The Light of All That Falls, page 71
“You’re right. The other forms of kan are all recognizably related, even if we can distinguish them. Like buildings. One may be a house, another a church, another a shop and yet another a stable—but they are all structures. They all follow certain rules, whether we think of them that way or not.” Nethgalla gestured at Davian’s creation. “That… looks like no other Vessel I have ever seen. It’s not just an unrecognizable structure, it’s unrecognizable as a structure. Even if one of the Venerate came across it, I cannot say whether they would be able to determine what it was unless they activated it.”
Davian nodded slowly. “And you’re sure that my providing the one Imprint will work for all of them? They won’t need to have been the ones to kill the dar’gaithin?” Niha and Tal wouldn’t have been an issue in that scenario, but he had no idea whether Raeleth had ever actually slain one of the creatures.
“I’m sure. If it works once, it will work for all.” The woman stood, stretching. “I do not know how you intend to make something this delicate twice more in the time that you have, but I would start as soon as you can. People have begun to notice my absences. You have a couple of days at most to finish up.”
Davian hesitated. “You’re sure there would be no chance of me getting back in here, if I just—”
“No.” Nethgalla said the word with simple, calm confidence. “Gassandrid knows that Tal is coming, Davian. The protections that the Venerate have around this complex are immense; I myself would never have been able to get through if I hadn’t used the identity of someone who was already allowed in. If you want to go back to Zvaelar, then this is your one and only chance.”
She waited to check that Davian understood, then reluctantly tossed the working metal band to him. “Use this as a reference. If something is even slightly off…”
“I know.” Davian was already preparing to activate his focus Vessel. It would be difficult to get this done under such time pressure, but his control had improved enormously, and he had confidence from having a working prototype now. He thought he could do it.
If he didn’t, his friends in Zvaelar were going to be stuck there.
He turned his attention to the next of the bands, letting more Essence flow into his fingertips as he prepared to make the incision in the metal.
There was still plenty of work left to do.
Davian studied the original steel band’s kan structure, then carefully added another line—identical, whisper thin—to the third and final one.
He exhaled after it was done, comparing the results with a critical eye. This last section of the Vessel wasn’t dependent on orientation, so it didn’t matter where he placed it relative to the main mechanism, though he’d tried to keep everything consistent.
He nodded to himself. The copy was near flawless, at least at first glance; he felt a flush of pride, though he pushed it down quickly enough. A day and a half straight of work without sleep, and he was almost done.
He breathed out, then began the laborious process of checking the metal band against the original again. Every comparison was painstaking; sometimes he still decided to shorten or lengthen a line of kan slightly, or straighten another, but otherwise it was good. As close as he could get, given the circumstances and the speed at which he’d needed to make it.
The question, of course, was whether it would still work.
Remembering Nethgalla’s logic, he had already undertaken the task of testing the second band. The process had been as deeply unpleasant as the first time, but it had worked without issue. Now—after a second fastidious recheck in which he changed nothing—it was finally time to try the third.
The sound of scrambling through the narrow, low tunnel to the cave made him flinch, and his heart leaped to his throat before he saw Nethgalla’s now-familiar form emerging from the hole in the wall.
“You’re early,” he said accusingly, heart slowing to its regular beat.
Nethgalla waved away his statement, her face flushed with excitement. “A Gate just opened in the city.”
“What?” Davian stared at her. “You mean…”
“It’s Tal. It has to be. Gassandrid wouldn’t need to open one here, and no one else has the ability to create them.” Her eyes were alight with anticipation. “Get ready. Gassandrid will have felt it as well. We need to get out of here, find Tal, and help him.”
Davian frowned. “No. That’s not the plan,” he said firmly. “I have to go back.”
“That doesn’t matter anymore,” said Nethgalla impatiently. “He’s here, Davian! It’s happening now! You can’t help him retrieve Licanius if you’re in Zvaelar.” She gestured, evidently thinking that there would be no argument. “Come on. There’s no point in me concealing my identity now. I’m going to find him, and so are you.”
Davian wavered, looking at the tunnel. It was tempting. He still had no idea whether this would work, and Nethgalla was right about one thing—if Caeden was here, then he was here to get Licanius. Not to mention maybe to try and rescue Davian.
Nethgalla plainly wasn’t going to wait for him, either. This was probably his one chance to escape with someone who actually knew their way around.
But the moment passed quickly. Tal would get out of Zvaelar somehow—that much was a given, regardless of whether he went back. But Raeleth and Niha? They would be trapped. Without Davian, without what he had just created, there was no chance for them.
A little over eight months, he’d known them—but it felt like so much longer. It felt like a lifetime.
“No,” he said softly.
Nethgalla stared at him blankly, as if not comprehending what he was saying.
“No?” she repeated, her voice low and dangerous.
“I have to go back.” Davian met her gaze determinedly. “It’s not just Tal. I have friends back there. They need my help. I promised them my help.”
