The Way of the Soul Page 10

  When she entered her room, she found that Lord Harskill had dressed. She struggled to keep her face stoic. A god did not see relationships the same way as a mortal. She would be foolish to think of things meaning any more to him than what she could see on the surface. His depths were as different and unknowable as her depths to an insect. But she could hope.

  “Will I ever see you again? When you return, will you ask me to do anything? Or is this really it? The end. Are we done?”

  He stopped but did not look at her. She knew she shouldn’t have said anything — he didn’t like questions. He turned his head slowly, “You should get dressed.”

  “I’m coming along with you?”

  Lord Harskill grabbed her by the chin. “You have to stop your self-doubt. You’ll be meeting people and creatures and seeing other worlds. If you’re going to be effective at my side, you need to trust your instincts. Open your ears and eyes. All that you’ve trained for must be of use; otherwise, you are of no value to me.”

  Reon bit back the smile threatening to overcome her face. “I can do that.”

  Lord Harskill patted her on the cheek. “Good. Now hurry. We must meet with the others.”

  As Reon rushed to get her clothes together, she looked around the room. This might be the last time she ever saw it. Should she bring something with her? No. The Lord Harskill will provide.

  Then it struck her what he said. “What others?”

  Chapter 13

  Malja

  Grunting as she swung her sword, Hirasa aimed for Malja’s head. Malja ducked, waited for the attack to pass over, and popped up, blocking with her own sword. The wooden practice swords clacked together as Malja spun out of the way.

  The Artisoll’s castle had many rooms, and high up near the top, Malja found this one to be perfect for training. It may have been used as a ballroom once, but when Malja stumbled upon it, the dust layer showed that nobody had been dancing on the floor in years. A little cleanup work and she had an excellent space for workouts — hardwood floors, open area, and wide windows. Some of the windows rested open allowing cool mountain air to waft inside. Clouds drifted by.

  Hirasa thrust forward. Malja parried and readied for the next attack. It didn’t come.

  Malja halted and shook her head. “You need to start thinking in attacks of three or more. One attack is easy to evade. A second attack is expected and blockable. But a third or fourth attack, multiple strikes, will eventually overcome an opponent.”

  “But I can’t always be on the attack,” Hirasa said. “That would become predictable, too.”

  “Good. You’re starting to see now. You have to mix attacking with defense, quick strikes with multiple blows, and it all must happen fast, without thinking about it.”

  Hirasa dabbed at the sweat on her forehead before settling into position. She had learned all her basic skills while fighting the war on Carsite — among them, perseverance. Though Malja forced her to unlearn many of her habits, she never lost her desire to keep going. “Let’s try some more.”

  The training sessions had been going on and off for the last year. Whenever Malja and Fawbry spent more than a day in Reo-Koll, Hirasa tracked her down and begged for another lesson. Malja happily obliged the eager learner partly because she saw a little of herself in Hirasa, but mostly because it helped keep her mind off of Harskill. It never completely worked.

  Even as Hirasa launched into another attack with her practice sword, part of Malja’s mind knew that elsewhere in the castle Tommy and the Artisoll used their powerful magic in an attempt to locate Harskill. Part of her knew that because she had time to train Hirasa meant that Tommy and the Artisoll had not met with success.

  The do-kha signature they had followed before could no longer be found. Tommy suggested that the Soul of the Sun might be blocking Harskill’s do-kha signature. Right or wrong, the theory did not matter to Malja — she only knew they couldn’t find Harskill.

  Malja swung upward from a low position. Hirasa blocked with competence. However, instead of backing off and resetting for another attack, Hirasa placed a foot between Malja’s legs and checked her in the chest, sending her to the floor.

  “Oh, I’m sorry.” Hirasa offered a hand to help Malja up.

  “Nothing to be sorry about. That was a good move. Remember that one.”

