Chapter Four

CHAPTER FOUR

The Light-House

“As far as I’m concerned, we’ve accomplished our mission.”

DABRIEL

Jace stood on the balcony outside his room, after watching the first sunset he had taken the time to appreciate in months. He had picked a good one. Beyond the hypnotic lapping of the tide just below, the Hezlin Sea had faded to dark indigo; the dying light of day flailing over the choppy water in dazzling sun-points like a net of melted brass. By the time the red-gold orb had slipped the horizon completely, the Outrider was calm, without a thought or care in the world, and the irony of that fact was not lost on him. Here he was, on the very edge of his country’s territory, in a mansion that belonged to a wizardess. But as he watched the moon rise into view above, he was more at peace, felt more like himself, than he had in … however long it had been.

There should have been a lot on his mind, but there wasn’t.

He could have been playing out scenarios, calculating ulterior motives that their host might secretly harbor. But he hadn’t.

On some level, maybe, Jace knew this transition had begun with the vision in the dining room, when he had seen Artemus Ward young for that brief, frantic, indescribable moment. But it didn’t concern him. The restlessness that had burned inside him for months, the source of his doubt and worry, was almost totally gone. Whether it was expelled by some strange phenomenon, or merely the hours of sound afternoon sleep this place had afforded him, was irrelevant.

He found the steady rhythm of the tide deeply soothing; a sensation aided by the apricot liquor sloshing around in the bottle he held. The moon was full, a great white eye not yet lidded by the gathering storm in the night. Just off to his right, slightly nearer to the shore, the Lornda Manor lighthouse revolved on its drowsy axis to cast sweeping paths of light across the sea.

Further still, to the eastern side of the mansion, the first suggestion of the ancient, long-abandoned docks were in view; two colossal pylons barely visible in the moonlight. The sheer enormity of this entrance, where great ships were once welcomed, was intimidating to behold, and there was something creepy about the emptiness. Something eerie about a place born for bustling activity, now nothing but cold stone in darkness.

Exactly like Westwood, he thought. Like Sandia, all of Ciridian, and apparently this whole damn world.

Jace brought the bottle back to his lips.

Cedwyn stepped out onto the balcony, but paused a moment to admire the glasswork of the open double doors: a broken ship on stormy seas.

“Well now,” he mused, rapping the knuckles of one hand against the artistic depiction while placing a cigarette in his mouth with the other. “They’re certainly screwed.”

Jace smiled, and Cedwyn moved out to take a spot against the railing, nodding toward the light on the ocean as he took the bottle from Jace.

“Nice,” he said. “A lighthouse on a coast where no ships have been sighted for centuries.”

“You read my mind. I was just thinking something like that.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. And how it's amazing you can't see it from the woods.”

“Mmhm,” Cedwyn muttered. He handed Jace a cigarette and then struck his flint box, lighting it for him. “I see you’ve made yourself right at home,” he said, taking a drag as he gestured to Jace without looking. “No crossbows, no crossbow belts. Even your short swords are gone.”

The night had cooled considerably with the setting of the sun, and while Cedwyn saw fit to adorn himself with his cloak, Jace was without; revealing he was completely unarmed.

“How’d you get your cloak?”

“Those guys from the stables brought our packs back about an hour ago,” Cedwyn said, then he motioned behind them to Jace’s room. “I brought you yours.”

“Thanks.”

“Saw that pretty scout girl again, too.” Cedwyn paused a minute, staring at the ocean before glancing back to Jace. “Her name is Hazel Lien, one of the Lornda Manor scouts. There’s something seriously familiar about that girl.”

“Yeah?”

Cedwyn shrugged.

“Yeah, don’t know. I’m almost positive I’ve seen her somewhere before, I just can’t put my finger on where. Anyway, apparently, Artemus is Lornda Manor’s Constable Thean.”

Jace nodded slightly, absently brushing some ash off his sleeve.

“Makes sense that Jaden would have scouts.” He looked up again, bringing the cigarette up and inhaling.

“For what purpose, do you think?”

