The Reach Between Worlds

by Cameron Hayden

  “A hundred or so; most were killed early on. Their loyalty to her is tenuous, at best, but it would be wise to stay clear of them.”

  When they were past the next set of warders, and in the curved hallway behind the Curia, Taro pointed to a grate on the wall. Ven had shown it to him many months earlier. “There’s a maintenance shaft in there that will get us to the Cons quicker.”

  “There’s no us,” Mathan said.

  “I can’t do this alone,” Taro pleaded.

  For the first time since Taro could remember, Mathan didn’t look intimidating. He didn’t look imposing. He looked old. “I can’t go crawling around through air ducts. I’ve got no magic. All I’ve got is money, and I don’t think Vexis will take a bribe. I’ll do my best to divert the guards for you, at least.”

  Taro sighed, yanked the grate off the wall, and climbed inside. The narrow crawlspace led over a pack of sputtering wheel-cranks and to a ladder that seemed to go up forever. It would be forty floors of climbing, and that was assuming it was a straight shot and that none of the pathways decided to change along the way.

  When he placed one foot against the first rung of the ladder, he heard a clank against the wall. It was the grate being reattached. At first, Taro didn’t pay it any mind, but soon after, he heard talking.

  Sikes’ voice was slow and deliberate. “All alone? That’s very unfortunate for you.”

  “Mr. Sikes. I was wondering when Vexis would let you out of your cage,” Mathan said. Taro’s first instinct was to intervene, but Mathan tapped on the grate with his fingers. “Go on.”

  Sikes thought Mathan was talking to him. “I’m not going anywhere,” he answered.

  Mathan scoffed. “What do you want me to do? Apologize?”

  “You used me,” Sikes said, practically snarling.

  “Of course I used you. Did you think I was acting out of the kindness of my heart, you stupid boy?”

  Taro peeked through the grate and saw that Sikes had Mathan by the fabric of his vest.

  “Go ahead,” Mathan said defiantly. “I’m not going to die, groveling on my knees. You should be thanking me. A piece of Helian garbage rising to the rank of artificer is impressive. Like a circus chimp dressed up in a uniform.”

  “Shut up!”

  The entire maintenance shaft trembled as something struck the wall outside. Mathan groaned for a brief moment, but it was quickly replaced by choking laughter.

  “I said shut up!” Sikes repeated.

  “You know the best part? In a few minutes, all of the Helians outside will fry like bacon. And it’s all thanks to you.”

  Sikes hesitated, and his tone grew more concerned than accusatory. “What do you mean?”

  “Oh, she hasn’t told you? That’s marvelous. When the Arclight is repaired, everyone outside of this building will burn. And the Helians get front-row seats.”

  “You’re lying. You just want me to let you live.”

  “I would never lower myself in such a way. You are beneath me. If you were on fire, I wouldn’t stop to piss on you.” Mathan backed against the wall and felt at something in his right back pocket. He fished it out, and found that it was a lone bent cigar. “Dear sweet gods, yes.” He broke the end with his bare fingers and lit it. The first puff he took was manic, like a man who’d wandered through the desert finally taking his first drink.

  Mathan stepped toward Sikes and blew a puff of smoke in his face. “Go ahead and kill me. See if it does you any good. In the end, you’ll be just as poor, just as feeble, and just as helpless as ever.”

  Sikes’ templar flared like a furnace, and Taro scampered toward the ladder. He didn’t need to watch to know what was coming next. The walls shook with every blow and went on much past the point where Mathan would’ve been a bloody mess against the wall.

  The shaking eventually stopped, but the climb to the fortieth floor was not a silent one. The sound was faint, almost inaudible, at first, but it soon drowned out everything else. It was the whimpering cry of a Helian boy.

  Chapter Forty-three

  Breaking the Illusion

  The door to the Conservatorium creaked off its hinges, and cool mountain air wafted into the hall. Taro cautiously stepped inside, onto the grass, and the door disappeared behind him.

