The Vitalis Chronicles: Tomb of the Relequim (36 page)

“
We have things to do. Important things. Which is why we must be certain you are capable of finishing that which you have started.”

That took the Shade back for a second. “Of course I am.”

“
There are people that stand in your way. Men clad in fur and steel, bearing spears and bows.”

“
Men who have families. Families that live only to die to protect that which you would undo. You would destroy the seal you once swore to preserve, guarded by those you once swore to defend.”

The Shadow King's resolve overturned the objections in his chest. He could feel his heart solidifying under the pressure of the challenge. He would do whatever it took to see his part of the bargain through. “I'll finish it. I have no other choice.”

The two Titans eyed him as their wings flexed and folded behind them. Their leathery skin tightened over their arms as they crossed them over their chests.

“
He is right in his assertion. He has no other choice.”

The Shadow King swallowed hard to hear the ancient say it. His path wasn't as simple as he wanted to believe it was. “Well.” He looked between them, still unable to truly tell them apart. “Which one of you will be carrying me then?”

T
WENTY-
T
HREE

T
HERE WAS A FACE IN THE DARKNESS
.
Something hazy, a pale blur in an otherwise black existence. But he knew it was a face; somehow he knew. He could hear it speak, the sound as warped and blurry as the mouth that made it. He might as well have been underwater, the experience was similar enough.

The voice was breaking through the haze. Slowly but surely he heard his name. “
Ardin.”
It sounded strange to him, but comforting nonetheless.

I'm here,
he thought to himself.
Come find me if you're so interested.

“
Ardin.”
The face was clearing up. It was a woman of some sort. “
Ardin, listen to me.”

I'm listening,
he thought.
Apparently you can't read my mind to know that though.

“
Ardin, where are you?”

I'm right here.
Was she more blind than he?

“
Ardin, I need you to listen. Where are you?”

“
Here.” The word was forced. It was much more comfortable to think than to speak.

Her dark eyes grew clear to him, locking on him as she searched him out. “
Ardin, what are you doing?”

“
Resting.” He wasn't actually sure, but he did feel like he could sleep forever here in the warm closeness of the dark. “I was tired.”

“
You can't stay here, Ardin.”

“
What does it matter?” The words were coming more easily. “I can't go back.”

“
You have to go back.”

“
No.” Whoever this voice was had no idea. No idea what he had done. Not a clue what he was capable of. “I'm tired, I just want to rest a moment.”

“
Ardin.”
She was materializing now. He could see dark hair, a long neck, shoulders. She was beautiful. “
Ardin you can't stay here. If you don't go back, more people will die. Believe me.”

“
What do you know?” Her assertions felt arrogant to him. Even if they sounded sincere. “I don't even know where I am, or how... how did I get here?”

“
You've been here before.”

“Is this a dream?
”

“
No, Ardin. In the mountains, you were here before.”

“
The wraith?”

“
That's right.”

“
Then you're...” She was clear as a sunrise then. “Alisia!”

She laughed, the sound musical in the black. “
I didn't think that would take so long
.”

“
This isn't real then, though, is it?” Disappointment followed his joy like a cat on a mouse.

“
As a matter of fact, it's very real.”

“
How?”

“
This is the Magaic Plain, Ardin. It's the method through which we communicate our thoughts.”

“
Your... thoughts? That doesn't make any sense.”

“
When you met my mother in the Cave, she spoke to you, didn't she?”

“
Yes.” He wasn't particularly fond of the memory. “It was like she was in my head.”

“
She was talking to you from here. The Magi used the Plain to speak to each other. But as time went on some were able to bridge the gap and speak to humans.”

“
Then the wraith...” This still didn't make a lot of sense to Ardin. “What was that then? Was that
someone attacking me?”

“
Not necessarily. Where we step into the Plain represents a part of ourselves. It's why you'll need to build up defenses in time. Others can enter your thoughts through this place.”

“
It's so empty...” He found he could turn to look around. Nothing surrounded them save empty black with patches of gray where the ground should have been.

“
You can build whatever you like here, and then bring people to you. Like me. You just want to make sure you build it in such a manner that while no one uninvited can get in, you yourself don't get locked out. That creates a whole new world of problems.”

“
So the wraith was a part of me?”

“
I think so. You were carrying a lot of guilt, Ardin. A lot of pain. There's a part of you that would give up, a part that wishes you hadn't escaped and survived when you had. If those feelings become strong enough, they will manifest themselves here. I struggled similarly when they took me from my mother and left me with the Guard.”

That did make sense to Ardin. As much as he may have liked to deny it, there was a part of him that wanted to lie down and give up. “Dying has its silver lining... which brings me back to you. How are you here?”

“
The Uriquim.”
She pointed at his chest. “
The Soul Stone you carry around your neck. It holds a connection to me, Ardin. As long as you carry it, I'm always close. Even when you lost it, having carried it left its mark.”

“
So you're not really here,” he said with more than a hint of sadness. “You're still gone.”

“
I'm here.”
She smiled as she touched his arm. It gave him goosebumps all over to feel her skin on his. “
This can be as real as anything, Ardin. But it's not where you should be right now.”

