The Book of Deacon: Book 02 - The Great Convergence (32 page)

With the capital so near, this was a
dangerous place to be. It was clear now that the D'karon were the
real enemy, and that they made up the better part of the Alliance
Army. The capital was the point of command for that force. The
generals in command of the army, and potentially the throne, would
be there. Until the full might of the Chosen could be brought
together, she had to help them as best she could to evade the grip
of these powerful men. That meant taking the ailing Ivy as far away
from here as she could until the poor creature could recover.

Moving the sled proved to be a far more
difficult task without the aid of a slope. Fortunately, as she had
been forced to learn, the mountainside was riddled with caves. She
came upon one large enough to conceal the three of them but small
enough to be certain it was not otherwise occupied. Before Myranda
could even request it, Myn scampered off and returned with a pair
of snow rabbits. Myranda was unwilling to risk lighting a fire, and
the planks of the sled were the only wood to speak of, so she
rendered the meat as edible as she could with magic alone. This
being her first attempt, the results were less than ideal, but she
managed. Again her mind turned to Deacon. He was a master of that
particular trick. Somehow he'd compressed the entire procedure to
the snap of a finger. Had she known what lay in store, she might
have asked to be taught that instead of some of the other things
she had learned from him.

She fumbled through the bag for the stylus he
had given her. It was still with her. She turned it about in her
hands. Holding it reminded her that somewhere there was a place
that was untroubled by the war. Somewhere there was a person like
Deacon. Perhaps she could return there. Perhaps that is the place
that would keep the Chosen safe until they were united. Alas, there
were far more reasons why she could not or should not return than
why she should. The way could well be blocked now and for months to
come. Even if it were open, the journey was perilous and she
doubted that she remembered it well enough to navigate it safely.
Aside from all of that, there were other Chosen to find . . . or
were there.

A comment made by her recent foe echoed in
her mind. She'd been too frightened and distracted to consider it
before. He said that she had found her way to the last of the
original Chosen. Lain and Ether were each original, and the
swordsman was dead. Even if Ivy were an original, there should have
been one more. The D'karon must have killed it. A dark feeling came
to the pit of Myranda's stomach. If this war was ever to end, it
would mean that the D'karon would need to be defeated, but they had
managed to kill two of the mightiest warriors ever to exist, and
capture two others. Only Ether had evaded their grasp entirely, and
that was largely due to the fact that for thousands of years she
had barely existed.

Two things were now quite clear. First, the
foes she faced were far more powerful than she had thought and
second, there were two Chosen that remained to be found. The second
point was made more distressing by the fact that there was no
prophesy to guide her in her search. What were the two that
remained? An artistic prodigy and a strategist. Myranda turned to
the still body of Ivy. Neither could be considered a description of
the creature she had found. She was one of the new Chosen; a
replacement, somehow. But that contradicted what the man in the
valley had said. Was he trying to confuse her?

Myranda climbed from the cold ground to the
edge of the sled. The cold would be distracting, and she could not
afford that right now. She had found Ivy, she could find the others
the same way. She clutched her staff, closed her eyes, and opened
her mind. Ivy's essence flickered weakly beside her, and upon her
lap was curled the small, pure spirit of Myn. She spread her
consciousness. As her mind swept outward, she could feel the
mountainside scattering her concentration more and more as it crept
further south. Finally there came a mountain beyond which all else
was obscured. This, no doubt, was the same mountain that the cave
of the beast wound through, leading to Entwell. She shifted her
focus. The faint, defeated souls of the people of her land glinted
like stars reflected in a glassy lake, save one. One burned like a
sun, drowning out those that surrounded. Ether. She strained to see
more, but ever outward there was the same until her mind swept
across the vast darkness that was the sea beyond the western shore.
Nothing offered even a whisper of the strength that she had felt in
Ivy, or that she had seen in Ether. Not even Lain could be seen.
Here and there a presence seemed to flick in and out of sight, like
an insect flitting past. Nothing more revealed itself.

