Prodigal Steelwielder (Seals of the Duelists Book 3) Page 5

  Kiwani felt quite at home there.

  With a tip of her head, she pressed Stratus toward the rocky spires. The chill penetrated her clothing and numbed her skin, and Kiwani welcomed it. She closed her eyes, briefly wondering how much it would hurt if she toppled off her avatar and fell to her death. She decided not to bother. She’d practiced recovering her avatar too often after an accidental fall. A single, stray suicidal thought wouldn’t be able to overcome all those hours of practice and training. That’s what training is for. To make us predictable, to force us to live to fight another day.

  She landed at the entrance of one of the easternmost canyons. Its sheer, twisting walls rose high above her head then veered off to the left before joining into a single ribbon of rock. Kiwani inhaled deeply of the heavy air that the cave breathed out, metallic and ancient. She had come to the Shadow Canyons more and more often during her time at the duel den. It hadn’t taken her long to give in to her curiosity, but something about its labyrinthine pathways and endless loops and twirls, never seeming to be the same maze twice, both soothed and tantalized her lonely soul.

  She closed her eyes and brought forth her elemental hexlings—small slices of elemental magic that she had previously created to accomplish specific purposes. She could easily recall to existence several at the same time: Flame to sense the day’s heat, Wind to propel her forward, Earth to guard against those sudden twisting turns. Then she shot into the canyon, riding the wind at a breakneck speed, feeling the world press around her like an uncaring womb. Her magic sensed the twists and turns of her passage, and she jinked up, then right, then down, losing herself in the maze, leaving behind all her inner darkness in exchange for darkness that surrounded her.

  Time passed unheeded, and Kiwani felt a growing urge to slam herself into a wall of rock. Even now, nothing touches me. She wrenched to a sudden stop in the center of a lightless cavern and hovered in the silence and dust. No, stop. Just stop it. This would never be what he wanted for me. Bayan…

  Her heart spasmed, and she buried her face in her hands. Without thinking, she hexed anima and cast Lifeseeker, stretching out the spell as far as she could. Thousands of small cave-dwelling creatures registered, their soft orange lights blissfully unaware of either her or her agony. He’s too far away. He’s always too far away.

  A strange sensation filtered into her consciousness. Why do I feel like I’m standing with my back to the sun?

  Still hovering, Kiwani rotated until she faced directly upward toward an arching stone ceiling. Though no orange light emanated from the spell in that direction, something tugged at her so strongly that she felt nearly helpless against its pull. She rose until her fingers brushed the rough, crumbly surface of the cavern’s ceiling. Then she pressed both her palms hard against it, sending an Earth hexling along with the Lifeseeker spell. Her elemental magic told her there was indeed a void somewhere above her, a perfectly spherical gap in the rock. Her anima magic told her that somehow, something was some form of alive within it.

  “What are you?” The words rose unbidden from her lips.

  She dared not approach from below. Hard lessons had been learned over the last year within the mountain that supported the academy campus. She and her former hexmates had attempted to craft safe, enclosed practice arenas, with a series of disastrous results. Taban had been crushed nearly to death, and when he’d finally awakened after Doc’s hasty ministering, he wryly commented that he finally understood why trade duelists took twenty years to earn their titles: working outside of the duel den basically meant that they were at the mercy of Sint Nature with every spell. Tala made subtle inquiries with Earth-specialist trade duelists in order to learn the secrets of working with existing mountains, and eventually everyone had learned enough not to accidentally kill themselves.

  Kiwani cast a dozen clones of one of her Wind hexlings, a delicate tendril of wind that sensed, like a cat’s whiskers, anything that brushed against it. She sent them through the canyons and tracked their progress with her mind, searching for a way to get around and above the strange void. One of her breezes found a clear path, but as she followed, it vanished, and she skidded to a halt in front of a sheer rock wall.

  She lit the dead-end corridor with frustrated red flame and wielded Lifeseeker like a torch, determined to spot the orange glow that was playing with her.

