The Book of Deacon: Book 02 - The Great Convergence (25 page)

"If we can find the others . . . " she
began.

"Yes, yes. The other Chosen will find a way,
despite the fact that at least one is certainly dead, and two more
are affirmed to be likewise by the only being likely to know. I
think you know better than to rely upon miracles to do what must be
done. Regardless, I have your answer. Let me just offer you a bit
of advice. You see, as the Alliance Army never paid for you, and
likely never will, it suits our purposes that you never find your
way into their clutches. As such, I urge you to seek the Undermine.
Their resources should be enough to keep you from the light of day
long enough for Epidime to find a new pet target. The other
generals stopped caring about you shortly after you were captured,"
he said. "Now go, follow. Take some supplies and good luck to
you."

Myranda fetched her bag and supplemented its
contents with some provisions. She also selected a heavy white
cloak that hung on one wall. It was likely one of Lain's, as it
dragged the ground when it hung about her shoulders. With the far
warmer garment in place and staff in hand she set off into the
passage. It was a tight fit. The tunnel was clearly a natural one,
irregular in shape and claustrophobic. The barely adequate light
from the storeroom lapsed quickly into complete darkness. She
conjured a light in her staff and pressed on. Myn must have been
far ahead. Not even the sound of her scratching claws could be
heard. There was only one path, and it became mercifully wider,
only to have the ceiling steadily lower until she had to crawl to
continue. This was not like the cave. At least there the walls,
floor, and ceiling had been solid. Here, great clumps of soil
brushed loose with her every move, at times making her feel as
though the whole of the tunnel would drop down upon her. Two long
hours of painfully slow travel finally brought the night sky over
her head again. She doused the light to a mere ember and held it
low, so as to avoid notice. The claw marks Myn left in the snow
were easy enough to follow. As she traveled, she thought.

She thought about how quickly Lain had run
the day before. He had wanted the others to follow then, and still
he kept a pace that could match a horse. She then thought of the
speed he had shown when he faced that woman in the field after
Myranda had escaped. How long could he manage speed like that? As
she thought, a growing feeling of hopelessness hung numbly in the
back of her mind. Tears welled in her eyes and the cold air stung
where they ran down her cheeks. Deep inside she wanted to stop. She
wanted to turn around, find Desmeres, and accept his offer. She
would be safe. Comfortable. Happy. She shook the thoughts away.
There was a job to do. She wasn't doing it for herself. This was
for everyone else, all of those who had lost their homes, their
brothers, their sons . . . their fathers.

Myranda doubled her speed. The cold air stung
her lungs with each huffing breath. Forward, find him. Find the
others. End this. Her mind and body were turned so mechanically to
the task that she didn't even notice as the sky grew rosy with the
rising sun. She marched heedlessly across roads and through fields.
In the distance a town grew near. Before long it was quite near
enough for the residents to see the bizarre sight of a young woman
in an ill fitting cloak encrusted with dirt marching, eyes
earthward, through a snowy field. A memorable sight. A suspicious
sight. Perhaps by luck, perhaps by fate, she escaped the notice of
the townsfolk. Carried by legs that burned with fatigue, she
finally reached the creature that had led her.

Myn was sniffing and licking at the ground,
confusion and desperation on her face. Myranda could tell that she
had lost the scent. Through some trick Lain had managed to wipe
this last trace of his trail away. Myranda scanned the ground in
the light of the morning sun as it filtered weakly through the
heavy clouds. Downy white snow crusted with a layer of glassy ice,
smooth and pristine, stretched out in all directions. Somehow there
was not a single footprint to disturb it. Myranda's fists
tightened. Her teeth clenched. Myn looked pleadingly to her.

"It is all right, Myn. You've done well. Now
I must try," she said.

