The Light of All That Falls, page 13
She gasped as she recognized him even from this distance, though the body she was in made no sound.
His shoulders looked broader now, his dark hair was long, and there was a new scar on his neck—a scar she had seen only once before.
Davian looked dazed as the angry sounds of the crowd began to intensify. He stumbled toward one of the fallen men, dropping to his knees beside the body as gates in the arena opened and soldiers poured through, each in the black armor of the Blind. They dashed as one toward him—so fast it was startling, almost impossible to follow.
Davian ignored them, wrestling with the helmet of the fallen warrior, apparently trying to remove it. The crowd screamed now, jeered. Scraps of food and other, heavier objects began to rain down onto the arena as the chorus of disapproval swelled.
And then she was back in the dok’en.
She reeled as she tried to grasp what had just happened, doing her best to master the deep, aching sense of loss her glimpse of Davian had abruptly revived. Diara hadn’t Read her—Asha had been practicing her mental defenses regularly over the past year, and they were still holding strong—but clearly she had just used kan on her in some way.
Asha’s hands shook. The last time she had seen Davian—the moment she had sealed him behind the Boundary—still haunted her dreams more nights than she cared to admit. He had looked older when he’d traveled back in time to speak to her, so she’d known he’d had at least a couple of more years to live… but that hadn’t stopped her from feeling sick at what she must have put him through, stranding him there.
It had been the right thing to do. She knew it. Elli had said the same thing several times early on, when she had found Asha thrashing in bed from the nightmares, then comforted her through the tears of grief and regret. It had helped Asha make peace with her decision, over the course of months. But it didn’t make her hate it any less.
And now this. A glimpse of the horror he was living.
Asha did what she could to refocus, checking her surroundings and her Essence armor even as she trembled. She couldn’t afford to be thrown off balance like this, not now.
“Is he all right?” she asked, relieved to find her voice steady. Diara had to know that there was a connection between her and Davian, else she wouldn’t have bothered showing her what she just had.
“Remarkably, yes. He is.” Diara shook her head, looking irritated, then absently waved away Asha’s subsequent glower. “I am neither surprised nor upset at his survival. Just the manner of it.”
“So why show me that?” Asha snapped.
“Because I wished to prove that Davian was still our prisoner. That this offer is being made in good faith.” Diara’s words were clipped, the woman evidently still considering whatever had just happened in the real world. “I am offering you the chance to have him released, Ashalia.”
“In exchange for?”
Diara gestured behind her at the apocalyptic, burning wasteland that had once been the palace gardens.
“An assurance that something like this can never actually happen,” she said quietly. “A binding, to take effect upon Davian’s release, ensuring that this confluence of power within you is only used to fuel the ilshara. I have already accepted that no volunteer for a Tributary could be convinced to leave—but nor can I in good conscience leave a weapon like you in the hands of Tal’kamar.”
“I’m not a weapon,” said Asha angrily, as much to buy time to process what was being said as from any real outrage. The Venerate wanted to exchange Davian for… a guarantee that she wouldn’t use Essence outside the Tributary?
Diara raised an eyebrow, casting a pointedly dubious glance behind her before continuing. “Then this should be an easy choice. Make no mistake, though, Ashalia: you are a weapon, and weapons are rarely left idle. Perhaps you were never going to be used as such, and this proves to be a poor deal for me. But as my bargaining chip is rather unique—specific to you, and with a limited time to trade—I will take what I can get for him.”
Asha rubbed her face, her unease growing.
“‘Limited time’?” she asked pensively.
Diara opened her mouth and then paused, for the first time looking surprised.
“You… don’t know?” Her eyes were suddenly sorrowful. “Tal’kamar did not tell you? Ashalia, I… I am so sorry.”
“Sorry for what?” Asha whispered.
Diara’s expression was almost reluctant as the dok’en faded again.
This time, when the burning remnants of the palace gardens returned to Asha’s view, the sight was blurred through tears.
She gasped a breath as she realized that she was back in front of Diara, scrubbing her eyes and doing her best to suppress the emotions that threatened to overwhelm her after what she had just witnessed. A memory, this time—she’d known that immediately, somehow—and yet every detail had been painfully clear.
Davian stumbling from a building. Not much older than when he had traveled back in time to talk to her. Scarred, tired looking.
Accusing her—accusing Tal’kamar, Caeden—of being on the wrong side of the fight. Of killing friends and loved ones. Caeden shouting at him to stop but Davian refusing to be silenced, plowing on.
The blade lashing out.
Davian’s severed head on the glowing, red-and-gold-flecked stone of Deilannis, blood everywhere. Then on a pike.
“You… you cannot fool me,” she said eventually, roughly, though she was barely able to force the words out, and her sharp, distressed breathing surely gave her away.
“Forging memories is not something of which I am capable.” Diara’s voice was gentle. “Davian will go to Deilannis. He will use the Jha’vett and travel back in time, planning to confront Tal’kamar—to make him doubt the things he did while using the name Aarkein Devaed. An ultimately successful move, I might add. But in doing so, Tal’kamar kills him. Has already killed him.” She shook her head sadly. “It is… not something either of us wants. But it has already happened. That cannot be changed.”
