There was an army of souls in the desert.
Quynn stood, not quite slack-jawed, and watched them come. Millions of ghostly people were streaming out from burning Trees which had appeared out of nowhere in the sand. They milled about almost randomly, with no particular purpose or intent. But despite their ghostly appearance, they seemed real enough—he could see them kicking up sand, sliding down the dunes, even fighting with each other.
They were real and yet not real, as if the dead were coming back to life.
What could they be? What source of magic was this? Quynn didn’t know—and unless these strange souls decided to attack him, he realized he didn’t care.
He was far more interested in the monsters standing right in front of him.
“Greetings,” one of the wolf-man things said. The voice sounded like a cross between a growl and a cough, but the Eldrim language was surprisingly recognizable, nonetheless. “My name is Falgr.”
He held out his hand, claws and all.
Something about the creature seemed familiar to Quynn. Not that he’d seen anything like it before, just that he’d heard of it. He pictured jungles, a walking stick. Magona, her blind eyes everywhere.
Oh. Of course. Saul had described the very figure standing before him. It was called a rylak, and it had been the intelligent life on Eryn, before the Sundering there.
Not an it, then. More like a he.
“Greetings,” Quynn said. Evidently this Falgr wanted to shake his hand, but the razor sharp claws would prove quite dangerous. Surely these creatures didn’t shake each other’s hands in the human tradition? They must have picked the habit up somewhere. He thought it through, the gesture hanging in the air.
Then he reached for the rylak’s hand.
Falgr withdrew his claws just as Quynn’s hand met his own. Quynn thought he caught an expression of some kind flicker across the wolf-man’s face—respect? He didn’t exactly know how to read the man.
The handshake was firm and brief, then Quynn stepped back. “How are you here?”
“Cariel,” Falgr said. “She took us from Ambarhal and led us here. She kept us on Tanomar for millennia, breeding us like rats. None of us remember our home, but we have kept the stories alive.”
“Damn,” Quynn said. “I’ve been to your home world. Eryn is beautiful, if you like jungles.”
“Cariel kept us training, kept us sharp. She wanted us in fighting shape for when her…war…started.”
“Is that why you’re here in the desert?”
“Yes, though the war never actually happened. All we had was a short fight against a few small elves. Then they defeated Cariel, and her control of us ended.”
“You’re not interested in killing elves?”
“All we want,” Falgr said, “is to go home.”
“That’s all I want,” Quynn said. “Perhaps we can be of some use to each other.”
“I managed to send a message before her soulbind made me come here,” Falgr said. “It was a word of warning. I believe I sent it to you. Are you Tarathiel?”
Quynn almost said no, but then he realized that the answer would be wrong. Quynn was Tarathiel—albeit half of him. Perhaps there would be something to gain for owning up to his original self. He didn’t want to reintegrate with Trey—he would never do that—but it couldn’t hurt to be honest, here.
“I am Tarathiel,” he said. “Thank you for the message.” He hadn’t read the message, of course, but he might as well play the part.
“We have heard that Tarathiel knows great magic,” Falgr said. “We had hoped you might be able to grant us our return.”
“Great magic,” Quynn said. “Yes. Yes, I believe I can help.”
Magic was what had brought everyone here. Magic was what had created all this conflict. It was why Quynn was half a person—the better half, but still not whole. Magic and splinters were dangerous toys, perhaps not best played with.
A new rylak appeared suddenly, stepping in from somewhere to Quynn’s right. He looked bedraggled, possibly injured, and he hadn’t been standing with the others. The figure towered over him, teeth bared, claws extended.
“Ah,” the new rylak said, “I see you have finally come to pay us a visit. My name is Talon.”
Quynn narrowed his eyes. Something about Talon didn’t seem right.
* * * * *
Elanil hadn’t slept. How could she? So much was wrong with the world. New San Francisco had been destroyed. The Twins were still on the loose, and no one was any closer to locating this Imprisoner they were so keen on finding. Worse, the Twins couldn’t be defeated. Not with ordinary magic, anyway, or any technology they had. Only a mysterious power that no one understood had affected Nelenor, and that same power had killed Beam.
Rylan was gone.
He had hurt her, and he had left her. He was too dangerous to contain.
But all his magic was gone, now.
So much was wrong with the world.
So she sat, huddled beneath a tree, shivering. It had rained, but she had let it fall, soaking her to the bone. She couldn’t bring herself to do anything more.
Rylan was gone.
“Elanil?” a voice said, and she looked up to see Phoenix approaching. The woman’s eyes were red, her hair wet and bedraggled. She looked like she hadn’t slept, either.
