The Light of All That Falls, page 33
“It is.” Scyner gave the older man a tight smile.
“Fates.” Taeris’s expression hardened. “Fates, Jakarris. We trusted you.”
Scyner gazed at Taeris, looking sorrowful. He clearly knew exactly what Taeris was referring to.
“I know,” he said eventually.
A rasping laugh interrupted him before he could say more.
“Atarin tel’teth. What a delightful reunion,” the sha’teth on the right sneered, its voice like stones being ground together. “Two of the men who made our passage to this world possible.”
Scyner rolled his eyes, not bothering to turn and face the creature. “These monsters shouldn’t be here,” he said bluntly, addressing Taeris more than Wirr. “How were they captured?”
“First tell us what you’re doing here,” responded Wirr pointedly.
Scyner gave an exasperated sigh. “Investigating.” He jerked his head toward the sha’teth. “Perhaps we can exchange notes later?”
Wirr considered, then grudgingly indicated his assent. The Augur clearly didn’t want to say too much in front of the creatures, which made sense.
“They attacked me. That’s how we caught them,” he said eventually. He lifted his shirt slightly, revealing the pink, half-healed line across his stomach. “About a week after I got back to the city, after Asha…” He trailed off, glancing at the sha’teth warily. It probably wasn’t the best idea to give them information they didn’t have, even if it seemed unimportant.
Scyner seemed to understand what he was talking about anyway. “But how?” he pressed.
“The entire Council was there,” explained Taeris. “As was I. More than half of us died in the fight.”
Scyner glanced behind at the manacled creatures, then gestured to the opposite side of the room; Wirr and Taeris nodded their agreement and the three of them moved out of earshot before Taeris began explaining the sequence of events. How the sha’teth had burst into the chamber and arrowed for Wirr, giving him almost no time to react or defend himself. How Essence walls had lit the room and a hail of energy had rained down on the creatures, one of which had still managed to battle through a dozen Gifted to stab Wirr in the stomach with its dark, pulsing dagger.
Wirr couldn’t fill in the gaps after that; he had woken to the worried ministrations of the Gifted, who despite their best efforts were unable to fully heal the wound. But he had heard the story several times now. How the entire Council had stood against them. How they had activated the protections of Tol Athian’s Council room itself, the Builders’ internal defenses springing to life for the first time in known memory.
The sha’teth had been restrained down here, and while there had been much debate about simply killing them—both Wirr and Taeris had advocated it—the Council had ultimately seen them as a valuable resource. Both for information and, Wirr suspected, because they vaguely hoped they might one day be turned back under their control.
Scyner listened with narrowed eyes, assessing, saying nothing until Taeris was finished. Then he glanced back over at the sha’teth, who had remained silent throughout, hanging from the wall and watching the three men with dead eyes.
“Is it not as we told you, Shalician?” called the one on the left, noting Scyner’s look.
Scyner showed no reaction to the creature, though he looked pointedly at Taeris and Wirr. “It is.”
Taeris scowled. “You doubt something about the account?”
“No.” Scyner kept his voice low. “My concern is that they were captured at all.”
“They killed a dozen of the most powerful Gifted in Andarra,” pointed out Wirr. “And made it into the middle of Tol Athian to do so.”
“But doesn’t that strike you as odd?” Scyner pressed. “These are not animals, Prince Torin. They are not Banes, clumsy weapons that the Venerate would try to just smash against their enemies. I have no doubt that you were a target, but…” He shook his head. “If you were truly their only target, why attack at the very center of Tol Athian—and while you were with the entire Council? Why not pick you off somewhere outside the protections of the Tol?” He stared at Taeris pointedly, plainly expecting the scarred man to answer.
“Of course we considered that,” said Wirr irritably before Taeris could respond. “But that Council meeting was one of the first times my whereabouts were widely known since I got back here. It was only made public because it was assumed to be safe.”
“Not to mention the statement the attack made. The effects we still feel from it,” added Taeris. “Everyone in the Tol knows that this is not necessarily a safe haven now—even with the Sanctuary entrance guarded. The time and energy that have gone into strengthening the defenses here, when they could have been put toward more important things, have been significant.”
