“You’re in my bed,” he said. Then his eyes closed and his head slid down.
“No, no, no!” Seri grabbed Dravid’s head and shook it gently. “Don’t go to sleep!”
“We have to move this rock!” Jamana insisted. “We need to get him out!”
Seri reluctantly let Dravid go and moved next to Jamana. She positioned herself to lift. “Now!” Jamana said. They both strained. Nothing happened. Seri let go.
“I’m not doing anything!”
“We cannot let him die here!” Jamana cried. He heaved again. Through gritted teeth, he screamed with the effort. The stone moved about an inch. Dravid groaned.
At Seri’s arrival, Master Hain had moved a rope to her with magic. Could this rock be moved in the same way? Without any clue of what she could do, Seri placed her hands on the rock. She closed her eyes and tried to concentrate. But she didn’t know what to concentrate on? The stone itself? The star in her eye? “Please, please,” she whispered. To her shock, she felt a tiny vibration run through the stone. She looked up and saw Jamana staring at her. He had felt it too!
Another figure landed next to them with a rustle of robes and a cloud of dust. “Stand aside.”
Seri looked up into Master Hain’s face. The mage stepped past her and laid his hands on the stone pinning Dravid. He closed his eyes and concentrated. A low hum filled the air.
Jamana wiped sweat from his head and watched, his face a picture of anxiety. At first nothing happened. Seri glanced at Master Hain’s face again. He still had his eyes closed, but didn’t seem to be experiencing any difficulty.
The stone began to vibrate. With a louder hum and a clatter, it split apart into hundreds of small shards which collapsed and slid across Dravid and his surroundings. Jamana hurried to dig out his friend.
“Well, young acolytes,” Master Hain observed. “I suppose it is high time that we actually taught you some magic.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
MARSHAL HAD NEVER thought much about the afterlife. Enduring his current life seemed enough to think about. When he woke up after the assassin’s attack, he didn’t know what to expect.
His brain struggled to understand the light that struck his eyes. It wasn’t sunlight, firelight, or lamplight. It seemed steady like sunlight, but not as bright and yellow. As his vision adjusted, he realized he was staring up at a sky full of stars.
But such stars! On cold nights in Drusa’s Crossing, on the mountain foothills, the stars sometimes appeared close enough to touch, filling the sky from horizon to horizon.
But this… he had never seen anything like it. Stars filled the sky, but they were HUGE. Marshal had never seen a single star like this, let alone a sky full of them. Some of them approached the size of the full moon in size, and exceeded it in brightness. Even more astounding, they varied as much in color as in size. Marshal saw white, blue, yellow, even red, and a myriad of shades between.
In some parts of the sky, he saw even more: swirls of color behind the stars, twists of dimmer light that stretched wide bands across the blueish-black blanket of the heavens. The beauty of it all overwhelmed him. He realized he was holding his breath. He let it out and took several rapid breaths, as a tear ran down his cheek and lodged in his ear.
“Shift in ten.”
The voice came out of nowhere. It sounded young and feminine, but unlike any woman he knew. She had the same commanding tone as Talinir, but with a stronger resonance. It couldn’t be Theon, could it? Would Theon have a girl’s voice?
Marshal lifted his head and pulled his view from the sky. The blaze of starlight illuminated everything around him almost like daylight. He lay in a bed of some kind, far softer than he was accustomed to. But beyond that, he couldn’t seem to see anything. He blinked, trying to understand his surroundings.
“Shift in eight.”
Walls rose up around him. Or did they? His eyes couldn’t seem to focus on them, but neither could they perceive anything beyond. He lifted up further and looked over the side of the bed. He could make out some kind of stone floor, but again, he couldn’t quite focus.
A motion caught his eye. He thought he caught a glimpse of an extremely tall figure standing a few feet away. It made him think of the giant shadow he had seen in Efesun. But like the walls, he couldn’t focus on it.
“Shift in five.”
