“Just a minute, okay?” Cole asked.
The horse lifted her head up and down once. Cole took it as a nod.
“What can I do?” Cole asked.
“Here you should be able to shape much as they do in Sambria,” Dandalus said. “It takes time to develop that skill, especially to learn to make semblances. We designed Sambria so it is easier to shape than to unshape. We made the echolands very difficult to alter. But you will find that here, with your raw power, unshaping might be the simplest skill to learn. The stabilizing measures we took did not anticipate power like yours.”
“Why do I have such a weird ability?” Cole asked.
“Your power is bound to your will,” Dandalus said. “Though we built a mortal realm here, living humans were never meant to come to the echolands. Those we brought arrived with especially potent abilities. It was how they destroyed the original versions of the Outskirts, and why I chose to place restraints on shaping itself. Furthermore, almost everyone who comes to the Outskirts is brought here by others or crosses over accidentally. But you came deliberately. Since power is connected to will, those who come deliberately tend to develop extra power.”
“I guess that makes sense.”
“That isn’t all. Under the tutelage of Nazeem, shapecrafters have blurred the limits, shaping outside the boundaries we framers established. This endangers the way we restructured the shaping power. Eventually, everything could collapse back into raw shaping. You are evidence that it is starting to happen.”
“Can you fix the damage?” Cole asked.
“Not from here,” Dandalus said. “If I abandon this sanctuary, I would barely have time to destroy all we made and sweep it away as the homesong claims me. Which is why I don’t want to be discovered.”
“Did Sando see you?”
“He at least knew there was a powerful sanctuary here. I will depart before he can return.”
“If we stop Nazeem, won’t I still be a threat?” Cole asked hesitantly.
“A major threat,” Dandalus said. “Which is why I ask this favor. If you can thwart Nazeem, promise me that afterward you will seek out Rinka Pryer, the Grand Shaper of Creon. With your current abilities, she should be able to teach you how to get home. You will get what you want and protect the Outskirts as well.”
“I can make that deal,” Cole said with a huge smile. “I’ve wanted to get home from the start. You really think I can do it?”
“Now that I see your power without the shapecrafted barriers in place, I am confident you can. Defeating Nazeem will be the bigger obstacle. If you trained for a hundred years, you could not face him in a fair fight. The objective must be to prevent his escape. This could be possible. Everything depends on it.”
Cole nodded. “If Nazeem gets free, he takes over this whole world.”
“And if it gets bad enough, I flush it all, so he doesn’t trap a bunch of people, echoes, and lifeforces here with him.”
Cole shook his head. “Wow. No pressure.”
“Somebody believes in you,” Dandalus said, nodding toward Thunder. “Let’s see what you can do. Try to break the ground.”
“Here?” Cole asked.
“Not under our feet,” Dandalus said. “But inside my sanctuary. This domain is heavily protected, but unless I’m mistaken, the defenses won’t hold against your raw talent.”
Cole looked at the lush clover covering the ground about ten feet away. “How?”
“You feel your power,” Dandalus said.
“Yeah.”
“You remember how you pushed your power into the Jumping Sword.”
“Sure,” Cole said. “I get that much.”
“Try to feel that patch of ground like you feel the sword before pushing your power into it.”
“I’m always holding the sword,” Cole said.
“And that contact is helpful when you try to share energy. But you can also reach out and feel targets at a distance.”
Cole stared hard at the patch of clover. Could he sense the ground beneath? He tried to imagine the clover on fire. Or getting flattened. He tried to imagine the soil beneath splitting open.
Nothing happened.
“I don’t get it,” Cole said.
“Take my hand,” Dandalus said.
Cole let the warden’s hand close around his.
Suddenly, he didn’t just see the clover. He could sense the texture and temperature, as well as the density of the earth underneath. Small rocks were buried here and there in the rich soil.
“Look harder,” Dandalus said.
