The Seeds of Dissolution (Dissolution Cycle Book 1)

by William C. Tracy

  While walking beneath the oppressive presence above, Majus Caroom did something with the House of Strength, and Sam felt the cold recede. A green glow surrounded them, and Inas whispered about a ‘constitution chorus.’ Soon, Inas had his own shine of green. Sam couldn’t hear what his friend did, but he burrowed closer between Inas and Enos, letting the shield buffer him from the cold, trying not to look up. He could feel the Drain getting closer as it grew. Like the house and Aunt Martha, but I have friends now. I could have saved her if I knew what I do now.

  A fiery orange wall emerged from the side alley, as Councilor Ayama, Majus Cyrysi, and Professor Riteno rejoined them. The extra heat was like sunlight on a chilly day, and the two auras merged, swirling in a wobbling mix of green and orange until Majus Cyrysi and Majus Caroom adjusted their notes to coincide with each other’s music. Though he could hear neither song, Sam felt the impact of the music in the back of his mind, just out of reach. He was stronger and warmer, and Enos raised her chin, breathing in. The air was still freezing, but no longer burning their lungs.

  They continued beneath the dark shadow of the Drain, and Sam gripped his friends, feeling tremors run through their muscles. We are all equally terrified here. It was almost refreshing to know they had the same shortness of breath, the same tightness in their chests.

  It was nearly pitch black this close to the center, underneath the bulbous skin of the thing, and Majus Cyrysi concentrated part of his orange aura into a pinprick in his hand. The pinprick began to glow, not with the non-illuminating light of the song, but with real flame. The Kirian faltered. Is he okay? Was that change permanent? Caroom put a wide hand on Majus Cyrysi’s shoulder and the green aura intensified around him. Majus Cyrysi straightened. His tiny flame pushed the shadows back, though not far. It cast harsh shadows into the councilor’s face, giving her a stern, fixed expression.

  There are even more dead this close to the Drain. Sam and the twins stepped around two bodies, arms entangled. There was no smell to the city, as cold as it was.

  It was hard not to see the off-white skin pulsing above him, very faintly luminescent in the blackness, growing as they trudged toward it. If only I was House of Power, I could help Majus Cyrysi. The Kirian’s crest drooped and his steps were much slower than normal.

  Even with both auras around them, strengthening and warming, they faltered in the last few sprawling blocks near the city center. Councilor Ayama stopped, and let the others go by her, touching each as they passed. Enos shied away.

  “I will do the same for Inas and myself,” she whispered to the councilor. “I can hear the changes you are making.” She shifted to the other side of her brother, and Sam instantly missed her heat. A white glow surrounded Enos, buffeting Inas’ green.

  Councilor Ayama reached for him. “This is a physical change. It’ll make it easier to move,” she told him. Her face was closed, tired.

  “Do you have enough notes?” he asked.

  The councilor nodded. “It’s not permanent. I’m changing the way your joints and skin work, just a little. They will move easier, and resist the cold. I’ll reverse the change when we get out. You wouldn’t like how this feels in normal weather.”

  “Like changing the oil in a car in winter,” Sam said. Councilor Ayama shrugged, a gesture of exhaustion, and touched a gloved hand to his arm.

  White and olive dug into him, and Sam nearly stumbled. His joints were loose, almost floppy, but in air this cold, they moved easier. He felt slightly warmer.

  “Thanks,” he said. Speaking made his throat hurt.

  Two blocks later, Majus Cyrysi called a halt. It was pitch dark, but for the majus’ little flame illuminating their circle. Sam watched the multi-hued glow around them, which gave no light. He wondered how the professor saw things, without the colors around every majus.

  They’re all doing something useful but me. Even if I’m not panicking, I’m still useless. His skin felt stretched, like his muscles were pulling away from his bones. Even with four different songs grounding him, the largest pull was from the Drain above. He felt it sucking at his essence.

  “We cannot be moving closer. I must be saving energy to work against the Drain.” Majus Cyrysi was dragging his feet.

  The councilor looked up, and Sam felt his head lift with hers. The Drain was above them, ripples moving through the mass of the thing as it slowly increased in size. It gave just enough light to see. This was above my house. This killed Aunt Martha. His knees wobbled, and he sank, pulling at Inas’ arm.

