The Light of All That Falls, page 58
Wirr chewed his lip, not for the first time considering whether it was possible that Caeden had made a mistake. He certainly didn’t think that they had been betrayed—there were far more effective ways to abuse their trust than simply sending them to the wrong spot—but if Desriel was about to cross the border here, or was even intending to in the near future, then there would surely be signs.
Was it possible that they had made their way through before the Andarrans’ arrival, and were already into the mountain passes? He didn’t think that was the case, either, and nor did Ithar. Armies of any significant size couldn’t hide all traces of their passage.
Scyner, who had been sitting unobtrusively to the side next to Taeris, shifted. “If Tal’kamar says that there will be an attack, then there will be an attack,” he said calmly.
“We cannot just leave. Caeden would not have sent us here for no reason,” agreed Taeris.
Ithar ignored both the Augur and the Gifted. “You evidently trust this Tal’kamar. Caeden. Whatever his name is,” he said, modifying his tone slightly, “and I do not doubt that the man believed the information that he gave you. But information—particularly information from only one source—can be wrong, Sire.”
Wirr said nothing for a long moment. The concern in his most senior surviving Administrator’s voice was not for no reason: though Ithar had had the foresight to bring as many supplies from the Tol as he could demand, those wouldn’t last long. He was a former captain in the army, had even worked with General Oran years before. He understood the practicalities of their situation as well as anyone.
“How long can we stay here?” Wirr finally asked.
Ithar sighed. “Most of the soldiers are accustomed to foraging for themselves. Some of the Gifted and Administrators can, too. And I know that the Gifted can sacrifice a little of their Reserves to reduce the amount they need to eat. But even given that… a week? Perhaps ten days?”
“Then that’s what we do. Find us a defensive position that assumes some sort of attack from across the gorge, and we’ll make camp there tomorrow. If nothing has happened once we’re established, and no more information has come to light, then we’ll have to risk using the Travel Stones to open a portal to wherever Caeden is. See if we can find out more.” Wirr glanced over at Scyner, who gave the slightest nod in confirmation.
Ithar nodded reluctantly, too. “Sire.” He stood, then paused.
“Sire, if I may say one more thing?” When Wirr gestured for him to proceed, he took a breath. “These men who have come with us… they’ve just lost most of the people they trust to lead them, and they are not stupid. They know there’s not enough food to last. They’ve heard the reports about the Neskian invasion, the unrest down at Talmiel and the sightings of forces massing there. And they know that there should be no way that Desriel can attack where we are now. Plenty of them signed on to earn a wage more than protect their country, but… it still makes them uncomfortable when the one who’s supposed to be in charge looks like he’s giving illogical orders. Especially when he has no actual experience.”
He shifted uncomfortably, rushing on before Wirr could respond. “A lot of them have families and homes in Ilin Illan. The Gifted and my people are on edge, too, given that you have that.” He indicated the Oathstone hanging around Wirr’s neck. “I don’t mean to suggest that you’re about to have full-blown infighting on your hands. But I’ve already heard people muttering. This group you have here… they don’t like each other, and most of them don’t like or trust you. A day will be fine, but much longer than that of sitting in one place would be… ambitious, is all I’m saying,” he finished awkwardly.
“I understand,” Wirr said simply. “Please do your best to keep everyone together. Thank you for your honesty.”
Ithar ducked his head in a half-embarrassed, half-relieved way and left the tent to make his arrangements.
In the corner, Scyner shifted.
“Tal’kamar would not have made a mistake,” he said quietly.
“I agree.” Wirr met the Augur’s gaze steadily. “But it hardly matters if we can’t find the people we’re meant to fight.”
A gloomy silence followed the pronouncement. Caeden had given him the exact location of the Cyrarium, but it would take their scouts several days to get there and back to determine whether the Desrielites had somehow already reached it. And Caeden had been certain about Desriel’s point of ingress, anyway, even if his Reading of Alaris hadn’t provided every single detail.
