A shout rang out, followed by a hiss of many indrawn breaths. Dahli’s head snapped around towards the shouter, who was pointing out beyond the lamps. Tyen followed the direction of his gaze.
Five shadowy figures darkened the white room. As they grew more distinct, many fainter shapes formed a greater shadow around them.
“Wait,” Dahli ordered, though none were considering wasting their magic on targets that hadn’t yet arrived. Tyen sought Dahli’s mind and saw a memory rushing to the fore as it was freed. Something about a trap. Something Dahli wasn’t entirely sure would work, but was worth trying …
Then Tyen was distracted as the first five figures moved as one, skimming out from the middle of the Restorers towards Dahli’s followers. As they passed the square of lamps, they stopped and formed a line, hands linked. The fainter shadows grew more distinct, taking the shape of people. These moved to form an arc, shifting either forward or back to avoid arriving with the lamps within their bodies.
Tyen could make out the faces of the first five now. His stomach sank as he recognised Baluka in the centre. Though it had been obvious who would lead the attack, it did not make being within the opposing army any easier. Two older Travellers stood to Baluka’s right. On Baluka’s left stood two women. Observing the one to the far left, Tyen’s heart sank. Hapre had seen him, and her brows had lowered into a disapproving scowl.
He turned his attention to the other woman, and his heart stopped.
Rielle.
She too had seen him. She also regarded him with a frown, but her stare was more searching than angry. His heart lightened a little at that, but only a little. Perhaps there is a chance to—
“Ah,” Dahli said. “So that’s—”
A deafening sound knocked Tyen’s mind into shocked stillness. Gasps and yelps of surprise surrounded him. Qall uttered a low cry, leapt up and climbed onto his chair.
Then the screaming began.
Baluka and his companions spun around to stare behind them. Where the hall had been empty but for the Restorers’ arriving army, rows upon rows of poles now filled the space between floor and ceiling. Hanging from and embedded within the poles were limbs and torsos and heads—or pieces of them … some of which were coming loose and slipping to the floor.
Time seemed to slow as Tyen’s mind struggled to comprehend and understand what had happened. Two-thirds of the Restorers’ army had materialised outside of the lamps, within the trap. The poles had fallen a heartbeat before they’d arrived. The fighters had no chance to move to a safer place. They’d materialised within them.
The lucky ones had died instantly. The rest remained alive, not just pierced but fused with metal, flesh slowly separating where the two met so that part of the victims continued to fall to the floor with a sickening slap, followed by a spatter of blood.
It was a brutal trap. An effective trap. Looking up, Tyen saw row upon row of dark circles in the roof. A few of the poles had not descended fully and hung over the carnage like sinister stalactites. So not a completely foolproof trap, but enough to weaken the army dramatically. Enough to turn the battle in Dahli’s favour.
Then Tyen sensed something else. Magic was blooming within the room, released by the dead and dying sorcerers. As it did, it was drawn swiftly away towards Dahli’s army. To Dahli.
It came with a gust of air displaced by the trap and its victims, laced with the smell of blood and vomit and faeces. A few of Dahli’s followers began to choke or throw up. Tyen could see shock in their faces, or relief, and even admiration. He looked in their minds. Though many were sickened, all were glad to be fighting on Dahli’s side.
Except for one.
Zeke was staring at Dahli. His mind was full of horror and disbelief. Dahli gazed back at him, his expression hardening.
“This is war, Zeke.”
Zeke shook his head. “I can’t love anyone who would do this,” he said so quietly that Tyen only heard it because he could read Zeke’s mind. “I can’t let myself.”
Dahli flinched.
Stepping down from the chair, Zeke turned to Qall. “I’m sorry, Qall. I can’t do anything to help you. Know that I would if I could. I wish you all the best.”
“Zeke—” Dahli began. But the young inventor straightened and faded out of sight.
