Angel of Storms (Millennium's Rule, #2)(108)

At last he found the fresh path of someone skimming. They’d skipped over lush farmland from city to city, each time emerging in the shadows of a building then continuing on. The trail ended in a small city of wooden buildings, roofed with bundles of dry leaves that fluttered in the wind. Tyen emerged and stood in an alcove of a wall as he searched the minds around him.

He found some locals who were twitchy and alert. The group of young sorcerers who had rented the room above the warehouse had vanished, some in the middle of repairing the roof in lieu of rent. The landlord was annoyed at the job half finished, but the other workers had seen the fear in the youngsters’ faces before they disappeared, and were smart enough to worry about anything that magic-users found scary.

All this had happened long enough ago that the event had been well discussed and everyone had got back to work. Slipping back into the place between, Tyen searched for paths. He found the ally’s first. The man or woman had returned to the place between a mere twenty paces from their arrival place. Their path led to and joined the path the rebels had forged when leaving. From the information he’d gained from the locals and the freshness of the ally’s path, Tyen reckoned the rebels had enough of a head start to get several worlds away, and hopefully lose their pursuer.

They’re lucky, he thought. They weren’t supposed to draw attention to themselves where they settled, by using magic. Yet I suppose they’d have stood out from the locals and had to pay their way somehow. He considered how the ally had travelled to cities and ignored the country. They know it’s easier to hide among many other minds. Would it be safer, then, for rebels to hide somewhere isolated, where they wouldn’t think we’d hide? Vella, what do you think?

“No safer,” Vella replied. “Once the allies found no rebels in the cities they’d search the country.”

Is there—His attention jolted back to his surrounding as he passed another path. Backtracking, he began to follow it. Once again, the creator had skimmed from city to city, emerging in several parts of each. This one had tracked back and forth, looking for fresh paths as well. Something relentless about their movements chilled Tyen. Every time he emerged in the world he feared what he would find in the local minds.

Then one thought burst from the others like a shriek in a crowded room. He sought the mind that had made it.

No! By all the gods, no! Who could do such a thing? What if they return and find me here?

The man he’d found forced his limbs, frozen from shock, to move. He turned to flee, what he’d seen still clear in his mind.

Blood. Parts of bodies scattered about. Faces of the dead, frozen in terror and pain.

Tyen pushed out of the world and travelled towards the man. He found the fresh path of the ally first. It led him to a hallway and an open door. A basket had been dropped on the floor, a broken bottle leaking a dark liquid.

A sweet, fruity scent laced the air, not quite hiding the scent of blood and, oddly, a latrine. Then he turned to look through the open door and realised the latter scent was not odd, when people had been ripped apart. Tyen fought a wave of nausea. He sought faces in the mess. Are they rebels? He could not tell. He didn’t recognise any of them. Hapre, Volk, they’d know.

But they had to be. Why else would an ally have sought them out, and slaughtered them so brutally?

Why? Why kill them like this? He knew why. It was a warning. This was what happened to those who defied the Raen. A stabbing pain in his gut made him double over. The Raen. The butcher who did this serves the same man as me. We are on the same side.

“No.” The word came out as a gasp. “No.”

We are not the same. He slowly straightened. I would not do this. That’s the difference. I am no ally. Like the Travellers, I have an agreement. It does not involve this, nor would I ever agree to this.

He was trying to stop the conflict between the rebels and the Raen. This ally was revelling in it.

This ally was seeking more rebels to slaughter.

His stomach clenched again, but this time with anger and revulsion. I have to stop him. He moved into the place between and immediately found a fresh path. The ally had left directly from the apartment, unconcerned that his trail pointed back to the corpses like an accusing finger. Confident that nobody would demand justice for the victims.

Nobody can… but me.

After all, the Raen had said Tyen should not do anything to compromise his role among the rebels. Tyen was their leader and their most powerful sorcerer. A leader would be expected to do something in this situation.

Fury energised him. The ally had resumed skimming and searching. He raced along the trail, leaving the city, reaching another, weaving to and fro until he’d covered so much of the metropolis it was clear the ally must have been here when he’d arrived.

Tyen stopped to search for the ally’s mind. He found no sign of it. The city was one of the world’s largest. He resumed following the trail, cursing himself for wasting time. He had no idea if he was catching up with the ally, falling behind, or keeping pace. So when the trail ended abruptly, he braced himself for another shock as he searched the minds around him.

Instead of another grisly scene, Tyen found the mind of a man surveying a room. Resca, his name was. The ally took in the scene: a meal remained part prepared, a pot still boiling over a fire, game pieces scattered over a table. They looked like a tile set of the Llimn, the sub-human race that served his people. The thought that someone might have taught a Llimn magic disgusted him. The possibility that some had escaped his world to live freely, probably breeding with other inferior races, appalled him.