‘Ceyne is with us.’ Graelen reported. He closed his eyes and concentrated, a slight frown puckering his brows. Tobazim realised he’d opened his empyrean sight to see them on the higher plane. ‘You’ve formed the bond. It’s deep and it’s made you both much stronger. You’ll make good brotherhood leaders.’
Tobazim glanced to Ardonyx, who nodded once. ‘We want you for our hand-of-force.’
Graelen gestured to the mid-deck where the others were on watch. ‘You have other gift-warriors.’
‘We want you.’
‘Your hand-of-force must be ready to die in your defence. I have Valendia to consider.’
‘I’m not going to lead through fear and intimidation,’ Tobazim said. ‘Think about it.’
And they went down to the mid-deck, where the others joined them to congratulate Tobazim and Ardonyx. Only Haromyr hung back. He regarded Graelen with mistrust, and Tobazim knew the impetuous young gift-warrior had wanted to be hand-of-force.
‘Wait here, I’ll fetch the initiates and young adepts,’ Ardonyx said.
This was where they would get most of their supporters from. At least Tobazim hoped so.
Ardonyx disappeared into the passage to the rear-deck cabins and, after a few moments, the initiates and young adepts poured out. They’d come from their beds and still wore their sleeping wraps, or were dressed only in their breeches. They shivered in the chill, fog-laden air as they whispered amongst themselves. Some looked relieved, but more looked worried. Did they fear Kyredeon so much?
Ardonyx signalled for silence. ‘Tobazim has something to tell you.’
‘Ardonyx and I are shield-brothers,’ he said. ‘By dawn, Kyredeon will be dead and I will be all-father. I promise to lead our brotherhood with honour. When you give your vow to serve me, my vow to serve you will be equally binding.’
They murmured in approval.
‘Are you with me?’ Tobazim asked.
Ionnyn and the remainder of Chariode’s decimated brotherhood crossed the deck, but there were only seven of them in all. The young adepts and initiates who had accompanied Tobazim and Ardonyx to the port also crossed the deck. But that still left a large number who were too fearful of Kyredeon to risk supporting him.
‘I’ve only ever read about brotherhood challenges,’ Athlyn admitted. He was nervous, yet determined. ‘What do you want of us, Tobazim?’
‘When the time comes, Kyredeon will try to draw on your strength to defeat us. Block your brotherhood link to him.’
Ardonyx put a hand on Tobazim’s shoulder. ‘Ready, shield-brother?’
‘Ready.’
As Ardonyx climbed the steps to the rear-deck Tobazim watched him go with a mix of trepidation, fear and excitement.
When Ardonyx entered the passage to the captain’s cabin, Tobazim tried not to think of all the things that could go wrong. Instead, he concentrated on mentally preparing himself.
Ardonyx was sure to sense the force of his gift through their link, just as he sensed the steady pulse of his shield-brother’s power.
Tobazim drew a long, slow breath.
Leadership challenges were meant to take place in the privacy of the brotherhood’s palace. Strange to think that his future would be decided on the deck of a ship just a few days before they left their homeland for ever.
At the other end of the ship, in the foredeck cabins, All-father Hueryx and his inner circle would be aware that something was happening.
Tobazim smiled grimly when he heard Kyredeon’s raised voice. He was furious.
Ardonyx returned, moving swiftly down the steps to join Tobazim on the mid-deck.
First out the door was Kyredeon’s hand-of-force, followed by the voice-of-reason. They both descended to the mid-deck and stalked towards Tobazim, radiating barely-contained fury.
Strangely enough, it was not Oriemn who confronted Tobazim first, but the voice-of-reason.
Farodytor’s top lip lifted in a sneer. ‘So this is who challenges my all-father’s rule? An adept still wet behind the ears, stinking of female gift power. What have you been up to tonight? Unsanctioned trysting?’
This explanation had not occurred to Tobazim, and he laughed.
It unsettled Farodytor, who deliberately turned his back and returned to the ranks of the high-stature initiates who had come down to the mid-deck. Their gifts were on alert, and their bodies radiated energy.
Kyredeon took his time coming down the steps. He had dressed in breeches and boots, nothing more. His chest bore the scars of past battles, and he exuded power as he prowled towards them.
He was everything Tobazim was not, an all-father of many years’ experience, empowered by a martial gift, unhampered by the limitations of conscience and honour. Why had Tobazim ever imagined he could beat Kyredeon?
