Souldancer (Soul Cycle Book 2) (30 page)

Astlin glared at him. “Why did you take my armor?”

“To bathe you. We used elemental fire; not water, but the principle’s the same.”

“Why did you do that?”

Tefler raised his hands and his voice. “So we could heal your stomach wound and reattach your hand! You’re welcome.”

The souldancer examined her hand, flexing the finely articulated fingers.

“Fire did this?”

“Your body’s Worked to convert elemental fire into transessed brass. Makes sense from a design standpoint.”

“It turns fire to metal?”

“Not really. The transessists didn’t replace your body with brass. They infused you with most of brass’ properties, including its fire affinity.”

“I knew the Fire could heal cuts.” Astlin looked from her hand to her midsection. No trace of her wound remained. “I’ve just never been hurt that bad before.”

Tefler’s expression soured. “I wish I had a guilder for every time I’ve heard that since Hazeroth showed up.”

“I’m surprised he left me alive.”

“Some guy with a flaming sword ran him off. It was still a close call. You bled enough to make another you.”

“I can bleed to death?” The idea brought Astlin terror and comfort.

“You’re a cloud of elemental fire inside a brass shell. The inner surface is liquid. Lose enough, and the shell could collapse. You do not want that to happen. So again, you’re welcome.”

A smile bent the corner of Astlin’s mouth. “Thanks for your help, but did you have to leave me naked?”

“Any other clothes would’ve burst into flames.” Tefler’s bundle chimed as he unfurled it. “Took me a while, but I fixed your salamander leathers.”

Astlin eyed the patchwork of tanned hides and metal skeptically. “Are you sure?”

“I did my best,” Tefler pouted. “It’s hard to follow genius.”

“I’d have said
madness
.”

“Same thing. Whoever made it used the best parts from a dozen different hides.”

“Just give it back.”

“You’ll need my help. Peeling it off was a pain. Getting you back in it is gonna be worse.” He reached for Astlin’s foot.

Astlin drew her legs in. “Careful!”

“It’s okay,” said Tefler. “I had to touch you to get the armor off.”

Astlin looked at the greycloaks reclining behind the tinted screens. “It’s something they’re doing, isn’t it?”

“Partly. They’re pumping just enough Void in here to keep you from burning the cell.”

“Then how can you touch me?”

“I don’t burn. Or I haven’t found a temperature high enough.” As proof he poked Astlin’s knee. His finger came away unharmed.

Astlin stared at Tefler, wondering what to make of him. He was clever, but his humor hid something disturbing.

Her need for human contact silenced her doubts. Touching her bare fingers to his was like a first morsel after a famine.

“Have you always been like that?” was all she could think to ask.

“As far as I know.” Tefler pulled pebbly leather over Astlin’s foot. “Might’ve been the Cataclysm. Guess I got a better deal than Cook.”

“How is he?”

“It looked pretty bad when they brought us aboard, but he’s stable.”

“That’s good,” said Astlin, but fear eclipsed her relief. “Where’s Xander?”

Tefler stopped fitting the boot. At length he said, “Thurif’s got him under guard.”

Astlin tried to rise, but Tefler grabbed her shoulders.

“Xander’s alright. That won’t last if we cross Thurif.”

Astlin grudgingly resumed her place on the table. “We’re his prisoners. I can’t believe this happened again.”

“Hazeroth did most of Thurif’s work for him. I wouldn’t leave a pirate unsupervised on my ship, but here we are.”

“That explains how he caught us; not how he took the ship alone.”

Tefler glanced from side to side. “He had help, but the crew didn’t put up much of a fight. They need someone to follow. Thurif convinced them he’s a better choice than Hazeroth.”

“What about the greycloaks? And the Night Gen?”

“I was a greycloak. Putting Hazeroth in charge was enough to make me doubt Shaiel. The others took more convincing.”

Astlin looked closer at the Lawbringers. A chill ran down her back when she saw that their folded hands were fused together. The little she could see of their swollen faces made her glad for their cowls. Delving into their minds yielded only the imperative to maintain the ward.

“What did he do to them?” she thought aloud.

“Burned the thought pattern for manifesting Void into their brains and scrubbed everything else. Now they’re much less annoying.”

Astlin brooded on the difficulty of doing telepathically what Thurif had done physically. If the warped priests were any indication, he might be even more dangerous than her.

The boot finally slid into place. “Help me with the other one,” said Tefler.

Xander studied the two Night Gen flanking the bridge door. Their twisted empty expressions haunted his every step aboard the
Exarch
. Their mere presence left him powerless.

The bridge was an evenly lit box resembling a Guild house interior in miniature. The crew stations were similar to gate consoles, and Astlin’s memories gave Xander an inkling of their operation. The Wheel lay atop a raised platform at the room’s center.

Thurif stood in the sunken area below the Wheel, conversing with blue-uniformed navigators. The officers deferred to him as though conditioned to submit regardless of their leader’s legitimacy.

What kind of society is Shaiel building?

Thurif dismissed the navigators and turned to address the bridge. “Our moment has come. Holy fire overthrew the Guild, but the survivors beg new gods for old chains. We, the outcasts, must break their bonds and cast down all barriers.”

Xander tried to meet the traitor’s eye but couldn’t decide which one to focus on.

“The vault lies below us,” Thurif continued.

A view of the land below filled the front wall. The center of the image grew, making Xander feel as though he were falling into it. At last the picture held steady, framing the sinuous line of a desert canyon.

