The Light of All That Falls, page 25
Still, she did have that message from him, from what seemed like a lifetime ago. He was in Ilshan Gathdel Teth, but they couldn’t kill him. They couldn’t kill him. Until now, she had always assumed that it was an exaggeration, and that Davian had only said it to reassure her.
She understood now why it was true.
Asha was abruptly shaken from her introspection by a flash of yellow beyond the Crystalline Palace, refracted and distorted through the glittering lens, but too familiar to mistake.
Essence.
A distant, thundering roar reached her ears.
She stood paralyzed for a moment. Then she began sprinting for the palace, heart suddenly pounding loud in her ears, all thoughts of Davian forgotten.
One of her traps had been triggered.
Diara had returned early.
Chapter 14
Caeden woke.
For a few seconds he just lay there, confused, a deep ache in every part of his body. Something had happened. He’d been injured. Badly.
With an effort, he forced his eyes open.
Alkathronen was around him once again, warm and bright; he was lying by a heatstone, which was staving off the chill and had helped dry his snow-sodden clothes. He frowned around in bemusement as memory started to return. He’d fought Alaris. Fooled him into that leap, the only way he could think to get his friend through a Gate. Physically forcing him would have been impossible, given the other man’s strength.
But Caeden had crashed to the rocks below. How had he gotten back here?
His heart lurched, and he tried to sit up. Had Alaris not gone through the Gate? Had he somehow, already, figured out a way back from the Wells? It was an irrational thought, but panic began welling up inside him nonetheless.
His effort to sit up failed, and he winced instead, lying back and taking a steadying breath. He was sore, weak—but a quick check of his limbs revealed that he was without serious injury. The eternity he’d spent splayed on that rocky outcropping began to come back to him, and he knew he’d shattered bones and crushed organs in the landing. There was no way he could have had enough Essence left to heal so quickly; that would have taken focus, time. And there had been that figure…
“So you are Tal’kamar.”
Caeden flinched at the unfamiliar voice. He turned his head to see a man standing off to the side. He was perhaps forty, wiry and with a narrow face that seemed to emphasize the black veins that streaked prominently across it and beneath his beard.
“Who are you?” Caeden rasped, discovering his throat was as rough and sore as the rest of him.
The man studied him. “I am Scyner,” he said, saying the name as if it should mean something.
“Who?”
Scyner glared, clearly irritated, though the expression faded almost immediately. “I am an Augur,” he said calmly, “and the one who saved you.”
“You didn’t save me. I would have recovered eventually.” Caeden remembered the agonizing haze of his injuries. “But thank you,” he added begrudgingly. “You healed me?”
Scyner nodded. “I wasn’t sure there was anything left to heal, to begin with,” he admitted with a visible shudder. “I have never seen a still-living body so badly injured. I am by no means a squeamish man but… El’s name, it was unpleasant.”
“Imagine how it felt.”
Scyner allowed himself a small smile at that. “Quite.”
Caeden stared around at Alkathronen. “How did you get to me, and then get me back up here?” There was no easy path down from Alkathronen, of that he was certain. “Are you able to make Gates?”
Scyner produced two stones from his pocket, displaying them to Caeden. “Not exactly.” he conceded.
“Where did you get those?” Caeden asked, trying to stop his muscles from tensing with suspicion.
Then he squinted. They were similar in size and color to the Travel Stones he and Taeris had used to transport themselves inside Tol Athian, what seemed like an age ago. But these were different. For one, each had a symbol inscribed upon it.
A circle surrounding a man, woman, and child.
“Nethgalla,” said Caeden dourly, answering his own question. “Of course.”
Scyner sniffed, his lack of denial confirmation enough. “I tossed one down, then used the other to open a portal. I had to go outside the city, though—it didn’t seem to work from in here. The one I threw down landed much farther away from you than I would have liked,” he added with a vaguely accusatory glare. “It was quite a walk. I barely got us both back through before the portal shut.”
Caeden tried unsuccessfully to shift to a more comfortable position. That was a useful Vessel to have. He would need to confiscate it from Scyner before he left.
“How did you find me in the first place?” His aches were easing as he continued to drain Essence from the city around him; he propped himself up on one elbow, focusing. “I assume that you were not just passing through Alkathronen by happenstance.”
The corners of Scyner’s mouth quirked upward. “No. I was looking for you. I’ve been looking for you for a while, actually, but this was the first time you were somewhere I’ve actually known how to get to.”
Caeden’s eyes narrowed. “But how did you know I was here?” he clarified.
“A Trace.” Scyner showed no embarrassment at the statement. “Elliavia gave it to me, and told me to seek you out.”
There was silence for a few seconds.
“And how, exactly, did Nethgalla get my Trace?” Caeden asked wearily. “She didn’t have one before for this body, when she was searching for me. And she didn’t have the opportunity to take one at the Wells. Or at Deilannis.” He held Scyner’s gaze. “You can call her by her true name now, too. Elliavia was my wife’s name, and I will not have it used to refer to that monster.”
Scyner’s expression darkened.
