The Light of Life

by Edward W. Robertson

  After so much time hunting, snuffling, and hustling for every scrap of conjecture they could find in the attempt to cobble together the most basic knowledge of the Odo Sein, hearing Ara flat-out state the facts felt as alarming as it would to watch Dante burn a pile of copies of the Cycle of Arawn.

  Gladdic sat up even straighter than normal. "How is this transfer accomplished?"

  "I can't believe I'm telling you this. But you know what? If the other bels find out, and want to pitch me from the top of a tower, I'll laugh all the way down. Because while they were following their rules, I was saving our country."

  Ara plopped down in the grass, looking infinitely more at peace with her decision than a moment earlier. "The method's achieved by using the Odo Sein to open a connection between yourself and the Blighted that you want to restore. There's a little more to it than that, but not much. And don't ask me why, if it's that simple, we don't just do this to all the Blighted. When you give part of your light to one of the Blighted, it doesn't come back. And it takes a lot. Most people only have enough light in them to reverse a single Blighted. A handful can do two. And some don't have enough to even do it once. They try and boom, they drop dead and the other guy's still Blighted. In almost every situation, the life of a Knight of Odo Sein is more valuable than the person they'd try to save."

  Gladdic creased his brow. "Why should an Odo Sein be able to perform such an act while a sorcerer would not?"

  "I don't know. Maybe you can, if you'd bother to figure it out for yourself instead of asking for a mental handout. But part of the reason you're asking that question is because you misunderstand the Golden Stream. All of you do. Including the dolt you're trying to rescue. When we stop you from using the light or the shadows, how exactly do you think we're doing that?"

  "If you ask me for specifics, I have none to offer. But as a general concept, you lock or freeze the powers in place, rendering us unable to make use of them."

  "Wrong. We cut each of you off from the shadows as individuals. I could stop you, Gladdic, from accessing them right now, while leaving Blays free to do whatever he wanted with the nether. Don't bother questioning me on this. I'll show you." She concentrated, golden flecks of stream condensing around her, then motioned to Gladdic. "Go ahead. Try me."

  Gladdic splayed out his hand, then shook his head. "It is as though the nether is trapped beneath a block of stone."

  She pointed to Blays. "Now you."

  Blays grabbed out at the nether and managed to convince a small portion of it to pay attention to him. He shaped it into a ball of blackness in his palm. "We've been wrong about this the whole time?"

  "How is this possible?" Gladdic said. "And if it is so, why do you not employ both sorcerers and Odo Sein? With the power to negate enemy magic while wielding your own, you could seize control of the entire continent!"

  "So we could live in your worthless dry lands filled with your useless dumb people? We have no interest in playing in the trash that lies outside Tanar Atain. And you know damn well why we would never work alongside sorcerers. Unlike the foul-minded slugs of the Righteous Monsoon, we know that sorcery is corruption. The Eiden Rane is proof enough of that. So is the history of Tanar Atain—and of the world."

  "You won't work alongside sorcerers?" Blays said. "In that case, you might want to sit down, as I have some shocking news for you."

  Ara rolled her eyes. "It's forbidden to train Tanarians as warlocks. But you outsiders are depraved and can't be expected to hold to our laws. On top of that, you'll be gone soon and we'll have nothing to worry about. Now would you like to continue critiquing your perceived flaws in our culture? Or would you like to learn how to deliver your friend from the Eiden Rane?"

  "That one, please."

  "Here's the truth you will try to deny, because it means you've been wrong about everything and couldn't even think of an alternative. All shadows are connected to all other shadows. All light is connected to all other light. It doesn't seem that way to you, because you can't see the connections, but through the Golden Stream, they become visible. That's how we can cut you off from them. That's how a trained knight can find the connection between his own remnant and the few sparks of the one that remains in a Blighted, and equalize the two, restoring the Blighted's humanity."