  But she saw nothing other than the caves’ small denizens and the conflagration, now somewhere off to her left. It should’ve been blinding in its fiery illumination. But it wasn’t.

  Giving up on subtlety, Kiwani drilled straight through the rock toward the blinding absence that called to her like a beacon. Suspicious, she remained airborne within her fresh tunnel. She absentmindedly reached out to brace against the stone, and it rushed forward around her fingers like sea foam, locking her hand against it.

  Startled, Kiwani hexed it away and clutched her hands to her chest. What stirred within her wasn’t fear and wasn’t shadow. A fast, unknowable force called to her, a mystery. And she felt equal to the task. She thrust the last few bits of stone ahead of her, then hovered within her tunnel’s mouth, alert.

  The spherical void stretched before her, black and silent. But she would never have called it empty. On some level, she sensed it pulsing, throbbing, even manic with life. She brightened her flames until they were a dazzling white, but still nothing reacted to the light she created, nor to the stone she had moved. Still, she dared not put her feet down.

  She readied Stratus in case she needed a quick escape then took a deep breath. “I know you’re there.”

  Silence.

  “Can you hear me? I found you. What are you?”

  Can you hear me? I found you. What are you? I know you’re there.

  Kiwani went still in complete and utter shock as the tiny, strange presence echoed her words back to her, within the confines of her mind. Her eyes darted from side to side, looking for any source for the strange force. Nothing moved. Nothing seemed to have changed at all. Her heartbeat ratcheted up, and one hand reached for her necklace. One of those beads represented fear, but somehow she’d never managed to force her magic to meld with abject terror. That seems an obvious oversight now. “I am here. Where are you?”

  I am here.

  Her eyes scraped the stone walls once more. “Show yourself. What are you?”

  Silence.

  It’s just parroting. But that doesn’t mean it won’t murder me into a thousand wet fragments. She eased backward down the tunnel, gently giving a wider berth to the strange, dark void in the stone. The rock at the very edge began to extrude, blocking her view.

  I am here. Where are you?

  The strange presence felt plaintive. Lonely. A burst of compassion—warm, orange, and multipetaled like a chrysanthemum—burst open within Kiwani’s chest. Without thinking, she eased all the way into the void and hovered in its very center. She hunched against any potential attack and closed her eyes, but she left her mind open. Intense, boiling existence seemed to both press against her and pass right through her. She felt surrounded by a churning notion of emptiness. “I’m here. I’m here. What am I doing here? This is insane.”

  It echoed her once again: What am I doing here? This is insane.

  Lifeseeker tried again and again to sense the force that surrounded her, but it had no answer. Slowly, Kiwani brought all of her elemental magics to bear as well. Strange feedback began to reach her mind. The hollow consciousness seemed to possess flame, shock, even wood—all six elements, in fact. Yet the feedback was so unusual that she doubted it would have registered at all with her perceptions if she hadn’t already been struggling to understand what Lifeseeker was trying to tell her.

  The presence pressed against her in a more coherent manner. Kiwani twitched away, darting through the air back toward her tunnel. But its stone mouth had closed. Pressure wound its way around her feet and hands and sieved its way through her braided hair, feeling like nothing so much as a thousand tiny fingers.


  Those fingers probed deeper, through her scalp, and Kiwani cried out in pain and fear. The fingers receded abruptly, then grasped her like a small toy and thrust her backward. Her feet hit solid stone, and she staggered, using her magic to brace herself.

  Her tunnel held her safely. Her flame light was restored, the pain in her head had vanished, and the force no longer pressed against her. She almost felt like she had slipped backward in time, except that she could remember having stood on that exact spot several moments ago. The essence seemed to coalesce before her, and she stared intently forward, trying to make her eyes focus enough to see what she already knew was right there before her.

  Kiwani.

  Kiwani’s soul trembled. “I may be a hexmage, but I know when I am completely out of my league. Tell me what you are, that I may understand. To my humble skills, you seem of magic. But I don’t even understand what that means. Help me know. I mean you no harm.”

