Cast in Honor (Chronicles of Elantra, #11)(131)

“So...the person who did this is probably dead, and we’re left with the disaster?”

“I do not know. I do not know who did this. I can make guesses as to why—but it is my supposition that they sought to be free of all confines.”

“Which means?”

Mandoran snorted in derision. “They wanted to be gods.”

Kaylin, looking at the eyes on her shirtsleeve and the swirling Shadow tendrils that seemed to be the whole of what Gilbert now was, said, “I bet it’s overrated.”

“I don’t know. We’re not gods. We have trouble being whatever it is we now are. Gilbert?”

“Yes.”

“The door’s not getting any closer.”

“No. No, it is not. Please brace yourselves.”

The Arkon grunted.

The familiar said something in a language Kaylin didn’t recognize. The meaning, however, was plain. Just use Leontine, she told him. That’s what the rest of us do.

It does not come to me as naturally. Forgive me any pain I cause you.

*

Kaylin had time to brace herself, but only barely. Many things seemed to happen in a frenzied rush, but they were each distinct enough that she could catalog them.

First: the water roared. The sound was similar to Dragon roaring, but it resonated in a different way. Possibly because the water was in her ears. Literally. The Avatar lost form and shape as it rushed up Kaylin’s arm to surround her in a moving pillar. Kaylin didn’t even have time to hold her breath.

Second: Gilbert reached for the door. He reached with a multitude of tendrils, each of which ended in an eye. Kaylin could see the eyes dissolve, and wasn’t squeamish enough—barely—to look away or close her own. It was as if the door was exactly what it appeared to be: a chalk drawing on cobbled stone. Flat and unreal.

Gilbert’s eyes were crushed; Kaylin swore she could hear them squelching.

Third: the door moved. Under the locomotion of tentacles of creeping Shadow, it moved—directly toward where Kaylin now stood. Protect the Arkon! she thought desperately to the elemental water.

The water expanded. It expanded to encompass him, just as the door hit with the force of an Arcane bomb.

*

Kaylin was very, very, very grateful that Severn had chosen to remain with Kattea—because if he hadn’t, Kattea would be here. She would be at the heart of the explosion, because that was where Gilbert was.

She would be at the very center of the expanding wave of something that was like Shadow, but paler, brighter and harsher. Water streamed away, as if the column that had protected Kaylin from the impact was wounded badly. Kaylin’s arms were glowing a brilliant gold. She hadn’t released the water’s hand; her own still clutched it as if it were still in that form.

She instinctively tried to heal the water.

The familiar squealed in her ear. He didn’t speak, but clearly she was about to be so stupid she didn’t deserve actual words. She cursed him in gurgling Leontine and held on to the water as if her life depended on it.

“Remind me,” the Arkon said, his voice very watery, “that I am never to be involved with one of your excursions again. It makes me angry.”

For once, Dragon anger was not the biggest threat in the room. And room was entirely the wrong word for it. It was a space, yes—but it wasn’t confined by walls or ceiling, or even a visible floor. Nor was it empty.

Kaylin, the familiar said. Close your eyes. Now. Before she could—and honestly, closing her own eyes should have been simple—he reached around her face with his wings and covered them.

The wings did not instantly ease the pressure of sight. Around her in a swirl of motion were faces, bodies, crowds; she could not pick out a single person because they moved so quickly that they were a blur. But even as a blur, she could recognize basic shape, basic form. She could see wings, eyes, skin color, limbs—even fur. She could gain a basic sense of height, of age; she could hear a plethora of voices, some raised, some muted.

And she realized that this was what had existed to either side of the strange corridor they had been walking. She had been told not to look. She wondered if looking now would have the same effect as turning would have had then; it would be so easy to be lost here.

But the water was in her hands, the familiar on her shoulder, the sound of an extremely disgruntled Dragon at her back. Something touched her gently—gently enough, carefully enough, that she didn’t react violently.

“Kitling.”

“Teela!” She turned then. Or she tried to turn. The small dragon’s wings were incredibly strong; she couldn’t move her head.

Mandoran cursed. In Leontine. “Grab Tain!” he shouted. Kaylin could hear his voice so clearly that the sound of the moving throng—the continually moving, dizzying crowd—was almost silent. She clung to the sound of his voice.

“I can’t— He can’t hear me!” Annarion’s voice.

Kaylin was suddenly very, very afraid for Bellusdeo and Sanabalis. Because she suddenly understood that they must be here, as well.

Kaylin, close your eyes.

Bellusdeo and Sanabalis were here, among the hundreds. The thousands. The tens of thousands, even. They were here in every second of the whole stretch of their lives, compressed and overlapping. She had the sickening sense that she had to grab them. But she could only grab one of them, one each, and there were too many.