By the time they finished, the night was nearly over.
“Should we wait until morn?” Jak said, eyeing the stars above. Even as he asked the question, he doubted its logic and motive. Because of the high walls around them, morn would not come to them for a few more hours. Besides, if the summoning worked, the skies would become a maelstrom, day indistinguishable from night.
Nay, he had simply been putting off the confrontation.
“Let’s get this over with.” Kluber met Jak’s eyes, and the long slow bond that had developed between them hung heavy like a taut cord about to snap. There were no words to express, and Kluber turned away to take a position near the edge of the repugnant water.
“Summoning is something different than praying for favor. Are you sure this will work?” he called out.
“Not at all,” Jak said, pulling a pouch from his pocket, then sliding the Eye of Orkus into his palm. For once, his left hand felt free of pain, and he tossed the stone casually up and down, up and down.
How this tiny object had changed his life, in so many ways for the better. And some for the worse.
One last toss, then he gripped it firmly and brought it down as hard as he could on the cold black stone of the altar.
The explosion knocked Jak onto his back so hard he feared he may have broken his spine. That would put a quick end to this bold plan, he thought with irrational amusement. The concussion made his head swim, and he contemplated never getting up from this comfortable position. Forcing his eyes open, he stared straight up at the sky, watching in wonder just how quickly the dark clouds and thunderous rumbles began.
—What have you done?
Jak managed to get his elbows beneath him, and slowly propped himself up. Still rattled, he watched with a mild curiosity as the ground and air beside the altar shimmered and shook. Quickly—or perhaps slowly—a solid form took shape, drawn out of the earth itself. Tall and thin, shimmering, difficult to focus the eyes on.
Come, rock-child, come. Jak smiled to himself, his wits not yet fully returned.
—Stand up, fool.
He rolled onto his side, then was able to push himself upright. His legs were unsteady, but at least he was able to face the devil as a thane should.
The thing before him seemed to be more sand than rock, and its shape ebbed and flowed like malleable clay.
The fair weather had turned foul, first darkening the sky as clouds blocked out moon and stars. Then a mild brightening followed, as those same clouds began to flash, faster and faster. Soon the delay between bursts of light and crashing noises was so negligible as to be absent.
—You. You are the one who seeks constant favor. The one who delves into secrets beyond your feeble understanding. You are no Archon.
Nay, I am hratha.
—And you make use of my blessings, only to cast them away in the end? For what purpose?
Jak looked down, showing supplication. And studying the marks on the ground. I seek conversation. We have much to discuss.
He took one step backward, away from the terrible being. Then another.
—You are petulant. We have naught to discuss. You displease me, and you will be punished.
Jak took one more step back, then stopped himself. If it must be, then I accept your judgment. If I have displeased you, then strike me down now. He kneeled.
The figure seemed to grow larger as it moved closer, rising above him. Just what form its punishment would take, Jak never found out. Lashing out with his arm, he knocked over the trigger of the trap.
Netting sprang out of the ground, displacing the thin layer of soil that had camouflaged its existence. As it wrapped the target in sudden bondage, Jak leaped to his feet and tugged on the rope that hung over the solid stone framework. At the same time, Kluber shoved the anchor block off the edge of the pool into the fetid water. The resulting splash made a sound more pleasing to Jak’s ear than the liveliest festival music. He was able to let go of the rope and admire their handiwork.
The avatar of earth was pulled off the ground no more than a foot, but that distance was enough. In contact with its own elemental plane, Ithicus was an all-powerful being. Deprived of that contact, the devil was vulnerable.
Jak cast an eye toward Kluber. Together, the two of them would maneuver their quarry into the water. Once there, Jak intended to call down lightning, time after time if need be, until it was dead.
A sound like laughter echoed in his ears. He looked away from his friend, who had taken no more than a step towards them, and back at the devil and the net. He watched how easily its shape changed, no different from sand itself, passing between thick lines of net until it reformed itself, entirely whole, back on the ground. Back on earth, where it was master.
—Pitiful.
Jak had to agree. He had always known the trap was too primitive to succeed. He simply had not been able to think of anything better. So he had deluded himself, and Kluber, and gotten them both killed. His friend deserved better.
This time he backed up not in guile, but in fear. One step, two, three…until he was stopped by the brackish pool. Ithicus followed with no particular urgency, for there was nowhere to run.
Jak kneeled once more, not in supplication to the devil before him, but to the world entire, to all women and men who would have to continue suffering these intolerable privations. I’m sorry I failed you all.
The wind whipped and whirled through the narrow ravine, pushing and pulling on his puny frame. His body shook from the boom of incessant thunder, each pounding shockwave threatening to knock him over entirely.
The thing before him stood perfectly still, unbothered by the noise and disruption.
Jak waited, expecting the punishment to come quickly, whatever form it might take. He wished Ithicus would get this miscarried confrontation over with. At least that would put an end to this painful sense of despair.
The winds continued to howl, the lightning to flash, the air to tingle with untapped energy. Yet no strike came, and the devil remained unmoving.
