Angel of Storms

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Angel of Storms Page 49

by Trudi Canavan


  Arriving within the smallest group of rebels, he created a shield around them.

  “Head for Hapre’s group,” he ordered.

  With his help, they forced their way towards the largest group of rebels. It was not easy. The Allies were determined to keep the rebel scattered. They had arrived holding plenty of magic and anticipating a fight. Forcing a way through to the larger rebel group took a great deal of magic. As the two groups joined Tyen looked around to decide who to help next. Another isolated group now lay crumpled on the floor. Their attackers were joining the allies surrounding five rebels stranded at the far side of the room.

  Tyen was about to skim to their side when he heard a familiar voice behind him.

  “Tyen.” Hapre’s expression was grim. “Leave them,” she said. “We have to go now.”

  “But I can—”

  “We’re almost out of magic. Do you have enough to unite everyone and take us through six worlds?”

  He looked around the hall. A line of allies stood between him and the other isolated groups, many of them familiar from his scouting. The strongest of the Raen’s supporters stood ready to fight him.

  “You can come back,” she told him. “If you travel fast. If anyone can do it, you can.”

  He drew in a deep breath and nodded. Her expression softened a little, then she turned away to shout at the rebels behind her.

  “Come closer! Link hands!”

  A pause, then the larger group shrank as all within it backed towards her and Tyen, pressing close on all sides. Hapre grabbed his hand. He took hold of the arm of another rebel.

  “Where is Baluka?” Hapre asked Tyen quietly, mouth close to his ear.

  “Looking for someone. He said to take everyone out if he didn’t get back in time.”

  “Do it, then.”

  He pushed out of the world.

  The place between was full of shadows. The allies were following. He considered what might happen if they attacked while in one of the six dead worlds, and his blood turned cold.

  We have to outrun them. Drawing on his store of magic, he propelled them through the place between, constantly increasing speed. He didn’t bother stilling the air below them in the world of darkness, pushing away so fast he barely had any sensation of being there. Closing his eyes as the brightness intensified, he used other senses to know when he reached the next world and immediately took them onward. The next world was a flash of green. The one after barely glimpsed. No heat touched them in the one after and though water surrounded them as they passed through the last, all they felt was a faint touch of moisture.

  He didn’t stop in the ruins, but pushed on, slowing when he’d taken them five worlds away, when he sensed no more shadows in the place between. They arrived on a small island in a jewel-green sea.

  He reached as far as he could and took magic in, leaving what was close by for the fighters. Hapre looked as if she was about to speak. He gave her no chance.

  “I’m going back. Don’t wait,” he said. “They’ll be following our trail.” Then he pushed out of the world.

  He backtracked. In the next four worlds he gathered more magic. Just before reaching the ruins he felt the presence of others. Allies? They halted as he approached. As he passed them they tried to catch and hold him, but none of them were strong enough. They did not follow.

  He plunged through the six worlds so quickly they flashed by unfelt and barely seen. The hall formed around him.

  The floor was littered with bodies. He saw Frell, head twisted to face backwards, eyes staring at nothing.

  Men and women rushed towards him. Allies. Thirty or forty of them. All coming toward him. Casting about, he realised that none of the rebels he’d left behind were alive. Yet half of the bodies were allies. Not all of the allies, since he had passed some on the way here. So who were these that surrounded him now? Their expressions were oddly desperate.

  He skimmed away from them, surfacing in a room nearby. The smell of burning flesh and wood tainted the air. He sought the allies’ minds and saw their predicament.

  When the stronger of them had left in pursuit of Tyen and the majority of rebels, these allies had stayed to finish off the rest. But they had used too much magic, and could not leave Valhan’s world. They were stranded. The little magic left in this world lay way beyond the underground city, far out of their reach. They knew that the palace had been abandoned. If any food had been left behind, it would not last long enough.