Wirr stood, mind straying to the Tol once again. His stomach twisted; with the chaos of their arrival and the disconcerting discovery that there was no enemy to fight, the memory had settled uncomfortably into the back of his mind for the past few hours. Deldri was still there, and the defenses had almost certainly been destroyed by the eletai by now.
There was nothing he could do about it. Using the Travel Stone now would be premature; once used, the stones had to be charged with Essence by the same person to work again—which, practically, meant that they would be able to open the portal back to Caeden only once. So he just had to deal with what was in front of him, and hope that Caeden and Ishelle had figured something out in Ilin Illan.
“You don’t think there’s any chance he was wrong?” he asked eventually. “He got his information from another Venerate, after all. I don’t believe that Caeden deceived us, but we have to at least consider the possibility that he was deceived. In that respect, Ithar’s right.” He shook his head. “We’re talking about the fate of the entire country.”
“We are talking about the fate of the world, Sire,” said Scyner. “Make no mistake about that.” He motioned to the chain around Wirr’s neck. “If it comes down to it…”
“You know how much I respect your restraint with that power,” Taeris added seriously, “but if the Gifted and Administrators stay in line, I’m sure that most of the soldiers will, too. If it comes to keeping this force together—”
“I know.” Wirr didn’t like the thought of compelling these people to do anything, but if it was a choice between that or letting the world be destroyed, he knew which way he would decide. “I’ll do what’s necessary. You have my word.”
The scarred man opened his mouth to say something more.
A line of bright-white Essence appeared down the middle of the tent.
Wirr leaped back, as did Taeris; Scyner moved as well, digging furiously in his pocket for something. The line of white spun, expanded.
Created a hole in the air.
Taeris and Wirr both tapped Essence, tensed as Scyner finally drew his hand from his pocket, the white stone in his grasp shining brightly.
“It’s all right,” he said to the others quickly, though his expression remained wary until he saw the figure stepping through the hole in the air. The portal winked out behind the newcomer, and she held up her hands in amusement as she saw Taeris and Wirr poised to attack.
“I surrender,” said Ishelle with a tired grin, tossing the matching black stone to a stunned-looking Scyner and walking over to a nearby seat.
There was a shocked hush for a full five seconds as Ishelle made herself comfortable.
“Ishelle. What happened?” Wirr asked, finally breaking the silence. His heart wrenched as fears that had been dormant for the past several hours came rushing back. “Why didn’t anyone else come through with you? Are they—”
“They’re fine,” Ishelle assured him quickly. “Everyone’s… homeless, but fine.”
Wirr opened his mouth to ask what she meant but there was a commotion at the entrance to the tent, and suddenly Erran was pushing his way inside, ignoring the irritated protests of the guards posted outside.
“Ishelle?” Erran stared at her dazedly, looking unsure whether to be happy or concerned. He had been overseeing resource allocation and organizing leadership structures within the camp; his memories from his link to Elocien had come in handy, even if the knowledge that they were being used still made Wirr uncomfortable.
As, to some extent, did the Mark currently visible on Erran’s left wrist. He had deliberately drawn enough Essence to bind himself to the Tenets as soon as they had arrived, insisting that Wirr’s being able to communicate with him directly was too important for him not to. Wirr didn’t disagree, necessarily, but still.
Erran’s gaze went to the two stones in Scyner’s hand. “I assume that’s what I just felt? What are you doing here?”
Ishelle shrugged. “Thought you might want some company.”
Erran made a face at her. “What happened at the Tol?” Erran hadn’t seen the disruption to the Conduit—he’d already been through the Gate by that stage—but he knew about it from Wirr. “And why aren’t you…” He gestured to his head.
“Caeden blocked the eletai. Hid me from them, somehow,” said Ishelle. “He said that it won’t last, but I can help here for a while, at least.” Her voice was strong, but Wirr could see the fear in her eyes as she spoke.
