The Light of All That Falls, page 81
“You chose such an out-of-the-way school,” he realized heavily. “In case someone was searching for me.”
“The exact same reason Wirr got sent there,” agreed Taeris. “Though that was nothing to do with me.”
Davian took a slow, shaky breath, touching the oldest of his scars absently. “And the attack?”
Shame clouded Taeris’s expression. “I knew what was happening with the Boundary, and no one was listening to me,” he said softly. “And you… I had no way to tell. I was never certain but every year that passed, I doubted more and more whether you were the one of whom Alchesh had spoken, and I needed to know. I needed to start looking elsewhere if it wasn’t really you. That doesn’t excuse what I did, but… it’s why.”
There was silence after that, Davian feeling empty.
“I remember what happened that day, now. What I did,” he admitted after a while. He looked over at Taeris tentatively, taking in the terrible mass of lines on his face. At least one of them looked angry, fresh. “Your scars. Are they my fault?”
“They are my fault,” said Taeris firmly. “But yes, the connection you made that day did… linger. It has caused me some pain, but it is also what allowed me to find you in Desriel. It’s what let me be sure you were still alive, when I would have had no other way of knowing. So there have been benefits. And the cost… the cost is something I deserved.”
“Still. I could try and stop—”
“We have more important things to worry about.” Taeris smiled as he shook his head, softening the words. “Besides. If we get separated, there’s a chance that knowing where you are could still help.”
Davian reflected for a while longer, then inclined his head. There was another silence but this one was easier, somehow. A little sadder, perhaps, but less fraught.
He might not have found the answers he’d wanted, but for the first time, it felt like the air had been cleared between them.
“Why not simply tell me?” Davian asked eventually. There was no judgment in his tone now, just genuine curiosity.
Taeris sighed.
“Pride. Embarrassment. Worry that my admitting to my mistakes would set you against me, no matter how much I wanted to help. Though in hindsight, trying to cover them up was a worse move by far.” He gestured. “I always thought… you had been left to my care, and when you came to Desriel, I thought it was fate. I thought it was my responsibility to guide you, to make sure that you fulfilled Alchesh’s visions.” He smiled tiredly. “Sometimes it’s hard to see the extent of your vanity until it’s too late.”
Davian accepted the explanation reluctantly. “And that’s all there is? Everything you can tell me?”
“Yes.”
Davian said nothing for a few moments, then took a deep breath, giving Taeris a small smile. “Thank you anyway,” he said quietly. “I’m glad I heard that before…”
He trailed off, gazing westward toward Deilannis.
Taeris studied him.
“It’s my pleasure to finally give you the truth. I’m sorry it took so long,” he said sincerely. “Asha told us about… about what might be coming. About you going back in time again. Are you certain—”
“I’ve seen it myself.” Pained, pent-up heat leaked into Davian’s voice as he cut Taeris off, despite his best efforts. He didn’t want to discuss this, didn’t want to have to think about it. “Caeden remembers it, and the rift won’t close with me around, anyway. Besides, it fits—it fits with what you and Nihim and Laiman have thought all along. I’m the one who Alchesh foresaw. I’m the one who stops Aarkein Devaed. This is just how I have to do it,” he finished bleakly.
He didn’t mention how unfair it felt. He didn’t add how Caeden’s memory haunted him, and how even the briefest thought of it turned his blood to ice, tempted him to turn and run with every step closer they came to Deilannis.
He didn’t tell Taeris how desperately he wanted to live.
Taeris considered for a moment and then gave a single, solemn nod. There was respect in the motion—but a heartfelt sorrow, too.
“Have you ever actually read any of Alchesh’s writings?” he asked, shifting the subject.
Davian shook his head. He’d never even heard of Alchesh until he’d met Taeris, and there had been nothing of the first Augur’s writings in Tol Shen’s library. Unsurprising, given their connection—however weak—to the Old Religion.