  Tyen searched for another mind. Finding Baluka close by he pushed out of the world and skimmed to the corridor where he’d left the rebel leader. Baluka didn’t jump this time. His face was pale. Trembling hands pressed to his mouth as he stared through the hall doorway.

  “I left too soon, Tyen,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I thought I was free to search for her. I thought we were still strong. I didn’t think we would lose.”

  “It wouldn’t have made any difference if you’d stayed,” Tyen told him. “You had no magic.”

  “But a leader doesn’t leave his army.”

  “Your intention was honourable, to rescue your fiancée. Did you find her?”

  Baluka sighed. “No. Signs of her. Clothes that smell of her. But not her.”

  “The allies in the hall know that the palace was abandoned recently. They might have an idea where she is.”

  Baluka scowled. “I will not ask for their help.”

  “You don’t have to.” Tyen smiled and beckoned. Baluka frowned, then blinked as he realised what Tyen meant.

  The allies turned to stare at them as they entered the hall. A woman rushed towards Baluka and threw herself on her knees.

  “Take us out,” she begged. She reached for him but her hands encountered Tyen’s shield. “I’ll pay you. I’ll give you anything you want.”

  “Do any of you know where Rielle Lazuli is?” Tyen asked.

  “The Raen brought her here a half-cycle ago,” Baluka added.

  As they exchanged glances he looked for signs of recognition in their minds and faces. They did not know who Rielle was.

  … if she is one of his friends, she won’t live long, one of them thought. The rebels and allies will be killing anyone loyal to the Raen now.

  … will regret leaving us here, when the rebels attack them next.

  … suppose it serves us right for delaying so there was a chance the rebels would kill the Raen.

  He shook his head and turned to Baluka. “None of them know. They believe the Raen set up a new palace somewhere, but they don’t know where it is.”

  Baluka nodded. “Then take me out of here.”

  Tyen nodded towards the allies. “Should we take th—?”

  “No.” Baluka turned his back on them. “You didn’t see what they did to the last rebels they killed. What they wasted their last strength on. They deserve to die of starvation in the darkness. Take me out, Tyen.”

  The allies’ protests faded to silence as Tyen took them into the place between. No shadows haunted the path this time. As soon as they arrived in the ruined world Baluka let go of his arm.

  “Before we join the others, there’s a favour I have to ask,” he said. “A very big favour.”

  Tyen frowned. “What is it?”

  Baluka’s gaze locked on Tyen’s. “Find her. Find Rielle. Don’t bring her to me. I doubt she will like what she sees. But do whatever you have to, to find out if she is alive and… happy. I have to know.”

  Tyen nodded. “I can do that. Well, I can try.”

  “If anyone can do it, you can,” Baluka said. He sighed. “Take me back to my rebels, Tyen.”

  They found a small group of the fighters several worlds away, locked in battle with a pair of allies. As Tyen and Baluka appeared the enemy fled.

  Baluka turned to Tyen. “I’ll join these fighters. You go do what I asked you to do. And Tyen…” Baluka’s smile was tired but genuine. “Thank you.”

  Tyen looked down. “Good luck,” he said lamely. “Travel safely.�


  As the fighters and Baluka faded from sight Tyen staggered over to a boulder and sat down. So much had happened. So many people dead. Everything had changed in an instant. One abrupt and fiery ending. The Raen was dead. The worlds were no longer ruled by one powerful sorcerer. And he was no longer a spy.

  He drew Vella out of her pouch.

  I’m sorry, he said. With the Raen dead we are no closer to restoring your body than we were at Liftre.

  Her fine handwriting appeared on the page. There is no need to apologise. As you know, I cannot feel emotions so I cannot be disappointed, she reminded him.

  Yet you know that what was done to you was wrong, he reminded her.

  I do. And it would make sense that the person I was would want to live again, if given the choice.

  He sighed. Everything I did was to right that wrong, but everything I did was wrong–and for nothing.

  If the Raen was not lying about his experiments, something of them must exist somewhere.

