Chaos (16 page)

They are,
Drache said grimly.

The regular adult Sentinels are big enough. How do such creatures sustain themselves? Especially since they do not leave their gates.

Magic—and the occasional stray fool, I have no doubt.

Friedrich grimaced at the thought. He turned over on his side and stared at his room. It was an empty room, save for the essentials. He'd never been much for possessions. When he'd arrived in Unheilvol years ago, he'd had nothing but the clothes he wore and a string of wooden prayer beads. That strand had been lost years ago, but Friedrich still missed them, the simple life they spoke of. His prayer beads of amethyst and onyx spoke only of a life he loved and hated in equal measure.

A life he would be sacrificing—quite literally. He couldn't imagine that defying Teufel resulted in anything other than death.
But he was going to kill me anyway.

His mind played over the same words he had already recalled a thousand times.
Find the child of chaos, capture him, bring him to me at Sonnenstrahl, and I'll give you the death you have craved these nine hundred years. Defy me, try to fight me as you once did, and I will ensure that you die as you always have—and that you will take all of Unheilvol with you.

What death he had craved for nine hundred years?

Friedrich could feel Drache's discontent, his frustration, at not being able to explain what he clearly knew. Giving up on any pretense of sleep, Friedrich climbed out of bed and got dressed, then wandered the halls of the temple until he reached the front steps.

Unheilvol rested on the top of a hill that overlooked the city of Raven Knoll. It was the largest city in the country, though Gold Rock was close and boasted the Field of the Rock that gave the city its name. According to legend, it had been a favorite place for Licht to sit and watch his people, and occasionally he could be found there, willing to listen and give council.

Licht never cared for closed spaces. He liked to be out in the sun and wind. It's why all his temples are so open, or were. Teufel prefers his rooms and walls and labyrinths. Better for keeping people contained.

"Mm," Friedrich murmured, looking out over the dark city. There were patches of weak light here and there, and the occasional slip of indistinguishable noise reached his ears. Far at the end, he could see the larger fires atop the guard towers of the city gate.

Tilting his head up, he looked at the shadowy image of the moon behind thin clouds. The snow had ceased falling for a time, but he knew it would return.
What is the purpose of so much snow? Winter has never been so bad before.

It keeps people where they are, makes them too afraid to travel.

Yet they travel anyway. Raven Knoll cannot handle too many more people, not over an extended period. We are a city of transients.
He didn't want that many more people to die when he defied Teufel. Though Teufel had only said Unheilvol would die with him, Friedrich did not doubt he would harm the inhabitants of Raven Knoll as well.

Hopefully he will not realize your defiance until it is too late. You are doing the right thing, beloved.

I know,
Friedrich said with a sigh. He just wished the right thing did not put so many people at risk. Men were not meant to be tangled up with gods. Something he should have remembered before he became the bed toy of a god's shadow.

But from what few, wispy memories he possessed, he was not certain there been any way for him to have said no.

There was not, and it was not like being in his bed was entirely a chore. Far from it.
Drache's sigh rolled through his mind.
Once, the danger and the darkness had its appeal.

Hardly the first time—or the last—that someone made a stupid decision for such foolish reasons. At least I know better now.
Every time he thought about that brief interlude with Teufel, his stomach churned. So easy to see how once that beauty and darkness had seduced him. It would have been childishly easy for Teufel. Who would be able to resist being hand-picked by a god to serve as his most powerful priest and his favored paramour?

He shook his head at himself and cast his eyes over the city again, feeling restless with no real reason to put to it.
Can you tell me anything about Sonnenstrahl?

A little bit, I think. That constraint has eased now that you've been ordered to go there. The heart of Schatten, the location of the Citadel, once the seat of Licht's power. That is where we will meet, you and I. The Citadel spreads out a great distance in all directions, forming a great circle. Twelve paths spread out from it, turn into twelve roads, the rays of the sun reaching out to Licht's people, inviting them always to come closer to him. Around the Citadel is the white stone city of Sonnenstrahl itself, once beautiful and vibrant. Now, it is only a broken relic, overrun with thorny vines from which grow poisonous black roses.

The words provoked an ache of sadness, of longing, in Friedrich.

It was home,
Drache said.
Now it is little more than a graveyard. Licht would have wept to see his beloved city reduced so.

Licht … lost forever, slain by his brothers for daring to defy them, because he wanted what was best for his children. Friedrich wondered what the true story was.

I wish I could say, but I'm not sure even I know the whole of it.

Who are you Drache? Why do you know so much?

I am memory, a relic, a fool. That is all I can say.

Friedrich sighed and turned to go back into the temple, walking through the halls, steps echoing faintly, as he made his way to his prayer chamber. He lit the candles, focused on the way the light flickered and danced against the gleaming black marble walls, let it pull him into a trance.

The first thing he did was cast out for Karl, trailing along threads of past, present, and future. It was the past that snagged, and Friedrich let the Seeing wash over him.

Karl remained silent, eyes locked on the sorcerer. Something was strange about him, though there was nothing about his appearance that Karl could pick out. Well, his pale skin, but he had seen survivors of Sentinel attacks suffer stranger side effects. Beside him, Boris said coldly, "What is going on here?"

"I was badly injured by a Sentinel two weeks ago," the strange sorcerer said. "This young man nursed me back to health. He needs to journey to Unheilvol to hear his fate, and I am escorting him." The man paused, and Karl was just about to reprimand him for being so unbelievably rude when the man belatedly added, "My lord. I am sorry, the injury has left my wits quite addled."

Karl saw it then, what had been bothered him—the man's weapons. No sorcerer had a sword like that, with a showy jewel in the pommel. And his whip was wrong. Even coiled up as it was Karl could tell it did not remotely resemble the whips used by the sorcerers.

