Dimness cradled Vantra. Even the shard, which should gleam with Sun power, had faded as it gave her its last bits of energy. She cupped it to her chest as she breathed in the magic-laden mist, tingling at the rush that filled her.
Rush it may, but days would pass before she completely recharged.
“Alright, Laken.” Katta’s voice, soft as bunny fur, drifted to her. “The choice is yours.”
“Break it.”
She squeezed her eyes shut. She did not blame him for the decision, for the agony wafting from him like body odor was palpable to all who neared him, but it meant the thinned bond between him and his heart essence would dispel. They would need to conduct a discovery in the traditional Finder method, through literature and news review, and hope they did not spend hundreds or thousands of years to pinpoint where the Knights took it.
Katta adjusted his cross-legged position on the black-blanketed bed and formed a circle using his thumbs and index fingers. He placed them over her Chosen’s breast and she felt the pop as he used Death’s Hand to snip the last thread tying Laken to his heart.
As useless as they were, tears were all she had left.
Laken’s relief proved it the correct choice.
Rayva barked, sharp and angry. Katta glanced at her and nodded, then sighed.
“They knew we would trail the link,” he said. “It’s no surprise, they hid their passage.” He raised his hand over Laken’s chest and Darkness filled the hole.
“You lost it?” Red did not sound surprised.
“In the gales of the Windtwists,” he said. “For something I believe hastily planned, they covered their tracks well. Weather raging would conceal a mortal’s essence under the violence of syim energy.”
Rayva bowed her head and whined. Qira patted her, despite a face already crimson from allergy.
Vantra stared at her blurring knees. “They used ziptrails to the Windtwists?” How? The desert did not hold enough extra magic to form the natural ley lines.
“No, they used wind,” the Darkness acolyte said. “Whether created by the weather witch beholden to Rezenarza, or someone else, the wind carried their essences to the shores of the Snake’s Head and beyond. Wind to mingle with a syim power and fade away, swallowed, leaving no trace.”
“So much hidden in shadows,” Red sighed, his absent gaze on the dark-stained floorboards between his feet. “Though, using a Grand Seal as a link to yank all members of their group to them was a nice spell. It should have discorporated them, but it didn’t. Vesh needs to come up with something similar. It’ll be handy when we need to quickly regroup.”
Kjaelle leaned over the top of the chair and settled her hands on Vantra’s shoulders. She smiled down at her, reflecting the gentleness in Katta’s voice. “You can’t blame yourself, Vantra,” she said. “You had no reason to suspect Nolaris was with them, let alone that he had the fake mark of Death.”
“I know he didn’t have it when he taught me,” she whispered. “Even if I didn’t realize it, Finders better at Mental Touch would have, and their gossip would have raged.”
“He couldn’t have kept it secret,” Lorgan agreed. He, too, had curled up in a black-padded comfy chair in the Snake’s suite, sucking in mist through the mimicry of breathing and absorbing it through his essence. That he followed her when so depleted was a sword’s cut against her ragged emotions; he could have brought great harm to himself by doing so. “Too many powerful faelareign are sages and Hallowed Collective council members. Someone would have said something.”
“The other Knights have hidden it,” Red pointed out. “The Shades of Darkness didn’t even know this was possible until we encountered them.”
Lorgan winced but did not respond.
“How are you feeling, Laken?” Katta asked.
“The pain’s gone,” he said. “I feel . . . hollow, but I’ve felt that way since the sundering of my essences.” He moved his head, and a small smile lit his lips. “I can move my head.”
“Good. Vantra did a remarkable job, considering the circumstances.”
“Are you certain you don’t have to reattach him better?” she asked.
Red rubbed the back of his hand across his drippy nose. “I’m going to go check on the others and prevent Kenosera from tearing his aunties apart.”
Kjaelle hmphed as the Light acolyte and his vulfen companion left the room. Vantra recalled little after she collapsed, but from the odd comments flitting between the acolytes as her awareness returned, she gathered the Nevemere's kindness stopped at the edge of his boots, and he had torn into his family members when they attempted to defy Katta and keep her and Lorgan from re-entering the ruins. She also had the impression that the confrontation was the first time his kin realized he dallied with Voristi, and the screech from Netalli could have brought an eagle to ground.
Dedari and Lesanova behaved in the proper, disgusted-youth way, grumbling about tradition that sought to hinder rather than help those that followed it. If the Snake had not interfered, Vantra did not know what the enraged woman might have done to protect family reputation against the fallen chosen one.
That the Snake halted the confrontation confused most, and the naro vi-van seemed to take his refusal to harm the mini-Joyful as another indication that Rezenarza spoke true about the creature’s corruption. That confused the Nevemere more, since they looked to Veer Tul rather than his predecessor. She did not doubt, Kenosera took great pleasure in re-blessing those who wished for Veer’s touch because it infuriated his grandmother so.
