The Crystal Mountain Page 3

  Suddenly, Kaanyr understood.

  The cambion stared down at the stone beneath his own feet. He could see then that the edge of the hole was curved, shaped like the edge of a sphere.

  They, too, were in a bubble.

  “Gods and devils, what happened?” he asked, his voice faint. Terror made him feel dizzy, tiny. “Where are we?”

  Aliisza did not answer. She had her hand to her mouth and her eyes were still wide as she stared at something outside Kaanyr’s field of view. When he leaned forward, cautiously, to catch a glimpse, he felt his heart skip a beat.

  The most gargantuan bubble that Kaanyr could imagine floated there.

  A milky cloud of something filled the massive sphere. A thousand thousand sparkling motes of light swarmed and danced inside. A figure hovered within the vapor, vaguely human in shape but only faintly visible, sprawled like some cadaver entangled in the filth of an inner city canal.

  The colossal bubble and its cargo gently undulated, and Kaanyr had the impression that they were not stationary. The monumental figure instead drifted, floating on some unseen current within the silvery void. All the other, tinier bubbles bobbed and weaved along with it, as though caught in its eddy.

  What has happened?

  Fighting vertigo and panic, Kaanyr spun away from the scene. He sought Zasian, certain the priest was behind the chaos. Vhok would make him answer for his duplicity, would force him to return them to somewhere sane.

  The cambion took two steps toward the middle of the chamber and froze. Other holes had opened along the periphery of the rotunda, as though the stone itself had melted away. Each breach appeared knife-edge smooth, perfect, and growing. Their bubble was shrinking, eating away at the reality of the rotunda as it did.

  Panic shot through the half-fiend.

  Before he could react, Aliisza called to him. Her voice conveyed alarm. No, barely controlled terror.

  The cambion turned to look back and saw her still staring out at the endless argent sea beyond. A great shadow had fallen over the opening in the wall.

  Kaanyr dashed to the edge and peered out.

  An enormous creature drifted into view, its body a ponderous, bloated sac of blanched flesh. Kaanyr could see no eyes, but numerous segmented tentacles dangled from it, lazily sweeping the space around itself. The thing reminded Kaanyr of a huge octopus, or perhaps a bloated insect.

  It made his stomach churn.

  When one of the tentacles came near a bubble of reality, the behemoth gathered the sphere up and drew the material toward a beaklike mouth on its underside. The thing consumed its catch in a single gulp.

  Then it turned and began drifting closer, tentacles stretched out toward the remains of the rotunda.

  The Court of Tyr teetered on the brink of chaos.

  In one corner of her mind, Eirwyn recognized the sheer magnitude of the very existence of that thought. Imagining such a fate for a heavenly domain dedicated to the most solemn and steadfast ideals of law and order bordered on blasphemy. It would have been unthinkable only a few short tendays before.

  It did not change the angel’s assessment one iota.

  She had flown back to the great mountains with Viryn and Oshiga—the trumpet archon from Erathaol’s court—as fast as the three of them could move. They traveled so quickly there had been no opportunity for the other two celestials to further explain the situation to Eirwyn. Thus, when she arrived, the shock of seeing the entire plane in such a state shook her.

  I should not be surprised, she thought, standing in the hall of the High Council. Magic itself died—she felt profound grief at such a crime, and more than a little rage toward Cyric—and no one seems to know what other consequences may befall the multiverse. Tyr and Torm have their hands full, just maintaining the integrity of the House, and no one seems to know where Siamorphe has gone.

  But the unsettling feeling sweeping through the Court went beyond the mere death of a god, and its source played out before her, within the High Council itself.

  “I did not authorize such a pardon!” the High Councilor insisted, rising to his full height and snapping his wings angrily. “No one else may grant such a stay of sentence. This is inexcusable.”

  “On the contrary,” one of the six dissenters argued, “the other council members can override the High Councilor’s edict with a two-thirds majority, and we have it. You cannot win this fight, Honorable One, and you know it.”