Jace shrugged as he draped his arm over the elaborate balustrade, his words carrying the smoke from his lungs.

“Keep an eye on things? Gather information to protect the Manor? Who knows?”

Cedwyn took a generous swig from the bottle.

“Hm,” he mused, wincing. “I would have thought they had all the protection they needed.” He handed the liquor back to Jace. “Guess they just don’t make magical forests the way they used to.”

Jace shrugged, smiling as he took it.

“Guess not.” Then Cedwyn paused a while, and Jace perceived the reflective quality in the silence. “What’s up?” he asked at length.

Cedwyn sighed.

“I don’t know, it’s probably nothing.” There was another short break before the look in Jace’s eyes insisted he go on. “The servant who brought me my pack. He asked about Thean’s record book.” Cedwyn adjusted his hold on the cigarette so it was between his thumb and forefinger. “Like he knew it was how we made it through Terrill Silva.”

A look of intrigue crossed Jace’s face.

“How did he seem when he asked?”

The ash from Cedwyn’s cigarette flared over his features, highlighting the softening expression on his face. It’s fleeting glow bobbed about like a red firefly in the darkness.

“Innocent,” he said. “Completely innocent. Like he was making conversation.”

“But how did he know about it?”

“Exactly.”

“What’d you tell him?”

Cedwyn’s draw on the cigarette was longer this time.

“Said I didn’t know what he was talking about,” he said. “Obviously.” Jace took a moment to register the words, blowing smoke rings towards the sea as he listened. “I managed to casually mention all the cabbits we’d seen out there, though. Pretending that we hadn’t made the connection. Like we just happened to get through by dumb luck. Not knowing there was an illusory border at all.”

“Smart,” Jace said, approvingly. Then he flicked his cigarette over the railing, leaning over to watch its spiraling descent to the rocks.

“Yeah,” Cedwyn said, looking pleased with himself, tweaking some ash.

“He probably knew you were lying, though. Cabbits are almost impossible to find. Seeing a bunch of them, as you suggested, is just about unheard of.”

Abruptly, Cedwyn stood out of his lean, turning squarely on Jace as he discarded his cigarette as well, clearly agitated. Maybe because he knew Jace was right, and that he should have known better. Maybe it was because of how relaxed and unconcerned Jace appeared.

Probably, it was both.

“You know, I really don’t get you,” he said. “Is a hot shower and full stomach really all it takes to ease your mind?”

Jace remained still, watching as Cedwyn’s cigarette hit the surf.

Then he stood to match match his posture.

“No, of course I’m still concerned. Yes, it makes me wonder why one of Artemus’ servants was asking about Thean’s record book,” he said. “Yes, I still wanna know where everyone was when we first came here this afternoon, and why the place smelled stale and abandoned when it turned out to be the opposite just a few minutes later. No, I don’t completely trust this guy, or know how he’s alive, or where he’s been all this time or whatever.” Cedwyn slid his hands into the pockets of his cloak, sighing as he turned back to the view. “I wanna know how he has a copy of Valiant Notions as if he’s been strolling through the streets of our cities. How he has a copy of Aleister’s latest book, which Relic says isn’t even published yet by the way.” Jace turned to where the bottle was sitting on the railing, picking it up again. “But he did, man. He did have Aleister’s book, and it contained the words: trust him.”

Cedwyn leaned his head to the side just slightly in what appeared to be mild concession.

“All I’m say’in is we better get answers tonight.”

Jace took another drink.

“Yeah, well, that’s what he promised, right?” Cedwyn nodded as Jace leaned on the railing again, sideways this time so he could still face his friend. “Now if it’s the same thing that happened today, where those promises go unfulfilled, it’s gonna be a different story.”

Cedwyn was amused again, letting out the beginnings of a chuckle as he swiped the bottle.

“Yeah?” he asked, taking the deepest swig so far. Then he ran the back of his sleeve across his mouth. “What are you gonna do if he tells us nothing, take on the legend himself? Along with all his servants?”

Jace smiled.