Scyner considered.
“Perhaps you are right,” he conceded reluctantly. “But Tal’kamar sent me here to get information from these creatures, and that is what I intend to do.”
“You’ve seen Caeden?” asked Wirr immediately, brightening. He leaned forward excitedly. “How is he? Where is he?” He had not seen his friend since the Blind’s attack on Ilin Illan nearly two years earlier, though he knew Asha had seen him since in Deilannis.
Scyner studied Wirr curiously.
“He is well enough. He is attempting to retrieve Licanius from the Venerate,” the black-veined man said. “And to save your friend.”
Wirr’s heart leaped. “Davian’s alive?”
“He is.” Scyner seemed privately amused about something in the conversation. “I do not know much more than that,” he added quickly, seeing the questions on the tip of Wirr’s tongue. “He helped free Tal’kamar from Ilshan Gathdel Teth, and now is being held by the Venerate. That is all Tal’kamar told me before sending me here.” Scyner paused. “And on that subject—why are you here? I assume that you didn’t come all the way down here for casual conversation.”
Wirr glanced across at Taeris, who hesitated.
“Do you… remember Rethgar?” Taeris asked.
Taeris quickly explained what they had learned from Dras, then moved swiftly through their subsequent findings. Scyner listened with a steadily deepening frown, which changed to an expression of outright concern as Taeris described Rethgar’s tomb.
“El take it,” he muttered. “An escherii? Tal’kamar needs to know.”
“Escherii?” Wirr looked at the other two men blankly, but from Taeris’s grimace, Wirr was the only one who didn’t know the word.
“An unbound sha’teth. One with more agency, free to share its knowledge, to use its connection to the Darklands without limitations. There has only ever been one other, and the information on it is… slim, at best.” Taeris licked his lips as Scyner nodded approvingly; this was evidently coming from the memories the Augur had stored within Taeris. “Their only limitation is the body they inhabit; the more power they use, the more it will break down, until ultimately it will just… disintegrate.”
“That’s not the worst of it,” murmured Scyner bleakly. “Its creation will have taken one of the connections to the Forge.” There was silence; Scyner looked up at them, glowering at their blank looks as if only just remembering whom he was talking to. “It’s your missing Augur,” he clarified impatiently. “And now we’re going to have to find a way to kill it. Another delightful side effect of your misusing what I left to you, Thell, and Nihim.” The last was directed squarely at Taeris.
The scarred man blanched for a second before his expression darkened. “No. No. Your betrayal is what led us to grasp at that particular straw,” he said, ire raising his voice sharply. “Fates, at the time, we thought that maybe making the sha’teth was why you gave us that information!”
“I gave Thell every scrap of research I had on the Darklands—the sha’teth were one piece amongst thousands,” said Scyner, matching Taeris’s tone. “Just as I gave you everything I knew of the Boundary, and Nihim everything I’d learned of our enemy. I knew I wouldn’t be able to risk showing myself again for years; it was all meant to inform, to ensure you had the most complete picture possible of what Andarra was facing. It was meant to help you and the Tols prepare, so that you could actually help when the time came.” His expression hardened. “You were the three Gifted who I knew would survive the war; I assumed that together, you would be able to convince everyone of the danger. Instead, you created these”—he gestured back at the manacled sha’teth in disgust—“and got yourselves disgraced before the rebellion even started.”
He locked eyes with Taeris, who glared back defiantly, their surroundings temporarily forgotten.
Then Scyner sighed, shaking his head.
“We don’t have time for this—I need to ask some more pointed questions about Rethgar,” he said grimly, looking around at the sha’teth. “You may stay, or leave. But do not interfere.”
Wirr coughed, almost unwilling to remind the two men that he was there. “They have already been questioned. A lot.”
“Not by me.” Scyner looked like he was bracing himself for something unpleasant.