“I never would have thought the Snake to have a mist-heavy room like this,” Kjaelle said, her gaze flitting to the undecorated, dark-stained wooden walls. She did not look spry, but the potency had given her a boost so she did not resemble the walking dead, even if she were one.
“There is far more to him than the legends say,” Lorgan murmured. “I delved into him, and I didn’t discover one reference to this suite of rooms.”
“Would you have believed them, if they had?” Katta asked as he dusted his hands together.
“Maybe. It depends whether I found references to shape-changing in the literature. It isn’t a common ability among natives of the Evenacht, but Nature adherents will teach it to them if they ask.”
Could the Snake shape-change? If this were a personal suite, he must.
“Hmm.” The Darkness acolyte rose and patted Laken’s side. “Are you feeling well enough to rest?”
He nodded, and the simple joy the small act brought to him made Vantra dive further into guilt. “Thank you,” he said, in a gravelly voice that held the remembrance of screams and pain.
Katta smiled. “You are welcome. I’m going to make certain Qira doesn’t do something he’ll regret, but if you need me, call. You shouldn’t experience any more pain from the fake Mark, but I’ve also not encountered something like this before. I don’t want an unexpected complication to cause problems.”
“Are you checking on Red or Kenosera?” Kjaelle asked. Though her words softly flitted through the room, they held a dire Darkness in them.
He laughed, the sound curling around the dusky aura and leaving a simmering, dark delight. “If he asked, I’m sure Qira would love to drive vi-van and guard from the ruins with that stink spell of his. The vi-van can run into the arms of the snake beings, if so inclined.”
Vantra expected a serious clash between them and the Nevemere guards. The future might hold that battle, but in the present, fighters, under Katta’s Darkness-inspired orders, repelled the initial foray. They sought to pursue, but it seemed, once Nolaris snagged Laken’s heart, the snake beings retreated into the shadows and disappeared, leaving behind evidence of habitation and nothing else.
The Snake mingled light and fire spells and placed a defense around the entire Underruin Red called ‘delightfully hazardous’. Vantra wondered how the naro vi-van explained the incursion, and how the guards reacted to her refusal to protect them from the enemy, while the Snake, on his own accord, shielded them.
A rap on the door caught their attention. Katta opened it; the spiritesti patiently waited, hands behind her back, and her expression lit in ecstasy when she beheld him. Her outward joy dwindled as she donned a stoic mask, but the professional demeanor could not hide her happiness in standing near him.
“Dovei Katta,” she said. Her voice was as mellow as her appearance. Her skin and hair gleamed a soft gold while her darker eyes sat wide and bright in a cherubic, rather than elongated, face. Vantra expected an Astri because of the pirates’ warnings, but someone akin to a mafiz or a whizan, who thought themselves superior in Mental Touch because of their years on Talis performing feats of spellcasting. Instead, a young vyr-alli mage had accepted the position—and, as Red gleefully put it, she had a yearning for the intimate touch of Darkness. “May we speak words? Ci Leda is concerned about Naro vi-van Endrasine. She is not well, and her vi-van kin argue about what we must do to help her.”
He nodded and slipped through the door before Kjaelle’s glare-impelled sarcasm struck its mark. She did not find the Astri intimidating, but an annoyance, and by the vyr-alli’s smug smirk, she knew she dug under the ghost’s skin and enjoyed it.
Lorgan laughed softly. “A bit too enthusiastic for an Astri,” he said.
Kjaelle pulled away from Vantra, her lip lifted in a sullen snarl before snagging the blanket lying at the foot of the bed and draping over Laken. Only then did she realize her Chosen shivered. She needed to pay more attention to him—another failure in her long list of them.
“Even when the winds howled and the snow fell in the Fields, I never felt cold,” Laken grumbled. “Why do I now?”
“The hollowness you mentioned serves a purpose,” Kjaelle said as she settled next to him, smoothing the black blanket with firm fingers. “It numbs you to outside influences on your essence. The more body parts Vantra links to you, the more you will lose that numbness. You’ll sense cold, heat, the wind, feel the rain, even though you do not have the Touch ability to counteract them. Elements will become dangerous, and you’ll need to maintain a sufficient infusion of mist to sustain your growing energy needs. I think that, more than anything else, is why Finders perform the Recollection ceremony at the end of the Redemption. They don’t want to deal with a Candidate who requires more mist and is as susceptible to weather as they are.”
“I’d rather move my head than wait.”
Vantra closed her eyes. He had yet to yell at her for her failure, and she did not understand why. He should bow to fury, because she could not fulfill what she promised. Surely he, a pirate captain beholden to the Gaithen, one with a reputation for rage and murder, did not view her as savior, but destroyer of hope.
“And we aren’t a typical Redemption squad, blindly following tradition.”
The shard flickered, and she cut the link. She did not want to completely drain it. She wished she understood how to recharge Divine Glass. Would Red know? He spoke about them before. She smoothed the sleek surface and curled into a miserable ball, the cloak hiding her from the others in the room.
