The Lessons Never Learned, page 37
Imiko kept me amused with wry observations, the occasional whispered insult, and even a few faces pulled at the ringlet that rode on her shoulder. Her fear had mostly drained away, at least her fear of me had. I wished she hadn't come. It was her loyalty to me and her desire to be useful that had made her follow, but she was in danger here, and out of her depth. More than that, it was a pointless danger. Imiko could scrap with the best of them, I still remembered the beating I suffered during our first meeting, but she was no warrior. She had no magic of her own and shied away from fights. I couldn't shake the feeling that in coming with me, I was going to get her killed. The idea of seeing my little sister as a ghost terrified me. She hated ghosts.
By the time we emerged from the depths of Do'shan, the sun was well into waning. The last brilliant red light of the day was shining over the western horizon, making the city appear menacing. A family of Ferals hissed at us as we emerged from a trap door in what I could only imagine was their home. Silva growled some words at them, at least I think they were words, and the creatures backed away as we hurried outside. Perhaps Tamura's sense of direction was even better than I ever imagined, or perhaps the Djinn truly had been altering our path, but we emerged at the foot of the giant black sphere that dominated the centre of the city. And Hardt, Ishtar, and Horralain were there waiting for us.
I should probably be glad Hardt didn't finish the job the Ferals had started with the embrace he gave me; it certainly felt strong enough to crack bones. Rather than showing anger at my running off and leaving them behind, there was nothing but relief on his face as he enfolded me in a crushing hug. I'd be lying if I said I didn't let out a squeak of pure alarm, but I was grateful for it all the same. It is reassuring to know that the big Terrelan will always be there for me no matter what I've been through, or what I have done. When he pulled away from me, Hardt looked down into my eyes and I saw his face drop. The smile replaced by something like pity.
"What did you do, Eska? By Lursa, what have you made yourself into?"
He must have seen it in my eyes. Recognised the pain mirrored in them. We were both guilty of atrocities, of losing ourselves in the battle. Of killing without regard. We were both stained a red that went deeper than our skin. I didn't need to answer him, and Hardt didn't need to know the specifics. He pulled me into a tight hug once more and I cried silent tears into his shoulder. In case you're wondering, you can always tell when someone is crying without sound; they shake uncontrollably from the effort of holding it in.
There are more pressing matters than indulging your self-destructive whims, Eskara. We must find a way inside the sphere.
I pulled away from Hardt and he let me go. The sphere was behind Hardt and it dominated my view. It was huge, so large it would have taken up half the great cavern down below. It seemed to be embedded in the rock around it and the city curved unnaturally when it drew close, as though the streets and buildings were being sucked slowly into the blackness. Horralain was nearby, poking through rubble as though searching for something.
"Have you tried to enter yet?" I asked.
Hardt nodded. "That thing is solid. Horralain even broke his axe trying to get in. There might be a doorway somewhere, but it will take us a while to search for it. It's not easy to traverse around it. There's… a gravity to it. A pull, a draw. Something… I don't know, but it sure feels magical."
"One hundred?" Ishtar's voice, loud and clearly directed towards me. "You really slew one hundred of these feral beasts by your own hand?" Yemin was nearby and had obviously been recounting my slaughter down below.
I shook my head sadly. "I think it was more like fifty."
It could have been a thousand if you had stopped resisting me.
"No," said Yemin. "It was closer to a hundred."
Ishtar shrugged. "Perhaps you are not such a terrible student after all. Come. Look. Look. We have a new problem." She sounded far too cheery for someone discovering problems.
The land rose up unnaturally around the sphere and it created a rise that looked down on the rest of the city. Ishtar pointed towards the southern edge and handed her viewing glass to me. I squinted through it and could just about make out figures swarming in towards the city. As I watched, a portal opened and more of the figures stepped through.
"The Terrelan army has arrived," Ishtar said, her teeth bared.
"You're sure they're Terrelans?" Hardt asked.
"No," Ishtar let out a sigh. "I am a terrible mercenary who does not know how to identify flags and uniforms."