Ardonyx leant close. ‘Let me have the honour of trading insults on your behalf.’
Tobazim nodded, mouth too dry to speak.
Folding his arms, Tobazim spread his feet and projected a confidence he did not feel as he waited. This was all part of it: the baiting, the testing of resolve – it offered those supporters whose loyalty wavered a chance to make their final decisions.
And it could be very final.
‘What is this?’ Kyredeon asked his high-ranking adepts, gesturing to Tobazim. ‘He is barely two years an adept, yet he thinks he can challenge an all-father. I’m insulted!’
‘Challenge has been given and accepted by your voice-of-reason,’ Ardonyx said. ‘All that remains is to meet on the empyrean plane. Or are you afraid of what you will discover there?’
Kyredeon’s eyes narrowed, the scars of long-ago challenges pale against the flush of anger staining his skin. ‘You. You sweet-talked your way into my brotherhood and this is how you repay me?’
‘I’ve served two all-fathers, but I believe the third will be the greatest,’ Ardonyx said.
There was a murmur of approval.
Kyredeon laughed. ‘I don’t see any high-ranking adepts crossing the deck to support you and your shield-brother, sweet-tongue. What makes you think this pup can best me?’
‘I have the best interests of the brotherhood at heart,’ Tobazim said. ‘I’ll ban duels to the death. I’ll ban forcing the young initiates to fight for the entertainment of the higher ranks. And I’ll ban the usage of initiates by adepts unless they are willing to tryst.’
Kyredeon laughed. ‘That will not win the high-ranking adepts to your side.’
‘Maybe not. But it is fair.’
Kyredeon gave bark of laughter. It was clear what he thought of ‘fair.’ Eyes on Tobazim, he waited to see if any initiates crossed the deck.
‘I will serve an all-father who is fair,’ Ceyne said and crossed the deck, followed closely by Deimosh, the gift-tutor. Both were from Kyredeon’s inner circle, and both were indispensible to the smooth running of the brotherhood.
In a rush, other adepts joined Tobazim and Ardonyx, all mid-ranking.
This left a core of the most vicious gift-warriors in Oriemn’s service, and high-ranking adepts whose stature depended on serving Kyredeon.
Deimosh slipped through the crowd until he stood at Tobazim’s side. ‘You’re not a gift-warrior and neither is Ardonyx. How –’
‘No,’ Tobazim admitted. ‘But I fought alongside my choice-brother Learon when we were dragged onto the higher plane by the shades of the dead we’d killed. I have some experience of the empyrean plane.’
Deimosh looked as if he’d hoped for more than this. ‘As the challenged party, Kyredeon will impose form on the empyrean plane. He’ll try to make you bleed. Any shedding of your physical essence will drain you. He’ll try to prolong the battle and use his greater experience to hold his essence together while you lose power. If enough empyrean beasts are attracted to the battle, he will leave you at their mercy.’
Ardonyx nodded.
‘What do you advise?’ Tobazim asked.
‘Try to get in and out, quickly,’ Deimosh said. ‘I sense you two are shield-brothers now.’
Tobazim nodded.
‘Stay close,’ Deimosh said. ‘This will help you sustain your essence on the higher plane.’
Ceyne joined them. ‘Kill his voice-of-reason first. It will weaken Kyredeon to lose his shield-brother. Then go after his hand-of-force. Who is your hand-of-force?’
‘We don’t have one yet,’ Tobazim said. Learon should have been here beside him, tonight. He would have made the perfect hand-of-force; this was why Kyredeon had driven Tobazim’s choice-brother to suicide.
‘I offer myself,’ Haromyr said.
‘You’re too inexperienced, lad,’ Deimosh said. ‘You’d be more of a liability than an asset.’
‘I offer myself,’ Ionnyn said.
Ceyne shook his head. ‘It won’t do. Both of Tobazim’s seconds can’t come from Chariode’s brotherhood. It must be someone from our brotherhood, someone of high rank, with experience.’ And he was looking at Graelen as he spoke.
The hard-faced adept folded his arms. ‘There are others more worthy.’
‘But not as deadly,’ Ceyne countered. ‘Grae, we need –’
Before he could finish, a single chime rang out. The pure note cut the air, cutting through all conversation.
‘Enough preparation,’ Kyredeon said.
‘To win the bout, you must kill Kyredeon and both his seconds, then return and ring that chime,’ Deimosh told Ardonyx. ‘It is how we do it, in this brotherhood.’
