Slight and Shadow (Fate's Forsaken: Book Two) (48 page)

Even from a distance, he could see the many lines that fanned out from around Gilderick’s pupils. They filled his vision, as if those lines were all there was to look at — as if his eyes were all there’d ever been to see.

Heavy footsteps pounded through the hall behind him, closing in. But Kael’s ears clogged against them. The room disappeared, the castle, the plains … even Kyleigh slipped away, tumbling into the dark nothingness that waited beneath him.

All at once, Kael lost his footing — and he fell headlong into another world.

Chapter 45

The Only Death to Fear

The world drifted in slowly.

At first, Kael thought he was back in Gilderick’s throne room. But it was brighter here than he’d remembered. The stone floor pressed hard against his back, and his whole body ached — like he’d fallen from some great height and still had the wind knocked of him. The floor was covered in a thick layer of dust: it clung to the wet of his palms as he tried to roll over.

He ignored the creaking of his bones and forced himself to sit up. His vision blurred dangerously, and he had to concentrate to keep from passing out. Slowly, he managed to get his eyes to focus.

A wide stone chamber surrounded him. It was completely round, like the inside of a tower. Shelves of books wrapped around the walls and the many colors of their spines seemed to brighten the room all the more. He was certain now that he wasn’t anywhere in Gilderick’s castle. But then … where was he?

Just in front of him was a landing of shallow steps — like the climb to a throne. But in place of a throne was a plain, oaken desk. Though its edges were smooth, Kael could see clearly where the desk had been shaped: it looked rough, like something Roland might’ve whittled for one of the Tinnarkian children.

There was a large book sitting on top of the desk — so large that Kael didn’t think he would’ve been able to wrap his hand around its spine. A man sat at the desk, leaned over the book, and Kael recognized the greasy mop of his hair immediately.

“Where have you taken me, Gilderick?” he said, glancing around the room. His heart shuddered when he saw they were alone and in his panic, he tried to jump to his feet. But his knees gave out, and his legs collapsed beneath him. His whole body felt like a limp rag. He couldn’t get it to do what he wanted. “Where’s Kyleigh? What have you done with her?”

“Done with her?” Gilderick’s face twisted into a smile. His skin hung loosely from his mouth, as if it’d been stretched across a bare skull. “I haven’t done anything with her — ah, well, I suppose I left her behind. But the Dragongirl doesn’t interest me. Her barbarian mind is too simple to be any challenge. No …” His brown eyes flicked to the top of Kael’s head and tightened, as if they tried to peel up his scalp. “You’re the one I’m interested in.

“I admit that I misjudged you — I thought you were little more than rebel. But, after a bit of reading,” Gilderick placed his hand on the large book in front of him, “I discovered that you and I are quite similar.”

“I’m nothing like you,” Kael spat. He didn’t know where he was, but he was determined to get back to Kyleigh. He propped his hands beneath him and tried to pull himself up, but his elbows gave way. His forehead struck the dusty floor.

Gilderick ignored his struggle, turning one of the book’s thick pages absently. “We’re more alike than you may think … we were both born poor and weak. Neither of us knew our fathers. And,” he traced a finger down the page, “we’ve both lost our homes. I
chose
to leave. But you … oh, that’s tragic,” he murmured, though he smiled rather widely as he said it. “Titus burned your little village to the ground, didn’t he? This
Tinnark
that you remember so fondly?”

Kael’s mouth went dry. “How do you know that?” When Gilderick didn’t answer him, his eyes swept across the room. “Where am I? What have you done to me?”

Gilderick’s spidery fingers twined together and rested upon the book — a book, Kael suddenly realized, that must’ve told him everything. With a sickening lurch of his gut, he figured out where he was.

“Done?” Gilderick’s tongue clicked against his teeth. “Allow me to answer your question with one of my own: what’s it like, to be conscious inside your own Inner Sanctum?”

Kael couldn’t breathe.

He was trapped inside his own head — trapped with Gilderick. How was Gilderick here? How had he possibly gotten in? The last thing Kael remembered before he passed out was looking into his eyes …

“You’re a whisperer — a healer,” he said, though he hardly believed himself. Even after Gilderick nodded, he still couldn’t grasp it. But then as he thought, the truth began to unravel.

