“This sanctuary effectively cuts me off from the rest of the echolands and the Outskirts,” Dandalus said. “As with She Who Stands at the Summit, it was the price I had to pay to avoid the call of the Other. However, I am not separated from the ways to the Outside. That I can still do from here.”
“What about my friends?” Cole asked. “Could you send Dalton and Jenna home too?”
“They would have to be here. I explained that I am separated from the rest of the echolands and the Outskirts.”
Cole paused to think. Could he go home alone? Could he leave behind Dalton, Jenna, Hunter, and the other kids who were taken from his neighborhood? It would be so nice to be back in his house. The vision at the Farthest Mountain had given him a taste—his own room, his own bed.
He longed to see his parents. Even his sister. He missed living a normal life. He missed school and sports and bikes and breakfast cereal and hot showers. No running for his life. No monsters to fight. Nobody to save.
If he snuck home, who would know? Were there ways he could help there that he couldn’t here? Maybe he could remind all the parents about their missing kids.
But how could he abandon his quest to find Destiny? How could he leave Mira and Honor to fend for themselves against their father and Nazeem? How could he ditch Dalton, Hunter, and Jenna?
Cole folded his arms. Did his presence here really make a difference? What were his chances of surviving the echolands? What were their chances of winning? Supposedly, there was a chance while he remained. But was that really true? How much did he matter?
In many ways, it would be such a relief to quit all this.
“Would my parents remember me?” Cole asked.
“Probably,” Dandalus said. “I can’t guarantee it.”
“But I would be home to stay,” Cole said.
“To stay,” Dandalus agreed.
Cole shook his head. One day he might regret letting this opportunity pass, but he knew his answer. “I can’t go. Too many people are depending on me. Can I take a rain check?”
“If you can ever find me again, sure, the offer would stand,” Dandalus said. “Though finding me is seldom easy. You are a loyal friend, Cole.”
“I guess,” he said. “Now what?”
“You may ask me three questions,” Dandalus said.
Cole figured he should get the big one out of the way. “Where can I find Destiny Pemberton?”
Dandalus smiled. “I know where you can find her. I will tell you before we finish our conversation, but I prefer to wait until the end. Is that all right?”
“Sure,” Cole said, relieved that Dandalus knew the answer.
“Good. What else can I tell you?”
“How can I get home with my friends? Besides bringing all of them to you.”
“Bringing all of them to me would work,” Dandalus said. “I would send them. But there could be another way. Shall I explain?”
“Please,” Cole said.
“Understanding the particulars involves something of a history lesson,” Dandalus said. “Thank you for opening your mind to me. Among other benefits, I know that I can confide in you. Mine has become a lonely existence. I’ve only had one other visitor in the last two hundred years.”
Cole gave a low whistle.
“I spend a lot of time in trances,” Dandalus said. “Not the dangerous kind. The kind you used when running here.”
“Was I in a trance a lot?” Cole asked.
“Is that your third question?”
“No.”
“I’ll answer regardless,” Dandalus said. “You were in a trance a good portion of the way. Mostly harmless trances, until recently. When you get far enough into the fringe, the call becomes almost irresistible. Even sheltered by the beacon, your defenses were starting to break down.”
“The homesong got pretty tempting,” Cole admitted.
“Which is unavoidable,” Dandalus said. “The whole purpose of the echolands is to prepare individuals to answer that call. Let me take you back to the beginning. Back before the Outskirts existed. Can you guess what was here?”
“I don’t know,” Cole said. “Outer space?”
“Wrong,” Dandalus said. “There was no outer space here. There still isn’t, matter of fact. This entire plane of existence was simply the echolands. Nothing more.”
“So you were an echo?” Cole asked.
“That’s another question,” Dandalus said. “It’s hard to converse without them. Keep asking and I’ll tell you if you stumble onto a topic that requires you to use your third official one. I was and I am an echo. There was originally a single type of shaping here. It was most similar to Sambrian shaping, but you could accomplish all that can be done in any of the five kingdoms. And more.”
