CHAPTER 34

SPEAR OF ALA

334 AR

“Is the Spear intact, Par’chin?” Jardir demanded. “Does it still stand?”

“Ay. Gates still closed.” The words were choked. Could the Par’chin be weeping? “It’s perfect, Ahmann. Creator, it shines like the sun.”

“I must go,” Jardir said. “Now.”

“Of course, Uncle,” Shanvah said. “We will watch over the prisoner. Alagai Ka will not escape our captivity.”

Jardir nodded, and she turned back to the demon and her father as he began to remove his excess robes for the swim.

“Now, wait just a corespawned second!” Renna shouted. “ ’Fore you run off and leave me and Shanvah alone with Alagai rippin’ Ka, someone mean to tell me what’s the Spear of Ala?”

“The greatest csar ever built,” Jardir told her. “The Evejah teaches us it was the fortress Kaji himself built to stage and supply his assault on the abyss.”

Renna blinked. “Oh.”

Jardir continued to disrobe. “And so you see why I must go.”

“Don’t see,” Renna snapped. “Said yourself we don’t get lazy. Said yourself we stay together. No one gets left alone with the demon.”

“Sister,” Shanvah said. “This is the Spear of Ala…”

“Ent an idiot, Shanvah. I get what it is. I get why it’s important.” Renna turned her gaze on Jardir. “But it’s stood there three thousand years. Ent goin’ anywhere in the next couple hours, if that’s what it takes to play this safe.”

Jardir blinked, his eyes flicking to Alagai Ka and Shanjat. The demon looked smug, even in its chains. He blocked their words from the demon with the powers of the crown, but no doubt the creature could read lips, and guess much from their position.

Was this the moment Alagai Ka had been waiting for? For Jardir to be so focused on the Spear of Ala that his guard over the prisoner might lessen? Jardir remembered the demon’s last escape attempt. It was sudden, and though they were prepared, he took Shanjat and nearly had the better of all four of them.

He turned to Renna, and bowed deeply. “I apologize. Of course you are correct. Alagai Ka is our greatest charge. Thank you for reminding me to place the First War above my personal desires.”

“Ay.” Renna’s aura had been smoldering for a fight, and his sudden agreement unnerved her. “Welcome, I guess.”

Shanvah wore only her headscarf, veil, and bido as she swam deeper and deeper into the pool, harvesting the worms. Jardir could not help but be impressed at the amount of magic the creatures held, but he paced the water’s edge impatiently as she worked.

Shanvah’s aura was the dimmest and least likely to draw the worms’ attention. Wisdom dictated she be the one to clear the path. He and the Par’chin’s jiwah watched over the prisoner, but Jardir’s muscles were knotted, screaming at him to smash through the countless tons of rock and stand before the Spear of Ala.

“Creator,” Renna growled as she gnawed on one of the worms. “Tastes even better than your couscous.”

Jardir believed her. Her aura brightened as she ate, absorbing the worm’s stored power. It might be wise for all of them to feed when the way was clear, but even if Jardir could stomach the thought of eating these subterranean creatures, tainted by the abyss, he had no desire to eat. Only to reach the Spear.

One of the worms, desperately trying to return to the water, wriggled free of its shell and slithered toward Alagai Ka, who eyed it hungrily.

Shanvah had left most of her weapons in easy reach on the rocks, and Jardir snatched one of her throwing glasses, pinning the worm to the rock before the magic-rich creature could come close to the demon’s talons. Alagai Ka’s aura was weak, and for all their sakes, they must keep it so.

There was a splash, but it was not Shanvah who surfaced. The Par’chin gasped air as he waded out of the water. There were shallow lacerations on his skin, puckered redness, but his magic was strong, and already the marks were fading.

Jardir looked to his friend, but the Par’chin only had eyes for the demon, stalking Alagai Ka like prey. Roughly, he gripped the demon by the throat, dragging him to where Shanjat was chained and leaning the demon against him.

“Still alive,” the Par’chin growled.

Shanjat’s eyes flicked over his wet form. “Obviously.”

“That an attempt to kill me?” the Par’chin demanded. “You knew those worms were in the water.”

Shanjat smiled. “I answered your every question truthfully, Explorer. Blame yourself if you did not ask enough. I am your prisoner, not your friend.”

“Demons don’t have friends,” Renna growled.

“And we’re stronger for it.” Shanjat eyed Jardir. “No wasted sentiment leading to foolish action.”

“I was saved from foolishness by a friend, demon,” Jardir said. “And so your words hold no poison for me.”

Shanjat winked at him. “This time.”

The Par’chin straightened his back and took a deep breath, unclenching his fists as he let it out. He turned to Jardir.

“Move quick enough through the water, the worms that are left won’t have time to latch on to you. It’s a straight shot from here.”

Jardir nodded. He removed his cloak and stepped into the pool wearing only his crown and his bido, clutching the Spear of Kaji in both hands.