“They would understand!” exclaimed Nethgalla in disbelief. Her expression darkened further as she studied him. “Listen to yourself, Davian. You want to go and protect your friends—over the fate of the world. We all have to make sacrifices. Stop being so selfish.” She nodded to the tunnel and waited expectantly, as if that were the end of the conversation.
Davian shook his head.
“I’m not like him. Like Tal,” he said. “I’ll sacrifice myself if I need to—I’m prepared for that—but I won’t sacrifice other people. Even if I thought it was all right. Even if it wasn’t possible to save them—which it is,” he added firmly, forestalling Nethgalla as she opened her mouth. “Tal—Caeden—is my friend. I understand why he’s done what he’s done. But…” He gestured tiredly. “He’s always been an effective man, Nethgalla. A man who wins. But I think he knew that wasn’t enough.”
Nethgalla considered him. “What’s the point if everyone dies? Morals are all well and good, Davian, but this is reality. We need people who will actually fight for what’s right.”
Davian shook his head again, something Raeleth had said coming to mind.
“It’s not enough to fight for the right side. You have to figure out how to fight the right way, too. If winning is truly all that matters, then we’ve lost sight of what’s actually right and wrong in the first place.”
Nethgalla stared at him silently, her expression unreadable.
“Make certain to conceal those around your arm the same way as you brought them in,” she said eventually, motioning to the three steel bands. “If you’re caught, at least you might be able to get away again without them being seen. You shouldn’t have too much difficulty, though. Everyone’s still acting as if nothing’s wrong, despite that fact that the entire place should be in an uproar by now.” She shook her head worriedly at that last part.
Davian looked at her in surprise. “That’s it?”
“I am not going to try and force you to escape,” said Nethgalla drily. “I think you’re foolish—possibly a liability. But my debt to you is paid, so I will not wait for you. If you wish to get out of Talan Gol, you will need to either catch up to Tal and me, or find your own way.”
“Understood.” Davian slid the bands under his sleeve. “How will you find him? This is a big city, and I doubt he’s going to make his whereabouts obvious.”
“I have a Trace,” Nethgalla assured him. She paused for another moment, as if waiting for him to admit that he’d changed his mind.
Then with another sigh and a sharp nod, she disappeared back into the tunnel.
Davian stared at the darkened hole, a bud of panic threatening to bloom before he took a steadying breath. What he’d said to Nethgalla was true: he couldn’t be like them. They—Tal included, possibly—would disagree with the choice. Call it weakness.
As would Gassandrid and the other Venerate.
And that was the point. Asha, Wirr—even Caeden, he thought—would consider it strength. Raeleth had been right: that he should fight was unquestioned, but how he fought mattered just as much as the result of the conflict.
Tal’s entire history was testament to that.
It was decided, anyway. There was no benefit to second-guessing himself now.
He crawled out of the cave that had been his home for the past week, and headed back into the glimmering steel passageways.
Chapter 45
Davian moved silently along the newest of the shining passageways he’d opened, every sense straining for any sign of danger.
Nethgalla hadn’t been wrong about the lack of reaction to Tal’s apparent arrival: the main hallways had been close to empty, certainly no busier than they had been a week ago. Those who traveled them had looked calm, too, in a vaguely disinterested sort of way—simply going about their daily business. It was, just as she had said, as if nothing were wrong.
Even so, Davian had been forced to duck down passageways and stray from his path to the portal several times: though his invisibility Vessel might allow him to simply walk past most people, some of the ways were narrow, and there was too good a chance of an accidental collision giving him away. At one point he’d actually had to retreat to avoid a group of men in Telesthaesia who were taking up the entire breadth of the hallway, making it impossible to get by. They’d had their unsettling helmets on, too, moving in an organized band and accompanied by a single soldier at the rear whose vision was unimpaired. That had to have been the commander Tal had explained was necessary for these squads, the mental link of the armor providing coordination and sight to the whole team.
It hadn’t been long after that he’d finally found his way into the passageways hidden away behind the steel walls, which Nethgalla had known about and suggested he use. They were expansive, a maze of metal corridors sealed off from the others, able to be completely reconfigured at will. It took only a quick application of Essence to the correct endpoints to open and close their entrances.
He paused and pressed through kan again, assessing his progress. It had been impractical to try and remember his way back to the portal, but the portal itself emitted a distinctive, pulsing kan signature that was impossible to miss, even with the myriad other Vessels blocking the way in between. All he had to do was keep angling toward the point from which that energy was emanating.
He kept his own kan at the ready, constantly checking for anyone coming up ahead, not willing to trust purely in the security of his invisibility Vessel. Nobody had appeared thus far, though.
Minutes passed in silence as he hurried forward. A couple of times he was forced to open ways around areas that were apparently tuned only to a specific person’s Essence, the steel plates in front of him immovable. One was a room in which, after pushing through kan to look inside, he spotted several Vessels—easily visible due to their time-locked metal—including a sword that seemed to almost writhe with dark energy. In another there was a sleeping woman with kan threads branching off her everywhere, though he was too far away to determine the threads’ purpose.