“If there’s even anything to help with,” Wirr said grimly. He shrugged at Ishelle’s querying expression. “There’s been no sign of the Gil’shar or any Banes. They’re either not here yet, or long gone.”
“That… can’t be true,” Ishelle said slowly.
“It is,” Erran assured her gloomily.
“No.” Ishelle shook her head. “I mean, I can feel them.” She closed her eyes, shuddering delicately before opening them again. “They’re that way.” She pointed west, in the direction of the gorge.
“They’re not.” Wirr felt his brow furrow. “We just got a report from our scouts, not more than twenty minutes ago. Unless they’ve made it closer in the half hour it took for the scouts to get back down here, there’s nothing there.”
Ishelle’s frown deepened, and she sucked in a breath, closing her eyes again.
“They’re near the river,” she said softly. “Grounded. Keeping out of sight. They…” She shook her head. “They’re… reorganizing their mind. Adapting, trying to cover lost information.”
Wirr exchanged pensive glances with the other three. “What?”
“Their mind works as a single entity,” said Ishelle, her eyes still closed. “When Caeden destroyed Ilin Illan, he killed more of the Hive than they’ve ever experienced before. They’re disoriented, confused.”
There was another silence, this one disbelieving. “What?” repeated Wirr.
Ishelle opened her eyes and took in their expressions. “Oh. Right.”
She proceeded to tell them about Ilin Illan—about the Resolute Door falling and Caeden’s scouring of the city.
“But they didn’t breach the Tol?” asked Wirr, his voice shaking slightly.
Ishelle nodded at the unasked question. “As I said. No one inside was hurt.”
Wirr released the breath he’d been holding, grateful for at least that much. Ilin Illan was gone, but he couldn’t think about that now. “So the eletai are close,” he said bleakly, turning his mind back to the most pressing danger. “Are they waiting for the Gil’shar?”
“No.” Ishelle glanced westward once again.
“From what I can tell, they’re already here too,” she said quietly.
It only took a few minutes to find a scout capable of leading them to the best vantage point for the river, and soon enough they were away from the camp, pushing through snarls of branches and following their guide’s path as the woman forged ahead confidently through the thick undergrowth.
After another half hour of hauling themselves up a narrow track and enduring a short climb, the scout gestured, looking vaguely irritated.
“See for yourselves,” she said.
Wirr stared down at the glittering Devliss, heart sinking as he took in the rushing blue-white water at the bottom of the sheer gorge.
Ithar had been right: he could see for miles here, and there was… nothing.
“There.” Ishelle pointed to a spot where the Devliss bent sharply. “There are eletai there. I can feel them.”
Wirr squinted. “Beneath the trees on the far side?” The forest across the gorge was thick, and certainly had the potential to hide a large group, if they were being careful enough. It was the only spot in that area that provided any cover, though.
“No. Closer to the edge. Grounded, but definitely within sight of the water.” She shivered, falling silent.
Taeris exchanged glances with Wirr. “A memory, perhaps?” he mused. “Could they already be past?”
“Ishelle?” Wirr watched the young woman cautiously. She claimed that Caeden had helped her resist the eletai, but even during the journey here he had noticed occasions when she had seemed distracted, staring vacantly and needing her name repeated several times to get her attention.
“No. I’m sure. What I’m seeing is right now,” Ishelle insisted, urgency and frustration in her tone. “I know what we’re seeing right now, but… it’s an illusion of some kind. It has to be.”
Wirr was about to say more when there was a flash from down below.
He paused, turning. “What was that?”
Taeris, who had been facing away from the river, followed his gaze. “I didn’t see…”
He trailed off.
“What?”
Taeris was motioning urgently for the group to get down; Wirr did so with alacrity, relieved to see the others copying him. After a moment he spotted what Taeris had seen through the trees: a detachment of three Gil’shar, working their way up the same hillside the Andarrans had traversed only a few minutes before. They hadn’t spotted Wirr and his people yet, but were clearly aiming for the same vantage point to survey the area.
