Transcendence and Rebellion Page 4
She didn’t have the energy to even wonder what they were doing. It was hard enough just to breathe. Her fatigue went so deep that she worried that if she fell asleep she might not wake up.
A flash of aythar swept across the area, so wide and vast that to her magesight it felt as though the entire region had been blanketed by some massive presence. But it was a familiar presence. “Father?” she mumbled to herself.
The strength of it kept increasing, until it felt as though she was being pressed down into the stone she sat upon. The sensation continued to grow, as though the sun had somehow come down from the sky and was now so close that its brilliance was blotting out everything else. Eventually, she lost consciousness.
She woke after an unknown period, though whether it was seconds, minutes, or even hours, she wasn’t sure at first. Her father’s presence was gone, and after examining the sky, she saw that the sun hadn’t moved much. What happened? she wondered.
Struggling to her feet, she looked over the wall and saw that the field beyond the castle was still and silent. Nothing moved. Then she looked west, and gasped. The trees on the west side of Lancaster were gone, and the broken machines that littered the field on that side were also gone. It had become a flat featureless plain, unremarkable except for the slight rise and fall of the ground. Even the grass was missing, and the ground seemed to be covered with a thick coating of grey dust.
Only one thing stood out, a shield of pure aythar that covered something. It was located somewhere close to where the tree line had once been, though it was hard to be sure now with so few landmarks.
Turning to examine the interior of the castle, Irene found no movement there either. The other defenders on the wall were all slumped to the ground. She feared they were dead, but after a few seconds her magesight confirmed that most of them were alive. Focusing her perception, she located her friends and family. Lynaralla, Karen, Chad, Elaine, Gram… Only Cyhan, Alyssa, and Matthew were missing.
She had witnessed Karen taking Cyhan and Alyssa away somewhere, but she wasn’t sure what had happened to her brother. Irene felt something then, a feeling, or perhaps intuition, but she knew her brother must be under the shield to the west.
“Something’s happened to him,” she muttered dully, unable to muster the energy to express the panic she felt inwardly. Putting one foot in front of the other, Irene began to walk. None of the others were moving yet, so it was up to her.
Descending the stairs was a nightmare compared to walking along the wall. Who knew it could be so difficult to go down? she thought as she swayed, fighting for balance. There were no handrails on the stairs inside the wall, so falling was a real concern. She managed to get down, but her next major obstacle was the gate itself. None of the men were awake, so she had to figure out how to release the mechanism that lowered the drawbridge by herself. Thankfully it operated via a series of counterweights, so once she pulled the release and removed the rope holding it in place, it slowly descended.
She wouldn’t be able to close it again on her own, though. It probably took several men to operate the crank that lifted it, and without her magic, it was beyond her means. She was grateful the portcullis was still up, or she would have had to find another way; as it was, just removing the massive bar that held the outer gate shut took all her strength.
If there are enemies left out there, we’re in trouble, she thought. Unless someone wakes up who can close the gate and raise the drawbridge. She had her doubts, but it was more important to find her brother.
Crossing the drawbridge, she began the long walk across the eastern field. The ground felt strange under her feet, scrunching and compressing as she walked across the strange, grey dust. It wasn’t long before her skirts were covered in it.
As she drew closer to the dome of aythar, she began to have doubts. The shield was so strong that to her magesight it was completely impermeable. She could discern nothing within it. It was definitely a product of her father’s aythar, though. How could he have made a shield like that, though? she asked herself silently. It was too strong to have been created on a whim. It held more power than any mage could produce or control. It might even be stronger than the shield around Castle Cameron, she thought.
That was patently ridiculous. The shield that protected Castle Cameron and Washbrook was the product of an elaborate enchantment that was powered by the God-Stone.
She stared at it. If Matthew was inside, there was no way to get him out. Even if the shield was a product of raw magic and would fade with time, the amount of power in it meant it might last for years—or longer.
Then she felt another pressure wave of aythar—her father. Irene fell to her knees, struggling to remain conscious as a message pounded through her mind. Heal him. The shield vanished, and so too did the presence. Her father, wherever he was, had gone. Opening her eyes, she saw Matthew stretched out, prostrate on the ground, a pool of blood around him.
“No!” she cried involuntarily when she saw her brother. Stumbling to her feet, she went to him and crouched down beside him. She could feel Matthew’s aythar, and his skin was warm, but he wasn’t breathing, and his heart was still. Please, don’t be dead!
Irene examined him carefully. Over the past couple of months, she had gained considerable experience with traumatic injuries, and what she found in Matthew confused her. The wounds were serious, but relatively simple—broken ribs, bruises, and several damaged veins. Matthew wouldn’t die so long as he didn’t bleed too much, and he didn’t seem to be bleeding at all, even though the veins were still torn.
He should be conscious, and bleeding, she realized. When she put her hand on his skin, he still felt warm. Unsure what to do, she began correcting the most obvious problems. His veins felt hard and stiff when she began using her power to knit them back together, almost as though some power was resisting her efforts.
