Jak Koke - The Edge of Chaos

Vraith stared at him, her pale gray eyes as hard as slate behind her translucent blonde lashes. She seemed to be weighing the merits of arguing with him or defying him some other way. But finally, she averted her gaze. “Yes, yes,” she said, waving her hand. “Solidarity and cooperation and all that. It’s very important that we find this man.”

Now we’re getting somewhere, Gregor thought. “All right,” he said. “We may be able to come to an arrangement. But first you will tell me the true reason you seek this man.”

Under a bright afternoon sky, Duvan guided Slanya toward the border of the Plaguewrought Land. It was a journey he’d taken several times before, but the path he chose was a little different each time.

“To be honest with you, Duvan,” Slanya said, “I’m nervous.”

Duvan regarded his companion. Slanya took sure and confident steps; no doubt she’d trained intensively. She also seemed to have some measure of the body control that monks were famous for. She’d demonstrated quick thinking as well as enviable discipline.

All of which would mean nothing in the face of the changelands.

“You shouldn’t be nervous,” Duvan said. “You should be afraid.”

“I’m not afraid to die.”

“Really?” Duvan had yet to meet anyone else besides himself who did not fear death.

Slanya shrugged. “My death will come as everyone’s will. Why should I fear that? If the cause is right and I am true to myself, then my death will have meaning, as will my life. Kelemvor will welcome me, and I will pass on to the next life.”

Duvan remained silent as they passed into the shadow of a large mote which hung precariously low in the sky. Large motes tended to be stable, but Duvan had seen smaller ones sustain damage as they passed through the border veil. Quite a few of those lost their buoyancy and plummeted to the ground. In fact the terrain along the border was littered with boulders and the deep furrows they had made upon impact.

Around him, the gentle hills gave way to steeper ones, the grassy knolls replaced by bare rock dotted sporadically with tenacious weeds. The faint sensation of the disturbance in the Weave the Plaguewrought Land caused made the hairs on his arms stand on end. The faint odor of oranges and decaying flesh drifted occasionally on the warm wind-the sour and sweet stench of the plaguelands of the Plaguewrought Land in summer.

“Have you ever been very close to the changelands?” Duvan asked. “I know you understand what they can do, but if you haven’t experienced living plaguelands, it’s likely to be a shock.”

Slanya looked at him, her eyes narrowing. Perhaps she was trying to figure out why he was asking the question. “I have seen it from afar, through the border veil. And I have prepared myself by talking to many who have been exposed. I believe I know what to expect.”

Duvan nodded. “Nonetheless, I think you should let me go in alone.”

“No.”

Duvan pressed on. “I can find the plaguegrass as easily as we both can, probably faster. Nobody goes very far past the border. The pilgrims merely wait near the edge or just inside until they are exposed, hoping for a minimal wound.”

“I will not let you go alone.”

“Most people don’t go inside for more than a few minutes, and I’ve only been deep inside once …” Duvan trailed off. The nightmare journey of his one and only trip across the changelands came back to him in staccato flashes. Gossamer scythes of blue fire burned precise cuts across the land. Dirt, rock, and plants obliterated all around him.

Duvan had walked into the hell wanting to be taken by the fire, but it wouldn’t take him. So far it never had. “There are some stable places in the Plaguewrought Land, but those areas are only temporarily safe. Eventually all the landscape bleeds and burns. I seem to be charmed or cursed when it comes to changelands,” he said. “I seem to be able to avoid the effects, so to stay safe you must stay near me.”

“I will be safe,” Slanya said. “Gregor’s elixir will protect me.” Her tone was matter-of-fact.

Duvan snorted. “I highly doubt that.”

“You heard what he said: the chances of survival are dramatically improved.”

Duvan laughed. “I heard it, but that just means you’ll be able to survive for a third of an hour instead of dying immediately. We’ll need longer than that.”

“Well, I trust Gregor.”

Duvan shook his head. “He’s using you. I bet he’s done it before, too, and because you have faith in him, you agree to being used.”

“I owe him my life,” Slanya said. “That doesn’t mean that I’ll throw it away for him, but it does mean that he has earned my trust. He has never let me down.”

Duvan guided them up out of a ravine and onto a sunny slope, heading south. “Blind faith will be your undoing, I fear,” he said. “The Plaguewrought Land is wild beyond anything you’ve ever experienced. It abides by no rules, no laws.”

“I don’t see how-”

“Spellplague cannot be tamed by a draught,” Duvan said flatly.

Slanya was silent for a few moments, and Duvan was content to let the conversation drop. If she was determined to go with him inside the borders of the Plaguewrought Land then at least she would do so with her eyes open.

“There are people behind us,” Slanya said after a long silence.

Duvan had noticed that too. “Likely pilgrims. Likely dead soon.”

“So you hate pilgrims as well?” Slanya asked.

Duvan glanced over at her to try to read her expression, which was wrinkled in dismay. “I don’t hate anyone,” he said. “I do think that many pilgrims are greedy and misinformed, and that they have a high likelihood of dying.”

“You don’t approve of following one’s beliefs?”

“Not if those beliefs will get you used or killed.”

Slanya was about to retort when she stopped herself. Duvan watched in amazement as she concentrated and willfully evoked a change in her demeanor. “Very well,” she said. “Despite the fact that you express yourself cynically, and I have a more optimistic view, I think we are mostly in agreement concerning the pilgrims.”

He had to admit he was impressed with her restraint.

“But what if those folks are from the Order and have come to take you in?”

Duvan had considered that. “If they threaten us, we will kill them.” He smirked. “Or knock them out, as the case may be.”

“Why is the Order after you, anyway? Did you kill two of their members, like Beaugrat said?”

Duvan shrugged. “I killed one of them because she and Beaugrat turned on me and tried to kill me,” he said. “The other one was eaten by a manticore.”

“Ugh,” Slanya said. “So that’s why the Order wants to take you in?” Slanya asked. “It seems like a lot of trouble for a misunderstanding.”

“That must be it,” Duvan said, although he suspected that Tyrangal was right: the Order of Blue Fire wanted him for his resistance to spellplague. Just like Rhiazzshar, they wanted to use him.

“Is there any other reason they’d be interested in you? Have you done anything to make them want to interrogate you?”

Duvan lied easily. “Not that I can think of.”

“Don’t you think it would be a good thing to find out? If you know what they want and who wants you, then you might be able to thwart their plans concerning you and avoid future incidents like the one this morning.”

Duvan blinked at Slanya. “Why hadn’t I considered that?” he said, his tone mocking.

Slanya recoiled from his sarcasm as though she’d been slapped. “You don’t have to be an ass,” she said. “I was trying to help, because frankly you seem to need some of it.”