Ryk E. Spoor's Blog, page 47

On My (Virtual) Shelves: Homestuck

 

"A young man stands in his bedroom. It just so happens that today, the 13th of April, 2009, is this young man's birthday. Though it was thirteen years ago he was given life, it is only today he will be given a name!"

 

So begins Homestuck.

Homestuck is a phenomenon. It's not precisely a webcomic, although it started as one. It's not a video game, although there are games embedded in it and it starts with the obvious conceit that you are playing a videogame called "Homestuck"; the opening quote is the text of the first page of Homestuck. It's not an internet video, although there are video sequences. It is… HOMESTUCK.

What begins as a pretend-videogame following the life of a young man named John Egbert (after rejecting the "player's" initial choice of "Zoosmell Pooplord") as he receives presents, examines the geekily mundane world of his room, and anticipates playing a new video game called "Sburb" which is to be released that day, becomes an epic quest that spans time, space, and dimension with abandon and insanity.

I found reading Homestuck page by page tedious, especially on a laptop, but fortunately there is a marvelous alternative: Let's Read Homestuck, produced by Cooperation Laboratories (CoLab), a series of startlingly well-acted YouTube videos which put voices to the Homestuck strips.

When I say this is an epic quest, I mean EPIC. The release of a videogame literally portends the end of the world, perhaps of all creation – except that the four friends playing the game might, just might, change all of that.

Homestuck is a tremendously complex work, self-referential, so trope-heavy that it trembles on the edge of trope singularity, yet shot through with unique twists on every tired trope that the entire thing seems shiny and new. It has direct plays and references to internet culture, most obviously with the entirely separate alien race of "trolls" who, well, troll the main characters through the chat client "Pesterchum", at first in what appear to be purely random episodes of harassment, but which later become discussions of import reaching the cosmic level of importance.

The trolls are another set of players, on another instantiation of the same game. Except that their instantiation of the game created our universe. But ours may have created theirs. Or might yet create theirs. Somehow. Or together maybe both sessions of the game could end up making something better. With help from time-traveling gods, wandering vagabonds in a postapocalyptic world, and previous incarnations of each other, while opposed by demons, a nigh-omnipotent master of snark, and a berserk rampaging force called Jack Noir. And occasional interventions by Andrew Hussie, the creator, until he gets killed.

Seriously, the creator of the comic gets killed. But this isn't unusual, because Hussie racks up a death toll that would make George R. R. Martin blanch in fear. Death is semi-cheap in Homestuck -- there are ways to bring people back from the dead, sometimes – but there are also ways to kill people deader than dead, and some of the deaths in Homestuck are shocking indeed.

Homestuck's greatest strength is probably the characters – innocently cheerful and somewhat clueless John, cynical, sarcastic Rose, overly-cool and loquacious Dave, and adorably determined Jade, rage-filled Karkat with his hidden soft heart, hard-luck butt-monkey Tavros, arrogant and egotistical Vriska, refined and deceptively dangerous Kanaya, slow-talking stoner Gamzee with his deadly secret, all of them clear and distinct and real in a way that sometimes makes me wonder if I will ever write any characters as well.

The crudity of the original artwork is truly deceptive; this is the work of a master author, someone who knows how he wants to tell a story and is telling it exactly the way he wants it told. And he knows dramatics; he can manage to get across high drama, comedy, tragedy, heroism, Moments of Awesome, all with these apparently-crude drawings, sometimes to a degree that leaves me speechless.

Homestuck is also a work of incredible detail. Short conversations, images, or even single comments turn out to have great significance later on. The fact, for instance, that John is a fan of Nicholas Cage movies is not just a recurring motif (and sometimes annoying, just as any friend's obsession with some strange side-aspect of pop culture can be), but a plot-significant fact that will influence a huge number of later events. The details of each characters' room, and the posters and other objects we see as minor character-defining details take on vastly more significance later. Hussie doesn't just know his characters; his characters are themselves representatives of the universe he's building, and the smallest aspects of the way in which they are presented will loom sometimes terrifyingly large in later events.

Comedy in Homestuck ranges from the simple slapstick (initial attempts to use Sburb's world-manipulation capabilities, for instance, result in toilets being flung onto front yards) to the self-referential and to multi-layered ironic, with pop culture, classical literature, and multi-generational references being inserted with abandon. I'm quite aware that I'm missing various jokes as I read/watch/experience Homestuck, and at the same time I'm pretty sure I'm getting some jokes that the vast majority of readers will miss, because most readers aren't from my generation. Hussie isn't from my generation either, but he seems to be tremendously aware of earlier, as well as current, generations.

I am, at the time of current writing, in the relatively early parts of "Act 6", which is nearing the end of what's available but still with some distance to go. And I'm pretty well convinced that what I've been experiencing is one of the great masterpieces of science fiction/ fantasy.

I'm not sure how to nominate this for a Hugo – because I'm completely unsure what CATEGORY it would go in – but when Hussie completes this story, I'm sure going to try.

Click one of those links, and discover Homestuck!

 

 

On My Shelves: The Magic Kingdom of Landover

Terry Brooks is best known – by far – for his Shannara series, which I have written about previously. However, he has written other books in other settings, and the ones I have enjoyed most have been the Landover novels.

 

There were three volumes in the original Landover series; these are the ones I have read, although I intend to purchase the remaining ones after the seventh and final is completed. Thus this review covers the first three novels: Magic Kingdom for Sale – SOLD!, The Black Unicorn, and Wizard At Large.

 

In Magic Kingdom For Sale – SOLD!, Ben Holiday, an expert lawyer who has lost most of his interest in living since his wife died, is idly paging through one of the super-fancy Christmas Catalogs, the sort that offer things like a child's fully-functional Mercedes or other equally overindulgent extravagances, when he comes across an advertisement for a magical kingdom – available for one million dollars to a "qualified" candidate. The advertisement claims that the magic is real, that the purchaser will genuinely be King, and that true adventure is to be had. Almost against his will, Holiday ends up making an appointment for an interview

 

An interview with Mr. Meeks, the person in charge of selling this most unique item, makes it more mysteriously attractive than ever. Impulsively, Ben decides to take the chance, and buys this "Magic Kingdom of Landover".

 

Despite his doubts, he follows the directions to finding his "kingdom", and walks through strange mists… to a world that is certainly not the one he left. There really is a magical kingdom there, and he is, in fact, its king.

 

But unfortunately, Mr. Meeks told the truth like a Jedi. While the medallion he was given technically makes Ben Holiday the King of Landover, Meeks has actually been selling Landover for vast sums many times over the last twenty years – twenty years being the time the last true, accepted King of Landover died. Meeks was in fact the traitorous former court wizard, who was attempting to control Landover rather than support it.

 

Landover is on the brink of collapse; it is a mystical realm that depends, in literal fact, on the existence and presence of a strong, just, and willing sovereign, and the twenty-year gap has taken an enormous toll on the land. The various pretenders all stayed a short time and then fled back to Earth, unable to handle the responsibilities and dangers of being the King of Landover; the castle, Sterling Silver, has fallen into a state of terrible disrepair called the Tarnish; the lords of Landover have renounced their loyalty to the Throne; the dragon Strabo is wreaking havoc on the countryside; and the Iron Mark, lord of the underworld Abaddon, has claimed the Kingship and will challenge any who choose to assert their right to rule.

 

Ben has only four allies in Landover: Questor Thews, court wizard, half-brother to Meeks, and at best … unreliable with his magic, since Meeks hid all the great books of magic and has been doling out little tidbits on the use of magic in exchange for Thews' cooperation with his schemes; Abernathy, court scribe unfortunately stuck in the body of a dog due to one of Thews' spells; and the kobold warriors called Bunion and Parsnip, formidable monkey-like creatures who function as bodyguards and servants.

 

But Ben also has two other things: a tremendous sense of justice that has driven his career as a lawyer… and a stubborn anger at the thought that Meeks chose him as a loser, as a man who would run away like all the others and leave Landover to collapse.

 

He's going to prove Meeks wrong.

 

He just doesn't know how.

 

Thus begins the first of the Magic Kingdom of Landover books, and it's a hell of a ride after that. The Landover stories are fascinating – speaking as an author – in the way they deftly balance whimsy, affection, flat-out comedy, and honest terror with a sense of joy and wonder. It's a terribly hard balancing act to maintain, similar to the tightrope that Howard Tayler walks when writing Schlock Mercenary, but Terry walks it perfectly.

 

Ben Holiday is a wonderful hero to adventure with. He's not a hero to begin with… but he's someone we can sympathize with, and even very early on we can see the glimmerings of something great hiding within. Meeks made a terrible mistake when he picked Ben Holiday, and Holiday does indeed make him regret that most greviously.

 

Landover itself is an interesting creation; quite deliberately partaking of many of the clichés of fantasy movies and literature, it remains original and powerful through a number of typically Brooks-ish creations, such as the living castle Sterling Silver, the charming if destructive Strabo, and the various macabre threats in the magical world, such as the Darkling and the Iron Mark, which carry the same menacing weight as the Demons of The Elfstones of Shannara.

 

But I must be honest and say that it is Questor Thews I love most. The oft-incompetent, clumsy, yet indomitably honest and utterly loyal and idealistic wizard is in many ways more a hero than anyone else in Landover; he shows this most clearly in Wizard At Large, when he is forced to find a way to cross the Mists and rescue Ben Holiday and his other friends who have become trapped in the mortal world… and in a crowning moment of total awesome, does so by defeating Strabo, the nigh-invincible Dragon, in a duel of magic.

 

The Landover books seem like comedy, but in actuality have much that is serious at their core – themes of finding oneself, of honesty, of courage, of love, are vital parts of the stories and of the world of Landover itself.

 

I recommend these books very strongly indeed!

 

 

 

Under the Influence: SunDog: Frozen Legacy

Many years ago, I was one of the relatively few whose personal computer was not an IBM-clone or an Apple, nor even an Amiga, but an Atari ST; a lot of people don't even realize that Atari did indeed build full-fledged computers in those days, and quite good ones. Of course, being a splinter market, they did not always get all the software one might want.

But they did have, for a short time, the company called FTL Games, and that meant two milestone games: Dungeon Master, one of the first 3-D dungeon-crawl games (and precursor of other first-person games), and SunDog: Frozen Legacy.

SunDog was unique, and to this day I'm not sure there is an entirely comparable game; the closest I can think of is Escape Velocity: Override and its relatives. In SunDog, you take the role of a character named Zed, who has inherited two things from his recently deceased uncle: a starship named the SunDog, and a contract to support a newly founded colony's development and expansion. If you can carry out this contract, you will become a free man (having been previously a slave).

To do this, you have to first locate the colony itself, determine what supplies they currently need, and then procure them. But it's not that simple. You have a starship that's not in top shape when you begin, and only a small amount of money. You need to make enough money to purchase both the supplies the colony needs, and the material to support your ship – including keeping it fuelled.

To accomplish all this, you have your ship – which is also provided with a "cargo pod" that amounts to a large, multi-terrain vehicle, so that you can explore areas of a planet beyond those immediately surrounding a spaceport – a small fund of starting money, and a star map.

SunDog is stunningly complex and diverse for a game released in 1984. This is not just a trading game or indeed "just" any particular sort of game. As Zed, you need to keep your ship in repair – with fairly complex system designs requiring you to either have the right components to fix it, or to rig temporary, not nearly as efficient, but serviceable fixes by shunting around damaged component areas. You have to evade or destroy pirates trying to kill you and take your cargo. You need to keep yourself fed and rested. You have to figure out where you can buy some goods cheap and sell them high.

