The Fractured Sky (17 page)

Myshik smiled. “As you said, ‘the enemy of my enemy is my friend.’ What is there to think about? My uncle gave me very clear instructions.”

Zasian’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. Perhaps he is more cunning than I gave him credit for. I will have to watch him, he decided. He nodded to Kashada, who stepped back from the half-dragon and slipped her dagger back into her belt.

Myshik relaxed and moved to pick up his axe. He stopped before he actually took hold of it and glanced back at Kashada. “You’re not going to use me for target practice when I scoop this up, are you?” he asked.

“Does she have a reason to?” Zasian asked.

“No,” Myshik replied, “but I wasn’t sure if she knew that.”

“I don’t think we need fear a reprisal from you,” the priest said.

Myshik gave him an even stare for just a little longer than Zasian thought appropriate, then he lifted the axe from the ground. He slipped it back into its spot upon his back and turned to face the other two. “So, what is your intention?” he asked.

“Kashada and I have business elsewhere,” Zasian answered. “We must take a journey, one that is likely to be a bit treacherous.”

“Yes, this cave you have brought us to,” Myshik said. “But where does it lead? Where are we going?”

“Follow me,” Zasian replied. He turned and began to walk through the mist-filled forest, pushing past the foliage that sprouted up from every direction. The dampness clung to everything, and the sounds of its dripping echoed softly through the woods. The priest could see a faint path winding among the odd, rolling ridges of ground. Zasian picked his way along it, listening for sounds of pursuit or ambush.

“This ground is odd,” Myshik commented from behind Zasian. “What is this place?”

Zasian smiled. “It’s not really ground at all,” he said. “We are passing from the House of the Triad into the World Tree. This is the veil between those two places.”

Myshik was silent for a moment, then he exclaimed, “It’s bark! This is a branch!”

Zasian grimaced. “Yes, but lower your voice, Morueme. There are a few enemies still around—and new ones on our trail—that will not take kindly to our passing through here.”

The priest grinned as he imagined Vhok and the others pursuing him, trying to catch up before he slipped away. Stay close, cambion, he thought. I am not finished with you yet.

They walked on in silence for some time longer, Zasian keeping a watch ahead as he followed the path. It wound between the rounded, rolling ridges of the rich, brown, woody substance and the twisted, angled trees.

Not trees, Zasian reminded himself. Branches. Twigs, perhaps.

The surrounding terrain grew higher and steeper on either side of the path, forming a narrow defile. As the trio descended into the canyon, it began to rain. The patter of drops from the gentle downpour caused little more than a whisper on the spongy ground.

Zasian pulled the hood of his cloak up and around his head, shielding him from the moisture. “Keep an eye out, now,” he cautioned the other two in a soft voice. “Other things live on the World Tree, and some of them are not friendly. Sometimes, even the tree itself becomes your enemy.”

The defile grew narrower and narrower, until Zasian felt his shoulders brushing against the sides as he walked. Just when it seemed that the walls had closed together too much for them to continue, the canyon ended in the entrance to a cave. The path vanished into the darkness beyond.

“Here we go,” Zasian muttered, half to himself. “A bit of light, and…” He muttered a quick prayer, waved his hand over the head of his mace, and the weapon glowed with the light of day, illuminating the passage. “Kashada, Myshik, wish this unhappy place a fond farewell. We’re beyond its reach, now.” And with that, he ducked into the narrow opening and entered the blackness.

Where are we going?” Kaanyr asked as he trailed after the angel. “You seem to know what this place is and why Zasian would come here.”

“It is a doorway between worlds,” Tauran replied, his gaze still turned toward the ground. “This part of the House borders on the World Tree. I think Zasian is going to try to travel along it to reach another plane.”

Kaanyr caught sight of a second set of booted prints in the soil, smaller and more delicate than the first. “It doesn’t look like he is alone,” the cambion said, pointing.

Tauran stopped and knelt down, again running his finger through the depression. “I think you’re right.”

“Look,” Aliisza said, pointing a bit farther down the path. “There’s more over here. It appears someone engaged in a scuffle.”