  “Are you well?” Inas asked, but Sam nodded his head, not trusting himself to speak.

  Can’t take more from him. Have to do my part. Sam forced himself up, watched the thing above. The bottom almost touched the tallest buildings, and a layer drifted between them and the skin of the Drain, like it was stripping dust away. It’s grown since we arrived. We’ll have to leave soon, unless we can stop it.

  Professor Riteno knelt, setting up his equipment as fast as he could with shaking, jerking movements. I can help there at least. The panic that gripped him when they entered Dalhni was a low buzz, but there were no crowds, the scenery was unchanged. Just a physical threat to my existence. Sam pulled Enos forward. They were the only ones free. The other maji and Inas were maintaining their respective auras. Councilor Ayama was on the other side of Majus Cyrysi, hand spread out in front of her, white and olive glittering between fingertips.

  “The very life is leaving this place,” she said after a moment. Her voice was scratchy and flat in the still air. “The air and ground are dying. Animals too small for you to see are falling from the sky.” She turned to Majus Cyrysi. “Your song can’t touch it?”

  Sam’s mentor nodded. “That is correct, but I will bring a sample from its edge for Mhalaro.” Majus Cyrysi reached a hand up, and the yellow glow of the House of Communication mixed with the orange surrounding him. The flame in his other hand dimmed, the yellow glow flickered, and the majus stumbled.

  “Sam, help him,” called Councilor Ayama. Majus Cyrysi protested weakly as the councilor and Majus Caroom supported him from either side. Sam stepped from the equipment to his mentor. They were grouped as tightly as they could and still move.

  “What can I do?” Anything. Let me help.

  “Listen for the—” Majus Cyrysi paused for a breath. “For the Symphony. I am needing a sample of particles near the Drain.”

  Sam concentrated, and the low ringing in his head expanded into a fractal Symphony. Every time is easier.

  “I’ve got it.” The others were around him, comforting presences, damping fear before it could overtake him. He frowned and his lips, chapped with cold, tugged painfully. The Symphony was sluggish, missing beats and notes. He winced at the discord in the music. “What’s wrong with it?”

  “It is the Drain,” Majus Cyrysi said.

  “It appears to be deconstructing the, hmm, energy that makes up the Grand Symphony,” Majus Caroom observed from where the bubble of green and tan was concentrated. Their eyes glowed more fiercely than usual. “This one would not believe it if not present. Where is the, hmm, energy going?”

  “It is being destroyed,” Majus Cyrysi said. He reached stubbornly, the yellow glow struggling to leave his fingers.

  You’re going to hurt yourself. Sam felt a strange flash of affection for his mentor. He closed his eyes and reached for the notes making the Symphony, but they shifted out of his grasp. No. I’m stronger than the last time. He grabbed again for the notes. Learning about the Drain was the only way to find Earth again.

  Here is the song. Find where the Grand Symphony falters. This is how you change the music. The thoughts sounded alien in his head, but his eyes shot open as he found the notes and chords. Understanding flooded him.

  “To destroy energy is impossible,” Majus Caroom said, and it was the most surprise Sam had heard from the Benish.

  Sam intercepted the decaying rhythms of the air between the tops of the buildings and t
he skin of the Drain. He took notes from his song to create a cadenza, wafting the faraway dust to him. Yellow swirled around his fingers, reaching out to the faltering notes from his mentor.

  “Equally impossible is a place where there is no Grand Symphony,” Councilor Ayama answered Majus Caroom. She raised a hand, palm up. “Listen.” The Drain was affecting all of the Grand Symphony, not just that of Communication.

  Sam and his mentor brought swirls of dust back to Professor Riteno on breaths of air, taking precious minutes. The Etanela captured the dust—combined from earth, plants, and disintegrated objects the Drain had swallowed—in a container and fed it to his equipment. Sam grasped his notes, rejoining them with his song.

  Several ages passed, as the professor studied the sample through a small viewport. Sam eyed the Drain as the lumpy surface grew, ripples passing along its surface.