He backed away from her at that. “Why shouldn't I be?” The boy in him was coming out. Tall, gray walls began to form in the void. “Why shouldn't I have peace? Just a little rest? All I want is to be free for a while. Free of the fears, of the expectations... and... there's you.”

She walked gracefully through the small maze he had raised subconsciously.

“
You're here. Why wouldn't I want to be here?”

“
Because you're needed elsewhere right now.”
She put her hand on his cheek this time. The touch was light, gentle, but the sensation was so intense he almost fell into her. “
You were meant for things I dreamed of once...”

“
Once,” he said grudgingly. “But no more. Not now that you've been taken.”

“
Not now that I see the cost...”
There was sadness in her tone as well. It matched the way she was looking at him now. “
You have to accept the fact that you have power. Assume it. There's no other way to move forward. If you continue to worry, to be self-conscious, you'll only continue to trip yourself up. When we focus on ourselves, we're incapable of seeing the world around us.”

He thought back to the clearing, to Rain and the Woads. “I've accepted it better than I think you know, Alisia.” He thought of the asylum and shuddered. “Perhaps better than you want to know.”

“
I'll be waiting for you Ardin. I know it doesn't feel like much now, but I'll wait for you. Remember the mountains, Ardin? How we said we would go back there one day? We can do that still, if you want it badly enough. But that road lies ahead of you, Ardin. Not behind. You're earning your place next to me. As for me... after all this I think I'll be the one who needs to earn my place next to you.”

“
Alisia... I–” He cut himself short as something dark flew overhead. The ripple it left in the air caused them both to shiver involuntarily. “What was that?”

“
I don't know.”
Was that fear in her voice? “
Ardin, you have to go back.”
Fear turned to urgency.

Something else flew overhead. The dark chill was more intense this time, lingering.

“
Now.”

“
How will I find you again?” He didn't want to see her go.

She hugged him in response, holding him closer than he had ever imagined would be possible again. “
I'm always close, Ardin. I can't offer you much, but I'll give what I can.”
She pushed him away, taking slow steps from him as she kept her eyes locked on his. “
Go, Ardin. Go before it's too late.”

“
But Alisia...” He reached out his hand, but she was fading.

“
Go.”

“
I just want to tell you, I–” but she was already gone.

The walls he had put up around himself were simple, but strange to him nonetheless. They were plain, gray. And now they seemed imposing. The air around him, if air it was, grew cold. He wrapped his arms around himself and closed his eyes. He had to go back. Had to return to himself... however that worked. This was more confusing than manipulating the Atmosphere had ever been.

He shook the frustration away and clenched his eyes shut. He focused. Imagined himself waking up. Imagined the old Fisherman standing over him, grinning as the worry washed out of his face. He would be tired from waiting for him to heal up. Waiting for him to return. He imagined the warmth taking him and felt it stir in response. And then it was growing, moving slowly through his chest and into his limbs until every part of him tingled. He could feel the mists exiting his body and swirling around him. Was this real, or was this only part of the Plain? He could feel himself, his body somehow apart from his mind. He forced his way in, concentrating on restoring control, and then he was in. He opened his eyes as the world flashed white before him, and he was awake.

He blinked in the darkness, his eyes dry and unwilling to focus. His breathing was difficult, raspy. He could feel it slide in and out over bloodied lips. Whether they were cracked from some injury or just dry, he couldn't tell. But there was a figure above him. He could just make out the silhouette against a patch of starry sky. Was he indoors?

He tried to smile, tried to say something to the figure, but a hand covered his mouth before he could try. It wasn't a hand large enough to be the Fisherman. Ardin's mind was slogging forward, but then the truth slit through the haze. It wasn't the Fisherman at all.

Steel slid against leather as a long knife appeared in the figure's free hand. Stars danced along its edge before it was thrust into Ardin's chest.

Branston lay awake that night in the burned-out temple. He had been studying it to stave off sleep as much as anything. The longer he thought about it, the more it bothered him to be here. The temple hadn't been built long ago, he could tell by the plaster near the base of the wall. It was still relatively fresh from recent repairs. Maybe the place was ten years old. The rest of the pale plaster had either been blackened by soot or had cracked and fallen off in the heat of the fire. The country folk in the Truan villages adhered to a strange religion. It held much of its roots in old Thranish witchcraft; he didn't claim to understand it. In fact, it made him uncomfortable just to be near one of their shrines, let alone inside a burned-out temple. It was nothing like the tall-spired, majestic temple in Islenda.

But it wasn't the proximity to the little gods of streams and vales that kept him awake. It was murder. He wouldn't sleep tonight. He was afraid he might never again get the chance, but it had to happen this way. He knew beyond a shadow of a doubt what he had to do. If he tried to act in the light of day, he would never be able to succeed. If he pulled his friends into it, they would share his fate. And as self-centered as Branston may have been, he wished no harm on his champions. In the end, he was all alone, though he hoped they would come to forgive him.

The crude pillars that ran through the room supported what was left of the caving roof. It wasn't much higher than twenty feet at its vaulted center. Some low walls remained between the tall cylindrical sandstone, though they looked liable to crumble at any moment. He had walked the entirety of the temple four times, pacing the pillars to see if they were uniformly set, memorizing distances between piles of rubble. In the end he knew it all like he'd built and torn the place down himself.