Sweat beaded on her brow, and her breathing became labored. Irene didn’t have much power left, but she refused to give up. It took her far longer than normal, but she fixed the broken blood vessels and realigned Matthew’s ribs, fusing them back together. Then she noticed his heart. She had been working for several minutes, and it appeared to have moved. It had been relaxed when she arrived, but it was now clenched, as though in mid-beat.
Irene waited, watching as his heart slowly relaxed again. It was beating, but at an impossibly slow rate. He’s alive! But how? It was almost as though time had been slowed down, but just for Matthew’s body, leaving everything else unaffected.
She didn’t have enough strength to levitate him and take him back to the castle, so she sat beside her brother and made herself as comfortable as possible. Sooner or later the others would wake up, and then perhaps someone could help her get him back inside. Or, in the worst case, eventually her power would recover, and she would move him herself.
Irene gently rolled her brother onto his back and then propped his legs up across her lap to improve the blood return to his heart. Then she watched the afternoon sun slowly slide down to the horizon.
Chapter 5
Lady Rose Thornbear tried to open her eyes. Nothing seemed to happen, though. She remained in darkness, with very little sensation to inform her of her condition. Am I asleep? She didn’t know. It was as though she was disembodied, a spirit set adrift in an endless, empty shadow world.
You are awake.
The voice seemed to echo through her, and Rose wasn’t sure if it was a product of her imagination or an actual sound brought to her awareness via her ears. Either way, she didn’t recognize it.
I am Kion, said the voice, answering her unspoken question. You are awake, but your body is currently resting in my care.
Rose pieced together the relevant facts quickly. You’re the She’Har elder I met with Mordecai, she stated. Where is he?
Gone, responded Kion. You were left in my safekeeping, though there is no longer any such thing as safe. The universe winds down to its completion. Soon even our memories will be lost.
She felt a sensation of amusement coming from her host. Fear is meaningless to the Illeniels. Our time is at an end. Our worries and struggles are over. Fear, hope, conflict, peace, these are all things for the people of the new world. They have nothing to do with us any longer.
Why? asked Rose.
Because I failed, replied Kion. The corrupted fruit has taken hold in your lover. The end has begun. This world, this universe, will collapse as it grows in him, until nothing is left. All will be joined, all will be lost, and then a new world will begin.
Mordecai won’t let that happen, said Rose confidently.
He cannot stop it, Kion told her. His every action from this moment on will hasten the end.
Rose thought on his words for a while, then asked, What was supposed to happen, if you hadn’t failed?
A limited use of the void, stated the She’Har elder. The expulsion of ANSIS from this world, along with a warning serious enough to make them avoid it henceforth. That done, my own destruction would follow to ensure its safety. The future would have been left in the hands of humanity and the new grove.
Perhaps Mordecai could accomplish those things in your stead, suggested Rose.
Unlikely, returned Kion. The future we spent millennia studying is gone. I have spent eleven thousand years guarding this world, preparing myself for this burden. Your lover is a child, a momentary spark in the sea of time. He cannot do what is necessary.
Kion, she returned, if you were him, what would you do?
It matters little what he does now, said the elder. If he destroys himself soon, he might save the world from his own power, but ANSIS will inevitably become the victor. If he devotes himself to destroying ANSIS, he might succeed, but his power will accumulate until he reaches a state of singularity.
Rose was unfamiliar with the word. Singularity? What does that mean?
Aythar and the void, order and chaos, they are drawn inevitably to one another. Once his power reaches a certain point, his will to preserve becomes irrelevant, and his power will collapse in on itself, destroying him and devouring the universe itself. This is the inevitable fate of all existence. Time goes on for unfathomable stretches, but every universe eventually fails in this way. From the ashes of each singularity, a new universe is born. Your lover’s choice to defy me has brought about the conclusion much sooner than necessary, explained Kion.
Surely there must be something I can do? asked Rose.
Flee this reality, said Kion. Find a child of Illeniel and escape to another world. This one is doomed.
Release me then, Kion, said Rose, making her decision.
I will send you back into your half of the world, the one you know, said the elder. You must make your own way from there.
Thank you.
I wish you well, said Kion, though you have little chance of survival.
***
“What happened to him?” asked Karen.
“I don’t know,” Irene answered honestly. “Our father was here—I felt him, though he seemed to be everywhere at once. I think he’s the reason everyone fainted. When I came to, I found Matthew protected by a powerful shield, wounded and—well, like this.”
Chad Grayson reached out and touched Matthew’s cheek, pressing one finger against it. “He feels stiff, like a two-day-old corpse. Are ya sure he’s alive?”
“His heart is beating,” said Elaine. “Just like Irene said. But it’s very slow, maybe one beat a minute.”
“I think it’s getting faster,” said Irene. “It was closer to a beat every three or four minutes when I found him.”
Lynaralla frowned. “It can’t be.”
“Can’t be what?” asked Irene.
“When we were studying the Erollith writings—I came across a theoretical description of this, but it’s impossible, or at least the treatise said it was impossible. It requires manipulation of forces that are inimical to existence itself,” answered the She’Har woman.
