The Seedbearing Prince: Part I (24 page)

“Thank you,” Dayn said.

As he set out a voice behind him demanded,
“Here, you. What did he want?”

Dayn walked even faster from the hall.
Passing under the frieze, he saw a scene of tall, fern-like plants
with a viper hidden among the leaves. An engraving on the frieze
read: “The Kemarahan Grass.”
That’s what Eriya said, good.
Dayn wondered at a world where grass could grow as tall as a man,
it looked completely unnatural. Thankfully, no one pursued him, and
he set to recalling the rest of the directions to his quarters.

The Crystal Walk

And so the man stood upon his dying world and wept
his vow upon the earth. The heart of his world heard him, and
released him to the sky as it died. He went to and fro amidst the
torrent, and came upon the broken Ring. The Penitent Ones received
him, and saw his pure heart, and taught him of their ways. And they
named him Lord Ascendant, for he rose to lead the Ring and watch
over the new worlds. Every Force Lord since was named thusly, and
swore the vow to serve.

-fragment from the Book of Lost Days

D
ayn hoped to see
murals or pictures along the way, but the Ring’s halls still
offered only unadorned rock. Occasionally he passed some old coat
of battered armor with a description of the soul who once wore it.
Dayn cared little for such things, and so did not tarry.

The attendant's directions brought him to an
especially narrow hallway with ceilings carved high overhead, and
one side made entirely of thick crystal. Beyond that lay an endless
night of stars. Alcoves were built into the opposite wall,
harboring chairs, pillows, unlit candles and incense.

The Crystal Walk held a soothing air, as if
centuries of prayer and meditation had seeped into the very stone.
Every alcove Dayn passed lay empty, though. He reminded himself
that most of the Ringmen slumbered in the dead of morning, although
his body still held to the midday of Shard.

The Walk ended in a descending ramp that
split into three different directions. Dayn stopped to dwell upon
the stars outside. They shone brighter and more numerous than he
ever thought possible from the ground. He wondered where the Ring
lay in the World Belt, for he could not see Shard, nor the moon. He
longed for a glimpse of the torrent, but suspected this to be a
poor place to see it.

Dayn caught sight of some movement in the
darkness and squinted hopefully. Torrent? No, a shadowed reflection
in the crystal. A low voice rasped behind him. “Your presence is
forbidden in these halls, Beltbound.”

Dayn spun around, startled to see two hulking
Defenders standing within arm's reach. Armor swallowed each man
from crown to heel, and the masks they wore made Dayn question the
nature of the men beneath. One mask looked like a snarling
ridgecat, with spots etched into the visage instead of stripes. The
other wore a leering fool's face, twisted into a painful grin.

Dayn cowered, heart pounding. Cold crystal
touched his back. “I've gotten lost. If you can show me―”

“Why are you sneaking through Defender halls?
What world are you from?”

“I…I’m from Shard. I’m supposed to speak with
the Lord Ascendant. She’s supposed to ask me about—” Dayn cut off,
remembering Lurec’s words about the Seed.

The two Ringmen glanced at each other. “What
would the Force Lord want with a farmer?”

“Nothing, unless…” Fool-mask stepped forward
threateningly. “What do you know of Thar’Kur, Beltbound?”

“What? Nothing.” Dayn shifted into Lout in
the Square, a deceptive stance for fooling aggressors, and hoped
the rest of Milchamah's training felt as effortless. He made his
voice match how these Defenders must see him, a moonstruck farmer,
offworld for the first time. “Is that a world? Will I see it from
the transport?”

The Ringmen looked at each other for a
moment, hesitating. For one hopeful second Dayn thought his ruse
worked. “He lies!” the fool-mask growled, reaching for Dayn. He
moved carelessly, as though Dayn carried a mere walking stick.

Dayn twisted one of his packs around to fill
the Defender's grasping hands. He sidestepped and took a middle
hold on his staff, crouching into Wreathweaver's Coil. The Defender
tossed aside his pack and rushed him again. His wrists were
vulnerable.

Dayn swung weakly for his ankles,
anticipating that a trained fighter would dodge. The fool-masked
Defender leaped mockingly over the feint, just as he had hoped.
Dayn noted how the Ring's weak ground slowed his descent.

