The winds died so suddenly that Horralain pitched forward and sprawled upon the ground. I probably would have too if not for Ssserakis anchoring me to the earth by my shadow.
You gamble so easily with your own life, but risk all to protect those around you. A foolish trait that will lead to your death.
"What do you care?" I whispered the words as quietly as I could.
I have invested a lot of time and effort in you, Eskara. I will not permit you to die until you have sent me home.
The swirling vortex of the Djinn reformed before me; the winds reduced once more to a whistling breeze. "How can you be so sure, terran?"
I stood before the Djinn and straightened my back, refusing to show any measure of the fear I felt. "Because you need me. If you could free Do'shan yourself, you would. I can do it for you. And you know it, or you would have already killed me. That storm you just summoned was an attempt to intimidate, all show and bluster. Just like Vainfold, you posture and put on a bloody impressive show in the hope I will tell you how grand you are. Well you are. You're Aerolis, the Changing. You are rock and wind, and probably countless other things. Grand and magnificent and powerful. There, have I appeased your bloated fucking ego yet? Can we get on with things?"
Tamura snorted in laughter. The crazy old Aspect was sitting cross legged in the sand. "All of life is mirrors. Reflections of truth are often lies."
"As mad as your mother." The Djinn's words hissed around the arena.
"Why can't you destroy Iron yourself, Aerolis?" I pushed.
The vortex of wind shifted slightly. It was hard to look at the madness of the Djinn's form, difficult to focus on such a writhing mass of nothing. Impossible to tell where the creature's attention lay. "We made these mountains, my brothers and I. Five of them. Our bastions in the sky. Fortresses from which to wage the War Eternal. We made them to resist magic, our own and that of the Rand. We did not consider how insidious our sisters can be. Once again they subverted our creations."
"Once there were five. Lights in the sky. Beacons of hope and wonder," Tamura almost sang the words. "Two were torn down amidst fire and flesh, the ground ripped asunder at their ending. One was drowned, swallowed whole, a gift from Rand to mur. That left just two lights in the sky, endless circling, closer year by year, until one day." Tamura clapped suddenly, the slap of his hands echoing about the arena. He looked up from his hands with a sly grin at the Djinn. "Just like our moons."
"Quiet, Aspect!" Aerolis roared. "I may need this Sourcerer's help, but you are nothing to me."
"I have a name, Aerolis," I said, pulling the attention back to me. It seemed far safer than letting it linger on any of my friends. "And it is neither terran, nor Sourcerer. Your brother knew well enough to learn it. So should you. So will you!"
I think maybe I pushed too far, demanded too much. I admit, I have never been good at knowing when to back down. "Do you learn the names of the insects you crush underfoot?" Aerolis asked. "Or perhaps of the animals you kill to eat? No. Why learn the name of something so brief in its existence?" A gust of wind that sounded suspiciously like a snort passed through the arena. "Be content that I know your name, terran, and I will use it when you prove worthy." Oh, how I fucking hated that.
Another step towards the Djinn and I felt the wind of its form tugging at my coat once more. "You're no longer powerful enough to break the enchantments the Djinn placed on the flying mountains. With each death, your people grew weaker. Just like Vainfold no longer has the power to escape his crown, you can't affect Do'shan anymore. So how can the Rand? How is it Mezula is able to do what you are too weak to?"
The wind grew cold around me. I might have shivered, but the horror inside was colder still. "The Rand did not use magic. Iron is a living creature. His limbs are chains which tunnel their way through my home, infesting it. The mountain resists magic but pick and shovel and time could achieve what all my power cannot." The Djinn paused and a wind breezed through the arena like a sigh. "Unfortunately, the creatures that remain here are not bright. Directing them is possible, but only to a degree. Teaching them to use weapons of war to attack invaders was difficult enough, but they simply do not understand the need to dig out the chains infesting their home."
"Weeds!" Tamura shouted. "Even the smallest plant can crack stone."
I do not see how we can break something even the Djinn cannot unmake. Coddle the creature with promises and run. Let us be done with it.
I ignored Ssserakis. The horror was playing a game I didn't yet understand, and every time it counselled me, its advice changed. Instead, I focused my attention on the Djinn. "I promised to free Do'shan. And I will."
A laughter rippled through the arena. "Would you like to know the consequences if you fail?"
"Why would it matter?" I turned from the Djinn and nodded to Horralain. "Pick up the hammer."
A roar of wind stirred the amphitheatre once more. "I will kill anyone foolish enough to touch that thing." The Djinn's words were no idle threat, that much was obvious. Horralain paused, glancing between myself and the whirling vortex.
"Ignore the wind, Horralain. Pick up the hammer." I turned back to the Djinn and took another step forward. "Stop getting in my fucking way! I don't know why you're so afraid of this weapon, but I can feel the fear on you." It was true. The taste of a Djinn's fear was a heady thing. Perhaps that was why I was feeling so bold, the intoxication of such a powerful fear. The strength that flooded my limbs washed away the exhaustion of the past few days. Ssserakis seeped its power into me, readying me for a confrontation both of us knew we could never survive. I tried to ignore the false confidence it loaned me, but my hand inched towards the snuff pouch at my belt, and my stomach growled at the thought of a Source inside.
Horralain reached the hammer and extended a hand. It hovered just before the haft. Blood still speckled the weapon, both from those it had killed, and the final moments of the last person to wield it. That same person lay dead and cold on the ground nearby, his chest collapsed inward under the force of the Djinn's magic. It served as a grisly reminder to Aerolis' promise to kill anyone who touched it.
An odd stillness settled around the amphitheatre, and I had a strange feeling the Djinn would remain trapped on Do'shan forever before it allowed anyone to touch the hammer.
You've killed him. Ssserakis' whisper felt too much like truth.
"We're not going to turn on you, Aerolis," I whispered. "I don't know why you hate the hammer so but let me use it to free you."
Horralain's hand wrapped around the hilt of Shatter.
Chapter 8
I sometimes think that all of life is a series of moments, each one a balancing act upon a razor's edge, destined to fall one way or another. The outcome of those moments is irrevocable. Harsh words spoken can never be taken back, no matter how many apologies might be uttered in their wake. Time spent drinking yourself into a stupor is time spent often wasted, often squandered. As any Chronomancer will tell you, time is a finite resource. I bear the proof of that, my body and soul bearing two different ages. And life once taken cannot be given back. Again, I am somewhat of an expert on that matter. I have taken so many lives in my brief time on Ovaeris, and I would happily give most of them back if I could. Most of them. There are those I would guard jealously, even should all the lords of the Other World come to claim them from me. There are some lives I have taken who truly deserved it.