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Authors: Ryk E. Spoor

Tags: #Fiction, #Fantasy, #Epic, #Historical, #General

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Chapter 23

Poplock looked at Kyri, who was clearly weakened and shaking with reaction from the attack and shock, and Tobimar standing near her.
Right, I can take this myself.

“Okay, you’ve got a chance to talk. Better make the talk good. So you’re a demon under Viedraverion’s command?”

Tashriel’s face twisted in half-amusement, half-misery. “I was…on
loan
to Viedraverion. He made my real master, Balinshar, give me to him for a special project—and used his father to put pressure on Balinshar to do it.”

“So the first big question is…why
you
?”

“Because I’m…not really a demon. Not entirely, not in my…what’s left of my soul. I was a human being, once. Then I became a vampire, then the demons came for us and they captured me instead of killing me. At the time,” another twisted smile, “I almost thought they did me a favor. I was deep in the madness that all the Cursed get when the blood takes hold. I…I think I’d killed some of my own people, it’s all blurred, but I know that when I came to myself I really was grateful for a moment. Before I realized they’d simply killed everyone anyway and were making me one of them.”

“Interesting,” said Toshi. “But you must have had something special about you that made you worth saving.”

Tashriel paused, then swallowed, looking at the others. “Yes. It was a huge secret. Balinshar kept that knowledge absolutely hidden from everyone; he figured that I might be a hidden weapon, a blade from nowhere, if he played things right. Realizing that
Viedraverion
already knew about it…that was a shock.”

“Well?”

He took a deep breath. “I was trained in
Thanalaran
—I don’t know what to call it in your language, exactly. It combined alchemy, sorcery, the powers of the mind, and mechanisms of science, devices—”

“Technomancy!” Xavier blurted out.

“Technomancy? Well…I suppose, yes, that’s not a terribly bad way to put it. It was an ancient and secret discipline even in my era, long,
long
ago.”

That
makes sense
. Poplock gave a satisfied bounce. “Okay, so now I understand why you were sent to Wieran. He was doing a lot of that technomancy stuff already.”

“I found it almost impossible to believe when I saw it. He seemed to have singlehandedly reconstructed things not seen since Atla’a Alandar. I was there as an assistant.”

Gabriel was nearby, leaning against one of the unbroken trees. “Pardon me for saying so, but you’re being very pleasant, apparently forthcoming, and so on. If you’re such a pleasant fellow, why were you working for these people?”

The yellow gaze dropped, Tashriel’s expression went nearly dead. “They…made me what I was. They can…
are
…making me do things. You’ve beaten me for the moment, I can think and act for myself for a little while…but soon I’ll have to go back.” He bit his lip hard enough to draw blood with one of his sharp fangs. “I…don’t want to. But it’s so hard to fight. Now that the matrix is gone and my service to Viedra’s failed, I’ll have to return to Balinshar, and I don’t want to do that. But…I’ll have to.”

“Not if you’re dead,” Aurora said grimly. “And you haven’t said anything that makes me sure you’re leaving alive.”

“She’s got a point. We still don’t know how you got in that tube, and whatever you have to say about Viedraverion.”

“I…Speaker’s
Name
, this is hard for me! I am fighting…very hard…to try to tell you. If I wasn’t sort of between masters, not
formally
returned to Balinshar, I wouldn’t be able to act at all!” The white-haired youth’s hands shook; he clenched them into fists. “The tube was prepared by Wieran to Viedraverion’s precise specifications and secured as you found it. Wieran was simply told to leave it available for later use.
I
was told to enter the tube, and what part I was to play and how I was to disguise myself, when it became clear that the ‘endgame,’ as he put it, was starting. At that point Wieran would be far too focused on his own work to worry about my location.”

“So Master Wieran had no knowledge of this trick of Viedraverion’s at all?”

“None. Well…I’m sure he knew that there was a much larger purpose in the tube’s presence, but not what it was, nor did he care much.”

Poplock saw Kyri’s head come up. “How did you manage to play Rion so well? You
knew
things that only he should know. How?”

