Chapter 137. Descendent

Ian found himself hurtling through blackness, unsure if the space was just lightless or if the rapid acceleration was darkening his vision. Suddenly he stopped, his head whipping forward. He let out a choked gasp, vertigo turning every movement unsteady.

If that was real, I would’ve died, Ian thought, his heart pounding. Why can I still not see?

He realized with a start that there were small tendrils of shadows at the edge of his vision barely distinguishable from the black. His first instinct was to turn around, but he stopped cold: He felt as though the specter of Death were hovering over his shoulder with a scythe against his neck. Hands trembling, Ian was unsure whether he feared staring upon Death itself or garroting his own throat.

But it’s not Death standing there, Ian thought to himself, chuckling bitterly in his head. Death is a symbol at best, not a man.

“Achemiss,” Ian rasped, forcing the name past his lips. Grimacing with exertion, veins popping in his neck, he managed to turn his head around. As his rational mind expected, there was no figure with a blade to his throat. Instead there was only the form of a titan dressed in shadows, so tall that his head was obscured in deep shadows of the endless sky.

“Hello, Ignatius Julian Dunai,” Achemiss said, his voice resounding throughout the space. Ian blinked and Achemiss was suddenly looming from a different angle, a pale crescent of teeth interrupting the dark monotony. “As I said almost exactly one month prior, I would stop Descendant Ari’s first blow. In exchange, you promised to kill her.”

“No bindings this time?” Ian whispered. During the dream in which he’d met Achemiss, the man had secured him with shadowy constrictions. Additionally, the eccentric had exuded so much pressure that Ian could barely speak, his words mangled by stutters. While the space was currently filled with shadows, Ian was free to move around and could talk without serious strain.

“We’ve entered into a contract as partners,” Achemiss boomed, voice dripping with wry humor. The ascendant’s position shifted; now he was speaking to Ian from behind. “I gave you two gifts with no assurance I’d ever make good on my investment...but I’m pleased with your progress.”

“Is there something you wanted to show me?” Achemiss standing behind was unnerving, but Ian resisted the urge to turn around.

“It’s time to show proof of contract fulfillment, such that there won’t be any confusion if the end result differs from expectations founded on false assumptions.”

A shadow-veiled hand slid out from the ground, stopping inches before Ian’s face. It slashed at the air with long, sharp talons. If Achemiss’ domain had a single window veiled by drapes, the hand’s slash shredded them, sunlight spilling out like radiant blood. White ink consumed the space in a matter of moments.

As the light faded, Ian found himself looking out over the cityscape of Pardin. Even at a distance, the city looked dead. None of its hoverglosses were in service, a skyline once dotted by white pods devoid of motion. Some small clouds of fire could be seen; Ian wondered if people had looted abandoned shops and buildings.

At least people seem to have evacuated, Ian thought, a weight lifting slightly from his chest.

From the vantage point above the city, Ian felt a strong sense of déjà vu. He fixed his gaze on a cluster of clouds above the city, stomach churning with expectation.

“You won’t see unless I...speed up your perception,” Achemiss murmured. “Difficult, but I think necessary. And best of all, temporary!”

Ian felt as though someone was pounding a stake into his skull, but he couldn’t protest: Here, he was reduced to a spectator. He didn’t immediately notice that Achemiss had changed anything: the landscape remained unmoving. Even birds seemed to have sensed the imminent calamity in advance, none visible in the sky for temporal reference.

Suddenly Ian saw a small radiance cut through the clouds. Ari’s body slowly came into view, the clouds parting in a circle around her like unfurling petals, an ornate hammer leading the way. She was as Ian remembered her, a scarlet cape billowing out behind a pale silhouette of gleaming platinum plate and dark hair. She gazed down at the earth with glowing copper eyes rimmed by long lashes, pink lips pressed together with impunity, the barest trace of a sneer visible in the crease of her cheeks. She bathed the area around her in golden light as she descended, moving at a speed Ian recalled being nearly imperceptible. To the naked eye, Ari would have been a flash of fire, a streak of lightning.

