Sourcethief (Book 3) (53 page)

Tiiba followed Juliana as she went below to the
heart of the ship's rune structure. She had looked over all the runes when she
had first taken command, but it was a cursory inspection, more for curiosity
than study. Looking in more detail, she grew skeptical that she would be able
to do much with them.

"Grab hold of something. When Kyrus activated
it the first time the whole ship shook, and that was just in dry dock. This
could get a bit wobbly," Juliana warned.

She put her hands to the runes, and closed her eyes.
She took a long, deep breath and let the aether flow into and through her, and
into the
Starlit Marauder
. For a moment, a brief, glorious moment, it
felt as if it might work. But as she progressed, she felt what seemed like an
unending journey through the whole of the ship's rune structure; she could find
no end in sight.

Juliana collapsed to the floor, panting. She found
that she was dripping sweat, and wiped it away with a sleeve. She shook her
head.

"I feared as much," Tiiba said. "We
are stranded here, until Kyrus comes to find us."

"Well, we can still go check out that
clearing," said Juliana. "It can't be more than a couple hours on
foot."

* * * * * * *
*

When Juliana had recovered her strength, she set off
alone. Tiiba had offered to stay and guard the ship, presumably from owls and
hawks, since little else of consequence could reach so high.

The trip down was exhilarating. Juliana trusted her
own magic implicitly, having used such spells as both herself and Soria. She
stepped to the ship's railing and over the edge.

Down she plummeted, angling herself to guide her
fall. Several times she kicked off against a branch that threatened to
interrupt her downward journey. When she finally reached the bottom, she
decided that the trees must be the height of the Cloud Wall, or close to it, so
far she had fallen. She could not look back up to see above the canopies that
blotted out the treetops.

The forest floor was uneven, but free of all but
fungal underbrush. Gnarled roots twisted everywhere, some large enough that she
had to detour around them, or climb them like boulders. Juliana hoped that the
clearing was as large as it appeared from the air, because she could not be
certain how tightly she could hold her course.

The air was hushed. All winds stopped at heights
well above her sheltered cathedral of green-roofed wood. The trunks of the
elder forest stood as pillars, large around as the Tower of Contemplation. The
only light present had been diffused through web after web of leaves, casting
the whole of the region in a green gloom, though it was still midday.

On a whim, Juliana looked into the aether. The old
oaks glowed with the fire of an Inner Circle sorcerer—if one had been stretched
up into the heavens. The other species were dimmer, but not by so much as to
make them any less grand.

 The forest was more navigable by the aether than by
the false twilight beneath the dense canopy. She walked for a time gazing in
wonder until she came to a break in the trees. It was the forest clearing she
had been looking for.

She switched back to the light to see what might
have chosen such a place to live and gasped in shock, nearly stumbling over
herself in her haste to back away. She was surrounded by bizarre human-like
creatures.

"Ahh, so you choose to look upon us, rather
than just through us," one of the creatures joked. A few of them shared a
laugh at her expense. The creature who spoke looked like a perfect human
specimen, all prominent muscles and perfectly formed features. His skin was
dark as oak bark.

"Who are you?" she dared to ask.

"I think you know the answer already," a
more familiar voice replied, "else you would not have come here."
Juliana whirled to see Illiardra standing not two paces from her. Her immortal
oathmother floated in the air to match her height with Juliana's.

"This is it? The home of the de—the
immortals?" Juliana asked.

"Indeed it is. You pose us a rather unique
problem, however," Illiardra replied.

"What sort of problem?"

"Let us discuss this in private,"
Illiardra said. She walked off and allowed Juliana to follow through the throng
of curious immortals.

Illiardra's home was a dome of roots, dug out
beneath one of the oaks around the clearing. It looked to be a sitting room and
a collection of keepsakes, nothing more. The chairs were stone, carved—or more
likely, shaped by magic—into smooth, flowing shapes, piled with cushions. It
was luxurious, despite its simplicity.