He hurried past. He could easily sense the portal now, could almost see the metal around him—this giant Vessel the Venerate had constructed—holding back the corruption of time. He still shivered at the concept. Whether that was due to the idea of Zvaelar’s corruption reaching through to the real world, or the fact that the Venerate had been both knowledgeable and powerful enough to hold it back, he wasn’t sure.
The flashing and quivering of the plate to his left was the only warning he had.
He dove forward as the steel snapped against the opposite wall with a crackling crash, blue energy spitting where the two met. He rolled smoothly to his feet, quickly checking his surroundings, but kan revealed no sign of an attacker. He tried to activate his time Vessel.
Nothing happened. He was too close to the distorting effect of the portal, now.
“I am impressed that you managed to hide for so long, Davian,” came a female voice through the newly made opening in the wall.
Davian’s heart lurched.
He knew immediately that it wasn’t her as she walked into view; even from here he could spot the dead eyes, could tell from the unnatural way she spoke. Scars covered her entire body where she had been mauled, entire chunks of flesh missing.
She came to a stop, staring at the exact spot where he was standing.
“Fessi,” he whispered, a chill of indecision and shock running down his spine.
“I was saddened by her death,” said Gassandrid, the words grotesque coming from Fessi’s mouth. “And I know that she was your friend, so I have truly done my best not to flaunt this body in front of you.”
Anger flared at that, hot and dark. “But you’re happy to use her corpse, of course,” spat Davian. He took an unconscious half step forward before clenching his fists tightly to his sides, wrenching his emotions back under control. Gassandrid was undoubtedly trying to rattle him here, hoping to goad him into rash action.
He dropped his invisibility shield. The Venerate would easily and accurately be able to track his movements using kan, and presumably already was, so it was only a drain on his Essence now.
“I am not one to refuse the gifts El gives me, Davian, and ultimately our bodies are merely Vessels. I only use this one because she was once bound to the Forge, and there are benefits. It does not decay the way the others do, my connection is far stronger, and kan is…” Gassandrid trailed off, sighing, Fessi’s empty blue eyes locked on Davian’s. “But I do not expect you to understand.”
Davian kept his breathing steady this time, watching in his peripheral vision for any shifting of the surrounding plates. Silently, he activated his strength and focus Vessels. Gassandrid was likely intending to throw him back into Zvaelar, but if Davian was captured, the Vessels he had hidden around his arm would undoubtedly be found and stripped from him first. He couldn’t allow that.
“You’re right,” he said grimly. “I don’t think I’ll ever understand.”
He twisted and leaped with Essence-enhanced legs along the corridor, moving at blinding speed away from Fessi’s unsettling gaze and toward where he knew the portal to Zvaelar waited.
Behind him he heard a furious, surprised shout; Gassandrid had probably expected him to face him head-on, to fight. He’d gained a precious few seconds doing this.
It would have to be enough.
The next minute was madness, an utter confusion of shifting, glittering steel and crackling Essence. The corridor became a blur of movement as plates everywhere began to tremble and spin, slamming together, a confusion of motion as they rushed to crush him, to block his way.
He knew how to manipulate them too, though.
He sprinted with everything he had, leaping over some plates and sliding under others as they moved, kicking off shifting walls to evade blasts of Essence thundering past him from behind. His focus Vessel kept him calm, let him calculate each step a second before he had to execute it. Every time he used his momentum to push off the steel, he sent Essence into endpoints and reversed or halted the upcoming plates’ motion, continuing to open up the path in front of him.
Gassandrid clearly had the upper hand in experience, though: the way ahead became narrower and narrower, the furious activity of the plates increasingly hard to dodge. Finally he caught a glimpse of the black void of the portal, a steel plate ahead lowering into position to block him from it. It was already halfway to the floor.
He forced Essence into an endpoint—just enough to slow the plate’s movement—and with a last, desperate dive he threw himself bodily beneath the shifting steel. The descending metal edge barely missed his face.
It did catch his arm, though. There was a pulling sensation, and then a clattering behind him.
Dismay stabbed at him as he clutched at where the metal band had been. The Vessel had been ripped off by the impact, possible only because of its new, open-ended shape.
He recovered swiftly, rolling and scrambling back, but it was too late and the band was too far away. The steel plate sealed to the ground with a crackle of blue energy, hiding the Vessel from view.
He stopped, mind racing, his panting breath audible over the furious buzzing of plates all around him. The portal was right here. He still had two Vessels. Perhaps he could make another while in Zvaelar. Perhaps if he gave one to Niha and the other to Raeleth, Tal would find another way out…
But no. Neither would work. The first he’d already discounted; there was nowhere near enough time and the delicacy required of the work made it impossible anyway, no matter how much he leaned on his focus Vessel. And the other… the other just wouldn’t happen. Tal clearly ended up with one of the Vessels. There was no miraculous solution waiting to reveal itself.
He pushed his palm against the violently vibrating floor, activating an endpoint and commanding the steel plate to rise again.
Fessi—Gassandrid—stood patiently on the other side, examining the metal with intense curiosity. A plate slammed into place in the tunnel behind, sealing him and Davian inside the room with the portal.