“His visions are funny things,” Taeris said as they walked, the clean heat of the morning beating down on their backs. “The ones from before his madness are very specific, detail oriented—like the ones you might find in the modern Augurs’ Journal. But those ones all clearly came to pass within a hundred years of his Seeing them.” He scratched his head. “The rest read like fever dreams. They are vague and violent and given to strange flights of… poetry, almost. Strange, unsettling imagery. Their interpretation is difficult enough that even amongst those of us who believe that they hold important information, there is plenty of argument as to which of them might point to events that have happened between his time and ours. Only one thing is clear, really, based on the language—and that is that they all refer to events that were in Alchesh’s future.”
“So you’re saying that you might have been wrong, now?”
“No,” said Taeris patiently. “I’m saying that Alchesh didn’t go mad until after he helped raise the Boundary—and unless my history is off, that was after Deilannis was destroyed. He foresaw you stopping Aarkein Devaed after you died, Davian.” He glanced over at Caeden, who was deep in conversation with the other two. “To my mind, that part of the visions has already been fulfilled. Even with his memories back, I see more of you in him than ever. Your death might be the spark, but it’s you—your friendship with him—that has made the difference in him.”
Davian chewed his lip, but nodded. He didn’t know whether Taeris was right—but the concept made him feel a little better, at least.
The older man didn’t press further, and eventually they rejoined the others, Caeden in the midst of explaining to Asha the intricacies of creating an ilshara. Davian listened with interest, nodding along as Caeden registered his presence and started making note of ways he might be able to help, to use kan to protect the barrier against the draining effect of the Banes’ armor. It was mostly going to be an exercise in concentration for Asha, though. And she wouldn’t be able to falter for a single second, no matter how tired she became.
He ignored the occasional, worried glances from the others, ignored the steadily increasing sense of dread that grew in his stomach no matter how hard he tried to focus elsewhere.
It felt all too soon when the distant roaring of Lantarche began to press on his ears, and they found themselves climbing a short rise to one of the high ridges that overlooked Deilannis.
“Down,” whispered Caeden, dropping to the ground himself. Davian and the others followed suit, lying flat against the long grass and crawling forward cautiously to peer over the steep drop to the familiar mists below.
The thundering of Lantarche was at once louder, more immediate. Familiar. In other circumstances, Davian might even have found it comforting. Through the twisted foliage that blocked much of their view, Davian could see the long, smooth, rail-less white bridge that spanned the chasm, vanishing into the dense fog, only the vague outlines of buildings farther in indicating that it went anywhere.
Or he could see parts of the bridge, anyway. A large section of it was clogged by Banes.
Davian’s heart sank as he studied the mixture of dar’gaithin and, from Asha and Caeden’s description of them, what he assumed must be tek’ryl. They were mostly still, only occasionally shifting, almost as if they were asleep. Clearly alert, though; as he watched, a dozen more dar’gaithin abruptly slithered out of the mists, and the waiting Banes turned as one toward them. Though he was too far away, Davian imagined that he could hear the heavy grinding of scales against stone.
The new group said something to their counterparts standing guard at the near end of the bridge; some split off, leaving to patrol west, while others headed toward Deilannis, vanishing swiftly into the murk.
Davian grimaced. He didn’t fear the dar’gaithin as he once had—he’d been too long in Zvaelar for that—but he still had a healthy respect for their strength and speed.
His gaze traveled to the side, and he shivered as he watched the other black forms scuttling around. Tek’ryl. The scorpion-like creatures were three times the size of dar’gaithin, albeit without their intelligence or the completeness of their armor. Still undoubtedly dangerous, though, especially in the numbers he was seeing below.
“This is a problem,” Caeden observed with dour understatement, the plain-looking torc around his neck glinting in the sunlight. “They’re too close together. Even slowing time with Licanius or making ourselves invisible, there’s no way we can get through all of them unnoticed.”
“I thought you said that the Banes would arrive with Shammaeloth,” Davian said pensively.
Caeden nodded. “They can’t use Gates, but Shammaeloth is obviously not here, so these must be the remainder of those that made it through a year ago. They must have been hiding somewhere around here. Waiting.” He glanced restlessly northward, though there was nothing to see. “Which means that there will still be many more on the way. Shammaeloth will be using them to carve a path for himself.”