Hardt joined us and I felt a big hand rest upon my shoulder. I felt quite reassured by that. "Never leave me alone with this woman ever again, Eska. She's insufferable."
"You were not alone," Ishtar said, baring her teeth again in that smile of hers. "You had the other big Terrelan man with you." She glanced at me, eyes twinkling. "They both seemed quite intimidated by me."
I ignored her attempts at humour. "Do you see any different uniforms down there? Gold plate, red on black." If anyone could spot them, it would be Ishtar.
"Some. Not many."
I felt Hardt's grip on my shoulder tighten. "Prena Neralis?"
I nodded, exhaustion making my shoulders slump. "Fucking bitch follows me wherever I go. How did she know we're here? How did she catch up with us?" Of all the enemies I have collected over the years, Prena Neralis is perhaps the most dogged. She would have hunted me all the way to the Other World if she could.
Betrayal. Someone here is working for the enemy. Ssserakis' insidious fear mongering sounded a little too plausible for my liking. I wondered at who it might be. Ishtar and her mercenaries were the most obvious choice, but my sword tutor had no love for the Terrelans. Horralain, maybe, though I wasn't certain he had the wit to plan a betrayal and keep it secret. My eyes slid to Silva, suspicion blooming in my mind. I shook it away. Silva would never betray me.
She already has. Her lies show her true colours.
"I have always found it quite amazing how enemies can dog my steps," Ishtar said. "They follow like jilted lovers, and much to the same purpose. So, not-so-terrible student, should we find a way inside this… thing? Or shall we prepare to meet the Terrelans head on?" If the thought of clashing with a couple of hundred Terrelan soldiers scared Ishtar at all, she did not show it. For my own part, I was more than a little worried. If Prena was down there, I knew she wouldn't be alone. Others of the Knights of Ten would be with her, and she would have Sourcerers too. It was a battle we were not ready for, especially still reeling from our losses as we were.
"I came here to fight a Djinn, not the Terrelans," I said, trying my best to sound as confident as I could. We had time, hours maybe before Prena and her forces reached us.
Approaching the sphere, I held out a hand. It really did have an odd gravity to it. The surface was cool to the touch, but not cold. I thought that more than a little strange given the icy temperature of the city. Smooth like polished stone, but there was no reflection within its depths. It was almost as though it drank in the light and refused to let any escape. I was just about to ask Silva and Tamura about it, when a large doorway opened in the sphere, wide enough for two of us to walk abreast and so tall even Horralain wouldn't have to duck.
One thing I have come to learn over the years, is that if someone invites an assassin into their home, the chances are they are prepared for the attempt. Unfortunately, that was a lesson I had yet to learn. I stepped through the opening before my better judgement could assert itself.
This place is strange. The rules are not quite right.
Ssserakis was certainly right about that. Outside the sphere, night had been setting in, the last rays of sun disappearing and the moons looming high and bright above. Inside the sphere, it was bright as a summer's day, yet when I looked up, I could see the black wall of the sphere all around. There was light, but no sun. The city had disappeared too. No more buildings or streets or feral pahht. I stood on a dirt road with gleaming white pillars on either side which led to a large amphitheatre built of onyx, perfectly maintained.
It appears this Djinn has a flair for the dramatic.
"Are we inside a pocket realm?" I asked.
"Yes," Silva said as she stepped through behind me. "And no. This is still part of Do'shan, it is just different from the rest of the city. Separate. Be careful, everyone, the rules may not be the same here."
"Rules?" Imiko asked. It was somewhat comforting that all my friends followed me into the sphere. Far less of a comfort when the doorway closed behind us. We were locked in.
"Up may still be up, but down may not be down." Tamura strode ahead and took the lead, wasting no time as he headed towards the amphitheatre. "Rules are what gives the world stability. They set expectation."
"So, the crazy old man is saying things may work differently here?" Ishtar asked.
"Maybe," Silva said. "The rules of our world cannot be broken, but it's possible that in here they can be bent."
"Will a sword still kill?" Ishtar asked.
"Probably."
