Oblivion's Grasp

by Eric T Knight

  Netra struggled to her knees. “Can we just…can I rest for a moment? I’m so tired.”

  She expected Reyna to say no, or maybe just to jerk on the tether again, but instead she shrugged. They waited there for several minutes until Netra got her strength back and then they continued on.

  The sun was nearing the horizon. Netra stumbled along behind Reyna, so exhausted she could hardly think straight. It was all she could do to pick up one foot after the other and continue on. Her life was steadily draining away from her down the tether and soon there would be nothing left of her. Reyna hadn’t spoken in hours and Netra had the sense that she regretted her earlier lapse of vulnerability.

  Where was Shorn? she wondered. She hadn’t sensed his presence all day. Though she could not believe he would abandon her, still she could not completely relinquish the thought that he had done so. Maybe it would be best if he had. Even if he was able to defeat Reyna, it wouldn’t do any good. There was no way to break the tether.

  Netra lifted her shirt. The area around the tether had turned purple. The veins that radiated from it were swollen to the size of her little finger. Every step caused new pains. She was alternately freezing cold and burning with fever. She could feel that the veins had almost reached her heart. Several times she’d tried to muster Song and use it to build a barrier around her core, to at least slow the veins down, but she’d had no luck. She was just too weak.

  She realized she wasn’t going to live much longer. At most she would make it through the night.

  Have I really come this far, gone through so much, to die like this? she asked herself. It didn’t seem possible and yet at the same time she couldn’t escape the feeling that she deserved what was happening. What Reyna was doing to her and what she had done to those Crodin nomads was fundamentally no different. Perhaps it was fitting that she pay for her crime this way.

  Why not give up now? Why keep fighting?

  In the midst of her despair, she suddenly felt something. Was it Shorn? Wearily, she raised her head. The road they were on had just crested a low ridge and in the distance was a town built on several small hills beside the ocean. It looked like a fairly prosperous town, its buildings made of stone and many of them two story. There was a strong stone wall around it and a tower overlooking the gate.

  She felt it again. It was Shorn. The feeling was too faint to figure out what direction it came from, but she guessed he was ahead, in the town. That probably meant that he planned to try to rescue her there.

  She looked at Reyna’s back. Strangely, she had mixed feelings about the woman. She feared her, of course, but after the things she’d shared about herself Netra couldn’t quite find it within herself to hate her.

  If I had gone through what she’s gone through, would I be the same? she wondered. All she had to do was look at how she’d acted after she found Siena and Brelisha dead at the Haven. There was her answer.

  She wished there was some way to reach out to Reyna, to get her to see that…

  To see what?

  That she should give up? And then what? She couldn’t be killed. Should she let herself be cut into pieces so she couldn’t harm anyone else?

  It was a futile line of thinking. At that moment everything seemed futile to Netra. As if through a thick fog she glimpsed a future in which she escaped from Reyna and made it to Qarath. Even if that happened, it still would not change the fundamental problem of the Children.

  They could not die.

  Short of once again imprisoning them, Netra could see no way to defeat them. And after what she had learned about the prison, she didn’t think she could once again condemn them to that place, even if it were in her power to do so.

  Netra almost gave up and laid down in the dirt right then. It all seemed so pointless, all her running, all her struggling, the pain, the sorrow—all of it to fight a war that was lost before it ever began. Dimly a part of her mind knew that some of her despair was due to the tether and its corrosive effect on her, but she just couldn’t seem to help herself.

  As they approached the town, Netra’s sense of Shorn grew stronger. He was definitely waiting within its wall to ambush Reyna. She was tempted to call out, to warn him away. There was nothing he could do anyway.

  But she also knew there was no way she could convince him to leave her in Reyna’s clutches. Turning his back on her like that simply wasn’t within the realm of who he was. All she would accomplish would be to warn Reyna and doom Shorn.