You need to locate colonists (called "cryogens", and the source of the "Frozen Legacy" subtitle – these volunteer colonists are in coldsleep until they arrive at their colony) that your uncle had arranged to be stored at various cities across the galaxy until he could transport them. You need to upgrade your ship so you can land at cities that even your cargo pod cannot reach. And eventually you need to find your way to a terribly dangerous system just to get your final load of colonists.

Zed can converse with people both through communication screens and in person, walking around towns. He can get mugged, or fight off muggers; he can evade pirates, jump to lightspeed to flee, or fight them and possibly make a profit from their cargo.

Despite the early date of this game's release, in short, there was an INCREDIBLE wealth of detail and diversity of activity in SunDog. It was by far the most addictive game (not involving other human players, anyway) I had played to that point, and retained that title for twelve years, until Chrono Trigger was released in 1996.

To this day, I remember SunDog with great fondness and really wish I could play it again someday. There is some hope for this, as the SunDog Resurrection Project (http://sundogresurrectionproject.com/) has been moving in fits and starts to revive the game. Maybe they'll succeed; I hope so, and that I'll be able to play it in some fashion.

SunDog was also directly influential and inspiring in another fashion. In the Space Opera RPG game I created a character based on Zed. This character became a supporting character in a space opera I was writing at the time, then titled simply Psionic! The character went through many changes – named Sundog, then Starhawk, then eventually Eonwyl, and changing sex from female to male to female to male multiple times before finally ending up as female, and one of the primary characters rather than a secondary. If that trilogy – currently titled Demons of the Past – is ever released, there will be a small but significant piece that is a direct and very conscious salute to SunDog: Frozen Legacy, as one of the best games ever written for any platform, ever.

If you ever get a chance to play it… I hope you can set your mind back to 1984 and realize just what an amazing, eye-opening experience it was when you first found yourself in an operating starship with systems you could examine, repair, or even kitbash to functionality, and then fly out into the galaxy to explore, trade, fight, and found a colony… for the sake of your own freedom.

 

 

 

 

 

On My Shelves: The Cometeers/One Against the Legion/Nowhere Near

Jack Williamson's The Legion of Space was only the first in the Legion series. As I read the Legion stories in a single omnibus edition, Three From the Legion, containing The Legion of Space, The Cometeers, One Against the Legion, and the novella Nowhere Near, I had originally planned to review the omnibus as a single book. However, I found that reviewing The Legion of Space itself was worth a complete entry. Thus, I complete my review of that omnibus in this second entry. There was a fourth Legion novel – Queen of the Legion – which I will probably discuss in a separate entry.

In true space-opera fashion, Williamson raises the stakes and puts the Legion up against an even more terrifying and powerful threat in The Cometeers, when a mysterious alien construct literally millions of miles long, looking like a strange, greenish comet, approaches the Solar System, and strange and disquieting events slowly make it clear that the encroaching alien presence is anything but benign. This becomes an open declaration of war when the "Cometeers" discover and release the most dangerous prisoner in the solar system, a man named Steven Orco, apparently to use him in their bid to conquer or destroy the Legion and Earth entirely. Young Robert Star – son of John and Aladoree from the prior book – is, under the terms of Orco's surrender and imprisonment, unfortunately the only man allowed to execute Orco, and due to a secret event in his past, Robert finds himself unable to do so in time to prevent Orco's jailbreak. Humiliated and afraid that he has a fatal weakness that has doomed humanity, Bob Star finds himself on a desperate mission to catch Orco, enter the mysterious "comet", and find a way to stop the nigh-indestructible rulers of the Cometeers!

To a degree, this story follows a similar course to the first, most particularly the coming-of-age and romance – for one of the most shocking discoveries is that there appear to be human residents of the Comet, one of whom finds a way to reach Bob and his allies – Jay Kalam, Hal Samdu, and the ever-cowardly yet always resourceful Giles Habibula, and that one is of course a beautiful girl with a secret that is vital to saving the solar system.

But there is much more to The Cometeers, especially in Williamson's worldbuilding. The Legion of Space ended with the full reveal of the power of the superweapon AKKA – wiping the Moon and, by implication later, all of Barnard's Star from existence. Once it became clear that the Cometeers were their enemies, the Legion asks Aladoree to destroy it. While she is reluctant to commit genocide without any additional information, she changes her mind upon hearing that "the man called Merrin" has become their target… and then discovers that AKKA does not work.

 

Williamson had recognized that such a powerful weapon needed some counterbalance, for two equally important reasons. First, of course, is the obvious one, that if AKKA has such vast reach and vast power, it becomes really really hard to come up with threats that make sense. The second, something of the flip side of the issue, is that in all history, there are no examples of a weapon remaining secret forever, or even for very long. If there's no way of countering AKKA, soon there will be more people using AKKA, and the physical simplicity of the weapon makes it possible that someone could do so easily, in a fit of pique wiping out cities, moons, even planets.

So in The Cometeers we discover that AKKA relies on a fundamental property of spacetime, twisting things out of reality as though were levering them through space and time. But there is, as they put it, "only one fulcrum". Two or more AKKA users working at the same time cancel each other out. It's implied also that it's possible for someone to concentrate sufficiently on the "fulcrum" to interfere with other users without having to keep their full attention on the matter.

We also learn more about the darker background of the old Purple Empire, and the ways in which they used to break others to their will, and about the advances in technology of the Legion era. Most important of these, and most insidious, is the work of the reclusive genius Eldo Arrynu, who developed superhuman androids – perfect, even beyond-perfect humanoid creatures who were, unfortunately, inhuman in their emotions, sociopaths in the modern context, and Arrynu had no apparent qualms in using them to tempt the wealthy and powerful, and then corrupt or destroy them. These two pieces of background are vital for the resolution of The Cometeers, and their influence continues into the next novel.

I won't spoiler the rest of The Cometeers; it's a grand ride indeed, and the climactic resolution is both emotionally satisfying and well set up, giving our heroes an unambiguous victory from what seemed complete defeat.

One Against the Legion is a somewhat different story, though no less gripping. Chan Derron has just graduated from the Legion Academy with the highest honors, and is selected for a vital duty – security over a top-secret test of a new invention by Dr. Max Eleroid. But something impossible goes wrong, and Dr. Eleroid is found murdered inside the previously sealed test room, his invention gone, his aide murdered… and the only possible suspect being Derron himself. As readers, we know Derron is innocent, but the entire Legion believes him guilty, and he has no way to prove his innocence – especially when, after he has been interrogated brutally and imprisoned, he suddenly finds himself free, with no explanation for how he left or got where he is.

The true villain is an unseen mastermind who calls himself "The Basilisk", leaving a black clay serpent as a calling card. Of course, the Legion believes that Derron is the Basilisk – very convenient for the real villain, since that means the Legion spends its time chasing Derron rather than trying to locate another suspect. Of course, the fact that the Basilisk seems to have an eerie power to transport people and things at will, and even to listen in upon conversations millions of miles distant, makes it difficult to catch him even if the Legion were to suspect that they had the wrong man.

But finally Derron's had enough of running, and decides he's going to take them all on – the Legion and the Basilisk – and prove his innocence or die trying!

 

This is a much more personal story, and Williamson does an excellent job, especially for his era, of painting his character's conflicts and emotional roller-coaster life as he is bounced from safety to peril at the whims of a man who seems to take positive joy in tormenting others from a distance. The old legacy of Eldo Arrynu turns out to have a close connection with the mystery – but not the one people think at first. There is also a clear touch of romance in this novel, but unlike the other two it does not end with obvious wedding bells. Derron's name is cleared, and the girl (whose name would be a terrible spoiler) in question chooses to save his life, but it is not explicitly clear what will happen with them later.

Nowhere Near is yet another type of story. Lars Ulnar – a distant relative of the original "Purple" Ulnars and the Star family – runs the eponymous space station which watches over a strange anomaly in spacetime, an anomaly whose behavior varies in a peculiar and eerie manner. This is a place far removed from the prior settings of the Legion adventures; this is no shining, polished space station with well-trained troops, but a dark, gloomy outpost at the edge of something monstrous; modern readers might find it echoing the Nostromo of Alien or the deserted colony of Aliens. To Nowhere Near come two strange people, a nurse and her older patient, who are unwilling to speak clearly of their true purposes, and perhaps not of their true names. But then the anomaly of Nowhere Near begins to swell, and within the impossible distortion of spacetime… something seems to be trying to emerge.

In some ways, Nowhere Near is the strongest of the four stories, clearly drawing on Williamson's constantly increasing skills with language and character as well as setting and worldbuilding. Williamson expands his universe once more, creating a threat that is deadly, almost Lovecraftian, and yet has a strange element of pathos in it when the full origin and nature of the enemy is exposed. He uses the implications of spacetime distortion to their full extent as well – both disabling AKKA, which relies on control of certain aspects of spacetime, and affecting the very passage of time differently within different sections of the anomaly.

As with the other Legion stories, there is also romance – but this one is a much more complex relationship, as Lars Ulnar at first has no reason to trust the girl in question, and later every reason to believe that an Ulnar such as himself – marooned to a disliked, near-exile station far from anywhere – could never be trusted or accepted by her, since she is (naturally) one of the Star family, a descendant of Aladoree herself and the Keeper of AKKA. Naturally, at the end, this is overcome – but the route there is a hard and painful one. Lars Ulnar is a much more grim and morose hero than the prior ones; even Chan Derron, who spent several years as the universe's chew toy, managed to maintain a more spirited self-image. Lars needs to find himself much more desperately than any of the others.

These three stories together cement the Legion of Space's place as one of the finest space opera series ever written, fully the equal of Doc Smith's Lensman series. For those capable of reading old-style SF, I recommend these wholeheartedly!

 

 

 

On My Shelves: The Legion of Space

Jack Williamson published his first story in 1928. His last novel was published in 2005. His writing career thus spanned *nine decades* -- from the 1920s to the 2000s. Of all his works, the tales of the Legion of Space may be the most enduring. (Note: that link goes to the omnibus edition Three From the Legion, which is OOP but apparently widely available, and happens to also be the edition I first read the novel in)

The original Legion tale, The Legion of Space, was first serialized in 1934, a contemporary of the Skylark and Lensman series by Doc Smith (and indeed, the first Skylark story was also published in 1928, the same year as Williamson's first story). As such, it is one of the earliest of the grand-scale space operas.

How early? Well, early enough that it comes with a framing story of the ostensible author actually just publishing the memoirs of an old man who seemed able to see the future. This was still used in the 1930s, though it was getting to be a bit old hat, but shortly thereafter it was pretty much extinct except for deliberately retro or ironic pieces.

Once past the frame, however, we get to a classic of space opera. Young John Ulnar, freshly graduated from the Legion Academy, is placed on a vital assignment – to guard the only person with the knowledge of how to use the Legion's ultimate weapon AKKA, a young woman named Aladoree Anthar. His fortune in getting the post appears explained when it turns out that his far more famous kinsman, adventurer and explorer Eric Ulnar – recently returned from an expedition to Barnard's Star – has requested him.

The Ulnar name is a famous one – and also infamous, as its members took advantage of many achievements in the past to establish a system-wide empire ruled from the hall named after the royal color, purple. "Purples" are still viewed with suspicion, as those of the Ulnar family and their former supporters have only relatively recently been thrown down. Still, a few Ulnars have retained high position, with Eric being one.

