The Light of All That Falls, page 76
Bones broke and reformed, skin writhed, muscles tore—and then it was done. He stood, quickly practicing a few of those annoying, girlish smiles and mannerisms in front of the mirror before touching the Vessel by the door that would summon someone from the servants’ quarters.
There was some cleaning up to be done.
Caeden’s limbs trembled as he found himself kneeling on the cold stone once again.
The memory hadn’t been as smooth as his own, events and emotions conveyed in violent flashes of moving image—but it had been enough.
“You’re lying,” he rasped. The words were hollow; he felt completely wrung out, unable to put any passion even into this denial. “You always lie. She’s not dead. You always lie.”
I have shown you nothing false, Tal’kamar. You know this.
Caeden knelt there, head bowed, grief and fury and shame mixing into a red haze.
He stumbled to his feet. Turned to Nethgalla.
He only had to see her eyes to know the truth.
“When?” he asked, voice cracking.
Nethgalla struggled for a moment to find an answer, her fearful expression lit by Asha’s shield.
“A month after the siege of the city, when you killed Mash’aan and his men. I had to. I had to get close so that I could take a Trace for the Vessel I’d made—Isiliar was coming for you, and amplifying your Essence signature was the only way I could mask your real one for a while,” she said tentatively. She paused for a long second, watching him pensively. “It saved your life, Tal. And… even if it hadn’t, I think you know that what you had with her wasn’t real. She was too young to…”
She cut off, eyes widening. Caeden was stalking toward her, though he didn’t remember instructing his legs to move.
“Tal.” She started scrambling backward. “Tal.”
Her skin writhed and her bones cracked; before he could reach her, it was Ell staring back at him in open fear.
Everything was a blur through tears and agony. His grief wasn’t just for Karaliene. It was for everyone whose life had been touched by him. It was for himself.
He flooded his arm with Essence and grasped Nethgalla. The image of his wife screamed at him, beat him with her fists, begged him to stop, professed her love for him. The blows were powerful, but they didn’t make him flinch. He was beyond the physical pain now.
He choked down bile and more tears and dragged her to the edge of the shield. The Essence parted for him; whether he’d sliced it open with Licanius or whether Asha had created the gap for him, he wasn’t entirely sure.
He gathered all his strength, all his fury.
He threw Nethgalla out into the darkness.
The Essence shield closed around him again as he stood there, panting, listening to the Ath’s shrieks as they faded into the abyss. Every limb trembled; his mind was a jumble of stark, raw emotion at both what he had learned, and what he had just done.
Tal’kamar. The voice was gentle. I feel your pain, and I am sorry for it—but it was the only way left to reach you. You know, deep down, that the fault is not yours to own. Not for any of it. Not while you are imprisoned by fate.
Caeden glanced across at Asha. He knew, somehow, that she couldn’t hear what was being said now.
The look of raw shock and disgust on her face as she met his gaze was too much.
He didn’t blame her—how could he? He felt the same. Everything was shame, deep and dark and red.
The things he had done. The things he had done.
“I am responsible,” whispered Caeden. He knew it, despite the overwhelming desire to say otherwise. “Everything you showed me, some part of me knew that it was wrong. There are no justifications—only excuses. I chose.” Knifing shame tore at his chest, and he couldn’t even look at Asha now. “You have not changed my mind, Shammaeloth.”
Your needless suffering breaks my heart, Tal’kamar, but I will not deny you your choice. The voice held echoes of grief. I will continue to hope for your heart to change, for no matter your choices, my love for you endures. My deepest wish is that I may still fulfill my promise to you—to send you back. To give you another chance.
Licanius trembled in Caeden’s hand. His deeds crashed around in his head. He saw the expression on Karaliene’s face as she died. On Alchesh’s. Isiliar’s. Davian’s.
Shammaeloth was right. He couldn’t escape who he was; these memories proved that.
So how could he possibly trust himself to finish this, the way it needed to be?