Davian acknowledged the statement bleakly. Caeden had already explained that Shammaeloth would be driving the Banes in front of him, using them to wipe out as much as possible between Talan Gol and here. Removing as much Essence from his path as he could.
“Do you really think that he can get here so quickly, if they have to destroy everything in their way?” asked Taeris.
“I’ve seen those creatures whipped into a frenzy. Believe me. We have less than a day.” Caeden said the words with grim certainty. “We need to have Gassandrid dead and an ilshara up before then.”
“We don’t even know if he’s here yet,” observed Asha worriedly.
“He’s here—the Banes wouldn’t guard the city like this otherwise. He’s using them to get advance warning of any attack.” He sucked in a breath, thinking. “He’ll be at the Jha’vett. He probably thinks I’m dead, but he knows that Davian and Asha have Licanius—if he gets even a hint that there’s danger, he’ll vanish.” He clenched his fist in frustration. “He’s cautious. He’ll know straight away if Banes start dying.”
Davian hesitated, glancing at Caeden. “I could shape-shift. Go in by myself.”
“No.” Caeden clearly knew immediately what Davian was referring to, but shook his head. “That gets you in, but not Licanius. Even the Banes would recognize that it’s not a normal sword.”
Davian nodded slowly, vaguely relieved, then waved away the curious looks of the other three. “Another time,” he said drily.
“That’s all right. I know how we can all get in, anyway.” Asha said the words confidently as she peered down at the mists.
Davian and Caeden both glanced at her in surprise. “How?” asked Caeden, dubiousness in his tone. Davian understood his doubt. Caeden knew Deilannis better than anyone.
Asha smiled slightly. “It’s not… the easiest way,” she conceded. She gestured to the west, away from the masses of Banes on the bridge, down toward the chasm containing Lantarche.
“Follow me.”
The five of them stood at the edge of the chasm, gazing down at the thundering white water hundreds of feet below.
“No,” said Wirr, his eyes wide as he gazed into the churning mass. “Fates, no.”
“It’ll be fine,” said Davian, mostly to cover his own nervousness.
“Trust us,” added Asha.
“Nothing to worry about,” chimed in Caeden.
They were a mile or so away from the Northern Bridge, their position concealed by boulders and thick scrub. Banes patrolled the area, but their movements seemed to be regular, predictable enough. They had a few minutes before being spotted.
Wirr glowered. “Easy for you lot to say,” he grumbled.
Caeden glanced across at him. “We’ll make sure you’re safe. We’re all painfully aware that you’re the weakest one here.”
“It’s a little awkward,” concurred Asha.
“Lucky you’re a prince, really,” continued Davian absently, peering over the edge into the raging white water. “You wouldn’t have a whole lot going for you if you didn’t have—”
“All right,” growled Wirr.
Davian shared a grin with Asha, for the briefest of moments the banter making him feel like they were all back in Caladel.
“Tek’ryl will be coming this way soon,” said Caeden, reluctantly interrupting. “If we’re doing this, we need to go now.” Off to the side, Taeris shuffled his feet and peered with some discomfort into the churning depths. He hadn’t said anything, but he clearly wasn’t enamored of what they were about to do, either.
Davian looked at Asha seriously. “Ash, you’re sure that you can handle us all?”
Asha shrugged. “I guess we’ll find out.” Davian glowered at her, and Asha shot an innocent smile back at him before glancing around. “Everyone ready?”
The others nodded reluctantly, and Davian was about to as well when the sky to the north caught his eye.
“What is that?” he asked, pointing.
The clean light of morning continued to shine down on their position by the chasm, but the northern sky to the right of Deilannis was… fading. Not the black of an oncoming storm, but more like the light was bleeding from the entire world. Shadows snaked across the sky, tendrils of smokelike darkness shading out the blue, leeching it of its color and luminescence.