Despite some misgivings after meeting Eric and finding him not quite the paragon his publicity makes him, John takes up his post with earnestness and excitement. But all is not what it seems, and John's innocence and honest faith in the Legion is used against him to set him and the other guardians of AKKA up as victims, while Aladoree is kidnapped.

The enormity of Eric's betrayal is made clear when John catches up – momentarily – with his kinsman and discovers that Eric is working with monstrous alien creatures, the Medusae, native to Barnard's Star in order to overthrow the Legion and restore the rule of the Purple Hall, with Eric as Emperor.

Marooned on Mars, framed for the loss of AKKA's guardian, John Ulnar and the other three guardians – Jay Kalam, Hal Samdu, and Giles Habibula – must find a way to escape, to follow Eric all the way to Barnard's Star, and then – somehow – find Aladoree Anthar, free her, and give her a chance to use AKKA against the Medusae; for the Medusae never had any intention of leaving our system under human rule.

As early space opera, The Legion of Space cannot help but be compared with other early works, such as those of John W. Campbell and, of course, Doc Smith, and it compares very well to both. Campbell's works achieved a greater scope in many ways, but were notably absent the human element. Williamson's characters, while also derivative (it's known that he was consciously using the Three Musketeers as part of the template for the Legion), were more three dimensional, human, and interesting.

Similarly, Williamson's work here is fully the equal of the legendary Doc Smith. One key element of The Legion of Space and subsequent Legion stories which was only minimally present in the Lensman stories was the romance. In The Legion of Space John Ulnar's drive is just as much to rescue Aladoree as it is to make up for his failings as a Legionnaire. However, Aladoree is no shrinking violet; she not only survives torture, but is capable of fighting and surviving on her own, and ultimately is the keeper and only wielder of the ultimate weapon AKKA. Williamson would keep both romance and strong female characters as part of his writing, although they would mostly tend to be overshadowed by the male characters; later authors such as Schmitz reversed this, and in some of his later stories so did Williamson.

AKKA is itself an interesting invention; a superweapon that has a physical component but also a mental one, AKKA either destroys or displaces from the normal spacetime continuum any target or targets – of any size. When Aladoree uses AKKA against the Medusae at the end, she not only wipes out an entire Medusan battlefleet but also completely destroys the Moon (which had become a Medusan stronghold) and later Barnard's Star itself. Despite this incredible power, AKKA has a key limitation which becomes one of the essential plot elements for the sequel story, The Cometeers (which I will review later).

The Legion of Space series undoubtedly had considerable influence in the early years of SF; I'm not sure how to trace its influence today, but I certainly recall it vividly in many images and events. One interesting side question is the conflict between the Purple Hall (the Ulnars) and the Green Hall (the Legion), often shortened to the issue of the Purples VS Greens. This makes me wonder if Straczynski was referring to the Legion when he had the one episode with the Drazi: "Green must fight Purple. It is the only way."

In any event, I find The Legion of Space retains a great deal of power in its writing and events, even today. It is well worth reading if you have a taste for old-fashioned space opera, as are the sequels!

 

 

 

 

 

Phoenix in Shadow: Chapter 28

Miri had just seen something startling...

 

------

 

 

Chapter 28.

     Miri stepped into her guestroom at the Reflect's mansion and closed the door, leaning against it heavily. I'm shaking! Shaking like a terrified human!

Her current body was human, in a way… but in all the centuries she'd been in such bodies, she'd never had such a reaction. Miri held her arm up in front of her, watched the trembling of the delicate hand, the imprecision of its movements, with stunned fascination; it took twice as long as normal to set the wards and seals of privacy.

In a way, she could understand it. So many shocks, one after another. First, stepping into that cabin and seeing the true power of a god unleashed – through the constant oppressive interference of Moonshade Hollow which impeded even her kind – and the incredible, heart-wrenching beauty of that power and the Phoenix, tearing her own soul and the voluntarily offered souls of the others so she could patch together the shredded, dying spirits of two children, and beyond. Though Phoenix had not realized it, her power had flowed even beyond the two most wounded, touched upon Hamule and bound her wounded spirit just a touch, eased the pain and memories for all five.

Miri found a wondering smile on her face at the thought, then banished that expression with shock and panic.

It didn't hurt. Why didn't it hurt?

But that question hadn't occurred to her right away. She had been uplifted, confident, and helped Phoenix to rise. It was agreed by all three – herself, Phoenix, and Tobimar – that the master itrichel had to be dealt with immediately, and that it had to be in the Reflect's household.

And they'd been right; Nimally, his Head of House, had been the host of the creature. Once she realized she was cornered, she had fled, with the three of them in close pursuit. Tobimar had outdistanced them for a few moments and brought the itrichel to bay…

And that was the second terrible shock.

Tobimar had faced the itrichel-Nimally with a serene face, a transcendent look in his eyes, twin swords held parallel before him, and she knew that pose, that stance, remembered the terrible gray-eyed calm that had advanced through the armies of Kerlamion as though the demons were blades of grass before his vengeful hurricane, in the days after the Fall. That Art is not lost, and does that mean that … He… is returning?

She had stumbled, but somehow – though the terror was nigh-overwhelming – caught herself, regained control, only for yet another shock to overtake her.

For the itrichel had snarled, "How do you resist?" as her blade rang against Tobimar's.

"Yield and you may learn. Fight and you will die," Tobimar had said bluntly. "For my companions are here."

Nimelly then leapt back, with an agility far beyond human, and came on guard, watching all three. She smiled. "But are they companions you can trust?" she had asked… and for a moment the narrowed eyes had flickered yellow-green, looking directly at Miri.

It knows what I am! It could betray everything!

She had launched herself into the air, even before her course of action was clear; by the time she reached the apex of the leap, she had known what she must do. The two companions must believe she was their ally and friend, which meant she must somehow save Nimally – and absolutely, permanently silence the itrichel before it could reveal the truth.

She unleashed a Shardstorm, impaling Nimally in multiple yet non-vital points with the glittering blue-ice fragments. The itrichel, realizing it was trapped, had abandoned the body, tried to flee, but in doing so gave Miri a clear opportunity , and the Hammer of Thunder obliterated every trace.

And even then there was no respite from the tension; for what if Nimally remembered what the itrichel knew? She hadn't… but there were also other itrichel out there by now, matured from the sithigorn and other young animals. If they knew the truth…

 

She sat down on the bed, trying to clear the confusion and panic and elation and fury, to get some kind of idea of what she actually felt, to make sense of it all. I cannot have felt joy at the Phoenix' ritual. I cannot! That would mean…

She drove that thought out with sheer terror and denial. For if that was true, then somehow the thing she had resisted for millennia, that had been trying to eat away at her self for all the time they had been here, was finally overcoming her, now, just when complete victory was in her grasp. It wasn't happening. It couldn't be happening. It was the persona she had adopted, that was all. "Miri" would of course be awed and overjoyed, fascinated even, by such a miracle. And miracle it was; not all the magic of Kaizatenzei could have saved those children, but the Phoenix of Myrionar had made it look easy – though as Miri had seen, it was certainly not.

In a sense, that was good; attention was entirely on the emissary of the God of Justice and Vengeance, and for once that meant that people downstairs weren't all crowded around Miri, so she had been able to get away without drawing attention to herself. And she needed this time alone.

And there were people she needed to talk to. Oh, yes, immediately.

The golden scroll was instantly out of her pack and set up. Miri found herself bouncing her knee in nervousness as she waited for the other person to answer. Stop that! I must not show any such weakness in front of him.

But that was easier said than done. The problem was that she was feeling entirely too many things right now, some good, some bad, and some just confusing, and that made her twitchy and annoyed. Which wasn't at all a good thing to be in conversation with Him.

Even as she drew a breath and tried to focus on calming herself, on dealing with the mission, the golden scroll darkened and cleared to show the ever-pleasant features of Viedraverion's current form. "Emirinovas! Always a pleasure."

She decided that his infuriating cheer needed to be dealt a bit of a blow, and that would also help cheer her up. "You treacherous little nyetakh."

Instead of looking taken aback, the smile widened. "And as always I can rely on your unswerving politeness! What is it that –"

"The so-called 'key' is a Tor master!" she snapped, feeling again the chill and shock that had nearly overcome her.

"What?" The surprise on the face was genuine. A moment later, the smile returned, this one of chagrin. "Ah. Of course, I should have guessed, given his instructor."

She felt the blood leave her face and dizziness assailed her. Curse this human body! "Are… no, you cannot be saying that He has returned, is instructing –"

"Oh, no, no, not him. I have not seen him, nor sign that he…" Viedraverion paused. "Or perhaps I have. I must think on this. But in your particular case, no. But that is little comfort, I think, because his instructor was Konstantin Khoros."

"Khoros!" She spat the name out like a curse – which, indeed, it was. "And you did not see fit to warn us?"

The infuriating smile was back. "You asked for me to watch for certain things. I watched for them. I think you would still want your key even with this complication, yes?"

Calm. Calm. It was hard, much harder with the turbulent confused emotions within her, but she forced herself to clarity and some measure of calm. "Yes. Yes, we would. So… enough of that. However, there is the matter of his companion."

"Oh?"

"She is the channel of a god!" Anew she saw the towering golden Sword-Balance, blazing up and through the cabin, rising above the trees, and felt again that strange chill and warmth, the power of a deity manifest in the girl who was sacrificing part of her own soul, as well as those of others, to save two children she had never before met. "A full channel, not some random priest! I have never felt such a thing, not even from the Stars and Sun!"

The blond-haired form leaned back in his chair and smiled. "Well, yes. You have dealt less with the gods and their powers than I, so you do not understand the difference. In the Stars and Sun of Terian, you have a vast power, yes, but they are, in the end analysis, merely containers for power, not the Light in the Darkness himself. That does not of course mean they are safe, as you well know, but they are not themselves the Will of the Deity made manifest." He gazed into a distance she could not see. "Even if they were – say if Terian had been called forth to activate them – there would be a difference. Terian has immensely many shrines, temples, priests, worshippers – scattered across the entire continent, some even within your own valley. He is many places at once, always.

"Myrionar, however… has only the Phoenix. Oh, there is one priest, but even he looks to her as the example and symbol. You felt the power of a focused, even desperate god providing what it could to its one remaining champion, and that, I have no doubt, was a magnificent sight indeed to one of our perceptions."

"Oh, it was magnificent!" She caught herself before she went any farther. This part I play is becoming too real. I must remember it is only a seeming, not an actuality… or it might become actuality. "But also dangerous."

Viedraverion shrugged. "If you make too many mistakes, yes. She is a very formidable young woman. But you have the power, you have the allies, you have the advantages. I trust you will be able to handle her and your key."

"As long as Khoros isn't directly intervening." She didn't even want to think about that. Emirinovas was powerful, yes, but she knew that going up against a Spirit Mage of Khoros' age and power would be a foregone conclusion, and not one in her favor.

"No, of that I can be sure. My… sources tell me that he has actually been seen serving as advisor to the new Sauran King as they prepare for the counterassault against our beloved father."

That was something of a relief. But… "Does Father know?"

"I presume he does. He has his own spies."

She studied him. "You don't seem concerned. I thought you had an interest in this Phoenix."

"I have an interest in how her journey ends – in victory or in failure. I won't tell you you cannot deal with her in any fashion that suits your needs."

"Indeed?" He nodded. "Well… all right. Also, I did intercept your other visitor, Aran Condor, and sent him the other way around the Necklace. I'm arranging for sightings and rumors of the Phoenix aong the way, so he'll stick to the trail and never wonder about it all the way there."