She should have protected Laken. She could have yanked him away. She could have dropped him, not a happy thing, but it would have prevented Nolaris from punching through his essence as he did. She could have put herself in the way; he could rip her apart instead. A Redeemer always protected their Candidate. Always.
The conviction she needed to transfer the link between her and her Chosen to someone who could better care for, watch over, help him, solidified. Kjaelle was strong, and she had carried the bond before. The mini-Joyful would aid her, and Lorgan would continue with them, since his purpose was to Redeem Laken. And she could . . . what? Leave? Where would she go? She had no funding, no home, and all her experiences in the Evenacht were related to Finders and the Hallowed Collective. Should she find the Clastics? Try to contact Jheeka and Cheldisa? Why? Unfit Finder was an unfit Clastic.
What skills did she have? Her Mental Touch was nothing to brag about, and easily transferring between Ether and Physical was not a marketable skill. Too many ghosts did the same.
Her thoughts reflected her ponderings while alive. She had no idea what she wanted to do, who she wanted to become. The priests assumed she would inherit her mother’s seat, but she never thought she had the will to bring all the disparate entities who claimed divine Sun inspiration together. Her mother, charismatic, beautiful, kind and caring, could not manage it. Vantra had inherited none of those appealing traits.
She wished to help others, but that yearning rammed against her darker reality. Sun’s acolytes already expressed their disdain for her; she would find no home in a temple. Upsetting the Finders meant charitable organizations would never accept her as a member for fear of insulting the most powerful ghostly institution in the Evenacht, and no government entity would risk Hallowed Collective punishment for hiring her.
She had read books about the evening lands, but she had no idea what place she could live that did not have the Collective’s touch. She was outcast and shunned, and—
Fyrij cheeped at her and hopped under her hood so he could rub his little head against her nose, her cheek. He tangled in her hair and huddled into the side of her head, making morose tweets. Why? He should comfort Laken. He was the one who lost his essence.
“So the Snake has a bigger room,” Red said. When had he returned? She needed to pay more attention to her surroundings—she had ample evidence of the terrible happenings when she did not. “It’s filled with mist, and we can talk about what to do next without squishing into this space. Laken, how do you want to be carried?”
“Carried?” he asked, confused.
“Yeah. I could hold you or throw you over my shoulder. We could use a blanket as a stretcher or strap you to a chair and push it.”
“You’re asking me.” He sounded surprised and suspicious. Why? It seemed much in keeping with how the mini-Joyful behaved.
“Well, yeah. I can’t make you a base, like I did for your neck, right now.” Red flexed his fingers and winced to the left side of his face. “It may not seem it, but creating one that reacts to your commands isn’t simple, and battling glassy-eyed fools hasn’t improved my power recovery.”
“You’ll make me another base?” he asked, incredulous.
“Well, that’ll be easier than strapping you to Vantra’s back. Having carried you to this room, I can vouch you are much heavier than you appear.”
“Red,” Kjaelle sighed as Laken’s eyes narrowed. Then his annoyance evaporated.
“You’re strange,” he said.
“Do tell.”
Red snapped his tongue against the roof of his mouth at Kjaelle’s sarcasm.
Laken wormed his mouth around, as if trying to decide what to say, then rushed on. “Finders have attempted to Redeem me for thousands of years. Not a one asked my opinion on anything, until Vantra took me from the Fields.” He looked at her, and she could not identify the parade of emotions crossing his visage. “She was the first one who ever asked me what I wanted to do, rather than stuff me in a pack and leave me to rot in whichever room she stayed in while she mingled with the public and tried to find ‘information’. She expected me to have a voice even though I was just a Condemned head. And you of the mini-Joyful are the same. You’ve never belittled or mocked, and never assumed you knew better. It’s . . . unnerving.”
Vantra did not think his assessment was accurate, but to deny his words seemed rude. Did he really feel that way? Why? “But I failed you.”
“Failing me is sticking me back in the Fields.”
Lorgan’s guttural denial and pursed lips spoke to his unhappiness, but he said nothing.
“Nolaris attacked you because I didn’t stop him.” And that was a disaster she would never forget.
Laken’s eyebrows dipped low. “I don’t remember anything but pain.”
“Vantra, that’s not true,” Lorgan said. “You had no reason to think Nolaris would use a fake mark to enter Laken’s essence and steal his heart.”
“I didn’t get a shield up. Or get in front of him. Or even drop him. I—”
“Drop me?” her Chosen asked in exasperated outrage.
“It takes time and training to react in stressful situations,” Lorgan continued. “You’ve had precious little of it. Nolaris wanted your Touch stunted, and he took advantage of his neglect.” He dug his hand into his bangs and jerked his fingers through. “I should have insisted on a formal schedule for instruction.”
“Well, we can rectify that,” Red said. “But later. Right now we need to decide what we’re going to do, and that means Laken needs to choose how we’re getting him to the other room.”
“Chair,” he said.