“Back,” murmured Wirr, jerking his head to the tree line behind them. He turned to the scout who had led them here. “Circle around. Make sure there aren’t any others nearby.”
The woman darted away without question as the rest of them scurried fifty feet back toward the trees. “Administrator Ithar. Administrator Kestig. Elder Tanavar. Tell those who need to know that there are Gil’shar soldiers on this side of the Devliss,” said Wirr quietly as they dashed into cover, holding his image of the men firmly in his mind. “Tell them that the enemy are scouting from the position overlooking the river.” He knew that it was too late to communicate caution to the entire army. Cooking fires already flickered in among the trees where the Andarrans had made camp. They were distant, but easy enough to spot.
He exhaled, every muscle tense, as the Gil’shar soldiers crested the rise only moments later. There was a sudden, odd increase in pressure in the air, and Wirr realized that one of the three men must have been carrying a Trap.
“Where in fates did they come from?” muttered Taeris as they peered out cautiously.
“Told you,” responded Ishelle in a whisper.
Taeris shifted, watching the men worriedly. “We’re going to have to deal with them,” he said. “Maybe take at least one of them prisoner, if we can. We need to understand what’s going on.”
Wirr shook his head. “They have a Trap. I’m useless here.” At least his ability to command people worked through a Trap; that was something they had experimented with early on.
He hesitated, remembering the assassination attempt that Scyner had foiled, what seemed like a lifetime ago now. “Could you Control them? Force them to turn on each other?” he whispered to Ishelle. “Then we could send one back and have them report no sighting of us.”
Ishelle considered. “The Trap wouldn’t stop me,” she agreed. She rubbed her neck. “But kan might draw their attention. The eletai’s,” she clarified uneasily.
Wirr closed his eyes, wishing Erran had come with them, or even Scyner for that matter. “Are you still willing?” It was a risk, but if they simply killed the scouts—assuming that they even could—then the enemy soldiers would soon be missed. It would be almost as good as announcing their presence anyway.
“Can’t be afraid of them forever, I suppose,” said Ishelle, the cheerfulness in her voice clearly forced.
She visibly braced herself, then focused on the group of men at the cliff’s edge, who had just started to point and mutter excitedly among themselves. They’d spotted something below, and Wirr doubted there was anything much of interest in the valley save the Andarran army.
The soldier closest to the rear suddenly stiffened.
His blade whipped around in a shining arc and another of the men managed only a shocked gurgle as he fell, blood gushing from the gash in his throat. The soldier’s other companion spun in alarm, sword making it halfway out of its sheath before a foot in his side sent him flailing, crashing over the edge of the cliff.
Wirr winced. The drop was fifty feet onto rocks.
“Well done,” he murmured.
“Fates.” Ishelle didn’t look pleased; if anything, she looked terrified. Beads of sweat stood out starkly on her forehead, evidence of the concentration she was using to keep control of the final soldier. “I’m Reading him. The Desrielites are here,” she whispered. “And they’re expecting a report. Follow me. Quickly.”
Before any of them could react, she was running, the Gil’shar soldier jogging ahead of her.
Wirr let out a curse and dashed after her.
The chase was a slow one, Ishelle too focused to hear their whispered pleading for an explanation, and Wirr not daring to call out any louder for her to stop. The constant worried glances he exchanged with Taeris indicated that neither of them was entirely certain she was even fully in control of herself anymore.
They descended the hillside rapidly, heading at an oblique angle to their camp, toward the gorge and the abandoned Darecian castle that sat decaying near its edge. After a few minutes there was a flash and Wirr and Taeris both gasped, skidding to a stop beside Ishelle as a strange sensation washed over them.
Wirr’s blood went cold as his vision cleared and he took in a scene suddenly alive with noise and motion.
“Fates. Fates,” whispered Taeris, the horror in his voice reflecting Wirr’s feelings perfectly.