‘Stay near me,’ Ardonyx whispered as they both stepped forward into the clear space between the two factions. ‘I’ll watch your back, you watch mine.’
Tobazim nodded. Even without looking, he could feel Ardonyx’s presence at his side; could feel the way their gifts responded to each other.
Kyredeon and his voice-of-reason clasped arms, wrist to forearm, letting down their gift defences as they prepared for battle. Oriemn ripped off his shirt, throwing it on the deck and baring his forearms. He stepped in close, touching skin to skin, forming the triumvirate, strongest of the gift-working forms.
Tobazim and Ardonyx only had each other.
He could feel his gift straining to break free, engorged by the causare’s power.
‘With the greatest risk comes the greatest gain.’ Ardonyx offered his arm.
Elbow to wrist, their hands met.
‘Then let it be all!’ Tobazim linked fingers and dropped his defences.
Ardonyx’s gift welled up through him, empowering his own, tempering it with a different kind of strength.
The single chime rung out, severing their connection with the earthly plane.
I
MOSHEN FELT THE
tug on their link as her bond-partner segued to the empyrean plane. A glance to the bathing chamber door told her it was secure.
She could have closed down the link with Ardonyx and left him to do battle without her, but she had asked this of him. He deserved her support. And she gave it willingly, knowing that if he failed and died on the empyrean plane, then she would die too.
She must not fail, and she would not fail, because she would not follow the rules of engagement.
Imoshen was prepared to risk all for Ardonyx.
T
OBAZIM STOOD IN
a hall of mirrors. A blue-white light bathed him and his breath misted with each exhalation, although in truth, he had no body and no breath. The only substance he had was that which his will gave him.
He looked down and found he was dressed in an ornate robe, reminiscent of the fashion in the Celestial City during the Golden Age of the T’En. Loss pierced him as he mourned the T’Enatuath’s home, with its grand palaces, manicured gardens and brilliant works of art.
There was no sign of Kyredeon, or Ardonyx for that matter. Why was his shield-brother not by his side?
Stay close
, Deimosh had advised, and already they were apart.
Footsteps sounded behind him and he turned to see a young T’En girl approaching. He blinked and found himself looking at his own reflection.
Dismissing the child as a product of his mind, he crept down the corridor, seeing himself reflected endlessly. At the end of the passage, he opened a silver-plated door, only to find another mirrored hallway.
A cold chill settled on him as he realised that this was not a representation of one the Celestial City’s palaces, as he had first assumed. This thing of silver and icy glass was an embodiment of the sculpture Kyredeon had made with Voice-of-Reason Farodytor: all silver and blown glass. Only those two knew what traps lay within its exquisite, tortured walls.
From a great distance, Tobazim heard running boots. The tinkling of falling glass echoed from metal walls. His heart raced.
He spun around, trying to make sense of endless reflections.
Oriemn appeared behind him, armed with two long-knives. Tobazim reached for his own knives, focusing his will and power. Bringing them up, he took a step back, tripped and fell backwards through a mirror. Shards of icy glass rained down around him. One dagger-like shard pierced his side. He felt the cold in the marrow of his bones and looked up, fully expecting to see the hand-of-force about to finish him. As Oriemn went to strike, Ardonyx approached from behind, knives raised.
The hand-of-force turned and the knives melted, reforming into a spear as he lunged.
Ardonyx ducked and ran, drawing Oriemn away.
Tobazim stumbled to his feet, pulled the glass shard from his side and tried to heal the wound. Here his body was a product of his mind. If he could concentrate... The wound closed more easily than he’d expected, thanks to the causare’s gift-infusion.
He took off after Oriemn and Ardonyx, but as soon as he turned the first corner, he knew he’d lost them. So many reflections. Yet, he could hear footfalls and harsh breathing.
And where were the all-father and his voice-of-reason in all this? Were they observing, testing the skill and power of their challengers?
Tobazim opened his senses to the shield-brother link he shared with Ardonyx, and turned one corner after another until he found him.
Oriemn had trapped Ardonyx in a dead end. The sea captain turned to face Oriemn, who lunged with the spear. Ardonyx sidestepped, but he was not fast enough; the tip of the spear gouged into his thigh.
The same little child Tobazim had seen earlier stepped out of a mirror behind Kyredeon’s hand-of-force. She looked no more than six and, when she laughed, the sound stung like breaking glass.