Chapter Thirteen

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Follow My Feet

“?????????”

??????

Ailmar took a step forward, right to the threshold between the room and hallway so that his face was inches from what had now taken on the appearance of a featureless silhouette to all who saw it. For several moments both figures were still, the legendary Outrider and shadow locked in vehement standoff.

And the silhouette vanished.

Cedwyn was standing next to Duchenne now.

Jace was still lying on the floor, propped up on his elbows.

“I’ve seen them before,” Cedwyn said. “Almost always as silhouettes like that. But recently they’ve been appearing as,”
“People you know … or sometimes as people you knew,” Orin said. “Yes, I am aware.”

It was then that cedwyn realized Jace was still on the floor and he turned to walk over to him.

“You alright?” he asked, offering his hand down to him.

“I really must be an idiot.”

“No you’re not,” Cedwyn said as he helped lift Jace to his feet. “I mean, you are but whatever.”

Jace smiled.

“What was it?” He asked, looking past Cedwyn to Duchenne.

“What are they would be the more accurate question,” Ailmar said, still staring out into the hallway.

The Outrider waited a long time, as long as he had at any other point in the evening.

“Have you ever sworn you heard someone call your name, only to realize there was nobody there?” He turned around to face them. “Thought a friend had said something when they hadn’t?”

Jace shrugged.

“Yeah.

“That’s what they are,” Duchenne said. “They are the shadows of the ghosts.

“Can they attack us whenever they want?” Jace asked. “I don’t understand. Why can’t they just wait for us to walk out of here?”

“It’s the harnessed force of the Crossroads no longer contained. A force constantly focusing… increasing in potency, transitioning from an essence on the peripherals of cognitive sense to a form capable of interacting with this world.”

“I’m sure that just answered your question,” Cedwyn whispered to Jace.

“It was our talk of the Crossroads and the energy of those thoughts that allowed it to take shape in our presence,” Duchenne went on.

“The Sun Kingdom was a place of mind,” Jace said, coming to an understanding.

The Crossroads were built with the remnants of its power.

Ailmar nodded.

“The Overshadows will be drawn to our cerebration in places like this, where the Veil is thinnest, and their presence is stronger than I anticipated. Here in Mirror Lake especially, where so many battles were fought.” Duchenne said. “But it is a discussion we must finish nonetheless. And so I suggest we continue from a more …secure area.”

“I was hoping you’d say that,” Jace said.

“Wait until daylight to finish this task,” Duchenne said. “Or for whatever passes as daylight in this place.” He gestured to Cedwyn with the chalk. “In the exact fashion I have done. In every room, every area of The Faraway Cry.”

“It’ll only be with regular fire,” Cedwyn reminded. “Believe it or not, we don’t have the ability to conjure up those water flames.”

“Yes. Well, that will have to do.”

Duchenne tossed the chalk to Cedwyn who caught it in mid-air.

Jace finally lit the cigarette in his mouth and Duchenne exited the room. He had always smoked more when Cedwyn was around, but he couldn’t have said why.

“Only a few Tears, as far as I know, were able to survive Arkhelan’s purge,” he said, walking briskly back down the hall to his room. The sound of the lute and some of The Nlades were laughing came into range. “The rest were noblemen of the High Council who were fortunate to have missed its final … session. As I said, Arkhelan and his followers were closing in. The Luna Scarlet Monks thought they could protect them.”

“Calloway told us you were held up in an apothecary,” Jace said, walking beside Cedwyn, careful to keep up.

“Yes. And in addition to its access to the Crossroads, there were still ample supplies of several herbs and reagents that at the time of their arrival were still useful in warding off the plague. And later, when the time came, they used them to cover our trail.”

They crossed over the chalk line that someone had long ago drawn on the floor, hooking right into Ailmar’s’s room. Jace was the last to enter, risking one last look back down the dark hallway.

“But with Calloway …” Orin said, hesitating just a moment as he made his way over to the bed. “… it was like trying to hold back a tidal wave in those … dark Crossroads. It consumed him in seconds. Absorbed his mind and the minds of the refugees with him so … absolutely.”

The legendary Outrider sat, leaning forward and resting his forearms on his legs exactly as he had when Jace and Cedwyn first entered. Jace went over to the table again, flicking ash from his cigarette and sitting in the chair beside his pack. Cedwyn, too, made his way to the corner. He threw his gray cloak on top of the table but remained standing as Ailmar continued.

“You saw what it did to Calloway in your vision.” Duchenne looked up. “Same as it’s done to others along your journey, but I pray you forgive the memory. He was a very great man.”

Jace nodded.

“I believe you,” he said.

His reaction seemed to satisfy the elder Outrider and once more he looked away as if conjuring the images around him. “Escaping Mazhira, with Irenus in fast pursuit, was facing a storm of hallucination, a maelstrom of unholy delusion; of impious rationale in those catacombs.”

He took a disc off the gramophone that Jace had not noticed before. Or perhaps it hadn’t even been there. There was a pineapple on the table and that certainly hadn’t been.

Duchenne, who had begun to take his first steps to the door stopped in his tracks. “No line at all,” he corrected. As he finished speaking, the sound of crackling flame filled the small room all at once. At first, Jace wondered if the wind had changed, altering the angle of rain against the windowpane.

Then he noticed the glow from Ailmar’s right hand, fluctuating in a series of seemingly random color in the exact fashion his eyes had earlier.

“Is it coincidence that Agaron’s best and brightest are immune to this plague? That they have arisen to lend aid as anointed soldiers?” he asked.

Neither man had any interest in answering the rhetorical questions; staring instead at the radiant spectacle that was the Outrider’s rainbow knuckles.

