Lance of Earth and Sky (The Chaos Knight Book Two) (2 page)

V
idarian fell, landing with a jaw-rattling thump on his backside. His heart was pounding, his hands suddenly numb, and he almost dropped the stone. “How—” he began to ask, then amended, “This isn't possible.” Heat flushed through him again at the memory of his elemental “hand” around the seridi's throat. He'd been ready to kill her, to end a person's—if even a feathered one's—life with his own hands. And now his thoughts strayed beyond reality. He searched the tree line below with his eyes, looking for something stable, dreading that he would find it melting before him.

*
You're going to hurt my feelings.
* Ruby's sharp humor was there, soaring into the emptiness he still hadn't fully accepted with her death. It was too good to be true, and he knew it.

A darker possibility loomed then and hardened his thoughts. Someone had captured Ruby's voice somehow, or the stone played off of his own memories.

“126 degrees east by 37 degrees north,” he said.

*
The gateway to the Last Cove, theoretically,
* she replied promptly. *
And you're not supposed to be talking about it.
*

“When I sailed with the
Viere
that first summer, we hit a squall off of the Imerian Coast—”

*
And the winds knocked open that silly cage of songbirds Vell bought in Astera. He was hysterical for three days and never did forgive my mother for making him keep them abovedecks.
*

Only a handful of people would have known the answers to either of those, and only Ruby would know both. The Starhunter had been inside his head, but had never pulled or answered his own deep memories. That didn't necessarily mean she
couldn't
…

“I saw you die,” he said, finally. In his mind he saw the small honor guard of gryphons carrying her silk-swathed body off for transport to her family's ship.

*
It's strange,
* she said, her already-remote voice for a moment more distant, *
I don't remember dying. I remember giving you the prism key, then…falling asleep? And then waking up to the sunlight here on this ridge.
*

“Giving me the what?” The strange phrase jolted him momentarily out of his melancholy.

*
The prism key.
* Hazily, an image of the sun ruby brushed his mind, and suddenly Ruby's voice grew hazy also. *
Wait…we never called it that. A…sun ruby? Why would we call the prism key a sun ruby? An evocative name, to be sure, but inaccurate…
*

The change in her tone raised the hair on the back of Vidarian's neck. Meanwhile, the gem—a “prism key”?—seemed to glow brighter. Vidarian stared into it, trying to divine its nature as he had never quite done before. Almost, he could see threads of light deep within the stone, crisscrossing into an infinite fabric. Was this what Ruby had seen, looking into the gem on those cold nights across the mountains? Had it pulled at her mind the way it now pulled at his?

Now the ruby seemed to be glowing brightly indeed, and it took him several long moments to notice that it was the sky growing darker. With a jolt he realized he should be getting back to the camp—and the memory of how he'd stormed off, and why, brought a fresh flush of guilt creeping through his veins.

*
Oh, come now. You need to stone up,
* Ruby said, and the vulgar image that came with it raised his ire, as surely it was meant to. When Vidarian grudgingly showed her what he'd done with his mind—something he could now do, as he once had with Ariadel, and always with the gryphons—he expected the memory to quiet her. Instead, she still simmered with impatience. *
And if you had killed her—what then? Perhaps it would have been mercy.
*

Her logic—a pirate logic, one that sealed her identity for him at last—both chilled and reassured him. There was no escaping the weakness he felt at having lost control over
himself
, but it was Altair's reaction that brought on the guilt full-force and sent him spiraling into dark thoughts.

Vidarian sensed Ruby preparing another poignant image and so preemptively levered himself to his feet, shaking out limbs that had grown cold on the damp ridge.

But there was still one thing.

“Ruby, I'm—”

*
Save it,
* she cut him off crisply. *
To apologize is to tell me I was not in control of my own decisions and fate. You wouldn't want to do that, would you?
*

He tried and failed three times to reply, then finally said: “So there's nothing…?”

*
I didn't say that.
*

The strangeness of the conversation settled on his shoulders again, but there was only one possible answer he could give and retain any honor. “I'm in your debt. Anything I can create for you is yours.”

*
I don't…
like…
being in here.
*

Vidarian looked around in the waning light, then back at the glowing stone. “In the…prism key?”

*
It doesn't feel like…myself.
*

Ruby had never in her life hesitated, and here, as he could feel her mind brushing up against something that was not itself, Vidarian felt that strange feeling crawling up his spine again. And what she said next didn't help.

*
I want you to get my body back.
*

Vidarian felt his mouth open, then close. “I…it's…” Wordlessly he called up the memories again, showing her: first, their grief, then Vidarian's pledge to return her body to her ship, where it would surely be commended to a sea burial—and finally, the gryphon flight craft, carrying her away. His heart ached as he lived through those moments again.

*
So you're saying it's with Nistra now, ten thousand fathoms. Is that a problem?
* As she spoke, Ruby's water sense stirred from within the stone, calling to Vidarian's own. Surprised, he quashed his natural urge to reach back. Whatever of Ruby the “prism key” had absorbed, it had taken her elemental ability with it—and, like Vidarian's, hers had been magnified.

*
There's not much I can do from in here,
* she said, answering his thought. *
I can feel it…bumping up against a wall…
* And indeed, her magic seemed restrained, as if there were something there it couldn't break through. *
That's why you've got to get me out of here.
*

“But your body,” he said, breaking through his own blockade of denial at last, “how would we even…put you back inside it?”

*
You're the Tesseract,
* she said, lacing the title with friendly acidity. *
You'll figure it out.
*

It was now full dark, and the red light of the prism key cast the promontory in a bloody false sunset. Vidarian wanted to find any other request she could make of him, but knew there was none. “If that is what you ask of me, I am bound to it,” he said at last.