The moment he touched his spear to the water, he could feel it—the pull of the great csar, resonating with his very soul. He gathered power in his spear and dove, thrusting with his magic to fly through the water as easily as he did the air.

Jardir walked dripping from the pool, mindless of the spiny shells of the Par’chin’s harvest crunching beneath his bare feet. He knew nothing, felt nothing, but the Spear of Ala. It shone in the darkness, singing with glorious power. He fell to his knees at the sight.

It was true.

The holy scripture of the Evejah had guided the lives of his people for millennia. No doubt the clerics added flourishes over the years, inflating what was already glorious, or serving some political agenda, but the heart of everything he and his people believed was true, and before him was the proof. Kaji had been here, to this very place, and built a bastion against the darkness that had stood for more than three thousand years.

It called to him, in much the way the Par’chin had described the call of the Core. The Crown of Kaji throbbed at his brow, a key hungry to enter a lock too long bolted. Inside those walls, his power would be like the Hand of Everam Himself, and woe befall the foe that should try to stand against him.

Shanvah broke the surface soon after, coming to kneel beside him, mindless of their unclad bodies. “Deliverer.” Her voice was a whisper.

Jardir took her hand, squeezing gently. “Niece.” He would have said more, but what words could convey what their senses were telling them? Her lips moved in silent prayer, and he joined her.

Everam, if ever I was your chosen servant, grant me strength and worthiness in the days to come. Give me the power to succeed where even great Kaji could not. If not through force of legions… He squeezed Shanvah’s hand again.…then through the trust and support of the companions beside me, Your chosen ones.

There was a ripple in the water behind them, and both were on their feet in an instant as Shanjat emerged, carrying Alagai Ka on his back. The demon hissed and averted its eyes at the sight of the Spear of Ala. The demon was not so bold now, in the face of Everam’s power.

Moments later Renna am’Bales appeared in the pool. “Arlen’s haulin’ the baggage. Be along shortly.”

Jardir nodded, advancing on Alagai Ka. “What do you know of this place?”

“It is cursed,” Shanjat said. “Haunted. You will find no respite here.”

“Spare me your lies and dissembling,” Jardir growled. “The gates remain locked. I can sense it from here. The fortress still stands. How can this be so?”

“We waited,” the demon said. “Waited for the One, your Kavri, to return to the surface to levy more drones to the fight.”

Jardir gripped his spear so tightly his knuckles whitened. “And then?”

“Our workings could not touch the greatward of your ancestor’s csar,” Shanjat croaked, “but we gathered our magics and collapsed the tunnel he marched his forces through. Smashed the bridges. Destroyed his supply. By the time Kavri’s armies returned to the vent, the way was shattered and we cut them apart, leaving his warriors trapped below.

“Oh, how he railed against us! How he struggled to return to them, to…” Shanjat’s smile was evil, “deliver them. But it was doomed to failure.”

“And the men inside?” Jardir asked.

Shanjat shrugged, as if it were of no import. “Cut off from support, it was a simple matter for the drones to retake or collapse the lower tunnels, whittling away their sallies until they were too weakened to fight on, and sealed the gates forever.”

Jardir’s chest constricted, and he realized he was holding his breath. “So there may yet be survivors.”

“They starved to death long ago, or were eaten by the war dogs.” Shanjat showed his teeth. “An ugly, honorless death, either way. Perhaps they were wise enough to simply fall upon their spears.”

“They could have eaten holy couscous.” Jardir knew he was grasping at sand, but he could not help himself.

Shanjat snorted. “For five thousand years?”

“If there were women…” Surely the csar had priestesses to cast foretellings, at least.

Shanjat gave a cruel laugh. “Even the legendary whoring of the dama’ting would not be up to such a task.”

Shanvah tightened her grip on her spear at the blasphemy, but Jardir embraced his anger. “Only words, Father of Lies. We will see for ourselves.”

The Par’chin emerged from the pool at last, dragging their packs. He looked around, taking in the scene. “Night.”

His tone gave Jardir a sense of unease. “What is it, Par’chin?”

The Par’chin was scanning the rocks. “I left gnawed worm hides all over these rocks not two hours ago. What happened to them?”

Jardir looked around in confusion, realizing that, indeed, there were only shells to be found. “Scavengers?”

As if on cue, there was a howl in the distance that made his blood turn cold.

Shanjat was not smiling any longer. “We would be wise to flee this place, before the war dogs are upon us. Unlike your warriors, the dogs survived, feeding upon fallen drones before turning on their masters.”

“Nightwolves, we can handle,” Arlen said.

“Not these, Explorer,” Shanjat said.

Jardir shook his head. “We are not going anywhere until we look inside the Spear of Ala.”

“Place is warded better’n anything I’ve ever seen,” Renna said. “Ent gonna drag a demon in there without killing him, and we can’t just chain him up and stick him in a hole out here.”

The Par’chin sighed. “You go, Ahmann. But not alone. Take Shanvah. Renna and I will stand guard over the prisoner.”

