"What about the thing on the other side of portals?" I asked. "Aerolis was terrified of it. Of it finding him."
"Ahhh." Tamura nodded. "The maker, the eyes, the nexus, the jailer. The parent. The god of gods. The Second Cataclysm."
It is cold. Power on a level even the Rand and Djinn cannot fathom. When the embodiment of fear, a creature of shadow and ice, tells you something is cold… it is worth listening.
"The Rand and Djinn did not end up trapped in our moons by accident. They were placed there. Rowdy children unwilling to work together, separated in their rooms." Tamura stopped and giggled. "But of course, they snuck out. Slipped away. Thought themselves safe."
Tamura's mind was ever a wonder to me. He struggled to remember yesterday, could not tell me of his past, and I'm not even sure he remembered the Pit, despite spending more years down there than I had seen. Yet he had all the memories of a Rand locked away inside, accessed easily when the contours of a story took him. Or when the correct questions were asked.
"But they aren't safe?"
"Making mistakes is easy…" Tamura paused.
"Correcting them is hard," I said.
"Impossible. One cannot unspeak a word, erase a footstep. What's done is done. During the War Eternal, at its height, there was a battle. Out in the Polasian desert, many Rand and many Djinn, tired with the stalemate of their war, collided. Power like that used to save Ovaeris, and create Sevoari, clashed." Tamura clapped his hands together, staring at me over the violence of it. "They tore a hole in the world. They brought themselves to the attention of their maker. And now it knows they have escaped. It watches, through the great hole above the desert, through the small tears that Sourcerers create. It watches, always looking for its unruly children."
Or those of us who carry their mark.
"A hole in the world over the Polasian desert?" Hardt asked. "I didn't see it."
Tamura pointed south. "What do your eyes see?"
Hardt squinted for a time and then shrugged. "The horizon."
"Past that?"
I laughed. "The desert is a big place, then. But this hole in the world. This thing watches through it?"
Tamura nodded. "Watches. Waits. Picks. Enlarges. One day the hole will be big enough to let it through, and Ovaeris will burn once more. The Second Cataclysm. Inevitable."
"It won't just take them and leave us be? There's only two of them left." Hardt didn't understand, he was thinking too rationally about creatures that defied rational thought.
"Look at the bottom of your foot," Tamura said. "What do you see." Hardt let out a growl of frustration.
"It won't care, Hardt." I decided to interject some clarity before the two started arguing. "It won't even see us. People, cities they mean nothing to a creature like that. We mean nothing to it."
Hardt grumbled. "I still don't see the point of the story."
I did. I understood it all too well. The third Augury, a unity of purpose. It made sense now. The Rand and Djinn were never meant to use their powers apart. They were linked intrinsically, to be unified. And every time they defied that purpose, disaster followed. I understood the point of the story, but not the timing.
"It's time," I said as I stood, staring into the ruins of Picarr, my eyes locked on the rubble, all that was left of the Orran Academy of Magic. Hardt stood too, yet Tamura remained seated.
He is a weakness that will get you killed.
"You can't come with me, Hardt."
He shook his head and fixed me with his dark eyes. "We've already been through this. I'm coming with you, Eska. You might think you're all powerful, but you're going to need me in there."
My turn to shake my head. "I won't. You'll only get in the way."
I saw his pride take the hit. He knew it was true yet refused to accept it. "Don't count me out just yet. I've still got a few tricks up my sleeve."
So have we.
A sad smile snuck its way out of me, and I lurched forward, wrapping my arm around Hardt and giving him one last embrace. I breathed in deep and he smelled of comfort. I do not deserve Hardt, I never have. Not the trust he places in me, nor the strength he lends me. I have never deserved him, but I will always be glad he stayed with me, no matter what came of us. When I stepped back, I tore open a portal with a wave of my hand. He looked over his shoulder, confusion plain for all to see. The portal showed a small river, a wooden bridge crossing it, and green grass on either side. We had passed the place earlier that day, no more than a couple of hours travel by trei bird. But Hardt would not have a bird, and I could only hope that slowed him long enough.
"Eska…" I interrupted Hardt with a kinetic push that sent him tumbling through the portal backwards. He tripped on his feet and collapsed, and for a moment we stared at each other through that portal, a gulf of many miles between us. I saw the hurt on his face; his pride crushed along with the pain of my betrayal. A betrayal I would make time and time again, as many times as it took, to keep Hardt safe.
I snapped the portal shut before I could change my mind, and before Hardt could change it for me. Tamura waited, not moving, eyes on me. "I couldn't send him far." I had never been a good Portamancer, my range and accuracy too limited. "Don't let him come for me. Stop him." I glanced at the birds. "Use the spare bird to help carry him away if need be. I won't need it."
Tamura stood then, stepped toward me and wrapped me up in a crushing embrace, strong despite his appearance. "Good luck," he whispered in my ear. I saw tears in his eyes as he pulled away, and I knew he understood. He alone understood.
Stop delaying.
I made my way into the ruins of Picarr alone save for my horror.
Chapter 33
I picked my way through the ruins of Picarr and ghosts swarmed around me. Hundreds of them all drawn by the fear Ssserakis fed upon and held inside. Ethereal blurs betraying my passage. The traps in the city took on a new meaning now. Before, I had believed them nothing more than the remnants of a magical battle, a by-product of so much power clashing in a confined space. Now, I thought them something else entirely. The Iron Legion had seeded the ruined city with traps to keep the people of Isha at bay. He wanted no intrepid explorers accidentally discovering his lair. It was the perfect hiding place. I moved past the traps with ease, my odd sense of magic warning me whenever I drew close to one.
Braggarts Tower, or at least the crumbling ruin of it frozen in time, passed by on my left. I glanced toward it to see the two men trapped inside the bubble of timelessness. A poor unfortunate Chronomancer, locked in the moment before his own death, and Prena's comrade. On his shield, I could still see an image of Ssserakis and I fighting against Vainfold. I could remember nothing of the time during which Vainfold held my body, used it to unleash his fire upon the city, but I could still remember the threat in his parting words. He would remember my name. I hoped he remembered it for all eternity.
Ghouls flanked me, watching from shadows, not daring to come too close. Weaklings. Too young to even know their own names. We could use them. Throw them at our enemy and strike in his distraction. It wouldn't work. Caught between myself and the Iron Legion, the Ghouls would likely fall upon each other rather than aid either of us. They are neither the smartest nor the most courageous of monsters. At least, not at that young age.