That’s
why Gilderick never let the mages into the castle: it wasn’t because he was trying to keep his slaves under control — it was because he couldn’t stand the smell of them. He’d even kept the witch locked up inside the kitchen tower, away from the main rooms.

Kael remembered the story Brend had told him, about how no one could prove that Gilderick tortured the rebel whisperers during the War, because there were never any wounds on their bodies. But he
had
tortured them: after he’d split them open, he just sealed them back up. He must’ve kept them alive for days, hacking them up and piecing them back together. The rebels must’ve begged for death … but they hadn’t been allowed to die.

Gilderick wouldn’t let them.

Bile rose in Kael’s throat at the thought. He might’ve heaved his scant breakfast out on the floor, but he was too weak to be sick. “The Fallows,” he managed to choke out.

“Ah, yes.” Gilderick leaned forward excitedly. “Remarkable, are they not? I always knew there must be someway to control the minds of others — to bend their bodies to my will. That’s why I asked to rule the plains,” he added with a smirk. “The giants are so weak-minded to begin with that I knew they’d be the perfect subjects for my experiments. At first, they were difficult to control. But I found that wounds or sickness helped … soften them up, for me.”

As Gilderick leaned back, his boney hands scraped down the book, dragging behind his wrists like a pair of dead things. “The Fallows are a part of me: my little puppets. And I hold their strings between by fingers. Curious that you should mention them.” His mouth twitched slightly. “A few days ago, I felt one of the strings break. I thought my newest Fallow must’ve perished — that happens sometimes,” he mused, his pitiless gaze trailing to the far wall. “Not all of them are strong enough to bear my presence.” His eyes roved back to Kael’s. “I see now that I was wrong. He didn’t die, did he? No … you set him free.

“You found something of great importance to me — a journal that I plucked from the body of an old friend. Yes, I’ve read all about it,” he said when Kael gasped, tapping the pointed tip of his finger against the book. “It’s all right here. I’ve sent one of my Fallows to retrieve it. I can’t let the book slip away from me again. Had it not been for Deathtreader’s teachings, I would still be powerless — the weakest class of whisperer. You’ve been very useful to me, Kael of the Unforgivable Mountains. Now … what should I do with you?” Gilderick’s mouth twisted into an unsettling smile. “It’s always nice to meet another healer. We’re such a rare breed, after all. Perhaps you might still be useful. I’ve gotten rather comfortable here,” he said, glancing around the room. “Perhaps I’ll stay.”

Kael’s blood ran cold. He didn’t want to become a Fallow — to be trapped inside some greasy shadow for the rest of his life, not even free to move his own limbs. He would never see his friends again. He would never see Kyleigh —

The walls around him suddenly groaned, startling him from his thoughts. They creaked, moaning like the underbelly of a ship. A light, tinkling noise came from across the room. Kael looked up above the shelves, and realized that every window in his Sanctum was completely walled up.

They’d been packed full of stone and mortar, sealed shut against the outside. Dark lines ran across them. Moisture struck the floor as they wept.

Somehow, Kael managed to peel his tongue from the roof of his mouth. “What’s out there?” he said hoarsely.

Gilderick was staring at the walls, a look of interest on his face. “That depends: what were you feeling, just then?”

“I was afraid,” Kael admitted. He didn’t see any point in trying to hide it. Besides, if he kept Gilderick talking, it might give his body a chance to recover.

“Then
fear
is what it is,” Gilderick murmured. “It’s interesting that you would keep your fears so close — most people keep them at a distance. And speaking of interesting things …”

Gilderick stood up from the desk and trotted down the stairs. He didn’t look nearly as weak as Kael. In fact, his body seemed livelier now than it ever had in reality.

He strode out to the stone floor, his boots kicking up thick patches of dust in his wake. “I’ve only ever read about this,” he said, gesturing down to the floor. “People tend keep their foundations clear and open — but yours is hidden.”

“My foundation?” Kael said. By now, his body was so weak that he could hardly move. His back slouched over his knees, and his arms hung limply at his sides. His only small chance to live was to keep asking questions.