“There is no coincidence as you know the word defined. There are no chance conveniences,” he said, touching the air.
Wherever the Outrider touched, a gold flare sparked, suspended before, to Jace’s wonderment, each expanded into three live action scenes hovering in the air before them. The first showed Galad Vigrath limping up to the Greywall, while on the ramparts, Khayn laid his arm on Freidrich’s bow. Beside it, Khayn and Raven were at the Greywall, sharing a brandy over the table in the Captain’s Lodge. The last in the sequence was from earlier; in the very room they were standing.

“Do not dismiss this neat package of events as perfect timing or of luck. Understand that there are other forces at work.”

Jace could not take his eyes away from these marvels, and gave no sign of hearing Duchenne speak as he watched himself tell Freidrich that he was going down to meet the nobleman.

Ailmar smiled again.

“Or don’t, it’s your decision really.”

“What is this?” Jace asked, watching his chair crash to the floor when he abruptly jumped to his feet.

“The stages of a plan,” Duchenne said as he too now turned to watch his conjuring. “Of a plan that rests on your shoulders.”
The visages shimmered and then disappeared. Once again, Jace and Cdwyn’s eyes were on the Outrider.

“But we can no longer depend on such fortune. Not anymore. The balances that hold sway are tipping and towards what I cannot be sure. The effects are already beginning to show. Ailmar brought his other hand up so that he gripped both of Jace’s shoulders.

“Arkhelan did not mean for anyone from the hermitages or High Council to survive.”

There was emotion welling in Raven’s eyes. The reaction of a man who had kept his doubts and fears locked away for too long. It was the reaction of a man no longer in the position of highest authority and knowledge.

“When Galad Vigrath reached the Greywall, inadvertent as it might have been, he set in motion the events that would prove the great Captain Ahara’s immunity, giving rise to the soldier who might vanquish the invincible Ordaeus.” Orin narrowed his eyes, placing special emphasis on what he said next. “And so the High Council prevailed despite Arkhelan’s plan.”

From behind Raven, came the sound of Khayn’s voice. “Wait a minute, what? The invincible who?”

“When I survived to reach Inn Twilight, that too was a miracle, and so the capital’s hermitage prevailed in spite of Arkhelan.”
Raven took a deep breath. “But you’ve said it yourself. These events, the convenient way they’ve fallen into place,” he paused, focusing his thoughts. “The forces behind them are dying.” Raven turned at that moment towards Khayn as if suddenly realizing how vulnerable he had become.
The captain didn’t seem to care.

The assassin faced the wizard. “What can you do when fate crumbles?”

Cath Orin, last of the Capital City of Farbacen’s hermitage, reached beneath his cloak and tunic to remove one of the charms around his neck. Withdrawing a plain pewter circle, he handed it to Raven. “You restore it,” he said.

Khayn cocked his head. “A stone?”

“Jaden will show you how to read it.”

“Yes,” Raven confirmed, holding it in his open palm.

The wizard smiled, then nodded slowly. “I knew you could. More to you than meets the eye indeed.” He glanced over to Khayn once more. “And to you as well, Captain Ahara, which you will discover in time.”

Khayn said nothing, only sighed, and his reaction seemed to amuse the wizard as he looked back to Raven. “Read it after my departure, and allow no one else to touch it or it will shatter.” Raven closed his hand around it. “What you hold in your hand may prove the greatest miracle of all.”

Cath Orin swept out of the room without another word, Khayn and Raven on his heels.

“Time to go.”

Jace and Cedwyn said nothing as the three walked along the corridor, drawing closer to the stairs.

The Blades mingled about in the smoky air, sipping drinks of every color. Whichever one of them had a talent for the lute had put it aside, and the two guards who had been standing outside were now in to escape the downpour, standing beside the open door. Behind the bar, Brayden was attempting some fancy trickery that involved flipping bottles to the delight of those gathered around him. By the stairs, a bustling card game ensued, which by the looks of all the serious faces stood presently at a critical juncture.

“These are precious stones, and they are no trinkets,” Orin said, slipping a small pouch from his cloak and handing it to Raven when they came to the door. Heavy rain smacked at the cobblestone walkway beyond. “If you should come across any gems or jewels, and its type is not among these,” he jingled the contents of the pouch. “Avoid them. Trust no amulets or talismans.”

“Back to oblivion, old man?” came a voice from across the room.

“For the present, Mr. Brassel, I am,” Ailmar bellowed over all the activity. “So weary have I become of exposing your pitiful Regicide play, that I have decided to retire while you may yet retain self respect.”

Scattered laughter arose all around, and a barrage of farewells shouted back to the wizard who had apparently made more than a few friends in his stay. Likely none of them, however, understood the magnitude of his departure, or the implications that came along with it. Point of fact, there were few outside Khayn and Raven who could.

“The Sky Vessel wreckage. Ten miles or so up the road. I’ve learned from your men that you use it as a landmark,” said the wizard. “You know the one I mean?”

“I know where there’s a mysterious wreckage,” Raven acknowledged, unsure where this was going. “I don’t know anything about a Sky Vessel.”

“Well that’s what it is. From one of the other continents.”
Raven sighed, as if his tired mind had simply accepted the explanation without thought. “Okay?”

“After you read the message, start there.”

The wizard extended his arm, and the two clasped forearms.

“You’ll understand,” the wizard finished, and leaned closer to Raven’s ear. “Wait until nightfall to leave here, and only under a full moon when the stars are bright. It will conceal your departure from this place and avoid any … undesirable attention. The sun is the most dangerous spyglass of all; it can find you anywhere in the world by those who know how to look. Do not travel under the uncovered sun,” he said. “Not ever.”

