by Martha Carr
Corian slowly shook his head. “More like this plane has fallen behind. Or never changed with the times.”
That assessment felt like the truth. The stone buildings and the statues didn’t show signs of normal wear over the centuries. Nothing looked old, but none of it matched anything Cheyenne had seen on either of her visits to Ambar’ogúl. A different plane, all right. One that doesn’t even look like the same world.
The hair on the back of her neck bristled and the sharp, astringent taste of vinegar and some kind of fruit she couldn’t quite place settled on her tongue, tingling through the back of her throat until it bloomed up through her nose. She smacked her lips and snorted. “That’s funky.”
“That’s magic.” Maleshi fixed the halfling with her silver eyes and ran her tongue over her teeth. “Strong magic.”
Corian licked his lips and wrinkled his nose in discomfort. “Been a long time since I’ve felt the source like this, and it wasn’t anywhere near as strong.”
Cheyenne tried to rub the furious tingle out of her nose, blinking through the shimmer of tears the sensation had brought to her eyes. “I’m not a fan.”
Lumil stuck her tongue all the way out and grunted in disgust. “Tastes like someone pissed in the grog barrel.”
Byrd repeatedly wiped at his mouth. “How would you know?”
“Tell me I’m wrong, asshole. You can’t.”
L’zar stopped, blinked slowly, and burst into shrieking laughter.
The other magicals in their party, raugs included, turned to watch the drow thief fall deeper into madness. Cazerel’s orange eyes narrowed.
“L’zar.” Corian’s low voice was barely audible beneath the drow’s cackling.
“Ha!” L’zar slapped a hand on the nightstalker’s shoulder and shook it roughly as his golden eyes flickered across the valley. “Ba’rael’s son living out his life in Nor’ieth. This is way too good.”
Even as Corian and Maleshi turned disbelieving stares on the drow, L’zar fell into another fit of laughter. He slid his hand off Corian’s shoulder and shook his head, howling.
“Nor’ieth.” Maleshi frowned. “That’s a myth.”
Cheyenne turned away from her father’s explosive amusement and gazed at the other magicals. “While he’s battling his inability to make any sense, anyone wanna explain what the hell he’s talking about?”
“An origin story, kid.” Corian vigorously scratched the back of his head, trying to rid himself of the tingling itch of so much concentrated magic in one place. “Every world has its own. More than one on Earth. Only one here.”
“The source of magic,” Maleshi muttered. “Where everything begins and ends.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Not about the story.” The general’s eyes twitched and watered slightly when she met Cheyenne’s gaze. “Whatever this place is, we can’t prove it’s Nor’ieth.”
“Oh, yes, we can.” L’zar’s laughter died to a soft chuckle and he grinned like a lunatic at the empty air around them. “I can see it.”
Cheyenne wiggled her lower jaw, trying to fight off the growing pressure in her ears. “Lemme guess. This is another one of your ‘reading the threads’ moments, huh?”
“Every moment is one of those moments. What idiot thought to hide the child here?”
Cazerel grinned at the drow thief and pounded a fist on his chest. “I did.”
The raug chief’s dark chuckle filled the air, then he and L’zar lost it all over again. Their booming laughter echoed across the valley in one obnoxious wave of amusement after another.
Cheyenne grimaced at them and shook her head. Apparently, insanity’s contagious.
Corian looked at them, his nostrils flaring. “I fail to see the humor.”
“You know the high regard in which I hold you, vae shra’ni.” L’zar burst out laughing again and tried to cut it short, waving a long, slender gray hand in front of his face. “But you fail to see a lot.”
Foltr shot an annoyed glance at the raug chief, then stepped toward L’zar and cracked the end of his staff against the drow thief’s ribs. It only made L’zar laugh harder, despite his attempt to flinch away from the blow. “Pull yourself together, Weaver. If you have an explanation, give it.”
The drow’s laughter simmered down to a chuckle, and L’zar wiped the corners of his eyes. “Honestly, I expected you to share my amusement, Grandfather.”