  The vast presence seemed to loom closer, examining her the way a child studies a pretty new flower. I see you. Kiwani the Hexmage. Your skills are tiny, unformed. You have many desires which you seem unaware of how to fulfill. Many thoughts that contradict. You are of many purposes. You are not ready. And I, I am past ready. I am once again of many purposes. They hurt. I cannot escape them.

  “You are a prisoner, then. This is your pen.”

  Pen. Yes.

  “How long have you been here?”

  Time fell apart long ago. A series of bright images pressed against Kiwani’s mind: coastline, breezy skies, hills swathed in deer herds, and a flat, fertile plain where the Shadow Canyons now stood.

  Kiwani felt her neck go stiff with shock. “You’re ancient. Older even than our civilization.”

  Civilization? So much has been lost.

  “Were you alone, then? Were you a god?”

  A broken god. More broken than most. I saw a different future, and it did not come to pass.

  She couldn’t decide if the being was bitter, sad, or simply insane. “They put you here. The others. Punished you.”

  Because they could.

  “You were enemies?”

  No.

  Kiwani couldn’t imagine friends choosing to punish one of their own forever. But she and her hexmates had been unable to prevent Bayan’s exile. Maybe this being’s fate had been out of his friends’ hands, impossible as that seemed. On the other hand, the being was vastly more powerful than she was in ways she couldn’t begin to comprehend. Perhaps it had broken rules. Or perhaps it was evil, in which case she had no business holding the door open for it.

  The consciousness seemed to sense her confusion and doubt. Go or stay, it matters not. Our fates are one.

  “I don’t understand.”

  Freedom is an illusion. Choice is irrelevant. This place is not truly a prison. It is… a muzzle. The danger you fear you’ve unleashed was fated long ago. You are well matched to your civilization. I offer you an unfulfilled wish. In thanks.

  A strange, prickly shiver seemed to sunder Kiwani from head to toe, leaving her weak, feverish, gasping. Her hold on her magic weakened, shot through with a frisson of unfocus. I… I need to go. Slipping…

  Am I the last? The being’s urgent curiosity flooded Kiwani’s mind.

  “I… I don’t know. I don’t know what you are. What did you do to me?”

  So long have they been gone from me. I miss. We… We used to talk.

  ***

  Despite an oncoming headache and a strange case of body chills, Kiwani managed to extricate herself from the Shadow Canyons and return to the duel den. Exhausted, she fell asleep the moment her head touched her pillow, and in the morning she felt much recovered.

  Two days later, a pair of clients scheduled a duel between Kiwani and Gorwin. With the force of habit, Kiwani held back and only used her avatar skills. Four spells later, Gorwin stood encased in solid stone, earning her another win. Still, one of his stone chips had blasted straight through her left arm, leaving a bloody trail that dripped from her pinky finger tip.

  She released him and bowed, first to Gorwin, then to her client. As the pain of her injury set in, she strode to the edge of the arena where the visiting chanter held his gnarled hands out, ready to receive her injured limb. “Not too bad this time,” he said. “Not like some of your injuries.”

  Kiwani glared at him, and he glared right back. He slipped a hand into his crystal pouch and retrieved the Southern Common crystal, holding it between Kiwani’s injured arm and his chanting.

  But the pain didn’t lessen. Kiwani winced. “What in sints is going on? Did you take the wrong crystal?”

  The chanter twisted the crystal to examine its marking. “Southern Common, says right here. What in sints?” He chanted again as if somehow, the second time he would get a different result. Meanwhile, Kiwani continued to bleed. Gorwin jogged over in polite concern, and the clients stood in their arena rows, gazing down with curiosity.

  The chanter looked at Gorwin in desperation. “I don’t understand,” he said plaintively. “This is the same exact crystal I used on her last time. It hasn’t left my pouch. I don’t understand.”

  Gorwin’s dark brows knitted together. He thumbed the area next to the wound on Kiwani’s arm, and his lips stretched in guilty sympathy. “I don’t know, Kiwani,” he said with a confused grin, “did you change your blood status between duels?”