  For her part, Reyna seemed completely oblivious to the possibility of attack. Whether it was because she considered herself invulnerable or whether it was something else Netra couldn’t have said. Regardless of the reason, Reyna walked through the town’s open gate without the slightest effort to look around for danger.

  The shadows were growing long as they entered the town. The buildings were mostly stone, with red tile roofs and large gardens. The place showed signs of being hastily abandoned. A door that hadn’t been latched properly banged in the breeze that blew in off the ocean. The street was littered with small personal items that had been dropped and there was a cart that had overturned, spilling an ornate rocking chair and a wooden chest on the cobblestone street.

  Their footsteps echoed hollowly as they made their way down the main street toward the center of town. A crow perched on a wall stared at them with beady eyes and then flew away squawking. There was a large plaza in the center of town, with a small park in the center of it, containing two stone benches underneath two large maples.

  On the far side of the plaza, beside a wide street, a large, stone building of some type—probably a temple—was under construction. Scaffolding ringed the structure, which was already three stories tall. Large, cut stones were still sitting on the scaffolding, waiting their turn to be set into the wall.

  Netra looked at the temple and knew immediately that Shorn was there. She couldn’t see him, but she could feel him.

  They had only just started across the plaza when Reyna stopped abruptly. Netra had a momentary panicked feeling that she had somehow alerted her to Shorn’s presence. But instead Reyna turned to her.

  “Maybe we should stop here for the night. I confess to being sick of sleeping on the ground. A soft bed would be a nice change.” She looked Netra over and shook her head. “You don’t look so good, you know. You could probably use the rest.”

  “I’m actually not that tired,” Netra said desperately.

  Reyna snorted. “That’s the worst lie I’ve ever heard.” Her eyes narrowed. “Why would you say that? What do you hope to gain?”

  “Nothing. I just…I didn’t want to anger you.”

  Reyna wasn’t convinced. “What are you up to?”

  Netra cast about for something to say that would assuage her suspicion. “It’s the tether,” she said. “It’s killing me. If you don’t remove it, I won’t last through the night anyway. I’d rather just keep going and get it over with.”

  “Giving up so easily?” Reyna said. “That doesn’t sound like you.”

  “Does it matter?” Netra blurted out. “Aren’t I just food to you anyway? Why would you care? What threat could I possibly pose to you?”

  Reyna stared at her for a bit, judging her words. Then she turned and surveyed the plaza slowly as if looking for something. “You’re right. It doesn’t matter. We are stopping here for the night. I’m going to sleep in a real bed and see if I can’t find another dress to wear. This one is filthy. A bath would be nice too. Maybe I’ll let you off your leash and let you draw me one. Now, I just need to find the right house.”

  She looked back down the street they’d come in on. “There were a couple houses that looked promising down there, but I hate the thought of going backwards.” Making a sudden decision, she turned around. “There’s sure to be something up ahead. Come on.” She twitched the tether, and Netra gasped with pain and tottered after her.

  As they crossed the plaza Netra tried not to look at the temple, tried to avoid even thinking
about it, as if somehow her thoughts would tip Reyna off. But it was difficult. She wanted to see Shorn. She felt as if the sight of him was the only thing that would give her the strength to continue on another step.

  They reached the far side of the plaza and entered the wide street. The temple loomed over them on their right. Netra fought to keep her head down and her thoughts empty.

  All at once she had a terrible feeling that she’d been wrong, that Shorn wasn’t here at all. She looked up just in time to see Shorn rise to a standing position on the scaffolding two stories up, one of the cut stones held over his head.

  Reyna never saw the attack coming.

  Shorn dropped the stone and it struck her square on top of the head, driving her down onto the cobblestoned street with a sickening crunch. Netra gasped and fell to her knees as a strong jolt of pain traveled through the tether from Reyna to her.

  As Reyna struggled feebly to rise, Shorn jumped down beside her. The stone he’d struck her with had cracked in half and he grabbed the larger piece and began slamming it into the back of her head repeatedly.