“Close,” he said, crossing his arms. “I’d load our bags with as much food as I could fit in them and ride back to civilization.” He was still smiling, but Cedwyn thought he sensed something melancholy in the tone. “As far as I’m concerned, we’ve accomplished our mission. We were ordered to scout the countryside and we did that. There’s no threat to report. No army.” He took the bottle back. “It’s guerrilla warfare we’re fighting against, waged by supernatural terrorists. I mean, we had that meeting with Foy in Sandia, right? Somehow he had a red envelope, our orders were extended to seek out Lornda Manor ... it was all very dramatic. And unless some seriously profound shit happens around here tonight, I’d say it all seems pretty anticlimatic at this point, wouldn’t you?”

“Climactic.”

“What?”

“Anticlimactic. Anticlimatic makes it sound like you’re against the weather or something.

Jace shrugged, looking back out toward the lighthouse.

“Whatever.”

“And anyway, you saw an army that night on the edge of Westwood, right? That’s what concerns me. Minotaurs. Golems. Those hooded things in the circles shooting the comets? If they’re not in Veil’driel anymore, where’d they go?”

The notion darkened Jace’s expression.

“Honestly, Cedwyn? I don’t know what I saw that night anymore. The whole thing was like wading through some sick, psychedelic nightmare. With that horn, and that time skip, and ... trying to describe it is impossible and I’m tired of trying. I ... I don’t know, I just ...”

Cedwyn quickly changed the subject; attempting to interrupt whatever head-trip Jace had been about to embark on. He knew how far he could push him, and he had pushed him far enough for now. To that end, there was only one possible subject to turn to.

“So you two would just ...” he waited a second until Jace’s eyes flicked back his way. “Waste these accommodations like that, huh?” Cedwyn motioned back to the luxurious suite behind them, but it wasn’t necessary for his point to get across. Jace just shrugged again, something he seemed to be doing a lot of out here on this balcony. He didn’t appear to have any intention of answering the question. “You know, you two idiots amaze me, you really do.” Now it was Jace’s drink that was deeper than any before. “At camp, you guys can’t keep your hands off each other. Even with the threat of a court-marital around every corner. Isabelle gets me to concoct this whole elaborate thing with a Luna Scarlet monk robe I stole, so she can get—”

“Oh yeah. That was awesome.”

“Yeah. Yet, out here, ever since San—”

“How did you even get that thing?”

Cedwyn sighed.

“Long story.”

“Alarick really sold it, too. Acted like he set the whole thing up to bless the mission or some—”

“Jace.”

Cedwyn was massaging the bridge of his nose now.

“And come to think of it, why did you even have that—”

“Jace!”

“What?”

Cedwyn motioned around the balcony, but his meaning was much broader.

“Out here, you two could do anything you wanted, and no one would ever know. Hell,” he turned out to where the pylons rose like the arms of a sea god in gloom. “No one would even care.”

Jace put the bottle down on the balustrade again, and there was something indefinable about the way he did so to suggested it was for the final time. There it stayed, and neither man made to move it.

Jace tilted his head back and closed his eyes.

“I don’t know,” he said. “I think maybe at first it was the weight of this mission. Being a part of the first point team in thirty years. Having the Republic’s hopes on our shoulders. “After Sandia, ever since that battle and meeting Jaden and Foy ... and all those Blades or whatever they call themselves, putting their lives on the line for this like that ... I don’t know. Somewhere along the line we started feeling ... wrong, or ... disrespectful ... or ...”

“Guilty?”

“Yeah,” Jace admitted. “I don’t know why.”

“I do,” Cedwyn said, and he turned his back to the spectacular view so he could look down at Jace. “And it’s not the standards or expectations of Veil’driel. Or even the unrealistic ones you put on yourself.” He waited a moment, glancing forward to the other sea visible from the balcony: the one made of stained-glass. “It’s Thean’s, and you don’t wanna let him down.” Jace raised his eyebrows and sighed, knowing it to be true. “You’ve always been his favorite,” Cedwyn went on. “A truth hidden by the same sort of secret that hides your relationship with Isabelle.” Jace shifted his glance to meet Cedwyn’s. Cedwyn smiled. “The only one who thinks it is one is you.”