  Tyen’s heart lifted. She was right. There would be notes and remnants of experiments–like the child’s head, if the Raen hadn’t destroyed it already.

  Where would they be? He got to his feet as the obvious answer came to him. The palace! And if I return I can look for clues to where Rielle went. He thought of the allies trapped there. He would not have left them to die, but then he’d not seen how they’d killed the last rebels.

  They might know something about the experiments.

  They might. But if the Raen kept the experiments a secret I doubt any but the closest of the Raen’s friends know of them. He recalled the lone man hurrying to open the box of instructions. Someone the Raen had trusted an important task to. Was he stranded there, too? Tyen hadn’t noticed another mind when he’d sought Baluka’s, but then, he hadn’t needed to search for long.

  He nodded to himself. I guess the palace is as good a place to start as any.

  Putting Vella away, he moved out of the worlds and headed back towards the path to the palace again, gathering magic along the way. He flashed past the six dead worlds, amused to find they were no longer at all intimidating.

  As he neared the Raen’s world no detail of the hall appeared, only darkness. Guessing that the allies had left it to scavenge for food, he arrived an arm’s length above the level of the floor to avoid materialising within an object.

  His precaution proved to be wise, as when he dropped he stumbled on something soft and uneven. Catching his balance, he created a bright light, and found his guess was right: he’d landed on a corpse. Looking around, he noted how little blood he could see. While some bodies lay twisted in disturbing ways, with limbs bent in ways they shouldn’t be or heads half crushed, others showed no signs of what had, ultimately, killed them.

  Magic could be a tidy killer.

  His stomach churned, disturbed by the reek of burning flesh and wood still permeating the room. His eyes were drawn to the dais. The Raen’s death had a neatness to it as well. No body to rot away. Nothing but a hand, if that’s what it was. He found himself walking towards the raised end of the hall. Fixing his eyes on the pile of ash and charred wood, he recalled the Raen’s last moments.

  Why didn’t you run? Why didn’t you fight, for that matter?

  Had the Raen killed himself? Were the rebels only supporting characters for an exit that would be remembered for the next thousand cycles?

  Or had the Raen underestimated the rebels or overestimated his strength?

  Thinking about what he’d read from the minds of the stranded allies in the hall, he considered another possibility: that the allies had deliberately delayed coming to support the Raen in the hopes that the rebels would kill him.

  And what of the mysterious sorcerer hurrying to open a box containing instructions. Had he failed, and therefore failed the Raen?

  The only other possibility Tyen could think of was that the man the rebels had killed had been a stand-in. Why, then, hadn’t Tyen been able to read his mind? Had the Raen been blessed with a friend willing to die for him who was similar enough in appearance and powerful enough to hide his mind, and therefore the deception taking place?

  He knew me, Tyen thought, remembering how the Raen had met his gaze and nodded. Whoever it was, he recognised me.

  As he reached the pile of ash he saw it had been disturbed. Footprints scuffed the black dust around the remains, leading to the seat cover, which had been moved. No disembodied hand lay where it had been.

  No ashy footprints led away.

  He moved closer, placed his boots in the footsteps and pushed out of the world a little. As he’d guessed, a new path led away from the palace.

  Let’s just see…

  He hadn’t followed it for long before it was clear no ordinary ally had made it. It remained new, not joining the well-used path through the six dead worlds. Instead, whoever had made it had cut a new path into another world. A landscape of grey, twisted rock surrounded Tyen. As he arrived he was knocked to the ground by a deafening, powerful wind, so he pushed straight out again. The new path led on through several more worlds, all devoid of both life and magic. By the time Tyen finally arrived in a world with magic, on a smooth hill in sight of a small village, he had begun to worry that he was pursuing someone with a death wish. He wound up curled on the ground gasping for air and his head pounding.

  Once he had recovered he pushed on and picked up the trail again. A few worlds later the arrival place was within a busy city, and he scanned the minds around him until he found two children keeping watch in the hopes of seeing someone famous. They had seen the previous traveller.

