The Light of Life, Page 2

  Before Dante could close on them, the animal raised its other paw high into the air and smashed its claws down through Naran's chest. Naran collapsed in a gout of blood.

  The creature opened its jaws to crush the captain's skull. Dante hammered his blade into the side of its head, sending small cracks webbing from its eye socket. The animal whirled away.

  As it dashed past him, Dante offered a clumsy swipe at its backside. The strike wouldn't do more than annoy the creature, yet it jerked its hips away as if he were about to plunge his weapon into its heart. As it flashed past, he got his first good look at its tail. Rather than being the typical streamlined extension of the spine that you saw in rats and dogs and so forth, the tailbones of the amalgamated beast were a short jumble of delicate bones that appeared taken from the ankles, feet, and toes.

  "The tails!" Dante yelled. "Hit them in the tails!"

  He sprinted after the retreating beast. It broke into a headlong run, opening ground between itself and him. Along the shore, Blays battered at his foe, pushing it toward the water until it was obliged to turn ninety degrees and break into a gallop in an attempt to peel away from the banks.

  As soon as it pivoted, Blays flicked his sword at its backside. The nethereal blade bit into the monster's tail, sending small bones flying in all directions. The animal arched its back and tumbled into its component bones. Nether flowed away and vanished into nothing.

  "As usual," Blays said, "when all else fails, stab them in the ass."

  Up the slope, Gladdic had already reduced one of the beasts into a mangled heap that was currently dragging itself away through the crooked white pillars. The priest sent a savage blast of nether toward the remaining creature's tail, followed right after by a strike of ether. The twin forces pummeled into the animal's hindquarters and blasted the beast apart.

  Dante jogged after his opponent, giving Blays the chance to catch up. The construct stared at them with its eyeless pits, then turned around and scampered up the hillside as fast as it could.

  Dante sheathed his sword and ran back to Naran. The captain lay on his back, blood streaming from deep slashes that ran from his chest to his gut. His breathing was rapid and shallow, blood leaking from the corners of his mouth. He blinked continuously. Wary of depleting even another drop of his own trace, Dante reached for the ether. A pinprick of light appeared on his finger, then faded slowly to nothing, like a ship's lantern carried off into the night. He'd spent all of it earlier, too.

  "Naran." Blays flung himself down beside the captain, grabbing his shoulder. "You're going to be all right, do you hear me?"

  Naran rolled his eyes to take in Blays. A cold shudder ran down Dante's body. He grabbed at the nether around him, trying to force some last shreds to his command, but it slipped from his grasp like mist.

  Volo ran up beside them, teary-eyed. Gladdic walked along in her wake. The priest gazed down on the dying man as if deciding which slice of beef to toss into the pan. He braced his hand on his thigh and lowered himself to his knees. A halo of clear light coalesced around his hands. The glow stretched into beams, shaping a cage of light around Naran's body. The cage contracted around the captain's chest wound, filling the gashes with a substance like sunshine reflecting from calm water.

  The ether dimmed to a translucent, gelatinous state. The gashes grew opaque, vague hints of striation within them, then coalesced into ghostly muscle and skin. The outer layers hardened until the organs and bone beneath them were little more than murky shapes. After another moment, and his skin was unbroken beneath the long slashes cut through his jabat.

  Naran coughed, spewing blood. He inhaled with a long gasp, then bucked upright, slapping his palms on the stony ground.

  "He will live," Gladdic declared. "We should go."

  Dante and Blays pulled Naran to his feet. Gladdic walked to the canoe and settled in its rear. Volo untied its lines and produced a pair of paddles. Bracing the shaky captain's arms over their shoulders, Dante and Blays helped him totter to the canoe and climb inside. They followed him in and shoved off, Volo taking the lead, Blays paddling behind her.

  "How did you know to strike them in the tails?" Gladdic asked, his voice barely more than a monotone.

  "They were composed of several different animals," Dante said. "That shouldn't have been possible. Not unless some higher magic was holding them together. When I saw a vertebrae where it shouldn't be, that made me think of traces."