Dahli reached out towards the shadow of the young inventor, his triumph at the trap’s success dissolved by guilt, regret and frustration. I have to do this, Dahli told himself. I must be ruthless. Yet he understood Zeke’s rejection. The trap was terrible. It made him a mass murderer. Again. That thought made his heart burn with a familiar ache, and a desperate determination to succeed in his task. When Valhan returned, he would approve of what Dahli had done. He would say Dahli had made a difficult but correct decision. That he would have ordered Dahli to do it.
Tyen’s stomach turned. He swallowed hard, tasting bile. For the first time, hate for Valhan pressed into him. He used Dahli’s conscience as well as his love to bind him. With Valhan to take the blame, Dahli could do anything. What would happen if all possibility of the Raen’s return was destroyed? Tyen had always assumed Dahli would be gone—having fought to the death. But if he survived … he couldn’t shift blame to Valhan any more. Would he self-destruct?
Tyen looked at Qall. The young man held a hand over his mouth, his face pale and eyes wide. But as he saw Tyen looking his way, he lowered his hand and his expression hardened. He looked down at the box containing Valhan’s hand.
“Qall …?” Tyen began.
The young man glanced up at Tyen, his eyes wide and frightened. He had never looked less like Valhan.
“I’m fine,” he said. Then he bowed his head and his shoulders hunched. “Watch the battle.”
So he can watch it through my eyes, Tyen understood. Straightening, he looked over the heads of the fighters to find that a more traditional sorcerous battle had begun.
The air hummed and glowed as the surviving Restorers attacked and Dahli’s followers responded. The Restorers fought in organised groups, one member shielding as others attacked, with exhausted fighters retreating to the back. Dahli’s followers shielded themselves as they fought.
Tyen sought the minds of each side. Baluka was worried. The Restorers had been winning when Dahli’s forces had retreated to this world, but with only a third left—and Dahli having taken the magic released by the two-thirds that had perished—their prospects weren’t good.
Baluka looked at Rielle. Her face was hard with determination, her teeth pressing against her lower lip.
“Are you strong enough to transport us out?” Baluka asked her.
She did not answer.
“Rielle!”
“I’m not leaving without Qall.”
“You’ll die if we lose and are trapped here. We’ll all die.”
“Qall won’t let them kill us. He’ll insist that Dahli abandon us here instead. I’ll make magic. We’ll escape eventually.”
“Can you see what Qall’s doing?” Baluka asked.
“He’s just sitting there, staring at a box,” she replied.
“He must have heard Lejihk and Ankari calling his name.”
She grimaced and shook her head. “He’s not watching. He may not even be listening. Dahli must have done something to him.”
“If we are to retreat, we should go now. They’re bound to follow. We’ll need extra magic to evade them.”
She shook her head. “Qall will have to pay attention to us, if we stay to the end.”
She’s right, Tyen thought. But it is a terrible risk to take. And a terrible choice to force on the young man. Let the foster parents he loved die, or change sides and know Dahli’s followers will kill all the Travellers in revenge.
And I …? A chill ran down Tyen’s back. He’s not the only one who must decide between two terrible choices.
Could he watch Rielle perish? His eyes found Rielle again and refused to move away. If he switched sides, it might save her, and the Restorers, but it wo
uld mean abandoning Qall. Dahli was sure to flee with the young man if he lost, and continue his quest to resurrect the Raen. Like the Restorers, he’d kept some of his supporters out of the battle, with instructions to follow if he lost—including attacking the Travellers. Qall would still be in his power.
Tyen forced his gaze away from Rielle to the young man sitting below. Qall’s attention was still fixed on the box. He needs advice and guidance. I should stay and be a voice of caution and reason to counter Dahli’s manipulations.
But if Tyen let the people Qall loved die, would he ever convincingly be a good influence again? Would Qall see him as another sorcerer as callous as Dahli? Would he model himself on them both?
Tyen looked up at the Restorers. They had formed one closely huddled group, protected by a single shield held by Rielle. Most had depleted their store of magic. Many were watching Rielle, their fears growing. They knew they had lost. They knew she was supposed to be transporting them away.