  Each blow seemed to be hitting Netra as well and she collapsed onto the street, choking on the pain.

  Somehow Reyna was still conscious. Netra could feel her reaching through the tether. It was like a vacuum was opening beneath Netra and she knew she only had moments to live, that Reyna was grabbing for her Selfsong and planning on draining her so she could use the extra power to fight off Shorn. As she tried feebly to resist what she knew she couldn’t, Netra whispered to Shorn.

  “The tether. Hurry.”

  He glanced at her and somehow understood what she was trying to say. Dropping the stone, he grabbed the tether in both hands, wincing as he did so, and quickly wrapped it around his hands so it wouldn’t slip through them.

  Netra’s life began to race down the tether.

  He stepped on Reyna’s arm with one foot and gave a mighty tug.

  The tether ripped free of Reyna’s hand. Netra screamed.

  As she fell into unconsciousness, she saw Shorn bending over her. The last thing she knew he was lifting her and carrying her away.

  Twelve

  Drawn by Reyna’s screams, Heram and his two followers hurried into the town, the rest of the Children struggling along behind them. Still limping on his damaged leg, Heram got there just as Reyna sat up. Her skull was caved in, her face a pulpy, unrecognizable mass. Half of her scalp had torn away and it hung down over the side of her face. Her neck was broken, her head flopping to the side.

  Heram came to a halt and stared down at her, a broad smile filling his crude face. “You don’t look so good,” he observed.

  Using her hands, she lifted her head so that she could look up at him with her one functioning eye. The other had come out of the socket and dangled uselessly. Her mangled lips worked and she spit broken teeth out of her mouth. “Stay away from me,” she said brokenly.

  Heram nodded to Dubron and Leckl and without warning they jumped on Reyna, tearing at her with their bare hands, greedy mouths closing on her.

  Reyna screamed in pain and rage and all at once there was a silent explosion of power. Heram’s followers were thrown back like rag dolls. Reyna came to her feet, stumbling and almost falling as she did so. She held onto the wall of the temple for support and faced off against Heram, her head lolling bonelessly to one side. “Come on,” she croaked. “Here’s your chance.”

  Heram shook his thick head. “Not yet.”

  She turned to look at the other Children who were arriving. “Anyone else?” They edged backward at her words.

  Reyna lifted her head in her hands. Power surged within her. With a series of pops and crunches her skull began to return to its normal shape. The bones in her neck fused and when she moved her hands away her head stayed upright. She pushed the mangled eye back into its socket and lifted her torn scalp, setting it back into place.

  In less than two minutes she was done. Her face was still a mess and her neck was crooked, but she was, once again, mostly whole. She drew herself up and patted dust from her dress. She surveyed the gathered Children.

  “Stay away from me,” she warned them, and turned and walked away.

  Thirteen

  It was nearly dark when Netra regained consciousness and opened her eyes to find herself cradled in Shorn’s arms. Her hand went automatically to her side, feeling for the tether. But it was gone, leaving only a sore spot that made her wince when she touched it.

  “What happened to it?” she asked.

  “It crumbled away,” Shorn said.

  Netra sagged back in his arms, a huge sense of gratitude and relief rising up inside her. She felt weak, but she was alive. “Thank you for saving me again.”

  Shorn didn’t answer, only continued walking, his long strides eating up the distance between them and Qarath. She sensed that he was angry and wondered at it.

  After a few minutes she said, “You can put me down now. I think I’m strong enough to walk on my own.”

  Shorn kept walking as if he hadn’t heard her.

  “Aren’t you listening? I said you can put me down.”

  “No.” His voice was harsh with suppressed emotion.

  “What do you mean, no? I don’t need to be carried.” No answer. “You’re not going to carry me the whole way.” Still nothing. “Put me down!” She tried to fight him. It did no good at all. “What’s wrong with you?”

  The glare he turned on her made her recoil. “You ask me that?” he rumbled. She got the feeling he was close to shaking her.