Quiet Shanvah bowed deeply. “Par’chin, it should be you to go with my blessed uncle.”

“Ent gonna lie and say I don’t want to.” The Par’chin shook his head sadly. “But it ent my place. Learned my lesson with Anoch Sun. More than anyplace in the world, this is holy ground to your people. The first feet to touch it after all this time should be Evejan.”

“They will be,” Jardir agreed. “For you and your jiwah sacrifice all in the First War. You are as Evejan as any, whether you see it or not. Shanjat as well, even if his feet are moved by the Father of Evil.”

Alagai Ka hissed. “It will be my death to enter your greatward. There are many miles to go, Heir. You need me, yet.”

Jardir smiled. “Be full of fear, Father of Evil. I can protect you with the crown, but you will know that every moment of your existence is at my sufferance.”

“And if your sufferance wanes, even for an instant, I will be dead,” Shanjat said. “Incinerated by the greatward.”

Jardir shrugged. “If so, it is inevera.”

The howling grew closer as they approached the csar. The creatures had been circling them for some time, ensuring they were alone—vulnerable.

And then the dogs grew silent as death. Jardir could still sense them like demons in the Maze, but despite his crownsight, the creatures remained invisible.

Alagai Ka hissed and squirmed as they approached the csar. It was rare for the creature to give much information in his aura, but his fear was palpable now.

Jardir felt exhilarated. Every step strengthened the link between the city and him. It spoke to him, telling a tale like the layers of rock in a desert mesa.

He turned to the Par’chin. “Was this what you meant, Par’chin, when you said Anoch Sun spoke to you?”

He expected his friend to join in his wonder, but the Par’chin paused, tilting his head, then gave it a shake. “Felt like I was part of something, at Anoch Sun. I can sense the power here, but it ent speaking to me.”

Jardir scanned the others, but it became clear the connection was his alone. He felt the gemstones of his crown pulsing, and knew that somewhere in the heart of the csar, gems cut from the same stone, focused by bones taken from the same demon prince, were pulsing in return.

The moment they stepped onto the greatward, Jardir felt its power wrap around him like a raiment, bending to his every whim and will.

“How’re we supposed to get inside?” the Par’chin asked, eyeing the great barred gates. “Climb the walls?”

“That will not be necessary, Par’chin.” Jardir gave a casual wave of his spear and the great gates began to rumble, swinging open to admit them.

A clattering sound echoed in the cavern behind them, like talons on rock. Jardir looked behind but saw nothing.

The demon gave a low growl. “Quickly,” Shanjat said. “They are almost upon us!”

Jardir did not trust the demon, but his tone spoke truth, and they rushed into the city, Alagai Ka hissing in pain as they crossed the threshold. Jardir signaled for the gates to close, but not before faces materialized just outside.

Twisted canine visages, but Jardir recognized them. Even now, Krasian warriors favored the breed—gwilji, desert runners—as hunting companions and protectors of wells and women.

But these were larger by far than the gwilji in Krasia, snapping and slavering like starved dogs thrown in a fighting pit.

Most chilling of all, they had no bodies, all claws and jaws, floating in the darkness as the gates slammed shut.

“What in the dark of night were those things?” Renna asked.

“What Evin Cutter has to look forward to,” the Par’chin said, “he keeps letting Shadow eat demon meat.”

Shanjat shook his head. “You have no idea what you face, Explorer. These creatures have been feeding and breeding far from the sun for the rise and fall of millennia. Powers you barely grasp are as simple to them as breathing.”

“It does not matter,” Jardir said. “They cannot touch us here. Nothing can.”

Indeed, power suffused him as he led them through the silent streets. He could see the greatward in his mind’s eye, knew its every contour, felt every door and wall and rooftop. Without ever having seen the place before, he knew it as intimately as the streets where he had come of age. He knew no life remained in the csar, and knew, too, where to find its last remain.

He guided them to Sharik Hora.

The giant doors opened with a thought. The temple was the pulsing center of the csar, focusing the power that kept its streets and buildings pristine, its walls inviolate. Alagai Ka hissed and squirmed on Shanjat’s back as they entered, crawling deeper into the warrior’s robe.

Like its namesakes in Everam’s Bounty and the Desert Spear, the inside of the Temple of Heroes’ Bones was covered in the bodies of fallen Sharum. Their bones formed intricate latticework on the walls. Carpets and tapestries, woven of dyed human hair into elaborate designs, seemed untouched by the millennia, colors still vivid and bright.

The benches, chairs, and tables were built from human bone, stretched and padded with leather from human skin.

Everything was warded with breathtaking beauty—wards etched into bone, woven with hair, painted in blood. All of it tied together, linked to the heart of the csar—linked to him. Jardir could feel it all flowing in harmony with his spirit.

Even the others were stunned. The Par’chin’s eyes roamed everywhere, trying to take in everything at once—an impossible task. His jiwah, similarly overwhelmed, took the opposite tack. She flitted from one thing to the next, examining closely for a moment, crying out wonders, and moving on.

