The Light of Life

by Edward W. Robertson

  A couple of golden motes were tumbling near his head. Suddenly annoyed with them, he tried to swat them away, but he couldn't touch them with his hand any more than he could with his mind.

  "Sounds smart to me," Volo said. "But you guys never care what I have to say."

  Dante wanted to assure her that that wasn't true, except it was.

  Blays watched Gladdic, waiting for the old man to make his move, then swore. "Yes. Righto. A plan that accounts for all of our concerns and contingencies. Only a complete jackass could say no."

  Gladdic smirked. "Heavens forbid that after all I have seen and done that I be labeled a 'jackass.' I will agree as well—on the condition that Naran liaises with the Tanarians to ensure that enough scouts are deployed to detect a second strike well in advance."

  "I'll tell Ara our plans." Dante stood. "If she gets mad about it, try to collect at least part of me to return to Narashtovik."

  He stepped out of the dining hall and bumped right into Ara, who'd been steaming toward it to drag them off to the day's practice. He quickly explained what he'd heard was happening in Aris Osis, as well as their plans to deal with it.

  Ara narrowed her eyes. "If we'd had any interlopers show up to bring you this news, I think I'd have heard them screaming under our knives by now. How did you get this information?"

  "Through wicked sorcery."

  "I guessed as much. Though you would have surmised that I would guess as much, and fed me a lie you knew I would happily swallow. Be aware that if you've smuggled another of your people into the Spires, we will kill you and feed you to our crops. Or maybe we'll eat you ourselves. It's been a very long time since we tasted meat."

  Dante called on the nether and swept his right hand in a long oval pattern. Beside him, the shadows took on a human shape. He gestured broadly, more out of show than of need; the figure clarified into a tall woman, dark-haired, lean but strong, capable of swinging a sword or running for an hour straight. Gesturing and working more subtly, Dante added another layer of refinement to his work, honing the woman's eyes and nose and chin.

  Ara's eyes had gone wide. With the illusion complete, a smile spread across her face. For once, it wasn't wry or mocking. It was the simple joy of being caught off guard by something delightful.

  Hesitantly, she reached toward the vision. "That's how you see me?"

  "It's not how I see you, it's how you are. If I can duplicate you like this, you can trust that I'm more than powerful enough to speak with people from a distance, and don't have any need to sneak people into your sanctuary."

  Ara kept her eyes on the vision. "It's a good plan. If and when the time comes, we'll help you get back to the swamps."

  "You don't mind interrupting our training?"

  "You're the ones who forced your way into our home and demanded to learn all our secrets. But let me make this clear: even if you go to Aris Osis and slay the Eiden Rane himself, that doesn't absolve you of your promise to us. You will teach us to capture our history in books so that we can add an eighth spire to this place: the Library of Tanar Atain."

  "Running out on our deal never crossed my mind. Even if we were victorious, do you really think I wouldn't come back to finish learning to use the stream?"

  Ara smiled, half mockingly. "In that case, maybe I'd rather you die in Aris Osis."

  She led them back to the half-wild forest that stood at the edge of the dead-blasted Hills. They picked up where they'd left off the day before, with three of them generating flecks of the stream while the fourth one tried to access it.

  After a full round of failure, Dante folded his arms, tapping his elbow. "Bel Ara, will you touch the stream for us?"

  "Surely. Don't discouraged by how easy I make it look."

  She lowered her chin. The slowly swirling chips of gold assembled into a loose spiral. It looked something like a clock spring, but it looked less like something hammered into shape by a human hand and more like something made orderly by nature itself, like the smooth flat roundness of pebbles in a rushing stream. Ara let the power hang there a moment, then flicked her hand, shattering it back into discrete pieces.

  "And a second time? Give me a moment first." Dante reached out for a strand of nether from within himself, grabbed another from Ara, and melded the two together.

  She snapped her head about to stare at him. "What are you doing?"