"Really? Well done, little sister. I commend you. Exactly as I would have asked." He looked off to the side. "I must be going; other responsibilities call, and I believe we have… cleared up our misunderstanding?"

"Sufficiently. Farewell, Viedraverion."

"And you, Emirinovas."

She put the scroll away, checked the seals and wards again. Not that she expected anyone to try to spy on her – the Phoenix certainly would never even think of such a thing and she doubted Tobimar would either, and none of the others in Jenten's Mill would dare – but only a fool trusts unreservedly.

Once she was sure that things were still secure, she removed the farcaller from her pouch and placed it on the table. "Lady Shae," she said.

The image of Kalshae's human form materialized almost instantly; she was in her own chambers,so there was no need to delay. "Miri. What is it?"

Now she had someone to really vent her tension on. "I would ask rather what is this?" She held up one of the itrichel corpses.

Kalshae blinked in startlement. "Where did you –"

"Jenten's Mill. An infestation that cameup out of the lake – how very surprising," she let sarcasm fill the last words for a second or two before continuing, " and then when the townsfolk stopped depredations on their young livestock the thing took over one of the townsfolk and started abducting children!"

"Well, that's unfortunate, but –"

"Unfortunate? You fool, Kalshae! You and Wieran play with all these clever little inventions but you never see the way the game has to be played, and you have too little respect for the danger! They sent for help and found our key and his party – and naturally they came right away."

Finally Kalshae was giving her undivided attention to Miri, and Miri began to feel – slightly – better. "Now it was bad enough that it was hurting the town; as long as we're running a kingdom we need stability, not fear and uncertainty. But far worse was the fact that it was one of yours."

"How do you –"

"How do I know? How do I know?" She leaned forward, glaring so fiercely that Kalshae actually stepped back a pace. "Because the Father-damned thing almost gave me away! The only thing that kept the whole situation from going straight to the Light was that the master itrichel got fancy and instead of just telling them what I was, hinted and looked at me in a way I couldn't possibly mistake ; I could tell it expected I would betray them at that point. I finished it instead.

"Fortunately," she continued, overriding Kalshae's attempt to speak, "they thought that it was simply planning on mind-controlling us – it couldn't affect Tobimar – and that was why we wouldn't be able to be trusted. And while they had wanted to capture it and question it about its other nest, they understood my need to act."

"I see." Kalshae gazed at her, then finally – unwillingly – bowed. "I… am sorry. It was thoughtless and incompetent of us to allow such a thing free, and I will make no such mistakes again."

"See that you don't. You may have more raw power than I do, Kalshae – although not as much as you think – but never forget that I planned this entire thing. You will not ruin it for me."

"Understood, Miri. Understood." Kalshae waited to see if Miri accepted her contrition, then, "Now… how many people were killed? The master-itrichel's host, of course, but how many others?"

"None, actually. I was careful with the Shardstorm."

"Wait, now. There is no way that you can cure a child ridden by an itrichel for longer than –"

"Oh, yes there is. If you happen to be the chosen representative of a god. Phoenix' story is one hundred percent true; she was able to pull enough power from her god to heal all five children, including two with nearly full grown mindworms."

Even as she said that, Miri regarded herself with confusion and disbelief. Tell Kalshae about the soul-tearing! About how Phoenix had to use her own soul and those of others to heal the children! That's vital information! It tells us that Phoenix – and perhaps Tobimar and Hiriista! – will be weakened for some time! It also tells us about how far they will go to save others!

Tell her!

But somehow she found herself silent, adding no more details, and her face held so controlled that not a hint of additional information was shown on her face. Even as she let that moment pass, she felt that strangeness within her growing, as though the decision had strengthened it. With frozen panic she shoved that very awareness from her mind and focused on the woman before her.

"By the Throne! That's … frightening," Kalshae said slowly. "Especially doing it here, where even we cannot pull in more than a fraction of the power that is normally ours. But there is no suspicion of us?"

"None. Especially after our successful hunt. Though there are more itrichel out there to hunt, since not all the missing livestock from the first attacks have been found."

"Still, if they have not conferred with the master itrichel, they will know nothing."

"Let us hope so. But I will have to stay here and complete the hunt for all of the things to make sure. Do you understand how much time this will make me waste? If just one person hears the wrong thing and I'm not there to kill them or wipe their minds –"

"Yes, yes, I do understand. My apologies, again." She tilted her head. "Wait a moment. You said that the master itrichel could not affect Tobimar Silverun. Why?"

Miri couldn't restrain a nasty grin. "Because he is a Tor master."

The reaction was everything she could have hoped for. Kalshae shrank back in horror, her foot ran against some object fallen to the floor, and she stumbled. "Impossible! They were eradicated from –"

"I saw him. Just as I remember seeing the Eternal King himself from the walls. I cannot mistake those moves, those stances. And Viedraverion tells me that our key was trained by Khoros."

Kalshae vented an obscenity that momentarily darkened the crystal. "Are we against Khoros? If so, we must simply abandon this plan entirely."

"I would not be so hasty… but no. Viedra says that the old mage is advising the Sauran King and will probably be on the front lines."

"Bad for Father, good for us. All right. Will the key be continuing on tomorrow?"

"I think so. Perhaps the day after; the townspeople are very grateful. I will then catch up with them once the hunting of the other itrichel is finished."

"I think you should stick with them as much as possible… just to make sure they don't see or learn anything … dangerous."

"I'll do so as much as possible," Miri said with a smile. Smile? Suddenly I feel so much… lighter! What in the world could be causing that?

"All right. I'll go deal with Wieran over this… unauthorized release."

"Better you than me. Good luck."

"Thanks. I'll need it."

Miri put the crystal away and stood. It's getting towards dinner time; Phoenix will be wondering where I am!

She set out from her room, a bounce in her step again.

 

 

 

Phoenix in Shadow: Chapter 27

Kyri had just had a "... he's right behind me, isn't he?" moment...

 

------

 

 

Chapter 27.

     Tobimar tensed, and began to bring up the High Center. If things go bad, we will need all my skill. I don't know exactly what Kyri was doing there, but I could tell she just pushed herself a long ways.

Poplock scuttled up his leg, even as Reflect Jenten spoke. "You imply that I –"

Kyri stepped between the house and the Reflect. "Both of you, pause a moment, before accusations and fear drive you to actions that will end in tragedy. Please – let me see if I can untangle this, for I think the truth is more strange than any of us know."

As Kyri continued, Poplock relayed his information about the children. Locked up and restrained? What possible reason could this man have for such actions?

The crowd murmured, and there was a dark tone to their words. A faint sound from the cabin, perhaps inaudible to any save Tobimar as his senses extended, told him that the ex-Color had drawn a large blade. The Reflect's eyes were narrow; but he only left his hand on the hilt of his weapon, and did not draw it, as he studied the three figures before him.

"As you will, Phoenix," he said finally. "But bring your light to this swiftly, for I have no patience for those who would accuse me of atrocity, and none of us have any for those who harm children."

"I thank you, Reflect, and I understand," Kyri said. Her voice was respectful and cautious, the tone of someone walking on eggshells. This isn't like Evanwyl, where everyone had known her since she was a child, would give her any benefit of the doubt, and she knows it. "First, while I wish to be clear that I do not suspect you, I think you should realize that even in the scant evidence the three of us have heard, there is some just reason to wonder. May I present those points to you, understanding that I mean only to point out the potential for such a perception?"

The Reflect's eyebrows rose. "Truly? You think you have heard evidence that could be taken against me? Very well, speak."

Kyri stood taller, and her demeanor was now more of a judge reviewing evidence and measuring the accused. "For the initial disappearance none could give evidence as to exactly when or where it occurred. But of the other four, what can we say? If I believe the testimony I have heard, there is this: the last one to have claimed to have seen Demmi alive was you, Reflect Jenten, who said that you had seen her go into the woods alone; Hamule was said to have disappeared between her home and your home, Reflect; the fourth child, whose name I have not yet been told –"

"Minnu," Cirnala said, looking thoughtful.

"—Minnu, then, disappeared from within your house; I do not know if there is a connection to you with the last child, Abiti –"

Now a few of the crowd were looking at the Reflect, and Jenten's own face was less confident and sure. "Yes," said the woman with the huge axe. "Nimelly – the one who told us that Zogen had taken Abiti – is Jenten's Head of House."

Now pale, Jenten glared at Kyri, and Tobimar's grip tightened on his swords, even as the Skysand prince started to see the entirety of the pattern. "You said you would not accuse me, yet your words seem woven to do precisely that!"

"Hold, sir," Tobimar raised one hand. "She simply wished to show that it would be easy for someone looking at the pattern to come to the conclusion that you were to blame. But there is more to it – much more to it – than that. Especially in the first few instances, the children were off with others – who specifically denied being there, later. Yes?"

Jenten and the crowd shifted, realizing that Kyri had meant her words and that there was no immediate accusation of their leader. "Yes," Cirnala said.

"And is it possible that Jenten was with the children during those times? Or is it not the case that Reflect Jenten has far too many responsibilities to be able to be absent from view so often?"

Startlingly, Zogen replied from within his cabin. "That… that is exactly the case. The Reflect would have been often busy, with many people around him, on the days that the children were playing in the woods."

"Yessss," Hiriista said, nodding. "And consider; at least three of our victims spoke of meeting someone else, several times. A different 'someone else', for each child, over a period of time. Even the other disappearances did not happen instantly, but over a period of time." He looked sharply at Cirnala. "Tell me, the depthshade that was killed – had it taken any adult creatures – aged, crippled, otherwise easy prey?"

The others blinked at this sudden shift of questioning, but Cirnala simply looked up and away, thinking.

The connection was suddenly clear to Tobimar, and he felt Poplock's grip on his shoulder tighten. Kyri's expression became marble-cold.

"No," Cirnala said finally. "No, Magewright; only young animals."

"And each separated by at least a week of time."

"Yes," the Reflect said, understanding coming into his voice. "Are you saying what I believe you are, Magewright?"

"That this is a continuation of the same problem? Yes, I think so. Creatures such as the depthshade are like many other such creatures; they wait in ambush and take the unwary, the unprotected, the alone. They do not choose only one sort of creature, it matters not to them. And while sithigorn chicks are often numerous enough in a brood that they are likely to be caught alone, both forest antelope and your usual herd animals keep the young and mothers to the center of a herd. The opportunities to take such young prey are very limited unless… unless you had the ability to convince your prey that you were not a predator."

"But it was the depthshade!" burst out another man, tall and gaunt. "We set the watches, caught it as the little calf came down to the water." Then he paused. "Came down to the water… alone. Without its mother, without any others of the herd."

Exactly. "Then what we are dealing with," Tobimar said with growing conviction, that feeling of rightness that his Tor training provided emphasizing his words, "is a creature that targets the young, that can trick others into perceiving them as one of their own kind, that requires some level of time and preparation of the victim – at least by preference – and that uses other creatures as its agents. The depthshade was such an agent or, in truth, a victim, as is whoever the thing is using now."

"But why just the young?" the Reflect asked. "And how is it that this thing was using the depthshade?"

"What happened to the depthshade's corpse?" Kyri asked, cutting short a desperate poking of Tobimar's neck by Poplock. I guess she's asking the question the Toad wanted asked.

"Brought to my home to be prepared for mounting as a trophy for the village," the Reflect said, "Immediately after the kill."

"And was there anything unusual about the corpse when it was being prepared?"

The Reflect shrugged, then looked into the crowd. "Nostag, you were preparing it for display."