But Shanvah, faithful Shanvah, watched only her father. In her aura, he could see how Shanjat hovered over her like a specter.

She carries his honor, Jardir realized. Holding herself to account for her father’s actions, even now, under the demon’s control.

“Be at peace, niece. In this place, even Alagai Ka cannot bring harm to us.” He could see the words pass through her aura, the words of Shar’Dama Ka. She allowed herself a few furtive glances around the great temple, but her attention remained fixed upon her father and the demon atop him.

The eyes of heroes stared down at them from the great chandeliers, glowing with light that filled the halls. They brightened when Jardir took notice of them, but a thought dimmed them back down. The temple had woken when the crown drew near, responsive to his every whim as if it were the Holy Word.

Fountains still danced, arcing sacred water from hollow bones, the pools clear and pure even now. Jardir and the others drank of them, instantly refreshed.

In crownsight, Jardir could see the power of the bones, pulsing and throbbing in time with the heart of the temple, in time with the gems at his brow. These untold thousands had died with Everam and Sharak Ka in their hearts, and that unity, that truth of purpose, had imprinted upon their remains.

Unlike the Sharik Horas of the surface, where much of this power burned away with the sun, these bones had been locked underground, accruing power for millennia.

“Everythin’ looks shiny and new,” Renna said. “So where is everyone?”

“I fear we are looking at them,” Jardir said, continuing a steady stride toward the great domed hall where the faithful gathered for prayer.

Outside the great doors hung cages of bone, meant to hold prisoners awaiting Everam’s justice.

Jardir turned to look at Alagai Ka, cowering in Shanjat’s robe. In his enhanced crownsight, he could see the demon’s link to his friend as never before, an infection that spread wherever their flesh touched, making the two as one.

But here in his place of power, Jardir broke the demon’s hold effortlessly with an act of will. A flick of his finger and Shanjat’s robes opened; with a clawing motion of his hand the horrified, terrified demon king was peeled away from his friend like a dirty bandage, held aloft with nothing but a raised finger.

“You cannot enter the inner temple, Prince of Nie, nor can you sully the sacred ground of Sharik Hora.” A flick of Jardir’s wrist and the demon was thrown toward the hanging cage. It responded to his will, opening to receive the prisoner, then snapping shut.

“That gonna hold him?” the Par’chin asked.

Jardir snapped his fingers. Bones peeled away from the walls, forming into warded spikes that surrounded the cage from every angle, their deadly points facing inward. The demon hissed, but there was nowhere to retreat, and he stood frozen in the center of the cage.

“There is no prison on Ala stronger, Par’chin.” The weave tightened like a briarpatch until the demon was out of sight. “The Father of Evil is beyond all sense of what goes on outside his cell. Should he make any attempt to escape, I will know, and the csar itself will rise against him.”

The Par’chin looked at him a long time. “Glad we’re friends, ’cause sometimes you scare the piss out of me.”

Jardir smiled. “And you, my zah’ven.”

The Par’chin looked up as the great doors to the prayer hall swung open. “Outside, maybe. In here, ent no denying you’re Shar’Dama Ka.”

The Par’chin fell short of calling Jardir Deliverer, but it was on his aura, calling into doubt all the beliefs he held dear, and those he scorned.

Jardir laid a hand on his shoulder. “Be at peace, my friend. If I am Deliverer in this place, there can be no doubt I would never have reached it without you.”

He gave a last squeeze, and turned to face the doors.

Shanvah took Shanjat’s arm, his hands still bound. “Walk with me, Father.” The warrior followed her, and at last her eyes began to take in the marvels around her. They grew wide, and wet.

So much was becoming clear to Jardir as the csar continued to speak to him. He peeled back the years of Shanvah’s life in her aura effortlessly. He saw her being raised—as he was—in a dark underpalace; saw her taught only the joyless lessons of war. Saw the flash of glory when he named her Sharum’ting, stolen soon after by her defeat at the hands of the Par’chin’s jiwah. Another glory, as they struck their blow against the minds that came to Anoch Sun, robbed not long after as the prince of Nie took her father.

But now, with Alagai Ka locked away, there was wonder in her face again, and Jardir paused a moment to remember it before turning and leading the way inside. Behind him, the doors thudded shut, sealing them in the holiest place in all Ala.

There was room for thousands to sit and kneel on benches of polished bone, surrounding the altar on all sides. The altar itself contained a Skull Throne like the one in Everam’s Bounty, coated in electrum and affixed with gemstones that reached out to those upon his crown like reunited lovers.

And as in Everam’s Bounty, a bed of pillows sat next to the throne, and there lay an ancient woman, curled as if in sleep around a scroll tube of bone, capped with a great ruby.

The others fell back as Jardir ascended to the altar. He could see from across the room that she was long dead, but her body had been preserved by this holy place. Her wrinkled flesh was gray but untouched by time. She might have let out her last breath a moment ago.