They had passed through the edge of what seemed to be some sort of invisibility bubble—an enormous one, stretching the entire width of the Devliss. Where moments before there had been only water rushing by below, now three wide, shining bridges of Essence spanned the gorge.
Was it possible that they had made their way through before the Andarrans’ arrival, and were already into the mountain passes? He didn’t think that was the case, either, and nor did Ithar. Armies of any significant size couldn’t hide all traces of their passage.
Scyner, who had been sitting unobtrusively to the side next to Taeris, shifted. “If Tal’kamar says that there will be an attack, then there will be an attack,” he said calmly.
“We cannot just leave. Caeden would not have sent us here for no reason,” agreed Taeris.
Ithar ignored both the Augur and the Gifted. “You evidently trust this Tal’kamar. Caeden. Whatever his name is,” he said, modifying his tone slightly, “and I do not doubt that the man believed the information that he gave you. But information—particularly information from only one source—can be wrong, Sire.”
Wirr said nothing for a long moment. The concern in his most senior surviving Administrator’s voice was not for no reason: though Ithar had had the foresight to bring as many supplies from the Tol as he could demand, those wouldn’t last long. He was a former captain in the army, had even worked with General Oran years before. He understood the practicalities of their situation as well as anyone.
“How long can we stay here?” Wirr finally asked.
Ithar sighed. “Most of the soldiers are accustomed to foraging for themselves. Some of the Gifted and Administrators can, too. And I know that the Gifted can sacrifice a little of their Reserves to reduce the amount they need to eat. But even given that… a week? Perhaps ten days?”
“Then that’s what we do. Find us a defensive position that assumes some sort of attack from across the gorge, and we’ll make camp there tomorrow. If nothing has happened once we’re established, and no more information has come to light, then we’ll have to risk using the Travel Stones to open a portal to wherever Caeden is. See if we can find out more.” Wirr glanced over at Scyner, who gave the slightest nod in confirmation.
Ithar nodded reluctantly, too. “Sire.” He stood, then paused.
“Sire, if I may say one more thing?” When Wirr gestured for him to proceed, he took a breath. “These men who have come with us… they’ve just lost most of the people they trust to lead them, and they are not stupid. They know there’s not enough food to last. They’ve heard the reports about the Neskian invasion, the unrest down at Talmiel and the sightings of forces massing there. And they know that there should be no way that Desriel can attack where we are now. Plenty of them signed on to earn a wage more than protect their country, but… it still makes them uncomfortable when the one who’s supposed to be in charge looks like he’s giving illogical orders. Especially when he has no actual experience.”
He shifted uncomfortably, rushing on before Wirr could respond. “A lot of them have families and homes in Ilin Illan. The Gifted and my people are on edge, too, given that you have that.” He indicated the Oathstone hanging around Wirr’s neck. “I don’t mean to suggest that you’re about to have full-blown infighting on your hands. But I’ve already heard people muttering. This group you have here… they don’t like each other, and most of them don’t like or trust you. A day will be fine, but much longer than that of sitting in one place would be… ambitious, is all I’m saying,” he finished awkwardly.
“I understand,” Wirr said simply. “Please do your best to keep everyone together. Thank you for your honesty.”
Ithar ducked his head in a half-embarrassed, half-relieved way and left the tent to make his arrangements.
In the corner, Scyner shifted.
“Tal’kamar would not have made a mistake,” he said quietly.
“I agree.” Wirr met the Augur’s gaze steadily. “But it hardly matters if we can’t find the people we’re meant to fight.”
A gloomy silence followed the pronouncement. Caeden had given him the exact location of the Cyrarium, but it would take their scouts several days to get there and back to determine whether the Desrielites had somehow already reached it. And Caeden had been certain about Desriel’s point of ingress, anyway, even if his Reading of Alaris hadn’t provided every single detail.
Wirr stood, mind straying to the Tol once again. His stomach twisted; with the chaos of their arrival and the disconcerting discovery that there was no enemy to fight, the memory had settled uncomfortably into the back of his mind for the past few hours. Deldri was still there, and the defenses had almost certainly been destroyed by the eletai by now.