“But that will keep us here a month,” Raven whispered back. “There was a full moon not a week ago.”

Cath Orin nodded. “There will be a full moon tomorrow night, have no doubt,” he said. “I am a wizard after all.”
Raven tilted his head back just a bit as he spoke. “I thought wizard was just a word,” he said. “Tools of a primitive communication used by simpletons.”

“Yes indeed,” Orin replied cheerfully. He smiled and their grasp released. “But I find the world could use more simplification, Raven Lale. We all could, don’t you find?”

“On nights like these? Absolutely,” the assassin admitted with a grin.

Orin’s expression tightened, much to the obvious surprise of the assassin who appeared confused by the serious turn.
“Keep that humor, Raven. You have the mind of the killer, but not the heart. There is hope within you yet. Guard it as ardently as anything sacred, for you will be tested. Compassion fatigue will end you. It will end all of this.”
Orin then stepped slightly to the side, returning in an instant to his lighter demeanor as he centered himself before Khayn. “It has been a sincere pleasure to have met the Captain of the famous Greywall,” he said, extending his arm. Khayn took it, smiling somewhat dismissively before the wizard leaned in closer. “Most men would have lacked the courage to meet with Galad as you did. And there are some, even in Agaron, that would have preferred you had not. Continue to trust in yourself and all will be well.”

Khayn, slightly taken aback, only nodded as their grip released. The wizard held his stare a moment longer and smiled as he looked away. “I bid all of you a very fond farewell!” he said, extending his arm in the air. “It has been my honor to live amongst you this past month, and on behalf of the Joranese hermitage of the Capital City of Farbacen, I humbly thank you for your most generous hospitality.”

Then, capping the wizard’s showman side, he bowed, much to the amusement of Raven’s men. The act incited cheers and laughter all around while those who had goblets raised them in salute.

“I will be borrowing this if you don’t mind, “ he said to Raven, taking one of the lanterns from its hook beside the door.
Raven nodded, amused. “Help yourself.”

And without another word Orin turned down the cobblestone pathway, departing with one final marvel when the sweeping rain around him turned to snow in his vicinity. It was as if the he were insusceptible to Mirror Lake’s unnaturally warm climate, or perhaps, he existed above it. Khayn and Raven, for not the first time that evening, could only watch in awe. When the wizard reached the end of Inn Twilight’s walkway, he turned down the road leading deeper into his country, and when the bobbing lantern that highlighted the cylindrical snowstorm vanished, the captain turned to his friend.

CEDWYN AND JACE GOODBYE
“So … about this Ordaeus guy you conveniently failed to mention.”
Raven chuckled, leaning against the side of the doorframe with his arms crossed, staring out into the rain. “Would it be all right if I explained it over some brandy?” he asked, looking over.
Popping open his cigarette tin, Khayn withdrew one and placed it in his mouth. “Well, if you’re gonna twist my arm about it...”
Raven turned towards the bar and shouted at the kid behind hit. “Hey, Brayden! Food and brandy!” he yelled, turning back to Khayn. “Why don’t you go over an introduce yourself to some of the guys,” he said. “I’ll be there in a minute.”
Khayn lit his cigarette, lingering a moment longer before taking his first steps away.
“Hey Khayn, listen,” Raven said.
Khayn stopped and turned around.
“About what happened on the road…”
“Ah, don’t worry about that,” the captain said. Adding with a smirk: “I woulda gone easy on ya.”
Raven smirked, and with an upward nod, the mutual apology was sealed.

Khayn took a long drag from the cigarette and headed back to the bar, milling through Raven’s men. Raven watched him for a bit, until Brayden started pouring his drink, then he made his way back to the stairs, stepping up on the first and taking a seat on the second. After many moments had passed, the assassin worked up the courage to close his hand, and let his eyes drift close.

All sound ceased completely, the light filtering in through Jace’s eyelids vanished; it was the sensation of being engulfed in a vacuum. Then he did hear something: Crickets chirping in a summer night followed by screaming. Yells of terror and anger. Jace opened his eyes to find himself standing in front of a large, elaborate fountain, long dry. He felt heavy humidity. It was all absolutely real.

And then there was the almost musical sonance of a soft voice that drew his attention to the sight of Jaden.

“Jace,” she said, looking him right in the eye. “If you're seeing this, it means Ailmar considers you ready for what comes next. And you're ready to see what happened in Mazhira, and who we were treating in those caverns under Sandia.”

Over her shoulder there was a chaotic mob, what appeared to be thousands, charging, trampling each other, running in the direction of the fountain with reckless abandon; running towards where Jaden and Jace were standing. The sight was so intimidating that it took all of his effort to keep his knees from buckling right there and then. It took Jaden speaking again for him to finally look away.

Her pensive look became a stare.

“Despite what has happened here,” she began, amethyst eyes glistening in the reflections of fire. “The fate of Ciridian may not yet be as hopeless. We talked about what you saw beneath Lornda Manor, and what Calloway's descendent showed you, and now history is repeating itself as it all too often does.” A tremendous concussion rolled like an earthquake beneath their feet as a plume of smoke expelled high against the backdrop of a ruined skyline. Jaden never even flinched. “No matter what the condition of this city or its people, it is my sworn oath to protect them as long as I can, as the Illuminate of Ciridian, even if it means my death. If they escape Mazhira, and I survive, I will lead them to Sandia and meet you there. Where you and the rest of your team will be waiting. So I will attempt to calm them. To restore order.” A pink glow emanated from around her neck, and though there was no way Jace could have possibly known, he instinctively realized she was wearing a rose opal necklace. The reddish purple energy traveled down her arms where it focused in her hands, and she braced against the onslaught now not three hundred yards away.
“The fate of my daughter, is the fate of us all,” she said urgently, some emotion in her tone, but subtly. “Look for the wagons.” She was racing to finish before the mob reached her. “For as you are in receipt of this message, her life is in your hands …”

A dream withing a dream …

Sucked through a straw made of light.