Marshal let his head settle back down and returned his gaze upwards. Thinking hurt too much. Far better to watch that glorious sky. It was soothing, in a way, like comfort itself wrapped up in light. He relaxed and breathed easier. So beautiful.
“Shift in two… one… now.”
The walls Marshal had tried to focus on snapped into view in his peripheral vision. White stone with faint marble swirls appeared out of nowhere. For a moment, his bed sat in a room without a ceiling, looking up at those incredible stars. And then a ceiling made of the same white marbleized stone faded into view, cutting off the starlight. A heaviness settled over his chest, an anguish for what he could no longer see.
“Shift completed.” The owner of the voice stepped into view. An Eldani woman reached out her long-fingered hand and touched his forehead. Somehow, she must have pulled him back from the afterlife. What a horrible thing to do.
“The effects of the starlight will fade shortly,” she said. “How does your chest feel?” Marshal stared at her, not knowing how to react. She resembled Talinir somewhat, with the same angular features, though hers appeared more delicate. She also seemed much younger. Longer, lighter hair framed a face that contained the same strange eyes, but boasted longer eye lids and eyebrows that actually curved. The overall effect made her appear closer to human, though, like Talinir, she seemed somehow taller than she appeared. Despite that, Marshal believed her to be the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.
“Oh, of course. The curse.” She placed two of her fingers fully on his forehead, cool against his skin. She closed her eyes, and a look of concentration passed over her face, followed by perplexity. “That’s strange.”
She opened her eyes and stepped back, looking at him curiously. “I should be able to perceive your thoughts, but…” She frowned. “Fascinating. The curse must be more extensive than just the vocal blockage. Tell me, if you can, has your mother ever tried to teach you some form of hand communication?”
Nod is yes. Marshal nodded. Aelia had tried many times in his childhood. It never worked. He could never remember what she showed him, even after a few minutes. The meanings of the gestures always disappeared from his mind. He was so stupid.
“And it never worked, did it?”
Shake is no. Marshal shook his head.
The Eldani woman sighed and looked away. “What have they wrought?” she whispered. Turning back to Marshal, she gave a half-smile. “You poor boy. Locked inside your head, with no way to ever communicate beyond the most basic. The curse will not allow it.” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before opening them again.
“Enough of that. My name is Eniri. I have been tending to your pains. How is your chest? Does it hurt?” Her fingers gestured lightly over Marshal’s chest.
With a rush, Marshal’s memories returned. The assassin had stabbed him in the chest! Why wasn’t he dead? He grabbed at his chest and realized two things immediately: he had no tunic, and he had no wound. He sat up, staring and feeling all over his chest. Not even a scratch.
“Warden Talinir brought you here. After treating your wound, we shifted your room into the Starlit Realm,” Eniri said. “The starlight accelerated your healing. While it doesn’t have the usual effect on humans, the restorative powers are impressive.”
She moved to a doorway Marshal hadn’t noticed. “Your clothes are on the end of the bed,” she said. “I will let you get dressed. After Lady Siratel does a final examination, you may rejoin your mother and friend.”
•••••
Marshal found his clothes, cleaner and neater than he had ever seen them, on the end of the bed. He dressed quickly. In
the process, he discovered other injuries had vanished, as well. He had sustained a number of cuts and bruises in the fall into the river, but could find no trace of them. He felt his face, but the scars remained. That hadn’t changed.
Getting through the door proved more confusing than he had anticipated. He could see the frame, molded around the shape of a door, but could find no handle or means of opening it. The frame and even the door itself appeared to be the same marble-white stone as the walls.
He reached out a tentative hand and pushed on the door. To his surprise, it swung open with little effort. A long hallway stretched before him. Unlike the room he had left, wood panels lined these walls - oak, he thought. A narrow band of white stone bisected the wall at waist height, except where it crossed the four doors that lined either side. Cool light filled the hallway, but Marshal couldn’t discern the source.
Eniri waited two doors down. She gave him an appraising look. Marshal looked down at his clothes. Had he done something improper? Eniri smiled at his reaction, which only made him more nervous. Her clothes, unlike his, appeared tailor-made with care to fit her precise measurements. Marshal had rarely seen a blouse and pants so elegant.
