Chapter 37

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Matt Talryn stood in the entrance to the Room of Orbs, puzzling over why there were still only six of them instead of seven. With Maralt Adaeryn’s death there should have been seven, just like the prophecy said there would be at the end. Seven orbs to restore the strength of the Gods. He recalled another line from the book they’d let him read, the Book of Truth that sat on a plinth in the library. One would come from grief, it said, to gather them all into one. From the seventh level of hell it would come, on the seventh day, in the seventh year and he will wrest it from the heart of the dead. By blood delivered to her hand and from her to the Keeper of Faith.

Matt tried to sort through what all the convoluted messages meant and who it could possibly mean. One would come from grief to gather them all into one. From grief. Matt didn’t think it meant Dynan. He had other tasks to perform, big ones, like survive, and bigger ones to come if he lived. Matt closed his eyes over fear he might not and pushed the thought of his dying firmly from mind. He didn’t want to think about the end of existence that awaited them all, should Dynan not survive. For Matt, it would be different, since he was already dead.

From grief, he repeated and frowned over the words, looking at the orbs again. He drew in a breath. He thought of her, and traveled to her through walls, along the stone hallways and appeared before her. The High Bishop was with her. He never let her alone anymore.

“Maralt isn’t gone,” Matt said and got their immediate attention. Gradyn didn’t seem surprised, but then, he never seemed shocked or unaware about anything. It was hard to tell what he knew.

“What do you mean?” Carryn asked.

“He isn’t here. He didn’t go through the Hall of Transition because we stopped that from happening. He didn’t go through the Gate to them, because you put up a shield that stopped him. Is he in you?”

He didn’t wait for her to answer, but went to her, putting his fingers to her forehead like they had taught him to. He entered her mind and looked. He didn’t find Maralt, jerking back in surprise when he found something else. Gradyn shook his head and raised his hand, which meant he didn’t want Matt to tell her.

“He’s not there,” Matt said, blinking over the discovery, but set it aside. There were reasons for everything, he’d been told.

“Thank you for asking if I already knew that,” she said in a mildly sarcastic tone.

“If you don’t have him, where did he go?” Matt asked. “Who else could he have gone to?”

Carryn saw what he was getting at, her eyes shifting upward in thought and then she pulled in a gasp of air.

“What happened?” Geneal asked as Dain was placed on the bed beside his brother’s, moving quickly to activate the bank of monitors overhead. The room was saturated in a blue light that made his eyes hurt, but was especially intense over Dynan. Marc supposed it was some medically necessary apparatus that he ought to know about, but didn’t have the energy to ask.

“He’s been having these headaches,” he said, sinking wearily down into a chair by the door. Loren slept undisturbed on the couch. When Marc saw Dain’s brain wave patterns, scribbling madly, darkening the entire screen, he knew it was more than that, but didn’t want to believe what instinct was telling him.

“This is more than a headache, Marc.” Geneal frowned as she looked from a comboard screen to the monitors. “It’s not the same pattern as Maralt, but it’s close. This is an adept attack.”

“It can’t be, Geneal,” he said quickly. “I’m the only one conscious at the moment. Doesn’t look like I’m attacking him, does it? I think it’s some sort of trap Maralt set. He was on his way down here to talk to you about it when he saw Sheed. When he found out that Shalis was alive he had the same sort of reaction, except he recovered from it without this happening.”

“Can you reach him?” she asked sooner than he expected.

He shook his head. “Not right now. Maybe not ever. I can’t ... I can’t face Maralt again. I’m sorry.”

She stared at him for a moment, eyes accusing him of cowardice before she turned away, and shook her head. “I’m the one who should apologize. I shouldn’t expect you to do this, knowing who caused it. I’m sorry, Marc.” She bowed her head over Dain and he saw her shoulders shaking. “And I thought he was going to be all right.”

“He still might be. He fought back once before. If I’ve learned anything about Dain at all, I’ve learned he’s a survivor. I don’t think he’s ready to give up.”

“How though? How can he recover from this alone?”

“The same way he did before. He’s an adept. He’s had some training. Maybe there’s an advantage there I don’t know about.”

“I think Carryn would have told me if that were possible,” Geneal said, wiping her eyes. She looked over at Dynan. “We’re going to lose them both.”

“Maybe Carryn didn’t know. There’s a lot about this none of us know. I don’t think Dynan’s ready to give up either. He’s—”

A series of beeps from Dynan’s monitor cut him off. Marc saw that his heartbeat was suddenly erratic, and then stopped completely. Loren jerked awake, rising in the same motion. She moved to Dynan’s side. Eldelar came through the door the next instant with three other medics. Marc watched while they all worked over Dynan, wondering how many times this had happened. Geneal stood unmoving between the two, torn over which she should go to, turning at last back to Dain and watched as his brain patterns slowly descended to motionless lines.