  Finally, the answer came. “Nothing,” the Etanela said. “These particles have everything I would expect to find in a city of Methiem.” His words rolled together. “Nothing to indicate they were affected by that.” He gestured upward.

  “We must be trying again, closer,” Majus Cyrysi said.

  “We must consider there isn’t anything to see, Origon,” Professor Riteno said. “If your song cannot touch it, there may be no physical residue either.”

  “I will not accept that.” Majus Cyrysi swiped a hand through the air. “We have no time to debate. Once again, Sam. Remember, the Symphony cannot be changed the same way twice.”

  Sam nodded. It’s getting more fractured. The swirling melody of the air was missing parts. He could hear the changes the majus made, one note here, another there. Rather than a whirlwind he was guiding the dust to them on a corridor in the air currents.

  Sam added his notes to the song, this time finishing the majus’ creation when Majus Cyrysi faltered and bent forward. His crest rippled and he shot a glance toward Sam. Was that thanks, or annoyance?

  “Collect a sample from as near the skin as possible,” the majus said, but it was Sam who was pushing out, creating bridges and phrases in the halting melody to reflect what he wanted it to do. I am conducting a composition out of air. He had always liked music, but never thought he would be making it. It was natural to him. Despite the cold, the fear, he felt elation as he tweaked a measure, bringing the corridor of air closer.

  Majus Cyrysi was providing support at best, and he was pale and drawn, his crest limp. The music spoke to Sam, guiding him as much as he guided it. A little closer to the skin of the Drain, to get the particles nearest to destruction. The glow of yellow was mere feet from the surface, and Sam urged it closer, feeding more notes to the composition.

  The pulsating sphere touched the tops of the buildings and surged.

  Sam gasped at the same time as Majus Cyrysi, notes ripping from him. The ones he had committed to the song of the air corridor melted away. He hadn’t lost his grip on them—it was like they never existed. Sam swayed toward his mentor, Majus Cyrysi’s thick cloth robe rubbing against his sleeve. Part of Sam’s self was…missing.

  “Too close,” Majus Cyrysi said, panting. Their heads were close together, and Sam’s vision tunneled. “The Drain obliterates what we create in the Symphony.” Sam clutched his stomach, sick and even colder than before.

  “Again,” Majus Cyrysi said, though the word was pulled from him. “We must—get a sample for Mhalaro—”

  “Move!” Councilor Ayama cried suddenly, and Sam looked up, his eyes clearing with the shock of noise. The Drain had grown into the tops of the buildings, and was eating them, growing much faster than before. A spike of cold stabbed into Sam’s skin and the other maji slumped as their auras shrank.

  Professor Riteno stuffed the long metal and glass object back in his case, and left the rest of his equipment where it lay. The councilor had Majus Cyrysi’s arm, pulling him behind her. He was still staring at the Drain.

  “Can we make it?” Sam called. His heart was in his throat, his hand in his watch pocket. The satisfying ridges of the watch case fell through his fingers. He moved to Enos and Inas as they staggered away from the epicenter of the calamity.

  “We must,” Inas said.

  Like a race in slow motion, they trudged toward the edge of the city. Maji Cyrysi and Caroom’s aura covered them, but barely. Inas clenched his hands as Sam pushed him forward, Enos on his other side. “Can’t lose the chorus,” he muttered.

  Sam looked up every few seconds, gauging the Drain’s distance. Even his panic couldn’t force him to stop. It was growing faster, buildings flaking away like crackers crumbling at the touch of a giant finger. Something crashed into the street next to them, and Sam jumped, yelping at a piece of masonry fallen from at least four stories up. Keep moving. Keep moving. His breathing was too fast, choking him. He stumbled, caught himself on the pavement. Inas reached down for him, but he waved the other man away, groaning to his feet. He has more important things to concentrate on. The sustaining orange and green auras were shrinking back to those who made them and Sam shook violently, almost biting his tongue.

  He glanced back to see Enos trailing. No auras surrounded her, and Inas was consumed in keeping his meager one going.

