supposed to complete decades ago.”
“I’ve been working on it.”
“Don’t think you can fool me. You’ve been running from it, and the Entana will not tolerate your failure for much longer.”
Raeb’s heart turned to ice and he forgot to breathe. Even the everyday sounds of night in the desert had fallen silent. “What do you mean?”
“Plans are in place that will allow the Entana free access to this world. Decades of planning, of manipulating the humans, have come to fruition. The world is ready at last. The only thing standing in our way is your mission. Once you complete it, the world will be ours.”
“Well, that’s great motivation for me.”
The Keeper of Secrets glared daggers at him over the fire. Somewhere in the near distance, a coyote yipped. “Complete your task by the spring equinox, or we will no longer protect you from the Entana in your mind. It is hungry, after all, and holding it back from the feast of your thoughts grows tiresome.”
Icy terror clutched at Raeb’s heart. “The spring equinox? But that isn’t enough time.”
“It is nearly half a year. You’ve had more than enough time already, and you’re lucky we’re giving you this much. Make do with what is given to you.”
Raeb reached down and grasped the enchanted blade he’d dropped. He gritted his teeth and wrestled its hunger into submission. The effort left him weary, but the effect was worth it. The temperature dropped, and its magic pulsed in his hand. A nest of Entana tendrils came into view, hovering over Saydee. Not all of them were hers. “Maybe I will,” he growled.
The Keeper of Secrets laughed. “You would threaten me with an Entana blade? Only a fool would believe a weapon we created could kill us. Nothing but the Bok’Tarong can do that.”
“Then I guess I’ll have to get the Bok’Tarong and be rid of you.”
“After these centuries, you still don’t understand, do you? The Taronese fools waste their lives trying to eradicate the Entana by killing the -taken. But they will never succeed.”
The Keeper of Secrets reached out with Saydee’s hand, as if to grab Raeb around the throat. Her fingers never connected, but Raeb felt as if the Keeper of Secrets had clamped talons around his windpipe. He choked. He panicked and flailed. Then the Keeper of Secrets pulled.
Raeb’s vision blurred as his spirit was extracted from his body. He resisted, but the Keeper of Secrets was too strong. The Entana ambassador towed Raeb from the physical world and zoomed through the spirit lands.
Raeb tried to absorb what he was seeing, but many of the sights were beyond his comprehension. Stars that seemed so cold and distant on earth burned just out of reach. Colors he could never describe, in every shade he’d ever dreamed, washed the blackness of space in streaks and blurs. Though he never saw another being, he was sure he wasn’t alone out here. There were thousands upon thousands of entities around him. Emotions radiated from them, intense joy and overwhelming sadness pulsing over Raeb.
They traveled for a minute, or maybe a day, when the bea
uty that made Raeb weep was erased. A black, writhing knot, unbelievably massive, loomed ahead of him like a stain. A nest of Entana. More of the vile creatures than he’d ever imagined. They coiled and slithered around each other, some stretching out into spiritual oblivion and the physical world. Many, many more pulsed around the core like a massive tumor.
“These are your masters, blade-bearer. You are nothing compared to this.”
Raeb jumped at the Keeper of Secret’s voice. In all the majesty and terror of this journey, he’d forgotten about his guide.
Raeb couldn’t tear his gaze from the Entana nest. His pride wanted to argue with the Keeper of Secrets, to assert his independence over these monsters, but he couldn’t. Staring at the massive tangle of Entana, drowning the darkness emanating from it, he was nothing.
“Even the Bok’Tarong cannot touch this. They think each -taken they kill hurts us. But we have plenty more Entana to send. We will always have more Entana to send.”
In a flash of comprehension, Raeb saw the Entana hive with new understanding. These weren’t individual creatures, living and working together. They were one creature in many different bodies. Each tendril lurching through a -taken’s mind wasn’t an Entana. It was just a single extension of the much larger, much more dangerous Entana hive. Killing one didn’t hurt the hive—ten more would be created to fill the gap. The tendrils were expendable, just feeding tubes of the hive. All this time the Taronese had thought they were killing the Entana, when they were just stimulating its growth.
All this time Raeb had thought he would kill his creature and be gone, when in reality he had to kill the entire Entana hive to have even a hope of freedom.
“If the Taronese with their precious Bok’Tarong cannot vanquish us, what hope does a worthless -taken like you have?”
Raeb stared at the Entana hive. He couldn’t even begin to put together any kind of argument. He was defeated. “None,” he admitted.
“Good. Remember that, obey your masters, and we may yet let you live.”
Soul of the Blade Page 8