  "Watching the process for myself. Like you told us to do."

  "I didn't tell you to use your black magic. That's cheating. You're supposed to observe and reason it out on your own."

  "That's exactly what I'm about to do. To accomplish this, I'm using a perspective none of you have access to. You should appreciate that, as it can only add a new dimension to your knowledge of the Odo Sein."

  Ara grimaced. "I don't know what I hate worse: when you are ignorant, or when you're able to twist your logic that far without it breaking. Go on, then. Subvert your learning with your shadows."

  "It's always worked for me before." He checked the link between them to ensure it was secure, then nodded.

  Ara reached out for the stream. Through the nether, Dante loomed forward as closely as he could. There was a brief moment of friction between Ara and the sparks. Something seemed to rotate, then to clunk into place; this achieved, the stream came to Ara's hand, waiting to be used.

  "Would you do that again?" Dante said. "Slower this time?"

  "While I'm at it, why don't I just tell you exactly what I'm doing?"

  "It would make this go a lot faster. But I agree that it's more important to preserve your traditions than life as we know it."

  She gave him a long look. The corner of her mouth twitched. She turned away and moved her mind toward the stream. This time, she slowed herself tenfold. Like the first time she made contact with the golden matter, there was a straining, a kind of friction.

  To Dante's complete shock, Ara reached out to three different sections of the stream at the same time. After a moment of intellectual panic, he focused on one section, watching as she turned the fleck of gold this way and that. Her motions had a logical flow to them, like a mathematical formula or a piece of good music.

  Before he could forget their sequence, he darted out to the stream himself. At first he couldn't so much as feel it, but as he began to repeat the sequence, it resisted, as if trying to pull back. He quickly repeated the process several times, etching it into his mind.

  He asked Ara to show him again. She obliged. This time, he observed the second sequence, practicing both it and the first until he had them memorized. He had Ara move on to the final sequence. He repeated it eight times before he was positive he had it down. Taking a deep breath, he held the third sequence in place, then manipulated the stream with the first and second.

  The stream held fast, refusing to be unlocked. Dante backed off, then tried again, progressing from the first sequence to the second to the third. The stream didn't seem to notice. He swore.

  "I've been able to watch what you're doing," he told Ara, "but I must have got one of the sequences wrong."

  She stared back at him. "Sequences?"

  "The way you have to interact with the stream three times to get it to open up to you. I must have made an error somewhere. Can I see you do it again?"

  If he didn't know better, he would have said she was hiding a smile. She accessed the stream anew, keeping her motions deliberate and slow. Watching the first sequence, Dante saw that he was right about one thing: the sequence was different from what he was doing.

  But not in the sense that he'd made a small error that could be solved with a tweak or two. Rather, it was completely different. From start to finish. And it was different from his memorization of the second and third sequences, too.

  With a sinking stomach, Dante asked Ara to access the stream yet again. The first sequence was radically different from both other times he'd watched her execute it.

  He banged his fist against his thigh. "Son of a bitch! You have to change your appro
ach to the stream every single time you want to use it?"

  Ara relaxed her hold on the stream. "This comes as a surprise to you?"

  "When you summon nether, it's like channeling a stream of water. Ether is more like emptying yourself and then allowing yourself to be filled with light. In both cases, the general process is the same every time."

  "Well, apparently that's not true of the stream. Deal with it."

  He weighed the option of launching into an angry tirade versus getting to work. The tirade would provide immediate short-term satisfaction, but it would only delay the greater and long-term satisfaction of actually knowing how to use the gods damned Golden Stream. Also, Ara would only mock him for it.

  With the grim self-congratulation of doing the responsible thing, Dante moved toward a small gob of stream, turning it about at random. As he fumbled with the patterns of gold, Gladdic extended a nethereal link to Ara, observing the process for himself. Blays shadowalked to see if he could spot any clues from within the netherworld, but soon declared this an utter failure. Volo worked quietly on her own pursuits.