The angel rocked back on his heels, gazing into the distance, deep in thought. “This makes things quite a bit more interesting,” he said, pulling on his chin. “Where did he get an ally?”

“From the same place as before,” Micus said from above them.

Kaanyr flinched and darted to the side, ripping Burnblood free. He peered upward and spotted the angel standing upon a thick branch in one of the odd, sloping trees. The cambion’s companions reacted just as quickly, jumping into defensive postures and freeing their weapons.

“From among the conniving fiends he calls friends,” Micus continued, “like the ones you’re wandering around with, Tauran.”

The sound of footsteps behind Kaanyr drew his attention away from the deva in the tree. He spun and saw three hound archons fanning out to surround him. Two more materialized just behind them.

“It’s a trap!” the cambion shouted. “They’re surrounding us!” He backed away, considering his options. He risked a quick glimpse in other directions. Perhaps a dozen more dog-headed warriors stood on guard; a handful more instantly appeared as Kaanyr watched.

The enemy had position; the group was encircled.

“Time to surrender,” Micus said. “You cannot keep running, Tauran.”

“Micus, look around you,” Tauran said, his frustration evident in his tone. “Look what has happened here! Isn’t it obvious now that we have to find this priest? We have to stop him.”

Kaanyr took a couple more steps back, away from the archons and toward his companions. The hound-headed warriors followed him, wary. As he retreated, the cambion reached into his tunic and pulled a wand free. He made the decision to speak the command word and fire glowing missiles at the nearest foe, but he couldn’t quite muster the will.

Damn it to the Nine Hells! he silently seethed. “Tautan!” he growled softly, hoping the angel would understand without

tipping his enemies oft that he could not attack them. “What’s the word?”

“Micus, this is the proof we needed!” Tauran said, ignoring Kaanyr. “Isn’t this enough to go back to the High Council and convince them?”

“The High Council is already convinced,” the other angel replied. “They know something is up, just as you said. But they also believe it is very unwise to trust these two. They have given me explicit instructions to bring them back to the Court. With your help or without it.” Micus’s last words were slow and deliberate.

Wise up, you tool of an angel! Kaanyr thought. They’re never going to listen to you! Give the go-ahead!

“I gave them my word, Micus,” Tauran said. “I must honor that.”

“No, you must not,” Micus replied. “Not to them. You have other duties, like obedience and loyalty. Those must come first.”

“I’m sorry, Micus. I don’t see it that way.”

“Then you leave me with no choice,” Micus said, his voice sounding weary. “I’m sorry, too. Take them!” he shouted. “You know your orders!”

Kaanyr snarled, and he almost didn’t hear Tauran’s voice ringing through the din of battle cries as the archons rushed at him.

“Fight, Kaanyr! Fight and flee!”

There we go, the cambion thought, smiling as he raised the wand. That’s what I like to hear.

He uttered the magical phrase to trigger the wand and sent four glowing missiles streaking directly at the nearest hound archon. The arcane projectiles whistled through the air and slammed into the creature with staccato popping

sounds. The warrior barked in pain and twitched away, stumbling to the ground.

Kaanyr didn’t waste time watching to see how badly he had injured that one. He spun to another, swinging Burnblood. His smaller, lighter blade whipped toward the canine head, but the archon knocked it away with his sword. That was just what Kaanyr had hoped the creature would do, and he spun back around, getting inside the sword’s reach. He rammed his enchanted blade into the archon’s chest.

Before the warrior could even gasp and go wide-eyed, Kaanyr had his boot planted against the archon and yanked his sword free again. He leaped away as three more of the dog-headed warriors tried to close with him. He leveled the wand at them. Just the gesture of aiming the wand made the trio draw up, and Kaanyr used the delay to leap into the air and begin rising, drawing on his innate magic to escape their reach.

The creatures recognized the feint and renewed their efforts to come after him, but Kaanyr sent a volley of shrieking missiles in their direction, and it was enough to get him beyond their blades. He spun in place to scan the rest of the battle. He could see his companions, three isolated pockets of resistance within a swarm of archons. He had faith that Aliisza could extricate herself. Of the other two, he cared not a whit.