“Did people shape the echolands a lot?” Cole asked.
“Quite a bit, as you might imagine,” Dandalus said. “Not all the echoes were strong shapers. But everyone could at least shape a little. People carved out their own versions of paradise while waiting to heed the call of the Other.”
“You came here from another world,” Cole said.
“After my physical body died, yes,” Dandalus said. “Everyone did. Nobody is native to the echolands. You’ve heard the Outskirts described as an in-between place? It really is. It’s a physical realm built in the afterlife. A place between life and what comes after. A place between reality and imagination, because you can turn just about anything you can imagine into reality. A place between sleep and wakefulness, because if you can’t sleep, how can you be sure you’re truly awake? The echolands have a transitory, dreamlike quality. This place is intended as a permanent home to none.”
“But you changed it,” Cole said. “To add the Five Kingdoms.”
“Some of us got greedy,” Dandalus said. “We didn’t mean any harm. But a handful of us were extremely powerful shapers. We learned how to cheat the call of the Other and used the time to grow in power. Eventually, we decided that we wanted to live again. So we used our abilities to create a material world here in the echolands. A mortal world.”
“The Outskirts,” Cole said.
“It didn’t go well at first,” Dandalus confessed. “We made a modest realm. We brought in mortals from some of the neighboring worlds. The easiest to access was Earth. But the mortals arrived with much more powerful shaping skills than the typical echo, and they soon destroyed the world we created. Everyone we had brought here died.”
“Could you visit the world you made?” Cole asked.
“That was the point,” Dandalus said. “We transformed our echoes so we could dwell there. It made us feel alive again. A detailed simulation of mortality.”
“What did you do when the world was destroyed?” Cole asked.
“We escaped back to the echolands,” Dandalus said. “And we tried again. We made the next world much more sturdy and complete before transplanting actual mortals. Once all was ready, we brought a new group of mortals, and within five years they destroyed the world again.”
“Bummer,” Cole said.
“We felt terrible,” Dandalus said. “Hundreds of lives were lost. We decided that if we were going to make a third attempt, we needed to rethink everything.”
“What did you do?”
“We labored to restructure the shaping power itself,” Dandalus said. “Shaping had been the main problem. Mortals would come to the world we had made and destroy all we had created. So we toiled until we learned to use shaping to redesign how shaping itself functioned.”
“That sounds like shapecraft,” Cole said.
“Doesn’t it?”
“You’re hurting my brain.”
“It hurt ours, too. But eventually we succeeded. Once we were finished, very few echoes besides ourselves could shape in the echolands. Those who could had limited abilities.”
“And you divided the new world into five kingdoms.”
“Yes!” Dandalus said. “You’re catching on! We only allowed certain shapi
ng abilities in the various kingdoms. We wanted mortals to be able to shape, but not enough to destroy what we had created. The shaping in Sambria is called shaping because it is the closest to the original shaping. Just not quite as powerful. There was also enchanting, tinkering, weaving, and minding. When we brought mortals in the next time, the experiment worked. The world held together. We had produced the five kingdoms of the Outskirts.”
“And you guys were the first Grand Shapers,” Cole guessed.
“There were six of us,” Dandalus said. “I was the first High Shaper. The other five each supervised one of the kingdoms. Over time, a new threat developed.”
“The torivors?” Cole guessed.
“They came later. The first threat was from the echoes. Too many of them wanted to migrate from the echolands to the Outskirts. There were unfair advantages to living as an echo in the mortal world, and many echoes abused their power. Though the six of us did our best to protect the mortals, other echoes commenced to exploit and enslave them. Some mortals died on purpose so they could return as echoes. It was becoming a mess.”
“How did you handle it?” Cole wondered.
