Souldancer (Soul Cycle Book 2) (36 page)

Astlin stared across the rosy wasteland. A tall ridge filled the distant horizon, though distance was deceptive in the ether. Apprehension weighed on her heart with no clear reason—not surprising, since Xander’s death had set her adrift like a ship with no anchor.

Sulaiman, who’d gone to scout ahead, returned across the barren expanse with the impossible speed of a monster in a dream. Th’ix stood beside him, cradling his metal head.

“A city lies athwart our way,” said Sulaiman.

“So?” Tefler aimed a sluggish kick at the sand, but his foot passed harmlessly through it.

Astlin rubbed her eyes.
In the ether, you only stay on the ground by choice.

“A warp in the ether fills the plain above for many miles,” said Th’ix.

“Can’t we just go around it?” asked Astlin.

Th’ix shook his cowled head, and the one he carried said, “Guild regulations declare the perimeter of an ethereal event unnavigable due to dimensional instability.”

Astlin traced a circle in the ether. “Can’t we go
far
around it?”

“Unable to measure the extent of the disturbance,” the Regulator said. “Mithgar travel ordinances dictate rerouting ether traffic to the Middle Stratum.”

“We ascend to the plain,” said Sulaiman, “and leave the ether at the city’s edge.”

“That’s a bad idea,” said Astlin.

“Why let a little detour upset you?” asked Tefler.

“Because I know that city. It’s Ostrith.”

“Are you sure?” asked Cook.

“We’re walking on a dry sea bed.” Astlin pointed to the towering slope. “That’s the old coastline. Ostrith was a major port.”

“There were a lot of seaports on Mithgar,” said Tefler.

Astlin’s tone was caustic. “A lot of ports where a Guild house exploded?”

“She speaks rightly,” said Sulaiman. “I saw Ostrith’s fall from afar.”

Tefler rolled his unnerving eyes. “So what if it’s Ostrith? Going through town is still the fastest way to the tree.”

“Didn’t you want to leave there for good?”

“Same goal,” said Tefler. “New plan. I need a ship, and the tree’s the only place to get one. Besides, Sulaiman’s got the right idea.”

“He wants to kill your gods.”

“Exactly.”

“But you’re a priest,” Astlin protested.

“The gods left me to rot. If Sulaiman has a way to kill both of them, I’m in.”

Despair bowed Astlin’s head. “The Guild destroyed God and the world. Now there’s a new world and new gods—all worse than before.”

Cook laid a strong hand on her shoulder. “It’s not the world. It’s us. We’re each part of a bigger whole. Everyone knows it deep down, and the harder we fight it, the more we suffer. The universe is dying of loneliness.”

“I believe that,” Astlin said softly.

Zan turned to her and seemed about to speak, but said nothing.

“We of flesh and blood grow weary,” said Sulaiman. “Safer to rest in a dead city than beside an ethereal tempest.”

Astlin considered Sulaiman’s words. They’d reached Ostrith in only two days, but for humans, marching in the ether was no less tiring than in the Middle Stratum.

“I know it’s hard for you,” said Cook, “but every hour we lose is Thurif’s gain.”

Astlin sighed with an effort. “Let’s get this over with.”

“Cheer up,” said Tefler. “The sooner we get a ship, the sooner you go home.”

Xander recalled flying through rose-colored haze toward the black pyramid. He remembered how his fear had become longing as he’d neared the monolith; how he’d seen his life cord cleaving through myriad multicolored planes in its obsidian face.

He’d almost passed inside when he saw a distant black shape hanging in the ether beyond the pyramid. Though the memory was fading, an image of the massive eight-sided shape remained; along with the impression of a tributary silver thread running from it to join his own cord in the Nexus.

Or rather, the
first
Nexus,
he thought. For the black diamond was surely a nexus as well.

A fiery cord joined Xander’s silver filaments in a circuit that bridged both nexuses. He remembered that Astlin waited at the end of the orange-red line.

