The Dark Remains - Mark Anthony [230]
Grace stood a little apart from the rest of them, gazing at the white floor of the Etherion far below. Travis couldn’t help but grin. The first time he had met her, in the great hall of Calavere, he had assumed she was from Eldh. And even later, when he knew she had come from Denver, he had always felt like she belonged here in a way he never would.
It turns out you were right, Travis. She does belong on Eldh. And if Falken’s right, then I suppose a good chunk of Eldh belongs to her.
Only why was there such a look of sadness on her face? Shouldn’t she have been happy to know the truth about her parents? But maybe he knew the reason. Melia and Falken had sent her to Earth to protect her, only she had ended up at the Beckett-Strange Home for Children. And there she had found anything but safety. Travis knew; he had seen the shadow, her shadow.
Yet now she was back on Eldh, back where she belonged. Brother Cy had seen to that.
Travis reached into the pocket of his loose-fitting Mournish pants and pulled out the half-coin the strange preacher had given him, and which had twice transported him back to Earth. Grace had the other half of the silver coin, but not long after their return to Denver, Travis had placed the halves together to study the symbols on both sides.
With the coin complete, he had finally recognized one of the two symbols: a circle with a dot inside. It was the rune Eldh, the symbol of this world. Travis hadn’t recognized the rune on the other side of the coin—a triangle with a line above it. In a way it had reminded him of the rune of ice, but he guessed it had another meaning.
They’re just like two sides of the same coin, aren’t they, Travis? Sister Mirrim told you that—when one world burned, so did the other.
The rune on the opposite side of the coin could only be the rune for Earth.
All right, that was one mystery solved, but it begged another—who was Brother Cy? And how could the preacher send Travis and Grace back and forth between the worlds with what amounted to a wave of his hand when other people, Duratek and the Scirathi included, were scrambling for magic blood and ancient artifacts to do the same thing?
Travis wasn’t sure. But the magic of the morndari seemed to allow passage across the void between the worlds. And clearly the Imsari did as well—that was how Jack Graystone had come to Earth. And once Jack was there, Sinfathisar had functioned like a beacon, drawing Grace to Castle City. Along with the Pale King’s servants and the runelord Mindroth.
So was Brother Cy related to one of these powers? Travis wasn’t certain. But in a way the half-coins were similar to the gate artifact. Although they required no blood.
Travis sighed. There was no way to answer his questions now. But if he ever had the chance to talk to Brother Cy again, he was determined to get some answers. He slipped the coin carefully back into his pocket.
“All right, Melia,” Falken said, hands on hips. “We’re here. And there must be three entire companies of Tarrasian soldiers surrounding the Etherion. Now what?”
Melia’s visage was still pale. However, her expression was resolute, and ire sparked in her eyes. “Sareth has told us that if Travis is to go beneath the city, we must provide a distraction for the Scirathi so they do not accost him. And distracting the sorcerers is exactly what I plan to do.”
“And how exactly are you going to accomplish that?”
“You shall see.”
Before the bard could ask more questions, the lady spread her arms, shut her eyes, and tilted her head back. “Mandu, my dearest brother, are you here?”
Melia’s words dissipated on the hazy air, and silence filled the Etherion. He began to think Melia’s question had been uttered in vain—
—when a voice spoke. The voice came from all directions and nowhere at once: deep and thrumming with power, yet strangely hesitant, as if the one who spoke was rusty at the craft of using words.
“I am … here … dear sister.”
A queer