  Fire wrapped Kiwani’s spine, and the world spun to a halt around her. My most fervent wish after Bayan and Doc discovered my secret was to be who I’d always thought I was. The Waarden child of Waarden parents, instead of the unwanted, adopted daughter of two Shawnash indentureds.

  Her hand trembled as she raised it to point at the chanter’s pouch. “Use the Waarden one. And if you would please, make a change to the permanent record at your home den. The other chanters in your rotation will need to know, too.” She lifted her chin, but she couldn’t manage her usual dead stare. She felt too much chaos swirling behind her eyes. Just when I was getting used to who I am. “My name is Kiwani t’Eshkin, and I am a Waarden duelist.”

  At the Pleasure of the Emperor

  Eward forced his shoulders back and stood as tall as he could on the arena sand as his Head Duelist berated him in front of the entire duel den. A corner of his mind coolly observed that Cavan’s fury looked strikingly similar to his pleasure, his curiosity, and his exasperation.

  “Did you think I wouldn’t notice, duelist?” Cavan monotoned. “Did you think you could bring your twisted ways to my duel den and continue just as you have been? Did you think that, because of your inherent strength with elementalism, I would let your unseemly habits slide, that I would wink them away in exchange for the benefit of your participation in our duel den? Did you really think that you were so sints-damned important that I would change the way I have run this duel den for the last dozen years just for you?”

  Cavan turned in a slow circle, his hooded eyes seeming to pierce every watching duelist that surrounded him and Eward. Their faces were still, their eyes wide. “And have we, your fellow duelists, not suffered at your hands? Have we not been forced to defend you to the uncomprehending public? Have you not made us complicit in your depravities?” He completed his turn and faced Eward once more. “That stops now. You’ll answer for your heinousness and summit to my correction, or I will remove you from my roster and have you reassigned—No. That would not be fair. I will not have you inflicting yourself on another duel den. You will submit to my correction, or I will have you potioneered.”

  Potioneered? Is he serious? Eward scanned the faces of his fellow duelists, gauging their reactions to Cavan’s words. Most of them seemed genuinely surprised at Cavan’s threat of potioneering, but a few of them—Seela, Bergam, and Ashlen—just looked so irritated at Eward’s continued existence that they didn’t seem to mind the overly harsh punishment. This situation has spun off into the realm of the truly insane. If I don’t talk to Philo about this right away, I’ll be in real trouble. I’d rat
her be exiled like Bayan than potioneered. He felt a twinge of guilt for Odjin and his potioneer colleagues.

  “Well? Speak.”

  Eward took a deep breath and marshaled his response. “Head Duelist Cavan, I assure you, there is nothing to correct. This has all been a gross misunderstanding. That girl in the market—”

  “—came to me unprompted. I have no reason to doubt her word, nor any of the other girls’ words. It is your word, in fact, with which I am currently most concerned. Your behavior has been absolutely reprehensible, and I will not have a member of this duel den besmirching its reputation amongst the populace whom we serve. Am I in any way unclear?”

  Eward schooled his features to stillness. Cavan liked it when his duelists imitated his expressionless calm, as if it were the signature feature of his duel den, indicative of a close connection to the void. I’m pretty far from the void right now. Why do these rapine accusations keep popping up? I don’t even remember the girl from the market, let alone assaulting her in her father’s back storeroom.

  “Duelist Eward? I await your reply. Will you or will you not accept my correction?” Cavan crossed his arms, a sign that he was truly infuriated.

  Maybe I can channel Kiwani just enough to get me out of this bind. Eward tipped his head down and gave Cavan a dark look from below his brows. “Are you quite sure that you want to threaten your most powerful duelist with potioneering? Is that really going to reflect well on your duel den’s reputation? How are you going to answer all the questions you get about why I’m not here anymore? The citizens of the district of North Keenacht like me pretty well, and I’m a particular favorite amongst the merchant ladies, despite all those bizarre accusations you claim have been leveled against me. Are you sure you’re ready to lose their business?” Sints, I have no idea if most of those merchant women remember my name, let alone possess enough loyalty to me to realize that I’m not here anymore.