  Dante accessed one of the sparks. As soon as he attempted to wield it, it pushed back—the tension he'd seen in Ara's efforts. After some fumbling around, he released the spark to see if he'd have an easier time with one of the others. It was just as impenetrable as the first. Several attempts later, he'd concluded every one of the golden sparks was unique, resisting his efforts with differing pressures and vectors. In each case, the pushback held a logical suggestion about how to negate that push and delve deeper into the spark's "lock."

  The process of mapping this out felt like fitting pieces into a puzzle, or indeed like tripping the tumblers of a lock, yet it was far more abstract than that. Once he realized this, Dante was able to make rapid progress through the sequence of responses necessary to access the spark. Sometimes it slipped away from him, obliging him to start over, but as their mid-day break approached, he completed his first sequence.

  Grinning, he gave himself a moment to admire his work. But only a moment. He moved on to the second sequence, advancing carefully from one tumbler—or note, he wasn't sure what best described it—to the next. He was still working on the third note of the sequence when the two he'd previously worked out changed shape, expelling him.

  Rattling off a stream of salty oaths, he switched back to the first sequence. And found that the "lock," which he'd thought he was all done with, had also expelled his previous work. He'd have to work through a completely new sequence to begin to open the stream.

  He pushed his palms against his face. "This is ridiculous. It's like trying to pick a lock, right? You have to trip the tumblers in the right order. Only the lock keeps changing shape while you're working on it. And after you've already opened it!"

  "That's correct," Ara said.

  "What are you so pleased about? This is a huge setback."

  "But it's not impossible, is it? Or else we wouldn't be having this conversation, because I wouldn't be Odo Sein, since it wouldn't exist. And if there were no Odo Sein, then we wouldn't be able to talk in the first place, as the lich would have slaughtered our ancestors before they could have us."

  "Look on the bright side," Blays put in. "At least this time she actually told you that you were right about something."

  Not knowing whether to laugh or throw things around, Dante resumed his practice. He'd gotten one sequence finished and was trying to zip through a second before the first one could change when his loon throbbed.

  He hopped to his feet and walked away from the others, particularly Gladdic and Ara, then activated the loon. "Yes? Is that you, Jona?"

  "Hope I haven't woken you again, sir."

  "It's the middle of the afternoon."

  "Oh yes, I've noticed. But I wouldn't know nothing about how a nethermancer structures his days. I'd imagine you'd have to stay up awful late to get to talk with the imps and demons."

  "Imps and demons don't exist," Dante said. "And the ones that do are up and about during the daytime as well."

  "I must say I find that most unsettling, sir."

  "Then let's stop talking about it and start talking about why you looned me."

  "Well, we've found the Knight of Odo Sein, lord. In fact, Captain Naran's speaking to him in the other room right now."

  Dante clenched his fist in triumph. "And has he agreed to help us?"

  "That's the exact matter I need to ask you about. The good knight is most interested in destroying the White Lich. I'd go so far as to say he's fanatical. Thing is, he doesn't believe in the slightest that the Odo Sein at the Silent Spires would ever agree to work with a bunch of dirty outlanders such as yourselves."

  "We came to an agreement with them. I was in the middle of our training when you looned me."

  "Oh, I'll just tell him that, then. He didn't believe me the other times I told him as much, but I'm sure this time will be different."

  Dante scowled into the distance. "Tell him that Bel Ara is as beautiful as a sunrise, but her dedication to fighting the Eiden Rane has made her nearly as terrifying as he is."

  Jona chuffed with laughter. "One moment, lord."

  The loon went dead. Dante sat there, idling with the pathetic helplessness that was so specific to waiting for someone to reopen a loon connection.

  It was only a minute before it pulsed again. "Well?"

  "The good knight says that if you think Bel Ara is bad, you should try being trained by Five. He would be honored to give his life fighting the lich by your side."