Asha’s vision swam. “Aarkein Devaed?” she whispered. In the memory Davian had said… something…
Diara shook her head in horrified disbelief.
“Tal’kamar has thoroughly deceived you. I see that now,” she said softly. “I have given you much to grapple with, Ashalia—a heavier burden than I ever expected to impart—and there is even more that you should know. But… news of your decision is being awaited in Ilshan Gathdel Teth, so I must ask. Will you accept this deal to free Davian?”
Asha squeezed her eyes shut, fighting against shock and confused grief. She couldn’t help but see the image of Davian in Deilannis again—seeing those eyes, which had always looked at her with such warmth, now sightless and cold. If she did not take this deal, she might not ever see him again. Even though that had always been a possibility, her heart broke at the thought.
Still.
Through that pain, she knew that Diara couldn’t be trusted: even if she was telling the truth, there was no disputing that she was Andarra’s enemy. Perhaps this was the best deal Diara thought she could get Asha to accept, and it was certainly a tempting one—fates, it was tempting—but there could easily be more to it. Some advantage to the Venerate that Asha couldn’t see.
Swallowing, she shook her head.
“I need time to think,” she said numbly, the statement true enough. She already knew, deep down, that she was not going to agree to Diara’s offer… but there was no reason to tell the Venerate that. Not after the woman had just displayed how easily she could defeat Asha in a fight.
Diara said nothing for a moment; Asha thought she saw a flash of frustration in the Venerate’s eyes, but it was so quick that she could well have been imagining it.
“Of course. Of course,” said Diara eventually. “I cannot rightly ask a decision of you so quickly, given the magnitude of what you have just learned.” She brushed a strand of dark hair from her face. “One week, Ashalia. That, I hope, will give you enough time to process all of this. I will return then for your answer.”
Asha felt a dim thread of relief wind its way through her battling emotions. “And… if I decide to say no?”
“Then Davian will remain in our custody, I will kill you, and we will see whether that store of Essence can restore your mind as well as your body,” said Diara matter-of-factly. “If it does not, then I get the same outcome. If it does, then… I am no worse off. But I hope it does not come to that.”
Asha swallowed. The words hadn’t been delivered with any malice—they were just a calm assessment of a likely sequence of events. Somehow that made them even more intimidating.
Diara studied her, then gave a short nod. “In a week, then. Think well, Ashalia, and do not let your loyalties be blind ones.”
Without anything further, she blinked out of existence.
The next few minutes passed in a haze.
Asha let out a gasping breath as soon as she was certain she was alone, trembling and collapsing to her knees, hands shaking violently despite her best efforts. It had all happened so fast. The things she had just learned crashed around inside her head, a maelstrom of information that changed so much. She struggled to grasp it all, to properly comprehend what it meant.
She wasn’t even sure that she could understand it all—not fully. Caeden was, or at least had been, Aarkein Devaed? The man everyone knew as the epitome of evil? Scyner had explained a little of the Venerate and their nature to her, that day before she had entered the Tributary. He had even admitted that Caeden had once been one of them, had changed sides.
But never once had he mentioned Devaed.
And as for the other information she had learned, about Davian… she couldn’t quite bring herself to think about it yet, not with any sort of dispassion. The emotion that memory had left her with was too deep and too raw. Even the afterimages of it, flashing unbidden through her mind, left her nauseous and dizzy.
She wasn’t sure how long she had been kneeling there when a tentative touch brushed her shoulder. She stirred, raising her head to find Elli looking at her concernedly.
“I… believe I may have missed something,” the other woman said, glancing pensively toward the still-burning gardens.
Asha choked out a laugh, then rubbed her face, taking a few deep breaths. “One of the Venerate was here. Diara.”
“Ah,” said Elli. Asha had already explained what little she knew of the Venerate to her. “And you… defeated her?”
“Not exactly.” Asha slowly climbed to her feet. “She left. Though not before showing me some things that…”
She swallowed, trailing off.
Still unsteady, she walked over to sit heavily on one of the unbroken benches, staring out numbly over the apocalyptic scene down the hill. Elli joined her.
As they watched, the molten stone started to rise and re-form, as Asha had known it ultimately would. The burning red gradually faded to black, then burst into bright greens as the grass was swiftly restored. Stone mended itself. Smoke cleared. Water began to flow once again with a pleasant, gentle burbling.
Within five minutes, it was as if the battle had never happened.
“What did she do to you?” Asha asked eventually, gazing past the now-pristine gardens toward the fully rejuvenated forest below. “You were just frozen in place for the entire thing. She thought you were a… training construct, or something.”
Elli rubbed her forehead. “Some form of kan, I would assume. She would not be able to Control me as she could a person, but she could do enough to interfere with my… mental processes, I suppose you would say. It was probably fortunate that she thought I was less than I am. She could have done much worse.” The woman gave her an apologetic look. “I know of the mental techniques to block Reading and Control, but I cannot implement them myself. It seems I would be of little benefit to you in a fight, and potentially a hindrance, should she return.”