  It was quiet. Not the usual quiet of the Cons, which was often punctuated with the tweeting of birds and the rustle of leaves. This was an eerie quiet. The trees before him were thrust apart, as if a tornado had blown past, creating a perfectly straight path through the forest.

  The enchantment on the walls and ceiling flickered, and dry leaves crunched underfoot as he stepped toward the clearing. The normally neat, tilled earth was thrown up, and torn petals and stems were strewn across the ground. Beside the shredded flowers was Antherion’s body. Thick bluish-green blood trickled from huge cuts across his massive chest and the arch of his wings. The wounds were so deep, Taro thought the dragon was dead, until he saw his chest heave.

  “Taro.” Antherion’s voice was one part surprise, one part relief.

  Taro looked over Antherion’s side in more detail. His fist-sized scales were torn and gnarled, and the flesh underneath was lacerated. The slices were clean, almost surgical.

  “Vexis did this to you,” Taro said.

  Antherion wheezed and clenched his teeth. “Her powers have grown more hideous since we last met.”

  “She came here before?” Taro asked, then quickly answered his own question. “The day she killed Magister Briggs.”

  Antherion tilted his head toward the sky. The enchantment overhead crackled and warped. “I feared the worst.”

  “Most of the artificers are alive.”

  “Are they here?”

  “Just me. I had a magister with me, but we got separated.”

  Antherion stretched his body and winced, like a rush of pain washed over him.

  “Don’t try to move.” Taro brushed his hand over the dragon’s snout.

  “It’s too late for me. You must go.”

  “I can’t leave. I need to get to the Arclight. Which way is it?”

  Antherion pointed his tail west of the mountains. “Twenty yards in that direction.”

  There was nothing but a field of grass for at least fifty yards.

  “I don’t understand,” Taro said.

  “This room is much smaller than it appears. We use it as a greenhouse, but it is, in fact, here to obscure the location of the Arclight.”

  Antherion closed his eyes and his breathing slowed. His words grew progressively quieter, until Taro strained to hear him over the wind.

  “Walk straight. Follow the setting sun. Don’t stop, and don’t turn away. Remember that the end is an illusion.” His final breath left him and his body went still. All at once, shadows slithered across his scales.

  Taro backed away. Slowly, at first, but as the realization of what was about to spawn entered his mind, it became a flat run punctuated by frantic glances over his shoulder. If the death of a human could pull an apparition from the Reach, Taro didn’t want to see what spawned from a creature as ancient and as powerful as a dragon.

  Taro fumbled over a mossy rock face, panting and trying to put as much distance between him and Antherion as possible. The rocks ended in a sharp transition. One step, he was standing in the forest; the next, he was knee-deep in swamp muck. The bog before him teemed with varieties of small life: bullfrogs croaked, snakes slithered across the surface, and the foggy air was thick with mosquitos. Giant roots of craggy trees twisted through the bog like a maze, and mushrooms sprouted from every inch of the slimy water.

  Taro tried desperately to find a dry patch to walk on. His shoe and sock filled with muck, and he could feel every creep and slither across his legs.

  Two miles in, he was lost. Whether from the gases rising from the bog, or the fact that he could no longer make out the sun, he wasn’t sure he was going in the right direction.

  What finally set him straight was a roar in the distance
. It felt like someone reached into his heart and squeezed.

  The enchantment crackled and the true shape of the room came into view. For a split second, Taro saw the creature pursuing him. It had seven legs, three of which stuck out of its back. Beside these were tendrils with tiny teeth on the ends that lashed like whips, and its mouth was a dripping cluster of razor-sharp black teeth.

  The bog ended at a sheer cliff. Water flowed down the edges, and the lands below seemed to go on for hundreds of miles. Antherion told him not to turn, but Taro couldn’t find a way to continue. His legs were soaking wet, the cliff was slippery, and climbing down wasn’t an option.

  The trees creaked and cracked as the creature lurched closer to the cliff.

  “This isn’t real,” Taro said to himself. “There is no cliff. There is no drop.” Taro hovered his foot over the ledge, but he pulled back when it didn’t touch anything. “It’s not real,” he repeated.