“Stupid farmer―”

Dayn pulled his torso through the form. For
one fearful breath he exposed his back as his momentum carried him
around, but then the high end of his staff struck home. The loud
crack
of silverpine against the Defender's mask echoed
through the Crystal Walk. The Ringman stumbled, grasping his
head.

Dayn pivoted smoothly to meet the
ridgecat-masked Defender, already two steps into a charge. Dayn
brought his staff up solidly between the Ringman's legs. The brute
grunted, then yanked at Dayn's staff with an enraged growl. The
armor covered him
entirely.
The first Defender regained his
feet.

Run.

Dayn freed his staff with a quick twitch of
his wrist that made the Defender howl in anger. He shot off down
the hall. He would rather be lost in the Ring than cornered.

Hope of escape abandoned Dayn as one of them
tackled him from behind. A gauntleted hand closed on his calf so
powerfully that Dayn cried out in pain. The Defender slapped away
his staff thrust and slammed him into the crystal. Dayn felt the
air rush from his lungs on the impact. The Ringman's strength
astonished him.

“Now we get to bruise you, farmboy,” the
ridgecat-masked Defender said in an ugly voice. A knee in the
stomach bent Dayn in two. Black spots swallowed his vision. The
Defender pulled him upright and placed a cold hand across Dayn's
throat.

“Careful,” fool mask warned in a hoarse
voice. “He nearly broke my jaw with that!” Dayn's captor squeezed
until he saw dark circles and shapes in the shadows of the Crystal
Walk. His staff clattered to the floor. He struggled uselessly, but
the Defender's arm felt as though it were carved from the Ring's
very stone.

Silver flecks swam in Dayn's vision. Moments
from blacking out, his heels drummed on the crystal. Some of the
spots in his eyes floated in unison, stirring in one of the
shadowed alcoves behind Dayn's assailants.

“Is the Ring's guestright so empty?” A
woman's voice filled the Crystal Walk. The grip on his neck spasmed
open instantly, and Dayn sucked in air with a gasp. He could
breathe again, but the Defender still held him pinned against the
crystal wall.

“He claims the Force Lord means to question
him.” The voice behind the fool's mask held a defensive quality
about it now. “Yet we find him here in Defender halls, instead of
waiting to be summoned to the Veiled Throne. Now he’s sneaking
away―”

“To tell Thar’Kur all he’s learned of the
Ring’s secrets?” the woman cut in. Dayn could just make her out
within the alcove. She sat crosslegged, her open hands resting on
her knees and two middle fingers touching each thumb. Her silken
robe glowed faintly white in the shadows. The woman was barely
clothed, yet the fully armored men regarded her as warily as a pack
of crater wolves. But Dayn's biggest shock came when she leaned
forward to say more. The woman wore a
blindfold!

“My blade is not sheathed,” she said
warningly. “Release him.”

Only then did Dayn see what lay on the ground
before her, concealed in the folds of silk. A long, one-sided blade
rested upon the alcove's wool rug. It added a venomous radiance to
the woman, and Dayn could not decide which was more dangerous, or
beautiful. The metal looked wrought of moonlight and spun rather
than forged, reminding him of an elegant lace.

“You would raise your hand against a fellow
Defender?” Ridgecat mask demanded, peering back at the woman. The
grip on Dayn's neck loosened even more.

“Strange days dance, why should the Ring be
spared? Protecting the Belt is my sworn purpose, even if it must be
protected from your stupidity. I would not kill you, but you may
bleed to death before a healer is found.”

“We'll let the mudfoot go, but not before I
show him the price of trespassing in our halls.” The fool-masked
Defender drew back a gauntleted fist and swung. Dayn wrenched his
head as far to the side as his neck allowed.

Crystal exploded by his left ear. Light
flashed throughout the Crystal Walk. A great roaring rush of air
filled the hallway. His throat suddenly free, Dayn scrambled away,
hands over his ears. The Defender's fist had smashed through the
crystal, which looked to be at least five inches thick.

The gusting wind began to lessen. Dayn stared
in disbelief as the crystal slowly sealed over the ragged hole,
like ice forming over the banks of a river.

“You witless fool, There’s
sheath
on
your gloves!” The ridgecat-masked Defender shouted. “His brains
would’ve been scattered across the torrent!”

Instead of replying, the fool-masked Defender
began to scream. He sunk to his knees, clutching his hand.

His fellow moved to help him, but never came
close.