Slowly she lowered herself to the ground. Her
legs seemed to protest, but she paid them no mind. Myn eagerly
nestled herself in the warmth of Myranda's cloak as the young
wizard pulled her mind together for a spell. It was one of the
first she had learned in Entwell. She shut her eyes tight, casting
her mind out and searching the essence of her surroundings. She had
detected him like this when she was in The Belly of the Beast. She
knew what to look for. Slowly her mind spread outward. The spirits
of every person, every animal, every living thing around her
gradually emerged from the darkness in her mind. She was first
struck by how different those spirits seemed here than in Entwell.
The flickering essences she felt here were to those of the hidden
village as a candle is to the sun. The people of the world were
weak, defeated. Their spirits were drained. Next she became aware
of something she had never felt before. Scattered among the mild
essences of the people of her world were presences that seemed
wholly opposite. Whereas the other spirits seemed to radiate,
albeit weakly, these others seemed like voids, drawing in the light
and strength around them. The more her mind cast outward, the more
she became aware of these blemishes on the landscape. They could
only be the D'karon.

She focused further. Somewhere far away she
saw a mass of bright, powerful souls. She looked to them. They
clashed with similarly brilliant spirits, spirits that seemed no
different. These were the men at the front line. The only spirited,
truly alive members of her nation and they were one by one fading
away, struck down. Elsewhere a cluster of the black spirits clashed
with the light, nearmen clashing with men. She wondered if the
Tresson soldiers knew that the men they battled were not men at
all. Did they too vanish when struck down? She looked elsewhere.
Suddenly she found something. There was an essence. It had the same
intense quality to it as Lain's, but this was different than
before. It was a measure stronger than the other spirits she had
seen, stronger even than her own, and yet it seemed stunted,
weakened greatly from what it could be. It was to the northeast,
among the mountains on the coast. She focused more intently. She
could almost feel its precise location.

Suddenly there was a wave of something,
something unbelievably powerful. It came from the northwest. The
intensity of it blotted out all else. It continued, growing more
and more powerful until Myranda had to pull herself from her
meditation or be overcome by it. There was no doubt in her mind
what it was. Even her unfocused mind was vaguely aware of the
pulsing, surging force. The shape shifter. Only she was capable of
a force of such intensity and purity. And where she could be found,
so too would be Lain, surely. She turned her eyes to the northwest.
Even at this distance, violent winds could be seen shaking snow
from trees. Then she turned to the northeast. Something was there.
Something that may be very important.

"This way, Myn. We may not be able catch Lain
by ourselves, but we may still prove Desmeres wrong," she said.

Myn cast a second glance, understanding and
not pleased at the fact they would not be seeking Lain. Always
faithful, though, the dragon stood, ready to move. Myranda looked
at the sky. The clouds had the glow that seasoned northerners knew
as midday. She hadn't slept or eaten yet. She should seek some kind
of shelter and rest. With the aid of Myn and her staff, she
struggled to her feet. Her mind lingered on the essence she felt.
Rest could wait. She could eat as she walked. She would find
whatever it was she had felt or die in the process. As she plodded
off, pushing aside weariness and hunger, she was unaware of the
minds that followed her.

#

In a dark hut, surrounded by books, Deacon
strained his eyes at the last flickering images of Myranda. The
minutes that had just passed had brought with them something he had
been hoping for since she had gone. Every day had been spent
searching for her mind. The best of days offered a glimpse of her
as she pushed herself to the limit to cast a spell. Today was
different. Today she too had searched. She was not aware of it, but
in those minutes that she cast her mind far and wide, her thoughts
and his had met. He saw her, clear as crystal. He heard her. What
she said, what she thought, what she felt. He knew where she was
going, what she was trying to do, and what had happened. As the
moment passed and the connection was broken, he turned back to his
tomes. The words were burned into his head. The path is changing.
Go where it leads. He searched feverishly for the pieces he would
need. No spell existed that would meet his needs. Not yet. He
worked now with a renewed intensity, for just as he knew what she
knew, he had learned something that she did not.