The vision dwindled to incoherence as Xander emerged from half-sleep. He let the dream fade. Something was wrong.

Xander lay on a hard wooden floor that smelled of old smoke. But there was another scent—a familiar floral spice. Heat raged inside him, more intense than any fever. His body felt heavy as he sat up and looked around.

I was badly wounded. Have I taken ill?

He was alone in the darkened room, but a ghostly manlike shape lurked off to his right, somehow making itself seen through the wall.

Xander stood. The floorboards creaked loudly enough to rouse the dead, but another sound caught his attention—a familiar jingle of metal against metal. He looked down. The body that shone against the darkness wasn’t his.

I am looking at Astlin,
he thought, barely keeping his balance against a wave of vertigo. It took him a moment to reconcile the sight with his vantage point.

I
am
Astlin!

Xander opened Astlin’s mouth to scream, but only heat and strangled rasping came out. The realization that he wasn’t breathing sparked a fit of panic and more stifled screams—until the lack of aching lungs and lightheadedness reminded him that souldancers didn’t need air.

Where am I?
Xander moved Astlin from the room with the awkwardness of a drunken puppeteer. His first look outside made him regret the question.

He stood in a decrepit hallway. A door yawned opposite him, framing a half-collapsed room. Moonlight poured through a missing wall. Beyond lay a wasteland scoured to its grey bones. The smooth hardpan stretched for miles, pocked with square pits. Colorless lights danced in the sky. In the far distance a forest of black spires skirted the waste.

A visceral urge to flee gripped Xander. He’d run halfway to the end of the hall when the glowing figure he’d glimpsed before stepped from an adjacent room and into his path.

“People are trying to sleep!” Tefler hissed.

Guilt briefly overcame Xander’s worry. He’d forgotten how loud Astlin’s footsteps were. His attempted apology died on her lips.

Tefler cocked his head. The shifting colors were gone from his eyes. “Are you okay?”

Xander nodded Astlin’s head.
Thank God he can see in the dark.

“Look,” said Tefler. “You put a brave face on it, but I know Xander’s death hit you hard. I’m here if you want to talk.”

My death!?

“You sure you’re alright? Being back in Ostrith isn’t getting to you?”

Astlin’s hands rose in a placating gesture.

“I’m going back to bed. Don’t relapse and kill us in our sleep.” He returned to his room, and Xander did likewise.

Tefler’s questioning forced Xander to collect his wits. His concern for himself waned while his fear for Astlin grew.

Serieigna,
he thought, trying to project his silent call inward.
Where are you?

No answer came, at least none that Xander could hear.

I am alive,
he thought again.
If you can hear me, please answer.

Something stirred in a place he would’ve called the back of his mind, except it felt both closer and more detached. Soon he recognized another consciousness. It woke to a shock that almost drove Astlin’s body to the floor.

I’ve gone mad again!
her frantic thoughts cried.

You are not mad,
Xander assured her.
I’m here with you.

“Xander?” Astlin whispered. But then she thought,
No. Just the Fire using his voice.

I will show you something you’ve never seen,
Xander promised,
that your mind could never conceive alone
. He recalled his flight to the Nexus, impressing the spectacle of color and dimension on her mind.

Astlin was silent for a long moment afterward, but Xander felt the hope that kindled in her heart.

“It’s you,” she said. “I don’t know how, but it is.”

Neither do I, but yes.

Astlin sank to her knees, hugging herself tightly. “How doesn’t matter. I needed you, and you came.”

Like a cloud in a desert sky.

She dropped her guard, and Xander sensed the spiritual fatigue that she’d labored under for days, along with grief that ached like a healing wound. Strongest of all, he felt her profound joy at his return; however strange it was.

He returned her mental embrace but said,
I do seem to have possessed your body.

“It’s okay. I trust you.”

No, listen. Nesshin lore speaks of the kost—a wicked soul that takes other bodies to cheat death. If I truly died, you may be in danger.

