35 Impossibilities

DESOOL UNBARRED THE door, hefting the crossbar free. Aiyana held the dagger he had given her in a tight grip. The first to enter was a dark-skinned woman with white hair. To Aiyana’s relief and annoyance, on the stranger’s heels was her Darken. She put the dagger aside on a battered wooden stool. Her anger hadn’t cooled enough after her argument with Threadfin.

Behind the women came Podral Pole, a man she had sent to watch over Threadfin. She intended to have words with him. Next came Davard Tystrus, a fat conclavist who sweated no matter the season. His presence should’ve been odd but not to her. It solved the mystery of Desool’s master.

Pole walked straight over to her brother and whispered something. Threadfin seemed uncertain, shaking his head, and backing away. Whatever was that about?

‘What is done is done,’ said the white-haired woman to Threadfin. If Aiyana hadn’t known better, she would’ve thought her brother sorrowful, embarrassed.

‘Mistakes were made,’ the woman continued, ‘and not just by you, but for the right reasons. Much is risked, and too much is at stake to linger on such things.’

Her brother gave her a nod, as if in thanks, and then started on sight of Davard, his eyes widening.

Last came a woman she didn’t know, lithe with dark brown hair. Her pale skin appeared blistered, and she moved weakly, but with determination and judging by her face, a smouldering anger.

The white-haired woman turned and spoke to Aiyana. ‘Greetings, my lady. I am called, Scatter. I believe you lost someone?’

Cathya’s scowl lasted for a moment before she ran to Aiyana and hugged her tight. Aiyana tried to push her away, not at all certain she trusted her anymore. Cathya was having none of it. She had the cheek to laugh, and Aiyana struggled not to join her. Damn it but I love her. Despite everything. I love her.

‘I’m all out of poisoned needles, Yana. I don’t know whether to bend you over my knee or kiss you.’ Then she added in a whisper, ‘Maybe both?’ She pulled back a little to examine her indignant charge. ‘I knew you would come to Byrsa, but it is chaotic here. I never thought I’d find you until I ran into these Aidari. They knew where you’d be.’

Well, now, how had they known that? It must’ve been Desool, which meant his master also worked with the Aidari. Now that she hadn’t known. ‘I’m not running, Cath. I’m warning you. I’m not going to let you—’

‘I know, I know. Like I said,’ she added, holding out her hands, ‘I’m all out of tricks.’

Aiyana frowned; she felt uncertain if she believed her.

‘Um, this is your Darken?’ said Threadfin, who then held up his hands at a dark look from Cathya. He seemed like himself again, sat on the table, one scrawny knee to his chin. ‘I always suspected Rylana, to be honest, not that it matters. Bah, don’t mind me,’ he added when they both stared at him. He resumed glaring at Davard Tystrus.

‘What changed your mind?’ Aiyana asked her, hoping to keep her from Threadfin. She feared if those two got together they might concoct a plan to kidnap her again. One was as grolg-headed as the other.

‘It was your infamous stubbornness,’ Cathya said with a grin.

‘Where’s Turol?’

Cathya glanced at Davard for some reason, before lowering her gaze. ‘I will return to Icarthya and kill Avitus. It is what I should’ve done from the start. That woman is far more dangerous than you know. Killing her may be beyond me, but I will try. Perhaps, I can weaken her enough ...’

It was Aiyana’s turn to shake her head, giving Cathya a sad smile. ‘Now who is being foolish? You know what I am, the reason we exist. It must be me. I don’t care who or what she is. They are my people she threatens, and I’ve hidden behind you too long. However, I do want you along to watch my back.’

Cathya looked as though she wanted to argue, but held her tongue and gave a reluctant nod. Her face suggested she planned to carve a path to Liviana for her, and then carve Liviana herself before Aiyana got within a mile.

Desool laid food on the table, emptying a hessian sack that had been lying in the corner. Davard took a seat on an old stool, rubbing his hands and set about helping himself, producing a dagger and carving cheese. Pole sat on a stack of wooden boxes by the far wall appearing at ease. Lorn wandered back and forth close to Threadfin, seeming agitated whenever she glanced at him. Her brother, however, didn’t notice as he eyed the fat conclavist.

‘Could someone please tell me what he’s doing here?’ asked Threadfin, one eye now on Lorn as he pointed at Davard. So, he had noticed.

The conclavist’s dagger paused, halfway through the cheese block. ‘Ah, Fin, my old friend—’

‘Don’t you dare say I was always your favourite,’ Threadfin snapped. ‘I know you tried warning me in Lame. That job, it was all an elaborate ploy to force me to leave the city.’ Threadfin leaned over the fat man’s shoulder. ‘It was easy enough to figure out, but why didn’t you just tell me it plain, eh, Crawl?’