“Elliavia didn’t say how she got the Trace,” he said, defiant. “It is the name she prefers, and you are in no position to be giving orders, Tal’kamar.”
Caeden gave a tired sigh.
He stepped outside of time.
He was still weak, but his mind was clear enough to manipulate kan; everything around him slowed almost to a stop as he levered himself to his feet and limped over to stand in front of Scyner, waiting patiently.
To Caeden’s perception it took the Augur a good ten seconds to react, his eyes inching wider as he realized that Caeden was gone, and then his movements abruptly became close to matching Caeden’s speed again.
Caeden drew more Essence from the surrounding lines.
Scyner hadn’t even thought to raise a Disruption shield, so Caeden simply infused his arm with the energy—he was demonstrating a point, not aiming to injure the man. He casually blocked a panicked strike from Scyner and then lashed out, grasping the Augur by his shirt and walking forward, slamming the man upward against the nearby wall so that his feet dangled off the ground.
He restrained a grimace as snow that had built up on the rooftop shook free at the impact. Scyner’s face went white.
He might have done that a little harder than was strictly necessary.
“Careful, Tal’kamar,” Scyner gasped weakly. “Someone else is in the city.”
Caeden frowned. What he’d just done shouldn’t have attracted any attention, but he was glad that Scyner had mentioned it before he had decided to use Essence externally.
“Thank you for saving me,” he said calmly, his face only inches from Scyner’s. He casually blocked another feeble attempt from Scyner to attack him with kan. “But do not imagine for a second that it means you are stronger than me. The time for games or to debate who is in charge here is well past. So you can follow my instructions and answer my questions, or leave.” He released his hold on Scyner’s shirt. “Your decision.”
Scyner stumbled as he slid back down the wall, the veneer of control he’d exuded up to that point vanished. He’d thought he was capable of competing, Caeden realized with vaguely pitying amusement—thought that, perhaps given Caeden’s weakened state, he would be able to hold his own in a fight.
He knew the truth, now, at least.
Scyner finally regained his footing, though he stared awkwardly to the side, face flushed.
“Who is here?” Caeden continued calmly. “How many of them are there?”
“I don’t know. I felt them using Essence…” Scyner waved his hand toward the center of the city. “Somewhere that way.”
Caeden chewed his lip. “Activate my Trace,” he said, suddenly uneasy. It was almost certainly long enough since he’d used Essence—neither strengthening nor healing himself should have given him away, as the energy remained in his body rather than his using it as a focal point—but he wanted to be sure.
Scyner obediently drew a small, polished marble sphere from his pocket, staring at it. He shook his head. “Nothing.”
“Good. We should be safe enough here, then. It’s a big city.” Caeden released a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “Now. Why were you sent to find me?”
“Nethgalla wanted to give you a message.” Scyner’s tone held only faint traces of resentment at having to use the name. “She has gone to Ilshan Gathdel Teth to find Licanius—to get it back for you. She will send word when…”
He trailed off as he watched Caeden rubbing his face and nodding wearily. “You knew?”
“Yes,” said Caeden in vague apology. “Please, continue.”
“How did you know?” demanded Scyner.
“Davian told me.” Caeden waved away Scyner’s expression. “It’s a story for which I doubt we have the time.”
He walked stiffly over to a low wall and sat heavily, drawing more Essence from the city as he did so.
“Sit down, Scyner,” he said reluctantly, gesturing to the space beside him.
“Tell me everything you know.”
Caeden largely let Scyner do the talking for the next hour, only occasionally prodding for more information as he caught up on events from the past year.
Much of the news from Ilin Illan he already knew. The massive political divisions. The Assembly’s struggle to exert their power. Scyner’s frustration when he spoke of Wirr in particular was clear, though given the lengths to which he and Nethgalla had gone to put the prince in his current position—and Wirr’s subsequent refusal to use it to force Andarra completely under his command—the Augur’s vexation was hardly surprising. Caeden was at least glad that Scyner’s observations backed up his own impression that the young man had been handling himself well, even thriving, despite the circumstances.
He was relieved to hear that Karaliene was well, too. He’d already learned during one of his cautious sojourns from Mor Aruil that the princess was overseeing relief efforts in the north—it had been easy enough to find out, as the Assembly had taken to making her reports from there public. Trying, no doubt, to stoke sentiment against the constant political unrest that plagued the city.
That suited Caeden just fine; Scyner had heard the most recent report, and Karaliene apparently remained in good health. She was as safe as she could be, so long as Caeden didn’t draw any more attention to her. He still worried for her, wished he could risk seeing her again—but for now, it was all he needed to know.
There were other things, however, about which Caeden had been entirely unaware. This was the first he had heard of Desriel’s apparent preparations for war; that was almost certainly at the Venerate’s prompting, though he had no idea why they had chosen this moment to urge the Gil’shar to action. And while the additional rumor of a potential Neskian assault was unlikely to be connected—the Venerate had never bothered to foster much influence that far south—it was still a concern. Andarra’s military simply couldn’t stretch that thin.
