Jorim frowned. “How are you restrained?”

“It’s a minor thing, really. I have my power back, I can travel to the heavens for a bit, but am still anchored here. I cannot reach the physical world, so my work must be accomplished through agents.” Nessagafel held his hand up. “Just slip this ring from my finger and my will shall be done.”

“There is one thing I don’t understand.” Jorim chewed his lower lip.

Impatience crept into Nessagafel’s voice. “What is it, then?”

“If you created me in your image; if I am powerful enough to defeat the others, then I am powerful enough to challenge you. Perhaps even to defeat you. Aren’t I the greatest threat you face?”

“You see? That’s why it was perfect. You and I strive against each other. We push each other to be better.”

“But don’t you fear that I will someday depose you?”

Nessagafel shook his head. “No. I made you my equal in all things, and then I gave you something I have no use for.”

“What?”

“Compassion.”

The child’s fist came around, changing from a pudgy hand to a Viruk claw. Nessagafel thrust his talons into Jorim’s stomach and yanked. Blood splashed and entrails gushed.

Jorim dropped to his knees, scrambling to stuff his intestines back in. As he reached down, his hands filled with glass needles that punctured his bowels. He tried to scream, but thorned ivy shot up from the meadow and threaded its way through his body. A green tendril grew out through one nostril, then wrapped around his head, closing his jaw tight.

All around him the ground rippled. Anthills erupted like little volcanoes. Bright copper ants swarmed toward him, like spokes on a wheel. Each tore out a little piece of his flesh.

Dark birds circled overhead. Their fierce cries split his head with lightning. The ants traveled the ivy, crawling within. Their fire coursed through him. Their venom melted his liver and its dark nectar nourished and encouraged the vine.

Nessagafel, once again a Viruk, eclipsed his view of the birds. “Study the vultures while you can, Wentoki. They will come and eat your eyes soon enough. Then all you will be able to do is linger in darkness, feeling the ants pick you apart. The agony should be exquisite and without end.”

The Viruk again raised a hand, and the ring around the smallest finger now appeared in white. “Unlock this and I shall unlock you. There is no escaping Wangaxan or me, Wentoki, save through granting me my freedom. The sooner you do this, the better for everything you have ever cherished.”

Nessagafel vanished.

The pain did not.

TheNewWorld

2nd day, Month of the Eagle, Year of the Rat

Last Year of Imperial Prince Cyron’s Court

163rd Year of the Komyr Dynasty

737th Year since the Cataclysm

Kunjiqui, Anturasixan

Nirati woke with a start. Lingering traces of fire faded from her hand. She glanced down. An ant was walking across her knuckles. It tickled, and she laughed at the panic that had jolted her awake.

Takwee, a small furry primate that had been nestled against her stomach, picked the ant off her hand and ate it.

“I imagine there are plenty more of them to devour here.”

Takwee rolled away and scratched at her golden fur. She stretched, then rolled onto her stomach. She crept along stealthfully, stalking more ants. She exaggerated her movements and glanced back, puzzlement slowly replacing the expectant delight on her face.

Nirati smiled and sat up, rubbing her hand. Normally the little creature’s antics sparked laughter, but Nirati could not set aside the sensation of pain. Something had happened somewhere and echoes of it had reached her.

She looked around, half-expecting to see the ghost of her twin, Keles. She’d met him before, here in her paradise, while he was dreaming. That encounter had had a dreamy quality to it for her as well. Their being twins, and the blood link they shared as members of the Anturasi family, had enabled them to communicate-though she’d never managed it before coming to Kunjiqui.

Before dying to get here.

She shivered and Takwee ran over to hug her. “Nothing is wrong, little one.” Nirati kept her voice even, but it could not hide the lie. Something was wrong. Someone was in pain. It wasn’t Keles, but it was someone to whom she was close.

Holding Takwee tightly, Nirati stood and began to walk to the west. It really didn’t matter which route she took. Here, in Kunjiqui, it was enough that she desired to go west. Her intent would take her there, and the length of the journey would only last as long as necessary.

She thought immediately of Nelesquin, but she knew he was in no pain. She loved him-or, at least, she believed she did. Or had… Since his departure for the Nine, she found it harder to remember him. It was as if he faded from importance as physical distance between them grew.

“But then, the dead are not known for their imagination.” The details of her death had evaporated, but she knew that she had died. Nelesquin had returned to the land of the living, but she had been barred from accompanying him. This made her wonder if their love never should have been.

Her grandfather’s condition was the next logical source of anxiety. Qiro had created Anturasixan and, within it, Kunjiqui, as a sanctuary for her. Nelesquin had used her grandfather’s magical abilities to make Anturasixan into a womb for the forces he would use to conquer the Nine Principalities and reunite the Empire. He’d driven Qiro hard, wearing the man down until, in his free moments, he shaped armies of mud and set them loose on the sea.

But her grandfather was not in pain. That she would have known directly. As he cared for her, so she did for him. She cared for everything abandoned on Anturasixan-including the remnants of the nations and races Nelesquin had used to shape his army. If something was amiss, she would know, but the only thing out of place was the pain.

Nirati turned a corner and the landscape shifted. She stood on the edge of a mile-high cliff staring out at a huge, circular bay. An island sat in the middle; it looked completely out of place, as if a jagged stone thorn had pierced Anturasixan. Even the seabirds wanted nothing to do with it.

And below, dead fish washed up thickly on the beaches.

She caught sight of her grandfather down below and waved. The man waved back, then in three impossible strides was at her side. He smiled, lifting his head, letting his white mane dance in the breeze. Gone were any signs of fatigue. Instead his pale eyes pulsed with life.

“What is this, Grandfather?”

The old man glanced at the mountain as if he’d forgotten its presence. “You have heard of Mount Shanfa in Moryth?”

She nodded. “You said it was the tallest mountain there.”

“Very good.” He stroked her brown hair. “I was never satisfied with Jorim’s measurement of its height. I brought it here so I could do the work myself.”

“Jorim?” She rubbed at her hand again.

“Yes, he always relished the trips south. He pleased the Prince by bringing back animals to be caged-much as I was caged.” Qiro peered past the mountain toward the Nine. “Cyron has yet to pay for the outrages he visited upon us. Yet I could have abided all of them, save for what he did to you, my pet.”

“Grandfather…”

Qiro turned, caressing her cheek. “What is it, Nirati? I’ve disturbed you. Is it the mountain?”

Before she could reply, he gestured and the mountain slowly sank into a boiling sea.

“No, Grandfather. It’s Jorim.” She showed him her hand, but no physical evidence of the ant’s passing remained. “I awoke feeling pain, Grandfather. Jorim is hurt. I have to help him.”

Anger gathered on Qiro’s face. “No, child. What you felt wasn’t real. Don’t I know your brothers better than you? Don’t I share that special link with them; share their thoughts? Wouldn’t I know better than you if Jorim was hurt?”