*
Thank you.
*

Fat drops of cold rain struck Vidarian's face and shoulders, calling his attention back to the fast-descended night. He raised his arms instinctively to protect his face, and Ruby's laughter echoed in his head. More drops splashed against his face, blurring his vision, as he stared down at the stone in irritation. Was it his permanent fate to have a woman laughing at him in his head?

*
The world's eminent elementalist, and he covers his face with his hands in the rain?
*

Well. Grumpily he extended his water sense, wrapping the raindrops into a glassy shield that absorbed or deflected their fellows. The balance was tricky, and the constant growling complaint of his fire sense was no help at all. “It feels wasteful to use it for such small purposes,” he temporized.

Ruby wasn't fooled. *
The practice is good for you.
*

“And since when are you the authority on magical instruction?”

He'd meant the quip lightly, but Ruby grew quiet, and a memory bubbled up out of the stone: white wings over the sea, a great talon raised in instruction, waves that responded to its command—and Ruby, just a girl, swallowed in awe and a terrible sadness.

“I…” Vidarian began.

*
It's nothing,
* Ruby cut him off. *
I don't know what came over me.
* And indeed she seemed disturbed by the sudden disclosure of memory. *
I guess I'm not used to being a telepathic rock.
*

He didn't press further, instead foraying into the forest, downhill toward the camp.

Just to prove he had a handle on his own abilities, Vidarian summoned a sphere of fire energy, a ball of orange light and warmth that lit his path and evaporated the remaining rain from his skin and clothing. For good measure he gave it its own separate water shield, and the overall effect was rather pretty. Ruby did not comment, lost in her own strange gem-encased thoughts, and so he made the hike back toward the camp in silence.

Soon the camp torches glowed through the screen of trees, and when he stepped into the camp at last—dispelling his shields and light, for Altair had protected the entire area with a sphere of rain-repelling air—Isri and Altair looked up at him with relief. The welcome in their eyes assuaged some of his guilt, but the sudden inarticulate outburst of the latest captured seridi—storm clan, Isri had said—brought it rumbling back again.

Isri's own wings flared in response to the cry of her brethren, and she turned immediately, radiating reassurance.

*
Jumpy, aren't they?
* Ruby observed, and both Isri and Altair turned sharply back to Vidarian, answering his unspoken question of whether they would be able to hear her.

//
Ruby?
// Altair asked, startled incredulity wreathing his thought with a sharp scent like broken pine needles. //
It can't be…
// Vidarian felt a sudden warmth and reassurance that the tightly disciplined gryphon could react with his same disbelief.

Isri looked between them, not understanding.

Vidarian tried to explain, but found himself once again overwhelmed with an upwelling of frustrating emotion. “She…when the gate opened…”

Isri gasped in sudden comprehension. “Your friend—with the hair like fire—” And with understanding dawned emotion, also; Vidarian, not for the first time, did not envy her receptiveness to the states of those around her. The feathers around her face lifted with sadness, and her eyes filled with water. It was not the first time Vidarian had seen a seridi weep, but it reached him deeply.

*
You all look like—
*

“Don't say it,” Vidarian warned, recovering some sternness.

*
Fair enough.
*

Vidarian pulled the sun ruby from his pocket and lifted it to the gryphon and seridi. Isri reached out to take it from him. “She was—caught—within the stone,” he said.

Isri's large eyes were dark with thought as she gently turned the stone between her hands. “This is well beyond my expertise,” she confessed. “The seridi resisted the use of magical artifacts embraced by gryphons and humans in the Twilight.” Like birds, seridi seemed to pass information at lightning speed, owing to their telepathically mediated nightly connections—and as an elder mindspeaker, Isri was even more linked to their seeming-constant conversations. Only within the last few days had they begun referring to the time immediately preceding the sealing of the Great Gate as the “Twilight,” but he had to admit it seemed appropriate.

“Gryphons and humans seem to share a delight in the dangerous,” Vidarian said.

Altair's head shot upward, his neck straightening to its full intimidating height. His feather-tufted ears flattened against his skull.

“If I've offended—” Vidarian said uncertainly.

The tall gryphon's wordless hiss stopped the words on Vidarian's tongue, and as he listened in the silence that followed, a low growl emanated out of the forest.

//
Thornwolves!
// Altair cried, and Vidarian had half a breath to imagine the creatures of frightening bedtime stories, and then the pack was upon them.

Three wolves came stalking out of the darkness beyond the torch-line, their movements gracefully coordinated. Easily twice as large as the sightwolves that had ambushed them at the Windsmouth's edge, these were clearly king predators, even more terrifying than their fairy tales depicted.

*
An honest-to-Nistra thornwolf! I thought they were imaginary!
*

“Not helpful!” Vidarian grunted, drawing his sword and willing his unruly magics into it.

//
Don't let the spines touch you!
// the gryphon warned, Vidarian thought unnecessarily. Sprouting from the creatures' necks were fearsome weapons that looked like they belonged to a giant sea urchin. Like the wolves' fur, they were striped, each contrasting the individual wolf's color, which ranged from deep red to blue-violet—but the spines were tipped in a lurid green that screamed “I am poisonous!”

Two of the wolves closed immediately on Altair while the third launched itself fearlessly at Vidarian's blade. The gryphon had moved to the center of the clearing, mantling his wings and screaming a deafening battle challenge. Alone, either Altair or Isri could easily have fled to the air, but they dared not abandon either Vidarian or the two captured seridi.

Lashing out with his blade to keep the wolf at bay, Vidarian slowly moved sideways, giving Altair more room to fight and placing himself between the wolves and the bound seridi. Perhaps he could redeem himself, if only in part, by protecting them now.