There was nothing he could do about it. Using the Travel Stone now would be premature; once used, the stones had to be charged with Essence by the same person to work again—which, practically, meant that they would be able to open the portal back to Caeden only once. So he just had to deal with what was in front of him, and hope that Caeden and Ishelle had figured something out in Ilin Illan.
“You don’t think there’s any chance he was wrong?” he asked eventually. “He got his information from another Venerate, after all. I don’t believe that Caeden deceived us, but we have to at least consider the possibility that he was deceived. In that respect, Ithar’s right.” He shook his head. “We’re talking about the fate of the entire country.”
“We are talking about the fate of the world, Sire,” said Scyner. “Make no mistake about that.” He motioned to the chain around Wirr’s neck. “If it comes down to it…”
“You know how much I respect your restraint with that power,” Taeris added seriously, “but if the Gifted and Administrators stay in line, I’m sure that most of the soldiers will, too. If it comes to keeping this force together—”
“I know.” Wirr didn’t like the thought of compelling these people to do anything, but if it was a choice between that or letting the world be destroyed, he knew which way he would decide. “I’ll do what’s necessary. You have my word.”
The scarred man opened his mouth to say something more.
A line of bright-white Essence appeared down the middle of the tent.
Wirr leaped back, as did Taeris; Scyner moved as well, digging furiously in his pocket for something. The line of white spun, expanded.
Created a hole in the air.
Taeris and Wirr both tapped Essence, tensed as Scyner finally drew his hand from his pocket, the white stone in his grasp shining brightly.
“It’s all right,” he said to the others quickly, though his expression remained wary until he saw the figure stepping through the hole in the air. The portal winked out behind the newcomer, and she held up her hands in amusement as she saw Taeris and Wirr poised to attack.
“I surrender,” said Ishelle with a tired grin, tossing the matching black stone to a stunned-looking Scyner and walking over to a nearby seat.
There was a shocked hush for a full five seconds as Ishelle made herself comfortable.
“Ishelle. What happened?” Wirr asked, finally breaking the silence. His heart wrenched as fears that had been dormant for the past several hours came rushing back. “Why didn’t anyone else come through with you? Are they—”
“They’re fine,” Ishelle assured him quickly. “Everyone’s… homeless, but fine.”
Wirr opened his mouth to ask what she meant but there was a commotion at the entrance to the tent, and suddenly Erran was pushing his way inside, ignoring the irritated protests of the guards posted outside.
“Ishelle?” Erran stared at her dazedly, looking unsure whether to be happy or concerned. He had been overseeing resource allocation and organizing leadership structures within the camp; his memories from his link to Elocien had come in handy, even if the knowledge that they were being used still made Wirr uncomfortable.
As, to some extent, did the Mark currently visible on Erran’s left wrist. He had deliberately drawn enough Essence to bind himself to the Tenets as soon as they had arrived, insisting that Wirr’s being able to communicate with him directly was too important for him not to. Wirr didn’t disagree, necessarily, but still.
Erran’s gaze went to the two stones in Scyner’s hand. “I assume that’s what I just felt? What are you doing here?”
Ishelle shrugged. “Thought you might want some company.”
Erran made a face at her. “What happened at the Tol?” Erran hadn’t seen the disruption to the Conduit—he’d already been through the Gate by that stage—but he knew about it from Wirr. “And why aren’t you…” He gestured to his head.
“Caeden blocked the eletai. Hid me from them, somehow,” said Ishelle. “He said that it won’t last, but I can help here for a while, at least.” Her voice was strong, but Wirr could see the fear in her eyes as she spoke.
“If there’s even anything to help with,” Wirr said grimly. He shrugged at Ishelle’s querying expression. “There’s been no sign of the Gil’shar or any Banes. They’re either not here yet, or long gone.”
