Regan guided her shield through the Ridderroque’s thick, stone walls and into the immense caverns under the mountain. She’d been here before. Once. Long ago. Even then, she’d felt a familiarity with the place, a faint echo like the memory of an old, forgotten friend. Adrenaline coursed through her body as she flew; she didn’t know what to expect, and while her spirit remained confident, a slivered fear hunted around its edges. Would she like what she found? Would it change her? She didn’t think so. She was who she was, and whatever lay ahead wasn’t going to change that now.
The thought made her feel better – enough to realize how badly she let her attention wander. In battle, that could kill you. Here, it could… what? An image of the mah-zhin locked in combat flashed through her head – of Yohshin hurling its black mace, of Zuishin reading and defending. She had to end this before anyone else died.
A determined smile curled her lips. In that moment she was sure she was still the same old Regan. She knew what was important, what was right, and what wasn’t. Maybe she understood the difference better than she had before; maybe she saw it more clearly. Either way, she had the means to make things right, and she promised Baiyren she would. Peace would come because of what she did here today, a peace that would last as long as she lived. And if her newly gained knowledge was right, her life would be a long one. An infinitely long one.
Crossing her arms, she stared through her shield into the illuminated earth. Despite the orb’s vibrant color, the world beyond appeared natural and untainted. Large caves gave way to tunnels that Regan thought looked eerily straight. Were they leading her? She could run a test, of course, but doing so would take time. Better to let instinct guide her than steal precious seconds from Baiyren.
How long have I been down here? she wondered. Hopefully no more than a quarter hour. It felt longer. Being inside a mountain, especially this mountain, made it impossible to tell.
Grimacing, she concentrated on the way ahead. For the first time since entering the Ridderroque, a wall blocked her way. Diamonds and iron veins reinforced the granite facing. It looked impregnable and yet, as she approached, a seam appeared down the middle. In a flash, the wall split, the two sides parting then closing and resealing as if they’d never opened.
Looks like you won’t need that test after all. Grinning, she guided her shield into the vast space. Unlike the pitch-black tunnels above, phosphorescent gems scattered throughout the walls and ceiling illuminated an enormous hall. What light there was remained muted and somber, and apart from a polished marble floor that looked more like ice than rock, the great hall was empty. No pillars or buttresses soared up to support the roof, no furniture of any kind invited visitors. Only a gigantic statue at one end broke the monotony – a two hundred-foot tall stone likeness of a man with a wide chiseled brow, onyx eyes and a jerkin of iron mail worn over a muscular body. The traditional hammer sat on its right hip, looped through a belt of black metal.
An arm – its right – extended outward, palm closed into a loose fist. The left lay at its side but, as Regan looked closer, she caught a minute twitching in its fingers. She approached cautiously, landed at what she thought was a safe distance, and stared up at the figure without extinguishing the protective energy surrounding her body. The glow intensified but the color faded as if diluted. White blended with amber as another shield entered from her left. Startled, she wheeled and squinted into the newly emergent glow. Within stood a man in crimson robes that rippled despite the still air. He lifted his hand before she could ask him what he was doing here, the gesture silencing her.
Not now, Regan, Takeshi Akiko said into her head. His voice, though firm, held a soothing quality that reminded her of a stringed instrument. You will have your answers, I promise. Just not now. Your reaction to the revelations to come must be genuine. You have been under my care for a very long time. I wish I could tell you more, but doing so would only hurt our chances.
Regan frowned. Chance for what? I don’t understand.
That’s the point. You can’t understand. Not before it’s time. Regan tried to ask for more, but the man’s attention had moved to the statue. Hello, Malog, he said in a serene yet commanding tone. It’s been a long time.
The statue’s eyes burst to life, and the giant lowered its head respectfully. “Lord Takeshi,” it rumbled. “We’d begun to think you’d forgotten us.”
“Easy to do, considering how long you and your master have remained hidden.” Takeshi’s tone carried a wisp of disapproving sarcasm.
“Exactly how long has it been? Maybe your new guardian can tell me.” Malog’s penetrating gaze swept from one side of the chamber to the other. “Where is she, Lord Takeshi? Why isn’t she with you?”
As if summoned, a burgundy shield popped into the space beside him. The orb melted like a snowball on hot coals, revealing a pretty girl of about eighteen. Her straight, nearly black hair was cut into a short yet stylish bob that framed a pixie face. Dark brown eyes shaped like upside-down crescents sparkled with humor and mischief. She was slight, but she radiated self-confidence that made the slender form beneath the white robes seem iron hard.
Frowning, she put her hands on her hips. “Late again,” she huffed. “I’m never going to get the hang of this.” She glared up at the man next to her. “I think you need to work on your teaching skills, old man.” Takeshi cleared his throat and gestured at the stone figure. The girl rolled her eyes; clearly, she knew it was there. “Hi, Malog. You look good. I guess your master hasn’t been overworking you.” Her eyes hardened again as her gaze drifted to Takeshi.