The woman had finally risen, only to take
hold of the Defender from behind as tenderly as an embracing lover,
with her delicate sword poised upon his throat. He stood perfectly
motionless. Dayn could see the whites of his eyes through the holes
in his mask as he searched for the blade resting beneath his
chin.

“You know who I am,” the woman whispered in
his ear. “I have not seen your face yet, nor your mask. I do not
know your voice. You may speak softly in the Ring now, and pray we
never meet again.”

“Yes...yes, Pararsha.” The man fell away at a
stumble as she released him, and helped his still screaming cohort
from the floor.

“See to your friend quickly, or his hand will
be wasted!” She called after them down the hall.

Serenity returned to the Crystal Walk as the
retreating Defender's howls faded. “Peace if I won't forget your
masks,” Dayn muttered. The stars shone clearly once more. Not so
much as a crack marred the great crystal panes.

“The crystal used to forge much of the Ring
is sentient, in the barest sense of the word. It knows its purpose
is to seal. It doesn’t consider intervening flesh.” Dayn turned to
his mysterious benefactor, then just as quickly jerked his eyes
back to the stars. This new Defender―for she must be that―stood
behind him thoughtfully, her reflection faintly visible behind his
own. Dayn's face grew hot. He heard the sound of rustling silk.

“I thought Shardians to be well-mannered
folk,” she said. Pararsha, the Defender had called her.

Flushing even more, Dayn slowly turned. With
a sigh of relief, he saw that her robe was properly closed.

“I do thank you,” Dayn said, staring in spite
of himself. The sheer cascades of the woman's robe hinted at hard
muscles beneath as she finally removed the blindfold. Pararsha's
dark eyes held a challenging fire that looked impossible to quell.
Her dreadlocks were the color of aged amber, and her skin reminded
Dayn of the way sunrise lit the Silk River near Kohr Springs, when
silt floods turned the waters gold.

“Heed me, Shardian. Your presence is not
fully understood here, after what happened on your world.” She
paused, but Dayn held his silence, unsure of whether to trust this
mysterious Defender. Pararsha continued in a voice like frozen
chimes as she returned to her alcove, melting back into the
shadows. “You would do well to keep your own counsel on the news
you carry, and never again walk these halls alone.”

The Defender methodically wrapped her
blindfold around her strange blade and closed her eyes. Realizing
she would say no more, Dayn reclaimed his scattered possessions and
departed with a head full of unanswered questions.

Eriya's directions were fuddled more than
ever in his mind. He took the ramp up, caring little which way he
went. He could not stop thinking about the two Defenders, and
Pararsha's words of warning.
Maybe coming here was a mistake.
Mother was right, better to throw the Seed back into the
Dreadfall.
Such were Dayn's thoughts as he searched for Eriya’s
landmarks.

He spied movement ahead of him in this latest
hall, and his hands tensed on his staff. A frail-looking man in
attendant's blue bounded toward him, taking in his staff and
clothes with hopeful eyes.

“Dayn? Dayn Ro'Halan of Shard?” the attendant
asked breathlessly.

“I've been searching all over for you! You
are summoned to the Lord Ascendant!”

Dayn permitted the insistent little man to
lead him. They bounded through more passages―Dayn hoped never again
to see so many halls―past more attendants who ignored them both,
busy about their own duties.

“Here,” the man panted. He wrung his hands
and produced a handkerchief from his blue overcoat. “Here we
are.”

The last hallway terminated in a major
anteroom with a high arched ceiling and large tapestries all
around. Two tall, imposing metal doors lay directly across from
them, buried in rough stone. The attendant dabbed sweat from his
face and composed himself somewhat, then reached for Dayn’s staff.
He yanked it away. “What are you doing? Stop that.”

“Young sir, it’s not permitted! No weapons
are allowed before the Veiled Throne.” Dayn relented, leaning his
staff on the wall next to one of the paintings. Dayn did not want
to offend the Lord Ascendant. After all, his favor might gain a
kind word back home. The attendant sighed in relief.

Dayn took a moment to brush himself off
despite the Ringman’s impatience. His red cloak and his trousers
were a lost cause. He could do little to hide the fact that he had
bounded through miles of redbranch, not without more time to clean
up. Dayn glanced at one of the tapestries absently as he checked
his braids for bits of twig.