  "I do not accept this explanation at face value," Gladdic said. "As it contradicts everything I have seen for myself."

  "Yes, and under normal conditions, you wouldn't be questioning my explanation, since you'd be learning all of these things through your own efforts—or coming up with your own original system that proves us wrong. But we're in an emergency, aren't we? So shut up and take me at my word."

  "Yes, Bel Ara."

  Watching Gladdic roll over like a dog, Blays bit his cheek to quit from smiling.

  Ara gave them both a moment, ensuring they were compliant. "If you give it two seconds of thought, you'd realize that in the same way our practice of the dana kide is built on the function of the Golden Stream, the connectedness of all light to itself and all shadow to itself is the basis for our belief in the Body. For we're all connected, too. All part of the same whole. No matter how great or crummy your role in the Body feels—whether you're part of the brain, the right hand, or the throbbing asshole—without you, the rest of us can't function. And we all fall apart."

  Bitterness stained her face. "That's part of what the Monsoon rebelled against. Not only did they think they held the one right answer, and that our quest for truth was nothing but an attack on that, but they resented that the Body split people up by their ability to do the task. So sure in their righteousness, they conjured a monster. One that will destroy us and enslave them."

  "Not to interrupt your hatred of your fellow countrymen," Blays said. "But we've already got a way to find Dante. It sounds like all we've got to do to free him from the White Lich is bring Bek to him and transfer him a new remnant."

  Ara smiled in a way that was either commiserating or condescending, depending on how irritable you were feeling. "If it were that easy, don't you think Bek would have told you so already, and saved you the trip here?"

  "No no no. I refuse to acknowledge that this is heading the way that it's heading."

  "Don't worry, my barbarian friend. There's only one more thing you have to do: travel to Dara Bode, sneak into the city, and break into the Bastion of Last Acts."

  14

  He had thought the servants of the One would see the world in the same way that the world saw them: bleached-out, sickly and desperate, aching with a hunger that could never be filled. For surely such wretched creatures could see nothing good around them, and would want only to tear it down and devour it, to stomp it into rubble and burn it into smoke.

  As in so many things, he had been wrong.

  The swamp, once a dreary green-black mire choking with flies, spiders, snakes, wasps, and ziki oko, now looked like a defiant expression of life. Flowers of every color added depth to the greens of the trees and the murk of the water. Every scrap of land was colonized with trees, grass, brambles, and shrubs; even the trees weren't safe, festooned with mosses and vines, to say nothing of the birds and rodents tearing around their boughs. All of it thrived. It was a wonder.

  He hadn't just been given new eyes. He'd been granted a new nose and ears, too. The sounds of birdsong and splashing fish were as beautiful as the bright pop of the flowers. The air flowed with the smell of ginger flowers and citrus. Even the background scent of decay was no longer offensive. Decay meant nothing more than that life had lived, finished its cycle, and was now replenishing itself. Just as it was meant to do.

  Yet better than any of the things that had been given to him was the thing that had been taken away.

  Fear.

  He traveled north in a plain canoe, alone in the wilds of the swamps, but he didn't feel a single drop of fear. He had no fear of getting lost. No fear of getting hurt or sick. No fear of getting mauled by the animals, which either ignored him or actively avoided
him, even the midges and mosquitos.

  It was a lack that went beyond concern of his personal safety. He felt no social fear, either. No fear of being wrong, of insulting or hurting someone he cared about, of being judged, of failing. It was all gone. And it felt indescribable. Like the best dream he'd ever had. Like falling asleep in a lover's arms. It felt, paradoxically enough, like total freedom. With all fear fallen away, he could look on the world in wonder, seeing its full potential for the first time in his life.

  And in it he saw the vision of the One, the White Lich, the Eiden Rane. He now understood how the world could be a single unified entity, where everyone was free from fear, and worked as one to build the eternal empire of paradise.