There was a long gap in the conversation, and a sudden gust of wind blew in from across the sea. Jace raised his chin to look up at the sky, noticing for the first time that the moon and the stars were gone. He thought he felt a raindrop then, and stood straight, almost losing his balance when the world took too long to catch up.

“Woah,” he said, swaying a little.

“Feeling that a bit, are ya?” Cedwyn asked, nodding down to the bottle, amused. Jace didn’t respond, only blinked. “You have no idea what we’ve been drinking, do you?”

“Not really,” Jace said. “But for some reason I find it vaguely familiar.” He wobbled a shade to the left. “And it’s more potent than what I was expecting.”

“Yes, Dabriel. It is,” Cedwyn said, his tone reflecting the understatement. “That’s because it’s Orinel Lin.”

Jace took a moment, attempted to think, but then nodded instead as if he had come to an understanding.

Cedwyn smiled.

“You got nothin',” he said conclusively, having witnessed Jace’s ruse of knowledge nod on more than a few occasions. Then he sighed, shaking his head in a kind of entertained astonishment. “It’s a vintage unique to the nation of Morrah. Same place as where the dragon apples are from,” he explained. “Used exclusively in religious ceremonies by the theocratic heads of state.” It was unclear if Jace was even paying attention; he had taken to staring at the bottle as if examining it for clues. “It’s illegal to take out of the country.”

Jace froze, looking serious again.

“What, like … picking lunar roses illegal?” he asked, referring to the token law that prohibited the picking of Veil’driel’s national flower outside of the Harvest Festival.

Cedwyn raised his arm, teetering his hand in a seesaw motion.

“Kiiiind of,” he said. “Except that you’re hunted down by an army of killer monks.”

“Oh.”

“Also, you’re condemned to seven Hells.”

Jace winced.

“That’s a lot of Hells.”

“And that isn’t the only bottle,” Cedwyn went on, gesturing to it. “There’s gotta be a hundred of them stored throughout dozens of wine cellars all over the mansion. Makes the stores of The Blue Sun look like Mac Caulurn‘s footlocker.”

“You said dozens?”

“Dozens. I’ve seen them myself. Bottles from all over this continent, and some I’ve never even heard of. Languages on the labels I’ve never seen.”

“That seems ... strange,” Jace blurted.

“Does it? A year ago, there hadn’t been a single recording of minotaurs working together. Not a golem seen since the Looking Glass War. Mysterious, comet-shooting wizards? Golden riders wearing apparently weightless armor, because they ride just as well as we do? To get here, we had to travel through an enchanted forest only passable by staring into the eyes of a bunnycat, and at some point tonight, we’re gonna get a briefing from a man whose birthday still gets kids a day off from school.” Jace ran a hand back through his hair. “Now. You tell me. What’s strange?”

Jace opened his mouth to respond, but hesitated. Then smiled.

“All that ... stuff?”

In the distance came the first rumblings of thunder. The winds continued to pick up, and the gusts became more sustained. Below, the sound of swaying cherry and Callery pear trees rose up from a grove near the shore, answering the song of the tide with its own.

“And he’s growing feverlew,” Cedwyn abruptly added, suggesting he had forgotten to earlier. “In a botanical warehouse on one of the lower levels.”

“Ugh.”

“Know why I have no hesitation at all in telling you that?” Cedwyn asked seriously, and this drew a curious expression from Jace. “Because you can take it. All that is behind you now, you hear me?”

Jace nodded.

“It just doesn’t make sense, that’s all,” he said. “If he was trying to hide any of this, why would he let us wander around at will?”

“I don’t know,” Cedwyn answered honestly. “But true to the man’s word, I haven’t been interfered with by any of his servants.”

“Yeah, well, right now I’m most curious about Legis Duchenne’s book. And where Artemus has gone,” Jace said.

Lightning flashed beyond the horizon, and the sky crackled again.