Just as Ari pierced the cloud cover, the sky began to distort directly beneath her. If the sky were an artist’s canvas, it looked like someone was pressing against the fabric from behind, leaving a massive imprint. The pressure abated, the sky seeming almost to cave inward...before tree-sized claws shredded it, tearing through reality. A scaled body peeked out from the tatters, only the barest hints of a reptilian form visible behind the flaps of torn sky.

A single hand stretched out, seeming to move with the speed of a sloth. It rent the sky a second time, but was only able to widen the previous gashes. This seemed to be enough: The dark-green hand slipped into the largest gap and pushed forward until its arm could proceed no further. Ian noticed that while the hand was mostly whole, part of it was missing where a patch of scales had been torn away. The wound hadn’t healed but it also wasn’t weeping blood. It clicked in Ian’s brain: The reptilian beast was dead, and Achemiss was controlling it with his practice.

Ari’s eyes widened, her lips curling into a defiant snarl as she put on even more speed, golden light increasing in intensity behind her. The hand extended its index finger, the joint tipped by a single wicked claw. Ari’s hammer met the claw head on, her relatively diminutive size belaying the power behind the strike. The claw shuddered and snapped, the upper nail tip falling in slow-motion to the ground below. With a shudder, the hand ponderously recoiled until it returned to the world beyond the sky. The sundered flaps of sky started to stitch together, sealing the beast away until all that remained was Ari hovering in the air, eyes narrowed in contemplation.

She snorted coldly, then renewed her flight downward, though her speed was much reduced.

Ian snapped back to Achemiss’ shadowy domain, his head still throbbing. Achemiss waved his hand and the pain subsided, the ascendant’s head still obscured by the shadows above.

“Do you agree that the terms of the agreement have been fulfilled?”

Ian nodded, still reeling from the image of Achemiss’ minion sundering the sky. I need to get back to Eury. “I agree.”

“Good. That’s as much as I can interfere–good luck.” Achemiss began to seize with a fit of wild laughter as though he’d just heard a joke, startling Ian with his abruptness. “And if anyone asks, the hand wasn’t my doing!”

Ian blinked and found himself back on the bone wyrm.

“Ian!” Eury called out.

Ian shook his head, disoriented. “How long was I gone that time?”

“Just over thirty seconds.”

Ian’s lip curled up in distaste. “I didn’t think it’d be for so long. Did anything happen while I was out?”

Euryphel pointed out the ribs of the wyrm toward the ground below. “You already ordered your minions and Bluebird to operate independently when you dealt with Kiehl,” Euryphel explained. “They largely kept things stable. I had to manually steer the wyrm with wind when it was clear our opposition was going to take advantage of its straight flight path. As you see, we’re nearing Cunabulus.”

Cunabulus was a city transplanted from the Vermut desert, its buildings and pathways risen from the earth over a smattering of days. It was flat and tough, built for defense; as a consequence, it grew out rather than up, its urban sprawl dominating a full quarter of the Magnestria province.

The fringes of Cunabulus were now coming into view. They could track their progress by the color of the buildings below: Those made from the red sediment of the Vermuthi Desert were generally older buildings or emulating the older style. At the center of Cunabulus, Ian knew that many buildings were original constructions formed by the Sezakuin; further out, the majority of buildings looked like modern dwellings Ian could expect to see anywhere.

Ian looked behind and noted that many of their pursuers had dropped off.

“Eury...where did the defenders go?”

“They began to leave as soon as you broke out of Achemiss’ vision. While I’m sure the Eldemari would love nothing more than your head, at this point, killing you herself isn’t the fastest way to eliminate the Ari problem. Her priority is minimizing the damage to Pardin and bringing Ari to you.”

Ian swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “So the defenders are leading Ari to us? But they have to know we’re going to the Cuna...”