Cole found his perception going beyond the senses. As he focused, he understood the substance of the clover and the material of the dirt. He didn’t just see it or touch it or smell it or taste it or hear it—he knew it.
He felt connected to it.
The clover, the dirt, and the rocks were almost part of him. It seemed he might be able to wiggle them like fingers.
“Good,” Dandalus said. “Now draw on your power. Push power into your target and tell your target what you want it to become. See it another way.”
Cole could clearly sense his power. He had reached for it in vain so many times that he was still learning to trust that it was actually there. Was this how Dalton felt, able to create illusions in Elloweer whenever he wanted?
Cole focused on the largest rock within his target zone, mostly buried by soil and clover. He began to push some of his power toward the stone.
But how did he want to change it? What if he altered the substance of the rock into the same material as the soil? He could envision the necessary transformation.
He pushed harder and willed the change.
The rock dissolved into chalky brown matter.
Dandalus released Cole’s hand.
Cole walked over, crouched, pushed aside some clover, scooped up some of the powdery remains of the rock, and let the fine brown dust sift through his fingers. “I did . . . something,” he said.
“An outstanding effort for a first try,” Dandalus said. “The echolands are designed to be unchangeable. You shaped that stone. Not into anything useful, but you transformed it.”
“I was trying to make it into dirt,” Cole said.
“Because you recognized and understood the dirt,” Dandalus said. “A valiant effort.”
“Were you letting me see things like you see them?” Cole asked.
“As best I could, yes,” Dandalus said. “To get you started. Try it on your own.”
Cole found that when he concentrated on another patch of ground, he could perceive the clover and the soil beneath almost as clearly as when Dandalus had held his hand. He shifted his attention to a large rock that protruded well above the clover. Should he try to make it into dirt as well?
“Don’t change it,” Dandalus said. “Unshape it. Destroy it. Reach out with your power.”
Cole connected to the rock, pushed with his power, and tried to rip it apart. With a sound like a gunshot, the rock cracked in two.
“Not bad,” Dandalus said. “Now really punish it.”
Cole connected again, forcing more power at it than before. With a scowl, he tried to tear it to shreds, and the two halves shattered into fragments.
“You’re getting it,” Dandalus said. “Again. Same idea, but more thorough. Imagine the rock is going to kill you and your friends. It wants to conquer the Outskirts.”
Cole felt his anger rise. Dandalus knew how to push his buttons. With a growl, he really released his power, and not only did the stone fragments get smashed to dust—the ground where they rested split open.
“Very good,” Dandalus said. “You know how to smash now. And you know how to energize people and objects. That’s a great start.”
“People?” Cole asked.
“The same principle that enables you to energize the Jumping Sword should let you empower a person. You could enable a Sambrian shaper to practice her art in Elloweer, for example. Or awaken her slumbering powers here in the echolands.
”
“What else can I do?” Cole asked.
“Your unshaping could be useful in combat,” Dandalus said. “Keep in mind that you can’t directly shape or unshape a person. It just won’t take. Anything with a will is very hard to shape unless the subject agrees. Even vegetation is resistant. Try that tree.”
Cole focused on the trunk of a tree. He could sense it, but when he tried to push his power into it, he felt no connection.
“See?” Dandalus asked.
“Yeah,” Cole said. “What about making stuff?”
“You could undoubtedly develop that skill over time,” Dandalus said. “It wouldn’t hurt to practice. Your power appears to be inexhaustible. But don’t get frustrated. Certain disciplines take time and practice. For example, try to close the wound you made in the ground.”
Cole centered his attention on the furrow he had left after pulverizing the rock fragments. He focused on the soil along both sides of the little trench, connected to it, drew on his power, and tried to force the earth together. Clumps of soil broke off, making the split bigger and messier.
“Tricky,” Cole said.
Dandalus raised a hand, and the split closed up neatly, covered once again in clover.
“Wait,” Cole said. “What did you do with your hand?”