“You have high expectations for a lunatic,” Foltr spat. “Out with it.”
With a deep breath, L’zar held the old raug’s gaze and nodded. “My sister’s child is here, old one, secluded within the walls of Nor’ieth for his entire life. No word in or out of this place but for the few instances, like today, when travelers open the doorway and cross through. No knowledge of the outside world. Ever.”
Cheyenne blinked in realization. “He has no idea he’s the Crown’s son.”
L’zar whirled toward her and pointed at her with a sharp thrust of his finger. “No idea there even is a Crown. No idea that anything exists beyond this place. For those passing their days in Nor’ieth, there is no other place. This is all there is.”
Despite the six feet between her and her father, Cheyenne glanced at his finger and leaned away. He’s enjoying this way too much.
“How is this useful?” Corian turned in a slow circle, gazing intently at the empty valley, the empty buildings, and the empty courtyards of white stone between the rising pillars. “If Ba’rael sent her son away for no other reason than to keep him safe from you, L’zar, she sure as hell accomplished that.”
“Ah, but if she sent him away with the hope of someday calling him back home to join her?” L’zar said, chuckling wildly again. “To stand beside her against me? That makes this the Spider’s greatest mistake. She has no idea where he is, Corian. She has no idea her son has been raised at the source, making him useless to her as a bargaining chip.” He laughed. “She fucked up royally, didn’t she?”
No one else found his play on words nearly as amusing as he did.
Cheyenne shook her head and couldn’t keep watching her father’s ridiculous display. “She wouldn’t do that, would she? Use her own kid as leverage to stay in power.”
“Cheyenne,” Corian growled. “Ba’rael Verdys slit her own father’s throat to step into power and keep L’zar out of it. That drow would do anything to get what she wants. She already has.”
“And she thought she had the upper hand by secreting this child away, even from her own awareness.” L’zar clapped his hands together. “She thought she had a hidden ace up her sleeve, but the card’s not even in the deck!”
The halfling stepped away from her cackling father. “If he starts jumping up and down and squealing, I’m done.”
Corian grinned at her. “Ten seconds. If he doesn’t snap out of it, I’m happy to offer you the first shot.”
Cheyenne laughed and lifted a fist in preparation. “Deal.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Holding Corian’s gaze, Cheyenne counted silently to ten but never got the chance to punch her father out of his insane laughter. By the time she reached eight, L’zar’s sudden recovery and immediate silence made her turn to look at him again, and she forgot all about her impromptu pact with the nightstalker.
The valley was filled with luminous magicals heading toward the travelers in their midst. Cheyenne squinted against the glare of so many shimmering bodies growing brighter as the strangers approached.
She leaned toward Corian and whispered, “Who are they?”
He stared at the newcomers and shook his head. “I have no idea.”
A crack echoed across the valley, and the bright halos of light disappeared from around the magicals’ bodies. The closest one, a tall, startlingly thin magical with skin nearly as white as the stone around them, spread his arms after clapping his hands together and bowed a smooth, hairless head toward the travelers. “Welcome.”
His voice rang out in numerous tones at once, as if al
l the magicals surrounding L’zar and his rebels had spoken at the same time, although only the tall male’s mouth moved. A small smile split his pale lips. Blue eyes so light they were almost colorless flickered from face to face among the travelers.
Cheyenne couldn’t stop staring. He doesn’t even blink.
Byrd’s mouth fell open.
Beside him, Lumil opted for her usual jab in the goblin’s ribs, but it was a weak attempt without any real effort behind it.
Cazerel stepped toward the magical who’d addressed them all and bowed his head. “The first time for my companions, Yilas.”
The ridiculously tall, thin Yilas straightened from his bow and swept his gaze over the awestruck faces staring at him and his people. “We know.”
“A word, bright one. If it pleases you.”
Yilas tilted his pale, elongated head and gestured behind him. “Come then.”
Without another word for the rebels he’d led into Nor’ieth, Cazerel nodded and headed after the strange-looking magical.