Cedwyn didn’t respond. He was looking past Jace, not at him.

“What is that?” he asked, squinting.

Jace turned around, away from the docks, looking for what Cedwyn saw. In the distance, near the mansion’s main entrance, towards the bridge, there were what appeared to be two silhouettes in the darkness. There, the revolving beams of the lighthouse did not touch, making it almost impossible to perceive any detail.

Jace squinted.

“What is that?”

Behind him, Cedwyn rolled his eyes and frowned.

“What are we doing out here, Relic?” Isabelle asked, bouncing a little in place to ward off the gathering chill. “It’s gonna pour any minute.”

Relic was holding up a lantern to shed its light on his book.

“You just answered your own question,” he said, and after reading the last sentence, glanced down to the cobblestone pathway and faced her. “We’re out here because it’s gonna pour. It’s good luck, actually.”

Isabelle looked straight up into the air.

“Great,” she said, and then flinched, startled by Relic’s sudden outburst.

“Unbelievable!” he yelled. Relic looked back to the book, double-checking whatever connection he thought he made. Then, taking a knee to get closer to the stones, he spoke again, this time in a barely audible whisper. “Un-be-lievable.”

“Is it?” Isabelle asked, smiling. Since lunch, she had sat with Relic for hours in the library, watching as he buried himself in books, jotted down notes into his Outrider record book, and compared various maps and illustrations with those he had studied in Constable Thean’s. Even now, she wasn’t exactly sure what they were looking into, but there was something about Relic’s obsessive enthusiasm she found both charming and contagious. He was as innocent as a child in moments like these, and they always enjoyed each other’s company.

But this was different.

This was as excited as Isabelle had ever seen him get.

“This really is the ballast of the Beacon Fleet. There can be no doubting that now,” he said, holding the open book directly beside the stone and comparing it to the symbol on the page. They were identical. “It’s exactly as I thought. Kenaz.”

“Didn’t you already know that?” Isabelle asked.

“Hoped,” Relic corrected, looking up at her. Then he turned and stared into the distance. “Hoped.”

Isabelle stiffened just slightly, twisting to look past the wide moat behind them, to the dark plain beyond. The distant shadows of the Terrill Silva tree line swayed faster now, to an ever-steady chorus of the breaking Hezlin tide. The wind was picking up and the night was getting colder. This was more than just rain on the way.

It was a storm.

The storm is what we call—

“I hope Lucas is okay,” she said.

“He’ll be fine,” Relic responded immediately, despite being completely distracted. “Reminds me of your boy at that age. He lives for this.”

Another few moments passed.

“Well … maybe we should check on the horses,” Isabelle suggested, and Relic looked at her just as she turned back to face him. When she nodded, he grinned, rising to his feet.

“They’ll be fine too, Iz.”

Isabelle sighed.

“Okay.”

“Besides,” he said. “You won’t wanna miss this.”

Isabelle relaxed, finding security in the certainty behind Relic’s eyes. She wanted so badly to believe there was nothing wrong, and then in that moment, she did.

“So, tell me more about this Beacon Fleet.”

Relic closed the book but kept the place with his thumb.

“The fleet of ships supposedly sent by Veil’driel a near milenia ago,” he began. “To explore the oceanic world.” He stopped and looked out past the beach. “Never to be heard from again.” There was a pause then, and Isabelle was on the verge of urging him to continue when Relic turned back. “There were six ships,” he went on. “The ballast for the R.V.S. Awatere was marked with the rune symbol Kenaz.”

Isabelle looked down at the rune-marked cobbles at her feet.

“Kenaz?”

Relic nodded, and without another word, started forward towards the bridge. Isabelle matched his stride without hesitation, and he held the lantern low at his side, careful to illuminate the pathway as they distanced themselves from the mansion.