Squelch.

Dorsey suddenly felt alone. He looked around, frantic, only to see that the place was as lively as it had ever been. At first, the cheerfulness mocked him – but it was followed by calm. No one was watching. No one had seen, and if they had, they did not care, and would not remember.

Moving quickly, he pulled off Donovan’s right glove and slipped the ruby ring from his hand. He opened his cloak and looked at his two daggers. Dorsey had only an instant to choose: He took the one decorated with an ivory dragon, leaving the onyx snake with its fallen master.

He even took the cigarette tin and flint box lighter, dropping them deep into his pockets.

He wanted to take Kerrick’s body as well, but knew he couldn’t.

It took all of Dorsey’s effort to shut himself down, blocking out all thought as he hunched the man who taught him the technique over the table and closed his eyes. Then, never looking back, he walked to the door. His hand was on the knob when he heard a girl’s voice behind him.

“Your friend ..." Dorsey’s shoulders eased just slightly as he opened the door. He could tell by the faint scent of rose oil that it was the barmaid. There was something so oddly familiar, something so soothing about her voice. “Seems like he’s had enough.”

In another life, he might have turned to her.

“My name’s Hazel, by the way.”

In another life ...

“Without a doubt, Hazel,” the assassin said simply, then he left her with the light behind him, for the shadowy sea beyond.

... In a fairer life.

Dorsey didn’t realize how much he was sweating until the cold air hit him.

Even in the icy grip of midnight, he was tempted to shed his cloak as he reached the edge of town. His mind was steady, silent. His hands itched; he wanted to look down, but forced himself not to. He’d doubled back three times to cover his tracks – it was, at last, time to go.

There was too much time to think. So, he thought nothing.
He had come to a stop, almost without realizing, at the start of the western road leading toward the Republic of Veil’driel. The one very rarely used. Even as the thought formed, a scratchy whisper emanated from the last line of shacks behind him.

“You have done well. At last, the old fool is dead.”

The Overshadow had not spoken this loudly before, ever: He knew it’d probably tried to attract his attention several times now without success. What did it feel like to simply be ignored?

The thought was laughable, but Dorsey didn’t respond; didn’t even look to the sound. After a time, he bowed his head and turned slightly to catch the thing in his peripheral vision. It was still a good way down the road, perhaps fifty paces distant from the sound of its voice.

Had it waited here, or had it followed him all this way?

Don’t look, or it takes you, he found himself thinking.

But that, of course, was just propaganda.

“That old fool probably saved Sindell a thousand times,” Dorsey said.

“And yet, in the end, he was killing innocents.”

“That changes nothing.”

“But it does, young pup ... oh, but it does.” Dorsey felt the thing draw closer. The wind sounded different where it passed, even though its form was no heavier than fog. It was only two paces behind—it’d slipped across the distance as fast as thought.

Dorsey kept his eyes relaxed, widening his peripheral vision as far as it would go.

“When a man’s dedication is twisted to obsession, madness always follows, and the penance is all he is. All he has been.” The words sluiced down from the rooftops in every direction, like boiling water. “His deeds are washed from history.”

Dorsey did not respond.

“He becomes nothing!”

And now, at last, Dorsey sighed.

“You really do love the sound of your own voice, don’t you?”

The world was cold, the river of time turning to solid ice as it waited for a choice. The boy’s own frosty breath came in heavy spurts that lingered in the air. In the keen sight of an assassin, he could make out faces in each puff before they faded away.

Dorsey slowed his breath and did not move until he could see the traces the Overshadow left.

“Not all of you need that fate, young pup. You are not the crass killer he was.”

Like a green—

“Perhaps you, unlike he, will understand your limitations.”

Dorsey turned suddenly—daring to look deep into the blackness of its cowl.

“What limitations?”

The Overshadow recoiled.

“War is on the wind, oh second prince,” it answered, and its words felt far less otherworldly. Indeed, it sounded petty. “You can be borne up on it ... or down.”

Dorsey took a slow step forward.

“What war?”

The Overshadow’s black-on-black eyes glittered venomous purple.

“A civil war, young pup.”

Another step closer.

“Stop. Calling me that.”

“First, Sindell and Veil’driel fought over it. Now, the child-state will fight for its independence in turn. It’s only a matter of time. Too much freedom becomes, itself, a form of madness. Those who cannot use it wisely will find only a new prison of their own devising.”

Even so close, Dorsey was careful not to waver. In a blink, the Overshadow could disappear into the night. In the time it would take him to focus his eyes again, it could walk across Mirror Lake.

Maybe literally.

“Why are you telling me this? Why do you think I would care?”

“Because the king ... your father ... is no fool, young ...”

Dorsey raised his eyebrows.

The Overshadow paused, started again.

“He has guessed your mind, and in exchange for your eventual return, His Majesty deigns release you—temporarily—from your oaths. It is sure to start in Sandia, this insurrection ... The conflict the Grassland Campaign began all those years ago. The conflict that remains unfinished. The conflict that will never finish, no matter how many times, or in however many ways ... it is fought.”

Dorsey whipped the sides of his cloak back.

“My father has guessed wrong,” he said slowly. “I want no part of that.”

“Then you will return to Zarponda at once!”

“Nah.” Dorsey made no gesture, gave no indication to what he was thinking, but the Overshadow read it in him.

Perhaps it was as simple as knowing just where they were standing.

“Veil’driel?”