“Nothing vital,” Dandalus replied. “Sometimes a gesture helps my focus. My concentration and power are key, not the gesture. But mind the lesson. If closing a little ditch is difficult, imagine what it takes to shape a complex object.”
“It dissolves into brown dust,” Cole said.
“It can,” Dandalus agreed. He crouched and scooped up some soil, then pressed it together with both hands. “Or you might produce an item like this.”
He held up a golden strand just like Jace’s.
“Whoa,” Cole said. “Does it work?”
“Not yet,” Dandalus said. “Somebody would have to charge it with Sambrian shaping energy.”
Grinning, Cole held out a hand. Dandalus passed the strand to him.
Cole felt instantly connected to the little rope. He pushed, and ghostly flames flickered over the strand. Flicking his wrist, Cole willed the rope to extend and wrap around a tree trunk. It did so perfectly, as if it were an extension of his arm.
“My parting gift,” Dandalus said. “I saw it in your memories and had to try.”
“Will it work when I leave here?” Cole asked.
“Anywhere in the echolands, if you provide the energy,” Dandalus assured him.
Cole willed the rope to release the tree and to retract into a little strand. It complied.
“Thank you,” Cole said. “This could come in handy.”
“Don’t go looking for trouble,” Dandalus reminded him. “Astride Thunder you will be hard to find. Best to remain hidden as much as possible.”
“Sneak attack,” Cole said. He glanced over at Thunder. The Mare snorted and stamped one hoof. She seemed to be calling him. He looked back at Dandalus. “Think she’ll take me to the Fallen Temple?”
Dandalus shrugged. “The Mare will take you where she takes you.”
Cole sighed. “They have Destiny.”
“And you now have your power.”
Cole nodded. This was better than before. Now he had weapons—a functional Jumping Sword, a golden rope, and his power. He had already planned to challenge Nazeem to rescue Mira, basically weaponless. He now had an extra princess to save, but maybe he had more of a chance for success.
“Bye, Dandalus,” Cole said.
“Be careful if you make your way to the Fallen Temple,” Dandalus suggested. “If you unshape too recklessly there, you could potentially weaken the barriers that hold Nazeem captive.”
“Good to know,” Cole said. How dumb would he feel if he accidentally freed Nazeem?
“Don’t forget the Weaver’s Beacon,” Dandalus said.
Cole decided not to admit that the relic had slipped his mind. “Sando didn’t take it?”
“He tried,” Dandalus said. “It would take stronger shapecraft than he or any of his lackeys possess to take the beacon without permission. One of his underlings got burned.”
“I’ll get it,” Cole said.
“No need to use it while astride Thunder,” Dandalus explained. “Nothing could conceal you better than the Mare.”
“Thanks again,” Cole said.
“Farewell, Cole,” Dandalus said.
Cole ran around Thunder and followed the channel. He knew that trying to ride the horse now could lead to him galloping away without the beacon.
It was a fairly long run before finding the shuttered lantern right where he had dropped it. Thunder trotted along behind. Cole retrieved the beacon and turned to face the horse.
Thunder crouched down, and Cole climbed on. As the horse stood, Cole could feel his power flowing into the animal. Thunder brightened, light seeping through the writhing clouds of her coat.
Cole patted the horse’s neck. “Are we going to save Destiny?”
Thunder took off like lightning.
CHAPTER
33
REUNIONS
Cole squeezed with his knees and clung to the silky mane as Thunder accelerated to a ludicrous speed. His previous ride seemed like a casual trot by comparison.
Thunder continued to draw power from Cole, his contribution enhancing their breathtaking velocity. Cole supposed it made sense that if the Mare was an embodiment of shaping power, then his power could boost her capacity.
The Pass of Visions quickly drew near. Just before they rushed into the pass, the terrain and sky transformed.