She was clad all in white, save for a black headscarf, the mark of a Damaji’ting. This woman had been a leader to these people when she died. Perhaps their last.

Jardir knelt, reaching out a hand reverently to take the scroll. For a moment, their hands touched, and her life flashed before his eyes. She was born in the csar. Had never left its walls. Had never seen the sun or moon. Her life was spent in prayer and labor, crafting the monument that surrounded them, painstakingly adding bones and hair and skin to Sharik Hora as, one by one, everyone around her died. Her last years were ones of utter loneliness, trapped within the beautiful prison of Sharik Hora.

He sobbed at her sacrifice, feeling her essence so strongly that for a moment, he felt he could reach through her and up the lonely path to retrieve her spirit.

He heard his mother’s voice in his head. You would pull a woman, a Bride of Everam, from Heaven?

He embraced the words, and let them fall away. Yes. For the First War, he would sacrifice even a woman’s place in Heaven. It was no more than they asked of the son Jardir could see growing in Renna am’Bales’ belly.

But perhaps it was not necessary—if such a thing could even be done. Jardir let go of her hand and slid the scroll tube from her hands.

It was the hollowed thighbone of some massive warrior, polished and etched with warding as exquisite as anything Jardir had ever seen. He could see the lines of power, and knew the tube was nearly indestructible, the gemstone locked in place so that none could ever open it.

None, save the wearer of the Crown of Kaji. The ruby on Jardir’s brow throbbed as his fingers clasped the cap and twisted through the threads of magic binding it closed.

Inside was a single sheet of parchment Jardir knew well from his time in Sharik Hora. Human skin.

There, written in blood on a hero’s skin, were this woman’s last words to him.

Shar’Dama Ka,

I am Kavrivah, your great-granddaughter. Though we have never met, I have felt you in my heart since I was a little girl.

This is the last parchment in the csar. All the rest have been used to record the history of the Spear of Ala since we were severed from you. They are in the library, protected, like this last letter, against the glorious day when you shall break the walls and reclaim what is yours, in this life or another.

Know, Deliverer, that while we have failed you, we have not forsaken you, or our duty to Everam.

The histories tell of ten thousand Sharum left to garrison the Spear of Ala in your absence, led by your son Sharach and daughter—my namesake—Kavrivah.

But then the alagai collapsed the tunnels, and filled the cavern in a seething mass. Again and again, Sharach led sallies to retake the collapsed tunnel, but the excavation was hard, and slow, and the warriors vulnerable while they worked. Every attempt cost lives, including your son. It is said he died on alagai talons, Deliverer, with Everam’s name on his lips. Others were dragged into the darkness beyond Everam’s sight. We have prayed for the alamen fae ever since.

There were less than a thousand left when Kavrivah ordered the gates sealed and began her rule. Less than a thousand warriors, and only seven dama’ting.

They took multiple husbands, desperate to preserve the seed of the strongest and wisest among them, but no wisdom or throw of the dice foresaw the day the gwilji turned on their masters, and found their way into the nurseries. My mother was the only female to survive, and I her only daughter.

I bore many children, Deliverer, but in the end it was inevera that I outlived them all. Now, after two hundred and eleven years, even the holy couscous can sustain me no longer.

Know, Deliverer, that I love you with all my heart.

Everam speak through you always,

Kavrivah vah’Ajasht am’Kavri am’Kras

Kras. The fabled one tribe in the time of Kaji, before the Deliverer died and his followers’ factions came to define the Krasian nation.

“Everam bless you, ancestor,” he whispered, “as you sup in His great hall in Heaven. Your sacrifice will not go unsung.”

He put the parchment back in the tube, tucking it into his belt as he rose and strode for the Skull Throne. The crown felt like it was aflame as he sat upon it, feeling the full power of the csar—the greatwards, the spirits of the fallen, Everam Himself—flowing through him.

He reached out, not along the path that separated Kavrivah from the living, but along one that seemed more distant still, the path back to the surface of Ala. Through all the noise of rushing magic, over the miles, and out the Mouth of the Abyss. It was night on the surface, and his power traveled with the speed of thought, covering the distance instantly.

“Jiwah.”

Inevera’s voice came to him instantly. “Husband, is it truly you?”

“I did not know your name until our wedding day,” Jardir said, “only to realize I had known it all along.”

“I have missed you, beloved,” Inevera said.

“And I, you, Sun of my Life,” Jardir whispered. “But I must speak now with the Damajah. We are linked with Shanvah, the Par’chin, and his Jiwah Ka.”

“Damajah.” The Par’chin bowed, though the woman was a thousand miles away. “I apologize for throwing your husband from a cliff.”

Inevera laughed ruefully, but it was a welcome sound. “I begged my husband to let me poison your tea, Par’chin, the day you came to us with the spear you stole from Kaji’s tomb. Did you know?”

The Par’chin nodded. “Ahmann told me.”