“You’re going to have to explain it better,” said Irene.
“It’s like a stasis spellweave, or enchantment,” began Lynaralla. “Those function by isolating a given volume of space from entropy, preventing all change. To do something like this means something similar happened to Matthew, but it wasn’t isolated within a magical structure. Whoever did this directly manipulated the intrinsic level of entropy within his body. That isn’t supposed to be possible. For one thing, no one has ever found a way to affect it using aythar, and besides that, if you, for example, were able to do such a thing, it would almost certainly kill you.”
Elaine and Irene exchanged glances, and then sighed. Elaine spoke first, “That didn’t help much. What does entropy mean?”
Karen broke in then, “It’s complicated. Entropy is a measure of randomness, what you might think of as chaos. You could also think of it as heat, but that isn’t quite right either. Imagine a giant stone. As a solid stone, it has a great deal of order, but if you grind it into sand, you’ve removed most of that order and created something with a lot of entropy. Entropy is a measure of energy that is unavailable for work.”
Irene rolled her eyes. “Thanks, that helped,” she said sarcastically. “How did you know all that, anyway? I thought you didn’t have magic on your world.”
“I was always a bookworm,” explained Karen. “And entropy isn’t magic. I learned about it in physics.”
“It applies equally to our world and hers,” said Lynaralla. “If we think of aythar as magic, or a power with the capacity to do work, then entropy is its opposite—energy without order, energy that is unable to do any work.”
“Did that make any sense to you?” Elaine asked, looking at Irene.
The youngest Illeniel nodded. “Yeah, I think I’m starting to get it. It’s like the shiggreth. My father spent a lot of time talking to us about them and the strange force within them. This sounds sort of like that.”
Elaine sighed. “I want to pull my hair out just listening to this. How can energy do work?” She paused, looking over Irene’s shoulder. “What are you doing?” she asked sharply, directing her question at the one person ignoring them.
Chad looked up and grinned mischievously. “If you poke yer finger into his skin it doesn’t spring back.” He was crouching down beside Matthew’s body. “He’s like a clay tablet.”
“You’re drawing on him?” exclaimed Irene, shocked.
The hunter shrugged.
Karen leaned over. “What is that?” She studied the faint lines that had been pressed into Matthew’s forehead. They had a distinctly phallic shape. “Really? He could be dying and you’re…”
Chad chuckled. “An opportunity like this doesn’t come along very often. It’d be a shame to waste it.”
“He’s my brother,” said Irene, disgusted. “That isn’t funny.”
Elaine took the archer by the arm. “Come on. Let’s take you somewhere where your vulgar sense of humor isn’t liable to get you killed.” She led him away.
Karen laughed. “It is a little funny.”
Lynaralla watched her seriously. “Why are male genitalia humorous?” When Karen only laughed louder, she turned to Irene. “Don’t worry. The marks will fade. It’s just happening more slowly because of the state his body is in.”
Irene was gently rubbing Matthew’s forehead, trying to get the marks to disappear more quickly. “Is there anything we can do?”
“Warm him up,” said Lynaralla.
“But he isn’t cold,” observed Irene.
Lynaralla spread her arms wide and vine-like projections of aythar grew from her fingers. The spellweave spread and lifted Matthew from the ground, cradling him in a protective structure similar to a hammock. The spellweave began to radiate a gentle warmth. “While heat isn’t directly equivalent to entropy, the connection between the two is very strong. Warming him should increase the rate that he returns to normal. We will ne
ed to watch him carefully, though. Once he gets close to normal, the extra warmth could be too much.”
“I’ll stay with him,” said Irene immediately.
“Me too,” added Karen.
Lynaralla nodded. “Then I’ll go help Gram and the others.”
Chapter 6
Gareth Gaelyn coughed, drawing everyone’s attention.
The Council of Lords was seated in a small chamber room within the palace in Albamarl. It was a meeting of the most important and powerful nobles of Lothion. Normally, the council only met once a year, but with all the tumult of the past few months, the Queen had requested they reconvene to discuss important matters.
“Since Lord Illeniel isn’t present, I think there’s a topic we should broach in his absence,” began Lord Gaelyn, “that of the recent rumors among the populace.”
Ariadne arched one brow. “Why would Tyrion’s absence matter?”
“Because the rumors concern him directly, Your Majesty,” answered Gareth.
She stared evenly at him. “This council is not normally concerned with rumors, Lord Gaelyn, but if you feel it is important, then do explain.”
Gareth nodded. “The opinions of the populace are important, especially in this regard. Many people on the streets are discussing Duke Illeniel’s past. Specifically, they are speculating that he was the first King of Lothion.”
“That’s ridiculous,” protested Roland Lancaster. “Lothion wasn’t established as a kingdom until after the War with Balinthor.”
“I agree, Your Grace,” said Gareth agreeably, “but unfortunately the mob doesn’t concern itself much with logic. In their minds, the fact that Tyrion and his children founded the city of Albamarl is proof enough of some divine right to rule, and that coupled with the recent discontent over the actions of the Royal Guard could lead to riots.”