  The creature lunged at him, and this time Taro didn’t hesitate. He jumped. The feeling of falling hundreds of feet shook through his body. The ground rushed toward him, but when he struck it, the grass and trees melted away into a solid stone floor.

  Taro managed to roll over. From this angle he could see the true make of the Conservatorium. The room took up the entire floor, and ridges covered in detailed magistry lined the ceiling and projected the images below. In the center was a clear barrier where the enchantment ended. It was like clear sky-colored glass. And on the other side, the creature ran across the cliffside, staring down at where Taro had fallen.

  On the far end of the chamber were four prongs coming from a triangular recess in the floor. When Taro stood on it, a stone pedestal rose waist-level to him.

  “Welcome,” a voice called from the pedestal. “Please state your destination verbally, or enter it on the console before you.”

  “The Arclight?” Taro said, as if it were a question.

  The platform clicked, separated, and lifted into the air.

  Chapter Forty-four

  The Arclight

  The platform stopped in a long hall with a clear glass floor. Beneath the glass was a starry, black sky; periodically, a thin beam of light would connect the stars into brilliant constellations. Rishan the Hunter; Iset and Coset, the twin angels; the Bow of Sarona—all glittered and sparkled in a sea of blackness.

  The hall led to tall double doors. Aside from the stars and a thin strip of blue light along the base of the walls, it was dark. The arched door at the end was carved with deep, beveled grooves and gold-tipped red flourishes. This was the original Arclight emblem, now used as part of the Endran crest, probably seen by Sun King Aldor over a thousand years ago.

  On the floor were the broken frames of six sphere-shaped constructs with glass lenses on their fronts. Their stone and steel casings were cracked, and the gears inside sputtered and twitched. One of the constructs hovered off the floor when it saw Taro but quickly crashed back down.

  The circular room on the other side had little floor space. The only clear area was the narrow path from the door and the area around a dais in the center. Hundreds of arm-wide pipes ran along the ceiling, walls, and floor leading toward the dais. The room shifted like a clock, and when it moved, each pipe connected to another in a different way.

  The surrounding walls were red-tinted glass, and the entire Endran countryside was visible.

  The intensity of the Arclight was more than anything Taro had imagined. He could feel the light in his skin, penetrating into his very soul; however, the heat from the fire was unnaturally cool, considering how close he was.

  Vexis had her hand pressed against the fiery dais. When she lifted her hand from the dais, the flames disappeared. She was all smiles. “Ah, Taro. Fancy seeing you alive. Your sister was right about you.”

  “You don’t have to do this,” Taro said. “You already have revenge on the Magisterium. What’s the point in killing everyone?”

  “It’s not up to me.” She glanced at Halric. “Revenge comes at a price, and it’s time to pay it.”

  She pressed her palm to the dais and fire erupted into the air. Shadows coalesced around her arm and slithered into the flames, turning them deep purple as the darkness expanded.

  “You’d pay with Kadia’s life?” Taro said it as an afterthought. He didn’t expect it to actually have an effect, considering Vexis was willing to murder an entire city of people. However, the moment the words left his mouth, Vexis’ body tensed up.

  “How do you know Kadia?” she said in an accusatory tone.

  “He’s trying to distract you.” Halric shook her free arm.

  “I met her at a hospital, in town,” Taro said quickly. He tried to remember some small detail that would confirm his story. Something only Kadia would know. “...Valros. He’s your dad, right?”

  Vexis lifted her hand from the dais and the flames dissipated. Her stare was furious, and Taro was glad it wasn’t directed toward him.

  “You said she’d be far away from here,” Vexis said.

  Dr. Halric took a cautious step backwards. “Taro is a practiced liar.”

  Vexis thought deeply for a moment. “I want to see her.”

  Halric turned nasty at her defiance. “We’re not taking a timeout to satiate your curiosity. Your sister is safe and sound, as was our agreement.”

  Vexis doubled down on her demanding tone. “I want to see her.”

  Halric didn’t waver. “If you want her to live, you’ll fulfill our bargain.”