The tall, dark, broad-shouldered man nodded emphatically. "Indeed I was, sir, once the immediate prep had been done by your household. There was one oddity. Rear of the skull, remember?"

"Ahh, yes. We thought it had been injured there not long before, explaining why it decided to stay here and try for easy prey." He looked back to their party. "There were three small holes at the base of the skull, and some a bit lower down on the spine."

Exactly. "We are dealing with something like an itrichel, as my people call them – I've heard them called mindworms and brain-riders, too," Kyri said, echoing Tobimar's own realization. "But this one's worse, with abilities I've never heard of. I can't imagine why –"

"Enneisolaten," Hiriista said bluntly. "The great lake is not named 'Sounding of Shadows' for no reason; there is great beauty about its shores, and nearby, but it seems great darkness lurks somewhere in its depths. Abominations sometimes crawl from below, and indeed are they often versions of other monsters made worse. Finding a way to cleanse the shadows from the lake is one of Lady Shae's great quests."

"It doesn't matter," Kyri said. "Not now, anyway. The important thing is that someone in your household, Reflect, ended up the next host of the itrichel. I don't think it can be you – it would most likely be one of those involved in the handling of the depthshade immediately after it was captured and killed. But if what I've heard of these monsters is right, we know why it went after young animals and children."

"Incubators," Hiriista said, the last s trailing off in a hiss. "It uses the young's strength and growing spirit to provide the perfect environment to grow its brood."

"By the Light," Cirnala said, and the faces around showed their horror. "That means that the children –"

"You have it!" Zogen shouted, and the door swung open. "They've been sick, all of them, but they've been getting violent –"

"You have the children and you never told us?!" the Reflect's hand went to his sword-hilt.

"I didn't know if I could trust anyone!" Zogen snapped back.

"Come on!" Kyri said, striding towards Zogen. "Enough time for recriminations later! We have to help those children now, before it's too late!"

Hiriista and Tobimar followed,but Hiriista's tense walk and muttered words gave Tobimar a cold feeling. "For some, it has been many weeks. If the brain-rider has had so long to grow and be established…"

"I will not let children die," Kyri's voice was cold iron. "If they still live now, then I say that Myrionar will forbid them from dying. It would be unjust for us to have solved the riddle and still fail to save them."

Beneath Zogen Josan's cabin was a surprisingly large basement, hewn by impressive effort from the rock and earth below and well furnished. The furnishings, however, had been hastily rearranged, and five cages were arranged on the far wall. They were well-made cages, and cushioned, not rudely fashioned or uncomfortable, but Tobimar could see they were strong and secured on the outside by locked steel clips.

Kyri glanced grimly at the children restrained within them, and suddenly went pale. "U…Urelle?"

The far right cage had a young Artan boy in it… but at the same time, Tobimar felt a… pressure that had no physical source, a push inside his head that came up hard against the discipline of High Center, but though there was a momentary blurring, a hint of other features, he saw only the young boy. At the same time, Kyri's expression showed that she saw someone she recognized. Which was of course impossible.

"Unless your 'Urelle' is an Artan child, she's not there," Tobimar said quietly.

Kyri shook her head, then glared at the end cage. "So. The last evidence we needed."

"That's new," Zogan said. "Tirleren was the worst off, but projecting a different seeming? No."

"If it can do that, it is nearing maturity," Hiriista said bluntly. "I am afraid the host is … unsalvageable." His voice was cold, filled with anger and helplessness.

"We are not separate," Tirleren said. "We are one, now. If I leave him, he will die." The smile that suddenly appeared was more a rictus, something aping the expression but not quite familiar with how it was done. "Of course I will leave soon anyway."

"Soon," agreed a little human girl in the third cage. That must be the second victim, Demmi.

A third child, a Child of Odin, looked vague, puzzled, as though there was some thought or idea that was just coming to them, while the other two were horrified. "No, no, I don't want to have something in my head!" the little boy – Minnu? – said tremulously.

"Don't worry," Kyri said, taking off her helm and putting it down. "I'll take care of it. It's going to be all right. Even for you, Tirleren."

For an instant, Tirleren's face showed a flash of horror and hope, and then went back to cold watchfulness. "Separate us and he dies. I will not."

"Whether or not he does die," Reflect Jenten said, "I assure you, you will die, no matter what tricks you might have to escape. Correct, Zogen?"

The ex-Color straightened. "Correct, Namuhuan," he said, using the Reflect's first name in return.

"Hiriista, do you have anything that could help?"

The mazakh swayed his head doubtfully, but pulled out a red vial of liquid, and fished a particular green-glittering amulet from within his assortment of jewelry. "This may suffice for the least-affected. But I very gravely doubt that anything can be done for Demmi and Tirleren, save to… end this."

Cirnala turned away at those words.

"Try," Kyri said. "Try, and I will do the rest."

"What can you do, if even the Magewright believes it is impossible?" Cirnala said, his quiet voice filled with hopelessness.

Kyri's head came up, and Tobimar saw a faint golden glow about her. "All I can do is have faith. But what I have faith in is Myrionar, and I do not believe It will allow such injustice this day."

Hiriista gazed at her, then sighed and nodded. "I will require each of them to drink a portion of this restorative. To get at least those two to drink will require force."

Tirleren's eyes narrowed, and his eyes momentarily showed a yellowish cast, even a faint glow. "Oh, yes, try that."

"Don't let him intimidate you," Kyri said. "The itrichel isn't yet full grown. If we hadn't forced the issue, it would not have revealed itself – just used its powers to get Zogen to release it and the other four once it was full-grown."

Cautiously, Zogen opened Tirleren's cage.

As the door came fully open, Tirleren's arms tore free of their bindings and whipped out, sending Zogen tumbling away. Tirleren leapt from the cage, shredding the bindings on his legs, straight for Kyri.

Kyri's gauntleted hand caught the mindworm-possessed Artan in midair and held him high, with scarcely a sign of effort as he hammered uselessly at Phoenix' hand and forearm. I'd forgotten how strong she is. That's the legendary Vantage strength they talk about in Evanwyl – and if he can't break her arm through the Raiment, he's got nothing to give him leverage. "Now."

Tobimar had already increased his own strength and speed, and saw both Zogen and the Reflect stepping up to help. Between the three of them, they were able to use leverage of their own to restrain Tirleren and force his mouth open. Hiriista poured a small portion of liquid from the vial into Tirleren's mouth and poked the throat in a fashion that forced a reflexive swallow.

Instantly Tirleren went nearly limp, twitching. Hiriista looked grave, but had them repeat the maneuver for Demmi. Hamule, the little Child of Odin, was able to force herself to sit still for the dosing, and while she looked to be in terrible pain didn't seem in as much distress as the other two; both Minnu and Abiti took their doses easily.

Then Hiriista took up the green-stone amulet. "By Ocean and Forest, let impurity be banished!"

Emerald light blazed from the stone and exploded into the five children. Hiriista held the stone in a deathgrip, scales standing up around his hand from the tension, and drove the power forward.

All five screamed, but those of Demmi and Tirleren were shrieks of tearing agony. Something rose up in that forest-green light, five somethings struggling and scrabbling with multiple pairs of legs to hold on as they were rejected by the bodies they had inhabited, creatures not entirely solid nor entirely immaterial being ripped from the napes of the childrens' necks. Tirleren's was the largest, the length of Tobimar's forearm and giving vent to its own high-pitched keening of pain and fury; Demmi's was only slightly smaller.

Shades paler than normal, Zogen Josan and the Reflect stepped forward as one, and blades leapt from their scabbards; the floating creatures were sundered instantly in a pair of mirrored strokes.

Hiriista's light faded. Minnu and Abiti lay crying, Hamule was barely conscious, but the other two were sagging down as though nothing was left.

Kyri caught the two before their heads hit the floor, gazed at them, and put her hands on the two. "Myrionar, hear me. Heal these children, innocent victims of monsters who sought more than their mere deaths."

The golden, singing light of Myrionar answered her, and Tobimar once more felt the rush of awe that power inspired. He had seen it more than once, but there was something different about it that made even great magics less impressive by comparison. You knew that you saw the power of a god in action.

But in his current state, seeing with the High Center through his trained senses, he saw something else; Kyri's power poured into the two bodies, and most of it was pouring out again. "Phoenix! Something's wrong!"

Kyri's shoulders tightened. "I… see it. These monsters… wove into their souls, not just their bodies. These are soul wounds, their very essences ripped apart. I should have suspected it."

"Then …"

"Then I have to do something else."

The auric aura flared higher, filled the entire room with the tingling power of Myrionar, and he could see something else happening; a weave of golden energy, extending from Kyri, twining about the shining but tattered, ripped spirits of the children. By Terian, what's she doing? How can she be pulling that much power from Myrionar here, when –

No. Oh, by the Light in the Darkness, she's not getting it from Myrionar…

"Stop, Phoenix!" he shouted, barely keeping himself from using her real name. "Stop! You can't tear your own soul apart to –"

"I swore I would not let this happen! And it can work, I know it can! I saw the Arbiter –"

He remembered her story – and that the Arbiter was still, a year later, hurt and weakened by the attempt that ultimately had failed.

No. She's going to kill herself doing this! Maybe they're not as hurt as her brother was, but one soul can't possibly bind –

One soul?

He reached out and put both of his hands atop hers, resting on the heads of Tirleren and Demmi. "Let me help, then. Take from me."

A blink, a hesitation…and then a rush of understanding and gratitude.

Tobimar could not restrain a grunt of agony as the tearing began, ripping delicate strands of his very soul carefully away from the edges, sewing up the ruptured spirits of the children they were saving.

And then there was another presence. "I cannot allow you to take all of the risks for my own people," the Reflect said.

And another. "We are comrades, are we not? Let a Magewright support you as well!"

And a third, touching hesitantly then clamping down with decision. "And can I do less who was once a Color?" asked the voice of Zogen Josan.

And even Poplock bounced to her shoulder – wordless, of course, so as not to give himself away – but Tobimar knew she would understand the offer as clearly as if it were spoken.

Kyri looked up and her smile lit the room more than her own power.

Myrionar's power mingled with their own and stripped pieces from all of them – but among so many, six souls to heal two children, Tobimar could tell that the damage was so much less, that Kyri would not die, would not even be crippled from this attempt, that they were supporting her, giving her the strength that she could never have survived tearing from her own soul alone.

Even as he became aware of another commotion behind them, the blazing gold-fire detonated around the six of them, all flowing and channeled by the power of Kyri Victoria Vantage, the Phoenix Justiciar of Myrionar. A towering, shining sword-balance burned in the air, visible above and through the cabin as though the walls were made of clearest crystal. "Myrionar, by the sacrifice of the willing and bindings of pure soul, by the power of mercy and of justice, and by my will and your wisdom seal these wounds, heal these souls and let these children live again!"

The concussion of power scattered them across the floor like pebbles, yet Tobimar felt no more pain, only tired exaltation. He blinked, clearing fiery afterimages from his eyes.

Tirleren and Demmi lay still in the middle of the floor, Kyri collapsed beside them. And then Tirleren slowly raised his head, Demmi as well, and suddenly began to cry – tears of pain and fear, yes, but also clear tears of relief and joy.

From the floor, Kyri opened her eyes and looked at them all, a smile on her face. She looked past him and her exhausted smile widened.

Crowded around the bottom of the stairs, mostly fallen from the same final shock of the ritual that had felled the five involved in it, were half a dozen of the villagers – and, still standing but staring with impossibly wide blue eyes, was Miri, Light of Kaizatenzei.