  “Point of procedure!” the High Councilor interjected. “There was no submission of disagreement, no call for a vote. You cannot override my edict until you have formally petitioned for a review.”

  Weary already of the bickering, Eirwyn’s thoughts drifted back to her cottage, away from the crowded, frenzied chamber. It would not take much more of the councilors’ antics to make the lonely abode a preferable escape.

  This is what Tyr’s dedication to justice and law inevitably leads to, she thought, grimacing. Blessed Helm, I miss you. Serving as an ever-watching sentinel might be a lonely job to some, but at least it gave me ample opportunity to contemplate my divinations. And compared to this … the angel almost shuddered.

  That’s all in the past now, Eirwyn reminded herself. And you must help in whatever way you can. Countless souls scattered across the planes may depend on your wisdom and foresight.

  Eirwyn returned her attention on the proceedings.

  “In the interests of urgency,” another of the six councilors was saying, having risen to his feet, “there was no time, and we waste more of it here with this foolish debate. We acted in such haste because we must know the right course moving forward. The entire House depends on us making sound, rational decisions. Point of procedure or no, the outcome is inevitable, and you do no one any favors by clinging to rigid codes in these circumstances.”

  “I disagree,” the High Councilor said hotly, “and I further submit to you that you do irreparable damage to this august institution by circumventing time-honored—and very necessary—practices.”

  He turned to Eirwyn and stared down at her coldly. “It appears I no longer have the authority to incarcerate you for your indiscretions on behalf of Tauran the outcast and against this body. A pardon has been rendered, although on the most flimsy of evidence and in the most inexcusable manner.” The High Councilor drew a deep breath before he continued, turning to face his peers again. “Therefore, I will not be a party to it. I remove myself from this seat under protest. I will be reporting directly to Tyr these farcical proceedings at once. And as for you,” he finished, turning back to Eirwyn again, “I still find you guilty of numerous crimes against Tyr’s law and right to rule. You may have escaped justice today, but do not for one moment consider yourself free of guilt!”

  With that final declaration, the solar winked out. A moment later, the other two members of the council who had sided with the High Councilor also vanished, leaving the rest of the court deathly silent.

  Eirwyn blinked and stared around the chamber. Other stunned expressions stared back at her. Has it really come to this? she thought. Have my own actions become so consequential that the High Council itself has fractured? Truly?

  The angel swallowed down her shock and dismay. What have we wrought, Tauran?

  “Well,” the female solar who had been first to argue with the High Councilor said, breaking the strained silence, “it seems we have resolved and closed this matter. You are indeed free to do as you see fit, Eirwyn. I hope, in your wisdom, you will choose to aid us.”

  Eirwyn raised her hands helplessly. “I still know so very little about what has happened,” she said. “What can I offer that you cannot perform ten times more effectively than I?”

  The solar nodded. “In truth, we know not. But the matter is beyond our purview, anyway. We”—the solar gestured at the other five councilors around her—“are but the facilitators of your freedom, at the behest of Erathaol’s emissary, here.” She pointed to Oshiga. “It is the Seer who believes he can make use of you. You must
parley with him to learn more.”

  The discussion was over. Eirwyn understood that she and her companions had been dismissed. The council, even down three members, had other urgent issues to address.

  Outside the chambers, Eirwyn turned to Viryn. “So my overturned sentence was not initiated by a servant of Tyr?” she asked.

  The solar shook his head. “No,” he admitted. “Though I am sure that your case would have been brought up in short order, regardless. These dark times have compelled the leadership to consider reinstating many who had fallen from grace in the hopes that they might lend aid where it is desperately needed.”

  Eirwyn tried not to let that fact annoy her. To Oshiga, she asked, “So, what would the Seer want from me? How could I be of unique assistance?”

  The archon bowed slightly. “To understand fully, you must travel to Venya with me. I have been instructed to invite you to Xiranthador, Erathaol’s library-fortress, to become an instrument of his divination.”

  Eirwyn cocked her head to one side. “Me?” she said in a meeker voice than she had intended. Still reeling from the alarming proceedings within the council chamber, she wasn’t certain what to make of such an offer. She drew a deep breath and tried to gather her wits. “An instrument? That doesn’t sound very charming. On the other hand, my prospects at the moment aren’t terribly promising.”