“Many times, have I regretted staying my hand, Par’chin,” Inevera said. “No longer. Everam wills as Everam will. What has happened is what was meant to happen.”

“What’s the point of anythin’, we ent got a choice?” Renna asked.

“There is always choice, Renna am’Bales,” Inevera said. “It is the ultimate power, what makes the infinite futures finite. But Everam guides us to the right ones, like pieces on the board.”

Renna rolled her eyes but said no more.

“Kneel with me before the throne,” Shanvah whispered to her father, and the two of them knelt together.

“Shanvah?” Inevera asked. “Niece, is that you?”

“Go with your father,” Shanvah quoted. “Obey and protect him on his journey. Do not return without the Deliverer, or reliable news of his fate, even if it take a thousand years.”

She placed her hands on the floor and bowed forward to touch her forehead against the bones of heroes. “I have kept my mission, Damajah, and will stay true, even if it take a thousand years.”

“Your glory is boundless, niece,” Inevera said, and silently Shanvah began to weep.

“There is another who must link with us,” Jardir said.

A slow, steady exhale was Inevera’s only response. “Leesha Paper.”

“That gonna be a problem?” the Par’chin asked. “Because this is Sharak Ka.”

“Your words are truer than you know, Par’chin,” Inevera said. “All across Thesa, fires rage and cities fall.”

The Par’chin’s eyes widened, but Jardir did not give him time to speak again. He reached farther, finding Leesha’s familiar aura across hundreds of miles and creating wards of resonance around her.

Was this what it was like for the minds? To never be apart from one another in thought? It was an alien concept.

“Countess Paper.” He kept his words formal. In his heart they were anything but. Leesha Paper had borne him a child. She would always be a wife to him, and everyone knew it.

They all heard the gasp. “Ahmann?”

“Ay, and me,” the Par’chin cut in.

“Me and Shanvah, too,” Renna said.

“And—” Jardir began.

“—Inevera,” his Jiwah Ka finished, her voice a razor cutting silk.

“Night,” the Par’chin said when they were caught up.

“The Long Night of Sharak Ka,” Jardir agreed. “Angiers and Docktown are the least of the losses we will suffer, if it lasts long enough to darken the heart of our power.”

“Only one way to stop it.” Renna gripped the handle of her knife.

“Ent heard anything from Miln?” The Par’chin could not hide the desperation in his voice. “Not even ale stories?”

“The demons have severed contact with the North,” Leesha said. “Short-range scouts report a series of alagai greatwards in the foothills of Miln. Thus far, no Messengers can get through. Whatever is happening in Miln, they are alone.”

There was the familiar clatter of Inevera’s dice. Everyone fell silent.

“I see a city in the mountains,” Inevera whispered. “Nie is strong there.”

“Need dice to tell us that?” Renna snapped. Shanvah looked horrified, but Jardir had been a prisoner to the dice all his life, and understood the sentiment.

He put out a hand. “Peace, Renna am’Bales.”

Inevera did not respond to the outburst, continuing to sift secrets from the dice. “The alagai have shattered the great wall and entered the city.”

The Par’chin clenched a fist, and Jardir felt his instinctive pull on the greatward. With hardly an effort, he resisted the pull, drawing his friend’s eyes. “Breathe, Par’chin. Embrace the pain.”

His anjin’pal nodded, staring at nothing as his coiled and corded muscles relaxed.

“I see a city become a Sharum’s Maze,” Inevera said. “I see demon and man, wrestling for a throne.”

Renna took the Par’chin’s hand. “So they’re still fightin’.”

“Nie expected them to fall easily,” Inevera said. “But Everam has not abandoned them.”

“Lots of walls in Miln,” the Par’chin said. “Built in tiers right up into the mountainside. Whole city’s warded. Lots of places for ambush pockets and succor…”

“Trust in your people,” Jardir advised.

“Know Messengers are in short supply, Leesha.” Renna’s voice was unusually timid. “But if you could spare one for Tibbet’s Brook…”

“We sent one immediately after the attack,” Leesha said. “But Tibbet’s Brook is a long journey, even on warded horseshoes.”

Renna grunted. “Even on a straight round-trip, it will be new moon again by the time you get an answer.”

Again the dice clattered, and this time Renna am’Bales held her breath, but after long moments, Inevera said nothing.

“What?!” Renna cried when it went on too long to bear. “What do you see?”

“Some futures cannot…” Inevera began.

“Cut the demonshit!” Renna barked. “Pickin’ up more’n words along this link. Know you’re lyin’. You saw somethin’ and don’t want to say it.”

Inevera breathed. “You are correct. I apologize for my attempt at deceit. It shames us both. I beg your forgiveness.”

“Don’t care about any of that,” Renna said. “Tell us what you saw.”

Inevera breathed again. The Par’chin’s jiwah was a trial, but she was also correct. “I see a village entire, dancing like puppets to a demon’s strings. I see brother killing sister, father killing son.

“I see an empty cradle.”