“Can’t you guess?” Dandalus asked. “We stepped away from our creation. Together, we reshaped the world so that echoes couldn’t dwell in the mortal Outskirts. The six of us withdrew and left mortal Grand Shapers in our place. There are still some places where echoes can sneak back into mortality, but not many, and not without incurring mortal weaknesses.”
“What about the Shiver Moon?” Cole asked.
“We didn’t want to completely sever ties between the echolands and the mortal kingdoms. The weavers of Necronum became the bridge. The Shiver Moon allowed for easier communication for all on certain nights in Necronum.”
“When did the torivors come?” Cole asked.
“Right before we divided the echolands from the Outskirts,” Dandalus said. “The six of us slipped back across and captured them. Barely. It took all our ingenuity.”
“So if you split up the shaping powers, how does shapecraft fit in?” Cole asked.
“Shapecraft taps into the original shaping of the echolands,” Dandalus said. “Raw shaping. Natural shaping. The torivors have figured out ways to work around the system we established. They can sidestep many of the rules we made. If they succeed in truly unleashing raw shaping, mortal shapers will once again tear apart the world we built. Except this time, millions will perish.”
“Wow,” Cole said.
“And the torivors will take control of the echolands,” Dandalus said. “The five kingdoms will be destroyed, and whatever remains will be ruled by an all-powerful tyrant.”
“I see why you don’t want Nazeem to get free,” Cole said.
“Perhaps you are wondering what all this has to do with your question.”
“About getting home?”
“Right. Your problem involves the fundamental nature of this world. This was originally a place for the echoes of deceased mortals to let go of their previous lives. The Outskirts was created within the echolands. Those underlying mechanisms remain in place, but in some ways they work more powerfully on mortals who come here from Outside. When a lifeforce moves to the echolands, it is never meant to return. When a mortal comes to the Outskirts, some of the same rules take hold. Even if you manage to get home, you are drawn back.”
“That makes a weird kind of sense,” Cole said.
“When a lifeforce comes here as an echo, the echolands not only help the deceased individual prepare to move on—the preliminary separation helps those who mourn let go of the deceased. When a mortal comes to the Outskirts, the condition is exaggerated, and those who most love the person forget all about him.”
“The echolands are about letting go and moving on,” Cole said. “The Outskirts share some of those traits.”
“It would require shaping at the most fundamental level to overcome these obstacles,” Dandalus said. “Raw shaping of the primary aspects of this reality. It’s impossible to do within the system we designed. But you have the potential of adjusting the system itself.”
“Me?” Cole asked.
“It’s why Morgassa attacked you so fiercely,” Dandalus said. “Your power was a threat. You naturally possess what the shapecrafters have artificially tried to create inside of themselves—raw shaping power. That’s why you could make the Jumping Sword work in Elloweer. Your power transcends the boundaries we established. It took you a long time to start using it because your ability was not meant to function in the system we created. But that didn’t stop you.”
“Doesn’t that make me dangerous?” Cole asked.
“Yes. It also makes you useful. Because your style of shaping could actually challenge the torivors. I’m not sure anyone else could make them break a sweat. This must be why Trillian thought you might be able to save the Outskirts.”
“Wouldn’t Trillian hate me?” Cole asked.
“Hard to say,” Dandalus said. “I expect he sees you as both a hazard and an opportunity. He probably hopes you will go to him for training. Given your innate abilities, who knows how he might try to use you?”
Cole shivered. “I don’t want to serve the torivors. But I’ll try to stop them if I can.”
“I know you mean well. I admire your courage. Cole, the answer to your question is that you have the potential to get your friends home if you can unlock your power.”
“Do you know how I can do that?”
“That is a big question. Want to make it number three?”
“Yes.”
“I know you wish that I could repair your power,” Dandalus said. “I wish it too. But I can’t. The damage is too wrapped up in who you are. It connects to your very lifespark. If I tried to heal it, I would kill you.”
“Trillian thought I could get my power back,” Cole said.