"We have two ways of dealing with visitors,
typically," Illiardra said. "When mortals come here, we take them to
a little village we have created for them, not far from here. They live out
their lives there, unable to leave. Their numbers are few, despite occasional
births; the rumors of disappearance for folk who explore too deeply are fine to
keep most folk away."

"The other way?" Juliana asked, wide-eyed,
knowing that Illiardra had not begun the tale describing her expected fate.

"Twinborn, we most often kill, preferably
before they have learned of our nature. The bridge between worlds is too swift
a messenger, word would spread."

"You haven't killed me—at least not yet. Am I
one of your exceptions?" Juliana asked. Illiardra laughed, a bubbling,
childlike laugh.

"My dear, you are every exception I can think
of," the immortal replied. "First, you know of our kind, and know me
personally. None of them would dare offer me the affront of killing an
acquaintance of mine, and I could not bear to harm you. Second, you are a
dangerous pawn to try moving about. The very last thing I want is for your
twinborn lover to come to your rescue. I shudder to think at the damage he
might wreak to have you safely back."

Juliana smiled. She knew what Kyrus was capable of.
His rescue of her in Zorren was proof enough of that.

"Third," Illiardra continued, "you
were sent here with purpose, and that purpose has been fulfilled, at least in
part. I assume you have not sufficiently recovered from your shock to think of
telling Brannis or his twin of this place?"

"I could though, at a moment's whim,"
Juliana said. She worried where that question led.

"Of course, but it also means I have time to
convince you
not
to tell him," Illiardra said. "I could not wipe
the memory of it from your mind, for your twin would recall it still. You
twinborn are pesky creatures, you know." Illiardra winked.

"Why would I not tell him?" Juliana asked.
"Kyrus thinks this is the key to destroying Rashan. I can only imagine
that was why you left me that book of his prophecies—to show me his
madness."

"Kyrus?" Illiardra mused. "So that is
Brannis's other name, or rather, the name this new Brannis hides. And yes, that
was part of the reason I gave you those books. They were a pair, to teach two
sides of one lesson, and both lend their weight to another."

Juliana narrowed her eyes. "You don't want
another Tallax.”

"Very much not," Illiardra agreed.
"It was a darkened time for us, we creatures who hope to see the world's
twilight, we friends of the departed gods, we—"

"Wait!" Juliana interrupted. "You
knew
the gods?"

"Why yes, quite well in fact. They did not live
among us, but came and went freely. We were more enduring companions than the
mortals whose lives were blinks before their eyes—and ours."

"What can you tell me about Tansha?"
Juliana asked.

Illiardra smiled. "Oh my. There are so few left
that still believe in them. You are a follower of Merciful Tansha?"

"Yes, my parents in Tellurak were missionaries,
my mother a priestess. Tansha had answered my prayers."

"I doubt that very much. The gods left, chased
off in fear of Tallax. They broke the ways between worlds to shut him up here
with us. Whatever prayers you offered, they were not fulfilled by her."

"But—"

"No." Illiardra shook her head. "She
said goodbye to me. She hugged me close, and apologized that she could not
stay. Hers is a worthy path to follow, but you follow it on your own. In your
lifetime, you always have."

Juliana stared past Illiardra.
My twinborn
playmate. My Brannis. Freedom from my marriage to Iridan. All coincidence?

"But let us not be off our point,"
Illiardra said. "Those two books carried a message that Brannis—that
Kyrus—needed to see for himself. The prophecies are Rashan's journal, filled
with blood and fire, treachery and paranoia. They sum him up far better than
the painted civility that hides the monster beneath. I had fooled myself too
many times before I saw that book. It opened my own eyes, and I hope it has
opened Kyrus's as well."

"I think he already knew."

"Perhaps it is easier to see a monster in
someone you have never loved," Illiardra said. "This same blindness
may shadow you as well, and thus the reason for the second book. Could you even
bear to give it to him?"