“This way,” she said. She walked to the third door on the right and pushed it open. Marshal followed and looked into a dark room. He glanced back at Eniri.
“Come in, my child.” The voice from the room sounded like Eniri’s but had a stronger sense of command and age to it. Marshal didn’t dare disobey. The door rotated shut behind him.
He closed and opened his eyes to adjust them to the darkness. The room was not entirely without light. Tiny pinpricks dotted the ceiling and walls, in an apparent imitation of a star field. What made them glow?
“Forgive the darkness,” the voice said. “When you are as old as I am, it is difficult to endure the harsh light on this side.”
Marshal could now make out a figure sitting in a large stuffed chair against the wall. He couldn’t tell much about her in the darkness, but even here, his eyes wrestled with the strange sense of tallness. He took a step closer.
“Come, come,” she said. “I am Lady Siratel. Judging by your age as a human, you would consider me to be ancient, I am sure. How could one such as I possibly harm you?”
Marshal moved next to the chair. Lady Siratel reached out a wizened hand and grasped his upper arm.
“I know of your curse, child. Fear not. You are only here so that I may examine you. Humans are not used to exposure to the Otherworld as you have just experienced. I must determine if there are any lasting effects.”
None of this made any sense. How would she determine that? What was this Otherworld or Starlit Realm, if not the afterlife? Marshal wished someone would speak plainly.
Lady Siratel stood. It seemed to cause her pain. She grimaced and put both hands on either side of Marshal’s head. “This will be difficult with the curse in the way,” she murmured.
Marshal had no idea what she was doing. Unable to see her clearly, he stood and waited. Nothing happened. Her hands stayed in position. She remained silent for a long time.
“Difficult indeed, but not impossible,” she said at last. “My, you had difficulties on the way here. That assassin is particularly fascinating.”
Marshal jerked. Was she reading his mind? Seeing what had happened to him? Surely not. Aelia must have told the story already.
“Too far back. I want to see your most recent memories… ahh. There we are.” She paused. “Yes, the starlight is overwhelming for those unused, but I do not think you suffered any ill effects.”
Marshal’s head filled with the brilliant stars he had seen in the other room. The ache of loss filled him again.
“Perhaps I spoke too soon. Your affinity for the stars’ beauty is surprising. I fear the longing may never leave you fully. Still, perhaps in time… Shall I? Yes, I suppose I should. The curse makes it exceedingly difficult, but not without reward, I believe.”
Lady Siritel’s hands tightened. “I am sorry, child. I said I would not harm you, but this may be slightly painful.”
The tiny star lights around the room exploded in brightness, shooting beams of light across the room. Marshal shut his own eyes instinctively. It was too much. Yet even with his eyes closed, he could feel something striking him all over his body. Tiny spots of pressure, very light but distinctive. Could he actually feel the beams of light?
“Oh. Oh, my. That…” Lady Siritel’s voice trailed off and she gripped his head even tighter. Marshal felt a painful pressure beginning to build behind his eyes.
“The stars… they… No. No, it cannot be. That…” Her breathing rate increased. Marshal could sense her chest rising and falling rapidly in front of him. The pressure continued to build.
“The stars… the stars in your future…”
Marshal gritted his teeth as the pressure became almost unbearable. He reached for Lady Siritel’s hands, but her grip grew stronger by the second. He felt both hands begin to shake.
Lady Siritel’s shriek pierced his ears. She released Marshal and collapsed back into her chair. He stumbled backwards and opened his eyes. The stars had dimmed again. The pressure in his head vanished. Eniri burst through the door.
“Lady Siritel!” she cried. “What happened?”
The elder woman pointed toward Marshal, her hand shaking. “The stars…” she whispered.
Eniri knelt beside Lady Siritel and placed her fingers against her forehead as she had done with Marshal earlier. “What is it, my lady? What about the stars?”