Tauran had commanded him to flee, and flee he would. And I won’t stop until I get well away from him. For good.

The cambion reached into his tunic and fumbled free a bit of gauzy fabric wrapped around a tiny glass tube sealed with wax. Kaanyr didn’t waste time with the seal. He simply snapped the tube in half, freeing the smoke that had been

trapped inside. As the two arcane components merged together, he swirled the whole thing around himself.

Kaanyr transformed, becoming insubstantial. He felt odd, disembodied, but he had experienced such before and ignored the sensations. He could see in every direction at once, all around, above and below. He watched the hound archons struggle in vain to see where he had gone, and he wanted to laugh, but he had no voice.

Vhok continued to rise into the air, sliding through the foliage of the strange, twisted, angled trees. He could not travel very fast, but he did not care. He was virtually invisible, particularly with the swirling mists all around, and every moment that he slipped farther away from the fighting made him feel safer, more at ease.

When he was well above the tree tops, Kaanyr searched for some landmark, a direction by which he could navigate. He wasn’t sure where he wanted to go, but he wanted to disappear silently and completely from Tauran’s grasp forever.

He initially considered the World Tree. It was nearby and it offered so many possibilities. But that was where Tauran had intended to go, and Kaanyr did not want to risk a reunion with the angel.

No, he decided, I think another direction entirely is in order.

He had just begun drifting toward the nearest edge of the great, forested island—intent on reaching its underside to hide—when he saw two angels rise from the trees and fly in his direction. Like Tauran and Micus, they were astral devas, and it was clear to Kaanyr that they were homing in on him.

Damnation, he thought.

Before the cambion could react, one of the angels gestured at him, and his spell of gaseousness dissipated. In corporeal

form once more, Kaanyr plummeted. He got his wits about him in time to invoke his levitating ability before he crashed into the canopy below.

Apparently, that was precisely what the two angels expected him to do, because in the next instant, he heard the second one speak a single word. It echoed in the cambion’s mind like a thunderbolt.

Everything went black.

Myshik and Kashada followed close behind Zasian as they moved along the passage between planes. The shadow-mystic’s footfalls, already faint, became lost amid the clomping of Myshik’s boots.

The walls of the passage remained close at hand on either side of the trio, and Zasian imagined he could have forgone the light and felt his way easily enough. The tunnel twisted and turned occasionally, ascending at times and dipping sharply at others. Once, it grew so narrow that Myshik was forced to slip free from his breastplate to squeeze through.

“What catacomb do you lead us to?” he grumbled as he tugged his armor back on. “You said nothing of tight spaces before.”

“We will be free of this confined space soon enough, Morueme,” Zasian replied.

As soon as Myshik had donned his armor, they resumed their travels. As if to prove the priest a prophet, they rounded a bend and discovered light seeping from the next turn ahead. Zasian quickened his pace and reached the opening of the tunnel. Stepping free of it, he took in the surroundings.

Much like at the other end, the trio stood within a narrow

gorge of rich, dark wood rising up to either side of them. The trail continued out of sight ahead. Also similar to before, gray mist filled the air, casting a pall over the place. Unlike the moist air that hung within the House of the Triad, though, the mist was much more silvery.

Eventually the canyon walls began to drop away from the sides, until at last the priest and his companions stood upon what appeared to be a great ridge of the same woody landscape. Much of the ground was bare, but in spots, the same large, angled trees jutted from it. Lush green tangles of some sort of thick bracken covered other large stretches.

The ridge did not rise from some larger plain, however. Instead, it just fell away to either side, its edges seeming to grow steeper as it faded from view, making the whole thing round, like some gargantuan barrel. The crown of the ridge ran off both ahead of and behind them into the distance, eventually fading from sight into the pervasive silvery light. The narrow gorge from which they had ascended appeared as a crack in the surface behind them.

Zasian halted and took it in for a moment. He scanned the horizon in every direction, as far as he could see. I’m actually standing here, he thought, pleased. I’m actually standing on the World Tree. It is grander than even I could have imagined.

“What is this place?” Myshik asked, peering around in wonder.