And then, eventually, there was the other piece of news. The one Scyner mentioned almost offhandedly and seemed about to move on from when Caeden held up a hand, bringing the conversation to a halt.
“What do you mean, the sha’teth were captured?” he asked.
Scyner hesitated. “It was months ago—though I only heard of it recently,” he admitted. “My source is reliable, but the Tol are obviously very tight-lipped about it all. I haven’t had the chance to verify whether it’s true.”
“It would be a strange rumor to start if there wasn’t something to it,” Caeden allowed grimly, “but it also doesn’t make any sense. I broke Tol Athian’s control over the creatures myself; there’s no reason for them to have allowed themselves to be captured.”
Scyner raised an eyebrow. “There are two Augurs there, now. It may not have been that simple.”
Caeden’s frown deepened. If the sha’teth truly were imprisoned, it changed everything. He had assumed, from the moment he’d escaped a year ago, that the Venerate would have assigned the sha’teth to tracking him down. Even with the Watcher dead and their base of operations beneath Tol Athian gone, they were still a serious threat. Every time he had been forced to use Essence over the past year, he had all but fled the scene immediately afterward as a precaution.
“Do you know what the sha’teth are?” he asked Scyner.
The Augur shrugged. “Creatures from the Darklands. Like Echoes, but with close to full control.”
“Like Nethgalla,” said Caeden quietly. “But… worse. Nethgalla, and even the Echoes, are denizens of the Darklands—they escaped from there, but they were not born there. The sha’teth are more like… leaders in the Darklands. There from the beginning. They are older than any of us, any of the Venerate—and when a sha’teth is made, they are chosen to cross into the waiting body.”
Scyner cocked his head to the side. “How do you know this?”
Caeden’s heart twisted as he forced himself to consider the question. The memory brought on by seeing Ordan’s Sever had been one of those that his mind had shied away from, but not because of what he’d seen.
It was what had come after that he’d wanted to forget.
His return to Ilshan Tereth Kal, he and Alchesh together convincing Ordan to let them leave with the Sever in order for Caeden to help the struggling Darecians raise the ilshara. Ordan’s locking of the Forge, ensuring that it could never again be used, but dooming himself in the process.
Alchesh’s years-long battle with the being from the Darklands as it began seeping through his connections—learning from it, at first, seeing more and more of the future, every time closer to the edge but every time promising that he had it under control. Promising that he could find out more about Davian, constantly convincing Caeden to wait just a bit longer.
And then Caeden’s blindness to the sha’teth finally wresting control. Alchesh’s rapid descent into madness as the creature began giving him glimpses into the Darklands, until finally Caeden, realizing the truth too late, tried to use the Sever.
The way it had taken such pleasure in killing Caeden’s friend while Caeden was forced to watch.
It had taken Caeden years to fully grasp why the sha’teth had destroyed the body it had managed to take, sending itself back to the Darklands in the process. Years until the group of young men and women in Andarra had started showing signs of being able to use kan, and Caeden had finally understood that Alchesh’s connections to the Forge had been released upon his death. Each one breaking off, attaching to a new individual.
Making it even harder to close the Rift.
“I just do,” he finally said coldly. “The point is that the sha’teth should never have been captured by the Andarrans, even with Augurs on their side. They are simply too smart and too careful.”
Scyner’s brow furrowed. “You sound afraid of them.”
“I am.” Caeden held Scyner’s gaze. “These creatures have knowledge, Scyner—far beyond anything in this world. Whatever dangers their abilities pose, they pale in comparison to that. When I released them from the Gifted, I added stipulations of my own: specifically, that they were not to share knowledge beyond what was already known in the world. But that was years ago. The other Venerate have had plenty of time to realize my deception and try to undo it. And the weapons that those creatures know how to make could wipe us all out in a heartbeat.” He gestured to the medallion around Scyner’s neck. “Speaking of Vessels. How did you come to be in possession of that particular one?”
Scyner started, his hand moving to his neck on instinct and clasping the medallion protectively.
“This?” He gave an uncertain laugh. “It was a gift. From Elli… from Nethgalla.”
“You know what it does?”
“I do.” Scyner forced his hand away from the amulet again. “It is for the end. When all the others are dead.”
Caeden nodded slowly. “It breaks your tie to the Forge,” he said, his stomach churning as flashes of memory returned. “You will no longer be able to use kan, but… you will not need to die in order for us to close the rift.”
“Exactly.” Scyner shuffled his feet, looking suddenly nervous.
Caeden was silent, immediately feeling a surge of pity for the man as a few pieces fell into place. Scyner was working for Nethgalla because she had told him that he could be saved. Even if he had convinced himself that it was for other reasons, there was no doubting his core motivation now.
But Nethgalla intended to give Caeden the Sever; it was so obvious that Caeden almost wanted to laugh. She had only ever inserted herself into this conflict—violently manipulated the political and social landscape of an entire country, ruining the lives of thousands upon thousands of Andarrans—because while she wanted the rift closed just as badly as Caeden did, she was also desperate to stop him from killing himself. Because she knew his plan, and she was determined to force her alternative upon him.
