The Path to Loss (Approaching Infinity Book 4) (8 page)

Peshil knew his own outline while transformed and here it was staring back at him, “carved” in quartz that seemed to glow yellow at the edges. It was, like the others, much smaller than true Shields, but he had no doubt that this was the representation of his own Shield, that the broken egg, which every figure so far also held, was the source of his Shield, given to one of his ancestors unknown ages ago. He stared open-mouthed and raised a tentative hand to it, brushing his fingers lightly over its surface. He half-expected to receive a shock at the touch, but there was nothing. He hesitated to leave his own image—or the image of what he had been given the power to become—behind, but moved on.

He followed the bends and twists along the lava stream, sure that he heard the noise of men farther ahead. He chuckled aloud when he passed the effigy of the Shadow Thief, and then checked himself, thinking that it was somehow wrong to gloat or mock in a place like this.

He stopped again, this time intrigued by an unbroken egg held by a green dragon, one he certainly did not recognize. He wondered if the state of the egg meant that there was a Shield inside ready for a host or if the—magic?—was exhausted after so long. He placed his fingers on the smooth cream-green shell and this time he did feel a shock.

“That is not for you!” the voice from before boomed.

From the lava stream, a great corpse-gray dragon rose. Smoking orange runnels trailed down the crags and valleys of its head and face as it filled the immediate space in the cavern to tower above Peshil. Thick drops of molten stone fell upon the bank, splattering there and forcing Peshil to hop away.

When far enough away from the lava splash, Peshil bowed and cried out, “Chan Fa, the Everliving! Please, hear me! I come in friendship, with news of peril that threatens all of Thrax Palonis.”

“I have been following your progress through the Shrine Hall. You are the Light Smith, but far more daring than accounts maintain,” Chan Fa said, his voice accusing.

“I-I am. I
must
be, considering what has come to Thrax Palonis.”

Chan Fa turned in the direction of the lava flow, and before flying off in that direction under the power of skeletal wings, he said without room for argument, “Come.”

Peshil obeyed. As he continued along the bank, he was torn between a desire to transform, to meet Chan Fa on at least slightly more equal terms, and an overwhelming compulsion to be subservient. The result was an endless stream of conflicting thoughts that preoccupied him until the bank he was on spread out, rose up to form a canopy over the lava flow and join the other bank. He was shocked to find himself in a cavern of enormous size with people—all of them women as far as Peshil could tell—engaged in tasks ranging from food preparation to napping. A scrawny, wizened man with corpse-gray skin sat upon an elaborate couch, which was more like a throne, and which was placed before the effigy of the dragon Peshil had just encountered.

Peshil approached cautiously, stepping carefully among some of the women, who stared at him vacantly. As he drew closer, the man upon the throne sat up straighter, seemingly tugged by his nose as he sniffed at the air. Fresh familiar laughter filled the chamber.

“That might account for your nerve. You’ve had a taste. I can smell it in you, in your sweat,” the man said.

“Then there can be no doubt. You are Chan Fa and all the rumors are truth,” Peshil said.

Chan Fa shrugged, his eyes gleaming, his smile revealing perfectly healthy teeth—his canines strangely overdeveloped—which seemed contradictory for someone of his obvious years.

“So was it a ruse?” Chan Fa said.

“A ruse?”

“The danger to Thrax Palonis. You’ve had a taste and you surely know what it’s done to you. Have you come here on a pretense only to try your hand at Chan Fa?”

“No.”

“Good. Let us hope that your story is believable, because no matter how many you’ve put away, no Shield may raise a hand to Chan Fa.

“You can only summon your Shield if I allow it, but even then the most you could do is run away.
If I allow it
.”

“Let me show you, Chan Fa, what has come to Thrax Palonis.”

“I have seen your forebears create fictions with their light and you could be doing the same now.”

“So. . .?”

Chan Fa shrugged. His eyes never left Pehsil’s and his expression was a skull’s grin, mirthless. “For Thrax Palonis, it would be better to confirm the truth or falsehood of your claims. For me, it’s an inconvenience. If you’re lying, it will not serve you or any conspirators in the end. No Shield can make a direct use of his or her powers against me. Mine is the King Shield, you see. Superior by design.”