-Oh. What is this, then?
Then Jak felt it, too. A disturbance in the air, in the ground, in dark cloud and dead water. Akin to the atmospheric transformations of the ritual sacrifices down below, amplified tenfold, and far more dizzying.
-Brothers, sisters, what has happened?
Jak remained still, as well, attempting to make sense of the currents. Locked in confusion, much as Ithicus was.
Kluber chose a different course. From a running start, he launched himself at the devil as a wrestler might a bear. The two tumbled together over the side of the pool, splashing into water just as the useless stone block had a short time before. Two objects—one head, and one shapeless lump—appeared at the surface. Kluber lunged, securing a better grip on his opponent, wrapping both arms on the form as Ithicus attempted to pull away. His grip loosened as its form softened. But the rippling water pulled apart loose strands, forcing the shape to solidify again and again, and each time Kluber gained fresh purchase.
What do I do now? Jak was frozen in indecision. The plan had gone horribly wrong. He could not strike the water with lightning. Not without killing both devil and man.
He saw his friend’s mouth open, taking in water as he yelled, but the deafening crash of thunder drowned out the sound. So he simply continued to watch as fragile mortal struggled on with impotent divine.
Kluber yelled a second time. “Jak!”
Nay.
“Now!”
Nay.
“Do it!”
The devil was twisting free, splashing ineffectually but slowly moving toward the side of the pool. Jak knew that as soon as it reached, its strength would return once more.
He stared up at the sky. Rain whipped across his face, and a flash reminded him that his work was all but already done for him. He closed his eyes.
I will not sacrifice again. Not to our enemy.
There are other forces out there. I will find them.
Jak stood
, feeling the crackle of power all around him. It was not difficult to reach into the sky above. He commanded and aimed.
Eyes closed, he felt more than saw the brilliant flash. Another explosion sent a shockwave through his body, but he kept his feet. He considered calling another, then stopped himself. Nay, one is sufficient.
He opened his eyes, facing the water. The two figures continued to wrestle, and the devil was very nearly to the edge.
Then Jak turned in the other direction, watching the spire break from its base where the lightning had struck. The dark shape began to fall, gaining speed, plummeting faster and faster toward the pool.
Kluber made one more effort to pull Ithicus back, bracing his own legs against the side as leverage. Then he and devil disappeared beneath tons of black stone. The shattering—and any ensuing cries—were drowned out by more claps of thunder. That, or Jak’s mind had simply refused to listen.
He sank to his knees, eyes riveted to the water’s turbulent surface. Looking for movement, simultaneously terrified and desperate to see any.
A few seconds, or whole minutes, passed. Jak crawled forward. He had wanted to save his friend, had not known how else to give him a chance. But rather than let go, Kluber had fought on and on.
Debris was everywhere, and the darkness grew more total as the lightning faded. Soon, the clouds would disperse. Until then, it was nearly impossible to see anything.
The water still swirled as Jak plunged his hand in. Kluber, please take it.
The thinning remnants of cloud revealed a sky in transition from night to morn. Jak hardly noticed as he drove his arm deeper into the pool.
“Are you looking for me?” came a voice from the other side.
Jak closed his eyes, fighting back tears.
“That water reeks more than I thought possible,” Kluber went on. “I’ll stink for days.”
Jak found his own voice. “You already did.”
That met with a chuckle. Not a real show of mirth, but closer to it than anything Jak had heard from his friend in ages. He heard movement, wet footsteps approaching, and felt a hand on his shoulder. He covered that hand with his own.
“Is it dead, Jak?”
Even in the dim light, the thick lines of sludge that had crept to the surface of the calming water were visible. But an earththane did not need to see them to feel the portent of the changes all around.
He exhaled, releasing all the long buildup of strain in one quick burst. “It is. The others will be angry.”
“They should be worried. Our next one will go smoother.”
Burgeoning daylight illuminated the path as the two of them slowly picked their way up the side of the canyon. The passage was treacherous and their bodies exhausted, likely to trip or slip from tired limbs and clumsy movements. Both knew the wisest choice was to rest and take their time.
They hurried anyway, for they wanted to spend not one minute longer than necessary in this place. And the thrill of what they had done charged their bodies and minds with an insatiable desire to keep going.
Before noon, they left the dangerous portion behind, and with it the superfluous energy that had propelled them through the morn. Now the journey became a slow walk amongst low hills and shallow rifts, a mindless activity allowing their attentions to shift elsewhere.
At least the trail was now wide enough to walk side-by-side, encouraging conversation and a finish to the much earlier discussion.
“I’m glad we talked about this, at last,” Jak admitted. “The guilt was too painful to carry alone forever.”
“You carried it too long, especially since it was unnecessary.”
Jak did not know whether he would ever agree with that sentiment, but he did appreciate hearing it. “I hear her last words in my mind a dozen times each day. ‘Be well, Jak. Be well, Jak.’”
“And she meant them. Be well. They weren’t an accusation. She had accepted her fate, and she wanted those she cared about to go on.”
“I…don’t know, Kluber.”
