Dusk Falling (Book 1) (42 page)

The woman with her dispassionate hard eyes faded into the memory she was replaced by a man she least expected to see: Gartus. They were no longer in her hometown, they were in the Circuit Hold in Zara Krell.

“You know the rules, Aya. You must follow them. It’s Circuit Law.” Gartus said, voice hinting at the displeasure his expression was stonily hiding. “Why did you forsake them?”

The Bren dropped her gaze to the floor. “I did it for Genlo.”

“Did you? Did you really? Or did you do it for yourself? You always were a self-serving bitch.”

“Of course I did!” Aya shouted, giving rise to anger. Her cheeks flushed. “He needed-
needs
- our help whether he wants to admit it or not. It is our duty-”

“It is your
duty
to bring him to the proper authorities. You are just one incapable girl, what can
you
do?”

“I..!” Her words faultered. “I can…”

“You can what? Speak up.”

“I will do all that is within my power to help him.”

“There you go again-
him
, to help
him
. I don’t think this is even about stopping Dusk Falling anymore.”

“What else is there then?”

“You tell me. Was it always about doing what is right by the world?” Gartus questioned. “Was this the only option?”

Aya swallowed. “No…” She answered slowly.

“There was another option. What was it?”

“I could have turned my back. I could have done my job.”

“A-ha.” Gartus grinned, crossing his arms lightly as he stepped around her. She did not watch him as he continued to pace around where she stood. “That is what you should have done. It is not too late. You could still do what is right and I will help you. Come back with me, Aya, and I will make this all go away…” He stopped his pacing to stand in front of her. “Here, take my hand. Really, there is no reason for you to go on like this.”

“…no reason…?” The mage repeated.

A figure dressed in white. In the tree high above. He stood almost casually with one hand on the tree’s trunk. He surveyed the battle calmly with eyes that were unmistakably…

…amber orange…

“There is a reason for all this. One I will not trade in for anything you or anyone else can offer!”

Genlo stood over her, so close she could feel the warmth of the arms on either side of her head. His limbs were trembling, his breathing hoarse. A gash near his hairline bled a stream down his cheek. All that had kept her from being crushed to death under the wreckage was the Jrahda-trethen’s reaction…

“You don’t know what you are saying.” Gartus growled, dropping his arms to his sides. “You are making a very powerful enemy here.”

“It doesn’t matter. I know what I have to do and I am going to follow my heart.”

Gartus stared at her for several breaths. “And he is worth it?”

“Doing what I know is right is worth it.”

“But is
he
worth it?” The Bounty Master’s form began to shimmer and fade but Aya answered before he disappeared completely.

“Yes. Yes, he is.”

~ ~ ~

It was like looking into a mirror except the person reflected back could move on its own. The other him wore the tattered rags the Verca had dressed him in, pale hair hacked and dirty. Blood and dirt colored his face and his eyes were wild with a crazed light. Genlo faced the Yashvre. “You are a fool for thinking we could ever escape them. We are destined to end this world. We cannot fight what was preordained. Why should we even try? Why would we even want to?”

“I do not want to take orders from anyone. I want to live my own life.” Genlo told the other. He knew this was part of the test the Oerhyu had spoken of and he did not find it humorous in the least. He did not like being reminded of the Verca or of how he once was, of that period of his life when he had given up hope.

“Take orders? Why would we? We will have the power of a God! Those Verca dogs will be licking our boots before long!” The Yashvre held his arms out at his sides, a maniacal grin splitting his face. “This is what we want. All of this power, control of our destiny. We will subjugate the world! Are you saying this isn’t what you want?”

“Not anymore. I just want to be left in peace.”

“Peace?!” The Yashvre spat incredulously. “We don’t need peace. We need destruction, death and domination. We are spawned of Jrahda and Youkai!”

“You haven’t been around lately, have you?” Genlo asked of himself, a small smile turning his lips. “Nah, I guess you haven’t. Not since Yukarim, I suppose.”

“
Yukarim
.” The Yashvre sneered. “He tried to change us, to eliminate our purpose. It is good that he died.”

“Be silent.” Genlo said, eyes narrowing.

“Why? He died for us. At least he had some sort of purpose.”

