Oblivion's Grasp Page 4

  “I’m not lazy!” she shouted. “I’m busy meditating. It’s harder than it looks. Watch.” She sat very straight and closed her eyes. A few moments later she was snoring softly.

  “What’s going on here?” Quyloc sputtered, backing away. “What’s wrong with you two?”

  “Hey, we’re not the ones bound in the Pente Akka, having our life sucked out of us because we’re too stupid to leave.” Ya’Shi patted him on the cheek and shook his head sadly.

  “I’ve tried to leave!” Quyloc yelled. “Just tell me how and I will!”

  Ya’Shi shrugged. The gesture looked very odd on him, one shoulder coming up and then the other, a ripple running down his entire body. “I don’t know if there’s any getting through to you, but I will try again. I will speak slowly so that you can keep up. Are you ready?”

  Quyloc wanted to shake him. He wanted to lie down and curl up in the fetal position. He wanted to cry. “Yes.”

  “Okay.” Ya’Shi beckoned him close. Quyloc hesitated, then leaned in. “You’re not really there,” Ya’Shi said in a whisper, then nodded sagely. “Just like you’re not really here.”

  “What?”

  “I think this one is dumber than the other one,” the Ancient One said without opening her eyes.

  “You’re not really there,” Ya’Shi said emphatically. “You can leave any time you want.”

  “But that’s crazy! I’ve—”

  “The gromdin has only trapped the thought of you. You said it yourself. Just leave. That’s all you have to do.”

  “It’s not going to do any good,” the Ancient One intoned flatly. “Just like it didn’t do any good with Netra. It’s sad, really, that the fate of our world is in the hands of such as these. We never really stood a chance.”

  “You haven’t stood in a hundred years,” Ya’Shi shot back.

  The Ancient One nodded and tugged at a few of her hairs, which seemed to have grown into the ground. “True.”

  “Are you ready?” Ya’Shi asked Quyloc.

  “What? No! I’m not—”

  He was cut off as Ya’Shi pushed him off the edge of the mountain. He fell, tumbling wildly…

  And found himself looking up at the gromdin, the broken sky overhead.

  Seven

  Tairus was standing in front of the tower when the FirstMother arrived, fifty armored soldiers in rank behind him, weapons drawn. On either side of the armored soldiers were a dozen archers, arrows nocked. The FirstMother came hurrying around the side of the palace, three other Tenders in tow, and she pulled up when she saw the way was closed.

  “Stand aside, Tairus,” she warned. “You know what has to be done.”

  “If any of them lays a hand on her sulbit, open fire,” Tairus told the archers.

  The other Tenders looked questioningly at the FirstMother. Nalene’s eyes flashed with rage. “Now, with Melekath and his Children nearly at our gates, with the Pente Akka threatening to overwhelm our world, you would have us turn on each other?”

  “I will not stand by and see Macht Rome slain with no chance to defend himself.”

  “You would sacrifice everyone in this city, in the whole world, for one person,” she snapped.

  Tairus thought about it, then nodded. “I would.”

  “You’re a fool,” she hissed.

  “No. I’m a believer. I’ve spent too many years around Rome. I’ve seen him come through impossible scrapes before. And he has Quyloc with him. Quyloc and I don’t like each other all that much, but I know what he’s capable of. I know those two will figure a way out of this.”

  Nalene started to reply when there was a sizzling, popping sound from overhead. Everyone looked up and several of the soldiers cried out in alarm.

  Outside the window of the tower room where Rome and Quyloc lay a jagged rent had appeared in the air. Through the rent could be seen a seething mass of pulsing black filaments.

  “What is that?” one of the Tenders cried.

  “It’s the abyss,” Nalene replied, her voice loud enough for all to hear. She turned the full force of her gaze on the soldiers behind Tairus. “This is happening because of you,” she thundered. “If you don’t let me stop it, it won’t matter what Melekath does. We’ll already be dead.”

  Many of the soldiers exchanged uncertain looks. There were nervous mutters from their ranks.

  “Stand your ground!” Tairus barked. “Protect your macht!”