The sun glared down from overhead. The cliffs ahead were replaced by brown, crumbling ridges where half-dead shrubs and trees clung to life. Cole had not seen a struggling plant since coming to the echolands. Nor had he seen the actual sun! Off to one side, a meager stream trickled down a series of ledges.
The colors were less vivid. The music was gone.
Cole and Thunder had crossed to the mortal world.
But they continued at a furious pace.
The transition had been seamless. Cole had not suspected that Thunder could cross to physical Necronum so effortlessly, or that Mare could bring his echo along. Destiny had some serious power.
Beyond the broken ridges, Thunder and Cole returned to the echolands without slowing. The sky reverted to the even glow of a duskday, the music returned, and they raced across the plain of smooth, clear crystal.
Cole felt thankful for their speed. He wondered how fast they were going compared to Sando’s gliders. Was there hope of beating Sando to the Fallen Temple? Maybe intercepting Destiny before they delivered her?
Thunder continued to draw on Cole’s power and sporadically switched between the mortal world and the echolands. Cole thought it seemed the horse was going back and forth based on what terrain was more favorable. When riding in the mortal world, Cole found he missed the music of the echolands, but the direct sunlight was welcome. As an echo in the mortal world, Cole felt no more tired or hungry than he did in the echolands.
Thunder never reduced her breakneck pace. Landscapes came and went. Eventually, when in the mortal world, they galloped under stars and moonlight. When they returned to the echolands, the terrain became richer in vegetation until Cole once again rode across short grass between lush groves and gardens. After returning to the parklike topography of the central echolands, Thunder stopped crossing to mortal Necronum.
Trees and blossoms sped by in a colorful blur. Cole’s power showed no sign of depletion in spite of the constant usage.
Up ahead Cole heard momentous, fervent harmonies. So far Thunder had generally avoided noteworthy music, but they headed directly toward this new sound.
A large building came into view, expansive and low except for six tall, slender towers. Enclosed by a crenellated wall, the structure occupied the highest ground in the vicinity.
Cole wondered if this could be the Fallen Temple. The momentous music didn
’t seem threatening enough to match Nazeem’s prison. But where else could they be?
Thunder slowed slightly as they approached an open gate in the wall. Startled echoes hurried out of the way as the horse zoomed inside. Cole received astonished stares as he streaked through courtyards and up stairways. Thunder galloped along covered walkways until skidding to a stop beside a large rectangular pool beneath the sapphire sky.
Cole stared in surprise. He had never seen standing water in the echolands.
Suddenly, the sky darkened and came to life with stars that reflected in the black water of the pool. The same masonry surrounded them, but he and the horse were now in mortal Necronum.
Thunder crouched down, and Cole slid off. He heard soft footsteps and waited as a figure moved along one of the covered walkways, coming toward the pool, carrying a small oil lamp and wearing a silver robe, the hood obscuring the face in shadow.
“Where are we?” Cole whispered to Thunder.
The figure stopped walking. “What?” a young, female voice said.
Thunder gave a soft whicker.
The figure threw back her hood and hurried toward the Mare. Cole gaped in astonishment, unable to breathe. It was Jenna.
She looked beautiful in the lamplight—the familiar face that he had longed to see for hopeless months. The face that had lived in his imagination long before they were brought to the Outskirts, long before he had promised to find her. His first crush. For a long time seeing her again had seemed an impossible dream. Cole had almost died more than once since their last encounter. And here she was, alive and well.
“How did you get in here?” Jenna asked the horse, not even glancing toward Cole.
“Jenna?” Cole asked, hardly able to speak. He could still barely believe this was happening. It had never crossed his mind that Thunder might bring him to her. But there she was—dark hair falling in wavy curls, soulful brown eyes reflecting the glow of her lamp.
Jenna continued to ignore him.
She began petting the horse. Thunder once again had fiery highlights in her swirling coat. It had to be the darkness. Or maybe being in the normal world?
“Animals are not allowed inside the temple,” Jenna chided quietly.