Suddenly Ian felt as though electrocuted, his entire body seizing. Euryphel’s body began to twitch, though he seemed to be resisting, his face contorted with effort, veins popping. He tucked a piece of cloth between his teeth to bite on, his eyes nearly rolling back in his skull.

“What...is...”

“Turn the wyrm around,” Euryphel commanded.

Ian obeyed, the wyrm pivoting left until the convulsions stopped. Ian took in a deep breath of relief, but Euryphel’s expression was grave.

“Maria’s closed off entering Cunabulus. That’s why the pursuers abandoned us: I think they’re affected by her bindings as well. If we go down to the street we’ll see that no hoverglosses are permitted to leave the city bounds, and no citizens are out on the streets. They must have entered a state of emergency as soon as we breached the mainland.”

“We knew it was going to be difficult to attack Cunabulus,” Ian said. “It would’ve been foolhardy if The Eldemari didn’t secure her borders against us. Should contingency J work for this?” Ian cited one of the contingency plans where Euryphel staved off End using his “secret technique,” forcing the source of the oath bindings to release their hold or risk Euryphel controlling their body through his End avatar. Ian had been unconscious when they entered Selejo, but Euryphel had used the same technique then to allow them to shake off the entrance bindings.

“Try moving in any direction than the one you’re going now,” Euryphel replied, his nostrils flaring.

Face severe, Ian prompted the wyrm to veer right...and was immediately beset by powerful convulsions.

“How?” Ian wondered, face aghast. “We’re no longer on the city’s border. You’re saying we’re already ensnared by the End bindings and forced to go away from Cunabulus, no matter where we are in Selejo?”

The prince’s eyes narrowed in concentration. “We’re not going away from Cunabulus, not exactly. We’re going toward Pardin. And unfortunately, my technique doesn’t seem to work for these bindings, and I’m not powerful enough of an End practitioner to break the oaths using standard methods. You can slough them off if you kill yourself, but then you’ll lose the element of surprise later.”

Ian mulled over their situation. They needed to get to Cunabulus and destroy whatever central arrays empowered the Eldemari’s control over her denizens. If they failed, it would mark the final nail in the coffin for Euryphel and the SPU.

“Do we know anything about Ari’s location?”

Euryphel sighed. “No. She could be smashing up Pardin’s downtown or already on her way to your location for all I know. I’m not sure how she’s supposed to find you after her descent.”

Ian didn’t like how far they were going toward Pardin. He even tried slowing down the wyrm but doing so brought on another round of convulsions. Any intent to delay reaching Pardin seemed to trigger them.

“This is so...frustrating,” Ian finally concluded, gritting his teeth.

“I agree. Ian, kill yourself, then me: We need to turn around.”

Ian froze, gaze hollow as he beheld the determined form of the prince. The man’s pale blond hair was windswept, bangs hanging lank around his ears while the rest was tied back in a bun. His sapphire hair ornament glimmered in the rouge sunset, the precious stones appearing mostly black with a ring of blue fading to a white highlight, as though the silver ornament contained pieces shorn from a galaxy. The prince’s blue-green eyes stared back with intent acceptance, appearing almost impassive. He reached out and gripped Ian’s arm.

“There isn’t time to hesitate,” Euryphel said, for once speaking out loud, voice nearly lost to the wind coursing over the wyrm and the muffled shrieks of the pseudo-spirits prowling the protective Death cocoon. “You can bring me back, I know it.”

Ian felt like laughing. “You have no idea if I can bring you back. When you die, your scenarios stop.”

“I believe in you.” The prince snorted and blew a strand of hair from his eyes. “But also, there’s no other viable choice. If we aren’t even in Cunabulus when Ari finds us, I don’t like our chances of kiting her to destroy the Eldemari’s arrays. We need to turn around now.”

Ian closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. “Very well. Fair warning, looking into someone’s soul is invasive.”

Ian could sense that Euryphel’s heart rate increased slightly. The prince blinked, then turned away, his hand falling from Ian’s arm. “So be it.”