  A foul wind blew through the rent, which was growing larger by the moment. Sparks popped along the edges of the opening and electricity filled the air. The black filaments appeared to be attached to the edges of the rent, seemed almost to be gnawing at the edges, chewing the hole larger.

  Four more Tenders arrived and took their places behind Nalene, sharing anxious looks, waiting for the command from their FirstMother to attack. Behind them a crowd of servants and soldiers began to gather. Many of the soldiers had their weapons drawn, but they looked uncertain.

  “I can see Macht Rome!” someone shouted, pointing.

  Through the rent, small in the distance, were two figures, lying bound on top of a smoking mountain. Each man had a large number of the filaments attached to him.

  “What in Gorim’s hell is that?” one of the soldiers behind Tairus muttered.

  A huge, rubbery creature with mottled, gray-green skin was standing beside the two bound men. Motionless until now, no one had paid it much attention. But now it looked up and right at them and bellowed, the sound shocking in its brutality. Soldiers and Tenders alike took an instinctive step backward. Only Tairus and Nalene held their ground.

  The thing grabbed hold of the filaments and began to climb, moving swiftly toward them. On the edges of the volcano a seething mass of bizarre creatures leapt and howled.

  “It’s the gromdin!” Nalene yelled, turning on Tairus, her face twisted with rage and fear. She seemed to be seconds away from physically attacking him. “We have to close that opening now!”

  For the first time Tairus began to seriously doubt. Rome and Quyloc didn’t look like they were about to escape. The gromdin looked like trouble and it would be on them soon. His loyalty to Rome and faith in his leader could not hold up against his responsibility to the city of Qarath and its residents. He knew what Rome would say if he was there. Part of what made Rome who he was was his willingness to sacrifice himself to protect his followers.

  Tairus yelled, “Open the door, Nicandro!” He looked Nalene in the eye. “Don’t try and follow me. If this must be done, I will do it.”

  Nalene bared her teeth. “If you fail…”

  “I won’t.” The soldiers pulled back, opening his path to the door, which was swinging open. Tairus ran through the door and up the stairs, yelling for the door to the room to be opened as well. It opened just as he got there, the lone soldier in the room staring at him white-faced. Tairus ran to the window and looked out.

  The gromdin was about two-thirds of the way to the rent, climbing fast. Behind it the other bizarre creatures had begun to swarm up the filaments as well.

  Tairus turned to the still forms of Rome and Quyloc and drew his belt knife. “I am sorry, old friend,” he whispered as he raised the blade.

  “Wait, sir, one of them’s moving!” the soldier cried suddenly, pointing at the rent. “It’s Quyloc!”

  Rome and Quyloc could see the standoff before the tower, soldiers and Tenders poised at each other’s throats. The rent had grown rapidly, big enough now that a whole squadron of men could run through it. Rome was thrashing against his bonds and yelling, “Stand down, Tairus! Kill us, kill us!” even though there was no way anyone on the other side could hear him.

  We’ve lost, Quyloc thought.

  Hard after that: No.

  NO!

  He started to fight against his bonds but then stopped.

  Just leave. You’re not really there.

  The gromdin began climbing the filaments. Tairus was still facing off against Nalene. Rome and Quyloc would have fro
nt row seats to the destruction of Qarath. And they would be the instruments of its destruction. Other creatures started to climb the filaments as well, scurrying up like misshapen rats.

  I’m not really here.

  Quyloc closed his eyes and tried to get his breathing to slow, his muscles to relax.

  But the chaos all around him made it impossible to concentrate. The pain was increasing. Making it worse was the awareness of how close the gromdin was to the rent. He had to hurry. He had only seconds left.

  Quyloc tried again to clear his mind, to push away all distractions and reach for the calm in the center of the storm.

  Then, all at once, he found the calm. The pain, Rome’s shouting, the howling of the creatures, all faded into the background. Time stopped.

  In his mind, a faint light appeared.

  It was the remains of a small fire. He was in a decaying building, the smell of rot in the air. A man stood with his back to him. The man seemed very large. Beyond the man was a boy, several years still from manhood, staring at him defiantly, a broken knife in his hand.