“Fehu,” he said, naming the new rune symbol when it changed after about twenty feet. “The R.V.S. Prince.” When about the same interval passed, and the rune etchings in the stones changed again, Relic said nothing at first, but it was the last time he made the mistake after Isabelle elbowed him gently in the ribs. He smiled, enjoying her interest. “Perthro,” he named the new symbol. They were at the bridge. “R.V.S. Gale.” They went on, Relic announcing each proceeding change in rune and its corresponding ship in turn. “Dagaz. R.V.S. Dortmunder” They had crossed the roiling black of the moat. “An-” Relic stopped suddenly, reflecting on something for a minute. “No, I’m right, nevermind,” he pointed down with the hand that held the book. “Ansuz. The R.V.S. Nautilus.”

They had come to the end of the long path now, standing where the Outriders’ horses had been left on their arrival, and with another step they were standing on the grass of the plain, turning together to face the mansion. Unlike the nights they had spied on the estate from the woods, when all was dark, almost every light in the massive structure was on, blazing welcome from every door and window.

Relic kneeled just as he did in front of the mansion’s main entrance, at the beginning of the pathway when he had shown her the first rune.

“Jera,” he said, and while he expected it, the confirmation of seeing this final rune caused his words to get lodged in his throat. “The R.V.S. Telminster.” He stood again. “She was the flagship.”
Suddenly, there was a particularly violent crack of thunder and Isabelle jumped. Relic looked up, and as if on cue a torrential downpour began. On instinct, Isabelle started to dash back to the main entrance, but Relic just held out his hand, stopping her in her tracks.

“C’mon, Relic, let’s go!” she protested.

“Just wait,” he said, an odd smile on his face.

When a few more moments passed, with the only developments being her increasingly wet cloak, she grunted and took off back towards the main entrance. Seeing no other choice, Relic took off after her. They ran together, back down the path, through the driving rain and swirling wind. Arriving, at last, under cover of the balcony where Artemus had first appeared. When Relic caught up to her, and they were both stopped, he had expected to find her annoyed, maybe even a little angry by his attempt to stop her. He was surprised, however, to find her laughing, brushing the water from her hair.

“It’s just some stones etched with symbols!” she said, pushing Relic gently. Her hair was soaked, and she giggled as she shook her hands. “The Beacon Fleet is a myth, Relic! Not history.”

Relic smiled widely before turning back to the pathway. But his mirth was geared towards her reaction more than buying into what she was saying.

“You weren’t just patronizing me all afternoon, were ya, Talabray?” he asked, feigning hurtful rejection.

Isabelle giggled.

“Awwwww,” she mused, ruffling his soaked hair and talking to him like he was a five-year-old boy. “No, Relic, I think it’s cute.”

Relic shrugged.

“Alright, we’ll see.” He nodded in the direction of the bridge. “The ballast was said to be enchanted.”

“Enchanted.”

“To glow when wet.”

“Mmhm.”

“So that, were anything catastrophic to happen, the fleet might be easily found.”

Relic was drifting into his own world again; where his concern for convincing Isabelle melted away.

“Easily found, huh?”

He blew a warm breath into his fist.

“Yes,” he said, still staring ahead. “To mark how far they made it, among other things. Provide some insight into the cross-tides charted in the oceanography surveys of old.”

Isabelle took a tiny step closer to him so she could whisper in his ear.

“And glowing rocks would make that possible, would it?” she asked, eyes glittering in the lantern light.

Relic jerked away with the surprise of Isabelle’s undetected advance, which had of course been her intent. It had the desired effect; snapping him from his imaginings back to the present, and he smiled.

“According to the Tri-State government, yes. The Beacon Fleet was a tri-nation endeavor. Kingdom of Sindell, Tri-State Commonwealth, and the Republic of Veil’driel were all involved. The ultimate failure of the mission, however, was the beginning of the strained relations that never recovered. Makes you wonder what could have been.”

“Blah. How could a shipwreck ever be seen from the bottom of the ocean? You could sink the sun down there and never see it.” Relic didn’t answer at first. “Hmmmm?” she pressed. “Answer me that, Mr. Know Everything Guy.”

“Well… In the shallower areas, theoretically, the wreckage would be visible from the sky. To the Sindell Royal Air Force. And … in the deeper parts of the ocean … so the legend goes …” Relic cleared his throat to mask his words.