  A lone man. Not one Tyen recognised, though. He continued his pursuit.

  He couldn’t be sure how far ahead the man was, so he increased his speed. That proved to be a mistake, as his quarry had started using tactics to hide his passing. Tyen had to retrace his steps several times but, since he had used such tricks himself often enough, he managed to pick up the trail again.

  Then, in the space between, he sensed a shadow ahead.

  It stilled for a moment, then vanished.

  Tyen gave chase.

  He expected more manoeuvres as his quarry tried to evade him, so when the man flashed into sight within the whiteness, grabbed his arm and pulled him into the nearest world he was too surprised to resist. By the time air surrounded them, he’d recovered enough to shield, force away the man’s hand, and brace himself for a fight.

  The man was furious, but his mood quickly shifted to horror as he realised he couldn’t read Tyen’s mind. He resolved not to think of the precious thing he carried in…

  “Who are you? Why are you following me?” he demanded.

  “I am Tyen. Who are you?”

  “Nobody you wish to know.” Dahli, the man’s mind whispered.

  Tyen had heard the name before, but it took another few heartbeats before he remembered the context. Then his heart skipped a beat. Dahli was the strongest of the Raen’s friends. He was the one known as the Most Loyal.

  And Dahli had now realised that he knew Tyen’s name. The spy! Valhan said I should find this one, as he’ll want to help. He relaxed, and at once his mind returned to the secret he carried.

  Tyen learned the Raen’s reason for dying, and it stunned him.

  The rebels had not won.

  The worlds had not changed very much at all.

  The Raen had not failed to uphold his side of their deal, and Tyen was not free of his side of it. He recalled the man’s words at their first meeting, when asked how long it continue: “Until Vella is restored or I am convinced I cannot help her.” Not until he was dead.

  “So Tyen,” Dahli said. “Why are you following me? Or would it be better to ask: what do you want?”

  Tyen suppressed a sigh. “To join you,” he lied. “How can I assist?”

  Dahli held out his hand. “Come with me.”

  PART NINE

  RIELLE

  CHAPTER 23

  The paintbrush hovered o
ver the board, then descended. Just before it touched the surface it shook a little and landed exactly where Rielle did not want it to, placing a splodge of red in the middle of Sesse’s nose.

  Sighing, she dropped the brush in a cup of thinners, grabbed a rag and dabbed at the painting. It only made the situation worse, blending the red in and spreading the paint, so that Sesse’s nose grew wider. Rielle muttered a curse in Fyrian and reached for the brush again.

  “Are you sure you want to start with a portrait?” Sesse asked. “The other artists say that portraits are the hardest. I could bring you some fruit or flowers and a pretty bowl.”

  Rielle wiped the brush and set about returning the nose to a true and more flattering colour and shape. As a former servant of an artist, Sesse’s advice was often very good. Rielle had resisted it this time, impatient to produce something that would impress the other artists in Cepher.

  “I suppose I should,” Rielle replied. “But first I’ll fix this bit…”

  Sesse’s eyebrows rose into a knowing look. Rielle decided to ignore it. She needed to focus. And relax. When she’d made the mistake she’d been thinking about Dahli, and that was bound to ruin her concentration.

  That his loyalty was to Valhan first was no surprise. He had never shown anything but dedication to the leader of worlds. What had been a revelation, other than his suspicions concerning her and everything about Baluka, was that he loved Valhan. Though Valhan did not return his feelings, Dahli’s were still strong. What a sad, frustrating situation to be in.

  She had to admit, she felt like a fool. To think that I’d hoped Dahli and I might grow to be more than friends! She was glad she’d never said anything. Though… would he have read it from her mind while she was learning to become ageless? She thought back and was relieved to find that she hadn’t progressed beyond thinking of him as a friend at that point. It was only on the way back to the Arrival Hall that she’d considered it.

 

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