The council continued for hours, but without a word from Leesha and Inevera, Jardir sensed the approach of dawn on the surface. A gentle push against his magic that would soon be an irresistible force.

“The night grows long, and dawn approaches,” Jardir said at last. “This may be the last time we speak before the end, and I would have a few words in private with my Jiwah Ka.”

They made their goodbyes quickly, and one by one Jardir broke them from the link as easily as he might blow out a candle.

“Are Asome and Asukaji behaving?” Jardir asked when he was linked to his wife alone.

“The boys are proving fine leaders now that they have remembered their place,” Inevera said.

“That is well,” Jardir said. “It seems in my effort to keep you from the abyss, I have sent the abyss to you.”

“We will stand fast as you pierce the heart of Nie, beloved,” Inevera said.

“Never in my adult life have I been without your counsel,” Jardir said. “I did not realize how much I had come to depend on it.”

“Is that your way of saying you miss me?”

“It is my way of saying I am afraid, jiwah. And that when you are near, I am less so.”

“Oh, beloved,” Inevera whispered. “Everam Himself could speak no truer words.”

“Deliverer.” Shanvah pressed her forehead against the floor. At her side, Shanjat mirrored her.

“Rise, niece.” Jardir already knew what she would ask. He’d watched with quiet dread as she gathered the courage to speak.

“Here, as in no other place, we are cut off from Alagai Ka’s influence,” Shanvah said.

Jardir nodded. “That is true.”

“And your power is greater than it has ever been.”

“Yes,” Jardir agreed.

“Then perhaps here, as in no other place, you can heal my father,” Shanvah said.

Jardir said. “Perhaps. And what of our plans, if I do? Who will speak for Alagai Ka to guide our way?”

“I do not know,” Shanvah said. “I am not the Deliverer. But I know that with Everam’s blessing, all things are possible.”

“All things are possible,” Renna agreed. “But that don’t make ’em likely.”

“If he is healed, and Alagai Ka still needs a voice, I will volunteer,” Shanvah said.

“Niece—” Jardir began.

“It will be my choice,” Shanvah dared to interrupt. “A choice my father did not have. He was a great man. Kai of the Spears of the Deliverer. I am a girl, drowning in the sea of his glory.”

“Your words are false, Shanvah vah Shanjat,” Jardir said. “Your glory is boundless as your father’s. I do not believe he would wish you to rob him of such a sacrifice.”

Shanvah took her father’s limp hand. “Then let it be his choice.”

“It’s a bad idea,” Renna said. “Shanvah’s got our secrets…”

“What secrets, Renna vah Arlen?” Shanvah asked. “That we are a candle dropped into a bottomless well? That we are afraid? The demon knows these things already. He mocks us with them. Let him have my secrets, if it will free my father from this…living death.”

Jardir looked to the Par’chin, and his ajin’pal gave a nod. “Think you can do it, we owe it to Shanjat to try. We’ll find another way to make the demon talk.”

“Thank you, Par’chin,” Shanvah said.

“But it ent just a matter of power, Shanvah,” the Par’chin said. “It’s a puzzle, and we ent got all the pieces.”

“But you will try again?” Shanvah pleaded.

Jardir nodded. “Rise, Shanjat.”

Jardir watched Shanjat’s aura as he stood. In this state, without Alagai Ka to control him, his brother-in-law could resist no direct commands.

Jardir saw his words ripple across the otherwise placid pool, triggering more than just muscle memory. Shanjat’s entire faculty engaged in a flare of brilliant color.

“Recite the Fourth Dune of the Evejah,” Jardir commanded.

In life, such a command would have tested Shanjat greater than any combat, but with no will to resist, his mind produced every word in perfect recitation. As the colors flashed in his mind, though, they cast shadows.

“There.” Jardir pointed.

The others had kept distance, but at the invitation, the Par’chin stepped in to examine. “See it.”

Renna moved to stand next to him. “Ay. Like clouds on a blue sky.”

“I do not see,” Shanvah said.

“It is as we feared,” Jardir said. “Alagai Ka has done more than crush your father’s will. He has…infected his mind.”

Shanvah bowed her head. “Even here, in the heart of Everam’s power, the demon’s spirit remains?”

“Ent the demon’s spirit,” the Par’chin explained. “More like…little notes left around his mind. If this happens, do that.”

“So he has made a gwil of my father.” An image flashed over Shanvah, her atop Alagai Ka, beating him savagely as ichor arced the air. “A dog taught tricks for his master.”

“You demanded this, niece,” Jardir reminded. “You must steel yourself.”

Shanvah removed her veil and nodded, aura relaxing. “I am centered, Uncle.”

Jardir turned back to Shanjat. “Whom did you wrestle, at the festival after I first took the Skull Throne?”

“Qeran,” Shanjat said. Lights flickered in his mind, but the shadows remained dark.

“Why?” Jardir asked. “You would have had a better chance if you had chosen Hasik, who had been at the couzi.”