“And yet, you have sought to become even more superior,” Peshil said, lowering his eyes slightly as he finished, and shocked by his own audacity.

Chan Fa stared at Peshil in silence. Finally he spoke again. “When the first of us came across the Shields, not yet hatched in this place,” he said waving a hand, “already the rumor of supremacy through cannibalism was present, even prevalent. It was said that if a single Shield were to consume all other Shields, he—or she—would become a god.”

“A god? But the existence of such is childish superstition, long ago banished from Thrax Palonis.”

“Maybe. But that didn’t stop the lot of us from trying.”

Now Peshil stared incredulously, trying to penetrate what he assumed must be Chan Fa’s jest. When Chan Fa’s expression didn’t change, Peshil asked in a low, humbled tone, “What happened?”

“We fought. And ate. But everyone learned that none could beat Chan Fa, the Everliving. All who came against me found themselves powerless and subsequently devoured.”

“Why did you stop? Was godhood no longer appealing to you?”

“
They
stopped because they wanted to live.
I
stopped because I knew something they did not, a secret I used to care about protecting.”

“And what’s that?”

Chan Fa motioned with his hand. A woman, perhaps thirtyish, approached with a bowl holding a variety of mushrooms. He reached in, took one, popped it in his mouth. He then fondled her naked left breast and gave her a slap on the behind to send her on her way.

“This place, the statues, they power our Shields. We are potent here, but even you, Gim Peshil, able to travel as light far beyond the basalt shores of Thrax Palonis, would surpass the limit of the Shrine Hall’s influence and then be forever stuck in the black glue that holds the stars in the sky. No Shield can leave Thrax Palonis and remain a Shield. So what is there to gain by being god of this place that I don’t already have?”

“Some of the eggs haven’t hatched yet,” Peshil said.

“That’s right,” Chan Fa said with a knowing grin. “They’re inedible like that, though.”

“Do you know how to hatch them?”

“I do, but I won’t.”

“Why not?”

“It’s too much trouble and ends up a waste. Much good
could
come of them in the right hands.”

“You’re not at all what I expected.”

“No? Cross me and everything foul you’ve ever heard of me will be visited upon you a hundred fold. Just because I’ve grown bored with feeding on other Shields, doesn’t mean that I’ve given it up entirely.” Chan Fa paused, narrowed his eyes. “How many have you consumed?”

Peshil was surprised by the direct question. “Seven.”

Chan Fa snorted. “Seven? Impossible. Name them and give their titles.”

“The only one with a title was Bek Ialo, the Shadow Thief. The other six were artificial and had no titles.”

“Artificial? What do you mean?”

“There was a Shield who could spawn other, lesser Shields. I don’t remember his name. I haven’t seen or heard of him for many years now.”

“Oh yes, I remember. That was Jallam Zeppo. I couldn’t allow him to go on making those little abominations.” Chan Fa slapped his bare belly and let loose with rolls of laughter. “I thought that all his spawn were dead already, though.”

“Sera Fontessa employed six of them.
Those
are all dead now.”

“Sera Fontessa?” Chan Fa said, sobering.

“Yes, she is helping to coordinate other Shields for our attack on the invaders.”

“Of course she is. She and Kels Ansrath, undoubtedly.”

“Y-Yes. Is there a problem?”

“No.” All the humor in Chan Fa was now gone. He was like a hollowed shell, dangerous with unknown potential. “As I said, I have nothing to fear from any Shield. If any of this proves to be a sham, I will hunt you, Sera Fontessa, Kels Ansrath, and any others I find or think are involved and renew my journey to godhood. Do you understand, Gim Peshil?”

Peshil swallowed hard. This Chan Fa, empty of all but the threat of vengeance, frightened him. “I do.”

The change from being in Chan Fa’s presence to being in Sera Fontessa’s did much to improve Peshil’s mood. With her arms around his neck, she escorted him back to her couch.

“He will come,” Peshil said. “He’s leary of traps, though.”

“And rightfully so.”

“He said it would take him eight days to traverse the great ocean, but that we should expect him. I must ask you, Sera Fontessa—as the fate of Thrax Palonis may hinge on the nature of your relationship with him—how do you know Chan Fa?”

She bowed her head and waited a full minute before responding. “I did not receive my Shield from my father as you did from yours.”