For an instant, Dorsey – and perhaps the Overshadow, too – heard something astonishing: Genuine surprise.

Yet, Dorsey acknowledged it with only a slight smirk. A gesture which the other, no matter its true nature, should not have perceived—for indeed, it was still behind him, exactly one pace away and just off to his right.

The air around it tasted green.

“They will kill you if they find out who you are, and they WILL!”

Just that quickly, anything human in it was extinguished.

Its barbed wire staff materialized in its hand—

The stench of rust and the savor of blood threatened to overpower him.

Time unfroze for Dorsey Trent.

The Overshadow hadn’t heard him draw Kerrick’s sword.

“What do you—”

There was no time for those words to stir the air.

In the creature’s last instant, it and Dorsey stood face to face, inches apart; the cowl was bent down toward him, eyes like a will-o-the-wisp. In the depths of those eyes, the youth could see all the pains that were withheld for him on the path he would soon take.

Then, at last, the body began to crumple.

The Overshadow’s other hand reached into the darkness as it fell and Dorsey slid artfully back.

Crunch, the body collapsed on the gravel and then began to bend upwards, its spine curving as it jigged like a puppet on an unseen string. The sword was buried hilt-deep into its abdomen, and Dorsey crouched, entertaining for an instant the idea that it might somehow strike again.

Its knees bent backwards, something inside preparing it to spring whether its body would or not.

Dorsey straightened his back to dodge—

All around him, the stray cats of Mirror Lake started to howl.

The lights in the creature’s eyes ticked out, and it crashed to the ground with a final gurgle like the rattle of a brooding snake. But the sound didn’t yield: It grew and grew, until it was coming from every corner of the town. It broke through every street, every hidden alley, every musty garret and broken marriage-bed until its echoes resounded across the whole earth.

The Overshadow’s cloak and cowl collapsed on the ground—

Dorsey had only an instant to see the gnarled human hands— Eyes that were as round and white as glass—

And then nothing; an image and its afterimage splitting apart.

Only the faintest smear of soot left the impression the Overshadow had ever been. The same stuff stood out as thick as rust on Donovan Kerrick’s blade as Dorsey retrieved it from the ground. As he began walking, though, the coating broke apart – brittle as paper.

Then, silence.

Not quite silence.

He saw the road to Veil’driel. Was about to start down it.

There was a muted hiss, the wind reclaiming its voice.

Oh c’mon. You don’t really want to go that way.

He turns and Dorsey scene with lake.

There’s a gazebo with a black goat standing in it.

The sound of birds.

There was no sound anywhere—not even the cry of some far-off, nocturnal bird.

“Blue am I and gold in the light of my bride: but the red gleam is in my eyes; & my spangles are purple & green.” When Jace turned around he saw himself, literally, staring right back at him. It would have been like looking at himself in a mirror, if he had been wearing the dark leathers Kerrick used to wear. “Turns out burying your past down the deepest hole you can find doesn’t make it go away.”

Jace buried his hands into the pockets of his cloak.

“This is weird,” he said.

Dorsey nodded.

“It is,” he admitted. “But I’m just letting you know you’re making a mistake.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time.”

Dorsey looked toward the road leading toward Veil’driel.

“Yeah,” he said. “And in this case, literally.” Dorsey stepped out of the lake, and Jace could see his feet weren’t wet. “Anyway, you won’t be able to leave that way this time.” He paused and smiled as if he found something amusing about the expression. “That isn’t how it works. This place is in between realities and you’re right in the middle. And unless your girlfriend is gonna show up through a Due Timer’s mirror again, I’d say you’re pretty much screwed.”

Jace sighed. A loud scream of jubilation came from The Faraway Cry behind him, and he briefly looked back at it. There was a second floor to it now, and he looked up at the window that Ailmar Duchenne had looked out not long before. And a strange part of him wished he was back up there. Because even though it was confusing, it had already happened. It was—

“Safe,” Dorsey said. And he took a step closer. “The past is like that. It’s safe because it’s already happened. But it’s also dead.” He gestured around them. “Mirror Lake is a place between space and time. A sort of temporal zombie, I guess. Neither living or dead. But the undertow of the past will always pull us back. Boats against the current, literally and figuratively and all that. But I’m hoping the tide of history will change its course tonight. For our sake, especially.”

Jace looked out into a field beyond the lake. There was a gazebo with a black goat in it.

“I don’t suppose you’ll tell me how to get of here.”

Dorsey smiled.

“Well that’s sort of a complicated question. But no, I wouldn’t. You’ve come a long way since Westwood. And I told you I would see you again.”

Jace sighed.

“You did. And all grown up now, look at that.”

Dorsey smiled again. His entire demeanor seemed amused by this whole encounter. Like seeing himself in this alternate form was amusing.

“I’m what you should have been. What you could have been. But there’s something I’ve always wondered and if you could answer.” Jace raised his eyebrows, beckoning the question. “Why Jace? Where did you get that from.”

He looked off as if he hadn’t thought about that for a long time.

“







said Dorsey. “You’ve been wondering if you’re dead. You’d be better off if you were. This is ...” He snapped his fingers, frustrated, willing the right words to come. “A timeless time. A place between places. People who come here can’t leave and they aren’t even allowed to die.”

“Hell,” Jace breathed.

“Hardly,” said Dorsey. “At least the road to Hell is paved with good intentions. This place ... Mirror Lake ... it was always a part of this world, but someone with much less gracious motives decided to build a prison on it. His Majesty, King Graham Bryce III. Your father.”

“My father? No. My father was ...”

Was ...

“Uh-huh. The more you remember, the harder it’ll be to ever escape.”

“Who – what are you?”