"Then let us put an end to this, not-so-terrible student." Ishtar gave me a shove in the back, and it prompted me to follow Tamura. "The sooner you kill this Djinn of yours, the sooner we can make ready for the Terrelans snapping at our heels."
A nervous apprehension took hold of me as we made our way towards the amphitheatre. I couldn't help but remember my conflict with Vainfold. Mezula claimed it was a victory, a blow struck against the Djinn, yet I felt it was anything but. Even with Ssserakis aiding me, I hadn't bested Vainfold, I had barely escaped his clutches. It had taken everything we had, all our combined power, and all we had managed to do was distract the Djinn long enough for Ssserakis to pull us back to my body. Retreating is rarely winning; it is a defeat anyway you look at it.
I was stronger now, I knew things I didn't back then, and I had the support of my friends, but part of me knew it wouldn't be enough. The Rand and Djinn were as gods to our world. They shaped it, shaped us. Even diminished as they were, their power was still unimaginable. Silva claimed I was prophesied to kill the last of the Djinn. Mezula was betting her daughter on those odds, and even Tamura seemed confidant. I have never believed in prophecy or prediction. Chronomancers have tried for hundreds of years to use their magic to see the future, and all they have earned for their efforts is blindness to the present, their eyes withered to dust in their skulls. The shield, Madness, is said to show those who look upon it visions of the future, but those visions often contradict each other as the future is ever changing. I found it somewhat hard to believe that thousands of years ago a Rand had seen me kill the last of the Djinn, and somehow, despite everything that has happened in between, that prediction was still coming to pass.
We said little as we passed under the entrance arch of the amphitheatre. I think we were all nervous, even Ssserakis seemed restless. It is hard to explain the feeling of a horror writhing about inside your soul, as though it is a snake inside coiling and uncoiling in an attempt to find comfort. The horror's apprehension did little to soothe my own worries. The stone of the building did appear to be onyx, black but not nearly as oppressive as the sphere that surrounded us. There were streaks of white within the stone, patterns that stretched out maddeningly and looked oddly familiar yet entirely incomprehensible.
Inside the amphitheatre, there were stands all the way around a large arena in the centre. It was, in many ways, alike to the coliseum in Polasia with a sandy dirt floor unstained by blood. Of the Djinn, there was no sign, but I wagered there was nowhere else he was likely to be.
"Spread out," Ishtar said, already moving along one of the walls. "Be ready."
The others did as ordered, gripping what weapons they had tightly and trying to keep their backs to the arena wall. I was not nearly so cautious. My weapons were inside of me, my magic, and Sourceblades, and Ssserakis. I strode towards the centre of the amphitheatre, bolstered by the fact that Silva came with me. She, too, held no weapons. She, too, carried hers inside.
"It might help to know which attunements you have?" I said as we crept forwards.
Silva drew in a deep breath and let it out as a sigh. No doubt she was considering how much she should tell me.
You cannot trust her words. Lies drip from this one's lips.
"It doesn't work like that, Eska. Aspects don't have attunements and we don't suffer from rejection. I can use whichever Source I have and can hold as many as I can comfortably swallow, for as long as I need to."
I turned an incredulous stare on Silva. "You've had that kind of power all along and you didn't tell me?"
A cold wind blew through the amphitheatre and we all knew the source. Aerolis had finally come to confront us.
Chapter 46
The wind blew in from all over the amphitheatre, rushing through the arches and over stands, stirring the dirt beneath our feet and whipping coats into a flapping frenzy. It blew not in one direction, but converged on a spot in the middle of the arena, just in front of Silva and I. And as the winds rushed in, they collided, forming into a twirling vortex roughly in the shape of a terran. It was maddening to look at, distracting and impossible to focus on. Grains of sand were picked up by the blowing wind and thrown out of it constantly. Just as Jagran had taken the form of lightning, it seemed this Djinn was the wind itself.
Such a grand entrance. But for whose benefit, I wonder? This creature seeks to impress us.
"Aerolis, I presume?" I had to raise my voice to be heard over the howling of the wind.