“Jak, her very last act tells us so. She was out of hope. She was turning into something she did not want to be, so she gave herself to slow the corruption in others. To spare us a while longer. You should honor her sacrifice, not second-guess it.”
The argument was sound, but Jak could not fully convince his heart the way he could his mind.
Yet he was ready to move on, and there were happier things to discuss, as Kluber pointed out.
“That was the difference between the two. Calla still has hope. You gave it to her.”
“How badly I want to see her, Kluber. Do you think she’ll be up when we get there?”
“The cave is only a few miles away, Jak. We’ll be there soon, but she might be napping through this heat.”
In his mind, Jak pictured her sleeping face. Not the one of recent times, troubled and restless, but the one from earlier days, peaceful and serene. Lost in joyful memories and imaginings, the way dreams ought to be. So beautiful, and such a comfort to him.
It was a mix of the two that greeted them at the cave entrance. She stood there, hands cupped over her heavy belly, watching them descend the last stretch of trail. Smiling, radiating contagious excitement.
Jak ran the rest of the way, kissed her once, then took her hands in his own. Just reminding himself that she was real.
“You should be resting,” he told her.
“How could I rest, silly? I was worried about you.”
Kluber dropped heavily onto his sleeping roll. “Did you worry about me, too?”
“Not at all.” She giggled. Looking into Jak’s eyes, her own asked the question before the words came out. “You two did it, didn’t you?”
He fought to keep his grin under control. “We did, but it’s not over.”
“Can’t you spend just a little time to celebrate the present? The future will come soon enough.”
“We have more work to do.”
“Jak, you’re tired. You need rest.”
“Well, perhaps this will make you more eager… I need to ask a favor.”
“Oh?”
He had looked forward to this moment, ever since deciding to destroy the one item that got him this far. After all, he would not be much of a thane if he could not read.
Everything would come harder now, but at least he could look forward to the effort.
Jak nodded. “I promised to hurry to Cormona. I’m going ahead, so you and Kluber can take as long as you need. Be careful, because I need you in good health and spirit. As soon as you get there, and we have time…you and I need to begin my lessons.”
12
Sea’s Pass
“We’re close,” Yohan said. “Very close, I think.”
“How do you know?”
“You have better eyes than I. You tell me.”
“What are those lights?”
Miles ahead, the night sky flickered and shimmered with color. Starting as a few faint white flecks, the lights shifted to pale blue and began to swirl in odd patterns, blooming to a subtle red, then slowing as they faded to a golden yellow.
The sight might have been beautiful had circumstances been different. But in this place, at this time, the lights could be nothing but Chekican sorcery that signified evil.
“Tricks and deceptions at every turn, Soldier Yohan. Let’s hurry.”
The harpa’s determination was becoming an ever-greater source of momentum, for Yohan’s was nearing its limit. Neither had slept in over a day—not since well before coming across the bodies at the rapids, when the elevation increase coincided with plunging temperatures. Though they had taken furs from the corpses, Patrik and Yohan dared not risk stopping. The only way to combat the freeze was to keep moving.
Unlike the exhaustion he felt before Threefork, Yohan’s battered body was just as bad off as his tired mind. He had never had time to recover from the fight with the demon and still could feel every blow and cut as though the fight had just happened.
The two
men pushed on as snow began to fall more heavily, slowing their pace even as it soothed Yohan’s mind. He remembered a whole winter in the snow, when he met Jena. He had not fully understood then the events unfolding in the empire, but had known they portended oncoming chaos. Yet the snows had also given them a tiny place of their own, shrouding him and her in a colorless bubble with its own dangers and beauties, shielded from the world’s incessant turbulence.
How that season had changed his life. He began to think of other times, other events, that had shaped his character.
And so the long, lonely story of child and man played out around him, images birthed from the trail ahead, passing through memory faster than he wanted, then discarded behind like so many footsteps in the snow.
“Mum, why do others whisper that Da was a bad soldier? Is that true?”
“Nay, he was a good soldier. He just made enemies. It is simply easier for those who remain to believe a falsehood than admit to a mistake.”
She never told him as much, but Yohan knew they had left Parca because of those whispers. Perhaps not exclusively—she was, after all, a Vilnian by birth—but the oppressive existence of the untrustworthy outsider was one he himself had been forced to become inured to. Injustice was one of many crimes Imperials unnecessarily committed upon each other, and he and his mother were hardly its worst victims. Nevertheless, there were times that it wore down the spirit harder than the longest march, and he felt only relief that she had been able to spend her last few years with kinsmen who treated her as one of their own.
Yohan’s father had been right about many things, but he had never taught his son the truth of companionship. Inconstant it may be, full of misunderstanding and hardship—but it filled an absence of the spirit that nothing could replace.
This lesson came only at the end, after a lifetime of shielding himself from its complications and difficulties.
The attempt to remain protected was, ultimately, a futile one. Jena had broken through with the meekest of efforts. And would he have not been better served to lower the shield with Summer? If their time together was destined to be limited, was it not preferable to make the most of it?
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