Death Weavers (39 page)

He opened the door.

Cole felt like he had been punched in the gut. No, worse, stabbed in the gut. And the knife was twisting.

The bed was unmade, like somebody had slept in it and left in a hurry. There were some clothes on the floor. Jeans. Shin guards. A light layer of dust covered everything.

On the dresser by the door stood numerous soccer trophies. And a framed team photo. An individual photo of Hunter Randolph sat beside it, the brother from the dream. His name was on the trophies too.

Cole backed out of the room.

He didn't want to see any more.

Cole returned to his bedroom.

He had forgotten his brother. His parents had forgotten his brother. His sister had forgotten him too. Cole hid his face in his hands. His time in the Outskirts wasn't a dream.

What was he doing here? Why was he home?

He had to get back.

His friends would not be captured and taken there until this evening. But could he now keep Dalton and Jenna from going there? What if he brought police officers to the house where Ansel was trapping kids? What if he helped catch the slavers?

But then what about Mira? And her sisters, and all the people in the Outskirts? And Hunter, who had been so thoroughly forgotten by the family that his messy bed remained untouched two years after he had vanished?

Cole had to let it all happen. There could be no police, no warnings. He had to let the same kidnappings transpire. If he changed things, it might not turn out right. He might not help Mira escape Skyport and beat Carnag. He might not save Honor and stop Morgassa and defeat Roxie and go to Necronum.

Necronum.

Where Mira, Jace, and Joe were taken to the echolands. They had been taken, and it was his fault. He had made a deal with Sando. He had to save them. And he had to help Tessa. It was what Mira had most wanted. He had promised.

He had been doing his best. He had crossed over to the echolands at the Temple of the Robust Sky.

And eventually, he had met Harvan, Winston, Ferrin, and Drake.

And Prescia.

He had gone to find Destiny. He owed it to Mira.

That was his current mission.

He wasn't really in his bedroom. This was some kind of dream. This was an illusion.

He was really on a mountain.

“I have to find Destiny!” Cole yelled, heedless of what his mother, father, or sister might think.

He remained in his room.

“Get me out of here!” Cole shouted. “There isn't time for this! I have to find Destiny!”

Everything went black.

Cole was lying on his side.

He could feel the rock beneath him.

He opened his eyes.

27

C
ole was back on the mountain, the stairs before him.

Come.
The word penetrated his mind, reverberating with power.

Cole stood, facing the stairs. He unhooked the beacon from his hilt so he could hold it in his hand. Before he started up, Cole peeked over his shoulder.

He was high!

The echolands spread out behind him forever, looking like a map or a model from this altitude. How high was he? Was any mountain on Earth this tall?

Come.

Cole rushed up the stairs two at a time.

The steps ended at the summit.

There wasn't much more space at the top than in his bedroom. A woman stood there, clad in dark gray robes, turned so he was looking at her profile. Her eyes stared into the distance, long black hair tumbling almost to her waist, her skin as pale as moonlight. She was of medium height and quite lovely. Her throbbing music was imbued with deep mystery and sorrow and, at this proximity, overpowered the song of the mountain.

“Cole Bryant Randolph,” she intoned, her voice resonant and solemn, her eyes staying fixed on the horizon.

“That's me,” he said.

“You have traveled an improbable path to reach me,” she said.

“I guess so,” Cole said. “What are you staring at?”

“I gaze out beyond the fringe, awaiting the supreme evil that departed ages ago. One day it shall return. We will destroy each other, and I will at long last leave the echolands behind. Until then, I assist where I am able.”

“Can you help my friends?” Cole asked. “I left them at the bottom of your mountain.”

“The attack occurred beyond my reach,” she said. Her words remained in a solemn monotone. “Your assailants seemed to know the irregular boundaries of my influence. Your friend Harvan has been taken. The strain was too much for the other one, Winston. His lifespark has fled to the next phase. The shapecrafters kept his lifeless echo.”

Cole bowed his head and fell to his knees. Winston was already gone? And Harvan was captured! Everything kept getting worse!

“I understand your grief,” the woman said. “Your comrades sacrificed much to deliver you to me.”

Cole looked up at the woman. Her face remained impassive. Her eyes gazed into the distance.

“You never look away?” Cole asked.

“The evil I await will come swiftly,” she said. “I must never divert my attention.”

“You've been doing this for a long time?” Cole asked.

“Since not long after the Outskirts began,” she replied.

“Who are you?” Cole asked.

“You already know,” she replied. “I am She Who Stands at the Summit.”

“But who were you before?”

“I am one of a small number who framed the Outskirts,” she said.

“You helped shape the Outskirts? Did you know Dandalus?”

“You met a shadow of him connected to the Founding Stone,” she said. “He was the greatest of us.”

“He told me his job was to make the Founding Stone,” Cole said.

“Which also meant his job was to physically create the Outskirts,” she said. “The Founding Stone initiated the process.”

“You must be powerful,” Cole said. “I know you're waiting for some evil, but there are already lots of problems in the Outskirts. Before long there might be nothing left to protect.”