Davard winced. For the first time Aiyana had known him, he seemed unsure of himself. ‘There were exemplar spies everywhere,’ said Davard, ‘and we didn’t always know who they were. Had I told you outright, I’d have been a marked man, and you wouldn’t be here now.’

The conclavist then turned on his stool to eye his old subordinate. ‘As you may have guessed, my role as prime was a cover. I was there, like others, to watch over you. I apologise for nothing. Besides, you gave me the pox. Had to get a healer and they don’t come cheap. I don’t like the pox. You like the pox, Fin?’ The conclavist turned back to the table, and proceeded to stuff his face.

‘Yeah, well,’ said Threadfin, ‘ancient history, I suppose. Fine then, but who is our other friend here?’ He gestured at Desool. ‘Is he yours?’

‘Our friend,’ answered the conclavist after a moment, spitting crumbs and gesturing with a damp kerchief at the imp, ‘is one of my spies.’ Aiyana smiled. Davard, as the imperial spy master, would have his sources everywhere. None ever suspected the fat sweating politician was anything other than what he seemed. It was news to her that he had posed as a prime, obviously in Lame. He certainly got about.

‘His faction has sent us information on Nephilim movements for decades,’ Davard continued. ‘There are many splits among them. Not all support Og or his spawn. Yes, yes, I’ve learned his language, musical and far too complex for any of you lesser minded folk.’

Lorn rolled her eyes as though used to hearing such talk, but Scatter’s brows rose a fraction. Pole appeared as though he wanted to start an argument. Aiyana knew the conclavist’s arrogant manner, however, and was unbothered by it.

‘You see,’ continued the master spy in a lecturing tone, ‘the clans are in turmoil. Og of Bashan is dying and his sons are at war with each other. Something was happening among the clans that had us concerned, but it wasn’t until Liviana Avitus entered the picture that we Aidari began to realise what.’

‘What, you’re Aidari too?’ Threadfin’s face was pure incredulity, jaw dropping open. ‘I mean, but you’re, ah ... you’re ...’

‘What?’ Davard spat cheese, while dabbing his glistening forehead. ‘Fat, was that the word you wanted? A glutton, lardy, or were you going to just go with plain old plump? What did you expect? That we’d all be young muscled heroes with flowing golden hair, bards singing our glories and virtues, a train of young goggling girls and, and ...’ He spluttered, unable to finish.

Threadfin held up his hands, trying but failing to keep the smirk from his face. That was more like the boy she knew. ‘Okay, okay, not saying nothing. Heroes come in all sizes, and shapes, even damp, round, touchy ones with big foreheads. You’re not related to this imp here, are you?’

Lorn barked a laugh and gave Threadfin an appreciative thump, which nearly knocked him over. Davard glared at them both, daring another word, before stuffing a wedge of cheese into his mouth.

With a snap of displaced air, the conclavist disappeared. Instantly, he reappeared by the door, munching on his cheese, still glaring. A second later, he was back at the table. He mopped his brow. His cheeks were inflamed, but his smile was broad as he took in Threadfin’s speechless visage.

‘Useful in my line of work. I can cover great distances too. Not bad for a glutton, eh Fin?’

‘Most Aidari,’ said Scatter to Aiyana, ‘study the old magics contained in Nalrost’s writings. We are weaker than our forebears, but anyone can learn. However, it usually takes a lifetime to master just one skill. Together we are strong. None of us can match the power you both possess, however.’

‘Hah,’ said Lorn with a nod towards Davard. ‘If you can call that a skill. Mention a pie sale in Tystria, and he can be there in under twenty minutes. Pies beware.’

Davard’s glower deepened in colour.

The food had to have come from the legions’ supplies, of course. Rumours suggested they had several stuffed warehouses. Likely, Davard had used his talent to get in and out, just as he’d used it to travel between Lame and Icarthya. The Spectrum forbid, if he should go without cheese for a day. She would see her people fed once she’d overthrown Liviana. ‘That harlot,’ she then said, ‘is controlling the giants, am I right? It’s her, drawing them here somehow.’

It was Scatter, who answered. She’d already taken a seat at the battered table, and appeared at ease. ‘Liviana is of the Fallen, angels fallen from grace if you will. Yes, she controls the Nephilim leader.’

Cathya leaned against the fractured wall close to Aiyana, arms folded. ‘She is also leader of the harpies. Her angelic name is, Andromeda.’ All eyes turned to her, no few of them with a look of surprise. No doubt, Aiyana’s own were wide as plates.