Dahli’s forces were moving closer, slowly surrounding the Restorers. Dahli remained on the chair, though he was now positioned at the back of his army. He looked down at Qall, and a small smile of satisfaction curled his lips. He glanced at Tyen briefly—a cautious, calculating look—before turning back to the battle.
A creeping sensation ran across Tyen’s skin. What is he up to now? Stepping off his chair, Tyen sat down and leaned towards Qall. The young man’s gaze was fixed on the box, unblinking and glazed.
“Qall,” Tyen said, keeping his voice low. “I’m going to switch sides. It’s the only way to save Rielle and your parents. Come with me.”
Qall’s expression did not change.
“You are in a stronger position than you think, Qall. I won’t pretend that Dahli isn’t a threat to the Travellers, but if you destroy the hand and join the Restorers, they will help you protect them.”
The young man’s head moved slightly to the left, then back to the right. His mouth formed a single word. Go.
Tyen nodded and sighed. “I understand. It is your choice. Know that I wish you well. You are stronger and smarter than you think, Qall. Keep fighting.”
Standing up, Tyen turned towards Dahli’s forces. A row of backs blocked his path. Shaping magic into a wedge of stilled air, he forced them apart, pushing through the unshielded sorcerers who had depleted their strength. Yelps of surprise followed him, changing to words of encouragement as he emerged from the other side, and then cries of anger as he kept walking.
All attention shifted to him. Fighters stopped attacking. Silence spread.
Tyen looked at Baluka. The man’s face was shifting from suspicion to dread to hope and back again. Tyen looked at Rielle. Her stance was protective and wary, but her eyes were wide.
Tyen encountered her barrier, then, pushing hard, forced it back until he was a mere step from the pair. Then he turned to face Dahli’s forces, and stilled the air around the Restorers’ army, protecting it as the enemy’s onslaught resumed.
“STOP!” came Dahli’s command.
The battering ceased. Tyen looked up, expecting to see Dahli’s head rising above his forces, eyes glaring and accusing, but he had disappeared. Tyen sought the man’s mind, but before he found it a voice rang out, shouting orders. The enemy fighters parted, revealing Dahli and Qall walking forward. Tyen’s stomach turned to ice. The young man’s expression was cold and haughty. As he surveyed what remained of the Restorers’ army, a look of satisfaction twisted his face.
This is Valhan. Tyen stared in disbelief. What happened? Qall was himself a moment ago.
Tyen thought back, picturing Qall’s glazed stare fixed on the box. He doesn’t have to touch the hand to access its memories. He only has to reach out to them with his mind … Then he realised what Qall had done, right under his nose. Desperate for another alternative, the young man had absorbed Valhan’s memories. Had become Valhan, in order to save his family.
Except how could that save them? Valhan is as likely to kill them as Dahli. Unless he hoped to have some influence on the man …
“You’re too late,” Dahli said, smiling at the Restorers and Tyen. “All of you.” He stopped and bowed to Qall. “Welcome back, ruler of worlds.”
“No,” Rielle whispered.
Slowly, but with grace, Qall approached the Restorers. The box remained in one hand, held lightly now rather than in a tight grip.
“The Raen,” someone said. Tyen could not tell if it had come from the Restorers or Dahli’s forces, but it was soon repeated on both sides in voices hushed with reverence and terror.
“No,” Rielle said again, her voice stronger. She stepped forward, forcing Tyen to extend his shield. “Qall!” she said, glancing around. “It is Qall.”
But Dahli’s smile was full of smug confidence. He turned back to Qall. Or Valhan. “What is your first wish, Raen?”
Qall/Valhan looked at him and frowned, then seemed to recollect something. He smiled approvingly. The pause gave Tyen a moment of hope. The smile weakened it, and as Qall/Valhan spoke it shattered.
“Unblock your memories, my most loyal friend.”
Qall’s voice was gone, replaced by the deeper timbre of Valhan’s.
Dahli nodded. As he removed the blocks, memories blossomed like poisonous flowers. He recalled how he’d accessed Valhan’s memories himself, finding that the Raen had considered ordering Dahli to absorb them if the resurrection failed. As a combined Dahli/Valhan, he’d have been able to continue Valhan’s experiments and in time find a way to complete a true resurrection.