The mountainside and its unique ability to
blind the mind's eye concealed most of the south from her. There
was the chance that what she sought could be found there. She
focused harder. There had to be a way to look beyond. She strained,
pulling and stretching her mind with all of her might. Slowly,
agonizingly so, she could feel her vantage point changing, moving
forward. The shift was accompanied by a peculiar feeling. It felt
something like she was losing her balance, but in a far more
profound and fundamental way. Whispers of the stronger souls to the
south peeked tantalizingly at the edge of the hazy disruption the
mountain caused.

Suddenly the feeling of disorientation grew a
thousand fold. She felt as though she was falling. At the same
time, all semblance of physical distraction dropped away. The cold,
the sound of the wind at the cave's mouth, all vanished. The faint
flickers around her became infinitely more vivid. The spirits of
the people of the villages, once barely detectable, now shone
brilliantly. Between them, and indeed everywhere around her, was a
general glow. It was fluid and alive, shifting like wind. Tight
clusters of black voids seemed to draw in this ambient glow. The
nearmen. Three voids stood out among them. One was in the distance,
where she reasoned the capital must be. Another was far to the
west. The third was in a field, not far from her. Also in the field
was something she could not immediately identify. It was muted,
weaker than it seemed it should be, but undeniably there. It was
Lain. He was concealing his spirit somehow, but it was certainly
him. A similar essence, muted and concealed, was further to the
west. Another Chosen? She tried to focus more intently on this
unknown form, but her mind had reached its limit. It didn't matter.
She had a direction. She had hope. For now, that would be
enough.

She tried to release her concentration.
Instead of the world rushing in, she felt the tumbling, spinning
disorientation increase. She felt as though she was slipping away.
Quickly she focused again, trying to get her bearings. A
realization swiftly dawned upon her. She was viewing the world as
though she were high above the field to the west of the
mountainside. She was not in the cave. She was not in her body.

For the first time she turned her attentions
to herself. She tried to move, but the muscles she tried to
manipulate did not exist. She moved only when she willed it so,
manipulating her 'body' solely through magic. She was unconstrained
by the physical world, drifting to and fro according to her mind's
desire. Though the motion was easy enough to master, it was not
effortless. She could feel her focus weakening. She did not know
what would happen to her if she weakened to the point that she
lacked the will to move. She didn't want to find out. Desperately
she searched for her body, but in this state only magic and spirit
were visible, and her body had none. Instead she sought out
Myn.

The dragon remained faithfully on her lap,
and with the familiar essence to guide her, Myranda's spirit
reached her body. The very instant she slipped her astral limbs
into her physical ones she jerked into full consciousness. She was
cold. Very cold. Her body must have been near death during her
absence, leaving her chilled to the core. She began to tremble
violently, waking the dragon. Puffing a few breaths of flame to
ward off the chill, Myn slipped quickly back into slumber. Myranda,
spent from her ordeal, soon followed.

#

Far across the field, high in the sky, Ether
soared. A few bursts of dragon fire were not nearly enough to
restore the strength she had wasted in her battle. She cursed
herself for her weakness. The D'karon were far more formidable than
she had anticipated. Of course, she'd had to compensate for the
weakness of the human. That was surely the primary cause of her
difficulty, but allowing herself to grow so weak was inexcusable.
She trained her mind on the essence of her fellow Chosen. He was
certainly below, but somehow he was still capable of concealing
himself from even her keen senses. He was a testament to the
superiority of those who could rightly call themselves Chosen. Not
like the beast the human had found. The blindness of that weak
minded and softhearted girl was astonishing. Any fool could see
that the creature she had found had been corrupted by the enemy.
How else could it have escaped her notice? The thought of the human
having some ability that she lacked was laughable. Still, she had
proven useful. And she did bear the mark . . .