Taeris gave him a black look. “These are the Tol’s prisoners. What happens to them while in our custody is our responsibility.” The tension in his voice suggested that he was still working hard not to pursue the previous argument with Scyner.
“Then stay and observe. This will be painful for them, but it is not torture.” Scyner peered at Taeris. “I am the only one who has the ability and knowledge to do this. Who can get real answers. And I am going to do it whether you try to stop me or not.”
Taeris and Wirr exchanged a glance. Wirr’s stomach churned, but he nodded.
“Do it,” he muttered.
Scyner strode back over to the sha’teth. “Sekariel. Deonidius.” He smiled cheerlessly at the creatures. “Time to talk.”
The pale, scarred faces regarded the Augur with almost identical sneers.
“Kelorin sa etemiel. We have already answered your questions,” said the one on the left—the one called Sekariel, Wirr thought.
“Yet if you have more, we are of course pleased to cooperate,” rasped the other. It glanced across at Taeris. “Particularly for you, Taeris Sarr.”
“I want to know about Rethgar,” said Scyner, ignoring the words.
“The one Taeris Sarr killed?” asked Deonidius mockingly.
“The one he and Taranor sacrificed to keep secret their mistake?” the other crowed, its black-eyed, empty gaze fixed on Taeris. “Surely there is someone here better to ask?”
Scyner sighed.
“Here is the thing, Sekariel,” he said. “You obviously believe that you have me at a disadvantage right now. You are thousands of years old, no doubt bound against revealing your purpose, and you think that I… I am just an Augur.”
He smiled slightly, as if he knew something that the sha’teth did not.
“In those thousands of years, though,” he continued, “did you ever hear of the Ath?”
Deonidius rasped a laugh, though it had lost some of its bite this time. “You are not her.”
“No.” Scyner closed his eyes, stretching out his hand toward the sha’teth. “But she has been teaching me.”
Deonidius screamed.
Wirr and Taeris both leaped in alarm at the horrific, earsplitting sound, the unnatural screeches of pain ricocheting around the enclosed space, assaulting their senses. The other sha’teth—Sekariel—shouted something furiously in Darecian, obviously demanding that the Augur stop, but Scyner didn’t react to any of it.
Wirr shuddered, hands over his ears, as he watched Deonidius. The sha’teth’s back was arched, its mouth so wide its pallid face looked stretched almost to the breaking point as it shrieked, every muscle trembling and convulsing as it thrashed maniacally against its manacles. Wirr tensed as tiny clouds of dust burst from the wall where the metal was secured, concerned that the creature was about to somehow—impossibly—break free with sheer, demented strength.
“Stop.” Wirr couldn’t take it anymore; regardless of the creature’s nature, it was impossible not to feel just how much pain it was in. “Scyner, just—”
He trailed off as Taeris gripped him firmly by the arm. Wirr turned to the scarred man, who shook his head silently.
Wirr pushed Taeris’s hand away vexedly, but he didn’t move any closer.
Scyner abruptly opened his eyes, staring directly at Deonidius, who was still thrashing as if being lashed again and again by invisible whips.
“Let him speak,” Scyner said in a commanding voice.
Beside him, Wirr heard Taeris inhale sharply.
“You are a fool!” snarled Sekariel, and this time the note of panic in his voice was unmistakable. “You cannot—”
Scyner gestured tersely and Sekariel’s eyes bulged as he cut off abruptly, apparently unable to say anything else.
“Elder Tolliver. I know he is still in there.” Scyner said the words calmly, almost drowned out by the screams. “Deonidius, you will let him speak if you do not wish to be entirely cut off from Markaathan.”
“You… waste… your energy,” gasped the creature. “You will kill us, and then this will be for naught.”
“And yet I do not believe you wish to die. If you did, you would never have allowed yourself to be taken by mere Gifted,” replied Scyner calmly. “So I will continue, and we will see. If I am wrong, then I am wrong.”
There was nothing for what seemed an eternity, before suddenly a final screech of defiance and anger. The sha’teth went limp against its restraints, its cries silenced. For a moment Wirr was certain it was dead.