  “I assure you, it is a great honor,” Oshiga said, inclining his head again. “The Seer rarely finds others who can serve in such a capacity. You must be a great diviner, indeed, for him to wish to engage with you in such a fashion.”

  For the first time since the moment that Helm had died at Tyr’s hand, Eirwyn felt a thrill of purpose, of true responsibility, course through her.

  She nodded to the trumpet archon. “Very well,” she said. “I accept. Lead on.”

  Aliisza couldn’t stop staring at the gargantuan monstrosity floating toward them. No matter how much she wanted to tear her gaze away, no matter how hard she tried to convince herself that none of it was real, she couldn’t make her body function. The world had gone mad.

  The alu didn’t snap out of it until Kaanyr shook her by the arm, and then she realized he had been calling her name.

  “Look!” he insisted, pointing at the floor near their feet, at the edge of the stone. Then he spun her away from that and gestured at other holes forming in the opposite walls and the ceiling of the domed chamber. “It’s shrinking. The bubble is shrinking!”

  Aliisza could only blink, not comprehending.

  With a sigh of exasperation, Kaanyr forced her to look at him. “This place is dissolving,” he said, staring directly into her eyes. “Whatever is holding it together cannot keep at it.”

  Aliisza nodded once, vaguely. I didn’t do it, she thought. I tried to stop the battle, not betray you.

  “Aliisza, focus! Listen to me!” Kaanyr demanded. “There’s no time. You have to figure out what keeps the bubble here while I try to drive that, that thing away. Now!”

  Somewhere in the back of her mind, Aliisza suddenly heard the old Kaanyr, the ruler of the Scourged Legion, her lord, master, and lover. They were on the field of battle once more, he issuing commands, she obeying them. She remembered who she was then.

  The alu blinked again and finally saw her consort’s face, perceived the urgency in his voice and expression. “Yes,” she said. She took stock of the chamber. “Yes,” she repeated, more resolutely. “Keep it away from us. Do whatever you have to. I’ll find the source of the bubble.”

  “That’s my girl,” Kaanyr said, releasing her arms. “Go!” He moved back to the opening where the monstrous octopus-thing lurked. He had his hand inside his tunic, fumbling for something as he reached the edge of the room.

  Aliisza stepped back and oriented herself. She turned her gaze back and forth, assessing the various holes. She wanted to find the center point, figuring that would be where the source of the bubble originated.

  There, she decided, turning her attention toward one side of the round chamber. The area was masked by darkness, but even as she made the decision to close the distance, dim light radiated from her left.

  “What’s happening?” Zasian asked, stepping cautiously out from behind a column. “Where are you going?”

  Aliisza halted and turned to stare at the priest. His face, once so filled with expressions of cunning and smug secrecy, looked innocent and childlike. He remained standing several paces away from her, as if frightened that she might lunge at him and he would be forced to duck behind the safety of the column again. The glow still emanated from him, and it seemed to the alu that it might have grown just the tiniest bit stronger and steadier.

  She wondered if it truly was just another trick, as Kaanyr suspected, or if the priest had somehow changed as a result of … whatever had happened. Either possibility seemed reasonable to her at that moment. Wisdom dictated that she expect the worst from Zasian, but even so, he might prove useful.

  “Do you want to help me get us out of this mess?” she asked, watching his eyes carefully.

  They never betrayed any sense of treachery as he replied, “Yes. Are you angry with me like your friend is?”

  Aliisza tried to keep her face smooth and emotionless. “Do I have reason to be?” she asked.

  “I don’t know,” Zasian mumbled. He stared down at the stones and ran a toe along one seam. “I don’t remember.”

  “Don’t remember what?”

  “Anything,” the priest admitted. He seemed ashamed. Guilty? Aliisza wondered.

  “I will only be angry with you if you don’t help me,” she said. “We have to find something.”

  “Very well,” Zasian said, and he took a step closer. “What?”

