Of Dawn and Darkness

CHAPTER THREE

Jyrine Tessella whispered her secrets into the fire, and madness answered.

“Where are his bonds?” a voice croaked from the flickering shadows. The steady chirp of the insects outside went utterly silent in the presence of that voice, and the cave dropped a few degrees.

“We have taken The Testament,” Jerri responded. “Calder has been released unharmed, and soon we will return to the ship.”

She wanted to say that the Emperor had spared him from execution, but mentioning the Emperor was tricky business when you used Elderspawn as your messengers. They knew the Emperor well enough to fear even his name.

Emerald flames blazed, illuminating the smooth dome of stone wrinkled with crystal. It looked as though some ancient traveler had polished the inside of a natural rock formation, painting lines of quartz on the ceiling like a road map.

In the influence of the voice and the flames, those crystals seemed to slither.

“Can you capture the Lyathatan?” the voice asked, creaking like the mast of a ship in high wind.

“No need. Calder works for us. He works with us, though he doesn’t know it.”

The fire bunched in on itself, like a man folding his arms to think. “Explain.”

She was delighted to. “He carries with him a Bellowing Horror, a spawn of Othaghor that often declares death. But he doesn’t fear it. He treats it as a beloved pet.”

A short, stubby little creature, like a foot-tall fat man with a pair of undersized bat’s wings. Its eyes were orbs of pure black hate, its mouth masked behind writhing tentacles, and it spoke with the voice of doom itself. They called it Shuffles.

“He is hunted by the Blackwatch, just as we are. He was exiled from their number for consorting with Elders.” He was removed from the Guild as part of an Imperial decree, owing to his attempt to rescue his father. The attempt that had resulted in almost two dozen deaths, and his expulsion had nothing to do with ‘consorting with Elders.’ Phrasing it this way would be more persuasive.

The men and women on the other end of the flame murmured thoughtfully among themselves, and the Elderspawn translated it as the babble of madmen, trickling from the fire like drool from the lips of an imbecile.

Impatience took root inside her, and her Soulbound Vessel started up again.

They don’t believe you, it said, hot with rage. They will never believe you. But you’re stronger than they are. You don’t need them. You can burn them. Burn it, melt it, turn it all to slag!

Her mind filled with visions of acid-green flame, consuming the stone walls of the cave, leaving nothing more than a pool of molten rock behind her. It would help nothing, wouldn’t even touch the cabal, but her body ached for the destruction. Her Awakened earring, bearing the mated power of a Kameira and a notorious Elder, crooned in her ear. Its match, hanging from her other ear, was silent. It was invested only as protection, a false duplicate meant to counter and contain the power in her real Vessel.

The copy did very little to quiet the whispers, the constant urge to push a tiny fraction of the world toward ruin. But Jerri was sixteen; more than old enough to handle a little insanity.

She fed a little more of her power into the fire, to keep her Vessel content, as she waited for the Sleepless cabal to stop deliberating.

“He could be an asset,” the flame finally said. “But it is not our decision. We must consult the Great Ones.”

At even an indirect mention of a Great Elder, the voice of the transmission quivered.

“Oh, did I not mention?” Jerri had been saving her best card for last. “He has the approval of Kelarac.”

The fire dimmed to a green spark, the crystal in the walls flared with light reflected from some other place, and a thousand unseen messengers whispered at once.

“Kell’arrack.”

“The Collector of Souls.”

“Great One.”

“Blinded and bound.”

“Great One…”

Jerri waited, projecting a nonchalance she didn’t feel, keeping a tight grip on her Soulbound power. She fiddled with her braid as the cabal struggled to regain control of the void transmission.

“He made a bargain to escape Candle Bay,” she went on, when the voices went silent. “Kelarac provided the Lyathatan as our guide. If he trusts Calder, why should we not?”

“The situation is changed,” croaked the bullfrog-voice from the fire. “The will of Kelarac is paramount. If the former Blackwatch has a connection to the Great Ones, he could be our greatest step forward in an instant—” The voice layered over itself, as though correcting itself while speaking. “—a moment—” It stuttered again.

“—a year—”

“—an age—”

“—a day—”

“—a century.”

Elderspawn messengers often had trouble translating time.

“May I introduce him to the Sleepless?” Jerri asked, fluttering with fear. More than anything, she wanted to tell Calder everything and have him approve. Approve, and join her in unlocking the secret wisdom of the Elders. But when she imagined his reaction, she could only picture his horror and disgust.

So she would make sure he understood, and then she would tell him the truth.

“We must proceed carefully,” the voice said. “Our old enemy is still in control of himself, and we cannot afford his interference” Jerri was sure they meant the Emperor. “We must seek guidance.”

“From whom?” Jerri asked, though she assumed they would seek communion with Kelarac. Hopefully, the Great Elder would support her endorsement of Calder.

“Our other patron,” said the fire, and again a thousand whispers joined in. They were joyful, this time, instead of hostile and competing.

“The Overseer.”

“He who knows all.”

“Sees all.”

“The Father of Knowledge.”

“Ach’magut.”

The Sleepless respected the supernatural wisdom of all the Elders, but two Great Elders were revered above the rest. Kelarac, for his willingness to help and support humanity, was considered by many in the Sleepless to be their best hope for human and non-human interaction.

But a close second was Ach’magut, the Overseer.

The Lord of a Thousand Eyes sought knowledge above everything, at any cost. It was said that the Emperor learned Reading in the halls of Ach’magut, and that the birth of human civilization could be traced back to this one Elder. More importantly, his goals did not involve the malicious destruction of humankind, as Nakothi or Urg’naut would desire. He simply wanted to learn everything, and then to move on. Whether humans survived or not was irrelevant.

Which made him a great resource, but not an ally.

There was only one problem. “Kelarac is still free to act,” Jerri said. “Ach’magut is dead.”

“As you should know,” croaked the green flame, “that is only a minor inconvenience.”