  Dante paddled alone beneath the trees, traveling with purpose but without haste, noting the birds on the wing, the lizards leaping between leaves, the flash of scales beneath the water. He didn't seem to need to sleep anymore, and when night fought down the day, he traveled by the distant light of the half moon, frogs peeping and crickets whirring, like the guided hum of the earth meditating on itself.

  He didn't know the name of the village, but the lich had given him a vision of its location. And the lich did not make mistakes. The settlement, when Dante came to it, was empty. Not surprising. Many of the people in the interior had been recruited or subjugated to the Monsoon. Many others had fled, either to Bressel to join the Drakebane, or out into the wilds where they might be hidden. Some had even taken their canoes to the coast, seeking other lands altogether.

  Raft-boats sat vacant. The central dock was silent. Yet in one of the stands of bananas grown in the city's outer ring, several trees had been hacked down no more than a day or two earlier, the cut trunks still green-white and damp rather than brown and dead.

  Casting the ether on the water showed no trace of the villagers, but the dragonflies found them easily enough. A few hundred people huddled within a dark grove, sleeping in their lashed-together canoes. When they woke, they spent their time fishing, picking berries, and staring fearfully out into the swamps.

  Dante told the lich that he had found them, and the lich told him to wait for the Blighted.

  He bided his time. He'd feared eternity might be boring, but with every sensation a wonder, every second was filled. When he liked, he contemplated everything that was to come, and the anticipation glowed as purely as ether.

  "Little sorcerer." The copper-kettle voice in his mind was as clear as if he kneeled before the Eiden Rane in person. "We approach Aris Osis. I know you have no news, or else you'd have shared it with me."

  "Correct, master."

  "That is good. There is no sign of your friends here; they have abandoned the city to me. Do you think they fled due to cowardice?"

  "I doubt that, master. They'll seek another solution. That's what we always did. Either they're working on a new way to strike at you, or they're trying to come for me."

  "They are not as cunning as I gave them credit. They should have seen that when they handed me the city, they handed themselves their own defeat."

  "We knew that would be the consequence of you taking Aris Osis. This turn of events must have made them irrational."

  "It's no matter. If they come for me, I'll kill them. If they come for you, then you will do the same."

  Dante gazed through the trees. "Master?"

  "Speak."

  "They are powerful people. If I'm of use to you, they can be, too."

  "There is no need, little sorcerer."

  "But I think they can serve you better than you know. Destroying useful resources is a mistake. It's better to—"

  "NO!" The voice pounded through his head like an iron maul striking a cracked bell. "You may speak like a knight who kneels to his lord. But you will not argue as though we are equals!"

  And then the fear rushed back over Dante, the same heart-deep fear he'd felt when yelled at as a child. He felt cold in a way that made it seem as though he'd never feel warmth again.

  Seated in his canoe, he bowed until his forehead was level with his knees. "I'm sorry, master. I only mean to help."

  "You might possess too much will. We will correct that in time. For now, be silent. My army has come to Aris Osis. I will allow you to share in my triumph."

  Before Dante could ask how, the walls of Aris Osis filled his sight. Defenders lined the walls, spears flashing in the sunlight. The Blighted sat across the water from them, filling their boats by the thousands. And the Eiden Rane stood among them.

  The vision was so intense that if Dante hadn't already stopped needing to breathe, he would have forgotten to. While somehow still being able to see the walls, where the lich called out his terms for the city's surrender, a second scene opened to his sight: the bay on the southwest edge of Aris Osis. Among the gentle blue waves, a fleet of double-hulled canoes, rafts, and small sailing vessels shoved off, making way for the exit between the two arms of rock that protected the port from storms.

  A scowl crept over Dante's face. Thousands of potential soldiers were slipping through their fingers. In doing so, the citizens cheated themselves of the chance to serve as a brick in the great tower being constructed by the Eiden Rane. Yet surely the lich was capable of fielding a navy of his own. How could this possibility have been overlooked?