#

Elsewhere, a darker mind was similarly
intrigued by the girl's foolish decision to cast her mind so
visibly about. Epidime took care to conceal himself as he felt her
mind shift to and fro. He had been busied by other things, but the
girl who had managed to resist him was never far from his mind. He
was a skilled observer of spirits and souls. When the time came, it
would not take long for him to find her unless she learned to hide
herself as he had, but her spiritual equivalent of an alarm bell
chiming had quickly drawn his attention. Had the newly arisen shape
shifter not suddenly presented herself as a far more enticing
target, he may well have intercepted the girl and finished what he
had started, but for now that could wait. Conquering the girl would
be satisfying, but his purpose above all others was to learn, and
the shape shifter offered a peerless opportunity for that. He had
already learned that the one called Lain had joined forces with it,
or at least fought beside it more than once. The pair was
formidable. It was best, then, to make use of someone disposable
and observe as he had before. When he had learned the latest
target's allegiances, strengths, and weaknesses, he would return
for Myranda. She would be simple to find. After all, he knew where
she was going.

#

Far away, Lain sprinted due east. Desmeres
had done his job admirably. The others had been delayed, and he had
managed to put a considerable amount of distance behind him in that
time. He knew better than to believe that he could easily put the
shape shifter off of his trail, but he had been pursued by mystics
before. Though they used different senses, they followed the same
rules. There were ways to obscure these senses just as any other.
His task was complicated by the fact that she was undetectable to
him, however. When the being turned to wind or fire or any other
elemental form her scent was absent, or at least indistinct. Worse
still, when she did have a scent, he could not be certain what it
was. These concerns were now the last in his mind, though. The
being had grown close. Very close. She might be by his side at this
moment if not for the arena that lie between them. He knew the
place well. It was stocked with all manner of vicious beasts, and
of late had been used to punish those the Alliance Army wished to
make an example of. Long ago, the D'karon had turned their dark
wizards to the task of creating ever more formidable beasts to fill
the cages and face the condemned. Now the creatures that the
combatants faced were twisted, crude, hideous parodies of nature,
the results of those dark pursuits. The windy, swirling form of the
shape shifter had only just become visible to Lain on the edge of
the horizon when the arena passed below her. Suddenly she turned
the totality of her considerable might to the task of eliminating
these creatures, drawing the attention of the full compliment of
guards in the process. The maelstrom she brought about was every
bit the intensity of the one a few days earlier in the field
outside the fort, and would no doubt result in the same rush of
soldiers to investigate. He had to make it out of the area before
that happened.

#

For a moment the mighty being surveyed her
work. The ground around her was littered with the broken remains of
black blooded abominations. They varied in shape and size greatly,
but some things were common to all. There was a roughness to them,
a tainted simplicity. They were creations, attempts at duplicating
nature. While they failed on most levels, she did briefly admire
the almost mechanical efficiency that some displayed. She analyzed
the primitive "blood" that stained her now stone hands. Briefly she
considered shifting to the form of one of the smaller beasts. She
had squandered much of her remaining strength in striking these
D'karon creations down. Spending some time in a simpler form would
aid her recovery. Her reflection on the subject was cut short by
the arrival of a mass of armor clad soldiers. She swept her gaze
across the ranks. Humans. They were doing the work of the D'karon.
She would be justified in bringing them to the same fate as the
beasts. Indeed, destroying the whole of the structure was quite
within her right, but she decided against it. For now she would
save her strength for travel. Her stone form gave way to wind, and
she set quickly off in the direction Lain had been heading.

As she took to the sky, she marveled at her
fellow warrior's uncanny ability to obscure his uniquely powerful
spirit. There were beings half of a world away that she sensed more
clearly than the divinely anointed creature she pursued. Even that
infuriating human he seemed to show undue favor to was simpler to
locate. It was, of course, a testament to his worth as a warrior.
Perhaps, just as she watched over him until she was certain he was
worthy of his place, so too was he testing her. Yes, that was most
definitely the case. Once she located him, he would be satisfied
and together they would wipe the scourge of D'karon from her
land.