  “Stop!” he called, or tried to. His voice was a ghost of frozen air. The Drain loomed over Enos’ shoulders, halfway down the buildings, off-white haloing her dark hair. He pushed toward her, the warmth and strength of the auras decreasing at each step. Only Councilor Ayama’s change sustained him.

  “Go,” Enos said when he was close enough to hear her. Her feet were scarcely moving. “I will catch up to you.”

  “No, you won’t,” Sam whispered back. “I don’t know if any of us will get out of this.” Please let us get out. The others were getting farther away. He pulled on her, trying to move her faster.

  Enos hissed in pain at his touch. “You are hurting my arm.”

  Sam didn’t let go. “I’m not letting you fall behind.”

  “The change I made was not as successful as Councilor Ayama’s.”

  “You can make it,” he urged. “Just a little faster.” He let go of her arm, wincing at the dark spot where he touched her, and fell in beside her to help. We have to go faster. Have to catch up. Can’t be caught here, in the cold, the death. His heart raced, arrhythmic.

  Enos shook her head, frost glittering in her hair. “You must go on. Comfort Inas, if I do not get out in time.”

  “No! I’m not leaving you,” Sam said. Don’t look back. Looking won’t speed us up. His body wanted to find a hole and crawl in it, but he overrode it with everything he had gained in the last ten-day. The others were out of sight. Did they turn down a side street? In the gloom, the road under his feet was almost invisible.

  Sam recognized the arch of dead flowers above the street to his right. It was the one the councilor had come from. Of course.

  “In here,” he told Enos. “I think it’s a shortcut.”

  “How…know?” He could hear Enos’ teeth chattering. Her hands were icy.

  “Why else go in?” The air made speaking difficult. “Shorter way back.”

  They walked slowly, Sam’s arms around Enos, half-carrying her. Everything was numb. The alley turned sharply, back the way they came.

  “Wrong…way,” Enos shivered.

  “I know.” Damnit. Damnit. The shame and embarrassment of a wrong decision coated him, tightening the skin of his face even more. No time to get out. Going to die.

  Overhead, the skin of the Drain blotted out the last bit of sunlight and the street around them fell into complete blackness. Sam hugged Enos close, but even that warmth dissolved away.

  They sank to the ground, leaning against a brick wall, his vest riding up.

  “We shall die here.” Enos’ voice was a shiver in the air.

  “I know,” Sam shuddered. He let the panic boiling in him come out and clutched at Enos. It doesn’t matter anymore. He burrowed into her side and her fingers slid down
his arm, too frozen to grip.

  It was too dark to see, but Sam could feel the Drain coming closer. Even in his terror, the Symphony was still there. It’s been in the back of my mind since the city center. There were only fits and starts left, a measure missing half its notes, a disharmonious chord. It was dissolving into the Drain. Impossible.

  They clung together in the darkness, shaking. Sam could hear Enos’ breathing slow, become shallower. His chest was a vice.

  “Enos?” he ground out, but there was no response. What the councilor had done to his joints and skin stripped away, and he cried out as the cold speared deep to his core. Then even that sound was absorbed.

  All feeling disappeared, and Sam was left with nothing, not even the feeling of Enos’ body. He was panic. He was fear. He was reduced to shivering statements of fact, and then to darkness.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Moral High Ground

  -The method by which the Council of the Maji chooses new members is a secret. Often it appears to be by merit or strength, but occasionally, a junior majus is chosen. This can cause chaos with the Council’s consistency until the new member is fully settled. Several times, the Assembly has proposed rules to control the Council’s makeup, but the proposals have always been vetoed at the extreme urging (and sometimes threats) of the Council.

  Economic and Judicial assessment of the Ruling Parties of the Great Assembly

  Origon stumbled as he burst through Rilan’s portal back to the Nether. Despite the danger, the thought repeating in his mind was how Sam had taken the composition from him. His apprentice had completed the music, and the fact made twin spikes of annoyance and pride flow through him. He was far too weak. How could he teach the boy when he could barely make basic changes to the Symphony?

  He faltered the few steps to the fence for something to lean against. Even away from the Drain, the portal had resisted Rilan’s attempts to open it. This end opened in the Spire’s portal ground, and the lighter pull of the Nether was a relief to his aching muscles.