“In his head, in the time to come… I saw the stars…”
Lady Siritel sat bolt upright, pushing Eniri’s hand away.
“They fell!”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
“THIS IS NOTHING less than the breakdown of the fabric of reality!” Master Plecu’s voice rang out through the Conclave of Mages, followed by a low murmur.
The Conclave had gathered, but unlike the last time Seri had been in this room, a large audience waited for them. It seemed every resident of Zes Sivas wanted to observe the Masters as they debated the earth’s shaking from the day prior. Apprentices, acolytes, and servants alike crowded into the seating tier, barely able to contain their numbers. A dozen or more people had been injured, though none as bad as Dravid. Rumors claimed numerous new Bindings between residents who had helped each other.
Seri noticed Curasir seated in a separate chair of his own, not within the Masters’ half circle, but off to the side. He seemed content to observe, at least for now. Looking toward the stage, Seri’s eyes couldn’t stop wandering to the empty seat within the half-circle. Kuktarma had not yet sent a replacement for Master Simmar. Only five Masters debated.
“Nonsense,” said Master Korda. “It is troubling, but there are numerous possible explanations.” Jamana’s Master looked like a larger and broader version of Seri’s friend. He spoke with a heavy accent and such a deep timbre that Seri had difficulty parsing his words at times.
“We have discussed each alternate explanation and rejected them all,” Master Hain said, a note of irritation in his voice.
“You have rejected them, perhaps,” Korda said. “I have not.”
Seri spared a glance at Jamana, who sat beside her. His face betrayed no emotion, yet she knew he was still troubled over Dravid’s condition. The healers had taken charge of their friend, but he had not yet regained consciousness.
“Will you at least agree that this is no natural phenomenon?” Master Alpin of Varioch asked.
“It seems highly unlikely,” Korda said.
“Then what is left?” Plecu said. “Wild magic has never been this powerful. In Theon’s name, what could–”
“There are other gods besides Theon,” Master Tzoyet broke in. His quiet voice, distinct enough to interrupt Plecu, made it difficult to make out his words.
“What did you say?” Alpin asked.
“There are other gods. Perhaps we have angered one of them.”
“
Blasphemy!” Plecu shrieked. “How dare you speak thus in the heart of Antises!”
Masters Alpin, Plecu, and Hain all touched index fingers to their palms. Around her, Seri noted many others throughout the crowd do so, as well. Jamana did not.
“The Book of the Law states that there should be no gods above Theon,” Tzoyet said. “He is Almighty. But there are gods below him.”
“Semantical blasphemy,” Alpin said.
“Does the Book of the Law not say that Theon is greater than all other gods? Did he not bring judgment on the gods that our nations served before the Great Cataclysm? How can he be greater, how can he bring judgment on something that does not exist? Perhaps they have returned, seeking vengeance.”
Murmurs swept through the crowd. Seri frowned. She knew rumors circulated that some of the people of Ch’olan and Mandiata had taken to serving other gods in addition to Theon. But she had no idea the practice had spread this far. Then she stifled a chuckle, remembering how she had been too nervous to mention religion in her appearance before the Conclave. Clearly, they had no qualms over debating it amongst themselves.
“It seems more likely that this would be Theon’s judgment for those who abandon him and serve other gods!” Master Plecu cried.
“Oh?” Korda said placidly. “How many of you have done so? The quaking is centered here, so if it is judgment, it must be judgment on those present.”
“You twist my words!”
“Masters, please,” Hain said, tapping a thick staff on the floor. “Let us not engage in personal accusations. We all seek wisdom and knowledge here, not blame.”
Curasir stood. “If I may?” he asked.
Hain nodded. “Let us hear from the ambassador from the Eldanim.”
Master Plecu looked about to say something, but apparently thought better of it and sat down.
Curasir strode to the middle of the half-circle, facing the Masters. In doing so, he put his back to the crowd. Seri breathed a sigh of relief. Every time his gaze had come near her, she had tensed up.
Until All Curses Are Lifted Page 14