Well, it explained several things, especially her Darken’s insistence she run and hide. A harpy was something right out of myth and legend, but somehow, she believed it. She caught Cathya’s gaze and smiled. The woman’s nod was rueful. Cathya had known what Liviana was, but how?

‘When she was in Eladaldor,’ Scatter continued, ‘she stole the Shathra Stone and brought it north. The Nephilim tried to follow, to take it back, but the storms killed most of them. We believe Gog had been rebuilding his army for a second attempt, though he had to contend with his brothers first. They blamed him for losing the Stone. The conflicts that followed delayed him, and perhaps she was waiting for the right moment. We do not think Gog has much of his own will left at this point.’

‘But why does she want the throne,’ Aiyana demanded, ‘if she’s just going to draw the entire horde down upon us? They will devastate all Adalalcas. She also knows that Sarscha will oppose her. There will be nothing and no one left to rule. It doesn’t make any sense.’

‘Depends,’ said Pole, ‘on what she’s trying to achieve. I doubt the Icarthian throne is enough for her.’

‘What,’ said Threadfin slowly as though afraid to speak the words, ‘is the Shathra Stone exactly?’

‘We don’t know,’ said Pole with a shrug.

Davard gulped the remainder of the cheese. He had devoured an entire block in minutes, and was now tearing at some bread. ‘Oh, but we do know.’ He was sweating again, dabbing his head, as he ate. ‘It is an impossibility.’

‘It is not,’ said Scatter. ‘It is real.’

The fat man’s fist dropped to the table with a thump. ‘Not what I meant, no, not at all. It is an impossibility, an enigma. You must understand, none outside of Raddhon should know of it, except for myths and legends well wide of the mark.’ He sighed, eyeing each of them before continuing. ‘The Shathra Stone is revered and guarded by the Nephilim because of what it contains.’ He then proceeded to chew on a piece of dried salted beef.

‘Well, then,’ said Threadfin, looking impatient after several moments went by without elaboration. ‘Out with it. I hate a tale of suspense, makes me itch worse than maggots. What does it contain? Fig biscuits?’

Davard glared at the viral before rubbing his fat fingers together. ‘The Spectrum of Existence.’

Silence greeted his words before Lorn barked a nervous laugh, though Aiyana noted Scatter’s face remained impassive. Pole’s had turned pale.

‘That’s impossible,’ said Aiyana. No doubt, her own face was a mixture of confusion and disbelief. The Spectrum contained all of existence, both seen and unseen. ‘We exist within the Spectrum right now. This world is a tiny part of it, a speck. How can the Spectrum be inside a stone sitting in Icarthya?’ Where would the Nephilim have even gotten such an object? Her mind rebelled at the thought, unable to process it.

Davard threw his hands in the air. ‘Isn’t that what I said? Haven’t you halfwits been listening? It is an impossibility, and Liviana Avitus has it. Just because your brains cannot handle the concept, doesn’t mean it isn’t true. That woman holds existence itself in her hands.’

‘Well,’ muttered Threadfin, fiddling with the silver crucifix, ‘that’s all of us doomed then.’ The comment earned him another glare, and shocked glances from the others. None of it appeared to bother him. ‘She destroys the Stone, ends us all. Probably for the best, eh? World’s all gone to the pit of Grim’s bowels anyhow.’ He gave his head a little shake. ‘I mean, what happens if she drops it? Does it bounce?’

‘No, no, no,’ Davard snapped, getting up from the table to pace in that lumbering way of his. He was sweating profusely, waving his arms as he spoke. ‘The object itself is indestructible, or how else could it contain something as precious as existence? But, could she unlock its secrets ... well, let’s just say she would have a power unmatched, though it might also destroy her in the process.’ He continued pacing. ‘Yes,’ he then muttered to himself, ‘she would need a buffer ... ah, so that’s it.’

‘Well,’ said Aiyana impatiently, ‘can she learn to unlock it herself? Is that a real risk?’

Davard shrugged. ‘I’ve no doubt it’s exactly what she hopes to do. The fool woman likely thinks she can rule the entire Spectrum. However, for that, she needs the Key.’

‘Which is ...?’ Threadfin began.

‘You.’

Her brother’s mouth opened as he began to laugh, but all that came out was a gurgle before he shut it. ‘Huh?’ he then managed, ‘I’m ... what?’