He nudged Boris slightly, then flicked his eyes to the sword.

"You have better things to do with your time than escort a single peasant all over," Boris snapped. "Where have you been that you've heard nothing—" He broke off as he saw what Karl had pointed out. "What is your name?"

"My name is Sasha."

"That is not a Schatten name," Karl said, furious that the bastard was impersonating them so successfully. How had he managed to make the diamond on his forehead? None but Teufel could bestow that mark.

"No, it's not," the man replied, and before they could react, he grabbed his whip, flicked his wrist to uncoil it, and send it snapping through the air. The sharp crack echoed through the dark forest, startling the horses. Karl tried to regain control, furious their horses were reacting to a sound they should have known—but no, they had been forced to obtain new horses, no thanks to the light-loathed Sentinels.

Despite his best efforts Karl was thrown from his horse and landed with a pained grunt in a pile of snow. By the time he regained his feet alongside the others and faced the imposter, the man had drawn his sword and was preparing to attack again. "David, get out of the way," the man ordered the peasant he was with.

Karl hung back as the sorcerers rushed him, the air filling with the acrid flavor of magic, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He was a Seer, for shadow's sake, not a sorcerer. He should not be forced to fight.

The man held a hand out toward the fire, then threw his arm forward. Karl could only gawk, irritation overtaken by disbelief and envy at the way the fire followed the man's movements, enormous flames filling the air and headed directly for them.

He flinched as the sorcerer in the front of the group screamed, and his moment of hesitation was regretfully enough that the two others behind him crashed into him and the whole trio went falling. The imposter shifted his attention to Boris, raising his sword just in time to block Boris' swing. Karl felt the rise in magic and shielded his eyes in the moment before Boris cast the Light of Truth.

Boris laughed and hauled the imposter to his feet. "Here I thought taking care of you would be more difficult. However did someone like you kill the High Sorcerer?"

The imposter grabbed Boris' hand, and Karl recoiled in dismay when Boris screamed in agony and abruptly let go of the impostor. The Light of Truth went out as though it had been nothing more than a candle. Boris and the impostor glared at each other.

"How did I kill your High Sorcerer? I am better trained and more powerful, that's how," the imposter said. He stretched his right hand out toward them, palm out as though he was offering to help them up. The back of Karl's neck prickled again as the man intoned, "
Gods of sleep, of respite, of solace, grant peace to my enemies.
"

"What—" Karl started to say, wanting an explanation, but then the spell took hold of him and the world went black.

When he woke again, he was in a dingy, dimly-lit room of a house. "Where am I?" he demanded.

The door opened a moment later, and an old woman stepped in. She smelled like herbs and as if she had not bathed in days. Karl wrinkled his nose. "Hag, where am I? Where are my men?"

"You are in Black Hill. Some of our hunters found you while they were out looking for food. They brought you back here, since Oak Hill is too dangerous a place to be anymore. You are lucky the Sentinels did not get you, my lord. Your men are staying in other houses; I did not have room for all of you here. They are awake, if you want—"

"Fetch them," Karl snapped. "We will need horses and food—immediately, hag."

The woman's mouth tightened, but she turned and left. Karl swung his legs over the edge of the bed he was on, feeling dizzy and faintly ill. Magic. That damn imposter sorcerer had used some sort of strange magic on them.

He'd had a peasant with him. David, he'd called the boy. That might come to something. Given his location, he would hazard someone knew the boy—and knew of a strange sorcerer injured by a Sentinel. If that part of the story was true.

Figuring out the truth would be easy enough, and then he would find that sorcerer and teach him a lesson. He would drag the light-loathed bastard back to Unheilvol. He would not let Friedrich steal all the glory, either. He was by far a better High Seer than that half-mad fool. Lord Teufel would see that.

Friedrich broke off, amused despite himself.
He thinks me only half-mad? I think I'm flattered.

He is the fool to be so reckless. It will be what destroys him.

I tried to warn him. He laid his traps; eventually he must empty them.

Drache's discontent was a soft rumble in Friedrich's mind.
I still do not want him harming you.

He cannot do me more harm than I have done to myself, than Lord Teufel has done. Karl is a child, and while he might be a powerful Seer, he lacks everywhere else. He does not even seem capable of guarding his thoughts, though he knows my powers. No, Karl does not concern me. Do not be troubled about him.

Drache rumbled again, but let the matter rest.

What interests me is that the intruder now bears a black diamond. He was immune to the Light of Truth. I have never seen magic like his, and though I saw him kill the High Sorcerer, it is still disconcerting …

He is a sorcerer, if not of Schatten. If I had to guess, I would say he is a fire child. They were the only ones who truly rivaled Schatten in magical ability. That spell he used to put them to sleep, though, was an invocation of the gods. He invoked the Basilisk, which is … breathtaking, really. I think the only one who might stand a chance against him is you. It is fortunate for all of us, beloved, that you and he are on the same side.

Friedrich nodded.
What has that boy, David, to do with anything?

I do not know. I would wager nothing, but time will tell. You could cast out for him.

Maybe later. I have a feeling the man was telling the truth about escorting him to repay a debt. If it is true, then he is journeying to us here anyway. We'll see how he figures into everything then, if he does at all.

As you wish,
Drache said.

Friedrich once more let himself fall into a trance, but instead of focusing on any one thing he simply let his mind wander, let Visions come to him. He was not surprised when the one that immediately rose up was the one that had plagued him for weeks and continued to be a source of frustration.

Sadness and rage. The dark of a moonless night. Anything can happen where nothing can be seen. A choice must be made:  darkness or shadow.

He opened his eyes, frustrated as ever by the vision. Whose fate was to choose between darkness or shadow? What sort of choice was that?