"I almost couldn’t, but I did," Juliana
admitted.

"The story of Tallax may one day be rewritten
as the story of Brannis, if he keeps to the path he walks. Tallax had the best
of intentions; he created a peace that lasted hundreds of winters. Always
though, it was the threat of violence that stayed war. All the while, as Tallax
went off world to world in search of how we immortals overcame mortal frailty,
the war-lust built. When finally Tallax went mad and destroyed himself, the
world erupted in war like you have never imagined."

"I think I know Kyrus better than that,"
Juliana said. "Kyrus would never—"

"Tallax would never, either. But he did,"
Illiardra said. "Even Xizix, whose hatred and jealousy of Tallax were
unmatched, did not think ill of his intentions, initially."

"What do you want of me, then?"

"To spare Kyrus from the madness that plagued
Tallax, and to spare all of us, mortal and immortal alike, from another like
him," Illiardra said. "To convince him that a mortal life can hold
all the riches he wishes of it. To keep him from pursuing immortality for
himself, the quest that drove Tallax to his ruin."

"Kyrus isn't trying to learn how to become
immortal for his own ends. He is looking for a weakness in case Rashan turns on
him," Juliana replied.

"There is no weakness," Illiardra said,
"not in immortality, at least. Arrogance, hubris, a quickness to suspicion
and to kill before considering: those are Rashan's weaknesses. The only thing
Kyrus might learn is how to become just like him."

"Why would he lie to me?" Juliana asked.
"He trusts me completely."

A cynical smile curled one corner of Illiardra's
mouth. "Such words have been spoken more times than you can count, and
nearly always the one who feels the need to speak them is quite mistaken."

Juliana's thoughts sloshed loose in her head.
No.
Brannis would never ... but, that would be the point, wouldn't it? That I never
suspect?
Juliana closed her eyes and pictured the times she had spent with
Brannis as a girl, with Kyrus more recently, with Brannis as Soria.
No
,
she decided,
if I am to die a fool's death by his hands, it will be with a
clear conscience. I
do
trust him.

"You do not have to decide right away, just
refrain from telling him anything until you are sure," said Illiardra
after a time in silence. "It is for his own well being."

Juliana shook herself from her stupor. "Was he
right? Do you have a portal here to Tellurak? Is that how Rashan got
there?"

"Yes," Illiardra said, "yes, and yes.
The portal is inert, but could be reawakened. And yes, we once allowed Rashan
to do so. It is a mistake we do not look to repeat. Now, I will take you back
to your ship and your friend, where you might wait for your decision. If you
agree to help us keep Kyrus from Tallax's path, I might see if someone here can
reawaken that monstrosity of runes you brought."

* * * * * * *
*

Kyrus was in the map room, waiting for Rashan upon
his return. Rashan threw down the broken pieces of the Staff of Gehlen by way
of greeting. He was disheveled, his clothing torn and scorched. Something felt
off about his manner, returning from battle. Kyrus was used to seeing him
jovial, refreshed. Instead, his eyes hung, his arms dangled.

"Had a poor time of it, did you?" Kyrus
asked. His chair sat in the Cloud Wall mountains, southwest of Munne, and faced
Whitefield. "There was a bit of excitement while you were away. You dumped
a load of Jinzan's necromancers on the palace lawns. The Inner Circle handled
them. I assume you anticipated the trap?"

"It is done," Rashan said. He shook his
head. "Disappointing."

"Indeed. Raynesdark now sits atop a boiling
cauldron with no hope of protecting itself. Even with the staff, who knows how
long it might have been to repair the damage that was done," Kyrus
replied. He let the warlock's thoughts wander their course.

"He was beaten. I had but to wear him down. A
contest in a dry bed of aether was unwinnable for him. I ... I did everything I
could, everything I needed to ... then I got careless," Rashan said. He
took one of the chairs that was stored off to the west of the Storm Spire Mountains
and the goblin lands, and dragged it over. He took his seat above Podawei Wood.