  "Traces?"

  "The deep nether left behind by death. It's housed in the spine. I figured the lich might have found some way to mix up multiple skeletons and fuse them together using their traces, but their spines looked to be from a single animal. But the tails weren't—they were all jumbled up."

  "Cunningly wrought. In seeking to destroy them, one would seek the head. The neck. Perhaps the ribcage. The tail, however, would be the last place one would think to strike."

  "Fascinating," Blays said. "Now that you've cracked this mystery, how about you two geniuses put your big brains toward getting us away from this hideous place that keeps trying to kill us?"

  Volo consulted with Gladdic regarding their current location and the closest alternative that might not be so full of the Eiden Rane's horrors. No matter how hard they paddled, the white bulge of the Wound loomed behind them, ruling over the top of the pale, ghastly trees, as if it meant to follow them to the ends of the earth.

  2

  "There's nothing on me, is there?" Blays turned in a half circle, tugging at his tunic for a better look at his back. "No spiders? Or ticks? Or spider-ticks that can build webs inside you and suck your organs dry like flies?"

  Dante eyed him. "Why would you be worried about parasites? Everything in this place is dead."

  "First of all, it's always a good time to be worried about parasites. Second, we just escaped from a guy who murdered several Andrac like they were mice in his pantry while assailing us with hundreds of not-zombies. Then he capped off the day by harrying us with skeletal monsters whose existence you thought to be impossible until the moment they started clawing you to bits. Forgive me for being concerned the lich might have planted something smaller on us."

  "There are no vermin on you."

  "I'm more worried about there being vermin in me. You use nasty things to spy on people all the time. You think that bastard can't do the same?"

  Suddenly alarmed, Dante tucked into the nether, running a quick check of the shadows within Blays to confirm he wasn't harboring anything alien. When nothing showed up in Blays, Dante made a quick pass of the others and their surroundings on the small island where they'd finally tucked in after hours of paddling through the swamp.

  "I don't see anything." Dante raised an eyebrow at Gladdic. "Do you?"

  The priest shook his head. "Nothing."

  "Then we're free of him," Blays said. "So that means I'm safe to shout, as loudly as I can, why are we still traveling with someone who tried to slaughter the entire Collen Basin?"

  His words hung and died in the still, damp air.

  Stiff and sore from the day's exertions, Dante seated himself on a white rock. "You just saw why."

  "Because something strange and disturbing just came out of nowhere to muck up our plans? What else is new?"

  "We've never seen anything like this before. We can't throw away our resources just because we don't like how they smell."

  "'Resources'? Is that your new word for 'bloodthirsty maniac'? Have you forgotten the cave in Collen? The one we found after we drove him out of the city?"

  "I never will," Dante said softly. "But we're the ones who stopped him and the Drakebane from destroying the White Lich. I'm afraid that if we don't learn what this thing is and what it intends to do, what we saw in the cavern will be seen all across this land."

  Blays stared at him, then spread his arms at Naran. "Surely you don't think this is a good idea."

  Naran seated himself on the ground. His face, normally a glowingly sun-burnished brown, was still ashe
n from the encounter with the lich's scouts. "I hate him like I hate hell. But I wouldn't be poised to offer you an opinion if he hadn't healed me this very day."

  "Right. So one life saved, a few tens of thousands to go."

  Dante ran his hands through his tangled hair. "The rulers of Tanar Atain were so terrified of this thing that the Drakebane's family spent decades organizing a takeover of Mallon in case they had to run from it. Volo, your friends in the Righteous Monsoon meant to use the White Lich to overthrow the Drakebane. Did they understand exactly what they were unleashing?"

  The girl darted a look at him, her dark Tanarian eyes haunted and burning, then stared out into the swamp. "They told us the Eiden Rane was the only thing that had ever beaten the Knights of Odo Sein. That he'd protect us with one hand and smash the Drakebane with the other. But some of the others, those who came from the outer swamps, they said the Eiden Rane was a monster. That he'd devour us, too. We laughed at them. But we were wrong."