Dorsey laughed – a sound that chilled Jace to the bone.

But he already knew the answer.

“Can’t you tell? I’m you, but stronger.” His gaze ticked upward, and he grinned as if he had just made some magnificent joke – then circled back around to the topic. “I am the you that you call on when you fill yourself with those disgusting drugs. You who’s tireless, relentless, fearless.”

He had created another Jace, a not-Jace ...

“This is one serious feverlew hallucination,” said Jace, but his heart wasn’t in it.

Radiant and faultless ...

“It’s not,” said Dorsey. “It’s never been, Jace. I am the you Relican Avery fears, the you that drives Thean to drink. I am the you you wish you could always be, the one you rely on whenever you’re in real trouble. I am the part of you that matters most. Without me, you’re dead.”

Whose maddening visage he had to face.

“If that’s true,” said Jace, turning his back, “you don’t need me around.”

“No, I don’t. But you need me.”

Jace started to walk.

“This is the place the enemy used to create the time loop that killed you twenty-two times. It may be easiest to stumble into it from your precious Republic, but the truth is ... you can get here from anywhere if you know how. The invaders do. In fact—” Jace heard the soaking ground squish beneath his boots, but he knew he would never reach the place where he saw the figure-eight lake curve. The horizon would always be just out of reach, and as soon as he paused, Dorsey Trent would be right over his shoulder. “—get lost badly enough and you end up here, no matter where you started from.”

“Like Calloway?” Jace asked, and Dorsey nodded behind him.

“The enemy – moves in and out of here with no problem,” he mused. “Takes time from here and uses it out there. All the while hitting us from a place we can’t follow them back to.”

“So ... you know who’s behind it?”

When Jace turned back, his mirror image was smiling.

What was a faint green glow in all the others he’d seen, blazed like hellfire around Dorsey Trent.

“I know lots of things, Jace. The truth is, I never really went away. I’ve been right here where you left me. And you know it ...” Dorsey loped up, bringing them face to face again. “When you’re with me, you can taste what it would’ve been like. To be the king of Sindell.”

“I’m not a—”

“That’s for sure. Not yet,” Dorsey hissed. “But the only thing stopping you is you. You can still be king, Jace, and what’s more, you can be the greatest Outrider of all at the same time. Take me back with you and we’ll seize the throne, then crush the invasion. It’ll be just that easy.”

And somewhere deep inside, Jace knew he was right—

In his mind’s eye, he could see it:

The court of Sindell would bow down, and all its great armies would follow. The people who dismissed him for dead would fawn at his feet. The weapons that once terrorized the Republic would instead terrorize its enemies.

And Isabelle would be there with him.

“Finally, you can have everything you wanted,” said Dorsey. “Not so different from riding the gauntlet. Having all those people ready to die for you. I know how much you liked that. Imagine having the powers of two men with the duties of just one. Reshaping the whole world.”

“What do you need me—” Jace stopped himself. “What do you need from me?”

“Nothing more than you’re used to,” said Dorsey. “I’ll become a part of you.”

“You know the way out?”

“You’d be amazed at what this place can do for people,” said Dorsey, almost as if he hadn’t heard the question. “Whatever you take in with you makes you what you are. The Overshadows, the golems, even some of the minotaurs, all made into—”

Jace thrust his palm hard against Dorsey’s shoulder to get his attention.

“Out,” he said slowly. “We can get out?”

“Of course ...” Dorsey tilted his head slightly to the side, his frown turning thoughtful. “Or, I mean, you can try to do it yourself. That’s good, too. But it could take a long, long time.”

Jace sighed, staring out over the water again.

“A thousand years could go by,” he heard himself say.

“The Red Moon will come back here eventually,” Dorsey said levelly. “But there’s no way of knowing what’ll happen to you once it does. You can get so messed up here that you’re stuck in this place forever. It may be quiet now, but there are still things in the shadows, Cade.”

And it’s just you and me against them.

Jace turned to his reflection.

“You have to promise me. About Isabelle ...”

Jace saw a darkness fall over Dorsey Trent. It took him a long time to say—

“Isabelle will come with us. With you.”

Dorsey held out one gloved hand, outlined in the same green fire that burned in his eyes.

“Do we have a deal?”

In Isabelle’s dream, she is the barmaid.

There is nothing wrong with being the barmaid – nothing she can quite put her finger on.

Sometimes she tries to explain it, but she gets the sense no one is quite listening. It’s tiring to talk about it, but she tries. When she tries her hardest and won’t relent, people get upset with her. They say she has her head in the clouds; that she should join the real world.

It is tiring to talk about it; but there is nothing else to talk about here.

It is tiring, but it’s easier than imagining another life ...

... a fairer life.

How she got here, she doesn’t know – and whether things were ever better, she’s unsure. But there are always drinks to serve and floors to wash and potatoes to peel. Every day, potatoes. This is her life now, and there’s nothing else for it.

“This is my life now,” she repeats dutifully to every mirror.

Sometimes, she has nightmares – in her nightmares the potatoes are peeling themselves, the rags are dancing across the floor. She should be grateful for this small relief, however brief it is, but it fills her with wordless dread.

Without this, who is she?

What worse “real world” will await her when she’s useless?

And that’s how things go for thousands upon thousands of miserable, tedious years—

Until one day, while saying her accustomed penance in the mirror, she notices—

The jade necklace she can’t recall ever receiving.

Then it occurs to her that the taproom is empty.

It has been empty for a long, long time.

A single word calls to her in the fog.

Jace!

Isabelle Talabray runs through the streets, cold cobbles burning her bare feet. Mirror Lake is even more empty than she remembers. The moon is gone and there are no stars in the sky. The rain won’t fall and the wind won’t blow. Even the cats have disappeared.