  Quyloc looked down. In his hands was a heavy chunk of wood.

  He screamed his hatred and fear and charged the man, hitting him as hard as he could. With the first blow the man stumbled forward. Before he could recover himself, Quyloc hit him again. And again. The man went down, bleeding from his head…

  Quyloc opened his eyes.

  He was standing beside the stone slab, the rendspear in his hand. The black lines which had bound him were squirming on top of the slab. The filaments that had been attached to him were shriveling away, crumbling into dust.

  As the filaments crumbled away, the gromdin looked back over its shoulder. Seeing that Quyloc was free, it howled and pointed at him, then increased its pace.

  One of the creatures perched at the edge of the volcano turned toward Quyloc, its multifaceted eyes reflecting dozens of images of him. Its toothy maw opened and it rushed him.

  Coolly, almost slowly, knowing he had all the time in the world, Quyloc jabbed the spear into its open mouth. The spear cut through the thing with ease, coming out the back of its head. He snapped the weapon back and the creature dropped.

  Rome stared at him, bug-eyed. “How did you…never mind. Leave me. You have to stop that thing.”

  “I can’t leave you,” Quyloc replied. “You’re not here either.”

  The gromdin had reached the rent. Panic on the other side as people scrambled to get back.

  With a flick of his wrist, Quyloc severed the filaments attached to Rome with the spear. The gromdin howled with rage as the filaments shriveled away. It started to fall, then caught itself on the edge of the rent.

  But Nalene had not been idle. She threw out one hand and from it leapt a jagged Song bolt. The bolt struck, not the gromdin, but the edge of the rent, which crumbled away. The creature howled again, lost its hold, and began to fall.

  “Time to go,” Quyloc said. He grabbed the front of Rome’s shirt and effortlessly pulled him free of his bonds. More creatures had reached the top of the volcano and they charged the two men in a wild mass.

  Quyloc ignored them. He drew the Veil in his mind, blinked and saw it before him. A quick slash from the spear and the Veil tore. Still holding onto Rome, Quyloc leapt through the opening.

  On the dunes, Quyloc turned back and saw clawed hands reaching through the hole in the Veil. Another blink—see the Veil whole—and the opening in the Veil closed, severing the reaching limbs.

  Rome was looking around. The axe, he said. Pulling away from Quyloc, he went to it and scooped it up. Quyloc followed, and as soon as Rome had the axe, put his hand on his shoulder. Another blink and they were lying on a table in the Tower, a stunned soldier staring at them.

  Eight

  “Goddamn,” Rome said, sitting up and looking at Quyloc in awe. “I can’t believe you just did that.”

  When Quyloc sat up the delayed adrenalin hit him and he started to shake all over. “I can’t believe it either,” he admitted.

  Rome climbed off the table, but his legs failed him and he would have fallen if Tairus hadn’t caught him. For a long moment the two men stared at each other, then Tairus whooped and wrapped Rome in a hug.

  Quyloc climbed off the table too, waving away the soldier’s offered help. He stood there, leaning against the table, trying to get the shaking under control.

  Tairus let go of Rome and turned to Quyloc. “That was the most amazing thing I have ever seen,” he said. “Thank you. With all my heart, thank you.”

  Using the spear as a cane, Quyloc was able to let go of the table and stand on his own. The gratitude in Tairus’ eyes was painful for some reason and he had no idea how to reply so he turned away and walked to the window. Tairus patted him on the shoulder as he went by.

  To Rome, Tairus said, “I can’t tell you how glad I am you’re back.”

  “Probably not as glad as we are to be back,” Rome told him, a broad smile splitting his bearded face. “It looked to me like you were about to go to war with the Tenders.”

  “I was,” Tairus admitted.

  Rome’s smile disappeared. “I should bust your rank right here and now, you know.”

  Tairus drew himself to attention. “You’ll get no fight from me.”

  “No one is worth sacrificing the entire city for, hell, the entire world.”

  “You’re right, sir.”

  Rome gave him a curious look. “And you’d do the same thing again, wouldn’t you?”

  “Without hesitation.”