“I am warning you. Don’t say things like that.”

“Hmm, I am beginning to see my reflection in your eyes. It suits you as well as it suits me.” The Yashvre purred. “Did I hit a sore spot?”

Genlo did not rise to the bait. He pivoted, keeping a watchful eye on the Yashvre just in case the other might attack. The moment he turned he was faced by another aspect of himself. This one cowered on the ground, legs curled under him, arms wrapped around a body ripe with oozing gashes. The sight drew Genlo up straight.

The Prisoner mumbled incoherently to himself and rocked back and forth.

“I am your strengths and this is your weaknesses.” The Yashvre told him, the sneer evident in his voice. He glared down at the timid creature as if this aspect of Genlo offended him personally. “
Disgusting
.”

Slowly, the Prisoner rose to his feet. His shoulders were bowed with trepidation and his shadowed pain-filled eyes flicked up at Genlo then away. “I don’t want this. I just want this to be over. Why do you keep dragging this on?”

“See? Even your weak side wants this to end.” The Yashvre added. Genlo swallowed.

“You said you wanted peace. Is that true?” The Prisoner asked, looking up at Genlo with owl-eyes, still clutching his arms over his chest.

“Well, isn’t it?” The Yashvre taunted when Genlo did not answer right away.

“Yea, it’s true.”

“Then go back! It isn’t too late! We could still go through with it, go on like none of this ever happened! This can end!”

“It is what we both want.” The Yashvre supplied, gripping Genlo’s shoulder with a strong bare hand. “It is the only course that makes any sense. You should see that by now. You do see it, don’t you?”

“I see…” Genlo spoke softly, eyes masked by his long white hair. The Yashvre’s own eyes gleamed, expectant. “I see my own path. One that is not marked by either weakness or strength.” He knocked away the other’s hand. “You won’t sway me- neither of you will. I am free and I intend to stay that way till death take me.”

The Yashvre stepped back, anger pinking his cheeks. “Fool! Death will take us all if you don’t-”

“Then let it.” Genlo said, inciting a whimper from the Prisoner.

“You jest.” The Yashvre responded. “No descendant of Demons would say that with a straight face.”

“I think he’s trying to say that he’s grown up since you were last in possession of him.”

Genlo’s head rose at the addition of a fourth voice to the conversation to see someone that had him cursing the Stairwell for dredging up such a memory. He wanted to lower his eyes, he wanted to turn away, but found he could do neither. Yukarim, however, only smiled his patient smile through the horrible bleeding cuts across his face. He was as he had been in the last moments Genlo had seen him.

“You won’t get rid of us. We will always be here.” The Yashvre said, sidestepping and merging into Genlo. The Prisoner did the same with a forlorn glance to Yukarim.

Genlo felt cold then hot then nothing; at least, he wanted to feel nothing. Instead of peaceful starkness, his emotions were in turmoil. He wanted to plead for forgiveness, he wanted to scream and yell, he wanted to tell the Stairwell to stay out of his memories, but mostly he wanted to shout at Yukarim even though he knew it was not the real Bren mage who stood before him. Why did he have to care? Why did he have to die? So Genlo did not say anything.

“You’ve gotten far, haven’t you?” Yukarim said idly. He clasped his hands behind his back. “Still baring the guilt, I see. Still wondering if I would have lived if you had never come along?” He gave a small laugh, tilting forward onto the balls of his feet. “Of course I would have.”

Genlo’s eyes widened, throat constricting despite his best efforts to maintain self-control.

“I would have lived a long time, researching Thabinthira. Eventually I would have left the mountains for Indelsis. Perhaps one day I would have even gone home.” Yukarim said. “All of that, if I had never met you.” Still, the Bren smiled as the blood dripped from his chin to soak the deep blue shirt he wore.

“…Yukarim…” Genlo’s brows were pinched. “I…”

“You’re sorry for what happened, is that what you are trying to say? ‘Sorry’, I wasn’t so sure you knew what that meant. Thabinthira’s sickness doesn’t tend to allow that sort of reason.”

“Yu-Yukarim, I was never effected by Thabinthira.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not Tainted. I am part Youkai, part Jrahda.” Genlo confessed. “I’m not what you thought I was.”