It became quickly apparent that Eldelar was having difficulty. He heard Loren begging him not to give up. Eldelar told her to move away. Marc watched as he pulled back a protective dressing and put his hand inside the open hole in Dynan’s chest. The persistent steady tone continued, drilling into Marc’s mind. He closed his eyes against what was coming, but pushed himself to his feet. He looked at Dain and prayed he would die too, that Dynan would take him with him, but then asked for forgiveness at the thought. He doubted it existed for him.

He moved slowly. His whole body ached with each step. Loren looked at him, shaking her head as he took her into his arms. They had faced this terrible parting once before. He wondered if he would have the courage this time, and wondered if she would.

He gasped suddenly, starting when he felt Dynan’s presence. His voice choked off as pain slammed through him. He was drawn into it, spinning. The medic room disappeared and another room opened around him. Pain vanished so quickly it left him gasping. A bright light seared his eyes and Marc ducked trying to escape it. In the center of the room, Dynan knelt, huddled on the floor, his hands pressed down into the stone. Two monks, clothed in white robes, stood over him. One held out a hand and Marc heard Dynan asking for more time.

“Get away from him.” He moved to stand over him, wanting to push them away, but didn’t think he’d survive touching them. “What are you doing to him? Who are you?”

They were surprised, though he couldn’t see their faces. They stepped back, turning to each other. He felt, but couldn’t hear them communicating.

“Marc?”

“I’m here, Dynan. Take my hand. I’ll get you out of here.”

“You mustn’t interfere,” one of them said, the older one with hands so withered the skin looked transparent. A luminous glow emanated from him and Marc was afraid.

“Who are you?”

“Your presence here is forbidden. Leave.”

“I’ll interfere as long as you’ve got him here, forbidden or not.”

“Help me.” Dynan looked up at him, reaching. Marc felt an invisible force stopping him.

“If you touch him, you’ll die,” the other said and Marc thought he knew the voice. He didn’t want to trust the advice, but felt he had to. “He must go on his own.”

“He’s had long enough,” the old one said. “If he continues, he’ll be lost. It can’t be risked. He has to cross.”

Marc tried to see the elder’s face but couldn’t. “What is this place? Who are you, damn it?”

“It is not your time, my son. You must leave.”

“It’s not his time either. He can’t die. We need him alive. Don’t you touch him.” Marc moved in front of Dynan as a bony hand descended toward him and it brushed against him instead. Strength drained from his body and he fell. The hand withdrew quickly and he stared up at them, terror paralyzing him at the immense power he felt from them.

“Please, help him,” the other said.

“It is forbidden.”

“And what the other is doing is not against natural order?”

For a moment, the old one considered that question, then shook his head, but Marc thought it was a gesture of indecision. He turned to Dynan. “Loren is waiting for you. Go back, Dynan. I’d take you myself if I could, but they’re right about that. If I touch you, we’re both dead. Geneal and Eldelar are not going to let you die. You have to go back. Please. You have to live.”

An instant later, Dynan vanished. Marc jerked around because he felt the old one standing too close. He crawled backward across the floor to escape him. It didn’t seem to work. He didn’t move, or they moved after him. He couldn’t tell.

“This too is against natural order,” he said. “I can only do so much.”

“Everything we thought has changed. This man is the only one who can defeat our enemy. If you take him, ruin will follow for us all. Show him what to do and we might have a chance.”

Marc stared, mouth agape. Suddenly he could see the other, though her robes still hung about her face. “Carryn?”

They stood silent again, looking to each other. “He is perceptive,” the old one said slowly. Marc heard him draw in a breath. “Very well.”

“Carryn? Wait. What are you doing? Stay away from me. Carryn, help me. Don’t let him...”

“You won’t come to harm. Trust me,” Carryn said gently, smiling as she leaned down beside him. “You must give yourself to this. Believe what you see.”

“Why are you here? Where are we?”

“One day, you’ll know. You won’t remember anything of this place, or of me. Believe what you are told. You must.” She stood and nodded.

The old one leaned over him and touched Marc’s forehead with his fingertips. For a second Marc fully expected to die, but something else happened. He tried remembering Carryn’s words, and found when he did, he saw clearly.

What he was shown horrified him. A fear more terrible than any he’d ever experienced shook through him. He wanted to deny it, wanted to run from it, but he couldn’t get away. “No,” he whispered. “No, I can’t.”

He closed his eyes against the coming nightmare. He fell and he felt hands taking him, easing him down. Voices reached him and he struggled to answer, fighting off a wave of black.

Slowly it receded and with it, pain left him. He opened his eyes. Geneal and Loren leaned over him. “Marc, what is it? What’s happened?” Geneal asked.

He shook his head, pushing them away so he could stand. They helped him up. Eldelar stood over Dynan, still trying to revive him. “You can’t let him die.”

Another set of alarms went off, this time over Dain. Marc shook his head, fear chasing him. He concentrated. “Please Dynan, come back. You have to live. You have to live.”

Dain moaned, rolling to his side. Loren gasped, covering her mouth with her hand, eyes locked on the monitor above Dynan’s bed as his heart started beating again.

Dain sat up and Marc knew that it wasn’t Dain Telaerin who he looked at, but Maralt Adaeryn.