  As the first of the vessels neared the gap, a team of Blighted emerged from the water on the tip of the western jetty. They dragged a heavy chain behind them. Nether flocked like birds; a lesser lich stood among them, pulling the massive chain taut—and revealing that it had already been secured to the eastern arm enfolding the bay.

  The first of the fleeing canoes dashed into it with hollow clunks. Sailing vessels plowed into them from behind with a devastating crunch of wood. Yet the chain held fast. As the sailors yelled at each other, struggling to untangle their vessels, Blighted paddled in from both sides, throwing themselves over the gunwales and dragging the Arisians off to be bound in ropes.

  Dante laughed out loud. He might have been relieved of the burden of fear, except when the One wanted him to feel it, yet he still carried the poison of doubt. He wouldn't lose faith again.

  His sight shifted. At the other end of the city, Blighted boiled out of the water at the base of the walls, scrambling upwards. Defenders leaned over to fire on them with arrows. Across the open water, darts of light streaked from the White Lich's hands. Each one found its mark, knocking archers across the battlements or into the water below.

  In less than two minutes, the Blighted took the walls and opened the gates. Guided by the Eiden Rane, their advance through the city was gradual yet relentless.

  Aris Osis fell with only the barest flicker of sorcery from its foes.

  It took hours to root out the towers and rafts. At the end, people lay piled on the docks like netted fish, squirming in their restraints.

  The Eiden Rane debarked, considering the thousands of people arrayed before him. "Right now, you fear me. I would do the same. But in an hour, you will love me."

  He lifted his heavy hands. A glowing fog lifted from the still-living bodies, condensing over the dock, ether crackling within it like a captive lightning storm. Streams of fog assembled in jarringly regular patterns, and seemed not to flow but to shine toward the lich.

  He took nine-tenths of them. There were so many bodies that it was an hour before the process was done.

  The tenth of them that remained were too exhausted by terror to do more than lie on the docks like they were already dead. The Eiden Rane nodded to the waiting Blighted. As they hurled themselves on the two thousand living captives, staining the bay red with blood, the lich seated himself on the seawall and gazed on his new land.

  Later, his voice rang in Dante's mind, but Dante wasn't startled by it.

  "Little sorcerer. The city is mine."

  "I witnessed."

  "I have considered your request. I will take Gladdic under my power. He is versed in both light and dark, and that is rare."

  "Thank you, master. Wha
t about Blays?"

  "I have no need of him."

  "But he has abilities of his own. Just as rare as Gladdic's."

  "They do nothing to impress me."

  "That's because they're subtle. But when called for, they're extremely effective."

  "I have decided, little sorcerer." There was the barest edge of menace in the White Lich's voice, but it was enough. "A man only needs so many tools to do his job. Any more becomes clutter. If the chance presents, I will take Gladdic. I have no need for your Blays."

  "I understand. What will be done with him?"

  "If he comes for you, you will kill him. If you wish, you may make it fast."

  "Yes, master."

  "Good. Now go and do what is tasked of you."

  Dante was about to object that the Blighted hadn't arrived to support him yet, but before he could express a single word, black lumps rose from the water like the backs of small turtles. Their hairy scalps were followed by pale faces and hungry, haunted eyes.

  He gathered up the Blighted, who willingly followed his orders but remained fully under the control of the Eiden Rane, and sent them under the waters surrounding the deep grove where the refugees from the village made their camp. Once they were in position, he paddled after them.

  The villagers recognized what he was as soon as they saw him—a reaction that would, before his transition, have made him feel ashamed to be so monstrous. Now, their loathing only served to reinforce the notion that he had shed the weakness of humanity and become something more.

  The humans piled into their boats, breaking in every direction. The Blighted caught most of them. Dante harvested branches and brambles to block the path of the few who were on the verge of getting away. A small portion turned back to fight. Dante wielded the nether to pound them into chum for the ziki oko.