“That was the ‘matrix’ I mentioned. Viedraverion transferred it to me when he sent me to Wieran, but didn’t
activate
it until I entered the tube. It was…” He met Kyri’s gaze; Poplock saw more sorrow there than he had expected. “You had already guessed the essence of it, really. It was a part, a scrap of the real Rion’s soul, that I could…well,
wrap around
my own like a cloak and make into a sort of front that reacted on its own, using my soul and strength to translate its echoes of memory. I’ve never seen
anything
like it; I didn’t think it was
possible
to do that so…perfectly. When I spoke as Rion, I almost
was
him. If I didn’t let myself
think
too much as myself, if I didn’t try to look ahead or behind like an actor, but rather let ‘Rion’ act…it could be nearly perfect. There were only a few minor gaps in its memory, but you already noticed and discounted those.”

“What about our truthtelling? It covered
that
, too?” Kyri demanded.

Tashriel shook his head again, a slow, disbelieving motion. “In truth, I thought I might be discovered then. The matrix was already breaking, I had become too…caught up in it, too interested in
becoming
part of what I saw, for it to remain untouched. I…I didn’t want to PLAY the part, I was trying to make the part follow what
I
wanted, and that stressed it too much. It managed to still hide my nature, but I had to be very, very careful about how I answered and literally
force
the remaining matrix to help in the answers. Some of them were…evasive, at the least, such as whether I attacked Helina—I made myself believe it was not really an
attack,
because she was cooperating with me—or whether I was your brother, because I was, with the matrix, the only part of your brother left. But at that point I knew that I had very little time left. Days, perhaps not even that. So…”

“Let’s go back. Tell us about Viedraverion. We’ve heard the name, we know he’s a demonlord and a plotter and all, but can you tell us more about
him
?”

Tashriel nodded vehemently. “Oh, yes. Balinshar
hated
Viedraverion, so he made sure I knew all about him, and spent time studying him to find weaknesses and blind spots.” He looked at the others regretfully. “But…he doesn’t really
have
any.

“Viedraverion is the first son of Kerlamion Blackstar himself. He has served a key role in
many
plans by the King of All Hells. After Atlantaea was brought down and the Sauran Kingdoms shattered, Viedraverion was sent out to scour the galaxy for remnants of the old civilizations and destroy or neutralize them…until there was effectively no chance for anyone out there to learn the truth.”

Toshi looked up sharply. “That would have taken nearly
forever
. Galaxies are
big
.”

“He knew that too. So—according to the records—what he did was let civilizations rise to a certain level, where they started locating and collecting the relics themselves…and then arrange the civilization to collapse. In effect, he got literally trillions or quadrillions of people to act as his searching parties.”

Oh, mud and drought.
“He’s a
long
-term thinker.”


Very
long-term. He spent over a hundred thousand
years
on that assignment.”

Nike stared at Tashriel. “I know
Khoros
was that old, but I still have a hard time
imagining
something living that long without changing.”

“Oh, it can change even Demons some. Balinshar used to
rant
about that; apparently before he spent a hundred thousand years manipulating civilizations, Viedraverion was really bright and manipulative but had a cold, hard approach that tended to drive people away. After he came back, he had learned how to
work
with people.”

“I see,” said Toshi. “Then when he sent you to Wieran, he had
already
planned your integration with Kyri’s party. He was certain they would triumph over all odds, and return here.”

“He wasn’t
certain
,” Tashriel corrected. “He
believed
things would work out as they did—with many, many contingencies prepared for various alternative outcomes.” A corner of his mouth curled upward, and the yellow eyes were distant for a moment. “He…it was one of the
good
things about working with him, that I could see something so incredibly…well,
beautiful
as his strategies, laid out like a map of the future, illuminated in gems and gold.”

“Screw your admiration for the artist,” Aurora snapped. “What had he ‘mapped’ for
you
?”

Tashriel looked at her and Poplock saw what seemed honest guilt in his eyes. “I was supposed to gain your complete confidence, let you ‘help’ me regain myself, er, well,
Rion
’s self, and then lead you to the Retreat where Viedraverion and the other Justiciars would be waiting for you.”

“Then what were you doing—”

For the first time, color flamed on Tashriel’s cheeks. “Rion loved his sister very much. And I was playing him for
months
. But I’m
not
her brother, and those emotions going through me…being near her…I found I didn’t
want
to lead her into danger.
I
didn’t want to. And my feelings…weren’t brotherly, really, not once I started feeling them
myself
. Combined with everything else…I stopped
thinking
.”

