Dark power cut across the ziptrail, throbbing with the anger its creator felt. The ryiam arched away from it, disliking the touch. The width of the trail, the heady flow, made the recoil slow, but it provided enough of a gap that Vantra thought they could make it through without touching the barrier.
She zipped past, and a faint crash resounded behind her. The magic wobbled, the current intensified. What happened?
No time to question; the outer shield fractured from the pressure, and she threw her reserves into it. Warmth on her back, and energy flowed through her, recharging her resources; no wonder Kjaelle and Lorgan brought the baubles! She stuffed layer after layer beneath the main one, unafraid that her strength would dwindle and she would lose the protection.
The trail rose, and she punched down to rise with it. Her experience riding magic energy was limited, but she had never entered one that created an unexpected incline. Most were straight, easy lengths that quickly sucked a ghost from one point to another. That this one—
With an eep, she turned down, feeling the top of her shield scrape earth outside the trail. She needed to stay in the center, but how? Raw ryiam did not have handles she could grasp.
She peeked ahead, searching for an exit, and sensed nothing. Worry snuck in; could she hold on for its length? What if they ran out of baubles to feed her? Her anxiety fled to the recesses of her mind as the meandering river sucked in her attention. The magic flowed too fast for her to think of anything else, so she honed in on curves, inclines, declines.
Flecks of darkness ricocheted off her outer shield. They sat in the trail like rocks in a rushing river, unmoving. How did they remain sedentary? The waves were fast, thick, and should have picked up stray bits of whatever and carried them in the direction it flowed. The magic did not break apart the contamination and send it downstream, so it collected into unavoidable clusters, leaving residue on her protection that reminded her of the gunk in the Dryanflow, only it had more of a punch.
Something was wrong with this part of the trail.
There. She sensed an arm jutting out, up. She took the exit, and everyone within her shield shot into the sky, rising above the black mass of treetops below them. A thin mist hovered over the leaves, glowing a faint green, but not enough to illuminate their surroundings.
“We have Kenosera and Yut-ta, Vantra,” Kjaelle called. She nodded and dropped; they whisked to the wide clearing, landing to the side of the trail’s exit. The end sparked like a live wire, sending showers of ryiam into the surrounding ferns and bushes. Not good; raw magic not filtered through water and the earth could cause strange malformations of nearby flora and fauna.
Did that mean the exit was a natural one, not ghost-created?
She pivoted, searching for a physical trail leading from the clearing. A dirt path ran from the sparky ziptrail and into the night-shrouded trees, towards a orange glow faint enough that Vantra thought she imagined it.
“I recognize this place,” Lorgan whispered, turning around, the hem of his robe flipping through the waist-tall ferns. “I came here when I first searched for Laken’s essence.” He pointed to the path, then dropped his hand. “Knowing what we do about Kjiven’s manipulations, no trail I took a thousand years ago should still run through the Labyrinth.”
“Where are we?” Jare asked before raising a hand and creating a shimmery Light. Vantra swore the night jerked back from the touch and receded into the trees, leaving behind a softer atmosphere.
“We’re right outside Deousem,” Lorgan said. “This is a bad place to be at night. I got caught inside, and the magics that rose were terrifying. I thought they were mis-actualized or corrupted castings, but now I wonder if Kjiven placed them.”
“He might have, and purposefully warped them to keep the nosy out. That might explain why the problems are a strictly nighttime event, and not present in the day.” Jare brightened the light. “And I wonder how many elfines knew about his meddling and never said a word. Navosh gave us his Blessing, but we need to remain cautious. Kjiven might target that, if he thinks we can navigate around his labyrinth without mishap.”
“I’ll take back,” Mica said. Vantra thought that brave of him; she knew, if she walked in that spot, she would constantly peer over her shoulder, expecting attack.
“Do you think that’s what corrupted the ziptrail?” Kjaelle asked, holding out her hand to touch the ryiam spitting out of the uncapped end. “Bad magic leaking from these spells?”
“Maybe.” Lorgan looked between his feet. “There’s a natural trail in Deousem that collects ryiam from many different streams and empties into the swamp east of it. A trail from Kjivendei runs directly to it. I think Kjiven built both cities on those ends on purpose, and I think this newer trail has an exit leading here so ghosts can transfer to the citadel one.”
“Deousem was a bustling city before the flood,” Mica said. “They not only had a shrine to Strans that conferred the Blessing, and the Temple to the Two Healers manned by Zibwa acolytes, but a vast farming community growing healing plants in the ryiam-rich swamp waters. The potency was astounding. I visited several times, as quite a few Light-blessed lived there. A comforting dimness filled the place, like it always sat on the cusp of evening and true night, and had the sweetest winds that tasted of flower petals and fresh soil. After the flood, Strans and the healers moved their altars to a more centralized place, but elfines still grew the healing plants there. The population dwindled, but I’m not sure why they completely abandoned it.”