“Ho,” Elanil said, weakly.
Phoenix sat beside her. “I can’t believe he left.”
Elanil was silent, trying not to cry.
“What did he mean in his note?” Phoenix asked. “What was he apologizing for?”
“He…” Elanil wasn’t sure what to say. Could she really tell his mother what had happened between them? What had almost happened? “His magic is—was—out of control. He mindmastered me. He started to make me do things I…did not want to do.”
“Oh, no,” Phoenix said, her voice filled with dread. “No, no, no.”
“He didn’t mean it,” Elanil said. “The magic was just too much for him. He said the Aspects all bleed together.”
“It sounds like emotion got the better of him,” Phoenix said. “Perhaps there are still things left that I can teach him.”
“I would like that,” Elanil said, laying her head on Phoenix’s arm. “I wonder if Nelenor has killed him yet.”
“Shush,” Phoenix said. “We have to stay positive. There’s a reason he went to Nelenor, and it wasn’t just to get away from you.”
“It may have been.”
Phoenix put her arm around Elanil. “He loves you,” she said. “I’ve seen it on his face. He left so he could protect you.”
“I don’t want him to protect me.”
“I know. But I think he has another plan. He might actually have a way to stop this Twin from hurting us.”
“Do you really think so?”
“I hope so,” Phoenix said, squeezing her. “I hope so for all our sakes.”
Another face materialized in the gloom, stepping out of the trees. Imra.
“Couldn’t sleep either?” she asked, coming over to sit beside Phoenix.
“I can’t believe the city is just gone,” Phoenix said. “What else could these Twins do, if they had a mind? Are entire planets within their reach?”
“Their machine created magic,” Imra said. “There’s no end to what they can do.”
“All those underkids,” Elanil said. “Who will answer for their deaths?”
“We will,” Imra said. “We who couldn’t stop what was coming.”
“I hate magic,” Elanil said.
“I started hating magic a long time ago,” Phoenix said.
They were silent for a time. Birds began to wake up around them in the forest, sparrows and starlings twittering. A pair of squirrels moved about overhead, scolding each other. The sun was beginning to rise, the camp stirring. There was still life down here, Elanil knew. The world had not yet ended. Why, then, could she only think of death?
“I miss him,” she said.
“I miss him, too,” Phoenix said.
“I don’t understand what that red magic was,” Imra said. “How could the Soul Tree just kill Beam like that?”
“It hit me, too,” Phoenix said. “I could feel it inside me, as if it were tearing at my soul.”
“What even is a soul?”
Phoenix shrugged. “I don’t know, but apparently it powers all this magic.”
“There were souls in that Tree,” Elanil said. She shivered—both from the cold and from the memory.
“Poor Beam,” Phoenix said. “To lose two people she loved in so short a time. I can’t imagine what that must have been like. I hope she’s happy, wherever she is now.”
“Do you think there is a beyond?” Imra asked.
“There was, before the Twins were released. But now? Now I don’t know.”
“I guess we’ll all find out, sooner or later.”
“Maybe sooner,” Elanil said. “If Rylan isn’t successful.”
“Elanil,” Phoenix said, “are you okay? Did my son hurt you?”
“He almost killed me,” Elanil said, remembering how the branch had felt piercing through her body. “But I’m stronger than I appear. I can heal myself without any primewood, now.”
“You soulbound a Tree.”
Elanil nodded. “Rylan made me do it, before we left. I guess he’s the reason I’m okay, now.”
“Emotions run strong in our family,” Phoenix said.
“How well did you know his father?”
“Not well. And anyway, the person I knew wasn’t Quynn—it was an illusion. He was putting on an act.”
“I knew him,” Imra said. “A little, at least. I watched him fight. He was vicious. Evil. Selfish.”
“Wasn’t he working for Lorelei?” Elanil asked.
Imra nodded. “And Lorelei was working for Tarathiel, in the end—even if she didn’t remember it.”
“Weird,” Elanil said. “Strange how it comes full-circle. But how do the Twins factor in?”
“What do you mean?” Imra asked.
“I mean, why are they here? What do they want, besides the Imprisoner? They must have arrived here for a reason, back when they were imprisoned.”
“I don’t think anybody knows,” Imra said. “If they did, it’s been lost to memory.”
“Maybe that’s Rylan’s plan,” Elanil said.
“What is?”
“Maybe he’s going to ask them what they want.”
“What should we do?” Phoenix asked.
“You should come with me,” a man’s voice said, and Orym stepped out of the shadows.