Cheyenne watched the pair move off to have a private conversation, then she scanned the wide-eyed, softly smiling faces of the other strangers surrounding them. If I had no idea magic and Ambar’ogúl were a thing, I would’ve sworn these guys are aliens.
Corian ran a hand down the side of his face. “When he said the drow was with the olforím, I let it slide. Thought it was just an expression.”
“That’s what they are?” Cheyenne found it hard to look away from the slightly glowing magicals radiating thick magical energy despite no longer giving off the blinding light. When she did, she found the nightstalker looking as dumbstruck as she felt. “Olforím?”
“As much of a myth as Nor’ieth,” Maleshi added, her voice barely above a whisper. “No one’s seen them for…I’d say centuries, but it’s been longer than that. One of those races everyone assumed died out.”
“They didn’t.” L’zar grinned at the olforím. “They came here.”
Ember tried to direct the crawler away from the closest olforím, who was stepping slowly toward her. The machine rocked sideways, lurched in a spinning half-circle, and finally righted itself before stepping quickly back the way she wanted. “Cheyenne!”
“Yeah.” The halfling stepped toward her friend but couldn’t look away from the pale blue eyes and the long, thin features peeking out from beneath the olforím’s flowing robes.
Ember swallowed. “You can feel that, right?”
“All the magic?” Cheyenne stopped beside the crawler and nodded. “Yeah, Em.”
“It touched me when that one got closer,” the fae girl whispered. “I could feel everything.”
“For real?”
Ember’s mouth had gone dry, but she licked her lips anyway. “Everything.”
“Huh.” Cheyenne rubbed the magical tingle growing beneath her nose. This is gonna get old fast. “If this place is a bubble with no openings to the outside, I guess the magic’s been building in here.”
“Like at the capital, do you think?”
Corian leaned toward them. “No. The magic in this place belongs here. I imagine it’s been strengthened by having no access to the rest of the world. No tech, untouched by the blight.”
“So this was what Ambar’ogúl was like before any of that,” Cheyenne muttered. “Before Sylra and all his changes.”
L’zar dipped his head at an olforím woman passing fluidly by him, though she kept a distance of ten feet. “If anyone would know, they would.”
“Oh, sure. I’ll ignore the magical shockwave and ask the closest one if this is what the world was like in the very beginning.” Cheyenne meant to snort at the idea, but it came out of her as a shallow, unsteady sigh. I bet it’s impossible to even think when one of those things gets too close. Her gaze drifted toward the bottom of the sloping hill where Cazerel stood in quiet conversation with Yilas. Or unless someone’s been here before and got used to it. Raugs are full of surprises.
As if he’d heard her thoughts, the raug chief turned back toward the traveling party and gestured at them with a wide sweep of his meaty arm. He looked like a mangled gray tree standing beside the lithe, graceful olforím, who was a head taller than the chief. Yilas nodded, and the pair made their way toward Cheyenne and the others.
“These, Yilas, are the drow’s kin.” Cazerel eyed L’zar intently. “L’zar Verdys and his daughter.”
“We are all kin in this place,” Yilas interrupted, sweeping his unblinking gaze across the entire party of dumbfounded travelers. “The source sweeps away all bonds of blood, does it not?”
“Blood bonds with blood.” Cheyenne wrinkled her nose when the line she’d heard in more prophecies than she’d wanted to hear came into her mind. Not here, though. Not in a place that doesn’t exist on the same freakin’ plane.
L’zar stepped toward Yilas, and while he didn’t grin at the magical, his closed-lipped smile was no less eager. “I would very much like to see him. My sister’s child.”
“Look around you, Weaver.” The olforím gestured toward the valley with a sweep of his thin arm. The sheer sleeves of his light-colored robes shivered with the movement, and Cheyenne noted the thumb and only two fingers on the magical’s hand.
Definitely like aliens.
“Everything you see is everything he is,” Yilas continued. “As are we all.”
“Indeed.” L’zar raised an eyebrow. “All the same, I would very much like to also see a physical body. If it’s not too much to ask.”