“Kjiven became Strans and corrupted it. Imagine growing healing plants in contaminated magic. One could no longer guarantee the resulting medicines.” Lorgan rubbed his hands together. “I’m guessing this is the landing for everyone who takes the ziptrail. The corruption further on would interfere with safe travel. Vantra, can you sense the other one?”
She stared into the shard and focused, hoping it could guide her; fingers molded from the tainted magic raced to her, snatched for her head, and she jerked back. Light flared, driving them back to the edge between illumination and dark forest.
“That wasn’t subtle,” Jare said. “I guess he knows we’re here.”
He’s rarely subtle.
Everyone jumped at the deep, matter-of-fact mind voice. Vantra did not feel so bad, that she nearly discorporated in fright.
Rezenarza laughed, and no one enjoyed the amusement. Darkness holds the roads, Passion the waterway. Death heeded Levassa’s call, so Strans protects them as they fight the corruption. The enemy seeks to barricade all ways into Greenglimmer. If he closes the circle, you are lost.
“Do you know where he’s at?” Jare asked, the bite in his words proof of his great dislike of Rezenarza.
Maybe. The fool Rudarig knows nothing other than what Strans’ priestess has told him, and most of her words carried flattery rather than information. He mentioned Kjivendei, an obvious choice. But the whizen who guard the maps noticed that two places had strange magic output that coincided with the newer attempt at cutting off Greenglimmer, and they sent word to the Sun Temple. I believe he is at one or the other; Strans’ Bargain or his citadel atop Kjivendei. The Bargain straddles the highlands and lowlands, and while once free, the Labyrinth now weakens it, making it susceptible to corruption. The citadel is far above the city’s ruins, but the Light temple there interferes with his greater magics.
“Wait,” Mica said. “Susceptible to the corruption? What do you mean?”
Multiple hands dipped into darkness to reshape it, some with ill intent, some confused with hate. While Kjiven guides it, his is not the primary touch, so it often ignores his will. He is beginning to realize the danger—too late, of course.
“You can’t find him through the corruption, can you?” Jare asked.
No. That rain affected many things, and its residue creates too much noise to quickly scry through. It is why Darkness and Passion must focus on their tasks. The Dryanflow near Selaserat was not the only target.
“So we might reach Kjivendei and find out he’s not there?” Jare rubbed at his eyes, his lip twitching.
“There isn’t a quick way to Strans’ Bargain from Kjivendei that I know of,” Lorgan said. “No ziptrail, because the runoff from the mountains goes to Deousem. He might have created a new one, but I doubt taking that would be a good idea.”
“So we might be wasting time going to Kjivendei.” Mica growled.
Then you must hurry, Rezenarza told them. His spell continues to completion, however slowly. You may have time to investigate the citadel and change course if he is not there, but not much.
Something about the way he said it pricked Vantra. Why was he telling them that? “Are you helping keep roads and waterways open?”
Me? No.
“Then maybe you can visit Strans’ Bargain and see if Kjiven’s there. He and the others betrayed you. I know you want revenge, and it would be fitting, to seek it there.”
Kjaelle’s wide-eyed shock, and the surprised delight of everyone else, did not sit well with Vantra. She had mentioned the nymph’s resentment, had she not?
I do seek revenge, he said thoughtfully. Oubliette, Moragaray and Temmisere are eager to be at my side. Continue to the citadel. We shall follow the whizen’s maps, find Strans Bargain and cleanse it.
His tone made it clear, if Kjiven was at the pool, he would no longer exist after he confronted him. She had no idea what Death might think of that, but considering the pain the whizan visited on so many, all while in the stolen guise of a deity, Erse might think the act just, rather than a breaking of her decrees.
Vantra would have given him a Sun-related platitude, but that seemed odd, to speak it to an ex-Darkness. “Be careful. Navosh said Kjiven’s lost himself.”
It is true, a corrupted mind is a dangerous mind, but Kjiven, however much he plays at being divine, is a mortal ghost of questionable intellect. He will not overcome me.
Kjaelle rolled her eyes at the description; leave it to a nymph to insult an elfine, given the opportunity, when he, himself, wallowed in much the same resentments.
He will fall, and, we may hope, so will the one holding his leash.
“Wait, what?” Jare asked, but only silence met the statement.
“Trusting him bodes ill,” Kjaelle warned. “He speaks of betrayal, but that’s how he views Katta, too.”
“He did help us at the Sun Temple,” Yut-ta said. “He made certain Vantra reached the gemrays so she could cleanse the temple of the darkness. And he shoved enough Darkness energy into Vesh that he didn’t discorporate.”
“One or two kind acts don’t rewrite centuries of faults,” she told him, eyes narrowing.
“Perhaps not, but it’s better he and his go to Strans’ Bargain, than we splitting up,” Jare said. “If revenge drives him, he’ll see it done.”
“He knows so much more than he’s saying,” Kjaelle gritted. “That endangers us all.”
“Well, we don’t have much choice,” Mica said. “It’s best we stick together, because I have the feeling taking Kjiven down isn’t going to be simple, even for an ex-deity. Let’s go, find this ziptrail, and get to Kjivendei.”