Peshil stared at her for a moment as he realized the import of what she was saying. “You hatched one of the eggs.”

She nodded.

“I was not alone.”

“Kels Ansrath.”

She nodded again. “I don’t know how Kels came to know about the Shrine Hall. I could tell even before he took his Shield that he’d always been strong, both in mind and body. He devised the means to cross the ocean. He lived in the ancient castle city for months without Chan Fa’s knowledge before finding a safe way down into the Shrine Hall.

“I was one of Chan Fa’s women. His favorite for a while, but Kels found me alone one day. I would say he seduced me, but I would be lying. I was never content with my life as a possession of Chan Fa. I always wanted more, to live above ground, in a real city, not trapped by the scalding ocean. But never did I dream that I might find escape through the theft of a Shield. Kels filled my head with fantastic hope and the potential to make that hope real.”

“So you two stole your Shields and escaped?”

“We were lucky. Kels knew much about the Shields, knew which one to pick for himself and which one to pick for me. These would enable us to flee, to cross the ocean.”

“So you, too, have crossed?”

“Yes. Though I would never do it again, not willingly. It was terrible.”

“Chan Fa knows that you and Kels Ansrath will be present. I believe he comes in good faith, though it may be that he cares little about the invaders and simply wants to collect his revenge.”

She shivered unconsciously. “There is no escaping Chan Fa, the Everliving. He is as inevitable as death if he wishes it. We got away because we tricked him and by the time he knew of the deception, it was simply too inconvenient for him to pursue us. As you say, it is possible that he has decided once and for all to settle old debts. Let us hope that this is not the case.”

Kels Ansrath was a giant of a man. He stood at least a full head taller than any of the small group gathered in Sera Fontessa’s receiving hall. The muscles of his chest, arms, and legs were great knots, standing out as a testament to his prodigious strength. His hair and beard, too, black, shot with gray, heaped, wild, and kinked, cried strength. His skin was, like Fontessa’s, inclined towards black rather than red, and there was something different about him, something that only Chan Fa might recognize as heralding back to times long past.

The copulating couples were absent now. As host, Fontessa was present, as was her lieutenant, Karsten Rolst, and Gim Peshil. The fifth and sixth members making up the group were the twin Shields, Alos Enstra, the Body, and his sister, Una Enstra, the Mind.

Ansrath dominated the room with his presence and with his voice. “We cannot wait,” he said. “I do not doubt that Chan Fa is coming, but his motives and his intent, these I cannot help but doubt. Even if he lied about how long it would take him to come here, I know that it will take him at the very least five days to arrive, which still gives us time.”

“So what are you suggesting,?” said Alos Enstra, a youngish man with startling white hair.

Ansrath turned to him, his lip curling slightly. “I am suggesting, Alos Enstra, that we go in advance of Chan Fa’s arrival and halve the number of threats to Shields and to Thrax Palonis. You can believe or disbelieve whatever you like about Chan Fa, but Sera Fontessa and I know him and what he is capable of.”

“I, too, have met Chan Fa,” Peshil said. “While I don’t dispute the truth of your words, Kels Ansrath, I may say that he appears to have mellowed somewhat.”

Ansrath snorted. “Do you have any idea of how old Chan Fa is?”

“Well, he is
the Everliving
,” Peshil said with a straight face.

Ansrath stiffened and narrowed his eyes. “You have grown bold recently, Light Smith. Is there something we should know about your association with Chan Fa?”

Peshil met his gaze steadily and finally said, “I’m waiting for you to make your point, Kels Ansrath.”

Grinding his teeth to stifle a shout, Ansrath forced out a controlled response. “My point is that time means little to him. His
moods
are changeable, but he cannot change what he is, what he’s become.”

“Fine, fine,” Peshil said, waving his hands dismissively. “But do you really think that the six of us can accomplish this?”

“Seven when Toth Talpas arrives,” Ansrath said.

“And he will arrive in time?” Fontessa said.

“Sera.” Ansrath’s rigid posture collapsed a little in defeat. “Not you, too.” He approached her and took her chin gently between his thumb and forefinger. “You know as well as I do what Chan Fa’s coming might mean.”

“You two are thieves,” Una Enstra suddenly blurted out, appalled.