Thurif motioned toward the image. “I will dispatch a landing party including Lawbringers and Night Gen. These will escort the four souldancers.”

He plans to take Astlin!
Xander advanced as far as he dared. “What about me?”

“You will remain here,” Thurif said, “to motivate Miss Tremore.”

“That is desert terrain. You’ll need a guide.”

“I think I can manage a brief jaunt like that,” Damus said from the doorway.

Xander wheeled on him. “I pity your men. Their guide is a turncoat.”

“This doesn’t reflect on your abilities,” Damus said. “No need to take it personally.”

The Light Gen’s blue eyes widened when Xander grabbed him by the lapels of his tan jacket and pinned him against the wall.

“Do not think that I need my gift to kill you,” Xander said. “You deserve it for repaying my trust with deceit!”

Xander heard muted whispers. The sound soon emanated from all around him, as did a bone-chilling cold. Two faceless greycloaks entered, their half-drawn blades shedding indigo light.

Thurif jabbed a spidery finger downward. “I advise releasing Ambassador Greystone, Master Sykes. Even your gift is no hindrance to shades.”

Xander looked to the floor, where jet black shadows pooled at his feet. The cold became unbearable, and he dropped Damus before his hands went numb. The chill only left him when the greycloaks sheathed their swords.

Damus straightened his jacket. His expression held more surprise than anger.

“Gather your men and depart at once,” Thurif told the Light Gen. “I expect news of our success by nightfall.”

Astlin watched the
Exarch
unload men and supplies on invisible platforms of solid air. Following the air lift’s path from the canyon floor to the ship high above made her dizzy, and she turned her attention to the expedition gathered nearby.

Cadrisians in dark blue uniforms milled about, checking inventories and setting up equipment. Four grecloaks looked on—if their ruined faces were capable of sight.

Zan approached from the drop site. “I’m glad they fixed you.”

“Me too,” said Astlin. “How are you holding up?”

The air souldancer studied the ground a moment. “I wasn’t punished.” Glancing over his shoulder he said, “Not like Irallel.”

Astlin followed Zan’s line of sight to a large block of ice resting on the sand. Though partially obscured by a harsh golden glow, a feminine form could be seen at the center. A ring of faceless greycloaks surrounded the block, their arms raised as if cheering.

Zan anticipated Astlin’s question. “She challenged Hazeroth.”

Astlin winced. Having felt the demon’s wrath, she wouldn’t wish it on anyone. Still, keeping the water souldancer confined was probably smart.

Why is she even here?

A childlike figure walked by, carrying large metal boxes in one stone arm. The boy’s oddly shaped face brightened whenever the Cadrisian workers praised him.

“Zan,” Astlin said, “how many of us are here?”

Zan counted on four silver fingers. “The gold lady, Irallel, Megido, and me.”

Unease gnawed at Astlin’s mind. Thurif knew that gathering four souldancers was a recipe for chaos. Yet he’d lied, stolen, and killed to do just that.

Knowing how little Thurif valued others’ lives, and that Xander was his hostage, turned Astlin’s unease to dread.

Damus stepped from the air lift, diverting Astlin’s train of thought. He beamed as he strode toward her. “Good to see you up and about.”

“You’re glad to see me?”

“The stakes are bigger than both of us,” said Damus. “This is a time for charting new frontiers; not nursing old grudges.”

“How about showing your goodwill by freeing Xander?”

“Not my decision. But I’m prepared to forget our differences if you’ll work with me.”

Astlin locked eyes with him. “What exactly are we working on?”

Damus swept his arm between the steep canyon walls. His silver hair whipped about his shoulders.

“We are now standing in what was once an ocean trench.” He pointed to where the canyon narrowed. “Ahead lies a vault holding the Guild’s greatest relic—one they hoped lost forever. Luckily for us, they didn’t count on the Cataclysm.”

Astlin cringed at the vault’s familiar description. “It’s a souldancer.”

Damus affected a placating stance. “I’m not privy to all of Thurif’s plans.”

His anxious tone begged her to search his mind.

The
Kerioth’s
nexic ward, and her preoccupation with Xander, had previously kept Astlin from reading past Damus’ surface thoughts. What she saw now left her saddened and enraged, but most of all, shaken.

She stared at Damus like he was a drifter crash. “You hid on the
Kerioth
. You called Thurif and translated to the
Exarch
before they brought us down.”

Damus gaped for a moment before his expression soured. “I acted out of necessity. You of all people have no right to condemn me—if you’re a person at all!”

Astlin barely heard Damus’ rebuke. The image that burst into his mind filled her with pity. “You’re disappointed I wasn’t her,” she said softly. “You’re right to be.”

Damus stepped back. The wrath in his eyes became terror. “Shut your wretched mouth.”

Astlin took a step forward. “I want to help—even if she’s not here.”

The Gen turned his back on her and stormed off toward the drop site. “Finish unloading,” he barked at the crew. “We leave for the vault in five minutes.”

Xander stared at the image projected on the bridge’s front wall. It showed the
Exarch
landing party filing from their drop site to a location farther down the canyon floor. He may have glimpsed blood red hair flashing in the sun, but the distance was too great to be sure.

She is down there somewhere, forced to serve a butcher and a tyrant.

Xander didn’t know whether he meant Thurif, Hazeroth, or both. What did it matter? One was a demon who had slaughtered his clan. The other was a traitor who held him and his friends hostage. Both sought the contents of the Guild’s vault.

“Why so glum, Master Sykes?” Thurif asked from the head of the room. The three Cadrisian officers attending him chuckled.