  “Can we stop for a minute and talk about this? Just put me down. I feel ridiculous trying to have a conversation with you like this. I’m not a child.”

  Shorn never broke his stride. “I will put you down when we reach Qarath.”

  “That’s enough,” she said, struggling some more. Compared to him, she was no stronger than a kitten. She gave it up. “What are you so angry about?”

  At first she thought he wouldn’t answer. Then he fixed his almond eyes on her, piercing her with his intensity. “I cannot watch you kill yourself.” Behind the anger she felt real anguish.

  His words struck her like a physical blow. She tried to speak, swallowed, then tried again. “I’m not trying to kill myself,” she said in a small voice.

  “Aren’t you? Alone, you threw yourself at the prison. Alone, you walked into the camp of your enemy. What else should I think?”

  Again she had to take time to recover before she could speak. “I can’t…I have to make up for what I’ve done. It doesn’t matter what happens to me.”

  “It does to me.”

  Netra felt her heart stop.

  “I was dead,” Shorn said. “I had lost everything but my life and I wanted only to lose it too. You…showed me there is still something to live for. Now do you understand my anger?”

  “I never meant to hurt you.”

  He looked down at her. Slowly, he said, “I believe you.”

  “Then you’ll put me down?”

  “No.”

  Fourteen

  Shorn walked nonstop through the night. Despite her protests, Netra slept much of the night. After all the running and the conflict, it actually felt good to just let go, to let herself be carried and not try to do anything. They reached Qarath the next morning, about an hour after sunrise. Shorn stopped when they were close and set Netra down. She held onto his arm while regaining her balance. “Not my favorite way to travel,” she told him with a faint smile.

  “Nor mine,” he rumbled, rubbing his arms.

  Surprisingly to Netra, even though the Children were close, the city gates were open. A small but steady stream of people and animals issued from the gates, taking the road that led north. As Netra and Shorn approached the city, a wagon drawn by a pair of horses emerged, a man and his wife sitting on the wagon seat. The back was piled with possessions and supplies, two children clinging to the pile. Behind the wagon were a handful of people on foot, likely servants, ea
ch carrying a bundle.

  The husband’s attention was fixed on the road so it was the wife who saw Shorn and Netra first. Her eyes grew very big and she gripped her husband’s arm and said something to him. He looked up, saw Shorn, and started. He snatched up a sword that was lying beside him on the seat, holding it up with one shaking hand. The servants clustered together in a nervous huddle, looking like they might dart back inside the city walls. Even the horses shifted uneasily, nostrils flaring as they took in this strange creature which confronted them.

  “I think we should get off the road and let them go by,” Netra said. Wordlessly Shorn moved to the side.

  The couple stared at them suspiciously. The woman whispered something to the man and he flicked the reins, urging the horses forward. All of them stared nervously at Shorn as they passed by, moving as far over to the other side of the road as possible.

  By that time a handful of soldiers had spilled out of the gatehouse and formed ranks in front of the open gates with their weapons drawn. There were shouts and running footsteps as archers took up positions in the towers flanking the gatehouse. Arrows were nocked and bows were drawn. From the far side of the gatehouse came a clanking sound as the portcullis was lowered.

  “Stay here,” Netra said. She walked forward with her hands up. “It’s okay! We’re friends. We only seek shelter.”

  “It’s not you we’re worried about,” one of the soldiers said, stepping out in front of the others. Clearly he was an officer. The hand holding his sword was steady. Shorn was not the first abnormal thing he’d seen recently. “It’s that thing following you.”

  “What the hell is it?” another said, a young man with black hair, barely more than a boy.

  “It’s not one of the Children,” a third said, an older man with gray in his beard. “That much I can tell you.”

  “Is it Melekath?” asked the black-haired one.

  “That’s a damn fool thing to say,” the officer said over his shoulder. He was middle-aged, his uniform stiff and clean, his face freshly shaved.