“Because victory is not enough for Hasik,” Shanjat said. “He would not relent until he had shamed me to the onlookers. I knew Qeran would let me keep my honor.”

They were truer words than the proud man would ever have spoken aloud, but with his will removed, he spoke them as easily as he recited scripture. The darkness in his mind remained dormant.

“Who would you choose now?” Jardir asked.

Shanjat’s aura absorbed the question and color flared for an instant in a small part of his mind, but it dissolved away without igniting a response.

“Shanjat,” the Par’chin said. “Do you think we should press on into the Core, or go back to the surface?”

Again Shanjat’s mind considered the words, and dismissed them. “There.” Renna pointed, but whatever it might have been vanished before Jardir could focus upon it.

“Father, does the demon make you lie to hurt me?” Shanvah asked.

A spark leapt across that gray chasm. “No.”

Shanvah kept her center, aura placid, but Jardir knew the words would sting her for years to come.

“Do you want to die?” Renna asked.

The question flared, but dissipated against the gray wall.

“Right there,” Renna said. “That’s where the demon severed his will.”

Shanvah’s aura remained uncomprehending. She, too, could see magic’s glow, but had not learned to read more than the most unguarded of feelings. “What does that mean?”

“It means your father’s spirit has not traveled the lonely path,” Jardir said. “Everything that made him who he was remains. His memories. His skills. The demon left them intact to tap into. But without will.”

“His body is a prison to his spirit,” Shanvah finished.

“What would you do if Alagai Ka was threatened at this moment?” Jardir asked.

The words did more than bridge the gap. The web of the demon’s infection lit up like lightning rolling across the clouds.

“Interpose myself and protect him, unless he is threatened by one of you,” Shanjat said.

“You are not to harm us?” Jardir was surprised.

“Not without the command,” Shanjat said.

“What command?” Jardir pressed.

In response, Shanjat let out a sound that came from deep in his chest, something caught between growl and hiss, resonating from his very center. The air rumbled with it.

“And if given that command?” Jardir asked, already knowing the answer from the crackle of the demon’s web.

“Kill any in my path, take the demon, and flee.”

Jardir reached out his hand, touching his friend’s head. His fingers drifted across the neat, tight braids Shanvah had tied, touching the skin between. The contact was like a spark, and he sent his will leaping into Shanjat. He could feel his friend’s mind, his body, much as he imagined Alagai Ka must. A puppet to control.

But Jardir had no interest in peering into his brother-in-law’s private memories, no desire to desecrate his body by making it dance. Instead he leapt across the gap in Shanjat’s mind and attacked the demon’s corruption.

This was not something he would have dared attempt before. Mere hours ago, he would have been hacking into his friend’s brain with a spear. Now he moved as delicately as a dama’ting scalpel, cutting away rotten flesh.

But the demon had been too clever. The threads wove into Shanjat’s mind like palm fronds in a basket, and even as Jardir began to cut, he saw how too much damage threatened to unravel the weave. He would need to replace them with something else.

But what? Could he create commands and place them in Shanjat’s mind? How would that be different from what the demon had done? How would that restore the man he had been?

He pulled back, leaving the demon’s corruption much as it was, focusing instead upon the gap. He had bridged it easily enough with his own will, and there, at its edges, he could see Alagai Ka’s influence, like a scum of oil atop clear water. When Shanjat was issued a command, or one of the demon’s conditions was met, the scum bubbled to life, bursting aflame to bridge the gap.

It was complex magic. Not beyond Jardir’s capabilities, perhaps, but certainly beyond his skill. He was trying to rewrite a book written in a language he could only read a few words of.

He wished Inevera were here. Healing was a dama’ting art, and there was none better in all the world than his first wife.

But could even she tell him how to create will from nothingness? Where desire originated, and how it was transformed into action? These were questions for Everam Himself.

On sudden inspiration, Jardir gathered his power, reaching up into the heavens, he knew not where or for what. Just reaching, as high as he could.

Everam, Creator of all that is, he begged. Show me the path to cure my brother from the infection Nie has set upon him. Give me the strength to rid him of her foul taint.

But for all the vaunted power of the Spear of Ala, it gave him no direct communication with Heaven. Everam, locked in His eternal struggle with Nie, had no time for the prayers of men.

If He is listening at all.

The thought crept in like a thief, fleeing like a coward when he turned to it. He wanted to blame Nie. Blame Alagai Ka. Blame anything but his own mind, but in that moment he knew the truth of his doubts.

What if the Par’chin is right? What if Heaven is a lie?

He pulled his will back into himself, turning to Shanvah.

“I cannot help him, niece. I can drive out the demon’s influence, but without anything to replace it, he would be left even more lifeless than before. If his will is trapped somewhere, I cannot find it, and only Everam can create will out of nothingness.”

If Everam exists, the voice whispered in his mind again.

He lowered his spear, feeling tired, even as near-limitless power coursed through him. “Let us be gone from this empty place.”