  Blays scoffed. "How do you know that? Because he was trying to kill us? Did you forget the part where Gladdic and his pals had been trying to murder the lich with Star-Eaters? Maybe he was pissed off and mistook us for his enemies."

  "No," Gladdic said. "He will take this land. He will kill those who live here—or turn them into the Blighted, the half-mad people who hide in the water. And once the swamps are his, he will devour one land after another. Just as he attempted to do an age ago. That is what we were fighting to stop."

  "And congratulations on the bang-up job. Even if you're telling the truth, and for once in your miserable life you're trying to do the right thing, do you really think that undoes everything else you've done?"

  "Do you believe I followed the Drakebane into battle at the Wound because I sought redemption?" Gladdic laughed raspily, full of bitter mirth. "Why would I want redemption when I had only ever done that which was holy?"

  Blays' hand curled into a fist. "Tell that to the Colleners."

  The priest grimaced, his face going dark. "I have failed to stop the Eiden Rane. I have been betrayed by the Drakebane. I have seen my beloved city swallowed by his insurrection. Everything I have fought for has been I lie, and everything I held has been lost. But none of this is a more wretched torture than your self-righteous harangues. Choose what to do with me and be damned!"

  "He's right," Dante said. "Time to choose. You can kill him now. Or we can use his knowledge and abilities to see if we can stop what's been unleashed on the swamp. It's your call."

  Blays scrunched his blond eyebrows together. "You're serious? This is my decision?"

  "Yours and Naran's."

  "This is one of your ploys. A clever way to pressure me to give in so you can feel like we all agreed to it, keeping your conscience clean."

  "Okay, then I'll decide."

  Blays swore and turned to Naran. "Just say the word."

  "I want nothing more than revenge." Face downcast, Naran closed his eyes. "But then I think about the joy that lit up Captain Twill's face whenever we came to a new port. She loved seeing new places. The stranger the better. I think she would have liked Tanar Atain very much. If what Gladdic says is true—that this land is under siege—Twill would not have wanted to see it destroyed in her name."

  He placed his hand on the ground, as if needing to steady himself. Blays worked his jaw, looking ready to spit. In a violent lunge, he picked up a rock bigger than his head. He screamed, the muscles of his arms bulging, and shot-putted the rock into the water with a titanic splash.

  He took three deep breaths, shoulders heaving, then turned around, face perfectly calm. "Very well, we've reached a consensus. Gladdic, if you'd be so kind as to brief us as to the Eiden Rane situation?"

  The priest regarded Blays quizzically, then made a thoughtful noise. He paced deliberately about the small and mostly bare island. "There are many stories regarding the Eiden Rane. As with all such situations, most of these stories are rife with superstition and groaning with ignorance. Strip these falsehoods away, and we are left with certain stark truths: the White Lich was a great sorcerer. Drunk on his own arrogance, he crossed a line he wasn't meant to cross. And for all the vast power this granted him, surely the gods cursed him, for…"

  Gladdic stopped pacing. He stared into the bare white trees as if he were listening for a distant whistle. He muttered to himself, then shook his head hard.

  "Ignore what I, in my arrogance, have declared as fact," he said. "I was not there to see these events myself. So how may I claim perfect wisdom over what was and what wasn't?" He smiled sneeringly—this seemed to be aimed at himself—then made to fold his arms. Seeing the stump of his right elbow, he blinked in surprise.

  Still looking at the wound, which he'd smoothed over with ether, he went on. "Three different stories are commonly told of the White Lich. The first is the story told in the court of the Drakebane. The court's priests and historians tell that the Eiden Rane began his existence as a sorcerer named Bade, in the ancient capital of Godo Hadein. Bade soon acquitted himself as perhaps the most powerful talent of his generation, yet due to a renegade quality within his nature, he often found himself in opposition to the emperor's politics. As a consequence of his intransigence—some of which, the history claims, amounted to a hair's breadth from treason—when it came time for promotions and honors, Bade was regularly neglected, attaining a station equivalent to the head priest of a small chapel.