There was a moment of silence; Poplock could see that most expressions were a combination of sympathy, anger, and revulsion.
Complex situation.
“So,” he said, “The important questions: what’re his powers, and do you know any weaknesses or quirks he has we might be able to use?”

“Powers are easy. He’s…really powerful in most areas. In his natural form—which is about seven feet tall, really broad, gray-skinned—he’s phenomenally strong and fast, even for a demon. He’s very resistant to most forms of magic and very tough against weapons of all kinds. He’s also a
rannon
master—what you call psionics, powers of the mind—with a
lot
of experience in using it to kill, control and so on. Telekinetic, telepathic, self-enhancement, he knows how to use it all at an extremely high level of power.”

Tobimar looked grim. “When you say ‘extremely high,’ what—”

“That big wall of stone Aurora threw in front of me? He could just
think
at it, and it’d fly up a mile and come down on top of you. That’s ‘extremely high.’ And he might be a lot stronger than that.”

“Great
Balance
,” muttered Kyri. “I…don’t know if we can face this.”

“Maybe you can,” Tashriel said. “If he has any weakness, it is that of all demons: the power of the Gods of Light is a major weapon against them, and you are Myrionar’s
only
real representative, now. Tobimar…I know he has true holy power as well. Together you might…”

He stopped suddenly, and his face showed horror and regret that sent a chill of fear dancing along Poplock’s skin. “Oh, no. Oh, I’m sorry, Kyri. I’m so,
so
sorry.
That’s
why…”

“What?
What’s
why? Why what?” Poplock knew that didn’t sound very coherent, but it asked the questions he needed answered.

“I…that’s why I couldn’t stop, why I had to…” Tashriel trailed off, cursing in a Demonic tongue. “No! By the Speaker and the Lady!
That
was why I couldn’t stop myself! It was his contingency—he’d made
sure
I would do it!”

“Do
WHAT?
” Poplock bellowed.

Tashriel’s face was even whiter than it had been. “I…exchanged blood with her. Some of hers in me, then some of mine to her.”

Tobimar’s blades whispered from their sheaths. “You monster. You mean…”

“Yes,” Tashriel whispered. “She’s got the Curse now. In a few days the change will begin. The madness will strike. And even before that…she will be no threat to Viedraverion.

“Because if she so much as
tries
to summon the holy power of Myrionar, it will burn her to ashes.”

Chapter 24

Kyri found her hand on Flamewing’s hilt, the sword already half drawn, before she caught herself. The horrific thought echoed through her, a sentence of death and failure.
Not summon Myrionar’s power? Be
barred
from Myrionar? No!

“That fast?” Xavier asked, unbelieving. “C’mon, she’s gotta have
some
time!”

“The Curse is already on her,” Tashriel said, the same horror in his voice, and a part of her understood that he
knew
what she felt. “Perhaps she has…a few minutes? A few hours? But no more than a day or two.”

She concentrated, called on the power, intending to heal the scratches on Poplock from Tashriel’s sandblasting assault.

Gold-fired agony exploded along her skin, danced through her veins like molten steel. She heard her own anguished scream and dropped to her knees. “I…think I have…no time at all.”

Tobimar whirled on Tashriel, and it took Xavier, Nike, and Aurora to restrain him. “If we’re going to kill him, fine,” Nike said, “but not like that. We will do this with justice and judgment, not impulse and hatred. Right?”

“Right,” Kyri said, and despite the pain which was slowly ebbing she felt a warm gratitude towards Nike.
I swore to Myrionar that it would be Mercy and Justice before Vengeance, and that is more important for me than for anyone else, because I am the one who will be judged.

The pain had, strangely, cleared her head, and in its aftermath she felt less anger, more sympathy for the damned boy-demon in front of her. Her instincts told her that Tashriel
was
telling the truth now; it fit with what she knew of many demonic tales, and the way in which she had been told vampires of his sort worked.

But Tashriel was speaking again. “And you—you five—don’t have time, either.”

“Why not? We could at least take a few—”

“Then you have to kill me
now
,” Tashriel said, and a blood-tinted tear ran down his face. “I will have to go back to Balinshar, and if he learns what I know of you, the Black City will be prepared—
Kerlamion
will be prepared, for Balinshar will surely tell him the truth, to ingratiate himself with Father and undermine Viedra.”

