Chapter 14

Quyloc hit the end of the day a defeated man. When the sun went down and he still hadn’t found Lowellin he knew he was out of options. He’d spent the whole day moving, afraid to even sit down because he knew he’d fall asleep and be dragged into the Pente Akka.

What now? he wondered. How far through the night could he make it before sleep claimed him? He stood at the back of the palace grounds, looking over the low wall on top of the high cliffs, looking out over the sea as darkness fell.

When it was completely dark he turned away. At first he headed for the palace, then he changed his mind and turned toward the tower. Maybe Lowellin would show up in his secret chamber as he had the night before. It wasn’t much of a hope, but it was something.

Back down in his secret chamber his eyes fell on the bone knife, still lying on his desk where he’d left it, and an idea came to him. He went back above ground and walked to his palace quarters, where he retrieved his spear and a long dagger. Then he went back to the secret chamber. He tucked the bone knife in his belt. With the spear in one hand and the dagger in the other, he lay down on the bed.

If the Pente Akka was going to take him, at least he was going to go down fighting.

He fell asleep almost immediately and when he opened his eyes he was on the sand under the purple-black sky. The chain connected to his arm was already sliding across the sand.

But the spear and the dagger were gone. He was empty-handed.

The chain tightened and he was jerked forward a step. A shadowy figure, easily half again as tall as he was could be seen on the other side of the Veil.

Desperately, Quyloc yanked the bone knife from his belt. It was pitifully small and would probably shatter immediately, but it was all he had. He tensed to run at the Veil, hoping to land a blow with the help of the element of surprise.

A hand fell on his shoulder.

Quyloc tried to turn, but was jerked forward another step closer to the Veil.

Use the bone knife. Cut the chain.

Quyloc acted without thinking, slashing at the chain with the bone knife.

It didn’t work.

Quyloc was jerked off balance and fell to his knees.

You weakened it. Keep trying.

Quyloc began hacking at the chain wildly, the Veil getting ever closer. The shadowy figure was clearer now, a black thing of hard, bladed edges. Red eyes were fixed on him.

Just as his arm touched the Veil, Quyloc hacked one more time and this time the chain split.

He fell backward, then rolled away from the Veil and stood up.

That was close. The voice sounded amused.

Quyloc turned. It wasn’t Lowellin who stood there. The figure was shorter than Lowellin and wearing a long, hooded cloak. No face was visible. The hands were lost within the wide sleeves.

Who are you? Quyloc asked the figure.

The figure shook its head. In time. It’s too risky right now. I don’t want Lowellin to know I’m here.

Quyloc put the bone knife in his belt. What happened to my weapons?

Things of the physical world don’t come with you here. You’re not strong enough yet.

Quyloc looked down at himself. But…I’m here.

Are you really? The figure reached out with a pale, slim hand and the hand passed through Quyloc.

How’d you do that?

That is not really your body. It is more the idea you have of your body. A thought, really. It’s what the Tenders call the spirit-body. You can’t take your physical body into the shadow world. You’d die instantly. Nothing living can go in there and survive.

Quyloc was silent as he struggled to make sense of it all. He’d read about the spirit-body in the Book of Xochitl. But there was still something that didn’t make sense. If I am only here in my spirit-body, then how come I had that purple mark on my arm when I got back to my world?

The mind is a very powerful tool. You believed your arm had been injured and so you manifested the wound where you believed it should be.

But how come I bled when I was attacked?

That wasn’t blood.

Then what was it?

It was your life-essence, what the Tenders call Selfsong.

Quyloc thought about that. He supposed that made sense. He drew out the bone knife. Why is this here?

You already know, don’t you?

He turned to look at the Veil. It comes from in there, doesn’t it?

A Tender brought it back from there long ago. It has been lost for millennia. Somehow, Lowellin found it.

A Tender brought it back? Quyloc thought about this. Suddenly something occurred to him, and he turned back to the cloaked figure. That’s why Lowellin needs me, isn’t it? He wants me to bring back a weapon from that place that he either can’t get himself, or doesn’t want to take the risk to get.

The cloaked figure nodded. You are a sharp one, somewhat less dull than the rest of your species at least.

If he needs me to retrieve a weapon for him, then why did he leave me to die?

Why don’t you ask him that?

I would, but I can’t find him.

I have a feeling he will find you soon.

Who is he really?

He is who he says he is, the one the Tenders call the Protector.

Is Melekath really escaping?

Yes, he is. The figure sounded troubled by this.

Can I trust Lowellin?

Something that sounded like laughter came from the figure, but it wasn’t human laughter. Can you trust me? Can you trust yourself?

Tell me more about this weapon I’m looking for. Where do I find it?

Later. I have to go. Lowellin may come to check on you. Remember, do not tell him about me.

Wait! How do I get back home?

But it was too late. The cloaked figure turned, took two impossibly long steps, and disappeared. Quyloc was left alone on the sand. He turned back to look at the Veil. He could still see the shadowy figure. It seemed to be watching him. He shivered.

How was he going to get home?

He stood there for a while, thinking, then he got an idea. He could summon the Veil by picturing it in his mind. Could he do the same with home?

He closed his eyes and pictured his secret chamber, drawing every detail in his mind. A minute later he opened his eyes.

He was back home.

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