Shammaeloth was trying to plant a seed in his mind, trying to make him believe that he could undo all of this. Make him stumble at the last hurdle.
And deep down, he knew that there was a possibility it would work.
His presence was a risk. It was better if Asha took Licanius, found Davian, and they dealt with the other Venerate. They were strong, capable. Good. They would follow through to the very end.
He had delayed, and delayed, and delayed. But perhaps the time for waiting, the time for patience, was done.
“Caeden,” said Asha, a warning note of concern in her voice. “What are you doing?”
Caeden stared at the blade in his right hand. The edge hovered just above his left wrist.
“What is necessary,” he said softly.
“We still need you.” Asha stepped forward, but cautiously, as if worried that any sudden movement could set him off.
Listen to her, Tal’kamar.
“Be silent!” shouted Asha furiously at the void, her Essence shield flaring as she poured more energy into it. She shook her head, holding out a hand gently toward Caeden. “Ignore him. We need you.”
Caeden’s muscles tensed, the sword trembling.
“She’s right, Tal.”
Asha and Caeden both started at the voice coming from the entrance. Neither had heard the great steel door open again.
Davian stood in the entrance, grim expression illuminated by golden Essence.
Caeden straightened, the blade in his hand dropping slightly, though he still held it at the ready. Davian looked… old. Weary beyond measure. New scars covered his face and body, though that body was now leaner and more muscular. His movements were smooth and confident as he walked forward onto the platform.
He was just as Caeden remembered him from Zvaelar.
The joy in Davian’s eyes as he gazed at Asha was unmistakable. A flash of… something ran through Caeden. Relief. Happiness for his friend.
“Tal.” Davian’s smile for Asha turned to Caeden, and that expression—that joy—didn’t disappear, as Caeden had expected it to. As it should have. “You have Licanius. Let’s go.”
Davian. You are brave, to work with the man who killed you.
Caeden’s hand shook as the memories threatened to overwhelm him again. He forced them back.
“I am glad you’re here, Dav.” Caeden forced a smile through the pain. “But… it’s time. If I do not do this now…” He gestured, exhaling shakily. “There will always be reasons to not. Always be something more that I believe I could do.”
“Just think. He is deception,” said Davian calmly. “He is lies—you told me this yourself. This is what he wants, Tal.”
“Karaliene is dead.” Caeden bowed his head, the words sticking in his throat. He heard a soft gasp of horror from Asha, but he plowed on. “Nethgalla killed her. She killed her because I exist, Dav. No matter what I do, no matter how I change, I cannot outrun my past. Its dangers. Its consequences. So the longer I am here, the worse things will be for you and everyone you love. Everyone I love. And I cannot abide that.”
Davian was silent for a second.
“Do you remember what Raeleth said to you, at the end?” he asked quietly. “About consequences?”
Caeden closed his eyes, blade still hovering above his wrist.
“How do you know?” he whispered.
“Because I know you.” Davian’s voice was sure. “Because you are my friend. Because I and those of us who love you will accept those consequences. This darkness in you, telling you that we are better off with you gone—it’s him. It’s him, Tal. This is the trap.”
Caeden took a slow, shaky breath.
Nodded slowly.
“Thank you,” he said faintly, lowering the blade. The shame was still there, overwhelming, but… that smothering curtain of darkness was gradually pulling back. He breathed again, some small measure of clarity returning.
I am sorry that it had to end this way, Tal’kamar.
“Tal!” Davian moved and Asha flinched toward him, both focused on something behind him.
He tried to turn but was caught in an impossibly strong grip. Everything happened so fast; he flooded his arms with Essence but the hand holding Licanius was being forced around by his attacker and Caeden had no time to react, no time to stop it.
The steel plunged into his stomach.
Caeden twisted as he fell, hot pain knifing through him. An al’goriat loomed over him, slavering mouth wide as its needle-like teeth descended on his arm; a massive bolt of Essence slid through the air but the creature was already gone, reappearing a moment later with claws swiping at his face.