“No request is too grand, drow.” Yilas pursed his thin, pale lips. “Nor is the fulfillment of it. Come. We will lead you to this physical body. Do not be surprised if you cannot see it the way you expect.”
The olforím turned and headed toward the opposite side of the valley. Cheyenne and Ember glanced at each other, and the halfling leaned toward her friend to mutter, “I think we hit the jackpot for magicals even kookier than L’zar.”
“Kookier?” Ember snorted.
“It felt right at the moment.”
Corian paused on the other side of Cheyenne and nodded at Yilas and two other olforím walking beside him to lead yet another procession. L’zar had fallen in line behind them even before Cazerel, who rubbed his hairless gray head and nodded at the giant statues of long-dead O’gúleesh as if he approved of the unchanging state of things in Nor’ieth.
“This is it,” the nightstalker muttered.
“What, the end of sanity as we know it?”
Corian met the halfling’s gaze and raised an eyebrow. “Your chance to meet your cousin, kid. I wouldn’t be surprised if you feel a lot saner after that conversation.”
“I won’t be surprised if I lose my mind.” She’d tried to make it sound like a witty, sarcastic comment, but it didn’t quite work. I might’ve pinned the magical tail on the flying donkey with that one.
Ember’s attempt at a smile only made it to distracted-grimace level, but she steered the crawler down the sloping hillside as Cheyenne and L’zar’s rebels headed after another guide.
Behind them, Byrd kept clearing his throat. “I can’t even.”
“Then shut up, already,” Lumil muttered. “I’m right there with you, man.”
They passed through the center of Nor’ieth, weaving through the short, squat buildings of white stone and the occasional hut erected beside them. The highest concentration of what looked a lot like ancient Grecian temples filled the right side of the valley, interspersed with longer white buildings extending beneath the shadow of the rocky valley walls. Pale, elongated faces peered at the travelers from open doorways and from behind fluttering drapes made of the same material as the olforím’s matching robes. None of them said a word, though they smiled softly at the newcomers with unblinking eyes.
That’s how people smile at newborn babies, only five thousand times creepier.
Cheyenne blinked and forced herself to focus on the back of Corian’s head as they made their way through the densest mass of buildings and curious o
nlookers.
“They don’t look surprised to see us here,” Ember whispered. “Just amused.”
“That’s on my list of ‘how to know someone’s not right in the head,’” Cheyenne muttered. It’s the same look L’zar gave me from behind bars when I met him.
The thick buzz of concentrated magic in the center of the valley made Cheyenne’s eyes water. Lumil took a sharp breath and sneezed violently, sending a shrieking echo blasting back at them from the valley’s high stone walls.
“Nice one,” Byrd muttered.
“You or me, dae’bruj.” The goblin woman rubbed her forearm under her nose and sniffed. “One of us is gonna shut you up.”
They could have made the trip across the valley in half the time if the procession hadn’t moved so slowly. Yilas’ long, thin legs moved at a careless, steady pace as if this were a stroll through a garden. L’zar matched the magical’s stride easily, a thin, eager smile on his lips and his hands clasped behind his back. He looked over his shoulder at Cheyenne and widened his eyes.
Like a kid in a toy store. Or a psychopath who got away with murder.
Before she had the chance to decide what kind of expression to give her father in return, L’zar chuckled and turned around again to scan the incredibly high walls of the valley in front of them.
The taste of vinegar and unknown berries faded as they walked farther from the center of Nor’ieth. Good to know. Wherever the exact center is, I’m staying away from it.
Yilas stopped at the base of a steep hill rising. He watched the rest of the ragtag group of magical visitors with no expression and waited for the last of them to gather around, then swept a long arm toward the top of the hill and gazed at it. “You will find Aut Na’mor there, communing with the source.”
Cheyenne felt more than saw the glances Maleshi and Corian exchanged. She turned toward them with a questioning frown. “What now?”
“It’s just a name,” Corian muttered, shifting his gaze to the top of the hill.
“Obviously not just.”
Maleshi leaned toward the halfling. “It means ‘Lost One.’”