‘You, Threadfin Todralan, and yes, you might as well wear your true name since it’s all a matter now, even if it doesn’t fit ... your magic is the Key that Liviana, or rather Andromeda, needs to control existence. You are the most powerful undead mage to have ever existed, but that isn’t the real reason. It’s what your magic, does.’

‘Yes,’ said Scatter, nodding, leaning in over the table. Her long white hair hung about her face as she stared at something no one else saw. ‘It makes sense.’ She glanced at Threadfin. ‘Your talent is to pierce the fabric of existence, to see, and also to enter other worlds, other realities. With such an ability, you could unlock the Shathra Stone and give access to anyone who sought it. It would mean, depending on the skills and resilience of the user, unrestricted access to the entire Spectrum.’

‘Why,’ said Lorn in a small voice, ‘would anyone want to do that?’ She had stopped her pacing and was staring at Threadfin. Aiyana felt herself shiver. The woman’s eyes; pain and what looked like remorse filled them, although, for his part, Threadfin didn’t look happy either.

‘To control the Spectrum, to rule it, like an overlord,’ suggested Podral.

‘Or to destroy it,’ said Scatter. ‘Nalrost wrote of a Darkness, consuming worlds. It must be what is behind all of this.’

To Aiyana, either possibility was terrifying. Who was Nalrost? ‘They just need Threadfin and it’s all over.’ She wished she’d been able to hide her brother somewhere he could never have returned from. She loved him, but he was now a threat to existence itself. The thought shocked her. The look on Lorn’s face suggested the girl would need serious watching.

‘I would never do such a thing.’ Threadfin appeared as agitated as Lorn. ‘Why would I? I didn’t want to learn my talent in the first place, not that it’s worth all this fuss.’ He was shaking his head as though denying it all. Aiyana couldn’t blame him.

‘Liviana wouldn’t ask, lad,’ said Pole. ‘At least, now we know what she wants your soul for. It’s why we cannot allow you to face her. Your tackling Gog is risk enough.’

Threadfin grimaced, and glanced at Aiyana. ‘They already tried. In Lame, someone came after me with a ... blade. Some sort of ritual. Tried again here in Byrsa, or at least, he wanted to. It was Pen Luthus, who just happens to be a chimera would you believe.’

Aiyana blinked at the news, uncertain what to make of it. What was a chimera? There was too much she didn’t understand here. She half turned, remembering the dagger behind her on the stool.

Lorn moved quick as a slinkt, and in seconds was face to face with her. The woman reached around her and picked up the double-bladed weapon. ‘Well, well, now how did you come by this?’

‘Hey,’ cried Threadfin, staring at the dagger with widening eyes.

Aiyana said nothing, but her eyes flickered towards Desool. Davard had finished eating. He just sat there, staring at them, face unreadable.

‘A soul shard,’ Cathya breathed, ‘and if I’m not mistaken not just any shard, but a soul splice.’ She stared at the imp as though disbelieving.

Aiyana felt confused. How could she know anything about such a weapon? Where was she getting her information?

Lorn fingered the dagger a moment, and handed it back. The left blade glowed dark blue while the right shone as Aiyana’s hand touched the bone hilt. It was as though the dagger knew her. ‘You will need this if you are to defeat, Avitus. Such weapons are rare. I do not believe you having it is mere chance.’

‘What’s so special about it?’ Aiyana asked.

‘It is an angelic weapon,’ said Cathya in a quiet voice, still eyeing it with a surprised expression. ‘With a normal soul shard, an Angelborn may give a portion of their spirit to the blade. The more they give, the greater the weapon’s potency, but it also weakens the donor. They are linked, Angelborn and shard, as one. An entire soul given to such a blade is rare, but makes the most lethal of shards. It is also forbidden.

‘A handful, were designed to separate an angelic spirit from its human host, among other things.’ She stared at the dagger, and then looked up at Lorn. ‘The girl is wrong. It was not meant for you, but perhaps you can still use it. I believe it will take both you and your brother to defeat her.’

‘Who are you?’ Threadfin asked, staring at the Darken as though never seeing her before. ‘There’s something about you,’ said Threadfin in a low voice. ‘You remind me of ...’ He seemed on the point of running of all things.

Aiyana took a step back from her Darken, searching the woman’s face. Yes, she saw it too, an aura like a thin white glow surrounding the woman, almost imperceptible. How had she never noticed it before?

Cathya had the grace to look abashed, but she held her head high. She was about to answer when Scatter spoke first. ‘She is Angelborn, of course, from a faction who seek to help us.’

Cathya glanced at Aiyana, but then bowed her head. ‘I couldn’t tell you, Yana. There were four of us assigned to protect you. Our job was to keep you from harm.’