It sounded like: Un-ter-ater-mempire.

Isabelle twisted her mouth a little, doing her best to keep from laughing at the earnestness in Relic’s expression.

“Did you just say … Underwater Empire?”

Relic laughed first, realizing, perhaps, that this was sounding more than a little absurd. Even by his standards.

“Atlantis. Yeah.”

“Aw, sweetie, you’re such a nerd,” she said, barely able to contain herself. “Please tell me you don’t believe in Underwater Empires too!”

At that moment, the entire walkway flickered to life and began to pulse with gentle light, dim at first but growing steadily more vibrant. Soon, the entire pathway was flaring in six distinct, evenly distributed colors; the astonished Outriders saw red, green, blue, purple, pink and gold. It seemed then that the wetter the stones became, the brighter they shone, and the rune symbols took on a darker hue of the same colors. The illuminated air glittered and sparkled like magic.

Isabelle gasped at the sight, her expression completely blank. All thought had rushed from her head just as the darkness had fled all around them.

Relic had a similar expression, but he took a step forward.

“Honestly, Isabelle?” he asked, and a silence drew out between them. “I’m getting there.”

Cedwyn and Jace were shielded from the downpour, covered by the balcony of the suite on the floor above them, but their view of the dazzling colors beaming up from the mansion walkway was obscured. For they were staring through a waterfall of cold rain, flooding down from the ledge above.

“Well now,” Cedwyn said. “That’s somewhat interesting.”

Jace did not respond. He was hypnotized, transfixed by the sharp contrast to the dark, making him blink the vivid afterimage out of his vision. But the act forced him to recoil and shake.

The answers you want would only mislead you.

First there was a bright flash of green, and the open maw of a minotaur with razor sharp teeth dripping thick ichor. Next came a blast of red, illuminating a strange, desolate valley. A young man stood there by himself, too distant and seen too briefly to seize on any detail.

Knowing changes things – it can be an endless cycle.

Then he was in the Fairlawn Woods, on the road, and everything was as clear as it had been on that fateful night months before. He could see his breath and feel the cold. This was more than a dream. It was more than a flashback. It was real. Like the experience he had in the dining room only, impossibly, more vivid. He felt his head snap back, searching for the glint of comets, but there were none to be seen.

But stay close to your ...

“Hello?” he asked no one, spinning around slowly in search of the surroundings. Jace knew he should be concerned with the dark shadows off the road or deep in the trees. There were minotaurs out there somewhere. He reached down to his crossbows.

... friends

They were gone. He had left them in his room.

That’s what the rune says ...

But that didn’t make sense. What room?

It’ll be good for one more before the storm gets here.

“Relic!”

No answer. Relic wasn’t there, and neither were their horses.

The icy fingers of panic were threatening to grab hold of him, he could feel their paralyzing grasp extending from the blackness, eagerly flexing in anticipation of stealing his heart. He decided to take cover; he needed time to decide what to do. But where?

He took a step, but tripped over something, and he knew before looking what it was: The corpse of Hobson, who had been sent ahead of him to scout the source of the aerial attacks on Fairlawn City. His body was badly mutilated, his neck broken at a horrible angle, his legs shattered.

Jace forced himself to look away, and thought to step closer to the woods when there was, in that moment, a gruesome cracking noise. Horrified, Jace brought himself to look down again, just as the mangled corpse began straightening its legs. One of its eyes was gone, but the other blinked.

And then the broken face smiled wickedly.

“Dabriel,” it hissed. “Jace Dabriel.”

Jace said nothing, his mouth too dry to speak. His heartbeat thundered in his ears.

“Where is my wine skin, Jace?”

“Wha— … what?”

“You took it. Didn’t you? You were disappointed when you found it.” There was a sound like dry twigs cracking as the thing raised its arm, its head staying unnaturally still. “Come … come closer.”
Hardly of his own volition, Jace began to kneel, a prisoner in his body. Gingerly, he dropped to a knee, precisely as he had done all those months ago. Inches away from Hobson’s nearly unrecognizable face, Jace’s senses were saturated with rot.