Davian’s heart stopped as he recognized the sight, albeit on far greater a scale than he had ever seen it before.
It was the same shadowy-black smoke that appeared whenever he saw someone lie.
“It’s him. We have… hours. If that,” confirmed Caeden heavily. He motioned to the others. “Time to go.”
Taeris sidled over to Asha, looking at her worriedly. “You’re completely certain about this?”
Asha rolled her eyes, and shoved him over the edge.
Taeris’s shout of alarm never eventuated as Asha’s tendril of Essence snaked out, catching him before he dropped and covering his mouth, then spinning him to face the rest of them. The scarred man glared at her with a mixture of fury and terror, eyes bulging, as he hung in midair.
Asha shrugged at the others’ looks, lines of Essence flashing out and wrapping around each of them. Davian felt his feet lift slightly off the ground.
Asha took two steps back, then sprinted at the edge of the chasm and leaped.
Davian’s stomach lurched as the feeling of hurtling downward took hold; he swallowed a scream and gritted his teeth, concentrating on staying the right way up and getting ready to activate his healing Vessel. The white, churning mist of Lantarche rushed up to meet him, more quickly than he could have anticipated.
There was a flash of white and then, suddenly, he was floating gently downward. He gasped as he hit icy cold water, the energy that had held him up finally vanishing.
He felt his skin going numb as he flailed, the freezing water buffeting him; he was sucked under and for several seconds lost his sense of direction, a seed of panic growing as he quickly flooded his body with Essence of his own, allowing him to fight the powerful current.
Finally his head broke the surface, and he struggled toward a low-sitting cave, recognizing that it was where Asha had intended them to go. He hauled himself up out of the water, accepting Taeris’s helping hand to drag himself the last small part of the way.
“We all here?” he gasped, shivering.
Asha and Caeden, much to his irritation, looked barely fazed by the fall. Wirr was already dry, grinning at him.
“Not a word,” muttered Davian as Asha used Essence to dry his clothes, heating his body rapidly back to an acceptable temperature.
They soon set off into the narrow network of openings that stretched deeper beneath Deilannis, following Asha. Caeden murmured in appreciation as he studied the design of the tunnels. From his idle, out-loud observations, he seemed to think that it was some sort of heat dissipation mechanism, though from the way he talked, it was also a design that he hadn’t encountered before.
Before long they began climbing a stairwell that had been carved into the bedrock, and soon after that Davian found himself wiping beads of sweat from his brow.
It was getting hotter.
The stairs finally flattened out, emerging onto a smooth stone platform.
He stuttered to a halt, gazing in wonder.
Glistening, black, diamond-shaped Vessels of stone swirled around a column of Essence that split the center of the massive sphere, yellow-white energy crackling and snapping between them, the glowing pillar and the walls. Davian squinted against the blinding light, turning away slightly but unable to stop watching. It was mesmerizing.
“So this is a Cyrarium?” he wondered aloud, raising his voice above the noise. He flinched as a bolt of jagged energy crashed toward them, only to be blocked by some sort of invisible shield.
Caeden was standing closest to the edge of the platform, arms crossed, studying the scene.
“It was a Cyrarium,” he replied. “This is… a shell. Almost empty.”
Davian stared at Caeden in disbelief, then turned his gaze back to the insides of the sphere, reassessing. He couldn’t begin to conceive of what it must have been like when it was full.
Asha beckoned them toward a second set of stairs—looking less impressed than the others—and they moved on, climbing higher, the heat of the Cyrarium gradually fading. They were mostly silent now, every step laden with a steadily increasing tension. They all knew what waited for them once they reached the top.
Davian’s pulse quickened as the stairs narrowed out into a long passageway, a single stone door set into its end. Caeden grunted as they approached it, staring with a vexed expression.
“El take it. I searched for months and had no idea that this was here,” he said ruefully, keeping his voice low. “It must be concealed, even from kan. I knew roughly where the Cyrarium was hidden, but if I’d known that there was such easy access…” He shrugged with a sigh. “It probably wouldn’t have made a difference.”