  "In time, the emperor fell sick. The disease was unknown; none of his sorcerers could diagnose its cause, nor cure its effects. Day by day, he wasted away from the vile corruption within his veins. In desperation, he summoned Bade to him and made a vow: if Bade could cure his sickness, the emperor would make him high priest of the land.

  "Bade bent his powers to the task, yet was unable to reverse the disease. He ventured into the deep swamps to meditate. In the darkest night, a ball of light appeared from the trees. It whispered to him with promises of its own: the light of life could save the emperor. It beckoned him onward, warning him that the swamps ahead were full of demons. Just as the light had foretold, the demons assailed Bade from all sides, but with each attack, he turned them back with the might of his sorcery.

  "Mile on mile, they ventured into the wilds. At last, the light stopped before a cavern. Bade entered. Within, he found another light of such purity that his eyes overflowed with tears; so holy was its glow that he nearly turned back, believing he was too mean a creature to touch it. Yet he picked it up and departed the cave. The being that had guided him to the cavern praised him for his strength and bravery, then worried aloud that the light within would be wasted on a dying old man rather than a sorcerer of such grandeur. For whoever received the light would spend eternity with it.

  "Hearing these words, Bade remembered all of the times he had been overlooked. And he used the light upon himself.

  "When he returned to Godo Hadein, he came to the emperor, making many false efforts to cure him. The emperor soon died. And that is when Bade revealed the power the light had imbued him with. He seized Godo Hadein, then the empire. For years, he ruled with an iron fist. His power was untouchable. It was during this time that his enemies, working in secret, created the Odo Sein, the only force capable of neutralizing Bade's great power.

  "When they were ready, they marched on Bade's redoubt. Yet even they could not destroy him. They could only seal him within the Riya Lase, the Iron Prison. And there it was that, just as the glowing guide had promised him, Bade would spend eternity with his forbidden light."

  Gladdic fell silent. Dante's eyebrows were lifted so high they felt in danger of disappearing up his scalp. "Does that remind you of anything?"

  Gladdic smiled wryly. "A garbled version of your northern heresy."

  "You mean the heresy your entire faith is founded on?"

  "A heresy which our faith corrects, while yours, unable to cope with the betrayal of your dark lord, continues to worship a devil as your first god."

  "Will you two shut up a
nd tell us what this means?" Blays said.

  "Arawn had a 'forbidden light' of his own," Dante said. "But instead of keeping it from the lowly humans like the other gods wanted, he smuggled it to Carvahal, his half-brother, to bring down to earth and kindle the fire for humanity. But in his vanity, Carvahal locked Arawn away in the starry vault so he'd get all the credit for himself."

  "So what are you saying? The Tanarians are filthy plagiarists?"

  "Exactly. If so, I don't think much of this story can be true. Most likely, it's propaganda ginned up by the Drakebane Dynasty to cover their own crimes by dressing them up in the legitimacy of our faith."

  "There is another option," Gladdic said. "Perhaps our faiths are stolen from them."

  "Ha ha."

  "You position yourself as such a liberal truth-seeker. Yet you reject out of hand the possibility your chosen faith might not be the oldest?"

  Dante drew himself up. "How long ago did Bade rule?"

  "This history places the date eight hundred years in the past."

  "Then we know our stories are older. In the lands of Weslee, their faith is also a branch of Narashtovik's—and they've been cut off from us for a thousand years."

  Gladdic waved his intact hand. "I would not place so much importance on the date in the Tanarians' story. It is almost surely false. Their lords have outlawed writing among the commoners so that they might have control of their history, which they see as a tool to be altered whenever it will support their present needs."

  Blays' mouth fell open. "Well that violates everything I believe in."

  "It is very brave of you to denounce the rulers' policies when none of its supporters are here to hear you. However, the Drakebane's lineage does not exert such measures for the sake of mere power. They do so in order to throw down the Eiden Rane whenever he manifests."