Gadrith gestured for more information. “And…?”
“House D’Erinwa? Your roommate? You lured him into the woods and botched making a tsali stone out of him, leaving his upper soul to haunt the forest as a damned, twisted shade. Does that sound familiar?”
“Oh!” Gadrith looked offended. “I botched nothing. I made an important breakthrough in separating the upper and lower souls.”
“Oh, so you do remember him?”
“Yes,” Gadrith said. “He snored.”*
Tyentso just stared. “I hate you so much.”
“Whereas I’ve never thought of you much at all,” Gadrith admitted. “Except I found it disappointing when you ran off before we could have you sentenced to Continuance. That was inconvenient. Fortunately, Sandus provided me with a substitute.” He looked down at his borrowed body, then over at Thurvishar. “You know, it occurs to me you really are my son now. Isn’t that interesting?”
Lightning played over Gadrith’s body. He spasmed from electrocution, before he shrugged off the surge of power, tossing the electrical arc down into the ground.
“Focus,” Tyentso said. “We’re talking about me here.” She raised her hands in the air, a dueling pose if weapons were words and spells rather than sword and shield. “In case I haven’t made it clear, old man: this one’s to the death.”
“Let me deal with her,” Thurvishar said.
Gadrith cut him off. “No. This will be my treat. Keep watch for Milligreest and his coterie of little friends.”
Thurvishar gnashed his teeth in frustration, but did as he was commanded and turned away. He motioned for Darzin to follow him as they left the center of the Arena to wait along the perimeter.
Gadrith turned to his daughter and attacked, chanting as he channeled a beam of violet energy at her that should have melted the flesh from her bones.
She caught it, her expression incredulous.
Gadrith smiled. “Did you think I would be powerless? That it would take me months to learn how to use Sandus’s body? Sorry to disappoint you, daughter, but I’ve been preparing for this moment for decades. I know how Sandus casts better than he did.”?
Tyentso straightened. “No matter. I’ve waited thirty years for this. Show me your worst.”
* * *
Dark clouds raced overhead like dogs coming to heel at the sound of a trumpet. The trees loomed, casting shadows against the red glow of the burning city. It was difficult to guess if those clouds were rain clouds or accumulated ash.
“Really?” Gadrith raised an eyebrow. “Storm magic?”
“You were always such a snob,” Tyentso said as a thick zigzag of light raced down from a black cloud to strike at her enemy.
The lightning strike diverted to hit a thick rusted iron spear that Gadrith levitated from the ground. The electricity raced down the metal and exploded into the dirt.
“There’s no shame in that,” Gadrith said. “But I prefer my violence to be precise.” He pointed a finger at her and chanted.
Tyentso staggered as her heart jerked in her chest. She felt the blow through her reclaimed talismans, through all her protections, painful as a kick from a warhorse. She had taken the blow as though she were a novice, and tears sprang to her eyes.
Gadrith smiled, his tone full of patronizing contempt. “And you thought you were a match for me. Don’t forget I’m wearing the Stone of Shackles. How were you going to deal with that?”
Tyentso made a fist with her left hand to hide the fact it had numbed. Gadrith’s attack had struck too true. “This fight’s not done yet.”
Gadrith started to say something, but a giant chunk of ice hit him in the shoulder, throwing him forward. More ice fell, less gentle hail than frozen ragged shards, and Gadrith was forced to throw up a wall of energy over himself to halt the onslaught. As he did, an enormous gust of wind hit his undefended, exposed flank and sent him hurtling into the air, to land outside his magical protection. More hail pelted him while several lightning strikes crashed into the area.
The smoke and vapor of melted ice obscured Tyentso’s view, and while she stood there, waiting to defend herself, she concentrated on stopping her heart from exploding.
She wasn’t na?ve enough to think she had won.
“Was that your best, daughter?” Gadrith walked out of the smoke, uninjured. The first glance was wrong. He was singed a little at the edges, his patchwork sallí cloak burning along one side, but he himself wasn’t injured enough for it to have much meaning.
Tyentso raised her chin. “The best that’s likely to work on—” She paused and studied her father. “So powerful,” she murmured.
“It’s time to end this,” Gadrith said.
Tyentso’s eyes widened. She extended a wicked, curved finger toward Gadrith. “You have no protections … no talismans. Your old ones don’t work on this new body!” She narrowed her eyes and threw the whole of her will behind one last spell.
Gadrith hissed as his hand turned to water, dropping away from his body to fall on the soft grass. “No,” Gadrith said. “Why can I still feel my hand…?”* He pointed his other hand, still whole, at her and squeezed. “Enough play. Now die!” He sounded desperate as more of his arm dropped away. The effect was spreading to the rest of his body.
Tyentso stopped her scream with clenched teeth and arched backward, her face ashen from pain. Her chest again felt like her heart was bursting. The blood slowed in her veins even as it pounded in her ears with urgent need. Tyentso was a river piling up against a curve now dammed. She was a road broken, a pathway piled high with debris.
The spell on Gadrith lessened, then ceased, as Tyentso lost the ability to concentrate. Her eyes rolled back into her head and the lightning struck around them with insane pastel hues.
Then the lightning stopped. The storm lost its cohesion.
Tyentso died.
It had been close. A few seconds more and she would have won. Gadrith concentrated as he looked at the stump of his arm and willed it to regrow. The arm did so, but it was misshapen and uneven, covered with shiny skin like that of a scar. He tucked it under the edge of the patchwork sallí.
Gadrith paused and looked at Tyentso’s body. Her face looked peaceful for such a painful death, as if this were just a nap after a long, hard day. “Your best was impressive, daughter.”
He regretted he didn’t have the time to make a tsali of her soul.
Gadrith walked back to the others.
85: DEATH’S FRONT
Kihrin saw the Chasm in the distance and despaired.
“Have the borders grown so large?” he said. “It will take us days to reach that.”
The young woman turned her head. “Grown so large? There aren’t many even aware that the border has changed size…” She paused. “You’ve been here before?”
“Everyone’s been here before,” Kihrin said. “Most of us just don’t remember after we’re reborn. I have to find a quicker way to reach the Chasm.”