“I’m the soul-stealing monster,” said Astlin, “not you.”

Xander brushed her self-condemnation aside.
The others will not understand. We shouldn’t tell them until we know more.

“That’s probably smart,” Astlin said as she lay back down.

What has happened since…
Xander hesitated.
Since the vault?
Why are we in Ostrith?

In an instant, Astlin informed him of Damus’ sacrifice, Smith’s defection to Thurif, and the plan to confront them at the
Irminsul
.

You were right about Damus,
Xander said with relief and regret.
And you are right to pursue Thurif. Now get some rest. You’ll need it.

“I’m just glad you’re here.”

Peace, Serieigna,
Xander said as sleep overtook her.

Gid and his crew stood on the dock in the shade of giant leaves. Those who had them wore Mithgar Navy dress uniforms. A few old Shipwrights even sported robes. Despite his status as
Serapis
foreman, Gid wore a dress shirt and slacks. No amount of pageantry could compensate for losing a day’s work.

The foreman glanced at the dockside crowd. His shipwrights weren’t the only ones who’d assembled along the main walkway in the green-tinted light of early morning. Besides the expected greycloaks and Cadrisians, it seemed like the ship’s whole crew and their families were in attendance.

All of this for one man.

The greycloaks stood at attention as if they expected Shaiel himself to step off the newly arrived nexus-runner. Gid frankly wouldn’t care if he did. The priests threw their weight around more than they actually helped. Maybe their self-styled god could whip them into shape.

A murmur swept through the crowd as the boarding ramp descended. An awed hush followed when the man they called Shaiel’s Will emerged. His golden robes and elaborate headdress put everyone else’s preening to shame, but Gid found his impassive mask disturbing. Perhaps it had something to do with the large ruby that glared from the porcelain brow like a third eye.

The foreman returned his focus to the facts. Whoever this Will person was, Cadrys certainly thought him important. A company of hard-faced greycloaks from the Lawbringers’ premier chapter served as his honor guard. Even more telling, Hazeroth trailed the procession, a leather strip binding his eyes.

The Mithgar chapter—what remained of it—presented themselves to the Will in a more or less straight formation.

Gid felt the temperature drop. His glasses fogged up, and he rubbed them on his shirt.

“Are these eight only come to attend me?” asked the Will.

One of the Mithgar greycloaks answered. “The whole chapter is here, my lord.”

“Why so few where once there were many?”

Something was off about the Will’s voice, besides the way the mask muffled it.

The Lawbringer spokesman—a thin saniyan with scruffy hair, licked his pale lips. “We’ve had some losses recently.”

“Shaiel called you not to war,” the masked man said. “Why suffered you such loss?”

“I swear, my lord. Everything was fine until the Steersman came a few days ago.”

“A Steersman?”

“Yes,” the greycloak said. “A deformed fellow in black robes looking for a lost Guild vault. Prince Hazeroth sent us to help him; then left to hunt down some thieves who’d stolen a Gen ship.”

The Will glanced over his shoulder. “Shaiel’s Blade forsook his post.”

Gid thought he saw Hazeroth flinch.

The greycloak went on. “He took some of us with him, but they never came back. After that the Steersman took charge. He’s dangerous, my lord—has strange Workings that mold flesh.”

“Whither went you then?”

“We found the vault and sent in the souldancers. I don’t know why, but the Steersman insisted they go. Then Tefler—you don’t know him my lord; he’s just a bhakta, but he’s good at making trouble—joined with the cook and a Nesshin boy to kill the Steersman. They almost brought down the ship.

“We were trying to figure out what to do next when the ground team called and said that Hazeroth was killing everything that moved. We lost contact, so we decided to salvage what we could and retreat.”

A gesture from the Will brought the Cadrys Lawbringers forward. “Blood alone repays betrayal.”

“Please, my lord!” the thin greycloak said. “We just want to serve. Give us another chance!”

“I grant your plea,” said the Will. “Living or dead, the Lord of the Void makes all to serve him.”