 

Phoenix in Shadow: Chapter 26

Our Heroes were heading north to deliver justice, which might be difficult...

 

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Chapter 26.

     The echoing, many-layered murmur ahead of them was unmistakable; they had heard something similar on the day they had – with Xavier – confronted Bolthawk and Skyharrier. It was a crowd, perhaps a mob.

Hiriista broke into a trotting run, his tail held high, head maintaining a steady level to guide him. Kyri sprinted alongside of him. Please, Myrionar, let us be in time!

The forest opened up ahead, and a cluster of buildings – a moderate-sized mansion to the far right on a rise, houses and small shops a bit below it,docks and boathouses and other buildings at the edge of a rippling sheet of water that extended and widened to the north, more forest closing in beyond the town they could see.

Filling the main intersection, a sort of rough rectangle,was a mass of people; Kyri guessed it at over a hundred, and all of them were armed. As they approached, she could hear murmurs and shouts in which Zogen Josan's name was recognizable, and not in a good way.

Cirnala stumbled up behind them, pushed past as the two slowed. "Let me… tell them you are here…"

The Artan took a deep breath and shouted, "LISTEN!"

His voice was startlingly powerful for his slender frame, and heads immediately turned in their direction. A murmur went up, and, gratefully, Kyri heard the angry rumblings subsiding, giving way to surprise and curiosity.

"Cirnala! You're just in time!" The speaker was a tall, very handsome human who appeared to be in his late 50s, with his greying black hair and sharp black eyes that glanced in the direction of the other travelers before returning to the exhausted Artan. "We were just about to go confront Zogen."

"I've brought… help," Cirnala said, still catching his breath. "To solve the mystery."

"No need to solve it any more," said a woman with dark brown hair, hefting an axe that looked almost as large as Shrike's had been. "Saw him, Nimelly did – Zogen Josan, running into the woods with Abiti under his arm!"

"Abiti! Oh, Light, no." Cirnala was mometarily stunned.

"That's why we can't wait any longer," the older man said. "But we'll be glad of any help."

Hiriista bowed to him. "Magewright Hiriista of Sha Murnitenzei."

"I have heard your name, Magewright. Reflect Namuhan Jenten; I welcome you to my small village."

Kyri had suspected this was the Reflect from the way the others had instantly parted to let him through and he seemed naturally in charge. She thought his bow was a trifle stiff and hurried, but given the circumstances that wasn't surprising.

Hiriista gestured to them. "My companions are guests and welcomed as equals by Light Miri and the Lady Shae herself, for they have come to us through the Pass of Night from the world beyond." Eyes widened and breaths caught at that statement, as the mazakh magewright continued, "Warrior of Justice and Vengeance, the Phoenix, and her companion, Tobimar. They are here to assist as well."

"As I said, welcome indeed. I will not pretend that the thought of assaulting a former Color of the Unity is less than tragedy… or less than terrifying." The others were getting restless, but the Reflect held up a hand. "And justice and vengeance surely is what we need here."

An opening. "Then allow me to go first, sir. I am the Phoenix Justiciar of Myrionar, and my god's first directive and highest duty is to apply wisdom and mercy to arrive at justice, and when justice demands, to deliver the vengeance of the gods. I have seen the things your Unity Guard face,and I have survived the forest that surrounds Kaizatenzei; my friends and I may survive a confrontation with this Zogen Josan far more easily than would your people, who are – if I see aright – mostly unused to such combat."

The head tilted slightly, but then nodded. "You see truly. We have a few warriors… but none trained with the Unity Guard, and what little we know of Zogen is fearsome. Very well; if Cirnala has come so far, so fast, to bring you here, and you are vouched for by the Magewright and the Lady herself, I yield gladly the forefront. But I hope you are ready –"

Kyri was already striding in the direction of the forest; she could tell that Tobimar and Hiriista were right behind her. "Children are missing; of course I am ready." Cirnala had told them roughly where the retired Color's cabin was, and as she expected the Artan quickly jogged up to guide them.

The villagers – not so much a mob now, thank the Balance! – trailed close behind, with the Reflect leading them. "This Abiti – boy or girl?" she asked.

Cirnala closed his eyes as if in pain briefly. "Daughter of Genata and Ivilit – they run the local tavern, great favorites of everyone as you might guess, and Abiti was… is a charmer. Fearless girl, helped track the depthshade just a few weeks before this happened."

The "depthshade", Kyri remembered,was the local name for a crocodilian monstrosity which was equally at home in water or on land, with legs suited for running as well as swimming. It had been lurking around Jenten's Mill for weeks, apparently, ambushing sithigorn chicks, young forest antelope, and herd calves until someone noticed the reduction in livestock and a hunt was organized – a hunt that cost more than just the life of the monster.

One more reason for us to go first. If hunting even a local predator is dangerous enough that some of the locals get killed, fighting a trained warrior of this Unity Guard would be so much worse.

She remembered that Hiriista had said Zogen might kill all of those who came after him. That puts him up on our level, maybe better. And I am weaker here.

She concentrated, dragging the power down through whatever monstrous resistance it was that nearly blocked her connection to Myrionar. But drag it she did, and she felt the strength building up within her. I'll be prepared as well as I can by the time we get there.

"Zogen will be expecting some kind of assault from the village by now," Tobimar said quietly. "Wouldn't you say so, Cirnala?"

A reluctant nod. "Probably, yes."

Kyri understood what he was getting at. "Then can you and the others stay back? Not only will it be safer… but if anyone can somehow talk to him, get some sense out of him, won't it be someone he doesn't think is pre-judging him?"

Cirnala's face wrinkled in surprise. "Well… I hadn't thought of that. But –"

"I can understand reluctance – and obviously the Reflect and the rest of you have a feeling of responsibility. But if you're right, he has at least one child now, perhaps still has the others. If it begins with an assault, might he not use the children as a defense?"

The Reflect had overheard them. "A grim thought, but true enough. But if you take too long, he might do more."

"If we can keep him talking, he will be less able to do anything else, I think. Especially if he is trying to understand who we are and what we're doing here," Tobimar said.

The Reflect hesitated, then took a pained breath. "My heart screams out that I must run forward… but your words ring true." His dark eyes measured both of them. "Very well.We shall wait at the gray stump – it is well out of sight of the cabin, but if battle is joined we can hasten to your aid in moments. I cannot guarantee how long I can hold my people back, you understand."

Kyrie grasped his hand impulsively and bowed over it. "Thank you, Reflect. I understand entirely. Honestly, if we cannot reach him, or find some advantage, in a relatively few minutes… I think there will be no need to hold any back."

His startled face creased in a momentary smile, and his returning grip was powerful. "Then I wish you luck; I hope for a way out of this horror."

The three of them – four, counting the generally-unnoticed Toad – moved forward past the stump; while there were some murmured protests, Kyri felt great relief as the crowd stopped, many of them looking relieved themselves that their confrontation with an ex-Color was postponed. Myrionar, show me the way. Let us find a way to prevent any more deaths. Let us find a way to save that child, or all the children if they still live.

"So, want me to do some scouting?" Poplock said as soon as they were out of earshot.

Hiriista blinked, even as both Kyri and Tobimar grinned savagely. "I did not fully comprehend the other advantage of your size, little Toad, but now I do. While we confront Zogen, you will gain entrance and find out the truth within."

"If that's Phoenix' plan."

"It is exactly Phoenix' plan, Poplock. If we can get his attention, get in, find out what you can, and get back fast. We'll keep him talking."

"Got it."

She turned to the mazakh. "Does Zogen know you?"

"Oh, certainly. We weren't close friends, but casual friends, good acquaintances and colleagues in a way; I have been one of the major consultants for the Unity Guard as they traveled through Sha Murnitenzei for the last, oh, twenty-five years, and often travel with them for various missions."

"Good. Good. That might just give us an opening." They could see the retired Color's cabin now – a large construction of logs with multiple sections, obviously several rooms. Pretty good-sized house.

"How do you mean that?"

Kyri felt her face going cold. "I was thinking on the way here. What could make a man like Zogen Josan, the one you described at his retirement and evidently the one they saw here for a while, change, retreat like that? And after our other conversations, the first thing I thought of was… what if he felt there was something wrong with him?"

A slow hiss. "You mean… what if he somehow sensed or acknowledged whatever it is that we have noticed in the others. He is retired, no longer active. Perhaps in the slow passing of peaceful days, with no activities to distract him… yes."

"A good thought, Phoenix," Tobimar said. "And you have a plan?"

"Sort of. I'm playing this by heart, not head. Just… follow my lead."

He touched her arm and smiled. "Always."

She smiled back, then turned to the silent cabin. "Zogen! Zogen Josan, once-Color of the Unity Guard, I would speak with you!"

Her voice echoed through the forest, more powerful than any ordinary human voice, and forest-sounds momentarily quieted in its wake.

A moment went by. Two. Then, as she was about to call again, a voice answered from the cabin, a deep but weary voice. "You are not from the Mill. Surprising. But perhaps no less enemies, for that. Who are you?"

"I am the Phoenix, Justiciar of the god Myrionar, patron of Justice and Vengeance." As she spoke, she saw a tiny flicker of motion, a scuffle of leaves; Poplock was on his way.

"Myrionar… I have not heard that name.And a strange title you have. As to justice, alas, I fear no justice can be found here."

She beckoned to Hiriista, who stepped fully into view. "Zogen, do you know me?"

"M.. Magewright? Magewright Hiriista? Could that be…?" The incredulous voice suddenly hardened. "But no. It would too glad a coincidence,too fine a chance." The voice wavered,hope and fear evident. "But if you are… If you truly be Hiriista, then tell me, what words did I speak to you in Sha Alatenzei, when we stepped from a particular drinking establishment?"

Hiriista tilted his head, then suddenly gave vent to a steamkettle laugh. "You opened your mouth, yes, but it was not words that came out! And then you fell nigh-senseless and I had to carry you to your room in the Steamvent Inn."

There was a faint sound, as of a man dropping heavily into a chair. "Light… it is you, isn't it? But… " the suspicion was back. "Those with you… they must be Unity Guard, then."

"Do we look like Unity Guards?" Tobimar asked quietly.

"No… no, you do not. There is something strange indeed about you. I know not the workmanship on your armor, Phoenix, nor the pattern of your clothing, young man."

Kyri shook her head, trying to make sense of this. His voice is tense, exhausted… near the edge of a breakdown. Yet he does not speak as a madman. At the same time, there was a witness to him actually abducting a child.

"That," Hiriista said, "is because you see before you far travelers indeed: Phoenix and her friend Tobimar hail from beyond the great mountains, through the Pass of Night; Lady Shae herself has looked into them and seen their truth."

Truth. That's it! I've never tried it…but I know it can be done. She concentrated, let the power she had been gathering flow into her. Myrionar, give me your eyes and ears. Let me see what truly is, not what others desire I see, nor what my own beliefs would like to see. Let me hear the truth, and be deaf to falsehoods.

She sagged as though a massive weight had landed on her; the power she had gathered before was suddenly all needed merely to support her as she was forced to reach out, grasp the distant power, yank it towards her, an effort like dragging granite boulders. Myrionar, I had never realized… the POWER needed for the truth-sight. Only the mighty prayer and miracle she had called forth on the night of her defeat of Thornfalcon, when she shattered a mystic Gateway and evaporated an almost uncounted host of foes, had demanded more focus and power from both her and Myrionar. And it was harder here, even harder than it had been in Rivendream Pass, harder even than her sensing for hidden evil in Sha Murnitenzei, for truth-telling meant discerning the secrets hidden in another soul without injury – in short, seeing into that strange place beyond the living realm where the real and the possible intersected and tracing those threads, rather than seeking to break the target's will. That suppressing power is stronger, much stronger here. And it is darker here, not even merely less good. This is a dangerous place.