  Vexis’ fingers clenched a stone handrail around the dais, and she squeezed it so hard that it cracked. “If you ever threaten my sister again, I will tear every bone from your body.”

  Halric sneered. “It’s not a threat, it’s a promise.”

  For Vexis, it was like some great, seething rage bubbled to the surface. She raised her hand and the shadows pooled around her. One of them lashed toward Halric, but it stopped inches from his face.

  Halric touched it with one sagging finger and it evaporated. “You’re just like your sister. Weak. Small-minded. Unable to understand the gift I’ve given you.”

  Taro summoned every ounce of templar he had and seized Halric by the arm, but he was swatted away easily. “You don’t honestly think you can contend with me, do you?”

  Dr. Halric waved his hand, and the force of his templar was like an ocean being dropped on Taro’s head. For a moment, it felt as though his bones were going to crack from the pressure.

  Halric knelt nearby and forced Taro’s head to turn to the side.

  “You mortals get under my skin,” Halric said. “Running about your pitiful, pointless lives. You steal your templar and call yourselves magisters. Let me show you true magic.”

  Halric placed one hand on Taro’s neck and the other on his forehead. Taro had felt this before, when Kyra opened his templar. Halric’s templar was as deep and as terrible as Taro had imagined it to be. It washed through Taro’s body and charged every one of his veins with such force that he felt as though his soul would burst from his chest.

  “So easy to corrupt, just like your sister,” Halric whispered. “It’s a shame you won’t get to see what I’ve got planned for her.”

  It was like a bomb had gone off in Taro’s mind. His eyes shot open and Halric recoiled like he’d pressed his hand against a hot oven. Taro grabbed the old man by his neck.

  Taro was sweating and panting. “Do you know what happens when you take a blowtorch to a candle?”

  “You can’t do this,” Halric said, “you’re just a—”

  Taro slammed his fist into Halric’s cheek, and the doctor tumbled back. Vexis was near the Arclight controls, and at Taro’s motioning, she pressed her hand to the dais and flames exploded into the air. Taro charged at the disoriented Halric and shoved him into the beam of fire.

  Flames consumed him, like a leaf in a furnace, and the machinery sputtered and shards of glass exploded from the Arclight controls. An arc of raw energy struck Vexis square in the chest, and
she tumbled backward onto the floor.

  Taro was completely unable to move for a long while. He’d used every ounce of templar in his body to fight back against Halric. When he heard footsteps approaching him, he couldn’t even bring himself to turn his head.

  “You’ve made quite a mess of things.” It was Aris. When he touched Taro on the shoulder, he regained enough energy to move.

  Taro looked around and found Vexis’ body.

  “Dead,” Aris said, anticipating Taro’s question. “The doctor?”

  “Gone.”

  “Aris, my friend,” Vexis called. Her voice was weak and barely raised above a whisper, but she seemed frightfully smug. “Never thought we’d meet here again, did you?”

  “You said she was dead,” Taro said.

  “Just wishful thinking on my part. I’ll finish the job.”

  Blood trickled down Vexis’ chin. “Do what you want. I’m going to live forever. I brought the great Magisterium to its knees.” She chuckled and wiped blood on her sleeve. “Taro, do you know why Halric’s templar wasn’t able to corrupt you? Because you fight for something other than yourself. You believe in something other than yourself. He was just like Aris.”

  Taro glared at her. “Aris is a far better person than you’ll ever be.”

  Vexis coughed out a laugh. “Aris fights for nobody. He believes in nothing but himself. He was willing to plunge this city into darkness for his own selfish ends. Believe what you want, but there’s only one villain in this room, and he’s standing right there.”

  There was a long span of silence before Aris spoke. “She’s right, Taro.” He approached the Arclight and placed his hand over his mouth. “I thought my freedom was worth more than a few pitiful mortal lives...that was just arrogance.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I think I can return what was given to me. But I think...I think it might kill me.” Aris’ hands crackled, and energy seeped from his pores.

  “There has to be another way,” Taro said.

  Aris smiled a warm, genuine smile. “I have no doubt you’ll make a splendid magister, someday. Try not to sell yourself short.”