  “Whatever is keeping this place whole,” the alu answered. She turned part of her attention back to the gloomy periphery of the rotunda, though she kept half an eye on the priest, too. She moved toward the spot she had chosen and passed between the columns. Zasian tentatively followed her.

  The alu discovered a pair of doors set into the outer wall of the round chamber, a portal that must have led to an exterior hallway when the rotunda was intact. A lone figure lay sprawled within the opening, facedown and unmoving. Even in the near-darkness, Aliisza could see that it was a celestial being, a green-skinned, bald-headed creature half again as tall as she. Its white-feathered wings lay draped across its still form, but she could make out the armor encasing its body. A greatsword rested near the being’s hands.

  Zasian moved up cautiously beside Aliisza and stared down at the creature. “What happened to it?” he asked, his voice filled with awe. “What is it?”

  Aliisza knelt down next to the celestial being. “A planetar,” she said as she ran her hand gingerly along the green skin, checking for signs of life. “A type of angel.” She glanced up at the priest’s face to see his reaction.

  Zasian merely stared at the angel with a wondrous look. “Is it dead?”

  Aliisza’s answer was cut off as the rotunda bucked to the sound of a powerful blast. She pitched sideways, striking the floor hard and sliding a few feet along its surface. The alu grunted and tried to rise, but a second lurch of the chamber sent her tumbling again.

  “Aliisza!” Kaanyr shouted from the other side. “Help me!”

  She struggled to her hands and knees and looked over at Zasian, who had been sent sprawling too. He peered around with wide eyes. She turned her gaze toward the planetar as she rose to a half-crouch, expecting another jolt. Magic crawled across the angel’s skin and the tremors ceased. The celestial’s wings had shifted with the tremors, and for the first time, she could see the wicked gash that ran along the being’s chest. Blood leaked from the cut, soaking its wing. The planetar’s the one maintaining the bubble, she realized, and he’s dying.

  “Whatever game you’re playing at, we have no more time for it,” Aliisza said, looking at Zasian. “We are doomed unless you can keep him alive while I go aid Kaanyr.”

  The man opposite
her said nothing, but he stared at her with large, frightened eyes.

  Aliisza wanted to slap him. “You’re the priest, do something!” she yelled, then she turned and sprinted toward Kaanyr.

  The hole had grown considerably wider than Aliisza remembered. Worse, the tip of one of the great tentacles was making the gap even larger as it probed the opening, ripping chunks of stone away as it sought its prey.

  Kaanyr, on one knee, flinched back from the segmented feeler and raised a wand. He muttered something unintelligible and an arc of lightning burst in Aliisza’s vision. Unlike the bolts Kaanyr usually employed, the charge of electricity appeared much more chaotic and unregulated than she remembered. Balls of fizzling energy sprayed out to the sides and careened off every surface, and the main bolt shimmered and shifted oddly in a haze of smoke.

  Aliisza threw her arm up too late to ward off the blinding flash. She stumbled and nearly fell, but instead used her wings to hold herself upright. As the shimmering afterimage of the miscast bolt faded enough for her to see, Aliisza spotted two more of the tentacles joining the first, which bore a ragged black streak along part of its length.

  All three of the probing appendages flailed wildly, riled by Kaanyr’s attack. The gigantic creature seemed more determined than ever to get at its intended morsels, for it rapidly tore huge segments of the wall away and brought its beak in close to the ever-expanding opening. By that time, nearly all of one side of the domed chamber had been rent.

  Kaanyr, still down on one knee, raised the wand to fire again, but one of the tentacles located him before he could discharge the magic and quickly latched onto the cambion. He grunted and arched his neck back in pain as the tentacle squeezed him and began to pull him toward the creature’s maw.

  “Kaanyr!” Aliisza screamed, stumbling forward to aid him. She felt helpless without a weapon, but her sword was on the opposite side of the chamber, still impaling her son.

  “Stay back!” Kaanyr ordered her through clenched teeth. “Hit it with this!” He tossed the wand to her. “Say, ‘Galvanos!’”