Zogen Josan had recovered from the expected surprise. "This is truth? Do you swear it, Hiriista? Swear by the Light that these are no Unity Guards nor any of their servants, but new-come heroes from beyond the Pass?"

Hiriista's voice was puzzled, but at the same time she heard relief in it – relief that his old acquaintance seemed willing to talk, might be able to be reached. "I swear it, in the name of the Light in the Darkness, the Seven Lights and the One Light, by my Oath and by my Family."

"Then… then I believe you. I have to believe someone can be trusted. But… but I think it is too late, far too late."

"Maybe not, Zogen Josan," Kyri said, the power finally come into her. She saw the world now as though it was both brighter and darker than before, flickering with strange fire, whispering hints of words. "But I must ask you. Did you kill any of the children that have disappeared?"

"No!" The voice was emphatic. "I have killed no children! I would never do anything like that!"

The first part was true; she could hear the truth in it, the rightness in the statement like the beauty of a pitch perfect note. But the second part sounded a hair off, the glow was dimmed, grayish. Why would he say he has killed none of them, yet be less sure of what he would do? Does he doubt himself?

"But you were seen taking a child today."

"To protect them!" Zogen said emphatically. He had come forward,and she could now see him, a tall black-haired man with a haggard, drawn face that must normally be quite handsome. "Though I fear there is nothing I can do to save them."

And the truth, twice more. She knew she could not keep this power up much longer.

"What are you afraid of, Zogen Josan?" she asked finally. "What makes you fear to trust your comrades, your Reflect… and yourself?"

The former Color's breath caught; the gasp was audible from where they stood. There was a long, long pause. Then, finally, he spoke, in a voice so low she could barely hear it.

"Sometimes I would look in the mirror and not know, exactly, where I had gotten the bruises I saw. And then I would forget them, and not wonder. And other times, I would remember doing something, yet the memory did not always ring true, as though I had seen it, but was as though I had stood outside myself, watching."

Ice trailed down her spine, for she recalled the Watchland's own words: "…for many of the last few days I have felt almost outside myself, watching what I have been doing…". And the Truth of Zogen's words was undeniable.

"And," he continued, "and sometimes I have seen my friends, and for a moment … wondered about them. Wondered if they were as they seemed. And as I thought of these things, I was more and more sure that many of my deeds were just shadows of truth, and I have had nightmares of other things. Places of terror I have never seen in waking, things that hide behind faces I trust, but are not what they seem. And I know now that one of them is here."

The Sight was gone now, but she was sure that he was telling the truth as he knew it. "How do you know, Zogen?"

"I knew there was something wrong, even before Tirleren vanished, so I started watching the children in the woods. Watching, making sure they were safe, I thought… but I didn't understand, not then. Only after he disappeared did I guess… but I could not be sure, for I found him too late."

"Found him?" she repeated, even as she felt something small scuttle up her armor.

"Yes. In the wood, near the town. But I still didn't know…"

"Five children," Poplock's voice said softly in her ear. "Tied up downstairs and secured in cages. But something's funny about a couple of them, I think. Didn't dare poke around long – there were all kinds of weird crystals and things that might have been wards and such."

"What didn't you know? Zogen, why did you take the children?"

"I found out what was trying to take them. All of them were being brought to him."

She suddenly connected little pieces of Cirnala's story and with a sinking feeling in her gut knew what Zogen was going to say… and who it was coming just now up behind her, emerging from the forest…

"They were being brought to the Reflect," Zogen said, and his breath suddenly caught.

Kyri looked back.

Reflect Jenten stood there, the entire mob just behind him.

 

 

 

Phoenix in Shadow: Chapter 25

Our friends were traveling...

 

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Chapter 25.

     "Magewright Hiriista," the Artan said, his delicate features taut with concern, "I implore you and your companions to give us aid."

Hiriista cocked his head, and Tobimar thought there was a miniscule smile implied. "Perhaps if you were to state your problem, my companions Tobimar and Phoenix,and I, might be able to say if we can be of any assistance. Your face is somewhat familiar, but I regret to say I do not quite recall…"

"Atcha!" The sound was an explosive one of distress and self-reproach. "Many apologies, Magewright. I have been searching the Necklace for assistance and my mind is not focused or calm. I am Cirnala of Jenten's Mill."

"I recall Jenten's Mill – a village quite some miles north of here, approaching the shores of Enneisolaten – on a narrow inlet from the lake. You are one of Jenten's – the third of the name, I believe – hunters and warriors at need. Yes?"

"Exactly so!" Cirnala looked much relieved that Hiriista recalled so much already. "We are not large, only a few hundred people, but we have always done well and had no unexpected troubles…"

"Until now," Tobimar finished. "What is the problem?"

"Children," the Artan said quietly. "Children have been disappearing."

That was enough for all of them; Hiriista simply glanced at their expressions and nodded. "Lead on, Cirnala. Tell us the rest as we travel; it will be a few days to reach Jenten's Mill, and if children are at risk we should waste no time at all."

Tobimar could hear a particular emphasis in the mazakh's voice, and suspected the reason. Hiriista had said that there were so few of his people in Kaizatenzei that they probably would eventually die out; it was likely, then, that their hatchlings were prized even more highly than they were normally. Anything threatening children…

"How did it start?" Kyri asked.

Cirnala's story was mysterious and chilling. A few months before, his cousin's son Tirleren had disappeared while playing in the forest near the inlet. A few weeks later, another child, this time a human girl named Demmi, vanished, also while playing. It emerged that Tirleren had claimed to have been playing with Demmi in the days before his disappearance, while Demmi said she hadn't seen him much beforehand, and that Demmi had claimed she was going off to play with an Odinsyrnen child named Hamule – who hadn't seen her on that day, or several other days Demmi had said she and Hamule were playing. This was verified by Jenten, the Reflect and grandson of the founder, who had seen Demmi go into the woods on her own, and Hamule's father, who had been fishing with her all day.

The town had of course immediately tried to keep an eye on all the children, making sure they were always escorted, and searched for any clue as to what could have lured the lost children away and misled them into thinking they were meeting with children that were elsewhere. No traces were found, however, except for a few personal possessions – Tirleren's fishing rod on the shore of a stream, Demmi's dagger in the middle of the woods. Tirleren's mother had descended into complete apathy, having lost her lifemate Siltanji only a few weeks before her son, and the entire village was in a state of near panic.

But panic can't be maintained forever, and in small villages even children have tasks to complete, so while they kept trying to maintain escort, it was inevitable that at some point they would be out of sight of someone. And a couple of weeks later, Hamule disappeared, between her front door and the Reflect's own home.

"And you have no clues? No monsters or creatures spotted in the area, no blood or trails, no one acting strangely?" Kyri asked carefully.

"No, we…" Cirnala trailed off. "Well… there is one thing."

"Don't hold us in suspense!" Tobimar said, as the Artan paused again.

"There is one person. His home is in the woods, outside of town, and not that far from where Tirleren and Demmi disappeared. He's refused to come into town during the emergency, and when we sent a delegation to talk to them, he threatened them. But…"

"These hesitations are useless," Hiriista said sharply. "What is it? Who is this person?"

"Zogen Josan," Cirnala said reluctantly.

Hiriista stumbled to a halt. "What? What did you say?"

"Zogen Josan," Cirnala repeated.

Hiriista stared. Tobimar finally nudged him. "What is it, Hiriista?"

"Zogen Josan was once the Color of Sha Alatenzei," Hiriista answered finally. "It is rare for any of the Unity Guard to retire in any manner than via funeral, but when he reached the age of forty-five years he did so. I remember the occasion well, it was quite an event in the capital – he was thanked for his service and he even gave a short speech, in which he said something like 'I'm quitting now while I'm still beating the odds, instead of the odds beating me. I hope you don't hold it against me.' That was only ten years ago. Always cheerful, like most Colors, a magnificent warrior, spent more than twenty years as the protector of the Earthlight City…" The mazakh shook his head. "That he would not be helping, and instead refusing contact…"

"If you knew him, did you ever notice anything … unusual about him?" Tobimar asked carefully. They didn't want to reveal their particular concerns, but in this context the question shouldn't be revealing."

Hiriista glanced at him with a neutral expression, and only said "Not that I can recall; he was as most others of the Unity Guard in that regard."

And by his estimation "most others" of the Unity Guard have shown the behavior that he and Kyri noted. So I can take that as a "yes".

"Now you comprehend our problems, sir. Do you think you can help?"

"I think I must help," Hiriista said flatly. "My companions –"

"—feel the same way. And if this does somehow involve a former Color, I presume he would be extremely formidable."

"Undoubtedly why they sent Cirnala looking for help. Alas that the farcallers are so difficult to make; it would be useful to have them in all towns and villages as well as the major cities." Cirnala nodded.

"Did Zogen Josan only begin acting oddly after these disappearances began? Kyri asked. "After all, I suppose that if mysterious disappearances started happening, some people might get nervous."

"A former Color? That seems unlikely," Hiriista said skeptically. "What would you say to a similar statement about one of your Justiciars, Phoenix?"

"A point. Cirnala?"

The Artan hesitated again, then shook his head. "No, Phoenix. I am afraid not." He looked to the north, as though hoping impossibly to see his village ahead of them. "At first, we were overjoyed at the thought that a former Color would be retiring to Jenten's Mill. And for the first … oh, year, he was everything we hoped – helpful, multitalented, hard-working. But then…"

He shook his head helplessly. "He just slowly seemed to… fade. Or retreat. Sometimes he'd still come out to help when needed, and he didn't seem any less capable, but he'd be quiet, not joking or laughing or staying any longer than he had to. Zogen would just go back to his home in the woods and stay there. He didn't even trade in town much any more – just hunted and fished alone. The children –" his breath caught, then he continued, "the younger children, the ones who hadn't seen him early on… they called him 'Shadowman' because he would come and go through the woods like a shadow. He was … their scary story, I guess. Though not scary enough to keep them out of the woods, and several of them said that if they actually met him in the woods he was quite kind – helped them find berries, gave back toys they lost, things like that."

"Did he get any worse?" Tobimar asked, guessing what that poke from Poplock meant.

"Recently, yes. Jenten went by to see how he was after we'd had one nasty incursion, just a few weeks before all this started, and he reported that Zogen threatened him – even loosed fire at him – to keep him away from the cabin."

The three exchanged glances. It sounded like a case of mental deterioration – someone who started out reasonably sane but something went wrong and then they steadily and unstoppably degenerated until they were completely insane. In the State of the Dragon King or even in Skysand there were usually ways to stop or even reverse this, especially with the help of the priests or mages, but here that didn't seem likely.

Especially – now that he noticed – that the supernal rightness of Kaizatenzei was fading. We're between cities, where their influence is weakest, where the Seven Stars did not reach.

     Where there can truly be monsters.

"Were there any more disappearances?" Kyri asked after a moment.

"Another little boy – one that, as you might guess, Hamule had said she was playing with, disappeared the day before I left. He was with his parents visiting with the Reflect and his family, and vanished while he was playing inside the mansion. A side door was found open and running footprints going into the forest could be distinguished on the ground. There were some other marks on the ground farther in but they could not be distinguished clearly enough to make any sense of them." Cirnala sighed. "And since it will have been more than a week since I've been gone, I suppose another child may have been taken."