  “Wool-brained fool,” Rome said.

  “My mam always said so.”

  Nalene entered then, a knot of soldiers and Tenders following her. Beside her was Nicandro, who looked at Rome apologetically and said, “I tried to stop her, Macht.”

  “It’s okay,” Rome said, waving him off. He sat down heavily in a chair and laid the black axe on the table, keeping a protective hand on it.

  Nalene stood over him. “Of all the reckless, idiotic things you could have done…”

  Rome looked up at her wearily. “There’s no need for that. Quyloc already made the same point. You’re both right. It was a stupid thing to do.”

  That surprised Nalene. Some of the fire went out of her and for a moment she looked a little off balance. Her sulbit slunk from one shoulder to the other. She looked around the room and her eyes fell on Quyloc, then went to his spear. “It is good you are back,” she said, the words seeming to pain her. “Later I would like to know how you freed yourself from your bonds.”

  “Later,” Quyloc agreed. He turned away and looked out the window, not wanting to meet anyone’s eyes just then. He noticed that there were some soldiers and servants gathered around something on the ground at the base of the tower. They shifted and he was able to see what it was.

  A chill went through him.

  “You need to see this,” he said.

  Rome, Tairus and Nalene moved to stand beside him. Nalene stiffened when she saw what it was. Rome swore softly.

  On the ground was a small orange and red sand dune.

  Rome turned to Quyloc. “Where did that come from?”

  “I don’t know,” he said.

  “It looks like the sand in the Gur al Krin,” Tairus said, his words trailing off as the implications sank in.

  “It is,” Nalene said sharply, turning on Rome, one hand raised in a clenched fist. It looked like she wanted to strike him. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” she demanded. He looked at her blankly and she continued. “Maybe this will help: The Gur al Krin was caused by chaos power leaking through a rip into our world.”

  Rome winced. “You’re saying there’s a rip here now too?”

  She nodded.

  “And I caused it.”

  “Yes, you did. Congratulations, Macht Rome, you just doomed Qarath.”

  As Rome was starting to leave the room, Quyloc stopped him.

  “What is it?” Rome asked him.

  “We
touched the water in the Pente Akka,” Quyloc replied. “Last time I touched the water there, it poisoned me. I would have died without Lowellin’s intervention.”

  “So we need to find Lowellin.”

  “If we can.”

  “T’sim!” Rome called “Where are you?”

  “I’m here,” T’sim said from behind Rome.

  Startled, Rome spun around. “We need Lowellin right away.”

  T’sim cocked his head to the side, a question in his eyes. Then he nodded. “You were in the water. There is a great deal of residual chaos power lingering on you.”

  “That’s why we need Lowellin.”

  “He is not close. It may take me some time.”

  Just then a spasm of pain washed over Quyloc and he staggered to the side. Rome was turning to him when the pain hit him as well.

  “We’re running out of time,” Quyloc gasped.

  “If I may?” T’sim asked. “I may be able to help.”

  Rome bent almost double as a new spasm hit him. “We’ll take it,” he choked.

  “Follow me to the ground floor,” T’sim said calmly. “The closer we are to bedrock, the better.”

  Nine

  Jimith stopped at the servant’s door and looked around. It was late at night and the corridor at the back of the palace was deserted, as he’d known it would be. But it paid to be extra sure. Opus had expressly forbidden the servants to go out and look at the sand dune that had appeared in front of the tower, and he’d made it clear that the consequences for disobedience would be severe. As far as Jimith knew, no one had disobeyed Opus yet, though it had been all the servants talked about the entire day, and plenty of them had found excuses to go into rooms on upper floors that overlooked the area. He’d been one of them.

  But he wanted to see it up close.

  Jimith was young and possessed of a curiosity that knew no bounds. There wasn’t a room in the whole palace he hadn’t snuck into at least once, including the macht’s personal quarters. He’d never been caught either, which was a source of real pride for the boy. No one was better at sneaking around, better at hiding or moving quietly, than Jimith. He figured if he ever put his mind to it, he could be the greatest thief this city had ever seen—when he was grown a little more—the kind of thief that got sung about in the taverns.