At the edge of the lake, she sees them—

Jace reaches out his hand to Dorsey Trent’s burning one—

In Trent’s other hand is the mirror-bright dagger he took from Donovan Kerrick’s body. Their gazes are locked, and Jace doesn’t see the blade rise.

“No!” Isabelle cries—

“Isabelle!”

It was not Jace’s voice, but Dorsey’s—

Blade still half-raised in the air, he turned toward her. Isabelle saw, on a stranger’s face, the most heartbreaking look of guilt, pity, and sadness she had ever witnessed. Instantly, she recalled who she has been and who she was now—

She remembered a time when that face was familiar and precious.

In an instant, a flash of golden radiance, the barmaid’s rags transformed into the garb of an Outrider. Isabelle’s hair streamed loose as she drew closer; her great wings unfurled behind her, and in their sight, she was no mere fallen angel—she was simply an angel – complete with a flaming sword at her side.

She reached to draw it out, Dorsey frozen in fear or indecision before her.

That was all Jace needed.

Before Isabelle could speak a word, Jace was there like a diving eagle, his own dagger at the ready. The pale dragon and dark snake twisted against one another in the air as the two struck, parried, and sidestepped.

It seemed neither could overcome the other—

With a snarl, Dorsey lunged.

As Jace fell back, he heard the cling! of his dagger being struck. As it fell from his hands, the black waters of the lake closed greedily around it. A few tiny, greenish bubbles coasted to the surface and then the heirloom was gone.

Jace saw murder in Dorsey’s blazing eyes.

Twice, three times, Jace stepped out of the way at the last instant— Drawing his enemy closer with each strike until he seized Dorsey’s wrist and twisted it. He pivoted behind the assassin’s back, trying to slit his throat with his own weapon.

“Iz ...” Dorsey breathed. “Help me!”

“Isabelle,” said Jace. “I’m sorry—”

And with that, he tugged.

Dorsey was just strong enough to hold his arm in place and keep the blade away. They wrestled like that for endless moments, feet slipping on the treacherous, mossy rocks as they struggled for advantage. Over his enemy’s shoulder, Jace sought Isabelle’s eyes.

“The only way to protect you is to stop him ... stop us both.”

Dorsey broke free, pounding Jace’s chest with his elbows.

The dagger fell from his loosening grip—

“Jace, you’re not like him! You don’t have to do this!”

Jace could only stand, dazed, as he struggled to keep his balance on the rocks. Dorsey dove for the dagger – and for one instant, as he rose, his face was turned toward Isabelle again. That face, from another life, all washed out with something infernal.

His eyes were full of ghost-light motes, screaming silently.

Isabelle saw Jace rising to strike, and her own gaze ticking up tipped off Dorsey—

She screamed—

But something jerked Dorsey off-balance at the last instant, making his strike go wide—a slimy hand coated in terrible green ichor. He looked down, struggled to pull his leg free; but another hand joined the first, its bony grip as strong as a vise.

The waters of Mirror Lake were boiling.

Something unspeakable was coming—

There are still things in the shadows.

“Calloway!” Jace shouted.

And indeed, it was Calloway – a Calloway who was twisted and grotesque, every tissue bloated brown, but still gasping for air in saturated lungs. Its fingers were stubs of bone; in all the places its body was mangled, scummy weeds bulged in place of its ragged flesh.

“Stop it,” Dorsey hissed, sawing desperately at the exposed bone in the thing’s wrist. People who come here can’t leave— “You can’t do this to me! This isn’t even my—”

Jace had turned his back; he didn’t so much see as feel the hands close around Dorsey’s throat.

Dorsey Trent stabbed and stabbed, but no wound he could make changed Calloway’s fate one iota. There were two Calloways now, then three, four, five – each with desperate, self-inflicted wounds. Some bore stones; others had rotting rope coiled around their broken necks.

Their eyes—or eyeless sockets—were still weeping with the injustice. Lake water gurgled from their mouths, drowning out their accusations.

—and they aren’t even allowed to die.

Jace sensed Isabelle at his shoulder.

“He tried to save himself the only way he could. Every single time,” he said, but at her confused look, he shrugged it off. “Isabelle, we’ve got to get out of here now!”

Dorsey’s screams – his own screams – echoed in his ears as he ran.

Isabelle and Cedwyn won’t be here to save you this time. You’ll have to save yourself, and let’s face it, you can’t.

Jace passes test. He sees Kerrick standing under a street light and he nodded. As the light got brighter it turned into Thean.

Jace pulled his hood back over his head as the cold passed over him.

He left Mirror Lake, a lonesome silhouette cloaked in starlight, heavy boots pounding the dust. West across the Ezru Plains, toward the Republic of Veil’driel.- the light from the street light got brighter until it became all-consuming, this road leads him to the New Jersey Turnpike, Citi Field, then vision of Hazel and Artemus and Jaden learning Hazel is Artemus and Jaden’s daughter, and he sees farm equipment, a reaper, then out of the vision.

Jaden’s eyes were open again, she shook her head a little, took a deep breath, and then looked down at him, narrowed her eyes a little. “Jace,” she tried again. And then mustering all she had yelled. “Jace!”

​When she did his eyes flashed open and in one motion and then flashed through every color of the rainbow. Without wasting any time he sat up, grabbed her hips and picked up her off the stool. She didn’t resist him, draping her arms around his neck as he charged all the way back to the wide indoor ledge of the windowsill and sat her on top of it. He had one hand grabbing her thigh, pushing up the loose sky blue cloth of her dress, nearly all the way up to the top of her thigh showing nearly her full leg, the foot of which the only part of her touching the floor.