"Tell me truly; they were already speaking before you left of Zogen being the one responsible, yes?" Hiriista asked.

"Yes, Magewright."

A long hiss escaped the mazakh's lips. "Then it will not be long before they overcome their fear of the strength of a Color and decide to use sheer numbers to put a stop to this. If they are wrong and, somehow, Zogen Josan is not to blame, an innocent man will be killed, and if they are right, Zogen will kill many of them… perhaps all of them… before it is over."

"All of them?" Kyri repeated incredulously.

"It is … possible. If he has fortified his home and is prepared…" Hiriista shook his head and his whole body followed suit.

"Then we'd better hurry," Tobimar said, and picked up the pace.

"We will hurry," Kyri said, and her voice was chilled steel. "And we will put an end to this, before any more innocents are killed."

 

Phoenix in Shadow: Chapter 24

Time to look in on another old friend...

 

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Chapter 24.

     The misshapen creature – a deformed, monstrous hopclaw, he thought – shrank back as the moaning blade cut through the air. But Condor leapt completely over it, cutting off its escape. One clawed arm flew off, trailing blood. The other. The creature was screaming in terror and pain now, but Condor merely grinned and continued. Try to ambush me? Learn what you pay in pain!

Finally it was over – too soon, Condor thought. This unending trek through Rivendream seemed like a nightmare, no rest, nothing safe, even the insects more vicious than anything he'd ever encountered. So he'd become harder in return. Take your amusement as you can. It's for sure nothing else will amuse me here!

It dawned on him that the forest rising up before him was warmer, with more scent of wet and growth. A spurt of triumph went through him. "I made it!" he heard himself say. "I'm in Moonshade Hollow!"

The words, however, reminded him that no one had ever returned from this trip. And he was following someone who undoubtedly had gone deeper into the Hollow.

Phoenix.

He had only a vague idea of what Phoenix looked like – basically a description of the Raiment the Phoenix wore. But it didn't matter. A shivery, hot hatred and joy rose in him at the thought of what he would do to the unsuspecting Justiciar when he caught up. His hand caressed the hilt of the Demonshard and he thought he heard a second laugh echoing his own.

Was that a tree reaching towards him? Even as the laugh trailed off he drew the Demonshard and swung in a single motion; the black blade carved through reaching branch and yard-thick trunk as though they were barely there at all, and he stepped aside as the twitching, roaring forest giant crashed to the ground. "Any others wish a taste of my blade?" he demanded. The rustling was one of fear, of things that would flee if they could. He smiled. "I thought not."

The power of the Demonshard never ceased to amaze him. The sword supported him when he grew weary, gave him strength in battle, even guided his actions. Now he knew that he could defeat the Phoenix, even if they had been able to kill Thornfalcon. Why, once he'd mastered this blade… perhaps Thornfalcon's old patron could be removed as well…

He made his way through the forest, and the news seemed to have traveled before him; creatures slunk from his path, the trees themselves leaned away.

The problem was finding Phoenix. Being even a few days behind the rogue Justiciar and any allies Phoenix might have meant that any trail they left was effectively gone, erased by weather and growth and other creatures. But there had to be more here than just jungle; if he could just find someone, or something, to talk to…

Suddenly, in the slowly-falling gloom of night, something huge loomed up before him. He paused, squinting, then as his eyes adjusted realized that it was a wall – an immense barrier, smooth and hard, stretching as far as he could see to right and left.

"Well, now, that is certainly promising!" he said to himself. Anyone who could build a wall like that would know a lot about the region… and, just maybe, would have seen someone else passing by…

The problem was going to be getting in. There was probably a gate somewhere along the wall, but no telling how far away – or what guards might be there. He didn't want to necessarily announce his presence; if Phoenix had made contact, well, there was a good chance that he or she had also made a good impression. Might even, possibly, have told people about the Justiciars.

Better to get in secretly, scout things out first. Try not to kill anyone he didn't have to; that could be inconvenient.

The wall was small by some standards, he supposed, but fifty feet of greenish stone was more than enough of a barrier to daunt most people or monsters.

But most people were not Justiciars – real or false, both had vast power. And as Condor…

He felt a great… weight,a pressure that impeded his ability to draw on the power of his station. He gripped Demonshard and power flowed through it, into him, and he felt himself rising into the air. This place actually fights against the power our patron gives us. What is Moonshade Hollow, and how is this possible?

Still, he was rising into the air now, rising to the top of the wall. Not too high. Just above, dart over and drop down. Be as hard to spot and track as possible.

Level with the wall, he gathered himself, glanced to both sides to make sure there was no sign of an observer atop the wall, and then concentrated. Full speed ahead –

The impact with empty air was a shattering, tearing thing, something clawing at him with disorienting, virtiginous might that nearly sent him weaving away. Confused, unable to understand what was happening, he simply drove forward, trying to overpower this intangible, inescapable barrier of whirling, dizzying nausea and battering, insubstantial resistance.

With a sensation like tearing through a bramble hedge and a whirlpool simultaneously, he hurtled through, out of control, spiralling towards the ground; he was vaguely aware of smoke streaming from him, of agony burning through his entire body and soul. The ground rose and smashed into him like a bludgeon and he rolled over and over, trying clumsily to absorb the force of the fall and, mostly, failing.

He lay still for long moments, feeling the pain of burning and bruises and cracked or broken limbs. For a few breaths it felt to him as though he had come down in some vile swamp, a place filled with such foulness that it nearly choked him. He cried out and struggled vaguely, as though he could somehow push the air away from him.

Then something snapped within him, and abruptly – despite the very real pain of his fall – he felt himself more clearheaded than he'd been in… was it weeks?

The air about him was not foul; no, it was fresh, fresher than any he'd breathed in memory. Just the taste of the air in his lungs, the feel of the soft, warm breeze lifted his spirits, made the pain recede. He reached into his pack, found a healing draught, drank it down. As his injuries receded into memory, he took stock of his situation. On the ground, surrounded by ruined greenery, that's not a surprise. Stars visible overhead. No sign of hostiles… and none of the feeling of menace I had in Rivendream Pass or that forest outside the wall.

Condor stood slowly. Night birds sang softly, and the trees nearby did not move; they were stately and massive, radiating a feeling of stability and safety. It was a change as sharp as though he had stepped through a door from winter into summer, and he couldn't imagine how this was possible.

At the same time, it made him feel…

Suddenly a recent memory flashed through his mind: the cowering hopclaw, being carved apart… a laugh…

Aran, the Condor, found himself on hands and knees, the sharp, repellent stench of vomit rising from the ground before him. What in the name of the Balance…? What was I doing? What was I thinking?

The strain of travelling through the monstrous Rivendream Pass had been great, but he'd walked through Hell – and then through the gates of the actual Black City itself. He hadn't turned into someone who would torture helpless creatures then, so…

He reached up, and realized the scabbard over his shoulder was empty. Of course. I had the Demonshard in my hand when I came over, and then I crashed.

It took only a few moments to find the great black sword, point-down in the ground about twenty yards off. Nearby, the grasses were black, and the night-noises went silent. He could feel the malevolence radiating from the ebon-glowing blade, and understood.

"You were changing me," he murmured angrily, and reached out, yanking the Demonshard from the ground.

Instantly a cold, hostile presence entered his mind – as, he now realized, it had been doing all along, for all the time he'd held it. But here, in this place of incredible purity, he could sense it clearly for the first time.

No, he said to the Demonshard.

It raged at him, then pleaded and bribed, reminding him of its strength, its powers, everything it could do for him.

"You will give me your powers. On my terms."

Now it cast aside any pretense, and Aran found he could not release the sword's hilt as dark, malevolent power trickled into him, oozing into his mind, seeking to surround and crush his will and make him back into the monster it had designed – that Kerlamion, he now realized, had designed him to be.

The fury at being used was a cleansing fire, and he drove back the Demonshard's insidious attack. "I am not your tool. I am not a pawn in anyone's game any more! This is my vengeance, this is my mission, and you are here to serve me!"

The Demonshard did not, exactly, speak, but he could understand its outrage and contempt. "No, I'm not going to destroy my homeland, or anyone else's. I'm after the Phoenix, and that’s all I'm after. When I go back to the Justiciars, I'll do it as myself, and if I decide I want to clean that house up, you'll help me do that, too!"

The Demonshard bent all its will against Aran's, and it was like bearing up the weight of an entire world, crushing down on Aran Condor as though there was no possibility of resistance.

But he remembered Shrike, the hidden gentle smile now gone to dust; he remembered his own anger and hatred of himself when he dared not act; he remembered the devastated face of Kyri Vantage and his own regrets that he had never spoken to her as he wished, and grabbed regret and anger and beauty and pulled it into himself, made himself greater and stronger with the oath to never yield, never give in, never compromise again.

"I gave up everything," he growled through gritted teeth. "I let them lead me on until I was a mockery of what I knew should be. So be it. But I was still myself, and I am still myself, and I will remain myself, no matter if you or your own dread maker and master were to try to undo me."

Slowly, one finger rose, loosening its grip on the hilt of the Demonshard.

"You are a weapon. You are my weapon and you will serve me, Demonshard! I am no one's tool!"

Two fingers, and the weight of the great blade made it tremble, near release. Desperate, the fragment of the sword of the King of All Hells exerted its full strength, trying to take control of Aran's body directly.

But that, too, would not work; Condor met that attempt with contemptuous anger and venom at being tricked, lashed it with his driving will until, without warning, his hand opened and the Demonshard fell back to the ground.

He glared down at the weapon, his mind now entirely free. "I am the master here. Acknowledge me!"

The Demonshard shimmered and the distant howl of obliterated air filled the space all about. But the anger of the sword faded before Condor's unwavering fury. "I need a weapon. But a weapon that thinks to wield me I do not need. Choose swiftly, or I shall leave you here and take my chances alone."

Slowly the Demonshard went quiet. Then it rose up and presented its hilt to him in silence. This time when he grasped the sword, he felt no hostility; only a grudging respect and concession.

"Good," he said. "Remember this well, Demonshard. For this is your last chance. If ever I suspect you are attempting to play me again, I shall dispose of you forever. There will be no more chances. Am I understood?"

The sensation was now more cowed and cautious.

"Good."

He sheathed the great bastard blade and looked around. The question now was … where to go?

After a moment's thought he shrugged. Without any other indication, why not just head straight away from the wall? The wall had to surround something, so heading towards the center should bring him towards at least some part of whatever the wall protected.

Even though the jungle here was little less dense than outside the wall, or on the other side of the mountains, it felt far different. Making his way through this wild tangle somehow did not drain him as it normally would; he felt as though he were taking a walk in a stunningly huge garden. The very idea of "danger" seemed distant indeed, and he wondered what kind of a place this was.

After almost an hour of walking, he saw the undergrowth thickening, but with signs of opening up beyond – the usual pattern near a clearing of some sort. Shoving his way through the dense border, Condor popped out of the jungle and found himself at the edge of a broad roadway, of carefully maintained stone, that ran roughly East-West, if he read the stars right.

Even as he made that judgment, he became aware that there was movement approaching him.

The moonlight made colors hard to make out, but he could see clearly that it was a small woman, a girl really, almost skipping along the road. Her hair was fair, probably golden blonde, and she wore peculiar-looking armor of crystal with other garments of a light and translucent material. She suddenly halted, staring, and then… well, bounced was the only description for it, she bounced forward, smiling broadly.

"Well met," she called out, and gave a strange, sweeping salute that caused the bow in her hair to bob. "Light Miri of the Unity greets you!"