Kyri heard multiple curses, and knew one of them was hers. As Rion, Tashriel had been present throughout their discussions; he knew the goal of the five from Earth and much about their abilities.

“Maybe we could lock him up, at least for a while,” Tobimar said slowly, sheathing his swords.


Where
?” Poplock demanded. “If we were in Zarathanton, okay, sure, put him in the Star Cell where they locked those guys up, that’d probably hold him, but there
isn’t
a place in Evanwyl that could do the trick. Didn’t you
watch
this guy? If he hadn’t been holding back, we could’ve all gotten bad hurt before we took him down.”

“The Temple of Myrionar,” Kyri said. “Maybe they could—”

Tashriel shook his head. “Arbiter Kelsley is a good man, and honest, but you know as well as I that Myrionar is
very
weak now. Weaker now than mere months agone, despite the works you have done—because Viedra’s plan has taken all this into account, to weaken that faith beyond any easy point of return. All of the god’s power is bound within or tied directly to you, outside of the simplest powers of the priests. I do not think he could create a sealed prison strong enough to hold me.”

“Do you f—fricking
want
us to kill you?” Xavier said in outraged tones. “Because you’re like really trying hard to make it happen!”

“I’m trying to keep you
safe
! I…he let me stay with you too long, with
her
too long! Don’t let me be a weapon against you! I DON’T WANT YOU TO DIE!” Tashriel shouted.

Silence fell in the wake of that agonized declaration, and Kyri saw the bleak choices lying before them.
But only one of them allows mercy or justice
.

“Stand up, Tashriel,” she said quietly.

He rose, slowly, eyes fixed on hers. She could read his readiness for the end in the way he kept his mouth clamped shut, tension in the jaw and down the neck clear in the lines of muscle and tendon.

She reached up, let Flamewing rise from its sheath, a foot, two feet—

—and let it drop back with a ringing chime. “Go.”

The sight of that jaw dropping, the eyes practically popping from Tashriel’s head in Toadlike fashion—an expression echoed by all the others—would have made her laugh under other circumstances; as it was, she managed a smile. “You are someone’s tool and weapon, and perhaps in cold, hard policy I
should
kill you. But you were a companion, and I think—from your words, your voice, and your willingness to pass on—that you mean what you say, and thus in
your
heart you are no enemy.

“Were we still in the heat of battle, yes, I might well strike your head from your shoulders; but I will not kill you in cold blood.”

“Kyri—”

She looked at Tobimar calmly. “Would you kill him as he stands?”

She saw the lean, dark face go grim; the hands grasped the twin swords. But the swords stayed in their sheaths, and with a curse Tobimar let his hands drop. “No.”

“No more will any of us,” Toshi said. “Which leaves you, Poplock. If any of us could do it, I think you could.”

The little Toad drew his blade Steelthorn and bounced to Tashriel’s shoulder. Despite the nearness of the glittering steel, enchanted—Kyri knew—by the spirit mage Konstantin Khoros himself—Tashriel did not move so much as a hair.

“You would
let
me do this, wouldn’t you?” Poplock said after a moment. “Just run you through the throat and chop the head off.”

“Yes.”

“Well
mudbubbles.
I can’t do it either.”

“Then we
do
have to leave now,” Toshi said grimly. “Can you at least…dawdle on your return?”

Tashriel gave a weak but definite smile. “I promise to drag my feet as much as my compulsion allows. And I have more advice for you.”

He turned to Xavier. “Xavier, you are the greatest weapon your group has for this. Not because of your stealth, though I’m not ever going to discount that, but because…well, of
who
you are.”

“Who I am?”

“I can’t say—not for absolutely sure—if it was your father, or your grandfather, or, at most, one of your great-grandfathers, but one of them was—
had
to be—the being that the demons fear above all others. You—and to my surprise Kyri!—have his eyes, but you have more; you have his face, his build.”


Whose
face?”

“Torline Valanhavhi, the Eternal King of Atlantaea,” Tashriel said. “I met him, once, long ago, when I was living, a child younger than any of you.” Tashriel gestured.