Gilderick smirked. “Yes, your foundation: the culmination of all your thoughts and beliefs, the one thing you cling to — your great purpose.” He crouched and ran his fingers across the ground. “But dust … in the mind, dust symbolizes the things we have forgotten. Or in your case, perhaps it’s something you never even knew. This dust is quite thick, after all. I’m interested to see what you’ve got hiding under here,” he added, grinning up at Kael. “Let’s find out together, shall we?”

Gilderick blew across the ground, one small breath. But the dust cleared as if it’d been struck by a tempest’s gale: it rose and swirled about the room, spinning across the shelves and trembling the books on their spines. As the dust blew around them, Kael looked down at the floor — and saw a familiar symbol carved into the stone:

An eye with a series of lines crisscrossing through its center, forming three triangles on top, three interlocking triangles on the bottom, and one black triangle in the center.

It was the symbol of the Wright.

“No!” Gilderick said.

He’d taken a hurried step towards Kael when the dust finally broke out of its spin. It roared from the walls and hit Gilderick full in the chest. His body flew into the side of the desk, as if a giant’s fist had struck him. He groaned and pressed his arms beneath him.

While Gilderick struggle to rise, the dust fluttered down and stopped in front of Kael. It fell away like a curtain, whispering as it struck the ground.

A man stepped out from behind the dust. His leather armor was tattered — worn down almost to the threads, in places. He carried a humble-looking sword in one hand, and a dented shield in the other. The Wright’s symbol stood out on the front of the shield. Kael thought he knew who this man was — who it must’ve been.

When he forced himself to look up, he saw that he’d been right.

Setheran the Wright stood before him. He looked exactly how he had in Kyleigh’s memories: with his bright red hair and lithe frame, even down to the angles of his face. Setheran met Kael with a smile — a smile so kind that it shamed him.

Kael’s eyes fell away. He couldn’t bear to have a great warrior like Setheran see him like this — to see him weak and beaten, unable even to get to his feet. If he looked up now, would Setheran laugh at him? Would he sneer? Would there be pity in his gaze … or disappointment?

Kael couldn’t look. He couldn’t bear it. So he kept his eyes on the floor.

Setheran stepped closer. Kael stared at the scuffs on his boots as they rose and fell. When they were only a few paces apart, Setheran began to speak. His voice rang with a depth that didn’t quite match his lithe frame. And Kael felt the familiar words echo inside his soul:

“There are times when death seems certain, and hope is dim. But in those times, I forget my fears. I do not see the storm that rages, or the battle that looms ahead. I close my eyes to the dangers — and in the quiet of the darkness … what do I see?”

Kael knew the answer. But just as he was about to speak, his face burned and his throat suddenly tightened. No, he wouldn’t cry — not in front of Setheran. No matter how ashamed he was, he would speak.

So he forced his chin up, tore his eyes from the ground and gasped: “I see only what must be done.”

Setheran crouched in front of him; their faces were even. He smiled hard as he offered his hand. “Then arise, Sir Wright … and do what you must.”

Kael took his hand, and Setheran jerked him onto his feet. A cloud of dust exploded over his body, filling his mouth and nostrils with grit. When the dust finally cleared, Setheran was gone.

Strength surged into Kael’s limbs. There was a weapon grasped in his hand. His fingers tightened around the hilt, and he realized that he was carrying Setheran’s sword. The dented shield hung from his other arm, and in place of his clothes was Setheran’s tattered armor.

“No,” Gilderick said again, laughing madly as he pulled himself to his feet. “A
Wright
? Oh, I don’t think I could’ve asked for better! Yes — you’ll serve me well. I’ll pull your little string, and the whole Kingdom will fall at my feet!” He laughed again as he wiped the dust from his tunic. Then his eyes locked on Kael’s. “But first … I’m going to have to soften you up.”

Blackness spilled from Gilderick’s pores. It snaked across his body, covering him from head to toe in a protective shell. An axe sprouted from between his boney hands — an axe that was almost as tall and thick as he was. There was no way Gilderick could’ve carried such a weapon.