  Malja hopped back to her feet and the training continued. Hirasa had proven to be a fast learner, limber and athletic, flexible and fierce. Though Malja’s body still moved with skill and strength, she had begun to feel all the abuse she had placed upon it. Like an old warhorse, she could still perform when needed but found battle to be more taxing than before.

  Except she knew her biological age did not match her body anymore. She shouldn’t be an old warhorse — not yet. Her do-kha had taken those years away. Yet it gave so much. Without it, she could never have fought against the truly dangerous — those like Harskill.

  Hirasa rushed in with her sword poised for an overhead double-strike. Malja pivoted on her left foot, blocked with her sword, and side-kicked with her right foot. She caught Hirasa just below the ribs with enough force to send her sprawling on the ground. Her practice sword went spinning across the floorboards.

  Malja stood tall. The desire to follow through with another attack coursed through her blood. But with each slow breath, her senses returned. “Are you okay?”

  Holding her side with one hand, Hirasa stood. “I’m sorry. That was my fault. I shouldn’t have left myself so open.”

  “That’s true. But I shouldn’t have kicked you so hard. Training’s done for today.”

  “I’m fine. We can keep going.”

  Malja grabbed a cloth and wiped the sweat off her neck.

  Hirasa waited a moment longer, clearly hoping that Malja would reset in a fighting stance for more training. When Malja walked over to the windows, however, Hirasa sighed and picked up her cloth.

  Malja watched how the clouds floated across the sky, ignoring all that occurred below. All the strife, all the pain, all the fighting, all the death — none of it mattered to a cloud. She wondered why the thinking animals of the worlds couldn’t be as simple.

  All her fighting had been to fix the worlds, stop the dangers, end the suffering. But her fighting had only led to more fighting. She wanted to stop, find another way, but every time she tried, the fight always came back to her.

  “I’ve been in battle most of my life,” she said as Hirasa stepped next to her. “I’m not sure I’m any closer to bringing about a lasting peace.”

  Hirasa snorted. “It’s rather foolish to think you can bring lasting peace. There’s no such thing.”

  “It’s peaceful here. Or anywhere people don’t go.”

  “People or no people, Nature is not peaceful. Animals fight to survive, and if they achieve comfort in survival, they fight for power. We’re not much more than an animal.” Hirasa gathered her things and punctuated her words with vigorous packing. “The problem isn’t that there are too many evil people or that there’s too much fighting or even that fighting begets fighting. The problem is that there aren’t enough people like you willing to fight back. That’s why the worlds need champions.”

  Malja deflated. “But I’m getting old.”

  “You are not old.”

  “Maybe not in years, but I’ve lived a violent lifetime.”

  Hirasa took Malja’s hand. “Yet you inspire others to do as you do. You inspire others to take over when you’re done. Others like me. With your blessing, I will continue on whenever you’re ready to stop. It’s not all on you. You don’t have to carry these burdens all alone.”

  Malja looked at her scarred and calloused hand sitting in Hirasa’s tough but softer one. “You don’t choose this life. It just happens.”

  “You’re wrong. Circumstance may be needed to create somebody like you, but a true champion steps forward and takes that position. Look at me. I fought against the Scarites alongside all my people. Yet none of them are here. None o
f them have stepped forward to be a champion. They all had experienced the horror of war and when it ended, they wanted to return to their businesses, their politics, their peace. Even after Harskill returned and hurt them, they did not want to help you like Fawbry has.”

  “You can’t blame them for that.”

  “I don’t. They are doing what most everyone does. They are surviving the best they can. But if we all did that, if we all refused to stand up against the evils in the world, then what happens? Nobody is there to stop the bad from spreading. That’s why you fight. It’s deep within. A desire to see Right and Good triumph. I know it because it’s in me too.” Hirasa clenched tighter around Malja’s fingers. “Let me prove it. You need an army. I volunteer to go back to Carsite. I will talk with Canto, and I will bring you any who will fight for you, the woman who fought for them.”