Then Davian was there, his blade buried in its chest. He yanked the steel out again and kicked hard, forcing the body back until it slumped to the ground. Beyond him there was more motion, the shadowed walls suddenly crawling with movement just beyond the light of Asha’s Essence.
Davian ignored the unsettling sight, skidding to his knees beside Caeden. Caeden looked at him blearily.
“Fates, Tal.” Davian tore a strip of his shirt, pressing it desperately against the wound even as he poured Essence into it.
“Al’goriat,” gasped Caeden. The creature must have slipped inside the Essence shield when he’d killed Nethgalla, staying hidden outside the flow of time until Shammaeloth had needed it.
“I noticed.” Davian’s expression was determined. “I was watching for the time corruption when I came in—it’s nowhere near as strong as in Zvaelar, and it’s only in here. The rest of them won’t be able to go past that door. So right now, we just need to get you patched up and out of here.”
“Leave me.” Despite Davian’s efforts, he could tell his wound wasn’t healing.
Davian scowled. “Tal, if you give up, we are dead.”
“It’s too late.” Caeden closed his eyes, a quick check confirming what he already knew by instinct. “Licanius did exactly what it was meant to. My source is gone. This… this is it.” He said the words dazedly, faintly, not quite believing them. After all this time.
Davian stooped. Picked up Licanius.
“Ash, you need to save him. I don’t think even your barrier will stop these things for long, but I can hold them off.”
Asha hesitated, and Caeden could see the conflict within her.
Then she nodded.
Davian turned as al’goriat—crawling on all fours, claws somehow finding purchase in the smooth darkstone as they scuttled along the walls—flooded into the light.
Caeden’s breathing was labored, but his heart still managed to constrict at the sight. There were hundreds.
Davian squared his shoulders. Vanished.
The barrier of Essence flickered, and then the al’goriat began dying.
It happened so quickly, and Caeden was still so hazy, that he could barely credit what he was seeing. The creatures hissed and screeched and shrieked as limbs and heads were cleaved in quick succession, an invisible wave of death that rippled outward, an explosion of black blood and rent flesh. Even al’goriat that had stepped outside of time were suddenly reappearing, mortally wounded, some of them flailing and screeching as unseen, powerful blows sent them careening into others and over the edge of the platform.
Asha watched for a moment, wide-eyed, then turned back to Caeden. He could see the reluctance in her eyes before she closed them. He was too weak now to tell her not to bother.
He felt the Essence pouring into him, being eaten by the wound from Licanius. His body reached hungrily for the life-giving energy but something stopped it from healing, stopped it from knitting together as it should.
He blinked blearily. He was so tired. He could see Asha’s face straining as she forced more and more energy into his body; Essence flooded him, sank into every pore. Was the wound healing? It was hard to tell. He wasn’t sure that he could feel anything anymore.
Vaguely, he was aware that the al’goriat continued to emerge but that Davian, somehow, impossibly, was still scything through them. A blaze of death that was holding each and every one of them back. Caeden’s head lolled to the side, and he saw that Asha’s shield had thinned, weakening and shrinking as she put everything she had into reviving him.
And then—full of more Essence than he had thought was even possible—Caeden saw past it, into the darkness of the abyss.
An immense, heaving mass towered over the platform, impossibly tall, formless and writhing and slick with wet darkness. Tendrils covered in black pustules whipped around and slithered along the cavern walls; some of the boils throbbed and burst into dripping shadow as it seemed to lean in eagerly, excitedly, drinking in what it was witnessing below.
Asha was watching him, and he tried to point, to give voice to what he was seeing, but it was too late. He was too far gone. Licanius had done its job.
The cavern faded.
Chapter 48
Asha’s breath came in short, sharp gasps as she plumbed the depths of her Reserve, pouring everything she could into Caeden.
A nightmare surrounded her. Beyond her Essence shield she could feel Shammaeloth’s presence in the darkness, and long gone was the joy she had felt when she had first come here. Now she sensed only menace, looming and heavy with anticipation.