“You wish for my direct intervention,” she said. “Even if I would risk turning my back on the evil I await, I cannot leave this post.”

“Why not?” Cole asked.

“I wield considerable power,” the woman said. “But no matter how great your power, there is a price to remaining in the echolands. I have lingered for a very long time. I established a sanctuary here upon this mountain. Were I to depart, the call of the Other would immediately claim me.”

“You?” Cole asked.

“The call accumulates influence over time,” she said. “The echolands were never meant as a permanent home for anyone. This is a place of transition, a place to let go of one existence and move on to another. Your comrade Winston has graduated to a wondrous realm. We will all eventually follow.”

Cole stared at the woman. “Do you know where I can find Destiny?”

“I do not. But I know who can provide the information you seek.”

Cole pounded his fists against his forehead. “No offense, but do you know how many times I've heard this?”

“I know all that you know. Knowledge is power in the echolands. Few endeavors can benefit you more than finding those who guard it. You hoped to find Destiny at Deepwell. Harvan took you to Prescia in search of an answer. Prescia referred you to me. My Weaver's Beacon enabled you to reach this summit.”

“
Your
Weaver's Beacon?”

“As the first Grand Shaper of Necronum, I created it long ago.”

Cole held up the lantern. “Well, good job. Thanks.”

“You're welcome. It was made to be used. Now you have one last person to visit. He will have the answers you desire.”

“He'll know where to find Destiny? For sure?”

“He knows where to find her. He can reveal how you might return to your home. He can advise you on how to confront Nazeem.”

“That sounds worth the trip,” Cole said. “But what can you tell me?”

“You have not yet realized the nature of your enemy,” she said.

“Nazeem? I saw him.”

“But you do not yet comprehend his identity.”

“Should I?”

“You have sufficient clues to understand.”

Cole thought for a minute. “I know Owandell works for him. I know Nazeem taught people shapecraft. I know he kept himself a secret for a long time. I know he's imprisoned at the Fallen Temple. I know he wants the princesses and is also after me. I know he plans to break free soon. Do you know more?”

“I am one of the six who imprisoned him long ago,” she said, unblinking eyes staring into the distance.

“You imprisoned Nazeem?”

“With the help of the other founders of the Outskirts.”

“What do you know about him?”

“You have met the only other of his kind in this world,” she said. “We imprisoned him as well.”

Cole's jaw dropped. “Trillian? Wait a minute. Nazeem is the other torivor?”

“He has not always used the name Nazeem. When we faced him, he went by Ramarro.”

Cole's mind raced. It made sense. Trillian didn't know the fate of the other torivor, only that he must have been captured. Trillian could shape differently and more powerfully than anyone Cole had met. Trillian had believed the rules of shaping could be changed. And that's what shapecraft did—shape the shaping power.

Of course Nazeem was the other torivor! The Fallen Temple was equivalent to the Lost Palace. Like Trillian, Nazeem had been manipulating people from within his prison. If Nazeem got free, it would be like Trillian getting free. It would mean the end of the Outskirts.

“You are reaching the correct conclusions,” the woman said.

“We're in the echolands. Is Nazeem an echo?”

“He is not, though we imprisoned him here. Thankfully, we did not confront the torivors at the same time. We went up against Nazeem first, in Necronum. The battle was close. We had practiced our craft for centuries, and Nazeem was new to this world, or else the outcome might have been different. We managed to lure him into the echolands and imprison him here.”

“So if he gets out, he can come back to life?” Cole asked.

“If he can find a way beyond the barriers that imprison him and cross to the other side, yes, he could fully return to life. He brought his physical body here. His body and lifespark are joined in a way I do not understand. We tried to imprison Trillian in the echolands as well, but he refused to cross, and the six framers together lacked the power to force him. We settled for entombing him beneath the Lost Palace. Similar barriers that hold Trillian contain Nazeem.”

“Can Nazeem defeat your barriers?”

“The two torivors are the most talented natural shapers we have ever encountered. Given enough time, anything is possible, no matter how securely we bound them. Our top priority must be to keep Nazeem imprisoned. If he breaks loose, no power in this world will be able to stop him.”

Cole thought about that. “Supposedly, he's almost free. What should we do if he gets out?”

Her voice remained solemn and calm. “We could fight and perish. Or we could surrender and watch as he remakes the Outskirts according to his desires.”

“You don't sound too bothered by that,” Cole said. “Or anything, really.”

“Do not mistake my focus on the distant evil for indifference,” the woman said. “I have suppressed much of who I was to stand at this post.”

“What evil?” Cole asked.

“A fiend unconnected to the torivors,” she said. “Something older, inherent to the echolands. Only I can stop it. Harbor no concerns. I will do my duty.”

“Did you have a name?”

“Once, long ago. Perhaps I will again after I finally move on. Until then, I am She Who Stands at the Summit.”

“There isn't a way to destroy Nazeem?” Cole asked.

“If we knew how to destroy him, we would have done it without hesitation.”

Cole considered what else he needed to know.