  “I couldn’t ask that of Canto. The Carsites have been through enough. Canto would insist on joining the fight, and the Carsites need him to stay home. What good is a leader who abandons those that matter most? Besides, I couldn’t safely transfer an entire army through my portals.”

  Malja suspected Tommy could handle such a task, especially with the Artisoll’s help, but she would never ask. Though he had proven himself stronger and stronger when it came to magic, she could never fully let go of the idea that at some point it may still corrupt him.

  “If you can’t move an army, then what is it you’re trying to do? Fawbry told me —”

  “Fawbry shouldn’t be telling you anything.”

  “Look, if you don’t want the entire army, fine. But you still need someone — one trusted soul to take with you. You can’t possibly take on Harskill and what I hear he’s doing; you can’t do that all on your own.”

  “I suppose you want to be that trusted soul.”

  Hirasa walked the practice swords over to a wall-mounted rack and slid each one into its allotted place. “You spent enough time on my world to know the story of Pali, Carsite, and Scarite.”

  “Love triangle with Pali caught between the two.”

  “That’s right. But did you ever hear any of the other stories? The love stories.”

  “Other love stories?”

  Hirasa’s expression softened. “Well, religiously speaking they’re called the Minor Stories, but when my mother would tell them before bedtime, she called them love stories. And they are. These are stories that Carsite told Pali when he courted her.”

  “I’ve not heard any of those.”

  “There’s one I want to tell you. Don’t worry. It’s not mushy. It’s about a flower.”

  Malja arched an eyebrow. “A flower isn’t mushy?”

  “Just listen. You’ve been to my world. You’ve seen Carsite. It’s rocky and dusty like a mountain that’s been stuck in a giant closet for ages. Not an easy place for a flower to grow. But there’s one in particular, a beautiful flower, and a dangerous one as well. It’s called the Yellow Death Petal.”

  “Charming.”

  “It is. Lovely yellow petals that open out to welcome the morning sun each day. This flower is so strong, no matter where you put it, it’ll find a way to grow. It’s been discovered on the tops of boulders with its roots creeping through little cracks to find water. It’s been found in flat, open desert as well as in caves amongst the deep shadows. It’s a remarkable plant. And, of course, as its name implies, it is also a deadly plant.”

  “I’m guessing the petals are the deadly part.”

  “Deadly to other animals. For a human, if you touch it, you’ll get a terrible rash. Touch it long enough, you’ll get violently ill. But you’ll survive. Now, there’s a worm that is special. Without this worm, the flower would not live because the worm is the only living creature that can withstand these petals. It’s attracted to the plant’s nectar. It crawls up and drinks. In doing so, like so many insects, the worm gets covered in pollen and seed. Sometimes it drinks from a second plant and keeps the species going that way. Sometimes it dies and the seed takes root in the dead body.”

  Malja didn’t like where this was headed. She had tried to let the girl down easy. She had tried being forceful. Nothing seemed to get through.

  She leaned her forehead against a window and watched the clouds. “I suppose in this scenario I’m the flower and you want to be the worm.”

  “I’d like that very much, but I’m not ready. We both know it.”

  This got Malja’s attention. “Then am I missing the point of your story?”

  “Just like that plant needed another creature equally strong, equally powerful that could stand with it, that’s what you need. Someone to stand with you who is also a great warrior. One who understands you and what it’s like to be you.”

  “I have Fawbry. I have Tommy.”

  “Tommy’s with the Artisoll now. And Fawbry is not your equal.”

  Malja smirked. “Besides, you don’t like him running off with me.”

  Hirasa blushed, but instead of taking the bait, she spoke sterner and with more conviction. “You need somebody who knows your world, who has suffered like you have suffered, someone who can become a champion like you.”

  She said no more. She shouldered her bag and left Malja alone.

  She’s right, Malja thought. All the battles she had fought and survived only made the odds worse. At some point, she would not survive. If not from battle, than from age. And the worlds would need a new champion or else Harskill would win.