The Djinn's head shifted. I had the distinct impression it was looking at each of us in turn, but without a face it was impossible to discern which way it was looking. When it spoke, its voice was as the howling of the wind, only it didn't need to shout, the sound reached us all with ease. "I did not expect her to send two Aspects. Which of you is supposed to die today?"
Tamura giggled and raised his hand. "Failed Aspect. My mother was Raither."
"Ah." The Djinn looked as though it nodded. "I am sorry for your loss. Raither was ever the most reasonable of the Rand. It is a shame she thought to kill herself to stop my brother."
"Aranae needed to be stopped," Tamura said, spreading his hands.
"Yes," Aerolis agreed. "His attempt to tear open the rift and allow the creature through was misguided. We would have stopped him ourselves."
"Raither would still have died."
"True." The wind shifted and I couldn't help but feel the Djinn's attention had turned my way. "So, this is the one."
Caution, Eskara. This creature is stronger than Vainfold.
Caution has never been one of my strongest traits. I took a step forward and created a Sourceblade in my right hand, a thick bladed short sword with a serrated edge. I had no idea how to go about killing the wind, but I would tear it to pieces if I could. "I have been sent to kill you, Aerolis."
The Djinn seemed to shift a little, the wind pulsing. I squinted against the madness. "Does this form confuse you, Sourcerer? Let me help you."
The wind collapsed, as though whatever had been holding it together was released and it rushed towards the ground, blowing grains of sand to all edges of the coliseum. I tensed, crouching down into a combat ready stance with my blade held out to the side.
"Eska," Silva said, her hand landing on my shoulder. Of all of us there she was the only one standing as though completely unconcerned. When I glanced at her she shook her head. "Just wait."
Where the wind form of the Djinn had blustered earlier, the ground beneath it seemed to bubble. Dirt and sand fell away as a lumps of rock rose up from the earth and slowly stood. It was not a single rock, but more like hundreds of small stones somehow glued together to form something vaguely terran shaped, but easily twice as large as even Horralain. They grated together as the Djinn moved, sand and dirt falling from the gaps between the little rocks. Its head still had no face and so there was no way to tell which direction it was looking. This time when it spoke its voice was deep and rumbling, like a distance avalanche. If I hadn't known there to be only one Djinn left in the world, I might have suspected this one to be a different creature entirely.
"Is this better? Am I easier to look upon now?"
I was no more certain my Sourceblade could cut through rock than I was it could tear apart the wind. We had fought Vainfold with icy shadows, it seemed a natural counter to the Djinn's light and fire, perhaps there was some way to counter each element a Djinn formed itself of. Again, I felt Silva's hand squeeze my shoulder and when I glanced back, she smiled at me.
"Aerolis, the Changing," Silva said. She took a step forward so she was next to me and bowed. "My mother, Mezula, the Lasting Dawn, has sent us—"
There was a sound of rocks cracking as the Djinn laughed. "Such formality from an assassin. I know why you are here, Aspect." Again, I felt the weight of its attention shift towards me. "But I wonder if your Sourcerer does."
Horralain had continued to circle around the arena wall, inching slowly with every step. His axe was gone, shattered against the sphere, but he held a vicious curved dagger in his right hand and he certainly had the strength to put it to good use. Many people would let out a roar as they begin their fatalistic charge. It sounds like foolishness and it is, but I have seen it happen many times. Perhaps they think to scare the enemy with a bloodthirsting bellow, but in reality all they do is tip their hand. Horralain was not so foolish. The big thug launched into a sprint, pushing off against the arena wall, and closed the gap between himself and the Djinn in a frighteningly short time. It was like running into a wall at full pelt. Horralain bounced off the Djinn, his eyes going blank as his consciousness failed him, his head cracking against the stone of Aerolis' form. To Horralain's credit, the knife bit home, sinking deep and scraping stone. But what can a simple knife do against a god that chooses to wrap itself in rock? Nothing. Despite the force of the charge, Horralain and his knife came off far worse. The big Terrelan stumbled backward, swaying on his feet. I've always wondered how someone can be unconscious yet remain on their feet.