“What did I think you were?” Yukarim asked.

“A traveler affected by the wild magics of Thabinthira. I didn’t want you to know what I really was- I don’t really know why but I wanted to keep that from you. I-I liked living there with you, listening to you talk. If you had found out…”

“Perhaps I would have lived if I had found out. If I had learned the truth, I may have run you off or tried to kill you myself. Is that what you feared would happen? And from that fear springs blame. Am I wrong? And now, you lead my sister down the same dark road.” The Bren walked away fading into the mist. “I had thought of you as my brother… mayhap again I was wrong.” Another form stepped forward to replace him. It was Aya.

“You let my brother die. How could you? You could have saved him” Aya cried, eyes brimming with unshed tears. She clutched her hands together in front of her silver breastplate. “You let him die!”

“I did not! I tried to reach him before it was too late!” Genlo told her.

“Did you? Did you really? I’ve seen what you can do, what you are capable of- you could have kept him from dying.”

“I did all I could… I was too far away by the time-”

“That’s not what I meant. You should never have stayed. You knew he would be in danger because of your presence. You knew the Verca would come for you and that they would kill anyone who might stand in their way.” Aya said, tears spilling over. “It might as well have been you who killed my brother.”

Genlo’s mouth fell open but snapped shut with sudden awareness. His eyes narrowed. “The girl would never say that. You fail Stairwell. I don’t know what you are trying to get at here but it will no longer work. Either pass me or fail me but I will not be subject anymore to this charade.”

The Bren mage who stood before him, faded and was gone.

“The girl… Aya does not blame me for Yukarim’s death. That was your mistake. I know she doesn’t. She is not that type of person, she would not hold a grudge like that. She forgave me and I believe that Yukarim would too. At least now I do.
She
made me see that.” Genlo said, irrefutable. “For Yukarim’s memory, I will watch over his sister as best I can and guard her in his place.”

The Sigilarian Stairwell was not wholly satisfied yet. It had one last test. It had tested their mettle but it wanted to see their resolve. Their resolve of spirit was what would set them apart in the eyes of those who resided beyond the Stairwell’s reach. Remorse and sorrow will cloud their thoughts and should they not awaken, then the Stairwell would claim for itself new creatures to reside within its walls for all eternity.

Chapter 30

Many leagues from the Sigilarian Stairwell, in the remote depths of outer Thabinthira, a Larren man paced an ill-lit room in view of the eyeless skulls that lined the ruddy scarlet walls. The sconces on the wall wavered a sickly yellow color, splashing like oil across his pale blonde hair. The sounds of the heavy heels of his boots echoed through the empty chamber. Serethar had banished his priests from his sight, angry at the report he received from the men sent to route the Niredes Votalo and recapture the Yashvre. It was another delay. Another setback.

“Filthy little Demon. I should have had his legs broken on a weekly basis. That would have seen to it he would not have been able to escape.” He fumed, five long-legged steps in one direction, five the other. “He cannot run forever. Eventually, he
will
be brought back. I will wait no longer than that moment to force the avatarism.

“Wait for me, my Dark Lord. You will soon have your body as promised. And I…” Serethar chuckled to himself, biting hard on a knuckle and tasting blood. “I will have all the power of a God at my fingertips.”

His chuckle grew into a full-throated laugh that reverberated around the room and he threw back his head. His minions, the Verca cas Nemun Uralsk, posted outside the chamber shifted nervously for despite the laughter erupting from their High Priest, they knew him to be in a frightful mood.

“From the handholds in the Yashvre’s barriers I will attach the bindings I will need to control the avatar. I will have his near endless power at my command.”

The High Priest had lost many men and even one of his more-talented narrasu. But it would be worth it in the end. He chuckled again, lips painted in his own blood and dark eyes staring off without focus. Yes, in the end, every death would be well worth it. He would sacrifice them all for his dreams, every last one of them.

~ ~ ~

Together yet separately, Serrtin, Aya, Agemeer and Genlo faced the prospect of not passing the trials set forth by the Sigilarian Stairwell. They watched their comrades walk out of the mist and into a brightly lit hall but found they themselves could not pass. Some unseen force was holding them back. Doubt plagued their minds- were they found unworthy?