“Why … why did you not leave coins on my eyes as Relic suggested?” it asked, and Jace realized for the first time that while he heard the words, the corpse spoke without moving its grotesque and useless mouth.

“I … we didn’t have them.”

“Do you think they would have helped me? Do you believe in that nonsense?”

“I don’t know,” Jace said, and he grunted in an attempt to stand.

“Do you believe this is real?”

“I don’t—”

In a flash, the corpse lunged at Jace, grabbing his shoulder in a clamp of dry blood and bone, its jaw falling slack as its head tilted ghoulishly sideways.

“Do you believe!”

“I don’t know!” Jace screamed, and he fell back, landing on the cold tile of the balcony floor.

Cedwyn had moved forward with him so that his hand was still on his shoulder.

“Jace!” he yelled. “You’re fine. Everything’s fine! You’re okay!”

Jace gasped for breath, slapping Cedwyn’s hand away.

“What?” Jace asked, gasping. Then he paused and looked around. He didn’t say another word, only jumped to his feet on a beeline to the bottle, chugging it until Cedwyn ran to him to tear it away.

“Surely two gentlemen such as yourselves can share one bottle of wine,” the calm voice of Artemus Ward remarked as he watched from the doorway.

At first, neither Outrider moved a muscle, each with a hand on the bottleneck. But then, with a hard yank that caused Jace to stumble forward, Cedwyn ripped it away.

Artemus walked out to them slowly, paying them almost no attention as he took a spot on the balustrade between them, leaning mere inches from the wall of water. The rain was falling harder. The storm was getting worse, and now even the balcony was offering insufficient protection from the horizontal rain.

After taking in the view regardless, Artemus turned to Jace.

“You’re lucky,” he said.

There was a long pause.

“... yeah?” Jace asked, warily, still panting and out of sorts.

Artemus motioned out to the angry, white-capped sea.

“One more night and you’d have been caught in this.”

Cedwyn found something interesting about the exchange, what he thought a deliberate lightness in Artemus’ tone. It annoyed him.

“We’ve been out in far worse than this,” he said, slightly hostile.

Artemus turned to him and smiled.

“Yes, of course you have,” he said. “You’re Outriders, after all.”

Although his demeanor was pleasant enough, there was that indefinable sense again, a subtle subtext that hung on his every word like a fog, lingering on the edge of perception.

“Now, if you’ll be so kind as to join me. The Legis awaits.”

“Relic and Isabelle are still in the library,” Cedwyn said.

“No, they are outside,” Artemus corrected, gesturing towards the distant, varicolored walkway. “They will be summoned any moment now,” he added, and he barely got the words out before vanishing into the hall, turning right.

After waiting to make sure he was gone, Cedwyn sighed.

“What do you think?” he asked.

Jace shrugged.

“I think he’s the only chance we’ve got to figure things out.” He took a deep breath and looked to Cedwyn, oblivious to how he sounded. “As far as information goes, he’s our only source. And information is food right now. Sustenance. And ya know what, Cedwyn?”

“No. What?”

“You never bite the hand that feeds … the food in your mouth.”

Then, nodding as if he’d just imparted some valuable wisdom, Jace turned and followed Artemus out.

Cedwyn stayed behind a moment longer, not even trying to digest what he witnessed. There was no point, really. Not yet, at least. He knew all-too-well, however, that it was something much more than a flashback, and that the only real reason it hadn’t been even more debilitating for Jace, was the astronomical alcohol content of the Orinel Lin.

I know that due timer is telling you it’s almost time, he thought, knowing Calloway could hear every word. But not yet.

Making his way to the door through Jace’s suite, he rubbed a hand over his grizzled face, turning to watch one last glint of the lighthouse.

Not yet.

Then, he too was gone; leaving the balcony behind, in fast pursuit of his friend.

STATIC

Chapter Five  (E) Chaos Shrine #2190567 by Dan Hiestand