Hidden behind the two, Regan watched the exchange. None of the three paid any attention to her. She was what she’d always been: the outsider, the one who didn’t belong. The man, the girl, and the living statue had a history; she couldn’t help but see it. She’d stumbled upon an old argument, a rift among what seemed like family. The thought tore open wounds she believed forever healed. Loneliness filled her. The family she thought she’d made was broken and almost gone. The king was dead, and Baiyren was fighting a battle he could easily lose. If he did, she’d have no one; she’d be alone.
I was alone once too, said the girl in the burgundy shield. Regan recognized her, she’d been with the Earth girl, the one Baiyren rescued. Trust me. Our lives aren’t that different. The name’s Keiko, by the way. Nice to meet you.
Regan opened her consciousness to respond, but Keiko shot her a warning look. Rose-colored eyes met deep brown, the latter urging both silence and caution. Regan tried to let the girl know she understood, tried to nod slightly or flick her fingers. Her body didn’t respond. Everything around her had stilled. Nothing moved, not sound, nor air, nor water. Time itself seemed to have paused. A smirk crossed Keiko’s face before she turned back to the crimson-robed monk and bowed her head. When she lifted it again, Higo lurched forward.
The monk was closer to the statue than Regan remembered, gesturing with his arms as if in the middle of a speech. “It’s time to summon your lord, Malog,” Takeshi said. “Tell him I’ve come to fulfill my promise.”
Malog sighed, the sound coming like the rush of gigantic bellows. “I’ll tell him, but I doubt the news will make much difference.”
“Oh, I think it will make all the difference in the world.”
Deep skepticism darkened Malog’s features. Strangely, though, the statue didn’t argue. Instead, it unfurled the fingers on its outstretched hand. A large silver globe hovered over the palm, inside which sat a huge, dark-skinned man. Brown robes fell from his broad shoulders, the arms beneath thick and strong. Seated, he measured at least five feet from his waist to the top of his head; how tall would he be when standing? His head, as smooth and bald as a polished stone, remained down, his massive shoulders drooping as if a great weight sat upon them. Sadness wreathed him like smog over a once pristine valley.
“What do you want, Takeshi?” the man said in a voice as deep as the Rake’s canyons. His tenor might have been soothing if not for the despair lacing it.
“I said I’d be back, Roarke. I’ve brought someone I’d like you to meet.”
The man – Roarke – looked away. “I’m not interested.”
“I think you might be,” Takeshi said, stepping forward.
Wariness spread through Regan, the soldier in her reawakening. Me, she thought. He means me. Was this some sort of ritual, a sacrifice maybe? She readied her new power but didn’t unleash it. Never attack unless you have enough intelligence to know you’ll win. Or unless you have to. And she didn’t have to, at least not yet. Or did she? She thought of Baiyren and the battle raging outside. What if he needed her? How much time did he have?
Her mind flew to the world outside. She touched the mah-zhin, felt a connection to them. For the moment they’d stopped fighting and were on their way into the Ridderroque. An odd kinship with them bloomed inside her. She could use them; they would defend her. She reached for them, only to have the connection severed.
I wouldn’t if I were you, Keiko warned. You need to make a good impression here and fighting isn’t exactly the best way to do it. They care about you, or will once they know the truth. Keiko’s tone was still mischievous, but this time a touch of steel lined its irreverence.
Inhaling, Regan pulled her thoughts from the mah-zhin and let her power go, certain she could summon it quickly if necessary.
“I just want to be left alone,” Roarke grumbled. “You created this world, not me. I came because you asked. Because you said you’d help me with my pain.” A bitter laugh rose from his throat. “I found no healing here, only a reminder of what I lost. If I hadn’t given my word, I never would’ve stayed.”
“But you did give your word,” Takeshi said pointedly. “And I expected you to live up to it. You have a responsibility to Botua and the gift she gave you.”
Botua: the name sent shivers through Regan. A tiny sliver deep in her soul snapped open. Her heart beat faster, and thought exploded from her body to touch the stone surrounding her. Below, a dormant seed awakened. Branches pushed between a crack in the tiles, twisting. Growing, and thickening as they climbed upward.
Fifty feet above her, Roarke’s head snapped up. Wonder painted his dark face, hope and disbelief blazing in his eyes. Hundreds of images flashed from his mind to hers. She saw a beautiful green-haired woman standing beside the man now seated in the statue’s palm. They looked happy, joyous. More images came, a lifetime’s worth flashing breathlessly forward. Regan tried to hold onto them, to understand and decipher their meaning. The harder she tried, the more she missed. Eventually, she gave up and let them wash over her in a raging torrent that ended with the woman lying dead in a scorched grove.
Roarke stabbed a trembling finger at her. “What is this?” he demanded. “Who is she? What have you done?”
“She is Regan Zar Ranok,” Takeshi said. “Your daughter – yours and Botua’s.”