“That… can’t be true,” Ishelle said slowly.
“It is,” Erran assured her gloomily.
“No.” Ishelle shook her head. “I mean, I can feel them.” She closed her eyes, shuddering delicately before opening them again. “They’re that way.” She pointed west, in the direction of the gorge.
“They’re not.” Wirr felt his brow furrow. “We just got a report from our scouts, not more than twenty minutes ago. Unless they’ve made it closer in the half hour it took for the scouts to get back down here, there’s nothing there.”
Ishelle’s frown deepened, and she sucked in a breath, closing her eyes again.
“They’re near the river,” she said softly. “Grounded. Keeping out of sight. They…” She shook her head. “They’re… reorganizing their mind. Adapting, trying to cover lost information.”
Wirr exchanged pensive glances with the other three. “What?”
“Their mind works as a single entity,” said Ishelle, her eyes still closed. “When Caeden destroyed Ilin Illan, he killed more of the Hive than they’ve ever experienced before. They’re disoriented, confused.”
There was another silence, this one disbelieving. “What?” repeated Wirr.
Ishelle opened her eyes and took in their expressions. “Oh. Right.”
She proceeded to tell them about Ilin Illan—about the Resolute Door falling and Caeden’s scouring of the city.
“But they didn’t breach the Tol?” asked Wirr, his voice shaking slightly.
Ishelle nodded at the unasked question. “As I said. No one inside was hurt.”
Wirr released the breath he’d been holding, grateful for at least that much. Ilin Illan was gone, but he couldn’t think about that now. “So the eletai are close,” he said bleakly, turning his mind back to the most pressing danger. “Are they waiting for the Gil’shar?”
“No.” Ishelle glanced westward once again.
“From what I can tell, they’re already here too,” she said quietly.
It only took a few minutes to find a scout capable of leading them to the best vantage point for the river, and soon enough they were away from the camp, pushing through snarls of branches and following their guide’s path as the woman forged ahead confidently through the thick undergrowth.
After another half hour of hauling themselves up a narrow track and enduring a short climb, the scout gestured, looking vaguely irritated.
“See for yourselves,” she said.
Wirr stared down at the glittering Devliss, heart sinking as he took in the rushing blue-white water at the bottom of the sheer gorge.
Ithar had been right: he could see for miles here, and there was… nothing.
“There.” Ishelle pointed to a spot where the Devliss bent sharply. “There are eletai there. I can feel them.”
Wirr squinted. “Beneath the trees on the far side?” The forest across the gorge was thick, and certainly had the potential to hide a large group, if they were being careful enough. It was the only spot in that area that provided any cover, though.
“No. Closer to the edge. Grounded, but definitely within sight of the water.” She shivered, falling silent.
Taeris exchanged glances with Wirr. “A memory, perhaps?” he mused. “Could they already be past?”
“Ishelle?” Wirr watched the young woman cautiously. She claimed that Caeden had helped her resist the eletai, but even during the journey here he had noticed occasions when she had seemed distracted, staring vacantly and needing her name repeated several times to get her attention.
“No. I’m sure. What I’m seeing is right now,” Ishelle insisted, urgency and frustration in her tone. “I know what we’re seeing right now, but… it’s an illusion of some kind. It has to be.”
Wirr was about to say more when there was a flash from down below.
He paused, turning. “What was that?”
Taeris, who had been facing away from the river, followed his gaze. “I didn’t see…”
He trailed off.
“What?”
Taeris was motioning urgently for the group to get down; Wirr did so with alacrity, relieved to see the others copying him. After a moment he spotted what Taeris had seen through the trees: a detachment of three Gil’shar, working their way up the same hillside the Andarrans had traversed only a few minutes before. They hadn’t spotted Wirr and his people yet, but were clearly aiming for the same vantage point to survey the area.
“Back,” murmured Wirr, jerking his head to the tree line behind them. He turned to the scout who had led them here. “Circle around. Make sure there aren’t any others nearby.”