‘Assigned by whom?’

‘The Seraphim Council,’ said Scatter, ‘or so I believe it is called. I’ve never heard of four Angelborn sent to protect anyone in this manner. Aiyana, your importance in this war cannot be overstated, nor your brother’s. You must be careful.’

‘We knew of the threat posed by Liviana and Pen Luthus,’ Cathya continued. ‘They were not the first, but we handled those. We were to thwart their efforts, and kill them if necessary. To date, we’ve not proven too successful.’

‘They are both here, aren’t they,’ said Davard in a gruff voice, ‘and in once piece?’

Aiyana didn’t know how to feel. She didn’t know this woman at all. ‘I will not let anyone stop me.’

Her brother appeared uncomfortable, eyeing the splice as though it might attack him. Still holding the weapon, Aiyana made for the door. ‘We cannot waste time. I must get back to the capital. We can still save lives.’

‘We will need to secure mounts,’ said Cathya. ‘We can make Icarthya in six days, five if we push hard.’

‘No, no, no,’ Davard snapped. ‘Liviana is here, in Byrsa. She has taken residence at the Blue Palace. She will have the Stone with her, though she will have taken measures to protect it.’ His face flushed as they all stared at him. ‘Don’t ask me how I know. I said it, and that should be enough. The Nephilim will not bother with the capital. Here is their target.’ Threadfin nodded and Davard noticed, adding, ‘Liviana forced you here on purpose, Fin. She won’t wait long, not with the Stone and the Key in one place. You should not have come here at all.’

‘Then he should leave Byrsa, and get far away,’ said Aiyana, but her hopes died as she noticed her brother’s face.

‘Only he has the power to defeat Gog,’ said Pole, more sombre than his usual mood. ‘That is the dangerous part of all this. He cannot run, but if he fails, we all lose. No, he shouldn’t have come, but he had to.’

‘He could’ve waited until he was stronger,’ Lorn grumbled. ‘His impatience will be the end of us.’ She scowled when Pole gave her a warning look, and stuck out her tongue at him.

‘Two remain,’ said Scatter. ‘Nalrost knew it would be this way. If either of you perish, I think the world will follow. I now agree with your Darken. Both of you are vital in defeating Andromeda. Remember, Gog is just her weapon.’

‘Well, that’s it then,’ said Aiyana. Oh, Spectrum above, let him survive this, she thought. ‘I will not keep her waiting.’ She had been in the Blue Palace once as a girl, a building with decor of lapis lazuli and blue mother of pearl. It was not a massive complex, but it was unique. It wasn’t used much, save for whenever the imperator had visited, although the governor’s family lived there. Liviana, Andromeda, would set a trap for them there.

Outside, cries arose amid a thundering sound. It was different to that of battle. It sounded like a festival.

‘Your sister,’ announced Davard, ‘has arrived, and not a moment too soon. She got my message then.’

His message? He had delivered her missive on her instructions, although Sarscha wasn’t to know it was Aiyana’s request. ‘Well,’ she said, shooting the spymaster a glare, ‘we’d best get moving.’

Davard rose, and grabbed her hand across the table. ‘You should meet with her. Coordinate with your sister. She can give you enough soldiers to storm the palace. You will need to distract Andromeda to get close.’

‘No,’ said Aiyana, her voice neutral. ‘My sister will have the defence of this city to see to. She will not need interference from me, and I will not need hers. That she is here is enough.’

‘You cannot deny blood.’

Aiyana pried his pudgy fingers off her, and knew her cold glare had turned to ice, because he took a step back. She fought to control her emotions, knowing he was right, and turned to her brother. ‘You will meet with her, Fin. Coordinate our defence with the imperial marshal. I cannot spare the time, not now. Perhaps ... someday, when this is all over.’

‘Right,’ said Threadfin, skin flaking as he rubbed his palms together. ‘We’d best be at it then. I’ve got a lovely giant to be seeing to, and another family reunion. To be honest, I’m not sure what scares me more. Good luck, sis,’ he added with a grin, which faded quickly. ‘I’ll try not to be too long in coming to rescue you.’

‘I imagine it will be the other way around, little brother. I hope you know what you’re doing,’ she added, as he moved close to embrace her. She almost wished they could run away.

Desool had opened the door and the thunder of cries wafted in. A din that sounded too cheerful for what was to come. Perhaps the city believed itself saved. She hoped it wouldn’t be long before it was true.

‘Know what I’m doing?’ asked Threadfin, giving her his cheekiest grin, ‘Aiy, I haven’t a bloody clue.’