Dahli had realised that a Qall/Valhan combination would do just as well—maybe was even better. The new Qall would willingly help him resurrect Valhan with no conditions on the process, unlike Tyen. Though he’d kept Tyen around in case he was wrong.
All he’d had to do was trick Qall into absorbing them. But Qall was too clever to be easily fooled into it. To ensure Qall had no time to consider the consequences, he’d lured the Restorers into attacking, forcing the young man into a desperate situation in which the risk of hosting Valhan’s memories seemed worth taking.
Qall/Valhan’s gaze fixed on Rielle. He broke from stillness into rapid motion, striding towards her. A single thought reverberated through Tyen.
He means to kill her.
“No!” Tyen gasped. Another voice echoed his cry—Baluka. Tyen hardened his shield, determined to protect her.
Qall … Valhan … suddenly blurred. Too late, Tyen realised the man had slipped out of the world to skim past his shield. Rielle raised an arm instinctively to fend off her attacker. Valhan took hold of it.
And they vanished.
PART ELEVEN
RIELLE
Worlds flashed by. Rielle barely registered them. All her attention was captured by Qall’s face, or Valhan’s. Every shift in his expression lightened her heart or sent it diving. One moment it was cold and flat, the next softened with doubt and relief. The latter would have given her hope that some echo of Qall still remained, if it hadn’t occurred to her that they were to be expected of someone who had been remade and was growing used to a new body.
Another sensation than fear demanded her attention, growing from the intensity of a whisper towards a scream. She looked away, trying to detect the source, and when she realised it was not coming from outside her but from within, a new kind of terror chased away both hope and dread.
She was suffocating. Instinctively, she opened her mouth in an attempt to breathe, but it made no difference in the place between. Her brief existence in each world was not enough to fill her lungs, though she tried to suck in air. Her awareness began to blur, to fragment …
A wall of dizziness and pain slammed into her. She was aware of gravity but had lost all sense of balance. The ground—or something large and flat—pressed into her back. Her lungs were on fire, her head pounded. Air was available, but she could not get enough of it into her.
As abruptly as the onslaught had begun, it faded. A familiar sensation spread throughout h
er body, though it had never been as powerful as this before.
She was healing herself.
But that’s not possible. Unless … unless I was wrong when I told Ulma I was no longer ageless. Then that meant … what? That the worlds will end?
She could not rouse the energy to care. Only the retreat of pain and dizziness mattered. She grew aware of a warm pressure on her arm and the truth dawned on her. Someone else was healing her. Someone who knew pattern shifting. Not me after all. Her sight cleared, and she found Qall kneeling over her, his expression concerned, then relieved as he met her eyes.
Qall. But Qall couldn’t pattern-shift. This must be Valhan.
But her foolish heart refused to give up hope. It told her Valhan would never have shown such emotion. Valhan wanted her dead. Valhan would have punished her for preventing his resurrection, not saved her from suffocation.
Unless he changed his mind. Unless he had forgiven me. But … why would he?
“Rielle,” he said. “Rielle, are you all right?”
His voice was Qall’s. High, not deep. With the accent of Lejihk’s family. And yet, this could all be faked. She stared up at him, reluctant to speak until she knew who she was speaking to.
“It’s all right,” he said with a familiar impatient twitch of his mouth. “It’s me. Qall.”
She frowned, wondering if she wanted it to be Qall so badly that she was too willing to trust him.
“Prove it.”
He smiled. “You’re proud of Timane and what she’s accomplished in Deeme, and guilty about not going back to check on the servant you had befriended at that suspended crystalline palace.”
She frowned. Both had occurred after Valhan’s death. She hadn’t thought about them since she’d arrived in Dahli’s base. How could he know about them?
Because he has Qall’s memories.
“You can’t be Qall. He isn’t ageless.”
He sighed and picked up a box. Opening it, he tilted it so she could see the contents. A hand, shrivelled and dried.