The figure of a man appeared, tall, slender, dark-skinned. Kyri stared; except for the appearance of greater age—the man seemed to be about thirty-five—it was like seeing Xavier in a mirror, even to the gray eyes. Before him, the figure held two silvered-green blades identical to those which Xavier carried.

“And you wield blades like his. By your appearance, by your image alone, you will frighten and dismay any demon—up to, and including, the King of All Hells himself. So I say to you that you should remain hidden, even more than your friends. Show yourself only at the end, when you will need
all
advantages, and your adversary is the worst of all.”

Poplock had straightened. “You know…he’s right.”

“What?” said Tobimar. “What do you mean?”

“Remember when we got ambushed by those demons, with Xavier? That Lady Misuuma?”

“Yes…?”

“Well, if you remember, she actually bailed on the whole battle right in the middle. I was chasing after her and I heard her saying…” The toad’s face wrinkled as he thought, “um…‘Those blades and eyes…it is worse than she believes. If this new ally is truly what we think—
c’arich!
We must retreat.’”

“She seemed to have a thing about eyes—she was looking at
mine
before—”

Poplock waved that away. “Yeah, we know, but that got cleared up once we saw that you had
Terian
’s blood in you. Terian’s eyes are the same color, a pretty weird color for people from your part of the world, so that’s what she was looking for. But then they got a good look at
Xavier
, and what’d she do? Flipped right out of her pond, that’s what she did, and tried to run out on her own allies—when
she’d
set the trap to catch Tobimar.”

“You’re right,” Tobimar said slowly. “Just the sight of Xavier’s eyes and swords were enough to convince her to abort her own mission so she could carry the news back…”

“Except I punched her ticket
canceled
,” Xavier said. “And thinking back, there were a couple demons I fought in my own quest that sure looked kinda panicked when I drew the swords and they got a good look at me. Makes sense.” He looked over to Tashriel. “Okay, thanks. We’ll remember that. But before we go, I’ve got some advice for you.”

Tashriel bowed his head. “I will listen.”

“You don’t want to work for these guys. You’ve tried to help us. But then you say you can’t fight ’em. I dunno, maybe you’re right. But you know what?”

When Xavier didn’t continue, Tashriel raised his head, met the Earth boy’s challenging gaze. “No, what?”

“I think that’s
bullcrap
.”

“But I
am
controlled by the Curse! I am bound to the—”

“Bullcrap!” Xavier repeated. “You’ve got your own mind now, right? You’re not formally with one or the other now, right? Okay, maybe it’s not gonna be
easy
, but you’ve stayed here to tell us all stuff I
know
your bosses didn’t want you to say, and you know what? You did that because you
fought
to tell us.

“I think you’ve been so convinced by those bastards that you
can’t
fight that you’re fighting
yourself
hard enough to keep you imprisoned. My
sensei
told me that there isn’t any enchantment that can hold someone forever, if the enchantment isn’t binding the person’s
will
, their mind. If they can
fight
it, they can
break
it. ‘The waves and wind can wear down a mountain, Xavier, and so it is with any binding, any enchantment; with enough time, none can withstand constant work, constant pressure, constant determination. All that is needed is the will to
do
it.’ That’s what he said.”

She saw ages of conviction warring with a spark of hope. “But…”

“Yeah,
but
. But you have to find that will. You have to decide to
do it
, even if that’s maybe going to get you killed. But hey, you were willing to die right here. You’ll have to make a choice: is your own
freedom
worth dying for, even right after you get it?”

Tashriel stared at him for a long moment, then bowed deeply. “I…don’t know. I don’t know if I
can
believe in what you say. If you’re right…I’ve lived as a slave because I bound myself there, as much as they bound me.”

Kyri remembered the ancient, ancient tale of the Fall of the Saurans, and the tragedy and redemption of the Hell-Dragon, and its title. “Chains of the mind, Tashriel. Remember the lesson Syrcal learned.”

The white-haired youth nodded, face still conflicted. “I…will think on this.” A smile. “While I drag my feet.”

“Still…we’d better stop dragging ours.” Gabriel looked at her gravely. “But Lady Kyri, how—?”

“I don’t know. Perhaps the Temple of Myrionar will have an answer there. But I know there
is
an answer, for I have kept faith with Myrionar, and It told me that always there is a way for me, if only I believe.

“And I still believe.”

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