#

Lain drew in a deep breath, analyzing the air
for any hint of Myranda's scent. The wind was sweeping down off of
the mountain, but the traces of her were weak. She was ahead, but
she had come from the mountain, not through this field. He didn't
care. The important thing was that she was near. Even he was not
certain how he had known where to find her, but long ago he'd
learned to trust his instincts on such matters.

The wind shifted and Lain swiftly sampled it.
It carried a foreign scent, one far too near and far too fresh for
comfort. He dropped low to the ground. The cloudy sky brought
little in the way of light, but he'd been blessed with eyes that
needed scarcely any. There was a form, far to the south, that stood
motionless in the field. It seemed to be considering its
surroundings. After a time, it turned south.

Lain held perfectly still for more than an
hour. Not until the form had vanished completely from his view did
he allow himself to continue. He immediately resumed his journey
toward Myranda. He had not eaten in days and he was nearly frozen,
but none of that mattered. Nothing mattered but the purpose to
which he had devoted his life. No one must suffer as he had. If the
war stood between him and his goal, then the war must end. There
was no other option. As he drew nearer, Myranda's scent grew
stronger. The dragon, Myn, was with her. And . . . something else.
He couldn't place the scent. It toyed with him, undeniably present,
yet barely noticeable.

As he slipped into the cave's dark interior.
Myranda and Myn were asleep in a heap hunched against a sled.
Something was asleep atop the sled. He drew in the scent, but still
it eluded him. His eyes fought to make out the form strewn with
makeshift blankets. He approached it. Only the head showed. It
looked like . . . His heart began to beat harder. His legs seemed
to weaken. His mind would not accept what was before him. Could it
be? After all of these years? It was . . .

Myranda was shaken awake. Lain's face was
inches from hers. Eyes she had rarely seen show a drop of emotion
were saturated with angst, confusion, urgency.

"Who is she! Where did you find her! What
happened to her!" He demanded, voice desperate.

"Lain! Where did you come from?" Myranda
asked, sleep reluctant to release her from its grasp.

"Answer me!" He demanded.

"There was a ruined fort in the mountains.
She was inside," Myranda said.

" . . . Tell me that she isn't one of them,"
he said, almost pleadingly.

"She is not a D'karon. She is on our side,"
Myranda assured him.

Rather than a look of relief, a far more
desperate look came to his face.

"TELL ME SHE DOESN'T HAVE THE MARK! TELL ME
SHE IS NOT A PART OF THIS SUICIDE!" he demanded, shaking her
violently again.

"S-She does. She is Chosen," Myranda shakily
answered.

Lain released her and stepped away. The
shaking and yelling had awoken Myn. She was overjoyed at the first
sight of Lain, but something was wrong. He looked broken,
devastated. He dropped to his knees, eyes distant and unfocused.
His gaze shifted to the ground.

"In my life, I have been everywhere in this
war torn land. I have been past the southern most of Tresson
cities. I have been inside the Northern Capital. I have seen both
oceans. In all of my years I have seen only three of my own kind. I
only truly knew one. Since I last saw any of them five long decades
have passed. I had come to accept that I was the last. That my race
would die with me. It didn't matter anymore. Now I find one of my
own. Not just one of my kind, but one of my kin, and fate has
chosen that she must . . . " he stated, trailing off.

His fists clenched.

"Kin? She . . . she is in your family? You
know her?" Myranda asked.

"I've never seen her, but her scent is almost
identical to mine. What happened to her?" he asked, voice distant
and defeated.

"Some soldiers and a wizard approached. We
fought off the soldiers but the wizard nearly destroyed us. She
managed to break his grip somehow and she was gone. I found her
half of a mountain away, like this. She hasn't moved since,"
Myranda said.

"She is weak . . . Will she live?" Lain
asked.

"Time will tell," Myranda said.

Lain was silent for a time. Myn nudged his
tightly clenched fist. The fingers opened and stroked the adoring
creature. The pained look on his face faded into a look of
contemplation. His eyes closed.

"The war must end," he declared.

"You saw the proclamation from the king," she
said.