  Dante clenched his fist again, punching the air for good measure. "You have to keep him safe in the meantime. Don't even let him be seen in public."

  "Suppose we'll cancel the knife-swallowing contest, then."

  "One more thing, Jona. We're planning to stay here until we know that the White Lich plans to attack again. That means we have to know the instant he starts marching on Aris Osis. That means you need plenty of scouts. And some way for them to relay information back to you in as little time as possible. Signal fires or the like."

  "Captain Naran had that same exact thought, sir. He's already got Tanarians ripping about in their canoes. If you hadn't noticed, they make top-notch watermen. Would love to get a few of them signed up to our crew."

  "Even if we depose the main threat, the Tanarians will still have to deal with the Righteous Monsoon. I'm sure you could find a few sailors who'd be happy to get out of the country for a while." Dante gave a thumbs up to the others. "I need to return to my work. Let me know the instant you see signs of war from the lich. Even if it means interrupting me in the middle of the demon impregnation ritual."

  "It will be done," Jona said. "I'm glad to know milord takes the matter so seriously."

  Dante shut down the loon and returned to the others. "Our friends in Aris Osis have secured the help of the surviving Knight of Odo Sein. Bel Ara, if the lich makes a move, we're going to need to be able to leave at a moment's notice."

  "It's already taken care of. Do you think we're stupid?" She looked him up and down. "Do you suppose the Eiden Rane will make a second attack on the city?"

  "I thought you guys were the experts on him. What with your entire existence being devoted to stopping him."

  "As far as I know, you four are the only people currently alive who've squared off against him and survived. If I were an expert on the Eiden Rane, and wanted to maintain that expertise as time went on, I might want to go to sources such as yourself for more current information."

  "Despite having a conversation or two with him, I don't know much about him. Most of our talk centered on things like how I would join him or die. He was a bit one-note on that front. But it's clear that he's smart and that, while he's far from reckless, he's willing to make limited gambles. That's a dangerous opponent. Furthermore, he knows that we're a dangerous opponent. I expect we've come closer to killing him than anyone has in a long, long time."

  "You sound proud of yourself."

  "Shouldn'
t I be?"

  "Did I say it was criticism?"

  Dante gave her a skeptical look. "My point is that he can't be confident that he can simply bide his time, slowly grow his power, and stick to the safety of the deep swamps until he's sure he's invincible. Not as long as we're still out there. He moved on Aris Osis because he thought it would make him strong enough to slam the door on us. He knows the city can't withstand a second assault. He'll be back to finish the job."

  She nodded thoughtfully. "Then you're not likely to have enough time to learn the Odo Sein."

  "We'll see about that. If there's one thing I've learned about sorcery, it's that it doesn't work on the timeline you want it to—for good and for ill."

  They broke for lunch. Dante hurried through it, returning to the Golden Stream as fast as he could, but his haste was in vain. Hard as he tried, he couldn't get through the second sequence before the first one changed shape on him, obsoleting his work. Often, he couldn't even complete the first one before it unraveled. The key to the stream seemed to be to pursue all three sequences at once, and to finish them in no more than a few moments, but doing that felt like trying to simultaneously pick three locks with two hands.

  He went to bed that night afraid that Ara might be right after all.

  ~

  He woke much too early, but knew within moments he wouldn't be able to fall back asleep. Instead, he put himself through the paces of the Forest, producing a speckling of stream, then reached out to it.

  When he was halfway through his first sequence, Blays opened one eye, directing a filthy look at the faintly glowing pieces of gold. "That's disgusting. Can't you at least do that under the covers?"

  Dante moved his mind into the nether in the thin rope running from the upper wall to the outer corner of Blays' bed frame. The rope severed with a crisp snip. The frame jerked downward, thumping Blays onto the floor.

  "Damn Tanarian rope," Dante said. "It's the finest I've ever seen, and yet it will still fall apart on you at the worst possible time."