​Jaden’s eyes, throughout the commotion, never left Jace’s as he pushed her back.

Suddenly the door kicked open, slamming into the wall and knocking vases all about, all of them crashing the floor.
While Jaden, her world feeling like it was in slow motion, blinked in the space of what felt like an eternity and looked over to Thean, Jace never moved. He just opened his eyes slowly as she looked back to him and made eye contact. And they stayed in that position, as it was impossible to know how he stopped himself so quickly, he had halted just inches from her face, and when his eyes opened, they were staring at her her lips, and then slowly they rose up to meet her amethyst eyes.

She was breathing in deep but steady breaths, a look of concern all the way up until the point when his eyes met hers and he smiled, and she did too, her eyes opening a little wider, wrinkling her nose as if answering a challenge.

Jace heard what sounded like a thousand echoes coming from a million directions chanting ‘ace, ace, ace’ pouring in on him and then focused, and time seemed to catch up to them with a focused “Jace!” And Thean was standing next to him. He was standing straight up, looking at himself in the reflection of the window, seeing the reflection of a young Artemus Ward looking back at him. It was the mirror in his tent and that was the reflection at first. Then the mirror in the carriage with the smoky metal from Relic’s vision on the wagon.

“Outrider Dabriel!” Thean yelled again, and then sleepishly he looked over to him.

“Out! Now!” he yelled furious.

Jace looked over to her in the window sill, and she was sitting there looking at him, not having moved, perspiration still on both of them. He took a step over, picked up his shirt, glanced back to the reflecton, it was him again. Then he hesitated, looked at Thean as if he didn’t know why he was standing there for a minute, looked at him with almost complete disregard, and then looked back at Jaden. She still hadn’t moved, but looked to be recovering. She nodded a few quick times, and without another word Jace picked up his shirt and left.

Thean turned around to watch him all the way out, and when he got to the doorway he stopped, slid his arms into the sleees of his shirt, and peaked back in as he buttoned them back up.

“Go, boy!”

Slowly, confusedly, Jace continued down the stairs.

When he was gone, Thean turned back on Jaden like a cobra.

“Are you out of your god damn mind?” Jaden started drinking some water, looking out the window, her hand on her hip as she drank a whole glass and sighed. “What the hell are you thinking?”

“Please. You knew what I was going to do.”

“I had hoped I was wrong. I gave you the benefit of the doubt and that’s a mistake I won’t make again. These little meetings of yours? They end. Today.”

“Not your decision to make,” she said simply.

“The hell it isn’t!” he growled, stopping and turning around.

“He doesn’t belong to anyone. He’s not a possession.”

“That’s right. He’s not a possession. Say that over again a few times to yourself.” When she didn’t immediately respond, he yelled: “You initiated a trance!”

“He needed a break.”

“He isn’t ready, Jaden! He’s just a kid!”

She smiled and cocked her head to the side.

“So were the four of you when I met you. And besides” she said, half-turning to the door and motioning. “When it comes to that one, that’s up for debate.”

Thean charged her and walked up to her and grabbed her wrist, took the glass out of her hand and put it on the ledge, and she barely resisted, like a child being disciplined and still being a brat and then he made her look at herself in the reflection and as she stared there.

“You wanna end up trapped in Mirror Lake like your daughter? Hm? We no longer have the resources to launch a rescue. We lose you we lose everything.”

“Is that all Cedwyn was to you? A resource? Is that all Jace is to you now?”

Thean had the look of one about to burst forward in another eruption of anger, but he managed to restrain himself at the last moment and took a deep breath.”

“These meetings of yours are over,” he said again, reiterating the point to her reflection as if that image may still be open to sense.

Then he took his hands off her, turned around, and started toward the doorway.

“Or what?” she asked. And Thean stopped, the look on his face of infuriated impatience that his outriders had seen countless times before. “You’ll torture me? Like you’re going to torture my daughter?” He stared a little longer, and then Thean’s expression softened. “I mean you brought her up. Just another resource, isn’t that right?”

Thean narrowed his eyes and a ripple of tension twitched from his body, like guitar strings relaxed but still taught. “No one is going to hurt Hazel, and you know that.”

“Do I?” now she was asking her own reflection. She looked over to Thean who was still looking at her. “And why is that?”

“Because you’re not crazy.” Thean looked at her a little longer, turned and started to the door. When he was almost at the doorway he stopped again, and Jaden’s head looked up a little, for the first tiem looking like she hadn’t been expecting him to stop. “And because I will personally gut any son of a bitch who goes near her without my permission.”

A silent exchange seemed to pass between them, a meaningful silence that seemed to ease some tension from the air.

“He’s been through so much.”

“He can take it.”

“Do you know that? I mean, do you really now that, Fenlow?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“Because I’ve spent every waking moment since he was sent to me making sure. And because Donovan himself would come back and murder me in my sleep if I didn’t,” he said with the hardness returning. Then proceeded to move to the top of the stairs that were right outside her door.

“If you care about him that much, you should tell him,” she said. “Before it’s too late.”

“He isn’t Artemus, Jaden,” Thean said at last, stepped out the door and grabbed the handle on the otherside. “Gabriel, Cleo, Relic, and Isabelle just arrived. And Gabriel has news about Aleister.” He let that news hang in the air for a moment. Then some of the tension eased out of his shoulders. “Sorry about the vases,” he added, and closed it. Jaden, looking at her reflection, sighed and slowly leaned her head against the window, letting herself relax.

Aleister’s making a run at Leverette. There’s a lot to talk about.

With that girl Malcom saved you with. A senator now.

Chapter Fourteen  (E) Fate Don’t Know You #2190679 by Dan Hiestand