And then there were the Banes.
She risked a glance up, her concentration almost failing her as she saw more bodies flying through the air. The darkness crawled with motion as the monsters scuttled with clawed hands and feet, their bloodied, needle-like teeth bared, eyeless gazes fixed upon her and Caeden. Al’goriat. She’d fought them, but never outside the safety of the dok’en.
As fast as the al’goriat were moving, Davian was faster.
She couldn’t see him but she knew what was happening, could follow the line of creatures being scattered back into the abyss. Black blood sprayed liberally, glittering in the clean white light of Essence, as Davian somehow managed to keep a tiny pocket of calm surrounding her and Caeden.
But the flood of creatures showed no sign of stopping. Even using Licanius, how long would Davian be able to keep this up?
She turned her focus back to Caeden, desperation and fear tearing at her chest as she examined the wound. She was pouring Essence into it—everything she could handle—but it was healing so slowly. As if the injury were sucking in the Essence, devouring it.
Still, the flesh was gradually, lethargically knitting back together.
“Can we move him?”
Asha started as Davian appeared in a crouch beside them, tension straining his voice. He glanced up and vanished again before she could reply, more bodies flying away in a wave of gore and limbs, animal snarls cut short.
He reappeared, and Asha nodded. “Won’t they follow us?”
“No.” Davian sounded certain.
“Then let’s go.”
She strengthened her arms with Essence and scooped Caeden’s limp form off the ground, trying to be both swift and gentle, even as she continued to pour life into him.
She let the shield drop—it was too difficult to maintain now—and broke into a sprint as Davian carved a path in front of her, somehow still outside of time and showing no signs of weakening. The steel door flung open as she approached and she dashed through, flinching as a claw raked the air desperately close to her face, snarl turning to a bloody gargle as Davian took care of the attacker.
She risked a glance over her shoulder, heart dropping. Now the Essence shield was gone, the platform was barely lit, crawling with al’goriat that blurred toward the door in a mass of dripping teeth and snarls and outstretched claws.
Then the door was closed and Davian was there, hands on his knees and breathing hard as the sound of heavy, raging blows came from the other side. He stayed like that for a second, then looked up, giving Asha a weary smile.
“Well, that was close.”
Asha stared dazedly, gaze flicking between him and the door. “Won’t they just—”
“Even if they break through, they can’t survive out here.” Davian straightened. “That cavern has a sort of time corruption—they live off it. Depend on it,” he explained quickly. “How is he?”
Asha shook her head. “I don’t know.” She crouched, trusting Davian’s judgment, and lay Caeden on the ground. His chest rose and fell, but his breathing was shallow. “The wound isn’t closed yet,” she said, pressing her blood-soaked hand against the former Venerate’s stomach and redoubling her efforts to force Essence into the damaged area. “It’s not healing the way it should.”
“Could be that it’s just the darkstone interfering,” Davian said, though he didn’t bother to conceal the doubt in his voice. He knelt by Caeden, putting a hand on the other man’s shoulder. “Come on, Tal,” he muttered, staring at Caeden as if willing him to wake up. “We need you.”
Asha swallowed. Caeden’s skin was waxy, and his breathing was unsettlingly shallow now.
“It was Licanius,” said Asha worriedly as she worked. “What if we just can’t…”
“We have to.” Davian’s tone indicated that he shared her fear, though.
The next few minutes passed as if they were hours. The furious banging on the steel door never stopped, but though Asha couldn’t help occasionally eyeing it nervously, the door itself never budged.
Caeden’s wound sluggishly, inexorably closed. His breathing deepened, steadied. Color began to return to his cheeks.
“He’s looking better,” noted Davian.
“He is.” Asha didn’t keep her uncertainty from the words, though. The wound itself had disappeared, but the Essence she was pouring into Caeden still seemed to be vanishing. That definitely wasn’t normal.