Then, impossibly, its face started changing. The pallid facade gained a hint of color. The drooping skin pulled tighter.
The sha’teth raised its head, and the eyes it gazed at the three men with were human.
“Jakarris.” The weak voice that came out of the sha’teth’s mouth was hoarse, but… real. Colored with emotion in a way the sha’teth’s never were. “Traitor.”
“Do you remember the last time I saw you, Tolliver?” Scyner asked briskly, ignoring the accusation.
A pause.
“The day… before the war. You sent me to… Tol Athian. Told me you needed me to… stay there for a couple of days.” A broken laugh. “Turned out to be… longer.”
Scyner nodded. There was sweat on his brow, and Wirr could tell that there was an unseen struggle taking place.
“We do not have long,” the Augur said, voice strained with effort. “Why are you here?”
“Told… to come here. Get… caught.”
Wirr’s heart pounded, and Taeris shifted expectantly beside him. This is what they needed to know.
“Why?”
“Not… sure.”
Scyner gritted his teeth. “We need to know, Tolliver. Quickly.” To the left, Wirr could see the other sha’teth straining angrily against its restraints, but they all ignored it, hanging on Tolliver’s every word.
“All… Deonidius knows,” Tolliver gasped. “Not… trusted.”
Scyner bared his teeth, looking as frustrated as Wirr felt. “Stay with me,” he muttered, more to himself than the sha’teth.
“What do you know about Rethgar?” It was Taeris breaking the silence, stepping forward. Scyner scowled at the interruption but didn’t say anything.
Tolliver’s disfigured face turned deliberately to Taeris. “Sarr,” he gasped. “Rethgar is the… one who sent us. He is… escherii. He… hates you. Wants you to see… all you have worked for… destroyed before he kills you.” Another rasping, coughing laugh. “I… cannot blame him.”
Taeris took a half step forward.
“Forgive me,” he said, a tremor to his voice that Wirr hadn’t heard before.
Those eyes, full of pain, gazed at Taeris.
“Never,” came the whispered reply.
“Enough,” snarled Scyner, beads forming on his forehead now, clearly struggling in whatever battle he was fighting. “What else can you tell us, Tolliver? We need to know their plans.”
“We are ordered. Nothing… is explained. The Venerate do not… trust us because they do… not trust the one who turned us.”
Scyner staggered and there was a twisting in the air; suddenly the sha’teth’s face drained of color, the skin sagging and deforming once again. Scyner groaned as the sha’teth glared at him balefully.
“So,” it said, and the grinding, unnatural rasp to its voice was back. “Did that help you, Shalician? Do you feel accomplished?”
Scyner steadied himself against the wall, pale from the effort of whatever he had done. “It was enough,” he croaked. He just stood there, breathing for several seconds, and then looked at Wirr and Taeris.
“I’m going to try with Sekariel, now,” he said quietly.
The next few minutes were painful to sit through as the other sha’teth endured the same agony as its brother, arching and spasming and shrieking. It was to no avail, though; Scyner finally sagged back, hands shaking, as the sha’teth’s screams faded to moans.
“I need to rest,” he admitted, head bowed, breath coming in short, sharp gasps. “A few hours, at least.”
“You are weak,” rasped Sekariel, though the pain in his grinding voice was still evident. The sha’teth leaned forward against its restraints menacingly, looking at Wirr now. “Perhaps I can tell you more. Perhaps you would like to know more about Rethgar’s deeds? Did you know that he was the one assigned to hunt you down? He told us of that night at your school. How he ripped the Gifted apart, feasted on their terror. He delighted in what he did to your friends, boy. He laughed as he told us of it.”
Wirr swallowed the furious surge of emotions that suddenly roiled in his chest. The friends he had lost that night were many.
“And yet he failed, and I’m alive,” he replied coldly, pushing down the pain. “Whatever Devaed’s plan is, my being here is clearly a problem for him.”
The sha’teth looked at him, and then to Wirr’s horror it burst out laughing—a rasping, hacking sound, but clearly one of amusement.