The woman darted away without question as the rest of them scurried fifty feet back toward the trees. “Administrator Ithar. Administrator Kestig. Elder Tanavar. Tell those who need to know that there are Gil’shar soldiers on this side of the Devliss,” said Wirr quietly as they dashed into cover, holding his image of the men firmly in his mind. “Tell them that the enemy are scouting from the position overlooking the river.” He knew that it was too late to communicate caution to the entire army. Cooking fires already flickered in among the trees where the Andarrans had made camp. They were distant, but easy enough to spot.
He exhaled, every muscle tense, as the Gil’shar soldiers crested the rise only moments later. There was a sudden, odd increase in pressure in the air, and Wirr realized that one of the three men must have been carrying a Trap.
“Where in fates did they come from?” muttered Taeris as they peered out cautiously.
“Told you,” responded Ishelle in a whisper.
Taeris shifted, watching the men worriedly. “We’re going to have to deal with them,” he said. “Maybe take at least one of them prisoner, if we can. We need to understand what’s going on.”
Wirr shook his head. “They have a Trap. I’m useless here.” At least his ability to command people worked through a Trap; that was something they had experimented with early on.
He hesitated, remembering the assassination attempt that Scyner had foiled, what seemed like a lifetime ago now. “Could you Control them? Force them to turn on each other?” he whispered to Ishelle. “Then we could send one back and have them report no sighting of us.”
Ishelle considered. “The Trap wouldn’t stop me,” she agreed. She rubbed her neck. “But kan might draw their attention. The eletai’s,” she clarified uneasily.
Wirr closed his eyes, wishing Erran had come with them, or even Scyner for that matter. “Are you still willing?” It was a risk, but if they simply killed the scouts—assuming that they even could—then the enemy soldiers would soon be missed. It would be almost as good as announcing their presence anyway.
“Can’t be afraid of them forever, I suppose,” said Ishelle, the cheerfulness in her voice clearly forced.
She visibly braced herself, then focused on the group of men at the cliff’s edge, who had just started to point and mutter excitedly among themselves. They’d spotted something below, and Wirr doubted there was anything much of interest in the valley save the Andarran army.
The soldier closest to the rear suddenly stiffened.
His blade whipped around in a shining arc and another of the men managed only a shocked gurgle as he fell, blood gushing from the gash in his throat. The soldier’s other companion spun in alarm, sword making it halfway out of its sheath before a foot in his side sent him flailing, crashing over the edge of the cliff.
Wirr winced. The drop was fifty feet onto rocks.
“Well done,” he murmured.
“Fates.” Ishelle didn’t look pleased; if anything, she looked terrified. Beads of sweat stood out starkly on her forehead, evidence of the concentration she was using to keep control of the final soldier. “I’m Reading him. The Desrielites are here,” she whispered. “And they’re expecting a report. Follow me. Quickly.”
Before any of them could react, she was running, the Gil’shar soldier jogging ahead of her.
Wirr let out a curse and dashed after her.
The chase was a slow one, Ishelle too focused to hear their whispered pleading for an explanation, and Wirr not daring to call out any louder for her to stop. The constant worried glances he exchanged with Taeris indicated that neither of them was entirely certain she was even fully in control of herself anymore.
They descended the hillside rapidly, heading at an oblique angle to their camp, toward the gorge and the abandoned Darecian castle that sat decaying near its edge. After a few minutes there was a flash and Wirr and Taeris both gasped, skidding to a stop beside Ishelle as a strange sensation washed over them.
Wirr’s blood went cold as his vision cleared and he took in a scene suddenly alive with noise and motion.
“Fates. Fates,” whispered Taeris, the horror in his voice reflecting Wirr’s feelings perfectly.
They had passed through the edge of what seemed to be some sort of invisibility bubble—an enormous one, stretching the entire width of the Devliss. Where moments before there had been only water rushing by below, now three wide, shining bridges of Essence spanned the gorge.