The revelation sent Regan’s stomach lurching. One hand pressed against it, the other going to her mouth to silence a gasp. It can’t be true. This man was a stranger; she didn’t know him, had never seen him before now. But what if it is? What would it mean?
That you’re not alone, Keiko said, her voice more serious, more emotional than Regan had heard so far.
But that would make me…
The Lord of Stone’s daughter. A kami, just like Takeshi said you were.
Kami.
Head lifting, Regan’s eyes locked with Roarke. Something greater lay behind their shared pain, a bond that had nothing to do with commonality of experience. She felt the connection, and by the furrowing of his dark brows, she knew he felt it too.
“I don’t believe it. Don’t toy with me, Takeshi. Not about this.” Like Regan, Roarke’s pain wouldn’t let him accept what he knew was true. He was afraid, and Regan couldn’t blame him. She was scared too. Before she realized what she was doing, she moved toward him, her steps at once slow and incredibly fast.
Above, Roarke rose unsteadily, strode to the edge of the hand holding him, and vaulted into the air. He landed a yard or more away, crashing to the tiles like a wayward meteor. He nodded at a spot on the floor. Stone tiles flew into the air and reassembled into a pyramid. A patch of bare earth lay where the stone had been. Roarke gestured at it.
Regan stared into the dark soil. He was testing her; she just didn’t know what he wanted her to do. Mind racing, she stared at the open space, concentrating on the dirt. Nothing. She tried again with the same result. Frustrated, seething, she glared one last time before sighing in defeat. She shook her head. Her body relaxed.
And then she felt it.
An almost palpable affinity between her spirit and the ground tickled her thoughts. Higo called to her, and she responded. Summoning her power, she sent a part of her consciousness into the velvety soil, another into the impregnable rock. The two shot upward, fusing together into a twisting pillar of gray, brown, and green. Diamond veins sparkled beneath the surface before fading beneath a carpet of thick multi-hued vegetation. Roots and stems gave way to budding branches that exploded in a symphony of color and floral scents.
Roarke staggered back. “Stone. Vegetation. My power and Botua’s.” He shifted his tear-streaked gaze to Takeshi. “How did you do this?”
“I didn’t do anything. Botua called to me just before she died. I was too late to help, but when I arrived I sensed Regan’s infant spirit within her. So small, so young.” Takeshi sighed at the memory. “Regan’s spirit wasn’t strong enough to take shape. She needed time. When she was finally ready I brought her here to be close to you.” The enigmatic man nodded at the vast space. “Her spirit’s roamed these caverns for millions of years. Eventually, she took physical form, and headed into the Rake.”
“Where you found me,” Regan said, her eyes wide.
Takeshi folded his hands into his robe and grinned, obviously pleased with himself. “What better place for the daughter of Higo’s god to grow than in his church?”
Regan shook her head. The audacity. Every day, Higo’s religious leaders went about their business, praying to their god and never once suspecting a piece of him lived beside them. She pulled her gaze from Roarke and pivoted to face Takeshi, only to find the Spirit Lord’s body dissolving.
“Wait!” Regan shouted, rushing forward. “You can’t go. I have so many questions.”
Takeshi smiled happily. “And you have a father to answer them,” he said. “I suggest you start by asking Roarke about your guardians. They are coming for you. Learn as much as you can before they arrive. Right now, they need you more than you need them. I’ll have Keiko give you some time.”
“It’s what I do,” Keiko said with a shrug. “Mess with time. More accurately, I pull spirits from the time stream and put them back in different places. Sometimes, I even hold them between seconds. I think I’ll do that with you two. I’ll need your permission first. My power doesn’t work on a kami or a guardian without it.” Regan looked at Roarke and they both nodded. “I can’t keep you out for long,” Keiko warned. “A week at most. I wish I could give you more, but I’m still learning, and this is my first non-test try. I held Higo for a really long time, but I had Mr Takeshi’s help for that – his and his guardian’s.” She waved then, disappearing the same way she’d come in: her burgundy shield flaring before bursting like a popped balloon.
Regan stared at the empty space for a long time before looking back at her father.
Father.
She tested the word, let it run through her, and decided it was the sweetest word she’d ever known. She shook her head, at a loss. “I… don’t know what to say. I don’t know where to start.”
“Why don’t we start with your guardians? If Takeshi’s right, you need to know what they mean to you and how to link them to your will.” He opened his thickly muscled arms, his expression guarded but hopeful.
Regan wasn’t sure what to do. No one but the king had ever hugged her before. She found herself moving toward him, slowly at first but gaining speed with each step. His hands touched her shoulders before sliding around her back and drawing her to his chest. Stone was supposed to be cold, but Roarke was surprisingly warm. For the first time in her life she felt safe, at peace. She sighed and let the sensation wash over her. “Guardians,” she breathed dreamily. “And then what?”
“Then,” Roarke rumbled, placing his cheek on her head. “I’ll tell you about your mother.”