  Malja thought of all the warrior’s she had known. Many had died, but a few still lived — or so she believed. And of those, she could think of only one name that might be capable of handling the reality of her life. Only one who would be willing to take the solemn duty.

  Owl.

  Chapter 14

  Reon

  Lord Harskill opened a portal and Reon stepped through. She walked onto a platform floating in space. A clear, protective bubble surrounded them, keeping them safe from the vacuum. A pale-blue sun burned bright nearby.

  Nearby? No. Reon understood that a star so huge had to have been millions upon millions of miles away for her to be able to stare at it without going blind.

  To her left, she saw a belt of rocks stretching in an arc around the sun. With a flourish of his hands, Lord Harskill performed a noble bow. “I present to you my home.”

  “It’s amazing.”

  “That is our sun. If you can see that greenish-yellow planet, that is Bola. And these asteroids are all that is left of the Gate homeworld.”

  They stood on the platform, and with respectful silence, they watched the asteroids tumble by. In the quiet of space, the movement had a soft, orchestral sense to it. Peaceful and meditative.

  Reon thought she could watch that for hours and hours. But there were important things ahead.

  “What happened? Why are we here?”

  Lord Harskill tapped the side of his head. “Two very thoughtful questions with two very different answers. The first is easy enough. What happened here was hubris. We Gate, over time, became more and more powerful as we learned of the magic that exists in the vibrations of the universe. We thought we could control it all. So, we bumbled along until we learned that we could open portals to other worlds. But we lacked the understanding of that power. Without the do-khas, without control, we lost our handle on the portals we had created. That mistake ripped apart our planet.”

  “A portal did all this? But I opened a bunch. The worst that happened to me was getting knocked around.”

  “You wear a do-kha. The do-kha has the power, when controlled properly, to open a portal safely. Some magicians have the power as well. But most cannot handle that kind of strain, and to lose control of a portal is to lose control of the very fabric of the universe. In fact, that’s why the do-kha was created in the first place. It protects and contains portal magic. The rest that it can do should be considered unintended benefits.”

  “So, you designed the do-kha and hired the groyles to make it alongside some of your
magicians.”

  “Hired them? No. We designed them, too. Genetic manipulation and cloning are hardly difficult. You of all should understand that.”

  Reon bristled but covered it with an awkward grin. “The groyle, then, are all clones.”

  “Not anymore. They started out as such but for generations now, they’ve been allowed to reproduce and thus, evolve.”

  Reon gazed at the tumbling asteroids. “You mentioned other Gate. So you’re not the only one to have survived all this.”

  With a proud smile that warmed Reon, Lord Harskill said, “I’ll get to that momentarily. But first, understand that after this happened, those of us who survived made it our mission to protect the other worlds from making this mistake. Not only because we did not want to see the worlds destroy themselves, but also because we were lucky. We only lost our home. We could have destroyed this entire universe, and perhaps, if a portal had remained open, we could have destroyed all the universes the portal connected to. It is far too dangerous a power. For most worlds, we can stop them from ever gaining access to portal magic. Wherever we cannot suppress it, we must usher it in properly.”

  “Is that what we’re going to do? Save these universes?”

  “All I’ve ever wanted. You know the power I possess. We Gate are gods. We have been given the power to rule these worlds so that they do not suffer the destruction that Gate have suffered.” Lord Harskill raised a warning finger. “But we must be benevolent gods, even when we must be wrathful.”

  Above them and off at an angle, space shimmered. A platform similar to the one Reon stood upon materialized as a portal opened. Two figures stepped forward — a man and a woman.

  “The twins are here,” Lord Harskill said and gave the twins a small salute. “Reon, I’d like you to meet Sola and Freen, two Gate I’ve known since my childhood.”

  Reon waved. Sola and Freen did not acknowledge her. She would have been insulted but was too busy considering the idea that Lord Harskill had once been a child.