“Which she is going to do. In one week.” Asha stared into the distance. “I was like a child against her, Elli. Even with all this power, even with everything I’ve learned and practiced. She just… ignored it.” She sighed. “You cannot think of a way to stop her? Use your ability to manipulate this place, somehow?”
Elli shook her head ruefully, gesturing to the gardens. “The dok’en will always revert to its natural state. With enough warning, if I stay out of sight, I might be able to change things to your advantage here and there for a few minutes, but… it would be like everything else I can do here. Fading away too swiftly to be of any true use.” She shrugged, the words practical rather than bitter. “She can manipulate kan, Ashalia—and that will work the same here as it does in the real world. No matter what we do, if she is not caught completely by surprise, then she cannot be beaten using only Essence.”
Asha acknowledged the statement ruefully. “How did she even find a way in? I’m certain she doesn’t have physical access to the Tributary, else our conversation would have gone very differently.”
Elli frowned. “She must have found another key, then.” She hesitated. “Unless she had direct access to the dok’en creator’s mind, of course.”
“Tal’kamar,” said Asha absently. “Diara said it was Tal’kamar’s dok’en.” It was good to have that confirmed. “And I don’t believe Diara has easy access to him. That is something that I rather suspect she would have brought up.”
“Likely so,” agreed Elli thoughtfully, a flicker of emotion crossing her face. Asha wondered why, and then realized how important that information probably was to the woman. Human or not, being certain of who was responsible for your existence had to mean something.
Asha decided not to mention what Diara had said about Caeden being Aarkein Devaed.
“So if we don’t know how she’s getting in, we can’t figure out if there’s a way to block it.” Asha chewed her lip. “Could I… set up wards using Essence, for example, to let me know when she returns? Traps, even?”
Elli’s eyebrows rose.
“I don’t see why not,” she said slowly. “You would have to renew them every few days—they will decay just as they would in the real world. But… she will surely be on her guard when she comes back. Even if she triggers them, I don’t think you will be able to stop her that way.”
“It would slow her down, though. Keep her busy and let me know that she was here,” said Asha. “Which would give me enough time to weaken the dok’en while she was still in it.”
“That…” Elli looked thrown at the suggestion. “You likely couldn’t collapse it fast enough. She would know what was happening and leave again—as I suspect she did last time, when her initial entry must have caused that destabilization. It would take her only a few moments, and then you would be left to endure another Shift.”
“But she would know I could do it—and she’d know how badly her mind could be damaged if it was still connected. It wouldn’t be something she could ignore,” said Asha. She saw Elli’s expression and shrugged, despite her stomach churning at the very thought. “She will kill me when she comes back, Elli. The best outcome from that happening would be me going through a Shift again anyway. At least this way, it would force her to be more cautious. It would buy us time.”
“Time for what, though?” asked Elli quietly. “You cannot keep triggering Shifts every time she breaks in. The ones you already have to go through take enough of a toll.”
Asha paused, thinking.
“I know you can’t mimic kan,” she said, “but could you mimic its effects? Not Control or Reading or Seeing, but… stepping through time. Being unaffected by my Essence attacks. If we sparred, you could replicate that well enough, couldn’t you? Make the illusion the same thing?”
Elli’s brow furrowed. “I cannot. It touches too much on the underlying rules of this place.” She considered. “As far as training goes, there may be a way I can help. But I doubt you’ll enjoy it.”
“I’ll do whatever’s necessary,” said Asha as if that settled the matter, stretching and turning back to the courtyard. She wasn’t going to think about Davian or even Caeden—not for now. She needed to focus.
“We have a lot of practicing to do.”
Chapter 7
Pain, and cold.
Those were the only two things Caeden had known for what felt like a very long time, now. His breathing was labored and his thoughts crawled; he forced his eyes open to a red-and-white smear of light as he tried to make sense of where he was, what had happened.
He had been in Alkathronen. Fought Alaris.
Fallen.
He allowed a soft, wheezing moan to escape his lips as he registered his injuries and what they meant. He had misestimated. Any other man would be dead after the shattering impact of the three-thousand-foot fall, but—even with every bone broken, lungs collapsed and chest caved in, his body an utter ruin—he was, somehow, still here.
That was a problem.
He’d assumed that one of two things would happen: either his injuries would be so devastating that he would wake up in a new body, or—at worst—he would be able to adequately heal himself within a day or two. Unpleasant either way, but an acceptable trade-off for the chance to capture Alaris.
What he hadn’t counted on was the awful, biting cold that sliced into him constantly as he lay exposed, splayed on a large rock that was mostly—but not entirely—protected from the driving snow by a jutting outcrop above. He’d landed here, apparently, no doubt bouncing off other protrusions until he’d finally stuck. If he had fallen into the deeper drifts at the bottom as expected, then the surrounding snow would have encased him, keeping him out of the freezing wind and preventing those few flakes that found their way onto him from melting and soaking him through.
Now, though, too much Essence was needed to simply keep his body warm. He was healing, but it was at such a slow rate as to be nearly imperceptible.
It could be weeks before he could move his limbs again, and he didn’t have that sort of time.
He lay there, gazing blankly into the driving white, for… hours? Impossible to tell. He dozed at some point, somehow, through the pain.