“Trillian was probably right,” Dandalus said. “But you will have to find a way. I don’t know of anyone who can do it for you.”
“When I touched the Founding Stone, your imprint helped me use my power,” Cole said.
“I saw that episode in your memories. My imprint didn’t heal your damage. It helped you work around it. I could do the same here. I could help you work around your damage and engage some of your power. But when you left, you would remain as you were. Perhaps, given enough time, you will find methods to work around the damage on your own.”
“So you can’t help me fix the problem,” Cole said. “I wasted my last question.”
Dandalus looked beyond Cole. “I don’t see a line of people awaiting their turn. The three-question rule is there to help prevent frivolous inquiries and to let me see what most matters to people. You can ask me more if you’d like.”
“You seem to know a lot,” Cole said.
“I am the Warden of the Light.”
“Where is the light?” Cole asked. “Is it bright?”
“Brightness isn’t always the best for seeing,” Dandalus said. “It depends on the goal. For example, back home in Arizona, when could you see farthest?”
“What do you mean?” Cole said. “Like during the day? Or when I was on a mountain?”
“You could see your surroundings best during the day,” Dandalus said. “But when could you see farthest?”
“At night,” Cole realized. “The stars. Those are easily the farthest things I could see.”
“But they were invisible during the day,” Dandalus said. “Brightness can help, but it isn’t everything.”
“Is your light a lantern like this one?” Cole asked, holding up the beacon.
“It is a more important kind of light,” Dandalus said. “The light of understanding. The light of discernment. The light that lets us comprehend things as they really are.”
“Do you know everything?”
“I’m as close as it comes in this plane of existence. I know what the echolands once were. I know how we changed them. If all else fails, I can restore them.” He considered Cole with grav
e eyes.
“You mean erase what you did?” Cole asked. “Hit the self-destruct button?”
“More or less,” Dandalus said. “If it comes to it, I could destroy the Outskirts, flush all the echoes to the Other, and restore the echolands to their original state. I can undo what the six of us established.”
“But it would kill everybody,” Cole said.
“Everybody,” Dandalus emphasized. “We’d all head to the Other. Including myself. I hope never to do it. But I am the final safeguard against the echolands being overthrown and corrupted. I am the Warden of the Light.”
“What about my friends?” Cole tried. “Do you know where they are?”
“Like She Who Stands at the Summit, I can’t see into the strongholds tainted by shapecraft. And I can’t see the mortal Outskirts from here. But Prescia, Ferrin, Drake, and Desmond were captured when they tried to free Honor from Gamat Rue. Harvan was taken there as well. Mira and Durny remain at the Fallen Temple.”
“It’s all on me,” Cole said, buckling under the impossible weight of all the people he needed to help.
“Take it one problem at a time,” Dandalus said.
“I guess,” Cole said. “What else should I ask you?”
“I could shed light on many issues that have made you curious. Remember, I’ve seen your mind. For example, I made the cloudwalls in Sambria.”
“You did?”
“I felt bad for those whose wishes never came true. For the unfulfilled dreams here and elsewhere. One cloudwall interprets broken dreams into physical realities. It was quite difficult to construct. My crowning achievement in some ways. It selects those subjects who dreamed biggest but also endured the greatest frustration. Since the cloudwall ran the risk of eventually bringing too much material into the Outskirts, I designed the other one to dispose of the creations. I never anticipated the salvage operations that sprang up, but I’m happy they exist, so the castles provide some benefit to people beyond their aesthetics.”
“I almost died in some of those castles,” Cole said.
“I saw those memories. It’s why I suspected you might be interested.”
“What else can you tell me?” Cole asked.
“Understanding the true nature of the Outskirts resolves some of the questions you have wondered about. Originally, the echoes all communicated by telepathy. It transcended language. We left enough of that in place that everyone understands one another here, no matter what language they speak. In fact, it takes very disparate languages to create the impression of an accent.”